Historical
Whisbreatru In Salem Village, 1692. Content Warning.
I begged him not to go. These examinations are based on deception, those girls are lying! I grabbed the saddle from his horse that he wrangled away from me. A stubborn old fool who was willing to delve into the preposterous belief that they would not turn on him. Then he, when accused, should turn on me. Here I have devoted my life to becoming a good wife to him and a woman of God. As such I could not condone lies. I have a mind and because I will speak, I am cast as wicked. I pray for these souls. I am a woman of the church that is why Giles married an old soul who could bare him nothing. He knew I read books. He knew I was more invested in truth, as it will bring our souls to the purity, we once all were. He knew yet he has joined the accusers.
By C. H. Richard2 years ago in Fiction
Phantomoscillia
Halloween was still a few weeks away. With the winds coming off the bayou, it got a mite chilly at night but during the day was still warm. In early evening, I made my way down the streets of New Orleans, passing the walking tours, full of tourists soaking up all the grisly history that filled the streets with gore and lore. I don’t need to pay for a tour, I have seen all the haunts before.
By Kate Kastelberg 2 years ago in Fiction
The Road to Santa Fe
A note from the author: due to the reception that my previous piece in this series received, I will be attempting to write an entire novel based on Quinn's journey for NaNoWriMo. I am presenting this next chapter here now in order to tide those of you who enjoyed "The White Oak" over until I've finished the book.
By Paul Martyn2 years ago in Fiction
"Elemental Symphony: A Quest to Save Elysium"
Once, in a land veiled by enchantment and wonder, there existed a realm known as Elysium, a place where magic thrived and mystical creatures roamed freely. Its majestic forests whispered ancient secrets, and its skies shimmered with ethereal lights.
By Kingxmentv2 years ago in Fiction
The mysterious Manuscript
The Voynich Manuscript, an ancient and puzzling artifact, has long been regarded as one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in the world. Named after Wilfrid Voynich, the Polish book dealer who acquired it in 1912, the manuscript has baffled researchers, cryptographers, and historians for centuries.
By George Wayne 2 years ago in Fiction
"The Secret Garden"
Once upon a time, in a tiny village that snuggled beneath a mighty mountain, there lived a curious child named Lily. Everyone knew Lily for her unquenchable thirst for adventure and her deep love for the wonders of nature. She spent her days exploring meadows, climbing tall trees, and chasing fluttering butterflies.
By Eyaquit Zaman Imran2 years ago in Fiction
Microminiflorescence, the story of Inflorescence
As I walked among the lovely flowers growing within the splendiferously magnificent garden, I felt awed and greatly blessed. Glorious blooms of ethereal loveliness were sprouting their many and varied petals of proud and regal colorful varieties, happily smiling with the sun and sky.
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
They Shall Not Grow Old. Content Warning.
“In Flanders’ Fields, the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,” -0- With a piercing shriek the whistle blew, the sound that haunted Sister Margret’s every moment. Waking or sleeping she could hear that deadly sound, and just behind it the screams. Roars of men thundering over the top, wails as bullets took them, cries of terror as their well-trained feet carried them forward, towards the only hope of survival.
By Alexander McEvoy2 years ago in Fiction
Tethered
Calliope's in the back yard, training yet, another pup. She fosters them from the nearby shelter. This one’s all black, short and stocky with a square head. Strong and playful, she struggles to keep the dog from pulling her off her feet. The pup is just that – a pup. I’d guess seven or eight months old. Reminds me of days gone by with my Granny Sawyer, training our herding pack.
By Cathy Schieffelin2 years ago in Fiction
Nightmare
It was a quiet night, the moon hanging low in the sky, casting eerie shadows across the small town of Willowbrook. Sarah lay in her bed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but sleep eluding her like a distant dream. The room was still, the only sound the occasional rustling of leaves outside her window. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that the darkness held secrets it was reluctant to reveal.
By Stevee Tobs2 years ago in Fiction
