"Please, please kill me" I groaned feeling like a dog was knawing on my insides.

Josh Ryan was not normal. He talked different, walked different, laughed different... and everyone knew it. He had two very close friends who always wanted to help him; in fact, throughout his young life, he always had people around who wanted to help him... usually to fend off his parents who seemed like they would do anything for him. Their desire to help however, often made his own life take a back seat to their ideas of why he was so different and who he should become as a result... "for his own good." Determined to raise Josh 'their way' and according to their own ideas of who he is, it would take extreme circumstances and more pain than Josh ever thought a person could endure for anyone to even begin to see the damage his parents were doing to his childhood, his future, and in the end, his very life... all "with the best of intentions."

Eric Dunning was only twelve and in the last six months had watched his mother Erica waste away with cancer, eight years after the death of his father Jack in the early months of fighting in Afghanistan. Torn away from everything he has ever known, a happy southern California life with his mother and his best friend April, he is sent to the complete opposite side of the country to live with an aunt and cousin he has never met. Enduring one trauma after another, circumstances alter the way he sees life, God, and himself in ways he could never have imagined.

Set against the backdrop of rural northern New Hampshire in the 2010s, Lost Faith combines elements of coming-of-age, transformation, self-discovery, and romance, interwoven with a potential answer to the question, "Why does a loving God allow good people to suffer?" It is written as a companion story to the novel, Every Day is Your Last.

Then Helen explained that Christopher was coming back from the hospital and really they needed to talk as a family over what had happened. This triggered Tracy to feel uncomfortable again. Ginny's mother decided that it was time to be going and reminded Ginny not to gossip about what she had said or heard today........

A different Angel 8,

Helen did a double take when she heard Ginny blurt that out after the conversation she had been having with David and his breakdown, maybe this child had a better insight into her child than she did. Ginny's mother was trying to shush her daughter but David didn't seem to be reacting in a negative manner to what she had said. She looked closely and she could see the feminine in the young man and she wondered if there was something there. Helen and Richard had always seemed to be normal and when she had dealings with David he was a thug.

At first I thought he was another handsome customer. You know the kind - a cocktail of rugged and kempt in skinny jeans and a loose knit sweater. His eyes twinkled, and he smiled a shy smile. A girl could fall hard if she wasn’t careful.

“Emily, right?”

Realisation landed with a proverbial slap. I knew him. More than that, he was a remnant of a life gone by. Different names, different faces, among other things.

“Drew?”

Of all the coffee shops, on all the west coast, he stepped into mine.

A different angel 5

A different Angel 4....

I take a deep breath as I stand on my mark at the end of the street, flanked by four other young women the same age as me. We’re all dressed more or less the same- either loose summer dresses or (in my case at least) a floaty tank top and a short denim skirt, along with strappy summer sandals and thick make-up. I know I look gorgeous and I know I look effortlessly, perfectly feminine, but I’m still nervous- after all, there’s a lot riding on today, and the tiniest flaw in my look could ruin everything.

“We’re not objects!” Sophie chanted, backed by dozens of her friends and colleagues. “We’re not objects!”

“You go, girls!” A passer-by, a young woman in her early twenties, said, giving the picket line a thumbs up as she walked past them and into the vast concourse of Heathrow airport. Nevertheless, Sophie still felt uneasy.

A different angel chapter 2: perceptions B

As he looked down he saw a scrap of cloth from the hem of a school uniform summer dres and he knew he had suceeded and radioed his position and then the scream got louder and desperate. ….............

Now the story continues:

Decision Made - Part 2

When Beckie used that syrupy sweet voice on him, George knew that it could presage an eruption that could rivals Mount Vesuvius. He braced himself for the possible explosion and its inevitable fallout. In this case, Beckie contained her anger and calmly said, “George, go pour us a couple of stiff drinks. We need to have a talk.”

A short story...

Copyright © 2021 by AuP reviner

A short story...

Copyright © 2021 by AuP reviner

On his release, Joe's mother interrogates him over lunch. No secret is safe from her.

It was a Monday, I had just showered after PE and was alone in the middle school locker room. I usually was since I almost always helped coach tidy up after class. Coach had reminded me many times that “sucking up” wouldn’t get me any better grades. That didn’t matter, I LIKED helping people. Why shouldn’t I? It wasn’t like I lost anything by doing that. Coming into the locker room late meant that I didn’t have to deal with the crowd in the rather small locker room. Much less stressful. After PE I had lunch break and coming late meant that I didn’t have to hustle in the queue in the canteen.

Anyway, I was sitting there alone in the locker room scratching my chest that had been bothering me for some time. Maybe I had some kind of inflammation since I had developed mounds there. I didn’t like to see doctors but if this continued I just might have to. That was when coach happened to come into the locker room.

DOWN THE AISLE I GO

By Rhayna Tera, copyright 2021

Warning: If you don't like reading transgender or related fiction, then stop reading now.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.