Snowfall in Venice

House of the Hermit

LA CASA DELL'EREMITA

"If the legend is true, Gayle, it must have been a lonely life for the hermit, living up here in this isolated cabin."

"I can't even imagine it, Mark. I think I'd go crazy."

I paused to put another log on the roaring fire. "I guess the real mystery is why anyone would do it. The legend doesn't give many details, so I can't even hazard a guess."

Gayle nodded. She was busy setting up the old wood plank table for our evening meal. The cabin was warming up nicely from the heat rising from the stone fireplace. With the old candle stubs flickering, the room took on an inviting glow.

I arranged the bedding around the fireplace to try and reduce the dampness that had accumulated from the long period of disuse. Gayle laid out the sumptuous spread the hotel had packed for our trip.

"Something smells good, honey, and I'm ravenous."

"At least wait until I have everything unpacked, Mark. Don't be a pig."

The hamper contained a large bottle of local merlot and the same size bottle of Chablis. A full loaf of freshly baked, crusty Italian bread nestled in the hamper alongside an ample supply of unsalted butter and Cognac paté. Cold poached Scottish salmon, large marinated shrimps, smoked oysters, assorted cold cuts, and tossed greens completed the spread.

Gayle smiled. "I never thought we would be spending our honeymoon in a haunted cabin, but this is great." I couldn't respond for a moment. My mouth was too full of the delicious food to do so without choking like the poor co-pilot.

We were both tired from our skiing, so Gayle welcomed my suggestion to make it an early night. I turned out the light and joked as we snuggled down in the old, but comfortable, hand-crafted double bed.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Gunderson, now get over here. I've got a honeymoon gift waiting just for you."

The first response from the darkness was a giggle followed by, "Who the hell wants an old, previously used, very tiny, wrinkled up honeymoon present anyway?"

I delivered her honeymoon gift despite the jibes, and her laughter soon subsided.

Between the large meal and the heat from the fireplace, I found myself falling quickly into a deep sleep. Then, sometime during the night, I began to have a vivid dream. It was so real, I can still recall every detail.

In my dream, I found myself in the woods outside the cabin. Everything seemed strange because, while the snowfall was heavy, I didn't feel the cold. I was following in the footsteps of an older man, wearing a hooded snowmobile suit of old-fashioned design. The specter turned and beckoned me to follow him. I couldn't see his face because of the hood.

The man reached the cabin entrance and went in. Again, he beckoned for me to follow him. The inside of the cabin was the same, but it was also vaguely different. The changes were too subtle for me to recognize. The man I was following moved silently to the center of the room. He was standing on an antique woven rug. The rug depicted an alpine winter scene with snow-peaked mountains and numerous skiers.

The man motioned for me to come closer, then he pointed down at the figure of a young female skater, woven into the center panel of the carpet. I tried to speak, but no words would come out of my mouth. The man shook his head, pointed directly down again at the girl, and then simply vanished in a shimmering haze.

I woke with a gasp, sweating heavily. I shook my head to try and clear the dream. I sat there trembling while the early morning light filtered into the room. Because Gayle was still sleeping so soundly, I left the bed quietly. I moved to the window and noticed that heavy snow was still dropping from a leaden sky. The fire had died during the night, and the room was taking on an early morning chill.