Historical
Boldo's Honor
1941- Dallas Blue and gold crepe streamers danced from the gym's rafters and overlooked the teenagers on opposing sides below. Boys in blue jeans and plaid button-down shirts congregated near one wall and leered across the polished hardwood at the girls.
By J. S. Wade3 years ago in Fiction
New Kemet Ch1
I have been given the great honor to write of our nation's history. Jonathan Baptiste, our nation's father and the first Grand Chieftain is the only place to start. As we know he was many things, he captained ships at sea, commanded troops on the ground, and corresponded with kings. I will do my best to honor his name and the history of our great nation.
By Qa'id Ali Harris3 years ago in Fiction
Waiting to go to School. Third Place in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Young Adult Fiction. Top Story - November 2022.
Malika wrapped her small fingers around the stainless steel tumbler for warmth as she stepped into the crisp, foggy mountain dawn. Her bare feet gently thudded on the ground as she moved to sit on the stair that surrounded the one-room mud hut she called home.
By R. J. Rani3 years ago in Fiction
The White Christmas
Am I prepared for this Christmas? I am aware that many people have been anticipating their Christmas gifts since the beginning of the cold season. We dive headfirst into the holiday shopping season, searching high and low for the most thoughtful presents to give to our loved ones. Having a cup of coffee in the snow is a match made in heaven.
By Hazel Paradise3 years ago in Fiction
The Worst Table
I was on vacation exploring famous locations in the historical wild west. As luck would have it, I arrived in Deadwood, South Dakota, on Wednesday, August 2, 2016. It was exactly 140 years ago to the day when James Butler Hickok (aka Wild Bill) was killed. I had to stay and learn all I could about the real man and the legend.
By Mark Gagnon3 years ago in Fiction
They burned the witch
Margrette languished atop the pyre with its blistering flames already lapping beyond her knees, the stubble remnants of her hair were smouldering, her clothes had long become ashes in the wind. The delirium borne purely of searing pain, delivered kindly to her, her mother’s voice and once again she was six, picking dandelion and foxglove and wormwood and sage. It was better that her mind went there than remain in the present but even the sweetness of memory could not protect her.
By Wendy Thacker3 years ago in Fiction
The Age of Aquarium
The grounds seemed much more crowded than usual. No matter. This meeting was of the urgent variety and if I had to temporarily accelerate my speed to maneuver through these people, it would be worth it. I’ll just have to pay the price later. It’s still taking me a while to get used to the brief healing period after drawing on these new powers. I made a mental note to add that to the list of questions already swimming in mind.
By Emily Shaw3 years ago in Fiction
Lost Things
It all starts because there’s a certain Great White shark—small for its species and covered in thick, white scars—who has a disposition for mayhem. It bangs against the glass of the aquarium when visitors stop to ponder the aquarium life, or even as they pass. The shark seems to have an intuition about which guests have a more sensitive constitution, as it has a great track record of singling out which people will scream the loudest, which children will be so terrified that their parents will have a talk with the administrator about that “godawful beast.”
By Noel Mallory3 years ago in Fiction
