Horror
On the Beam
She had gotten up well before dawn so she could drive the 20 miles out to the ancient barn just as the sun came up and she’d been there ever since, taking pictures of every imaginable thing for her college photography class. Now it was after noon and the light was ugly, beating down mercilessly on the sere landscape. She grabbed the pack she had left lying by the barn door and went inside, standing in the doorway while her eyes acclimated to the sudden darkness.
By Arthur Vibert5 years ago in Fiction
One Dark Night
Everyone loves a good old barn. They have been around well, it feels like forever. And just about everyone in the country has one. Actually if your neighbour didn’t have a barn, you’d be forgiven for thinking something was wrong with them. Besides, where else can generations of children go and play til night falls and the sound of parents calling across the corn fields echoed that it was dinner time? Where else would teenagers find their first forays into the adult world of love and adventure of the human flesh? And where would the animals and occasional wandering gypsies find safety and shelter throughout the rain and icy winters?
By Sandie Edwards 5 years ago in Fiction
Red House
The icy gusts pushed at my back freezing the skin under my soaked overcoat motivating me further down the laneway in an ever growing hurry. Just as the winds became a fearsome gale throwing the rain at an odd angle I managed to seek shelter inside the old barn. Rickety as it was it seemed a fortress from the maelstrom outside and was a tremendous solace.
By Jake Xagas5 years ago in Fiction
What Lies beneath
My Mother always told me to stay away from the barn, It there, empty, dark and alone at the end of the field, and around it nothing grew. no birds nested inside, no moss grow up the sides, It just stood there forbidden and foreboding against the empty sky.
By Chatty Forster5 years ago in Fiction
SnapShot Fate
Hell is Real. Or at least that is what the sign said on our way up Interstate 71. Does that mean that hell is somewhere here in the cornfields of Ohio? How does the sign creator know it is real? I watch the sign fade away. Pressing my head against the cool glass and watching the world roll by from the middle row of our minivan.
By Tracy Ramey5 years ago in Fiction
Millie with all the freckles
It’s the smell that finally breaks me. I could handle seeing the old place again, and the creak of the ancient hinges as I forced open the doors – I could even handle stepping inside. But one deep breath is enough to bring it all back.
By David McClenaghan5 years ago in Fiction
Angelfire
“You smell that?” Jameson sniffed at the horse manure, giving Morgan a twinkling side eye, Morgan knew there was no way of disarming the loaded question, he was probably going to follow it up with some kind of defecation humor. In the vacuum he opted for his usual response; a grunt and a look that read: I am not amused.
By Dustin Scott5 years ago in Fiction
MY NAME IS MERCY BUT YOU CAN CALL ME FURY
MY NAME IS MERCY BUT CALL ME FURY (Drama) Open scene 1 Today is Saturday, July 21, 2006, the same date as the bride‘s birthday. The event is a wedding between Emma and Troy. The venue is the old family barn that has been in Troy’s family for generations. It also happens to be where Troy was born 28 years ago. The family used to be farmers that dealt mostly in bull breeding but over the years, they have become more involved with real estate business and other types of business ventures but they have kept the family barn. By the side of the barn, outside is a large pear tree that was planted by the great grandmother of the family. It is also decorated in preparation for the wedding reception. It is a large tree, by pear tree standard, almost taller than the barn. It is enough to provide shade for the 150 guests in attendance for the wedding.
By Nneka Anieze5 years ago in Fiction
