Sophia rubbed her gloved hands together. They had been snowed in for 32 hours now, according to her clock. Jack had his arms wrapped around her to keep each other warm, but she didn’t feel awkward, or special, or nervous. Just warm, and not even from his touch or from a fluttering in her stomach. Snow-ins were more pertinent than romantic thoughts.
Tucked away up here.
Come home soon, okay? I need to see that you are okay, baby. Your word, without your face, just wasn’t enough this time. Not with the window right there, looking at me, revealing sheets of snow blistering sideways across the glass.
Tucked away up here, just let me see your face.
A place I would love to run away to for a few weeks or even a month hidden away in the thick mountain forest where the pure white snow continues to fall cuddles close to the fire place lighted brightly with dancing flames with the one I deeply love.
when i think of the word cabin i think of summer at camp with all my best friends, my family and having the best time of my life when i think about cabin i think about sitting on my paper think mattress with my closest friends eating tuck and laughing and how i never want it to end
When I go on my cruise in March I’ll be staying in a cabin with a window and two beds. Oh I just can’t wait! Every day brings me that much closer to what I want most. 61 more days!
There’s a cabin in the woods. But no one ever enters. It’s forbidden to most, except for those whom find a safe haven in it. It’s beautiful and serene. Not quite like anything you’ve ever seen. One day, just maybe, I’ll take you there so we can both breathe in the fresh air.
pancakes on my plate, agave maple syrup in hand, I think of the olden days as a child I would gladly drench my breakfast in syrupy goodness by the name of log cabin. This concoction could meld with melted butter so subtly an elf would have difficulty deducing the exact moment of juxtaposition.
The cabin of the plane pitched and shook as the pilot prepared to land, swooping through the violent African thunderstorm until slipping and sliding across the hail strewn runway it safely came to a stop.
a log cabin in the woods. It is solid borwn, without much texture, because it is drawn in a cartoon. Smoke is drifting cozily out the stone chimney in the top.
it is set on a hill, a clearing in a canadian boreal woods forest near a waterfall stream with fresh water.
The little cabin sat in the woods, completely undisturbed. The fir trees swayed in time to the wind, rabbits and squirrels hopping about on the forest floor. The occupants were rarely seen, an old woman and her daughter. They lived quiet lives, peaceful among the nature they call home.
Storm still strong outside. Stuck in here for 72 hours. Electricity is out. Heater is gone. 3 out of 4 campers left. Someone still has that missing knife.
I have never gotten the opportunity to stay at a cabin. I do not own a cabin. I’m sure that I know someone that has one. What’s the difference between a cabin and a cottage? Is it the size of the building and/or the design of the building? Anyways, I’ve only ever been camping.
They were snowed in.
He didn’t even like family outings, especially if they involved going to some remote place and staying there for a week or so and then getting SNOWED IN.
He nursed his hot chocolate and stared out the cabin window. His family was just a bit worried, but they had supplies, and it’s not like they were going to be trapped there forever. He was surprisingly chill, if you’ll excuse the pun.
If only the power didn’t go out as well.
I hate the world.
It reeks of double standards
and ill will,
deceit and miscommunication.
Anything that happens is always
someone’s fault,
there’s blame
like a flame burning
and ash left behind,
blame for the stupid things
people do on a whim
without thinking about him.
People are the worst at
terribleness.
They are the most evil
of nature.
They trick you and
your mind tricks you
and the cloud over your head
tricks you as it rains
and rains all day
and you’re not really sure
how it will ever go away.
And it’s there and you can’t
get blamed because it’s not you
it’s the cloud and the rain
drowning you,
putting out that flame
and I see ash all I see is ash
and nothing will ever be new
and it will just keep burning,
keep drowning
like firewater,
burning away
with hopelessness.
The snow fell outside the window, a silent cascade of old fashioned soap flakes, scarce lit by the crescent moon in the sky. The lake was frozen, and fire logs cracked in the stove. I had wanted this for …too long.
Marie’s face cracked in a smile as she glanced to me, tugging the thread through the popcorn. “Love?”
At the top of a windy road sits a little cabin, condemned to the singularity of self. Drinking wine, eating homemade pasta, and grieving for the life the cabin had. Drunk, it hiccuped and spewed red onto the snow.
I once was locked in a cabin, I was trying my best to get out when Irealized all the windows were open. The cabin was in a meadow that was beautiful. I made love in this cabin with a handsome man. We went back several times for the warm memories. All my life I have now wanted to own a cabin.
A pretty little wooded cleaning where it felt as if you could see fairies if kyou tried hard end and sometimes, I will admit that I didn’t try at all.
