Goodbye Sam...
by mittfh
 
Copyright © 2010 Ben Norwood.

Contains lyrics from "Goodbye Sam, Hello Samantha", copyright of whoever Cliff's record label was back in 1970...

I mentioned this song when the contest was first proposed. Back then, I claimed I wasn't an author and couldn't imagine myself writing anything. Just over a month later, I've somehow got three stories up here and another in the works...
So I suppose I'd better do something with these lyrics...

Goodbye Sam, Hello Samantha
Goodbye Joe, Hello Joanne.
Suddenly need a new kind of company
Someone to love me.
Goodbye Sam, Hello Samantha
Goodbye Lou, Hello Louise.
From today there'll be new games
For me to play
So good luck and goodbye Sam!

That darned song had haunted me all my life - but I'd never dreamed the lyrics could ever mean so much to me - and in a completely different way to originally envisaged! Predictably enough, I was born Samuel Smith, but everyone called me Sam. I'd always felt I was a girl inside, and often envied the girls in the neighbourhood, playing in their pretty dresses. Unfortunately, Mum and Dad had other ideas, dismissing my ideas with comments such as "But you're a BOY" or "Boys don't do that!"

I was an only child so never had the opportunity to dress up in pretty clothes or play with dollies - and both mum and dad refused to let me play at any girl's house - they seemed to think I was bonkers for even daring to suggest playing with them. At school, I was continually teased with that darn song because I hated P.E. and spent most lunchtimes reading "girly" books in the library. Of course, I didn't dare take any such books home, and because I did OK in most subjects, the teachers didn't mention my reading habits at Parents Evenings.

My life started to get better when I started Secondary school, as I met and made friends with Louis and Joseph - who, by sheer coincidence, also felt they were girls inside. We pretty much hung together all the time, and spent most breaks and lunchtimes in the library. School life was better, but lessons were still dull and home life irritating. I already knew Mum and Dad couldn't understand the concept of their only son wanting to be a girl, so I pretended to be interested in football, rock music and Top Gear just to please them. As far as they were concerned, they were pleased that I did well academically, but were disappointed I didn't join any of the school's sports teams or showed no interest in having a kick-around with other boys in the neighbourhood.

Upon arrival in Sixth form I had the surprise of my life when called to discuss filling in my UCAS form with the school's careers advisor. She told me the school had noticed various things about me, and strongly recommended I apply to a place called Tina Gunter College. I'd never heard of the place before, but she told me it was ideally suited to allow me to develop my interests. The other odd thing was that they apprently required a medical assessment before firmly accepting any student.

While not exactly Oxbridge, the college looked nice from the information she gave me, and it boasted a very high pass rate, which pleased Mum and Dad, so I put it top of my preferences. I didn't hear anything more until just after my 18th birthday, when I received a provisional acceptance, subject to a medical evaluation with a Dr. Tring at the school.

When I got into the meeting, Dr. Tring asked me lots of questions about my life and interests, then stunned me by asking about my attitude towards girls, boys, and traditionally male or female activities, before dropping the proverbial bombshell by asking if I wanted to be a girl. I was shocked by this question and told him so, but then he reviewed my answers to his previous questions and asked again. Very quietly, I almost whispered "Yes", afraid of what his reaction would be. He smiled and said "I thought so" before revealing that he wasn't an ordinary doctor, but a psychiatrist employed by Tina Gunter College. Apparently, they were a special college for the "Transgendered", and because of this they avoided unnecessary publicity, preferring to keep their real entrance requirements out of the public domain. He explained that because some parents are ignorant of gender identity issues, or even intolerant of them, that they always wait until a potential student is 18 before arranging for the medical, so they don't have to inform the parents about the nature of the medical if the potential student doesn't want them to. Finally, he mentioned that, if he thought I was still a suitable candidate, I would have another medical with a different doctor - and if he agreed with Dr. Tring, I would be accepted in September.

Naturally, I didn't tell Mum or Dad the true nature of the medical appointment, just telling them it was a routine health check the college liked to do, to ensure its students were healthy. A month later, I had another interview with a Dr. Jones; and a month after that I received my final unconditional offer.

