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Top Voted Historical Fiction

Here is the top voted historical fiction:

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#1
The Masked Women of Kabul This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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 didn't even recognize. I had one image in my mind:... (more »)
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#2
A Song in the Night This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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THE GREAT WAR, 1916 The Christmas snow this year would be red, because wars could not stop for the holidays. Every day there would be more fighting, and the mingled blood of Germans and Englishmen would continue to stain the soil of Flanders... (more »)
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#3
Making the River This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This work has won the Teen Ink contest in its category.
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Diary of Thomas Warren: July 27, 1864 I crouched behind the large willow that overlooked the woodland down the hill, and let my breath come in halting gasps. Cool and soft breezes brushed over me, caressing my skin. My eyes roved around the... (more »)
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#4
What We Did for Freedom This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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“Don’t it ever bother you?” “What?” “That your girl be white.” I looked over at my two-year-old daughter playing with pebbles she had collected from the river bank. She picked them up one by one and dropped them into an... (more »)
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#5
A Prayer to Memory This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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Germany, November, 1938 I had been Jewish the first eleven years of my life, but it wasn't until the night of November 9, 1938, that I prayed to God and meant every word with all of my heart. That night goes by many names: Crystal Night,... (more »)
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#6
Burdened This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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The icy ground glittered beneath my boot-clad feet. I kicked a lump of dirty snow to watch it skitter across the gray parking lot. It exploded onto an unattended grocery cart. Biting my lip, I shoved my freezing hands into my pockets. Looked like... (more »)
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#7
May 1944 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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I hate Americans. I hate their language, their fashion sense, and most of all, their bomber planes. Every morning, I watch the skies. I listen for the whine of their planes or the whistle of their deadly bombs. I've been trained to wake at even... (more »)
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#8
The World in the Well This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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I used to dream about the world in the well by my aunt's house, that pile of rocks and wood that looked so small from the window. My cousins Frederick and Benedict loved it too, and we'd march in our pinching Sunday school shoes down the grassy... (more »)
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#9
Mother This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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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 »)
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#10
The Birds Are Flying This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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“Mama, do you need help?” A woman, clad in a simple gray shirt and pants, pretended not to hear the girl. She hung up three pairs of undergarments, then spoke to the clothes. “Yes, hang these up.” The woman... (more »)
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#11
The Story of Iqbal Masih This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This work has won the Teen Ink contest in its category.
It was a challenge to breathe. With every intake, dust flurries scratched down my throat like fingers on a chalkboard. My esophagus begged for me to cough, but even as a four-year-old I knew better than to make noise. The man in the corner... (more »)
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#12
A Footstep in 1950 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.
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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 here. August 8, 1950, had reduced him to... (more »)
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