family
Chasing the Moon. Top Story - January 2022.
It's December here in Minnesota, but the nights haven't managed to get so cold that I have to hole myself up. There were a few years after it happened and before I left that I'd gear myself up in snow pants and wrap a scarf so many times around my face only my eyes showed.
By Libby Walkup2 years ago in Fiction
WHAT IT IS IN THE BARN
I'd come running back at the imagined, hopeful calling out of my name from the distance across the hundred or so feet from the near barn where the small tractors were kept. My library of "run abouts" set there like a diamond in a man's fedora as far as hobby collections go. Tractors... mostly red, the official tractor color. Red tractors were from my grandpa and his group of proud fellas. The collection was the best of broadcast and word of mouth. The entire collection gloss finished and the barn spit clean. It was my pride, the display kept there in pristine condition. The barn itself was custom made for the purpose of showing and sheltering what all the other guys.. the other farmers out this way, helped in such high respect. It held the history of my father, grandfather and most of some of their own family men. we were manly men. Farm handling was beneath the description of our lives; we were the motor trend of agriculture. My barn spoke for every one of them and I knew it. I was back inside from there only because the shouted sound of my own name was as good as an alarm to awaken me from a momentary snap and fein mental block of potential danger. There was something fluttering about in the rafters. Someone suggested it was an old barn owl. A barn owl what could wreck a paint job.
By CarmenJimersonCross2 years ago in Fiction
Nocturnal
“You gotta listen to your dad. No is a no.” That was his mother, but he was not really listening anymore. When he heard the old man snoring next to his mother in the next room, he knew that his time had come. There was a space between his bedroom window and the abandoned field that he could cross in about two minutes (ledge, barrel, grass) and then there would be time to make it out to the building.
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Fiction
A Mother's Love
I numbingly stare at the dress hanging against the window, and only now on the day of my wedding, do I question my decision to not postpone it. It’s hard to imagine that a mere four weeks lie between today and the day I walked out of the fitting room to have her lace up the back of this very dress. Her dress. The dress she bought off the rack in the summer of 1983 for her July wedding. It was out of season, with its long sleeves and turtle-neckline, and only cost her seventy-five dollars — less than the amount it cost me recently to get it dry cleaned. The lace that held it together from top to bottom, and ruffle upon ruffle, was thin. It was a delicate, simple beauty. And today it is mine.
By Chanelle Leonhardt2 years ago in Fiction
Mother and Lover
It was a cold and bleak evening as she left the warmth of her lover in the comfort of his home. The Santa Ana wind was strong and forceful. She braced herself for it the way a sailor braces himself for a gale. The city was mostly quiet save for a few stragglers here and there. She was headed towards a familiar place, a place she held in her mind's eye like a jewel. So She continued to beat her wings gracefully against the wind and underneath her the entire city with lights twinkling like stars in the night sky. She wondered of the creatures nestled in their homes with their families. She longed for hearth and home, to be nestled with her own family, and so she beat her wings harder hoping to reach her destination. This was the same path that her mother had shown her through the city when she was a child and she was meticulous in her teachings.
By Alejandro Arango2 years ago in Fiction
In the Night
Cold night wind whipped across Ellen’s face as she cautiously placed one foot in front of the other, clutching her three-year-old daughter to her heart, straining her eyes to see what little light ahead was visible from the other edge of the ravine. She pleaded with Naya to stay quiet as they made their descent through the woods that brisk night in November.
By Suzanna E Hare2 years ago in Fiction
Sometimes Sad Comes Out Mad
Everything seemed so quiet and lonely in the woods on that chilly day. Being a porcupine was challenging on any given day, but it was especially difficult with the doldrums of winter approaching. Everyone was so standoffish, rude even. Made him so mad!!! This day, however, things took an unexpected, welcomed turn.
By Grammy Sami2 years ago in Fiction