Historical
Standing Ovation
This creature of a man is useless I tell you. I gave him a simple job and he stumbles and trips around his own bootstraps. I simply want him to bring the two crates to my room gently and not let it release a single sound from within. Elegantly lifting up the frills of my newly gifted dress I escort him down the long sunlit hall to the desired destination, my room. I am Marcia Vellum-Ovickstein and I am the sister to the bestfriend of a designer aboard this ship. I’ve arrived aboard for a show and plan on being the best show so that this ship will be known for it. My name shall thrive through history the same way I thrive through my different personality.
By Daveen Éveline 4 years ago in Fiction
Echoes of the only Black man from the Titanic
My anger and frustration knows no bounds as I watch, I am helpless, unable to move. My loving family is drifting slowly away from me. My wife is now left alone to struggle with our two daughters in this dangerous and unpredictably catastrophic nightmare of a night. They said you were unsinkable.
By Novel Allen4 years ago in Fiction
She rode for Freedom
She put the horse in a gallop, usually rode at a slow trot, but this morning she felt a sense of freedom. A smile finally crept onto her face. No facade just the real her. The happy free woman. And yes after last night she was free. She had cried at the time, but this morning all the sorrow had faded.
By Antoinette L Brey4 years ago in Fiction
Duty Below the Line
His eyes opened to see the rising sun through his bedroom window as another day began. He felt his wife Susan cuddling up to him and her hand exploring under the blankets. It was the beginning of a long-standing custom they had when he was to depart on a journey. It would be their last love-making for some time and marked the beginning of a separation for them that may last up to a month depending on the terms of the voyage.
By Doug Caldwell4 years ago in Fiction
Forgotten Names
Forgotten Names The abandoned church has no roof. The altar wall and south transept are held up by timber and scaffolding. Inside, the burial plaques of the local notables are still visible, recording long lives and many children, whose life journeys had barely begun. On its own, by the font, is an elongated memorial, puzzling in its brevity. ‘ET, died 28 November 1718, age 84; GT died 7 May 1721, age 85.’
By Tony Warner4 years ago in Fiction
