The Stories We Whisper at Night

by Sky Corgan

  Reading the stories fills me with a sense of nostalgia. As an adult, they have much less of an effect on me, though they're still a bit creepy since I'm alone.

  I've made it to the last story in the book, the one about the Keelut, an evil dog spirit that attacks travelers at night. It was always the least scary to me, mainly because I never went outside at night. As I read one account of a man being hunted by the beast though, I hear a strange scratching at the door, and a chill rolls down my spine. My eyes shift away from the book, my heartbeat picking up. The wind probably just pushed some debris against the door. I have to convince myself of that, or else I'll never get to sleep tonight.

  It takes a moment for my gaze to refocus on the book, but the moment it does, I hear another scratching sound, followed by a low moan. Now I'm really freaked out. The book gets set down, and I run for my father's shotgun. Something is on the other side of the door. It's not just my imagination.

  I stand in front of the door with the gun in my trembling hands, staring at it. There's a sudden loud banging sound that about makes me accidentally pull the trigger. The door shakes on its frame, and I take aim, expecting the worst. If some hellish beast breaks through, I won't hesitate to blow its head off.

  The banging stops and the room grows deathly silent aside from the sound of the wind whistling outside of the cabin. I listen with perked ears, and after a few seconds I exhale deeply, realizing that I was holding my breath the entire time. Whatever it was must have gone away.

  As I begin to relax, the gun drops from my shoulder. The smart thing to do would be to go back and continue reading my book. Or better, start a different one that's not so scary. But curiosity has me in its grip. I can't help but wonder what animal was outside the door. The storm is too loud for me to hear its footsteps leaving, but I'm fairly confident it's not there anymore.

  Quietly, I creep towards the door, not wanting to give my position away if the creature is still close by. I prop the gun up against the wall and unbolt the latch to peak outside. Almost the second I turn the handle, I'm pushed back by a force on the other side. My heart leaps into my throat as I lose my balance and fall backwards. All I can do is pray that it was a rush of wind that caused the door to fly open. Inside, I know better though.

  One mistake is all it takes to lose your life. One moment of stupid curiosity. I'm certain it's all over. The horrible Keelut has tricked me. It's going to drag me off into the night, never to be seen again.

  When I look up though, it's not a beast I see, but the body of a man. A naked man. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or even more terrified. Who walks around in a snowstorm naked?

  There's little time to worry about the reason behind what's going on though. The guy is half frozen to death and needs my aid. Instantly, I spring into action, dragging him inside the rest of the way and closing the door behind him.

  For a moment, I worry that he's dead. He's laying there unmoving, his skin almost as white as the snow. But when I kneel beside him and roll him over to face me, he starts to shiver, the palest blue eyes peering up at me beneath frosty lashes. My cheeks flush with the color that his body is lacking. He's very handsome, and not much older than me.

  “Thank you,” he manages to stutter, and it takes a moment for the words to register in my head. I was so mesmerized by his pretty face that I completely forgot what I was doing.

  “Here. Let me get you by the fire.” I help pull him to his feet, sneak under his arm, and bring him to sit in front of the stove. Even though opening the door probably saved his life, it also let a whole lot of cool air in. If I don't do something fast, he's going to die of hypothermia. There's absolutely no doubt in my mind.

  Once he's seated in front of the fire, I rush to get blankets to wrap him in. He sits there, as if his entire body is frozen in place as I move about the cabin, covering him up and then putting a pot of water on the stove. I need to warm him up as quickly as possible, but I have limited resources.

  As if reading the horribly embarrassing thought going through my mind, he says, “Body.”

  “I'm heating this up as quickly as I can.” I pretend not to hear him.

  “Body heat.” He looks up at me pleadingly.

  For a moment, I study his face. The guy is probably too cold to be thinking about anything other than survival. Maybe it will be alright. Besides, he is really good looking. Nice square jaw. Mussy short brown hair that's a bit wavy. Big blue eyes. Fit physique. And a really big...Oh my.

  I shake my head. This isn't the time to be caring about whether the guy is cute or not. About whether this is amoral or not. He could die if I don't give him some of my body heat. Do I really want that on my conscience?

  I screw my face, still not feeling good about this but knowing it's a necessary evil to raise his body temperature. “Don't look, okay,” I tell him timidly as I turn and start disrobing. This is so wrong. Feels so wrong. What would my parents do if they were here? For once, I wish they hadn't gone away.

  When I'm naked, I take a deep breath and turn around, unwrapping the blankets from him as quickly as possible. “Lie down,” I instruct when his glorious naked body is uncovered.

  He acquiesces, and I position myself beside him on the floor, covering us with the blankets before I press my full body against his. It's more than uncomfortable, and not for the reasons I thought it would be. His entire body is like ice, and I'm beginning to wonder if this will be enough to save him. My hands instinctively wrap around him to give him more of my warmth, my body spreading out over his. I feel like another layer of blankets, my focus on covering him completely.

  For the longest time, I think it's a lost cause. He's been out in the snow for too long. At any moment, he's going to fall asleep, and he's not going to wake back up.

