A Reading from The Cabin by Anita Hunt

The path gradually opened out into a clearing. An old wooden cabin with a weather-beaten pitched roof and a lop-sided chimney stood forlornly in the centre, surrounded by patches of muddy puddles and yellow topped gorse. It reminded her of the large Wendy house her father had built for her in the garden when she was little. Before it became her teenage hang out and he came in there with her and ruined it. Shaking her head, she turned back to look at the path behind her, wondering why she had never noticed it before. It looked well-trodden and it led directly from her home, yet this was all new to her.