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Top Voted Historical Fiction

Here is the top voted historical fiction:

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#1
My Four-Leaf Clover
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I was a man of thirty five when I first left my home those eleven years ago. I was a simple-minded man. I knew that I loved my wife, Cait. I knew that I would be home before the snow melted the spring of the following year. I now find it... (more »)
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#2
A Footstep in 1950 This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.
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It’s cold.   A fragile silhouette shivers in a ring of streetlight.   It’s heavy.   He grips a well-worn book in his hands as one would cling to a lifeline.   I shouldn’t be... (more »)
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#3
A Man's Woman
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In the midst of confusion, Elizabeth ran. She had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen next, all she knew was that she couldn’t be there any longer.   All her life, Elizabeth had known nothing but structure and elegance.... (more »)
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#4
Perfection
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Death is an unacknowledged beauty, despised and feared by the bravest of men and the strongest of gods. She visits the best and worst of humanity, bringing with her the porcelain skin, pale lips, and ruby adornments striven for by followers of... (more »)
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#5
Where is Home?
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My fingers ran nervously over my dress smoothing out non-existent creases. I was nervous, but who wouldn’t be? I was walking into a whole new world and I wished for my parents to be here with me. They were not here now and they would never be.... (more »)
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#6
A Day in the Life of a Pioneer
I awoke to the sun rushing through the small window in my loft. I yawned and stretched, almost falling out of my bed that was much too small for me. I got out of bed and walked to the old, wooden chest that contained my clothes. It wasn’t too... (more »)
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#7
The Hunt
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Ipswich, Massachusetts September 18, 1692 Elizabeth and I sat on the floor in front of Grandmother Thelma, listening to her stories. Elizabeth's thin, freckled face was filled with the magic of Thelma's tale. I'd heard it before and,... (more »)
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#8
Destroyed Morality
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It was a bit after the majestic sun had arisen from its hiding place under the moon, that the fair skinned men came and infected our land. They came in a group of twenty or so with their enormous temples that skimmed the ocean. We approached them... (more »)
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#9
Brother Beginning
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In the beginning of time there where two brothers they themselves where not created, they just where. The brothers had names for themselves Sin and Chronos, Sin had control over heat, pain, anger and hatred all things with the essence of evil. His... (more »)
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#10
Traveling the Oregon Trail
April 24, 1849 Tomorrow we set out for the great west. It has been horrendous gathering the $600 dollars for the fee for my family and me. My husband had to take on two jobs, and each of my 12 year old daughters had to work as well. It was... (more »)
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#11
Crossing Oceans
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“Please rise and join me in a toast to the soon to be newlyweds,” the poised Italian mother stood up and motioned towards her daughter. The guests joined her and smiled towards the head of the table, where a withdrawn and coy couple... (more »)
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#12
Freedom's Price
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He awoke out of deep slumber only to feel shafts of pain searing his nerves. Laying on a canvas stretcher, the sullen crash of artillery beat a cadence in the back of his mind. Towering above him, the grim, frowning crags of Mount Suribachi... (more »)
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#13
Homecoming Beauty
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It was one of those late July evenings, sultry in its humidity and suffocating in the heat it sent radiating off the misty fields and dewy hills. The sun broke gently through the evening harr coming in off the ocean and cooled the roots of the... (more »)
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#14
Crossing the River
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“Please rise and join me in a toast to the soon to be newlyweds,” the poised Italian mother stood up and motioned towards her daughter. The guests joined her and smiled towards the head of the table, where a withdrawn and coy couple... (more »)
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#15
-i it (My Father)
We are all looking expectantly at the darkened hallway behind the dais. She puts her hand on my shoulder. She thinks I cannot feel the tension in her muscles. I twitch my nose, trying to ward off the ever-present bittersweet smell of incense. I... (more »)
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#16
The Story of James Armistead Lafayette
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I am an American. I am a spy. Not many people know my name. I am James Armistead Lafayette. I was born a slave in New Kent County, Virginia, on a small plantation run by a white man. I was named James Armistead. While growing up, I worked on... (more »)
8 comments
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