This is a story I worte and am in the process of animating. If you wish to see theMoose from the story you can view that in my gallery. Mavros. The Farm That Cried. The Moose slowly and cautiously emerged from the edge of the Pine forest that had encroached upon the once open and lively farmyard. Like a grey silent ghost the Moose approached the old apple tree. Cautiously looking this way and that. Expecting at any time that hunters would appear to end his existence. All seemed to be still and quiet. Only the soft October rain falling, like a grey curtain to dampen the Mooses senses a little. With all his senses alert to any possible danger, the Moose approached the derelict apple orchard, once the Farms pride and glory. Once a joy to behold! Ahh what a deligtful aromatic smell that came from the half rotting fruit, just waiting to be eaten as it lay on the ground. No Moose in there right mind could resist the heavy intoxicating smell of fermenting fruit! The Moose stretched his furry neck overthe roting fence and began to chew and munch on the fallen delacy arrayed before him. With a soft sigh the rotting fence gave way to the Mooses pressure, a sound maybe of relief escaping the rotted timbers as the fence fell! `Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!.. a whispering voice is heard from the Farm house. The Moose ceasing his apple feast, his magnificent horns twitching in anticipation of conflict! `Ahh I see that you are awake the Moose said to the Farm House. `I apologise profusely for causing thedamage to your fencing, it was an accident, but your quiet sighning surprised me. `Yes you are probably right, but once decay and rot sets in, nothing can help, the dissolution back to nothing is relatively quick said the gentile voice of the Farm House. `It must be a year exactly since you were here last ? Enquired the Farm House. `yes thats about right! said the Moose, `Its that time of year again, the time to hunt the Moose. My mother had some tricks to help her through this time and before she was shot by part time pleasure hunters last Autumn, had indeed taught me some of those tricks. One piece of advice she gave me was that it is safer to be in the nearness of human houses when they are out in the Deep forests hutning us with their sticks of fire and pain. They would never find you there, it being the last place they would look. The Farm,whoose windows were all boarded up, excerpt one, blinked with his one good remaining eye. `yes yes thats true! remarked the Farm house, `Your mother was a shrewd and intelligent Moose and confident. Indeed after the family abandoned me to my decay and fate, it was your mother who came each year at this time to escape the blazing weapons of those foolish humans. You must accept my condolences on your loss! .. Said the FarmHouse with a soft and reflective voice. `Thank you, she spoke often of her times here with you said the proud Moose. `Well you look fit and well said the Farm house. `Just keep your self in thevacinity of me duning the hutning season and I think you will have a long life or at least live till next year. The Moose said knowingly. `It remains to be seen if I will bearound much longer, I feel it deep within my foundations, a decay and rot, the damp rising and the mice and termites feast in me. The farm house sounding sorrowfull and full of self pity and remorse at his impending slow yet inevitable end. `Ahh rubbish, you will be around longer than me! Exclaimed the Moose, before he returned to his slow chomping of the intoxicating yet rotting fruit. The Farm became irritated with the Moose: `Dont you have eyes in your head ! you illitterate Forest Tramp. Look here the Farm muttered deeply, and pointed to the hanging and rotting boards of the main house. `Look at the stone foundations, the very thing that I stand on, the thing that s the basis for my existence, look at the end of the house, the walls are rotted with damp and fungus, see how it falls and decays, it is only with firm determination that I am stil standning, one strong puff of wind and I will fall the house muttered with a sad signing voice. `I have only one seeing eye that can be opened, and thats dirt encrustedflapping the window shutter that hung precariously from one hinge as to emphasise his plight!. `Dont go near the well, the planks that cover it are s o rotten that they would not bear up your weight and you would fall down into the well. Look over at the barn, see how the timbers are all twisted and bent, look at the roof, if you can call it a roof anymore. Fallen in. The house shuddered as he talked about the short comings of his exsistence. The once well kept Farm was indeed in a bad way!. It needed someone to care for him as once he cared and protected the families that had lived and prosperd under his roof. `Worst of all The Farm cried. Is that my roof to the main building is beyond repair`, It leaks like a sieve, the damp is so entrenced now and water has peneterated my very foundations The Farm lapsed into a melancholic silence after his uncharacteristic outburst. A tear ran down its one seeing eye, tracing a trail through the encrusted accumlated dirt and grim. It seemed as if the farm shuddered as he silently cried. Presently the Farm collected himsellf, saying: `You must forgive me for my outburst, but its not always easy to keep my inner feelings under control. Being as old as I am, deserted and abandoned by society. Abandoned by the people whom I served faithfully all my life. People that worked my fields, searched for warmth and shelter under my roof during times of storm and hardship. The people that loved me and whom I loved. The people that worked and helped me as I helped them. The house seemed on the verge of another out break and the Moose edged a little further away, eyeing the nearness of the pine forest.