If you hear The Mummers calling, stay inside.

Alright, so when I was a teenager, back in Labrador I got stranded out in the snow. I was out there feeding our sled dogs, since we kept them on an island when they weren’t in service. My snowmobile broke down and I tried to restart it and flooded the engine. I spent two hours trying to start it again, but then gave up and realized it was hopeless. The thing was frozen solid. It was that cold.

I ended up out there for two nights.

When I realized the first night that the sun was going down and I was going to be stranded out there, I remembered my uncle’s advice. He told me I should start by making a shelter. So I dug down into the snow, about two or three feet, and made a cave. Then I grabbed some pine boughs and laid those down inside to keep it warm for the night.

By the time it got dark, I was so fucking cold. I didn’t think it was possible to be so cold. But I got through the night somehow.

What did I eat? Nothing. I was starving. There was nothing to eat out there. I spent the whole second day hungry and terrified. Just waiting for someone to come and save me, then after that just waiting for the sun to go down, waiting to be cold again.

The snowmobile still wouldn’t start. The engine had been flooded and was frozen solid as an ice cube.

The sun went down again, and I was so fucking terrified, just waiting for death to come. I really thought I wasn’t going to make it. I started my second night, alone, freezing cold in the Labrador wilderness, only a snow-cave for shelter.

So I’m laying there in my little cave of pine boughs and – well I guess I should tell you this first.

I never believed in the mummers when my family told me about them as a kid. Inuit spirits and legends, I didn’t buy into them at all. They used to bug me for it. There was even a ceremony where they would pretend to beat up kids with sticks for not believing in spirits. So it was kind of a big deal that I didn’t believe in those things, but either way I didn’t. Something must have stuck with me, though. Because of how I reacted next.

I heard what sounded like my mom and sister outside my hole in the snow. They were calling to me, telling me it was safe to come out now. They had found me, and I was rescued.

I heard that at first and was about to jump up and go running out there.

But then I stayed put, suddenly remembering the stories about the mummers. These creatures that take on the voices of those closest to us and lure us away from safety, taking us with them into the cold ocean. They prey especially on children who stray too far from the safety of their parents. They take on their voices and lure them away by calling out to them in the voices of those most familiar to them.

I didn't move. Remembering what my uncle and my mother had told me. I stayed inside my little snow cave for the rest of the night, shivering. Waiting for them to go away. But they kept calling to me, saying, “Andy, what are you doing? We’re waiting for you out here, why don’t you come with us. We just want to take you back home.”

They stayed out there all night, and I didn’t sleep for a long time, as I listened to them call my name, coaxing and begging me to join them.

When I woke up the next day, there was no one there.

I was rescued later that same day by my uncle. My family believed what happened, saying now I couldn’t doubt the legends any longer. But they told me never to speak of that day. I can’t really remember why, though.

I just finished typing this out. As I finished writing it, though, I heard a voice calling to me from outside my living room window. It sounded like my mom. But what was she doing outside my apartment building at 2AM?

“Hey, Andy? Can you come down here? It’s really important.”

I stood on trembling legs and walked over to the glass. In the darkness below I saw a figure, a woman, standing in the grass. She was soaking wet, long black hair hanging down and dripping, covering her face.

I don't think I'll sleep tonight. She calls out again and again.

Maybe I shouldn’t share this story after all.

JG