《Ah, I guess》


 Chapter 0

    ¡°It¡¯s cold, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s very cold.¡±


    ¡°You think maybe, just maybe, running bare foot through the snow wasn¡¯t a good idea.¡±


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    ¡°I was desperate.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s warmer inside.¡±


    ¡°I lied.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I still am desperate.¡±

 Chapter 1

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    Day 1


    You know there¡¯s something about being in the passenger seat; it¡¯s so calming. Which wouldn¡¯t be the case if I had to make the car journey to the National Park myself.


    Despite the heaters¡¯ best efforts, the crisp air seeped into my bones. I leaned my head against the window, watching the towering pine trees turn into a blur.


    Before long, the car came to a halt at the trailhead. The forest ranger, a weathered figure with a kind smile, turned to me and handed over a worn map. "You''re all set," he said, I thanked him with a nod of gratitude. I stepped out of the car and hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders. The ranger drove away, leaving me alone.


    The hike was long, and each step was unforgiving. Not in the physical sense, not to brag but you know; I¡¯ve taken care of myself. But physical on the mind, if that makes sense? There¡¯s nothing, just a bunch of nothing. I feel as if I¡¯m in a constant loop, there¡¯s not to stimulate my mind. It¡¯s growing tired looking for something. My mind is so used to running at full speed, it can¡¯t comprehend.


    And then, after what felt like an eternity, I found myself standing at the edge of a small clearing. Through the gaps in the trees, I caught my first glimpse of the fire lookout tower. It stood tall and proud, like an old man. The wood bore the scars of countless seasons.


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    Surrounded by a sea of trees, the watchtower was like a lighthouse. Fifty meters to its side was a modest shack, which i assume is the toilet. It¡¯s better than a whole in the ground, which isn¡¯t the best complement. Come to think of it, it is a whole in ground surrounded by wooden box. What did I sign myself up for.


    Putting that aside for another day, with a deep breath, I approached the fire tower. I¡¯ll give it some props; It¡¯s marvellous. Ascending the worn steps, I gazed in astonishment at the age of the structure. As I reached the top, dust had settled on every surface. Pushing open the creaking door, revealing the interior bathed in the arm golden light of the afternoon sun.


    Inside, the tower seemed frozen in time. A vintage radio rested on a wooden desk, its dials and knobs whispering. Maps were pinned to the walls, each marked with the journeys and photos of past lookouts. The room was adorned with photographs, showing a timelapse of seasons.


    I Should really unpack and clean up the place. But I find myself drawn to the simple bed tucked against the wall.


    I let my backpack slide off my shoulders and fall onto the floor and I collapsed onto the mattress. The bedding was rough and worn.


    There must be something in the air because I¡¯ve become- I don¡¯t what know what I¡¯ve become. The word escapes me, but I would never normally be like this. So many things to attend to but I¡¯m neglecting them. Instead, I¡¯m resting.


    I wonder if they¡¯re working, the people outside. No, majority of them would be clocking out by now.

 Chapter 2

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    Day 2


    Ah, I guess I fell asleep.


    The morning light filters gently through the windows, casting a soft glow across the interior of the fire lookout tower. Trying to break from my slumber, sitting up I take in my surroundings. Dust particles danced in the sunlight, and the room is filled with a golden warmth. But amidst the comfort, the mess is glaringly obvious. Dust blankets every surface, and the room looks like it hasn''t seen a proper cleaning in ages.


    Sighing, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, stretching my arms above my head. It''s time to clean I suppose. I grab a broom and a dustpan from the corner and start sweeping the dust and debris into a neat pile. I feel as if I¡¯m erasing memories with each sweep. A shame but its unavoidable.


    As I clean, I can''t help but think about the way my mind has been lately, like the clutter in this room. I wonder, I do wonder what if- never mind. What I¡¯m thinking, just get the job over and done with.


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    There, a lot of picture and memories stored away from the past lookouts. But they¡¯re gone and I have no need for them. I¡¯ll throw them away with the rest of the trash.


    The room look better now, the air is breathable and there¡¯s no clutter. I figured I deserved a cup of tea. The vintage kettle on the stove; it¡¯s charming. Don¡¯t ask me but yeah, there¡¯s something about items that remind us of simpler times. As the water boils, the room was engulfed in warmth.


