Chapter 9: Boundary of the Divine

The tension arrived before the sirens.

I found a jacket that remembers a missing girl—and it’s rewriting my body one day at a time. Now I have to solve Wilma Struthers’ murder before the coat finishes its work and I disappear into someone else’s life.

It all started one day at the start of the summer holidays; I was
the youngest of five children but the only boy. We lived on a farm
with no near neighbours. I was always teasing my sisters and I must
have gone too far. I was having my usual long bath that always
upset one or more of my sisters as they could not use the toilet.
This day I could here a lot of whispering and movement, but
nobody was knocking for me to hurry up. When I finally finished
my bath and went to my room I found out what everybody had been

The house smells like garlic and rosemary when I push through the door, gym bag on my shoulder, the t-shirt still damp at the collar from the shower. No bra underneath - the sports bra is in the bag with the soaked sweats, and I didn't put it back on, just pulled the t-shirt over bare skin. The cold outside made itself known on the walk from the cab.

The heat was the first thing.

Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

CHAPTER 56
The flight back was a quiet one for my family, partly through the effects of too much booze, but mostly in reaction to the revelations about Susie’s adopted father. I knew there was more to be told, but all I could think of was the contrast on that ‘Sharp End’ programme between that infantryman and Gerald himself.

The former had spoken with true venom, while Gerald had almost looked ashamed. That, I believe, was the message I took from it all: how the hell had he kept his sanity?

Readers may remember a story I did a few years ago, set in a a Spanish Brothel. This one has been sitting around on my computer for a couple of years, and I thought that it was time for it to see some daylight.

Part 1 Anything to turn a Penny

I suppose it was all my fault, right from the start. I was totally lazy, but I also had expensive tastes. The fact that I liked to dress well, eat well, and live well was my downfall.

The ceiling was only the ceiling.

To Boldly Go
by Suzan Donamas

I've been lurking here for a long time but writing fiction is not my thing. Recently, in the comments of a story, CindySadnya mentioned that she found me very good with words and hoped to check what I've written here, and this got me thinking. While I'm still convinced that my mind is not built for writing stories I might nevertheless produce something that people here would consider worth reading. So, let's try this mood piece about days long past.

After Karma is kidnapped by a supervillain while on an outing with her mother, she quickly proves that he may have bitten off more htan he can chew.

https://whateley.online/