32. The Gathering Storm Bob Short helped Fiona up off the shower floor and into the radiant heated bathroom. He toweled her dry from head to toe and proceeded to brush out her hair. Fiona acquiesced to all this attention and wondered why he was not married. If Bob took care of all of the women he met like he was taking care of her, he would be a wonderful...
Author's Note: Several commenters expressed dissatisfaction with the ze/zir/zim pronouns in Chapter 4, so I've produced this alternate version using they/their/them instead. Is it better/worse/same? ~~~~~ Over the next weeks, as 2015 gave way to 2016, the rate of Nova detections kept rising. Several other nations reported isolating the Nova retrovirus and...
'Is this Mrs. Fiona Trucker?' asked a strong male voice. Hearing someone refer her by Robert's surname made her hate herself. She wanted to lash out at the caller, but maybe the man didn't know that they were divorced. 'No. This is Miss Fiona Kahler. Mr. Trucker and I got divorced a few months back. Who is this?' she asked as she walked into the living roo...
Author's Note: Everyone in this story is eighteen or older! Stephanie and Arthur Miller watched through the second story window of their posh uptown home as the neighborhood burned down around them. Not literally, but figuratively. The arsonists were burly looking moving men. Their torches and firebombs were the crates and boxes that weighed down the back o...
Fiona snapped. "What is wrong with you? You've barely touched me." "I've got a gardening tool up my ... well it's not very comfortable!" "Well you should have got your parents out for the day. Send them to the cinema or something. We could have been at your house instead!" Greg snorted derisively. "It's so easy for you." His naked lover turned to face hi...
Love. It's a funny thing isn't it? I mean, everyone wants it and it has the power to bring happiness into the life of even the most downtrodden among us. The flip side of the same coin is that loss of love has the power to plunge the happiest, most influential person deeply into despair. I am an example of neither. I am an ordinary teenager and I've never b...
I do not generally approve of editorializing. It seems like such a redundant and trivial exercise. I like to tell a story, to allow the characters to draw you into the tale. I love to hear that someone enjoys what I write. I even love to hear when I make a mistake, which can show me how I can improve my craft. I loathe the anonymous and pathetic fool who tri...
Fiona Hendrickson glanced at her next appointment. Marcus Chapman. Well, this should be the highlight of the day, she thought. He was her last appointment of the morning before her lunch break and the students had been a pretty depressing bunch so far. In an unexceptional school, Marcus stood out. His grades were uniformly excellent and his extra-curricular...
Stewart was maybe twenty-two, tall and desperately thin but not unattractive, with short curly red hair and cheerful, friendly eyes. He tried, out of politeness, not to keep looking at what was so wantonly exposed to him (and, indeed, to everyone, but Stewart had a front row seat, so to speak), but some things can't be ignored. He kept his manner profession...
((I'd like to thank a veritable cadre of friends who've inspired me to write again. This was started six years ago, rewritten twice from scratch, and nearly dumped into the recycle bin. It's been a long time coming, and I do hope you like it! As always, feedback is eagerly awaited!)) * Fiona Briette-Blue, a woman of medium height and stark white waist-leng...