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“You boys come here often?”
After a moment, I nodded.
“Why, I haven’t seen you ’round here before.” He gestured to me, and a seat appeared out of nowhere for him to sit. “You, on the other hand,” He thumbed over to Basil, who was still somewhat in shock, cigarette half out of his mouth, “I seen ramblin’ on the street corners. You’re a queer couple of fellas.”
He was soon, uninvited, telling us about himself. He had lived in OBryonville his entire life, and was the only living member of his family, which had consisted of 7 brothers and sisters and his parents. He asked us where we came from, and what we did. I told him, but Basil, ever suspicious, didn’t let out much. That would change later on.
“Well.” He sat back in his chair. He was surprisingly spry and lively for such an old looking man, and was stretched out languidly, almost as a teenager. In fact, in that Motley Crue Teeshirt, I almost thought that was the look he was going for, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
He looked at his watch for a moment, and seemed to think. He looked back at us again, through those massive glasses.
“This has been pretty interesting. Tell you what – next time, say we meet at my little lodge outside of town, near the lake. I’d be pleased to continue getting to know you two.”
His proposition was so polite – and so absurd, and so random – that it hit me like something akin to a blast of cold air. I hadn’t been asked to a social outing or get-together since my time at college, and those themselves were few and far in-between. Transfixed by his air and persona, I agreed to it in equally polite terms. Basil’s head whipped to me, and his face of indignation implied his remaining distrust. But I guess he trusted my better judgement, because he too agreed, though in a short, one worded answer.
“Splendid! See you boys tomorrow night. If you’ll excuse me.”
He scribbled down the address, got up, and was out the door. Basil and I sat there, under the hot lamplight, immobile. To my surprise, a grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.
By T. on 05.23.2012
lodge… umm i”ve never been in a lodge before…. wait nevermind i have haha false alert. It’s pretty cool. You get to go out in the open, it’s basically like a summer cabin. fun huh?
By Roooonnniie URL on 05.23.2012
The dew on the grass, sparkling in the suns light; dim through ever green branches. A winding cobble stone path leads to an old lodge.
By SheActsLikeSummer URL on 05.23.2012
i stayed up here alone
for a price undisclosed
and i didn’t take notice
of the clearing in your throat
you waited for an answer
and i had no reply
for i’m simply a woman
and i ask you supply
the means that i need
to make you most happy
and i’ll take on each task
and work so savvy
i’m not suggesting that we stay
where we are
i just know that with talent
both souls can fly
so together we stand
as mortals on dirt
and pray to God
that we always know our entire worth
and we hold hands as we sit
and 1 handed we text friends
and expand our contacts
and make our amends
never alone, we are
even in a room by ourselves
because we found God together
and it was just below our belts
© L ²
By lauren on 05.23.2012
The word was lodge. A lodge?!!
What kind of word was that?
This work is a hodge podge
This poem has become a poetic brat
By kweenb URL on 05.23.2012
The lodge was old, the wood nearly falling apart, one part of the roof caged in. Still, Lisa thought with a bit of work, it could return to its former glory, although mostly, she had no choice. This was all that was left for her now, and she was thankful to have even this, no matter how much time and effort it would take her to get it back into a livable space.
By silly URL on 05.23.2012
The key was lodged halfway between the edge of the sewer grate and a pile of decaying leaves. She was so furious, the rage barely hidden beneath her pressed lips. Without taking her eyes off me, she sent it into the dark abyss with one deft flick of her foot.
By cmsiena URL on 05.23.2012
lodge, brown dry maple logs smell like smoke and smell like hard floor. cold and spiders, hard dried wood glue in the corners of my bright red sleeping bag that I still have. Glue from the water bottle of wood glue, its mouth a dried sickly ring of glue phlegm.
By Fred Fingery URL on 05.23.2012
I was lodged in a lodge, stuck between two logs while I calculated the logs of pi, which there were none. It was prime, at least, I thought so. Really, math is so complicated, so structured, yet it cannot find the log of a log, and it can infer on other things. The idea really lodges on my brain.
By Mary URL on 05.23.2012
She just left the knife there, lodged in her sternum. Its polished wood handle caught the last few rays of fading sunlight as she turned, giving a warning glare.
“You’re lucky that it takes more than that to kill me.”
By WearyWater URL on 05.23.2012
Wind blew through the creaky wooden boards holding my hiding place together. The lodge had been abandoned for months, so I knew it’d be one of the last places anyone might look for me. It was hidden in the mountains, back against the forbidding backdrop of ice and stone. Wolves howled in the distance and sent a chill of nothing but fear down my spine. I was alone and that was good.
