Here, perched at the tip of the earth, I could hear the original cold from outer space reaching down to talk to me. I listened, feeling its alien presence among the spruce and hemlock.

From far away I heard another note—faint at first, then growing louder. It sounded like a whole congregation of people sitting down in wicker furniture, one row at a time. The folks up front, in the distance, were all settled. Those closer to me were following in kind. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as this cackling whisper approached. The sharp sound of bending and creaking trees was all around me in the woods.... And then, almost imagined, I felt the slightest breath of wind on my face.

As I turned towards the warmth of the cabin, the din of my imagined faithful faded on up the valley and into the night.

—Derek Olson