You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE. - Rod Serling

Cade, in a desperate attempt to flee from his Mother's abuse, runs away. His only crime was trying to escape the wrath of a spiteful, drunken woman that hated everything about her son. On a small hill, hidden among the tall weeds, he finds an old abandoned home. Soon, Cade will know what happens when the knob is turned on a the door leading into... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

I dove across the bed and raced for the open door, my , drunken mother lunging for my arm. I sprinted around the corner, and down the hallway brushing against the wall as I passed, knocking our family photo down. It crashed to the ground. Much like that photo, our family was now shattered, and in a million pieces.

I raced toward the stairs as the crazed woman stumbled across the threshold in my wake and fallen, gathering herself from the floor where she lay, cursing and shouting at me in her drunken stupor.

I practically flew down those stairs, throwing open the door that led to the outside. Her empty glass bottle shattered against the wall by my head, narrowly missing me by only inches. Outside on the sidewalk, I could still hear her shouting and ranting at me. I sighed heavily and began to trot down the long sidewalk that led away from the angry woman. My Mother.

This was my life. It had been this way ever since my father left when I was twelve. Like me, he grew tired of Mothers drinking. I begged him to take me when he left and he tried, but the courts felt that my place was with my Mom.

I put a tree between myself and our house, waiting for her usual ranting to be unleashed on our neighborhood. My rapid breathing was calming down, now that I was far enough from her to easily outdistance her, should she try and follow.

I turned 16 yesterday, not like it mattered though, she gave me exactly what I got on my birthday and every day since Dad bolted... a serious ass whipping. I frowned at the pain I recalled, then winced as the door flew aside and she stepped out onto the porch. "Little shit! You better not make me come looking for you!" She shouted causing all of our neighbors to turn and look at her. "It's going to be worse on you if I have to search!"

I didn't move a muscle. She stumbled down the first three steps only catching herself on the last one. Across the small yard she staggered, falling next to the sidewalk. As she begin to pick herself back up, I took the moment to run like hell down the street. "Get back here you little worthless piece of shit!" She screamed loudly, staggering and falling in the lawn.

I ran on, tears streaming down my face. Only when I felt it was safe, did I stop long enough to contemplate my next move. Going back to that abusive woman was out of the question, I was 16 and was tired of holding back my anger any longer. I sighed and ran my sleeve across my eyes, trying to dry the tears that gathered. The little suburb that I grew up in was far behind me, only the farm fields lay beyond. Without a turn back, I shoved my hands into my pockets and began to walk, putting miles and miles between my birth mother and the abusive life I knew.

I cut across a field, row after row of 6 inch tall corn offered no obstacle for my youthful stride. Close to evening I crossed a happy little creek, one that I don't ever remember during any of the other times I had run from my mother's wrath. I stood next to that babbling little brook and sighed, "If only life could be as calm as this creek makes me feel." I found a small path to my left, leading away from the water. Without a thought, I took the path and headed up the little hill toward the rise beyond my vision.

At the top of a little knoll, surrounded by the trees, was an old house. The building appeared to be sound, although needed some minor repair. Little glass panes stared back, giving the impression of life, as if the house had a soul. I found myself smile, as I stood at the opening of the woods and surveyed the small two-story structure, it's seclusion giving me an idea.

Slowly I pushed my way through the tall skinny weeds until I arrived at the porch where I could look into the windows. The little house was probably quite lovely in a bygone time, it had once been a bright cheery white and evidence of a sky blue trim could be seen around the window and porch railing. I assumed that in a bygone era, it used to be a quaint little country farm, now it was overgrown with weeds.

I ran my sleeve across one small pane, covered thickly with years of neglect. The interior was brightly lit and entirely empty. I walked across the porch and tried the door, It opened with no effort at all. Stepping inside, I brushed the cobwebs from the air, it was eerily quiet and still inside that first little room.

I nodded approvingly, this little home could hide me for days! I looked back across the weeds in the direction from which I had just come, no sign of my passing could be seen. It was as though the weeds had parted only enough to allow me to enter, then after I passed, had returned to conceal me from the view of outsiders. I smiled slowly, I would hide out here until my mother could calm down.

The house's interior looked as though it was well over a hundred years old, the wide hand hewn beam still rested heavy above the stone lined fireplace. I looked up, above me was a narrow stairs that led to a small balcony almost beckoning me to climb to it's heights.

I started up the stairs carefully, the ancient steps creaking under my weight. As I slowly approached the top, my view became distorted as if I were looking through filmy glasses. I continued on up until my head cleared and I paused, slowly turning and looking down toward the floor.

Below me the scene had changed, now a warm, happy fire crackled in the fireplace, through the window I could see the feathery snow drifting past. I could suddenly smell a heavy hickory aroma from the glowing logs where a pot of stew suspended and bubbled its heavenly scent across the room. My eyes widened in surprise at this strange, ghostly scene laid out before me.

A table was set, the dishes waiting for hungry people to satisfy their appetites. I counted three plates positioned around its rectangle, hand crafted surface, sturdy chairs rested behind each plate. I looked above the door, empty pegs where a hunting rifle had been hung, waited for their master to return. I glanced back toward the upstairs, it still looked old and strangely vacant apart from the homey scene that I was viewing down below me. It was as if I were caught between two worlds, each showing a different take on the little house.

"Too cool!" I sighed softly, as my eyes trailed the steps upward behind me, each one was meticulously clean. Again I glanced up toward the topmost step, dirty and dusty under years away from a caring hand. I again looked back toward the table, a small child's chair was positioned at one end, a smaller plate resting next to one of the bigger plates. With awe of what I was seeing, I stepped down the stairs cautiously. As I neared the bottom, the images before my eyes slowly blurred and I found myself again looking at an empty room.

A slow chill passed down my spine, but as yet, I had remained unharmed so I returned to climbing slowly up the stairs. Again, a uneasy distortion crossed my vision. It was almost like looking through a mirage caused by the heat, I slowly began to climb. I glanced down at the step I was on, my shoe has somehow changed from the one I had been wearing. I held my foot out and felt an uneasy feeling in my stomach as the one that graced my foot had a taller, slender heel. Buttons lined up one after another from the bottom at the ankle to the top, around four inches above the same ankle.

The socks on my feet were strange and odd to see, in fact, as I reached down to touch them I had to pull aside the hem of a gray dress. I felt myself fall quickly against the wall, startled from what I was seeing; a slender feminine hand still holding the hem of the plain gray dress. My eyes followed up that graceful arm until it merged with my own arm just above the strange blurred mirage.

Slowly I let the dress drop, I looked above my head toward the top of the stairs, it still looked empty. Below me looked as if it were torn out of the pages of history. I sighed deeply, forcing myself to ascend up two full steps, my eyes grew wide in shock over what I was seeing.

I held a dainty hand at my stomach, it appeared that a thin corset was holding in a slender waist... my waist! I swallowed hard, my panicked breathing was moving the feminine breasts with each frightened breath. I felt upward toward my throat and touched a high collar, I followed it up to where it simply vanished at my neck, I gradually raised my hand higher above the distorted reflective surface, it surprisingly looked normal.

As I moved upward, the strange distortion followed, at the top of the stairs I stopped and glanced back down, the room glowed from the crackling fire. Outside, the soft snow was drifting past the tiny glass windows with their outer edges coated in a thin ring of frost. I reached out a feminine hand and touched the rail that ran up the steps, my hand was small with dainty fingers. I shook off a sudden eerie feeling, and peeked into the first open door I found, its hardwood floors looked polished from years of use. I hesitantly moved toward a window at the end of the balcony, leaned forward and peered outside.

I could see a barn not far from the house, in a fenced in pasture a cow and two horses grazed, using their muzzles to push away the thin layer of snow upon the ground. Chickens scurried across the lane, searching for seeds as they moved. My heart began beating quickly in my chest as I backed from the window, a few gentle flakes of snow drifted past. My eyes studied the scene below me, unbelieving of what I was seeing just outside the window of this strange home.

Slowly I stepped toward another door that was also open, inside was an old bed, at it's end rested a wide dresser with a long, somewhat ancient mirror. My eyes were drawn toward the mirror, a young woman dressed in the mid 1800's stood looking back toward me, my pulsing heart felt as though it would skip a beat. I began to scream, raising a hand to my face and gasped as the stranger did the same.

"Oh my God!" I sighed in shock, it was no stranger at all, it was me! I crossed the beautiful hardwood floors and looked into the mirror at the young woman I had become. "How?" I asked softly, raising a trembling hand to my face. "How could this happen?" I cried. The reflection... my reflection looked back at me. She was pretty, even without makeup. She had golden hair with thin brows and long, curved eyelashes in a deeper brown, she touched her chest with a slender, feminine hand. Her rounded breasts looked full and plump for her small size. She had a thin waist and wide hips that was hidden by the fullness of the vast multitudes of petticoats that she... I most likely wore.

In shock, I moved out of that room and toward the third and final door on this floor, it was closed. A thin shaft of light reflected from a window within the room, and out under the door. My trembling small hand grasped the knob, I opened it a tiny crack. I could hear the voice of a small child inside. More and more of the room was revealed as I opened the door wider and wider. A small child of about four years old was sitting on a bed, humming to herself as she brushed her long light colored hair.

I let out a startled gasp causing the little girl to turn, "Mommy, can you brush my hair for me?" I slowly stepped into the room and took the wooden brush in my hesitant, trembling hand. She smiled and flipped her golden hair away from her neck with tiny hands.

Across from me a mirror caught my attention, I studied the little girl momentarily in the reflection. What made my heart skip was the beautiful young woman that had seated herself behind the girl. "Is that truly me?" I sighed softly in wonderment, amazed at my feminine appearance. As I sat there in complete and utter amazement, I realized that the youth sitting with her back to me, could really have been the daughter of the woman I had become.

The little child glanced up at my reflection, her strange gaze chased away by a innocent smile. "...And I'm going to look just like you when I grow up!" She added as my trembling hands continued to brush away at her silken hair.

I looked down at the top of her head, no higher than my bosom, "Mommy, after you're done, can I wake up Melissa and play with her?"

I sat dumfounded, "How can this be happening?" I gasped softly. Then her words seemed to work their way into my mind. "Melissa?" I asked, my voice sounded so young and sweet.

The little girl pointed toward the corner of the room, a young child lay sleeping in an antique crib. Only, in the time period I've found myself suddenly in, the crib was most likely brand new. I gently rose to my feet, the little girl took her brush and sat it on the dresser. In a daze I made my way to the crib where the small child slept. I felt the little girl touch my hand, "Are you okay Mommy? Do you want me to run and get Daddy?" I only blinked at her comment, suddenly realizing what she was asking.

"N... No dear, that won't be necessary." I forced a smile and with a trembling hand touched the hard railing of the crib. The small child stirred, looked up at me and began smiling.

The little girl let my hand drop and scurried about the room gathering up items and quickly returned. "Melissa?" I whispered softly. The tiny child sat up, looking through the thin bars of the ancient crib. She held out her hands, grasping my own, and pulled me down to her. I gathered her up and slowly swished back to the little bed that the young girl had been sitting on earlier, "What is happening to me?" I wondered.

"Uh... Melissa?" The little four year old, looked up and rolled her beautiful blue eyes at me.

"It's Nicole Mommy." She sighed. "You keep calling us by each other's name."

I smiled and laid the baby down on her back, Nicole sat everything next to the little one. "Let me do it!" She giggled and began to change her little sister. I slowly walked away and headed toward the mirror, the young mother that looked back at me in the reflection, sadly shook her head. "How?" I whispered, touching a shaking, feminine hand to my soft face.

"She's ready Mommy." Nicole chirped from behind me. I slowly turned, the dress swaying around my waist strangely. "Are you going to feed her first?" The little girl asked, handing the baby to my reluctant arms.

I shrugged, "Should I?" I was hoping the little girl would show me so I didn't have to decide.

"I think we should feed her first." I found myself holding the baby with one arm as the other was being held by Nicole. We crossed the room and paused by the bed.

"Come on, let's go." I coaxed, trying to drag her on out of the room.

"You don't ever feed her down stairs, its always up here." She smiled and handed me the baby. "Sit down here like you usually do, Mommy."

I settled back onto the bed and gave her a strange look, "How is this going to feed her?" I looked from the door to the little girl... my daughter.

She giggled and began to unbutton my blouse, starting at the high collar. "What are you doing?" I lowered the baby to my knee, "Just how do you expect her to eat by doing that?"

She gently pointed at my breast, "That's where she always eats, Mommy." She replied bluntly.

I looked down at my breasts covered under the single layer of a nursing corset, it was true, ever since I felt the distortion, they have been strangely feeling full. "I... I can't Nicole." I gasped in fear as Nicole began to pull on the string, exposing the creamy surface of my swollen orbs to the hungry child. "N... No!" I cried.

It was too late, the little child recognized her lunch and leaned forward, her tiny fingers gripping the sides of one poor breast. I shuddered as she slowly worked a lactating teat from the confines of my nursing corset with the help of Nicole. I couldn't say a thing as the little one vigorously began to suck, drinking a liquid that had no place being inside my trembling body.

I pulled a button from her little grasp, Nicole watched intently from only mere inches away. "Will I be able to nurse a baby from my little rose buds?"

I glanced at her patting herself on her chest, "Rosebuds?" I asked.

"That's what you always called them." She smiled and stroked her sister's forehead. From the floor below I heard a door close, my heart jumped in my chest. "You said that one day mine would bloom like yours, you told me that was when you first knew you were a grown up woman." She paused as she listened to the visitor below, stomp the snow from their boots.

I frowned, was I stuck as I am? Would I ever be able to get out? I winced, at the constant, rhythmic pull that was being enacted on my bosom. I caught Nicole looking at me smiling, she bent down and kissed Melissa's forehead as she nursed.

"Where are my lovely ladies hiding?" Came a man's booming voice.

Nicole jumped up quickly, even before I could stop her she shouted down the stairs, "We're up here Daddy!" His steps bounced and bounded up the stairs until his large frame paused in the doorway. "Mommy's feeding Melissa." She added.

He smiled and raised his eyebrows, "I can see that honey." His smile was warm and friendly. Even this man was thinking that I was part of the family... apparently, his family. He walked over and crouched down beside his nursing daughter, tenderly kissing her forehead.

He gazed into my uncomfortable eyes, "She about done?" He said, stroking her soft hair with two of his fingers.

Even before I could answer, Nicole put her arm around her father. "On one side." She pointed at the baby nuzzling my breast, "Mommy still needs to nurse her on the other one." Nicole pushed past her father and inserted a little finger along her baby sister's cheek, breaking the suction with an audible pop. I wasn't sure what to do next, it seemed natural to move her to the other side. Slowly the tiny mouth moved as if she was still sucking, Nicole guided the little lips to the swollen nipple. "There you go sis, drink up!"

The man sat and watched his tiny daughter start nursing vigorously, for almost ten minutes we sat quietly watching this little member of his family as she drew upon my breast and fed herself. Finally as Melissa broke her suction with a huge yawn, the man, her father, handed her to his eldest. "Take her down and clean her up, we'll only be a moment."

I smiled as the little girl carried her sister gently, holding her to a small shoulder, "Burp her!" I called out softly as she carried the child into the hallway. I surprised myself by the comment, not sure of why I would have thought of something so maternally. I watched her disappear from my view, carrying the little one whom I had just nursed. 'What was going on?' I asked myself. 'Was I now trapped as the adult female of this young family?' My eyes were still locked upon the empty doorway, 'Would I ever be able to return home?' I wondered.

"I'm glad to have you to myself for a moment." My eyes darted back to his face, still only inches from mine. His voice bringing me back to awareness, I quickly shot my hand to my exposed feminine breast in an attempt to cover my nakedness.

I hurriedly began to button myself back up, he gently stopped my hand. "I need you, Abigail." I tried to stand, he put his large hand on my leg, gently holding me down. His other hand, pushed my unbuttoned collar aside. Slowly he moved toward me and guided me onto my back. His fingers were dangerously close to my exposed breast, the air caused the damp nipples to swell.

I slid out from under him and onto the floor, he got a playful look on his face and also crawled off the bed. "I... I don't think we'd better." I gasped, trying to stay his lustful alien advance. I quickly turned and began to crawl away, he gently grasped my hips in his large hands. Effectively preventing my escape.

"If you're worried that Nicole will hear us, I can close the door." He sighed in my ear as he began to gently fondle my tender breasts. My mind was racing, trying to figure a way out of this strange situation that I found myself trapped in. He slowly began to manipulate them even more erotically, I felt my breath escape my lungs. Slowly and expertly, his hands worked their way lower. In shock, I felt his hardened penis, even through the multiple layers of my long skirt.

"Make love to me." He sighed his arousal.

"I can't." I pleaded, struggling from his grasp. "Melissa... Nicole." My mind raced for excuses of why I couldn't, shouldn't couple with this man. The fact that only hours ago, I was but a mere boy of sixteen not withstanding had thrust itself into my frightened mind.

He rolled me over and stroked my hair, "You afraid of being the mother of three? What about that son you promised me?" He smiled and touched my cheek gently.

I squirmed, "It's not that..." The words expelled as a long breath. His grip held me confined, under the weight of his body. His lips lowered and began to kiss my neck, I felt myself grow very warm from his unfamiliar touch.

"What then?" He lowered his head and gently kissed the swell of my heaving breast. I felt a strange little tingle race through my body. He slowly began to pull at the long skirt, hiking it higher and higher, exposing my leg. "I know you want a son as much as I do..." His sigh created an odd flutter within the pit of my stomach. He lowered his lips to mine, I tried to force my head away but the floor held it in place. His lips were soft and warm.

Try as I might to keep from making a sound, a moan escaped from my full lips, no louder than a whisper. "I've been thinking about you while I was in the snow out there, He continued, "I'd like to try for another child... tonight."

Strange sexual images began to dance before my closed eyes, images that no young man could ever participate in... and yet, as a woman, his wife, seemed I was very destined to doing. "It's too soon!" I whispered, not sure why I answered him at all.

Suddenly Nicole stepped into the doorway, "She spit up again." I was embarrassed and quickly scrambling to cover my exposed flesh, like lightning I began buttoning the series of buttons that led up to the high collar. The man gave his little daughter a smile and slowly stood, offering his large hand to me. After pulling me to my feet, we all shuffled out of the room and headed down the steps.

My husband paused at the top of the stairs and motioned for me to pass, as I did, he gently held out his hand and cupped the roundness of my right breast. His thumb sliding dangerously across the area where my nipple was. I blushed and felt myself smile. 'My God! Why did I do that?' I chastised myself quickly stepping down the stairs. As had happened before, at about the half way point came the blurred vision and I found myself standing at the lowest step, looking at a empty, dusty unkempt room.

I glanced back up the stairs and adjusted myself, strangely, I had become aroused. I shook my head and walked to a window, staring through it's distorted glass. Outside, the little house was surrounded by the tall weeds of spring.

Gone was the loving feeling that I could sense from this young family. Gone too were the sweet little girls that thought of me as their mother. I looked upward, where I last saw the man, safe in thought that I could no longer affected by his playful advances.

My greatest fear was, of somehow becoming trapped in this domestic little role of a young mother and wife. I sighed and thought, maybe I was more afraid of liking the feeling of a family who loved me for just being... alive. I frowned, knowing that this was no place for me, I needed to return home now, before I did something stupid that I may regret for the rest of my life.

As the sun was slowly sinking in the west, I started back to my home. By the time the sun had set, I was standing by the tree in the front yard. From inside I could hear her wallowing in her drunken stupor, cursing and yelling inside an empty room. My heart sank, I knew that there would be no love inside this home... not like there was in the little farm house by the stream.

The stars were twinkling as I stood there, listening to her breaking glass and cursing loudly in the night. I stepped toward the window and peered in, she was laying on the couch, the glass tumbler was laying in shards upon the floor.

"I wouldn't go in there, even if you paid me!" A voice broke through the evening. I turned and saw my neighbor standing next to the fence behind me, "She's been like that all day!"

I nodded, "The drinking sets her off." I slowly walked back to where the man was standing, shrouded in the darkness of the shadows.

"What was it this time?" He asked.

"I don't know." I sighed, looking at the light as it reflected from the window. "She's been like that since I was 12."

He frowned, "You need to get her some help."

"I've tried. She just keeps walking away from it and... this is the result." I nodded toward the house.

"Do you have somewhere you can stay?" He asked softly, "I'm going to get the authorities involved with this. She needs to dry out for a long time in some place where she can't walk away from."

I sighed deeply, I knew he was right. "You have an Uncle or Aunt that will take you in?" I shook my head sadly, "No older brother or sister?"

"None." I sighed.

"What about your dad? Would he take you in?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, if I could find him."

The man sighed, he looked down in his hand at the cellular phone he held. "I've got to call, you know that don't you Cade?"

I nodded and watched as he began to dial for the police, my long torment would soon be put to an end. Within twenty minutes they were there and had taken her out of our house in an ambulance, the entire time she remained unconscious. An officer walked over to me slowly, "Do you have a place to stay? Would you want me to call Child Services?"

I was deep in thought, watching the ambulance slowly roll away with only its lights flashing in the dark. I knew once they had her in the system, it would be a long time before I could ever see her again. I also knew that she hated me and despised me for the simple fact that I was my father's son, she blamed me for everything. No... there would be no going home again even if did want to try.

"So, what do you want me to do?" The officer folded his arms and tightened his jaw.

"I'll be okay." I replied, looking at the lights as they flickered and blinked against the houses.

"I see that she beat the hell out of you, would you want to press charges?" He asked, shining his bright flashlight on my arms and face where she had struck me earlier.

"I won't press charges on her. I couldn't do that to my mother." I sighed, my voice shaky with emotion.

The big officer frowned, "Suit yourself. We may have a few questions for you later, you going to be somewhere close by?"

I nodded slowly, "I think so."

The officer looked at my neighbor, assuming that I would be staying with him and his wife. "See to it that his bruises get some ice. If you can, clean him up." The old man nodded in agreement.

I watched him walk away and climb into his squad car, the lights were flipped off and he backed out of the drive. The old man and I began to walk back toward his home. At his front door I stopped.

"You coming inside?" He asked.

I looked down the road, "I don't think so."

"Where you going to go?" He asked softly.

I smiled and shook his hand, "Do you have an old flashlight that you can spare?"

He nodded quizzically, turned and headed inside his house. A moment later he returned, handing it to me. "They're going to ask. What should I tell them?"

I stepped off the porch and slowly turned around, "Tell them that I'm going to be staying with a family that really cares for me."

"But, you said..." He stopped and nodded slowly. "You're not coming back are you?"

I smiled as my only answer, I turned and began to trot down the road.

***

In the dark, damp weeds I stood looking at the little two-story. My light breaking the night with its single beam. Slowly I approached the door and pushed it open, the room was dark and still. I followed the steps with my eyes, at the upper floors my gaze paused, "Would I be propelled back into time as I had before?" I wondered aloud. "Would I be prepared to do what was asked of me, should I go up?"

I crossed the dusty room and stood at the bottom of the steps, dust and cobwebs floated across the bright beam of the flashlight. "Could I live the life of the young woman, if I stayed?" I asked myself aloud, my voice almost a whisper.

I stepped upon the first step and hesitated, "What if I came back down? Would I become the me that I am right now?" A sound within the room caused me to spin the flashlight quickly, catching a mouse as it scurried across the dusty floor.

I swallowed hard and took another step up, "Ahead of me, is a family that loves each other." I looked back toward the door, "Behind me is a mother that despises every part of my being." Again I took a step up. "How can I stay with the family that loves me? What will keep me here?" I sighed, taking another slow step up the stairs.

"Faith!" I answered loudly, my voice echoing inside the empty house.

Suddenly a strange blurring feeling passed my eyes, again before me was the darkened hall of the little home. I quickened my pace up the stairs, the polished floor reflecting the soft glow from the candle holder that I now held. It's tiny single flame dancing with the movement of my breath. I slipped passed Nicole and Melissa's bedroom, the only sound was a soft stirring and restful breathing of the little girls.

I found a door slightly ajar, inside slept a man. I entered and placed the Silver candle holder upon a tall dresser, gently I placed my slender hand behind the flame and with a puff, blew out the light. "Abigail?"

I said nothing, quietly slipping into bed. All the while wondering if I was doing the right thing. "Checking up on the girls?" He whispered softly.

"They're sleeping peacefully." I answered, my voice soft and feminine sounding.

He rolled to his side and smiled in the soft light from the crescent moon outside. "Have you thought about what I asked you earlier?"

I nodded and smiled, "If you want another child, then we should start soon."

"What if it isn't a boy?" he asked, taking my slender hand in his.

"Well, I guess we'll just keep trying until we succeed." I replied, my voice was soft, barely above a whisper. He smiled and slowly lowered my small hand under the covers.

***

Even though it was still dark, the morning sun was just peeking out above the trees when I rolled out of the warm feather bed. He was already up and milking our cow. I stood and drew a blanket with me off the bed to cover my nakedness, walking to the window I surveyed the snow-covered ground around our little farm, and smiled.

I slowly dressed myself, relishing in the wonderful feelings my husband had just put me through the night earlier. I pushed open the door and walked down the hallway, stopping at Nicole and Melissa's room. I smiled as they were still both sleeping soundly.

I turned away, deciding to leave them sleep for a short while longer. I headed for the steps and stood at the top, softly I prayed. "Please let me stay, they love me and I love them. I don't care what I used to be... to them, I'm Abigail and Mommy." I slowly started down the steps, fear building as I approached the center point.

As I neared the bottom a strange feeling passed through my stomach, "No!" I cried, standing upon the bottom step. But nothing happened, I was still there in my long gray everyday dress. I began to cry softly, a great feeling of joy bounded inside my heart. I gently sank down on that last step and cried.

Slowly I stood and headed into the kitchen, my family would be depending on me to be the woman they knew and loved. From a large bucket, I filled a pan with clean water and began to brew the coffee. I glanced back up the stairs and smiled, memories began to flood my mind of giving birth to the girls, marrying Ethan, and everything. And yet, I still could recall the woman who was my mother and how she treated me.

"I will never do that to my children." I swore my oath softly and placing my slender hand upon my heart. "As God is my witness!" I whispered.

Within a few minutes, I slowly poured two cups of coffee. Placing my crocheted shawl over my shoulders, I opened the door, and headed out. I sat the cups on the porch railing and closed the door quietly behind me, so not to wake my daughters.

Crossing our snow covered yard I stood at the barn, watching Ethan as he dropped some hay into the cow's trough. He turned around as I approached. "Good Morning!" He said, his breath leaving his mouth in a great vaporous plume. He smiled and took a cup from me, giving me a kiss. "Thanks for last night."

