The Cabin

I've got two more commissions left to do which will be posted next week. For now, enjoy the first part of what will be a short series.

All characters are consenting adults (18+) 

“I’ll take it”.

The real estate agent stopped fumbling in his satchel and looked up at Mike Russell. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll take it” the man said, squinting at the timber cabin as the winter sun blazed from behind the mountains.

“But… Sir, you haven’t even looked inside it, yet”.

“I told you I’d take it” Mike growled, “isn’t that what you’re here to do?”

The estate agent was in his late twenties, and evidently, had never come across somebody like Mike. He remained in place, unsure what to do next, until Mike rolled his eyes.

“You give me a contract. I give you money. You give me keys” the man said, slowly, and watched as the guy began to pull out papers and pens, and eventually the deal was done.

“You’re sure you don’t want to take a look inside?” He asked, timidly.

“I’m sure”.

“Uh… Alright, then, my phone number’s on the back of that –”

“Thanks” the burly man mumbled, and left the estate agent gawping from his car.

Mike heaved his rucksack onto his shoulder and marched toward the old cabin, and a few moments later, the young man drove away, and finally, Mike was alone. He let out the breath that he’d been holding for hours, and looked around at his new life.

The place was hidden from society. For hundreds of miles, the only thing that existed was nature. Huge trees as far as the eye could see, snow capped mountains all around, and the beautiful scent of the woods. It was a slice of life that Mike had all but forgotten, but now he was back.

The cabin was relatively well built, but was nothing like his old home back in the city. The door stuck when he tried to open it, but one firm bash of his shoulder and he was inside. The smell of the pine brought back memories of his childhood as he dropped his bag and looked around. It wasn’t much, but Mike didn’t need much, anymore.

He didn’t even know how far he’d driven. All he’d wanted to do was get away, and here he was, completely alone in the middle of a forest, unreachable to all of those he used to know. There was something liberating about it, but there was no time to dwell on it. From experience, Mike knew that nature waited for no man.

It took him less than an hour to find an old, rusted axe that he managed to sharpen, and decent firewood not far from his new home. Despite the cold chill, it had been a long time since he’d chopped logs, and soon his shirt lay on the dirt, and his hairy, muscular body glistened under the fading sun.

Fifteen years in the military had taken their toll on him, both good and bad. At forty two, he was in better shape than most twenty year olds, but he wasn’t getting any younger, either. He swung the axe, smashed the wood, and heaved it back inside and into the burner. Over and over and over again, Mike expended every last ounce of energy until he was set for a month.

It was already getting dark when he found the bathroom, and glared at the single, rusted shower head in the ceiling. He was a burly man, with large shoulders and muscular arms, and fitting into such a small space was awkward, to say the least. Still, he stripped out of his jeans, boots and boxer shorts, and stepped under the lukewarm stream before sighing.

He’d always preferred his own company. It’s not that he didn’t like other people, exactly, but he had little in common with almost everybody he knew back in the city. It had become exhausting through the years, and now that both of his parents were gone, he had nothing holding him back, anymore.

Mike looked up into the shower stream and scrubbed the sweat from his face. He slid his hand down his beefy, muscular body, feeling the thick carpet of hair curling around his fingers, and edged closer to the heavy tool between his legs. It had been over a week. With everything that had happened since, he’d found no time to be alone. His callused fingers wrapped around the thick rod, and it took only seconds for all eight inches to grow in his hand. His breathing became more laboured as he stroked it. His heavy eyelids closed, and he dragged his lip into his mouth with his teeth. It wouldn’t take long. He was almost there. It felt even better than he expected, and then the shower spray turned freezing, and he gasped as he jumped out.

“Fuck” he growled, slamming the old thing off. He looked down at the impressive organ as it deflated before his very eyes, and grabbed his old towel that he’d taken with him. “Fuck” he said again, and dried off before calling it a night.

A strip of sunlight poured across the bedroom, waking Mike from a restless sleep. The bed wasn’t comfortable, but it was a bed, nonetheless. He lay there, staring up at the wooden beams above, and rubbed his eyes before groaning as he sat up.

Was this really what he wanted? A life of complete solitude? He swung his legs out from the side of the bed and stared out the window and into the forest. It was funny, really. He was no more alone here than he had been back in the city.

The kettle worked. The toaster didn’t, and it took him the guts of an hour to make two eggs over a pan above the wood burner in the corner. As he swallowed them down, he couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of a good, greasy breakfast from his old favourite diner. He sighed, but he was determined to make this work, and so Mike dressed in front of the only mirror in the house, and ran his hand through his stubbled beard.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that. He’d spent his entire life being told as much, though he wasn’t sure he could see what everybody else did. He was rugged and rough, with dark features that he’d inherited from his father, and a thick mop of jet black hair to match. He combed it neatly, just like he’d been taught to do as a kid, and left the bedroom.

