South Pacific Island:
Screams fill the night air as Jack, Nick, and Cheshire push to get to the center of the island. Chaos, Sher Khan, and Samson attack the guards posted at the enemy’s campsite. As for Jack, Nick, and Cheshire, they were moving swiftly and quietly. They weren’t giving the people in the camp a chance to react.

Part Fourteen

At least they were done. Mostly.

Chris was still wearing a bra and nothing else above the waist, and he was assuming that his cousin wasn’t going to be satisfied until he was dressed like a girl from head to toe. Which is why he was surprised when Amy walked over to the hallway door, rather than her closet or one of her drawers. “Come on, Chrissy. You can’t hide out in here forever, even if you’d prefer a bedroom like this over your own.”

Chapter 7

The next day, we were packed and in the back of the car, heading for the next event. It was a busy six weeks, going from one signing to a hotel, followed by another signing and then on towards the next hotel. We were well looked after, had some time for rest and time in a salon once a week. The signing, in Norwich, had all of Ellie’s family in the queue, and we took them for dinner afterwards.

It was early afternoon when I returned to the office. Debbie greeted me with a smile.

“She’s gone then?”

After struggling with baulky rigging, the Downwind Dasher arrives at Bibek with the other vessels. Margrave Simbran is waiting there to give the visitors a proper welcome.

The Voyage of the Visund

A tale of Anmar by Penny Lane

92 - Arrival At Bibek

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to say that… out loud. I mean….”

Pete's Vagina
56. In the Pocket
by Erin Halfelven

continuation of a story I wrote about 10 years ago and couldn't decide what to do with it. Make sure you read the preceding parts before continuing

I awoke the next morning as the light came streaming through my parted curtains. I glanced over at my alarm and it said 8:10. I stretched and sure enough I was free. I didn’t even feel the hobble bands. I swung out of bed, attached the walking bag then switched tubes and got up and made my bed. I put on the peignoir and mules and went out to see what was going on as it seemed quiet out there.

In the end it had been quick.

Flowers
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

A florist is not a job for a young man, or so my father told me. It was just that I was always a delicate person. I still am.

There is something about flowers that touched me deep in my soul. This is something that is made by nature to look pretty, smell enchanting and taste sweet. What is there in all creation that exists purely for joy? Well, perhaps there is another thing – certain nerve endings. Did you know that flowers are the sex organ of a plant? It is all about sex in the end.

I wanted to write a new story based on A Whole New Me - Literally as I thought that while Lou had an somewhat hard time, it was cushioned by her wealth. So what would it mean if it happened again to someone else without that safety net?

————

I woke up in hospital and, well, I panicked as I realised something was very wrong. I Don’t remember much of it as they had to sedate me but I was told more at a later date and apologised to everyone involved.

CHAPTER 41
I was up early. Still slightly out of synch with local times, and also a little sore in the forearms. The routes with Vern had been fine, apart from the need to fiddle about for ages with those lunatic Aussie bolts. I could imagine how that must push local climbing grades: if you can climb E4 while gibboning like an idiot to place pro, then the silly grades must be that much easier.

I took my laptop down to the kitchen, sneaking past the sleeping beauties and brewing a cuppa as I searched for details about those granite cliffs near ‘Maggie River’. I found a site called ‘The Crag’, which gave decent photo topos as well as rather abbreviated route descriptions, but, well, beggars and choosers. Kettle boiled, tea poured, bowl of cereal before me, and Maryam walked in.

Any Carmichael grew up in a not particularly pleasant part of town, a run down estate on the outskirts of Nottingham where crime, or at least the presence of the perpetrators of crime, was part of everyday life. It was the sort of place where the police rarely visited, and when they did it was always in large groups to cope with the torrent of abuse that they would encounter. For those that lived there, crime was not a problem, it was a case of ‘don’t mess on your own doorstep’. However events led to the need ro give it all up and completely change his life,