Historical
The Tragedy of Joselito
The boy woke up especially early. It was a hot autumn day and the last day of the Talavera de la Reina bullfighting season. He had devoted the entire season doing an assortment of jobs so he could buy a ticket for today’s spectacle. His hero, Joselito, would be in the ring and he would not miss it.
By MATTHEW FLICK3 years ago in Fiction
Bull Juice
The Furher is being injected with Bull Semen, read the highly top secret telegram. Bernard Cribbins stared at that particular passage again trying to figure out its significance for the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare. Was it means to which the world could get rid of one of it's most evil bastard's, was it a propaganda master stroke the equal of that one ball in the albert hall song that the boffins came up last year or was it what was usually placed on his desk, utter piffle? The report seemed even too far for this department. Sure, in the course of six years of long hard attritional warfare that had involved the murky worlds of murder, sabotage and espionage the men and woman of Cribbin's department had done some very ungentlemanly things but this seemed beyond the pale somewhat to the British. Maybe I should pass it over to the Americans, wondered Cribbins to himself.
By Paul Armstrong3 years ago in Fiction
The Bulls in My Life, the Guernica Painting, the Wall Street Bull
“To expect life to treat you good is foolish as hoping a bull won't hit you because you are a vegetarian.” ― Roseanne Barr 1 - A very important bull for me is in the Guernica, painting by Pablo Picasso
By Regia Marinho3 years ago in Fiction
Bull Leaping
“There is no feeling like it,” she heard her father’s words echoing in her head. “There is no feeling that is more thrilling. Your heart will pound and feel as though it is about to leap out of your throat. Your mind will narrow and focus, so that you’ll be able to see the smallest detail. You will never feel more in control of every muscle and limb of your body, then when you take your first leap”
By Patricia Corn3 years ago in Fiction
Perceptions in Predictions
Twilight had just set upon the little sleepy town in Michigan when two giggling preteen girls were hand in hand, rushing with certain determination as they discussed their plan for a secret reading from a traveling psychic. Their voices intertwined with the summer evening sounds of crickets playing an orchestra of music for the lightning bugs to dance with, the corn fields growing high enough to hide their path from distant onlookers.
By Dani Banani3 years ago in Fiction
Hanna Braun: The Girl Who Escaped the Nazis
I inhaled as the cold sea breezes blew against my face. I felt peace for the first time since my parents told me I was to board a train out of the country. I blocked out all of the memories of the past week and closed my eyes, imagining that I was gliding in the wind without a worry in the world. The December gusts began to bite at my skin, but I barely noticed it was there.
By Katelyn Hunt3 years ago in Fiction