Monday September 6th, 2010

The exercise:

Let us write about: the cabin in the woods.

We did some good cleaning work in the cabin today before heading into town to make a few purchases. We came home with a hot water tank, a toilet, a medicine cabinet, and some insulation. We also put in an order for a bathroom sink, which should be coming in next week.

I had a few firsts today, but I think the one that stands out the most is this one: for the first time in my life I both swept and vacuumed a bathtub.

I think that should give you a pretty good idea what we're up against.



There must have been a million of them gathered outside. By the sounds of it they were having the party of the bloody century and they'd all had too much to drink. Complete loss of speech volume control and all.

I'd gone to the cabin to escape the noises of the city: cars, people, skateboards, all of it. I was desperate for solitude. Peace. Quiet.

Instead I found myself in the middle of the forest surrounded by the deafening chirping of bloody crickets. And I couldn't sleep a bloody wink.

So at three o'clock in the morning I flopped out of bed, grabbed a couple of rusting hammers off the shelf next to the fireplace, and went hunting for the little bastards.


Greg said...

That must have been quite a bathtub to need sweeping and vacuuming! I admire your ancient bathtub of darkness and dread :) And do I get the impression that you're not yet adapted to sleeping with the relaxing chirrup of crickets all night?
It does sounds like the cabin is coming along though, and I'm definitely glad that you'll have hot water for the Canadian winter... :)

The cabin in the woods

Built from wood as gnarled as these hands,
The cabin is an outpost on forbidden lands.
Its windows all point east, watching out
For things emerging, whence up will go a shout.
No electricity, it doesn't really flow here;
No running water, because it runs away in fear.
No flowers will grow in any of the gardens,
Even the trees die slowly, as their wood hardens
And turns to stone. A cabin in the woods for me,
Surrounded by petrification, grey and stoney trees.
And while I'm waiting for the monsters yet to come,
I'll write my meagre poetry, tell stories, and have fun.

morganna said...

An ominous phrase if I ever heard one. One never knows quite what to expect of a 'cabin in the woods.' Whether it's musty and dusty with hints of ax-murderers in the shadows, or if it's neat and clean, all spick and span with yellow gingham curtains at the window.
To be continued.

Marc said...

Greg - 'the ancient bathtub of darkness and dread' sounds like a good prompt to me!

And it was only one night, with a particularly loud cricket right outside the bedroom window. Other than that it's been fine :)

Love the imagery in yours. Feels like the beginning of a story, really.

Morganna - I look forward to that continuing!

Really loved '... musty and dusty with hints of ax-murderers in the shadows' :D

Heather said...

Marc- Once again, I seem to have missed the deadline. This time I can't say too much considering what I started to write turned out nothing like what the prompt should have suggested. Still, if you are bored, here it is:

Akumal, my beloved little southern city. I loved the countryside and the relaxed ways of the people. Sea turtles climbed ashore in the hazy night lights while hermit crabs slowly crawled from their hiding spots to explore the spoils of Americans who invaded their territory in the warm summer months. The contrast between my secure ocean facing condo and the dirty little shacks one street over haunted me. I felt guilty laying on my crisp white sheets after a day playing in the salt encrusted sea.

The gaunt eyes, thin bodies, and rolling voices of the residents floated through my dreams, haunting me throughout the night and then with their actual presence during the day. Their swaying little shacks stood in deep contrast to the lush green and blue scenery. Bright blankets hung from the doorways as a celebration of their tradition and a mark of their worsening poverty. Still, I could not pull myself away from a quiet desire to be one of them.

Marc said...

Heather - bah, there's no deadline! You could do a take on a prompt that's a year old and I'd still just be happy you're writing :)

That's a great vignette, and I certainly didn't need to be bored to enjoy it.

And even I've been guilty on occasion of writing something that has very, very little to do with the prompt :D