On the morning of the fourth day, he awoke to see that the grey sky had gone away to reveal a nice, clear blue. The wind had died away completely, the sun shone brightly, and the snow was melting. Already he was making plans to do more ice fishing.
First, he had to check his e-mail. His better judgment was telling him to forget about it. But then, better judgment and curiosity were two different things.
I see you there alone, and it saddens me. I hope to bring you away from your pain.
That was all it said this time. Immobilized in his chair, he tried to move, but his body refused. All he could do was watch as those few, simple words seemed to lift off the screen and float toward him. His plans for ice fishing were already forgotten.
Was he being watched? When he moved again, it was his head whipping from side to side, as if expecting this person to have shown up out of nowhere and be right behind him. But it was him and him alone in the cabin, and the silence that grew more unnerving by the second.
He lifted himself out of the chair, which creaked a little too loudly. He wandered around the cabin in a daze, looking through windows for any sign of life. Any sign of someone watching him ominously from the distance. He even put on his parka and winter boots and wandered outside, around the perimeter of his cabin.
No sign of life dotted the snowy, tree-covered landscape. He shook his head, muttering to himself derisively for overreacting and being such a ninny. Of course nobody was there. Why would there be? He lived up near the top of a mountain, far away from most other signs of life.
That didn’t stop a chill from creeping down his spine; a chill that wasn’t from the cold.
He went back, peeling off his boots and his parka. His computer screen still glowed brightly. He sat down in the chair.
I see you there alone, and it saddens me. I hope to bring you away from your pain.
He read it and was terrified all over again. Promptly he deleted the message and shut off his computer, springing out of the chair so quickly it crashed to the floor. He stood until the whirring computer fan slowed to a stop and the vibrant screen display clicked off. Inhaling, he bent down and set the chair back in its place.
His breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. There’s no-one watching you, he told himself. This is just some weirdo sending out messages. Still, he had no plans to turn the computer back on anytime soon.
He ate again. This time he desired something other than fish, so he prepared himself a bowl of baked beans and buttered toast to go with it. When his stomach was satiated, he threw his parka and winter boots back on, gathered his fishing gear, and left to go to his spot by the lake. He busied himself in his fishing and spent a long, profitable day at the lake. This time, he did not soon forget about the computer and the mystery messenger behind it.