sign up or log in for additional features. (It's free!)
The place that was called the grove was part of the Universe. The grove was there for people to reflect on what they could be.
By trkstr67 on 10.22.2014
I don’t know what to write about. I just think of the sacred grove when I hear that word and nothing else really pops up in my mind. Pleasant grove I think of too I guess!!
By clarabelle on 10.22.2014
Grove, meaning a small patch of trees or other plants, The disoriented men walked through the grove or 100 year old oak trees
By Jennifer England on 10.22.2014
She slowed down the car as she passed them. Rows of trees, adorned by gigantic orange orbs hanging like Christmas tree ornaments. Only it was July. The smell of them punctuated the air and she was struck with nostalgia of Saturday mornings filled with fresh squeezed juice, cartoons, and laughter.
By Soft URL on 10.22.2014
In the grove I will live, hidden in nature. I will grow with the animals and trees. Sometimes I will have travelers visit and I will help them carry on their quest.
By Katie URL on 10.22.2014
The fertile grove stretched out as far as she could see. Flowers as colorful as an Indian’s paintbrush streaked off into the horizon, leading the way into the sunset. “It’s beautiful.”
By dan URL on 10.22.2014
Pleasant Grove. Strange name. Like, is there an Unpleasant Grove somewhere? (Probably in Arizona. Nothing pleasant is in Arizona. I know because I grew up there.)
Also, what’s with people in Utah Valley never saying the full name of cities? It’s always “PG” or “AF”.
By Bobby on 10.22.2014
I ran into the grove, sweat dripping from my face, my hands sticky from the sap. I don’t know what I have just done. I could hear from behind me someone yelling in the distance. What they were yelling, I do not exactly know. My thoughts were jumbled, my vision blurry, nothing was clear and I wasn’t thinking straight.
By Adison Houghton on 10.22.2014
It’s a small patch of land in the middle of the woods – barely noticeable as a specific place, unless you know what you’re looking for. Cain does. He kneels in the same patch of worn grass as he always does, hands pressed palm-flat against the dry earth, and for a few seconds’ time he feels connected to the kindred, mortal soul he lost here centuries ago.
By Samuel on 10.22.2014
It’s place where apples, cherries, and other fruits grow. It’s bursting full of life and color. It’s a pleasant place to visit any time of year. It can be for a family trip or just for a fun day trip. You can create a number of recipes from your pickings. It’s always fun to share the foods and unique recipes that come from the grove and it’s a great tradition to keep alive every year.
By K on 10.22.2014
The forest was so thick Jack couldn’t see very far in front of her. It wasn’t night yet so at least she had that on her side. But each way she looked was empty. Not empty in the sense that the forest was dense as fuck, but empty as in there wasn’t a good answer there. Should she go right or left? Or straight? Probably, she should just turn around and forget it but that wasn’t an option. The kid was in here somewhere, and she had to find her.
By Beka URL on 10.22.2014
there are many ways to find comfort, eat,pray, or hide. in distant places, in high peaks and low caves, but i chose to hide, in the grove, and eat, as i pray and try to hide away.
By Aya on 10.22.2014
“Seriously, hands off!” Emma giggled, giddy with excitement and wondering where her boyfriend had led her.
“Okay, okay. Open your eyes.”
Light flooded into the darkness her eyelids had kept present, and immediately she had dropped her bag. Along with the flow of light came miles upon miles of dazzling greens, violets, reds and whites. Petals and grass blades alike danced in rhythm with the smooth sound of the swinging wind; existing in harmony with the endless blue sky above. The few gathered clouds only added to the scene, creating a picture perfect landscape that you could only imagine would exist in bedtime stories. Spread before her were rolling fields and hills of the slickest grass ever laid eyes upon; with patches of violets and tulips, dandelions daisies and orchids, all painted over the lush Earth that served as their canvas; only this was no painting. No, this field held more depth than Picasso could ever hope to achieve, colors more lush than the likes of Ross or Davinci could ever raise a brush to. Standing here, what she saw and felt didn’t feel like it would be on a painting hung in her home. This grove was her home.
By Josie Joe Junior on 10.22.2014
Outside town there is a patch of grass where dragons love to grow
That patch where lovers dare to go
and soldiers find no enemies
By tweak on 10.22.2014
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.