Mermaid
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

They had almost reached the radio buoy when Nate called out that there was something in the water, off the starboard bow, maybe 200 metres distant. Skipper Greg Hanson was behind his own exacting schedule and was disinclined to investigate, until Nate called out: “I think it’s a body.”

Golden Days
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The winter of 2009 took my sweet wife Margot. It was an infection, we knew that much. We put her body outside in the snow to preserve her. I had not wanted to let go, but Carson made me see the sense in it. When winter broke, we were able to take her body in to town and confirm the cause of death. It was such a minor thing, just a small wound from a can of spam, but when you are isolated, even with modern communications, there is nothing you can do.

Masina
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

He thought that she looked athletic. She was clearly the biggest woman in the room, but there was no belly on her. Her cocktail dress clung to her curves showing her perfect breasts and her ample but tight, butt. Her long dark hair hung down her back clipped away from her perfectly made up face by a single clip with a flower on it. She wore no jewellery. Her skin was golden. He was unsure of her ethnicity. The hair was straight and swung about her as she moved. She was a vision.

Neuter
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Part 1

They were well in the air before he noticed the person sitting next to him. The stewardess was responding to a call and the person turned, and he recognized the face immediately. Still he waited for a moment before speaking.

“Excuse me,” you may think that this is rude and way to forward of me, but I think that recognize you. You are Jay Thornley, the neutered guy, sorry, person, aren’t.

“I am them,” they said, without looking up.

“Them?”

Faith
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My faith is the most important thing to me. It is now, as it was then. I gave my life to the Lord and it was my duty to spread his word and let his word inspire those who followed me.

As pastor of a minor but dedicated flock, I had responsibility for a small group of men and women who looked up to me as an exemplar of a good, Christian life.

Gorilla Suit
A Sunday Morning Dream
By Maryanne Peters

I had a nightmare last night that I was a man again. I had hairy legs and a bristly face, and I had a penis between my legs. I woke in a cold sweat.

The first thing I did was reach for my crotch. To my relief it was in perfect order – smooth right to in the in-between. I could not resist giving myself a little tickle.

The Power of the Goddess
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My father was involved in outsourcing work in India. He was in discussions with a large business in the South of that country – in a place called Kollam.

Virtuality
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I call her Pandora,” said Felix. “Get used to her. This is why I need you. This kind of interaction has to be a two-person thing.”

Jake was used to virtual reality. It was his thing after all. But here he was in their apartment. The only thing different was that he was in another body. When he held his hand up he could see that it was not his hand at all, it was a slender feminine hand, with manicured nails.

The Quarterback
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I played nose tackle, primarily on defense, but as guard for blocking on offence as well. I guess that means I am a versatile player. Anyways, I did OK and got a good run at pro-ball in my time. I had enough money to retire because my Mama put it all in the Bank. And besides, I do all right as a sales rep for a sporting goods company. I travel around and shake hands and talk about football. It is a good life, I guess.

Jonni
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It was a classic New York City brownstone - a building I am used to working with. I had been asked to inspect it and report by a legal firm that often had me do this kind of work. All that I knew was that only 2 or three weeks before, the owner had checked himself into hospital and had promptly died. The law firm would be handling his estate.

His and Hers
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Here is a story told from two perspectives, so it is attached as a pdf.
Please take the time to open it and read it how you like.
Maryanne

Bait
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I came to, laid out on a bed in what was clearly a dimly lit cell. I tried to think back to work out how this had happened. I was on the street. The surveillance van was around the corner. I must have been bundled into a van. It must have been quick. There was a small chemical burn on my chin. I had been drugged with ether or chloroform, was my guess. It must be him – the killer.

Pastries
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It seems like everybody has a marketing degree, so I could not get the job I was looking for. I hate to admit it but it was my mother that got me the job. She knew Mario, the head chef at Perelli’s Italian Restaurant, and having told him that I was more than capable in the kitchen, in particular in baking, she was able to get me a job in the kitchen.

The Option
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I did not recognise the name when I was told of my visitor. Although it had been a few years I recognized her as one the victims of the Pickton Prowler, a mass rapist who I had been instrumental in catching. After an exchange of greetings I sat to hear what she had to say.

“I was sorry to hear about your conviction”, she said. “There are many of us who truly appreciate what you did for us. We want to help. In particular Annie Haldane and the Mitchell Sisters want to help.”

Dissociative Identity Disorder
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“As you can see,” said Dr Theobald, “We have had to put him in restraints again.”

Her face was up to the window, but she kept her eyes closed. She could not bear to look. She knew what she would see. Her precious son. The one that she had held to her breast, and nurtured, was insane.

“I want to discuss with you a therapy,” said Dr Theobald. “It is a longshot, but with your consent we could try something.”

Anomaly – A Star Trek Story
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I am fully aware of the Prime Directive, Spock.” Captain James T Kirk found himself again annoyed by his friend’s reference to the fundamental rules applying.

Wartime Romance
A Short Story
From an Idea by Erin
By Maryanne Peters

After Pearl Harbor, everyone wanted to get in the fight. I had two older brothers sign up in the spring of 1942. My father said that they were born to be soldiers. He never said that about me.

Thai Plastic
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Rock, paper, scissors. That was how we decided it. Best of three. Somebody had to stay in Thailand. One of our local partners had absconded with some of the profits. We still had a well-connected local who had invested hard cash, but he knew nothing about plastic extrusions. One of us would need to commit to staying to run the factory. So it was down to chance.

Specialist Nanny
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Authors Note: This story is based on the advertisement that appears in it (page 3) which is close to word for word, what appeared in a national daily in 2017.

My sister started out in the business by being best babysitter in the neighbourhood. To do that, all she needed to do was to ensure that when anybody that employed her needed a baby sitter, there was always a baby sitter available.

Mirror Talk
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

As I was about to sit down. I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my balls. A searing pain in both, at the same time. My hand went immediately to my groin. But no, there was nothing there. Just the slit below my trimmed bush, with the nubbin poking out between the folds. No balls. Long gone.

Paralyzed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

She turns off the television. Bitch.

“Your daughter and her fiance are here to see you, Mr Rixon.”

God, no. And why does she have to talk to me like this, that Nurse Kelly. She even says the words “Mr Rixon” as if I am a small child, not a full grown man lying inert and useless on this bed.

And now I must go through it all again. My nightmare. The loss of my son.

“Hello Daddy, how are we feeling today?”