By Emily URL on 05.23.2012
People always ask me about why I prefer to write about the word “lodge”, even though I don´t even have a clue about what it means. See, I am no native english speaker and words like “lodge” just confuse me.
Why don´t you just give me words, that are easier to understand for a normal person?
Why do you try to make fun of me by showing me, that I dont know every english word?
Why, oh why?
By Lodger on 05.23.2012
The little lodge sat secluded from society on the hill. From the road, you wouldn’t be able to see it, unless you were specifically looking for it. This was my safe haven, my heaven on earth. I love it there and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
By Morgan on 05.23.2012
the lodge in the woods was fairly small, comfortable, not too spacious but in a good way. this meant there would be no more of that dreaded empty silence, or at least not as much. mili stood on the porch with her bags thinking back to how exactly she got this beauty. it was a bittersweet moment, her grandmother had been her best friend and now she was gone, leaving behind nothing but this lodge for her favorite granddaughter.
By Nancy on 05.23.2012
When I ran to the lake for cover, I hadn’t realized there’d be someone waiting. Smoke billowed from the stone building before me and as the footsteps of my pursuers grew louder behind me, I found myself wondering if I had any other options to consider. The lodge seemed to be the only safe way out of the grave I’d dug. I was trapped.
lodge is rustic, its a place that isn’t home but where you can put yourself up. functional. to lodge in one’s throat- it’s stuckness. its wilderness. lodge is unpleasant in one sense but pleasant in another. funny that way. lodge reminds me of ramp. maybe the hard sound, the woodsiness, the utility of it. a lodge, like a wedge, something of use but hard, unmoving. uncreative. functional.
By J on 05.23.2012
I was in a lodge in the woods.
A lodge is like a house.
Lodges are usually in the woods.
Lodges can be used for dancing and parties.
It can be use by a lot of animals.
By Kevie Lui on 05.23.2012
I go to the lodge at Lake Tahoe.
The lodge can be used for parties.
The lodge is in the woods.
We visit the Moose Lodge.
We have been to a lodge in Yosemite.
I could tell you where the lodge is, but I would be lying if I didn’t at least tell you where the dragon was when I first saw the lodge. Did I just say dragon. I totally meant drug dealer. Which is a really true story about this time that I tried to buy coke, but ended up with a black eye, a broken leg and a gun which I had used to kill a man.
By Spencer N-C URL on 05.23.2012
i sat on my bed waiting for his answer. Waiting to tell me whether he chose me or he chose her. It seemed as if the answer were lodged in his throat and needed a little pat on the back. So I did just that. Although, it wasn’t just a pat.
By zaida on 05.23.2012
The air was saturated with a woody odor. Glancing out the window, one could see the white, crystal snow. It covered not only the trees and cold earth, but also the chairs that once could have seated many. Now it was an icy fortress, taken away by nature’s cold hand.
By Rose Dovelin URL on 05.23.2012
i could see them approaching through the windows, dusty and distorted in their age, and tightened my grip on the smooth wood of my chair. so soft under my fingers, i wondered how the leaders before myself handled this coming meeting. their palms sweaty, nervously running their hands back and forth on the wood, finding it much harder to breathe from a tightened chest. had they all taken it this seriously? surely i was a blink away from losing consciousness. i could already see the intruding black dots form in the corner of my eyes. i took a deep breathe. i had to compose myself. this day was inevitable and i knew that. but just another week? couldn’t i have been given that? my title meant so much to me, i was terrified to give it away. they were coming through the door now and i managed a smile. as much as i wanted to cling, i knew i had to let go. my turn was up. it was time to let go regardless of how much i did not want to. they were all seated now, looking at me expectantly, already a number of them with foggy eyes. i had done my job and all i could hope was that my successor would hold the title as seriously i did. i opened my notebook and began my speech.
By claireg URL on 05.23.2012
I hadn’t vacationed in quiet a while yet I still remember the distinct scent of coconut my favorite lodge kept within its well adorned walls. I couldn’t wait to leave for a Summer or a Winter, or a Fall really. Escape was necessary as I was beginning to lose hair in this monotonous cubicle.
By Ruben URL on 05.23.2012
Lodged between her teeth was a bullet. A rusty, dirty bullet. He pryed it out and a few teeth came with it after a small pop was heard as the were dislodged from the skull. The archeologist is history’s detective.