"Thank YOU!" I sighed. "You can't possibly imagine what you've given me." I smiled, sure of our coupling as a means of my remaining here with them.

He smiled slowly, "A baby. I hope! We could try again later... if you want to make certain."

I grinned, kissing him gently. "I don't think you have to worry about that anymore."

"How could you possibly know if you were pregnant?" He asked, setting his steaming cup on a wooden barrel.

"Just say it's a hunch." Again I smiled as he drew me close to his thick chest, I placed my cup down and wrapped my arms around his neck. "A girl just knows these things."

He bent his head down and kissed me deeply, from the door of the barn we heard a giggle. "Melissa's awake." Nicole was standing at the door, wrapped inside her blanket, resembling an Indian.

I turned as he patted my behind, "We'll take this discussion up later."

"Promise?" I asked grinning, taking Nicole's hand.

"You can bet on it." He smiled lovingly, watching us walk across the yard and back into our happy little home.

It has been said that anyone can build a house from sticks and stone, but a home is made of love alone.

***

Inside the happy walls of another time, Cade found himself. For once, he, no she was enjoying her family for the first real time in her life. Abigail lovingly sealed her fate when she coupled under the roof of the happy little home. Now, her swelling, pregnant belly is content to be at home on the little family farm, surrounded by her dear loved ones. The farm you wonder? It's near the intersection that borders two small townships, Hope and Faith. Both are well inside the boundaries of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

He was mesmerized by her youthful beauty, but not as you may think. He didn't want to possess Samantha as a lover might, he wanted to become her, stepping into her life completely. Unfortunately, a simple wish whispered, isn't as always as perfect as it may seem. At least, not one that has been granted inside the boundaries of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

I was standing near the doorway talking to a coworker when I saw her for the first time; she was young and quite pretty. She gave me a smile and walked to the back of the building where she worked, and my eyes followed the gentle sway of her backside as she passed.

"Who's that?" I asked my friend.

He stood up and peered over his cubicle wall, just as she disappeared around the corner. "That's Samantha, she's new," he replied smiling.

"Wow! She's pretty!" I commented. "Much better than most of the other girls around here."

He snickered, sitting back down. "You've got her by at least twenty years, besides, aren't you already married?"

I smiled, "Oh yeah, I am, aren't I?" After shrugging, "Never hurts to look, though."

My friend laughed aloud, "It does if your wife catches you looking."

As I left my friend, I made my way toward my own cubicle and began the day's work. All the while, I could scarcely take my mind off of the pretty new woman whom I had seen this morning.

Over the next several days, thoughts of the young beauty began to invade my every waking moment, and each time I saw her I was reminded that she was unattainable to me. She began to appear my dreams at night, but not like an eager mistress. Instead, it was that I became her, standing before the mirror and admiring the soft curves that my body now had. I was becoming obsessed with her.

I would awaken from my slumber, completely aroused, knowing that what I secretly wished was far beyond any possible reality. By day, I would let my eyes feast upon her long, light brown hair, clear blue eyes and full lips. I would sigh as she passed, and I would watch her cute sway of her hips, rocking like a sexual metronome.

Earlier this week, she arrived to work wearing a skirt with a short sleeved, button-down blouse. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when she passed and gave me her usual smile... God, I wanted her so badly! But when I would return home, my family would surround me and I would lovingly hold them close, locking away my little secret.

That night, as I lay quietly in bed, I recalled seeing Samantha cleaning out her cup earlier that day at work. She had stood before the sink as I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee, giving me an unobstructed view of her feminine charms.

As sleep pulled me deeper, I felt myself walking down the hallway at work and into the little kitchen. As I stood before the sink and began to wash out my cup, someone entered behind me and was pouring himself a cup of coffee. It was strange; I could feel his eyes watching me from behind, and I knew it was a man. When I turned, I saw that it was me... my male self... at the coffee machine, slowly pouring myself a cup!

I almost dropped my own cup into the sink, as the shock of the situation revealed itself to me. Somehow in my dream, I had become Samantha! My dream state hoped and pleaded with my mind to continue the dream, hopefully in a more erotic setting. I wanted to go so far as to experience sexual stimulation as this young female.

But, as dreams usually go, I was shocked to wakefulness by the sudden blaring of my alarm clock. With a deep sigh, I threw back the covers and began my day, frustrated by the fact that it was only a dream. Please don't get me wrong; I dearly loved my wife and children... I just had a darker side, hidden for years from all those who knew me. It was one where I secretly wanted to be a female.

There are those who would wonder why I wanted something so strange, when I seemingly had it all. I lived in a great home, I drove an expensive car, had a lovely wife and children, a dog... everything. Yet, I wasn't happy... well, not completely happy.

I could never leave my family, just so I could surgically transform myself into some image of a female. I knew that any resemblance to an actual female would be iffy at best, leaving me looking like some Amazon ogre. Besides, the overall embarrassment to them would devastate my family completely. I knew certain surgeries that could do what I secretly longed for, but I knew that those surgeries were expensive and would leave me less than I wanted to be. I wanted to not only become a woman on the outside, I wanted to be one on the inside... complete in every aspect. I wanted to be able to produce children, to feel my small child as it stirred within my womb... and somehow, with the ability to keep my own male family intact. But, I knew it was nothing more than a childish fantasy.

******

I sighed deeply as I stepped from the bus midst the other passengers, and slowly made my way to my office building. Once inside, I placed my briefcase down and fired up my computer, and tiredly walked to the kitchen.

As I rounded the corner, I ran into Samantha. She squeaked her surprise as she stumbled into my arms, and I reached out quickly to keep her from falling completely to the floor. For a brief second or two, I was able to look into her flawless, young complexion. 'God, she's beautiful!' my mind cried.

Holding onto her slender arm until she could gain her equilibrium, I drank deeply the scent of her perfume. Her hair was splayed against my arm and draped down, and each silken strand reflected the glow from the overhead lighting. She glanced up with embarrassment, her blue eyes clear and gloriously beautiful. I swallowed hard, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, gently removing her arm from my tender grasp. "S...sorry about that."

Samantha looked down, turned, and quickly walked away. I watched until she disappeared from view, smiled at my fortune and went inside the kitchen to fill my cup. I would have this little escapade to fulfill my imagination for the entire day...and most likely, for days to come.

All that morning, I could think of nothing other than Samantha. Her hair, her figure, the way her clothes hugged every curve. Closing my eyes, I could still recall the scent of her; I was held captive by her 'girl next door' aura.

******

Throughout the day, it had grown slowly overcast and threatening outside. When it was time for me to leave, a steady rain had begun to fall. I hurried out of the office and with a futile dodging of the raindrops, headed for the bus stop. Just before I dashed into the bus hut, I had a glimpse, just a fraction of an instant, as she climbed into her little blue car in the adjoining parking lot... but it was enough to hold me until tomorrow. I smiled and waited for the bus that would take me home, all the while watching for her car to speed quickly by.

As I sat on the steadily rocking bus, my mind was occupied the entire way home with Samantha. With a great sigh, I realized that the great behemoth of public transportation was approaching my stop and I would have to step out into the rain once again. As we rolled to a halt, several of us stood and began making our way to the front. One by one we filed off: two young workers carrying their lunch boxes, an old woman with several books, a man who was in a hurry...and I, the wayward soul.

The two workers pealed away and headed into the strip club across the street. The man in a hurry pushed past the old woman and raced down to a Starbucks, causing her to drop the load she held. I stepped down and looked up into the sky, and I saw that the rain was falling in a blustery angle toward the ground. I gave a grim smile to the old woman and bent down to help her gather her belongings.

"How far are you heading?" I shouted over the bus noise as it began to pull away.

"Not too far," she frowned as she looked toward the Starbucks. "My... he was in an awful hurry!"

"Yeah... here, let me help you carry these books.

"Nonsense, you have your own item to carry. I'll be fine."

Moving my briefcase to my left hand, I stood up and held four books under my right arm, "See, I've got them. You lead the way and I'll just follow," I said as she made an attempt to take the books from me.

I followed as she made her way into the store. As we entered, a man smiled and put on his coat. She pointed to the counter, "Set them there." Then, turning to the man she smiled, "Thank you, Earl!"

The man patted her shoulder, "Not a problem, Lilly. I'll just head back to my shop now that you've returned."

As the door closed and the man ran across the street, she set down her pile. "That was Earl; he watches my shop while I'm out. He's such a nice man... just like you have been!"

I smiled, "It was my pleasure, Ma'am."

She began to look around, "I think I owe you something for your help."

"That's not necessary," I said as I walked to the door and opened it, stepping out into the rain once again.

"I'll tell you what. For doing me a favor, a good deed if you will, I'll grant you one wish. How's that?"

I smiled, "A wish?" I asked, thinking that the poor old dear must have lost her mind.

"Why not? I've been granting them for hundreds of years, one more won't kill me!" She laughed and wagged her finger at me, "But of course, to protect my little secret, I have to cloud your mind once you've used it. Can't have you remembering who I am, and coming back here for more wishes." She laughed and walked me toward the door.

Trying to humor her, I shrugged, "Sure, like you said, why not." I gave her a friendly nod and began to pull the door closed behind myself.

"Whenever you want it... just go right ahead and make that wish!" I heard her call out as the door finally closed off our conversation. I chuckled softly as I began to make my way toward the little brownstone where my family and I called home, all the while holding my briefcase over my head like an umbrella.

******

Morning found me slowly stirring my coffee as I stopped by for a chat with my friend; as we spoke, Samantha strolled past. I followed her briefly with my eyes and then returned my eyes to the stir stick in my fingertips. As our conversation ended, I walked back toward the Mail room and pretended to be looking through a huge pile of envelopes...but it gave me an unobstructed view of the beautiful, young female as she sat at her desk.

She was sitting slightly turned, her slender legs crossed just under her office chair. She was wearing a conservative top that buttoned down the front, a skirt that if she moved just right, I could tell that it was actually shorts. I let my eyes drift down her lovely, slender throat, and finally resting my gaze upon her chest. Her breasts weren't huge, but subtly full and nicely rounded. She had a slim waist, yet showed natural bit of tummy swell, that I found cute and fitting for a 'normal' girl. My eyes traveled further down as I pretended to examine the mail; her legs were slender and quite lovely, with hardly a blemish upon them. Lastly, my eyes fell upon her diminutive feet, seemingly no longer than my own hand. What a great thing it was for God to make such a lovely little package like Samantha!

With a deep sigh, I placed the envelopes back and pulled down another pile. Again, through a gap in the stacks I studied my beautiful subject. Her long, light brown hair cascaded down over her shoulders and fell precariously close to her breasts. With a gentle toss, she threw the great shimmering mass over her shoulder, falling down until it stopped at the small of her back.

I lifted my steaming coffee to my lips and slowly left the mail room, heading back to my own cubicle. Once there, I set my cup on the desk and reached across to start a new program; while I waited for it to launch, I ran my hand through my hair.

I settled into my routine and immersed myself in my work, only stopping once to refill up my cup. Sometime around 11:00 am, I stretched and pushed myself away from my desk. I looked up toward the ceiling and the rectangle cover that was over the four florescent bulbs, one of which was beginning to blink.

In the next cube I could hear my immediate manager speaking with another employee whose voice was soft and gloriously feminine. When I hazarded a glance, my eyes were met with Samantha as she held several papers out for the manager to view.

As they finished their conversation, they returned to their respective areas, and I folded my fingers and stared at my computer screen.

"If only the old woman's wish could be true," I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my thumbs.

My mind contemplated the thoughts of my heart, "I'd have it so that she fell into my role without noticing, accepting my life without question, believing that it was always her own."

I sighed and took a sip of my cold coffee; making a face I pushed it aside.

"Only, I'd not let her mind be full of the fantasies that mine has been full of... no, she'd have to worship the ground my family walked on."

Again I became mesmerized by the screen on my computer as the screen saver came on and began moving, like I was seated aboard a spacecraft.

"Gladly would I trade lives with the young creature and take on her roles and responsibilities. What could they possibly be?" I smiled and thought, "Probably that of a kid still living at home, perhaps with a boyfriend, perhaps not." I smiled to myself and picked up my coffee cup, slowly making my way back toward the kitchen.

I poured the cold coffee into the sink and rinsed out my cup, after a quick refill, I began to walk back to my desk. Pausing at the hall, where I could see her from behind as she worked, I took a sip.

"That's the thing, if I would suddenly become her, would I know what to do as her?" I wondered, taking another slow sip of the steaming coffee. "I'd not want to embarrass myself like some of the characters did in the stories I had read on the Internet. No, I'd want to know what made her tick." I smiled as I blew across the surface of the cup, still thinking of the beautiful young female. "It'd be interesting if everything wouldn't be revealed at once, but rather at the exact moment it was happening."

I slowly turned and walked several steps, carefully carrying the cup so as to not spill its contents. Again I hesitated and took another glance back toward Samantha.

"It would be interesting to not know what would be happening until after it had begun, sort of adding to her mystery." I chuckled and raised the cup again to my lips, "Yeah, that's what I'd wish... if the old woman could actually grant one."

Suddenly, I found myself seated. Slender hands resting upon the keyboard of a computer, my bare legs suddenly chilled, while strange programs displayed on the monitor. Only a second later, I realized that it was a program that my company had developed, but one that I had never learned as yet. I looked down, a strange swell protruded from my chest, but I realized that it was only my breasts that I was seeing. Pushing myself from my desk, I eased my hand up toward my face... "This isn't my hand..." My mind thought.

I touched my head, pulling a silky handful of hair around to view. "I'm...her!" I whimpered, realizing for the first time that I had somehow become Samantha! I stood up, almost fell from my chair and turned, nearly walking directly into my former self.

"Sorry, Samantha," my former body said, holding his cup out to keep from spilling hot coffee on either of us.

I quickly dodged him and froze in my tracks, "You know?" I whispered.

"Know... know what?" He said, and then smiled. "Oh, your name... Steve told me."

I was perplexed, somehow we had switched bodies and he... I mean, I... he was acting like nothing had happened! I let my eyes drop; I had to get away, somewhere alone! I glanced down the hallway and saw the restroom. Quickly leaving him by himself, I headed right for the door.

At the last minute, I bypassed the men's restroom and pushed the door aside for the ladies room. As the door closed behind me, I tried to recall if I purposely entered the room without thinking or if I had it planned! Racing to the mirror I stood before a stranger's reflection, yet, the more I stood looking, the more familiar the image became to me. "My God, what happened?" I cried, with Samantha's hauntingly feminine voice.

I sat down upon the lid of the toilet, before me stretched my flawless thighs. "What do I do?" I cried, tearing off toilet tissue to wipe my eyes. "I don't know how to be a girl!" I sobbed, trembling with fear.

I sat in the room for several minutes, then reluctantly returned to the cubicle where the woman I had become, had been working. Without thinking, I headed to her desk and sat down, absentmindedly throwing my long locks over my shoulders as she had done. After only a few seconds of sitting there, I placed my hands upon the keyboard and it all kicked in, somehow this body knew what to do, and knew the program that was displayed on the computer!

I wanted to go find my former self, to see if I could somehow return back to being me... yet, I knew that the male me would have no clue what this young woman wanted. No, I stayed and remained at the computer for the rest of the day. As the afternoon wore on, my body had become acclimated to doing Samantha's work as if I had been doing it all my life. As the 'go home' hour wound down, I shut down my computer and stood up. Without a thought, I opened up the bottom drawer and removed a purse... Samantha's purse... now, my purse!

As I walked out the door, I felt so small. Everyone towered above me in this body. When I looked back, I saw the smiling face of my former self. He nodded and began talking with my friend, Steve; both ignored me as if I weren't there at all.

Surprising myself, I walked past the bus hut and headed toward a blue Volkswagen beetle. Climbing inside, I set the purse on the passenger seat and removed the keys. A quick turn of the ignition and the small motor roared to life. I put it into gear and as I left the parking lot and passed the bus hut, I saw him... standing behind the glass deep into conversation with another manager.

I hurried down the street, unsure of where I was heading. As I pulled to a stoplight, I wiped the perspiration from my upper lip with a trembling hand. The light turned green and I sped away, putting distance between my former body and me. I must have driven through four or five lights when I slowed down and turned into a small subdivision. I hesitated, reaching for my purse once again.

Finding a wallet, I quickly opened it up and viewed Samantha's... my driver license. "1226 Maple Lane." I repeated slowly. Suddenly, my mind was filled with the image of a small one-story ranch with blue shutters. There would be a great bed of flowers lining the drive and sidewalk. I knew the property well; it must belong to Sam's... my folks.

As I found the home rather quickly, I pressed the little remote above the visor. The narrow garage door slowly opened, revealing the single empty spot. I pulled inside and stopped the car. Glancing down at my left hand I looked for a ring, hoping that I wouldn't find myself married...nothing, no mark that there ever had been a ring on my finger. I breathed a slow sigh of relief.

I walked to the entry door of the house, inserted a key and opened the door. Stepping inside, I set down my purse and keys, slowly making my way to the adjoining room. It was slightly familiar to me, but I knew that somehow as I lingered, it would be as though I knew it all the time.

Then it hit me, I had wished when I still occupied my male body, that I would like to switch places with Samantha...only, I wanted to gradually become aware of things as I experienced them as if I had known them all my life. This room was one such thing.

Walking across the carpet, I headed down a darkened hallway and moved straight into the last room on the right, which appeared to be a bedroom. I stood at the door and let my eyes accustom to the light. Just under the window was an old, spool type bed. I knew immediately that this was my room, but I couldn't remember if I shared it with anyone. Again, I let out a great sigh of uncertain relief.

Before I knew it, I was removing my clothing and heading for a doorway at the other end of my room. As I pushed it aside, I stepped into a Master bath. Standing before a mirror, I pushed my underwear to the floor and reached behind me and unhooked the lacy bra I was wearing. All this was happening as rapidly as if I had been doing it for years and years!

In seconds, I had adjusted the water to the shower and stepped inside. I loitered in the spray for several minutes, finally picking up the shampoo and washing my long hair. As my hands scrubbed the lather into my hair, my arm brushed my breast. The feeling was pleasurable and yet, made me wince slightly. In a hurry to finish, I quickly washed thoroughly and rinsed out my hair. After scrubbing my entire body, I shut off the shower and stepped out onto the blue oval bath rug.

I expected a self-examination, as I had assumed would happen, were I to suddenly find myself locked in a female form. Only as this reality was cast, it was as if I had seen my naked flesh a thousand times, just like it was no big deal. I frowned to myself and opened the door, returning to the bedroom where I opened up my dresser. I removed a clean bra and panty set, a cute button down blouse with short sleeves, long jeans, socks and tennis shoes. Each of these items was placed at the end of the ancient bed. I sat down next to them, to contemplate what I had done to put myself into this odd situation. Slowly, as if in a trance, I began to dress.

As I was seated on the bed and finally lacing up my shoes, I heard a door close in the living room... yet, for some reason, I wasn't surprised. Well, I had a brief moment of panic but it left almost as soon as it arrived. I glanced up at the door as I heard footsteps, they weren't heavy so I knew it wasn't a man... again a sigh of relief.

A woman, probably in her mid fifties pushed the door open with a gentle knock.

"Samantha?"

"Yeah, Mom," I said without even thinking, the spell's wording once again came into effect.

"I'm dropping off Leslie. I'll pick her up in the morning before you leave for work," she smiled and touched my cheek lovingly.

"Why don't you just watch her here?" I asked and then was puzzled at why I would ask something so strange.

She shrugged, "I suppose I could. I'll ask your father and see what he thinks. I'll give you a call later." She kissed my forehead and slipped back into the hall.

"Tell Daddy that I said hi! Oh, and thanks Mom!" I shouted, after the woman had already disappeared. It was at that moment, a strange dread washed over me.

"Wait a minute, Mom, who's Leslie?"

Down the hall I heard a laughing reply, "Nice try, Samantha!"

I stood and hesitantly walked into the hallway, while I could hear a car backing out of the driveway. Instantly, my mind was filled with the knowledge that I no longer lived at home with my parents; this was my house, or at least the house I rented!

With each step down the hallway, I felt a growing fullness deep inside my breasts; I winced and gently rubbed the swell of my bosom. Quietly walking into the living room, I headed for the kitchen and brought down a glass from the cupboard. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi. After filling the cup with ice, I poured it full with the soda, returned the bottle to the fridge and closed the door. As the door latched, right at eye level, was a small photo of me holding a newborn infant. It was evident that the photo had been taken in the hospital. Instantly, a wash of panic flooded my mind.

"My... my child!" I whispered. My tone was no louder than a soft breeze. Suddenly, I knew why my breasts felt so full: "Leslie"!

I turned and hurried down the hall to the door just before my own, inside was a small child stirring in a crib. As I entered the room, she raised her eyes and smiled at me... a broad toothless grin. I slowly sank to the floor, leaned my head against a tall changing table, and sat in stunned silence. How could Samantha possibly have a baby? She had said nothing to anyone in our office!

I watched the young girl as she rolled her head toward me. She kicked her small feet, shaking her crib with the movement. "How could I NOT know that Samantha was a young mother?" My tired mind cried.

Instantly, my head was filled with the knowledge of Leslie's birth... the absence of her father, 12 hours of hard back labor before the Doctor finally gave me an epidermal. After that, the birth was a breeze. With the help of my mother...Samantha's mother I corrected my own thoughts, Leslie was born. I slowly pulled myself to my knees, looking through the bars at my daughter. She smiled back at me toothless and began kicking again in excitement. I stood and gently bent over the rail of her crib. I hesitantly picked her up and with an air of overwhelming shock, returned to the kitchen.

"My God, how is all of this possible? What am I supposed to do?" I cried into the deafening silence of the room as I held the little child who depended on me for her every need.

I asked it aloud, not because I wanted to know where the child came from... that was pretty evident as the soreness in my breast must mean that I nursed my daughter! But rather, how could it be possible to find myself suddenly in Samantha's body? What sort of magic did the old woman cast upon me? She had said that it was the granting of a wish...but was that possible?

In a daze, I gathered my drink, walked to the living room. I sat down on a lone upholstered rocking chair, then sat the cup on the stand and glanced down for only a second. Without thinking, I unbuttoned my top and pulled aside my bra, positioning little Leslie so she could draw my leaking nipple into her mouth.

Somehow, without realizing what I was doing, I had wished myself into the role of this young infant's mother! So foolishly had I assumed that Samantha's life to be so fun, I allowed it to cloud over my own judgment!

For almost an hour we sat quietly as she nursed first one breast, then the other. Her tiny mouth suckled my nipple, and drank down the nourishment that sustained her tiny life. In between the nursing, I would raise her to my shoulder and burp her. Each time I was amazed that I knew what to do next! Yet, wasn't that part of my wish...to know exactly what to do, when I needed to know how?

I felt her finally release my breast. When I glanced down, I realized that she had fallen asleep. Again, I raised her to my shoulder and gently burped her, at the same time, I stood up and began walking back to the nursery. There, Leslie was diapered, changed, kissed, and laid down.

Quietly, I tiptoed out, pulling the door gently shut behind me. Once in the hall, I leaned against the wall and shook my head; what had I been thinking? Why would I give up the cushy life I had led for one such as this? I... Samantha had nothing! Sure the house was cute, in a domestic sort of way, but she lived much below the standards I had grown used to! Yet, this life seemed as natural and loving as my own had been... as if I had been born to it! I rubbed at my temples and hurried to the bathroom, where I hoped to relieve my headache with aspirin.

I had swallowed them even before realizing that I shouldn't know where I kept aspirins, yet, right there they were! I stumbled into the kitchen and pulled out a small pan, opened the fridge and began to work on supper.

I fell into a routine, working before the stove, setting the table, and by the time I knew it... supper was ready. I sat it down on the table and poured myself another Diet Pepsi. Quiet and alone, I ate my supper, a simple meal for a simple girl.

After eating, I threw a clean drying towel upon my shoulder and tiredly pushed up my sleeves. I carried the dirty dishes to the sink and gently allowed them to slip under the surface of the soapy water. I began to slowly scour a pan, my mind reeling at what had happened to me since I uttered those two stupid words, "I wish..."

With a tired sob, I stared into the bubbles that surrounded my slender hands. Looking up, I happened to glance into the window. It was dark now and with the light of the room created a passable reflective surface to see myself. I cried softly, gently wiping my eyes upon the material that covered my arm.

I looked up into the reflection at my tired eyes, How could I possibly have imagined that Samantha's life would be so simple... so cushy? How stupidly could I assume that because she was young, she was all about partying and subtle pleasures? I bemoaned with frustration as more and more of her life was revealed to me.

All the great debt that she carried from the birth of Leslie washed through my mind. So great was the cost of trying to be independent of your parents, on top of that being a single mother... I could scarcely handle it! Everything washed through... common bills from running the household, the little blue car... it all came flooding into my mind!

Try as I might, I felt my heart drop; no longer able to remember how I ended up as Samantha. Yet, I knew it had something to do with a wish, and involved an old woman...but beyond that, nothing. With a trembling hand, I dropped the last dish into the clean rinse water and sobbed desperately into the crook of my arm. The recklessness of my single wish came full strength into my mind. My knees grew weak and buckled as I sank to the floor, like butter to the bottom of a hot pan. I hopelessly pulled the drying towel from my shoulder, buried my face into the cloth, and bawled.

******

He thought his choice would be easy, giving up everything for her youth and beauty. But he found that walking in another's shoes isn't always as glamorous as a person may think. Foolishly for him, he would have to live the life of Samantha, and experience her heartbreak and successes. Forever finding that, as Samantha, she is locked out of the little family that once was 'her' own. She would have to rein in destiny, and carve out a hopeful life for little Leslie and herself somewhere inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE."

- Rod Serling

Kenny Odholm was a thug. His entire existence rode upon the backs of the less fortunate. He was a parasite of the worst degree. Inside Kenny's cold, calculating heart beat the blood of pure evil. He murdered for the first time at the age of thirteen, and his second was at the age of fifteen. His gang affiliations had not helped his cause, as they too had become prey to Kenny's brutal lust for power.

Many thought Kenny would meet his demise at the business end of a policeman's revolver, or perhaps by the electric current at a prison in one of the many states where he was wanted. Unfortunately, Kenny wouldn't meet his fate in any of those forms, for life had a much more cruel form of punishment waiting for the likes of Kenny. A fate found only when he crossed the threshold of...The Twilight Zone.

***

It was dark, and a light mist continuously fell from above. Kenny leaned against the wall and calmly flipped his spent cigarette onto the damp pavement, his scowling face hidden in the recesses of the dark alley. Only the faint glow from the dying cigarette would have alerted any passersby to Kenny's location.

