Today's Best Historical Fiction
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I have a pretty tough job. I’m a thief and, some may say, a criminal. I rarely return what I take. I can’t be seen and, yet, there are dozens who fear me. Have you guessed who I am,...
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July 1742- Run. That was the single thought that filled my head. I had to run, to keep moving, or else all would be lost. My feet pounded against the raw, African earth and the evening wind whipped...
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The Time Death Cried
A Rally to Remember
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I listened to the small whisper of my feet timidly brushing against the dirt as I proceeded closer and closer to my freedom. My burqa covered my entire body, turning me into a ghost-woman that I...