Maryanne Peters

Births Deaths and Marriages

Births Deaths and Marriages
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Allan Bingley was not the sort of man who you might think of as a criminal.

He has a small open and honest looking face on a small non-descript body, slightly flabby. He had very little hair on his head. Alopecia rather than pattern baldness, had robbed him of his hair when he was not yet thirty. His mother assured him that it would grow back. It never did. And now she was dead.

Jonni

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Jonni
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It was a classic New York City brownstone - a building I am used to working with. I had been asked to inspect it and report by a legal firm that often had me do this kind of work. All that I knew was that only 2 or three weeks before, the owner had checked himself into hospital and had promptly died. The law firm would be handling his estate.

Hungover

Hungover
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was hungover big time. I filled the sink with cold water and plunged my whole head in. The only comfort was that I knew that the night before had been the craziest of my life. It was a night that we would be sure to talk about for the rest of our lives. Except maybe not Greg. He might want to forget all about it.

Voice

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Voice
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My life changed when I was twelve. Up until that time I was just a normal boy. I played ball, I climbed trees, I caroused with my friends, we got dirty, and sometimes into trouble. I was entirely normal except for one thing – I had a talent.

Bait

Bait
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I came to, laid out on a bed in what was clearly a dimly lit cell. I tried to think back to work out how this had happened. I was on the street. The surveillance van was around the corner. I must have been bundled into a van. It must have been quick. There was a small chemical burn on my chin. I had been drugged with ether or chloroform, was my guess. It must be him – the killer.

In Mother's Place

In Mother’s Place
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My mother was a beautiful woman but seemed to us to have always been sad. I was just 17 and still in high school when she finally put an end to her life.

Pastries

Cupcake

Pastries
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It seems like everybody has a marketing degree, so I could not get the job I was looking for. I hate to admit it but it was my mother that got me the job. She knew Mario, the head chef at Perelli’s Italian Restaurant, and having told him that I was more than capable in the kitchen, in particular in baking, she was able to get me a job in the kitchen.

Losses

Losses
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I lost my balls at 17. It was a motorcycle accident. I was wearing my helmet and had good shoes on, but otherwise just shorts and a tee-shirt. I lost control and hit the kerb dead in front. The bike rode up but I went forward, over the fuel tank. The fuel cap tore open my scrotum and tore into my penis as well. I flew over the sidewalk and landed in the bushes. Other than the mutilation of my genitals I had only light injuries.

The Option

The Option
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I did not recognise the name when I was told of my visitor. Although it had been a few years I recognized her as one the victims of the Pickton Prowler, a mass rapist who I had been instrumental in catching. After an exchange of greetings I sat to hear what she had to say.

“I was sorry to hear about your conviction”, she said. “There are many of us who truly appreciate what you did for us. We want to help. In particular Annie Haldane and the Mitchell Sisters want to help.”

Fishing Trip

Mahi Mahi

Fishing Trip
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

There was no undoing it once it was done. Sam just said: “I've invited Michelle.” That was it.

Milos and I looked at one another. I think we shared the same expression. Trepidation with resignation. We knew that one day we would be face to face with one our oldest friends.

Girls Love Paris Best

Girls Love Paris Best
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My name is Laurence Beale. I used to be known as Larry. I always thought of myself as a masculine guy – I played football and baseball. I always thought of Laurence as a masculine name. I could of Larry Coombes, Larry Holmes, Larry Johnson. It never occurred to me that because of that name I could be mistaken for being a girl.

Dissociative Identity Disorder

Dissociative Identity Disorder
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“As you can see,” said Dr Theobald, “We have had to put him in restraints again.”

Her face was up to the window, but she kept her eyes closed. She could not bear to look. She knew what she would see. Her precious son. The one that she had held to her breast, and nurtured, was insane.

“I want to discuss with you a therapy,” said Dr Theobald. “It is a longshot, but with your consent we could try something.”

Immersion

Immersion
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I sort of, fell into Sociology. I had always intended to study the liberal arts and I enrolled in College in Political Science, Economics and Sociology. Frankly, I found Political Science annoying and Economics confusing. Sociology just seemed to fit. I cruised through the bachelor courses and was invited to do honours. Even before I received that degree I was invited to do a master’s degree, based on a research program.