I had grown tired of e gift that brought me nthng but a headache and headaches that brought noting but gearachr for of all the things in the world, it would be my mothers luck thst I would be an empath child.
The smell of the freshly cut tree reached her nose as she opened her eyes. Last night had been magical and she wished she could re-live it forever. She had finally gotten the man of her dreams and she had married him.
The cabin was hot, dreary really. She didn’t like it there. It wasn’t like her to suffer silently, but George liked it. There were fish nearby. There was nothing to do in this desolate and remote place! How she hated it.
A sweet summer’s day by the lake, catching frogs (or making your friend catch them so that you can stroke their backs but not get peed on). A freezing winter’s night with you sandwiched between your parents in the fold out bed by the roaring fire, all of you in flannel and still cold from walking out on the frozen lake with a lantern to look at the stars.
lock me away
in a small log cabin
perched on the side of a mountain.
let me write stories
about the dew on my window.
let me breathe the air,
be free as a bird.
let me see the stars,
see the possibilities.
lock me away
and let me be heard.
i want to stay in a cabin somewhere in the wilderness or in the woods. dreaming about ensconcing myself in a couch and enjoy silence, reading books, writing, and cooking, chopping woods.
A wooded home where people like couples can run away to and cuddle and enjoy themselves all in there own little world. Its a place best fit in the moutains where it snows with a hot fire going on inside the fire place cozy with soft piano music playing in the background only to be stopped by a loud sound of grunting, and grinding. >:)
My childhood summers were spent in a cabin outside of Duluth, pretending. I was left to my own devices, most of the time, imagining that I was a bird that could fly over the vast expanse of frigid water, scrambling from rocky cliffs like a billy goat, and managing to knock my front teeth out on a doorstep. Sometimes my brother, though made infinitely more mature by his five extra years to actually enjoy himself, would join me. At night we would build cliff bonfires of garbage and driftwood bright enough to rival the crossing beams of the lighthouses and dance around the flames in childish primitiveness.
This is me and my husbands world. We go to tennessee every year for our anniversary and this i what we rent! AWESOME! I love cabins. They are cosy, nature inspiring and love nests!
He looked at it distastefully, wondering if he dared enter it. It looked ready to fall down at any moment. A small sliver of light behind him, the sounding of horns, made him convinced that he would only be safe in the cabin.
He pushed open the door, but before he could even look at his surroundings he was pushed back out again, and the door shut in his face.
The cruise ship makes her sick. She walks back and forth on the deck, breathing carefully. Her little brother emerges from his cabin and stands a distance from her. She is not sick from the movement. There is something lurking in the cabin, on the ship, something she cannot escape from.
I imagine the two of us in a cabin, and the way the bed might sway if we were to get into a wrestling match and somehow end up tripping over your shoelaces, and falling backwards onto the empty bunk… I imagine because I know it won’t happen, and that you wouldn’t ever dream of coming out to my cabin with me – but it’s a dream that sees me through the tired winter nights.
Long and fire and going into the woods I shanked my mon with a pencil made out of cabin wood I camped in a cabin in Denver it was cold as shit I almost died and I poop out logs.
There is a small cabin on the side of the city, between where the forest and brush started and the river that snakes around the entire metropolis. It is run down, falling down, and everything in between. Don’t dream of running water. I already checked, there isn’t any. Too bad, that. I’m so thirsty that my throat seems to be waging war every time I swallow. Not that I want to leave. I want to stay here, because outside, there are people with questions far too painful to answer.
sitting in a rocking chair, a young lady, about 20, drifts off to sleep. A blanket is draped over her and she is sitting by a warm fire. She dozes off and is immediately transported to another world…
the cabin was my only safe place. it was all that i had. whenever i had a mental breakdown, i would go there. when i was in the cabin, things would feel better. almost like a bomb shelter, safeguarding from the flames of the outside world. nothing has ever felt as holy as it did in that cabin. no church, no home, nothing. it was my safe place. until they destroyed it.
The group of teenager drove out to the cabin, ready for a chilly, late winter weekend, isolated in the woods. Finals where coming up and that meant one thing: studying. Well, maybe it meant a few more things, too…
Sophia rubbed her gloved hands together. They had been snowed in for 32 hours now, according to her clock. Jack had his arms wrapped around her to keep each other warm, but she didn’t feel awkward, or special, or nervous. Just warm, and not even from his touch or from a fluttering in her stomach. Snow-ins were more pertinent than romantic thoughts.
Tucked away up here.
Come home soon, okay? I need to see that you are okay, baby. Your word, without your face, just wasn’t enough this time. Not with the window right there, looking at me, revealing sheets of snow blistering sideways across the glass.
Tucked away up here, just let me see your face.
