Slave to Beauty
A vignette from some images found
By Maryanne Peters

I was brought up in a beautiful home. My mother called herself “A Slave to Beauty” as if that could explain everything that she did to me – or perhaps excuse it. It was like saying that she had no choice, but surely that was mine.

The Awakening
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

She woke to the sound of music. They had rented the “La Villa Musica” for a month just to soak up the Adriatic Coast, and simply because they could afford it. He was not lying beside her in the bedroom with the view. The windows were open, and the curtains moved with the warm sea breeze. The music seemed to be coming from the lounge – from the grand piano.

Outed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Ned’s big mouth is sometimes useful, and sometimes cringeworthy.

For instance, it was he who was able to talk the conductor into shifting us up the train to one of those special cabins when the soccer team in our carriage started to get rowdy. We had chosen the train over a flight because it was city center to city center and we needed cellphone coverage throughout, but it would get us there late, so the contract signing would need to be short.

Summer Assignment
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Uber Love
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

After being laid off from my job I started driving for Uber. I had a good car and it seemed like a way to make money, but to be honest it was more that I enjoyed the company of people and couldn’t stand being stuck at home. Even after I picked up a new job, I kept driving for Uber in the evenings.

Looking for Trouble
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Ryan Tolliver rode out of the south, looking for Trouble. That is how this story might begin. Not looking for trouble, but looking for Trouble with a capital T. Trouble Lumiere. Ryan might have called her his lady love. But she was no lady. Not in any sense.

Homage
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

The work was called “Femme Allongée” or in English “Reclining Woman”, and it was by the lesser known impressionist Claude Mesurier. He was perhaps less than famous because he was less of an impressionist than others, and later in time by a decade or so. Some aspects of the painting were more realism than impressionism, and yet there was a mystery in the face of the woman, looking out at the artist, or the admirer of the work.

Miss Adventure
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Part 1

It is not unheard of. A fan becomes so obsessed with a celebrity that they try to become just like that person. These “super-fans” have also become known as “stans” after the Eminem rap song. They try to take on the appearance of their idol and may even try to make contact with the object of their obsession or get close to them in some way. In some cases it is all consuming.

Sexpiation
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

When the world is on fire, how far would you leap to escape the flames? That is how we looked at it. We were not escaping from justice – we were escaping from madness.

Ruff Love
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Ruff Love
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Bob
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I was called Bob when I was a man. I always thought of myself as a regular guy. I was quiet, I suppose – not one to stand out. I could never be overtly gay. I think that requires a little more courage than I had. I just wanted life without drama or conflict. I was always a gentle person. I still am.

Revert to Default
A Short Story for the “Abducted” Contest
By Maryanne Peters

I make no secret of what I do within the Bureau – I just have to put up with the whole “X Files” thing. Mine is not a division called anything in particular, but there are unexplained phenomena that can benefit from being investigated by people who have a background in unexplained phenomena. My name is known and I might be called in.

Joe’s Woman
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Joe surveyed his claim with some pride in the early evening light, the red earth of Western Australia made even more red by the final rays of the sun. The portable building they had lived in was still flattened on the slight rise facing Treasure Hill, but the screening plant and loader were now back to full operation after the dust storm of the previous month.

The Colonel’s Assistant
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

When he looked at the calendar on his desk, he noted that it was 300 days until he could elect full retirements benefits. He had been counting the days until May 14, 1972. He wrote “300” on the bottom of his new blotter, on his pristine new desk.

Suspicions
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I am a possessive person. I admit it. I thought that Lauren loved me, and I thought that I loved her. I just felt that we were meant to be together. I thought that our arguments and lack of sex were issues that we could address, but that our relationship would be lasting.

I have to admit that sex was an issue for me, and I never really understood why at the time. Now I realize what the problem was. It seems so stupid that I did not recognize my own nature. I must be the biggest self-deceiver on the planet.

Seeking Redemption
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

People do not understand rape. Nobody wants to talk to a rapist about why they do it, unless it is to judge them. A rapist cannot even go to a shrink. They say: “If this is in the past then we may be able to discuss it while respecting confidentiality, but if you are contemplating future offending, then I must report any impending crime.” Contemplating? It those days it was all I could think about. But what do you do?

Living and Loving in Dystopia
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Nobody thought that it could get any worse for gay Russians with the fall of Vladimir Putin, but his successor seemed all the more keen to crack down on deviant behavior. The fact is that he had an ally in President Pence. It seems like both our countries are now controlled by the ignorant provincial conservatives who regard anything out of their normal as a religious crime. The “Heartland” of Russia is pretty much the same as the Heartland of America – hostile to gay people.

Unlucky Day
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Darlene who manned the public counter knocked on the glass door that separated Sheriff Abner Holding’s office from the space where he two deputies sat, when they were not out on patrol as they were. He could see that there was somebody beside her.

Her called for her to open the door.

Retransitioned
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I saw him across the room, and my blood ran cold. I knew when we split up that I would have to avoid all the places that we loved to go to together, and to avoid mixing with people that we knew as a couple, but it seemed to me this was not one of those places. He was not interested in art before he met me, so why would he be at the opening of that exhibition?

The Miner’s Wife
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Day One

Milky McGann found the boy on the trail and thought that he was dead. It seemed that his eyes were open and just staring at the dull grey sky like that of a dead man. He was lying in a pool of blood - perhaps there had been less lost than it seemed. But the face was white as if in shock rather than the slate color of death.

“If’n you’re hurt I’d better roll you over and see if’n you can’t be patched up,” said Milky, only half expecting a reply.