A Winter Portrait

The wick of a candle fluttered as a draft slid by. Draped in a blanket, Enoch scribbled drawings on his weathered paper, the wind howling outside. He looked up from his art and gazed through the frosty window. Snow blew across the landscape outside and Enoch observed the hues of pink in the sky during the early hours of dawn.

Enoch blinked. Could it be that early already? He gathered up his pencils and charcoal sticks, shoving them in his satchel with his art. He draped his wool blanket over his chair, put on his round glasses, and slowly descended the stairs.

As he entered the kitchen of the tiny wooden home, the warmth of the fire made his cheeks rosy. Swiftly, Enoch got dressed, stoked the fire, and grabbed his sled. Bag in hand, bundled up tightly, he set off towards the town ahead.

"Good morning, Mrs. Finch," Enoch said. His voice was cheerful, if too loud, not sounding quite right.

"Come inside, dear. It's frigid! I'll get the deliveries," she said, turning into the next room. Enoch quickly read her lips and rubbed his hands together. Mrs. Finch brought a basket to him, its contents meant for the many different residents of the town. Supplies, mail, food, and everything in between filled the large wooden box.

She looked directly at him and said, "Everything is labelled. Just bring it to the right house and ring the bell." Enoch picked up the heavy box and waddled out the door. He set off onto the deserted streets, the sun just peeking over the edge of the horizon.

Enoch visited each door, dropping off goods and knocking. Within each parcel, he slipped one of his works of art, drawings of families or winter landscapes. Everyone who resided in the small town awoke to find their food for the week sitting on their step along with a delightful drawing.

On one of his last stops he placed a bag outside the door and just as he went to knock, it swung open.

"There you are, boy. Now why don't you give me more than that?" the man said, picking up the supplies.

Enoch didn't quite catch what he had said. "Can you say that again?" The man laughed at Enoch's voice and this time yelled, "GIVE ME MORE BOY!" Though Enoch could not hear the change in volume, he simply shook his head and walked off. The man scowled and unfurled the piece of paper sticking out of the bag. His eyes widened as he took in the drawing of his late wife. It was as though he was looking into her eyes again. He shut the door and let his heart warm as he looked at Enoch's drawing.

The bite of the cold tasted like fresh mint as Enoch walked over the rolling hills toward home. He entered his home and the warmth of the fire fogged his glasses. He discarded his boots at the door, leaving a small pile of snow that was already beginning to melt.

Suddenly, he felt the warmth of the house intensifying. The smell of soot clinging to the air. Enoch rushed over to the fireplace. His eyes widened at the sight of flames engulfing his kitchen, the chimney collapsed and the room became engulfed in a smoky haze. Enoch rushed to the back door, grabbing only his satchel of drawings before sprinting outside. He turned to face the log cabin, his home, swallowed up by columns of orange flame.

A silent tear slipped down Enoch's rosy cheeks as his house burned. He did not hear the town gathering behind him as they crunched through the snow towards where his cabin was moments ago. A hand touched his shoulder. Enoch flinched and whirled around to find the man who yelled at him earlier that day.

Slowly and deliberately, the man spoke to him. "You can come to stay with me. My name is Felix Harvey." Enoch's eyes met his and he mouthed a thank you.

"No, boy. I should be thanking you. You managed to bring back the most important memory in my life." Felix grinned, regretting his outburst early that day. Enoch gave him a nod, his heartwarming because someone liked his art. Felix placed a hand on Enoch's shoulder and led him away from the blaze.

They walked off towards the snowy town ahead, the wind howling behind them as dusk crept into the sky and the last ember of Enoch's house went dark.