The Barn: a writing exercise
Since around two years ago now, I’ve been practising to sharp my writing skills. I’ve been writing since I was a teenager, some years more, some years less and some years nothing at all.
I’ve noticed how much I like it though, and how happy it makes me to bring to words things that come out of my mind that I wasn’t aware they could exist.
“The Barn” is one of those exercises, following the guidance of Greg Buchanan on this link about becoming a writer for games.
Always love opinions about what I make but you can also simply enjoy (hopefully!). And if you haven’t read already in Greg’s link what is this exercise about, I would love to read your guesses about what happens to this farmer. :)
THE BARN
The first sun rays are entering the barn through the cracks in between the wooden planks. The smell of the morning dew is entangled with the hay that was cut just the day before as it is the season. In the still half darkness, I stand in the middle of the barn. I look to the horizon through the huge open door of the shed. Then, I look at the ceiling of the construction. Then, to the horizon again. I pass my hand through my frown full of sweat pearls to clean it. My breath is strong. I look at the ceiling once more and start nervously laughing, first quietly, then it is so loud that some crows outside start croaking, almost as if they are complaining.
I laugh and laugh and laugh. At some point, I stop. I look at what’s around me. Piles of hay that I cut yesterday, my tools for farming. My gaze stops at two pairs of boots. Mine for when it rains and it’s muddy and some smaller ones that haven’t been used since a long time ago. I walk towards them and pick up the smaller boots. I bring them to my chest and I start crying. I cry so much that I feel my lungs are going to explode inside of me. My legs magically keep me standing. The barn is now full of golden light. A new day for many, but not for everyone. The sirens start beeping again and I hear not so far away what it seems to be guns shooting. Time to go back to the bunker.
