Secret to Finding It

“A 20-year-old girl was wandering through a pitch-black forest. She had been lost in these woods for many days. Exhausted one night, a faint orange glow in the distance caught her eye. She wondered, “Could it be somebody’s home?” But as she turned and walked towards the light, it became more and more faint. Finally, it disappeared completely. She stopped walking and looked around. Where had that light come from?

She was snapped out of her pondering by something smack in front of her face. An old cabin! She had nearly run right into it o noticing! The cabin was falling apart from neglect. But it had a somehow familiar, warm appeal. The girl entered cautiously through the open front door. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the small, single room within. It looked like nobody was home. Inside, in the darkness, she saw the outline of a lantern sitting on a kitchen table. She picked it up and gave it a shake. To her surprise, it felt full of fluid. The girl reached into her pocket for her lighter. She prayed it still worked. It had been many days since she last used it on her final cigarette. Thankfully, it fired on the first try.

She applied the flame with care and slowly the old lantern took. The cabin filled with the same orange glow that had led her there. The girl walked over to the bed and sat down atop the dusty blankets. She intended just to relax for a bit but flopped over asleep within seconds.
...
The next morning, she awoke to the sound of birds chirping. The sun was still low but it lit the cabin intensely. For a while, she thought she was back home. The girl rubbed her eyes and looked around. As her eyes turned to the lantern on the table, she remembered…lost…wandering in the woods…the old cabin. She got out of bed and explored the cabin. There were strange paintings on the walls. They looked like a child had made them. There was one of dark woods. One of the outside of the small cabin. And one of a fire burning in the fireplace. There were pots and pans in the kitchen, but no food. She found some extra blankets in the only closet. An old rocking chair sat empty facing the fireplace. Oddly, on the windowsill, rest a shiny golden harmonica.

In the afternoon she surveyed the outside of the cabin. There was a pile of already chopped, old firewood in back. It felt dry to the touch. Also, she found a small creek nearby. She took some wood back into the cabin and set it by the fireplace. Then she took a pot down to the creek and gathered some water. On the way back, she nearly dropped the water pot with excitement. She had stumbled upon a huge blueberry bush teeming with fruit. She approached the bush and picked one. She studied the small berry in her hand for a moment and then quickly put it in her mouth. The flavor was amazing! She shoved one after another into her mouth. Soon her chops were so full that she couldn’t fit any more. She slowly chomped down a few times; the juice running down the side of her chin. Each time she
swallowed, she sighed contentedly. She picked dozens more and put them into the pot with the water. Before she left the bush, she picked another three and popped them in her mouth.

The girl was still happily savoring the taste in her mouth when she got back to the cabin to start a fire. Next, she hung the pot of blueberries and water above to boil. Then she grabbed the harmonica and sat in the rocking chair contentedly. Soon she was sipping on blueberry tea and watching the fire as
night began to fall. She spent many days at the cabin regaining her strength. The blueberry bush was always full. In the evenings she sat by the fire and played the golden harmonica. She spent so many days like this that she had almost completely forgotten about her former life. One night, she suddenly remembered…the city, her apartment, her job, her friends, her family…

The next morning, she awoke knowing it was time to leave. She straightened up the bed and put the harmonica back on the windowsill. After one last visit to the blueberry bush, her pockets were filled and she started on her way. She took a few steps and then turned back. She went back inside the cabin and picked up the lantern. She gave it a little shake. It felt strangely full…she never remembered turning it off.

She set the lantern back down on the table. She giggled a little as she reached into her pocket—trying not to squish the blueberries. She headed back out into the woods with a smile; whistling a strange tune. Back in the cabin, her lighter lay on the table next to the lantern.
...
Since then many years have past. The girl is now an old woman. She spends most of her time sitting on her porch, whistling a strange tune...and drinking blueberry tea. (Most everyone thinks her crazy.) Every once in a long while, a curious passerby stops to chat with her. And she always tells them the same story—the story of the lonely cabin. Here is how the story ends:

“If you ever get lost, there is a lonely cabin nearby. But! …there is a secret to finding it. Yes. Yes. Yes…. And the secret is this: you must remember, ‘you are the cabin.’” And she pauses for emphasis and then repeats, “YOU ARE THE CABIN.”

She mumbles to herself while nodding her head, 'yes. yes. yes.' “If you can remember the secret, then, do you see?… You can light the lantern inside… And then…trust…you must trust in that lost soul out there! If you are patient, your self will find you…your self will find you.” She nods mumbling, 'yes. yes. yes.' She continues to nod her head. It seems as if she is checking her story for validity. She turns to look you in the eyes, “And that, my friend, is the only story I know.”

~ Manflesh, The Lonely Cabin
[The Bitter Book of Anger by Manflesh is hard to get a hold on.]