Tradeswoman
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I was a tradesman when I was a man. I was a roofing contractor. I knew that when I became a woman I would have to give up that job. That is not because women can’t be tradespeople - and we all know that transwomen can do anything women can – it was because I wanted to do something feminine. I thought that it was important to me to leave that rugged part of my life behind me.

Girls’ Vacation
By Maryanne Peters

I just thought that pushing him all the way would finally put an end to this whole crossdressing thing. I had tolerated his crossdressing for our entire marriage but with the kids having left the family home it was as if he had a license to wear women’s underwear constantly, and to act like a woman in the kitchen. It seemed that he had only been constrained by the thought of our children learning of his perversion. My opinion did not matter.

"Wait, wait!" I said. "Go back a second!
You said 'The Iodine Story'. What is that?"

"You don't know?" Hugh looked surprised.
"The Iodine Story," he repeated, as if saying it again somehow clarified it.

Mom's rationalization didn't sit well with me.
I didn't relish the idea of being the lesser of two evils.
The lesser evil is still evil.

Epilog

The man was rather ironically young, actually much younger than I was expecting. We met at the small building I'd had constructed where the old and blocky office had stood. He seemed to take personal offense at the fact that I'd had the new, very small structure put up with my own money on my own property. Of course, like many archeologists, he seemed to take any deliberate change to the landscape as a personal offense.

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Nine

Michelle walked past the bathroom, stopped, reversed and looked in through the open door. She saw her wife staring into the mirror over the sink.

"I didn't think you were the narcissistic type."

"My dad likes to joke that noses run in our family," said Vic, sadly. "Mine did look a lot like his, before; it's smaller, now, and a different shape."

"I think you have a cute nose," said Michelle.

Vic just sighed.

* * *

Rose dozed off several times during the day. She managed to get what she had to do, done and called it an early day. Her assistant manager Francis could handle everything.

Just before she laid down, she checked the results from the test she performed earlier in the day. It confirmed what she thought the explosives were. Someone had used a custom binary explosive that when you sent an electrical charge through it, exploded. She knew of only three
companies that sold the chemicals required to make those explosives.

[The following Friday]
I had finished making all the parts for the device the previous evening. I caressed the smooth wood like you do a newborn baby. Like all my custom pieces I’d grown to love it despite its primary use. I went to bed satisfied that I had made a piece of furniture and one that I was proud to put my signature on.

Photo by Anna Shvets: https://www.pexels.com

Preface

Every so often I check the Retro Classics Page here at BC just to see if I missed a good story. Today there was an entry for Emma Ann Tate's Software Update. Since this story continues my own Reprogramming Your Life, I was interested in the comment.

Now, naturally I couldn't just read the one comment, so I read them all. One by Patricia Marie Allen that included the phrase that inspired and became the title of this piece. When someone asks me 'where do you get your ideas?' they don't know what a can of worms they might be opening. Thanks to all of you for the inspiration.

The Wandering Heart
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The heart is a curious thing. I am not talking about the anatomical organ, but about the feelings that grow and subside, that sometimes burn like fire and sometimes just give us a warm glow, and sometimes go cold as ice.

But how can you fall in love with a man who has abused you? How can you fall in love with a man who has mutilated and maimed you? A man who took away your future as a man and castrated you, and modified you to be his sexual plaything – how can you love such a man?

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Five

I’d just finished putting the last coat of varnish on my latest job when I saw the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway of my Workshop.

“I’ll be with you in a minute or so. I need to clean the brush before the varnish on it dries,” I called out to the person. The person didn’t answer so I took it as they didn’t object.

Lucy continued: "You know, I'll admit that I'm more than a little jealous.
I'd love to have interesting men interested in me. But I gotta say that it worries me a little, too."
She paused. "Because if you're going to be carry on like this with all kinds of men,
at some point they're going to come here, looking for you."

Chapter 33

Chugiak, Alaska

2:00 AM

It had been an eventful day for the Johnsons. That morning, or yesterday morning to be precise, they had no thought of a new child in their care. Now, in the guest room, a thirteen-year-old girl was in bed and would be for quite a while to come.

The ongoing saga of Oak Island ended and Bob stood up and stretched. It was a repeated episode from the tenth season, and he once again wondered if Mage, Chet, Marcia, and Darryl could solve the mysteries if they were to tackle it.

Her face lit up. In a teasing, confidential tone she asked,
"Did mean old Charlotte steal your boyfriend Ross away from you?"

"No," I scoffed. "I don't know Ross. Charlotte is my—" I sighed.
"Charlotte is my cousin."

Patience was not one of my virtues. I was getting antsy and wanted to stretch my legs on the surface, yearning to see what my home was like after all the time I'd been away. The desire to see familiar sights and perhaps even visit my parents was overwhelming. We were so close to them now.

The anticipation of my upcoming visit was palpable in my voice as I asked Minsha, "Would you like to see my home here on Terra?"

Minsha looked at me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I would love to see it, Kara. It sounds wonderful."

Author's Note: Link to Part One

Thomas shook hands with the lawyer and said, “Eighteen years, I think, Dan. You look good.”

“I still run. Not as fast as we were in high school: Rathmore and Ryder, top two high school middle distance runners three years in a row. But I can still do a five k run, take a shower, and go to work.”

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 57 A Baby Spoon and Pusher

Here come comes the nurse with a red hot poultice, Slaps it on and takes no notice, ‘Oh,’ said the patient, ‘that’s too hot,’ ‘No,’ said the nurse, ‘I’m sure it’s not.’

Here you go. The final chapter of this story. It was difficult at times, trying to come up with almost plausible storylines for the various films. Don’t worry, while this has been going I’ve written more – maybe not so long, I seem to get one of those a year.
Enjoy! Marianne
Chapter 35

With the certificate, and from what I read in the first journal, I had the start of the book, and after that the words flowed like water over a waterfall. The opening paragraphs set the tone.

"Do I have a police record?" I asked in alarm.

"No, but it's not for want of trying!" he quipped, laughing, cackling, clapping his hands.

I smiled to encourage him, but honestly I didn't find it funny. I didn't find it funny at all.