Fic: Settings I: The Kent Farm (1/1)
Title: Settings I: The Kent Farm (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: The Kent Farm, Eben/Sarah, Jonathan/Martha, Clark/Bruce, Dick
Series Notes: This series will focus on the settings of the DC Universe, in different timelines and ‘verses, and sometimes with different pairings. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Challenge, Drama, Historical, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Claim: For the dcu_freeforall Challenge (Clark/Bruce)
Prompt: T 1; P 33: Kent Farm
Prompt Count: (14/15)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Kent Farm has survived from the days of Bleeding Kansas to the day that history was changed forever and beyond.
Date Of Completion: March 13, 2009
Date Of Posting: August 7, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 771
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The soil slips
Through my fingers,
Rich and good,
The smell of apple blossoms
Sweet perfume
On the night air.
The Irish say
That the only thing
Worth fighting for
Is the land.
My heart
Is here
On the farm.
Sarah Jean O’Hara
"Home Is Where..."
1939 C.E.
I take my strength from the soil, good and rich, and return it in the fields of silken corn and gnarled old apple trees.
The smell of baking apple pie comes from the kitchen, and windchimes tinkle merrily on the front porch.
I have seen generations of the Kents on this farm, since the days of Bleeding Kansas, when the blood ran red and sunk deep into my soil, when gunshots and screams rent the air and vigilantes rode the countryside.
The Kents came here in those days to settle the land as those who believed in the Abolitionist cause. They put the plow to the soil and raised up corn and wheat, and built a modest house as befit hard-working folk, and drove off the pro-slavery vigilantes as the Great Cataclysm approached.
Smallville was the town that had been established in those days, and grew into a charming little place, and would one day be a good place to raise a family.
Then the Great Cataclysm came, and the earth trembled and the blood ran as I felt the great upheaval in the East, spreading to the Midwest, and the bones and flesh falling to the earth, dust-to-dust, returning to Mother Earth as the wails of those left behind rent the air.
They were perilous times, and Sarah and Eben Kent sent four sons to war, and only two come back, one so shattered that he found it hard to live as he had before.
Finally, the country stopped tearing itself apart, and the generations of Kents flourished as I nurtured them. The original house grew bigger, the barn as sturdy as ever, and the pumpkins grew fatter and the corn taller. The house was filled with laughter and love.
There were other wars, but mostly on other shores, and the house was sometimes sorrowed, but there was pride and honor.
The farm was nearly lost during that awful time known as the Great Depression, and I feared my family would be lost to me, but somehow we weathered the storm, as frightening as any tornado that swept the Kansas plains, and we survived another earth-shattering war.
Hope was always part of the house, and there was peace here, and the town grew prosperous again, my partner in the way of things.
And then, one day, the stars fell on us.
Jonathan and Martha were newlyweds and happy, though there was a gray thread of sorrow running through silver clouds. But they loved me, and nurtured the land as I nurtured them, and the flowers bloomed and the corn grew, and their kindness was well-known in town.
And then on that fateful day a few years after their wedding, a rocketship hurtled down from the sky, plowing into my earth, and my Kents found it, and the child within.
The child from the stars.
Jonathan and Martha brought him home, and I sheltered him within me. Love filled my home, and this special Starchild brought so much joy.
He was different, not of this Earth, but he grew to love me, this small patch of the planet that he called home. He dug his fingers in my soil and cared for this beautiful farm, and he would always call it home, his haven. He learned what it was to struggle as Nature brought her power, and claim us as his own. A man of hard work, of the earth, of the country’s backbone, these people who tilled the soil.
And when he started his career as the World’s Greatest Hero, I was so proud.
The holidays were always celebrated with great fanfare and love here, from magical All Hallows’ Eve to bountiful Thanksgiving (my gifts of the Earth!) through sparkling Christmas. Valentine’s Day was love. The Fourth of July was Smallville. And always he came home.
Always I was the haven for him when he needed peace.
He learned to love us here, this planet, this people. Bound to me. Bound to us.
And when he brought home the Aristocrat with the sparkling Pixie, I knew he had found his heart.
A new family was beginning on the Kent farm, a new generation to love this special land.
The Pixie child loved me right away, and the Aristocrat learned to do so, because he loved the beloved Starchild.