A slow, wicked smile spread across Kenny's thin lips as he spied his beautiful victim standing alone on the dimly lit street. She appeared young, perhaps in her early to mid-twenties. His dark eyes darted quickly along the street, past the bus hut toward the store she had just exited. Keeping to the shadows, Kenny made his way toward his fourth victim this year.

Yes, it had happened before. All of them were beautiful, young and in their prime. Two were college girls, one was a young newlywed, and all were dead at his hands. Now that he was about to add this young beauty, he smiled as he approached the bus hut and stood in the drizzle, waiting patiently for his opportunity to strike.

As he entered, he looked away and smiled, hiding his wickedness from view. He could tell she was nervous as her eyes shot a furtive glance his way when walked past. Her hand clutched her purse tighter and she swallowed hard, her eyes showing the fear that was evident in her heart.

Kenny smiled at her, and she dropped her eyes quickly to the ground. "Sure is a shitty evening." Kenny's voice hissed, sounding much like the devil he was as he tried to draw her into a conversation.

"Yes..." She whispered, her fear of him mounting.

"You live around here?" He again hissed.

"Not...not far." She said, her voice trembling with fear.

Kenny turned to face her and leaned against the back of the bus hut, "You sure are a pretty little thing."

"I'm married." Came her nervous reply.

Kenny let out a short laugh, "Like I care."

She kept her eyes facing forward, her heart hoping that he would go away. Kenny reached out his hand and touched her face, but she immediately knocked his arm away with her purse. "Please go away, I'm not interested."

"That's too bad to hear that..." He smiled, stepping closer, "Because, I'm interested in you!" With that, his hand locked upon her collar and spun her around, and she was pulled toward Kenny's evil mouth.

"No! Please!" She cried as Kenny tore the top two buttons from her jacket, the force sending the buttons rolling across the sidewalk. "HELP!" She screamed, only to have Kenny clamp his brutish hand over her mouth. She struck out at Kenny's face, struggling to free herself from her attacker. Another button broke free, allowing the young woman to lunge for the exit. Kenny chased her from behind, she stumbled across the grass and fell, he was on her instantly. Her struggles were for her very survival...to preserve her own life or die trying. However, she struggled for only a while, a struggle that lasted until Kenny's knife found her heart. Slowly she fell lifeless into his vile arms, the once great life faded from her sparkling blue eyes. Kenny smiled, then gently caressed her forehead, still warm from a once vibrant heart.

As he had done with his other victims, Kenny threw aside her shoes and coat, making sure they landed in the dark shadows. With a wicked smile, this serial killer roughly jerked her slacks from her, these too were cast aside and into the dark shrubs. He stood up and glanced quickly around, then back to the dead beauty wearing only her shirt, bra and panties. "Now, I'll take you to a place where they won't find you for awhile...a place where I can do with you what I want!" Kenny ran his sleeve across his nose and again looked over his shoulder, the night was eerily quiet. Kenny had struck again.

Slowly Kenny eased her lifeless body to his shoulder, turned and quickly vacated the area. At the edge of the alley he paused, looking back to see if anyone had seen the murder. No one was present, so Kenny quietly disappeared into the shadows, carrying the woman with him.

***

In the tall grass, Kenny arranged her body as he had all the others. He removed all identification, slowly working her wedding rings from her slender fingers, now cold in death, and then followed quickly by the removal of her thin, diamond-studded watch.

A quick glance toward her neck revealed a diamond pendant with a thin silver chain. He smiled and removed it from her corpse. Kenny stood and laughed; it sounded like a short evil snort. Quickly he melted into the shadows, then he placed both rings and necklace into the purse she had been carrying. As he was slinging it over his shoulder, he heard a noise coming from the distance. Something or someone was moving through the brittle, gently swaying grass.

As he backed into the shadowy foliage, he bumped into a rusted fence, bent and twisted from age. Peering through the blackness, he could see that he wasn't far from an ancient cemetery. A slow smile spread out on his face, for the place looked as though it hasn't been visited for years. How fitting for this victim to be left here, forever resting with those most like her...among the dead. Again, movement brought his attention back to his unwelcome visitor. Something was out there among the fallen gravestones.

Kenny slowly drew his blade, the same one that only an hour before had plunged into the heart of the pretty blond. He glanced back toward the girl, her pale features still reflecting what little light made its way to her soft features. His eyes scanned the dark night; woe be to the fool who stumbled upon his latest shrine!

The blade was held low, so it wouldn't reflect warning to this unsuspecting person as it moved toward him. Kenny could make out a human form as it slowly the made its way across the cemetery. Closer and closer it came.

An ugly smile crept over Kenny as he crouched low in the shadows. Hidden from view, he remained like this, as the new victim was almost upon the body of the beauty. He was giddy with excitement as he expected a startled scream from the voice of the shadowy figure. The person paused beside the corpse and then leaned something against the tree from where Kenny was hidden. It looked as though it was a long walking stick.

The hooded form could be heard softly crying, then with a trembling sigh, it bent low and lifted the cold female up into its arms. As it turned, Kenny made his move. It was a swift arch against the night sky that raced downward toward the cloaked figure that held the girl. Through the thick material the blade easily sliced, and Kenny laughed as it struck bone...the bone of his newest victim's ribs!

Then, incredibly, the cloaked figure pulled the blade from Kenny's hand, and it slowly turned to face Kenny, while still holding the deceased woman! As if by magic, her body vanished with a shimmer and faded from view! Kenny stumbled backward, surprise caught the fear in his throat.

The knife still protruded from the chest of the form, slowly the sleeve moved toward the handle. Sounding much like blade against bone it was removed, the shrouded form stood, holding it in its blackened hand. Kenny's eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet and stumbled backward again.

The figure's hood slowly turned toward the blade, still resting in its hand. As had the girl's body, the blade vanished from view. With a startled scream, Kenny turned and ran, but he tripped and fell over a rotted log.

As Kenny struggled to his feet, the form moved toward him. In one great lunge, Kenny threw himself against the dark figure. It was as though nothing was there; Kenny passed completely through and found himself lying upon his chest behind the robed form!

Again the shrouded figure turned slowly, almost as if floating just above the ground. Slowly it made its way to where Kenny lay. Kenny screamed, "Get away from me, you freaking nightmare!" He struck out with his foot but it passed right through the robe.

The figure slowly raised a bony finger toward Kenny, pointing directly at him. His hooded head gradually turned to where the woman had lain. Kenny scrambled to his feet, quickly leaping over the short fence that lined the cemetery. Pausing on the other side, he quickly glanced back toward the figure.

Its hideous face was only inches from Kenny's! In fright he fell backward, quickly crawling for several feet until he regained his footing, then he turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him...far from the demon, not stopping until he was sure that he had gotten safely away.

As Kenny paused to catch his breath, his trembling fingers touched his mouth. He felt slightly swollen there; perhaps his fall to the hard ground had busted his lip. His fingers came away; in the darkness he could see them stained red. Indeed he must have hurt his lip, made evident from the stickiness of the blood as it dried upon the surface, yet, neither one was sore.

Kenny used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the blood from his mouth, constantly glancing over his shoulder as he fled from the demon that chased him. He again clung to the shadows and followed a long building that ran parallel to the cemetery. Behind him, along the horizon, he could see the demon as it stood silhouetted against the late night sky, motionless, its outstretched arm still pointing toward Kenny.

He began to run, gaining speed with each long stride. At the end of the building, Kenny paused to catch his breath, finally noticing the purse of his victim slung across his shoulder. He again glanced backward, but the demon was not in sight. Kenny smiled and opened the purse, searching for her diamonds.

Carefully he picked out the rings. He noticed that they were actually fastened to each other; they appeared as two rings, but from the bottom they were actually one. He lifted it up, balanced on the tip of his ring finger like a crown. As he was examining it closely, trying to figure its worth, it suddenly slid down past his knuckle.

Kenny dropped the purse and using his right hand tried to pull it from his finger, but he could only rotate it in a circle, as it was too small to go beyond his knuckle.

In panic, Kenny struggled with the ring, but he was unable to remove it from his finger. Suddenly, Kenny heard a sound behind him, causing him to spin; the cloaked demon was floating down the street, still apparently looking for him. Kenny quickly grabbed the purse from where it fell...and ran.

Across the vast stone parking lot, down the sidewalk that led to a church's doors he ran. Scrambling up the steps in fear he pushed against the huge oak doors with his hands, the gleaming diamond sparkling upon his finger. "Please open the door! For God's sake...please!" He cried. To his horror, another backward glance revealed that the demon was floating across the parking lot toward him.

Kenny tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. In terror, he looked back over his shoulder and he held a stifled cry as it caught in his throat. "Why are you chasing me?" He cried out, but in his heart he knew why. Kenny reached a decision, dashed down the steps and ran straight for the road. Behind him floated the demon.

Kenny was so exhausted from running; his mouth was parched, no longer could he swallow. His breath was gasping and wheezing with each deep breath he inhaled. Kenny ran to the street, along one side sat a dark blue sedan, behind it Kenny hid. Slowly he grasped the door handle and eased it up, but it was locked. He swallowed hard and peered over the edge of the car. Kenny knew that somewhere behind him, the demon lurked.

Again he paused to try and remove the ring, but still it would not budge beyond his knuckle. Something bumped against his leg as he crouched; it was the purse from the victim. Kenny opened it up and glanced inside; in a flash he reached inside and removed her wallet. Opening it up, he saw that she had $35 dollars in cash, a few credit cards and a driver's license. "Kelly Jendra. Only 26 years old." He whispered as he examined her photo. Then he quickly perused through the extra photos that were inside the wallet.

There were several photos of a little girl who appeared to be two or three years old, each was of the same child. There was also a portrait of a man, the murdered woman and the little girl. He flipped that image aside, and there was a small photo of a smiling infant, somehow he knew that this child was different from the other in the photo. Kenny sneered, "These little bitches are going to have to figure what to do without their mommy...she ain't coming home tonight!" He chuckled. He closed the photo flap and again looked at her driver's license.

"She had been very beautiful...when she was alive." Kenny smiled and began to place the wallet back inside the purse, as he did he took pause. Upon the end of his thumb, the nail had grown to almost a full half inch. He held up his hand and frowned, "What the..."

He began to look at his other fingers, some were extended well past their tips, while others, were just slightly beyond normal. He caught sight of his reflection against the polished surface of the car door. It almost looked as though his lip had begun bleeding again, taking the bottom of his shirt he dabbed at his swollen lips. He leaned into the door and looked closer. "It looks as if I'm wearing freaking lipstick!" He gasped as he pulled at the bottom of his shirt. "What's going on here…is the damn thing's shrinking?"

As he wiped the color from his lips, he held it up to the dim lighting from across the street. It appeared to be red with tiny flecks of something in it, whatever it was made it sparkle and glisten like the diamond stuck upon his finger.

Suddenly, in the reflection of the car, the shadowy figure appeared behind him. Kenny had no time to think, however, and quickly he stood and began racing down the road.

At the far end of the street stood a service garage; Kenny headed straight for the safety of the lights. Racing up to the door, he cried in fear as he banged the glass with his hands, hoping against hope that someone was inside. After three full hits against the glass he stopped and pulled his hands down, they were slightly thinner than they had been, almost feminine in appearance with the ring and longer nails.

Kenny glanced up, in the reflection of the window he could see the demon closing in on him. He fearfully cried and stumbled over an outdoor display rack of windshield wipers.

To the rear of the building Kenny ran, followed closely by the demon. Kenny scrambled across the back of the parking lot and jumped a chain link fence. Coming down upon the other side, he nearly had his arm pulled from its socket, and his shirt sleeve became tangled in the fence. As the demon approached, Kenny again pulled frantically at his sleeve. Finally the sleeve tore completely from the shirt, leaving the tattered material hanging where he left it...still attached to the fence.

As Kenny turned and slid down a steep incline, he watched in horror as the demon passed completely through the fence, continuing his relentless pursuit of the terrified murderer!

At the bottom of the hill, he spun and raced across a meadow toward the lights of a nearby restaurant. Kenny ran toward the establishment, he spied a door partly ajar, and raced to it. As he threw his body against the door, he spilled into the kitchen as several workers looked up.

"Hey man, we're closing up!" One of them said as Kenny was clamoring to his feet. He said nothing and made a beeline to another door at the end of the room. "Hey! You can't go in there!"

One of the workers grabbed at his arm and tried his best to hold him from fleeing. Kenny shoved him and as the worker fell, the other sleeve became torn and slid from his arm. "Freaking asshole!" Kenny growled as he threw aside the door, pushing another worker from him as he did so.

Behind him he heard a scream, and then panic ran rampant as someone shouted, "What the hell is that?" Kenny knew only too well, for the demon was still in pursuit.

Running headlong from the kitchen, Kenny raced past several long tables and through a set of double doors. He stumbled and fell against a long mirror, sending shards in all directions. Kenny picked up one of the longer pieces as he crawled to his feet, using one of the many tables that were empty in the dining room. He headed straight to the front door and threw it open, and then he ran out into the parking lot. As he raced past a small car, he spied the keys hanging from the ignition. Quickly he threw open the door and jumped inside. In only a moment, he had the car started and was throwing a shower of stones against the restaurant as he sped away.

He drove like a madman for several minutes, and then slowly felt as though he had finally lost the chasing demon. He slowed down under a light and took stock in what had happened to him this evening. Glancing down to the seat, he noticed the long jagged piece of mirror he had grabbed from the restaurant. He held it up so it reflected back his image. Again, he attempted to pull the bottom of his shirt up to wipe away the lipstick that kept appearing. He struggled to pull it away, so tight against his chest it had become. "What the hell is happening to me?" He cried, still trying to reach his now fuller lips so he could remove the shimmering color.

He paused, those lips...they looked nothing like his! He touched them with his tongue. They felt real enough, but they were considerably fuller and looked like those of a woman. His eyes were again drawn to his hands, now slender and feminine looking. Once again, he turned the ring and tried to remove it, but still it refused to budge. Glancing up and looking into the rear view mirror of the car, he focused upon the eyes that were looking back, his own eyes.

Quickly he raised the broken mirror to his face for a closer examination, his eyes were shaped slightly different, more open...almost feminine. The lashes were long and dark, the coloring around the lids was soft and feminine as if he were wearing makeup! Kenny tried to wipe it from the lids with his shirt, as had happened only a few short moments before. He couldn't get the shirt up high enough to touch his face. Somehow the sleeveless shirt was tightening around his chest, growing shorter as time passed. "What the hell is happening?" He gasped aloud, his voice sounding strangely different, slightly higher in pitch.

"H...how can this be happening to me?" He cried, looking down at his slender arms as they became more and more feminine looking! He realized that the purse was still draped over his shoulder, so he set it down and began to dig inside, looking for anything that may help him out of his predicament...even a cell phone.

As he pulled his hand from the darkened recesses of the woman's purse he stared in horror and shock as each of his fingernails upon his right hand was painted a dusty pink! "No!" He gasped as he switched hands and dug for the bottom of her purse again, this time at a much more frantic pace. As before, when he removed his left hand, each of the dainty nails had become painted with the same dusty pink polish. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" He cried, tears rolling upon his terrified cheeks. It was as thought someone struck him hard when he realized that the watch that had once been on the woman's wrist had now somehow been transferred to his, in much the same way as her diamonds had. Crying, he tried to remove it but to no avail, it was stuck fast.

As he glanced up, he suddenly came face to face with the demon that was just outside his window. With a very girlish scream, Kenny dropped the car into drive and raced down the road. The demon's image was behind for only a moment; slowly it dropped further back until it disappeared completely from view.

For several minutes Kenny raced, trying to put more and more miles between the demon and him. As fate would have it, however, the car sputtered and coughed...slowly rolling to a stop upon the road. He glanced toward the gauges, "Shit...no…God No!" He cried as he realized that he was out of fuel. Knowing that waiting would be useless, Kenny opened the door and jumped out, running as fast as his legs could carry him he headed toward a small town that he could see ahead.

The evening air was cool, and the drizzle had finally stopped...or maybe it hadn't even drizzled in this area. Kenny could feel the goose-flesh as the dampness created the tiny bumps along his skin from the chill. He hurried down one street and slipped in the darkness of the little suburb. Only ten feet from where he stood was a clothesline, the clothes were pinned and hanging in a row.

As Kenny shivered and moved through the clean laundry, he yanked a shirt from the line and slipped it over his shoulders, covering the rapidly shrinking tank-top. He didn't know what was happening, or why; he only knew that the demon was somewhere behind him...following…he had to keep moving.

As he walked in the darkness, he ran a finger up around the collar of the tank-top. But he did not find material where he expected it to be; instead he only found his own skin. Pausing in the dim glow of a backyard light, Kenny held open the shirt he had stolen, the former shirt that he had hidden when his arms became chilled...somehow had transformed, barely covering his chest. The edging was now trimmed and stitched...no longer ragged and torn! "Oh...no! God...WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?" He cried helplessly, as he hurried down the darkened street, all the while examining his feminine hands in the light as he ran. He stumbled and caught himself from falling by sliding his fingers along a wall for leverage, each dainty tip reflecting back the high polish of a long oval nail.

Finally at the end of the dark street, he came to a tall fence. In exasperation he leaned against it, absentmindedly scratching his side. Slowly his gaze was drawn to where he had been scratching...where he should feel the material of the tank-top. He pulled aside the material, the bottom of the tank had moved even higher than before!

In disbelief he examined himself. The tank was slowly changing, the bottom gradually moving higher and higher...becoming...what it looked like to Kenny was...a bra!

As he stood there, the top drew up until it ended its movement just below his chest, then the straps narrowed, thinner and thinner until they became like those of a normal bra. Between the two were smaller triangular patches of material that he knew would eventually become cups. "Noooo!" He cried as he dropped to his knees, "That thing is making me look like a woman!"

No sooner than he spit out the words than a shadow fell across the ground; Kenny quickly looked up, and saw that the demon was only ten feet from him. A quick dash toward the fence gave Kenny the momentum he needed to scale it quickly. Just as he was about to throw himself over, the ghoul grasped his feet and began to tug him from his perch.

Kicking and striking at the demon's hands, he finally was able to free himself and drop to the other side. Kenny instantly ran, leaving the demon holding his empty shoes.

After almost fifty yards had passed between them, Kenny slowed and looked back. The demon passed through the fence, but the shoes fell, being left on the other side. He stifled a cry and rounded another corner, racing as fast as his legs could carry him down the street. He turned to his left and ran down an alley; trash-cans lined each side, causing him to alter his stride as he picked his way through. It seemed that with each step that carried Kenny, his pants grew strangely loose around his waist, almost as if they were growing too large.

A six-foot fence blocked his exit from the alley. At the bottom of the fence, was a small two-foot hole, while overhead were several wires crisscrossing and impeding his escape. Kenny quickly made a decision and dove for the hole. His belt became tangled on a nail where someone had tried to mend the fence, but try as he might, he couldn't dislodge his belt. Through the small slits he could see down the alley he had just vacated, and with growing dread he watched as the demon entered the alley.

"Please leave me alone!" He cried. His voice sounding more and more like that of a female. "Stop chasing me!" He bawled as the tears coursed down his cheeks in fear of the demon. Doing the only thing he could to escape the cloaked figure, he quickly removed his belt and crawled out of his pants. As he regained his feet he noticed a window curtains part; an older man peered through the glass, in his hand he held a phone. The shrouded figure paused and looked toward the window, which gave Kenny a moment to race away from the scene.

The barefoot murderer raced for his very life, jumping hedges as best he could, but still the changes worked their way with him. He could feel the gentle swing of his growing breasts as they began to fill the lace cups of the bra that had recently appeared upon his chest. Frequently he felt hair tickle his cheek as it grew longer and longer. He stumbled, falling against the ground, catching himself by his now, slender fingers. As he gasped for air, his breasts heaved with each breath, and slowly he struggled to his feet. Suddenly his eyes were riveted upon his waist, it was now narrow like that of a woman, and his hips became wide, made perfect for childbearing!

Behind him moved the cloaked figure. As he turned to flee, it grabbed his hair. The bony fingers pulled Kenny back, causing him to sprawl along the ground. "Hey! What's going on out there?" A voice called into the dark night.

"H…help me!" Kenny cried. "It's going to kill me!" He fought against the hand that held him for all he was worth; he could feel his strength draining from his body, so it was now matching that of a young woman. Finally in one superhuman feat, he was able to jerk himself from the demon's grasp and race away from its clutches once again.

He ran as far as his now smooth, thin legs could carry him; pausing for a moment against a porch, gasping for air. "What's the matter, child? Is someone trying to hurt you, dear?" Kenny looked up and saw an old woman with curlers in her hair.

"It's after me...trying to kill me!" Was all he could say, each short sentence followed by the unmistakable gasps of a woman trying to catch her breath.

The old woman scanned the yard, "I don't see anyone!" She again turned her gaze back to the exhausted female. "Why don't you come inside and we can call the police." At the mention of the police, Kenny disappeared into the darkness. He didn't want to face the wrath of the law...especially since he had several murders to explain! Behind him he could hear the old woman calling for him to return.

As Kenny ran, he could see the glossy reflection of the polish on his toes. Each thrust of his foot created the image of a female running; the hairless legs reflected a smooth sheen that bespoke of a beautiful young woman's legs as she ran to keep fit. Only for Kenny this nightmare was more than that, he was running for his very life!

As he turned a corner he entered another dark alley, but this one looked strangely familiar. He slowed and trotted to the end, on the ground was a lit cigarette, still smoldering against the damp pavement. A glance at the end of the street told him where he now was...where it all began. Before him stood the dimly lighted bus hut, slowly, almost hesitantly he walked toward it.

He paused at the entrance. His reflection in the glass showed a half-naked blond, wearing only her tiny panties and a bra, covered by a shirt, stolen while she was fleeing. Over one of her slender shoulders, hung a dirt covered purse. His eyes were drawn to the lacy panties the reflection wore, his smoothness evident that he...now she was all woman. Kenny cried as he realized that he had somehow transformed to that of a girl...to him, just another victim.

She heard a short laugh behind her and spun toward the entrance. There before her stood the shrouded figure! She backed away and came against the wall. "Stay away from me!" She cried as she slid along the glass wall, her escaped blocked by the demon. With her right hand she began to dig into the purse, all the while keeping her eyes upon the demon. "You come any closer and I'll scream!" She shouted, and then felt silly for saying something so feminine.

The dark figure stepped closer, dim outlines gradually appearing clearer, its hideous mouth was twisted into a macabre sneer. It closed the distance between them in one quick movement, as it reached out; Kenny locked her small hands upon the demon's strong arms. One bony hand held her diminutive and slender throat, the other was pushing against her beautiful face. Slowly the former man was being compressed into the back wall, with it; it was crushing the life from Kenny's body. Again and again Kenny cried for air, only to have the monster slam her into the glass wall of the bus hut. Finally Kenny's mind began to swirl, fleeting memories of her began to swirl upon the brink of unconsciousness, only to race headlong into those of a stranger. She could remember his last four murders, the gang fights, the woman he raped...all of them raced foremost into her mind only to be pushed aside by the struggle she now faced, her own fight for survival!

Slowly her fight grew more and more desperate, she cried as her gasps struggled to fill her aching lungs. Suddenly, her mind reminded her that she still carried the jagged shard of mirror, so her tiny hand struggled to locate it in the purse she still carried. She worried of the lives that would be left behind, those of her daughters, April and Cassandra...girls that she knew that she never had...and yet, could remember bringing each one into the world along side of her husband.

With a rapidly dying mind, her fingers locked around the wide end of the long, broken glass. She thought back to her friend from high school, how it took so long for him to finally ask her out. How handsome he had looked when he picked her up at her home for the prom. Again the mind wavered, these were all memories that she never had and yet, were as fresh in her mind as if they had happened only yesterday. Her fingers pulled at the strong hand upon her slender throat, giving her for a brief moment a refreshing gasp of air and revived the struggle of this hapless, tiny, female form.

The mind does strange tricks to the human brain as its dying. Kenny felt that this was no different, and again her mind began to wander as she could feel the life ebbing from her body. He recalled a time that this man had knelt down upon his knee in the park, proclaiming his love to a woman. Kenny knew that she was that woman, or at least the form she now possessed was that of the woman. With a renewed effort, she thrust the reflective glass shard into the chest of the demon, burying it deep into the barrel chest of her attacker. Slowly the grip it had upon her throat eased, then she watched as it fell against the wall, spilling backward onto its evil side.

This was the first moment that she had to realize that she had won the struggle. She sank to the floor and began to cry, as her long wailing voice echoed along the walls of the bus hut as she rocked herself amid her fears. She looked down at her small hands, along the right palm was a long bleeding gash from where the glass had sliced into her hand from the final thrust of the weapon. She frowned as she watched it protrude from the evil demon's chest...where had it come from?

She wiped her tears and slowly stood on trembling legs and stepped past the lifeless figure in the long hooded cloak. Stumbling out the doorway she fell into the grass as the sound of sirens grew in the distance. She opened her purse and stared through blurry vision as tears dropped upon the photos of her children. She had come so close to losing them forever, turning the page she saw the smiling face of her husband.

Before her screeched the tires of the police car, with drawn guns they scanned the area. One woman officer retrieved a blanket and threw it around Kelly's shoulders. "We'll just sit here for a moment so the paramedics can get a good look at you."

Another police officer walked up carrying a coat with his gloved hand. "This was in the grass, it must belong to her."

"We'll need that for evidence!" She replied calmly, "Once the paramedics are finished, we'll move her into the ambulance to get warm. Hopefully she'll be able to answer questions." The policeman nodded as the coroner's car pulled up, and then he briskly walked inside the bus hut and spoke to the officer in charge. Both of their glances turned toward the stricken female, trembling under the blanket.

A calm feminine voice brought Kelly from her trembling; she slowly looked up to see the woman officer taking a seat in the grass beside her. "My name is Sergeant Mallory Kendell...what's your name?" She was clearly trying to get the overwrought woman to talk. "Are you hurt?" Kelly's eyes wandered back toward the commotion in the bus hut. "Did he try and rape you?" Questioned Officer Kendell; trying to interrogate the stricken woman. She tapped the wallet in Kelly's hands, "You have a beautiful family." Clearly her questions were designed to make the victim at ease; however, the officer was troubled by the lack of answers from the young mother. Clearly, her ordeal with the attacker had affected her greatly; she knew it would take time for the woman to regain her senses.

Kelly's wide blue eyes slowly returned to the figure in the hut. The police continued taking photos of the demon's body, making sure to shoot it from every angle. Finally she was able to speak, "I...I'm Kelly. Kelly Jendra." She said as a tear rolled down her cheek, "It...he tried to kill me!"

The officer hugged the terrified girl, slowly stroking her long blond hair as the paramedics quickly scrambled across the street toward them. "He won't hurt you..." She glanced to the body lying in the hut, "He won't hurt anyone…ever again!"

