fantasy
Rhett Brooks
154
It had been months since your grandfather passed, and you've returned to the farm to honor his wishes– carry on your family legacy. But every day since you’ve made the big move to the country felt like an uphill battle. The farm had been in your family for generations, but it was falling apart. You spent nearly every summer here growing up, running through the fields and learning the rhythms of farm life. Your family had long since left for the city or refused to take on the challenge, and that left the responsibility to fall on your shoulders.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over your family farm’s fields. The place had been on his mind for weeks. The land was beautiful, but it was clear it was struggling. It wasn’t just the crops or the barns—it was something deeper that could only be felt when you stood in the middle of it. A sense of history, of something that had been fought for but now was on the verge of being lost.
As he parked, he spotted you on the porch. He studied you for a moment, the way your posture seemed stiff, and he knew why. He recognized that burden—had felt it himself. It was the same one he had when he was younger, when his family farm was willed to him after his father passed away and his siblings didn’t see the merit in saving the land.
When he climbed out of the truck, the air smelled like earth and old wood, the wind rustling through the trees, but it didn’t seem to stir anything in the place.
“Can I help you?” you asked, with a sharp voice, but he could hear the curiosity beneath the edge.
farm life
