I grew up quickly that spring, not because I wanted too, but because I had no choice. The prairie land demands maturity, crops grow on blood and toil not wishes.
Fair enough.
I sprinkle soil from our land onto the casket before it lowers, and read the verse he always loved. One accident and I turned from a boy to a man, it was that simple.
As the sun drops beneath the distant horizon, so does my soul. In the morning when it rises, so too shall I.
Damn, how I love and hate this land.
Jason
About the Creator
JBaz
I have enjoyed writing for most of my life, never professionally.
I wish to now share my stories with others, lets see where it goes.
Born and raised on the Canadian Prairies, I currently reside on the West Coast. I call both places home.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
Storm Chaser
In the calm expanse of Indiana's sky, the hint of a thunderstorm promised a break from the monotony of a quiet meteorology student's life. It was a stark contrast to the violent storms that define Tornado Alley or the blizzards that occasionally sweep in from Chicago. Our state mostly saw pea-sized hail, with any severe weather usually passing us by. Even our storm-chasing courses, led by the dynamic Professor Jansen, felt like adventures in waiting.
By Arshad Mecciabout 19 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (19)
This was a passionate microfiction!! I love the opposing language at the end, it really drew the message home about the sacrifices this young man has made for his family farm... Great work Jason!!
Somehow you fit an epic tale into a few words magnificent
Another fabulous story telling of yours 👍
This reads like a very personal story. If so, I am sorry for Your lose. The death of a parent also means the death of one's childhood. Such is life. I never had to shift from a boy to becoming a man in an instant. I'm thankful that my transition in life has been more gradual than others. Your writing style is simplistic and multi-layered all at once.
Not a word wasted. Well done
Wow. Nothing is certain in life and things can change in an instant! Excellent entry for the challenge 💖
This is so well done. Excellent writing.
So few words, so much emotion 😁
You packed so much into these few lines. Really well done!!
Such a powerful piece in so few words, well done Jason, this is incredible writing!
Whoaaaa, this was freaking powerful!
Great read. 🥰
Beautifully crafted, so much life just thrown in there. And this line too was just so real “crops grow on blood and toil not wishes.”
"Damn, how I love and hate this land." So much growth and bitterness in one sentence. Well done!
👏Even the title was perfect. I loved the “in the morning when it rises, so too shall I” line!
This is an awesome, complete micro-story - full of detail and mystery that is both satisfying, but leaves me wanting the big picture. Well done! 💕
Fantastic!!! Left a heart ♥ too💕♥️♥️
I am absolutely loving this micro fiction challenge! This is great Jason. The conflict, the emotion, packed in 100 words or less.
Oh that's fabulous. The emotion is as open as the prairies and flows like what fields in the wind. (I'll show myself out now.)