Historical
"Unraveling the Enigma: The Truth Behind the Bermuda Triangle"
In the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, near the Southeastern coast of the United States, lies a region that has fueled centuries of mystery and speculation – the Bermuda Triangle. Despite being an unofficial designation, this imaginary area of water has gained infamy for the disappearance of more than 50 ships and 20 planes since the mid-19th century.
By Purna Smith2 years ago in Fiction
The Orphan. Content Warning.
This story has been written in response to L.C. Schäfer's proposal to spend 2024 losing my mind...sorry, I mean, choosing to write a microfiction story every day, making 366 stories for every day of this lovely leap year. You can check her original story out here:
By Rachel Deeming2 years ago in Fiction
Top 5 Terrifying Demons And The Chilling Stories Behind Them
1 Lady Midday Eastern European farmers would be well advised to remember to take a lunch break in order to avoid running into Lady Midday. Known by another name, the Noonwraith, she is a nomadic ghost who punishes people she finds struggling through midday because she sees it as a holy hour set out for rest. Despite the fact that there are several interpretations of the mythology, she can be found in the folklore of many nations, including Serbia, Poland, Russia, and Ukraine. All of them share the trait of being lethal at the touch of her hand.In addition, it is a popular belief that Lady Midday wears a white robe and uses the wind to glide around farmers' fields. However, there are regional variations in Lady Midday's age, hairstyle, and beauty. Even in the event that.
By David Andrews2 years ago in Fiction
People of Color
January 4: World Braille Day DISCLAIMER: I was born without the wherewithal to write this. Born three months premature, I required oxygen support for four months thereafter. My retinas detached, as they are prone to do when greedy and adventurous retinal blood vessels are gifted extra oxygen.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
Creative Writing
The midsummer pre-twilight sun hung low in the sky, tainting the clouds with a mixed hue of pink and brimstone. Our parents had sent us on our first errand to fetch water from the river, which was a ways away from the village, deep into the main part of the forest. We saw this as an opportunity for adventure since we’ve never left our little village in Ondo. It was the 1960s in southern Nigeria, and leaving our grove had been our quest ever since the bossy white people left. Mother says we are supposed to have obtained “sovereignty” and “freedom” now that they’re gone, but nothing felt free about cooping us at home, occasionally allowing us to work at the farmlands. We wanted to venture deep into the forest like the mature men do, and finally, we were presumed old enough to have a chance at it. This didn’t include Bola though; he was still a bumbling ten-year old who couldn’t even hold a machete straight. He was only allowed to go because I would be with him, showing him the ropes like a big bro would.
By Tonye Alalibo 2 years ago in Fiction
Trap Door
Canicatti, Sicily | July 10th, 1943 | 9:27A.M An annoyingly beautiful orchestra of chirping stirred Rosalie from her deep sleep, pulling her from her dreams. She stretched out her arms until all of the kinks between her joints either popped or cracked. Then bent her neck from side to side, achieving the same relieving effect. She wiped away the sand from the corners of her eyes with her knuckles, then rolled herself out of a make-shift straw bed.
By Kale Sinclair2 years ago in Fiction
