Fable
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
His Name Is Theiss
The story of Theiss is one that has not yet been told or recognized on the human plane. Not a man nor woman, not a god, Theiss has always existed. He could be viewed as the Prometheus for the gods, creating their fire, their homes, and their weapons, but no mythological beliefs can constrain him. Created by humans, the myths have always centered around their own gods, but little did they know that their beloved gods would be nothing without the work of Theiss.
By Anna Mirella5 years ago in Fiction
10 SURPRISING FACTS DISCOVERED FROM READING FICTION
“IMAGINATION SHOULD NOT BE USED TO ESCAPE FROM REALITY, BUT TO CREATE IT.” This statement applies to fairy-tales too. They were never created to make us escape from reality, to make us dream at happy endings, although their purpose seems to be this one nowadays. Fairy-tales in fact, were never intended to children. Initially they were conceived as amusement for grown-ups and in the 8th century they were put into scene in the select saloons of Paris. Fairy-tales began to be literature for children only in the 19th century, and they were modified a lot to be suitable for them.
By Annaelle Artsy5 years ago in Fiction
The Election
I straightened my tie while clearing my throat. Letting my fingers run along the chain beneath my freshly pressed shirt I took a deep breath. I was still in disbelief. Never would I have thought that I would be a presidential candidate waiting to give his final speech the night before election day. I took another deep breath and almost reached for the chain again but was called to my left by Sydney. "Hey man are you all right? You look a little pale. You go on in about 5 minutes. Is your speech ready?" I could tell he was just as nervous as I. "Sid bro relax, I'm ok. It will be ok." I spoke slow and reassuringly "Yes we want me to win of course. But if I lose is it really the end of the world?" We both laughed awkwardly, he a little longer than I. "Man Izzy you have some dark humor." He shook his head " Glad to see you haven't lost that to all the pain and stress of this passed year." Sidney had been my best friend since I was six and my mom made me join the youth groups. Both of our fathers had passed away within weeks of each other. It was always in waves like that, large groups of people all at once. With each part per million that the CO2 rose large numbers of adults would perish from carbon dioxide poisoning. The youth groups were created as a form of mass grief counseling and a way for that children to have a small sense of normalcy. Sid was the only kid from the youth groups that would talk to me since I was from the labs and everyone hated the Scientific Party. When I was nominated he was the only person I could think of to have by my side as my campaign manager. We had been through the worst of everything together and I knew together we could make the best of anything. Even the end of the world.
By Amber Trudeau5 years ago in Fiction
