The Spelled Hut [Fiction]

Photo by: Spencer Selover

I marched with some confidence, or perhaps arrogance, and of course, excitement towards the market. Very few stalls, sparsely set out, were opened.

I glanced at the hilly terrain that led to tall mountains ahead. A weary old man selling raffia baskets and carved, decorative boxes of various sizes, all locally made, gazed at me with curiosity. "Are you by any chance going up those mountains, young man?"

Chest out, I grinned. "You bet I am! I've heard hikers avoid this terrain like the plague."

"Listen—"

"Don't worry," I quickly cut the old man short. "I'm an experienced hiker and have been through worse and survived. Where's the fun in life if we don't try something daring, yea?" I winked in an attempt to draw out a smile from the old man.

"Take this." The old man gave me a tiny box with tiny amber coral beads linked around it to make a fine necklace.

"What am I to do with this?"

"Wear it. It will protect you from the dangers on those mountains. Good luck."

"But…I…" I stuttered and watched in mild shock as the old man, lips thinned, retreated inside his stall without giving me a second look. I wanted one of the decorative boxes for my sister when I returned home.

I shrugged and began my hike up the hills. I threw the tiny box necklace away. Perhaps when I got back, the man would be opened and I could buy the decorative box instead.

I spent the better part of the day climbing the hills. Once I got to the foot of the mountain, I sat for a moment to drink some water and eat a protein bar. I had more inside my backpack.

As I trudged up the mountain, the hike was getting very steep. I held onto a rock and looked back. I was out of breath. It was lonely behind me—not a single soul, bird or animal in sight. I wondered if I turned back then I could make it to the hotel for the night.

No. I'd boasted to the old man that I would make it up the mountain. Zac Garrett never gives up!

I continued the steep climb, slipped on rocks and bruised my hands and knees in the process. Then a flurry of snow began that quickly turned into a blizzard. I found a precipice and hid underneath as the blizzard lasted for three days.

I finished my protein bars and water on the second day. By the third, I was tired, weak and my bruises hurt. I crawled out of the precipice and saw the entire mountain blanketed in snow. I realised there was no going back. I got to the top of the mountain when I was immediately surrounded by a squawking colony of grey and white seagulls.

Some hovered midair and flapped their wings, stirring up snow into my eyes. I raised my hands to shield my face when I sighted a hut afar off. I ran with all my might as the seagulls pursued after me. The feel of their claws on my back, neck and shirt made me burst through the door into the hut.

I fell on a rough, concrete floor and was greeted with silence. The door slammed shut behind me. I couldn't hear the gulls anymore.

It was partially dark inside the hut, except for a fire blazing in the hearth. A figure sat in an old armchair. I couldn't make out his face because my sight had become blurry from my pounding head.

The figure stood up and crouched down. He was a man. "Well, ain't yer a sight for sore eyes," he said. His voice was hoarse and his breath stank.

"Do you live here? Who are you?" I asked. Was he a hiker like me and got stuck on this mountain?

"Don't concern yerself with that. Drink this." He pushed a wooden bowl with warm liquid like tea into my mouth. I gulped some down and felt instant relief.

I blinked and my sight cleared up. The man was middle-aged, bald and bearded with grey hair. He grinned and tipped the bowl into my mouth. "Drink some more."

I started to feel dizzy.

"Yer wee fall asleep soon but before yer do, I wan' to thank yer for coming to take my place. I was like yer many moons ago and abandoned the warnings not to come here. The blasted gulls pushed me here. Now I'm free to go because yer here."

"What are you saying?" I whispered as the man's face blurred.

"If yer try to leave, this hut is spelled and won't let you until another takes yer place…." Dark spots covered my eyes as the man's voice faded away.

I woke up some days later and true to the man's words, I couldn't leave the hut, no matter how hard I tried. I saw markings and numbers scratched on the mud wall by people who lived in the hut before me.

I have only one hope—that a young, arrogant man like I once was, will take my place here. Soon.

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