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His Cabin Obsession
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I’ve been waiting for this all year.
No phone calls, emails, or messages. I just needed some time off from it all.
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I step out of the taxi and look up, shading my eyes against the sun. The sky is clear and bright out here, with barely a cloud in sight, and the air is fresh and clean. I take a deep, appreciative breath, turning in a circle to take in the whole scene.
I’ve been waiting for this all year. The moment I would stand here in front of this cabin in a remote part of the Montana wilderness, ready to begin a week of bliss. The clearing around the cabin recedes back into heavily wooded terrain crowded with trees on either side of the dirt track that brought me here, and in front, a high cliff breaks away to give a view over the valley below.
I turn to see that the driver has finished unloading my bags and is getting back into his car. With a perfunctory wave he’s gone, leaving me on my own. I have the key to the cabin already clutched in my hand, and my bags include enough food for much longer than I will be here. Getting a cab from the nearest town almost cost more than the booking itself, which is why it’s a thing Dad offered to pay for it – after all, he was supposed to be dropping me off here himself before he got busy with work.
Not that I mind arriving alone. This is it, my great chance to make the transition from high schooler to adult, before college starts and I have to learn to live without my family’s help anyway.
I grab my bags – they’re heavy and I have quite a few of them, but it’s only a short distance so I figure I can make it and start for the door. The cabin is picturesque and charming, all rough wood with glass windows set under a sloped roof. Out front is a small paved area with a wooden table and four chairs. I can already picture myself sitting there and writing.
This isn’t just my way of saying goodbye to being a kid – no, it’s far more than that. The reason I’ve been working part-time around school and saving up for the last two years is because I want to be a writer. I know I can be one. I just need my big chance, and this is it. I’m going to shut myself away in this cabin for a week without human contact, and by the end of it I’m going to have written the perfect short story.
Or, I won’t have anything at all. That’s how I’ll know whether I’m really on the right path or not.
I struggle with my bags to the door and dump them on the paving slabs – large, grey squares that already have grass growing between them. I feel a girlish flare of excitement as I set the key into the lock. This is it – everything I’ve been looking forward to for so long.
Pushing the door open I drinking in the rustic interior and simple furniture, a kitchen equipped with all the things I could possibly need to survive, a table that looks hewn from a single piece of wood and probably made by hand, and a low-slung couch littered with hand embroidered cushions. It’s perfect – just what I imagined. A simple and homely base where I can shut out the world and work on my craft.
I’m about to bend down and shuffle my bags through into the main room when a movement catches my eye. A man emerges from a door to my right – cut into a compartment that extends across a quarter of the cabin’s interior space, and therefore obviously the bedroom. He’s tall, dark haired and tan skinned, older than me by perhaps fifteen or twenty years.
Dressed head to toe in black, the sight of him immediately quickens my heartbeat – not just because there shouldn’t be anyone here, but because he’s absolutely drop dead gorgeous. If he was a movie star, I wouldn’t be surprised.
But there’s a big question that I now need answered. Why on earth is someone here, when I was told the cabin would be empty when I arrived – and why is he staring at me like he’s ready to defend his turf?
I hear a rattling noise at the front door, and my back immediately stiffens. There are bears out here, not to mention all kinds of other critters who might pose a problem. Then there’s the possibility that it could be a human – some hunter or wild man come to find temporary shelter.
I turn and bolt for the main room of the cabin when I hear the door opening. That definitely sounds human, and no one else should be able to get in. I booked this cabin for a week, and I’m the only one for miles around with a key so who the hell is it that just barged in?