Historical
A Fleet's Night to Remember
It is the third rap on the door that Frederick Fleet is unable to ignore. It rings out through the near-empty flat with such nostalgia, a memory cutting through the ever-rumbling din of the trainyard that sits just across the street. It is a rhythm that, for a moment, he fails to consciously place; still, his body reacts, and turns over in his uncomfortable twin bed, back now towards the door. Frederick is ignoring him, as he was always want to do when he would wake him in the middle of the night: Ollie, the ruddy-faced, snaggle-toothed boy who wrongly assumed that family, foster or otherwise, means forever; Ollie, the younger brother that Frederick never in a million years asked for but always misses when he has even the smallest crumb of food to share; that is who he’s choosing to ignore. Him, and not the off chance that it’s really the wreck commissioner at his door, finally come to collect him for another day of testimony and inquisition. Frederick sucks his teeth in annoyance, tongue fiddling in the gap of a missing molar. And then, someone raps that rap at the door again, and Frederick is up.
By Alabaster Wynn4 years ago in Fiction
It's All My Fault
I was in the middle of packing my belongings for the long voyage ahead. Only a few days until the RMS Titanic gets its grand send-off. "David! Thank you for meeting me. I can see you're very busy." My friend Jim, who I’ve worked alongside for many years, entered the room.
By Anike Ayeni4 years ago in Fiction
So Many Gods Are Watching
We all have our gods, right? A lot of us are born into a faith, and with that, our gods are chosen. Even the atheists, though they say there is no god, make proof (or they would say, lack of it, in the case of god) and almighty science and reason their number one- that which is at the base of all, that which is causative, that which should hold the highest and most encompassing place in the space of a life or many lives or even, all time. Yep, you tell me, there is no god and I know you are simply unable, or unwilling, to recognize yours as such, which certainly does not mean you do not have one, or most likely, a few. These days, (and perhaps, it has always been such) even those who profess a one and only god, have at least some others to which they pay far greater homage.
By Cheryll G.4 years ago in Fiction
Empty Promises: part 1
We don’t talk about Titanic. That was the number one rule I had for my daughters. The elder two, Jane and Lucille, followed it with no trouble, for they were old enough to remember that night and just as reluctant to speak of it as the rest of us. Anne, my youngest and the only one born after the disaster, was… different. It was as if she and that ship were connected from the moment she was born. I suppose I should’ve seen it coming when she, in an ironic twist of fate, came into this world on the one year anniversary of the sinking.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland4 years ago in Fiction
Dear Diary
April 10, 1912 Dear Diary, Forever feels like far too long. I know I should be happy, after all it’s the first day of my new life as Ms Mrs. Greta Hughes. Nathaniel is a nice man. He has kind eyes like orbs of fresh ground cinnamon, curls that frame his face and a strong chiseled jaw like my father. All the girls were excited when he proposed, and they were even more excited as they tossed the rice above our heads as we exited the chapel yesterday. He’s a provider, set to take over his family business when his father retires. It was nothing for him to spend the money to buy two tickets for the maiden voyage of this ship as our honeymoon. I’ve never been on a ship before, but Nathaniel says that the RMS Titanic is special. My mother didn’t want us to go on the boat, seeing as how I never learned to swim. I told her she worries too much, and Nathaniel reassured her that he would take care of his blushing bride. As I write in you now diary, we are watching the crew bustle about filling the ship with cargo and luggage. We haven’t even boarded, and I am abuzz with excitement, but I’m afraid I’m not excited like I am expected to be. You see, I am not excited because this will be my first night with my husband, but rather I am excited about the prospect of adventure. I have never left England before, so the thought of traveling to an entirely new country fills me with a flutter of butterflies that until now I thought was only reserved for schoolgirl crushes.
By SharonSharpe4 years ago in Fiction
The Robber Baron's Son
I surfaced just in time to see the second funnel collapse. The explosions coming from inside the ship were deafening, punctuated by the tearing and twisting of metal. Even in total darkness, I could see the ship start to split in two. Sparks and flames shot into the air. The people still on board looked like a swarm of bees, hovering around the stern.
By Ashley Herzog4 years ago in Fiction
