Fantasy
Welcome To The Summer School Barn Party
We are holding a summer barn party at my barn based in England for the parents of my son's school. There is no dress-code, but feel free to dress as you wish. We all need to let our hair down after a long term of country school runs. Early morning stints on the early morning country roads is more intense at times than city traffic. Well, you can't really move a herd of cows faster than they want to go. Huge tractors cannot get into another lane easily and there tend to be no lanes, apart from one lane with two way traffic. Watch out you don't end up in a ditch. There is a certain skill in countryside living. I have tried all sides of the coin from city high risers to country estates. Now it's time to bring you into my country barn for a Summer Party is on the cards. It's the end of term, coming soon.
By Yvette Louise Melech5 years ago in Fiction
Aunt Millie's Warning
‘Sandra, where are you going?’ Millie asked out of breath and five steps behind her twin. ‘Here,’ she called back. Up ahead of them was the old barn their parents said they could never go into, but Sandra was a daredevil. She just had to go where she’d been told she couldn’t. Millie was more than a little frightened, she knew what went bump in the night, and their parents never told them why they couldn’t go into the barn. It’d also been at the centre of every horror story Sandra ever told.
By Karen Eastland 5 years ago in Fiction
Kaleidoscope
As a child I remember loving the colors of a kaleidoscope. I would play for hours each day spinning away each time get a different combination and sequence. Such a beautiful outlet in those days. A long waiting fantasy of childhood wanting to have fun with my imagination, to truly be a kid. This was my life, always in secret wanting to be like the other children happy and carefree. Mother and father would not have this irresponsible tomfoolery in there house let alone their only heir. So inside I remained trapped to study and practice but not to play.
By Sarah urffer5 years ago in Fiction
The Old Barn
I loved the crowded urban neighborhood I grew up in, so I was angry when my parents moved us to the rolling hills of farmland that was outside of outside of the tiny town of North San Juan. Looking back as an adult, I can see the allure. The place was paradise and very affordable, especially compared to the city. But as a 15-year-old, I felt like my folks had dragged me to the middle of nowhere and I was not happy about it.
By Chel Svendsgaard5 years ago in Fiction
The Shift CHAP.2
The voice makes him stumble back; he braces his hands against the wall. "This is just a dream! All I need to do is wake up!" His thoughts scream. Scrunching his eyes closed he tells himself to wake up, when he opens his eyes, he sees that he is still in the bathroom. He looks up seeing that the face is still in the mirror, it grins back at him shrugging.
By Alexander Washington5 years ago in Fiction
In The Old Barn
Behind our old house lay a big, empty field. At the very end of the field lay a big old barn. It’s painted red, with a big wide wooden door to enter. The only problem was, I’ve never been there. I’ve always been too afraid. We moved in about six months ago, and since making friends with the locals in the area and the neighbours, they all warned us to stay away from it.
By Mariam Naeem5 years ago in Fiction
Steven and Gloria
It was a dreary cloudy day when I came into the world. I was so happy to find that I had this old rickety barn to keep me dry. There were other little ones clucking around me. A strange human came by and threw down some sort of food because the young ones clucking near me when crazy up to the pile and started dipping their faces into it. It was nothing like I had expected from inside my egg.
By Crystal Dawn Lesher5 years ago in Fiction
An Amber Night
Jim Prescott sat alone at the bar, staring into his glass, nearly drained of the rich, amber liquid. He picked it up, swirled it around momentarily, then drained it. He motioned to the bartender for another. He sat waiting, wanting nothing more than to drown out his thoughts and feelings. He wanted to escape. Though the dive was plenty full of other patrons for a Wednesday, Jim felt isolated, alone. This was good, he thought to himself, this was right. He should be alone, cast out to sea, and stranded on an island made of sand whose grains were his mistakes. He chuckled at that, nearly guffawed in fact, thinking about how the island would be boulders instead of the fine sand you’d expect amidst turbulent seas.
By Anthony Criswell5 years ago in Fiction