And it was good.
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: The Kent Farm, Eben/Sarah, Jonathan/Martha, Clark/Bruce, Dick
Series Notes: This series will focus on the settings of the DC Universe, in different timelines and ‘verses, and sometimes with different pairings. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Challenge, Drama, Historical, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Claim: For the dcu_freeforall Challenge (Clark/Bruce)
Prompt: T 1; P 33: Kent Farm
Prompt Count: (14/15)
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Kent Farm has survived from the days of Bleeding Kansas to the day that history was changed forever and beyond.
Date Of Completion: March 13, 2009
Date Of Posting: August 7, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 771
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The soil slips
Through my fingers,
Rich and good,
The smell of apple blossoms
Sweet perfume
On the night air.
The Irish say
That the only thing
Worth fighting for
Is the land.
My heart
Is here
On the farm.
Sarah Jean O’Hara
"Home Is Where..."
1939 C.E.
I take my strength from the soil, good and rich, and return it in the fields of silken corn and gnarled old apple trees.
The smell of baking apple pie comes from the kitchen, and windchimes tinkle merrily on the front porch.
I have seen generations of the Kents on this farm, since the days of Bleeding Kansas, when the blood ran red and sunk deep into my soil, when gunshots and screams rent the air and vigilantes rode the countryside.
The Kents came here in those days to settle the land as those who believed in the Abolitionist cause. They put the plow to the soil and raised up corn and wheat, and built a modest house as befit hard-working folk, and drove off the pro-slavery vigilantes as the Great Cataclysm approached.
Smallville was the town that had been established in those days, and grew into a charming little place, and would one day be a good place to raise a family.
Then the Great Cataclysm came, and the earth trembled and the blood ran as I felt the great upheaval in the East, spreading to the Midwest, and the bones and flesh falling to the earth, dust-to-dust, returning to Mother Earth as the wails of those left behind rent the air.
They were perilous times, and Sarah and Eben Kent sent four sons to war, and only two come back, one so shattered that he found it hard to live as he had before.
Finally, the country stopped tearing itself apart, and the generations of Kents flourished as I nurtured them. The original house grew bigger, the barn as sturdy as ever, and the pumpkins grew fatter and the corn taller. The house was filled with laughter and love.
There were other wars, but mostly on other shores, and the house was sometimes sorrowed, but there was pride and honor.
The farm was nearly lost during that awful time known as the Great Depression, and I feared my family would be lost to me, but somehow we weathered the storm, as frightening as any tornado that swept the Kansas plains, and we survived another earth-shattering war.
Hope was always part of the house, and there was peace here, and the town grew prosperous again, my partner in the way of things.
And then, one day, the stars fell on us.
Jonathan and Martha were newlyweds and happy, though there was a gray thread of sorrow running through silver clouds. But they loved me, and nurtured the land as I nurtured them, and the flowers bloomed and the corn grew, and their kindness was well-known in town.
And then on that fateful day a few years after their wedding, a rocketship hurtled down from the sky, plowing into my earth, and my Kents found it, and the child within.
The child from the stars.
Jonathan and Martha brought him home, and I sheltered him within me. Love filled my home, and this special Starchild brought so much joy.
He was different, not of this Earth, but he grew to love me, this small patch of the planet that he called home. He dug his fingers in my soil and cared for this beautiful farm, and he would always call it home, his haven. He learned what it was to struggle as Nature brought her power, and claim us as his own. A man of hard work, of the earth, of the country’s backbone, these people who tilled the soil.
And when he started his career as the World’s Greatest Hero, I was so proud.
The holidays were always celebrated with great fanfare and love here, from magical All Hallows’ Eve to bountiful Thanksgiving (my gifts of the Earth!) through sparkling Christmas. Valentine’s Day was love. The Fourth of July was Smallville. And always he came home.
Always I was the haven for him when he needed peace.
He learned to love us here, this planet, this people. Bound to me. Bound to us.
And when he brought home the Aristocrat with the sparkling Pixie, I knew he had found his heart.
A new family was beginning on the Kent farm, a new generation to love this special land.
The Pixie child loved me right away, and the Aristocrat learned to do so, because he loved the beloved Starchild.
And it was good.