Historical
Echoes of the only Black man from the Titanic
My anger and frustration knows no bounds as I watch, I am helpless, unable to move. My loving family is drifting slowly away from me. My wife is now left alone to struggle with our two daughters in this dangerous and unpredictably catastrophic nightmare of a night. They said you were unsinkable.
By Novel Allen4 years ago in Fiction
She rode for Freedom
She put the horse in a gallop, usually rode at a slow trot, but this morning she felt a sense of freedom. A smile finally crept onto her face. No facade just the real her. The happy free woman. And yes after last night she was free. She had cried at the time, but this morning all the sorrow had faded.
By Antoinette L Brey4 years ago in Fiction
Duty Below the Line
His eyes opened to see the rising sun through his bedroom window as another day began. He felt his wife Susan cuddling up to him and her hand exploring under the blankets. It was the beginning of a long-standing custom they had when he was to depart on a journey. It would be their last love-making for some time and marked the beginning of a separation for them that may last up to a month depending on the terms of the voyage.
By Doug Caldwell4 years ago in Fiction
Forgotten Names
Forgotten Names The abandoned church has no roof. The altar wall and south transept are held up by timber and scaffolding. Inside, the burial plaques of the local notables are still visible, recording long lives and many children, whose life journeys had barely begun. On its own, by the font, is an elongated memorial, puzzling in its brevity. ‘ET, died 28 November 1718, age 84; GT died 7 May 1721, age 85.’
By Tony Warner4 years ago in Fiction
And Still They Played On
They weren’t going to make it, of that John Hume was sure. There were too few lifeboats, too much panic, and too cold of water. When he had walked across the pier onto the “unsinkable” ship four days prior, twenty-one year old Hume could never have guessed that this would be his fate. He tore open the door, peering down the hallway as people rushed to and fro. Across the hall, Percy used his body to prop open the door as he hefted his cello in front of him. With a grim, hopefully reassuring smile, Hume grabbed his violin case and headed up to the deck. It was bitterly cold, the frigidness of the night sky providing no warmth as he made his way over to the piano perched upon the deck, where Theodore already sat, playing a church hymn that made Hume smile despite himself. He set his case on the ground, pulled up a chair, and began tuning his violin.
By Robin Laurinec4 years ago in Fiction
The Saboteur
I have to assume they finally found the Titanic, or you would not be reading this. Before my death, I left explicit instructions with my barrister to leave this letter sealed until the remains of the old girl had been located. Now I, Patrick Callahan, saboteur extraordinaire, will tell you how the ship sank, and it wasn’t done by a bloody iceberg.
By Mark Gagnon4 years ago in Fiction
