Fantasy
Both Shade and Sun
I remember the way the air smelled that night. Like wet dirt and bonfires. The barn was in the middle of the field, surrounded by dense clusters of trees. There was a fog settling over the farm, rolling out from the woods all the way to the old rickety barn. Beneath our high top Converse, the red and gold leaves crackled, like an autumnal flame lighting our path. It felt like Mother Nature was setting the perfect scene.
By Kemari Howell5 years ago in Fiction
A Goat Called Lester
From the wonky veranda of the barn-on-wheels, a young woman with cascading blue hair sat in a rocking chair, one leg flung over the arm and the other resting lazily on the wooden stool before her, upon which also sat a travelling mug of cold pea and ham soup. A small goat with beady yellow eyes stood grazing nearby, and upon her shoulder, a tiny black kitten with tufty fur and a petrified expression clung to the folds of her hair. The small boy and girl from the neighbouring caravan, who had come to sit on the grass in front of the barn, watched in fascination as she wiggled her bare toes atop the stool and dimpled cheekily. Addressing them, she told of her daring rescue of Caspar the Cosmic Kitten from the nearby canal, and from some horrible boys who had thought it funny to subject a defenceless animal to the cold water. They had ended up in it themselves it was true, but she’d made sure they had got out again and left them spluttering and cursing girls and cats, before marching back to the campsite with the little dripping animal tucked in her bra. Agnes had helped dry and swaddle it, even fed it with the tinned milk, worry though she might about the dubious claims made on the wrapper of its superior nutritional value. Agnes whom they would meet later, as she was currently communing with nature because she found the barn stuffy and objected to the chamber pot.
By Angelica Austin5 years ago in Fiction
Omarisse
There once was a Fairie Queen who lived on a farm on the edge of the jungle. Her body was made of glitter and she moved like an apparition. A long time ago her people had been massacred–the life of a fairie extends that of another, so they are often hunted–so she lived alone.
By Elena Greco5 years ago in Fiction
Salvations' End. Top Story - July 2021.
The smell of the salty air, the sounds of waves crashing, and the warmth of the sun; that is where Pietro’s mind drifted. . His little girl Evangeline and his darling wife Sarah running back and forth in tandem with the waves. Memories of watching the sunset disappear and watching the night sky rise before returning home. A vision of a time that seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago. Looking around now all he saw was the dark clouds that never gave way to that beautiful radiant light. He shifted in his position and grimaced at the pain from his wound. He hated that incessant howling that, at first, had curdled his blood, however now just annoyed him. He glanced around in the distance and saw them moving back and forth ever so quickly and cautiously. There was no need for them to be worried as he hurled his gun into the pile of other useless wooden pieces, but they didn’t know that. He questioned all the choices he had made that had led him to this moment. To die in this dingy old barn. He sighed deeply, watching the chill materialize his breath, and began to let his mind fade.
By Luis Omar Padilla5 years ago in Fiction
Faerie Night
He attempted to peer through the thick fog. No moon tonight and no proper rain, just the bone chilling mist. He gripped his wife’s cold fingers more tightly and together they stumbled through the dark woods, silent but for their passing. They needed shelter, a safe place to rest. “Please…” He prayed silently. “Not so much for meself, but for her and the babe within.”
By Haddessah Anne Brice5 years ago in Fiction
Dusty Sunlight
I’ve lived alone in the barn for as long as I can remember. I always had it all to myself; the wide, cobwebby loft, the sunlit threshing floor, and the musty stall where the old tractor had been gathering dust for years. I could hunt for fat mice in the hay or listen to the singing of the swallows without being bothered.
By Mistcatcher5 years ago in Fiction
The Protector
Miko awoke and tried to open his eyes, but he had none to open. Great, he thought, another heartless lifetime. This would only be Miko’s fourth heartless life, but the first three had been blessedly short. Nothing topped the brevity of being brought to life by the careful hands of a master potter, only to have that life cut short by a careless kiln worker. With any luck, this form would prove similarly fragile.
By Spencer Van Leeuwen5 years ago in Fiction
Shimeru and the Queen of the Night
Flora still needed adjusting. That was what her father said at least once a day, and her mother would just nod in agreement, like she did to everything. Flora wondered just what kind of adjusting she needed. She didn’t feel like being adjusted, she just wanted to go back to the city. The farm was strange. You could hear the crickets at night, and some other awful noises that her dad said were frogs but there were too many to be frogs. She had seen frogs in the daytime, in groups of two or three at most, but at night it sounded like an army of frogs. It made her afraid to step in the grass at night, she might step on one, and it would squish between her toes and make a sound to call the others for revenge. For this reason, she had avoided going out past dark for the first two weeks in her new home.
By Charlie Jolliffe5 years ago in Fiction
