At Home

Sharing this story “At Home” with Friday Fictioneers. The prompt is the image, courtesy of Jill Wisoff.


At Home

It had been a month away, but as she drove back into the city with her grandparents, Jenny felt happy. She had enjoyed her time away at her grandparents’ farm, and was returning with many memories to savor for a lifetime.

The freeway was chock-a-block with traffic again, cars as far as the eyes could see. Jenny saw that the market was on too. She could barely hear over the noise of the market-goers and the honking of the vehicles.

β€œWhat a ruckus! We should have stayed at the village!” exclaimed her Grandfather.

Jenny laughed. For her, this was home.

Liked this? Maybe you can read some of my earlier posts: Stories | for Friday Fictioneers.

(Β© Vinay Leo R. @ I Rhyme Without Reason,
10th May, 2018)


Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

24 thoughts on “At Home”

    • Yes, Kasturi. πŸ™‚ This is partly based on experience too. For some, it’s the noise of the city, and for others, it’s the peace of the village. πŸ˜€ Glad you liked my story. Thank you so much.

  1. Dear Vinay,

    There are cities for a reason, aren’t there? Not everyone prefers the calm of the country. Lovely story. And I love the term ‘chock-a-block.’



  2. I grew up in cities, but then the last three years of high school in the country.

    I’m a country girl πŸ™‚ This story tells the differences perfectly.

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