So now it's September 15th, and I'm standing on the platform of a railway station seemingly in the middle of nowhere in mid-Wales, waiting to be picked up by the college to be taken the final few miles to the college itself. I'm a little nervous, but excited about what lies ahead, and happy that both Lou and Joe are here with me. Apparently they also applied to Tina Gunter, but to avoid arousing suspicions they had their medicals at different times to me.

Hopefully, by the time we leave, I'll truly be Samantha rather than Samuel, Louis will be Louise, and Joseph will be Joanne. And to think I always hated that song...

Primary School - takes pupils from the term before their fifth birthday ("Rising 5") to 11.
Secondary School - takes pupils from 11 to 16 (the end of compulsory education). Most also have a Sixth Form Centre, which educates 16-18 year olds. The 6FC is usually a separate building containing the sixth form common room and a few classrooms, but lessons are taught by the same staff as the "Main School" and usually in the same classrooms.
Oxbridge - Colloquialism referring to the universities of Oxford and Cambridge.
UCAS - Universities and Colleges Admissions Service. It's a clearing house for UK University / HE College admissions. In Year 12 (16-17 years old), students are given the application form to fill in, whereby they list personal details, qualifications gained and expected, a reference and the universities / courses they want to apply for, in preferential order. Medical checks are not usually required!

And before anyone asks, I am NOT going to write their further adventures, or anything else regarding TG College. As ever, if anyone else wants to pick it up and run with it, feel free...

Rhyme Stew - A cautionary tale
by mittfh
 
Copyright © 2010 Ben Norwood.

This one's even shorter than usual(!)
It's another cautionary (and potentially disturbing) tale set in nursery rhyme land,
but how many rhymes inspired this?

Warning: this tale contains a scene of mollusc genocide!

Mary Muffet had just finished decorating her garden with silver bells and cockle shells. The work had tired her out, so after a quick trip to the nearby paddock to pat her pet lamb, she sat on a nearby tuffet to eat her lunch of cottage cheese. Unfortunately, Tom Piperson was prowling around, looking for an opportunity to create more mischief. Amongst his many misdemeanours was stealing a leg of ham from the market the previous week. He'd received a beating from his father as a result, but that had evidently not deterred him.

On this occasion, he'd prepared a fake spider from some black material lying around the house, and had fixed it to the end of a fishing line. Spying Mary calmly eating her cottage cheese, he decided she'd be an ideal victim. Creeping up behind her, he dangled his "spider" to within her eyesight, which caused her to shriek and run away.

Now don't think Mary was a completely innocent party - although she could be very, very good on occasions (like today), she was just as adept as Tom as being horrid to others when she felt like it.

Seeing the latest round of mischief, the village elders had an emergency meeting and decided there was only one thing for it - hiring the local witch. Upon hearing the evidence presented against the two children, she proclaimed that the children were misbehaving because they weren't made of enough "nice stuff". Due to the severity of Tom's problems, she suggested that the only cure was a complete transformation into a sweet, innocent girl - and the same spell would do likewise to Mary. The elders were initially a little shocked at the suggestion, but when the witch mentioned they'd have similar temperaments to Polly and Suki (famed for their dolls' tea parties), as well as the twins Jane and Jill, the elders realised the transformations would make their lives a lot easier.

Just then, Jack Spratt piped up - "What about Georgie? I've heard he's been known to chase after the girls. Can you change him, too?"

The witch replied, "Only if you've got enough ingredients!"

"What do we need?"

"The spell is activated when they eat a special batch of sweets I'll prepare. So I'll need plenty of sugar, as much spice as you can spare, and a selection of the nicest, tastiest ingredients in your store cupboards."

Three hours later, the elders returned with the ingredients. Meanwhile the witch had scrubbed out her cauldron (her sister, who lived a few villages away, never bothered to clean hers and couldn't work out why her spells always failed...), half filled it with fresh stream water, and had brought it to the boil over a fire. She added the ingredients, then after stirring some more and reciting a few mystical incantations, ladled out the viscous mixture into bite-sized drops on a large sheet of paper. Once the drops had cooled, she divided them up into three bags - a large one for George, a medium sized one for Tom, and a significantly smaller sized one for Mary. She then instructed the parents to place the bags in the children's bedrooms - they would find consuming the contents irresistable - and in the morning collect up every unusual item they found in the children's bedrooms and bring them to the village centre. The reasons would be explained when they met.