    Nature''s grandeur was on display as I surveyed the vastness of the woods. Towering trees stood tall. Sipping my tea, I found my thoughts wandering, like the swaying branches and leaves.


    As the cup emptied, I thought. You know they say thoughts are tiresome. Actually, I¡¯m not sure people say that, I just used that phrase ¡®You know they say¡¯, to add validity to my thoughts. Back to my point, I thought that I should probably get a grasp of my surroundings. I changed to appropriate attire and gathering hiking essentials. With the backpack snug on my shoulders and heading towards the door.


    Ah, I¡¯m tired.


    I¡¯ll do the hike tomorrow, as for today I¡¯m tired.

 Chapter 3

    Day 3


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    Ah, it''s cold. Too cold.


    Looking back at it, I should''ve gone on the hike yesterday. In fact, why did I come to live up here when summer is ending? The thought pierces through my sleepy haze as I wake up, the chill of the morning air seeping into my bones. I shiver involuntarily, pulling the blankets tighter around me.


    With a reluctant sigh, I finally muster the will to crawl out of bed. ¡®Crawl out of bed¡¯, a strange phrase. Wouldn¡¯t crawling out of bed be more bothersome than sitting up and getting out bed. Strange, what idiot came up that phrase but then again, I used the phrase myself.


    Ah, I guess I¡¯m an idiot too.


    -


    Not to spoil anything but I didn¡¯t go on the hike. I just lounged around all day.


    ¡®Gnome delivery service¡¯, how convenient. Just as I was getting hungry, I noticed a flyer under the bed. I guess I must have missed this when I was cleaning yesterday. It has a radio frequency at the bottom.


    I dialled in the correct frequency, there was no crackling or any sound of the sort. ¡°I¡¯ll have pizza, a large margherita and a cola.¡± No response, so I¡¯m entirely sure I ordered or just clowned myself.


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    I lay still on the bed, the unfamiliar sensation of idleness washing over me. It was a rare moment. The quiet of the fire watch tower enveloped me, broken only by the crackling of embers in the stove. The stove serves as a pretty good heater.


    Then, a sharp knock echoed through the small space. I push myself up, glancing at the door. Slowly, I turned the handle, revealing an expected visitor.


    Before me stood a gnome, not more than knee-high, clutching a pizza box. As he hands me the pizza, he reaches for bag and takes out a bottle of cola. He just stands there staring at me.


    Ah, I guess should pay him.


    I went back inside, rummaged through my items looking for money, Heading back to the door, I offered him payment, but he paid no mind. Instead, he breezed past me, his steps surprisingly confident for one of his stature.


    He surveyed the room, his sharp eyes missing nothing. It was as if he sought something. Then, he zeroed in on my watch; he can¡¯t seriously expect my watch as payment.


    With a swift, deliberate motion, he sent the watch crashing to the floor. My once-reliable timekeeper now reduced to fragments of metal and glass.


    Undeterred, the gnome knelt amidst the wreckage, nimble fingers sifting through the ruins. He plucked out the tiny gems that once danced within the watch''s heart, cradling them in his hand.


    Returning to me, he met my gaze, a singular gem pinched between his fingers. His voice, surprisingly deep for his size, pierced the silence. "This," he declared, "For the pizza, deliver and tip." The rest he returned, allowing them to spill into my outstretched hand.


    With that, he left.


    So now, I sit on the catwalk, with my pizza and cola. My broken watch still scattered on the floor and a pocket full of gems, for future deliveries.


    Damn, aha. I just can¡¯t stop laughing.

 Chapter 4

    Day 4


    It¡¯s been like what, four days?


    I¡¯m going to be honest with you, it¡¯s cold out here: bone-chilling. I get it, I get it, ¡®I should¡¯ve gone yesterday¡¯. But here¡¯s the thing, if only I had the gift of foresight to foresee that yesterday would be milder than today. But I¡¯m not a clairvoyance. Yesterday it was cold, plain and simple. Now, tomorrow might be even colder than today, and I¡¯ll be riddled with the same regrets.


    As I perused the flyer I stumbled upon yesterday, a curious revelation struck me. It conspicuously omitted any mention of food delivery, It just simply stated ¡®delivery¡¯. Could it be that its scope extends beyond culinary conveyance? I¡¯ve got a few gems left: I wonder what I can afford. Admittedly, in hindsight, the decision to bring my cherished watch collection with me appeared rather stupid. Yet somehow, they have newfound significance, transcending mere timekeeping. Well, they will go back to being timekeepers when I find a more sustainable way of getting gems.


