Supporter-submitted short stories, anecdotes, poetry, and other writings under 100 words on the theme of history.
Your voice matters. Share your story here.
Lord Ibarius’ guards drew their swords. For a surreal moment, Portia thought she might be struck down from behind. Noticing Ollet’s small clenched fists and the desert guide’s alarmed gaze, she exhaled slowly for the first time in a long minute and stepped forward. The sand in the chamber was soft, and it swelled up on either side of her trembling feet with each step.
“That’s it, girl…” Ibarius said, his voice both coaxing and nervous. “Just touch the stone. Tell me as quickly as you can how it feels.”
How it feels, not how I feel, Portia thought.
– Onyafoqchɛo
Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful girl called Anjali. She lived in the suburbs of Delhi, India. Anjali was so beautiful that the gods used to admire and listen to her lovely voice whenever she sang. Anjali was 20 years old with a loving character, and her parents were Mr. Raju Kannah and Mrs. Tania Kannah.
Anjali was tall, with blue eyes like the sea, red rosy lips and cheeks, and golden brown hair which matched the colour of the radiant sun. She also had a smaller waist with hips that hung on her like pear fruit.
– Tracy Ama Opoku, Ghana
Untold International is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. If you pay taxes in the US, your donation is tax-deductible.