Real motorcycles don't run on maple syrup.

Angel's Tale: A MORFS Universe Story By Joreymay

A nice, quiet weekend? What's that? Saturday includes work, her first visit to a swap shop, and a shopping trip with her mom. But Sunday makes Angel wonder whether she will ever have a nice, simple meal out again.

Part 12

Another Side of My Life
Chapter 2
by Julie D Cole

I suddenly realized I was helpless. I couldn’t run after him even if I wanted to in heels since I was only new to walking in them. In any case he’d probably be dangerous and I am no fighter.
I seemed to fre
eze for a while and people were moving in slow motions around me whilst I tried to bring my thoughts together. What should I do? At least I still had my suitcase. But what use was that since my new purse, wallet and my mobile phone were in the shoulder and even my make-up and my return ticket home.

Cubs memorabilia, I think my granddad has just about one of everything that carried the Cubs name since the Cubs, entered professional play in 1871.

Bikini Beach: To the moon ,
A story by Allie Elle

My thanks to Elrod for creating this universe and for Miss E Dauber for creating the guidelines, I will try and do the Beach Justice, with the A E touch......

To the Moon,

Victor stood stooped over the eyepiece of the refracting telescope he had bought with the last of his money before being made redundant. At 40 he sighed as he stared at the moon, he wished to step foot on that alien surface. Tearing his gaze away he looked at the young student that stood next to him and smiled. The teenager was dressed in a preppy style and had a set of thick rimmed glasses perched on her nose and was holding out a small stack of 20’s.

“Sir I can’t thank you enough for the chance to buy the telescope from you” Jacqueline smiled.

“Honey it’s a case of needing the cash,” Victor replied “dreams don’t fill a stomach.”

Absinthe, Opium and Honor…Chapters 7 & 8.

Chapter Seven.

I know I’m literally just getting started on this path I’m on. But you know dressed in my pink Nike breast cancer tee-shirt and my faded but girls jeans. Shopping out in the Sunday sun with a really good looking, decent guy who knows what I am and he doesn’t care in fact he’s touching my arm and just me with that kind of sort of together thing.

I feel like a girl, I feel pretty even this dressed down. I feel like me. I can’t stop smiling.

As the train pulled away from the platform I stepped into the carriage and looked for my reserved seat that I hoped was in a quiet position where I wasn’t too prominent. I’d deliberately booked a seat towards the end of the carriage because I wanted to be away from any onlookers who might notice the change that was about to occur.

This is it! This is the ultimate, the FINAL challenge. The one I have to solve to prove myself that I can overcome myself. That I beat myself through beating others. They have taught me all my live that this is the ultimate way that men behave like, through which they success. I want to be respected. And that's what I am right now.

“Yeah.” Mary Beth smiled. Then she looked to Tracy. “Is h..she okay?” She remembered the lecture about using the right words in time.

Both Mary Beth and her sister looked a little worried at the intensity of Sage's glare. “No.” Mary Beth said.

Thanks to Djkauf for the editing.

Please note, but to the almost graphic nature of this post, I upped the rating. I promise the fun stuff shall return someday.

As a transgendered archaeologist, I never expected that translating those ancient clay tablets would provide me with a personal link to the distant past.

On Sunday morning, Justin got up stealthily and tried to conceal his vomiting from his father. It didn't work, the simple layout of the house defeated him; the only bathroom was in between his bedroom and his father's.

"Are you okay, son?" Harold Bock asked.

"Yeah, Dad, I'll live." The nausea had seized him as he lay awake in his bed wondering if he would ever talk to Zoe again, talk to her alone. He'd probably see her at school, though she was a senior and he a sophmore. Their schedules would not naturally intersect that often.