The parents duly did as instructed, and sure enough the three children eagerly consumed the sweets, unaware of the drastic changes the sweets would cause overnight.

Tamsin, Mary and Gina all woke up in the morning, unaware of their previous identity or character. After breakfast, they quickly found each other and spent the morning braiding each other's hair before inviting themselves to one of Polly's tea parties. To the amazement of the adults (who were sceptical that the children's attitudes would change alongside their appearance), the two newly-minted girls and one reformed girl were the epitome of politeness.

Meanwhile, each of the mothers were examining their children's bedrooms and extracting various quantities of slugs, snails and what appeared to be non-human hair. They very gingerly picked up each of the 'intruders' and placed them in a bucket, before hauling their buckets (1/2 in the case of Mary, a full one in the cast of Tamsin, and nearly 2 in the case of Gina) to the village centre. The witch greeted them and explained that these slugs, snails, and dog hair tails were what had previously formed their nasty, boyish children. To prevent a return to their former character, the buckets contents would have to be burned on a fire, and any subsequent slugs or snails found in the village must be destroyed in the same way.

Epilogue: Just in case any other village children became tearaways, the witch's mixture had produced plenty of leftover sweets. In fact, So many, that seven village elders each had seven churns, each containing seven large bags, each containing seven small bags, each containing seven sweets...

Two Little...Boys?
by mittfh
 
Copyright © 2010 Ben Norwood.

Otherwise known as the perils of listening to Desert Island Discs en-route into work, followed by a very quiet afternoon on the helpdesk...

Oh, and in my desire to always "do something different", I've tried writing this entirely in the present tense. On reflection, I'm not entirely convinced the concept works. Oh well.

Picture the scene:

About 20 years ago, two brothers playing on toy pedal-powered cars in their back garden on a hot summer's day. An older, stockier brother called Stuart and a younger, slimmer brother called Joe. As they are "driving" around the garden, a wheel comes off Joe's car and he tumbles off. Although not seriously hurt, the combination of the shock and devastation at the loss of his favourite toy causes him to burst into tears.

Stuart hears his brother crying, turns around his car, and "drives" over to Joe. He hugs Joe, brushes the grass stains off his jeans, then helps him into his own car. As Joe looks at him quizzically, Stuart explains that he couldn't bear to see his brother crying, and there was plenty of room in his car for a passenger. He even offered to take turns being "driver" and passenger.

Skip forward to the present day:

Stuart is now the managing director of a successful business, and just as ruthless on the squash court after work. He's driving along a country lane one icy morning, trying to avoid the chaos on the main road, which had allegedly been gritted the night before but hadn't stopped numerous crashes and a 10 mile tailback. Suddenly, he spots a car that had skidded and crashed into the verge, wrecking its bonnet. He's about to drive past, but something about the woman standing by the side looks vaguely familiar, so pulls over (safely), puts his hazard warning lights on, then walks over to the woman.

She appears to show a spark of recognition for Stuart, but then attempts to hide her face in her long hair. Stuart realises that, improbable as it may sound, that this woman is actually his younger brother.

"Err...hi...err...Joe?"

The woman sighs. "Yes Stu, it is me. Although I'm now Joanne, if you please."

"Wow! If I didn't know you before I'd never have guessed."

"Yeah, yeah, everyone says I look pretty, but I'm just a freak. Go away."

"Honestly, you do look pretty - as I said, if I didn't know you were Joe I'd never have guessed. Err...are you one of those trans-whatsits?"

"Yes, I am transgendered. OK, laugh at me - I know I'm just a freak in a dress."

"Aaargh! Look at me Joe...anne." He turns her face to look him in the eyes.

"You...are...NOT...a...freak. Look, I'm your brother - and now the MD of a respectable company. If I don't like something or someone, I tell them to their face. You've always had a fair complexion, and - dare I say it - looked prettier than me. I've always been the strong, tough one. You've always been more timid and emotional, and cared about your appearance. I know I always ribbed you about it, as it didn't seem very 'macho'. But now it all makes sense. And I have to admit, if you weren't my brother and we'd met in other circumstances, I would have considered dating you."

"Yeah, right."

