Tag: historic fiction

Short Fiction

King Arthur Is Dead by Kathryn Hatchett

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My father used to tell me, ‘One day, my sweet, King Arthur will return to save the kingdom from peril, and all will be right again.’ Clasping blankets up to my chin in the dim twilight of a bedroom lit only by the light in the hallway, I’d drift off to sleep, dreaming of the mighty King’s return. There was a location of his reappearance too – Cadbury Castle – though when I went there in my preteen years, I was sad to find no castle. Any evidence beyond the mounds and ditches of prehistoric civilisation had gone, and nothing sparkled enough to grasp my interest. Despite this, I hoped for his return. A wish, like believing in the tooth fairy or Father Christmas, that this being, just this one mythical being, would be real.

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Historical, Short Fiction

The Radium Girls by Chloe Hehir.

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1917.

In her most primitive form, Nora was nothing but an artist. Her papers were covered in sketches, an arch of flowers in one corner, life-like copies of butterflies sketched into another. Every pen in the house was out of ink, every pencil leveled into nothing but a stubby eraser.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Historical

An Appreciation of Alfredo Epps’ ‘The Last Jacobite’ by Michael Bloor

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Alexander Korda’s 1948 film ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’, starring a moustache-less David Niven, was a famous flop, in both Britain and America.  At the time, it was suggested by the critics that Niven had been miscast, but Alfredo Epps’ new release, ‘The Last Jacobite,’ implies that there was a deeper problem with Korda’s original movie. Namely, that the main character was at fault, not the main star.

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All Stories, Fantasy, Horror

Dust to Dust by A. Elizabeth Herting

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The sheet snaps crisply in the wind, perfectly white, a blank canvas hanging on a line. A woman, neither young nor particularly old, bends over a large, wicker basket. Her hands are large and red, prematurely knotted from the harsh, unceasing wind. She is a good-sized woman. An old floral print dress clings to generous haunches as she efficiently plucks each item from the line and places it in the basket. She is one of an unbroken line of generations past, hardened and forged by life on the plains.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Horror

   Colours by Amanda L. Wright

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Oil running amber along a thin white line. In another time, in a different kind of world it would have its own strange grace. But here the amber turns to a sickly yellow green that rubs out the world.

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All Stories, Historical

The Caste of the Executioner by Virgil Barrington

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I

It was unseasonably damp in The Skirrid Inn on the night of 17th June, 1724. A tremendous storm had struck during the day, clearing the early summer humidity and setting the scene for a dramatic couple of days in the small town of Knaresborough.

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All Stories, Historical

Blue Flame Rising by Holly Wells

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Something shakes me from sleep, a rhythmic clanging, harsher than the church bell. And closer too.

I sit up. The walls flicker in the dim light of the hearth fire. Across the room, Father’s side of the bed is empty, but Mother’s is not. She can sleep through anything.

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All Stories, Historical

Goods from the Far East by Christopher Eirkson

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Potosí, Charcas, New Spain

1587

They call it Silver Mountain, but it has only brought misery to my people.

My head hurts. Kneeling, I plunge both arms into the pool of gray sludge, feeling for another lump of stone. My fingers close around a rock and I haul it out. A piece the size of an infant’s head. I know from overhearing the Spanish azoguero that after the bonding process with mercury, the silver in this rock is worth a small crate of porcelain. But I don’t know what porcelain is, except that it is some kind of platterware.

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