I am Professor Olivia Stacie Turner; my friend call me Post. I am a Psychoanalyst from the far future. I have been sent back in time to gather data upon certain people whose lives due to unforeseen circumstances have caused ripples far beyond the normal scope of influence.

Tragedy of the Spirit part 5 Am I as crazy as they think.......

Caution, this chapter is dark, describes some cruel medical proceedures that may be offensive to some readers. This also describes in great detail the effects of those proceedures on a young person. Those effects were done to me. The scars still exist. Thank you for reading.

First of all I wish to give the reader a bit of further background. The area I grew up in was rural Canada, we lived on a 4 section farm. We planted wheat and barley. The farm had cattle as well as a few orses (one of which was mine). We also raised chickens and turkeys. I had one brother whom I was not very well liked by him. I was quiet, did my own thing. I look back at what happened over the first fifteen years of my life shaped my way of life.

"You're a very nice lady, Lady Catherine. It suits you like the expensive clothes you wear."

"I bought this lot in Marks & Sparks*," I said indicating the jeans and top under the coat. "I'm just an ordinary girl at heart."

Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad,
part 196.

This was sent to me as an email joke, I know we get hundreds sent each year, this one may cause a chuckle. I don't know who wrote it.

Dear Wife:

I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you forever.

I've been a good man to you for seven years and I have nothing to show for it.

These last two weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me

“I wonder what St Margaret’s will be like,” I was thinking out loud.

“According to Jane, she’s the nicest one at Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts!” I squealed and giggled.

“Yeah, apparently they call the PE teacher, Hagrid and the headmistress is Voldemort,” he laughed.

Charlotte’s Tale .
by Angharad.
Part 12.

Patiently, Doc Brown waited. It was a long minute. Finally, he saw a young lady come from the kitchen toward his table. He looked at her closely. Could it be...? It was! He did not know whether to shout or dance. What could he say?

The chef was Lizzie Jane!

          Gentles all:   The following story contains reference to a form of Japanese street fashion, the adherents to which refer to as Elegant Gothic Lolita. Note, that the term “Lolita” refers to this style of clothing. This, with Gabi's kind help, is a revised and illustrated version of the story that originally appeared on Crystal’s Storysite.

Hansel and Gretel: A Fairytale. Finale. By Sarah Lynn Morgan

Oscar Night by Jennifer Brock

A flippant remark by a mild screenwriter to an obnoxious TV reporter snowballs into more than he had bargained for, at one of the most glamorous of events! (There's no actual TG stuff in this first part, but there will be. I promise.)

          Gentles all:   The following story contains reference to a form of Japanese street fashion, the adherents to which refer to as Elegant Gothic Lolita. Note, that the term “Lolita” refers to this style of clothing. This, with Gabi's kind help, is a revised and illustrated version of the story that originally appeared on Crystal’s Storysite.

Hansel and Gretel: A Fairytale. Act 3. By Sarah Lynn Morgan

Due to recent hacker attacks on metabolic stabilization nano-bots
in multidimensional organisms the following information is published.

I chewed on my finger for a little bit. "My mother would kill me," I said, "and my father would flip out."

I always thought that parents were to protect, nurture, guide, love and accept. I had always wondered why did I not have that for the first 15 years of my life. I often wondered, why my parents were so cruel to me. Why family members loathed me and especially why my brother hated me so much. As I grew older I came to the very understanding that my parents, nor my family didn't love nor cherish me as I always new that I did not fit in.