Historical
Return to the great era of China's eternal emperor, the Qin Dynasty, and change the established history.
Hei's husband's family and Lizheng make an enemy. It started seven years ago when his eldest brother was longing to marry a woman from a neighboring village whom Lizheng's son took a fancy to ...
By Doering David3 years ago in Fiction
Now or Later
“This isn’t real. Please tell me I’m dreaming.” Jessamine put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. She had been sleeping, but the rattle of the boxcar had woken her. When she opened her eyes, the scene was the same: a loaded boxcar full of other people huddled together, with only one way out as the train sped along the tracks. “Where am I?”
By DarkRandall4 years ago in Fiction
Return to the great era of China's eternal emperor, the Qin Dynasty, and change the established history.
As far as Heifu knows, after Shang Yang's political reform, the state of Qin was divided into twenty titles, from the lowest level of male scholar and Shangzao to the highest level of Shanhaiguan Pass and Chuhou.
By Doering David4 years ago in Fiction
Return to the great era of China's eternal emperor, the Qin Dynasty, and change the established history.
More than twenty-four thousand money! ?” Black was shocked by this "astronomical figure". Darling, this can change into ten pairs of excellent armour. Converted into millet, it is more than 300 stones, nearly 20,000 Jin!
By Doering David4 years ago in Fiction
What Happened on the Way to Haparanda
When the man awoke on the train, it was hurtling at a steady speed. He had been sitting up while sleeping– something he wasn’t usually accustomed to doing. Any recognition or moment of recall that could have explained his current whereabouts evaded him. His mouth and lips were dry and had the unmistakable aftertaste of some peculiar type of liquor. He looked around at the surroundings of the compartment, perplexed, hungry, and in a fog of slowly dissipating fatigue. It was a second-class compartment. He had been on enough trains in his life to know that. Despite the dull aching that pinched his temples, he looked out the window.
By Wilson Campbell4 years ago in Fiction
A Historical Convenience
The violent movement of the train wakes the sleeping man finding the empty stein splattered all over the table and dribbling into the seat of the booth he shares with a well-dresses woman. Flickering lights concern the passengers where the man is confused on how he got on the train to begin with noting the style is familiar, but cannot place the time period. The man finds cigars in his green uniform pocket and decides he needs to smoke a cigar at that moment in the smoking car right behind his current train car as the rest of the passengers are in shock and hold loved ones. While smoking he somehow finds the lack of technology soothing unsure why him seeing a child’s coloring book and crayons thrown on the ground soothing while on his way to the smoking car. The train is going fast blaring past trees with all the windows opened by curious passengers noting a green train station, then a yellow train station, and finally a orange train station. The train makes a violent jerk to the right, the lights flicker on and off a bit before cutting off, and after the screaming dies the lights return on like nothing happened with the train chugging along at a quick speed. The man returns to his seat assuming the train had an electrical glitch with all beverages and coloring activities back on their tables where the well-dressed women read or look out the windows still blaring the same scenery, the children play and giggle, and the men are dressed in either uniforms or suits. The men in uniforms salute the man which has him look around seeing German military uniforms and comfortable civilians realizing he has no idea of what anyone is saying after deducing he is on a German train. The man salutes back to his seat to check his pockets finding only the cigars in a box, a wedding band on his left hand, and a small piece of paper with “Bolzano” and a German address on the folded inside part. The writing looked scribbled as if in a hurry and people watches unaware of anything being said besides Paris figuring the train either left Paris or is heading towards Paris figuring he may find out eventually when the train finally stops. Hours pass with the same series of events occur: the lights flicker where he decides to smoke another cigar unable to stop himself as the same trees, green train station, yellow train station, orange train station, and a hard jerk to the right occurs while smoking in the smoking car only to repeat once he reenters the train car where he is seated as if a time loop from hell or repeating bad dream is occurring. The cigars run down to the last one where the man, assuming he is a officer of some kind and in the SS having found lighting bolts on his collar, accepts his salutes on his way to smoke in the smoking car. This series of events repeats and repeats as the runaway train keeps going into nothingness driving the man insane seeing the same men, women, and children repeat their activities or conversations for hours as if nothing is wrong. Staying in the smoking car this time after the hard jerk to see if this changes anything the man attempts to read the newspaper in the train car unable to read read the newspaper as it is in German, but skims seeing the date having taking high school German recalling very little from the course says, “6 Juni 1944” and remembers that date is important for some odd reason unable to place his figure on. Being up for almost 24 hours of countless loops he closes his eyes in the smoking car instead of returning to the train car as usual falling asleep on the sofa hoping to perhaps wake up a train station and not the time loop hell he woke up to.
