I was on the fence. Part of me really wanted to move, but part of me didn’t. If I left here there was a good chance that I would never see them again. With them, everyday could very well be their last. Sure, that sounds very melodramatic, but it’s the truth; when you’re family is full of raging addicts there is always the chance that today will be the day they stop breathing. Still, this was my shot, my shot to start a decent life for myself.
I leaned against the fence, looking upwards and gazing at the bright, starry night sky. This time, strangely, I couldn’t feel the familiar love of the twinkling wonders. Something was missing, and the stars were not nearly as beautiful without it.
“Hey, get off the fence, you little nuisances! Get!”
The old guy came out with his shotgun and waved it around. The kids ran screaming off the fence, except for one.
The guy came closer and looked more closely.
“Remember me, Papa?” he said. “You tried to kill me by drowning me in the well two years ago… And now I’ve come back to take my revenge…”
The guy squinted, then shook his head. “No, you’re the kid I shot with this shotgun right here. See? I remember this bump here when it hit your forehead…”
He looked into the barrel. Quick as a flash, the boy jumped up and pulled the trigger. The shotgun turned into a pool and the man flew into its depths, never to return.
The white pickets that separated our lawns were tantalizing and teasing me. They were tiny soldiers, essentially chess pieces that blocked the way from our interactions.
She lingered for a long moment, clearly still on the fence about whether to help him. Finally, she threw her hands up. “Oh, what the hell! It’s not like I was planning to do anything today anyway.”
The cold war started with a white picket fence. Mr. Anderson swore up and down that Ms. Pierce’s wooden obstruction had invaded at least a foot of his property. Ms. Pierce was offended, especially after years of giving away her homemade oatmeal cookies. There were no shouts or harsh words exchanged, but the chilly stares and silence stretched as long as the fence, and killed any remnants of their friendship.
I have been putting in fence for the pasture for 2 years. It looks beautiful and the horses love the freedom that a fence brings. Ironic that a fence brings freedom.
It’s not that Jennie has a phobia of fences, she just kind of does. You see, it’s not as if she woke up one day and decided to dislike fences, oh no. this is deep fear, one of which could only be developed from experience. a terrible one.
I used to be on the fence about what I wanted in life but I figured it out. The one thing you have to want first…Happiness. Anybody can have it no matter what your circumstance. Happiness is the greatest thing ever…
He looked over the green painted fence to see if Sam was there today. The geen paint was flaking away, the wood underneath porous and sunbleached. Where the pain remained it was still glossy. No Sam. Damn, he thought. It’s going to be a lonely day.
Elsa was very, //very good at seeing the black and the white of things. It was either this, or it was that. There was no in between when it came to her.
This was a valuable skill, taught to her by her father, and she carried with her through her entire life.
Until a perky redhead bounced along, all fiery hair and fiery temper, and taught Elsa that…
A white picket fence. A small, wooden white picket fence. That’s all I have ever wanted. I knew that my desire was cliched and that it was a simple desire. I just felt that there was some stability in that image. A little barrier that served no practical purpose but for me symbolised happiness and a calm center in this constant turmoil we call life.
The fence stood tall, a clear division between one side of the world and the other. She looked up at the sharp spokes high above her head. She couldn’t climb that high, nor did she feel like impaling herself in any attempt to defy the limits of gravity and her weak-armed body. But she couldn’t help but wonder what was on the other side anyway. Maybe it was something better. It had to be if it was so carefully guarded by that fence.
I think there are a lot of fences in life. Both metaphorical and actual. One of my recent fences has been money. I feel like no matter how hard I work I can never come up with enough to pay all the bills. Also the fence between the apartments and the grocery store really sucks and is super inconvenient if you are walking. Maybe I could cut a section of that fence sell it for scrap metal and solve the problems i have with both physical and metaphorical fences in one swoop. Look at that the day is already looking up.
On the other side of the splintered palings was a lady with high red heels and pretty hair falling down her back. When Izzy pressed her eye, nice and wide, to the crack in the timber she could see the shape of her long brown legs, as long as a day, slinking around the pool. She wore a skinny red bikini, nothing like her mumma would wear, and Izzy was sure she saw diamond rings on her fingers. Real diamonds. For the first time she knew for sure that there were whole other worlds on the other sides of fences, and that as soon as she could she would climb over and discover a world of her own that didn’t have so many chores and rules and dark nights as this one.
to keep us in
or them out?
distance between what we have
and waht we can’t
those we se
and those within
sheltering us from our fears
deep rooted prejudice
sacred songs and
cherished beliefs
i arrived at the fence and I saw him on the other side. he was a tall, dark, and ugly man. Yet, I couldn’t look away. I wondered if he saw me from the distance watching him work. I wondered, what he ate, who he ate it with and if I could ever be that person. I wanted to know more.
