Dear Ladies maid Francine and Dear ladies maid Evelynn.

It would seem you young maidens forget the punishment after you were both caught by me when you taunted those poor girls to tears for wearing the training corsets.

I have been given to understand that my grandsons are now my granddaughters and have not been told of such by my own offspring.

I unable to learn more of what is happening from here in Prussia. Since I am also trying to take care of a misunderstanding of magical nature here I do not need anymore from either of you.

Sweet Dreams-23...Holy! F#*K!, Did I just get A Life?

Chapter 23

I’m crying…

I’m crying and it doesn’t hurt, there’s none of that bastard Cliff shouting in my brain. It’s nothing even remotely close to anything bad. It’s good; it’s actually so good that it’s hitting me.

I’m sitting in this pile of comforters and quilts in the sunshine and I’m softly curled into the arms of the most perfect thing in my life. Alex…

And kissing.

Return to Sender
by Jennifer Christine
Part 6

My lack of familiarity with HTML codes has meant that some of the conversations with Molly may have been omitted — I’m going to check but it may be that I have to re submit the story _ I hope it hasn’t messed everything up!!

She undressed in the dark and stashed her clothes and shoes on the shelves, then looked inward at her structure, deciding what form she wanted for this purpose. She started making changes, reducing her size and altering her structure. Twitching her whiskers and sniffing gingerly at the door, she slipped quietly into the corridor and scurried down it towards the front parlor.

Author’s note: As those of you who are always good enough to read my offerings (and some of you even better for paying for them :) you will know that most of my work relates to nice people often placed in adverse circumstances. My trademark is goodness, justice and mercy prevails, or at least just enough to give us a happy ending. This time I have tried something different, with not so pleasant people in, well, I suppose the only description could be shitty circumstances.

Please note, the dialogue is undertaken in a Scottish accent, so please bear that in mind and dinna (EXAMPLE) pick me up for spelling and grammar, as I’ve tried to write phonetically where appropriate.

This story is quite a departure for me. I set it centuries ago, both for the task of authentically imagining a past era, and for the discipline of writing in a ‘period’ style. Attempts were made for names, locations, and events to be historically accurate. Allow me to introduce our narrator …

It was the twilight of the seventeenth century, and the dawn of my life–or lives.

The Story Of My First Lives, by Karin Bishop

Part 1

Chapter 1: In Which I Am Introduced, With An Explanation Of My Humble Origins

CHAPTER 46
I thrashed a little in the morning, trying to get the nightdress to ride down rather than up. I don’t know why, but every time I wore one it ended up around my waist. Nothing to do with Larinda’s designs on my body; simply some odd set of mechanics at work.

thank John for the title, please suggestions are welcome. This came out of nowhere. I don't even know what era this is yet nor type of world. However Tanya Allen did say to put down what my muse does send me so...

Just a short story I needed to write.

 
Birthday List

Pink Angel

I saw her standing forlornly in the corner of the store, her price marked as “half-off”, and I simply had to bring her home. She was a Christmas lawn ornament, a life-size announcing angel with trumpet ready to blow, lit up in pink in honor of breast cancer research.

I put brought her home, and set her in my tiny front yard, and then went inside. I was all alone now, and felt desperate for company, so at the start or at the finish of every day, I found myself sitting on my front step, talking to my new guest.