Firefly

I heard the rumors. The guy at the grocery told me about a homeless guy sneaking into sheds and garages at night, disappearing in the morning and leaving nothing except old paint cans or winter sleds slightly rearranged.

“They say you can’t really tell for sure. It’s just a feeling. You know. Like somebody’s been there, but you don’t really have any proof. Weird.” Harry rang up the pint of vanilla ice cream I bought for the wild blueberry pie I’d just made. One benefit of being on the edge of nowhere is wild blueberries everywhere in August. You just had to go pick them. Stop your car, get out, and just sit amidst the ferns and blueberry bushes and just fill your hat with them. And not worry about being alone there by the side of the road. That was part of it. Not watching out for anyone or anything, just being alone with the blueberries.

“I’ll keep an eye out. But I keep everything locked at the house. Buttoned up. Only place somebody might go would be the sauna but it’s always locked. Thanks, though, for letting me know.” I didn’t want Harry or anyone else in town thinking that I was some hysterical city girl. Not me.

Still, the idea of someone roaming around town, maybe coming out to the Point, the little strip of land between the town’s calm harbor and the often fearsome Lake Superior, made me uneasy. This had always been a place where anything could happen. Incredible, terrifying winds, blinding snowstorms and drifts so deep that walking was impossible, darkness that was darker than anywhere I had ever been.

“Oh, never mind,” I thought. I’ve dealt with a lot worse than someone rearranging the paint cans.

The night was beautiful and clear. Perfect for a fire in the outdoor fireplace, especially after such a fine piece of pie. The sparks flew here and everywhere, a great fire. But as the sun went down, the chill set in so I decided to go in the house for a sweater.

“Oh damn!” Even though no one could hear me, I cursed and cursed. How was it possible I could lock myself out of my own house? I looked around to see if the neighbors were around. No, no lights at all on the Point except the light of my fire.

And the light in the sauna.

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Written in response to a Write on Edge prompt: something befitting the season (scary!) in 400 words.