Lily rattled with nervous ticks. She had developed a habit of talking to herself out loud, usually in the bathroom, but occasionally someone would catch her in firm conversation with herself in the car or the aisles of the supermarket.
“Time to build a fence around your heart girl. F**k them all. Father, brother, half baked lover. Better to find your tears at the bottom of a wine glass than to let them in with their broken promises and words used as weapons. After everything you gave them. You gave them everything. F**k them all!”
There was a sound behind the fence. I waltz over to see what’s going on, but then I realized how creepy it would be to see your new neighbor peeking over the fence to spy on you. So I decided against it.
Her fence was made up of wild roses, black walnut trees, and other assortments of other natural brush that made a wall giving her a privacy better than any fence she could ever buy.
The once-white fence had clearly seen better days. Todd guessed that it was the original, which would make it around forty to forty-five years old. In all honesty, the owner should have simply had it torn down, but it was her insurance money and how she saw fit to use it was none of his business.
She always wondered what was behind her neighbor’s barbed-wire fence. Through the scattered trees in their huge yard, she spied a small pond. She wondered if there were fish in that pond. She wondered if deer came to drink from that pond. She wondered her neighbor’s use for the pond.
The fence was tall, still, as it always had been; it was yellowed from the grass that had rubbed up against it over the course of seven years and it was broken from the kids who had jumped over it playing cops and robbers. She had always hated that fence.
He was leaning against the weather worn grey fence. Picking his nails with a pocket knife. Who does that anymore? What, did he think himself the long lost member of the Lost Boys? I found him irritating the moment I saw him and that feeling has never gone away.
A fence can be made of wood. A fence can be made of metal. Or, it can be made of emotions, not separating land, but separating people. Many need to learn to tear down their emotional fences to get closer to other people… but still keep some up for safety.
a fence is not tsomething that should stop you. if you think you can jump it, you should. if you think youcan make yourself solid and go through it, you can. if you think you have the velocity and the druve, you can jump it. if you doubt yourself, you wont. a fecnce is
The brown wooden fence surrounded the perimeter of the tiny country cottage – it was slightly disheveled due to years of wear and tear, but only in need of moderate TLC; nothing structural. It could have been replaced many times over but it had some sentimental value.
“I dunno,” murmured Lacey with a small smile. “I’m on the fence about this.”
“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Quite literally.”
Laughing, my best friend of seventeen years hopped off the white picket fence, gracefully landing on the toes of her feet, the canvas of her converses bending slightly. She exhaled and bowed to me. “I’m just saying, I’m not sure. Maybe we ought to go somewhere else. Ditch this party for something better.”
I thought I was just short. I couldn’t see over the fence when I was five, and I used to think this was because I was too short, but I’d get taller with age, like the other kids. Entire grades of elementary school passed like this, one year, two years, many years– don’t worry, I said to myself, it’ll get better with age. But it didn’t. I’m twenty five and I can’t even see the other side on my tiptoes.
the fence is built around the yard to keep the dog in the backyard. The fence was six feet tall and worn around the edges. It was the type of fence that the neighbors peeked over. It was a fence of secrets.
I’ve never jumped over a fence, but I’ve always had urge to do so. It looks adventurous. Maybe I shall try it one day and hopefully I don’t break something.
To say that she’s never considered it before would be a lie. She’s always looked back and forth at her people and the great divide that separates them down the middle. But never before has she been asked to choose between them, and that changes everything.
The white fence had always been around that house. It was what made the house THAT house. So when they took it down, the street just wasn’t the same. It made it real that he wasn’t there anymore.
A fence, to keep away people, to keep away strangers. A fence to protect your house.A fence to protect your heart. A fence, so you won’t get hurt.
I was on the fence. Part of me really wanted to move, but part of me didn’t. If I left here there was a good chance that I would never see them again. With them, everyday could very well be their last. Sure, that sounds very melodramatic, but it’s the truth; when you’re family is full of raging addicts there is always the chance that today will be the day they stop breathing. Still, this was my shot, my shot to start a decent life for myself.
