Short Story Historical Fiction 소설 & 이야기

(Flashback) Three years ago In the kingdom of Grellis, there were three realms- The Great Palace, the noble's region, and the commoner's district. Keane was a famous knight among nobles. Aside from his lineage, he has an outstanding talent and looks. He's the adoration of many noblewomen

Some people just have the strangest combination of words. I yawned into my hand before taking out my paperback novel. Historical romance was my thing. I like to lose myself in the old words, petticoats, and lords that fell head over heels with the maid or the wallflower. I eyed the streets. Almost two stops from my destiny, but traffic had made my travel time longer. I texted the mom not to worry, that I was on my way and she called me right away.

She followed Willow around the corner and into an aisle labeled Biographical Histories. Willow stopped in front of the third shelf and ran her puffy hands along the spines, finally pulling out a book and handing it to Clara: Historic Crimes in Hiestora. When Clara pried it open, the book issued a hissing sound and she noticed it suddenly felt lighter in her hands. Cracking open the dusty tome, Clara noticed pictures that were moving as if the history was playing out once again inside these pages. Below the pictures were written texts of the events.

He insisted I think I have left no choice. “Alright Sir, Thank you,” I mumbled before walking just a few distances to the seat he pointed to earlier. The flight was quite long and every time I took a glance at the Governor it always made me regret it because I always caught him staring at me which made me uneasy the whole flight. And finally, we’re in Paris. The cold wind embraced me as it penetrates my thin uniform, a good thing I brought a scarf with me. “I heard we’ll stay in an expensive hotel,” Cara uttered after we get inside of a limousine.

Agnes had always wanted to live there but just didn’t have the motivation, or the permission for that matter, to renovate the property. As much as she adored her home there was always a nagging doubt that came to her mind when she was in the Historical Fiction section. There was an irony in that the errant thoughts that popped into her head were indeed history, but they were as far from fiction as you could get. Agnes paused for a moment and scratched her thin nose in an attempt to quell an itch that was threatening to build up in her nostrils. She used the time to suffocate ill thoughts of the past.

I looked at Zuriel, and quickly wrapped my arms around him, placing my head over his chest. He smiled and caressed my hair. I glanced at the set of books. They're a collection of Indian ancient and historical love stories from history and mythology. Not only that, there was a set of coffee mugs of different colors. "How do you know that I love Indian history, especially love stories in them?" I asked him, pulling away. That's a secret, "he winked at me."

be. “What are you reading?” I asked, my gaze drifting to the book she’d set aside. She glanced at it, her fingers brushing over the cover before she answered. “It’s just a novel about a historical figure, nothing too exciting.” I leaned in a bit, intrigued despite myself. “You like history?” She chuckled softly. “I suppose I do. It’s just that... I find it fascinating how much we can learn from the past. There are so many lessons hidden in the stories of those who came before us.”

Simply because Zara had been there, and the stories were accurate, and accuracy required her presence in them. There was a Christmas A sailing trip that had apparently gone wrong in three separate ways simultaneously.... A dinner in a restaurant that no longer existed where something had happened involving Thomas and a dessert trolley that the table found extremely funny and I gathered required prior knowledge to appreciate fully. I gathered a lot of prior knowledge was being assumed around this table. I sat in the warmth of it, outside it, and watched Alex in the stories.... the younger version that his family's narration produced, slightly less controlled, slightly more openly himself... a

I missed winter, regardless of the fact I was susceptible to the cold. “I never knew you read books, you seem to know a lot about history.” “I don't read everytime, only the ones that tickle my fancy.” “ I play around with books in Derrick's study.” He replied. “You should study history more often.” “History is not my thing.” “I feel it unfair the owners of the story don't get to say their own side.” “Imagine someone else telling your story or my story to the world.” “Someone writing about a life that was never thiers.” “ A life they never lived.”

“I like oral stories.” She rolls her eyes at me, “Then read out loud.” She drifts off toward the fantasy section. I linger at a table labeled Local Authors. One title catches my eye. The Wolf at the Gate: Raventon’s Hidden Histories. I pick it up and flip through the pages. It’s all wrong, of course. Half the lore is twisted nonsense. But it’s also fascinating. Reading what humans think they know. What they’ve guessed at and what they’ve made up to explain what they can’t see.