On The Fifth Day

I had retired to a secluded cabin that sat neatly uphill from a private lake, getting away from the noise of the city. Even with it being winter, I needed the quiet of the country. After settling in, I did my best to unwind and eventually fell into a long, fitful sleep.

The second day, I awoke to a winter wonderland. The previous day's drizzle had succumbed to a northerly wind and had turned to snow and ice. The entire landscape had become a crystalline fantasy. Every branch of every tree glistened like diamonds in the angled morning light. So struck was I that I had to go down the sloping ground to the lakeside. I came near the shore and stopped short. Looking down, I saw fresh footprints planted in the snow. They were of such a girth I assumed they were made by a large man. I looked about in confusion. How could a man tramp about here in this weather with no shoes? I called out hello across the water, but got only a distant caw-caw of some random bird. I tried once more, yelling, “Do you need help?” Nothing. I scanned the entire scene one last time before returning to the cabin.

The third day, I realized I may have failed to dress warmly enough yesterday, as I had a sore throat and the sniffles. I drank hot tea with honey and lemon, and stayed inside most of the day. But the thought of the barefoot man plagued my mind. I wondered if he was safe, if he was thirsty or hungry. I ended up bundling myself well and began to tramp downhill. Before I could go fifty feet, I found more tracks in the snow. I looked around and again, no mystery man. I thought for a moment, and went back into the cabin. Moments later, I came out with a plate of leftovers and found a tree stump to lay it on. I quickly returned to the safety of the cabin.

The fourth day, I was full on sick. My head felt like it would explode and my nose was running off my face. But, I was awakened by a sound outside. It took a while to get up the gumption to go look for the source. I peeked out the front window, and saw that the plate and silverware were there, clean as a whistle. I stepped gingerly out the door and looked around. The snow had melted and the ground was slushy. Yes, the footprints were there, having come up to the steps, then moving away. He was at least alive. Later, I took the time to make another plate and this time left it on the porch. I had hoped to catch a glimpse of him, so I set up a chair near the front window and I sat there the rest of the day and night. I tried not to make noise with my sniffling and sneezing. Of course, I eventually fell asleep in the chair.

Early on the fifth day, I awoke with a start! I could hear thumping outside the door, as if someone was stomping around on the porch. It was him, I was sure of it! I leaned over to pull the curtain back enough to peek out the window. There was a large hulking figure hunched over the spot where I left the plate. It made a strange, low growling noise, and I was suddenly afraid. But I had to know who this stranger was. I slowly rose from my comfy seat, blankets draping over my shoulders, and shuffled as quietly as possible to the door. I turned the door knob and slowly opened it, only to find to my horror that the figure on the porch was a bear! It was licking at the plate, but at the sound of my gasp it turned and saw me! I froze as it raised up to an enormous height and began to move towards me. I slammed the door, but the bear began to beat on it with its giant paws. I leaned against the door, but with each pounding of its paws, I felt the entire frame shake.

Then, I heard another sound, distant but clear and loud. It was a bellow, and was coming near. The bear halted its attack, and I heard it moving away. The bellowing sound came close and I heard the bear run off. I could hear feet splooshing in the cold, snowy slush. Even with my racing heart and adrenaline rushing through my veins, I managed to swing open the door to see a tall man-like figure shambling at speed, chasing down the bear as it lumbered along on all fours. He was covered in fur, and his long arms waved furiously as he angrily warded off the bear. And yes, he was barefoot. After several hours, I calmed down and packed my things, vowing never to grace this place again. I never told any of my friends or family about this harrowing experience, but now I believe not only in miracles but in a tall, furry, barefoot man-thing who cleans plates and chases bears.