"No, honest! Anyway, have you phoned your breakdown company? Told work?"

She sighs again. "I can't - there's hardly any signal here and my mobile's getting low on charge. I was just about to get back in and charge it up for 1/2 hr off the car battery when you turned up."

"Right, that settles it. You're coming in to work with me."

"What, so they can all laugh at your freaky brother?"

"NO! How many times do I have to tell you... Look, you're still shaken up - you probably wouldn't be able to concentrate at work anyway knowing your car was sitting out here. Once we arrive, you can phone your work and say you won't be in today because you've had an accident, then phone your insurers and breakdown company."

"But how will they know where the car is?"

"Sat-Navs are useful for more than telling you to turn left or right. You can give them the coordinates, and when they're ready to pick it up I'll drive you back here so you can hand over the keys and watch them load it up."

"OK. I suppose I can trust you - you are my brother after all."

"When have I ever lied to you or gone against you?"

"I suppose you have always looked out for me."

"And I didn't just do it out of a sense of duty. I enjoyed helping my little brother."

A few minutes later, in the comfort of Stuart's car, Joanne suddenly smiles.

"What?"

"Just thought back to that summer when we were about...8, wasn't it?"

Stuart thinks a minute then exclaims - "Crikey, funny how history repeats itself. You were distraught at the loss of your toy car, and I gallantly rode in rescued you. And now, twenty years later, I'm rescuing not only my brother, but a damsel in distress!"

"Cheeky!"

Over the next half hour they compare notes on what they'd been up to in the intervening years. Stuart had really excelled in English, Mathematics and Business Studies, and after taking a degree in Mathematics, had completed an MBA and was now managing a large business consultancy. Joe had excelled in the sciences, but after completing his biology degree had transitioned while working as a school science technician before taking a PGCE, and was now the head of science at a primary school.

Just as they reached a traffic jam in town, stuck at a red light, Kirsty Young played the second track on her guest's Desert Island Discs playlist - Rolf Harris' rendition of "Two Little Boys".

Stuart and Joanne look at each other, grin and roll their eyes simultaneously.

"Is that serendipity or is that serendipity?!"

They both stifle a laugh as the lights change to green and the car steadily rolls forward.

After The Fall
by mittfh
 
Copyright © 2010 Ben Norwood.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water,
Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.

Up Jack got and home did trot as fast as he could caper,
To Old Dame Dob who patched his nob with vinegar and brown paper.

But what happened next? Jack soon finds out that concussion is the least of his problems...

They say concussion can do strange things to your head. But I'm convinced it was the double act of my sister and Old Dame Dob who were more responsible for what happened next. After all, I should have known that there's more to eccentric old women who maintain large herb collections and know about healing than meets the eye...

Anyway, I digress. My concussion. Our village's water supply had mysteriously dried up and the stream was all silted up, so I was sent to the next village to fetch a couple of buckets worth from their pump. As I had a reputation as a prankster, my sister Jill had been sent with me to keep me out of trouble. Anyway, I decided it would be quicker to go over the steep hill separating our two villages than take the long winding road between them. Jill agreed - she didn't like being lumbered with me almost as much as I didn't like being sent on the errand in the first place.

Fetching the water itself wasn't a big deal, but those two buckets were very heavy, and it was slow going ascending the hill again on the return journey. Jill, of course, refused to help out, insisting that it was man's work, they were too heavy, and besides, she didn't want to dirty her dress. I didn't complain, but concentrated on lugging the heavy buckets up the hill. However, just after clearing the brow, disaster struck. I was concentrating so hard on keeping the buckets upright that I didn't notice the rock in my path until I'd tripped over it, sending the buckets flying. I think I told you the hill was steep, but I didn't quite realise how steep until I found myself descending it via a more direct route than I anticipated, hitting several more rocks en-route. I reached the bottom, and was wondering how Jill was doing when I suddenly felt something rather large and hard hitting my back, before something covered my eyes. Pushing the covering away from my eyes, I realised it was rather heavily blood-stained fabric - and realised it must be the skirt of Jill's dress. I tried standing up, but felt very feint. In the end, Jill (who appeared to have suffered very lightly for her fall) more-or-less had to drag me home, whereupon dad helped carry me over to Old Dame Dob at the other end of the village. What seemed like an eternity later, I woke up to find my head enclosed in a makeshift bandage and reeking of vinegar, and Jill standing over me trying to suppress a fit of giggles. Apparently I was to remain at home for the next few days while my head healed itself. I don't think dad was particularly pleased as he couldn't delegate errands / chores to me.

