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It's me, your Nefertari
The one for whom the Sun shone
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Every evening I watch the pigeons flutter to their nests in my home’s eaves. Sometimes, when I open the window, I can hear their wings rust
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My fingers are strong.1 / Physically, that is all you can say for me. I am a woman, in fact a lay-dee (emphasis on the lay, as in layabout)
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Emma decides to visit the market in the morning. The small grey square is full to bursting – stalls, carts, horses and people jostling for position. Around the edges sit wooden stalls, each abundant with the different wares,
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This story is a sort of mystery / period drama as it realistically takes place within two timeframes involving several different types of p
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I was six years old when my father, the village blacksmith, first took me to his forge. He walked around the blistering space, stopping at various contrivances to explain their uses in a way no six-year-old could e
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“I haven’t even got a quarter,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
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Rising of the Lenatorian Star Empire / By Rhazula on April 3rd 2007, evening time. / on topic sci fi / The Lenatorian Star Empire was born
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The old man coughed- a dreadful, hacking cough that told the serving boy just how much time his master had left, a cough that rattled from
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-only to find it was no carven figure under there, but a woman. / The most beautiful I had ever laid my eyes upon. / How can I begin to describe her- how can I paint a picture that will do justice to that ether
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My horse bumped and jolted beneath me as I rode, each step bringing pain I would have thought unimaginable back home in England, each movement sending fresh agonies through my wounds. / We had thought the Saracens defe
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Glass is breaking... as is silence... hands are shaking... stop the violence. / The chant ran over and over in Calvaire's head.
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Looking bemusedly at the drops of perspiration gathering at his forehead, I stopped myself from asking about his ridiculous uniform
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It was the summer of 1954. I was 17 and didn't have a care in the world. Everything seemed perfect to me. I was the quarterback of our s
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His ear!
That man had just cut off his ear!
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Brainstorming:1 Historical Narrative: A narrative where the writer tries to capture a moment in history through a variety of narrative tech
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There are some who would assume that I am another unfortunate soul, misbegotten and victim to a god’s wrath. They would not be entirely false. I am neither an extraordinary per
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