Historical
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
The Chirping In Your Ear
“Rich wankers, the whole lot of them,” George Patrick mumbled under his breath as he pulled another message from the outgoing message bin at the edge of his desk. His frustration had been growing as the evening wore on. He was quick on the wire machine, but with the machine being down the day before, clearing the backlog was proving to be quite the challenge, especially as the messages kept pouring in from the ship’s clerks at an increasing pace. He had been at it for the last two hours without a break. His fingers were cramping and his mind was starting to get foggy. He checked the clock on the wall. Only 8:45pm. It would be another five hours before the junior operator was scheduled to relieve him. Edward Flannery was a competent operator, but as a matter of pride, George wanted to clear as much of the backlog himself as he could.
By Kathryn Dorbeck4 years ago in Fiction
"What Music They Make
“They were drawn to it as creatures were unto the Ark, some of every kind, as they were from different walks of life, different cultures, and different races; though surely, as they boarded, they knew not that they were as sheep being driven to the edge of a cliff, nor that, they would be lambs being led to slaughter. Yet, at this hour, the flock found itself upon the brink of an analogous bluff.”
By Thurman Golemon4 years ago in Fiction
Nothing But Water
I don't recall her face, but why would I? We were in different classes, different lifeboats and, from what she's just told me, she spent all her time on the Carpathia stealing napkins to use as diapers. I, on the other hand, alternated between mourning my 19 lost trunks and collecting business cards.
By Lori Lamothe4 years ago in Fiction
Forever Sinking
I was very early to stir most mornings, well awake to the pitiable weather of my head and the view of my ceiling all fraught with a meddling flotsam of spectres that’d ripple over it in the hours before dawn. It nettled me to be so restless, and even before any hope of first light, to already be upright and drawing into my goose-fleshed ritual of winter dress.
By Rebecca Kahler4 years ago in Fiction
