As Rob drove to Church for the Christmas Eve Service he felt torn. For several years the place of comfort and support the Church represented had become increasingly difficult for him to bear. For the vast majority of the congregation, the Religious Dogma was rote, especially the formal prayers and creeds. Rob didn’t see anyone who put any thought into what they said thus missing what the Faith was all about. He understood he was not having a Faith Crisis, but was slowly being consumed by a Religious Crisis. For the last 5 years, He’d been increasingly unable to rouse himself from bed, only attending sporadically. The closer he came to the Church for the Christmas Eve Services, the more anxiety he felt. This brought up the question of how, at age 73, he’d reached this unsettling point in his life. During the past 47 years he’d traveled the 36 mile loop between Church and home well over 3500 times so the route had become rote. His mind switched to auto pilot as he reminisced.

Alma Mater
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Oliver Furness came to me in 1898 – I remember that it was the year that the Spanish American War ended. He had a scholarship to the University, or thought he had. He saw that my boarding house and health clinic offered lower rates for “students with refined manners” and considered that described him well enough. He was a slightly built young man, seemingly ready to study, as I had been at the same age.

The lynching tree is the oldest living thing on our farm. It was here when the first white men
came and it’s still here and growing. I guess the black folks around here have always called it that. Back when I was in elementary school Reverend Amos James began calling for the tree to be destroyed as “a symbol of white oppression.” That’s when everyone started calling it the lynching tree. Before that we just called it the big oak.

I looked at her from the corner of my eye, she was definitely flustered but I could care less, she was their mother and the behavior of her children were her own concern...my problem was that they were most likely going to distract me with their constant banter and shenanigans throughout the entire church service.

All those Firsts ... the First Panties

I'm sure it was a panty that was the first first.

Yes - I’m just that bit different – yeah, THAT bit and I wear woman’s clothes - every day. And it can be wonderful. There are risks - but... I've got through the horrors. Overall, I love what I am and how I present as a confident woman.

The Little Brother
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In all this transgender shit, nobody talks about people like me. Nobody talks about the little brother.

Imagine that you have an older brother that you always looked up to, a sportsman and a musician and a popular guy at school, somebody a little brother would want to be, and then he tells you he wants to be a girl. That is what Josh did. I could not believe it. None of us could. Our parents were in shock too.