Secrets
Courage Is Grace Under Pressure
April 5, 1914 morning time It has nearly been 2 years since that horrid tragedy aboard the Titanic. Today I spoke with a reporter from the New York Times and described my experience aboard until the tears falling down my face could reach my glass. Upon this, I dismissed her and told her to call again tomorrow. Reflecting on that night, I will always be tormented by the mass bodies and screams for help that pierced the air. One cry, in particular, was that of a little boy-THE little boy. To this day, I am haunted by the ghost of him-tormented in my very soul that I could not save him. The sweetest soul ever seen in a boy here and now, though I could not save him. All of Caroline’s connections have made it impossible to so much as set foot outside this banishment of mine. The days are unbearably lonely and the only company I have is my precious Jakey. I did so want him to have a brother to run and play with- that little boy who perished beneath the bitter ice swallowing the ship. I have been unable to sleep and many nights lay awake, haunted by the terror of screams as people died nearly as instant as their bodies touched the water. I feel shame and guilt for surviving. What made me more special than every soul on board? My husbands' money? My social status? Every person should have been valued. Money means nothing to me and has only brought me unhappiness and a wealth of control through Caroline. My days are unhappy ones and I fear I soon may break. I hope soon to be free of their control, though I am not sure how this could be. I must go now, for the reporter has returned. I hope to share more of my story with her.
By marion scott4 years ago in Confessions
Plaid Boots and Light Forgery. Top Story - April 2022.
I find myself waiting in a line to visit my boyfriend in prison. That very sentence makes me cringe, but the truth is I got in way over my head with this boyfriend. Truth be told I'm only talking to him because he supplied me with free Xanax. Now I'm returning the favor. I have drugs smuggled into my pants. I have an honest girl next door look, plus I'm a teacher. I'm also a hardened criminal.
By Susan Eileen 4 years ago in Confessions
The Many Moods of a Moonchild
There is a certain amount of magic in letting yourself explore without agenda, write without agenda, love without agenda. However, if you're confused at the title, let me elucidate. I'm a cancer, and as watery and emotional as they come. At some point, someone coined 'moonchild' for us watery bitches. We love by the tide of the moon and her moods. There is an element of magic in that ability to flow ... it led me to owning my intuition, and the gifts living by that has led me to.
By Caitlin Nightingale4 years ago in Confessions
The Burden
I yearn for all this pain to go away. All I feel is exhaustion. A constant state of no longer wanting to be a part of this realm. I want to disappear. Avoid all the turmoil going on in my head. I want absolute silence. I wish I didn’t have to deal with the conflict of my emotions. I no longer find joy. I feel empty. Unable to communicate what really matters anymore. I just want an easy out. I can’t seem to grasp onto anything anymore. My mind and soul has become a void. I’m a black hole. Everything I touch turns to misery.
By Monica Carneiro4 years ago in Confessions
Mr Smith. Runner-Up in Ship of Dreams Challenge.
Author's note: this is a story of fiction based on what little is known about the last moments of Captain Edward Smith's time on the Titanic. I have read some of the theories of his proposed demise or his survival and have crafted this story around these. This is an imagining of a man who escaped. Whatever the truth, the death of Captain Smith has become the stuff of twentieth century myth.
By Rachel Deeming4 years ago in Confessions
The Cost of Freedom
Freedom comes in many different shapes and forms, either way, freedom is something we all want and thrive for. Some have freedom without even trying, freedom is just there. Then there are some that must fight for it and fight hard just to never get it. Men and women fight in wars for our country to have freedom for all of us. Parents fight for just an hour of freedom for themselves. Some of us fight for freedom in a different way, my fight for freedom is different than most but all too familiar to some.
By VANESSA MARTINEZ4 years ago in Confessions
