Historical

The Absinthe Drinker and the Tarot Deck
Someone is burning the rosemary. That’s the first thing They think, pushing open the heavy oak door and coming in from the rain. Meat is broiling back of house and someone has burned the rosemary.
By Eric Dovigi5 years ago in Fiction
Mesquite Horns
Mesquite shook his head in the bright morning sunlight. He tested his wobbly little legs and stood shakily in the Texas thornbrush. Nearby he heard a gentle lowing and he turned his head. His mom was grazing on the grass and he toddled over to her to get his breakfast. She nuzzled him as he nursed.
By Marianne E Schmidt5 years ago in Fiction
Thera
Thera On the morning of the day that Thera erupted, I was trawling the hills, pestering sheep and hitting at the tops of seasquills which dared flail in the wind. My brother Damen was somewhere below, helping clear up a landslide which had covered part of the barley fields to the south. It was the second landslide in as many days. In my little haven of wildflowers, I was oblivious to the dry yellow grasses all around me and the animals which refused to graze.
By Holly5 years ago in Fiction
jack of diamonds
CHAPTER 16 Pt 1 SKULLDUGGERY As Artie entered the foyer at Marlborough, he thought it was about as close to home as he’d ever feel. There were the same wide bannisters on the staircase he remembered from his own youth, along with the black and white checkered floor he and his sister used to play on; potted plants, statues, paintings, bookcases, all the knick-knacks he’d expect to find in Rolvenden Manor were placed tastefully about the entryway. He looked up at the large chandelier hanging over the entrance and smiled. He remembered leaping from the bannister to the chandelier on a dare from his brother when he was sixteen years old. Well, it had been more than just a leap, he remembered. He’d had to take a running start, and that had involved running up a length of the bannister before leaping out and latching onto whatever handhold was available. His parents were furious with him as they had to bring a ladder in for him to climb down.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
It's Never Simple With A Lady Involved
It’s always the women that are the hardest. No one cares to see a man dragged out of a building in the middle of the night but word gets out it’s a lady and suddenly half the city’s out on the street, jumping to see, news crews flashing their cameras in my face, all the people yelling, and all the while she’s got to find her bag ‘cause no lady can go anywhere without her bag, not even jail, and I’ve got husbands and doormen crawling up my neck trying to tell me what’s gone and happened, and she’s always crying, for herself or for her bag or for the man she’s just killed. Then it’s my job to get her out of the building and through the crowd, and it’s near impossible to handle an arrested woman and all the people come pouring out to see me trying.
By Lacey Doddrow5 years ago in Fiction
Painted Blue
Another morning broke cold and icy. There was ice in the top of the buckets of water and everyone shivered in the cold. I had started wearing the long, thick dresses my mother had had made for me. They were simple, elegant, but very comfortable. What the men had not known, was that my mother had commissioned those dresses to hide several knives and a Roman style short sword.
By Arkady Thompson5 years ago in Fiction
The Medicine Bull
Closed another deal today! As I signed the final papers I glanced up at my office wall for the millionth time. What I saw this time was the same that I see every time. What my grandfather called the Medicine Bull. It was his gift to me before he passed. Along with it came the stories and encouragement he received from his grandfather.
By Dale Allman5 years ago in Fiction
The Bull
As the sun sets, a lone figure stands against the horizon. A herd of cattle lumbers into the barn for the night. His shadow is long. One of the cows getting close to the shadow rears her head as if it were alive and would react to her being near. Then over the horizon, a massive shadow appears. Two large horns jut out of the creature's head, giving it a powerful presence. The young man watches the bull trek to the barn. His massive body packed with muscles making him a fierce presence. The young man gives a simple whistle without saying a word, and his horse follows behind the bull. He closes the gate while still in the saddle, and with a precise movement, the horse takes off toward the house. He takes the saddle off the horse and walks him over to his fenced-in area and places his head against the horse's head, and says, "I love you, my friend."
By Jeff Johnson5 years ago in Fiction
JACK OF DIAMONDS
iii The sun slowly slipped into the distance, locked in a blaze of bright autumnal colours on the horizon. Willow trees were standing in silhouette on the horizon, twisting, bending—as if crying out in protest over the last vestiges of summers past—whipping their near naked branches in frustration as the wind picked up from the East, bringing huge storm clouds scuttling across a darkening sky. Tall aspens serving as windbreaks, bowed and undulated as though they were servants, while steely elms stood with the taciturn patience of age, along with fir trees, standing tall and erect, and looking as if they were rooks on a chessboard. The long grass writhed across the various hills and hummocks—every hump, knoll, prominence, and tor—the long blades rippling in the setting sun as though waves on an emerald ocean.
By ben woestenburg5 years ago in Fiction
Fields
Furious deep reds, angry and muddy oranges, lightning hot yellows, tints of greens and bitter blues, twirl and warp together. They cast a scorching heat and a bloody-red glow across the cobblestone. Cold tears of anguish followed by bouts of hot tears of injustice slough down her cheeks in rotating frequencies. The clattering of hooves and rattling of wheels mix into the cacophony of footfalls pounding ground as a growing crowd rushes to quail the beast. She collapses to her knees, unable to peel her eyes from the sight nor will her legs to move. A gentle hand cups her shoulder and she stifles her sobs.
By WHATisYOURobsession5 years ago in Fiction
Golden Hour
The color of the gown that I wore when I first entered the imperial palace harem was the deepest of reds. Being selected as a candidate for Consort came as no surprise to me nor my parents. I’d been groomed for that very moment since the I could talk—there was nothing else I could do; nobody else I could be but the Emperor’s Consort.
By A. Elise5 years ago in Fiction
Flower of 1348
The ombre shades of death hung heavy along the skyline. With her head slightly turned, she could just make out the black outline of the becchini (coffin bearers). Moving in wearied cadence, six of them were etched against the early morning sky. Carting away the newly dead and even some who were still clinging to a bit of life. At this distance, she could not distinguish between the two. All she could see were mounds of human flesh being jolted and jiggled in a horrid movement toward the exit of the Citta’ di Firenze (City of Florence).
By Brenda Klug5 years ago in Fiction