The Old House Vanished: The Hermit's Cabin

There was no shortage of creepy houses that dotted the landscape in those days, because it was pioneers who originally settled in the area. While a few of the old houses remained standing for a long time, some of them were so old, they had already collapsed; others were caving in. Many of the houses were scarcely more than cabins. Maybe the problem was their construction, although the original logs seemed to have been sturdy enough.

Reflections on old houses from the good old days, reveal many stories that their owners might not have been aware of, or want to acknowledge historically. 

For instance, one old house comes to mind, the cabin of a hermit, an elderly, bald-headed man, who was not very popular in the community. In appearance, he was as unkempt, shoddy-looking and decrepit, as the cabin he called home. Perhaps if he had bathed and shaved, instead of sprouting a ragged beard, he would have met with approval from others.

Some members of the small community ridiculed the hermit for his playful antics, but no one really liked him, because he had a weird sense of humor. Playfully threatening to take children home with him, and keep them in a cage until it was time to cook for him, was fun to him, but instilled fear in them. Whisker rubs on children's faces did not bode well with their parents either, and thus they all tended to keep him at a distance, instinctively protecting their children.

The hermit's cabin was very old and rundown, but beautifully located in the midst of several hills next to the dirt road. The place was large enough for one person, but scarcely big enough for any more.

In time, questions were raised about how the hermit lived, and about his cabin, but in reality, there were no cages. Maybe these were a figment of his warped, creative imagination, but to the curious neighborhood children who peered in to find out, they were real enough to instill fear. What they could see was a battered, wooden table with a chair and a narrow, wooden cot placed against the far wall. On it, there was an old, feather pillow and a worn-out, old-fashioned quilt. In one corner, a black, pot-bellied stove had a chimney that rose up through dusty rafters. Huge spider webs covered the solitary window, like a magnificent sheer, lace curtain. 

The hermit had a tin bucket with a wooden handle that he used to fetch water from the nearby creek. He also owned a tin dipper, tin plate, tin cup and several pieces of old silverware. A tin basin on a rough wooden stand stood in another corner. A cast-iron frying pan and a tarnished, copper kettle hung from huge, railroad nails pounded into the wall. The hermit's rusty bucksaw stood just inside the doorway, beside a stack of drying firewood, with his axe firmly planted in an uncut log.

What more did a hermit need?

In retrospect, it was no wonder that the hermit's old house vanished. Yes, overnight, it was consumed by a fire of unknown origin. While some members of the community speculated as to how the fire had started, no one seemed concerned, much less sympathetic to the reality of him being left homeless. No one offered to help him to rebuild it either.

A broken and destitute man, the hermit left the community immediately, never again to return, much to everyone's relief.

All that remained of that creepy, old house was a pile of black ashes, soon to be sifted through by treasure seekers. There were enough of those too, as this was during the years when gold was still panned in the local creeks.