Britta Benson – The innocence of the cabin on the beach

I do no harm. I simply want to be.

I mind my own business and always look out to the sea. My gaze is fixed towards the waves, rolling in and out, close and closer. I can lose myself in their rhythm. Sometimes, at spring tides, the water’s greedy fingers reach out all the way and tickle my toes with frothy crests of white lust, asking, perhaps even inviting me in. I think I like that.

The sea takes an interest, knocks at my door, but never barges in. That’s what people do. They simply take possession, use and abuse as they please, then move on when they’re done.

I have changed owners twice in recent years.

‘That’s my dream’, they always say, when they see me for the very first time. They look at me, their new and exciting toy full of promises and then they let out a delighted long sigh: ‘Exactly what I have always wanted!’

Trust me, I know what they want. They don’t even try to hide their intentions and I have learned to read them well. They imagine their fantasy selves having raucous encounters inside me with people who are clearly not their long time spouses.

You will not be surprised, that I keep my eyes on the distant horizon, where everything vanishes into a tiny black line, troubles and all disappear or simply fall off the edge. I wouldn’t know. I’m deeply rooted to my spot, like the old dead tree beside me. We don’t travel other than with our heavy heart’s desires, our feather-light, frisky souls forever destined to be prisoners of place.

After a while, they always start bringing their real life spouses, the beginning of the end. I often become a second garage then, for stuff that ought to be thrown away, but instead simply gets dumped inside me, again without the slightest hint of consideration for my purity.

‘Good enough for the cabin’, they say, ‘doesn’t matter if it breaks or gets soiled, we’ll just leave it here’. They do not care how this makes me feel. I am a cabin on the beach, please don’t overcrowd me. I am not a bin, I’ll have you know!

They have painted me snow white in order to wash over their sins and cover the neglect. This is the sign that I will be sold off again soon and that they will try their hardest to get some good last use out of me. I often blush at the comings and goings. I sometimes feel like a cheap, cluttered motel, rented out by the hour to the lowest bidder. I have come to hate the sunshine and bank holidays, when apparently anything goes. It’s a free for all. What does that leave me with?

The sea is rough tonight, there is rain in those clouds and the summer has taken the weekend off. They will not come. I can enjoy a beautiful respite and breathe.

I dream of a life that is completely my own.

I do no harm. I simply want to be. Is it too much to ask, not to be violated?

Check out Britta’s other writing here:

Britta’s Blog(

The Procrastinators(

Odds & Ends(

Published by Ian

Music maker and story teller.

6 thoughts on “Britta Benson – The innocence of the cabin on the beach

  1. Hi, Britta. Your story reminds me of my ‘shoe’ story from June (now almost perfectly translated by Google). The inside view from an object we often misuse and even abuse.
    Hopefully your cabin will be acquired by a respectful owner, like the one who inherited Lot 236.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Thanks Manfred. I love playing around with different points of view. Writing, for me, is one great game of empathy, of stepping into other people’s shoes, or, just for fun, into the soul of a cabin in the beach.


  3. I really liked your take on the theme Britta. The idea that the cabin has a soul and feelings is a great use of empathy. The cabin becomes the voice of our pride, shortcomings, guilt and complacency. Great idea well executed.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thank you Ian. I simply couldn’t come up with a story for either prompts, so I just combined the two and there was my story. Really enjoying this group and reading the other stories.


  5. Nicely done piece and a successful experiment if the idea was to combine the two themes. The moral of the story is very clear – this could apply to anything we as humans abuse. The writing style is light and evocative.


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