Historical
Six of Swords
Come close, reader, see this newsstand: It is April 15th, 1912, and yesterday the great ship Titanic met its match when it struck a North Atlantic iceberg. We all know the story, but that is not why we are here. Move past the horrifying headlines of marine tragedy and see now, if you will, that magazine there – yes, The Popular Magazine with its nautical themed cover. Browse the collection and find our friend Thornton Hains, who submitted his story ‘The White Ghost of Disaster’ to the magazine for publishing well over a year ago, only to find it in print mere weeks before the sinking of the Titanic took place. What's that? No Thornton Hains? Check for his pen name; Captain Mayn Clew Garnett. Smart to publish under a nautical name when you're trying to sell sea-based fiction around boatyards, no? Let us imagine the moment the writer gleaned the idea for the story. Were there mystical oracles involved? Was it simply the musing of a writer who, unluckily, foretold of the exact conditions of this tragedy? A combination of the two? Let us explore whether anyone was saved on account of Thornton’s musings – scared away from traveling on the ill-fated ship, perhaps...
By C.D. Hoyle4 years ago in Fiction
Alone on a wide wide sea
It was cold and clear; a crisp night. Which could be expected on a moonless night, she told herself, looking up at the stars as she crossed the foredeck. There’s so many of them. What light they made, rippled in the ship’s wake along with the cabin lights, all magnified in their own reflection. She was quick to open the door on the port side, making her way into the stairwell the crew used.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
Luxuriously Lost at Sea
Morton Giesbrecht tested the sturdiness of the cable that would be soon his lifeline as he prepared to dive into the depths of the freezing Atlantic. Off the coast of the frigid Canadian province of Newfoundland, he was tasked with exploring the century-old wreck and recording anything that he could find inside in order to piece together the secrets of the long-lost liner, better known as the unsinkable Titanic. Looking over to his side, two other divers were preparing just as he was, suited up in warm clothing and equipped with head mounted high-definition cameras. As the waves pushed and rocked their medium-sized crane-equipped boat, Morton was grateful for the relatively stable weather, otherwise they would have pulled the plug on the mission for the day.
By Jesse Leung4 years ago in Fiction
The Small Sinking Boat
Deminic and Starella Claudia left home in Britain for an adventure to America. Deminic invited his baby sister Mezzy Mae and her new husband Amer Tonic to join in the experience. They all boarded a very tiny boat with a plan to travel for a bit. Some added creations made the boat more suitable to fit them all comfortably. Deminic was a builder and loved creating new things. His wife Starella could stitch or sew anything together better than anyone. Deminic used four smaller boats to develop a bigger boat to carry them all. At each end of the ship, he created a secured room for each couple to sleep. Starella made the blankets along with warmer clothing.
By Shelly Bartley4 years ago in Fiction
HEARTS' ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN
"Marge! Where are my socks?" He shouts. "In the box, dear, with your other clothes." "No, Oh, never mind, I found them. The last thing I need is trench foot." She shouts, "When does the boat leave?" He answers, "In about an hour." She says, "You know that gives us a little more time." He laughs and says, "No, I'm exhausted." He adds, "What will you do while I'm gone?" "Mary Ethal wants to take me to the country with her family for two weeks. She has promised it will be relaxing." He laughs and grabs her waist and kisses her cheek softly. She slips something into his pocket.
By Jeff Johnson4 years ago in Fiction
Fleeing from France . Top Story - April 2022.
"The reality was that an iceberg was not the true culprit of Juliette’s heartbreak." Her senses were overwhelmed, her eyes trying to cut through the darkness. Her ears pierced by the sound of panic and destruction, her nose filled with the smell of smoke, the taste of salt water lingered on her tongue. Her hands cold and wet, Juliette clung to her two small daughters, shielding them from the ice cold wind and waves, in a lifeboat that didn’t seem sturdy enough to make the voyage, to land, wherever land was. Her tears froze at the peaks of her cheeks, not only traumatized by the unforeseen crash, but the mere fact that she was now alone. Two children under the age of 4 years old and one fighting to thrive in her womb and her husband lost among the wreckage.
By R.A. Moseley4 years ago in Fiction