By StatiKink URL on 05.23.2012
They went there every winter, whether there was enough snow to ski or not. And just going there, just being there, in the forest, far from other people and traffic and work was wonderful. The old lodge was full of memories for her, and most of them were good. The thing with the yeti wasn’t so good, but most of the time, as long as one or two other humans were nearby, she was able to forget about him.
By Kathleen Gabriel on 05.23.2012
“It’s really stuck in there,” he called, giving the car an almighty push as I revved the engine. “You’re gonna need to bring old Rosie down to haul it out.”
Fuck. Rosie. The bitchiest horse to have ever lived, and I was on her bad side.
By Sarah URL on 05.23.2012
The lodge lay ahead of him, over the horizon. He was almost there. It was so close that he could taste it. He knew that the orb was there, and it would soon be his. Once he got all the power would be his. A light came on at the lodge, and that light instilled him with fear.
By turtlesensei URL on 05.23.2012
It sat on the edge of wooded lot, hanging over the world. Breathing in and out the mountain’s breath.
By Melissa Grieve on 05.23.2012
I don’t really know what it is….could be a house?
or a room in a house. I have to guess
By Diana URL on 05.23.2012
I was at the lodge. Pink Floyd was playing on the stereo; it was some old song that obviously still holds some fucking significance in my heart, but not enough to maintain some importance concerning a name or title or lyrics or whatever the hell makes a song important. Can you touch me?
By jtt44444 on 05.23.2012
It was dark, light illuminating out of the windows. Easy pickings, really. All we had to do was climb in through the window and take what we pleased. I guess the only downside was that the argument climbed and esculated and I…I…didn’t handle it well. Good thing it wasn’t my lodge. Good. Because then I could walk away, blood covering my person, and leave the pathetic bastards to rot with what they thought was theirs as my own.
By Brianna URL on 05.23.2012
Its tough, sometimes you just can’t find a place to sleep. Other times you just wish that you could just disappear. What is a lodge? To some, it can be cult, but others its a home. A place to belong and feel loved. Or at least appreciated. There’s not much to it when you think about it.
By Thom Takahata on 05.24.2012
It was at the family’s brand-new summer lodge, tidy and well-kept, that I met my first love.
It was at the summer lodge where I had my first kiss.
It was on the veranda of that summer lodge that I got down on one knee, silhouetted against the sea-fallen sunset.
It was in that summer lodge that I painted a room blue and pink and built a crib when my love told me the news.
It was in that summer lodge my own son got down on one knee like his old man so many years ago.
It was in that lodge that I held my love and we cried until the sun rose and set again when we took the call from the doctor.
And it’s in that lodge that I sit now, alone and old as the paintwork peels.
By Barber URL on 05.24.2012
I was looking for a lodge to spend the night. Tired after covering almost 700 kms in the day, i needed to crash on a nice cozy bed. The section of the highway that I was passing through, unluckily, was a forest patch that said the nearest village is 30 kilometers further. My bum had given away long back and so did my will-power. The last 30 kms seemed like 3000 but I had to scrape through.
By Omkar Thakur on 05.24.2012
To lodge an entry is to give in something as a result of expecting some type of news or response in return. In life we lodge our personality through our actions and in response to that we receive a reaction. It’s almost like Newton’s law of motion, except that it isn’t. Give it everything go!
By Jessica S URL on 05.24.2012
i have a lodge near my were i use to stay . its very nice and beautiful .but the people to nice their.but some times many person comes to disturb us but the factor is that i have to work very had to earn lie lodge
By rajesh URL on 05.24.2012
my heart wants this more than anything else before. i can’t even explain it. you are like the first ghost of a light in the darkest year. you are the fledgling of warmth in a century winter. you are the distant lodge in the millenium storm.
By meliora URL on 05.24.2012
The snow drifted high above Erika’s head. She looked in awe at what she beheld–great hills and giant mountains, all looking down on her with the snow’s millions of eyes. At the top of a mountain, she saw a lodge for the skiers, small compared to the beautiful, massive mountains to her right and left.
By Emma on 05.24.2012
There was the cabin in the woods.
There was the hotel with the fancy lobby.
There was the dingy looking gas station with the smelly looking old man and the expired packaged biscuits.
There was the lonely waffle house.
The strange coffee shop.
But wherever he could find lodging, it didn’t matter.
Nowhere was home.
By noiseandhammers URL on 05.24.2012
“Lodge here for the night?” repeats the man in consternation. Do people use that word anymore? The last time he heard someone use it as a verb was at a Christmas play.
“Yes sir, we’d like the lodge here for the night.”
“Well, have at it.” He says tossing them their keys. “Room 17.”
By Alexa on 05.24.2012