Love
The Withered Barn
Sunlight edges the top of the fluttering treeline, shafts of light punching through sporadically and highlighting the scene before her. The long dirt behind her was threatened on both sides by unruly brambles and too tall grass. The daisies and dandelions pushed through belligerently, unable to stand idly by as the world grew around them. Anita glanced down at her combat boots, the peeling patches just above the edge of her soles and at the tip of her toes, nearly hidden by the thick layer of dust creeping up the laces. With a sigh she settles her weight along the hood of the beat up truck she had earnestly kept from its well-deserved final rest in a junkyard.
Delise FantomePublished 3 years ago in FictionCaptured Love
My mom rushed out of the kitchen when she heard my brother’s voice. She put her arms around him with tears in her eyes as my dad stood proudly by.
Sherry jacksonPublished 3 years ago in FictionSeason of Sunflowers
Everybody needs that one place to call their own. A special place where time has no meaning and worries belong to somebody else. For me, that place is in the old family barn at the very edge of our 50-acre property. Papa doesn’t go there. It’s the only place I can breathe freely.
Heather EalyPublished 3 years ago in FictionWhat Began in July
The lunch rush has fizzled out at the café, but the place is still full, without a single table free. Greta has been there for fifteen minutes already, sipping at a ginger and lemon tea. She was early on purpose and in that time the tables filled up quickly. She’s glad she had options on where to sit because now, even though she’s so nervous her hands are shaking, at least she’s hidden behind some decorations in the storefront window and can keep an eye on the door.
Rooney MorganPublished 3 years ago in FictionPoint Resolute
Nobody alive remembered how long, exactly, the barn had been there. Yet, it was an unspoken banner for the residents of the island-- proof that something can be made in an inhospitable place, in the spots where storms converge.
Penny FullerPublished 3 years ago in FictionMarigold
Her name was Rosemary Pike, the prettiest, kindest, gentlest girl in the entirety of the world...our sixth grade class. She was the woman who I loved before I even liked girls; and definitely before most of our classmates would have been interested in romance. She had been pretty since long before most of our other female classmates had blossomed. Furthermore, she had always been a kind, generous, and gentle soul from anyone whom had sought her attention since she had always been so pretty. I would let the other guys pursue the newly blossomed, and somewhat stuck-up, girls. My sights remained set on winning Rosemary's heart; not for conquest, but for keeps...
Kent BrindleyPublished 3 years ago in FictionSunflowers In January
It was the cursive that caught her eye first. Ally could've sworn she recognised the swoops of the double 'l' placed carefully in the middle of her name. The paper was a yellowy white, gently folded in the middle, and propped up against a vase of freshly picked sunflowers.
Nati SaednejadPublished 3 years ago in FictionMeeting Emily
My heart was racing as I pedaled my bicycle down the loose gravel path, kicking up rocks with every furious rotation of the wheels. I knew what I was doing was reckless, but maybe it was the secrecy that made it so exciting. No one could know where I was going, especially not my parents. They would never understand.
Kristen JohnsonPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Old Barn
I came to the old barn looking for peace and quiet. I didn’t find it. What I did find is a restlessness I’ve never known before.
Sorry sometimes doesn't cut it
This is my friend Deepak Singh's story. Each time I think what he went through I tear up. Deepak and I live a few minutes from each other in Cinncinnati, U.S.A. Deepak immigrated to the US from India with his parents and two brothers in 1997. They are originally from Barielly. In 2000 Deepak started working at Williamson & Kapadia Accountants in Cinncinnati. I met him there. At that time I was working at the firm for nearly 3 years. Soon we became good friends. After many years when we got married our wives also became friends and now Deepak's son is good friends with my daughters.
Anshuman KumarPublished 3 years ago in FictionShe Always Wanted to Get Married in a Barn
Her name was Annabelle Claire Wishmoore. A determined girl with wavy ash blond hair and fierce hazel eyes that differed slightly every time you looked. I had the honor of meeting her at the innocent age of seven. We had just moved into our new countryside home. The neighbors came to welcome us into the community with pies and fruit baskets. One couple had brought their daughter.
Kaitlyn GilpinPublished 3 years ago in FictionLost and Found
By this point, I was at the fuck-it stage of an accelerating downward spiral. The product of many sporadic decisions had landed me on the San Juan islands in the up left corner of the USA. I had a girl there. We’d met at a grocery store on the day I had planned on leaving the San Juan Islands. I had asked where the cheese was and somehow that had planted the seed for a year-long romance. By the end of that year I had grown very attached to her everlasting positivity no matter what the situation. Then, as usually happens with me at that point in a love affair, she decided it wasn’t right. And when she’d said that, I decided that it wasn’t fair for me - and I told her so too. ‘You’ll miss me, but believe that I won’t be missing you.’ I’m sure I had said something like that. I usually do. I wonder if the women ever believe it.
Raisin BrazonPublished 3 years ago in Fiction