Historical
Gift 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.
By Chelsea Peterson5 years ago in Fiction
JACK 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.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
My 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.
By Pseudo Nym5 years ago in Fiction
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.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
The Man with the Cart
Walter was a strong hulk of a man who was used to trundling his cart over the drawbridge and through the imposing entrance gate of the Tower of London, with the rotting heads of traitors looking down at him from the stakes on to which they had been thrust.
By John Welford5 years ago in Fiction
Put That Light Out
It might be thought that the idea of night-time blackouts in the United Kingdom as a form of civilian protection during wartime originated in World War Two with the legal requirement to hide all lights that might be spotted by would-be aerial bombers. Those who remember the TV comedy series “Dad’s Army” will recall the cry of “Put That Light Out” that was regularly issued by William Hodges, the long-suffering ARP warden.
By John Welford5 years ago in Fiction
Matador
It was 1925 in Andalusia, Spain. And it was an absolutely scorching summer. The chants from hundreds of attendees at a nearby corrida rung out in the air like deafening fireworks. A bull’s cries in the ring could also be heard; it hollered and hollered, as it knew it would not be too long until it lost its life.
By Jane Diokpo5 years ago in Fiction
An Ice Box for Mary
During the darkest of times, a bright light will sometimes swell out of hearts in response... It's called: "Love in Action". Our recent pandemic caused me to reflect on the account of another pandemic; and how it affected—not only its victim, but her entire community. This is their story:
By Karla Bowen Herman5 years ago in Fiction
"I've overheard a threat to kill the President"
“That’s the last speech Mr. Lincoln will ever give.” The man uttering the words had clearly not intended for Will Chambers to overhear him, but Will couldn’t help whipping around to look at him anyway. The crowd gathered outside the White House was solemn but triumphant; they listened to their President with rapt attention. Therefore, it surprised Will to find some ninny with overgroomed hair glaring at him.
By Ashley Herzog5 years ago in Fiction