A place I would love to run away to for a few weeks or even a month hidden away in the thick mountain forest where the pure white snow continues to fall cuddles close to the fire place lighted brightly with dancing flames with the one I deeply love.
when i think of the word cabin i think of summer at camp with all my best friends, my family and having the best time of my life when i think about cabin i think about sitting on my paper think mattress with my closest friends eating tuck and laughing and how i never want it to end
camp
tent
friends
wilderness
woods
fun
summer
lake
fun times
family
no worries
no regrets
love
laugh
When I go on my cruise in March I’ll be staying in a cabin with a window and two beds. Oh I just can’t wait! Every day brings me that much closer to what I want most. 61 more days!
There’s a cabin in the woods. But no one ever enters. It’s forbidden to most, except for those whom find a safe haven in it. It’s beautiful and serene. Not quite like anything you’ve ever seen. One day, just maybe, I’ll take you there so we can both breathe in the fresh air.
pancakes on my plate, agave maple syrup in hand, I think of the olden days as a child I would gladly drench my breakfast in syrupy goodness by the name of log cabin. This concoction could meld with melted butter so subtly an elf would have difficulty deducing the exact moment of juxtaposition.
The cabin of the plane pitched and shook as the pilot prepared to land, swooping through the violent African thunderstorm until slipping and sliding across the hail strewn runway it safely came to a stop.
a log cabin in the woods. It is solid borwn, without much texture, because it is drawn in a cartoon. Smoke is drifting cozily out the stone chimney in the top.
it is set on a hill, a clearing in a canadian boreal woods forest near a waterfall stream with fresh water.
The little cabin sat in the woods, completely undisturbed. The fir trees swayed in time to the wind, rabbits and squirrels hopping about on the forest floor. The occupants were rarely seen, an old woman and her daughter. They lived quiet lives, peaceful among the nature they call home.
in the woods. lost. the only beacon of hope becomes a cage of despair. I was hungry. I didn’t realize there was a witch inside.
“How are we supposed to get into the cabin?” Rex asked Suze.
“I don’t know,” she replied coldly, “did you remember to bring the key?”
“No, I don’t have any pockets,” he said. She shot him an angry look. He continued, “…and neither do you. We’re bears.”
“Oh,” Suze replied, “in that case, we should just eat out of these garbage cans and maul some hikers.”
Diary entry January 28, 2012.
Storm still strong outside. Stuck in here for 72 hours. Electricity is out. Heater is gone. 3 out of 4 campers left. Someone still has that missing knife.
I have never gotten the opportunity to stay at a cabin. I do not own a cabin. I’m sure that I know someone that has one. What’s the difference between a cabin and a cottage? Is it the size of the building and/or the design of the building? Anyways, I’ve only ever been camping.
They were snowed in.
He didn’t even like family outings, especially if they involved going to some remote place and staying there for a week or so and then getting SNOWED IN.
He nursed his hot chocolate and stared out the cabin window. His family was just a bit worried, but they had supplies, and it’s not like they were going to be trapped there forever. He was surprisingly chill, if you’ll excuse the pun.
If only the power didn’t go out as well.
I hate the world.
It reeks of double standards
and ill will,
deceit and miscommunication.
Anything that happens is always
someone’s fault,
there’s blame
like a flame burning
and ash left behind,
blame for the stupid things
people do on a whim
without thinking about him.
People are the worst at
terribleness.
They are the most evil
of nature.
They trick you and
your mind tricks you
and the cloud over your head
tricks you as it rains
and rains all day
and you’re not really sure
how it will ever go away.
And it’s there and you can’t
get blamed because it’s not you
it’s the cloud and the rain
drowning you,
putting out that flame
and I see ash all I see is ash
and nothing will ever be new
and it will just keep burning,
keep drowning
like firewater,
burning away
with hopelessness.
The snow fell outside the window, a silent cascade of old fashioned soap flakes, scarce lit by the crescent moon in the sky. The lake was frozen, and fire logs cracked in the stove. I had wanted this for …too long.
Marie’s face cracked in a smile as she glanced to me, tugging the thread through the popcorn. “Love?”
At the top of a windy road sits a little cabin, condemned to the singularity of self. Drinking wine, eating homemade pasta, and grieving for the life the cabin had. Drunk, it hiccuped and spewed red onto the snow.
I once was locked in a cabin, I was trying my best to get out when Irealized all the windows were open. The cabin was in a meadow that was beautiful. I made love in this cabin with a handsome man. We went back several times for the warm memories. All my life I have now wanted to own a cabin.
The cabin was lovely in the place of the wood.
A pretty little wooded cleaning where it felt as if you could see fairies if kyou tried hard end and sometimes, I will admit that I didn’t try at all.
