We hadn’t been to the hunting lodge since before dad moved us to Bethesda. The long drive in was the same, if a little overgrown. The front steps were not in great shape but certainly didn’t seem unused for decades.
The girl sat all winter locked up that old lodge. She never came out, no one ever came in, until the snow began to melt, and then it seemed as if the very sun was the only force pulling her from her depths, tearing her from what she had been buried in all season long…
It was quiet, and it was perfect. She didn’t want anything special, just something with basic water and electricity. It had both, but nothing more. Thankfully, not even her Blackberry could kill the mood here. The ideal place for a rehabilitation.
One time there was a man and a woman and they wanted to go on an whimsical adventure to get away from their meaningless lives in the “real world”. They went on a plane and traveled to the best place they could think of. The lodge, the one place they wanted to get married and fall in love.
Well, he’s in there, lodged right between strange memories and absurd hopes… and it looks like he isn’t coming out. I think it’s best if you prepare your heart, this is going to take a while, and it’s probably going to hurt.
There once was a couple and they were in love. Everything they wanted was all in one place. The lodge. This was hidden away in the woods up in the mountains and they were going to get away there to spend the rest of their lives in that lodge. They will go there and stay in love with each other. The lodge was a perfect place to live. It was warm and cozy even in the mountains and they could spend all the time in the world together.
here is this word again
the snow falls hard, and white against the steaming windows
steaming from hot chocolate, and the heat created by the two bodies sitting by the fire.
they are newly engaged, enjoying youthful love, and making plans for the future. Little do they know the marriage will fall apart in only a couple of years, and this love they have of eachother will just turn to hate.
hidden among the ageless pines, sits a building made from brick and mortar. An unassuming building from its appearance, but within it is nestled one of the great treasures of the mind. Serenity.
The wind blew cold outside the lodge we were staying in. Who knew it could be so cold in Montana. Like, I knew it would be cold, I’m not stupid, but this was COLD. I could feel the icicles inside my nose; frozen snot.
house
timber
wood
green roof
snow
skiing
wolfs
mountains
colorado
monet
dogs
hot chocolate
fire
wind
white sky
cuddling
socks
christmas
stockings
presents
tree
santa claus
reindeer
family
red nose
rudolph
men
f
They found the bullet lodged in her forehead, dead centre. The coroner said if it had been a millimetre higher, the bullet may have only skimmed the frontal lobe, and she may have lived, with only some minor nerve damage. But the marksman was at such close range, it was clear he hadn’t intended for her to survive.
He had to have looked her directly in the eyes when he squeezed the trigger to end her life. And he had taped her eye lids back, so she had to look into his as he shot her dead.
It lodges itself into the heart
You know the feeling
A seeking feeling
That cracks all the ribs.
It Moves outward from the chest
to all the extremities,
Sailing through the blood stream
and blooming in each artery.
Four guys, two girls, all lodged into one jeep, on an endless road trip throughout the U.S. They’ve stopped at beaches for bonfires, canyons for hiking, mountains for climbing, forests for camping, and large fields for stargazing.
It was a simple thing I did. I took a bite. The taste of bloody lamb exploded in my mouth and then he made me laugh. It was a simple thing I did. I inhaled. Down the bit went, trying to find its way into my lungs. It was a simple thing it did. It lodged. My face turned blue and his face turned white. One big thump and then another. Hands beneath pumping my ribs as the world became sprinkled with black. His arms were warm around me. It was a simple thing I did. I slept.
Disneyworld: It’s a small world, after all. We all know the tune, we all know the place. But I never go there anymore, so my childhood memories, such as duck-feeding at the Wilderness Lodge, are wind in my mind: I forget it all, for it moves fast away, but it’s beautiful if you could see it.
It nestled in the crook of a small hill’s elbow, a valley that was covered in white cherry blossom in spring, and snow in the winter months. This lodge was to be my home.
a place that old people stay it smells and looks like it should be in a film about woods and bairs and stuff normaly has smoke coming out of the brick chimney coming out of the tilled roof.
I saw the opening in the trees where I knew the road was. It was covered well under a layer of snow, by this time. I relished the still and chilled air and the snow that continued to melt on the brim of my hat.
I crunched up through the forest to the warmth and solace of the wooden lodge above.
