Short Story Historical Fiction 소설 & 이야기

Others appear as characters and events in the book to give a sense of historical accuracy; however specific incidents are entirely fictitious and should not be considered real or factual. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews. DEDICATION For all the rising suns as yet unseen and for those who showed me where to look. For Mary Ellen Grable and Ann Simpson

I responded turning my gaze to the book I am holding She perked up and reads the title of the book I’m holding "Historical Records 19th Century. Seems interesting." She said and smiled "I’m Lola, by the way." She introduced lifting her hand for a firm handshake "The head librarian." "Maya." I shake her hand "You seem interested in historical records, you working on some kind of project?" She asked "Sort of." "What are you writing about?" "Ancient werewolves and the history of the royal family," I responded. I know I sound a little silly but I’m glad I didn’t stammer my words out.

She also had an A-average grade and would pick re-reading Kierra Cass' Selection Series to going to a party any day. In its essence, she had basically the best of both worlds, minus the Hannah Montana hassle. Everyone knew her personality and accepted her. "Yeah," I replied as I rummaged through my bag for my notes. "How hard could it be right? Jane Austen is pretty easy." Right. Tell that to your sore back, you avid procrastinator! "Yeah, if you were from the 19th century," she grunted as she pulled her books from her locker. "No. You just have to understand the concept." I had only understood it after reading someone's essay on it online. And no, I did not plagiarize. That's bad.

Though it was very golden and romatic period so Anjana used to think that she was quite smart to handle his family wisely. Time passed by, the message conversation was then transformed into the W******p conversation and both chatted lately. And finally, bth of them decided that they must marry together.

Aathiyan walked out thinking where this is all leading him to. Writing Historical fiction is new to me so I will try to improve. There’s an interesting story coming up and more characters are waiting to be introduced in the next chapters. And the names might be difficult but Aadhiyan is our Hero and Aathiyan is our king. Their first names are the same and you will find a lot of similarities between them too.

He would have, right? I shook my head again and concentrated on the book placed on my lap. It was one of the British, historical romance fictions set during the World War Two. I had randomly picked it up at the bookstore and somehow felt myself drawn towards it. Sappy novel with mopey dialogues and dragged out bits, it still provided me with much needed solace.

No longer able to slip my finger over the backs of the books for fear I might touch something else I didn’t want to know about, I tried to read some of the titles, but I could see these books had been handled a lot. I wondered where they would have been stored in the library and who would have spent so much time reading them. I found one that had to do with the history of the first beast and made sure the cover was animal before I pulled it out. I could deal with animal leather. Finding a seat, I made myself comfortable and started reading the account of one of the royal council members. “September 15th, 1789

Welcome, everyone, to my new story. I am so happy you decided to join me on this journey. I hope you enjoy it. I want to share some info about the story. 1/ Story is set in the real world of medieval Scotland in 1309 a.c. I am referring to historical settings that existed and maybe still exist. 2/ All my characters are creations of my imagination—even the king. I can't take an actual historical figure and make him into the king that my story needs.

It had been eleven days since Mom and Roderick pretty much left us here, and somehow, meaning we had three days left till we returned back to civilization... Three days till freedom. The thought nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes. I was curled up on the couch by the fire, wrapped in a blanket with a book in my lap. The flames were crackling lazily, casting soft golden and orange hues around the room. I’d been staring at the same paragraph for five minutes, and the words just wouldn’t stick. The story was some dramatic historical romance—it wasn’t really my thing. I preferred fantasy and adventure, stories that took me away from my reality. This one was just making me drowsy.

The old woman shivered and held her paper bag close to her chest. “Can’t you hear me? "Keith exploded. “Please let me go. I have very less money and I’m a needy person. I have purchased my bread for tomorrow morning. Please have piety on me!” The old woman cried with teary eyes. “This is the last time I'm warning you to hurry up” Keith moved the knife closer to her face. The old woman took out her valet but kept it in her hand. “Please” The old woman begged. The tension between them increased and Keith pushed the old lady down the road and snatched her valet. He ran away as fast as he could and didn’t turn around.