I leaned against the fence, looking upwards and gazing at the bright, starry night sky. This time, strangely, I couldn’t feel the familiar love of the twinkling wonders. Something was missing, and the stars were not nearly as beautiful without it.
“Hey, get off the fence, you little nuisances! Get!”
The old guy came out with his shotgun and waved it around. The kids ran screaming off the fence, except for one.
The guy came closer and looked more closely.
“Remember me, Papa?” he said. “You tried to kill me by drowning me in the well two years ago… And now I’ve come back to take my revenge…”
The guy squinted, then shook his head. “No, you’re the kid I shot with this shotgun right here. See? I remember this bump here when it hit your forehead…”
He looked into the barrel. Quick as a flash, the boy jumped up and pulled the trigger. The shotgun turned into a pool and the man flew into its depths, never to return.
The white pickets that separated our lawns were tantalizing and teasing me. They were tiny soldiers, essentially chess pieces that blocked the way from our interactions.
She lingered for a long moment, clearly still on the fence about whether to help him. Finally, she threw her hands up. “Oh, what the hell! It’s not like I was planning to do anything today anyway.”
The cold war started with a white picket fence. Mr. Anderson swore up and down that Ms. Pierce’s wooden obstruction had invaded at least a foot of his property. Ms. Pierce was offended, especially after years of giving away her homemade oatmeal cookies. There were no shouts or harsh words exchanged, but the chilly stares and silence stretched as long as the fence, and killed any remnants of their friendship.
I have been putting in fence for the pasture for 2 years. It looks beautiful and the horses love the freedom that a fence brings. Ironic that a fence brings freedom.
It’s not that Jennie has a phobia of fences, she just kind of does. You see, it’s not as if she woke up one day and decided to dislike fences, oh no. this is deep fear, one of which could only be developed from experience. a terrible one.
I used to be on the fence about what I wanted in life but I figured it out. The one thing you have to want first…Happiness. Anybody can have it no matter what your circumstance. Happiness is the greatest thing ever…
He looked over the green painted fence to see if Sam was there today. The geen paint was flaking away, the wood underneath porous and sunbleached. Where the pain remained it was still glossy. No Sam. Damn, he thought. It’s going to be a lonely day.
Elsa was very, //very good at seeing the black and the white of things. It was either this, or it was that. There was no in between when it came to her.
This was a valuable skill, taught to her by her father, and she carried with her through her entire life.
Until a perky redhead bounced along, all fiery hair and fiery temper, and taught Elsa that…
…Well. She really had no clue at all.
A white picket fence. A small, wooden white picket fence. That’s all I have ever wanted. I knew that my desire was cliched and that it was a simple desire. I just felt that there was some stability in that image. A little barrier that served no practical purpose but for me symbolised happiness and a calm center in this constant turmoil we call life.
I walked and walked, sun beating down on me. i reach the fence, can walk no further. Do I find another way or do I give up?
That was all there was. A white picket fence. Except it was more of a light-ish grey now.
“You had one job. One. Job.”
“It was Isabelle! She told me to-”
“You have no idea how serious this is, do you?”
The fence stood tall, a clear division between one side of the world and the other. She looked up at the sharp spokes high above her head. She couldn’t climb that high, nor did she feel like impaling herself in any attempt to defy the limits of gravity and her weak-armed body. But she couldn’t help but wonder what was on the other side anyway. Maybe it was something better. It had to be if it was so carefully guarded by that fence.
I think there are a lot of fences in life. Both metaphorical and actual. One of my recent fences has been money. I feel like no matter how hard I work I can never come up with enough to pay all the bills. Also the fence between the apartments and the grocery store really sucks and is super inconvenient if you are walking. Maybe I could cut a section of that fence sell it for scrap metal and solve the problems i have with both physical and metaphorical fences in one swoop. Look at that the day is already looking up.
