Part 10 of 29

Sunday, July 21, 2013
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Grandpa would be proud of the literary allusion, but I need to write this down and out of my system. Today was cold, wet and rainy; a perfectly lousy day which was all the worse for the beautiful day outdoors yesterday. Grandpa and Eve went off to the Liar's Club so it was just me and Mary Ann.

Julie and Trudy continue to work as the Odd Squad with their unofficial team of helpers, with no help from the main detective team under Inspector Wainwright.

Derby Day Surprise – Chapter 7
By
JulieDCole

In this chapter, our hero runs into some trouble while trying to help his friends, does some gender revelation, loses his temper, then finds himself in *very* deep trouble.
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Positively Patsy Part 9

When she hung up I stopped to think for a moment. She had rattled off a figure of twenty five million as if it was chump change. I picked up my phone again and rang Sarah. After telling her where I was and the task that Grog had set me, I asked her about the payouts from the tour and queried the number that Riordan had quoted. She told me that the tour was sold out for every show; so we had grossed one billion, two hundred and seventy five thousand dollars.

The Bisley Boy
A Short Story based on Alleged Fact
By Maryanne Peters

My husband, the late Sir Thomas Parry, was a man of great importance in the household of the late Queen Elizabeth for the two years before his death. Some said that he was poorly qualified to serve as the Comptroller of the Royal Household. That may be the case. Some said that he must have some hold over Her Majesty, but I doubt that anybody could fully appreciate how momentous was the secret.

Part Nine

"I remember when some important people were wondering if I would ever be able to adult," said Vic, wistfully, as she and Michelle cleaned their dishes after a nice supper in their own dining room, that evening. "These days I sometimes feel like I'm the only adult in the room."

"I know what you mean. People - customers and even people I work with - just seem not only short-tempered these days but... irrational!"

I stood motionless for a few minutes, trying to make sense of the feelings that were overcoming me. Did I want to cry? Scream? Stay in a stupor of emotions?
Yes, to all of the above.

The Dark Lady
A Short Story
Based on a literary mystery
By Maryanne Peters

That is what Mr Shakespeare called me – “the Dark Lady”. The name is right enough. My mother was mulatto. She was attractive enough to earn the affection of the man what owned her. I was born by that joinder. To my good fortune my blood father had good conscience enough to provide a little for my mother, and by her graces when I enjoyed them, myself.