The Bit Bucket

A Transgender Paranormal Romantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Chapter 2: The Bit Bucket Discovery

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Who is Gwen, the ghost, that Fred in The Bit Bucket can't place her, as he ponders this detour from his destination?

Copyright 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note:

This book, in it's entirety, is available on my Patreon. BCTS will get weekly postings on Saturdays to complete it here.

The white light faded like morning mist, leaving Fred standing in a space that defied every law of physics he thought he understood. Stone walls rose around him, their surfaces breathing with an inner luminescence that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. This wasn't the crystalline spires of the ancient college he'd envisioned—this was something far older, far stranger.

Medieval tapestries hung between arched windows, but the scenes they depicted moved and shifted like living dreams. Through those impossible windows, Fred glimpsed not sky but swirling galaxies, their spiral arms rotating in slow, hypnotic dance. The air itself felt thick with possibility, making his skin tingle as if he'd walked through a web of starlight.

Environmental Exploration

Fred moved deeper into the room, his footsteps echoing strangely in the charged atmosphere. Every surface seemed to hum with contained energy—the wooden table with its silver bell and platter, the bookcase filled with volumes whose titles shifted when he wasn't looking directly at them, the lamp that burned with a flame that cast no shadows yet illuminated everything.

"Aislinn C" was stamped on the flyleaf of every book, the letters glowing faintly blue. The mysterious liquid in the lamp's reservoir never diminished, though the flame danced as if responding to unseen winds. Everything here existed in a state of perpetual almost-motion, as if the room itself were holding its breath.

Most intriguing of all was the slate mounted on the wall near the bookcase. Its surface was smooth as black water, and carved at the top were three simple words: "Who Are You?"

Writing on the Slate

Fred approached the slate with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. A piece of chalk rested in the wooden tray beneath it, worn smooth by countless hands. Without quite understanding why, he felt compelled to answer the question.

His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the chalk. The moment his fingers closed around it, warmth spread up his arm—not unpleasant, but definitely magical. He could feel the room watching, waiting.

Carefully, he spelled out his name: F-R-E-D.

The letters blazed to life the instant he finished, glowing with the same soft blue fire he'd seen in the books. But more than that—the moment his name appeared, Fred felt something shift in the room around him. The air grew warmer, more welcoming, as if the space had been waiting specifically for him to arrive.

"Fascinating," said a voice behind him. "It's been over a thousand years since anyone wrote their name on that slate."

Meeting Gwen

Fred spun around, his heart hammering. A young woman stood near the arched doorway he was certain hadn't been there moments before. She wore robes that seemed to shift between blue and silver with each breath, and her dark hair moved as if touched by an unfelt breeze. But it was her eyes that made his chest tighten with impossible recognition—storm-gray eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries.

"I'm Gwendolyn," she said, stepping closer with fluid grace. "But you can call me Gwen. I'm what you might call a spirit monitor—your guide in this place."

"Spirit monitor?" Fred's voice came out rougher than he'd intended. The recognition nagging at him was growing stronger, like trying to remember a half-forgotten dream. "You mean you're...?"

"Dead? Yes, technically." Gwen's smile was both sad and beautiful. "Though 'dead' is such a limiting term when you're dealing with metaphysical spaces. I exist here, between life and whatever comes after, helping those who find themselves caught in the Bit Bucket."

"The Bit Bucket?" Fred gestured to the medieval walls around them. "That's what this place is called?"

"A rather undignified name for such an ancient space, I'll admit." Gwen moved to the window, her form seeming to shimmer slightly in the strange light. "But accurate. Think of it as a cosmic waiting room for souls who don't quite fit the usual categories."

Exposition on Metaphysical Mechanisms

Gwen turned back to him, her expression growing more serious. "You see, Fred, teleportation isn't as simple as most people believe. When someone attempts to travel between worlds, they enter a metaphysical state where reality becomes... fluid. The college has rooms designed to intercept girls of specific ages—Room 11 for eleven-year-olds, Room 12 for twelve-year-olds, and so on. Each room is modern and appealing, designed to make the transition comfortable."

She gestured to the medieval surroundings. "But the Bit Bucket is different. It catches those who don't fit the college's usual parameters. The thirty-six-year-old man with a woman's soul, for instance. The spirits who've lost their way. The ones who are... complicated."

Fred felt a chill run down his spine. "How long have people been trapped here?"

"Time works differently in metaphysical spaces," Gwen said carefully. "Some find their way out quickly. Others..." She glanced at the slate where his name still glowed. "Others take much longer to learn what they need to know."

"And what exactly do I need to know?"

Gwen's eyes grew distant, as if she were listening to voices he couldn't hear. "The way forward isn't back, Fred. You can't simply teleport home—the pathway that brought you here was one-way. The only escape from the Bit Bucket requires mastering not just teleportation, but reincarnation as well."

Understanding the Prison

The word hit Fred like a physical blow. "Reincarnation? You mean I have to... die?"

"Not die, exactly. Transform." Gwen moved closer, and Fred caught a scent like rain on summer flowers. "The Bit Bucket doesn't just trap people, Fred. It offers them a chance to become who they truly are. But that transformation requires letting go of who you think you are."

Fred stared at her, his mind reeling. "I don't understand. I came here to reach the college, to learn, to become whole. Now you're telling me I have to give up everything I am?"

"Not give up," Gwen said softly. "Evolve. The college accepts students who fit certain categories, Fred. But you—" She paused, studying his face with those storm-gray eyes. "You're something special. Something that doesn't fit their neat little boxes."

The room pulsed around them, and Fred felt that presence again—ancient, vast, and somehow familiar. The sensation was stronger now, pressing against the edges of his consciousness like a half-remembered song.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he said. "Something you're not telling me."

Gwen's expression grew troubled. "The Bit Bucket has been empty for a thousand years, Fred. No one has been sent here since the time of the great sorceresses. Your arrival has awakened something that's been sleeping for a very long time."

As if summoned by her words, the air in the room began to shimmer. The tapestries on the walls fluttered without wind, and the flame in the lamp flickered wildly. Fred felt power stirring in the depths of the space—not malevolent, but vast and patient as mountains.

"What's awakening?" he whispered.

"Memories," Gwen said, her voice barely audible above the growing hum of energy. "Ancient memories that have been waiting for the right person to unlock them. The question is, Fred—are you ready to discover who you really are?"

The slate on the wall began to glow more brightly, and new words appeared beneath Fred's name in flowing script: The wheel turns. The sleeper wakes. What was divided shall be made whole.

Fred looked at Gwen, seeing something in her face that made his heart race with both hope and terror. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Gwen said, her form beginning to shimmer more intensely, "that your journey is just beginning. And that perhaps—just perhaps—we've both been waiting for this moment far longer than either of us realized."

The Bit Bucket pulsed once more, and Fred felt the first stirrings of a transformation that would change everything he thought he knew about himself, about magic, and about the impossible woman standing before him with storm-gray eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.