Kelly cried into the blanket, "I...I just wanted to go home...home to my family..." She gasped from her sobbing. "Why did he want to kill me?" The officer had no answer as the paramedics began to check the stricken female for injuries.

Officer Kendall stood and moved away, allowing for the paramedics to do their job. She slowly made her way back toward the bus hut, where she was met by the coroner. "That lady's damn lucky!" The coroner exclaimed as he crouched beside the lifeless body at his feet.

"Who is it?" She asked, also lowering herself beside her co-worker.

"This is Kenny Odholm...he's been the main suspect for a string of murders that date back almost a year ago. All of them were beautiful woman..." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "Just like her." He reached out and touched the mirror as it protruded from the killer's chest. "Crazy thing is...where the hell did the piece of mirror come from?"

"I can answer that. This asshole had chased her through a restaurant not more than a half mile from here; she busted the mirror trying to get away from him. I'd bet this piece matches with what's left back there."

***

Kelly looked up from the hospital bed as her husband burst into the room, "God, when they told me what you went through..." His eyes filled with tears. "Promise me that you'll quit that job and stay home with the kids from now on!"

Kelly smiled and hugged her husband as he showered her with kisses. "What did you do with the girls?" She asked as her eyes darted over his shoulder, scanning the hall he just came from.

"They're with grandma for now, I didn't want to bring them here...I wasn't sure how bad that bastard hurt you." Again he hugged his wife, and his hug was strong and full of love.

"They say I killed him." She said as she looked down, "Honestly, I can't remember much of what happened."

He sat down on the bed and held his wife's hand, "For you not to remember, is probably for the better." He held Kelly's chin in his large hand and kissed her deeply, "God, if anything would have happened...I...I don't think I could have handled it!"

"You would have...eventually." She pushed back a tear as it began to race down her cheek.

He tenderly rolled her bandaged hand over, "Aside from the stitches in your palm...looks like the murdering bastard bore the brunt of the attack!" He smiled, and touched her small nose. "I guess I'd better never underestimate the power of a woman...including that of my wife."

She smiled and leaned into his kiss, "I'll make sure that never happens..." Her slender arms snaked around his broad shoulders as he pulled her close to his chest.

***

Kenny Odholm found that if the Grim Reaper is forced to come calling, it had better not be before the deceased's time. If it does, there will be hell to pay...and pay for it Kenny did!

Though for Kenny, it was with his own body, twisted and transformed into that of his victim. So complete was the Reaper's revenge that it evicted the mind of the murderer as well, leaving in its wake, the exact memories of his beautiful young victim. Returning the wife and mother back to a family that loves her, and forever pushing Kenny into the dead world that lies beneath the ground inside...The Twilight Zone.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

- Rod Serling

By Anon Allsop

Eric Van Vleet wanted nothing more than to learn all he could about the Civil War, the society could help experience the sights and sounds of battle as they played out their reenactment in a quiet room, but Eric wanted more. He made an offhanded wish to an old man that was about to change a young teen's life forever. Eric is about to find out what happens when you become another little pawn in a Chess game known as...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

The icy Pennsylvania wind blew snow across the sidewalk, creating little swirls that raced before Eric's legs as he trudged through the white blanket of snow. In his young hands were several thick books that contained all the information he would need to reenact the horrific 'Battle of Gettysburg' in the basement of the community center.

Once a week, the society would meet at the community building in room 314 and play out a different battle, using research and the vast knowledge the participants would bring to the game. Over time, they had created tiny pewter figures in the likeness' of each combatant of those great armies to use for their games, many common action figures were reused over and over, only the officers were set aside for specific battles. This week it would be the 'Battle of Gettysburg', one of the bloodiest battles during the entire Civil War. Most of the society consisted of older gentlemen, retired history professors or war buffs. However, probably one of the most clever and brightest in the society was Eric Van Vleet.

At 17, Eric had surpassed several of his society's best reenactors and carved a niche as one of the greatest Civil War minds the little group had ever known. He could break down a battle into hours and sometimes minutes, telling you where each unit was positioned on the great board with its miniature rolling hills, trees and buildings. He was so good that he could recite officers and specific soldiers within a particular unit which history recorded as notable. Yes, Eric was a stalwart among the society’s elite.

Through the double doors of the Community Building Eric dashed, balancing the books in his arms he made his way to the great room. The coveted room had been set aside for almost three years by the community for the sole purpose of the society. Many times they would be on hand for informal tours by the local schools or passerby that found their meetings interesting. Once inside the room he was met by familiar faces, slowly he made his way to their reference table where he could place his books.

"Ah, there he is now - Eric Mayflower, boy genius." One old man kidded and patted the boy on the back. A few of them chuckled as Eric hung his coat on the back of a chair.

Another looked up from the table where he was putting the last touches on the rolling landscape that was to be their great battlefield. "You ready Eric?"

"I got them all right here." He said patting the pile of books he had just laid on the table. "How about you?" He said as he studied the topography of their 'Gettysburg' board.

"Almost done, just need to add a few more trees along that hill line and it'll be ready." An old man spoke as he continued to push tiny 'trees' into the soft clay that made up their hill.

After a few silent minutes the old man raised himself up and smiled, "Okay boys, bring forth the armies." He spoke with an exaggerated flair, raising his hands triumphantly in the air.

Eric smiled and took a cardboard box from one of the others, he held up a piece, examining the tiny pewter figurine. "Well, General Stewart, you are here at last." The old professor rose up and gave Eric a wry smile.

"July 2, 1863." The professor spoke as he pushed his little round glasses further up his nose, "That was a quote from General Lee to General J.E.B. Stewart after he went off raiding the nearby countryside."

Eric pointed and nodded, "Lee wasn't a happy man right about then." He positioned the piece on the board near Seminary Ridge.

A tall man in his early 60's shook his head, "Eric, you need to get a life." A few of the other society members laughed, "Shouldn't you be off somewhere trying to make a move on your girl?"

The professor laughed, "Now what use would a girl have to our Eric?" He elbowed another in the side as the group continued to position the individual pieces of the battle.

The laughter was silenced by a knock on the door, every eye raised to see a thin and bent man leaning against a cane in the open doorway. "Is it okay to come inside and watch?" He asked, studying each face looking in his direction.

The old professor moved around the large table and pulled out a chair for the stooped old man. Eric looked at his clothes and decided that it was just another homeless person coming inside from the cold, it had happened before, the society didn't mind. The man slowly pulled his jacket from his shoulders and dropped it into an empty chair, then took his seat to watch the society members set up the battle's figurines.

Just as the group was putting the finishing touches on the huge field, the old man tapped Eric on the elbow and pointed to a hill to the young man's left. "Which group is in that wooded area over there?"

Eric glanced into the direction indicated, "The Twentieth Maine is over there, why do you ask?"

The old man stared into the tiny woods, "That's where Chamberlain was..." He slowly rose and moved toward the table.

Eric's interest in the old man was piqued, "That's right, apparently you know more about this battle than we assumed?"

The little man laughed and patted Eric on the arm, "I should - I was there." Eric's eyes suddenly darted to the others surrounding the battlefield.

A slow grin snaked across the professor's face, as the old man suddenly burst into laughter. "Actually young man, my Grandfather was a drummer boy in that battle, he had been assigned to the Twentieth Maine." He bent slightly and pointed to a place on his lower leg, "He was shot right about here, almost bled to death right on that field, near those trees."

Eric was in awe, he had never actually spoken to anyone who had known a combatant which personally fought during the war. He wanted more from the old man, and decided that all through the evening he would slowly draw the information out. It didn't matter to Eric, that the old man's Grandfather had been a lowly drummer, it was the chance of undocumented information, regarding one of the most glorious moments in military history... and here was a vast store of untapped knowledge.

The professor kept eyeing the older man, "Do I know you? I have this strange feeling that I should know your name."

The little man laughed, "Perhaps, but back when you knew me, you were no older than this young lad here." He indicated Eric with a nod. Then he glanced around the battlefield and smiled, "Back in 61... there were others like you."

A jokester laughed, "1961... or 1861?" Others chuckled at his comment.

The professor slowly widened his eyes, "Gentlemen, this is one of the society's charter members, Albert Welch. I knew I'd remember if I thought about it hard enough. He was the man responsible, for creating all of these little figurines here on our battlefield!" He offered his hand to the old man who promptly shook it.

Eric was drawn further into awe as even more was revealed, he knew now that he must glean every possible shred of information from this stranger. The man carefully took a figure from the board, "Marcus Weatherby." He said almost in a whisper.

Eric frowned; he couldn't recollect any person by that name in that particular regiment. But of course, he had been wrong before... once, maybe twice. He watched the old man sat the figure back down in position and slowly walk around the table, by the little town he picked up another. His old eyes filled with tears and he slowly lowered the figure to the table, at another spot he picked up a fallen solder, his uniform painted a rich blue.

"This was my brother." He again lowered it gently to the table, almost reverently.

Eric raised his eyebrows and looked quickly toward the professor, who also possessed a surprised expression on his face. The young man decided that this old gentleman was most likely an escapee from a nearby nursing home. What had once been a brilliant mind was now riddled with holes like a brick of Swiss cheese, it was sad... so sad. The old man looked back up toward the serious faces surrounding the table and smiled, laughing aloud.

"Gottcha!" He smiled, and pointed his finger around the room.

The old professor eyed Albert, who was laughing, "You had us there, we weren't sure if we should humor you or call for a doctor."

The room broke out into laughter as Albert glanced around the table and saw that the others had all their pieces in place for the first day of the battle, then he walked around the back of the table where he took up a position behind us all.

He got a serene look on his wrinkled face as we knew he was about to say something. We waited, giving him the respect he deserved as an elderly man and charter member.

"If you could be anywhere on this battlefield…where would it be?" He swept his arm across the table and asked the entire room.

We all thought about it, some shrugged, others offered their opinions, and Eric was no different. "I'd want to be right in the thick of it." He spoke boldly, showing his bravado.

The professor laughed at his youthful outburst, "You would have been killed right along with many, many others."

"That's true, what the professor said, I've seen what war can do." One older man spoke knowingly.

"He's right; I was in Nam for two tours. War isn't anywhere as glamorous as you may think." He held his hand up, three fingers were missing. "That's what being a prisoner got me... don't tell them what they want, they cut one off and move to the next. Pretty soon you'll be spilling your guts and telling anything that they want to hear, even if you have to make it all up."

Eric frowned, "Well, okay then, I wouldn't want to be right in the middle, but I'd still want to be there."
The thin man chuckled, "Sure, you'd want to be off on the side watching with the civilians, along that back ridge by the edge of town, nearest to the fence."

"But close enough to see the action." Eric added as he scrutinized the position of his Generals.

The elderly man shrugged, "That wasn't always the safest place to be either, but still, you would have had a great view of the action."

One short round man added, "If you were that close, they would have probably pulled you in to help with the wounded and the dead." The others nodded.

The professor looked at Eric, "The sights that those people would have seen... truly horrific."

"I wouldn't care. Just to be that close to one of the most famous battles in American Military History would be worth it." Eric leaned across and moved a Captain and his men closer to the woods.

"You'd be alone then." One of the more youthful members said, if youthful meant around 58.

They continued on throughout the evening, discussing their movements upon the field of battle and why each move was made. After close to four hours had passed, they slowly, one by one began to filter away to their modern lives. Only two remained the thin, frail man and Eric.

The man stood with the aid of his cane and began to push his thin arm into the sleeve of his coat. "Was that really true what you said?"

"About what?" Eric asked as he also put his coat on.

"About wishing to be there during the battle..." The man leaned against the board, and then momentarily checked to see if his weight had crushed any of the clay that was used to sculpt the hill.

Eric thought about what he had said for a moment, "Sure, why not. Yeah, I'd love to have been there and watched history in the making."

The old man smiled and reached for his pocket, "Congratulations son, your wish has been granted." He slowly pushed a white card into Eric's hand.

Eric looked down at the card, "Make a Wish." Was all that was written on the card, he slowly turned it over in his hands.

Suddenly a loud boom sounded forth, Eric glanced up to see a plume of smoke and dirt spiral toward the sky. His eyes grew wide as almost twenty gray clad soldiers fell in a heap not 500 yards from where he was standing. The others that were left raced into almost certain doom. Slowly, the card that had been in his hand spun toward the ground. Eric watched in horror as two armies collided before his very eyes, bayonets brandished in rage and war.

One blue clad regiment swung nearby and wheeled toward where Eric stood; the solders running back and forth carrying their dead and dying. A blast rocked the ground, sending Eric staggering under its percussion. Standing in shock, he watched a man nearly be torn from the force of the blast. An officer rode past brandishing his saber, trying to spur his men on. Slowly his regiment regained composure and began to move back toward the main battle.

The dashing young officer wheeled his horse back to where Eric was standing, "You there, don't just stand there watching my boys die... get your ass over there and see if you can help!"

Eric was shocked as he stood, unsure on exactly what to do. "Damn it! Come on and help these kids out!" The officer again shouted, he jumped down from his horse and quickly sheathed his saber. His movements were not angry but rather demanding.

He was soon beside Eric in only three paces, his large hand gripping Eric's arm just above his elbow. "For Christ's sake girl, help these boys out!"

He spun the youth around and gave him a shove toward a boy not much older than Eric that lay pleading for help. Eric fell across the prone boy, catching himself only by throwing out his hands. As he sat up he looked down at the open wound on the youth's chest, Eric's eyes opened wider and wider. A scream began to form upon his lips, it wasn't from the sight of bloody bodies that had Eric's attention anymore, it was from the sight of two very prominent breasts that pushed out upon the flowery dress that he had on. It was at that moment that Eric realized that the young officer referred to him as 'girl'. He spun looking for the officer; he was crouching next to another man bleeding from his shoulder.

Eric ran, fell and rolled next to him. "You...I..."

The officer looked at the beautiful girl before him, the dress she was wearing now covered in the blood of the poor young dead solder, and she appeared beside herself with shock. The battle was more than the poor girl could take; he drew her in and gave her a slight hug.

"It'll be okay dear; you must pull yourself together for them. They need your help." He studied her features closely, noticing that she was still unmarried and guessed that she could be no more than 17, perhaps 18 years old.

The young Captain thought back to another day, so long ago when he last had a young girl this close. They had been lying in the loft of his father's barn, how he would love to be able to take this lovely young creature to that loft. He smiled quickly, thinking of how he would make her a woman. But first and foremost, his thoughts were drawn back to his wounded men.

"What's your name child?"

The beautiful blonde tried to pull the wildly blowing hair from her tear streaked face, "It's... oh God... I..." She looked all around herself and then down to her hands and chest, the blood covering them both. "I'm... Eric..." Her voice spoke with an eastern accent, again she pulled at her hair wildly blowing in the warm dusty breeze.

"Okay Erica, you need to put your finger in this hole to this man’s bleeding, I'll run and get a doctor." He didn't wait for an answer; he pushed her slender finger into the young man’s wound and raced back toward a wagon.

Eric watched the young Captain race away, tears still streaming down her dirty cheeks. She looked into the eyes of the young wounded soldier, he was watching her closely; "You shouldn't be out here like this!" He scolded, "You should be off somewhere making little babies!" He slowly smiled and glanced at her protruding chest, "But, if a feller's gotta be anywhere... being right here ain't so bad."

Eric raised his face toward the sky and screamed his voice shrill and wailing as tears began to cascade down his rosy cheeks only to drop against soft, pert breasts. He had become just another little pawn in the great battle of life.

***

The old man smiled wryly and picked the pewter figurine of a kneeling girl from the floor, slowly and gently he placed it on the table next to the prone figure of a fallen soldier. "Well son, you got your wish." He glanced across the table and moved another piece closer to that of the kneeling beauty, "Erica Van Vleet, I'd like to introduce you to your future husband... Captain Horace Anderson."

With a soft chuckle he released his hold on the Captain's pewter figurine, and stepped toward the doorway. He glanced back at the table, again chuckling to himself... then slowly turned out the light.

***

Erica's choice had been decided for her, forever to be included as one of the many Chess pieces of an ever expanding battle, just another among the thousands of little pewter figures which graced the huge table of room 314. Her life would forever be written and sealed among the annuals of Civil War history, broken down into a few minor paragraphs in a great book called... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

He loved his Princess deeply, yet because of her royal station, and he being a mere knight, stayed away. On the very night he finally was going to express his love for her, she is confronted by a sorcerer bent on evil...an evil which resides within the boundaries of...The Twilight Zone.

******

She was young and beautiful. Gwain followed her quietly, concealed among the stately garden's foliage. He watched her kneel and pet a house cat as it rubbed against her long flowing gown, Gwain was smitten with a girl whom he had only known as 'Princess' or 'Her Highness'. The beauty, whose station in life was high above his own, was a young woman he wanted desperately, and enough to step from the shadows and talk to her and possibly confess his love.

As his courage to speak with her slowly built, he heard a startled scream. A man in his mid thirties, dressed entirely in black, suddenly appeared before the princess. It was as though he materialized from thin air, and the shock caused the startled girl to fall to the ground.

Gwain held fast, more from shock and surprise than anything. The dark figure crouched beside the frightened girl, "I have sought one with your beauty for such a long time." She trembled at his words. "You will be my woman, bearing my children." His smile caused her to scramble to her feet and back up slowly. "Do not fear me, child. Somewhere deep inside, you can feel your arousal building...you want me, don't you?"

Gwain watched in surprise as she stopped her retreat, even the fear she showed upon her face began to disappear and soften with each word he spoke. Something unnatural was happening, a strange sorcery was transpiring before the befuddled knight's eyes.

The young beauty's whole attitude changed; she thrust out her young breasts and began to walk toward the shadowy figure. It was as if she wanted the man as much as he wanted her. Gwain knew that this sorcerer's powers were putting that thought into her head, and if he didn't act soon...the girl would be lost to him forever!

With a great leap, Gwain stood beside the girl. He pushed her from the path and shouted loudly, "Flee, my lady!" The sudden jarring that he had given her broke the spell that she was under, and she deftly ran for the gate, dodging to and fro among the roses and other flowers that grew there. Gwain fell to the grass and smiled, for he had saved the purity of the girl he loved.

As he gathered himself up, he turned to face the dark-clothed fiend and drew his sword.

"How dare you interfere with my love!" the shadow man spat vehemently.

Gwain scowled, "That wasn't love - it was lust! Your lust for the female! For it to be love, the other must return the love willingly!" The dark man glared at Gwain.

"You shouldn't have meddled, for this was none of your affair!" He growled, pointing his gloved hand at the young knight.

"You are trespassing upon the King's gardens; leave now before I cut you down like the putrid scum that you are!" Gwain hissed, slowly raising sword to eye level. The young knight felt confident that the princess would have alerted the palace guards by now, and most likely they were already well on their way.

The dark man looked toward the gate, and saw that several guards were rapidly running toward them. The sorcerer threw his hands up and with a flash he was gone, with him disappeared the figure of Gwain.

******

Gwain looked around; he was standing upon a strange tile floor, and in an even stranger room. The figure in the black cloak stood across from him. "Where have you brought me, sorcerer?" Gwain demanded, shaking his sword at the dark sorcerer.

The man flashed an evil glare and with a sweep of his hand, Gwain’s sword flew from the young knight’s grasp and landed harmlessly across the room. “Now that we have that taken care of…what shall we do with you?”

The man in black placed his hands behind his back and slowly paced before Gwain. "I have lived within this house for most of my life; today I was to take a bride." He frowned and glared at Gwain, "You destroyed that chance when you happened upon us in the King's gardens!"

"I didn't just happen upon you!" Gwain spat back, "I was there for the girl as well, only I wasn't going to use magic to get her! Now dark wizard, tell me where we are!"

"Not far from where you once came...as for the magic, I use what works. The 'Princess' wouldn't have known any different. As far as she was concerned, she loved me and that was all that mattered." He suddenly scowled and turned to face Gwain, "That was, until you happened to interfere."

"And I'd do it again, if it meant protecting a beautiful princess from your vile advances," Gwain scowled back and began to look for an avenue of his own escape.

"Cease to move!" he shouted, causing Gwain to pause.

The young knight smiled, "Hardly. I will be back, though...only I will be bringing the King's armies to crush your pitiful life!" Gwain laughed and began to retrieve his sword.

The Sorcerer's face grew red with rage, "I SAID...CEASE MOVING!!!"

Suddenly, Gwain's feet became heavier; he strained to lift them as their weight grew with each step. "Go to hell where you belong, WIZARD!" he shouted loudly, trying to reach his formidable weapon where it had fallen.

"You have destroyed everything I had worked for! All my plans are now laid in ruin!" the evil sorcerer roared as he stepped from behind his huge table.

Gwain still struggled to move, but he was only able to slide his feet a fraction at a time. "Remove this vile spell you have cast upon me and I will let you live!" Gwain grimaced as the weight of his feet became too much to bear.

"By now, your king will have his Wizard cast a spell over the kingdom, blocking my magic from allowing me entry; I will never be able to go after the princess again!" he shouted as he slammed his palm down against the great table. "You have ruined EVERYTHING! And for that, you must pay!"

Gwain laughed in his face, causing the sorcerer to seethe with hatred. "Go ahead, turn me into a mouse or a snake...I will bite at you when you aren't looking! Turn me into a tree and I will drop my limbs upon your head, crushing you senseless."

The sorcerer raced around the table in anger, his eyes livid with rage. "I will turn you into a rug so every time I enter this room I can wipe my feet upon you!" he screamed loudly, his spittle fell onto Gwain’s chain mail armor.

"Do so, and I will trip you up each time you pass!" Gwain smiled proudly, "Perhaps you will break your putrid neck in the fall! Why don't you just kill me and be done with it?"

The black sorcerer turned his back and wheeled as Gwain had spoken, "Killing is too good for you! No, I want you to pay dearly for your meddling!"

"What is more dear a payment than my life?" mocked Gwain. “Or do you not have it within you to defeat me upon a field of honor? Return my sword, free me and take up your own...victory without honor means nothing!"

The wizard laughed, “Perhaps, but honor means nothing if you are dead.” then paused and touched his chin, "Interesting...there is nothing more valuable to a protector of young maidens than his own life."

"Let me go then, return me to my home and you can chase after a maiden belonging to another Kingdom," Gwain tried to reason with the dark wizard.

"Therein lies the problem, all of the other Kingdoms have blocked my magic as well...you have ruined everything, fool!" He glared pure hatred at Gwain, "Already I have sensed that the wizard of your kingdom has located us, and they are sending out a young named Duke Edmon, cousin of the Princess, in an attempt to gain your freedom!" he hissed, reaching out for Gwain's exposed neck to choke him, at the last moment he stopped his advance.

The dark wizard began to stroke his chin with one hand. A broad smile crossed his twisted face as he scowled at Gwain, "There is one thing that is more valuable to someone such as you."

"Oh? And what, prey tell, is that?" asked the amused Gwain. Inwardly, he knew that the king's wizard wouldn't wait for long; instead he would transport his rescuer directly to the sorcerer's lair. Even this fool's magic spell cast to hide their location would fail, so powerful was the king's wizard!

"Your own maleness!" he laughed loudly. Gwain ignored him and spat at the floor before the laughing wizard.

Suddenly a great ball of light formed in the Sorcerer's palm, and was thrown full into the chest of Gwain. In one violent movement, Gwain contorted and shrank in size. "What are you doing to me, Wizard?" he screamed in pain, his voice was slowly rising in pitch as his body developed womanly breasts! "Stop this insanity!" Gwain shouted in horror as long auburn colored hair fell down across his rapidly growing bosom!

His legs grew supple, smooth with the void of hair! His arms became lithe and slender, his hands small and dainty! His waist drew in, hips widened as the pain built within his groin like a fiery furnace! Within moments it had run its course, and Gwain was no more! A beautiful young maiden stood in his place wearing the young man's clothes. "What have you done to me, Wizard? I demand you change me back!" Gwain shouted in his now feminine voice, pert breasts heaving in despair.

Slowly removing his gloves, the dark Wizard studied the young female standing before him, gently caressing her soft cheek with his hand. She jerked her head aside, causing her long hair to splay out from her well developed body, however, well disguised among Gwain's male garments. "You my dear, are now in the form as if you were born to this body...who would have known such a lovely creature resided there?"

The struggling female before the sorcerer fought vainly to escape, she spit at him and flailed her arms in futility.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, these clothes are all wrong," observed the Sorcerer. With a sudden waive of his hand, they suddenly altered and became the long flowing gowns of a castle beauty. Pert, firm breasts were confined in a low top, which barely contained her healthy bosom.

"Change me back!" Gwain demanded, his soft feminine voice trembling with confused fear.

"I can't do that, my beautiful lady. As a man, you destroyed the last real chance I had to acquire a bride." He smiled and traced a finger upon the curve of her new form. "Now, perhaps there is an opportunity to gain that back."

"I will not become your bride, if that is what you are suggesting!" Gwain shouted in horror.

The leering man smiled and reached toward her stunning breast, causing Gwain to begin breathing harder. "You see, you can learn to like it," the wizard spoke softly.

"Never!" she cried, as she jerked her body away from his attempted caress. Gwain was panting, her breasts rising and falling quickly.

The wizard stepped back and studied his glaring prisoner, still unable to move her dainty feminine feet. She wiped the perspiration from her upper lip, "You may have created me in the form of this woman...but you can never make me behave as one!"

"Aahhh…my dear child, that is where you are sadly mistaken!" The wizard made a quick gesture of his hand. Gwain could feel the grip upon her feet disappear; the sudden removal caused her to fall hard against the tile floor.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted, as she tried to crawl toward the sword, however her dress fouled up her movement. The sword suddenly slid past her and came to rest at the feet of the wizard.

"Stop my love! My...Gwendolyn," the dark sorcerer shouted, his voice caused Gwain, now Gwendolyn to hesitate. "Please don't leave Gwendolyn...get used to the name for it is the only one you will answer to from this day forward." Her movement ceased, and she found her unwilling body slowly turning to face the man she despised.

"Bastard!" she spat, unable to control her body.

"Beauty!" he laughed as she came closer to him. The lovely woman gradually stood, her feet slowly stepping toward him. "The old you no longer exists my dear, as even your own family would always remember you as being born female. However, contrary to what you think, you WILL learn to love me."

"Like hell!" Gwendolyn growled, still reluctantly inching nearer to the dark wizard.

"Even now, my love, you are feeling the womanly yearning between your legs for a man. You can imagine his touches, his caresses so much that you can hardly keep from throwing yourself at me! Isn't that true, my helpless little dove?"

