Historical
Something White in the Distance. Runner-Up in Ship of Dreams Challenge.
Wednesday, April 10, 1912 If it hadn’t been for the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, Emily would have sprinted up the gangway. Salt air whirled though the Southampton morning. Her ticket crumpled in her fist. She should tuck it into her pocket, but she didn’t dare. She needed to feel it in her hand. To see the words RMS Titanic in bold black ink. A year’s savings from her slim earnings. Second-class passage to America. To William. To their life together.
By Heather Chock4 years ago in Fiction
The Box of the Captain's Table. Runner-Up in Ship of Dreams Challenge.
Madelaine was rummaging in the archives of the lower basement, like usual. Why sweat and work yourself to a lather in the field, when you can work in the sub-basement on the hottest day and still be cool? And she still got to unearth treasures. Sure, someone else had found them first, but then they were stored and forgotten after being itemized - if they'd ever been properly itemized at all. Forget being filed; things were just dumped hodgepodge in boxes and crates as they were donated. She'd gotten a small wall's worth of proper filing totes and a handful of markers, and would only re-emerge blinking into the sunlight at meals or quitting time. But things were finally sorted in a way to be useful to future researchers... especially if you liked ledgers. Chock full of ledgers, they were. The local small town banks had donated them all when the big city takeover was complete, with contents and assorted ephemera that they'd gathered from the corners and storage rooms. No complete inventory had been successful, but Madelaine was more determined than usual. Being the re-discoverer, as it were - and displaying or storing things properly - was so much more fun than arguing with arrogant know-it-all entities about just how significant the placement of the jar on the left or right side of the burial meant if it was male or female.
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
The Stowaway
Like anchors, my feet weighed me down. They weren't moving. My brain screamed, but nothing. Kick your feet! Why aren't you kicking your feet? Nothing happened. My body wasn't listening to my brain as I slipped deeper and deeper into the cold abyss of the ocean. What happened?
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Fiction
And Then
The fresh ocean breeze caressed my cheeks and brushed my long curls that hung loosely down my back. I drew in a deep breath letting the cool air settle into the depths of my lungs enjoying the freedom as it washed over me. The sun was high in the sky, the ship was out of the harbour and sailing into the open waters. Looking back I saw the dock shrinking slowly, the people running about beginning to look like ants and the sound of the city fading so all that was left was the rushing of water down below. I decided to find my room and get settled.
By Shealynn Dubrule4 years ago in Fiction
Secrets
I’d known Derek Hastings my entire life, but never truly considered him until this moment. We first met when I was five and he was six, when his family moved into a brownstone just a few houses down from our own. We’d gotten along easily enough and found a mutual love for getting into trouble, whether it was cutting the hair off of his sister’s dolls, pouring ink into my mother’s tea, or hurling dirt clods at carriages as they drove down our street.
By Madeline Stone4 years ago in Fiction
Anchored
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” said the visitor. Charles lit up his cigarette and took a hit. “I am very interested in hearing the story that you told the good Doctor Mason.” Charles, appearing uncomfortable and reserved, readjusted himself in his seat. “I could come back another time. Perhaps after lunch?” Charles sat up and cleared his throat, “I don’t eat much.” “Do you talk much?” asked the visitor. Neville looked around the room to find everything in disturbing order; the bed was crisp, as if it had been untouched, and the shoes and garments were neatly kept. The only evidence of life in the room was a succulent in the window, a completed crossword puzzle from the folded up newspaper, and a steaming ashtray. “People seem to only want to talk about one thing,” he said with disappointment. Neville nodded, took out his voice recorder, and pulled up a chair, “The Titanic, yes? Well,” he paused, “Are you ready to go back?”
By Taimane Mitchell4 years ago in Fiction
Navratil's Boys
For the fourth night in a row, Michel Navratil lay awake on the top berth in his second-class cabin. He was attempting to fall asleep, and the roar of engines served only to stir up the consternation in his mind like some warm sea. He shuffled his body to the side of the wooden railing and yanked the velvety blue blanket under his chin and then over either side of his face, around his fashionable handlebar mustache in a futile attempt to muffle the endless noise.
By Katie Teesdale4 years ago in Fiction
Before the Rooster Crows
Lorenzo shuddered as blood trickled down the side of his face from a deep gash in his brow. "He’s had enough," Luigi said. The beating stopped. They had him tied to a chair in a cellar where the salted hind legs of pigs hung in rows like trophies. The dry air smelled like meat and salty wounds. "Untie him."
By Tyler Clark (they/he)4 years ago in Fiction
Floating Through Time
It was a cold, snowy day when I had my first time traveling experience. I was sitting in my grandmother’s living room, bored. I had never really believed in magic or any sort of mysteries of the universe. If time traveling were real, it wouldn’t be for many many years, until a scientist created it. I was firm in my beliefs. There were no alternate realities or dimensions, no portals to other places. All we have, all that is important, is the here and the now.
By Devin Anna4 years ago in Fiction
Nightmares
Ollie's rugged wrist twisted clockwise, with her thumb and forefinger clenching tiny cinder blocks in the form of keys. She pushed the front door open. A gentle slam left her caught in the stifling darkness and, for a single moment, a treacherous feeling tight around her neck.
By Andie Emerson4 years ago in Fiction
