Friday Fictioneers – The Old Missouri Barn

21 02 2013

Howdy folks! Sorry I missed last week, but somebody volunteered me to paint the local library and it’s been taking way more effort than expected!

Something slightly different for you this week, as my darling other half wanted us to have a go at a two-part story. So read this one first, and then read Anne’s. Her idea was that I would write whatever I liked, and she’d find away of continuing it or taking it in a different direction. I probably made it harder by having a definite conclusion rather than leaving mine open-ended. I’m sure she’ll get her own back at some point!

If you’d like to join in with the Friday Fictioneers, visit Rochelle for all the rules and regs.

The Old Missouri Barn

Copyright – Janet Webb

The Old Missouri Barn

Just like the old farmer that once owned it, the old Missouri barn was a character: content in retirement; resistant to change.

To the Barn Alliance, it was wonderful opportunity. Over the space of many months, vines were cleared, rotten boards replaced, old trusses repaired, and roof recovered. Even the old grey picket fence was white again.

But the barn didn’t want to be young. As soon as the volunteers left, with a creaking and a groaning, the walls slumped, the roof peeled back, creepers spread rapidly, and with an almost audible sigh, the barn settled back into comfy dilapidation.

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For more on the Missouri Barn Alliance and Rural Network (MoBARN), visit

To read Anne’s follow-up story, click here.


Friday Fictioneers – When Tomorrow Comes

8 02 2013

Hi folks, Friday Fiction time. 100 words based on a photo prompt. All the details are here at Rochelle’s website. Join in, it’s fun.

Copyright Rich Voza

When Tomorrow Comes

As the sun set slowly behind the distant mountains, silence settled like a heavy blanket over deserted runways and empty terminals. Gazing into the glare at the empty jet and the abandoned tractors reminded me of how quickly everybody had left.

They called it The Exodus. Billions of people evacuated through thousands of wormholes to New Earth, all to escape the wrath of an impending asteroid strike.

Some stayed: dedicated scientists, volunteers like me, the very old, the cantankerous. There’s still a chance the measures we’ve taken might divert it.

If we see the sun rise again tomorrow, we’ll know.