  “Stay with me, okay?” If he passes out, that will be the end of him. I can't allow it to happen.

  He gazes down at me and nods, his body still shivering uncontrollably. It's like he's looking through me, not at me. “Angel.”

  My mind races with panic, and I turn to see what he's looking at before I turn back to him and say very seriously, “Don't go towards the light.”

  He bursts out laughing, though it quickly rumbles into a cough. I take the opportunity to roll off of him and go check the boiling water, transferring it into a mug for him to drink. My nudity is completely forgotten in my effort to ensure his survival. He stares at me blatantly as I kneel before him and offer him the mug, urging him to sit up and drink.

  “Here. It's just water, but it should raise your temperature a little.”

  He nods and takes the mug from me, sipping on its contents, his eyes fluttering back and forth from my body to anything else in the room. It takes a moment, but I begin to feel self-conscious, remembering that I'm completely naked and alone with a total stranger, one who is quickly coming back to life. I liked him a lot more when he was a mancube.

  When he's done drinking, I take the mug from him, set it aside, and crawl back under the blankets to give him more of my body heat. Already, he feels a lot warmer. It's a good sign that he'll probably pull through.

  We lay there together in silence, listening to the crackling of the logs on the fire. Eventually, his shivering begins to die down. His skin is still cold, but it's not icy like it was before.

  I nuzzle against him with my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. My mind is going absolutely wild, flitting from subject to subject as if I drank a bucket of coffee. Is this what it feels like to have a husband, I wonder. This is the first time a man has ever seen me naked, and the first time I've seen a man naked. And our bodies are pressed together so tightly, so intimately. It's kind of freaking me out, mostly because I like it. Is it wrong of me to like this?

  The soft sound of snoring disrupts my racing thoughts. For a moment, I panic, lifting my head to look up at him. He shouldn't be asleep. I told him not to go to sleep.

  He looks so peaceful though, so handsome and...well, like a curiosity to m
e. I've never been this close to a man before, had this type of an opportunity with one. And while I know I should wake him, I can't help but want to take advantage of the situation.

  I'll wake him in a second. First I want to....

  I focus all of my attention on not disturbing his slumber as I move ever so slowly to grab the top of the blanket and lift it up. For a few moments, my eyes are glued to his face. Then I finally let them scan down his body, over his broad hairless chest, across the delicious valleys of his chiseled abs, to the smattering of pubic hair just before his...Oh my lord.

  Wow. So that's what one looks like up close and personal. Boys have such odd bodies. It's kind of sexy though, in its own way. I quirk my head to the side, wondering what he tastes like down there.

  “I guess the no looking rule only applies to you.”

  His voice about makes me have a heart attack. I drop the blanket and cower, thinking I might die of embarrassment. There's no playing this off. He caught me red handed, staring at his body like some lecher.

  “You're warm enough,” I decide, rolling out from under the blankets to get dressed.

  “You don't have to go. I'm still cold.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

  “I thought you were asleep,” I say weakly, though that's certainly no excuse.

  “You told me not to fall asleep. Remember?”

  “You were snoring.”

  “I was resting my eyes. Drifting.”

  When I'm fully dressed, I return to the stove to make him another mug of hot water. “I see your speech has returned to you...” I hesitate on his name.

  “Michael,” he offers.

  “Michael,” I parrot back, turning to him with the mug in my hand. “I'm Ferne.”

  “Ferne. That's a pretty name.” He sits up and takes the mug from me, drinking its contents heartily.

  Now that he's awake and very alert, I decide to keep my distance. Instead of rejoining him on the floor, I sit on the sofa, gazing down at him. “So, Michael, what were you doing out in the snowstorm?”

  “I'm an adventurer,” he declares proudly. “I was traveling through the wilderness when my snowmobile died. I probably wasted too much time trying to fix it. By the time I started heading back toward the village, it was too late to beat the storm.”

  “And where are your clothes?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.

  “Ah. That,” he laughs nervously, looking down at the blankets draped around him. “Well, while I was walking back towards the village, I crossed a frozen lake...or tried to. The ice was weak in a spot, and I fell through, but I was able to claw my way out. Naturally, when I got out of the water, the first thing I did was strip off my soaked clothes. Since I was already naked, I figured I should go do my business. When I came back, there was a pack of wolves standing between me and my clothes. Needless to say, I didn't think it was worth trying for them. Instead, I headed in the opposite direction, upwind from the wolves, hoping I could get away before they caught my scent. They never actually chased me, but they did stalk me for a good mile or so.

  By the time I felt safely far enough away from them, I had gotten lost. The best thing I could do to keep my body temperature up was to press on and try to find shelter. The wilderness is unrelenting though, as you probably know. The storm caught up with me, and I thought I was done for. Still, I kept going and somehow ended up on your doorstep. I guess someone was looking out for me.” He glances up toward the ceiling.

  “I guess so.” I stare at him, thinking about how unlucky he is to have run into so much misfortune before finding my house.

  “I think I'll be alright now, but I'm awfully tired. I hope you don't mind me sleeping on the floor.” Michael gives me a hopeful look. It amuses me that he'd even think I'd kick him back out into the cold.

