The Cabin This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.


   Thereis a place I often go to spend time with my uncles, cousins and friends. We havea great time at our hunting cabin. Every time I think of it, I relive my firstvisit to the cabin ...

Hunting season opens tomorrow. Dad and I havejust arrived at the cabin. I step out of the truck to see four- andthree-wheelers everywhere, just waiting for action. I see the cabin. It is oldand weathered, but looks very cozy.

I stroll to the door and push it open.The first things my eyes take in are the bright orange jackets and hats, strungon nails all around the room. I notice the big heavy boots that look warm andcomfortable. My eyes move to the living room where guys are talking, and crackingjokes. In the kitchen/dining area, I see the bright glow of the roaring stove.When I look to the ceiling I notice pots and pans hanging. There are alsoenormous antlers from the bucks my uncles have shot over the years. I notice the"hunting shack smell," different but welcoming.

I wake up thenext morning and, as I get dressed, smell mouth-watering bacon and eggs. I shovelin some food and see the guys buttoning their coats and grabbing their guns. Sooneveryone is out the door and all the three- and four-wheelers are rumbling tolife. In less than a minute everyone is on his way.

It is dark by the timeI come back. The first thing I see is the buckpole. There are already a fewmonstrous bucks on it.

My friends and I decide to take a nice, steamysauna. We race to the sauna so our feet don't freeze on the snow and pile intothe steam room. I pour on a dipper of water, and feel the heat hit me like a kickfrom a mule. The next time I pour it a little slower. I can feel the sweat beadspiling up, and soon the sweat is dripping. This feels nice, I think. When wecan't stand the heat any longer, we charge outside.

"Last one in isa wimp!" I shout. I leap off the dock into the cold, refreshing pond. Ipaddle through thick slush to shore and race back into the sauna to warm upagain. Soon we are done, and we are all clean and ready to hit thesack.

In a few days we pack our clothes, clean our guns, and loadeverything into the truck. I walk back into the cabin for one last look. It seemsvery different. All the jackets, hats - everything is off the hooks. The fire isout, and there is no talking or laughter. The antlers on the walls and ceilingseem out of place with everything else gone. It seems deserted. It's not thecabin, it's the people - it's the uncles and cousins who make the cabin such agreat place to be.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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