Starla Brunson

Wanting

The small cabin seemed to get smaller and smaller to Dan Fields. For the past six days, he had been stuck in the cabin waiting for the monstrous snow to melt and free him from the frozen prison. Why did he run off to the mountains in the middle of February? At least he was smart enough to stock up on water. He had also chopped up enough firewood the first day he had arrived. What he didn’t have was enough food. Even though the fire was cozy, it was not enough to keep him warm. Wearing his hunting coat and gloves, he got up from the oval rug in front of the fireplace. Opening the fridge, he eyed the one remaining case of water, next to a slice of cheese, a bottle of bourbon and an open pack of hot dogs. He picked up the hot dogs, stopped and listened. Once again, he had the feeling that he was being watched. He was pretty sure cabin fever was the cause, but that did not ease his rising anxiety. He shook his head, opened the hot dogs and pulled out one of the floppy processed wieners. He threw the rest of the package back in the fridge and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. Settling back on his warm spot on the rug, he bit off half of his cold entrée. So nice, he thought, to be able to eat without a nagging wife telling him to stop smacking his food. He was a man, he should be able to eat however he wanted. Too bad he had to be hundreds of miles away from his home to do it.