Chapter 1. It had been a long a bitter winter for Heather McCreadie even though she was safely underground. The girl woke after every 'sleep' praying this would be the day he'd come to see her. Even a shouted word or two down the vent pipe would be a start but all she'd endured was silence. Heather sighed and dressed herself, wearing what was still her fav...
Miranda Parkes sang along with the car radio as she made a right turn onto Jefferson Avenue and then a quick left over to Madison Street. The song had been popular back in her high school days and brought back happy memories to the forty-eight year old. Then again, she really didn't need anything to feel good right now, not after leaving the doctor's office...
This story is part of an ongoing series. 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...
I am Frank Stokes, 64 years old, retired from an executive position in a large corporation. My wife of 35 years passed away 3 years ago. I live in Brentwood, a golfing community, in the Atlanta area. There are three 18 hole golf courses. One easy course, one a little more difficult and the third, for experts, more difficult. Lots of sand traps, water and lo...
If you are a male then you need to keep reading this paragraph. Females can skip to the next one since they already know what I am about to divulge. There is a well-kept secret that men should be aware of; it is called a nail salon. A visit to one of these establishments can change your life. If you ask a man if he has ever had a pedicure he will most likely...
"There's nothing to go on for. Nothing for my heart to cherish, but if that is true, why am I still here. Why do I still have existence? I did all I could. I still do all I can. But why? Why am I here? Do I still serve a purpose? I can't even see. I don't want to see. The pain it may bring me is too much. But if I am here I might as well look. No it hurts to...
The end of this weekend was also going to be the end of a long, long road trip. I don't often travel in my business, but this current project had been a little out of the ordinary and had required me to pitch the proposal, in person, to a number of board members around the country. I didn't mind the travel, and luckily the proposal itself was everything they...
I was helping my mother clear out my grandmother's house after her funeral. We had taken all of her clothes and furniture that we didn't want to the Salvation Army recycle store and were cleaning through in preparation for me to move in. It was her wish that I should live here as I was her favourite and it was convenient for my work. It was a small by toda...
I knew her the minute she walked through the door, Cynthia Marten, she'd been three years behind me in school, the younger sister of a friend, the year she graduated from eighth grade I was a junior in high school. Even if you work and live in a larger city you have a tendency to stay in touch with what happens back home if you came from a smaller rural area...
This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is 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...