I want to hut you before you hut me. It huts when you say things that make me hut. I don’t like it. Leave me alone.
Anonymous
something that i dont want to live in
M Hyder
hahaha the fucking hut man. its a spot we have in flshing meadows where we always burn and shit. i remember the last couple times we went. dont remember the first hahaha. chillen in a whillow treed and shit my cats licking th carpet now wtf.
brian
the most fundamental of human needs: shelter. it guards and protects, enlivens and contemplates in the very nature of our being. intrinsically, it is what is necessary to our lives, our prospects.
Lucas
It would be nice to live on an island in a hut on the beach. Nothing to do but enjoy the beach and the ocean…
Peaceable
i would love to build a hut in new zealand and live like a wildman for a year and THEN go to college… even if everyone says DONT TAKE A YEAR OFF! That’s what i’d love to do… eat antelope fruits nuts and berries and shit like that… that’d be great. come back to USA in great shape totally self reliant. that’d be awesome.
Sugar
The little hut stood on the rock by the ocean, its leafy roof glowing the color of sunset. No one had lived in it for some time, but, strangely, it was as if it hadn’t ever been left. In it was a small wooden table, set for a party of four…
Danielle
the hut is in the sun with the sandy white beaches with the waves crashing softly in the background as the sun slowly sank into the horizon, spreading reds and oranges and pinks across the sky and water. the palms swayed gently in the breeze as the people relaxed.
hut
there was a hut sitting on a beach of a lonely island in the middle of a great sea. Living in the hut was an old man who had been here for so long not even he remembers how he came to live here. Everyday he would rise with the sun and walk to the waters edge and ask the water where the fish could be found to make his breakfast with. And every
d.turner@home.nl
A hut reminds me of an island, one with pineapples on it. Nobody lives there, but there is a hut. Just a hut and maybe something cheesy and delicious flowing through the pot in the middle of the hut on a fire and taken away by a big black bird. Welcome to the hut, my friend. Have some cheese.
Chelly
pizza hut… i used to work at pizza hut when i was in high school. it was my first job. i started working the week after i turned sixteen.
i really cant think of anything that really stands out when i hear
jess
a little hut on the beach. maybe hawaii. nothing to do all day but relax and watch the sunset. so relaxing. maybe go fishing. although im not a fan of fish it could be fun. just playing in the sand and ocean seems so nice right now. in the warm sun.
kaitlin
He hid in the hut with a large spear and no clothes on. It had been years since he last saw another human. He didn’t know what to do when one suddenly and terrfyingly stumbled into his presence. He was covered in blood and breathed heavily as he collasped against the wall. “Who are you?”
…”Nobody.”
Mae
I live with my cats. They’re kind animals. Fuzzy. Warm. But now one really seems to understand why I love them so.. not even I do. Perhaps it’s the way they’re claws knead so carelessly into my legs. I enjoy being ignored.
Fart.
The hut was dusky in color. The man sighed. Another job, and this time it had absolutely no glamor to it at all. Sometimes he got a job with palaces, and servants. Not this time. Now, he had this single, decrepit hut in front of him, daring him to try, try and complete the mission.
Grant
in africa there is a hut with frogs and chickens living in it. every day, they gather around the campfire and burn sacrifices, meats, and others. sometimes, I imagine one from rising above the others, the chickens too, and ordering them to burn other things. uh oh. ahhh.
Jimmy
in a village in africa I stopped beside a hut to speak to God. SHe told me it was going to be ok and that I still had more to do in this world. Then I woke up and was still alive.
Spark
straw and sticks and bricks and
bottle caps and pencils and paper clips
and toothpicks and other useless things
you can build homes out of
you always seem to
blow my house down
steph
i wake up to the sounds of waves them crashiung on the shore, I am peaceful, it is beautiful here there are monkeys and elephants and I have never been so content. This is where I belong.
bob
a blanket of sand
covering the floor of this
our make-shift home
and we know there’s nothing left
but a blanket,
and a love
to last the winter.
Hut.
Hut.
House.
Car.
Lawn.
The Jones’.
Ego.
Viagra.
Fake tan.
Mini van.
Hut.
JaPa
He stepped out of the hut and blinked in the bright morning sun. Sweat oozed out of his pores, staining his t-shirt. What he had seen, while locked away, would certainly change his life.
KW
a pretty small house where its made out of grass and mud. i would like to have my family live in a hut because i don’t need anything fancy except a roof over my head.
emma
Sitting on the dirt floor, grass walls, grass roof, waiting for the sun to rise because the night is too dark to move in. I see your wounds, blood seeping from the bandaging, and I wish I could do something to help the pain. You pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I can hear your gasps when you need to breathe. I wrap my arms around you lightly, kiss you on your temple, hope to God we make it through tonight, because I don’t see myself leaving without you.
tristin
the hut was beautifully decorated. Simple rugs covered the floor, bamboo door keep the cool in, lovely weavings were thrown around the room. i stepped out with the help of Makia’s hand, and stood in the dark heat of Africa.
julia
It was a dark woods I entered. Ahead I could see a hut. Tiny and stooped over like a toad stool. Smoke rose from the wobbly chimmney and tattered curtains hung in an open window. I know someone was there, and they knew I was coming.
