Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Nanowrimo #5

The cottage that they were renting was a six hour drive north, far away from the metropolis where their love had first blossomed. As they got further and further from the futile city in the rented jeep, they began to relax and enjoy the drive. The robust city blocks turned slowly into suburb and then into farmland. The anxiety of the coming months was undeniably overpowered by the connection that the Lady and the Man felt coming back as they retreated into the country. Soon trees replaced the rows of corn. Soon after that the road began twisting and turning as if it would not have allowed itself to be laid down in a straight line, as if it wanted it’s patrons to explore the surroundings. The road gave several unexpected inclines and declines before settling on a steady uphill grade. Snow was accumulating along the shoulder and soon the couple had to slow their ascent to stay on the pavement.

The Man and the Lady in the rented, green jeep passed a road sign that proclaimed: "Welcome to Maryhill, Population 364, Elevation 2860." After a moment, they found the turn that the travel agent told them to take, 'the one with the red barrel off the road,' and they turned right onto the muddy road. Another half mile from the main road they found a cottage that looked like something described in a children’s book. It was, truly, everything that you might imagine a real honest to God log cabin to be. The sides of the house were made of hand-hewn logs. The shutters were painted a dark shade of green. The door was also the same shade of green. Both looked as if they were chiseled from solid blocks of the towering oaks that stood around them for miles, and painted once in the last century and left to weather as the sky saw fit.

As the snow floated down from the canopy above, the couple exited the carriage and stood in awe at the scene. For hours the couple stood in front of the cottage without saying a word. The snow flirted with their lips and bare hands and melted before it might have had the chance to be brushed away. Suddenly, to the right of the house, there was a quick, fleeting noise of undergrowth snapping and branches rubbing against each other. “What was that,” whispered the Man. Then they saw it, moving away from the house. A snow-white bunny leaping feet at a time across the white ground, leaving dimples in the powder where he landed. And before the Lady could say a word the rabbit was gone into the forest.

The movement broke the spell of the house, and the couple gathered their supplies and brought them inside.


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