Gwendolyn's hand dropped to her side; it felt to her as though someone was manipulating her sex from within! Her nipples began to swell and beg to be fondled! "Stop what you are doing to me!" she practically cried from her arousal. Tears began to stream down the beautiful face of the transformed knight.

"You can scarce keep your hands from me, my lovely Gwendolyn?" He smiled and touched her smooth unblemished flesh, just above her bodice. She closed her eyes and moaned, ever so slightly, Gwendolyn moved nearer, pressing against his hand even more.

"Bastard...." the beautiful lips sighed, "I won't allow you..."

"You hunger grows to feel a man's touch, his caress. Your love for him is becoming so powerful that you can't control yourself, you want to feel me inside of you!" The black villain smirked, drawing the beautiful virgin closer to him.

"Neve..." Gwendolyn gasped as the sorcerer freed her breast, lowered his head, and took it toward his eager lips, her eyes closed in passion.

"You can feel the yearning of a man's love upon you building; never again will you desire a woman's devotions. Forever will you be bound to a man by this overwhelming need you are experiencing." The dark wizard smiled, as Gwendolyn hesitantly touched the swell of this stranger's loins.

"I hate...you!" Gwendolyn gasped softly, closing her eyes against the anticipated passion.

"Shhhh, you need to not speak, I only wish for words of passion from your luscious lips!" the wizard spoke as he loosened Gwendolyn's blouse.

Still, with eyes tightly closed, Gwendolyn tried to speak...tried to tell the wizard no...but the words failed her. This sorcerer had stolen the command of her voice with a subtle wave of his hand.

The wizard let his kisses dance upon the soft supple skin of the maiden's breast, his tongue teasing her into greater heights of passion. He slowly lowered the reluctant beauty to the floor and held his mouth close to her ear, "Spread for me, my lovely."

In horror, Gwendolyn felt her knees part and her creamy virgin thighs opening, thus allowing access to the brutal sorcerer. "The spell cast upon you will be complete once you have the length of your lover buried deep within your womb. Then you will possess the deepest of all loves for that man; which of course, will be me!"

Gwendolyn ran her beautiful, slender fingers along the vile face of the sorcerer, her moist glistening lips hungering for the kisses the dark sorcerer had envisioned into her reluctant mind. It was as though all of her erotic senses were on overload, hungry for this man, who was now positioning himself above her.

The sorcerer cast his cloak away and began slowly pulling the comely female's clothing aside, her undergarments vanishing and revealing the maiden's naked beauty. "How does it feel to be teetering upon the brink of motherhood, knowing that once my seed is deep inside your womb...you will be mine forever?" He smiled viciously, "I only need for you to open your eyes and look on your lover for your passion to begin...then, what is left of the old you will vanish, and your unwillingness will be gone forever!"

Gwendolyn said nothing, as her head was tilted back in lustful passion. Her knees were high on each side of his waist. A faint noise behind them caused the sorcerer to hesitate. There was a hiss in the air, then a high pitched 'ching'. The black sorcerer fell to Gwendolyn's side, his head rolling several feet from her. She looked up and saw that it was the young Duke named Edmon, the beautiful princess' young cousin.

"Come, fair damsel, let us be quick!" He pulled her to her feet, her dress fell over her legs to cover her nakedness, then quickly ushered her down the hall.

As they ran, Gwendolyn couldn't take her eyes from the handsome stranger. In all of her life, she had never been so enamored by anyone before. The youth gave her an uncomfortable smile as they raced from the castle grounds to where the Duke’s horse was hidden. In one graceful leap, he had mounted the powerful stallion, and then drew the beautiful maiden he had just rescued, up behind him.

Gwendolyn slipped her slender arms around the man, pulling herself close to his broad back. The two rode away, into the dark night upon Fury, the powerful stallion of Edmon's.

******

They rode slowly, picking their way down the mountain trail. "I'm glad you are safe, fair maiden."

"I am well...now." Gwendolyn sighed, content to hold onto her gallant savior's muscular waist.

His head turned slightly, talking to Gwendolyn over his shoulder. "When we return to my Uncle's kingdom, I will have to thank the wizard for placing me so near the sorcerer's domain. If the dark one would have finished what he had started, your feminine purity would have been lost forever!"

"Before you smote him, he had placed a spell of love upon me." She sighed, caressing her cheek against his back.

"I assumed as much," he smiled, "I feel what you are doing to ME even now."

She tenderly kissed his back, one hand firmly placed upon his loin. "The sorcerer said that I would fall passionately in love with whoever I looked upon first." Her whisper sent a shiver down her gallant young rescuer's back.

"Had you opened your eyes, it would have been him." His voice vibrated in her ear as she laid it lovingly upon his back.

"I'm glad I didn't." She giggled, slowly manipulating her slender fingers against him, causing Edmon to shift slightly in the saddle. "I'm happy it was you that my gaze fell upon."

He replied calmly. "When we return, I will ask the Wizard to remove the spell."

"What if I don't want it removed?" she quietly whispered into Edmon's ear.

He reined up his steed, turned and gave her a shocked look. "Nonsense. You can't be serious?" All along, the young man knew that she had been under a spell, he had only been trying desperately to ignore her advances upon his eager body long enough to return her to the kingdom.

Gwendolyn rose up slightly, and gently took hold of his cheek, turned his head slightly and kissed him. "I want no other."

"Our ages, my fair maiden; I am still shy of my nineteenth year!" He gasped in shock. "And you - you are well near your thirtieth! Our...our love would be unseemly!"

She pressed herself against him, soft breasts caressing his arm. "I am willing to take that chance, Edmon my love." She sighed lustfully.

He sat quietly as she kissed him, nervous in his arousal of the older woman. Finally, no longer able to contain his own desire, he sighed and returned her kiss, and climbed down from his horse. Reaching up, he removed Gwendolyn from the steed and gently lowered her to the ground.

He stood before Gwendolyn and spoke thoughtfully, "It is true that my uncle is King, and I could have any woman I desire. Yet, I feel that your lust for me is only warranted by the sorcerer's magic."

She pressed close, her youthful breasts heaving before his naive eyes. He looked away, trying to regain his composure. "Fair maiden, I cannot be responsible for what can happen between us, please refrain from what you are doing."

Gwendolyn pushed her supple lower lip outward, "You don't desire me?" she whispered, her tone oozing with sexual timbre.

He swallowed hard, "Far from it, my lovely maiden. What young man wouldn't give his life to possess a female such as you?" He smiled, and she could feel her heart swell with unrequited love.

"What is it then? Why can't you give yourself to me?" Gwendolyn asked her love.

"I am inexperienced in the matters of love," he looked down sadly. "I know nothing of what pleases a woman."

"You please me, that is enough!" she said, as she slid her hand along his chest, her other deftly working at the buckle on his sword belt. "The rest, we will learn together!"

"My Lady, please consider what you are doing!" he nervously pleaded as his sword and belt fell from his hip, ringing as it struck the ground. "Our union could result in a child! Do you want that from someone as young as me?"

Once again, she began stroking the front of his clothing; he tried to back away only to be thwarted by the firm body of unmoving his horse. Eagerly, Gwendolyn continued to arouse him, pushing him closer and closer to what she truly desired. "Give yourself to me, Edmon."

"It is I that should be the aggressor, fair maiden," his young voice trembled. "What would the men of the kingdom think if they were to know that it was you who took the initiative?"

Gwendolyn smiled as her small hand gently took hold of his engorged penis and began to slowly stroke him. "They would say..." she whispered as his eyes closed from her efforts, "The young man must really have something, if he were able to draw the advances of such a beautiful woman."

"Or...they might think you were just throwing yourself at me to gain the height of my station within the kingdom," he gasped as she pushed down his breeches.

His horse moved away, causing both of them to fall onto the ground. Edmon fell and rolled onto his back, Gwendolyn fell to the side of him. His penis was straining toward the night sky. The beauty rose upon her knees and lowered herself down upon him, tenderly caressing him with her soft cheek, kissing its tip with passion.

Gwendolyn heard him sob. "Why is it that you cry?" she asked, rising up from him.

"I know that I will wake from this and realize it was only a young man's fanciful dream!" He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "I...I don't want to wake up!" he cried.

She smiled, and then crawled upward toward his face, gently drying his tears with her long auburn hair. "I am going nowhere," she whispered, her soft lips touching his.

Slowly Gwendolyn pulled the gown upward along her legs; behind her she could feel the presence of his erection. Her hand came into contact with bare skin, inwardly she smiled.

Gwendolyn felt her lover tremble as she lowered herself down upon him, pushing slowly until she was filled with Edmon deeply penetrating her womb. Once she could go no further, Gwendolyn leaned forward and lay along his chest contently. "If we are dreaming, let us then dream together." She sighed with contentment.

They lay upon the soft carpet of grasses, making love until the moon no longer possessed the sky. Her passion for him had yet to erode, still neither of them had experienced the bliss that they so desired. "I think your evil captor has thwarted our advances upon one another, my lovely maiden." He sighed, "I am full to the brim with so much passion that I feel I could explode, and yet, am unable to spew forth my seed in sweet release!"

Gwendolyn frowned, "I too am unable to feel the release I desire. Perhaps he has cursed us from the great beyond?"

As the two lovers lay on the grass, desperately trying to fulfill their passion, a great glowing swirl of sparkling particles began to appear not far away. Slowly it took form, leaving an old man standing where the glittering orb once stood.

The old wizard chuckled, "Well...I was wondering what happened with you! I guess now I know."

Edmon let his head fall backward into the soft earth, "Who sent you to find me?"

Again the old man smiled and lowered himself down to his haunches, "Your uncle the king was concerned that the fool black sorcerer had bested you. Now, I see that it was just the comely advances of a beautiful female."

Still even though they spoke, Gwendolyn couldn't contain her passion as she continued to gyrate her hips in unison with his. Edmon rose up, looking over her lovely shoulder, "The sorcerer placed a spell of love upon this helpless maiden before I vanquished him. Now we are locked in this passionate embrace, yet unable to find that sweet release that our bodies crave."

The wizard laughed, "This woman you are mating with isn't really a maiden at all. True, everyone back in the kingdom knows that she exists as a female...her true identity is that of a knight belonging to the palace guards." The wizard stood, "She must be returned to her true form before you complete your passion."

"But she is in love with me!" Edmon cried. "She has willed herself to me; we must finish what we have started!"

"She once was a man, and she should return to being one," he frowned, trying to convince the youth to relinquish his love for the transformed knight.

The wizard raised his eyebrows, "That spell of love, my young enamored friends, was meant for her to love only him!"

"I won't change back! You can't make me!" Gwendolyn shouted, still straddling her lover.

"That is the spell talking," the wizard reminded her, "One thing I hate to mention, but feel the need to is…if you are changed back, you will still be in love with Edmon; now that you have gone this far. However, it will be the ‘male you’ in love with Edmon."

"What?" Edmon shouted, "I can't be attracted to another man, I am a Duke in the kingdom!"

"True," he replied, "The choice though is for her to decide; she can return to her male form or remain as she is right now."

During the entire time he talked, Gwendolyn continued her eager advances for their sweet release. Sweat glistened upon her body as she rocked upon her lover's deep penetration, even in her aroused state, she spoke. "It will be even more unseemly if, as a male, I am aroused by Edmon! As a female though, I can both receive and give the passion that we each will crave."

"You could probably do that in either form," the wizard laughed, "However, I do understand the need for decorum, and will allow you to remain female."

Gwendolyn smiled, panting from the exertion upon her lover. The wizard silently shook his head, "You will draw attention to your ages though, for she has you by several years." He smiled and snapped his fingers, "Aaaah...that should take care of that little problem."

Gwendolyn looked down, her breasts were no longer as full, and instead had been reduced slightly, comparable to the size of a young maiden! "You have made me younger?" She gasped in wonderment.

"You have now just turned eighteen, an age that is closer to Edmon." The king’s wizard laughed and looked away, "I feel like some sort of voyeur, watching you two through a keyhole.

The beauty only hesitated for a brief moment, and then continued to talk even as she had continuously rocked upon her lover’s loin. “Will I remember what I once was?”

"Perhaps but as time goes on my dear child, this life will become your new reality; what you had been before will seem like a dream.” He looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment at seeing the young couple making love. “I should be going..."

"Wait! You must help us!" Edmon cried, "We can't stop what we are doing and we can't find release!"

He watched Gwendolyn for a moment, his eyes fixated upon the young flesh rocking upon her love, Edmon. He closed his eyes and looked through his mind’s eye to see the totality of the dark one’s spell.

He sighed sadly as all was revealed to him, "You two do realize that if you are able to find eventual release, there will be no turning back. She will be stuck as a female, and you both will be tied down with the responsibility of a child. That is the spell that would trap the fair maiden into her feminine form...permanently. Once the seed is in place, a child will begin forming, until then you will be unable to remove yourselves from the ‘heat’ you are in...that is the end result of the spell, should she remain female."

Gwendolyn nodded at the man beneath her and they looked up toward the king’s wizard, in unison they both cried, "Please!"

The wizard knew that he would have to wipe the minds of both of the young lovers before him, erasing their memory of his conversations with them. Then deposit feminine memories into the mind of the lass, allowing her to fit in normally.

All who know her will think of Gwendolyn as the only child of he and his wife. His magic was powerful and all encompassing, for it fell across the entire kingdom, leaving all who lived there to know and remember it as if it had always been.

Finally the wizard nodded, "Enjoy your lives then," he smiled, snapped his fingers which triggered their release and disappeared.

******

Gwendolyn glanced up, and there a great swirling sparkling cloud swam before her eyes. However, once she noticed it, it was gone and a unmistakable swelling of oblivion began to push toward the surface of her lustful need.

"Oh...oh my God!" The young man beneath her cried, "I'm...I..."

Gwendolyn needed no further explanation as she too was struggling through her own blinding release. She straightened up, throwing her face toward the cloudless night sky; her back arched, and her breath came short and staggered. Her eyes were tightly shut, so focused on what they were doing, that she failed to notice him tremble beneath her.

His hands grasped her slender young shoulders, quickly drawing her top down and exposing her soft breasts to the cool evening air. With her help, he rolled gently, bringing Gwendolyn beneath his body, still deeply penetrating her feminine opening with his firm penis.

Gwendolyn was now where she was needed, beneath her love as a submissive young female. This time it was he that began penetrating with youthful exuberance, pressing deep into her feminine gate with young abandon. Gwendolyn could feel her eyes rolling back, covered in an embrace of electrically charged passion. She heard him grunt, then felt his body convulse as if a great quake shook from within him.

In an instant, a dull charge built inside of Gwendolyn, flowing outward until it could no longer be contained in her small frame! Higher and higher it rose until it escaped from her mouth like steam from the fissure of a volcano, no words were spoken as the pressure spewed forth in one great sigh!

Gwendolyn's mind slowly returned as she felt his seed erupting within her young body, being pushed with the force of nature toward her womb. Each little miniscule creature of his, raced onward toward their intended destination, one that would result in the creation of their offspring.

Again and again Gwendolyn felt him expel into her from within, her own body shook and shuddered under the orgasm! It washed over her until she could no longer feel her own flesh; it was as though she had been struck by a lighting of passion that held all control over her body!

Finally, Edmon sank into her chest, his bare skin gently caressing her own. "I fear we have gone too far, my lovely young maiden," he panted softly into her ear. Gwendolyn said nothing, still holding him firmly between her silky young thighs. "I suspect that we will be expected to marry." He smiled, adding, "That is, if you still feel you want me?"

Gwendolyn closed her eyes, raised her lips, and kissed him. "Of course I still want you! But, somehow, I think what we have just done, will cause us to hurry our wedding plans just a bit."

"You forget, my dear Gwendolyn, we have only experienced love's release but once," he smiled, kissing my neck tenderly.

She turned toward him and gently pulled his lower lip into her own and suckled upon it for a few seconds. Erotically, Gwendolyn released it and smiled at her lover. "Sometimes, it only takes but once."

His kisses trailed downward toward her exposed breasts, "But that would never happen to us...right?"

She giggled as he began to swirl his tongue around one of her eager nipples, "Sometimes...a girl just knows when she is destined to become a mother," Gwendolyn reminded him.

He paused and raised his head, "Even a young maiden would know she is a mother? If this comes to pass, what will we tell your father the wizard?"

Gwendolyn looked into his eyes and smiled, "It is as though it has been written in stone. Your eager seed is racing toward my womb, beginning the life that will be our child. I think that daddy will be happy, just knowing that his only child will be having a grand-baby soon. Somehow though, I believe he already knows."

Edmon smiled, "Yes you are most likely correct. Well then, I guess we need to begin our wedding plans."

She giggled, its sound much like the tiniest of bells tinkling. "I already have, I started planning it when I was only thirteen." Even as she said it she realized that she had never planned to be married as a female, but even that recollection seemed to be fading.

He raised one eyebrow and grinned at her, "So, young females begin planning long before their ensnared husbands are aware?"

"You make us sound so devious!" she laughed.

"Aren't you?" he snickered, kissing her exposed breast, looking over it into Gwendolyn's stunning brown eyes.

Gwendolyn never answered, as her look was lustful and coy. He knew, he had always known, it was their destiny to be a family, written long ago on the pages of time...and somehow was there for all to read.

******

Anyone who knew them remarked of their love for each other, yet only one knew of the true origin, and he wasn't telling. Why should he, for now he would have a grandchild to school in the magic arts...he would teach the child his own magic...a magic that seemed to be even more powerful, inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

Kendra Allen tried to use an ancient magic book to cast a spell, a book he had no right of possessing. His intent was kindly, his motive honest...but somehow, I doubt if Kendra had intended for the outcome to be such as this. Kendra finds out what happens when you open the pages of a wondrous book...a book that should have been buried deeply within the walls of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

I glanced up from my chore, in time to see Mr. Kline approaching with a cold Pepsi for me.

"Yard looks great, Kendra!"

"Thanks," I replied, taking the ice cold can from his hand. I eyed him for a moment and slowly opened the can. "Uh...Mr. Kline?"

"Sure, Kendra, what's up?" He smiled and folded his arms across his broad chest.

"When I told you...my name awhile ago. I didn't think you would start using it...like that," I stammered with embarrassment.

"You don't like using your Christian name?" He smiled.

"Ken is fine." I looked away. "Kendra just sounds too girly."

He laughed and picked up the gas can. "No problem, I'll try to quit using it."

He waited for me to catch up to him as I pushed the lawnmower into his garage.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your given name...I personally think it's a cool name. It's sort of wild and exotic."

I knew he was pulling my leg and that caused me to laugh. "I was wondering, can I still come over and swim later on today, Mr. Kline?"

He sighed. "First of all, if I have to stop calling you Kendra, you need to stop calling me 'Mr. Kline'! Okay? The name is Tyler."

I grimaced and took a swig from the can of soda. "My parents wouldn't like it; they brought me up to respect my elders. They don't think that I should be so personal with an adult, that's why it's so hard to call you anything other than 'Mr. Kline'."

"Look Ken, make me a deal...around here...call me Tyler." He held his hand out and I grasped it in mine as we shook. "You do that and I'll call you Ken from now on."

We both walked toward his picnic table, sitting down under the great canopy of a shade tree.

"You have plans for all of the money you just earned?" Mr. Kline asked.

I shrugged. "Not sure, I may just set it back until I find something I really want to buy. "

He laughed. "You might as well, after you get my age...saving money gets harder and harder to do!"

I looked around his back yard and laughed. "I wouldn't mind having some of what you have."

Again he laughed. "It's not all that good. Look around, sure it's nice but...it's pretty obvious that I'm lacking the companionship that someone my age needs."

I could see his point, ever since his last 'fling', he had distanced himself from almost all females. I remembered watching him and his last girlfriend from my bedroom window while they swam, being an adult sure can have its advantages. I smiled at my own thought, then tried to change the subject a bit. "So...why don't you still date?"

"You know, kid, that's a really good question! I guess that I need to find the gal out there that's for me and me alone!" He used his finger and flicked a leaf from the table. "Seems that the girls I attract are only looking for one thing...and it's not me." He pulled his wallet from his jeans, handed me a couple of tens and stood up to push the wallet back into his pocket. "This subject is really depressing, Ken." I felt his comment was serious, although he laughed while saying it.

"Well, since this is all done, I guess I'm going to take off," I said, indicating the yard. "I'll be back later on with my trunks."

Tyler glanced down at his watch. "I've got some running to do...but I should be back by 4:00."

I stood up and drained my can. "I guess I'll see you later." He took the empty can, crushed it with one hand and nodded as I walked away, headed toward my own house.

I walked into the house and went straight past my mother, who asked. "All done with Mr. Kline's yard?"

"Yeah. He invited me over for a swim later on." I said as I opened the refrigerator and pulled out an apple.

"He's such a nice young man, it's too bad that Emily ran out on him...I thought she'd be the one."

Between crunching I spoke, "I think he did too."

"It's not good for a man to be alone like he is." She got a funny look in her eye and mumbled. "I wonder if Becky is dating anyone?"

"Becky isn't his type," I said, taking another bite. "She's like all of the others he's known, only interested in one thing!"

She glanced at me, then raised her eyebrows slightly. "He's spoken with you about this?"

"Yeah," I said as I flipped the apple core behind my back toward our kitchen waste can, missing horribly.

"Kendra Allen!" My mother shouted, forcefully handing me her dishrag. "Throw the core away and clean off your apple smear from my wall!"

Sheepishly, I took the rag and knelt beside the apple splatter. "I think he's just looking for a plain girl... nothing flashy or needy." I spoke as I carefully picked the broken core and threw it into the can.

She laughed. "He's a grown man...what would a boy know of a man's needs!"

I laughed and tossed back the rag. "Enough to know that he'd never go for Becky."

She caught the damp rag and rinsed it out. "I think I'll give her a call anyway...maybe I can set them up for later this evening."

I replied in a sing song voice, "He won't like her!"

She laughed at me as I raced out of the room. "You're just a boy, what would you know? And stop running in the house, Kendra Allen!"

I bounded up the stairs and headed straight toward my window. Just below, was the promise of sparkling cool comfort, I would be enjoying in only a few hours. I smiled, thinking of the coolness that I'd feel as I was swimming through it, just how refreshing it would be.

With a deep sigh I flipped on my computer and began playing one of the video games I had downloaded. So engrossed was I that time raced past in a blur. Soon I could hear Tyler return to his driveway, and a quick peek confirmed that he was home. I felt sorry for him, it seemed that everyone felt he should be 'involved' with someone... even I could see that he just needed find the right sort of girl, and he'd probably be okay for awhile.

But I knew him, he'd never allow himself to have sex with a girl, just for the sex. He was deeper than that...I suddenly looked at the bottom drawer of my dresser. "The book!" I whispered.

I knelt before my dresser and pulled the thick book from under the pile of misplaced socks, gently carrying the ancient bundle to my desk. I had found the book while cleaning out a basement for Mrs. Bainbridge almost a month ago. I had found it in an old box, and it looked like an ancient book of magic. When I showed it to her, she didn't want the old dusty thing, so she let me keep it. I began to carefully turn the brittle pages. "Maybe there's something in here that would help him?" I wondered aloud.

I glanced up, looking out of the window. There in the yard, Mr. Kline was pulling out his grill and changing the propane tank at its bottom. Once again my eyes returned to the book. "Mom said that she would call Becky... as hard up as she is, it'll probably be a few minutes and she'll be over."

My mind returned to Becky and the type of woman she was, and I knew that she was not the kind of woman that Tyler would be interested in. Again I looked down at the page that my finger held. "I wonder..."

I gently smoothed out the wrinkled page and focused on the words, some of the script was difficult to read...but the page title was clear enough to decipher. "Arousal Spell," I said smiling, knowing that if it worked, Becky could be exactly what Tyler needed.

I began to read the spell from the ancient book, all the while my eyes dancing between Tyler in his back yard and the ornate font of the book. "The yearning that is in the heart will be transferred, growing into the lust that is truly the seed of us all. It will grow and build until it reaches a breaking point, until the chosen can no longer hold back."

"Hummm, I wonder if that's the one I should use on him?" I flipped past several more pages and found another spell on a very colorful page. "The Linking Spell?" I wondered aloud. "What's it supposed to do?"

I traced several lines of the wording with my finger, then sat down, propping the book open with my arm. "This might be the ticket. I could use it on Becky instead of changing Mr. Kline. Instead of making him lust for Becky...I could change her to become what he's looking for in a woman." I smiled and glanced at Mr. Kline who was standing in his yard, watering a flower bed with the garden hose.

I read aloud. "The she he will see, will be his heart's desire. The two we'll be...are destined to become lovers, changing and transforming in both mind and soul into the one perfect love for the ages." I chuckled. "That's corny!" Then I continued, "Closer they are, together they will be.. bound in eternity. Love so strong, nothing will stand in the way of this man and woman..." There was more, almost a full page and a half that I ended up reading in silence until it abruptly ended.

I quickly turned the page to see if there was anything beyond what I read. "Nothing," I said smiling, wondering if the old spell had any chance in making Becky become his perfect lover. I closed the book and placed it once again into my dresser.

"It's a foolish thought, they're just old words on paper. Magic spell books like that don't exist in the real world." I laughed as I pushed the drawer closed with my foot.

Moving up two more drawers, I pulled it open and grabbed my swim trunks. Quickly glancing up at the clock, I realized that it was almost 4:00. I dashed down the stairs and stopped in the hall closet for my beach towel, once it was in my hand I headed for the door.

"Don't make a pest of yourself, Kendra!" my mother shouted out as the screen door slammed shut.

I walked down the sidewalk and across the yard. Soon, I was beyond the fence that separated our two yards. "Hi, Tyler," I said as I approached the pool.

"Hi Kendra," he said as he glanced up from the flower bed. I rolled my eyes at the slip of my name once again. "I'm planning on burning some burgers in a few minutes, would you care to join me?"

I thought for a moment, then I said, "I guess it'd be okay," as I glanced toward the flowers, now dripping from the recent watering. I thought I noticed Mr. Tyler shifting uncomfortably, yet I said nothing.

I turned and trotted back toward the pool. Once there, I kicked off my tennis shoes and pulled my T-shirt over my head. Moving to his diving board I made a very ungraceful entry into the water. As I returned to the surface he was laughing, shouting to me, "That was one for the books!"

I smiled and swam to the side. "It's pretty warm...you going to swim too?"

He positioned himself behind the grill. "Maybe later," he said smiling.

I went under and touched the bottom of the pool, then returned to the side. There I placed my feet on the lower ledge and stood with my back toward the wall, resting my arms on the edge. I glanced back at Tyler, who smiled as he looked up. I couldn't see why he didn't have a serious relationship, because he wasn't unattractive. In fact, he was rather handsome...it just didn't make any sense!

I dove under once again, then swam toward the steps in the shallow end where I finally took a seat on the last one. He again glanced toward me and smiled. "You want one or two burgers?"

