Historical
Matador
It was 1925 in Andalusia, Spain. And it was an absolutely scorching summer. The chants from hundreds of attendees at a nearby corrida rung out in the air like deafening fireworks. A bull’s cries in the ring could also be heard; it hollered and hollered, as it knew it would not be too long until it lost its life.
By Jane Diokpo5 years ago in Fiction
An Ice Box for Mary
During the darkest of times, a bright light will sometimes swell out of hearts in response... It's called: "Love in Action". Our recent pandemic caused me to reflect on the account of another pandemic; and how it affected—not only its victim, but her entire community. This is their story:
By Karla Bowen Herman5 years ago in Fiction
"I've overheard a threat to kill the President"
“That’s the last speech Mr. Lincoln will ever give.” The man uttering the words had clearly not intended for Will Chambers to overhear him, but Will couldn’t help whipping around to look at him anyway. The crowd gathered outside the White House was solemn but triumphant; they listened to their President with rapt attention. Therefore, it surprised Will to find some ninny with overgroomed hair glaring at him.
By Ashley Herzog5 years ago in Fiction
Payday
1899. Like most of the townhouses in the area, the best days of 27 Mountjoy Square are behind it. Built in the previous century to house one of the ascendancy families of Dublin (who had long since departed for more fashionable areas south of the Liffey), it was now home to no less than eight families of Dublin’s rapidly expanding working class. At the top of the building, in a single room which would have once been occupied by a servant or two, lived Frank and Nora O’Driscoll along with their seven children.
By Donal Flanagan5 years ago in Fiction
Mahogany
Eliza Leslie, a comely woman, albeit rotund, struggled with the starched linen apron she adorned. The white apron starched to stiffness fought back as she struggled to tie the bow behind her back. She leaned against the massive wood baker's table to hold the apron in place. Usually, she enjoyed the quiet wee hours of the morning in the kitchen. Today, she would have welcomed the helpful hands of one of her students. To ease her frustration, she mumbled the words of one of her favorite authors, Walt Whitman:
By Faith Guptill5 years ago in Fiction
The Queen of Cakes
It was many years back in the land of France. Queen Marie ruled with a heavy heart and the mind of a true narcissist. But she always had desired more, mostly the finest desserts that only the world’s greatest culinary minds could serve her. However, each of these heads were soon disconnected from the rest of their bodies as they had failed to please her royal highness. From the most delectable vanilla cookies to the most beautiful strawberry bowls of ice cream, all expensive, all gorgeous, but all failures in the queen’s mind. But the one dessert that nobody could afford to serve her, her prime desire, chocolate cake from the rarest and amazing cocoa beans on the planet.
By Nathan Miller5 years ago in Fiction
The Devil and The Debutant
Jane stared longingly at the decadent chocolate cake perfectly decorated with intricate patterns of corded piping. Her stomach, to her embarrassment, roared out its want to devore more than the tiny sliver passed down to her. She looked down at her morsal hoping no one had heard and waited for everyone to have a piece before she could take her first bite.
By E. J. Strange5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iii Gabby sat down on a bench to watch the couple across the street. She’d first spotted them when they stopped off at the Town Hall earlier. She’d just happened to be out and about herself, running errands and picking up foodstuffs from the market on the corner of Fore and George Streets when she saw them. She knew the woman for one of the town’s Constables.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
Cherchez la Femme
My name is Lilith Meijer - Lily, to my friends and family. I was born July 8, 1910. I am a Jew. My family lived near Arnhem on a little farm until May 30th, 1940 – that dark day that the Germans invaded. We had heard rumors and whispers of what was happening to Jews in Germany; we thought we would be safe in the Netherlands. We were wrong.
By Matthew Stanley 5 years ago in Fiction
