The problem with lying in bed doing nothing is it gives me too much time to think. To think about Christina, to think about my new job and to think about why Rick felt it necessary to try and nearly succeed in killing me.

The Wager
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Are you proposing a wager?” Professor Harrison Hunt smiled mischievously at his colleague. The tall, sinewy academic leaned against the bookcase in his old fashioned study.

“I would be happy to take your money, Harry,” responded Professor Michael Danes. “It is a bold claim for somebody with my knowledge in the field.”

Gypsy Healing
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Before I answer your question, I must tell you that I am not a religious person, and I do not believe in miracles,” said Dr Solander. “But spontaneous remission is a fact. It does happen. It happens rarely, but it does happen. Even without treatment, cancers can disappear.”

“But that is exactly what I am asking,” said Emmet. “How can it happen? Can there be some external influence? I am like you – not at all religious. I am looking for a rational explanation.”

Things had gotten a lot clearer since yesterday. It helped that I didn't have to worry about Christina. The nurses did tell me about her catfight with Rick's wife. I'm sorry I missed it. Maybe there was security footage. I'd ask.

Okay, I'm a guy, the idea of Christina and another women fighting kind of turned me on. As long as she didn't find out.

Addiction
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Of course I respect you and your studies,” began Dr Julius Zelig, “But what you are suggesting is contrary to my research and all accepted understanding of this issue.”

“I don’t deny it,” said Dr Gordon Halsey, “But I tell you I have isolated the neurochemical.”

The Rose of Kandahar
A Novelette
By Maryanne Peters

It would be good to say that grit and determination got me through it all, but that could not be further from the truth. I survived by surrender and submission. Surrender and submission and two Afghan traditions that turned strangely to my advantage – Bacha bazi and Pashtunwali. Then later another local tradition known as Shadabi. This is really a story about traditions.

Dinner with Polly
A Short Story
(and certainly not an AR fantasy)
By Maryanne Peters

Maggie Dawson looked across at her husband Brian and smiled. They had been married for 26 years and he was still a good-looking man. He was also slight of build and not ruggedly handsome, and his hair was prematurely white, but his skin was remarkably unwrinkled, although thin and pale. She had far more wrinkles than him. She loved him now more than ever. There life together had been much more interesting lately.

“Is Polly coming for dinner tonight?” she asked.

I'd changed my wifi password the day she'd turned me away. I never expected she'd ever see it. Well, my secret was out now. I looked at her to see her reaction. At least she wasn't shaking her head no. Instead she was clutching the small bit of paper to her chest like her favorite doll.

Caring
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Nobody wants to be a burden on their family and friends, but a man with Multiple Sclerosis is a burden.

MS is an autoimmune disease that affects the central nervous system. It is more common in women than in men and is usually diagnosed much earlier that it was for me. Less than 5% of MS sufferers are diagnosed after the age of 50. I was 51.

111 Brookberry Cir Unit 111, Chapel Hill, N.C.:
Angela stretches as she wakes-up. She has never slept as soundly and as comfortable as she did last night. Sure, some of her muscles were screaming at her from her swimming exercise, but overall. She felt relax and well-rested.

Kelly wakes up the next day. Her arms were sore from all the sanding she did the day before. She gets up and heads towards her private bathroom. She loved the fact that she finally had her bathroom.

After doing her morning routine, she puts on a new romper she bought a few weeks ago. She and Victoria had been out shopping for new clothes. Victoria was helping her adjust to being a normal woman. She wanted to learn as much as she could about women's fashion from
Victoria. Victoria helped her find the right type of bra to wear after she had her breasts reduced.

I don't know what the hell got into that woman. If I didn't know better I'd think she was jealous. That was some kiss she laid on me and that ass in her tight skirt. . . . It was going to take me a couple of minutes before I could get out of the car and not embarrass myself.

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.

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.

Amazon
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was born in Morocco into a Moroccan Jewish family. My family had been living in Morocco for many generations after my ancestors were driven from Spain by the Christians. I have always considered myself to be North African.

I watched her drive away and wondered if I was being foolish trying to make something work that might have no future. I pounded the wheel in frustration, hitting the horn accidentally and scaring an old couple walking by half to death. I opened the window and offered a sheepish apology.

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.