The scroll was lodged tightly between the stones in the wall. She tugged and tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. She was afraid to pull it too roughly for fear it might tear and the secrets on the page would never be revealed. She stared at the paper lodged in the wall, and pondered her next move.
“Well, I suppose she could potentially write about something that is lodged somewhere. Or a building called a lodge.”
“That is such bogus. This is supposed to give you words that inspire really nice concise shortform streams-of-consciousness, not wonder at words that are almost obsolete.”
At the top of the hill, surrounded by the tall pines and steep dirt paths, stood the lodge. The ice cream they sold there made being away from home slightly more bearable, but it was never what I really needed.
I think of writers escaping to a cabin in the woods to compose their next best-selling book. Who started that trend, anyway? Sure, the seclusion is nice. Have all your thoughts to yourself. But doesn’t it get lonely?
She looked down at her black pumps that matched perfectly with the green dress. Of all the things that could go wrong tonight, and buddy had they, getting her favorite heels stuck in the sidewalk was the last thing on her mind. But here she was, her choices being to stand there all night or give up the shoe.
and there i was walking through the forest of lost pennies which over time had become fastened between the floorboards until they were a member of the copper nails the copper pennies i turned into a copper girl i could smell the richness of myself and the darkness encasing me as i rotted in the sink and glowed slightly green but the sink was the floorboard and was never really there.
She went up to the lodge up near Hudson Bay with her hubby. They had been together for quite some time but never quite got the time – with their busy lives – to settle down and share a weekend together. The pines were sprinkled with white and the road was hardly one at all, yet all the same they took lodging in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of nowhere is where they truly experienced love.
Relationships are hardly ever simple, its quite hard to find the balance between life and your significant other but the one time you set aside to do so is the one time you should understand why you chose each other.
When I travel I want to stay in open places. Walls are so confining. Don’t you want to look out at the ocean from a room with no walls with me? How great it will be, you and me and no restrictions.
She hunkered into the warm log cabin. In front of her the fire crackled, and the warm wool blanket setteld comfortable around her shoulders. Outside the cold raged. Outside where everyone had gone.
I’d like to lodge a complaint against this establishment and the poor service I’ve received.
He looked as neglected as he sounded, and I wondered what his complaint could possibly be, his odor and self out of place amongst the mirrors and glass.
Lodge podge – when you can’t find just the right place to stay.
Lodge fudge – bad candy for tourists.
Lodge nudge – when your partner wants to be amorous on vacation.
No idea what to write.
Lodge … It sounds quite nice, but I’ve heard better words.
But I’m not supposed to write anything like this…
It should be more creative, should it not ?!
I wonder and ponder …
Lodge …
Yes, this word is somehow amazing and fun …
Fun, good word to use.
I went to the lodge with my sister last summer. We played tag. Slept in a bunk bed and listened to the birds as they sang.
The weather was colder there than we are used to. Even in July, we had a fire going in the fireplace nightly. The days weren’t too bad, nearly 85 degrees, so, so we were able to swim in the river.
We settled into a small “log” lodge just on the outskirts of the ski resort, its pseudo-rustic appearance giving way to pseudo-comforting interior design. Plush green couches, a bristling fire with a overly fur-bedecked mantle piece (making me worry that the hairs would be set ablaze, though they’d burn out very easily), and a small table with lukewarm coffee to drink.
I stayed in a lodge once. Called the Grand Lodge. It was beautiful and I loved it there. I have so many great memories there and I want to return. There were paddle boats and good restaurants and I want to go back with my friends or family. It was wooden and near a beautiful village.
She felt the bullet splinter into a million tiny pieces as it lodged somewhere in her ribcage. It was worth it. She would do anything for that girl, and now everyone knew it.
The dinner food was fitting for a place of such barren essentials. Just a trench of potatoes slopped on with the hope of filling your hunger. No nutrients, no health benefits. Some charred meat that was indistinguishable and looked bland.
We hadn’t been to the hunting lodge since before dad moved us to Bethesda. The long drive in was the same, if a little overgrown. The front steps were not in great shape but certainly didn’t seem unused for decades.
The girl sat all winter locked up that old lodge. She never came out, no one ever came in, until the snow began to melt, and then it seemed as if the very sun was the only force pulling her from her depths, tearing her from what she had been buried in all season long…
It was quiet, and it was perfect. She didn’t want anything special, just something with basic water and electricity. It had both, but nothing more. Thankfully, not even her Blackberry could kill the mood here. The ideal place for a rehabilitation.
