At one in the morning, March cold and raw,Through Italy’s mountains a freight train clawed.Young Michelle Paulo held brake and chain,In the last lone car of the climbing train. Snow mixed with rain on the iron spine,Slick were the tracks in that steep incline.The engine coughed with its coal so weak,War stole the good—left ash […]
One cold late-November morning in seventy-nine,John Parin stepped out, past his own quiet line.Sixty-four years old, from the world withdrawn,A coastal recluse in East London’s dawn. Through a forested park by the ocean’s cry,He walked where the treetops kissed open sky.Though waves roared below on the far-off sand,He hardly came here—this wasn’t planned. No friends,
On December’s cold and silent night,In Chahenkalo dim by lantern light,Priya slipped on her pajamas slow,Brushed sleepy dreams in moonlit glow.She climbed in bed with hopes held tight,Waiting for Anand, out of sight—From steaming bath he’d surely come,To rest beside her, heart and home. The house was hushed, the silence deep,A quiet that refused to
On September fourth as daylight fell,In southern Taiwan the story swelled,Young Zhu ran fast through glass and sound,His last ride north was leaving town.To Taipei’s lights, a six-hour way,He feared late seats and tight delay,But breathless still, with ticket clutched,He reached the bus just as it touched. The doors swung wide, the driver stared,Zhu climbed
At seven o’ clock on a storm-beaten night,Seventeen-year-old Jason sat holding the lightOf a landline phone in his trembling hands,Trying to say what his heart had long planned. At Grandma’s house in Scotch Plains he stayed,With cousins who teased him and jokes they had made.Rain hammered rooftops like drums full of rage—All day they’d been
In whispered tales of blood and dread,One name stands tall among the dead.A phantom born from London’s night,Whose shadow swallowed gaslamp light. He killed in ways that chilled the bone,Yet left no reason, truth unknown.No motive penned, no public plea—Just carnage veiled in mystery. But once, he chose to break his spell,And sent a message
On a cold Texas morning in eighteen-eighty-one,Through the woods of Hill County where the wild rivers run,A search party wandered through brush thick and deep,Looking for George Arnold, gone two days without sleep. Sunday had passed, and his family had prayed,But George stayed behind—though he never delayed.He always joined church, every sermon and hymn,Yet that
At 4:45, in ’95,as rain drummed hard on factory tin,old Eric Tollett stayed inside,with Leslie near, the storm shut in. The workers home, the rooms were still,just thunder stalking overhead.His brother Donald, age of sixty,played with Leslie’s boy instead. But suddenly the office doorswung wide with terror in the child.“He’s fallen down! He’s on the
Upon the calm New Zealand sea,bold Diana Stewart raised her lens.A trip for birds, for whales, for light—with fellow nature-loving friends. The boat was steady, morning bright,the waves were soft, the pictures grand…until she saw an immense shaperise from the deep and near the sand. A whale beneath, its shadow long,it surged toward the vessel’s
In Russia’s cold and distant town,Yevgeny stepped outside one day.No luggage packed, no plan declared—just walked, then drove, then rode away. A thousand miles to St. Petersburg,he traveled silent, blank, and pale.Two days he sat without a thought,as though his mind had slipped its trail. He reached the city late at night,then wandered to the
