Our first morning in the UK was brighter, a communal breakfast taken in the conservatory and garden, bunkhouse style in the way everyone clubbed together. I still felt like shit, my usual reaction to long haul flights, but Maz and I had been woken by our daughter at about seven, Maz pretending to be asleep even after a prod from the girl. I understood why when LC finally turned to me for permission.

“Dad?”

“Yes, love?”

The slightest of twitches from her, and then that surge of confidence, or maybe hope, that warmed my heart.

“Can I play with the dogs again?”

I bolted from the scene, propelled not by a plan but by sheer instinct, my heart hammering in my chest. One moment, I was immersed in a discussion with a client about the intricacies of investment portfolios, dissecting market trends over carefully plated teriyaki salmon. The next, chaos erupted—a steel blade sliced through my meal, sending chunks of fish and grains of rice flying across the table like the aftermath of a violent crime. The clinking of silverware ceased abruptly, and my drink cascaded over my lap, a sticky reminder of the tumult around me.

A young New Yorker finds himself in over his head after finding a symbiote that changes him in unexpected ways.

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Chapter 12

I’m in a city—New York?

But it’s wrong.

I posted in a blog that I was writing this, and I am afraid it will be an exercise in complete self-indulgence. I just fancied letting a collection of my favourite people relax together. Don't expect any dazzling revelations here; then again, as I am still writing it, who knows? For new readers, this story won't make much sense unless you have previously read my novel 'Mates', available on this site and on Kindle.

The New One
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I had come home from the party early. Walt had been talking to some of his business buddies and I was bored.

“That’s okay, sweetie,” he said. “You go home and slip into something nice and I will be along shortly.”

The Cartel's Debt

Julio's long black hair flowed down his back like a waterfall, reaching past his waist. It was one of his most prized possessions, a symbol of his masculinity and strength. But all of that was about to change.

Jesus Calls O'er The Tumult
By
Recca Anna Coleman
A Daisy Isabella Potter Special
Chapter Two of Thee

The traditional attire for young women, often ages twelve to eighteen who are to be confirmed into the Episcopal Church is a pearl white, floor length gown with long sleeves and white gloves. Their hair is often worn down, and a matching white bridal veil is placed on their forehead. Make-up if allowed is the bare minimum.

“Moira, do you think that Neil is a fake?” asked Melissa as she helped with the food for the party.

“I do. Thanks to TV shows like ‘Outback Truckers’, I’ve seen people who work on huge Northern Territory Stations. That’s what they call farms out there. They all have seen the sun. His skin is almost as white as mine.”