Love
Mr. 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.
By Jericho Osborne5 years ago in Fiction
Romance 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.
By Linda C Smith5 years ago in Fiction
Ribbed 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.
By Franchessica Hannawacker 5 years ago in Fiction
Forgiven
“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?”
By Laura Griffin5 years ago in Fiction
Anything 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.
By Catherine Langenkamp5 years ago in Fiction
Seconds
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.
By Teralyn Pilgrim5 years ago in Fiction
Barns 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.
By Amber Toney5 years ago in Fiction