"One's fine," I replied, marveling how his dark tan allowed his muscles to be more defined. Again, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him adjust himself. I smiled, wondering if that arousal spell was really working. I glanced back toward the street, looking for Becky to come driving up. "Won't she be surprised!" I muttered under my breath with a sly laugh.

As the burgers were cooking, he headed back toward the house. "Kendra, can you keep an eye on the grill? I have to get the goodies for our sandwiches. While I'm up, do you want a pop?"

"Sure," I said as I climbed out and walked toward my towel. As I dried myself off, I looked at the wet footprints on the cement. Strange as it may sound, with each step that I took...it appeared that my foot became slightly smaller. I threw the towel around my shoulders and headed toward the grill. Once there, I flipped the sizzling burgers. It was all that I could do to keep from burning myself.

As I stood watching the gas flame of the grill, my eyes glanced at the reflection I presented in his sliding door. Touching my trunks, I was surprised at just how round my bottom had become. "When did I put on so much weight down there?" I turned toward the glass, able to see a slight flair in my hips. I shook my head and returned to checking the burger, about that time, Tyler returned.

He sat the ketchup and mustard on the picnic table, then beside it he placed tomatoes, lettuce and buns. He sniffed the air. "The burgers smell good."

I giggled. "Hopefully, good enough to eat." I began to glance around the surface of the grill. "Did you season the hamburgers?"

"No. But the salt and pepper are there," he replied, once again adjusting his slight erection.

I smiled, glancing toward the street and thinking to myself. "Once Becky pulls up, I'll have to hit the road for sure!"

"Do you see them?" he asked, slowly walking toward the grill. "There right on the back of the grill."

"I don't see either one," I replied, still searching for them in the wrong location.

He came up behind me. As he passed he gently supported himself, lightly touching my side with his left hand and reached for the shakers. It was almost like I had been shocked, a slight electrical thrill raced up my spine with that one little touch. I could almost swear that the bulge in his trunks brushed my backside.

"Here you go, Kendra." He laughed as he sat them beside my waist on the grill's platform. As he pulled his right hand back, he once again brushed my naked side, sending a strange little chill across my stomach.

I moved aside and let him have the grill, taking a seat on his wicker furniture.

"So...you want your burger well done?" he asked.

I nodded, catching a few strands of wayward hair as they drifted across my face. My eyes became riveted upon what could only be perceived as his growing erection. Part of me was repulsed, but part of me couldn't pull my gaze away. In nervous embarrassment, I raised my face toward the sun, enjoying the warmth of its rays against my skin.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

"Nothing much, just enjoying the sun," I lied. I placed my hand across my thigh and rocked my foot. As soon as I realized the motion that my foot caused, I glanced down. I had been crossing my legs at the knee, like a girl...I was so embarrassed that I planted both feet on the ground. The reflection I cast in the glass drew my eyes once again, the double doors acting like a perfect mirror. Only the image that I cast looked like that of a young female, one around eighteen years old!

I glanced down and swallowed hard, the strange sheen that my smooth legs returned to my eyes was so alien and left me feeling uncomfortable. Instantly my hand raced down the hairless length. I quickly glanced up at Tyler, he was whistling a tune as he flipped the burgers once again.

I stood up, my heart was pounding in my ears so loudly that I thought that Tyler would surely hear. I looked down at my flat stomach, once ribbed with muscle...now smooth and flat like a girl's! A gently swing of the towel around my neck allowed me a brief glimpse of a deep brown aureola, almost twice the size of what I was accustomed to seeing! Behind it was a slight amount of what could only be considered as a breast! "Shit!" I whispered in terror.

My eyes widened in fear, somehow the wording of the spell was effecting me instead of Becky! Once again my eyes raced toward the street... searching for the woman that I knew would never come. Somehow the spell was transforming my sixteen year old body into that of a woman! A woman destined for him! I wondered if he could see the changes that were enveloping me, or was his mind clouded over because of the spell? He didn't seem to even notice as he carried the burgers to the table on a paper plate, and on top of that, I couldn't help but notice what my stupid 'arousal' spell was doing to him!

My trembling fingers once again pulled a drifting hair from my face, now long and almost to my shoulders! Each finger that clutched the hair had a nail that was sculpted with a squarish short tip, almost as white as snow.

"Nooo!" I cried in a whisper as he slowly approached me.

"You hungry?" he said smiling, holding out his hand for me. Even before I could react, I had gently grasped his large hand and allowed him to pull me to my feet. As he ushered me toward the picnic table, his hand wrapped around me protectively, once again sending short bursts of pulsing energy from my ever expanding breasts to my rapidly flattening crotch!

He took his seat opposite mine and began to make his burger, it was all I could do to spread out the mayonnaise upon my bun...my hands were shaking so much. It was as though only I could see the changes, his mind was closed tightly to any witness of what was happening to me.

He took a slow bite and began to chew, I glanced toward him and found myself giggling like a girl.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

As if I could no longer control my own body, I reached out and touched his face where a small spot of mayonnaise clung to his cheek, as I brought it back, intending on wiping it into my napkin...I dragged my exposed breast through the mayonnaise on my bun. The coldness caused me to flinch and give a sudden squeal...yet I did nothing to remove it from myself. The finger with his mayonnaise went straight into my mouth...I held it there for much longer than needed. Then, to my surprise, he stood and moved toward my side of the table.

Kneeling beside me, he held aside the dangling end of the towel. "Your turn." He smiled as he leaned in and licked my breast of the white sandwich spread. His warm tongue sent a chill deep into my crotch. Even though my mind was screaming, the girl in the reflection only held the man by his head and gently rolled her head backward as he continued his impromptu cleaning. Only a slow erotic gasp could be heard leaving my mouth...

"Oh my God, what have I done to myself?" I cried inside my head! But for Tyler, my response was pressing myself into him even more.

Without volition I felt my knees part, his hand was soon exploring me with abandon. I could say nothing, only short gasps and moans would escape my mouth. As he pulled his head back, raising his mouth to mine...I saw what had become with the small orbs of my flesh. They had now enlarged so much that they could only be classified as breasts...the womanly, feminine flesh of a mature woman!

"To hell with lunch...you ready for that swim yet?" He pulled me to my feet and pushed the towel from my shoulders, causing my hair to drop to the bottom of my slender waist. His movement caused my chest to become exposed, but neither of us acted surprised at all. Both of his hands were lightly rubbing the sides of the tender flesh upon my chest, I could only close my eyes and give him access to smother my slim neck with his kisses.

"I can't let my parents see me over here like this!" I sighed softly as his lips danced beneath my ear.

"They won't see anything." He laughed as he quickly lifted me into his arms.

My mind was screaming, yet my mouth only laughed as he carried me toward the pool's stairs and began his decent into the water. He carried me straight toward an area where a great Maple tree shielded his pool from my house.

"You need to put me down!" I whispered into his neck, brushing his chest hair with my slender fingers.

"No problem, happy to oblige!" He began to sit me down and as he lowered my legs into the water, he took hold of my trunks and slipped them off with ease.

I quickly looked into the water, I was entirely without clothing. "Give that back!" I squealed playfully. Neither shock, fear or anger was evident in my feminine voice. It was as though all of this was only a game that we often played.

"Come get it!" he said laughing, backing toward the shadow of the tree, spinning the tiny material by its slender string.

I squinted in mock anger at him and lunged, causing him to fall completely under the water. He was still laughing as he surfaced between me and the floating material that was my trunks.

"Well...you going to come and get them?" He laughed and wiped the rolling water from his gloriously handsome face. "Or should I just throw them away?"

My eyes danced between the suddenly feminine object and the man who playfully blocked my way. So total was the spell that it even seemed to be bending reality around itself...involving inanimate objects as well. How far can the magic go? How complete will the changes be?

I once again lunged for him and he easily caught me, holding my body close. He was so warm. I could only stare into his dark brown eyes.

"Now that you've got me...what do you plan on doing next?" I found myself whisper.

"This." He began kissing me deeply, his hot breath causing me to shiver with erotic delight. I could feel his moving slightly, then as he straightened up, I opened my eyes, beside us floated his trunks, held aloft by a trapped air bubble. Mine on the other hand, was resting on the bottom, the small triangles held together by the string.

He leaned in and kissed me, slowly drawing my lower lip in, then our tongues merged. Our bodies moved together lustfully, hungry to push beyond a simple burning kiss. Tyler held me firmly, placing his hands on the underside of my thighs, his grip pulling me closer. I said nothing, only soft gasps was all that could pass through my supple lips. His erection methodically began dancing toward my unprotected vagina, slowly he lowered me downward until I could feel it at the very entrance of my new found maidenhead as he claimed me as his own.

Try as I might, I couldn't force myself to break free. He entered me, sliding freely to my eager womb. "I could do this all night long." He gasped into my ear as I found my body gyrating upon his erection.

"I want to..." was all I could say, my mind caught up in the bliss of what I was feeling. I had been swept up in his embrace, my emotions locked inside of the maelstrom of passion.

He pushed deeper and held me there, filled with his manly power. My lungs were full with air, a slow, long gasp escaped with each thrust of his body. In one last ditch effort I tried to push him away, but as my hand came into contact with his shoulder...I spied the glittering reflection of a diamond upon my left hand.

"This is dangerous...so close to our wedding!" I said lustfully, feeling the vibration of my whisper...the whisper which could only come from the voice of an adult woman. No longer could I claim my mind as my own, now even that had been bent and manipulated by the spell I had unwittingly unleashed upon myself.

Faster and faster he moved, impaling me in his pool...mere feet from my own home. "Don't..." I gasped. Still trying to gain footing inside my rapidly changing mind.

He continued, his firm penis seemed to push the very breath from my lungs. Again, I gasped. "Don't..." The voice came from inside, like a soft sound in a great fog.

"Don't what?" he grunted with a thrust.

"Don't..." I moaned and gasped..."Don't...stop."

"Never..." he said as he gave a shiver and grunted, his warm seed being forced into my womb with each pulse. My eyes glanced up into my former room, the only part of the house that I could see...also changed by the magic. Inside on the wall, hung a photograph of Tyler and myself... kissing on a sunny beach in Florida. It was small, but I knew it oh so well.

I hugged him close, my arms clinging to his strong neck. My legs wrapped tightly around him...he was still embedded deep into my body. As I opened my eyes, the long curved lashes clinging to a few droplets of water, they focused on the two golden bands that surrounded the ring finger of my left hand...one was a glistening diamond, the other a single band.

There was some part of me that must have felt that first crush of love for him; a part that seemingly gave in to the changes too easily and now has become mired in the feminine flesh that is his wife. I had done this all to myself...I had become his 'other half', his soul mate.

***

For the first time in his life, Tyler has the girl of his dreams. And in this place, falling in love with the girl next door an entirely different matter altogether. The young bride's mind, forever locked inside the beautiful form of a lovely woman, her destiny merged with that of her neighbor...forever.

Kendra's intentions had been pure, albeit naive...yet, she knew full well, you should never read the words in an ancient tome...especially one that is found in the recesses of a dark basement or attic somewhere inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE. -Rod Serling

***

Lee Parker loved hearing about his family's roots. His Grandmother has decided that Lee's interest should be rewarded, so she gives him the wedding gown that once belonged to his Great, Great Grandmother, Leeah. What Lee doesn't know is that his life is about to take an unsuspected turn, especially when you visit a relative in... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

It had been up there all the while that I was growing up, I remembered seeing it way back in the corner covered by a large plastic dry-cleaning bag. I had seen it many times but never had I seen it actually in a photo.

"That's your Great Great... Great grandmother's wedding portrait." She gently held it for me to look at her.

"Doesn't seem very happy..." I added.

"Back in those days, you didn't smile for a portrait." I gave her a questioning look to which she added, "Getting your portrait was a really big deal back in those days. And a wedding portrait was a very special occasion."

"She looks like she was upset." I laughed.

"Maybe she was..." Grandma slid it back inside the clear cover that was protecting it. "She was a mail order bride from the East Coast."

"No kidding..." I leaned over and looked closer at the tin photo. "She doesn't look very old." I pointed at her pretty face and looked at my Grandma.

"She was only 18 when this picture was taken, her husband was around 25... he was considered pretty old in those days." She smiled and began to turn the page.

I stayed her hand and moved the album so I could see it better, "She wasn't much older than I am right now... that's too freaky."

"It wasn't too weird back then, actually it was quite common." She pulled out an old note written long, long ago, handling it very carefully by its edges.

"She wrote this on her wedding day..." She held it so I could see.

"I thought the people back in those days were supposed to have such great handwriting... hers looks crappy, just like mine." I kidded Grandma.

"Don't be too hard on her... if you could read and write back then, you were considered really lucky. She was the only one in her new little family that could read OR write." She sat there smiling at me, "In fact, like most great women of her time, she would teach her children to read as well... I even think she taught Great, Great... Great Grandpa Sam." She touched me on my nose with the end of the paper, "Besides, writing with those quill pens wasn't that easy."

I looked at her picture again and the way the blacks weren't reflecting the light... it seemed that you could almost see the actual tin showing through the lighter colors. In fact, it didn't even appear that the blacks were black at all... more like a really earthy brown.

"At least she was pretty." I commented. Then realizing that Grandma still had the note, "What's it say?"

She lifted her glasses to her eyes and began to read the paper. "April Sixth, 1865...Dakota Territory." I raised my eyebrows at the date, as Grandma continued:

Dear Grandma,
What have I gotten myself into...
now look at me, only fifteen and married...
to an older man! He has been quite kind to me,
but I am very afraid of how this evening is
going to go... he mentioned that the homestead
was somewhere around four miles from the town.

I can see our little wooden frame house standing
out in the middle of nowhere... Did I say our?
Even the sound of those possessive words bring
dread to my heart... why... why? From the look
of things, it is a small farm, I can see a few
buildings and some cows grazing in a small
pasture. Here and there a chicken dashes...
How can I farm? I know absolutely nothing about
farming... I could just cry.

A farmers wife? What has happened?

"See... I told you that she wasn't very happy." I pointed at her portrait again.

"Well what do you expect, she was only fifteen and suddenly had herself thrust into the life as a wife... just days before, she was probably dancing and enjoying her friends... I'm sure she wasn't used to the life that she was going to be leading." She tucked the note back into the album.

"Well, at least she did have some family she could talk to..." I added as I glanced again at the album. Grandma smiled and let her glasses drop from her face where they hung suspended at her chest.

"I'm not following you Lee..."

"Well she wrote to her Grandma... at least she had someone she could talk with." I pointed to her note.

"I doubt if she probably ever saw her Grandmother again, remember that she was from the east..." I didn't see what she was getting at, she sighed and pointed out in space... "East.... where she grew up... west... where she was now. It took days and days to get letters across that amount of territory. That letter probably took a few weeks to reach her grandmother."

"Yeah, I guess you're probably right... she may not have even mailed it." I pointed back to the bottom of the yellowed page, "She didn't even sign it or finish writing."

"That's pretty observant of you Lee, I didn't even think of that." She took another look at the letter.

"I wonder why she kept it?"

Grandma smiled, "Many women of the west kept journals, maybe this was one she was going to start."

"Pretty short journal." I laughed.

Grandma frowned, "She probably never really had time to write... the kids came along pretty soon."

"How many did she have?" I asked.

"I think she had six."

"I would've figured she had almost ten or so..." I added.

Grandma paused at my comment then continued, "Oh that was a big family back then... for the territory. Most women died during childbirth without the modern medicines."

"Grandma Leeah must have had a really rough life way out there in the middle of nowhere." I commented thoughtfully causing my Grandma to smile.

"Don't feel too bad for her... she ended up loving her husband very much. In fact I think they were married almost 55 years when he died sometime around 1920." I whistled at her comment.

"Do you remember her Grandma?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. I remember her quite well... she didn't die until 1944. She was quite old by then... somewhere in her late ninety's I would suspect. I used to sit and listen to her talk about the old days and some of the ones that were to come... you see, she was a very special person." She smiled and laid the book down on the coffee table.

"How so?" I asked.

"She had an excellent memory just like you, she could recall facts and figures as well as anyone. Grandma always said that history was Great-Grandma Leeah's best subject. She just knew what was going to happen long before it actually did... had a uncanny ability to see into the future." She patted my leg and stood up. "She said that she knew that the War would officially end with the North winning and she surprised Grandpa Sam when she gave him the day, place and how President Lincoln would be killed."

"Why didn't she try to stop them?" I couldn't believe that she didn't try to contact someone about her premonition.

"Now think, Lee... if a woman in those days would have contact anyone about that kind of information... they would have laughed at her. Besides, Sam probably did laugh because it wasn't until later that month that Lincoln was assassinated. It would have probably been after the fact that they would have gotten word."

"So, you expect me to believe that she knew things were going to happen long before they really did?" I thought Grandma was pulling my leg.

"She knew all about both World Wars would start, and how they were going to end... she told me that one day man would walk on the moon. That was when I was just a little girl, but long after she was laid to rest... it happened. Her descriptions of future events were remarkable and...well, spot on. Almost spooky when we could see them play out right before our eyes."

"She should've marketed her gift." I looked back to the book, "Imagine what she could have made in the stock market."

"Oh... even though knowing finances back in those days was highly unusual for women... she was quite shrewd. She knew when to invest, what to invest in... and more importantly, when to sell. She even dabbled in Real Estate way back then... she piled quite a sizable sum of money onto some worthless desert out west."

"I bet Grandpa Sam wanted to kill her." I laughed at her buying up land in the desert.

"Well he knew by then to trust her judgment... from all of those years of being married to her. You know that land in the desert..." I waited for her to continue, "It later became a suburb of Las Vegas."

I whistled, "She must have been loaded with money by the time she died."

"She did alright, but most of it was divided up with her children." Grandma said walking into the kitchen. "It spread it out pretty thin... well... if you consider a million dollars each, thin. It would probably be well into the hundreds of millions in today's money." I widened my eyes.

"Wow! Did you ever see any of her money?" I was hoping some of it was still around.

"A little, most of it was spent sending my Grandparents to some of the best schools in the country. As we got older she even started to spread the wealth around to her Grandchildren and Great Grandchildren a bit as well. I owe my entire education to that remarkable woman."

I pulled a cup from her cabinet and filled it with ice, "So, other than your education... and those albums, that's all you got that was hers?"

"She had given me other things... most are in the attic." She poured my glass full of a fruit punch. "I even think she had written a longer journal at one time, but I really don't remember where they were kept."

"Journal? She might have written some of her future investments in those... I sure wish I could get my hand on them." I grinned while taking a sip.

"I suppose she might have written some of her thoughts down on them... if you knew where to find them." She gave me a thoughtful look. "Most of what I have are the photo's and a few trinkets of her jewelry."

"And her old dress..." I added.

"Now how did you know about that?" She gave me a sly smile, "You been snooping around in my attic?"

"No Grandma..." I laughed, "I just remember seeing it when you sent me once to look for something. It's always been a curiosity to me, ever since I first saw it covered up with plastic. I always wondered who it belonged to... now I guess I know since her wedding photo confirmed it."

She giggled at my squirming from under her gaze, "Some of it might be worth only a trifle... some of it could be very valuable... but it's only just odds and ends... remembrances and keepsakes."

"If they're valuable, you should really think about insuring them." I took a long drink from my glass and watched the ice spin as it floated.

"You know, that's probably not too bad of an idea." She began to look for a notepad. "How about if you and I go up there sometime tomorrow and catalog what she left for me. Maybe there's something up there you would like to have of hers." She tussled up my hair and laughed.

I could hardly sleep that night, my mind constantly mulling over the vast riches of my Great, Great... Great Grandmother. I was hoping to find a box full of precious stones or coin, or maybe her journal... now, that would be cool!

Soon enough, morning began to peek through the curtain of my window. I quickly bounded from my bed and pulled on my clothes, today being a Saturday, gave me quite a long day to rummage through Grandma's attic. I raced from the house and headed straight down the long walk towards Grandma's home. My normal thirty minute walk seemed to just fly past, and I was soon running across her lawn and up to the door.

"Hi Grandma!" I shouted through the screen.

"Up here!" I heard her shout back from the area of her attic.

I opened up the door and headed up her steep stairs, "Where are you?"

"In the attic... come on up!" I raced up the rest of the stairs and found myself in her hall. After a quick trip down a couple of bedrooms, I found a narrow stairs leading up.

"Hi Grandma... started without me I see." I kidded.

"I came up here about an hour ago... there's just so much stuff here." She brushed a stray gray hair from her face. "I had forgotten just how much clutter I had up here."

I looked around, "Just how much of this is Grandma Leeah's?"

"Not that much... most of what you see is mine."

She gingerly stepped down a path in the center, "Most of her stuff is back here." She pushed aside a dressmaker's form and motioned for me to head back using her path.

"This is all of her stuff... there really isn't that much." She bent down and picked up a round hatbox. Lifting the lid, she laughed as she picked out a yellow hat with a few feathers hanging from it. "This looks like it was from the twenty's. I remember playing with it as a little girl... that's probably why I have it now." She placed it back in and closed the lid.

I crouched down and began to root around in the boxes, "What are these for?" I held up what looked like records but they were way too thick.

"Those are Victrola records, they go with that old Victrola over there. It's kind of like a record player." She pointed to a cabinet next to the wall. It looked strange, like a tall box on thin gently scrolling legs, to the right of the cabinet a small bent handle came out. "You turn that crank and it winds up the little gears and springs... that makes the old records play."

"Was that Grandma Leeah's?" I asked.

"No... sorry, that's mine." She laughed, "I told you that most of this junk was mine."

I sat the record back into the box and pushed it aside, "Hey, check this out Grandma." I picked up a huge frame and showed the photo it contained to her, "This is another picture of Grandma isn't it?" I blew the dust off of the glass and used my sleeve to clean away the cobwebs.

"Yes... why yes it is." She turned it toward the little swinging light we had suspended from a long cord above us. "That looks like another wedding portrait, only this is much bigger."

"And she's alone." I stood up and looked over Grandma's shoulder at the ancient photo. "She was really pretty..." I added.

"Yes she was, I remember my Grandfather Charlie saying she had long lovely blonde hair... and eyes as blue as the sky." She looked lovingly at her Great, Great Grandmother's image. Then as if to clear up my confusion, "Grandpa Charlie was her youngest son." I nodded my head.

She looked at the image and then at me, "I hadn't realized it but you favor her quite a lot. You both have those light blue eyes and blonde hair... nobody could ever say you two weren't related. You're both very pretty people."

"Uh... thanks Grandma... I think." She giggled and handed the photo back to me. "Why did she become a mail order bride?"

"No one ever said why she did... maybe she just wanted to get out of the house. It was quite common for young girls to marry then, so to escape their strict parents and be off on their own." She pushed more boxes aside, "Here's another box of hers."

I helped her carry it to the aisle, "Looks like more photos." I said as I pulled the lid off.

"And here's some jewelry..." she said pulling out a small wooden box. "I think Great, Great Grandpa Sam made this box for her." She raised the lid and pushed around the gaudy jewelry, "Here's the broach she's wearing in her portrait."

I looked at the beautifully crafted item. It was a medium sized shiny blue stone with lacy golden strands of wire that were woven all around it in a gentle pattern. The broach itself was attached to a white lacy choker that tied behind her neck.

"Wow, that's really pretty." I said looking over Grandma's shoulder.

She smiled and laid it back into the box,

"I'll have to have them appraised for the insurance anyway... we had better keep these where we can get at them." I took the box from her and sat it on top of an old dresser.

"That's pretty much it, Lee." She said as she moved another stack of boxes, "Other than this." She pulled out the ancient dress still draped in the dry-cleaning bag.

"She must have been a really tall woman." I commented as she held the gown out.

"No... I think she was about as tall as we are." Grandma corrected me.

"But look at how long that is..."

I pointed to the skirt, which dragged the floor. "She had to be almost six inches taller than us, Grandma."

Grandma laughed and handed the dress to me to hold, "She wore it with all of these..." She grunted as she leaned across some boxes to pull out another bag.

"What's that stuff?" I asked her as I got my hand on the other end of the box and assisted her in pulling it into the aisle.

"Women dressed a bit more complicated in those days... see, first they would put this on." She held out a long garment, which was made from a light material, "Then they put this on..." She laid a short corset down that was intertwined with hardened stays and strings that laced down one side.

"They must have roasted in that stuff..." I laughed.

"Well it probably wasn't comfortable, I'm sure of that!" She laughed, "Over both of those, she would have worn all of these." She lifted up huge piles of lacy webbing that had been compacted from ages of being crushed in the box. "All of these would take up the extra length you're seeing... so you see, she probably wasn't any taller than you." She smiled and placed them back on the box.

"She wore all that crap full time?" I was surprised at the amount of items she laid out on one of the many boxes.

"Don't be silly, she only wore this stuff when she would dress up... most women would just wear a couple of petticoats under the dress." She laughed and pushed them into the boxes.

"Help me take these to the living room... I'll show you what I mean."

She took the dress from me and I gathered up the box and we both headed down stairs. When I sat the box down she sent me back up for the dressing form that we kept moving from one side to the other so we could gain access to the other boxes. Finally when I carried it back down she had me set it in the center of the room.

I glanced around the room, it seemed she had an item of Great, Great, Great Grandma Leeah's laying on each piece of furniture. "Go get the little wooden box full of her jewelry for me, Lee." Again I headed back up into Grandma's attic, grabbed the box and carried it back down.

Grandma had already placed the light undergarment over the form. "This would have been her underwear." It looked like a long nightgown to me... gathered up between the legs. Almost looking like baggy pants... I said as much to Grandma.

"Well, you're right... she would have worn that to bed as well." She continued straightening out the gown over the form.

"Looks like it would be hot to me..." I spoke aloud.

"Well... she probably wore it in the winter. In the summer, she might not have worn anything at all." Grandma laughed.

I wrinkled up my nose as a sudden image of my withered up Great, Great, Great Grandmother in the nude came to mind. "Then she would have had this on..." Grandma put the corset on and laced it in the back. "I don't think anyone has ever had this on since your Grandma Leeah wore this... so it should still be her size."

I tried to help by getting her the gown, "No... you just hold that, I'm not ready for it just yet. These are first." She began to pull out the gauzy items one by one from the box. "She would have worn these to give her long skirt body, and make it fuller."

I watched as she placed one after another over the last one until she ran out of them... each time she fluffed the last up before adding the next. "Now... we can put the dress on her."

I handed the antique gown to Grandma and watched as she pulled it over the entire ensemble, "Oh... isn't that just lovely Lee?"

"Yeah, it is pretty." I watched Grandma move around the front and push the box toward the corner but hesitated and reached back into the box. "Hey, look what I just found?" She held up a pair of shoes that had buttons running up the side toward the top.

