Historical
Jorvik
Jorvik (Vocal Contest) Gunnar thought he had seen enough barren wasteland, much like the villages surrounding his village. Grey and desolate places where Hel, the goddess of the underworld reigned. He was charged with anticipation as his ship sliced through the cold seas to reveal the land of the Celts. Formidable and bleak, there were spots of umber and green pockmarking the surface barely visible on the distant horizon. His men had been grumbling for weeks on this vessel and now he praised Thor for delivering them into nirvana. Rumors abounded throughout the land that gold and jewels were in plentiful supply once you left the shores of Scandinavia. Shining goblets, ruby rings, and so much coin that you needed twelve wooden trunks to carry it.
By Michael J Massey4 years ago in Fiction
I
T. S. Eliot wrote, "Here is how the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper." I do not know how the world will end, but I am beginning to understand exactly what he meant. I am old, so very old. I have forgotten more history than has been written about. I age slowly; you might think me a grandfather, perhaps a great-grandfather, but I am ancient beyond anything you have ever seen. Only the rocks and oceans are older than I am. You may not think they are alive, but I know better. Sometimes I feel the rocks have more life than I do. Soon perhaps they will.
By Randi O'Malley Smith4 years ago in Fiction
The Silent Train
In-between me and my freedom, there's a wooded labyrinth of blood and tears, hunger and fear. Treacherous waters meet those who make it through, rushing rapids for the desperate or a river frozen over for the brave. On the other side, my freedom sits mockingly atop a steep grassy hill. With the confederacy a river's width behind me, along with the souls of which came before me, I am now free.
By Olivia Robinson4 years ago in Fiction
The Old Oak
The Old Oak By Jonah Klever Our family parable holds that it was my grandfather who planted the tree. Our ranch didn’t have many trees, it was cattle country after all. Maybe it was the lack of competition, or the fertile, untouched land, whatever it was, this tree towered over our homestead. From it’s hillock, for three generations, it watched over us, our oaken guardian.
By Jonah Klever4 years ago in Fiction
THE SECRET BENEATH
PROLOGUE Miss Jane awoke to a freezing room and driving snowstorm. Best to get an early start this morning and warm up the classroom before the students arrived. She pulled on her woolens to wear under her skirt and finished getting ready in the dim light of dawn. Hard pellets of snow stung her face as she walked up the hill to the one room schoolhouse. She put wood chips in the pot-bellied stove and started the fire. Now she just had to review the lessons for the day while she waited for her dedicated learners to arrive in this snowstorm.
By Lisa Brasher4 years ago in Fiction
Pendarvis, The Reaper
Pendarvis looked upon a world that should have died ages ago, once afflicted by disease, suddenly given mercy by the forces outside its comprehension. But while the people in this city celebrated, balance was torn from the universe. There was too much life given and not the fair amount of death returned. And now, death was wanting.
By Joy Muerset4 years ago in Fiction
G-26
The train was cold, dark and long. They gave us no light, no food to eat, no place to relieve ourselves. After a while we wondered if it would continue to draw on forever, waiting for us to stop fighting for the last licks of life. Maybe this was the camp, and there was no place to stay after all. Just endless darkness, swimming in the foul, thick odor of death and feces, the moans and screams of the ill and injured, who we all knew wouldn’t survive the trip. It was a hopeless nothing.
By Pass The Pomegranate4 years ago in Fiction
