Siobhan M Johnson
Bio
Poet and writer of Women's Fiction. I've been writing for years - longer than this life it feels.
Stories (4/0)
Hidden Past
Chloe stood next to her car and gazed at the scene before her. A rundown farmhouse, broken fences, and an old barn with the roof half collapsed in on itself. At one time, she had known every inch of the place. The gravel roads from North Farm, where she had lived with her family, to the South Farm buildings; the bunk house and spare barns where guests from the city would stay during the summer months. She and her siblings had enjoyed both ponds on the property and splashed in the creek that found its way through the woods and pastures alike. A favorite hang-out, the hollow tree on the bank of the creek’s main fork, even had a rope tied to it, dangling over the water. It was hidden deep on the property. She smiled, remembering how they would swing from that rope and let go over deepest part of the creek. It made hot summer days an adventure. On days when they were feeling less adventurous, they would walk the three miles up to the farm pool. Clear, cold, chlorinated water waited for their brown bodies to break the surface with a dive or bellyflop.
By Siobhan M Johnson 3 years ago in Fiction
Time and Time Again
It wasn’t unexpected. In fact, it was something she had known would come along, eventually. Not a desire; more of a fear. She’d made many attempts to delay, postpone, or even stop it, knowing as she did so that it wouldn’t work. His mind was set on self-destruction. He invited trouble every chance he got; dwelling on the past until it ate him alive.
By Siobhan M Johnson 3 years ago in Fiction