Writing Contest Honorable Mention ~ April 2005

Writing for Life: Creating a Story of Your Own The therapeutic power of journaling, proven and embraced over the last century by doctors and psychologist, is an effective tool to improve health and achieve healing of the body, mind and spirit. The journaling and scrapbooking techniques taught in this course provide a creative way to connect with the inner self and heal emotional wounds while documenting your story, your life, in a fun and unique way.
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The Cabin

By Desba C. Silvers

The snowfall had covered everything with a blanket that muffled all sounds. The cabin was barely visible across the field, tucked in close to the stand of evergreens.

There was a sense in the air, if one was quiet and still enough to feel it, that inside that cabin wondrous things were in the works. If you looked closely, there was a thin haze of smoke, rising from the chimney, and if you sniffed deeply enough, through the wonderful scent of burning birch, there were other parts to the smell, various herbs adding their nuances.

Outside, the air had a pinkish tinge to it, as if late in the day, but it wasn t yet, was it? Time seemed to have disappeared under the layer of snow as well. Walking towards the cabin, it didn t appear to be getting any closer. There were no animal tracks in the snow, but it was possible they hadn t been out since the snowfall, though it did seem a bit odd.

The cabin appeared at first to have no windows, but as my eyes focused, I did see them, however they were all dark which gave me the first feelings of uneasiness on this strange day. I knew there was something different here, and as I approached, I knew it was the cabin I had dreamed of when I was a child.

I tried to remember what the rest of the dream had been, but it eluded me. So, I wracked my brains, had I been here before and just didn t recall? Or was it a precognitive dream, of the type I hadn t had in years?

Well, it didn t matter, here I was, and it finally seemed to give in and let me get closer. The field from the fence was much bigger than it appeared, and there were rocks and bumps under the snow that made to going tough and slow. What was in there? Did anyone live there? Why did I need to know? All these questions circled in my head as I struggled with crossing that field, my feet growing numb with cold, now all I wanted was to get to that cabin and warm my feet by the fire that was obviously burning.

Suddenly, my foot slipped and I lost my balance, and then felt a sharp pain on the side of my head as I landed. I took a few minutes before opening my eyes, trying to gather the strength to get up and carry on. When I opened my eyes, I did not see snow and the field and trees as I expected, but rather a roaring fire in a stone fireplace. What the..???!! I started up, but the spot on my head froze me in place with a sharp spear of pain above my left temple.

I was in the cabin? How? How long ago did I trip? Who brought me in here?

The fire felt so warm and comforting, I was feeling as if none of it mattered, anyway, this was where I belonged. I had been here before. I began to look around, and I realized it was all very familiar, more than just a dream.

I slowly stood up, and looking around, spotted a fresh pot of coffee on a very clean counter across the large room from the fireplace. I made my way over to it, and there was a mug near the pot, clean, so I poured. I figured the cup of coffee would help clear my head. As I gazed at the inside of the cottage, which was more like a large spacious renovated barn inside, I realized I knew where everything was. I looked at the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the beams in the kitchen, and found I knew what they were, even though I didn t know HOW I knew. I could also see in my mind, the garden out back, and the stream that ran through the woods behind the cabin, and me, picking the herbs and stirring a large cook pot over the fire in the huge stone fireplace.

This was home.



Copyright © 2005 Desba C. Silvers. All rights reserved.