Willowbeth
a hut is a house. people live in huts and they are really small. im glad i dont live in a hut. yay!!!! go hunts!!!!Huts are so fun to play in because they are small and made of straw!
will
hut smutt like a trutt with a butt but i’m not one to look at those or am i? what’s the time when time rounds out of the clock’s face.
broken face. smashed in window on the roof of the hut what a slut.
what a slag
Cloud
there was a black hut. more like dark brown, i dont know who lived inside or what they lived for. all i know is they lived a simple life. one of true happiness, not the kind that you fake, the kind you feel. you dont fight, you feel it. the black hut was made of tar, the kind that when you smoke infests your lung. what a bad habit. and its a bad habit to live in a black hut too because its not true happiness, its fake.
nikki
casa selava pobre armas farcry
Anonymous
In a hut is where I reside. In a hut is where I was born and in a hut is where I shall die. This hut is a place of vast desperation. This hut is a place of tangled roots trapped in the hollow dirt.
Josh L.
It was a small hut. I didn’t notice it at first. However, a flicker of movement caught my eye and I immediately turned to see what it was. There was nothing there.. I wondered what I had seen. Perhaps my mind was just playing tricks on me. I was rather hungry.
Emilia
there once was a hut in kalamazoo. i don’t know why i’m writing about kalamazoo but at the time it sounded good. i stumbled upon this website, literally and figuratively. huts are made of straw.
alyssa
There was a man who lived in a hut. He was a very small man, but lively and bright. Every night he would make a fire just outside his hut and cook fish, which he had caught from the river, on it. The hut was made of branches, twigs and moss. I had never been inside of it.
Scarlet
The hut stood alone in the cold forest with noone around. the dark abyss of the forest creeped intothe yard, making the hut look like a menacing place to be. walking slowly toward it, i wondered why i was there. why.
Charlotte
There was a small hut tucked in the line of trees on the edge of the unkempt field, it had two windows that peered like watery eyes from the tall grass. One was broken, glass shards hung in the rotted frame.
SJH
Hut. He lived in a hut, and despised every moment of it. His existence was futile, and he hated it. And yet, Debbie always made him feel as if everything was alright. She made the hut feel like home, with her smile and her disposition. Everything was alright.
Emily D.
and inside we found a little golden man, glued to his hand, and we told him:
…
nut but lut cut lust amor love hate
I want to hut you before you hut me. It huts when you say things that make me hut. I don’t like it. Leave me alone.
something that i dont want to live in
hahaha the fucking hut man. its a spot we have in flshing meadows where we always burn and shit. i remember the last couple times we went. dont remember the first hahaha. chillen in a whillow treed and shit my cats licking th carpet now wtf.
the most fundamental of human needs: shelter. it guards and protects, enlivens and contemplates in the very nature of our being. intrinsically, it is what is necessary to our lives, our prospects.
It would be nice to live on an island in a hut on the beach. Nothing to do but enjoy the beach and the ocean…
i would love to build a hut in new zealand and live like a wildman for a year and THEN go to college… even if everyone says DONT TAKE A YEAR OFF! That’s what i’d love to do… eat antelope fruits nuts and berries and shit like that… that’d be great. come back to USA in great shape totally self reliant. that’d be awesome.
The little hut stood on the rock by the ocean, its leafy roof glowing the color of sunset. No one had lived in it for some time, but, strangely, it was as if it hadn’t ever been left. In it was a small wooden table, set for a party of four…
the hut is in the sun with the sandy white beaches with the waves crashing softly in the background as the sun slowly sank into the horizon, spreading reds and oranges and pinks across the sky and water. the palms swayed gently in the breeze as the people relaxed.
there was a hut sitting on a beach of a lonely island in the middle of a great sea. Living in the hut was an old man who had been here for so long not even he remembers how he came to live here. Everyday he would rise with the sun and walk to the waters edge and ask the water where the fish could be found to make his breakfast with. And every
A hut reminds me of an island, one with pineapples on it. Nobody lives there, but there is a hut. Just a hut and maybe something cheesy and delicious flowing through the pot in the middle of the hut on a fire and taken away by a big black bird. Welcome to the hut, my friend. Have some cheese.
pizza hut… i used to work at pizza hut when i was in high school. it was my first job. i started working the week after i turned sixteen.
i really cant think of anything that really stands out when i hear
a little hut on the beach. maybe hawaii. nothing to do all day but relax and watch the sunset. so relaxing. maybe go fishing. although im not a fan of fish it could be fun. just playing in the sand and ocean seems so nice right now. in the warm sun.