Days turned into weeks, and Mum thought it best to keep me confined to near the house, lest I go wandering off and get myself into more trouble - either by pranking someone or hurting my head again. I was asked to help out around the house, and surprised myself by not only completing the chores, but I didn't feel like moaning or grumbling about it as I've been prone to do when asked in the past. I also found myself chatting to Jill a lot, whereas before the fall I'd do almost anything to avoid her company. She may be my twin sister, but before the fall I intensely disliked her - she always seemed so pretty and innocent, never got intro trouble, and was always praised up by Mum. Since the fall, I also appear to have stayed out of trouble, and was often praised for completing chores on time. This was an entirely new experience for me!

About a month after the fall, I noticed two slightly worrying things. First, my hair seemed to be growing much faster than usual, yet I had no desire to cut it back to a more boyish length. Secondly, I was convinced that certain, erm, "things", erm, "down below", were shrinking. I thought the latter was probably my imagination, besides which, it wasn't polite to talk about such things with anyone. Things got even stranger when I started noticing the choices of clothing Jill was wearing, and when she noticed me staring at her, rather than tell me off (as usual), she started describing her clothes. Weird!

I was convinced something weird was definitely going on after the third month, by which time my, erm, "things", had practically disappeared altogether. I wanted to ask dad about it, but every time I was near him I completely forgot about it and talked about something else as well. In addition, my clothes started to feel scratchy and uncomfortable. At about the same time, I'd noticed Jill was making a lot of new dresses, which seemed odd as she'd already got several. But as with trying to talk to dad about my problems "down below", I somehow couldn't ask Jill about why she was making extra clothes, or who indeed they were for.

A new phase of life started about a month later, when somehow Jill convinced me to try on one of her new dresses. Although I was very apprehensive at the start, by the time she had finished dressing me in it, I felt wonderful! The dress somehow fitted perfectly, far better than my own clothes. Jill seemed to sense this as well, and took me out of our room to introduce me to mum and dad as her "sister" Jane. Mum was delighted, dad was initially shocked but after Jill had started at him intensely, he immediately calmed down and started talking to me in the same way he always talked to Jill. It was very strange, happening as suddenly as someone clicking their fingers, and I was by now convinced that something very weird was going on. I'd always thought of magic beforehand as being something of the realm of fairy tales, but and tales of witches were highly exaggerated stories of eccentric old women, but I couldn't help but wonder if magic did exist and Old Dame Dob was a witch... I still wasn't sure of the extent to which Jill was wrapped up in her scheme though.

That evening, Jill asked me how I felt. I replied that, strange as it may seem, I felt wonderful in these new clothes, and my life seemed inexplicably better since the fall. She smiled and nodded, as though she was expecting that reply. I didn't flinch when she offered me a spare nightgown to sleep in, and I think I realised then I'd never go back to wearing my old clothes.

My transformation was evidently complete when, about a week later, I started getting pains in my stomach area. Looking over at Jill, I realised she was too, and it seemed to be the same kind of pain she had about every month...

By that time, I'd effectively abandoned my old life as "Jack", and everyone in the village seemed to accept me as "Jane", Jill's twin sister. Questioning some of the locals, it appeared they only remembered "Jane" and Jill as twin sisters, and that "Jack" was a troublemaker from outside who'd left the village several months ago - and good riddance as far as they were concerned. Whatever the cause of my transformation, I'm certainly happier now as "Jane" than "Jack", and wouldn't dream of reverting to my old life, even if I know how.

One final note - apparently the village's water supply miraculously started working again about an hour after I'd set off for the next village on that fateful day, and the stream cleared itself of silt. Did Old Dame Dob plan the entire expedition in the first place, knowing that it would be the perfect opportunity?

I don't know why I started thinking of Jack and Jill, least of all applying a TG spin to it. The idea hit me last night, and I played around with it in my head until this morning, when I decided to scribble it down. As ever, I thought it would be <500 words, but it ended up closer to 1,500...