Chapter Five – Porridge

Story conclusion. Is Gillian Guilty? If so, what will be her punishment?

Tim Rodgers was so ecstatic when he hung up the phone and went to his computer. He just got done with a productive conversation with the Dean of Business at Northeastern Wesleyan University. He was offered a full-time professorship chair there. The man was going to end the business world section of his life. No more late night at the office, daily meetings to just make some paper-pushers look busy or meaningless paperwork to give to some hoarder to file only to never see the light of day again.

[October 1927 – Chicago]
Vincent ‘Bugsy’ Stallone came into his office in a bad mood.
“Those bastards from Justice are getting to be a real pain in the arse. We just lost another shipment of beer between the Port and the Warehouse. It is that agent Ford again. He gets everywhere, the bastard. He must have informants on almost every street corner.”

The blonde-haired woman sitting next to his big polished oak desk looked up from filing her nails.

“What are we going to do? We have customers who rely on us. That’s the fourth this month.”

“Doll, don’t I just know it. Now that Big John and the rest are out of action it is down to the likes of us to keep this city drinking.

“Won’t this just blow over?” asked the woman.

The idea of having a job and working with more girls who would ignore me and more boys who would hit me terrified me. I was depressed and thinking about ending it all because the idea of possibly another sixty years like the last twenty was too much.

My Times as Mum. There is no reason why being a woman should restrict what you can do with your life.

“I bet I would be a mad genius for blowing smoke rings,” he said.

“To hell with smoke rings!” I said. “What is with you? I’m sincerely grateful that you did all this for me, Qurakas, but I want out of this chamber of horrors! Now!”

“What if I told you that there was a bigger chamber of horrors outside?” he asked in a very quiet voice.

.

I am just a poor girl
Though my story's seldom told
Have I squandered my existence
For moments full of choices, such is living
All life is choosing
Still a girl often hears what she fears
and disregards the rest

Call Of The Light (Part 1 of 6)

by Erisian

Chapter 1 - Loss

He had been there long enough to establish a regular routine.

Early mornings were Turkish coffee sipped ever so slowly at the corner table in the hotel’s small cafe with a breakfast of cheese, bread, and olives followed by a small confectionery. After a perfunctory nod to the proprietors it was out to wander down by the beach in a battered beige coat with more pockets of various size than fashion sense would ever allow. Safely out of earshot those he passed by would whisper that he must be touched by the Jinn for clearly he was no tourist as he took no pictures nor troubled anyone for directions to the local sights. At dusk he would walk the Black Sea’s coastline without regard for the rain falling from dark clouds nor for the magnificent view when the sun broke free and shone its glory across the waters.

He paid their odd glances no mind for his was entirely elsewhere. And besides, if he had bothered to consider their commentary he would have immediately agreed with them.

Nicolas ‘Nick’ Wright, erstwhile demonologist and magical consultant, was indeed touched. But not by the fabled fiery Jinn.

His problems lay entirely with angels.

Iona Joins forces with the Native American Shaman called - 'He that Sees' - to finally cross over and connect with his dead childhood friend and saviour . What she learns from him persuades her to persevere with telepathy and philanthropy.

Few people came to know him because when he was there the university was empty, the young men were away busy dying in the trenches of the First World War.

Chapter 3 where Iona learns from her own older British children that her damaged mind might become a danger to her youngest telapthic American childran if they are exposed too early to her emotional damage and psychopathically dammaged mind. Once again, Iona is forced to leave her children so that their impressionable young minds are not damaged by Iona's and she can return later when the youngest children are better inured to her damaged psyche.

.

Jacques died smiling. The token Christian priest in attendance, who had been seriously disturbed by the pagan nature of what he had witnessed merely said, “Of a surety God will assoil him.” He maekt no mention of Jacques’ likelihood of entering heaven, which those there considered to be appropriate given what they knew of Jacques’ beliefs.

Where necessary or possibly helpful to some, there are notes at the end on word usage.

There are too many raptors. They’re dominating the landscape.

I have tried several times to get this story published on Doppler Press so that Big Closet could benefit from any sale it might enjoy but seemingly I am having no luck at all getting doppler press to respond to my endeavours to put the book on their website.

Sadly therefore this novel, which is the follow on from Mindful one will just have to be posted here on Big Closet, Top Shelf.

My apologies to Big Closet and their hard-working staff for any lost sales they might have suffered but I feel I have to post it now or it will forever be lost to those few readers that profess to enjoy my work. I'm now seventy three now and the future looks bleak.

Sorry folks, but here goes nothing.

PS. The novel ends up with Iona euthenising herself to escape from her persuers so be warned.

Heather hear me out before you say no again. I know you think Juan being a crossdresser makes giving him a chance a no go. The cringe on your face when you told me. That look of disgust was sign enough that your decision was set. It should not be. You have put too much emphasis on something which is insignificant. How does Juan liking to wear women's clothing change who he is? That does not change one thing about him and you know it doesn’t.

It was Gran who noticed one of the beef stores was a heifer. “You know I never bought me no heifer, Jenny. I’ve never raised a heifer. A young store costs a bit more, but is as easy to raise, and makes more meat and sells for more money than a heifer. I’ve always paid a bit more out to bring a lot more in three years later.”

As we ate, a question occurred to me. “Couldn’t we -- couldn’t someone
take my corrupted profile and fix it? Or take one of me now and edit it,
to change me from female back to male?”

One definition of justice is the administration of law according to prescribed and accepted principles. Which means it varies according to who is doing the prescribing and who is doing the accepting, and as all should be aware it changes from one place to another.

Another is that which is handed down by a judge, magistrate or other person or body socially recognised as authorised to so do. Which of means such a person or body can not hand down injustice for that is a contradiction in terms.