Chapter 8: Bishop's Cabin

1K 113 18
                                    

During our breakfast which consisted of bean soup and bread she had made, I learned that her name was Bishop and she didn't have a last name. In fact, after her mother died when she was 12, she had been living there alone for the last 7 years. It was a sad story, but at least her mom had left her with great survival skills that she was using to live in the shack. Her father-well, she doesn't know him. Never even met him. 

When I told her my story, she joked and told me we could be like lost sisters whose moms had just left them in a shack. The dark jokes she told were funny and I found myself relating to a lot of things she joked about. She made a lot of jokes about dads and being abandoned and all I could do was relate and laugh.

"I'll show you around," she got up after we finished breakfast. "might be great that you're here. I've started a new project. I'll show you."

We got up and left the shack. The air was cold but the sun gave us some warmth. Outside of the shack, way out in the distance was a little cabin chilling off in the side, looking like it was going to fall any day. The way it leaned reminded me of something from a horror movie. It was creepy. 

"That cabin was there before me and my mom came. She said the first time she found it, she found some remains," Bishop said while we walking along a sandy path that led towards the cabin.

She didn't look threatening to me any longer. She looked at life this goofy girl skipping along and doing random flips out of nowhere. I only wished to be so outgoing and full of energy.

"What'd she do with the remains?" I asked her.

"Buried them behind the cabin," she replied.

Shivers automatically went down my spine and the closer we got, the more I wanted to run. I didn't though. I planted myself the moment we arrived then took a deep breath. The energy around me changed and for the strangest reason, my gaze remained affixed on the cabin. I just kept staring and like that, I was no longer afraid. I wanted to go inside.

"I feel weird," I said in a low voice. "but it's a good weird."

Bishop smiled and walked over to the cabin. She put her hand on it. "This thing has been here before you and me. I'm sure it went through a lot and saw many things happen."

"You think so?" I asked her.

She nodded her head.  "Oh, absolutely. Look at it. It's a leaning structure. It's broken windows and the droopiness around it. It's been through a lot. Sounds crazy, but I believe objects have feelings. And we can sometimes see the emotion in an object. If you look hard enough..."

I guess. I thought. 

She opened the door. It swung back and hit the wall, followed by a glob of dust after. Bishop stepped in first and I followed. It was spacious but dirty. There were a lot of kitchens and cleaning supplies here and there. A couch, a few books stacked in a corner against the wall. The spiders had a blast around the ceiling. There were two bean bag chairs that were torn open in front of a fireplace with already burnt wood inside. There was nothing organized about the place.

Bishop faced me. "I don't know how long you'll be here, but if you want to help me tackle this spot I'd be open-minded to letting you stay a few weeks longer. Perhaps as long as you need to."

Nervous laughter slipped out. "I don't think I'll be here that long...hopefully. But thank you. I really appreciate you letting me stay here especially since I'm a stranger."

"Of course," she smiled at me for what seemed like the first time. 

Bishop explained that the place was sturdy and the cabin has a few years left in it before it collapses. She laid out a plan that we would get the trash out, remove the dust, sweep a lot, and make it as cozy as possible.

"I cook and bake in here," she said while sweeping. "But the thought of cleaning it alone always made me go back on my thoughts. I didn't want to be in here working alone and if something happened, no one would know."

I nodded while looking for the ladder to begin dusting the ceiling. "I understand. I probably wouldn't have even stepped foot in here alone."

"It's nice though, right? I feel kind of at home here sometimes." Bishop said.

I finally found the ladder, propped it up, and began dusting the spiders and webs away. A job I really didn't want to do. "It does have the potential I see. Don't you ever get lonely out here?"

She shook her head. "Nope, not at all. When I get bored I just take the 3 miles into the city side. It's not super exciting but it's a nice getaway if I can. Maybe I'll show you sometimes." She walked over to the ladder. I looked down and realize she was holding a can of beer. "You want one."

"Oh," I waved my free hand. I don't drink," I told her. 

"Really? Ever tried?" She asked.

As soon as she said that, I remembered the note and what my mom said about alcohol. How they can't find me unless I smell like it. I climbed down the ladder. "I never tried it but there's a first time for everything right?" I smiled.

"I like your spirit," she smiled back.

The two of us had a can of beer and toasted to it. I didn't like it. In fact, I didn't understand how could anyone like it. I didn't plan on drinking it often. Maybe I'd wash my clothes with it every day to keep whatever away. Though the beer was gross and I had to force it down, I had a great time cleaning up with Bishop. For the first time since my father passed, things felt okay. That's until I thought about what happened before I got here...

Helena and the RingsOù les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant