Fiction
All's Fair in Love and War. Content Warning.
October 3, 1918 My Darling Nellie, I was saddened to hear of your father's passing. I know how much he meant to you and you to him. My poor dear girl, I cannot imagine the grief you must feel. If only I could be by your side to kiss your tears away and bring that lovely smile back to your face!
By Morgan Rhianna Bland2 years ago in History
Gold Frames.... Top Story - March 2025.
March 12th, 1915... My Dear Beth, I know that you were born a month ago, and named for your mother, my dearest Bess. She tells me that she kissed my gold-framed photograph each night, now on your behalf as well as her own, until you are old enough to do it yourself. I pray that the Great War will be over before then, or that I will have had leave enough to come home so you both can kiss me in person, before that time.
By Natasja Rose2 years ago in History
Hearts in Hiding. Runner-Up in Love Letters Through Time Challenge.
November 13, 1943 Amsterdam, The Netherlands * Dearest Edith, It saddens my heart terribly that this will be the last letter I am able to send you. Klaas flew into a rage today and I fear he will betray us if he has not already. His parents have been very generous to me, but with the scarcity another mouth to feed is something he says he will no longer abide. I will have to leave tonight and hope that the cover of darkness is enough to shield me from detection. I will go to the country and see if there is any farmer still willing to hide a man of strong body in his barn.
By D.K. Shepard2 years ago in History
A Final Appeal. Honorable Mention in Love Letters Through Time Challenge.
Dearest Beloved, Full three weeks have stretched their dreary course since last thy tender murmur graced mine ears. While the hours bereft of thy affection weigh heavy on my weary heart, yet still I feel the gentle linger of thy lips and taste the honeyed fragrance of thy breath. Though the call of battle did wrest thee from my arms, naught within this mortal realm could wrest thee from my heart. And so, I await thy return with trembling lips. Thy silence renders me speechless and pale, drawing questions from my lord. Thus forsaken, I count the days until I may bask within thy welcoming embrace once more.
By Laura Pruett2 years ago in History
A Letter To A Rose
My darling Rose, It has been a few days since I last heard from you. Since then, I have scribbled a few things down in the hope that you have received them. However, I fear that they may be lost or stolen away and in the hands of someone unworthy to read my precious words to you.
By A R D Wilson2 years ago in History
Dominus
I was a gladiator when you found me. I was living in close quarters day after day, smelling the stink of others' unwashed bodies- fighting them for space. Each day we were sent out to struggle for our lives while the nobility watched. We glistened with the fear-sweat of adrenaline as the cheers rolled over us from on high. Our pain was their pleasure. But I don't think it was ever yours. You'd known too much of pain to take pleasure in anyone else’s.
By Raistlin Allen2 years ago in History
Between Worlds
Pedro had always felt that life held secrets beyond what the eyes could see. Growing up in a small town, where everyday life seemed to repeat itself without much excitement, he nurtured an inner restlessness—a longing to discover something that would make him feel truly alive.
By A.short stories2 years ago in History
The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. Runner-Up in Love Letters Through Time Challenge.
Dear Billy It’s my favorite birthday card. Truly it is. I love it. You did such a good job drawing everyone. And I’m glad you didn’t forget Spitfire. She’d have been so cross! (She’s curled up in my lap, purring and watching me write.) I can’t wait to show your dad. He’ll be pleased as punch to see all those medals on his chest.
By Caroline Craven2 years ago in History
Letters . Runner-Up in Love Letters Through Time Challenge.
April 15, 1967 Dear Carly, I thought California was hot, but the air in Vietnam felt like it was on fire when I stepped off the plane. After twenty-three hours in the air, I don't think I ever wanted something to be over more in my life, and at the same time, I wanted to stay. I wanted to close the flight doors and ride that bird all the way back to you.
By The Invisible Writer2 years ago in History
Yours, Always. AI-Generated.
#WHY DISTANCE CAN NEVER FADE TRUE LOVE ! April 15th, 1942 England's London Thomas, my dearest, The days feel longer without you here. Since you left for the front, the city is different. The streets are quieter, the skies darker, and every time the sirens wail, I hold my breath and whisper a prayer — not just for our city, but for you. I keep your photograph by my bedside, the one we took by the river last summer. I often touch the corner of it, as though by doing so, I can feel your hand again. Do you remember that day? The sun was high, and you made me laugh so hard that I spilled my tea. Those moments feel so distant now, like another life. Mother is well, though she worries about you just as much as I do. She knits scarves for the soldiers, hoping one might reach you. I’ve taken up helping at the community shelter, handing out bread and tea to those who have lost their homes in the bombings. Even though it keeps me busy, my heart stays with you. Please write soon. Even the smallest word from you would mean the world to me. Yours, always, Elizabeth --- May 2nd, 1942 Somewhere in France My Sweet Elizabeth, Your letter was a light in this dark place. I read it over and over, imagining your voice with every word. It made me remember the river too — the way your hair danced in the breeze, the way you scolded me for making you laugh too much. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel that day again. Love, things are hard here. The nights are cold, and the days are loud with the sounds of war. We march through fields and sleep in trenches, and though I am surrounded by men, I have never felt more alone. But your letter — your words — they remind me why I fight. für Sie. For us. I carry the handkerchief you gave me in my coat pocket. It smells faintly of lavender still, though the scent fades a little more each day. It’s a small piece of home I refuse to let go of. Tell your mother I am grateful for her scarves — I hope one reaches me. Tell her I promise to come home to you both, no matter how long it takes. With every beat of my heart, Thomas --- October 18th, 1943 England's London Thomas, my dearest, The sky appears permanently gray as the days get shorter and colder. Another winter is coming, and I worry about you more with each passing day. Are you cozy? Do you consume enough food? I lie awake at night and wonder where you are, if you’re safe. I learned of a battle near the town from which you last wrote. I held my breath, waiting for the telegram boy to pass our door, praying he would not stop. He didn't, but I never forget the fear. I still walk to the river sometimes. It’s quieter now, fewer people, but I sit by the same bench where we once laughed and dreamed of the future. I talk to you there, whispering into the wind, hoping somehow you hear me. Write to me when you can. Even a single word will ease my heart. Forever yours, Elizabeth --- December 9th, 1943 Somewhere in Belgium My Beloved Elizabeth, I am alive. I am safe — for now. I know you must have worried when the news came of the battle, but I made it through. The loss of many of my friends that did not comes with a heavy burden. Your letter was a comfort. Knowing you still sit by our river, still speak to me there, makes me feel less far away. I wish I could be there with you, holding your hand, promising you that this war will end soon. But I can't lie: I have no idea when that time will come. We march on, through snow and mud, but I keep moving forward with the thought of you. I picture you in your coat by the river, waiting for me, and it gives me strength. My love, hold on. I will come back to you. Yours until my last breath, Thomas --- May 7th, 1945 England's London Thomas, my dearest, The conflict is over. People are singing, crying, and embracing strangers again on London's streets, but all I can do is wait by our window and watch the road in the hope that you will return to me. I have heard nothing from you in months. No letters, no word. I am trying not to fear the worst, but it is hard. Every soldier I see returning home makes my heart race — is this the moment I see you again? Please, if you are alive, write to me. Inform me of your upcoming return. I cannot bear the thought of this joy all around me if you are not here to share it. Forever waiting, Elizabeth --- May 20th, 1945 England's London My Dearest Elizabeth, I am coming home. I write this from a small hospital in France, where I have been recovering from an injury since March. I'm so sorry I couldn't get in touch with you sooner; I can only imagine how scared you must have been. However, I am alive and healing. And now, I am coming back to you. I think of the river, of our bench, and of you standing there with the wind in your hair. I will be there beside you again soon — not in a dream, but in life. Now that the war is over, we can finally begin our life together. Hold me in your heart a little longer, my love. I am almost home. Forever yours, Thomas.
By Samiha Bushra 2 years ago in History