One time there was a man and a woman and they wanted to go on an whimsical adventure to get away from their meaningless lives in the “real world”. They went on a plane and traveled to the best place they could think of. The lodge, the one place they wanted to get married and fall in love.
Well, he’s in there, lodged right between strange memories and absurd hopes… and it looks like he isn’t coming out. I think it’s best if you prepare your heart, this is going to take a while, and it’s probably going to hurt.
There once was a couple and they were in love. Everything they wanted was all in one place. The lodge. This was hidden away in the woods up in the mountains and they were going to get away there to spend the rest of their lives in that lodge. They will go there and stay in love with each other. The lodge was a perfect place to live. It was warm and cozy even in the mountains and they could spend all the time in the world together.
here is this word again
the snow falls hard, and white against the steaming windows
steaming from hot chocolate, and the heat created by the two bodies sitting by the fire.
they are newly engaged, enjoying youthful love, and making plans for the future. Little do they know the marriage will fall apart in only a couple of years, and this love they have of eachother will just turn to hate.
hidden among the ageless pines, sits a building made from brick and mortar. An unassuming building from its appearance, but within it is nestled one of the great treasures of the mind. Serenity.
The wind blew cold outside the lodge we were staying in. Who knew it could be so cold in Montana. Like, I knew it would be cold, I’m not stupid, but this was COLD. I could feel the icicles inside my nose; frozen snot.
house
timber
wood
green roof
snow
skiing
wolfs
mountains
colorado
monet
dogs
hot chocolate
fire
wind
white sky
cuddling
socks
christmas
stockings
presents
tree
santa claus
reindeer
family
red nose
rudolph
men
f
They found the bullet lodged in her forehead, dead centre. The coroner said if it had been a millimetre higher, the bullet may have only skimmed the frontal lobe, and she may have lived, with only some minor nerve damage. But the marksman was at such close range, it was clear he hadn’t intended for her to survive.
He had to have looked her directly in the eyes when he squeezed the trigger to end her life. And he had taped her eye lids back, so she had to look into his as he shot her dead.
It lodges itself into the heart
You know the feeling
A seeking feeling
That cracks all the ribs.
It Moves outward from the chest
to all the extremities,
Sailing through the blood stream
and blooming in each artery.
Four guys, two girls, all lodged into one jeep, on an endless road trip throughout the U.S. They’ve stopped at beaches for bonfires, canyons for hiking, mountains for climbing, forests for camping, and large fields for stargazing.
It was a simple thing I did. I took a bite. The taste of bloody lamb exploded in my mouth and then he made me laugh. It was a simple thing I did. I inhaled. Down the bit went, trying to find its way into my lungs. It was a simple thing it did. It lodged. My face turned blue and his face turned white. One big thump and then another. Hands beneath pumping my ribs as the world became sprinkled with black. His arms were warm around me. It was a simple thing I did. I slept.
Disneyworld: It’s a small world, after all. We all know the tune, we all know the place. But I never go there anymore, so my childhood memories, such as duck-feeding at the Wilderness Lodge, are wind in my mind: I forget it all, for it moves fast away, but it’s beautiful if you could see it.
It nestled in the crook of a small hill’s elbow, a valley that was covered in white cherry blossom in spring, and snow in the winter months. This lodge was to be my home.
a place that old people stay it smells and looks like it should be in a film about woods and bairs and stuff normaly has smoke coming out of the brick chimney coming out of the tilled roof.
I saw the opening in the trees where I knew the road was. It was covered well under a layer of snow, by this time. I relished the still and chilled air and the snow that continued to melt on the brim of my hat.
I crunched up through the forest to the warmth and solace of the wooden lodge above.
The scroll was lodged tightly between the stones in the wall. She tugged and tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. She was afraid to pull it too roughly for fear it might tear and the secrets on the page would never be revealed. She stared at the paper lodged in the wall, and pondered her next move.
“Lodge? What kind of word is lodge?”
“Well, I suppose she could potentially write about something that is lodged somewhere. Or a building called a lodge.”
“That is such bogus. This is supposed to give you words that inspire really nice concise shortform streams-of-consciousness, not wonder at words that are almost obsolete.”