  “The floor is yours,” I say with a smirk.

  “I'm still cold though. I could really use some more of your body heat. Besides, we'll both be warmer if we sleep together.”

  My cheeks light up at the words 'sleep together'. Needless to say, my mind instantly went south. I know he didn't mean it that way, but I can't help but imagine what it would be like. It's a horrible thing to think about. This guy is a nobody to me. He blew in with the storm and will be gone as soon as morning comes. Our little intimate moment ended when I put my clothes back on.

  “I don't think that's a good idea.” I shake my head, trying to regain the morals I seem to have lost in his presence.

  “Please, Ferne.” He gives me the most adorable puppy eyes and then shivers for effect.

  Maybe it would be okay. In truth, we would both be warmer if we slept naked together, and it is awfully cold. Besides, when am I going to get another chance like this? Not just to be alone with a man, but an incredibly handsome man.

  “Only if you tell me about your adventures,” I say, pretending like it's a compromise.

  “Of course.” He watches me undress with my back towards him, though there's no heat in his gaze. When I'm finished, I make him close his eyes again before I crawl beneath the blankets beside him.

  This time, his body feels a lot warmer, at least near his core. His extremities are still a bit cold, but so are mine. We snuggle together, and he wraps his arms around me, being the big spoon this time. It makes me blush, and also causes other unmentionable stirrings. Laying like this, I can feel his manhood pressed against my backside, and it's not as pliable as it was before. He's getting turned on, but I suppose that's only natural now that his body isn't one hundred percent concentrating on survival.

  “I like traveling,” he begins. “I've always wanted to see as much of the world as possible. I've been all over the United States and overseas. To England and Paris. There are still a lot of places I want to go though.”

  “Tell me about England.” A smile creases my lips, and as he begins speaking intricately about Stonehenge and Big Ben and the Tower of London, I can almost picture myself there. It all sounds so magical.

  “What about you? Have you ever been outside of Alaska?” he asks.

  “No.” I frown. “My parents would keep me here forever if they could.”

  “Your parents? No husband?”

  “No husband, or boyfriend, for that matter,” I clarify, hoping he won't take that as an invitation to make a move.

  Michael audibly sighs. “Well, that makes me feel a lot less guilty about this. I thought that maybe your husband was away.”

  “No.” I shake my head lightly. “You shouldn't feel guilty anyway. There's nothing wrong in what we're doing. I was just saving your life.”

  “Saving my life,” he repeats the words thoughtfully. “An Angel. A snow angel. That's what you are,” he tells me before giving me a gentle squeeze. There's an affection in his words that wasn't there before, and his touch has changed. Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

  “Well, this snow angel had her wings clipped a long time ago.”

  “That's sad. Everyone should explore the world,” his tone takes on a somber note.

  “Not everyone has the means.” My mood sulks. There's no point in dwelling on what is though. I need to take advantage of this time with Michael, to get as many stories out of him as possible so that I'll have something to dream about on nights when my crappy life in Alaska seems too much to bear. “Tell me about Paris now,” I say, settling down against him and allowing his tales of adventure to lull me to sleep.

  ***

  The morning greets me with a strange warmth. There are arms around me, and for a moment, I forget everything that happened the night before. Panic races through me as I jolt up to see Michael sleeping beside me. Then it all comes back. The snowstorm. The rapping on the door. My fear and bewilderment at seeing Michael's naked body sprawled out on the cabin floor.

  I allow myself a moment to lay in his arms. This is a small taste of what my life could be like. Maybe not traveling the world, but with a man by my side. Perhaps it is high time I give in and find a husband.

  Soon, this will be gone.
Michael will borrow some of my father's clothing and head back into town, and I'll be alone again. It's a disheartening thought, and only compounds the depression I normally feel from thinking about such things.

  The hours tick by until I become uncomfortable lying on the floor. Apparently, part of being an adventurer is sleeping until God knows when. I don't have that luxury. With the snowstorm past, I need to go out and see what damage it has done to the cabin. I also need to shovel snow off of the roof.

  Michael sleeps like a log while I get dressed and eat a piece of bread with some jam for breakfast. It's a pity he's just passing through. I would have liked to get to know him better, I think with a sigh before heading outside.

  There's at least a good eight inches of fresh snow on the ground from the storm. One of the trees a few yards away from the cabin lost several of its branches from the weight of it. While there doesn't appear to be any exterior damage to the cabin, the roof will definitely need to be shoveled, and soon. Amazingly, the snowman survived the storm, sans his carrot. I plod through the snow to get to him, smirking at his newly deformed face. Most of the rocks used for his eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons either fell off during the storm or were buried under more snow, leaving his once round face almost unrecognizable.

  “Poor thing. You froze your twig and berries off,” I jest, searching the ground for the carrot. There's no point in digging in the snow for it. That's energy I don't need to waste, better saved for all the snow shoveling I have to look forward to.

  With my assessment done, I go back inside to check on Michael. He's finally awoken and is sitting in front of the stove with the blankets wrapped around himself.

  “Morning,” he says to me with a smile.