The Wandering Heart
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The heart is a curious thing. I am not talking about the anatomical organ, but about the feelings that grow and subside, that sometimes burn like fire and sometimes just give us a warm glow, and sometimes go cold as ice.

But how can you fall in love with a man who has abused you? How can you fall in love with a man who has mutilated and maimed you? A man who took away your future as a man and castrated you, and modified you to be his sexual plaything – how can you love such a man?

My Friend Græme

Græme was to all appearances a villain as a young man. Poverty stricken, he stole to eat and to put rags on his back to avoid freezing to death. To me he was always a decent man, for he hurt none and always had done his best to help all and anyone he’d ever met. He’d spent his life being the archetypal Good Samaritan.

Putting up my Hair
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

When I was a young boy, I wore my hair long. My mother did not discourage me because she said that my hair looked lovely, which is what I thought too. But my father hated it. He was always telling me to get it cut and I always resisted. I suppose that says something about my relationship with my father – I felt that he was proud of my older brother, but not me. As far as I was concerned, that made his opinion questionable, so I always questioned him.

When I woke up this morning I groped behind me to make sure my wife was still there in bed. My hand found hers and we gripped each other's hands in a morning embrace, just our fingers entwining. We’re both too old now for much in the way of shenanigans but a touch just gives you that warm feeling of lifelong companionship.

“You OK, love?” I asked her and she smiled at me as she always does.

The man had failed to meet an agreement, so his son would pay the horrible price. Now she, SHE would always be doomed to wear black, to include head covering, face covering, gloves, and floor length gown. The nerves to her vocal cords were cut, so it was intended that she would never speak. They had threatened to blind her and if there was any attempt to escape the curse, they surely would, they threatened.

Five friends and a drinking game . . . . What could go wrong?

My Father’s Debts
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Gambling is an awful addiction, just as bad as heroin. It takes over the mind and you steal from your work, from your family, from anybody to provide money to feed your habit.

My father was an addict and he would play anything. Poker, blackjack, roulette, even slots or the simple draw of a card, roll of a dice, or toss of a coin. It was like wait for the ball to drop or the card to turn was a rush. I have seen it - the wide eyes and the moist brow.

Constructing Eva
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I worked in construction because I had a background in it. My grandfather worked in wood and he had a full workshop in his basement with a bench router and a wood-turning lathe, as well as a band saw, planer and drill press. He had me make little things in wood from when I was small, and when I was older I helped him to build a scale model of a house – just the framing. I wanted to build the real thing.

Roommate Wanted
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Much to the disgust of my parents I decided to move into the apartment that my wealthy grandfather had left me in his will and lead a debauched life in the city.

I remember that my father said to me – “We cannot change the fact that you are gay. We can only say that we love you and that we ask you to be careful in choosing the people that you associate with.”

Kunoichi
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In Japan, warriors who serve a master cannot be bought and sold, but if in the service of their master they are directed to serve another, then their oath requires that they do so. To explain the strength of obligations created by the code of Bushido Shoshishu may be too difficult to explain to somebody who is not Japanese. To be bushi is to live by a code. Your life, and your body, mean nothing. Duty means everything.

The Isle of the Wise

Lorik had announced at their first evening meal on the Isle, ‘I shall give Godwin till the next full moon to consider his boon.’

‘There is no need, Lorik,’ the young man replied. ‘If she has a mind to it I’d like to take Ailidh to wife. If she has no mind to it I have need of naught, so I’ll ask for naught.’ It was a bold request for Ailidh was Lorik’s second daughter. Many wondered why he hadn’t asked for Ceinwen Ailidh’s elder sister, for Lorik had no sons and marrying the elder girl would make him Lorik’s heir.

‘If she has a mind to it, Godwin, you have my blessing.’

Lane Bryant Magical Transformation Part 2

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Author's notes: I created the idea for this technology a while ago. This story idea came to me this morning. I just kept the idea flowing and maybe later I will come up with other short story ideas like this.
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My name is Devin. I've been touted as a painting prodigy. The turning point in my career, a moment that would shape my future, came when I had my first gallery show at the tender age of sixteen. Since then, my work has been in high demand, keeping me busy and allowing me to live a comfortable life.

Accustomed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

2002

James McAdam had been dating the girl for a while when she told him about the job opportunity that had amounted to nothing.

“It is a private nurse job for this super rich guy, but despite my qualifications and experience he rejected me when I met him earlier today,” she said. “It would be a great job, because is very rich, very old and very sick, and said to be very generous. But he is looking for somebody special, and it is not me. Perhaps you should apply. You don’t have a real job.”

Stewardess Forever
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I always thought of it as just a fetish. I was a compulsive crossdresser, a transvestite who had found a special way to get my thrills. I wanted to appear to be an airline stewardess.

I remember as a small boy being bounced on the naked knee of a beautiful air hostess (as they were in those days) or perhaps that was just a dream? Anyway, I was fascinated by them from a young age.

My ex wife lied and took everything from me, so I paid her back in kind.

All was chaos in the house. With the forth of July conveniently occurring on a Thursday this year, those that could stretch the holiday into an extra-long weekend did so. Thus Chris and Sandy, a modern couple with demanding jobs, chose to leave their teenage children home to fend for themselves and spend four days backpacking in the woods. Naturally, this occasioned some acerbic comments from Melissa – age 13 – and Carter – age 15 – concerning the decrepitude of their aging parents and doubts as to their ability to survive without Cable, Internet and Fast Food.

Admit it. We all do it. How many times have you wasted far too much time just surfing the web and watching video after video about stuff you never knew was interesting?

Nailed to Change Part 4

Sheltered
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

She struck me as being the very height of feminine sophistication as she sat at the bar. She was dressed well, in an expensive dress that was sexy without being slutty, and she wore her soft blonde curls up on top of her head to reveal her slender neck and her ears with pearl drops dangling.

I had been talking to the barman previously and he saw me looking at her.

“She is taken,” he said. “She is waiting for her fiancé – the surgeon who turned her into a woman.”

When all your troubles roost at home, where do you go for refuge?

4.

The next day, the much-anticipated day of Tommy's aunt's wedding arrived. The sun was shining brightly, and there was an air of excitement as the family prepared for the joyous occasion. As the family got ready, Tommy felt a mix of nerves and excitement. He knew that he had an important role to play as the flower girl for his aunt's wedding. Despite feeling a little anxious, he was also eager to take part in the special event.

Looking Back
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I keep think that John could have had any woman that he wanted, but instead he demanded that I should be that woman.

He was a gay man, and I was too. It was just that it did not matter to me, but it did to him. He was a professional sportsman. He is no longer competing, but he still lives off his past, so for that reason I refer to him only as John, but that is not his name. I bear him no ill will, despite everything. I will keep his secret. For me it never was a secret who I was.