Martha Ballard Book Novels & Stories

Tohr pressed. "Not necessarily repulsive as um… frightening," A series of images formed in my mind of all the times I had heard about anal. They were all negative and disgust-filled or only plain terrifying, as girls discussed how painful it was. Certainly, nothing to be allowed unless you were a whore or a slut. Tohr's eyebrows furrowed in confusion then turned to anger. "Mara, you… earthlings are so repressed. There is nothing wrong with enjoying the pleasures of the flesh! It is simply another appetite for you to quench! Good gods! Such judgment! Yes, this area…"

Her lips had clamped shut and from then on, silence. Martha managed to smuggle dozens of books to.the room. At least allowing us to spend our enforced time together in relative comfort. I know from her raised eyebrows she is confused but at least she is quiet on the topic. Quite how she got the books is beyond me, I imagine she has connections to bookmakers seeing as she is on ‘the inside’ as such. I trained harder and longer than ever before. The draw for the showcase was fast approaching and although only twelve out of the twenty team members would be selected it seemed inevitable my red ball would be appearing.

"I apologize, my lady. I should have prioritized your well-being and considered all that you have endured. Let us retire to your room, so you may find solace and rest." As Martha gently tucked me into bed, I inquired, "What is this commotion about a ball?" In an instant, she froze, a telltale sign that there was something she was reluctant to reveal. "It's alright, Martha. I am already aware that my exclusion from the guest list was deliberate. Nevertheless, I would like to hear the details. So, please, enlighten me about this ball."

he took a long drag of air as she let go of his collar. “Got that?” Martha turned to David and he nodded. “Send two men there. We need that book,” she sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “He’d be dead if he is lying to me,” she pulled a chair and set herself on it. “How are you able to concoct all these crazy crimes in your mind and actually do them? I don’t understand it,” she squinted her eyes and leaned forward, and jammed her hands together.

They brought Martha into their confidence the next morning. She sat across from them, pale, her hands trembling as she twisted a ring around her finger. Her voice cracked when she spoke. “You can’t… you can’t mean to put it out there,” she whispered. “Those pages were never supposed to be read, not by anyone but me. They’re full of mistakes. My shame. My weakness. If people see them…” Bella reached for her hand. “Martha, listen to me. What’s in that journal doesn’t make you weak. It shows what you survived. George broke so many people in silence. You’re brave enough to stand in the light. And you won’t be standing alone.”

she translated. “It’s mythological,” he said. “But so was electricity, once.” Martha stood alone outside the precinct, file folder clutched to her chest. She didn’t go back inside. She walked. Not to the station. Not to the diner. To the woods. To the one place her instincts dragged her when logic refused to catch up. Nolan Graves answered the knock with a frown that was already three days old. “You walked here?” he asked. She shoved the folder into his chest.