A friendly place to read, write and discuss Transgender Fiction.
Home of 3000+ chapters of Easy as Falling off a Bike by Angharad and many other stories.
Crazy Core Gym, Upper East Side, New York:
Teela and Emily arrive at the address they were given. They looked at the building in front of them and couldn’t believe that it used to be some sort of warehouse.
“Are you sure you have the right address, Teela?” Emily looks at her friend.
“I’m sure. This is the address Jester gave me. She also gave me the entrance code as well.” Teela walked into the small foyer and noticed there was a metal keypad with black numbers and letters.
In this chapter, Emily navigates a day filled with grief and reflection as she bids farewell to her mother. Amidst the weight of the occasion, small moments of kindness and support from those around her offer glimpses of comfort and strength, helping her take the first steps toward healing.
Author’s Note: This continues the story and characters introduced in Painted from Memory. It’s not absolutely necessary to have read that but it wouldn’t hurt :)
The following morning there was a table for four and they sat to eat a solid breakfast. Jasmin was still on a high after last night and hoped that there would be other evenings where the two of them could grace the stage. Shelly wasn’t so sure, thinking that every moment was already mapped out and that last night had been a one-off.
The Other Side of Me – Part 22
by Limbo’s Mistress
The Sunday morning sunshine stirred me into wakefulness and for a few, terribly short minutes, I lay there with my eyes closed, a little smile playing on my face as I thought about the events of the previous evening.
I had fallen into the habit of checking the mail each day when it came through the letter slot. Today's missive contained something different: a letter with FINAL NOTICE prominently printed on the envelope. Mom was three months behind on her electric bill.
What if supernatural beings like Witches, Faeries, Demons, and their ilk are all real? Glen Evanston is about to be caught in their many traps in my new work in progress: Magic, Mystery, and Mayhem a Graphic Novel by Raine Monday
Sunday was quiet. I spent much of it dismantling my old twin bed and hiding it in the closet next to my useless Harry clothes. I got a piece of plywood to expand the surface of my old school desk, set up my computer stuff and went out to buy a decent chair. That old wooden thing I used as a kid just didn't cut it any more, even if I'd padded my bottom.
Jane begins to learn more about what it means to be a girl. She gets something to start her off in her quest to solve the source of the information leak.
Scarlett was shooting pool down at Big T’s pool hall. She has been coming to Big T’s since she was capable of walking. Her father uses to hustle people for money, while she watched. When the former owner of Big T’s decided to retire, she bought the place.
She used the money she saved up from hustling people like her father. Everyone that came into the pool hall always underestimated her. There were only a few times that she lost, but she won more than she lost.
Love and Decision
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters
She lay beside him. It was a Sunday afternoon. He had called her over. He had just enjoyed a lunch with one of his sons and his son’s pregnant wife but seeing them together had reminded him that he needed intimacy. He called and she had agreed to come round to his house.
As a paranormal researcher, I sometimes stumble upon a story that just moves me in ways that I did not expect to be moved. This story is one that hit very close to home for personal reasons I'm really not going to go into detail about here. The following story has all the hallmarks of a classic ghost story, the main character dies a horrible death, in fact he is murdered outright by a gang of thugs, on Halloween night of all nights, and his vengeful spirit returns to the claim the life of his attackers.
Phyllis was cynical, perhaps with good reason, and considered the delegates and deliverers of the course to be a typical, left wing bunch with a disproportionate number of non whites, non binaries and generally professed anti establishment pedants, despite most being paid good, upper middle class salaries by the establishment which they were in truth pillars of. ‘Ah well,’ she’d thought, ‘It’s good to know that hypocrisy is still alive and kicking at all levels.’
Jean looked at her information sheet. “Actually, there’s a note here that tells us that the first day out is ‘come as you are’. This allows those not fully into the role to take it slowly. I expect that we’ll see a few sights in the dining room tonight but these will become less as the cruise continues."
I woke up when my phone started ringing. I knew it was my sister Caroline since the ringtone was Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline. Caroline thought I was a genius to be able to do something like that and had me put Croche's Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown on hers so she knew it was her husband calling. I had better add that Leroy was a nice guy, not a bad bad one.
John was pissed that he died on the beach at Normandy.
It was June 6, 1944 and to say Private John Burton was unhappy would be an understatement. Even though he had heard General Eisenhower's speech on the radio, he really wanted to be elsewhere. Not that he wasn't a red-blooded American and not that he didn't grasp the importance of the mission. It's just that he was convinced there was a German bullet with his name on it. It was a feeling he just couldn't shake. All the trouble his parents went through to raise him, scolding him into good behavior, getting onto him to make good grades. And then all the money and effort Uncle Sam went through to prepare and train him for this exact moment, everything his life was moving towards would come to a wasted end on a beach in France he'd never heard of. He just knew it. And he was mightily annoyed about it.
Being annoyed couldn't describe how John felt when not even ten feet from the landing craft onto the sands of the beach before being cut down by German machine gun fire. Talk about being angry as he fell onto the sand...
And then even more angry when he woke up in another time and place as a naked teen girl...
Rob Wescott was unlucky when it came to love. That harmless statue that his ex sent him and he left by his bed turned out to be not so harmless when he woke the next day.
Rob, now Bobbi had to make a new life for herself. But would she continue to be unlucky in love?
Checks can be made out & sent to:
Joyce Melton
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Space 80
Calimesa, CA 92320
USA
Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.
Dedications:"For Emily"
For Stanman: "He was always there to offer a kind word and encouragement."
"In loving memory of
Robyn Lovelace
My life partner,
my life's love, my friend"
-- Karen J. Taylor
This site is dedicated to the
memory of lost friends
and particularly for
Jeanne Gerrib,
Rick Buhs, and
Bob Arnold.
-- Joyce Melton
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