The table was covered in finger foods. Pointing at one that looked like it was peaches in a steaming purple sauce, the dish floated up and came over to me, putting a single piece of fruit on my plate. Using my fork I cut off a small piece, and gave it a taste. As it melted in my mouth, it had an odd flavour of a sweet peach, and a slightly sour taste that worked really well together, keeping both flavours from being too strong.

** Sorry about the absence. I was renovating, got injured and couldn't take the time to rest and recover. Writing was difficult.
Everything should be back on schedule now.

“I look like an idiot,” I said to my reflection and the empty room.

Alternate endings to the Scheherazade/Arabian Nights story. All vignettes, 3-20 lines.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

I’m a trainee witch from a rural town where even the slightest deviance is frowned upon. There, witches are expected to follow a strict way of acting, and even being. And it is expected that a witch is to act as basically a medicinal servant for the village. She is to gather weeds and prepare potions to help deal with stomach aches and other ailments. Witches are to never wed. to never fall in love. To never have sex.

It’s patriarchal bullshit! Moreover, as I’m transgender, I don’t fit into their narrow view of what makes a witch! You have to be born female, and born to a wealthy non-witch family. I’m poor, and haven’t had the, quote, appropriate education. Only upper class villagers get an education in my hometown. Poor folk are expected to do hard labor such as farm work or hunting.

For that reason, I’ve decided to leave my hometown and travel to the capital city, where everything is better! The people are nicer, and nobody cares if you’re trans or poor or whatever! I arrive on foot after a month of travel. Most people fly on their brooms, but I’m not experienced enough for that. I can barely fly. Others take the train, but I’m too poor for that. The travel is rough, and I have to forage and hunt for food as I’m simply incapable of brining one month worth of food along with me. But, with blistered feet, I finally arrive at the capital!

World of Zhor: The Lancer's Girlhood

Episode I: The son turned daughter

She querously crushed her thighs together as she rode the palanquin home. Its rising and falling as it bore her, up and down with the steady yet still human steps, was awfully reminiscent of her bouncing girlishly on Hoel's twyll just hours before. Her cheeks flushed red, and her hands drew the curtain of the palanquin closed fretfully.

It was one of my worst nightmares.

I was naked in the middle of a crowded city street and everyone was looking at me. My nemesis, who had threatened to kill me twice, and was just as naked as I was, was holding me tightly against his chest. Our clothes had completely vanished, sucked up by a street cleaning machine, which was going on it's merry way completely ignoring us. And I couldn't breathe.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

Sitting down to eat, I couldn't keep my eyes off of Reginald. I wondered what he thought about being surrounded by students from Doom Valley Prep School. He was pointedly ignoring everyone, eating his lightly grilled baby charybdis steak. He hadn't actually looked at me once since he offered to act as my guide, assistant and bodyguard. I still didn't know why Ella had accepted his offer. He would only mess things up.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

The figure in the mirror was still a stranger to Keir. Despite having spent weeks in the body, he had not gotten used to it, or let himself study it beyond the basic plumbing problems. It was a perfectly useful body, at least when it wasn't recovering from getting shot and nearly killed. Many people had similar bodies. Still, it wasn't his. Like ill-fitting armour it chafed and pulled in odd and uncomfortable ways.

Molly walked leisurely down the paved path that snaked through the woods. It was almost dusk, and she enjoyed taking these early evening strolls after particularly hard days at work, which it certainly had been.

A group of friends streams their gaming on Wednesday nights. But not all the action is on the dining room table.

Keir leaned against the stack of pillows, grateful that he finally had enough strength to weave a simple anti-pain spell. The drugs he'd been given had made his mind fuzzy and kept him too tired to do much more than sleep. He knew he needed the sleep, he was still too weak to leave his bed. But he also had things to do, or at least to plan.