I had grown tired of e gift that brought me nthng but a headache and headaches that brought noting but gearachr for of all the things in the world, it would be my mothers luck thst I would be an empath child.
The smell of the freshly cut tree reached her nose as she opened her eyes. Last night had been magical and she wished she could re-live it forever. She had finally gotten the man of her dreams and she had married him.
The cabin was hot, dreary really. She didn’t like it there. It wasn’t like her to suffer silently, but George liked it. There were fish nearby. There was nothing to do in this desolate and remote place! How she hated it.
A sweet summer’s day by the lake, catching frogs (or making your friend catch them so that you can stroke their backs but not get peed on). A freezing winter’s night with you sandwiched between your parents in the fold out bed by the roaring fire, all of you in flannel and still cold from walking out on the frozen lake with a lantern to look at the stars.
lock me away
in a small log cabin
perched on the side of a mountain.
let me write stories
about the dew on my window.
let me breathe the air,
be free as a bird.
let me see the stars,
see the possibilities.
lock me away
and let me be heard.
i want to stay in a cabin somewhere in the wilderness or in the woods. dreaming about ensconcing myself in a couch and enjoy silence, reading books, writing, and cooking, chopping woods.
A wooded home where people like couples can run away to and cuddle and enjoy themselves all in there own little world. Its a place best fit in the moutains where it snows with a hot fire going on inside the fire place cozy with soft piano music playing in the background only to be stopped by a loud sound of grunting, and grinding. >:)
My childhood summers were spent in a cabin outside of Duluth, pretending. I was left to my own devices, most of the time, imagining that I was a bird that could fly over the vast expanse of frigid water, scrambling from rocky cliffs like a billy goat, and managing to knock my front teeth out on a doorstep. Sometimes my brother, though made infinitely more mature by his five extra years to actually enjoy himself, would join me. At night we would build cliff bonfires of garbage and driftwood bright enough to rival the crossing beams of the lighthouses and dance around the flames in childish primitiveness.
This is me and my husbands world. We go to tennessee every year for our anniversary and this i what we rent! AWESOME! I love cabins. They are cosy, nature inspiring and love nests!
I was up at the cabin lookin towards the sky
when a beautiful sunray caught my eye
jus once glimpse and i could feel the warmth
I live in a cabin filled with warmth and happiness. ♥
Would you like to be in it? ;)
The cabin, small. Dilapidated it was.
Very small.
Very dilapidated.
He looked at it distastefully, wondering if he dared enter it. It looked ready to fall down at any moment. A small sliver of light behind him, the sounding of horns, made him convinced that he would only be safe in the cabin.
He pushed open the door, but before he could even look at his surroundings he was pushed back out again, and the door shut in his face.
“LET ME IN” he roared, pushing on the door.
And entering a world of gold.
The cruise ship makes her sick. She walks back and forth on the deck, breathing carefully. Her little brother emerges from his cabin and stands a distance from her. She is not sick from the movement. There is something lurking in the cabin, on the ship, something she cannot escape from.
I imagine the two of us in a cabin, and the way the bed might sway if we were to get into a wrestling match and somehow end up tripping over your shoelaces, and falling backwards onto the empty bunk… I imagine because I know it won’t happen, and that you wouldn’t ever dream of coming out to my cabin with me – but it’s a dream that sees me through the tired winter nights.
Long and fire and going into the woods I shanked my mon with a pencil made out of cabin wood I camped in a cabin in Denver it was cold as shit I almost died and I poop out logs.
Shut-in with no place to go, I can only wait for the spring —
I bet it’s going to be just lovely this year.
Oh, I can hear the birds singing already.
There is a small cabin on the side of the city, between where the forest and brush started and the river that snakes around the entire metropolis. It is run down, falling down, and everything in between. Don’t dream of running water. I already checked, there isn’t any. Too bad, that. I’m so thirsty that my throat seems to be waging war every time I swallow. Not that I want to leave. I want to stay here, because outside, there are people with questions far too painful to answer.
sitting in a rocking chair, a young lady, about 20, drifts off to sleep. A blanket is draped over her and she is sitting by a warm fire. She dozes off and is immediately transported to another world…
the cabin was my only safe place. it was all that i had. whenever i had a mental breakdown, i would go there. when i was in the cabin, things would feel better. almost like a bomb shelter, safeguarding from the flames of the outside world. nothing has ever felt as holy as it did in that cabin. no church, no home, nothing. it was my safe place. until they destroyed it.
The group of teenager drove out to the cabin, ready for a chilly, late winter weekend, isolated in the woods. Finals where coming up and that meant one thing: studying. Well, maybe it meant a few more things, too…