He hid in the hut with a large spear and no clothes on. It had been years since he last saw another human. He didn’t know what to do when one suddenly and terrfyingly stumbled into his presence. He was covered in blood and breathed heavily as he collasped against the wall. “Who are you?”
…”Nobody.”
I live with my cats. They’re kind animals. Fuzzy. Warm. But now one really seems to understand why I love them so.. not even I do. Perhaps it’s the way they’re claws knead so carelessly into my legs. I enjoy being ignored.
The hut was dusky in color. The man sighed. Another job, and this time it had absolutely no glamor to it at all. Sometimes he got a job with palaces, and servants. Not this time. Now, he had this single, decrepit hut in front of him, daring him to try, try and complete the mission.
in africa there is a hut with frogs and chickens living in it. every day, they gather around the campfire and burn sacrifices, meats, and others. sometimes, I imagine one from rising above the others, the chickens too, and ordering them to burn other things. uh oh. ahhh.
in a village in africa I stopped beside a hut to speak to God. SHe told me it was going to be ok and that I still had more to do in this world. Then I woke up and was still alive.
straw and sticks and bricks and
bottle caps and pencils and paper clips
and toothpicks and other useless things
you can build homes out of
you always seem to
blow my house down
i wake up to the sounds of waves them crashiung on the shore, I am peaceful, it is beautiful here there are monkeys and elephants and I have never been so content. This is where I belong.
a blanket of sand
covering the floor of this
our make-shift home
and we know there’s nothing left
but a blanket,
and a love
to last the winter.
Hut.
House.
Car.
Lawn.
The Jones’.
Ego.
Viagra.
Fake tan.
Mini van.
Hut.
He stepped out of the hut and blinked in the bright morning sun. Sweat oozed out of his pores, staining his t-shirt. What he had seen, while locked away, would certainly change his life.
a pretty small house where its made out of grass and mud. i would like to have my family live in a hut because i don’t need anything fancy except a roof over my head.
Sitting on the dirt floor, grass walls, grass roof, waiting for the sun to rise because the night is too dark to move in. I see your wounds, blood seeping from the bandaging, and I wish I could do something to help the pain. You pretend it doesn’t hurt, but I can hear your gasps when you need to breathe. I wrap my arms around you lightly, kiss you on your temple, hope to God we make it through tonight, because I don’t see myself leaving without you.
the hut was beautifully decorated. Simple rugs covered the floor, bamboo door keep the cool in, lovely weavings were thrown around the room. i stepped out with the help of Makia’s hand, and stood in the dark heat of Africa.
It was a dark woods I entered. Ahead I could see a hut. Tiny and stooped over like a toad stool. Smoke rose from the wobbly chimmney and tattered curtains hung in an open window. I know someone was there, and they knew I was coming.
a hut is a house. people live in huts and they are really small. im glad i dont live in a hut. yay!!!! go hunts!!!!Huts are so fun to play in because they are small and made of straw!
hut smutt like a trutt with a butt but i’m not one to look at those or am i? what’s the time when time rounds out of the clock’s face.
broken face. smashed in window on the roof of the hut what a slut.
what a slag
there was a black hut. more like dark brown, i dont know who lived inside or what they lived for. all i know is they lived a simple life. one of true happiness, not the kind that you fake, the kind you feel. you dont fight, you feel it. the black hut was made of tar, the kind that when you smoke infests your lung. what a bad habit. and its a bad habit to live in a black hut too because its not true happiness, its fake.
casa selava pobre armas farcry
In a hut is where I reside. In a hut is where I was born and in a hut is where I shall die. This hut is a place of vast desperation. This hut is a place of tangled roots trapped in the hollow dirt.
It was a small hut. I didn’t notice it at first. However, a flicker of movement caught my eye and I immediately turned to see what it was. There was nothing there.. I wondered what I had seen. Perhaps my mind was just playing tricks on me. I was rather hungry.
there once was a hut in kalamazoo. i don’t know why i’m writing about kalamazoo but at the time it sounded good. i stumbled upon this website, literally and figuratively. huts are made of straw.
There was a man who lived in a hut. He was a very small man, but lively and bright. Every night he would make a fire just outside his hut and cook fish, which he had caught from the river, on it. The hut was made of branches, twigs and moss. I had never been inside of it.
The hut stood alone in the cold forest with noone around. the dark abyss of the forest creeped intothe yard, making the hut look like a menacing place to be. walking slowly toward it, i wondered why i was there. why.
There was a small hut tucked in the line of trees on the edge of the unkempt field, it had two windows that peered like watery eyes from the tall grass. One was broken, glass shards hung in the rotted frame.
Hut. He lived in a hut, and despised every moment of it. His existence was futile, and he hated it. And yet, Debbie always made him feel as if everything was alright. She made the hut feel like home, with her smile and her disposition. Everything was alright.
and inside we found a little golden man, glued to his hand, and we told him:
“why do you act the way you do?”
and he asked us:
goodbye.