Historical
Strange Mini Dreams
I had a bizarre mini dream last week; I saw my aunt Willa dressed in a green two-piece suit with fur around the collar and a hat with fur trim. My aunt was always a smart and stylish dressing woman. She looked like she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and married well. The truth is quite the opposite she was born poor her mom worked as a maid sometimes her father worked on the railroad some and did some construction work. Now about marrying she did do well (for a poor woman) her husband was retired from the military. He was a high-ranking sergeant, so his check was above average. The way she spoke you would have thought she was very highly educated. She was like many poor black women of her day. She dropped out of school about the six grade and went to work to help her family. She passed in 1996 at the age of 82.
By Hadayai Majeed aka Dora Spencer4 years ago in Fiction
The Legend of Matt Hammer
The sun blazed down on the desert, baking the ground and everything on it. Even the lizards had tried to find some elusive shade. The man slowly plodded through the heat, his bare skin feeling like it was on fire. The war had ended, and he was now a free man. Freed by the soldiers from the north he had headed west in search of a better way of life. He had no family; his relatives had perished either on the boat on the way over or under the stress of the working conditions on the plantation. He had stolen a horse from a southern gentleman, and he had ridden as fast and as far as he could go.
By T.D. Zummack4 years ago in Fiction
Sunflower Sisters: 4 Stars
If you are a fan of "Lilac Girls" by New York Times best-selling author, Martha Hall Kelly, you'll want to add "Sunflower Sisters" to your list. This novel follows three stories. The first is the account of Caroline Ferriday's (One of the main characters in "Lilac Girls") ancestor, Miss Georgeanna Woolsey or "Georgy." The second follows Jemma, an enslaved young woman living on the Peeler plantation in Maryland. The third is the account of Anne-May, the cruel Mistress of Peeler Plantation.
By Leah Lawrence 4 years ago in Fiction
The Dragon's Library
Hello dear reader, my name is Rednar and I am a dragon. Before you go into a fit about how dragons don't exist you're right at this point however they did exist at one point. If you are reading this though then I am dead and with that death the final dragon has passed from this world. I'm not here to talk about the death of dragons though so let us depart from this subject. As a dragon I am a collector of items. You of course know the traditional things a dragon hoards. Gold, jewels, and other precious metals. However that is not the only thing we can hoard. Much like with humans, dragons can have preferences. My preference used to be the typical precious metals but one day it became books.
By Josephine Mason4 years ago in Fiction
Knock on the Door- An Army Brat Story
It was 2005. My mother, older brother Aaron, and my step father had just moved from central Kentucky to Fort Drum, New York in the middle of December. I remember how much the temperature changed each time we got out of my moms Ford Explorer each stop on the 16 hour long drive up. When we pulled out of our driveway in Somerset the temperature gauge (which we considered very high tech in a vehicle at the time) had read 43 degrees, when we arrived at Fort Drum, it was displaying a brisk -17.
By Amanda Hamilton4 years ago in Fiction
May's Luck
The dry leaves on the trees fluttered to the ground aimlessly, across the November sky. The ground was dry as the night settled in, May cast a resigned glance at the plants that had withered in her large garden. She had wept her share of tears and wished she could perhaps turn her tears to water her plants. The drought had hit the little Oak City with much grievousness, they all had no way to make their plants survive, the ground was hungry and the nearby streams dried up. The little water they got from the town pump was just what they all used to stay alive themselves. They could only watch as their plants withered one after the other and the gradual leanness in the portion of food served on the dinner table.
By Esther Fashola4 years ago in Fiction
WORKING TITLE: Silence Like Knives
I. The Curse had fully taken him, then. I’d always felt it my personal responsibility to watch over him- to care for him. And, yet, he now lay bare. Withered. Sprawled across the straw-filled makeshift mattress with little-other than a tattered cloth shielding his ever-paling figure from the World’s eye. The Widow Ayre had come to call, and was now seated at the edge of his bed. Upon entry, she brushed past my guilt-stricken figure, kneeling to analyze the man. After tending to the kettle, and livening the fire, the Widow set to attempting comforting him, delicately patting a dampened cloth across his sweat-stained complexion.
By Ireland Monét Cash4 years ago in Fiction
