We had sirloin steaks that night with garlic french fries and home-made yeast rolls. The cotton was dry and needed to be hauled in and uncle Sidney was in the field from daybreak to dusk. I could tell the work was taking its toll on him. His face, arms and neck seemed blistered from the sun and his eyes seemed hollowed over. And no matter how much he seemed to bathe, he always seemed to be caked in dust.

Retransitioned
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I saw him across the room, and my blood ran cold. I knew when we split up that I would have to avoid all the places that we loved to go to together, and to avoid mixing with people that we knew as a couple, but it seemed to me this was not one of those places. He was not interested in art before he met me, so why would he be at the opening of that exhibition?

Calci and I were working on our anti-mind control potion again. Like the other day the first half of the class had been a lecture on various alchemicals and how they interact with each other. Professor Pyrotechny was still smoking from adding dragons bile to cockatrice venom. The clockwork teacher been demonstrating why reading the instructions was extremely important, and how two seemingly harmless ingredients could have a very volatile reaction.

I can’t believe that I was doing this. I had (stupidly) competed with my girlfriend, Carrie, over the Oscars. Initially starting as playful fun, we made a bet with each other that, whoever had the most correct Oscar winners, got to choose something for the loser to do as “punishment”. After careful decision-making, I had decided that, if I won, then Carrie would have to mow the lawn in her bikini, once a week, for the entire summer. Having heard my choice, Carrie made hers similar to mine.

Keir sat back watching the dead work under direction of living officers, preparing for the coming battle. Most of the living were checking their weapons or resting before the demons arrived. One of the priests was holding a quick service for anyone needing religious support.

Ms. Walker and Jessie – part II

Thanks to Dee Sylvan for some editorial help.

“Liam?” Sonia calls from the living room, making me groan as I wake up. “Come on, time to get up!”

“Yeah, I’m awake,” I reply, not even bothering to stifle my yawn.

Here's chapter two! I'll be trying to post a new one every week or two!

I woke up when my head fell forward and I felt a wave of hair slide past my cheeks.

Hair?

And I can still feel the seatbelt holding me tightly in place. Oh no!

I kept my eyes closed. Maybe if I didn’t open them then this wouldn’t be real.

I heard the click of the doors unlocking and opening. My dad’s voice called softly then his hand reached out and pushed my hair back from my face. “Eric sweetie, we’re home.”

The next few days, the media was filled with news about me and my request to see those in charge of this country. President Frump was among those that made a public statement on the subject. His statement said that he refused to meet with me and that I was still considered a terrorist. What an idiot. The media was still all over the place on what I was and what it meant for the future of the country.

“I know Dad doesn’t want you at home unless you’re willing to change back, but when I have a place of my own, you’ll be welcome to join me there. I don’t know when I’ll have anything to offer that’s better than the sofa bed you’re sleeping on now, though.”