What happens when a bit of fun collides with happenstance?

“Where is Claire?” Julie fidgeted, absently speaking aloud to her friends.

“Well, she’s only a little late,“ Megan pointed out.

“Yeah, she’ll be here,” Jenny reassured.

The flight was not my greatest delight.

Silly words, but I was decanted from the 777 into Perth airport feeling like absolute shit. Sod all the advice about jet lag, I NEEDED sleep. The baggage trolley was awful, only the back wheels steering.

“What is the purpose of your visit, Mister Ellison?”

This is part 2 of my first work, a fan continuation of the unfinished Kemeia Ascending. It is entirely inspired by Armond's magical world of Argentia and its Goddess Selene.

Link to the book here Kemeia Ascends - A Fan Continuity

You can read the prior parts by Armond from the links below

High Resolution
A Short Story for the New Year’s Resolution Story Contest
By Maryanne Peters

CHAPTER 25
She looked to be a year or two older than me, but her smile was a genuine one, if a little uncertain. It was clearly a set-up, but I didn’t think it would be polite to make a fuss. Have our meeting, poke fun at the photos, and then make a quick exit. Doug was back with the drinks, passing me a pint and his children a coke each before returning for the other adult drinks. Once settled, he passed me a sheet of paper with the day’s ‘specials’ listed.

“Parmo’s something popular up Teesside way, as I said. Now, I’ve had a word with him behind the bar, and he said something about it not being exactly what he expected. Seems there’s a difference between the Aussie one and the one his cook’s banged our”

Lanterns on Lake Pontchartrain
An Acadiana Transgender Story

-7-
The Road to Baton Rouge

Andrea and the Lottery

Introduction

Author’s note - In July 1997 the first part of a novella called ‘The Lottery’ was published by Diane Christy. It was a text file that appeared to have come from one of the ALT.SEX newsgroups of the time. It is still available on the TG part of nifty.org website for Gay stories. There appeared to be little in the way of editing and it was in most respects an unsatisfactory read.

Do you ever wonder why, exactly it is that, even thought it was nice and warm and sunny just yesterday, suddenly it’s bitter cold and rainy today. Why sometimes there are sudden snowstorms in the middle of the Nevada dessert? Why lightning seems to be striking the houses of corrupt politicians far more often nowadays? Why did it rain fire on the wedding of a corrupt oil tycoon? And why has climate change suddenly reversed?

Well, that’s all thanks to me. I am the Weather Girl. I can manipulate the weather at will, and have been doing it for years now.

(Updated 1.6.24)

“.”

“?”

“!”

“What am I?”

“You are a full stop I have just typed on this piece of paper.”

“Is that all I am?”

“For the moment, until I decide what you will be.”

“I think you will be an eighteen year old girl.”

“I still feel like a dot on your piece of paper although my experience is limited to being a dot, I suppose.”

“Yes, you are, but you are so much more in my head.”

“So am I also in your head?”

“Yes. How am I speaking to you?”

It was a shop day, so I had to bring my smiles, despite everything that had happened. My Dahon folder had caused a few comments when I had boarded the train at Croydon, and once again at Clapham Junction, but that was par for the course. It was still far more convenient than the bus ride into Barnes. Asa I was also covering duty manager that day, I had had to brave the full-on commuter rush into London, and once again I was grateful that the second trip was against the flow and the train a lot emptier.

Charlie

Late last year I was asked to interview a resident of a care home. I was told that he was over ninety but still very lucid. It was in the build-up to Christmas and I couldn’t see the point for a fashion magazine, but his daughters were insistent that he had a story to tell our readers. I had my misgivings, but went along anyway with only my phone to record the interview.

Charlie walked with a frame and guided me back to his room with the help of his daughter Claire. Once seated, he began his tale.