Witches
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

You do not choose your religion, almost all adopt the religion of their parents. And sometimes the religion that you are born into cannot be described by a word. So, I have always said that I was raised as a wiccan. I can call myself a wiccan. But that is not quite true.

I don't really live in Benton proper. But in one of the area's that was annexed around thirty years ago into the township. The local's call the area 'Haunted Hollow' for reasons that have never been explained to me. Many of the houses in this area are simple log cabin Unlike the wealthy people who live in town in creole-style cottages or the middle class people who live in simpler cottages that line the 'Town Creek' section of town. People here are mostly lower middle-class farmers. The descendants of the poor sharecroppers that came to this area following the Civil War.

I took a deep breath as I peered toward the wooden door that would lead into the office of our school's Guidance Counselor. Releasing my deep breath, I raised up my hand and knocked upon the wooden door. A second or two later, the door opened and in the threshold there stood a tall woman, with flaming red hair worn in a high ponytail. She wore a cream colored blouse with mother of pearl buttons the blouse was paired with a coal black pencil skirt. White stocking and black, low heel dress shoes rounded out her outfit.

Someone has to be the Patsy!! Part 15 – Going Out

So, we left off with me babysitting my two cousins and my mom telling me she wanted to talk when she came to get me the next morning.

All through that night my mind kept going through things to say and what might happen the next day. I did not get a lot of sleep because of the upcoming event that was about to take place. But even though I knew I was about to get into trouble I still went snooping through my aunt’s dresser that night trying to find a pair of her pantyhose. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any.

Right Here Waiting

I. Take This Heart

Stephen Reyes wrote a poem for me, saying I was all that really mattered in the world and that I was to believe in all I was ever to hear. I bought into this advice, which was good for me to do. Seeing all of this with 20/20 hindsight, it all makes sense now that I’m older.
Not much wiser, but older.

Learning to Crawl.

Uncle
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I don't want you to get you haircut,” my mother said. She was suddenly very serious, and I could see that something was wrong. It seemed like fear in her eyes.

“It's just a haircut, Mom,” I said. I was struggling to see what the big issue was. But there was something very wrong. I looked at her in a way that I thought demanded an answer.

Transatlantic
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Women and children only! Women and children!”

The township of Benton has three main water towers, one of which has been closed down and is no longer in operation. That one happens to also be the tallest of the tree, the structure looms over the skyline of the town like a sleeping giant made out of copper, iron and steel. The rails lining the catwalk that surrounds the dome have turned to orange rust and are crumbling and decaying. The once bright navy blue letters that once spelled out the word “Benton” have become chipped and turned to an off color of blue.

A word of warning to you, dear reader. This one goes into dark places and, while it may get graphic, hopefully does not get too offensive. The plot locations and characters are all products of my fevered imagination but the named public buildings and events in Spain are real and can be looked up on your computer. It ends in a world we are living in now and I sincerely hope that, by the time you read the last chapter, we are back to near normal.

Marianne G

A Journey Always Starts With The First Step

The Gibbon Girls
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My father was known as “Snake” Gibbon. It was a good name. As hard men go he was not a “Bull” or a “Bear”, he was more like a snake. He was thin and wiry, which sharp, vicious features and greasy long hair in a queue down his back. He was known for getting own way, however he could, including stabbing people in the back, not always with a blade.

“Anna, I’m going for a run, then I’ll be back to shower.”

Anna and Dan were happily married for the last nine years since meeting at college. Now with two young girls, Tracy and Margaret, they were settling into their lives. But the good life had packed some extra pounds on Dan’s frame, and he was determined not to let his burgeoning beer belly bloom into a full pregnancy look.

Vlogger
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“You owe me Bro, and I need you to do something for me”. Her words sounded ominous. It was as if I knew that afternoon, that whatever she was asking of me would have consequences – serious consequences. But I suppose that she knew I would say yes. Perhaps because I owed her, but perhaps because she was my sister.

Benton Agricultural High School is one of the oldest public schools still in operation in the state of Mississippi. And if rumors are to be believed it's also supposed to be one of the most haunted. With no fewer than a dozen or so ghost laying claim to the school. One of the most famous and these stories is certain to a certain girl who is reported to have haunted the nurses office on the third floor of the school. She also reported to roam the hallways between classes.

Bald
A Short Sory
By Maryanne Peters

Attached as a pdf to view the images better.

Stiff Upper Lips
Inspired by John’s Message
By Maryanne Peters

Jonathan Hanscombe and Rupert Burlew had secured for themselves the two large leather armchairs by the window in the sitting room of Arthur’s in St. James. The window offered a view down the street of St. James Square (as it was then known) to the Gardens, but in the afternoon, it was the lightest area of the otherwise dark rooms of that ancient establishment.

A short story...

Copyright © 2020 by AuP reviner

Waif
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Ron White thinks he can manipulate Room 1408 to make his transsexual girlfriend, Jane, a real woman and pregnant. But Room 1408 is not to be trifled with. A continuation of Part 1 and 2 and based on the best-selling novel by Stephen King.

I was a professor of law at a small Catholic university. I preferred the title professor to “father” even though I was an ordained priest and a theologian as well. Some would say that I was a rather well-known theologian. Others would spit and call me infamous and the spawn of the devil. In the context of the Catholic Church I’m considered a raving mad leftie. I prefer liberal. While I don’t think I question the basic tenets of the Faith I certainly question that the social system of the first centuries AD in the eastern Mediterranean basin should dictate how the Holy Church is organised today. Recently I had been involved in some rather heated debate.

That was probably the reason why the Dean was falling to pieces when he received the message that His Holiness Johannes XXIV had requested my presence in Rome AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

A short story...

Copyright © 2020 by AuP reviner