By Lindsey Duffett4 years ago in Fiction
Lucky's Walk To The Great Whale
Lucky’s first breath was given to him by the kind chestnut horse he was named for. The first of his souls was having a grand time whooshing round the other earth, the one with less water. The second waited by the horse for the right moment. His father’s souls and his mother’s souls willed the breath of life through the horse; the bodies of Jean-Paul Christmas and Catherine Annie Christmas were crushed and flung too far from the carriage for any miracle to save them. The horse also toppled but didn’t land in the ditch. Snow stuck on the horse's eyelashes, yet his warm sweating body and strongly beating equine heart brought the beautifully swaddled baby back to life.
By Soleika Roth4 years ago in Fiction
Bourgnew's Legendary Beginnings
At the beginning of the Kingdom of Bourgnew, the king was stressed about preserving the precious union of the nation. He admired the Greeks who after years of toil forged a new government where even the poorest could have a say, a democracy. King Gaius thought this to be the noblest task to make his nation. Since they were in the midst of a war, many times due to distress over governmental structures failing the people and rebels wanting to overtake the kingdom. He earnestly asked his advisors to come up with a democratic government. And they overseer and architect the government both day and night looking at past governments. And after many days and nights, nearly several months of the kingdom being on the edge. The overseers of the Bourgnewian Constitution found a government but it takes away the divine right of the Bourgnewian Monarch, king or queen, and may risk them losing all authority and abdicating if perjury or abuse of power because his advisors suggested the Democratic Republic.
By Distinguished Honorary Alumni Dr. Matthew Primous4 years ago in Fiction
Once a Slave, Always a Slave
Once a Slave, Always a Slave By Alex Zhang My elderly torn hands planted a seed into the sterile field as the once brilliant sky darkened. The tobacco fields were jet black, sweet jasmine aromas lingered in the air, and my feet were bare, walking into the chilled soil. Crickets chirped as if it were the last time they were going to chirp, as if they were going to die; die in misery. I wondered if I were ever to see light. Looking up visualizes a barren field, frozen with snow, with miles of field standing there, in front of me, that didn’t move. As a small little rodent hurried its way across the dead vegetation as a hungry vulture swooped down from where the brilliant teal-blue sky hit the valley, catching its prey. I looked to the valleys as a blurry image of a ramshackle village entered my eyes which wondered what brilliance was like. A few out of focused figures of thin unnourished men walked out of their villages. The sun rose out of the vast valleys that housed the soothing Tagus Tajo river, following into the Atlantic Ocean. A rooster called out to the sunrise. I needed the sun’s great nourishment or I would perish in a few weeks. Beside the impoverished fields laid the cotton pickers’ field. The old field filled with creatures like me standing lonely in the burdensome grass. Every step I took, soil crumbled beneath me and with every blink I conducted, a sweatdrop would penetrate my beaten white tank top. I gasped in awe at a scent, what could it be? Due to our immense hunger for every scent we smelt, we rushed towards it closely followed by a crowd. Was it Saturday? Or had I lost track of time? Every Saturday, starving slaves rushed to the farmland, holding out their cracked bowls for food. My mind jumped back to the scent. Like a hounddog, I traced back to its source. In the distance, I saw a ranch-style house with a wide covered screened porch with a yard with cows and goats grazing in the fenced pasture. In the sky of the fields, flies and bees buzzed in rejoice to the freshly harvested sugar, as they circled above it. All of a sudden, a distinctive figure walked out of the cabin, it was the landowner; my owner. I had no rights on this land, I could get shot or wipped anytime he wanted. I had completely lost hope. The farmland wasn’t the only place the slaves worked at, there was also the deep dark shafts filled with fear. Full-time slaves down in the shaft wondered always if they were to seek light in their life. Life was miserable down there, usually you would never come back out if you went down there; it was either death (they were very usual from stone collapses) or you were just stuck there. Nowhere in this grim and appalling land holds a paradise for us, it was all just a desert waiting for us to be killed in the midst of the sun beaming down on our faces. As the sun rose, I started to worry about the scenarios where I would get whipped. Pessimistically, I dropped my head in chronic fear; fear that one day I would get killed in an instant. Many things could have killed me in an instant in my condition: Smallpox, a huge virus that wiped out millions of slaves with no hygiene, getting tortured to death, getting shot for misbehaving, or starving to death, as we were fed very little from food that was rationed a lot. I accepted defeat, or did defeat accept me.
By Alex Zhang4 years ago in Fiction
