Love
I met her at the college fair
I met her at the college science fair. I had no idea who she was at the time. All I knew was that she looked familiar. I couldn’t really place her, though.
Katherine VelthuyzenPublished 3 years ago in FictionMr. McCreedy
The old barn creaks overhead. He stands at the precipice looking out over the orchard. The first light of the sun rises above the valley. The tree limbs rustle as a warm wind carries their sweet scent into the barn. The old man breathes deep, “picking season,” he thought.
Jericho OsbornePublished 3 years ago in FictionRomance with candlelight and hay bales
Norman was 80 years old but spry. He carried himself like a younger man of 75. His hair was gray but he still had all of it. His beard was gray but he shaved every day because he didn't want Martha to think him "grizzled." Today he wanted Martha to think of him as handsome and funny. She often told him he was funny. Today he was setting up a spot in his old run-down barn for a romantic dinner he hoped would charm her.
Linda C SmithPublished 3 years ago in FictionOne Boy’s Wish
One Boy’s Wish The town was busy, the buildings were tall and the sun was hot. At least that’s how it appeared to one little boy. Adrian was only 11 years old but he was on a mission. He needed to find some work.
Tiahna - Education = ChangePublished 3 years ago in FictionRibbed Cages.
It was the kind of day where the air pressed your skin with its heat. The fiery sun stung my cheeks as I hurried the last couple steps into the old barn. The only place in town I felt steady. The intense heat did not drop away in the shelter of the shadows. It clung to my body just like the heavy burden of my emotions. I could not seem to catch my breath lately-on the inside was a whirlwind of chaos-on the outside, my perfectly calm demeanor.
Franchessica HannawackerPublished 3 years ago in FictionForgiven
“It’s just an old barn,” the little boy said, as he watched the wrecking ball collide with the warped, weathered boards that wrapped around the fragile wooden structure in front of him. “I wonder what they’re goin' to put in its place. A baseball field?..Maybe they’ll put up a playground! Wouldn’t that be nice, grandpa?…Grandpa?”
Laura GriffinPublished 3 years ago in FictionAnything But Sugar
"Gavin, honey! Go out to the coop for the eggs before you leave for school." The call reached Gavin in his bathroom where he stood in his boxers brushing his teeth. He spit a white glob into the sink, "Alright, Ma." At 18, he already had an impressive growth of facial hair which he examined in the mirror. Gavin liked it because it made him look like his dad. Gavin's mother on the other hand didn't like it because it made him look like his dad. In his room, freshly shaved, he pulled on his well worn jeans and a gray t-shirt, Thornbury Stinging Wasps in gold and red emblazoned across the front.
Catherine LangenkampPublished 3 years ago in FictionSeconds
The man sat alone in the restaurant at a round table in a nook with a cushioned bench. The place where he had chosen to sit was dimly lit and secluded from the other guests, though many of them still noticed how jittery he was. He could hardly sit still, as if the bench were made of rocks and he couldn’t get comfortable. His leg bounced, and it made a taptaptaptap on the floor until he put his hand on his knee and it stopped. The man took a comb out of his back pocket and smoothed his hair, which was salt-and-pepper gray but not balding, and put the comb back. The napkin wasn’t perfectly straight, so he adjusted it.
Teralyn PilgrimPublished 3 years ago in FictionBarns and Heavens
Gretchen stood just outside the crumbling door frame. The faded red paint cracked and peeled away from the wood siding of the ancient building. The windows were busted, littering the overrun grass with shards that threatened to cut anyone who got too close. The sliding door hung awkwardly, the rollers rusted and broken now. She could hear the floorboards straining to hold their own weight. The harsh wind whistled through the multitude of cracks in the walls.
Amber ToneyPublished 3 years ago in FictionBRUISED NIGHT
Let me tell you a story true, tonight: The trees soften like molasses through the night, bent and finger-figured, just as our words honey through our heads and the world in all its endlessness, yields into shape, be it shapeless or not
Robert A BlackPublished 3 years ago in FictionWRECK
https://dW R E C K Post Traumatic Stories an unknown sitter Random fractured thoughts/Human wreckage/I’m a wreck/My mental shipwreck is strewn about me like the debris field of sunken ship/Spread out to the ever-evolving horizon.
an unknown sitterPublished 3 years ago in FictionMeet Me At Miller's Barn
Meghan lay quietly, wrapped in a flannel blanket, looking up at the night sky and the few twinkling stars she could see through the gap in the roof boards of the old barn. She glanced over at Clinton. He was sobbing, tears flowing steadily from his blue eyes. She smiled slightly at the sight, he was always crying from what she remembered. It was one of the things she loved best about him.