Double
A Short Story (or a Pocket Novel for holiday reading?)
By Maryanne Peters

Chapter 1

“I understand that you may have known Ivan Sergeivich Molonovsky,” said the man they simply knew as Grozny – the man in charge of deployments.

“We were not close, but I remember him,” said Kiril. It was a lie. He had known Ivan well. They trained together because the two of them were the smallest in the whole intake. But the rumor was that Ivan had betrayed the Soviet Union, and it was best to deny any association.

After he runs afoul of a sinister body swapper, a world-weary detective with a shady past finds himself trapped in the body of a beautiful and brazen stripper. But as his mind starts to fade and hers begins to take over, he soon realizes that he only has 24 hours left to live before he fades away entirely. 24 hours to solve his own murder and bring his killer to justice. (A tale of Faraday City.)

This story has no sex in it.

A slender figure walked out onto the wide bridge. The sun descending in the western sky cast a wide shadow from the west side of the canyon and bathed the east side in a reddish glow.

Helena and Alex stood side by side in the dim corridor of the mag-train, the low hum of its engines reverberating beneath their feet. They had just received word that the warning had come through in time. Morgan’s message, decoded by the Empress Consort, confirmed that an attempt to harm Alex was imminent. Connor’s plot had been laid bare.

Now, it was their turn to respond, a testament to their unwavering courage in the face of danger, their determination shining through every action they took.

Chapter 16

I opened my eyes to see Mark gazing down at me. The expression on his face made me feel all soft and squooshy.

Was that a word? I was going to make it a word. Squooshy. The way you feel when someone you like looks at you like that.

“Hello handsome. What time is it.”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Right on time. What do you have to say to me?”

“Well, your instincts were right for one thing.”

“What?”

South Pacific Island:
Cheshire spots a group of men torturing a group of people. Two of the prisoners were women in their mid-twenties and the smaller woman that was in between them looked to be a teenager. All three women were stripped naked and secured to giant Xs made of bamboo.

Their bodies had numerous cut marks where blood was dripping out of them. Their hand were nailed to the bamboo and so were their feet as well. She could smell their scent from her hiding spot and could tell they had been like that for several days.

"Mum I can't possibly do this. " Alex she told her quietly, horror evident in his voice. His mother standing next to him in their little combined kitchen and dinning room, snorted in rye amusement.

Margaritas, Beaches, and Bikinis
by
Rebecca Anna Coleman
Chapter 4: I hope I don't hear Banjos

At three o' clock the next morning I found myself putting the twinkling lights of Benton behind me. Roughly five hundred or so miles of open road lay between me and Orange Beach. Or so Google Maps told me. For the trip that morning I decided to go all out. At first I was going to wear a pair of tan cargo shorts, a loose fitting cotton t shirt, and a pair of flip-flops. Then I decided, in a fit of madness that it was time to embrace being Rebecca and stop hiding her.

After flubbing a powerful incantation, meant to give newly coronated Demon Queens the wisdom of their ancestors, Devilla Satanne awakens to memories of her past life as Jacob Divington, a human from Earth. Having gained a new perspective on life, she quickly comes to a rather horrifying conclusion: she's been a complete and utter brat! No wonder everyone hates her!

And then there's the fact that she's apparently been reincarnated as the villainess of Tower Conquest, a lesbian porn game with a surprisingly intricate plot. One in which the Heroine conquers Dimona Tower, turning Devilla's people against her in the process. In victory, the Heroine brings about a glorious age of peace between demons and humans for the first time in millennia. ...Which actually sounds pretty good for her people, come to think of it. Devilla knows her terrible behavior is beyond forgiveness, but maybe she can still make up for her past mistakes? She just needs to make sure the events of the game unfold correctly. Though there is one little detail she'd like to change - the part where Devilla herself is killed or enslaved!

The series cover was commissioned from https://twitter.com/HaizeUqei

It felt, after the initial panic had passed, that his whole world was about to come crashing down around his ears. It was bad enough that he’d left his rucky on the train complete with money, passport and change of clothes, to add to the woe he was in Germany and it was Sunday afternoon but the real issue, the bit that scared him most, was he was dressed as his alter ego, Bianca. What had possessed him to even think it was a remotely good idea to ‘bring’ Bianca on the trip?

What are you going to be doing during the Christmas break Joey?” my mum asked while I was relaxing with a glass of cider back at home from university for the holidays.

The parents of a troublesome teenage son finally had enough and sends him for special training. He gets more than she bargains for.

Part 27

When Chris hesitated, Julia started by echoing the phrase he had repeated for her. “You have a fuckable ass, girl,” she said. As she spoke, she continued working the sweet spot she had found. “And you’ve been talking about your obsession with hard cocks all afternoon.”

As Rob drove to Church for the Christmas Eve Service he felt torn. For several years the place of comfort and support the Church represented had become increasingly difficult for him to bear. For the vast majority of the congregation, the Religious Dogma was rote, especially the formal prayers and creeds. Rob didn’t see anyone who put any thought into what they said thus missing what the Faith was all about. He understood he was not having a Faith Crisis, but was slowly being consumed by a Religious Crisis. For the last 5 years, He’d been increasingly unable to rouse himself from bed, only attending sporadically. The closer he came to the Church for the Christmas Eve Services, the more anxiety he felt. This brought up the question of how, at age 73, he’d reached this unsettling point in his life. During the past 47 years he’d traveled the 36 mile loop between Church and home well over 3500 times so the route had become rote. His mind switched to auto pilot as he reminisced.

The lynching tree is the oldest living thing on our farm. It was here when the first white men
came and it’s still here and growing. I guess the black folks around here have always called it that. Back when I was in elementary school Reverend Amos James began calling for the tree to be destroyed as “a symbol of white oppression.” That’s when everyone started calling it the lynching tree. Before that we just called it the big oak.