Rosetta: A MORFS Universe Story By Joreymay

A little girl collapses, near death. Spies, kidnappers, and assassins pop up in unexpected places. A morf hostile teacher gets Rose in trouble. On the up side, holiday preparations and a favorite relative comes to visit.

Part 2

It looked like the ‘girl meds’ were kicking in. I could see the gentle swell of a breast when he was sleeping. It could be the healing process, or the enforced indoor time, but his skin is marvelously smooth and clear–where it’s not scarred and healing, of course.
But the big change has been Steven’s demeanor. He hasn’t snapped or been surly for days and days. It was like the best day that he had, and the next one and the next one are just like the best day. He’s not high or giddy; he’s just not a jerk–and believe me; that’s a big difference!

The Beneficiary, by Karin Bishop

Selected entries from the Journal of Donna Everton

Part 2

CHAPTER 22
I was on my own that evening, waiting for the phone to ring, but there was nothing. No Larinda, no checking up, and certainly no second thoughts. I logged onto the internet, and before I could stop myself the latest offers from Dorothy Perkins were on the screen.

Shaboom

by shalimar

As the Evil Witch, shalimar turns Giggles into his daughter. She then turns him into mom, and the fun begins. Based on Hyperboard messages around March 2001, and on a suggestion by Sigh.
New roles for the SRU Wizard and Bikini Beach's Anya.

Copyright 2001, revised 2011.

Dainéal’s Dream

Bi-se i mo shuil
(Be my light)

I reached through the doorway and took the tray of food from Mrs. Doyle, who stood uncertainly for a moment. Then my aunt leaned forward and the two women hugged; Mrs. Doyle started to cry a little and it seemed like my aunt was comforting her. Then I realized my aunt was sobbing silently; I could tell by her shoulders. I put the food down and got things ready, set the table, and so on, thinking again about the power of women to help each other.

The Cabin - Part 12 — Conclusion

Chapter 32: Going Home

A beginning again.
It's like all stories, you see new horizons as they develop.
Also short again. Have too much to do suddenly.
Which is weird :)

A Bedtime story

“Tell me again about Mama, Daddy.”

The first time my son had asked me that question, I hesitated to respond. I thought “What good could come of reliving our grief?”

But then I recalled how the grief and loss I felt when my dad died had been multiplied by the fact that everyone refused to talk about him, as if he had never existed. So I put aside my own grief, and shared with my son, and now it was a nightly ritual.

“Bobby, are you sure you want to hear this again? Its a sad story, remember.”

It's not every day you have to prove your self to the other guys... It's even harder, when you're the runt. But, there were times, at the home, where the older boys got it in their heads that some of us had to do something to prove, yet again, that we deserved to hang around with them. Sighing, I knew that today was one of those days and they'd set an awful task. It was even worse than when we'd had to cross the junk yard and not get caught by the dog.