Fiction
- Action & Adventure 180
- Biographical 14
- Christian 59
- Classics
- Coming of Age 5
- Contemporary Women 3
- Erotica 8
- Espionage/Intrigue 12
- Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology 236
- Family Life 169
- Fantasy 117
- Gay 1
- General 596
- Ghost 31
- Historical 808
- Horror 42
- Humorous 159
- Jewish 25
- Legal 4
- Medical 22
- Mystery & Detective 313
- Political 49
- Psychological 41
- Religious 64
- Romance 158
- Sagas 11
- Science Fiction 730
- Sea Stories 113
- Short Stories (single author) 537
- Sports 10
- Suspense 1
- Technological 8
- Thrillers 2
- Urban Life 31
- Visionary & Metaphysical 1
- War & Military 173
- Westerns 199
Classics Books
Sort by:
CHAPTER I MINOR POETS OF THE SOUTH The first poetic writer of this country had his home at Jamestown. He was GEORGE SANDYS who came to Virginia in 1621, and succeeded his brother as treasurer of the newly established colony. Amid the hardships of pioneer colonial life, in which he proved himself a leading spirit, he had the literary zeal to complete his translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, which...
more...
A Deceptive Dedication I I have shown the manuscript of this book to a well-known author. One of those staid, established authors whose venom has been extracted by the mellow years. My author is beyond rancour and exploit; he has earned the right to bask in his own celebrity, and needs to judge no more, because no longer does he fear judgment. He is like a motorist who has sowed his wild petrol. He...
more...
by:
William H. Maher
CHAPTER I. "When do you start, Tom?" "At midnight." "Well, good-by; sock it to 'em; send us in some fat orders." "I'll do it, or die; good-by." And then I sat down to think it all over. Our traveling man was off on a wedding tour, and I had agreed to take his place for this one trip. As the hour drew near for me to start, my courage proportionately sank, until...
more...
by:
Emile Zola
I. My name is Louis Roubien. I am seventy years old. I was born in the village of Saint-Jory, several miles up the Garonne from Toulouse. For fourteen years I battled with the earth for my daily bread. At last, prosperity smiled on we, and last month I was still the richest farmer in the parish. Our house seemed blessed, happiness reigned there. The sun was our brother, and I cannot recall a bad crop....
more...
by:
Mona Gould
I Run With the Fox Better to be proud and huntedThan to ride with the Pink Coats. Better than the smell of warm blood after a quick kill, Bitter and bright the scent of hidden fern. Though the heart fail in the panting sideAnd the eye be clouded with strainingafter the deep copseStill is there thrill in flight —Soft are oak leaves under the swift feet. Sweet are the distant notes of the hunter's...
more...
by:
Edmond Hamilton
1. The Brotherhood of the Door An amazing weird mystery story, packed with thrills, danger and startling events."Where leads the Door?" "It leads outside our world." "Who taught our forefathers to open the Door?" "They Beyond the Door taught them." "To whom do we bring these sacrifices?" "We bring them to Those Beyond the Door." "Shall the Door be...
more...
ACT I Scene—The Thuilleries. Barrere.The tempest gathers—be it mine to seekA friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him.But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant'ssoul—Sudden in action, fertile in resource,And rising awful 'mid impending ruins;In splendor gloomy, as the midnight meteor,That fearless thwarts the elemental war.When last in secret conference we met,He scowl'd upon me with...
more...
CHAPTER I "As well give up the Bible at once, as our belief in apparitions."—Wesley. The house cried out to me for help. In the after-knowledge I now possess of what was to happen there, that impression is not more clearly definite than it was at my first sight of the place. Let me at once set down that this is not the story of a haunted house. It is, or was, a beleaguered house; strangely...
more...
THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE THE FIRST ACT As the curtain ascends, Rogers and Manson are discovered laying the table for breakfast, the lad being at the upper end of the table, facing the audience, Manson, with his back to the audience, being at the lower end. Rogers is an ordinary little cockney boy in buttons; Manson is dressed in his native Eastern costume. His face is not seen until the point indicated...
more...
Prudence urges me here to forestall detection, by conceding that this brief play has no pretension to "literary" quality. It is a piece in its inception designed for, and in its making swayed by, the requirements of the little theatre stage. The one virtue which anybody anywhere could claim for The Jewel Merchants is the fact that it "acts" easily and rather effectively. And candor...
more...