“Well?” said Sally when I arrived home from a meeting with my lawyer and the board of directors of my former company.
“How did it go?”

Nailed to Change Part 2

Jekyllase is in the news again as several states are considering decriminalizing its possession; some referenda, such as Proposition 118 here in Oregon, would go farther, making it effectively an over-the-counter drug. It occurred to me that I could dust off a memoir I started writing some time ago, edit it to focus more closely on my experiences with jekyllase, and offer it to the public (anonymously, by necessity, as these propositions are not law yet) as a contribution to the debate.

The only plane I had ever been on was a Tiger Moth, on a twenty- minute joyride out of Shoreham, which was only an airfield, not a proper airport.

It didn’t make me feel like Phineas Fogg, more like a descendant of Biggles or the Red Baron. Besides, I was just a kid when I had that first flight.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 53 Deep Secrets

Continued on from GOM 52 on a Saturday evening in the Green Dragon Inn taproom

“Hang on a moment before you do, Pete. Jeremy, whilst we’re on about food, or at any rate stuff that sometimes passes for food, answer a question for me if you would. Why the hell would anybody want to eat pizza instead of food? I know millions of poor brainwashed bastards all over the planet do, and some of them go out to eat the stuff calling it a meal, dinner even, but to me it seems a not unnatural question because I’ll lay odds there’s not a Bearthwaite man who’s ever been offered it by his missus as food here is there? I’d far rather have a sandwich made with decent bread as is baked down at the mill, and our kids wouldn’t thank you for the stuff, for they’d all rather have a bag of chips [US fries] from Ellerys’ chippy.A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 53 Deep Secrets

Torrid Transformation

The bell above the entrance to Torrid chimed a cheerful welcome as Alan
pushed open the glass door. The familiar scent of trendy clothing and
leather greeted him, but the store was strangely empty. He scanned the
racks, his gaze snagged on a display of vibrant summer dresses before a
voice startled him.

"Hi there! Welcome to Torrid!"

Alan turned to see a woman with a dazzling smile and a nametag that read
"Haley - Manager." Her warm brown eyes sparkled beneath a mane of fiery
red hair.

Genesis Infiltrator

The woman's words were a hammer blow. Raped. Mutilated. Left for dead.
Stacy... the image of her friend, vibrant and alive, morphed into a
terrifying possibility - a victim of human trafficking, lost in the
nightmarish underbelly of the world.

A wave of nausea swept over Sasha; a primal scream trapped in her throat
by the leather restraints. "Stacy?" she rasped, her voice cracking.
"What about Stacy?"

Aayla Farstrayer listened as the Master droned about an obscure ancient prophecy. According to the prophecy, "A chosen one would bring balance to the Force," the Master said. "It was thought that a young Jedi student, Anakin Skywalker, might be that chosen one. Instead, young Anakin was seduced by the Dark Side, became Sith Apprentice Darth Vader, and helped Sith Master Darth Sidious destroy the Jedi Order."

From the Top
by Bryony Marsh

“James, what are you doing here?”

The boy gave a guilty start that spoke volumes: he was caught and there was no point in lying.

“I’m doing my Physics homework, Sir,” he said.

Simon Owens sighed. “What I mean is, why are you lurking in the library when you’re supposed to be in class?”

After waking Allison received news she didn’t believe at first but instantly realised she loved, Dr. Grace confirmed Allison is changing. Allison is becoming who she wants to be. Now she just needs to let time work its magic and keep doing what she’s doing.

What Allison would really like, however, is for things to slow down. Not the changes, rather she’d like to get time to enjoy who she is, but she doesn’t even know if that’s possible. She knows she’s unique in the history of the deep-space station, and maybe that means things will never be slow and normal. But what’s more normal, in all this newness, than a lunch with Angie?