Revenge
by
Angharad

Warning: there is some sexual violence in this story, as well as explicit mention of female body parts.

My Brilliant Idea

The Redemption of Jamie Sarah Potter
-2-
Returning the Prefect Badge

Karma can bring your payback at the most inconvenient of times. But when is ever a good time?

Haida arrives at a small coastal village with a much needed supply of food. Needless to say, all eyes are on Haida to see what she'll do.

Chapter 5

The Redemption of Jamie Sarah Potter
-1-
Confession

I took a deep breath as I knelt down in front of the altar of St. Mary's Episcopal Church. Mass was due to start in thirty minutes. And Fr. Bell was now hearing confessions. Now, normally I don't go to confession, I find it silly, a waste of time, and sometimes down right degrading. Like why am I going to wreck my brain looking for a 'sin' to confess to a forty something year old man hiding behind a wooden screen? But there was something on my mind.

See You on the Other Side
(Part 1)
By Sabrina G. Langton

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Author's note: Here is an extra long story. It's about friendship, love, sex and Brooklyn. It makes me cry when I read it, when I need it, I hope YOU Like it...

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'I believe when I fall in love, with you it will be forever'

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I loved the walk from the market. Listening to the music in my head.

This little short came to me while waiting for a Funeral Cortege to go slowly along the road and into a local church. It is a variation on a piece that I wrote for my writing class.

'Assume the position' those words echoed in my ear as I stepped back. There was no possible way this could be going on. This was all a mistake. Daisy had defended me, he had taken up for me. He should have been hailed as a hero and here they were treating him like a common criminal.

Daisy took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. A moment later he was pulling out his wallet, his phone, and a string of beads, prayer beads. He handed the items to me. I don't know why but he did and with trembling hands I took them.

Writing in Style.
by
Angharad.

I was a calligrapher, I did the fancy writing on things when they didn't want it done by machine, anything from wedding lists and labels to certificates for all sorts, including politicians, when they'd been granted the freedom of the town centre and that sort of thing. I wasn't particularly well paid because you can do it with a computer but when they wanted something special I was the go-to for it in our town.

Trixed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Todd

Todd was a sexual predator but probably would have considered himself the complete opposite of that. He might well have styled himself as prey – bait to tempt the cougars. He cultivated that image. He was not aggressive in picking up women. He was not physically imposing so he had found a style which he prided himself made him irresistible to women. He was charming and polite and almost innocent – the kind of young man a woman would like to take home.

My name is P James O’Neill. If anyone asks what the P is for I tell them to mind their own business. Because of a few generations ago Irish ancestry my parents lumbered me with the name Patsy, not Patrick, Paddy, or even Pat, but Patsy. All through school and college that had caused me no end of problems, Most of my classmates deliberately called me Patsy to annoy or bully me, even though they were corrected time and time again, and I lost count of the number of times that I was made to associate with or sit with the girls, as the boys either ridiculed or ignored me.

I thought that when I left college that I would be free of all that nonsense and that the name PJ O’Neill had quite a cool professional ring to it. When I was drafted however the US army however had a totally different agenda for me.

Saved by the Bell
-2-
Dead man Walking

“BELL! JONES!” A loud voice seemed to boom. The voice belonged to Mr. Coalfield. A brute of a man, Mr. Coalfield or Coach Coalfield as everybody in school called him was the boy's P.E Instructor and the head coach of the Benton Academy football program. His skin was brown as leather and his neck reminded of the shank bone of a ham. And his hands were thick like hot dogs.

Chapter 3

I also found out that the drama group I had seen today was mainly made up of lower-level employees of several embassies, as a relief valve to lower their stress. She told me that Vlad wasn’t overtly linked to the Russians, but he had a lot of friends from all around the Soviet Bloc. It was said that he was an advisor to Todor Zhivkov, the leader of the Communist Party, and had carried that connection through to Lyudmila, pushing the culture and arts to the forefront.

Saved by the Bell
-1-
His name was James Donald Bell

It's a common misconception that Benton Academy is the cradle for the Episcopal and Methodist bourgeoisie of Benton. In fact it's nothing more than a really redneck school. And the only way my mom and dad can afford to send me here is that my grandmother is footing the bill. My grandmother wants me to get the best education possible in this small town. She wants me to make something of my life.

I remembered the night she threw me out. I had worn her sexiest underwear. She hadn’t worn it for years, so one of us may as well use it. I was half way through clipping my stockings to my suspenders when she came in. I thought she would be out seeing her friend until 10.30 at least.

“I bloody knew it, you little queer. You couldn’t leave it alone could you? Well, you can bugger off. I want a real man.”

The Flower Story
By Sabrina G. Langton

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Chapter 2

Adrianne advised me that I should look my best when I went to see Helen. I didn’t take much urging. Since leaving the hospital I had been trying to be the best Babs around. I had spent a bit of my savings on clothes and shoes. All that time on courses with all food and shelter provided had given me a good bank account. My outfit was smart, yet sexy. Four-inch heels, smoky hose, tight skirt, and a silk blouse that showed my cleavage, and a bit more.

The Cruise
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

-9-
The Harvest Moon

My shift in the dunking booth had come to an end. The Sun was now setting over the gable roofs of Iskay Village. The cobblestone square had fallen quite. I thought like most folk festivals there would be a dance at the end. I was wrong, there was no dance. The villagers simply retreated inside to the warmth of their houses.