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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by Jonas on August 5, 2008

The Farm

The sun rose over the little green hills and warmed the tiny farmhouse. Dad got up as usual and started the day’s work. I woke up not long after and looked at the sunrise. It didn’t look any different. Nothing did. I joined dad and my sister in the fields as the workday for me began.

In the afternoon, after the day was finally over. We walked about to the farmhouse and Mom had a beautiful pie and dinner for us. Just like it used to be.

“Enjoy this kids. This is maybe the last pie we have for a while.” My little sister didn’t seem at all pleased. Dad wasn’t either but no one but me could tell. I looked at my father and asked, “So when will it be alright to go back into town?”

“I’m not sure son. 32 years I think. Behinds there probably isn’t much of a town left after the bombs.”

I finished my pie that night and it did taste great. I wouldn’t have another for many years.

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