Fable
Cows Don’t Lie
The red sun was hanging low in the sky. The heat had built towering cotton candy mansions that glowed proudly with their curling golden edges. The air was thick with humidity and the sky, in all its glorious trappings threatened to dump, like summer afternoon clouds often do. The leaves of the giant oak tree in Mr. Wilson’s yard turned up to show their bellies and the wind tussled the long grass of the open field to her right. Ellie Johnson was hurrying home from visiting her Aunt Billie. Billie was short for Beatrice somehow, but Ellie, whose name was short for Elizabeth, never quite figured out how. Billie, had started tutoring Ellie on Wednesday’s during the school year, and since her mother wanted her to keep up with her academics, even over break, they continued their meetings. This would not have been Ellie’s choice of holiday activity though. She longed to join a summer camp or even just play at the community pool but her mother couldn’t afford it.
By Heather Foster5 years ago in Fiction
The Boyd Family Storehouse
Before Michaela could lift a spade, she had the rules memorized. Love the earth and it will love you. Share the harvest and you won’t go without. Never take more than you need from the barn. Every night, she fell asleep whispering those rules into the rafters, drowned out by creaking planks and the soft rustle of the crops outside her window. That mantra and the shabby farmhouse were her inheritance; the sacred rites she owed to her father.
By Steven A Jones5 years ago in Fiction
The Barn Ark
The sudden cold snap had forced the farmer to house his animals all together in the old barn. He breathed deep when he swung the large double doors open to allow his animals in. He always loved the smell of old hay barns. They have their own warm scent of hay, aged timber and a slight mix of bird phosphorus a distinct odour from his tractor shed which always smelled of oil and soil. The warmth from what ever stored hay was still left in this old barn was very noticeable when compared to the temperature outside.
By Russell Ormsby 5 years ago in Fiction
Daisy and the Mouse
The barn went dark with a loud thud. There was a clunk of iron. It was a bleak autumn night, and Farmer Harrison had just finished his last chore. Bolting the barn door shut, he trapped the mice and the dead blocks of straw in darkness. When the dancing arch of his torchlight was disappearing, Daisy realized she was locked in.
By Michael Arnold5 years ago in Fiction
Patches and the Great Refuge
Creak and whine, The door swings in time, The metal racket CLACKS! —”Oh dear, oh dear. It scares me every time,” said Patches, the little guinea pig with white and black fur. Slowly, she stretched one paw out of her tiny blue house. “My refuge,” she said, “It always keeps me safe.”
By V.A. Jimenez5 years ago in Fiction
Animals United
Animals United Wally, was in her Poe mode, nodding nearly napping, as she nestled into a too small basket on the throw rug in Farmer Ebbit’s kitchen. She roused herself slowly, licked her fur like she would a kitten, and made small adjustments to make herself more comfortable. Half listening to Ezra and Mandy as they drank coffee and talked at the old oak kitchen table, Wally’s ears perked up when she heard Ezra say, “We have to sell all the animals, or we could lose the farm.”
By Cleve Taylor 5 years ago in Fiction
Maple
The origin of the Spring Rite of Dropping was unknown. Young Cassandra Ashley listened intently as grandparents spoke with hushed reverence about the tradition which stemmed back to their grandparent’s time, and grandparents before them. What little history that had been recorded, detailed the shire’s fortunes in times of the Rite.
By Dutch Simmons5 years ago in Fiction
The Remarkable Reason the Ocean's So Salty
Once upon a time, this story found a young boy named Me, and, like drinking saltwater, reading made me thirsty to taste again; my imagination bathed in the possibilities this tale promised until I believed with wide eyes that anything can happen. My version of this classic folktale follows:
By Peter Wisan5 years ago in Fiction