On the other side of the splintered palings was a lady with high red heels and pretty hair falling down her back. When Izzy pressed her eye, nice and wide, to the crack in the timber she could see the shape of her long brown legs, as long as a day, slinking around the pool. She wore a skinny red bikini, nothing like her mumma would wear, and Izzy was sure she saw diamond rings on her fingers. Real diamonds. For the first time she knew for sure that there were whole other worlds on the other sides of fences, and that as soon as she could she would climb over and discover a world of her own that didn’t have so many chores and rules and dark nights as this one.
to keep us in
or them out?
distance between what we have
and waht we can’t
those we se
and those within
sheltering us from our fears
deep rooted prejudice
sacred songs and
cherished beliefs
i arrived at the fence and I saw him on the other side. he was a tall, dark, and ugly man. Yet, I couldn’t look away. I wondered if he saw me from the distance watching him work. I wondered, what he ate, who he ate it with and if I could ever be that person. I wanted to know more.
Lily rattled with nervous ticks. She had developed a habit of talking to herself out loud, usually in the bathroom, but occasionally someone would catch her in firm conversation with herself in the car or the aisles of the supermarket.
“Time to build a fence around your heart girl. F**k them all. Father, brother, half baked lover. Better to find your tears at the bottom of a wine glass than to let them in with their broken promises and words used as weapons. After everything you gave them. You gave them everything. F**k them all!”
There was a sound behind the fence. I waltz over to see what’s going on, but then I realized how creepy it would be to see your new neighbor peeking over the fence to spy on you. So I decided against it.
Her fence was made up of wild roses, black walnut trees, and other assortments of other natural brush that made a wall giving her a privacy better than any fence she could ever buy.
Haha – Really noticing a lot of white fences in these submissions.
The once-white fence had clearly seen better days. Todd guessed that it was the original, which would make it around forty to forty-five years old. In all honesty, the owner should have simply had it torn down, but it was her insurance money and how she saw fit to use it was none of his business.
She always wondered what was behind her neighbor’s barbed-wire fence. Through the scattered trees in their huge yard, she spied a small pond. She wondered if there were fish in that pond. She wondered if deer came to drink from that pond. She wondered her neighbor’s use for the pond.
The fence was tall, still, as it always had been; it was yellowed from the grass that had rubbed up against it over the course of seven years and it was broken from the kids who had jumped over it playing cops and robbers. She had always hated that fence.
He was leaning against the weather worn grey fence. Picking his nails with a pocket knife. Who does that anymore? What, did he think himself the long lost member of the Lost Boys? I found him irritating the moment I saw him and that feeling has never gone away.
A fence can be made of wood. A fence can be made of metal. Or, it can be made of emotions, not separating land, but separating people. Many need to learn to tear down their emotional fences to get closer to other people… but still keep some up for safety.
a fence is not tsomething that should stop you. if you think you can jump it, you should. if you think youcan make yourself solid and go through it, you can. if you think you have the velocity and the druve, you can jump it. if you doubt yourself, you wont. a fecnce is
The brown wooden fence surrounded the perimeter of the tiny country cottage – it was slightly disheveled due to years of wear and tear, but only in need of moderate TLC; nothing structural. It could have been replaced many times over but it had some sentimental value.
Yesterday I need to go USA and I need to use a fence to cross
“I dunno,” murmured Lacey with a small smile. “I’m on the fence about this.”
“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Quite literally.”
Laughing, my best friend of seventeen years hopped off the white picket fence, gracefully landing on the toes of her feet, the canvas of her converses bending slightly. She exhaled and bowed to me. “I’m just saying, I’m not sure. Maybe we ought to go somewhere else. Ditch this party for something better.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. Anything else in this town?”
I thought I was just short. I couldn’t see over the fence when I was five, and I used to think this was because I was too short, but I’d get taller with age, like the other kids. Entire grades of elementary school passed like this, one year, two years, many years– don’t worry, I said to myself, it’ll get better with age. But it didn’t. I’m twenty five and I can’t even see the other side on my tiptoes.
the fence is built around the yard to keep the dog in the backyard. The fence was six feet tall and worn around the edges. It was the type of fence that the neighbors peeked over. It was a fence of secrets.
I’ve never jumped over a fence, but I’ve always had urge to do so. It looks adventurous. Maybe I shall try it one day and hopefully I don’t break something.
To say that she’s never considered it before would be a lie. She’s always looked back and forth at her people and the great divide that separates them down the middle. But never before has she been asked to choose between them, and that changes everything.
hello
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
The white fence had always been around that house. It was what made the house THAT house. So when they took it down, the street just wasn’t the same. It made it real that he wasn’t there anymore.