In the middle of nowhere

We parked near the Stour Muorkkegårttje waterfalls in the Stora Sjöfallet national park where we rented a little cottage in the middle of nowhere of northern Sweden .

The most beautiful scenery I ever saw outlined before us: a light blue lake underneath a white and dark blue clouded sky; an earth surface with rocks and stones in between a blanket of green moss, a few shrubberies in an otherwise desolate landscape. The wind followed the stream of water. There was silence.

It was almost 4 pm and already dark when we settled in. Bags, suite cases, and books found their place in the wooden house. We were ready to relax and have a peaceful time.

B. made a fire in the living room while I finished my recipe of spinach and different kind of cheeses in puffed pastry in the oven. It already smelled delicious and combined with the burning wood in the fireplace the atmosphere was never better. What a start to our well earned holiday!

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Startled, since we had no neighbors for miles, B. opened the door and looked outside. No one was there, so he went back to his fire.

After five minutes, I was dressing the table, another knock.

The wind slammed the door out of my hands as I felt the cold entering the house. But this time there was a silhouette of a person, no more than 4 ft 7 high; a child slowly walking away from the entrance.

I hurried to the child, turning his back and looking it in the eye. It was a boy with a harelip, a cleft palate disfiguring his little face. I asked him what he wanted but he didn't talk and ran off.

When I returned to the door, it was still open so I went inside looking for B. I yelled, went outside again.

There in the far distance, I saw B. walking side by side with the boy. The upcoming mist swallowed them both while they vanished in the dark.

Every year I go back to Sweden to look for B., to that little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It has been 14 years now.

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Featured in the "Mystery Newsletter (June 22, 2016)"