Christmas Eve Day and there were still a lot of people doing their Christmas shopping or picking up thing that they had forgotten. The shopping centre was busy just as it was on normal day, except that is for one one small corner were a Santa`s Grotto was situated. The girls dressed as elves and a rather large man dressed as Santa Claus. The queues were long and noisy and the parents were in line with their youngsters after paying whatever the amount was to see Santa.

"I've been told that my face would scare a dog out of a butcher shop."

He tilted his head and looked at my face — as if considering whether it might be so. It sent a chill through me.

"Do you know," he said, "I might be able to help you."
 

One hundred and eighty-seven dollars. Eight of her bankcards she had already maxed out. Three times Josephine read the statement. One hundred and eighty-seven dollars. That was all the room she had left. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down in front of her 50-inch television set and sniffle. So Josephine did it. Her life also had its share of sobs and smiles, but sniffling she did best.

Introduction: Once again Charli wakes up to a world she is not familiar with. Rather quickly, she remembers that she had been adopted the previous day by some very nice people. She had been banged up a bit in an auto accident, but she was okay. She arrives at her new home, and meets her new sister. She also meets the younger sister of Cindy whom she had met the day before. She walks out of a previously empty closet, as does her talking cat. That's when she realizes that some of her memories aren't right, and that she has left her two best friends in Boston to fend for themselves.

This is another story in the Cynthia Chronicles series. Other stories in the series are An Incremental Journey, Cynthia and the Reluctant Girlfriend, Cynthia and the Dumpster Diver, Cynthia and the Moment of Truth, Cynthia and the High School Years - Part I, Cynthia and the High School Years - Part II, Bobbie and the Glass Ceiling; and Randi and the College Professor,. The time frame of this story parallels Cynthia and the High School Years.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

- Rod Serling

By Anon Allsop

Eric Van Vleet wanted nothing more than to learn all he could about the Civil War, the society could help experience the sights and sounds of battle as they played out their reenactment in a quiet room, but Eric wanted more. He made an offhanded wish to an old man that was about to change a young teen's life forever. Eric is about to find out what happens when you become another little pawn in a Chess game known as...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Ten Years Gone

Author's note. This is the counterpoint to my last story, "Five years Gone." Its a little bit more hopeful, I hope you like it.

Well, well, well. I just looked at the membership file, and I can’t believe its been a decade since I became a member of this site. Boy, has a lot changed in that time, huh? Especially for me. Who would have believed the scared person who still believed she could “cure” herself of wanting to be a woman would be where I am now?

Previously Mark Johnson was involved in a traffic accident, was reminiscencing about his love from his childhood and talking to a nurse who was vaguely familiar,but not anyone he recognized. When the doctor told him that he was going to have to wait on his parents to sign the consent forms made him really think, since they had been dead for 18 years.

I want to thank and give a big hug to Stanman for his help in looking over this for me.

The Usual Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to any person or God living or dead is coincidental.

 © 2011 All Rights Reserved

Troy leaned back and watched the scenery pass by. After a couple of miles, he spoke up without looking at his mother. “Mom, is it wrong?” He asked, then he slowly turned his head to face her.

“Baby, like your grandmother said, you should never let anyone make your choices for you.” Maggie patted her child’s knee. “And if you stop being yourself because of some asshole and his pictures, then you're letting him make a choice for you.” She turned onto their road and kept driving.

"Well," I said gruffly, blushing, "I'm not sure that I came up with it, but I call it the Kissing Test."

"Everyone seems to think it came from you; you might as well take credit. It's rather elegant... cuts through self-deception, political correctness, through what people believe that they believe..."

"Basically," I said, chiming in and warming to my subject, "it shows whether a person really considers Sammy to be a woman. While they might like to look at her, while they may want to touch her, while they might even want to have... ah... intimate contact with her, the one thing that *really* shows whether they regard her as a woman is if they say *yes* when you ask, Would you kiss her?"