The sun rose over the city of Boston, waking up everyone's favorite chocolate-skinned, pretty-faced urban charmer. The name is Alphonse Bertrand and I'll be your storyteller for the day. The following story takes place during a rainy day of Spring Break 2008. I am taking some well-deserved time off from the school. Oh, only about a week. But what a week...fo...
The year was 1888. My name is George Braun. At the time of this story, I was a young Black man traveling on horseback from Georgia to Boston, Massachusetts. Twenty years old, a strapping and muscular lad, that's who I was. I wasn't alone on this trip, folks. My father only let me go on the condition that I had suitable traveling companions. I picked two of t...
Chapter 11 Neighborhood Bank The subterranean basement of Neighborhood Bank, three floors below ground level, where the armored car drivers took the freight elevator down to deposit monies received from the Federal Reserve Bank, served as a bomb shelter during both World Wars. The employees, who worked with piped in music and filtered air, believed that Hor...
February 17, 2022 Boston, Massachusetts Orlando Scott was profoundly nervous as he stepped towards the podium to begin his press conference. A part of him wished he had never found himself in this position. Before he spoke, he quickly thought back to the year before, when friends and colleagues in the Boston legal community urged him to run for governor o...
Monday morning I dressed in one of my most expensive pantsuits. I wanted to look as professional as possible when I dropped the bomb on Dr. Miliano. He wouldn't be surprised, I thought, only that this was happening so soon. After Derek flew back to Boston, I'd spent time on the phone with Isabel, and talked to my Dad. I'd made up my mind that I wouldn't ask...
This story Falls between The Cowgirls of Baghdad and The Corporal as it follows the main protagonist. ******************** January 2006 As the 747-jet taxied down the runway at Logan airport in Boston, I couldn't wait to get off. I had just spent three days traveling from Iraq to Kuwait to Atlanta and then on to Boston. As I looked out of the airplane win...
The time has come for me to stop hiding. I must resume my nightly hunt for that which I crave. My name is Patricia Atkinson. I am a Vampire. A long time ago, I became one of the Undead. Yes, Vampires do exist. We live among you and no one suspects our existence. That's the way we like it. I live in a nice townhouse in the Back Bay neighborhood of the city of...
When you're the only daughter of a powerful and old-fashioned family, they tend to be a bit overprotective. As much as a family can love its precious daughter, they must understand that someday, she'll have to flap her wings and fly away. That's the way of nature, and of the mundane world. I wish my parents understood that. My name is Nasira "Nana" Boubacar...
"Take care of yourself, Carl Robinson, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to come by the dojo," said my long-time friend Duncan MacLeod, the legendary Highlander, as he clasped me in a bear hug, and I smiled and embraced him warmly. I haven't met a lot of good people in my nearly two centuries of living upon this earth, but the tall, dark-haired Scots...
Born and raised in the environs of Boston, Massachusetts, Jannah Jones thinks of herself as well-versed in African-American culture, and imagined African culture would be similar. Jannah doubly majored in Business Administration and African-American History at Boston University, and graduated with her bachelor's degree in 2015. Determined to see the world be...