Back at their hotel, the four of them gathered in Melissa’s room.

“Mom? Did you know about Jack being a Lord before you came back here from your tour?” asked Zane.

LC simply looked confused, but it was our son’s turn to help, Ish calling out, “When I was very little, I had a stuffed rabbit”

“What’s a rabbit?”

Moments like that cut me, for each was a reminder of how much of our child’s life had been stolen by those bastards, along with that of my wife. Ish was still on point, though.

“It’s a little animal, Carolyn. We’ll show you some real ones, but mine was a toy, like your bear, for cuddling. Another name for a rabbits is ‘Bunny,’ and because I was very little, I called mine Bunbun”

“Have you still got it?”

“Ooh, how about these?” Sarah asked as she picked up a box of expensive-looking chocolate covered shortbread biscuits. “You did say that one of the new Angels is Scottish, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but she’s not moved to London yet,” Nikki replied, before giggling, taking the box from her wife and placing it in the already-bulging trolley. “Both Alice AND Charlotte love these though, hehe!”

“And being models, they’ll probably only be allowed to eat a maximum of two each,” Sarah teased.

I found myself looking into my own beer glass, worried about confessing the truth. It’s been fifteen years, for fuck’s sake! What can he do to me? “I reacted to you like any other fourteen-year-old-girl would. I get why that freaked you out.”

Port in a Storm
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Our first morning in the UK was brighter, a communal breakfast taken in the conservatory and garden, bunkhouse style in the way everyone clubbed together. I still felt like shit, my usual reaction to long haul flights, but Maz and I had been woken by our daughter at about seven, Maz pretending to be asleep even after a prod from the girl. I understood why when LC finally turned to me for permission.

“Dad?”

“Yes, love?”

The slightest of twitches from her, and then that surge of confidence, or maybe hope, that warmed my heart.

“Can I play with the dogs again?”

I bolted from the scene, propelled not by a plan but by sheer instinct, my heart hammering in my chest. One moment, I was immersed in a discussion with a client about the intricacies of investment portfolios, dissecting market trends over carefully plated teriyaki salmon. The next, chaos erupted—a steel blade sliced through my meal, sending chunks of fish and grains of rice flying across the table like the aftermath of a violent crime. The clinking of silverware ceased abruptly, and my drink cascaded over my lap, a sticky reminder of the tumult around me.

That was the title of blog by Penny Lane a couple of weeks ago. I made a comment about that and was more or less challenged by her to put my pen where my mouth is (did I get that wrong?). However, at the time I was too busy being immersed in the Finnish partitive to do something about it …

We revisit an old story and get back tot he action of the Twins long after their time at Whateley

I have to ask for some input....what to do next when they go to the CIA headquarters?

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Historical Changes

Later in high school, I had a chance to choose a 20th-century subject for a paper for history class, and I chose to research and write about the impact of the Change on the clothing industry. This was a way I could incorporate studying the Change in my schooling while maintaining long-term focus on making the ether device. Some of it was predictable given what changed, but it was interesting nonetheless. I’ve included a version of it here, just slightly edited for an Earth audience.

Chapter 32: Morning Light

The world emerged slowly from the haze of dreams, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and the gentle rhythm of steady breaths.

Sapphire stirred beneath the velvety embrace of a blanket, her cheek nestled against the inviting curve of Yuqi’s shoulder. The soft, melodic pulse of her mate’s heartbeat resonated in her ear, wrapping her in a profound sense of comfort that felt entirely new. She felt safe. Wanted. Cherished.