Historical-drama Stories

I decided to post this because I thought somebody would want to read it but can't so hear you go I just copied online so all the credits to them

Raelina, an average teen, wishes to have some kind of exitement in her boring life, when she meets luca, a new transfer student , little did she know that her daily normal life would change forever...

Rosa is a princess, sent away to live with relatives when she was very young due to the castle been under attack. She was forgotten and she grew up in the countryside. She grew up in a rich, loving family. That is until she was told of her past and she wants to go back to the castle. However, when her driver and horses go missing from her carriage, she is forced into the dark woods. Something mysterious an dangerous lurks in those woods. But is Rosa scared on intrigued. Find out in 'Rosa, a princess story'

It is 1944 wartime England and Evelyn Spencer, an upperclass woman, has invited members of the town for a 'grief gathering'. "Welcome everyone, I am so glad you could all attend! I created this little 'grief gathering' for us all to find comfort in one other in these tiring times of war. Sometimes we just need someone to listen to our, dare I say secrets?" Invitations include: William and Eloise Dunton Stephanie Boyd, younger sister to Eloise Marie Preston Maggie Harris It is by coincidence that William and Marie know each other? And is it by chance Maggie and Stephanie always end up next to each other? Or is it all Evelyn's doing? Are we all pawns in her game of chess? • All Rights Reserved This is entirely my own work, with editing help from fellow students. Do not take or edit or translate without my permission (With credit I am likely to say yes)

A fictional story set in ancient Egypt about love, war, secrets, and betrayal told through the interactions of multiple characters.

A continued saga -- The Kebaya, a classic in design only, for the execution of every line and fold were transcendent. Malayan heritage elevated to high fashion-marking them as the artisans responsible for this transformation of tradition into art. "Good heavens," one British matron whispered to her companion, her voice carrying more shock than admiration. "The Princess is wearing village clothing to a Christmas Ball." "Village clothing?" The retort came from a French diplomat's wife, whose Parisian gown suddenly felt ordinary. "My dear, look closer. Clearly an artisan's hand was behind that. Look at the weave-those motifs aren't printed, they're sung into the fabric. It hugs her like it was born on her skin, yet flows like the ocean itself. That's not provincial. It's haute couture at its finest." The first woman's face flushed as she realized her designer gown, for all its European sophistication, had been rendered invisible by the Princess's confident embrace of her own heritage. Around them, other guests were beginning to take notice, conversations dying as heads turned to follow the royal party's progress across the marble floor. When reporters from the Singapore Free Press approached the Princess with notebooks and cameras ready, she smiled with the particular satisfaction of someone whose calculated risk had paid dividends beyond her expectations. "Your Highness, your ensemble tonight is quite... distinctive. Stunning, I might add. Would you tell our readers about your choice?" The Princess's smile deepened as she gestured gracefully toward Swee Eng and Mei Ying. "These remarkable artisans said something to me yesterday that I shall never forget. They told me, 'We create what our hearts know to be true.' Tonight, I wear the truth of who we are-not an imitation of who others think we should become."