Fantasy
Bwạwyd the Earthmother
"At the beginning of the world grew a single Pear Tree. From its fruit was born the moon and stars and all their offspring and, from it came forth the first woman: rich as ebony with hair like the night sky. From her womb grew all earthly things: men and their children; the birds and the earthbound; the crops and creeping things and all the earth's wonders. The woman chose a man for her mate-- this one twined through the skill of her hands --and through him they had many children. But his eyes were wandering and his heart devious. He dreamt of things not of the earth, and planned to slay the woman and gain her power, so that he might remake the world in his own image; bright and burning, like his furious heart. He did not know that the woman's power was of the Tree, and thus immutable. It could not be either lost or gained.
By Elizabeth Noyes5 years ago in Fiction
All That Remains
Isn't it funny that we should find the hidden beauty in the things that we leave behind? Labored by the hands of a craftsman, materials gathered and manipulated into form. Minutes stretched into hours which gave way to days that strung into weeks. Rough hands worked the tools of their trade, forged in fires to heat their metal, molds cast to bring shape to life. Used to remove and clear away the uneven perfection of nature, dumped and discarded out of the way. The ground leveled to give a stable base to what was to sit upon it, a much needed and most unremarkable barn. At least, that is the storied life that it was to have, but a path intended isn't always the path that we choose in the end.
By AgeLessFate5 years ago in Fiction
The Magic Barn
The Owl flew into the old barn and perched on the rafter. He sat there majestically, the King of the Night, waiting for her to come. They would meet at this appointed place every night. This was their only time together, for they could never coexist in reality. In a previous time they had been in love, but an evil witch had cursed them. She had taken them from their human forms and transformed them into their animal shapes. The love of his life had taken on the figure of his prey. A small white mouse would sneak into the barn. She would hide among the scattered ruins. She was careful to remain unseen until the hour came each night that would free them momentarily from their spell. This was no ordinary barn for it had been blessed with magic. It was the magic of Love capable of bringing together the impossible.
By Pamela Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
Ghost Story
Poppy waited in the cemetery until nightfall—there was nothing else they could really do. While they didn’t particularly mind being a ghost, it was getting boring fast. According to Blair, spirits usually weren’t powerful enough to interact with the living outside of midnight in their first few weeks of death. And he would know, of course—he was the local ghost hunter, after all. Poppy didn’t even believe in ghosts until they were one.
By Christian Bellmore5 years ago in Fiction
Downpour
I was shot six times -- three times in the chest, once in my right arm, and twice in my right leg. I couldn't tell you who killed me or why, I just know that this barn, slumped in the same position day after day is where I spend my eternity. I don't know if I sleep at all. Not once did I try to keep track of the time. I couldn't tell you the year, let alone the day or hour it is. I don't know what the outside world is like anymore. I only know this rusted red remnant from when I was alive.
By Cody Steinberg5 years ago in Fiction
Halfway To Nowhere Special
It is too cold to sleep outside. I shake myself awake every other minute. I even dream of a warm prison bed. I walk the streets looking for cars with unlocked doors. No need for the stereo or their trash on the floor. Just the metal box that keeps away the wind, the cool, Cold air of winter. Protection from others humanity.
By Craig Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
