Graphic created by Patricia Marie Allen from photos on Pixabay.com

Thorn in the Flesh

By Rosemary

I entered the bar with great trepidation. I hadn’t had any problems in several years of being a woman, but I had just had some terrible news. No, I take that back. It wasn’t terrible at all. It was a relief. I had developed lymphatic cancer, and like every other case, it was ravaging my body.

I was reluctantly taking part in a meeting of eleven other ‘Roses’ while we were at the SWEET (South Western Exposition for the Embetterment of Transpeople) convention. I sat down and started taking in the other Roses there.

Most of them seemed to be much more comfortable in their role as women than I was. I had actually been quite comfortable for many years, but I had never been transgendered. I glanced down at my jeans and western shirt. They were women’s – they had to be. Men’s clothing would have been ridiculous on me.

I considered babies to be creatures that would vomit on me from one end and extrude even more unmentionable material on me from the other.

Part 13

Janet asked him who he was playing with at present and he related the story of my old band and its’ current woes. Janet said “I know the guys you are talking about, the young one has always been a pain in the butt.”

My Stepsister
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I have to say that when my Dad married Dawn, I was a bit unsure. I could see why he did. She is a good-looking woman, and I mean a really good-looking woman. The problem was that her son Mark looked just like her – a younger version that is.

The answer

By Lynda Shermer

Chapter 5 - Carol in the city

It turned out, Alice's errands were to get me some jewelry, a purse, and some things related to that, and generally accessorize. I put my spare glasses, in a case, into the purse. Alice added a key ring with copies of my keys (and, it was to turn out, some of hers), some make up, a pen, a pad, a pay-as-you-go cellphone. And a rectangular pouch, with something in it. They were cylinders, too big for pencils. What was it? Then I realized.

As the Zahn’s guests were arriving at the cookout, in California Luke was finishing his tour of where he was planning to spend his high-school years. Greg K. saved the athletic complex as where they would end the trek around the school ground. It made sense for the best part should be the last. Even with the school being one of the top-ranked schools in California, the athletic complex was the piece de resistance.

You know Enid Alan’s first wife died young. Veronica met him when she was eighteen and he’d four kids. Eventually she had another four. But the funniest thing she telt me was the first time she tried her hand at pastry making which wasn’t long after they’d wed, Alan’s six year old telt her, ‘This pastry tastes like sellotape smells, Mum’

Thanks to Malady for his help editing and for ideas.

I’d also like to apologize in advance for the bending of physical laws in the following chapter. I am aware of MOND, for those of you who are as well, but I suppose I don't like the theory, so I decided to ignore it in this book. Author’s prerogative, I guess. In my defense, I’ve been watching some lectures from the Royal Institute lately, and maybe it’s gotten me thinking a bit more – sideways?

I have been enjoying some documentaries on gravity also. They were heavy.

To Return Home

2.4

John and Marc got busy maneuvering the ship to a position where we were in line to reconnect with the command center and downstairs section. I wasn't sure I liked the idea, but it seemed to be the only choice, under the circumstances.

Mama was monitoring Amos’ memories while our ship accelerated slightly and drew alongside. At the same time, Daddy was monitoring her very closely, and I think he was ready to pull the plug if anything should go awry. So was I.

“What's happening, Bernie?” Daddy asked.

“Nothing, Vern. All I see happening is a celebration. Some type of praise for the ‘Emperor.’”

Pas de Deux A novel by Bronwen Welsh A Sequel to 'Antonette's Story' Copyright 2021

Chapter 15   Time passes