Revert to Default
A Short Story for the “Abducted” Contest
By Maryanne Peters

I make no secret of what I do within the Bureau – I just have to put up with the whole “X Files” thing. Mine is not a division called anything in particular, but there are unexplained phenomena that can benefit from being investigated by people who have a background in unexplained phenomena. My name is known and I might be called in.

Joe’s Woman
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Joe surveyed his claim with some pride in the early evening light, the red earth of Western Australia made even more red by the final rays of the sun. The portable building they had lived in was still flattened on the slight rise facing Treasure Hill, but the screening plant and loader were now back to full operation after the dust storm of the previous month.

The Colonel’s Assistant
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

When he looked at the calendar on his desk, he noted that it was 300 days until he could elect full retirements benefits. He had been counting the days until May 14, 1972. He wrote “300” on the bottom of his new blotter, on his pristine new desk.

Suspicions
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I am a possessive person. I admit it. I thought that Lauren loved me, and I thought that I loved her. I just felt that we were meant to be together. I thought that our arguments and lack of sex were issues that we could address, but that our relationship would be lasting.

I have to admit that sex was an issue for me, and I never really understood why at the time. Now I realize what the problem was. It seems so stupid that I did not recognize my own nature. I must be the biggest self-deceiver on the planet.

Seeking Redemption
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

People do not understand rape. Nobody wants to talk to a rapist about why they do it, unless it is to judge them. A rapist cannot even go to a shrink. They say: “If this is in the past then we may be able to discuss it while respecting confidentiality, but if you are contemplating future offending, then I must report any impending crime.” Contemplating? It those days it was all I could think about. But what do you do?

Living and Loving in Dystopia
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Nobody thought that it could get any worse for gay Russians with the fall of Vladimir Putin, but his successor seemed all the more keen to crack down on deviant behavior. The fact is that he had an ally in President Pence. It seems like both our countries are now controlled by the ignorant provincial conservatives who regard anything out of their normal as a religious crime. The “Heartland” of Russia is pretty much the same as the Heartland of America – hostile to gay people.

Unlucky Day
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Darlene who manned the public counter knocked on the glass door that separated Sheriff Abner Holding’s office from the space where he two deputies sat, when they were not out on patrol as they were. He could see that there was somebody beside her.

Her called for her to open the door.

Retransitioned
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I saw him across the room, and my blood ran cold. I knew when we split up that I would have to avoid all the places that we loved to go to together, and to avoid mixing with people that we knew as a couple, but it seemed to me this was not one of those places. He was not interested in art before he met me, so why would he be at the opening of that exhibition?

The Miner’s Wife
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Day One

Milky McGann found the boy on the trail and thought that he was dead. It seemed that his eyes were open and just staring at the dull grey sky like that of a dead man. He was lying in a pool of blood - perhaps there had been less lost than it seemed. But the face was white as if in shock rather than the slate color of death.

“If’n you’re hurt I’d better roll you over and see if’n you can’t be patched up,” said Milky, only half expecting a reply.

Fathers
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I found a canoe. I had taken a job for a few days cleaning out an old shed behind a house on the shore bought by somebody in the city. The realtor said that I could stay in the basement under the house for a few days and earn some cash for emptying the contents of the shed into a dumpster, sweeping the floors and wiping the place down.

Collateral
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was on holiday on my own. I had broken up with my girlfriend holly and I decided to drive my car all the way down to Cabo – just time on the road to clear my head. I just wanted to go somewhere where the booze was cheap and forget everything. I just jumped in and drove and drove.

Photoshoot
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I was accompanying my girlfriend on a photoshoot. To be honest, as a guy I was pleased to tell my pals that I was dating a model, but the truth is that she was not getting much work. She mentioned that her father had a hand is teeing up the session to promote a line of clothing that was just her style, so I have to say I wondered if Daddy might have sweetened the deal a little, given that he has bundles of cash.

Third Wife
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I had always had long hair. My mother let me grow it. She said that she had long hair when she was younger but cut it when she had children. She liked to brush it.

At high school I wore it in a long braid oiled so that it did not have too much volume. After it was washed it would gain volume and look like girl’s hair, which was not a look I wanted. It was interested in girls and so I wanted to be masculine. In fact, girls used to like to play with my hair.

Discharged - Female
A Short Story based on Fact
By Maryanne Peters

The Recall
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I was close to him in age, which is why they called on me, I guess. I was still assigned as “Active for Operations”, but I had not done a whole lot. That work is for younger men.

It was just that he had worked in the Ukraine, and now that was the place everybody wanted to understand. A lot of intelligence is about experience, and old connections. It is the kind of stuff that people retire with.

Pinkmail
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

He barely heard the knock on the door, but he rose to open it. The dark shape slipped past him into his motel room, moving swiftly and as quiet as that knock. Wesley closed the door.

The black hooded cloak was curiously old-fashioned, like something out of a period costume drama, but its purpose was clear. He had demanded that Oliver Ramsay meet in the out of the way establishment, and that could only be done in darkness and fully shrouded. Oliver was too well known for it to be any other way.

Clementine
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Gabe Horton was just the scout and guide. The leader of this wagon train was Ezekiel Masterton. He was the man who called the shots. Gabe could only recommend. Pastor Ezekiel seemed to hold the will of every one of the settlers in his hand.

Never too Old

A Vignette

By Maryanne Peters

A Pearl Among Women
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I suppose that I will have to tell you everything then,” she said with a sigh.

“Only if you want to,” he said. “But come back to bed. When you are back in my arms you can tell me anything you like. You know I will listen.”

“You listeners are rare among men,” she said, waving a scolding finger at him. But she flipped the covers and slipped back to where she had laid before.