    Looking out at the frosted panorama beyond the window. It¡¯s worrisome, the progression of the weather. The fact that there¡¯s snow covering the trees already, is something to think about.


    Turning from the window, I made my way to the radio, messing around with the dials until I landed on the right frequency. ¡°Ten magic logs,¡± I spoke into the abyss, hopeful for a response but not surprised at the silence that echoed back to me.


    I turned towards the stove; a flicker of orange dance as the flames caught, and the kettle found its place atop the burner.


    Besides the faint crackle of the fire, the stillness of the tower enveloped me. The frost-covered window getting harder to see through as time passes.


    A knock on the door shattered the quiet and as I opened the door, there he stood, the gnome, as if time hadn¡¯t passed at all since out last encounter. Behind him, a neat pile of logs. Dark blue bark that contrasts strikingly with its lighter, teal core. Adorned with twinkling specks that shimmer like constellations in the night sky.


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    Just as I did before, not knowing the price of what I ordered, I just offered my entire collection of gems. His fingers danced over the gems. With his discerning eyes, he plucked out a handful. They disappeared into the depths of his pouch, that clipped to his waist.


    He¡¯s carrying some wealth around with him; that pouch seems full to the brim. The fact that he did all that in front of me, without any worry in the world. Is that foolishness or justified confidence. ¡°Does anyone ever give you trouble?¡± I enquired.


    The gnome¡¯s nimble fingers halted; he pulled on the string clothing the pouch. ¡°Miki,¡± he murmured, a single word that sent a tremor through the tower.


    With an ominous creak, the tower began its descent, its legs severed by an unseen force. The gnome in the midst of the tower falling, jumped off.


    Ah, I guess I just take this fall.


    -


    I staggered out of the ruins of the watchtower, my senses dulled by the smoke. Amidst the swirling embers and scorched timers, a figure emerged through the haze.


    The gnome and behind him; a samurai. That seemed to be like eight feet tall. His build, reminiscent of a sumo wrestler. Wearing a traditional suit of armour, each plate with intricate patterns and symbols. The deep indigo lacquer on his suit of armour paired with the fearsome visage carved into the faceguard, made his presence known. He wielded quite the spear.


    I guess that would be Miki.


    ¡°You survived?¡±, the gnome¡¯s voice edged with surprise.


    ¡°That was a bit of an overreaction. Don¡¯t you think?¡± Turning my gaze back to my shelter that was reduced to a pile of wood.


    His mirthful chuckle filled the air and without saying another word, he waved goodbye. He disappeared into the snow-covered forest, the samurai shadowing his every step.


    -


    I had managed to scavenge the magic logs from rubble. And as nightfall arrived, I added one of the logs to the fire. The flames calmed, turning translucent, reminiscent of diamonds. Casting a spectral glow that reached out in all directions, creating a dome which claimed the entire clearing in the forest.


    Inside, the air was both warm and comforting. It defied the laws nature by not melting the snow beneath my feet, but instead created a makeshift mattress. It was a strange sensation; my back should be cold, yet there was only the embrace of warmth. The absence a blanket was not felt.


    Ah, the sky looks beautiful tonight.

 Chapter 5 - New Years Eve

    Day 5


    Have you heard of Villrum? The village, nestled deep in the woods. Charmed with its limestone cottages decorated with vines. The cobblestone streets run through the village, all leading to the market square.


    A village that seems plucked from the pages of a storybook. Which would be a true statement if the village didn¡¯t come first. I heard the Cotswolds in England took inspiration from Villrum. Even the Christmas Markets that we know of, yes them too.


    Considering what happened yesterday; I really should visit. Maybe I could get some supplies or even stay at a lodge. But it¡¯s New Year¡¯s Eve. There¡¯s going to be a lot of people there; for the celebrations and I don¡¯t really want to deal with that.


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    I guess I¡¯ll go another day.


    -


    But on the other hand.


    There¡¯s something satisfying about exhaling in the cold. Seeing the smoke, well I wouldn¡¯t say smoke. A better word would be fog or clouds.


    Let¡¯s go with Clouds.


    Every breath formed into a fleet of clouds. It¡¯s funny, it just reminds me of when we were all kids. Standing in the cold, pretending we were smoking.


    The cold can be soothing, can¡¯t it?