Every summer when I visited my father in Norway, we’d spend days tucked away in our cozy little hytte—a wooden cabin hidden by a thick, pine-scented forest and perched right by the lake. The place was ours alone, a patch of land with a hill blanketed in wild blueberry bushes. By August, the berries would be heavy and bursting, and we’d fill bowls with them, adding just a touch of sugar to make a jam that went perfectly over peanut butter on warm bread. It was our favorite breakfast, and we ate it almost every day.
That Tuesday morning started like any other. After breakfast, Pappa went out to chop firewood. His strong, rhythmic swings filled the air with sharp, crisp cracks as logs split in two. At one point, he paused, looking toward me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Could you go down to the path by the hytte and fetch those larger pieces of wood? They’re perfect for the fireplace.”
Obediently, I set off down the narrow path. I ducked under the raised edge of the hytte to grab the slats he wanted, but as I reached out, something unexpected caught my eye. Lodged under a beam was an old, dark green bottle with a cork tightly pressed in. Inside, I could see the faint outline of a rolled-up paper. My heart raced. Could it be? Pappa had told me countless stories of pirates hiding treasures around these lakes—of buried maps waiting to be discovered. But a map? Here?
I forgot the wood and raced up the hill, bursting out of the tree line to find Pappa, waving the bottle above my head. “So they’re real? The pirates, the map—everything? Did they leave it here for us to find?”
Pappa’s face became very serious, but with a slight smirk he wasn’t able to hide. “Only one way to find out,” he said, taking the bottle and carefully loosening the cork. Together, we eased the fragile paper out, its yellowed edges crinkling in my hands. And there it was—a faded map with a big, bold X marked just past the lake.
Pappa grew serious. “Now, we have to be very careful. They can’t find out we have this map, or it could be dangerous. We’ll have to wait until nightfall and go quietly, with our headlamps.”
I nodded solemnly. Wise thinking, I thought. The rest of the day passed at an agonizingly slow pace. We fetched water from the well, gathered more blueberries, hung up the hammock, and waited. Pappa made a big, warm meal to keep us fueled for our adventure. Finally, when darkness draped over the lake and the forest, he nodded. “Ready?”
We grabbed our jackets, headlamps, and a small shovel, slipping into the cool night air. The only sound was the whisper of wind through the trees as we made our way down the hill. We reached the lake’s edge, scanning the shoreline, and began to follow the map’s path. It led us along a narrow strip of beach. Our breaths turned visible in the cold air, and the beam of my headlamp seemed to cut through the mist rising from the lake, swirling around us in ghostly shapes.
Suddenly, we spotted a glimmer of light on the opposite shore. We froze, switching off our headlamps. My heart hammered as we crouched in silence, watching the light move slowly across the lake. “Someone’s watching us,” I whispered, barely able to contain the thrill mixed with fear. We waited until the light faded, swallowed by the dark, before turning our lamps back on.
At last, we arrived at the spot marked by the X. Pappa checked the map one more time, nodding. “This is it,” he whispered. I took the shovel, my hands trembling as I drove it into the soft, cold earth. The night was so quiet, I could hear every scrape of metal against stone and root. And then—clink. I hit something solid.
I dropped to my knees, pulling away the dirt with my hands, revealing a small silver box. Inside, there were coins from a time long past, a tarnished key, old army pins, and jewels that glinted even in the dim light. We had found it. The pirates’ treasure.
Realizing we’d lingered too long, we made our way back along a steep trail, keeping to the shadows in case the mysterious figure from the lake returned. Soon, we were stumbling through a field of tall grass, breathing heavily as we reached the hytte. I could see Pappa fumbling with the keys, hands shaking as he unlocked the door. We tumbled inside, locking it tight behind us. We were safe. The treasure was ours.
Pappa and I looked at each other, sharing a moment of pure, unspoken victory. We had outsmarted the pirates, and in that moment, I felt more alive than ever.
