A Back Woods Cabin

Since each has been a city dweller from birth,
neither knows how much the wife’s inheritance is worth.
A distant relative on her mother’s side left her a cabin
deep in the back woods in a state where they’ve never been.

In late October they decide to take a trip to go inspect
the property, curious from not knowing just what to expect.
The cabin turns out to be a small, quite rustic shack
very high in the mountains, isolated way, way back

in the woods, with no neighbors anywhere near. They arrive
in early afternoon, look the place over, and finally decide
to stay the night. As they work at cleaning up the inside,
outside a haunting sound catches their ear, causing surprise.

>From somewhere far away comes music filling the air –
beautiful music played by a violinist beyond compare.
They walk outside on the porch, mesmerized by sweet notes
that float, each so filled with love, such emotion they evoke.

“Where can that wonderful music be coming from?” asks
the wife. “I will ask at the store.” The husband has the task
of buying supplies. Down at the little country store, when
he is ready to pay, the owner says “You city folk then?”

“Yes, my wife inherited the property – quite rustic, I’d say.”
“Well, ain’t no woman lived on that place in years. No way!”
“We heard some music coming from somewhere. Have any idea
who might be playing a violin in the woods? No one lives near.”

His question elicits a strange look on the old man’s face.
“Many years ago the man who lived on that there place
fell in love with a girl living in the hollow across the way.
Each night he’d play her love songs on his fiddle, they all say.

He won her heart; they became betrothed. His love songs began
to be so filled with love that even the forest animals would stand
and listen in wonder. But his lover she was unfaithful. He caught
her with his best friend. He got liquored up – all came to naught.

He killed his friend and his love, then vanished with nary a trace.
Since then every woman has disappeared who lives at his old place.”
“Are you talking ghosts here? Oh yes, it is Halloween tonight!”
He laughs. “You are feeding the city slicker a tall tale, right?”

Still chuckling, he returns to the cabin, empty, dark. It’s gotten late.
Her note “The music is real close now. I’ve gone to investigate.”

Friendly Musings

Harry Edward Gilleland      10.11.02    printer friendly