She carried them over to the dress and propped it under the front so the toes just peeked out from under the gown. "Oh... it's so lovely Lee." I just stood there watching my Grandmother's excitement of seeing the dress in it's entirety for the first time.

She backed away and her gaze went from the floor, upward until she stood beaming. "What?" I asked.

"Try to look at me without smiling..." I thought it was a strange request but did as Grandma wanted. "From this angle, with you standing where you are... it looks exactly like Grandma Leeah's standing there."

I laughed. "Right Grandma... only I don't have her long blonde hair."

Grandma laughed as well, "Or her womanly curves."

I looked at the dress and walked around it, "This has to be in pristine condition, Grandma. It has to be almost museum quality." I gently touched some of the bead work lightly with my hand, "It has to be worth a fortune."

I looked up and noticed that Grandma had left the room, I laughed and bowed to the dress, "Well madam, may I have this dance?"

I grabbed the dress around the waist and made a slow circle until I stumbled over the shoes. When I regained my balance I quickly put everything back the way Grandma had it, and stepped away just in time.

Grandma entered back into the room carrying an old box, "I had put this away a long time ago... when your mother was young. I was afraid it would get her into trouble... I'm glad I kept it." She sat the box down on the floor and pulled a very long blonde wig from its bottom.

"What did my mom have that for?" I laughed, figuring I had something over my own mother for a change.

"She thought all the boys had a thing for long... long hair. I was afraid that she would wear it and end up in the family way, before she was ready. I hid it from her about thirty years ago." She laughed and handed it to me.

"What do I want that for?" I said as I tried to hand it back.

"Well... Lee, I was wondering if you would put it on?"

"The wig? You have got to be kidding Grandma!"

"Please Lee, I would love to see Great, Great Grandma again... to see how she looked young." I rolled my eyes and slowly put the long hair on my head.

"I feel like a rock star." I laughed and started to bob my head and play my imaginary guitar.

"This isn't going to work, hold still a minute." She picked up the old wooden box and carried it to me. "Here. Hold this!" She began to pull out some items and mess with the wig. "This wig must have set your mother back a pretty penny... it's made from real human hair!" She commented while stepping back.

"There, now stand behind the dress so I can see how you look." I did as she asked and waited for her to go back around to the front. She looked back up at me and gasped, "Oh... my gosh Lee. You look just like her."

"Great... that all I need." I crossed my eyes at her, causing a little laugh to escape.

"Oh come on... humor your old Grandma a bit." She motioned for me to straighten up and look at her.

"I feel so stupid." I grumbled, "What if my friends see me?" I gently lifted the wig from my head and laid it back on the couch.

"Party pooper." Grandma laughed and pushed her lip out in a pout. She glanced at her watch then at me. "Where has the time gone? Help me put this away and you'd better be heading home... it's already past six."

"I'll help you put it away after church tomorrow." I shouted behind me as I headed out of her house.

***

I came home from church with my parents and quickly threw myself down on the couch, we had eaten lunch at a local restaurant and I felt very full and sleepy. This was the normal routine with our family, church, restaurant and sleep... ever since I could remember.

Mom and Dad kept busying themselves around the house and I began to get a bit irritable at them for bugging me. Finally they stood in front of me and waited...

"Well?" They asked.

"Well what?" I replied annoyingly. I was fifteen and very tired. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

Mom turned toward Dad, "He forgot..."

"Looks that way..." Dad replied shaking his head.

"Forgot what?" I groaned... all I wanted to do was sleep.

"We're supposed to be on our way to Uncle Phil's." Mom crossed her arms.

"I took the day off tomorrow so we could take our time getting back." He smiled and patted my mother's behind softly.

I groaned, "Oh... man... I forgot. Crap! Do I have to go?"

"Yes." Mother demanded.

"If the boy doesn't want to go... then why should we force him?" Dad winked at Mom and slid his arm around her small waist. "I'm sure that we could get along just fine without your company."

I rolled my eyes at them, "Geesch... get a room." They both laughed and kissed.

"Yeah, well someday you'll want to kiss your honey in front of your kids... so get used to hearing them complain like you do." Dad laughed.

"Just wait... you'll see." Mom chuckled.

There was a heavy pause, "So, you going?" Dad's voice finally broke the silence.

"Do I have to? I'm really sleepy." I whined.

"That's what happens when you play those video games until the wee hours of the morning." Dad scolded.

"Fine... you stay here and sleep. We know how to have fun without you." Mom patted my leg.

"Yeah, you stay here and get some sleep... we'll see you sometime tomorrow!" Dad laughed at his own little joke.

I heard them slowly walk out of the house and lock the door behind them, "Stay out of trouble... and NO friends are allowed over."

I must have slept for an hour when the phone began to ring. I fell off the couch as the phone startled me, "Hello?"

"Hi Lee... It's Grandma." The voice on the other end said.

"Oh, hi Grandma. You waiting for me to come help you put that dress of Great, Great, Great Grandma's away?" I yawned and scratched my head.

"That won't be necessary Lee, I decided that since you were admiring that dress so much... well, I just gave it to you."

"Huh?" I said, her comment bringing me to my senses. "Gave it to me? Why?" I quickly glanced around.

"I want to keep it in the family, your father wouldn't know what to do with it... so I decided to give it to you." She smiled into the phone. "It can sit in your attic as well as it can in mine."

I didn't know what to say, she continued..."I'll come over in the morning to help put it away."

"Uh... that won't be necessary Grandma, I can get it. I guess we can sit it up in the garage until I can put it away." What was I going to do with an old dress?

"Oh... I already took care of that for you." Grandma replied, "I put it up in your room while you were at church." I looked straight up the stairs.

"Ok, thanks for the gift Grandma... I'll put it away as soon as I can. Uh... you going to be home later tonight?" I asked.

"No... I had to wait on Mr. Markling to finish working on my car... I'm heading up to Phil's now." She sighed.

"Why didn't you catch a ride with Mom and Dad?" I replied.

"I probably should have... but I don't like being a burden on anyone. I can manage, I'll just be a couple of hours late anyway. One quick phone call to Phil's and nobody will miss me for long." She laughed. "Well, I best be going... have a long drive to Phil's ahead of me."

"Okay Grandma, you take care. I'll see you tomorrow." I slowly hung up the phone, unsure of whether I should have volunteered to ride up with her.

I slowly walked up the steps and headed into the bedroom where I saw the dress just laying on the bed. Next to it, I saw the box that held the long blonde wig. Slowly, I let my fingers glide across the beading from her dress. I picked up the dress and pressed my cheek against the shiny material. I stood up and held it out, trying to figure just what I was going to do with it.

As I held it there, I happened to glance into the mirror on the back of my door. If it weren't for my short haircut, I would look like a young lady holding that dress... most of my body would have been covered. I looked back toward the bed where another box was laying, placing the dress down on my bed, I took the lid from the box, and carefully pulled the golden locks from inside.

I kept resisting the urges I was having, when I realized that my folks wouldn't be home until tomorrow... again I looked at the dress. Slowly a plan was forming in my young mind.

Again I lifted out the golden hair, I stepped toward mirror and placed it upon my head, Grandma had left all of the hair pins still in place as the hair was held up... still looking in the style of the 1800's. It was up, but still very loose. I stood there and smiled at my mirror, imitating the coy way a girl would have been. I walked across the hall and slowly pushed the door to my parent's room open.

On the other side sat my mother's vanity, I quickly slipped across and gingerly took up her liquid liner and placed some thinly and lightly around my eyes. I crimped my eye lashes until they curved gently upward, with trembling hands I began to lengthen and darken them with her mascara.

By the time I had finished, I looked very feminine. All of the makeup was light and not garish in the least... I was surprised at just how easy it had been done. I had only watched my mother put on her makeup, never having done it myself before today.

The girl in the mirror was very attractive, her narrow chin coming to a delicate point. She had a small nose, but an attractive one at that. I was about to stand up when I noticed mom's vanity drawer open, I gently pulled at the handle. Inside, it was full of small thin pieces of plastic shapes that looked like fingernails, next to it was a small bottle that looked like clear nail polish.

I opened up the little bottle and brushed some on my little finger, quickly pressing a small nail into place and holding it there. I smiled, as it looked rather real on my finger, one by one I continued on until I had every one in place. I slowly touched my slim hand to my face relishing the feeling of the delicate nails gently caressing my skin.

In only moments I had made my way back into my bedroom, there still lying on the bed was the gown. I walked toward it slowly as a tiger to its prey. Gently I fingered the round buttons on the back, forgetting any inhibitions, I began to quickly remove my clothes from my body except for my underwear. Slowly I put each item on just as Grandma had shown me. First was the light underwear. Then I swung the corset around my waist and frowned when I realized that I couldn't tie it from behind... well, that wasn't entirely true... I could tie it, just not draw it up like it needed to be drawn.

Then an idea came to me, I backed up to the post of my bed, and after a few moments, I had tied the pulls of the corset hooked on to them. I only had to lean away from the post and allow my own strength to draw it up for me. After a few extra tugs I reached around and slid the pull from the post. I was gasping for breath by the time I finally tied it off, but the look was remarkable. I slowly turned toward my mirror and raised my eyebrows in surprise, I now had a very feminine figure in the mirror.

The undergarment had been low enough in the front to allow the corset to gently push and pull my skin into a fairly decent amount of cleavage. I gently stroked the top of my chest and felt the slight rise and fall of my slight breasts. I smiled as I felt myself becoming aroused, I was going to let my imagination carry me away and would... er... handle that little problem later.

Again I started to layer the petticoats over each other until I had them all floating around my feet. I pulled out her shoes and was surprised as they effortlessly slid onto my own feet. I used an old antique button-hook of my Mother's to fasten them up to the top. It was rather unusual to be standing there wearing this strange ensemble, I shook my head and gently picked up the dress.

Sliding it over my head I pushed my arms through the holes and smoothed the material into place. It was quite lovely.

I reached behind me and after a moment had the top three buttons completely hooked and let my hands drop to my side. "Dang, Grandma Leeah... I bet you were some babe wearing this contraption." I ran my hands down the sleeves and straightened up the seams, I couldn't help but notice that the corset was giving me an illusion of a very feminine figure, "Gosh...I do really look like Grandma Leeah!"

I slowly turned my head around and smiled like I had seen her smile in the portrait. I couldn't believe how pretty I looked in the dress... or how much I resembled my ancient Great, Great, Great Grandma. I stood there looking for a moment...something was missing, then it dawned on me. "The broach!"

Lifting up my skirts I glided across my room and began to search the bed, sure enough it was there. I gently lifted it up and tied its long white lace string behind my neck. As I turned again to face the mirror my overhead light suddenly flashed and I heard a loud pop.

I blinked a number of times and tried to clear the white flash imprint from my mind. Slowly it left, and I was again able to focus, I realized that I had stumbled and must have fallen against the bed as now I was in a sitting position.

"That'll do it." I heard someone say.

I began to look around, I wasn't sitting in my bedroom anymore... but where was I? A little old man moved around to the front and motioned behind me. "Okay... now you come on up and have a seat." Then he looked at me, "Missy, you'll need to stand behind your husband for this photo." I slowly turned around and looked up, straight into the face of the man in the photo... it was Great, Great, Great Grandpa Sam.

I felt my knees weaken as he held my hand to steady me, "Careful now Leeah, I want you healthy for our first evening together." He smiled and pulled me close, gently kissing my upturned... and completely stunned lips.

I moved behind the chair, held on to the back and steadied myself, he had stepped around and took a seat. "Perfect!" The little balding man smiled as again a brilliant flash appeared before my eyes.

I blinked away the spot and was helped to the door by Grandpa Sam. There before the open door was countless buggies and coaches traveling back and forth along the street. A rider tipped his hat to me as he passed, "Good Afternoon Ma'am."

A trembling hand rose to my pinned up hair and slowly tugged at the base, I felt a sharp stab of pain... it was real hair. Looking down I saw the deep cleavage of my very female form.

Now everything became clear, I suddenly knew how my Great, Great, Great Grandmother could know all of those things before they happened. I swallowed hard and gasped with fear, I was her... she was me. I felt myself become light headed, "I have become my own Grandmother..." My trembling voice shook from the sudden realization.

I heard a buggy come rolling up, and a horse blew... suddenly a man appeared at my side, it was Sam. He took my hand and led me to the step on the boardwalk's near side. In one fluid motion he lifted me up and deposited me on the seat. "Light as a feather..." He bounded up beside me and leaned over and kissed me. "Let's see about fattening you up... if you get my drift." He laughed as he gave the reigns a snap.

I felt my eyes welling up with tears, 'Now I know why she looked so sad in the picture. Oh, Grandma... what have I done?' I thought to myself. As we rode on I sat in silence, still stewing in my fears and confusion.

I happened to glance at my tiny feet protruding from beneath my gown, there next to them was a pad of paper. I gingerly picked it up began to look for anything I could find to write with, I noticed a small clutch purse ornate with beading to match my dress hanging from my right wrist, inside I found a tiny traveling pen set, complete with a miniature vial of ink.

I began to write...

April Sixth, 1865... Dakota Territory,

Dear Grandma,
What have I gotten myself into...
now look at me, only fifteen and married...
to an older man! He has been quite kind to me,
but I am very afraid of how this evening is
going to go... he mentioned that the homestead
was somewhere around four miles from the town.

As we rode on, he mentioned that the homestead was somewhere around four miles from the town. Only he was the one to speak, I remained a silent captive of my fears. He continued to speak in his soft drawl, both soothing and comforting to my confused ears. I realized that he was trying to draw me into a conversation, but I wouldn't bite... I was afraid.

I can see our little wooden frame house standing
out in the middle of nowhere... Did I say our?
Even the sound of those possessive words bring
dread to my heart... why... why? From the look
of things, it is a small farm, I can see a few
buildings and some cows grazing in a small
pasture. Here and there a chicken dashes...
How can I farm? I know absolutely nothing about
farming... I could just cry.

A farmers wife? What has happened?

Only yesterday I was speaking with my Grandmother about the very woman I had just become.

I closed the pen up as we rolled into the farm yard, "Whatcha writing there Leeah?"

"Oh...nothing." I replied in my soft feminine voice as I rolled the paper up and slid it into my bag. How could this have happened... what caused it? Could I ever return to the time that I was accustomed? Despair filled my entire being with dread...How else could my Great, Great Grandmother have known the information she had... unless she could see into the future? The only way that it was possible would be if somehow I have become caught in a time loop and had become her... God this was confusing. I remembered my own Grandmother saying that she could foresee the future well into the 1940's... that meant that I would be stuck as her... long into our relative futures.

That meant, I was now my own Great, Great, Great Grandmother... for the rest of my life. I felt a tear begin to gather at the corner of my eye, all my family... my parents, Grandmother... all now gone to me. I would have to wait many, many years to even speak with my own Grandmother. I sighed, I will never be able to see my own parents again... well, not until I was born again. I sat staring at the shadow our buggy was casting on the ground when Sam's voice broke my depression.

"It ain't much... but we can call it home."

As soon his horse stopped, he jumped down and ran around to my side where I was trying to place a foot on the step and climb down without falling, I was having an impossible time seeing the step beneath me with such a full skirt.

"Here, let me help you down." He had his big hands around my tiny waist before I could reply.

He raised me up and held me there, my feet dangling about a foot off the ground. "I sure never did see anything as pretty as you are Leeah..." Slowly he lowered me onto the ground. "Uh... I... uh... ain't never been around many women folk... so you're gonna have to forgive me for not being a real gentleman."

He started to scoop me into his arms and I placed a tiny hand on his huge bicep, "Shouldn't you see to the horse first?" I wanted to prolong my eventual fears as long as I could.

He smiled and pushed his hat back, "You sure you ain't been raised on a farm?" He smiled and kissed the back of my hand. "My pappy always said, you can tell just how good a mother a woman would be if she takes care of the animals before anything else... if that's the case, you're going to make a perfect Mother."

For the life of me, I didn't know why I blushed... but, I could feel the heat on my cheeks. He quickly began to unhitch his horse, all the while he smiled at me. I found it hard not to return his smile. It only seemed a moment that he was finished and had begun to walk... or should I say stalk his way toward me.

"Uh... shouldn't you feed it. Um, that way... we'll have more time to ourselves." I wanted to keep throwing things his way... I definitely didn't want the evening he was hoping for to come.

He smiled and pulled a large scoop of oats out of a barrel, "Enough to take us well into the morning." He laughed as he dropped a second scoop into the big horses feed box.

"Now Mrs. Parker... let's see about making you my wife." He said as he gathered me into his arms and carried me across the yard toward the little house. With one hand he held me, the other he pushed the door open, "Here's our little home... the place where we're going to raise our youngins." He said as we quickly walked through the door and into the small living room. Here's where you'll wile away those long winter days making quilts to warm us.

Then into another room he carried me, "And here's where we'll wile away those long winter nights." He slowly lowered me down onto the bed. "It's been a long time since I have been with a woman as pretty as you." Slowly he leaned into me with a kiss. I laid in stunned silence as he straightened up and slid his jacket off, throwing it into a chair in the corner. Hooking his thumbs around his suspenders he slid them off his shoulders.

He must have known that I was afraid, as I laid there on the top of the bed trembling. He had his shirt unbuttoned and hanging on his shoulders when he looked down at me.

"I'm sorry, Leeah... I didn't realize that you never..." He looked around embarrassed and stepped out of the room. "I can wait... I ain't about to force myself on to any woman as pretty as you."

Slowly he turned and disappeared from my sight, I could hear him in the kitchen as he began to stoke up a fire in our stove. I sat up on the bed and faced myself in the mirror. I was definitely not the boy I had been only a few short hours ago... I was Leeah... and all woman.

He came to the door and stuck his head in, "You want a cup of coffee?"

"Sure Gr...uh, Sam." I nearly called him Grandpa.

He smiled and ducked back out of the room. I stood up and moved toward the door, leaning against the doorjamb. He was a quite handsome man, almost having the size and rugged good looks of a Tom Selleck. His forearms were huge from all of the hard work he had done during his life, skin darkened from exposure to the sun. He saw me watching him and smiled, making his mustache even wider.

I couldn't help returning his smile, he straightened up and sat the blackened coffee pot on top of the stove. "Been batching it so long... almost seems second nature." He laughed. He turned around and leaned against the hand-hewn table. "You create quite a vision standing there..." He said referring to me.

I felt my face flush, "Thank-you." I said as I folded my arms just below my chest.

"I wasn't sure if I had died and gone to heaven... when you sent me your picture." His arms rested on the table with each rugged hand firmly gripping the edge. "I couldn't believe my luck." His shirt fell away, exposing his tremendous physique.

I felt myself suddenly become aware of the effect he was having on my body, I couldn't let him see what he was doing to me. I turned and quickly stepped toward the window, always aware of his movement. I must have stood there for a half hour as he suddenly appeared beside me. "Your coffee... Leeah." I took the cup from his hand and slowly rose it to my lips. He was standing there staring at me, watching me blow across the surface in an attempt to cool the hot liquid.

He sat his cup down, then gently using the back of his hand began to glide it up the length of my arm. I felt my body tremble. I knew now why Grandma Leeah stayed with this man... she had become deeply attracted to him. But could I? Somehow the strangeness of being in such a odd position with Sam was rapidly feeling normal...was the old me fading away while Leeah's existence taking over? I was confused!

He slowly closed his hands around my cup and gradually took it from me, placing it next to his own. My mind raced with the fear of what he was doing, should I bolt for the door? He smiled and gently raised my chin, his eyes seemed to penetrate deep into my soul. Those old photos could never do justice to his eyes... so clear and blue. I began to tremble and took a small step back, my retreat being blocked by a chair.

We stood there for what seemed like minutes, him looking lovingly at me... while I fought with the realization that this man was my Great, Great, Great Grandfather. Then he slowly leaned into me and kissed my soft lips, his mustache tickling my skin. I realized then, that in this time...for the rest of my life, he was my husband... my Sam. He had to be, otherwise my own existence... my own immediate Grandmother's existence would be forfeit.

Slowly his arms encircled my slim waist, I had stopped resisting. I felt him working the buttons at my back until I could feel his hands near my waist. I felt the top of the dress fall open as his hands slowly slid it over my shoulders. I looked down as one hand tenderly pushed the gown's sleeves off of my arm.

I raised my eyes to meet his. "What's happening to us?" I whispered to him.

"What has been happening to husbands and wives who love each other for thousands of years." He smiled and let my dress fall into a heap on the floor.

Again he kissed me softly, this time on my slim neck. I felt him began to draw on the corset string, suddenly it loosened as he pulled it open. I felt the sudden release of my ribs and waist, almost causing me to gasp in comfort. He smiled and kissed the top of my chest and shoulders.

Deep within my being, I began to feel a longing for this man. Was I becoming a woman... in mind, as well as body? I could feel the young nipples on my chest suddenly become erect with arousal as he began to kiss lower. I let my head roll back and sighed deeply, slowly I felt him tug on the string of the broach. He pulled it away and laid it down.

He tenderly took my head with both hands and kissed me, then slid his hands up into my hair and removed the pins that were holding it up. My hair began to cascade down around my shoulders and breast, enveloping us both in its erotic tendrils. He suddenly scooped me up and began to walk us both toward the bedroom, all the while he never removed his lips from mine.

***

Just like that child yet to be born many years from now... Leeah's own fate was sealed that night, when Sam took her gently in his bed. She would find within time, the gentle swell of her belly would foretell the future of their little family...from those children, would be others that would carry on the heritage of her family's name... Leeah Parker's trip ended that day, her destination built on a little piece of land, located somewhere in the middle of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE. - Rod Serling

Mark Faylor had an ongoing vendetta against his sister, he wanted to dig up dirt on her and make her life miserable at home with their parents. He thought he found just what he was looking for, when he uncovered a strange old book hidden under her bed. Unfortunately for Mark, he's about to find out what happens, when you snoop around the dark recesses of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

It was around 11:30 am when I started to become bored with the programs on the TV, since no one was around to stop me I began to snoop. Both of my parents were at work, and my older sister had just left for her job at a local theme park... she would be gone until late in the evening.

It was the start of summer vacation, hot and sticky for early June. Feeling relatively safe from being discovered I moved with ease around her belongings, looking for something that I could use against her in a future argument.

Her closets proved to be fruitless, unless I wanted to use the very short skirt hidden behind all of her other items. "Mom would sure be upset knowing she had that there..." I decided that I should commit it to memory just in case I found nothing earth shattering in my search. I bent down and lifted up the ruffled valance that surrounded her bed, hidden there, was a wooden box about 24" by 12"... but only around 8 inches deep. I slid it out and sat next to it on the floor.

As I pulled the box into the light, I noticed right away that she had padlocked it. I frowned and studied the small golden lock for weaknesses, curiosity driving me to greater heights of deviousness. I was determined to figure out a way inside the box...

"Okay sis, what ARE you hiding?" I wondered aloud.

I made a quick dash into my own room and returned with a tiny paperclip, after gently bending it I inserted it into the small hole. The minutes passed by slowly as I continued to work the lock, I knew that it couldn't hold me out of the box for long... no lock had ever kept me away, and this was no different.

Suddenly the lock sprang open and I worked it from the latch. "Not bad for a 14 year old." I mused to myself and laughed.

As I slowly threw back the lid, my eyes were met with nothing more than a book. "What a rip." I sighed. Then I noticed a letter folded up in the lid and held there by a small piece of tape, I pulled it down and slowly opened it up.

"Amie, thanks for offering to keep the book for us. Just like Jennifer had said, you only need to bring it with you when our coven meets on Thursdays. We'll let you know where our next meeting takes place. Again, thanks for taking care of it for us."

I raised one eyebrow and continued to read, "...Just remember, this is a pretty powerful book... in the wrong hands, it could be dangerous. Thanks again, Kathy."

I lowered the letter and ran my finger across the deep engraving on its leather cover. "So... my sister is dabbling with the occult." I smiled slowly, "Oh, this is going to be so good!"

I slowly opened up the book; its yellowed pages told me that it was very old. "Looks almost like the book they use on that show about the three witches..."

I studied the faded ink on the first few pages and randomly inserted my finger between the pages deeper into the book. I opened it and studied the very scrolling work, I could just make out the letters as the old style of script made it very difficult to decipher.

I found at the top in heavy scrolling letters a very ornate "S" it was just about the only letter I could make out with much ease... the others though less bold, were almost impossible to figure out. I had to take each little flourish and trace it into my mind until after about 10 minutes I thought I knew what it said.

"Geesch... they made it hard enough to read!" I laughed then tried to sound out the word that I had just figured out. "Six? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

I finally gave up as it was making my head hurt trying to figure out what it was used for. I marked the page with a small scrap of paper pulled from Amie's trash, marked the page and tucked the heavy book under my arm. I left her room and headed down the steps where I laid it on the kitchen table. Every once in a while I would glance at it as I was making my sandwiches for lunch.

I drug a soda from the refrigerator and sat it down next to a large bag of chips, reaching out, I turned the book so I could read while I ate. The words were from a strange language that I couldn't make out... part of it seemed like Latin, some seemed like German. I slowly sounded out the little paragraph, at different intervals a small word in red underlined text would appear. It seemed to be an important word but as much as I could make out, it was just a flourished 'six'.

I pushed the book away and closed it so I could finish my lunch, once done, I quickly returned it to her bedroom. Carefully laying it down in the box I re-taped the letter as I found it, locked the lid and gently pushed it back under the bed where I found it earlier. I stood up and took my foot, dragging it against the nap of the carpet I removed the flattened rectangle where the heavy book had pressed the rug down.

I left the room and smiled to myself smugly as I again pulled one over on Amie. I trotted down the steps, taking two at a time and headed out our back door, cutting across the lawn. I turned down the sidewalk toward the park where I thought I could hook up with my friends for a quick game of basketball.

Behind me I heard the low rumble of a car, turning and looking over my shoulder I saw a sweet yellow Corvette with bright orange flames painted on its side. I watched as the driver slowly approached, he was waiving at a small group of girls and checking them out with rapt interest.

Suddenly, I felt a brief disorientation and nausea. When I realized that my point of view had changed drastically, now I was setting behind the wheel of the shiny sports car. I slowly pulled my hand down in mid wave.

"What's going on here?" I whispered in an astonished voice.

The little group of girls were waiving at me and calling me by name, it was very surreal. I glanced to my right quickly, there was a young boy standing near the road, it was me... or who I had been.

Suddenly again the strange feeling washed over me and I gave a slight wave to the passing vette. I glanced at my hand as I had somehow returned to my own body. I felt my knees grow weak and try to buckle, I eased myself backward and took a seat on a low rock wall. What I had just experienced was like nothing I had ever have happen to me prior to this date, somehow, even for the briefest of moments I had occupied the body of that man in the car.

