A house residing in the forest
Noises shattered the pristine solitude of the foreboding forest. Echoes of fate falling together as bricks plastered to one another like a puzzle reverberated against the uprooted trees and danced along the intricate traces of moss.
In a small clearing cast aside like rubbish to the recurring inhabitants of that forest began the formation of a home. Bricks stacked up to form a sanctuary as perfected planks of pine performed their task of forming walls.
And as the roof was placed in an angelic manner that rivaled a crown, almost like the house was meant for royalty, the cabin was complete. The new life brought with the construction inspired the decrepit woods to revive.
Squirrels hesitantly stepped out of the shadows into what once was an open area. Standing before them, to their nut-oriented minds, a castle-like cabin planted roots with precise perfection. Aged pine trees crowding the home leaned in whether from the wind or from an interest of what the paneling once was. The roots from the trees intertwined with the foundation of the cabin, and a potent powerful change gently coated the forest.
Vitality transferred out of the house, newly constructed with accuracy and care, and traveled through the ground whilst hungrily searching for others. Vitality brought the birds out of their nests that resided above the roof. Vitaly flowed through the broken trees, worn down from weather and pain, and strengthened the forest floor.
With the cabin’s growth in what once was a destitute clearing, a blanket of peace coated the trees, shrubs, and residents of the land. Years of life passed along, but the forest remained under the trance of the cabin.
As the cabin flourished with pink petunias lining the window sills, flowers sprouted around the rounded corners while animals dodged in between bushes and logs. Life spread like the dreaded poison ivy throughout the forest, and all was at peace.
Yet the house began to inevitably age as more years tantalizingly tallied up while showing signs of their presence through heaving floorboards and creaking windows.
Storms of disease, doubt, and daunting trepidation hammered against the paneled walls; with each heavy rain, water slipped off the roof but drowned what was growing inside. Passionate fires that fueled that welcoming warmth of the forest began to breathe their last breaths as the air became thicker with impending doom. Fires in their brick homes choked.
The protective blanket that laid lovingly, as if a mother tucked the forest in it, was slowly slipping off the cliff, verging on falling into an abysmal abyss and egged on by the caving-in cabin.
Scurrying away from the metaphorical clouds of doom, ushered in by storm clouds that slyly snuck their way into the heavenly forest, squirrels returned to the holes in logs they abandoned many moons before. The shining sun that once led them to the cabin—the cabin that once sat so regally in the epicenter of it all—shimmied out of the clouds and rested far beyond the horizon.
With just one sign of weakness that the cabin tried so desperately to keep hidden behind its sealed doors, the beautiful joy and loving livelihood that lingered around its yard scampered away with hearts sinking with fear. Cringing away from flaws, the serene forest it helped to grow abandoned its side.
The cabin was left in the clearing that was abandoned once more. Shutters crawled off the windows, longing to be far away from the failing abode. Cracks in the brick foundation gave way for the ruddy earth to claw its way in, dirtying the hopes of the cabin.
Succumbing to the darkness, moistened with mold and served with decaying planks, the cabin felt its precious beams beratingly bend inwards; the roof that was once the boisterous crown tipped to the left, and the appearance lost any ounce of charm. A sad look, as if the cabin had a face, washed over the broken walls.
The seemingly eternal merriment that once dosed the forest finally fled with the final flecks floating faintly away with the woeful wind.
Thriving plants were replaced with dying weeds, and the chattering animals once swimming in devotion fled to a new promised land.
And now, alone in the clearing, the cabin steadily sunk into the hungry ground.
Once inviting in appearance, now dejected in a hopeless aura, the cabin felt empty, alone, and deeply weighted with burdens of loss. Admired by many that abandoned ship so swiftly, the cabin remained neighborless. Behind the cracked glass windows, echoes of ache littered the air.
Resigned in a pessimistic manner, the cabin gave up on herself and embraced the holes that were dug by the others.
Lynlee is a senior and is starting her final year in the midst of all this COVID-19 chaos, which is fitting for her strange luck. Room 139—home to The...