Anomaly - A Star Trek Story

Anomaly – A Star Trek Story
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I am fully aware of the Prime Directive, Spock.” Captain James T Kirk found himself again annoyed by his friend’s reference to the fundamental rules applying.

Wartime Romance

WAC

Wartime Romance
A Short Story
From an Idea by Erin
By Maryanne Peters

After Pearl Harbor, everyone wanted to get in the fight. I had two older brothers sign up in the spring of 1942. My father said that they were born to be soldiers. He never said that about me.

Always Fi

Always Fi
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

There was no voice. With a buzz the gates swung open and the cab continued up the drive to the large house.

It was impressive. Large columns beside the entrance. Two storeys with attic rooms visible. Wings extended either side. A fountain in the forecourt. At least one of us has done well, Gary thought to himself.

He wondered for a moment whether his war buddy would meet him on the step, or whether he would have to ring the bell. Only for a moment as he could see the figure stepping out of the house.

Thai Plastic

Thai Plastic
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Rock, paper, scissors. That was how we decided it. Best of three. Somebody had to stay in Thailand. One of our local partners had absconded with some of the profits. We still had a well-connected local who had invested hard cash, but he knew nothing about plastic extrusions. One of us would need to commit to staying to run the factory. So it was down to chance.

Specialist Nanny

Specialist Nanny
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Authors Note: This story is based on the advertisement that appears in it (page 3) which is close to word for word, what appeared in a national daily in 2017.

My sister started out in the business by being best babysitter in the neighbourhood. To do that, all she needed to do was to ensure that when anybody that employed her needed a baby sitter, there was always a baby sitter available.

Second Life

Second Life
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I thought we were happy. I am not sure that any marriage was perfect, but I thought we were happy. I just could not understand why he would disappear and leave me and the boys behind.

It was the day after we returned from holidays together. For some reason he had not had a haircut for months and had grown what for him was a fairly substantial beard. He had said that he was going in to town to have a haircut and a proper shave before starting back at work the day after. He just never came back.

Mirror Talk

Mirror Talk
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

As I was about to sit down. I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my balls. A searing pain in both, at the same time. My hand went immediately to my groin. But no, there was nothing there. Just the slit below my trimmed bush, with the nubbin poking out between the folds. No balls. Long gone.

New Plumbing

New Plumbing
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

He sat down in the aisle seat. I was at the window. It was only a small plane so there was just the two of us.

I was on my home that evening. I had come straight from a meeting and I was in my best business suit. The skirt was fairly short and I had only nude pantyhose and a smart pair of heels. He admired my legs as he fastened his seat belt. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

The Guardian

The Guardian
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My family have always lived by tradition. Tradition transcended everything. Tradition gave us all meaning and purpose. The loyalty to the sovereign was everything, even when the sovereign had ceased to exist.

Paralyzed

Paralyzed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

She turns off the television. Bitch.

“Your daughter and her fiance are here to see you, Mr Rixon.”

God, no. And why does she have to talk to me like this, that Nurse Kelly. She even says the words “Mr Rixon” as if I am a small child, not a full grown man lying inert and useless on this bed.

And now I must go through it all again. My nightmare. The loss of my son.

“Hello Daddy, how are we feeling today?”

Diversity

Diversity
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“You have to be either gay or black to get ahead in this organization.” Luther drank deeply from his tall glass of beer. “I’m black, so you lose.”

I could only shake my head, but in agreement. But we were here to celebrate his elevation to a named manager on one of the key funds established by our employer. That meant not only the status but a share of the return based management fee.

Pretty

Pretty
A Short Story
Possibly inspired by an old movie
By Maryanne Peters

The voice on the other end of the phone surprised him. It was not at all masculine. Had he not been calling a man, he would have thought that he was talking to a woman.

“Is that Eve?” he asked.

“It is I,” she said playfully. “Eve. The first of women. At your service.” He liked her already. She would be perfect.

“Would you be available for a longer-term hire?” he asked. “Maybe starting this afternoon and finishing around 1:00 in the morning?”

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