Category: Historical

All Stories, Historical, Humour

Voltaire in England by Fred Russell

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typewriterIn May 1726 Voltaire sailed up the Thames, London-bound. He was thirty-two at the time, a scrawny Frenchman with a big mouth. Everyone was after his ass. Back in France he’d had a run-in with someone called the Chevalier de Rohan-Chabot, got himself arrested, and was graciously allowed to leave the country in lieu of becoming a full-time resident of the Bastille. It was a fine day and it made him fall in love with England. The King was out on his barge, a thousand little boats were in his wake, and some music was being played. Was it Handel’s “Water Music”? Let’s say it was so that you can understand what Voltaire felt that day. Later he saw some fat merchants in town and thought he was in paradise.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Historical

Plumbeck the Fiddler by Tom Sheehan

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Watching every move about the campfire, studying each face lit up by the flickering flames, the fiddler Sam Plumbeck idly held onto his instrument, waiting for the proper moment. Time, he could feel, was pressing down on him; it had different parts that moved in different ways. The stars all the way to the horizon dip were many and miraculous, the horses silent for the most part even though a coyote cry filtered in now and then, and the darkness beyond wrapped them like a giant robe spread under those stars. He had ridden in, apparently aimlessly to all the trail hands, and joined up with them on their way back to their ranch, the promise of music being hailed by all the hands who had delivered the herd, were through with the drive. He alone, out of all these trail hands who had hit the jackpot, knew what was coming down on them. Nothing is supposed to be perfect or fair; at least this side of heaven, or the mass of a blue sky, or the dash of sunlight on a rainy day. And he, just a picker of strings, with not a coin of the gold in the lot having his name on it, could only wait it all out, hoping for the best and only seeing the worst coming up.

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All Stories, Historical

Swords Hanging on the Walls by Richard Mark Glover

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“My father, Franz Josef Schennach, was a gendarme, Hauptmann, in Tirol.  After the Nazi took over, he had to prove that he was Arian. He could not prove this,” Anna Stenson said. She looked across the room from her chair.

“Brown eyes go to Africa…  They taunted me. At school. Only the blue eyes would stay in Europe, if Hitler won. I was hoping he would not,” she said adjusting the hem of her skirt.

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All Stories, Historical

The Generation We Lost by Nik Eveleigh

Nik

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“All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God…”

*

“I was told I should report here. What do you need me to do?”

“Shovels are over there, buckets are behind you. Dig or help carry it away.”

*

“Each little flower that opens
Each little bird that sings…”

*

“I’m sorry Mrs Jones but you’ll have to move back. They’re going as fast as they can.”

“I just need to know if Tommy is OK. He is OK isn’t he? He said he was feeling sick this morning but you know what they are like on last day of school…”

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All Stories, Historical, Humour

RuPaul Saves the Universe by Michael Patrick Marino

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San Luis Obispo, California – August, 1939

Inside a private screening room, MGM chief Louis B. Mayer and his right-hand man, producer Mervyn LeRoy, have just finished watching a test print of The Wizard of Oz. Mayer is not satisfied with the cut and has instructed the projectionist to run it again, this time with the sound turned off.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Historical

A Charming Couple by Des Kelly

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London 1929, a society sticking to the rigid values of the past, but only on the surface.

Such charm he had, Leonard. Such charm, elegance too. Poise, like a woman. He’d observe out of the corner of his eyes; feline, almost feminine. Everyone liked Leonard, even when the opinions expressed could be cutting. Acute observation.

People believed him blessed, and sought out his company at parties. He was rarely alone. Despite advances from both men and women, Adele was the only woman Leonard took home, but they weren’t lovers.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Historical

A Special Sort of Day by Diane M Dickson

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Tommy let his head rest back against the sand.  It was hard, cold and wet.  He knew that in the dunes further up it was softer but he couldn’t be bothered with the climb for the moment. The others seemed to have gone on without him, never mind, he could catch them later.  He’d take a couple of minutes to rest here, nobody would mind surely and then he’d get back on the job.

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All Stories, Historical, Horror

Eye Witness by Frederick K.Foote

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He come in like dat. A black man on a black mare, seventeen hands, with three white socks. No saddle, no blanket, no shoes, bald head, no hat. Dat mare dancing and turning, kicking up the dust in the bright sun light.

I saw dat. Dat is what I saw.

Shadrach A. Williams

Recorded March 3, 1868

##

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All Stories, General Fiction, Historical

Do Us Part by Jack Coey

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There was an old woman and a nurse in a room. The old woman sat in a chair holding a cane. There was a tray in front of her with a plate nearly full. The nurse bent over and wiped her face with a napkin. The nurse believed when old women talked about their lives it’s a sign they’re about to die. Miss Macintosh started doing that, and it was making the nurse anxious.

“How about you eat some of your peas?” coaxed the nurse.

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All Stories, Historical, Story of the Week

Cold, hard iron blade of the sea by Shane Bolitho

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For more than a month that horizontal plane, the cold, hard iron blade of the sea, has scythed around this lonely spite-filled ship, the Meeuwtje, the Seagull. Our only constant: that unwavering edge. If only we would come to it and tumble off into the void.

I am consumed with the vilest thoughts; acidic loathing, a derision that stoops my shoulders. This sinful, wind-blown bastard-mongrel pack with whom I share this stinking pile of creaking timber, rope and sailcloth!

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