This is Chapter #8 of a continuing story.
Shannon was going to her 10 year reunion. She had a couple of surprises up her sleeve for the people that ignored her in school.
Genre: FictionWarning: noneLatifah Ngeriamu left the effervescent tap flowing as her mind drifted to the letter she had found that morning on the dressing table of her boss. The letter said in some part that Michele, her boss’ daughter would be smuggling five hundred thousand from America. Latifah thought of what she would do with.. Read More
Gaining A Mile On Forgiving My Mother I have been at this work bench for some seventy years. I have sought every tool available upon the planet earth. Evidently I have many miles to go before I sleep. My goal is to forgive my parents. Especially my mother. I am weary of being.. Read More
Don’t underestimate booze
Genre: GENERAL FICTIONThe view looking down was spectacular, with mountains, trees and beautiful thatched cottages dotting the landscape. Somewhere in the distance Serena saw what looked like a stream, coming from the mountains and snaking its way down to the valley.
She ran her fingers along the cold, shiny metal surface. A pale reflection of tired eyes and worry lines looked back at her from the polished silver. Sterile white walls and glossy snow coloured tiles gave the space a clinical hospital feel, and a shiver of unease crept up her spine. A droplet of water.. Read More
Genre: FictionWarning: Hindus might feel this is blasphemousA vast empty land on the outskirts of the village, beyond the lines of everyone’s fields, had a makeshift stage set in the middle of it. Orange and blue striped overlapping carpets clad the stage that was three-feet high with the horizontal surface of six feet by six.. Read More
Genre: FictionWarning: NoneLola picked up a leg and parts of an arm from the floor, and, as always, the simple movement ached all of her body in inconceivable places. She put the prosthetic parts back on the workbench with the rest of the newly arrived human pieces.
Sometimes you just need a little magic.
Warning: violence and some swearingWhat could these failures in waiting be called; a pack, a mob? No, a filth, yes, he liked that, a filth of misfits. Boot glared at the loathsome group over his rimless spectacles and unlocked the oak paneled door to room B.11, thrust it open with a creak and led the.. Read More
The workshop was a ramshackle affair. Rajeet had built it from recycled wood; broken and discarded planks, fallen tree branches. Anything that he could nail together had been put into service to form the walls and their supports. The roof was a jigsaw puzzle of battered and bent pieces of corrugated iron and plastic debris.. Read More