A whirl of dust followed the stranger's heavy boots into the inn. The card game in the corner stopped for a breath, looked him over with disinterested eyes before returning to the hands. A young woman with the blackest hair looked him up and down, the smile on her face didn't reach her eyes and she turned back to her conversation. The wooden door banged shut...
"Haven't you ever done anything on the spur of the moment, Mom?" Rachel gave her mother an exasperated look. Jill looked over the top of her reading glasses at her daughter. "I'm sorry. I like to know where I'm going, who I'm going with, little things like that. And I certainly don't want to go somewhere by myself." "Live a little, Mom, take some chances i...
This story is fiction. This is the first of several parts. The people, places and organizations described in the story do not exist. If you are not a fan of female supremacy you probably will not like this story. Constructive criticism and comments are always welcome. ***** Chapter 1: Introduction Have you ever been obligated to do something even though y...
The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography. Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas. This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes...
Charlie was struggling to get free from a swarm of opponents when he heard the referee's whistle and the siren indicating the game was over. His team had been defending hard for the last few minutes protecting a three point lead in their first Northern district Rugby League final. Now as reality set in they knew that they had achieved what was deemed impos...
Most days he would trundle door to door, pulling his shabby cart through alleyways, hawking little bottles of "medicine" in their amber-hued glass. He looked time-worn in the way of gypsies and street peddlers, eyes hidden by the brim of his shapeless hat, hands calloused, his fingertips browned with the dirt of the road. Most days he sold no more than a few...
Thanks to LaRacasse for suggesting a story set in India, and homage to E. M. Forster, creator of a masterpiece. I have tried to capture the language and attitudes of the time (roughly 1925), even as I exaggerated them in this parody; that which is offensive today was common speech then, and vice versa. So if racism and other political incorrectnesses offend...
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Eileen was starting to sweat seriously now. It had been chilly in New York, even colder on the plane. Her little white ribbed turtleneck had been just right. But now, in the middle of the Arizona desert, she was dying. "I thought it was your idea," Tom countered. Actually, it had been the two of them. They had...
This story is for the Valentine's Day contest, so any feedback and of course votes would be appreciated. * Not really sure what to expect when she started up the winding driveway that led to her new employer's house, but Joy was as surprised as she was delighted to find the most charming house she'd ever seen, her eyes lighting up as she reached the end of...
Immersion Playground Book #2: Arena Chapter 9 Coy sits in the shade with the rest of the landscaping crew, watching the small tractor strain at the roto-tiller, mixing the sand and peat into the hard California clay. He's pitched in with the spreading of the materials, unable to resist the temptation to get his hands dirty again. While machinery does the...