Love

It's a love story
Every year we talk about what to do with the old abandoned and derelict barn at the edge of the property. Everything else has been replaced, fixed, torn down or rebuilt. It has been here as long as anyone can remember. My wife, Annie, and I had our first kiss in that barn and we got married there too. I think it’s the memories that keep us from tearing it down. It is not safe anymore for anyone to use. We can’t keep anything in there, the animals and bugs can get in and the roof leaks when it rains. It is too expensive to fix at this point, really our only option is to demolish it.
By Natalie Lowes5 years ago in Fiction
Providence Springs Farm
They said cancer. They said stage 4. Emma and Daniel embraced, tears stinging their eyes before spilling over and rolling down their cheeks.
By Tamara McNeill5 years ago in Fiction
Soul Sisters
She’s quiet ofttimes and loves seclusion. I wonder she can read minds, that’s why she’s stuck with me like pop socket which sucks the cellphone’s back. As much as she loves me, she hates guests in our home. When someone visits me, which is a rare occurrence, she turns away from me, marches to the corner of the patio door, twitches her tail and watches outside. She refuses to eat all day and never allows me near her. It’s a sign of anger which I don’t get it. I expect and wait patiently for her to welcome guests one day and stop being mad at me. Apart from this one thing, me and Kitty are inseparable. We are like soul sisters.
By Anitha Sankaran5 years ago in Fiction
The Writing On the Walls
March 18th 2021 Today has been one Anna doesn’t much care to remember, though that seems to be the running theme of her life these last few months. As a 34 year old woman in the midst of a hellish divorce she feels all at once too old to escape her relationship with the freedom found joie de vivre she may have once been able to muster, and too young to clutch to any sparkling shard of wisdom that might be collected in the chaotic endings of ill spent love. As a result she feels quite earnestly that she has come out of a decade long journey with nothing but ugly bitterness in her heart. Just as she allows herself to dwell upon this condition however, a small photograph slips from the book she has absentmindedly lifted from a box of mementos she is rifling through ( her attempt to fulfill the human need for nostalgic comfort that is often felt in turbulent times). She looks first at the book-a small turquoise bound journal with a silver dolphin leaping in the centre of the cover, gracefully arching over her similarly metallic name- and then at the photograph staring face up at her from the floor. Her mouth parts slightly and her eyes widen in a moment of powerful recollection. She picks the small photograph up, delicately tracing the sharp lines and angles contained within its borders, and she is pulled back in time.
By Megara5 years ago in Fiction
Shimmer
What was that smell? It was so familiar to her, but right now seemed so foreign. Like it didn’t belong or maybe she didn’t belong. Sweet but not like sugar. It was rich and musty like it was made from all the different seasons rolled into one sweet scent.
By Stephanie Lewis5 years ago in Fiction
Two Lonely Souls In The Dead Of Winter
It’s cold out here and I can’t remember the last time I had something to eat. Mice are getting harder and harder to come by and birds, well, I can forget about those. They all flew away before the snow came in. I’ve lived through winter before, many times in fact. But this time feels different. My legs hurt when I walk too much, especially through this thick, sludgy snow.
By CJ5 years ago in Fiction
Re-loving
Chapter I Even as Emmett hammered in the last nail, the beams of the barn already held the seeds of decay. But, then again, so do the beams in any barn. Every good farmer knows that.
By Sarah Nathan5 years ago in Fiction
The Patient's Plea
I As the day came to bloom, one Grace Swanson washed herself in the tide of the sun’s last cadences before it left for the wings. Its grandiose, vermillion light let the walls of her hospital room possess a warm fragrance of meditation, kept in time only by the audible measure of her heartrate. Such tranquillity as this was enough to beckon a knowing smile from the elderly woman, expelling the creases in her face only to accentuate her eyes – a rare shade of sapphire - and indulging in a particular kind of elusive harmony that can only be found in one’s own company.
By H. R. M. Laventure5 years ago in Fiction
The Rusty Purple Barn
Patty closed the book. She sobbed uncontrollably. She woke John up. He put his arms around her tightly. "Sweet heart what happened? What's wrong with you," he asked passionately?
By Deborah Amos5 years ago in Fiction
Homecoming
Preston walked up to the old barn with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. His sweaty hands were shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket. He approached the weathered barn door with it’s peeling paint and broken slats. It was slightly ajar, and he slipped through the cracked opening, hoping to achieve the element of surprise.
By Amy Writes5 years ago in Fiction
Eddie’s
It’s so easy to get caught up in your surroundings during the fall living on the west coast. The air continuously smells of coffee and aroma spices that add to the ambiance of the leaves and changing colors. Every experience in Ashland, Oregon during this time feels romanticized based on your surroundings as the sun sets and rises on endless fields and mountains around our humble communities.
By Marie Kynd 5 years ago in Fiction
Shelter of Providence
Abraham Hammond called his son into the library. He’d been watching the pasture and noticing his William the Conqueror’s behavior.
By L. Lane Bailey5 years ago in Fiction