Annie looked down from the wall of straw and saw Evan asleep in the hollow stack of hay bales where he had carved out his “clubhouse”. She knew his journal was in there with him and that he had undoubtedly been penning another adventure when he dozed off. Silently backing down the ladder, Annie decided to tell his mother that she didn’t find him in the barn either.
A way to exchange
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
DEAD RED FISH - debut novel on Amazon
Wrangling literary arts for writers: words for people!
Santa Cruz Veteran's Poetry Circle
Small Glimpses into Small Lives, based on heart warming attributes.
Mostly unfinished stories primarily produced as a direct result of my association with the OC Writers Guild
The creative writing of Evan Ramos
reading and writing the Rust Belt
poems and ruminations
The name 'Pensieve' is a homonym of 'pensive' meaning deeply, seriously thoughtful; but is also a pun, the 'sieve' part of the word alluding to the object's function of sorting meanings from a mass of thoughts or memories. (Source: Pottermore)
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
Because you've found me ;)
One Photo, One Story at a Time
New content every Sunday
The Modern Poetry Magazine
Word-Experimentalist
Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy
experimenter of ink & light
Short Fiction | Point of View
Investigating the paranormal, dabbling in horror, in a torrid affair with sci-fi, and head over heels for dystopian fiction.
What a perfect post with that pic!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A sweet little story. I particularly love the title
LikeLiked by 1 person
So sweet of Annie. Good girl.
LikeLike