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Write a short story that takes place in a quaint, idyllic, English village.

Posted in Fiction on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 31 stories

Nice And Easy Does It

Submitted to Contest #27

Coome was a quaint, idyllic, English village which had become incorporated in 1849, 2 years before the Great Exhibition in London. Agnes at 81 years old had lived and worked there all her life. After her husband's death, her son, John, had decided to leave home to pastures new. Agnes watched her son, John, tentatively. He had always seemed too busy to visit before. Now he was especially attentive since her collapse with a suspected heart attack.The residents of Coome elected B.S Fields (John's friend), as their first Village President. Prope...

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Love quest

Submitted to Contest #27

The other end of the scale was peculiar. From spending every second of my life behind closed doors, safely confined in my own little bubble, this was a refreshing alteration. Every single person here held a promising smile as if betrayal wasn't in their vocabulary. Right off the bet, this made my purpose here far easier. Still, I couldn't lay back and let life take matters into its own hands. I had to be the one to find her. To find the one. As royalty, it was absurdly impossible for me to place my trust in just anyone. Being heartbroke...

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Without Bridges

Submitted to Contest #27

The sounds of feasting echo through the walls. The joy that comes at this time of year. The Harvest. All agree that it’s a perfect time to celebrate our past toils. Our town is far from struggle. I can hear the cries of gratitude, but I do not partake in it. In my opinion, one should not celebrate the spilled blood of one's neighbors. We have been raised to see the glory in the actions of our ancestors, but when you grow up distanced, it’s much easier to see the faults of the greater image.  I shan’t speak these thoughts aloud. I would ...

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The paper girl

Submitted to Contest #27

It was in one of those villages where houses stood at least a quarter of a mile apart. To get to most of them you had to walk down a long, dark, dirt foot path before you could even reach most of the doors. In the middle of the village stood an old small white house, it was so old most of the white paint had started to strip off the sides to reveal the naked bricks underneath. Inside, the damp had become such a problem you had to really push the front door to open it, it was so old the bottom had absorbed so much rain over the years it had e...

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Barely Alive

Submitted to Contest #27

For the first time in quite a while, Mrs. Merlyn Marble wakes up with a smile on her face. What a beautiful morning, she thinks, quiet and peaceful and fresh. A breeze of morning air is coming through her open window and she half sits up, regarding the curtains in their slow morning dance against it. Getting up, she crosses the room to catch a glimpse of the view from her bedroom, for the day outside was truly something to behold. Her garden blooming with spring flowers, her grass greener than green, and the slow-paced stream of the River Ey...

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The wishing tree

Submitted to Contest #27

Morning sunrise always starts off with a rooster somewhere down the road telling us all it's time to get up. I shift in bed and look around, my eyes squinting as the bright morning sun shines through my window and onto my bed just beside it. There is a tree outside my window, the tree of magical wishes I called it as a small child. We all said if you whispered your deepest desires to it the tree would grant them to you. I stopped believing when I was 10 and I asked for it to bring my dad home from the war alright. His body was never even fou...

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An Unforgivable Treachery

Submitted to Contest #27

“Go on.“ The woman called out urgently as her younger son set off to do the task she gave him . “Make sure you deliver all the bread on time.” The boy carried the basket and replied impatiently. “I will, mama!”The woman continued. “Don't come back too late. I have other tasks for you!”An 11-year-old boy with chocolate brown hair and deep blue eyes, Ethan thought he was old enough to avoid being nagged by his mother anymore. He walked along the path leading from his home to the main street where he could easily get to the other houses. One of...

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Song of the Birds

Submitted to Contest #27

It was a beautiful autumn day as I was walking down my home village's main road enclosed by colourful quaint houses. The birds were singing my favourite song, the sun was gently caressing my skin and leaves in all imaginable colors were crunshing beneath my comfy leather boots. I dare say it was the most peaceful scene you could possibly think of. Like if someone had taken one of those awfully idyllic landscape paintings and turned it into a living, breathing scene. Okay, maybe not living. If we're being quite honest for a moment here, it wa...

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Juniper

Submitted to Contest #27

This village, Devon Shropshire, has been my home since I was a wee little one, when my mother and I came from Ireland to join her sister. After my father's death, mother hadn't known what to do, so we came here.The town was okay when I was small; playing cricket in the field, soccer on cobblestone streets, yelling "car" when one appeared to interrupt our game and lots of giggling sleep overs at my friend Bridgett's.As a teenager though, its the most boring place ever. Mum thinks that school stuff should be enough. Play a sport, join a team. ...

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Time & Tides

Submitted to Contest #27

July, 1923 The sea was churning and so was Mabel’s thoughts. Maybe the sun would set and the tides would change and everything would go on as it always had but she couldn’t yet see how she could go along with it. There was something else, a feeling, like she had to go somewhere. Had to get out. Had to run.The coffee she’d made this morning had been bitter and still lingered on the top of her mouth. She toed the edge of the cliff, kicked a few stones into the rolling waves. Let the silver locket dangle a little further from her hand and ...

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The Bookstore on High Street

Submitted to Contest #27

It was 6:58 in the morning. The low sun was in an ombre of light pink, orange, and yellow, and soft mist was rising from the fields. Miriam locked her front door behind her as she quietly walked to her car. A small brown rabbit scuttled out from underneath her light blue Volkswagen Beetle. The ride to work was a quick one, as always. Miriam owned a bookstore complete with rows and rows of new, old, and rare books. She had, a few years prior, added a small coffee shop in lieu of the Comedy of Manners section. Too large of a section devoted t...

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The Cottage

Submitted to Contest #27

The cottage sat at the end of the lane. It had sat there for decade upon decade, alone and unheeding of the world around it. It had watched generation after generation live, grow, and flourish within its walls. Parts had begun to crumble with age, its stone walls once painted a pristine white, chipping to reveal the stone beneath. The vines that crept up the walls had been removed over the years by countless hands, but there was no one left to clear them now. It had originally been built by a farmer for his wife. He had begun labouring on th...

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Cliffside

Submitted to Contest #27

     It was half passed midnight and the moon hung low over the cobblestone streets, shadows of buildings cast darkness where the moonlight couldn't reach. Each house nestled in a patch of green trailing off towards the Cliffside where only one lone building resided, not nearly as modern as the others it stands out against the stark background, a void of darkness where the sea meets the earth.      The village smelled of salt and during the day was bustling with life, all manners of peop...

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Fixing a Friendship

Submitted to Contest #27

Lora beat the dough with all her might. She and her friend were having a fight, and she didn’t even know what it was about anymore. So she was baking bread, one of her favorite things to do when she was mad or sad or just having a bad day. She was trying to end this fight one step at a time. So this was her first step, beating her anger into the bread dough. Her second step, she thought, would be to buy a basket and blank cards and write a note to Eleanor. She would also buy a dishtowel, just a small cute one, to put into the basket. Then th...

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A Little Bit of Magic

Submitted to Contest #27

Truth be told, there’s a lot more to magic than incantations. One must be connected to the very earth, her flora, her fauna, and her people. Not many folks are aware of this fact, but everyone is born with the ability to use magic; just some have more liberty to practice. They blossom with time, grow with the flowers and adapt their gifts with the changing of the seasons. Magic claps like thunder, padders like rain and burst like fire. Sorcery is stronger in a select few. Those people can spin the world the other way, can move mountains, can...

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