Contract

Once, in a distant forest, a young widow lived in a cabin crumbling in disrepair. When winter came and snow blanketed the ramshackle roof, she remained in her bed, saying, “It is good that a cold wind blows. Without my Love, I will never know warmth again. May the wind blow and numb my body with its frigid touch, until I draw my last breath.”

Atop the roof, there came a muffled thump. In a gap above her bed, where flurries tumbled, the face of a strange man appeared - one of the wee folk, what some call a Cobold.

“Miss,” he said. “I have heard your lament and know of your sorrows. Let me offer aid in this time of grievous need.”

“Do what you want and take what you please,” she sobbed, burying her face in the tear-stained pillows. “Just leave me to my mourning.”

When next she woke, the strange man was gone. On the stand beside her bed, an intricate plate of fine porcelain was set, filled to the brim with wildberries and dried meats.

At the sight of the plate, her stomach grumbled. “I’ll have but one,” she said, picking the smallest of the berries. “Then I will go to meet my Love.”

Each time she roused from her somber slumber, the plate was replenished, no matter how little or how much she took.

The next day she woke and found her body warm. Pristine pelts of wolf, bear, and boar lay stacked atop her bed. “That fool,” she scowled. “I only wish to die!” But try as she might, she was too weak to kick the pelts away. She had no choice but to eat and regain her strength.

At the end of the week, she woke and found the flurries no longer tumbled from above. The roof had been mended.

In this way, winter passed. With the dawn of spring, she emerged from the cabin and found it in immaculate condition, far surpassing its original construction.

It was then that the Cobold appeared.

“I must thank you,” she said, bowing gratefully. “For I had given up on the world. It was your kindness alone that bore me through the long winter.”

“You’ll have ample time to repay it,” the Cobold grinned “As per the terms of our contract.”

“Contract?” She muttered in surprise. “I never signed any contract.”

The Cobold produced a scroll. “Ah, but you’re the one who set the terms. I merely went to the trouble of writing it up.”

Within the tortured lines of legal jargon, she found her own words pointed back at her, like sharpened daggers.

“I left you to your mourning and now I will claim what I please: this cabin and its resident.”

“You can’t,” she stammered. “This cabin belonged to my Love. And I to him!”

Before she could say another word, the Cobold slew her. “If you weren’t going to honor my kindness,” he snarled, drawing the blade from her chest. “You should’ve turned it away at the start.”

He tossed her lifeless body through the door and burned the cabin to the ground. Ω