Historical
October 6th
If the pear tree had the ability to speak to her, to tell her exactly what it was thinking, what might it say she wonders.
Cerys LathamPublished 3 years ago in FictionOne Special Delivery
My name is Levi Meijer, and I want to be a world-famous artist. I was born August 12, 1930. I am a Jew. My family lived on a small farm near Arnhem, May of 1940, when the Germans destroyed our home. We had to run to the woods in the dead of night to escape, while the house our family built was ruined. I hate the Germans.
Matthew StanleyPublished 3 years ago in FictionForbidden Love
In her youth, Teodora was considered by most a handsome girl. She was of average height, slender, and of fare complexion. She boasted long dark brown hair that she always kept in a braid, was well blessed in the chest, and had wide hips, good for birthing. Her deep blue eyes under her dark eyebrows were the talk of the village.
Jason W SchaeferPublished 3 years ago in FictionI'll Be Seeing You
Julia wearily trudged to the victory garden in the back yard of her childhood home. An only child, she’d inherited the place when her parents died in a car wreck the previous year.
To the Marshal's Surprise
The jail door clattered closed behind Doc as he followed Wyatt into the dusky streets. They surveyed the surroundings then ambled up the street toward a nearby saloon. The hammering of Doc’s heartbeat began to ease as the adrenaline seeped out of his limbs. Exhaustion tugged heavily on his eyelids. He was grateful for it. Sleep would welcome itself in as soon as he lay down.
Blaze HollandPublished 3 years ago in FictionThe Devil and the Debutant
The Duke of Portland’s affairs were not as far in the dregs as he had originally been led to believe. It took only a little investigating to learn that the estate, all though disorganized and inefficient, was still prosperous and therefore lucrative. It took only a few weeks of browbeating, bribing, and throwing his title about for the people to realize he was no ordinary Duke and that he would not neglect what was his.
E. J. StrangePublished 3 years ago in FictionThe King Is In Town
The king was in town. Peter had correctly thought that the king’s would bring with him glory and splendour, a mighty army, and a fearsome, awe-inspiring presence that commanded homage. He had naively misunderstood that the king bringing an entourage of soldiers meant that greedy, armed, untouchable men would be prowling the streets, demanding whatever they pleased, and unkind towards resistance.
Christy DavisPublished 3 years ago in FictionJACK OF DIAMONDS
Chapter14 (second installment: part 3) iii Claire looked up at what she’d always considered was the elegance of Marlborough House, marvelling at the beauty of it; the ivied gables seemed to give the house an air of grace she felt was missing from many of the other Manor houses in the area. That’s because Marlborough House is the oldest, she told herself. It was a distinction she’d never taken into consideration before, but she knew it made a difference when you worked in a place like this. She’d told Greggson as much when she’d first made arrangements two weeks earlier to bake three dozen pies. Artie had insisted she make the effort, and while Greggson had been reluctant to accept her help at first—and what cook would want her in their kitchen, she wondered?—she’d explained exactly that to Artie, and a week later Greggson had reluctantly agreed.
ben woestenburgPublished 3 years ago in FictionGift to the Gods
Dimitris listened with a panicked mind. He had been summoned to the house by Kyriakos himself. The senator’s courtyards were magnificent and meticulously kept. Dimitris was awed by the archways and hallways he was hurried through by two guards. He could not keep Kyriakos waiting.
Chelsea PetersonPublished 3 years ago in FictionJACK OF DIAMONDS
Chap 9 pt2 (IS LOST TO ALL CONVENTION...) Lunch was a sumptuous affair served in a gazebo overlooking the gardens; the only access to it was an outdoor staircase forty feet wide bordered with rhododendron, hyacinth, and azalea no longer in bloom. Artie counted thirty steps before losing count. The gazebo was built on a landing above the garden, its base a wall of solid brickwork stained green by lichen, moss, and time. Artie looked out at the endless passage of walkways, their red and white brickwork meandering through the garden Artie imagined would be a mosaic of colours during the summer. There were decorative benches and delicately made arbours that were almost hidden in tight recesses. Two streams of water tumbled down two troughs of broken stones—the water eagerly catching the afternoon sun in a cascade of colours. Willow trees wept in the distance, near a greenhouse, their tentacled branches dancing in a light breeze, scratching at the sky—but the sky was a clear blue, what few clouds there were earlier, blown out to sea long ago.
ben woestenburgPublished 3 years ago in FictionMy Deception
The Second World War was a mess for the whole world, but the role I played in it was particularly deceptive. I was born and raised in Germany and lived there for about fourteen years of my life. Once I understood more about the world around me, a fascist leader was coming into power, and I was manipulated to change my entire life. My accent had to change, my clothing, my family, and my friends all had to change. The men who made me do all this had me believe it would all be so easy. I didn’t know I would be helping cause so much pain and distress.
JACK OF DIAMONDS
(In The Afternoon With A Faun...) i Artie carried the boxes up the stairs, looking every bit the servant he felt he was, watching Agatha ahead of him trying to fit the key into the door. The Inn was typical for a village the size of Chumley, he supposed; no more than six rooms, with a narrow hallway, a wooden floor worn out through years of use, and the walls painted a faded yellow. Three new electric fixtures lit the hallway, as well as four large windows letting in the late afternoon light.
ben woestenburgPublished 3 years ago in Fiction