The Coldest Night

One month had passed since Mark had celebrated his eightieth birthday. A few of his friends, whom he only saw once a year, had spent the occasion with him.

His home village was situated at the foot of the mountains. It was a small, charming village. The trees and bushes along the streets, which would bloom during springtime, were now naked, and the atmosphere induced a feeling of sadness. This added to Mark’s melancholy and solitude. New houses had recently been built all around those few which dated back to the early days of the village. Mark’s was one of those original houses. The front of the house had a typical, seventeenth-century European façade; however, the interior walls had been neglected. Inside, there was some old furniture and the remnants of the original, blue color of the wall-paper could be seen here and there, The house was small. Upon entering, a step led down into a large room, which served as both a dining and a living room. A wood furnace used for cooking, as well as for heating the entire house, stood in the center of the kitchen. In the winter, Mark preferred to sleep on the couch in the living room because the heat never reached the house’s only bed room. Through some of the walls he could catch a glimpse of the outside light.

This house, and the wind which entered through the cracks in the walls, were Mark’s daily neighbors. He never paid much attention to the wind, since he could only recall a few winters in which the cold, brisk air was an unfriendly partner. But in those long-ago days Mark was still young, and the cold did not bother him too much.

He was used to working out-door during the winter. Those days however, were gone; they had occurred way before he had injured his foot while at his job. Mark worked hard to fulfill his dreams of building a house and of raising a family. It had ben difficult for him to accept his handicap because his disability had shattered all of Mark’s hopes. He had to spend his entire life by himself, and Mark had to live off his saving as well. It had been quite cold for one whole week, but Mark had managed with only his small furnace. On Sunday the sky had cleared and the sun was shining, as it did in the springtime. Mark could see the sun’s rays through his window. He had not realized that it was very cold outside.

The news about the arrival of "the coldest night" of the year had been announced on the radio and TV-stations but Mark had not listening to the news. In the afternoon on the snow fell slowly, covering his house, and with the onset of sunset, Mark’s heart saddened a little more. Mark had been the youngest one in the village when he first arrived there; Now he was the oldest person. He was so weak. "If I only had a friend who would spend the night with me," murmured Mark to himself. The furnace was burning, but he could not feel the heat; it was too cold and windy out. Mark was unable to sleep or to even sit down. He kept walking from one side to the other so that he would stay alert and would not freeze. "How will I survive this night?", Mark asked himself. He was too proud to ask anybody for help, even if he would have dared to step outside. Mark rubbed his hands and kept walking in order to stay warm. At that moment in time, the night seemed to be endless. "Isurvived so many hard years, and now I’ll have to die of the cold", he said to himself.

Mark struggled against the cold. Just when he was ready to give up, he heard something knocking at his window and saw that it was a bird, struggling, like himself, for warmth. "Oh my God! He is ill or hurt, and on this, the coldest night!" Without hesitation, Mark opened the window and the bird feel to the floor. Mark was very concerned, but he did not know anything about birds. He picked it up and put it to his chest. Then Mark suddenly realized the bird was as cold as ice; however his own chest was very warm. "Oh my God it’s dying!" Mark quickly went to the kitchen and warmed a few drops of left-over milk. He spent the whole night trying to save the little bird’s life. Finally, Mark fell asleep on his sofa exhausted, holding the little bird to his chest.

The next morning he awakened to the sound of a song. The bird was alive; it was singing! Mark jumped up happily and found that the little bird had survived and it was flying all around the room. He realized that the night was over and that his room was warm. "Hurrah! Mark The little bird is safe and alive!" , Exclaimed Mark. But what he had failed to realize was that he too was also safe and alive.

 Copyright Emile M. Tubiana 2009 all rights reserved