Dressed in his usual shirt, jeans and boots, Mike grabbed his rifle and headed out into the wilderness. If there was one thing he’d learned from his father, it was that out in the woods, fast food has a very different meaning.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone hunting. He was probably only a boy. He waded through weeds and shrubbery, walking slowly and carefully as he kept his eyes peeled, but after thirty minutes, Mike realised he hadn’t been paying attention to a single thing.

He felt like a child again, only now he had nobody. No mother to tuck him into bed. No father to teach him how to be a man. He was alone, and it hurt more now than it had a week ago when he first heard the news. If only he’d spent more time with his old man.

“Pull yourself together” he growled, shaking his head just as a beautiful deer strolled into his sights. He held his breath for a moment, worried that he’d scare the thing off if he made a sound, and slowly lifted the rifle.

It was a majestic beast. The way in which it walked was so pure and soft, trotting slowly, head held high. He loaded quietly, aiming right where he needed to, and just as he squeezed the trigger;

“Stop!”

The gun fired. The bullet ripped through the top of a tree fifty feet above, and the deer darted into the depths of the forest as Mike spun around, startled and ready to unload a second bullet.

The boy was barely a man. His face was soft, though he had nicks from a bad razor around his chin. His eyes were the largest that Mike had ever seen, and his dirty blond hair was utterly butchered on his head. He stood there, holding a pair of binoculars in one hand, and a book in the other, and glared at Mike furiously.

“You can’t hunt here!” He snapped, and it looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you?” Mike asked, his heart still racing from the near miss. “And you just frightened off my dinner, kid”.

The boy shot him a cold look and shook his head. “I told you” he growled, “you can’t hunt here”.

This was the last thing he needed. He rolled his eyes, hung the strap of his rifle around his shoulder, and made to walk off.

“Where are you going?” The kid asked, following behind. “You can’t hunt anywhere around here”.

“Oh yeah?” Mike scoffed, “stop me”.

He heard the patter of the lad’s shoes as he hurried behind, and seconds later, the irritating young man stood in front of him.

“You’ll have to shoot me” he said, defiantly. “If you want to hunt, you’ll have to shoot me first”.

Mike stopped and stared at him.

“What is this?” He asked, “some Green Peace bullshit? Get out of my way, kid”.

“No”.

Mike growled to himself and took a step to the side, but the young man mimicked him, and remained in his path.

“I’m warning you, boy” he spat, and tried to get around him again, but again, the kid blocked his way.

“I told you” he said, “you’ll have to shoot me, first”.

“You know what? Fine”.

Mike raised the rifle to the guy’s chest and held it there, waiting for him to throw himself onto the ground, but much to his shock, the razor-burned little shit remained firmly in place.

“I don’t want to kill a kid” he said, “but I need to eat, and if I can’t kill a deer, then maybe I’ll roast you on a spit”.

“I’m not a kid” he replied, his eyes still closed. “I’m eighteen, and if you want to eat, you’ve got to do it like everybody else around here”.

“Everybody else?” Mike scoffed, and looked around at nothing but trees.

“Well” the lad shrugged, “my mom and I”.

“You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

He didn’t respond.

“Fine” Mike eventually said, and dropped the gun. “So, how is it that you and your mother eat? Mushrooms? Leaves? Some fuckin’ vegan shit?”

The young man gave him an unimpressed scowl and pointed toward a path.

“The store, dumbass”.

“The store? There’s a store? Here?”

The kid rolled his eyes again, and turned on his heel. “Come on” he said, and Mike considered just offing the kid and returning to the deer. Instead, he took a breath and followed behind.

“If this is some sort of joke, I’ll shoot you in the ass” he mumbled, but the young stranger ignored him as the hiked through the wilderness.

“What’s your name?” The eighteen year old asked.

“Why?”

“Well, if we’re gonna’ be neighbours, we should probably know each other’s names”.

“Neighbours? I thought I was getting away from fuckin’ neighbours”.

“Are you always this angry?”

“Yes”.

“Why?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

“I guess”.

Mike was beginning to wish he’d stayed in bed.

“Mike” he eventually said, and the lad spun around and extended his bony hand.

“Ollie” he replied, and his bright blue eyes flickered up to meet Mike’s dark brown ones. “Nice to meet you”.

“Is it?” The man growled, and squeezed the kid’s hand until he squirmed. “Just show me where the damn store is”.