Old man of the lake of the sky CH. 2 pt. 3

Old man of the lake of the sky CH. 2 pt. 3

"My house is over near Etna's, but her place is all in ruins. I thought that maybe you could tell me something about it."

"Yes, I can. Poor Etna was a sweet girl who had a sad life. The missus and I would pick up groceries for her and help her out any way we could. Her husband died back in 1918 in the Great War. After he died she continued to live in the house by the lake.

She had trouble with her parents and in-laws. Anyhow, back in early '23, there was a fire. No one knows for sure how it started, but I figure either a kerosene lamp got knocked over or dropped whatever happened, happened fast, and the fire engulfed the house in no time flat.

Poor, little Etna never got out of the house. There was not much of the place left by the time people got there to help. It broke my heart to see the smoldering shell that once had been her house. It was a terrible fate for a nice girl. She deserved better; she deserved to find some happiness."

Henry's mouth hung open in amazement. "1923. It was 1923 when her house burned down? But I have been down the road to her place, and I have seen the ruins, they don't look that old."

"I suppose that the road is still kept up a little bit by people wanting to go down to the beach. I have not been down that way since the fire. It just broke my heart when Etna died."

Nodding his head, Henry stood up and shook the older man's hand.

"It broke my heart too. Thank you for your help, I now know what happened."

Henry drives back to his house and made the trek to the ruins of Etna's house. He stood there, in the cold cutting wind, and stared at the remains of the place. His mind was filled with a mass of emotions, which had been caused by the impossible events of the day.

He knew with positively that he had met and fallen in love with a real woman. Somehow, in a strange manner, something had occurred, which transcended the normal laws of the universe, and he had met the love of his life. It was as though fate had rewritten the rules of the universe, to bring Etna and him together, only to snatch her away in the moment of their greatest happiness.

As he looked at the overgrown wreckage, he remembered the promise he made to Etna. "Etna, nothing will ever stop me from loving you. You are mine and I am yours, this day and for all the days to come throughout all eternity."

A door in the fabric of eternity had opened allowing Henry to meet his lover, and if the door had opened once, it was possible that it could open another time. Henry became determined to be on hand the next time the door swung open. A brief time later he bought the property where Etna's house had stood, and from that time forward, Henry would visit the place where once he had made sweet love to Etna, in the hope of finding her once more.

For over fifty years he had pursued his quest. People thought he was crazy when they heard his story. Most people felt that a man had to be insane to dedicate his life to a hopeless dream of finding a woman long dead. Yet, Henry stayed true to the promise he had made to Etna. He sought her in the morning and in the evening, never being discouraged by the daily failures, which always met him.

We came out into the clearing, to where the stonework of the burnt house still stood. Henry had finished his tale and turned to me. "So, there you have it, the whole story, as nutty as it may seem. Now, are you going to think of me as a crazy old man?"

I studied his face for a moment. There was something almost pleading in his eyes as I replied. "Crazy? I only wish I had something I believed in as strongly as you do. This world is a strange place and unexplained things happen all the time. I do not know what happened to you back then, but that is not important. What is important is what you know and believe. I certainly respect your beliefs. I really hope and pray that someday, somehow you will find what you seek."

It was about a month when an unseasonable thunder and lightning storm lit up the night. No more than the thunder had died away than snow began to fall. Henry stopped by the next morning, and we commented about the fury of the storm the night before. However, the next morning Henry did not show up for coffee. I was not too concerned, at the time, because he no longer stopped by every day, but I wanted to ask him about the property I was thinking about buying.

I went over to his place that afternoon and found no one at home, although his car was parked in its normal place at the side of the house. I tried the door and found it open. Entering the house, I found it cold, as if the heat had been off for a long time. The day was extremely cold, and I became concerned when I noticed Henry's footprints in the snow; footprints that led away from the house, but no footprints returning to the house.

I followed Henry's trail marked in the snow, as it led along the normal route, which he took on his daily walks. It was late afternoon, and the sun had set down behind the mountains. I stopped at my cabin and picked up a flashlight, before continuing to follow Henry's footprints. Snow began to fall as I walked along and was falling heavily before I had managed to go far. Even though the falling snow, the trail was clear enough to follow, and I made suitable time moving through the trees.

By the time I reached the clearing where the ruins stood, night had descended to blanket the land with darkness. As I approached where the house had once stood, I saw something dark lying in the snow.

My heart leaped to my throat when I saw the dark shape was a man who had fallen not far, from where the doorway to the house once stood. I rushed to the side of the man, knowing exactly what I would find.

The man was Henry. He was lying on his side, his arms outstretched before him; he was dead. It appeared as if he had been here since the evening before, his flesh was cold and frozen. Yet, there was a peculiar expression upon his frozen face, a look of incredible elation and wonder lit up his continence. His dead eyes were opened wide, and his lips were locked in a wide grin.

Poor Henry! His lifelong quest had ended. His dream had vanished in the icy winds, which blew down from Storm Mountain. I let out a deep breath and shook my head, as I thought about all the people, who would laugh about the crazy old man that had chased his delusions to the grave. I stood and was getting ready to leave when I suddenly noticed something, which I had overlooked when I rushed to Henry's side.

Henry's trail of footprints was still clearly discernable in the snow. I could see where he had walked along and then fell over to the side and died. A chill, which was not caused by the frigid wind, shot through me. The trail did not end where Henry had fallen, his footprints continued going one way, up to where the doorway had been before they totally vanished. It was as if Henry had continued walking after his body had fallen.

My eyes filled with moisture as I realized with an unshakable certainty that somehow, beyond all odds, Henry had been successful in his search. I remembered what Etna had long ago said to him, "I'll be watching out the window and will be ready to open the door for you when I see you coming home."

The Old Man of The Lake of the Sky had gone home to his Etna.