Chapter 5

The Good Samaritan

Chapter 4: New Lives Begin

After that, I began to settle in as Vicky, though some things were hard, clothes for one. Vicky had lots of clothes that seemed both immodest and conservative at the same time. Sometimes my choices were looked on as too prim and others as being whorish. And don't get me started on the makeup.

Funny enough, what I thought was appropriate, Stephanie seemed to like the best and Vicky wasn't happy with. So everything became a balance between mom, Vicky and myself.

I hadn't remembered falling unconcious. The last thing i remembered was the screaming. Before that, the trail of smoke emitted by one of the fans on the left wing. Maybe if I'd given up my window seat, I wouldn't be as petrified. I remember the water getting closer and closer and I remember closing my eyes for what I thought would be the last time. I remember saying a silent prayer to nothing exactly.

"Jonathan!" I remember hearing faintly.

I was too groggy to process anything else. Slowly, i became aware of my surroundings. I recognized the voice.

Samantha Jones is a conservative columnist who has decided to pull off her biggest stunt yet. The feminine woman has legally changed her gender to male to prove a point. While her followers enjoy the mockery, Samantha begins to experience increasingly masculine symptoms. In desperation, she turns to her gay friend, Will, for help.

“You know,” I muse as I grab my morning coffee and relax on the plush, soft sofa in my father’s living room, “it may have been in a student shithole, but I miss our old sofa, you know? The whole flat, even.”

“I know precisely what you mean,” Ophelia says, reclining as far back into the sofa as her extra-tight corset will allow. “But we shall return to London soon, and our new flat shall be even better than our previous one!”

This is the second version of Chapter 2, Part II.
It's a little closer to what I had in mind but still not perfect. However, I decided to remove some of the uncharacteristic behavior exhibited by Mirai in verison 1.
Also, I felt I was wasting an opportunity for Mirai to continue puzzling through her circumstances.
Anyway, I'll wait to see how this version is received.

Chapter 4

“NO Way. Your face, your nose. I don't like saying this, but Laurence had a really ugly nose, it sort of dominated his face. You do have the same eyes though.” She leaned forwards and sort of squinted, really examining me closely. My green eyes are relatively unique, but I was beginning to get a bit worried. I didn't know her that well. I couldn't tell her stories from a shared past or talk about a weirdly shaped birthmark that she would have no knowledge of. Maybe my disguise was a bit too good. At least I could explain what happened to my nose.

Melissa, Seanna and the seven children had watched the newsman as he did the story on the newborn being found.

Within an hour, calls were flooding the news office, prompting them to add three more staff to keep up with the calls.

Most of the calls were simply nuisance ones, no real content, just people being idiots, obstructing the search for the newborn's family.

A few calls sounded like they might be pertinent, but further investigation revealed that the child they were claiming was not the newborn.

In a hospital room, a very sick old man had his bed close to the window. Everyday, he was telling the others what he can see out: children playing, birds flying, trees and flowers. There was a young man, more healthy, wishing that the old man will die and he will take his bed, so he will tell the others what is outside. The old man died and the young one took his bed. But, he was very surprised to see that out on the window all he could see was nothing, just a wall.

From a poetry cenacle.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 35 – Grand Openings

So far: Word about the gold rush is on, and big companies wanting a piece of the action were surprised and upset when they couldn’t convince the band to give up a share, in return for ruining the environment and rerouting the river. And Mark was taught an interesting lesson.

Big Bertha hits the atmosphere like a ton of bricks. That’s not my fault, I’m a good pilot, but the atmosphere control isn’t broadcasting in a format Bertha can recognize, so I had to guess. The guess took an hour to make, but flight control had me cooling my heels for six while they got their shit together. My credentials are forged, so that doesn’t help. I’ve seen three gorgeous sunrises to make up for it.

I must be a good guesser because I don’t bounce off the atmosphere and die.