The prompt was:
Snowed in a cabin.
Damn these four walls. These condemning, mocking walls. For years they comforted me. They provided safe haven and shelter. They brought peace and love together under one roof. They cared for me. They cared for him.
Now, I do not recognize these walls. No longer do I desire their warmth; the cold can have this haggard body. I reject their quaint, homely appearance; they offer nothing more than empty lies and hollow promises.
Damn these barren walls. The pictures have all been taken down and the life I worked so hard to build has come crashing around me. Yet still these walls stand, a testament to the fact that the wanted outlasts the needed.
My heart flutters to the unsung melody of hopes, dreams, and rusted chains. My soul weeps for the lost, for those who never lived, and for those who never lived long enough to know loss themselves. My body cries, and cries out in pain.
Damn these bloody walls. The snow falls, pristine and bright in the untouched morning. Its beauty is forsaken by the cold. The flurries dance in the tempest of noon, and hatred shadows their footsteps by sunset. The wall of ice builds against the doorways and an ocean of red marks the turmoil within.
His hopes were hacked with bitter reality; his dreams shattered in the face of truth. These walls did nothing to stop him. Nothing to hold us close until he saw that tears stained my face, too. Torn apart and left to die, I was alone. Always alone.
Damn this frozen barricade. Is a flame a strict requirement to survive this horrid winter? Does the spark exist within, beside the broken, weak, and unbearing? My inner light is but a candle in the midst of these four barren, bloody walls. There is no escape; there are no other walls for me.
Should this winter ever end, or this endless snow ever cease, I might be tempted to fan the flame. A fire would keep me warm, penetrating this frozen soul and melting the heart of stone. I can burn these walls to the ground. With nothing left to contain me, I can finally be free.
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