“Do not be afraid. I did you no harm yesterday, and I will do you no harm today. There is no reason to be afraid of me. If I wished to hurt you, I could have already done so easily. Now, come out and eat all of this delicious food I have made for you. You did so enjoy my cooking yesterday. Come and take a smalltaste. It will do its magic and ease your mind and lighten your heart.”
That is... true. My fingers twitch uncertainly on the curtain, and I reluctantly drag my hand away. Whoever it is on the other side of the door could easily have hurt me at any time. In fact, there wasn’t much keeping them out of the room. A cabin such as this likely has a sturdy ax somewhere. A determined psychopath could get through the door without too much effort. If they intended to harm me, they certainly wouldn’t need to talk so sweetly to me from the other side of the door. Or cook for me for that matter. My stomach rumbles again at the reminder and I cautiously sniff the air. It definitely smells real.
“You... you cooked breakfast... Jak?” I ask, after several seconds of frantic internal debate.
Soft, merry laughter from the other side of the door greets my question. “That I did. I so seldom have guests out here that I was quite excited to prepare something delicious for you. Come out and enjoy your breakfast, Shawna. Do not let my efforts go to waste. Such delicacies should be enjoyed hot.”
“Okay,” I mumble. “Just let me just—" I glance down at the flannel nightgown covering me completely with its warmth “—find something to wear.”
“I have left you a fresh change of clothing on the armchair by the window. You should find them suitable,” my host cheerfully replies.
I glance toward the window and sure enough, a cream-colored chair with a dark wooden frame sits tucked in the corner. I creep closer and see that a red wool dress has been left there. I brush my fingers over it experimentally, dreading the itch from wearing rough wool clothing only to find it to be softer than cashmere. My mouth rounds in awe and I lift the dress up and carry it over to the bed. It takes little time to tug off the warm night gown and replace it with the wool dress but once itis on, and belted with the black belt I spot lingering still on the chair, I feel practically human again.
“Do you like it?” the voice calls.
“Yes, it is beautiful,” I admit.
“Be sure to wear the slippers to keep your feet warm. The floors can be quite cold. The bathroom is to the left. You can refresh yourself there. The storm does not appear to be in any mood to let up but we still have power and hot water so you can certainly enjoy a bath a bit later if you desire one.”
“T... thank you,” I stutter, suddenly feeling contrite for my behavior.
“It is my pleasure,” my host sings. “I am heading back to the kitchen. Join me when you are ready.”
I nod for my own benefit as I locate and shove my feet into the plush, warm slippers sitting unnoticed by the side of the bed. The fact that there is so much stuff for women leads me to believe that despite the unusual name and androgynous voice, my host most certainly must be a woman... or have a female relative who spends considerable time at the cabin. It is simply good luck that we wear a similar size.
With my feet warmly ensconced, I open the bedroom door and glance out. There is no sign of my host, but I can hear their soft voice coming from the direction of the kitchen as they sing along to the carols playing. The bouncing glow from the direction of the main interior of the cabin, paired with the delicious smells and joyous atmosphere, certainly doesn’t seem sinister despite my earlier disquiet. I shake my head at my own silliness. My nerves and my overactive imagination are going to be the death of me. I probably imagined that complete silence falling over everything earlier. I can blame it on the high stress of the situation and my unfamiliar surroundings. I certainly am not one who enjoys scaring myself. I can’t even watch a horror movie without covering my eyes at the scary parts.
Chuckling quietly to myself, I turn left and make my way down to the bathroom. An unopened toothbrush is unexpected but appreciated, as is the fresh bar of soap and washcloth sitting at the side of the sink. I am a bit self-conscious about not having any deodorant with me, and that seems to be one thing that my host didn’t think of, but I give myself a quick wash, paying particular attention to the important parts and then brush my teeth with the curiously antiquated tooth powder that I find. It is all weird, like suddenly being shoved into a time capsule... but one with running water and electricity so I can’t complain much. Despite the strangeness, I have to admit that the atmosphere in the cabin is quite cozy and I am already beginning to thaw out and relax so that my mood is chipper once more as I exit the bathroom and make my way to the kitchen.
“Ah, there you are. Feeling better?” my host greets and there is a sense of the voice turning toward me, but the room itself is completely empty.
My host is very much not visibly here. As for physically... well that part can’t really be denied because I jump when a dish suddenly lifts into the air and drifts towards the table with its contents.
Okay. Apparently, having a resident ghost of some kind wasn’t a product of my imagination. It seems that my host is indeed a merry little holiday spirit. I gape for a moment, my mouth opening and closing as I struggle to process everything anew.
“It is indeed difficult to accept things in the rational light of day that seemed less concerning in the gloom and dreamy quality of night,” the voice commiserates in a thoughtful tone that takes me completely off-guard.
“Yes,” I manage to reply as I slowly enter the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”
A breathy laugh fills the room. “Think nothing of it. One might argue that an invisible presence is the rude one. But you are quite charming indeed.”
I blush, uncertain how to respond, and glance haplessly toward the table. Once more it is laden as if preparing to feed a small army. A bowl of fluffy eggs, some sort of vinegar noodle that I don’t recognize, various soft breads twisted into different shapes, half of which appear to be glazed and dusted with finely chopped nuts or seeds. Then there are the platters of bacon, cuts of ham, sausage links, some sort of stewed beef, and what appears to be some kind of pudding.
“Are you expecting more company?” I ask.
“Who would come out in this weather?” the spirit asks, and it laughs. “No, no. It is just you. You are my most treasured and special guest for the holiday. It is indeed a rare treat to have a guest so fine. Now sit, sit. Let us be merry.”
I laugh awkwardly but I take a seat on the chair that is waiting for me once more at the head of the table. “You are joining me this time?” I ask.
“Of course! Breakfast is an important meal, and this all does look delicious, does it not?”
I nod in agreement and begin to relax again as the fire burning in the sectioned off living room slowly warms me. There is a pleasant fizzling sensation beneath my skin, and I feel like I am almost floating as I spear some meat from my plate and bite into it. The flavor bursts on my tongue and I make a small sound of pleasure as I tear a piece from a cinnamon roll and eat that too. Buttery, sweet with cinnamon and icing. It is a decadent pairing with the sausage. It demands to be followed by cloud-like eggs. Everything is as delicious as the meal before and I savor each bite before following it with another.
“Excellent,” the spirit hums sweetly. “Try some of the pudding now. Yes, just like that,” it murmurs as I take a bite.“Now the rum cake. It is made with real rum and should not be missed. This is a very special treat for a very special person. It shall truly keep you warm and merry.”
I need no further encouragement as I cut a slice and nearly moan when I take a bite.
“Do you like it, my dear?”
