The Giant Forest - COMPLETED - True to life adventures of preteens.

Be Careful What You Hope For

It was late evening when Bart and Prissie heard the knocks at the door.

They looked at each other bug-eyed and speechless. Bart peered under the table to see if there was something going on that he wasn't aware of.

"What are you looking under the table for, man?"

"I thought maybe you was playing a trick on me."

"Why would I do that? Have I ever done anything like that before? Why would I start now."

"You're right. You're not the kind to do trickery."

Bart thought it made sense for him to be the one who goes to the door.

"Who'd be knocking at this time of night?" he wanted to ask. But what he said was, "Yikess!!! Who? What in tarnation could that possibly be?!?! We ain't heard nobody knock at our door since ... well, ever. There's nobody else out here except us."

Prissie couldn't remember anyone ever having knocked at their door either. Not even a tree branch had broken off and blown up to scratch at the door.

Apprehensive and jittering with excitement and fear, were he to admit to it, at the same time Bart tiny steps toward the door. Prissie rocked back and forth nervously in her birthday present. Bart had made her a rocking chair from leftover wood he had used to build the most recent cabin. She placed the item she was knitting on her lap and laid her needles across her lap. She put each arm on each of the respective arm rests and held on tightly enough that her knuckles turned white.

He told her, "It's not leftover wood. It's the best wood of the bunch."

Prissie knew better and still didn't mind at all. She knew Bart wouldn't skimp on building material for their future guests. There was no telling who would come. She, too, wanted to be prepared to offer the best when someone called on them. They both remembered a story of a visitor long ago who had to be turned away because there was no room in the inn for him and his parents. They resolved that wouldn't be the case with them.

Bart and Prissies house was not large. Even Bart took tiny steps he would arrive at the door sooner than later. He took hold of the door knob. There was no need to unlock the door for there was no lock on the door!

The two couldn't decide if they should hurriedly open the door or wish whatever or whomever was on the other side would go away.

Bart pulled back a curtain at the window next to the door and peered outside. He saw nothing.

"There's no one out there!"

"Well, someone or something knocked at the door. Open it up and lets have a look."

Bart cautiously turned the knob and peeked out, then shut the door quickly enough that there was a slam heard for the first time since they moved to the mountain.

"There's nobody there," he said.

"Can't be. We most certainly heard a knock. Three knocks. Look again."

"Are you sure? Maybe it was the wind."

"The wind doesn't knock. Look again."

Bart opened the door more widely this time and peered out into the darkness. The open door and warmth from inside began to suck cold air in. Bart got hit in the face with a gust of wind and a swirl of snow. Shivers went down his spine."

Prissie chuckled. "You scared, old man?"

"No. It's cold out there."

Bart closed the door.

"I am telling you, there ain't nothing there."

"There isn't anything there."

"That's what I said. There ain't nothing, nor no one there."

Prissie shrugged. "Grab the lantern and look again. We heard something. And there's no such things as ghosts. And if there was ghosts, they couldn't knock on doors!"

Bart shuddered at the thought of spooks and goblins and witches and visitors appearing and disappearing and knocking at his door and leaving without being seen. He was a believer. He was also a believer in apparitions, though he would never let on to Prissie about such things.

Bart opened the door and with arm straight out he held the lantern. The light extended barely a small snowball's throw into the night. A half dozen or so tiny twisters of snow spun about and blocked his sight. But what he did see made him nearly drop the lantern. There were two sets of small footprints, about the size of a big kid or small woman. One set of footprints came up to the door and the other was heading away. The footprints were the same size coming and going. But the footprints coming were noticeably deeper.

When Bart looked down he saw the reason for the deeper footprints that led up to the door. There was a crate at his feet. On the crate was a makeshift handle with a piece of fabric wrapped around it to make it easier to carry without hurting your hands. Branded into one side of the crate were two partially visible letters. Both were the letter 'C.' The letters in between had been worn off by time.

The box shook ... on its own!

"There are no ghosts. There are no ghosts. There are no ghosts," he muttered barely audibly.

"Who is it, Bart? What is it, man? Why are you taking so long? The wind's cold. Shut the door, will you?"

"There are no ghosts," Bart said as he bent over slowly while reaching out to grab the handle on the crate. He pulled up on the handle and the lid of the crate came popped off. He dropped the lantern in the snow and it went out.

"What caused the door to knock?! What're you seeing?"

"Uh, it's not a what. It's a who."

"A who?"

"Yeah, it's a who."

"Who?!" Prissie asked excitedly.

"It's a baby."