Slight Detour. Part 1

At this she took out her phone and called Pavlina, asking if it would be all right for her to pay for my time up to close of business Thursday evening and they came to an arrangement, with a bulk discount. I was affronted – only a week on the shelves and I am already consigned to the discount bin! She then turned to me and explained what she wanted me to do.

Talk Show
Fictional Transcripts
By Maryanne Peters

Season 3 Episode 5

JT: Welcome everybody to another “Tonight with Tanner”. I am Joe Tanner. And tonight, we have the star of the new Show “Crossover” with us tonight. Please welcome TJ Albright.

APPLAUSE

JT: TJ, Welcome.

TJA: Thank you Joe. And thanks everybody. It’s good to be here.

JT: I have to say it but once again you are with us in full costume.

I can’t get dressed

I hate this bloody pandemic. I want to get dressed and I can’t. I daren’t. My flatmates might not like it.

Authors note : I haven’t posted for a while now. Back in Dec 2018, I finished my set of 500-word ‘starter stories’ and the only person who took one and added a sequel ….. was me! Then the writing monkey took a break and couldn’t give me any worthwhile stories. Recently, I re-read some of my own stories and got a bit interested again. There may be a few posts in the near future. AP

Tales of the monsters Rougarou have been passed down from one generation to the other. The Rougarou, is something of a werewolf type creature that is said to stalk the underbrush of Big Cypress Swamp, searching for its favorite prey, a careless hunter, trapper or fisherman. It's also said to prey on household pets when the picking is lean. It's said to favor cats more than dogs. Its also said to make the many hidden hollows and vales that dot the thickly covered area the locals call “Haunted Hollow” its home.

Shampoo
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I am still having problems with formatting images in a story, so here is another story on pdf

Rose the Bunny

Rosey Red gave me this idea. Make of it what you will.

His name wasn't Scrooge, but it might as well had been.

His actual name was Richard Rose, and throughout the small town he lived in, there was no one richer, but no one less kind or less generous.

And yet there was one person who wanted nothing more than to see his heart soften.

Her name was Penny, and every night she prayed for him, saying “Somebody must have hurt Mr. Rose, which is why he’s so mean. So God, heal his heart.”

Influenced
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Pernicious” is the word. The internet is pernicious. Pernicious and addictive.

What is an “influencer”? How can they trap people the way they do? It is pernicious.

I was just an ordinary guy. A shy person. I suppose one of the generation brought up with a screen before my eyes. Introverted you might say. Absorbed by the screen. Absorbed by the world wide web.

Authors Note:

This work is set in the early stages of the Coronavirus outbreak. It's a work of fiction and if it offends you I apologize in advance. When I saw the reports of young people in Florida still going to the beach something in me wanted to tell a story about someone clueless as to how pandemics work. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful day.

Public School
By Maryanne Peters

Attached as a file so that you can all appreciate the talent that is Ignatious Fluke, the creative force behind Tranzfiction Magazine.
I am looking forward to contributing more material to this gorgeous (free) publication.

When there was an announcement that Amy Amstel should come to the school secretary’s office urgently since there was a call waiting for her from her modelling agency my class-room exploded in laughter at the obvious joke someone had managed to pull. Everyone looked at the boy in the second row – me. My teacher is in on it and said:

- They must mean you, Andrew. Off you go.

I hated the fact that I looked like the young teenage girl model Amy Amstel. More precisely I hated the ribbing I got for looking like her. I could, just, accept that my fellow students joked about it but teachers?

Baby Steps

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.