There, here, is rough-hewn wood, polished
with Danish wax, with elbows
There is the warmth of strangers,
here are afghans over tired couches.
Snow falls, dirty, humane, outside, lingers
on cold windowsills.
At the top of the hill, surrounded by the tall pines and steep dirt paths, stood the lodge. The ice cream they sold there made being away from home slightly more bearable, but it was never what I really needed.
I think of writers escaping to a cabin in the woods to compose their next best-selling book. Who started that trend, anyway? Sure, the seclusion is nice. Have all your thoughts to yourself. But doesn’t it get lonely?
She looked down at her black pumps that matched perfectly with the green dress. Of all the things that could go wrong tonight, and buddy had they, getting her favorite heels stuck in the sidewalk was the last thing on her mind. But here she was, her choices being to stand there all night or give up the shoe.
and there i was walking through the forest of lost pennies which over time had become fastened between the floorboards until they were a member of the copper nails the copper pennies i turned into a copper girl i could smell the richness of myself and the darkness encasing me as i rotted in the sink and glowed slightly green but the sink was the floorboard and was never really there.
She went up to the lodge up near Hudson Bay with her hubby. They had been together for quite some time but never quite got the time – with their busy lives – to settle down and share a weekend together. The pines were sprinkled with white and the road was hardly one at all, yet all the same they took lodging in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of nowhere is where they truly experienced love.
Relationships are hardly ever simple, its quite hard to find the balance between life and your significant other but the one time you set aside to do so is the one time you should understand why you chose each other.
When I travel I want to stay in open places. Walls are so confining. Don’t you want to look out at the ocean from a room with no walls with me? How great it will be, you and me and no restrictions.
She hunkered into the warm log cabin. In front of her the fire crackled, and the warm wool blanket setteld comfortable around her shoulders. Outside the cold raged. Outside where everyone had gone.
I’d like to lodge a complaint.
His voice was thick and hairy, unused.
I’d like to lodge a complaint against this establishment and the poor service I’ve received.
He looked as neglected as he sounded, and I wondered what his complaint could possibly be, his odor and self out of place amongst the mirrors and glass.
Lodge podge – when you can’t find just the right place to stay.
Lodge fudge – bad candy for tourists.
Lodge nudge – when your partner wants to be amorous on vacation.
The lodge is full of skiers today. How come? Is the weather bad? No snow? WHAT HAPPENED. I am. Hmm.
No idea what to write.
Lodge … It sounds quite nice, but I’ve heard better words.
But I’m not supposed to write anything like this…
It should be more creative, should it not ?!
I wonder and ponder …
Lodge …
Yes, this word is somehow amazing and fun …
Fun, good word to use.
Words lodge inside my throat,
I try to speak, to force them from their hiding place
But there is no one to hear me
I went to the lodge with my sister last summer. We played tag. Slept in a bunk bed and listened to the birds as they sang.
The weather was colder there than we are used to. Even in July, we had a fire going in the fireplace nightly. The days weren’t too bad, nearly 85 degrees, so, so we were able to swim in the river.
We settled into a small “log” lodge just on the outskirts of the ski resort, its pseudo-rustic appearance giving way to pseudo-comforting interior design. Plush green couches, a bristling fire with a overly fur-bedecked mantle piece (making me worry that the hairs would be set ablaze, though they’d burn out very easily), and a small table with lukewarm coffee to drink.
I’m not sure whether I know what it is, but if it is what I have in mind, then; small house, cosy, trees, flowers, wood, people?
I stayed in a lodge once. Called the Grand Lodge. It was beautiful and I loved it there. I have so many great memories there and I want to return. There were paddle boats and good restaurants and I want to go back with my friends or family. It was wooden and near a beautiful village.
She felt the bullet splinter into a million tiny pieces as it lodged somewhere in her ribcage. It was worth it. She would do anything for that girl, and now everyone knew it.
The dinner food was fitting for a place of such barren essentials. Just a trench of potatoes slopped on with the hope of filling your hunger. No nutrients, no health benefits. Some charred meat that was indistinguishable and looked bland.
I was found at Starbucks exercising my WRITE…
wishing I was at the lodge with my beloved family. Right?
No, I’m here, and it’s now. And…no kidding, I’m witnessing a girl choke on something. It’s as if she has something lodged in her throat.
Anyway…have a great day, she’s ok now.
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