Stvincent Stories

It was about to be St. Vincent and the Grenadines Independence Day in a week. St. Vincent was just getting ready for it, and they were cleaning out their attic for the celebration. They never thought they would find what they had found there. A time machine that would take them back. Way back. To days they would... let's say, rather not remember. TW: Swearing/cursing Colonization Mentions of amnesia (can't remember the past)

Hear me now.

Just little headcanons I have of some countries :D

This collection emulates the feelings that engulfed me when i first met a person who i regarded as my lover. It's a work in progress

Fifteen-year-old Kyan Hunter never asked for magic. He just wanted to survive church camp and keep his head down during the carnival break, and maybe break a few rules with his bestfriend Sam. But rules are made for a reason, after accidently opening a shadow road linking the spirit world with his, a mysterious earthquake shakes the ground beneath Victory Heights, Kyan begins to see things-glimpses of creatures from island tales, eyes in the canopies, tiny rat-like men and a serpent woman made of moonlight and river water. Suddenly, the rules of the world shifts. The counselors are hiding something, the forest feels alive, and the old stories his grandmother warned him about? They're no longer just bedtime tales. As strange markings appear on his skin and whispers call him deeper into the bush, Kyan is forced to confront who he is-and what he's becoming. Because in Trinidad and Tobago, some myths are alive. And they know your story.

Barbados is accused for multiple stabbings. Did he really do them...? ⚠️THIS IS NOT HISTORY, THIS IS JUST A RANDOM COUNTRYHUMANS STORY⚠️

What you're about to read isn't mine. I am only the vessel. The recorder. The one who stumbled upon Kyan Hunter's BlackBerry, the one who heard his voice spilling truths that no mortal should hear. These stories-his stories-belong to him. If, by retelling them, I have shared a fragment of his fate... if I, too, vanish or am swallowed by whatever watches through the Veil, know this: it is not the end. You must not let his voice be silenced. Spread it. Tell it. Remember it. The world Kyan has seen is layered. One we pass through every day without noticing-the streets, the beaches, the shadows of Trinidad. But beyond the ordinary, the Veil is thin. Legends walk hidden paths. Jumbie roads twist through the night. And if you think this is folklore... think again. The Veil has been broken. The Jumbie Roads are active again. And Kyan Hunter... he has been there. If you are reading this, you are now part of the story.

A list of strong, powerful, inspiring and unforgettable female musicians who you need to know

The story of my fathers journey into the Royal Navy and beyond.