Historical
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iii She ended up twisting her ankle and cried out in pain as she fell out of sight into the tall grass. They’d been playing a make-shift game of tag, and she’d turned in an effort to avoid him. That was when she fell. Artie ran over to her—panting—looking down at her for a moment before dropping to on one knee and reaching for her foot. She tried pulling it back, and he looked at her sternly.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
You Can't Go Home Again
The warm spring breeze felt amazing coming through the open window of the carriage as it creaked and rolled down the long dirt road. It felt so good to be outside of the hospital. The months of long hours cooped up in dark rooms had begun to take its toll on Howard. It seemed nearly every minute of his time was filled by some aspect of his work but he didn’t regret the exhaustion that came with it. How many young doctors could say they were heading the formation of a brand new department in medicine? It was an honor that made his head swim if he pondered the thought for too long. He was thankful for the break and the opportunity to come home and visit his family. He had been so deeply involved in his work the last few years he had barely seen them.
By Peter Hoffman5 years ago in Fiction
Viridian
July 12th, 1944 The man never asked any questions. That was what stuck in Dietrich’s mind most. In the morning, they would come, and they would beat him, day in and day out. They’d used their fists, their heavy boots, their elbows. They’d use bats, coshes, knuckledusters, knives, thumbscrews, whatever they had. And then they would leave. And hours later, he would come.
By Joseph Icha5 years ago in Fiction
Beware The Unweather
The final day of the year of our Lord 726AD was much like any other day. Across the Kingdom, scrawny chickens pecked at grubs in muddy village grounds, the border wars raged and a chilled north wind threatened the coming of the January unweather.
By Alex Markham5 years ago in Fiction
A Homecoming...
Tallan stood in the high-ceilinged room, feeling the emptiness all around him. Everyone had stepped back from him, standing against the walls, spectators to whatever would enfold. As Tallan watched, a man pushed his way through the crowd standing on the raised platform. He was tall and poorly dressed, in drab browns and grays, and his face had a hard look about it. He stepped out in front of the others—and suddenly froze as his eyes met Tallan’s.
By charlotte meilaender5 years ago in Fiction
Goodbye Oak Ridge
I loved Milo Jackson. Not because we were of the same age and of opposite anatomies, but because she was different. Milo and I were young when we met. She is long gone and I am now a tired old man. Milo lived as both victim and villain. It is doubtful this story will bring you closer to any understanding, but it was important that I put pencil to paper anyway.
By Sean Rohrer5 years ago in Fiction
The Night Shift
It’s not my ideal environment, but I’ve been to worse clubs. The first detail that I notice is how well it’s been hidden. It’s incredibly exclusive; you can only find it if you’ve been to the club before, or if you know someone who’s been to the club before. I, as part of the latter, pick apart the text message that details where I’m supposed to go. ‘In the Old Marina Boat Yard, the third warehouse to the back.’ The big metal structure is empty, save for a manhole cover in the front corner. ‘Open the cover and go down the stairs.’ They’re rusty and dripping with condensation, but that’s how everything is in Western Seattle. The stairwell leads to a dark and damp intersection of tunnels. ‘Take the left turn until you reach the door. Tell the bouncer you’re meeting me.’
By Harper Hargis 5 years ago in Fiction