`Its no wonder that I feel somewhat bitter! Mummbled the Farm through the half closed door. The Moose still uneasy about the way the conversation had turned, he thought about the apple feast that t was awaiting him and how the Farm had disturbed his otherwise silent life. hmm the Moose thought, this is the way we shall all pass one day But The wise Moose refraind from utrering his thoughts. His mother had taiugt him well to listen to his elders and not contradict or break in when they spoke. It was not long before the Farm broke into the Mooses perusings And restarted his monologue, but this time with a more calm and determined tone. `my dear Moose,continued the Farm `Its not that often that anyone comes this way these days, least of all someone that I know, but for you Moose I will tell of my innermost feelings. For many years now I have lived my life here in splendid lonliness, my only company being the mice that ran around inside my roof and in my walls, tickling me as they ran. An occasional Magpie that built there home in my derelict chimney. I have nothing against Magpies, but lord they are noisey and so untidy! I digressthe Farm sighed! `now I have lived for many years in the hope that people would come back and again I would feel the pulse of people within me. The laughter of children and the warmth of a wood fire within my hearth and stoves. Smell again the drifting smell of newly baked bread and the smell of freshly turned earth in my fields. To feel the company of animals as they graze in the passtures and gather in the barn for milking.The Farm sounding so lyrical and happy as he mentioned these fundamental things that the Moose drew nearer to the Farm, A whistfull curiousity taking over his better judgement. The Farms tone became more resolute and harder as he continued. ` But I have come to realise that this is only a dream and most dreams do not become fulfilled, my general state of delapidation has gone to far for any kind of possible renovation. My once open fields and passtures have become overgrown and planted with pine forests, my once so verdant fields that yielded so much, only fit to grow trees and forests. I will say Moose that I was fast asleep when you came by and uncerimoniously knockad down my fence that surrounded my orchard. When I awoke I knew that I had decided something of great importence to me. Something that I have had a great deal of time to ponder and decide The farm collected himself and seemed to draw up his delapidted state before continuing. s like this, some months ago, I had a visit from two wel dressed men. Men in their twenties. I quickly understood that these two men were now owned me and all my fields. They stood there in the courtyard to my Farm and talked very very quietly to each other. What I understood of their conversation was this, that they would let the Fiirebrigade use me to practise on. Not being worth anything more to them. At first I was a little afraid of what this might mean so I tried to be as appealing as I possibly could. Winking at them with my one good eye. Whistling a happy tune through my blocked chimney, allowing my doors to open and close, beckoning them, trying to be as inviting as possible. But alas they left very quickly saying that the place was haunted and the best they could do was to let the Fire Brigade have its way!.The Farm lapsed into a short reflective silence before recommencing his story! ` Any way they came back some days later with the Fire Brigade, flasing lights and red machines. Unfortunately the wind that is so prevalent in these parts had sprung up and they did not dare to light a fire as it could spread to the Pine Forst near by and that would mean a loss of valuable timber and revenue. I was saved abeit temporarily.. It was now that I decided to take things into my own hands and save the new owners the time and trouble of destroying me by fire The new decisiveness in the Farms voice and attitiude froze the Mooses blood, `what do you mean ?`cried the astounded Moose . `Surely you dont mean.. The Mooses sentence was cut off by the flexing of the old Farms once strong muscles, flexing for one more ultimate effort. A puff of dust emerged from the blocked chimney, from within the main building could be heard a groaning and moaning as the Farm tore itself apart, doors and windows crashed down and were crushed by heavy beams and masonary, falling like a stack of cards. The half rotten stone foundations collapsing in on it self. The walls bending outwards before falling to the overgrown grund. The barn collapsing in a mighty roar of dust and noise. The Farm collapsing in on itself, no longer able to support its not inconsiderable weight on its rotting walls and beams. Its age now showing. The Farm fell! After a moment there remained nothing but a cloud of dust above the rubble of the once proud Farm. Nothing remaind but a deathly silence, lifeless and still ! The Moose could only stand and stare at what had happened. Mute witness to the suicide of the Farm. Everything had happened so quickly and even if the Moose could of tried to stop what had happened , he realised that he would not of been quick enough. The Farm had decided to take its own life and end it all with dignity intact. As the shock of what had happened passed from him, The Moose turned back towards the Forest. Passing as he did the orchard, he took a couple of bites of the once lovely fruit! But they no longer tasted as inviting and were no longer palatale to his taste. At the edge of the forest he stopped and turned to gaze at the destruction and the dust that had as yet not settled. Where the Farm had once stood was now a wasteland soon to be taken over by the forest . The Farm that had once been a proud memebr of a farming comunity, loved and cherished, was no more, missed by no one, mourned by no one except maybe the house mice that once cantered within its walls. Still confused the Moose turned back to the forest and like a grey soundless ghost vanishd into the October rain that quickly obscurred all and everthing. The End

Just wonderd if people read what is posted and if so why no comments. most odd for a writers forum.

I'm sure it's been read many times. Normally threads are responded to, especially ones containing stories, but this is not always the case. If you were looking for suggestions or specific feedback, perhaps it was just misunderstood. For my part, I've actually read it twice. During both readings the story just made me feel uncomfortable - it's too dark for my taste.

Thanks. But its actually a political statement about farming policies and subsidies from governments that force thriving communities to shrivel and die off. You just have to look at whatthe Us and the European Community is doing to Africa by dumping prices and raising subsidies to their own farmers. Sad really. Oh and its suppose to make you uncomfortable. Writing for comfort is really not writing. Thanks for your response. Mavros.

I like the story, however, it is riddled with grammatical and spelling errors. Also the cliche "leaks like a seive" could be replaced. It didn't seem in character with the house to use cliches. The story is very nice however, and conveys a lot of mood. It is deserving of some proofreading.

Thanks I am English but have lived in Sweden for24 years so my English does get rusty. Had to learn Swedish. One thing this wa written as a sort of test for ananimation series I am producing for Tv. My own production tat amselling to Tv.The frst in a series of 6. So there is a treatment and a proper shooting list. Thanks for your comments. Sometimes we become blinded to our own faults. Mavros