Author's note: Here it is, my first story here, originally started as a New Year's Contest entry, but as the story played out, I felt I'd be truncating it too much to get it to 5,000 words. Thanks for the encouragement and inspiration, getting me to move from reader to writer!

'Til You Make It
By Marissa Lynn

September 17
"Dammit! I can feel it right there, but, crap. Something's not right. I'm not right."

The E Girl
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Prince Taylor reads the book written about him

As the night entered the small hours, she decided she might as well open her e-reader and wait for dawn, which was why she found herself waking from the faint memory of a dream as ever-elusive sleep had finally drawn her under.

Her cell was buzzing away next to her pillow.

“Ummmff?”

“Tiff? You awake? It’s Tyler”

“Wasn’t, but am now. Whadyawant?”

Orientation Day

What do you do when you look 7 years old, but you're actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen's entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn't the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her how she looks, 7 years old?

It’s 2054. I’d been out with our lady’s group on a pseudo off road ride on a trail up a 3400 meter mountain when we encountered an old slide area that seemed smooth enough but strewn with potato sized rocks on a rideable incline. My front wheel power was on my right hand and my rear wheel power on my left. I had not fallen yet, and my riding suit would protect me from injury if I did. My helmet still had enough power to keep my blood Ox levels up, so I felt confident that I could stay with the group.

Life can be tough if you're an artist, and I don't want to hear any agita about whether a potter is an artist or craftsman. Craftsperson. Whatever. A painter uses his hands to paint, a musician uses her hands to play; I use my hands to sculpt wet clay into interesting shapes. Then I use my hands to paint them.

So: I'm an artist. Stop arguing!

I’m not Scrooge, and I don’t get bent out of shape with other people enjoying it, but it doesn’t do anything for me, not any more. Many years ago, when my son was little, we used to do all those Christmassy things, trees and fairy lights and decorations. Presents under the tree on Christmas morning and a visit from Santa during the night. You do those things when you have a little kid.

A tale as old as time…a witch, a curse, two star-crossed lovers. But how can love hope to prevail when true love’s kiss will undo the transformation and split the two young lovers apart?

Dot and Sam 12

Part 2

The stage was set up with a bank of speakers on either side, where we would come out from behind. The backing tape went through those, with our voices going through a PA system. As we emerged, with Angelica singing the first lines, I was almost pushed forward by the impact of the sound.

Mini synopsis: This story involves the loss of a parent due to Alzheimer's. We often wage the battles of 'I should have said...' or 'Did they come to understand...' as we watch that person slipping away. This story tries to focus on the ideas of love and hope, which added to loss can be a very emotional balancing act to read.

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