family
Periwinkle
chap 1: periwinkle and her sisters. periwinkle lives with her stepmother. no one knows her mother's whereabouts. she thinks she likes her stepmother but it's always her father she thinks about. periwinkle goes to school. middle school to be exact. she loves getting good grades. it cheers her up. her two sisters always like hanging out with her except greeny. she likes adult time with her stepmother who has half of her body paralyzed. the youngest one is attached to the radio. she knows how to find every song on earth. no one knows how she does it. she could sit all day with her radio. "have you heard this song before?" said yellowy. "no, I've never heard it before. you impress me every time you sing. I don't know how you know the lyrics." said periwinkle. "get ready to eat." said, greeny. nana cooked lasagna that day. it's periwinkle's favorite food. " lasagna today! so delicious! eureka! lasagna makes us as happy as a fat kid in a candy store." said periwinkle. "you know every saying ever." said yellowy. periwinkle liked thinking alone at the top of the building where they live. she shared her room with her sisters. she absolutely had to get away for a few. she knew she loved her sisters, but there was always something in the back of her head that said she enjoyed solitude. "I have to split. don't look for me for about an hour. i'm going to my secret spot." said periwinkle. "don't get lost. said nana winking. she gathered her notepad and headed on to the top of the building . she kept her stuffsies up there. she finds happiness everytime she's there. her usual "flower that doesn't die" kept blooming. it's a miracle, she always says every time she sees it. her mirror is good for her favorite picture. she is afraid of mirrors so she uses a picture of a couple she found in nana's room. she tries and tries to look at herself in the mirror every time but she's afraid. she keeps pulling the picture back and forth. maybe she's not ready to see herself. her favorite pen is there. she changes the placement a lot. it helps her grab ideas from thin air. she grabbed her journal and wrote " I love my sisters the giant creature greeny is my favorite sports team cheerleader. she loves cheering at baseball games she really gets into her cheers, I just wish one of those players would give her a hot dog. she blows kisses in the air. she is with nana too much. she is really strong and makes everyone feel comfortable. she can get loud when she's in the kitchen. the tiniest creature is yellowy she knows everything about music. she gave me a tape once. she's so silly. I don't have a radio to listen to it. she made me hear a song once and then she gave it to me. I sat there perplexed and then I took it up to the top. yellowy always makes me laugh about nothing we understand each other sometimes. she's the craziest one. she bursts into singing all the time. it's an unstoppable force. she's too much for my secret hiding spot. I like my sisters but not enough to take them to the top of the building. that's where I write and let everything out. she might take a special someone there one day she thought.
By Jeanine Rodriguez2 years ago in Fiction
Beyond Words
There’s an owl at my window and I don’t care. I barely even look at it, though it’s large and white and entirely out of place on my street, miles away from the woods with more concrete than habitable trees. Through the corner of my eye, I see it balance precariously on the edge of the windowsill, swaying in the nighttime breeze. I really couldn’t care less if it fell two stories. At least it has wings. That’s more than most of us get.
By Heather Ealy2 years ago in Fiction
The Shrine in the Snow
The drive was slow, arduous. Blankets of snow piling on every surface where a mere 20 metres back down the road all you could see was the late blooms and the vibrant grass. They must know you are coming home. I turn to the urn in the front passenger seat, all golden and engraved. I don’t know why I decided to put a seatbelt around it but it feels right. Turning down the drive its the first time I’ve ever seen this house without the lights on. The dark oak exterior, the emaciated barn hovering ominously behind the house . The trees and garden once meticulously cared for are all thrown out in wild directions. Home. Opening the front door with as much enthusiasm as- well, as someone who desperately does not want to, I turn on the light switch and stare into darkness. Electricity, of course. Not of use for the dead. I place her on top of the fire place and try to light it, in a few attempts it blazes. I can thank her for that. The light from the fire illuminates the small lounge and I can now see the furniture, the table, lamps, everything but the clock on the mantelpiece covered in thin white sheets. Staring at the clock, it doesn’t seem to be disrupted by the lack of company. Still ticking away, giving a heartbeat to this desolate place. I remember giving it to her, the bright yellow eyes, the tawny wooden feathers, the circle in its centre chiming on and off when necessity arose. She loved it. The owl is looking tired, almost as tired as I am. Removing one of the sheets from the triple seater I lay down, thinking of nothing before nothing appears.
By Abigail Watson 2 years ago in Fiction
The Coloured Gem
Once upon a time, there lived a magician in the old town of Timothy Square, who was on the verge of deathbed and was waiting for his granddaughter who he was supposed to meet during his final moments so that he could transfer his power to her. Since there was a tradition of transferring powers to the firstborn of the progeny of Grand Sorcerers of Sorcerer’s guild. This was the custom followed in the whole town of Timothy Square which was part of the land Raevera”.He waited and waited till he breathed his last breath.
By Smita Sinha2 years ago in Fiction
The Return Home. Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge.
The estate seemed much larger than I remembered it. The emptiness of the fields made it appear to stretch for miles. Many years had gone by since I had stepped foot on the property. The house, which had held so much life, was still in the quiet of the early morning. At the garden's edge stood the grand barn. It appeared beaten and hauntingly empty. In the middle of the night, it sounded like it was calling out to me, beckoning me to once again open the doors and fill its insides with life. That was my father's job though, to keep the farm alive, the garden-fresh, and the barn full. I only returned after his recent passing to tend to some of his affairs. I had no interest in continuing his legacy at the farm, and I never did.
By Michaela Gallien2 years ago in Fiction
Lying in the Grass
I lay in the grass with the night wind lightly mussing my hair, aware of the dark sky and wispy clouds crossing the orb of the moon, aware of the darker shades of night where a copse of trees towered between me and the fallen down barn on the old Carter farm. A winged shadow passed before me, plunging into the lesser foliage where likely some hapless rodent had been about its own business. It was a Barn Owl, certainly.
By Charles Turner2 years ago in Fiction
The owl that gave her life
She was absolutely majestic. Her outstretched wings reminded one of the freedom of the wide open spaces and the joy of being free to live, love and breathe this precious life of unlimited unrestraint and happiness when we just let go and fly.
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
Keep Your Eyes On Your Boots When You Enter The Barn
When I was a much younger version of the woman I am today, my parents moved my brother and me to my grandparent's ranch on the outskirts of Glasgow, Montana. If you have never heard of this town before don't worry as most residents of Montana don't even know where to find it. The town slogan is "Come Find Yourself in the Middle of Nowhere." They truly mean it. It is 20 miles to any nearby towns, not that you would need to travel to them for anything. Glasgow is where the surrounding townsfolk come for all their needs. It has the post office, courthouse, hardware store, western ag shop for ammo, guns, boots, and more. Although you feel like you are in the middle of nowhere, it truly is the only place to go somewhere other than the lake or farm.
By Crystal Rae2 years ago in Fiction
Beside the Bride
Have you ever wondered what the underside of a table looks like? Not a cheap folding table that folds out every Christmas for your cousin’s four kids and your younger brother who couldn’t fit at the adult table. I’m talking about the underside of a real table. A table with four triangles of wood connecting the legs to the top. One with thick support beams crisscrossing between the corners that didn’t get the glossy finish of the topside, each roughly sanded with sharp points sticking out here and there. A pinch of pain serges through my pointer finger. Great! Because who doesn’t love a splinter.
By Scott Bradbrook2 years ago in Fiction