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Most Recent Historical Fiction

Here is the most recent historical fiction:

Crystal Night
By , Manhasset, NY
“You hear that, Miriam?” Papa said, his eyes on the leaping lights outside our window. “Those are fireworks.” My ears tickled from the pops above, and in my mind I could see those nice bright colors in the midnight sky. “Why are... (more »)
The Bridges Home
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It is 1940. Fifteen years ago, she thought he had already left when the door clicked closed. But what she had not known was that he could not resist turning around for just a second when he was outside, though he had to do so discreetly for he... (more »)
The Cellist
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The cellist stands in the center of a smashed room, uncovering his frayed, worn suit that has long lost its splendor. He parts his graying hair for the last time, his spider-webbed hands falling into rhythm of memorized routine. He adds the cheap... (more »)
A Liar
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My mother squeezed my arm excitedly as we crossed the street that separated our parking spot from the church. The rich cherry colour of her cheeks reminded me of just how much that mild Sunday meant to her. As we neared it, I studied the... (more »)
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It was a nice day for a funeral. The sun shone gently over the hills, the earth still bore the scent of rain from the night before, and a breeze shook copper leaves from the branches, before carrying them through the air like paper boats on a... (more »)
Rose: My Grandmother in World War 2 … Part 1
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It’s a humid afternoon in Central Italy, 1940. My great grandmother, Rose, was reading the newspaper, searching for news of her brother Tito. He’s fighting in the American army, despite the fact that they live in Italy. He believed in the... (more »)
Fearless Rudy This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.
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January 27, 1947 Nazi Germany They never saw it coming. The Americans bombed the Wilhelmshaven Port and the buildings surrounding it. No one within direct reach of the bomb survived. Deep in the wreckage, a young man called Rudy... (more »)
Do it for Germany
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Hans Schmidt. Age 31, serving in the Third Reich, developing a series of artillery for the SS guard. His convoluting and disturbing ideas have been treated upon Auschwitz prisoners and used to either torture or kill. He spends his pass time... (more »)
Paperboy The winter wind was blustery that night, and it swept leaves and twigs in the air like a big bully. A boy stood in the middle of the street, his shoes dusty with use and his hair a messy, greasy mop of black curls. His green... (more »)
So Here I Am
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So here I am. The apartment building crumbling around me. The sun feels nice on my face, but hurts my already wrinkled skin. There's not much of a breeze, but rather a slow moving invisible wall of heat, mixed with the smell of... (more »)
Preying Loneliness This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.
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“They say she lost a lover in Normandy,” said the man to the busboy, watching as the woman in the feathered-hat stared wistfully out from the café window. “She waits for someone who doesn’t come.” The boy looked up at the man from... (more »)
The Diary of a True Soldier
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What had the world come to? Wars were being fought from opposite sides of the sea. Soldiers were invading our homes and taking what was ours. What gave them the idea that they were superior to us? Was it the pride of being a “Royal... (more »)
A meeting with Ms Criste
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Throughout my years as a scoundrel, a marksman and attacker of the peace, the whispers of Sophy de Criste had often reached my uncensored ears and with no good kindnesses. Her name floated through children's talk of murderesses;... (more »)
Sword Control; a Very Real Parody
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Moon’s day, week one of the tenth month. (Monday, first week of december) Once in a blue moon, usually early december, the King’s Committee meets to discuss issues and reinstate laws. I have decided to record one of their meetings for... (more »)
Sal & Pep: The Boy Along the Tracks
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The constant stream of rushing air for hours upon hours was enough to make Pep’s hair tangle in ways she never thought possible. When she voices this complaint to Sal, he replies by rolling his eyes, grunting, then mumbling “Women.”... (more »)
Sal & Pep: Last Bottle of Whiskey
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“Here we are, home sweet home.” Billy moves ahead along the woodland ground, jogging around the trees as sunlight filters through the cracks in the branches above, until he stops. He beckons for Pep and Sal to follow. Hazel trails behind, her... (more »)
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