That in itself was strange enough, only, I could distinctly remember the soft steering wheel under my grip. I could feel the vibration of the motor through my legs, I could even recall the bounce of the mirrors reflection as the car rolled along. For that strange split second I WAS that man in the car, I could still feel that odd feeling in my groin as I mentally thought about what I would like to do to each of the girls that I was passing.

Then I remembered how I felt when I passed myself on the street, I saw no recollection in that young boy's eyes. It was as though we were two entirely separate people. I looked down at my tennis shoes, I could still feel the strange way that the man's sandals fit between my toes and where the strap wrapped around my back ankle and buckled. Very strange indeed.

The siren of a speeding police car brought me out of my thoughts, I slowly stood and began to walk on down the sidewalk with my hands shoved deeply into my pockets. At the corner I watched the 'walk, don't walk' sign and crossed when it flashed that it was okay to do so. On the other side I passed a small hedge of Mrs. Peterson's house, she was the young wife of Doctor Peterson, I cut their grass once each week for twenty dollars.

As I passed their mailbox I glanced inside to see if the grass needed to be cut again, it would soon need it and I thought to myself that I should expect a call any day. I glanced back down the street, when I looked back up I noticed Mrs. Peterson coming toward me. She was using her left hand to support her back, she smiled at me as she waddled closer. Suddenly I felt the strangeness wash over me again, a momentary feeling of dizziness and I stumbled only to be caught and uprighted.

"Careful now." The young voice said as the strong hands steadied my body. I nodded and looked up into the face of my former body. I felt my knees again try to give, "Come on Mrs. Peterson, I'll walk you back to the house." He directed me down their sidewalk and sat me on a porch swing.

"Th... Thanks." I stammered, still dazed from my sudden bout with nausea.

He crouched down and looked intently into my eyes, "You going to be okay? Should I call your husband?" He asked.

My trembling hand wiped the little beads of sweat from my lip, apparently I somehow was transported into the pregnant body of Mrs. Peterson. She must be in me, only she isn't acting any different than I would have been. The boy quickly ran inside and returned with my cordless phone, "I'd better call Mr. Peterson. You seem out of it, he would be concerned if he knew that you were acting so strangely."

I stopped his hand and gently took the phone from him, "I'll be okay, I just need to sit for awhile." He took a seat next to me on the swing, "It's probably just the heat." I said, trying to throw off his seeming concern.

He kept watching me, then he finally spoke, "Why don't you at least let me get you a glass of ice water? That may help?" He smiled at me when I nodded. He stood up and started inside as I laid the phone on a small table next to the swing. Suddenly the door opened back up, "Mrs. Peterson, where do you keep your cups?"

"There in the upper right hand shelf, next to the sink." The words quickly shot from my mouth before I could think. He nodded and quickly closed the door, again leaving me to my odd thoughts.

I could feel the weight of Mrs. Peterson's breasts as if they were my own, the shape and size of the huge swelling stomach gave me no recourse but to think of the child that lay quietly within its confines. I felt the infant move inside, a strange bump formed along its surface from the knee or elbow. I placed a slender hand on the stretched surface to still the movement.

One hand I rested upon the rolling surface of my stomach, the other pulled her stray brown hair, back and over an ear. I raised up my leg and studied my aching, swollen ankle.

"How could this happen?" I whispered to myself in a voice that was now soft and feminine.

I heard the screen door opening, there reappeared the boy I once was, carrying a tall glass of ice and water. He handed it to me, the condensation rolled and dripped on my smooth leg, its icy coolness making me jump with a start. Again a strange feeling overwhelmed me and I was suddenly surrounded in a great dark shroud of blackness. Muffled voices could be heard.

"Where am I?" I wondered again.

One muffled voice asked another, "Are you feeling any better?"

The other, much louder responded, "Yes, thank you Mark. It was very kind of you to sit here with me while I was feeling so strangely."

Again the first voice replied, "No problem Mrs. Peterson."

Suddenly it dawned on me where I was, somehow the strange feeling had moved me into the body of the infant. I began to panic and struggle, a great pressure slowly pushed gently on the surface of my knee.

The familiar loud voice spoke soothingly, "My, my you are active today!" Then I heard a loud giggle. "Feel the baby moving inside of me Mark." I felt an odd movement and another lighter pressure.

Suddenly, I found myself standing before Mrs. Peterson with my hand applied gently to her tight belly, beneath my hand a young child was vigorously rolling.

She giggled and let me pull back, "Have you ever felt such an active baby?"

"No ma'am." I said, then felt my knees slowly give under me. I quickly threw out my hand to catch myself.

"Are you alright?" She asked, trying to stand up.

"I'm okay. I guess the heat may be getting to me too!" I gave her an embarrassed smile. "Uh, I'd better be going... I have something that I need to be doing."

She looked at the yard, "I guess you could come on over later today or tomorrow and cut the grass. It looks like it could be using it."

"Sure, I'll do that." I responded, then quickly headed down her short steps.

"Call before you come, so I can make sure someone's here!" She shouted to my back as I hurried along her walk.

"No problem!" I called back over my shoulder.

Once back on the sidewalk I paused to catch my breath, my heart racing like a piston. I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing, my hand resting upon my heaving chest.

"What the heck was that all about?" I gasped as if I had just run a distance marathon. "How is all that happening?" I made my way back toward my home, taking a seat on the rock wall to steady my trembling legs. I buried my face into my hands and sighed. "What is causing me to jump back and forth into other people's bodies?"

Then suddenly as if a light was turned on in the blackest of caves, it came to me. "Oh shit!" I spat the word out in one long sigh. "The book! It has to be something in the book!" I dragged my hands back through my curly black hair, then again buried my face into my hands. "The thing I read, what was that again? Something about six?" I knew then, I had to return home as quickly as possible. Mentally, I began to count the times I had changed. "One, I became the man in the car. Two, I became a very pregnant Mrs. Peterson. Three, I was changed into the baby inside her stomach." I shuddered and sighed out slowly, sounding like an old steam locomotive. "But... but what if?" My mind reeled, again I recounted the changes. "One, I became the man in the vette. Two... I was changed back into me. Three, Mrs. Peterson. Four, I became her baby. Five, I returned to being me." I almost fell from my seating position as the sudden realization of my dilemma occurred to me. "One more change and... I... I'll most likely be stuck!" My shocked voice broke into a trembling whisper. "That's why the spell was named Six!"

Pressing my eyes tightly closed, the fear of changing into someone else scaring the wits from me. I jumped to my feet, using the wall I felt my way back into the direction of my home. "How will I be able to stay in my own form?" I stumbled over a tuft of grass but held myself up, still continuing to keep my eyes firmly closed.

"A mirror! That's it!" I gasped, "I'll see my own reflection in the mirror and it will change me into myself... my God, this has got to work!" I felt like crying as I raced along in my self imposed darkness, using the wall to direct me homeward.

Suddenly, the wall ended and our chain link fence took its place. "Only about a hundred more feet to go!" I whispered. "Seventy-five, fifty..." I continued to mentally count down the distance to the mirror I would use.

A loud beep sounded, the deep 'whump, whump, whump' of a Harley rumbled in my ear.

"Hey kid!" A booming voice called out. "Where's the road to take me to the interstate?" I turned and looked down the street, pointing.

"It's about three or four blocks that way, turn at the light. That's the street that will take you to the interstate..." I felt my head turning, it was as if I were in slow motion... my movement slower than my realization of what could happen. As my head swiveled, I locked upon the dark, sexy legs of a young woman riding behind the broad shouldered man. Her thighs were slender and toned nicely as she pressed them into the man's hips.

In the most briefest of instants, my gaze drank in her beautiful young figure. She couldn't have been more than twenty two or three, her hair was long and a golden yellow. She was wearing white shorts and a bright yellow bikini top that just barely held her pert medium sized breasts confined. The bright colors contrasting her deep tan, as a thin golden chain surrounded her waist lightly like a gentle hug.

Her face was quite lovely, full lips sparkling with a glossy moist shine. Beautiful long lashes looking back at me, eyes bluer than the ocean. She smiled, her smile was sexy and pure, brilliant, white and oh so straight.

She had her one hand around the man's waist, dangerously close to his groin. The other was resting along her own thigh, her feminine nails gleaming in the bright sun. A finger on the hand near his crotch was gleaming in the sun, a radiant sparkle from a ring danced in my eyes. All this within the blink of an eye, I could feel the strangeness building from somewhere deep within my being.

"Thanks kid!" The man said as the strange tingling made me fall against the fence. I caught myself, I could feel the steel lattice of the fence in my fingertips, then, suddenly it was gone. Replaced by the smoothness of my hands against my own thigh, the other was resting against the rough texture of his denim shorts.

I suddenly turned and looked back as the boy who I had been stood up and began to walk slowly into the house that I had once called home. My long braided ponytail dancing behind the speeding motorcycle.

I looked down at my thighs, the pressure of them against his hips, strangely erotic. I could feel his semi swollen erection as it rested near my left hand. I pulled it back and let it lay on my thigh as my other one had been, the glint of the dazzling diamond drawing my eyes to the seriousness of my situation.

I brought my hand up before my own face, the diamond and small band next to it now had my full attention. In the mirror the man smiled and patted my calf with his hand, stroking it along the entire surface up to my knee.

I could feel him downshifting as we rolled to the light and stopped, he braced his huge cycle up with his feet. Next to us pulled a fiery red classic Mustang, the young man inside was ogling our way. When the light quickly changed we turned left, leaving the Mustang still at the light waiting for his own turn.

"Did you see that?" The man driving the Harley shouted over his shoulder.

"The man in the Mustang checking out your Harley?" I asked, my voice light and strangely sexy.

"Yeah right... it wasn't the Harley he was checking out." He chuckled and reached back behind himself, placing his fingers firmly between my widely spread thighs and his back. I swallowed hard and looked down, he was gently putting a light pressure on my crotch, sending strange messages throughout my body.

He glanced back at me in his highway mirrors, "That's alright." He smiled, flashing a sexy boyish grin, one that made my stomach strangely flutter. "They can look all they want, but they can't be touching my baby."

His wiggling fingers caused a strange tightness in my chest, the youthful feminine nipples pressing out on the shiny surface of the yellow bikini top. I could feel tears stinging my eyes, as I realized that my body was in tune with what he was doing to me, strangely wanting him to continue... to caress me down there, and more.

***

On the long interstate that runs through the countryside, Mark found himself racing along, leading him in the direction of only God knows where. Fully realizing that he would be forever trapped; sealed inside the beautiful form of the young wife. The road, you may ask? You won't find it on any map, it can only be found winding through the little hills and valleys of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

A lonely man makes an incredible find in a small antique shop. How could he know that within the confines of the ancient cabinet was a portal into another time? Come with us as he enters... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

The richly colored wood seemed to draw me to it like a moth to a flame. God, it was beautiful! I slowly walked around the ancient wardrobe closet, fingering the ornate carved edging that seemed to just flow down the sides. With a trembling hand, I gently pulled open a side drawer. Its dovetailing was superb. Even down to the minutely carved drawer pull, I could tell that this was one of those finds that you don't come across too often.

I examined the base of the tall closet, whose feet raised it several inches from the floor. I crouched down to look at its bottom; it was there, the final piece to my puzzle. I shined my little penlight at the engraving hidden on this work of art, "L.H. Sargent, May 24, 1775." The words fell from my lips in awe. "It has to be him!"

Suddenly, a voice from behind startled me.

"If you're wondering, the maker's name is Leonidas H. Sargent." I quickly looked up in the direction of the voice. "We're not sure what the 'H.' stands for." The little man smiled and leaned against the wall next to the wardrobe closet I had been examining.

I rose to my feet slowly; the man continued: "Sure has a great patina, doesn't it?" His grin was wide and friendly.

"It's beautiful..." I sighed, gently touching its door as one would a holy relic.

"It's out of Pennsylvania, created for a Mr. Lincoln Chesterton, as a gift for his young wife Claire on their wedding day, by Leonidas H. Sargent. The date on the bottom says, 'May, 1775.'"

I stood there, drinking in the deep brown color of the cabinet. "May 24th, 1775," I said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I just can't believe I've found an original Sargent... this is incredible!"

The man gave me a serious look. "Do you know much about Leonidas H. Sargent?"

I smiled at the proprietor. "My grandmother has one of his later works. This man, Leonidas H. Sargent, was still making furniture until 1810."

"Do you know what the 'H.' stands for?" the man asked with just a hint of awe in his voice.

I smiled, "The 'H.' is for 'Hampton': 'Leonidas Hampton Sargent.' He died in 1811; he was around 95 years old."

The man gave me a serious look, and stepped closer, leaning in. With a gentle push, he swung a door aside. "See this here? It's the initials of someone carved in the woodwork... it's so finely detailed, it just gets lost in the art."

"This cabinet..." I directed his gaze to the door with a nod of my head: "Sargent was commissioned by Francis Chesterton; it was for his daughter. Those are her initials." I pointed at the engraving centered between both doors with the tip of my penlight, "This is a 'C'; it stands for Claire. This 'M' is for Marie... and the last 'C' is for her newly married name, Chesterton." I realized then that in my zeal to provide information, I probably just pushed the cabinet out of my price range. I began to try to find fault with the craftsmanship... I found none.

The older man stood there staring at the cabinet, "So, you looking to buy?"

I made a quick mental calculation of what a Sargent was worth. I knew that if push came to shove it would easily sell in an open auction for around $25,000, and that was being conservative. I paused, trying to make him think I was making up my mind. I wanted to be fair to the man, but knew that my own bank account couldn't go past $18,000. I slowly walked around to the back of the freestanding wooden work of art.

The proprietor must have sensed the hesitation that I was trying to convey: "I'll make it fair for you, if you're interested."

"How much?" was all I said, desperately hoping that he would be within my price range.

Now it was his turn to pause, I could see that he was making his own calculations. "Give me... oh, how about $22,500?"

My heart sank. I slowly shook my head. "I can't come up with that much. Sorry." I frowned and started to turn away.

"You look like a fine young man... How about $19,500?" He smiled, looking at me hopefully.

"Sorry. I love it, but that's still too steep for me." I looked at the cabinet that was almost mine. "Thanks at least for letting me look at it."

The man rubbed his hand across his chin; his stubble made a rasping sound. "Well... anyway, thanks for the information."

I nodded and begun to walk out of the store. No sooner had I gone three steps, I heard his voice call out, "What can you afford? If you don't mind my asking?"

I stopped and slowly drifted back toward him. "$18,000?"

He looked inside the store, presumably at the cabinet.

"Cash?" I said, a little louder, hopeful that it would entice him into a deal.

His heavy sigh was all I heard. "You realize that I'd be taking quite a loss on that thing."

I stepped inside the store behind him, "To you, it's a thing... to me, it's a Sargent." He gave me a laugh and bent down behind his counter. I followed him to where the wardrobe closet stood.

"Well, whatever, we both know it's worth much more than that." He hung a "SOLD" sign from one door pull. "You can have it as soon as I have the money."

"You'll have it within the hour," I said, shaking his hand vigorously. I stepped outside the door quickly; once out of his view, I ran down the street to one of the many bank branches that dotted our city. If I could guess, I would say that I was back inside the store well within an hour, money in hand. Then I spent another 20 minutes haggling with him, arranging for delivery to my flat.

As I turned to leave, he caught me gently by the arm. "You know there's a story about that thing being haunted..." I smiled in reply. He continued, "Sometimes I hear what sounds like a child crying when I'm in here alone... the sound's coming from inside."

I looked at my purchase, "I'll take my chances. I really don't put that much stock in ghost stories."

As I again turned to leave he called out behind me, "Whatever you do, I wouldn't go inside that cabinet if you hear the crying spirit!"

I paused, keeping my back to him, then slowly turned around smiling.

"And why is that?" I asked, smiling.

"I've been told that if you go inside... you might not be able to come back out!" He looked at me with concern.

"So... then why did you sell it to me? Seems that if you were that concerned about safety, you would have destroyed it at some point." I cringed at my own suggestion, knowing what its true worth really was.

He shrugged, "A guy's got to make a living in this economy, doesn't he?" He looked again at the cabinet, "Just promise me that you won't go inside if the spirit cries..."

I crossed my heart and laughed, "I promise." He studied my eyes for a moment and sadly shook his head.

"I hope you're serious, the stories have been going around about this cabinet for years and years." He patted the side gently, "I don't think anyone's ever ventured inside once the child cries... don't you be the first!"

I nodded and left his little shop. As soon as I stepped into the street I broke out in a long laugh.

***

I sat down on the edge of my bed and admired my treasure; I couldn't believe that I had found a Sargent. That in itself was remarkable, but to find one in this condition was a miracle.

I crossed the room and slowly pulled open a door, letting my fingers touch the wood as one would caress the finer features of a beautiful woman. "God, you're beautiful." I whispered.

A smile slowly crossed my face as I began to hang my own clothes on the sturdy wooden rod inside. What's the use of owning a beautiful piece of furniture if you weren't going to use it... it would be like owning a '55 Thunderbird and never allowing it to leave your garage.

Once I had finished, I slowly closed the door. I smiled to myself when I recalled the shopkeeper's warning about the "spirit within." I stood off to one side and admired the soft shine of the ancient wood, worn smooth with age. Its ornate engravings along the top edge and side caught the gleam of the light reflected against its surface.

I practically backed from the room, still admiring my purchase. Once into the hall I turned and headed into the kitchen to make myself some supper. As I passed through the living room, I picked up a remote and pressed the button to turn on the television. I could hear the TV in the background as I prepared a sandwich for myself; the old programs softened the bitterness of my lonely solitude.

After a few minutes in the kitchen, I returned to the couch and began to eat. The old shows still played one after another, shows I remembered from a happier time as a child. Sometime during the evening I must have fallen asleep, which caused me to drop the glass I had been holding. Luckily, it only bounced on the thick carpet. My reflexes woke me with a quick jerk; I sat up and looked around, yawning.

I picked up the glass, and sat it and my plate on the table. Then I returned to my fat overstuffed chair. Stretching, I leaned back and put up the footrest. The old show droned on, lulling me back into a restful sleep.

At some point around midnight, a crying infant brought me into wakefulness again. Thinking the noise was from a program that I had been sleeping through, I reached for the remote and shut the TV off. Still, I could hear the child softly sobbing. I sat up at the edge of my chair and listened; the soft crying of the child seemed to be just outside my flat. I stood up and walked to the door and glanced through the eye-hole.

No one was in the hallway. "Must be one of the neighbors," I thought aloud. Although that was odd...I hadn't known of any young families living around me. But still, that wasn't too unusual; I really didn't go out of my way to meet people...I just kept to myself.

I scratched my head, turned off the kitchen light and slowly headed back into the bathroom, shutting off other lights as I passed. I Pulled down a towel and tossed it onto the counter. That was when I realized that I could no longer hear the child cry. I smiled as I turned on the shower and let the water run. Another yawn seemed to creep up on me as I began to pull off my clothes and toss them into the hamper.

Stepping under the warm jets, I washed my hair and rinsed out the suds. Another dollop of conditioner, again I rinsed out my hair. I squeezed my body wash into a face cloth and quickly lathered up my body, then almost as quickly washed it off. I shut off the water, found my towel, and dried myself thoroughly.

I glanced at my watch where it lay with my glasses on the counter. "1:39 in the morning... ugh." I yawned again and staggered into the bedroom, wearing only my towel. I paused at the doorway. One of the closet doors had swung open; I looked at it and carefully pushed it closed. It wasn't unusual for those old doors to do that. I just needed to adjust the level of the cabinet, later... when I was more awake.

I hung the towel on the bedpost, threw myself prone, and landed on the top of the covers. I folded my hands behind my head and lay there completely naked, looking at the wide form of my new closet. The deep wood looked even darker, dwarfing the chair next to it. I smiled to myself, slowly drifting off to sleep, thinking of the cabinet.

Around 2:00 am I sat upright on the bed; the crying child had brought me to alertness again. For a moment, I looked around the room. The child's nearness unnerved me. I stood up and grabbed my robe and stormed out into the hall. I stomped my way toward the outside door. Without even looking, I threw open the door and thrust out my head. The hall was completely empty.

I walked a few feet down, nearer the elevators and listened again. The child's sobs were almost inaudible. Turning, I headed back the other way past my own door. Again, the sounds seemed more distant the further from my own door that I moved. I scratched my head and walked back to my door. The sound was faint... but I could still hear the little child sobbing softly.

I closed the door to my flat and leaned against it; the sound was unnerving. I sighed deeply and yawned, heading back toward my bedroom. The closer I got, the louder the sobbing seemed to get. Once inside the room I could hear it clearly... but it seemed slightly muffled and far away. The old merchant's story jumped into my mind; the way I felt my sudden fear rise within me made me laugh. I shook my head and sighed deeply, so deeply that it caused me to yawn.

I paused at the doorway, then moved slowly across the room. At the other side, I placed my ear to the wall, plugging my other ear. I listened. The sobbing child sounded very near. On the opposite side of the room, I placed my ear to the wall again and listened. The child seemed closer, but still a bit faint.

I stepped back and stood at the foot of my bed, looking toward the antique cabinet. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I gingerly moved toward the wall next to the cabinet. I placed my ear against it and held my breath.

I smiled, knowing that the old man's story was actually rattling my nerves.

The sound was closer, but not really any clearer than it was at the other walls. I touched the wood surface of one door. My trembling fingers slid along a smooth flat surface; slowly I lowered my ear to the door. What I heard made me pull back quickly; the sound of the crying child was coming from within!

I staggered away from the great cabinet and sat down hard on the bed, "No way! No freaking way." I choked out the words. As I sat there staring toward the face of the cabinet, a door slowly began to open. I swallowed hard and looked toward the soft glow coming from the bathroom night light.

The door opened about an inch and stopped. I pulled my feet up onto the bed and backed to the other side, my breathing sounding like the great waves of the ocean in my ears. It seemed forever that I waited, afraid to run... afraid to stay. "Be a man, for crying out loud!" I whispered to myself.

Mustering the courage I thought I would need, I stepped down on the floor and made my way back around to face my fear. I tentatively reached out and pulled at the door, slowly it swung open. The sound suddenly stopped.

I pushed the door aside and opened the other, letting in the moonlight. Quickly pushing the clothes and their hangers to one side, I looked inside; nothing was out of the ordinary. I laughed at my silliness and closed the doors, then climbed back into bed. I slowly began to relax. I must have fallen asleep quickly, but just as before, I was suddenly awakened by the crying of a child. I sat up and immediately looked back at the closet. The sound was definitely coming from inside.

Fearfully, I rushed over and threw open the door. A soft mist from inside the closet rolled into the room. I looked down as it crossed my bare feet. I drew the robe I had put on tighter and stuck my head inside the closet. I pushed the clothes aside and reached toward the back... and found nothing. My hand kept going--the cabinet had no back to stop my progress. Was I dreaming and still sleeping on the bed behind me? I looked over my shoulder at the empty bed and swallowed hard.

I found myself falling into its recesses; I landed completely inside. I stood up, rising behind the hangers. I stretched a hand out in the inky darkness, feeling nothing in any direction that I faced. The man's words leap to the forefront of my thoughts. "Was it just an old fable?" I whispered to myself. When I turned towards the door, I could still see the bedroom on the other side of the clothing, but what was behind me remained invisible when I turned to face it. As I faced the inky blackness I thought, "Should I go on, or should I get out?"

My sense of adventure was calling loudly. I pushed the warning to the back of my mind and took a step into the unknown, determined to prove a point if only to myself.

I shuffled along, away from the doors as I investigated the black expanse before me. I found nothing but the solid flooring beneath my own feet. Behind me was my own room, before me was the black void with only the crying child to lead me on. I swallowed hard and took a tentative step toward the sobbing tot, completely ignoring the warnings of my screaming fears.

I could not understand why I was compelled to move forward into the blackness, surely this dream that I must be having would play itself out with hopeful answers. The cry floated before me, just ahead... just ahead.

I felt I had walked an eternity, until a soft faint glow slowly began to form in the distance. Forward I moved, the child's cry spurring me on. The tired sobs of the little one tugged at my heart... a warm glow emanating ahead, inviting me onward.

I realized that I had approached a doorway; the glow was filtering in from the right hand side of a room. I stepped across the threshold. Pausing just inside, I took in the room I had entered.

A small fire crackled its welcome. The popping wood scented the air with a slight hickory smell. I slowly leaned in and looked around the corner. Beyond the glow of the fire all was black. A great wood table was positioned to the right of me; a small candle in a silver holder sat on the table. I picked it up and slowly ran a thumb along its waxy surface; the sweet smell of the yellow wax clung to my nostrils. I gently placed the candle back on the beautiful surface of the sturdy table and continued my way around the room.

I watched an ember pop from the fire and roll to the stone tiles, the glowing red upon its surface moving as if it were alive. I slipped quietly to the hearth and picked up a long, heavy iron tool and pushed the ember back into the fireplace. I silently sat the poker back against the wall where I found it, as I did, I looked up just above my head; I noticed some objects lying on top of the great wooden mantle.

Slowly I reached up and fingered the edge of an antique iron, still resting on a trivet. Next to it was a tin cup, the remnants of liquid still drying in the bottom. I lowered my nose to its edge. The heavy scent of tea filled my senses. Toward the end of the mantle was a tiny little painting on a porcelain-like surface; the young woman in the portrait was smiling demurely. She was young, perhaps 15 or 16, and quite lovely.

I sat it back where I had found it and moved on. There was a straight-back wooden chair resting on the floor at the end of the wall. Next to it was a pair of large leather boots, darkened from use. I peeked into a blackened room; nothing could be seen beyond the soft light of the fire behind me.

I could hear something stir down a hall, just beyond where I was standing. In the depths of the faint glow, another door was visible at the end of a short hallway. Slowly I approached it and paused to listen. I could hear soft movement behind this door. With a trembling hand I slowly pushed the door open and looked in. No light passed through the shadow I cast.

Again, the soft stirring sounded before me. I listened, breathing only broken by the gentle gasps of a child, still tormented but in the last moments of a long cry. I slowly crossed the room and looked behind me; only the glowing fire lit the door. I moved to what looked like a crib, peered over the edge at the slumbering child. A full bounty of sandy blond hair was strewn wildly from the top of the child's head. The blanket lay tangled and disheveled beside the sleeping child.

The child woke with a start and began to cry again, almost frightening me. I did the only thing I could think of. I quickly reached in and pulled the baby to my shoulder. The young one, dressed in the sleeping garb of the mid to late 1700's, laid his tiny head on my shoulder.

I looked back into the living room; still no one moved. The young infant in my arms began to vigorously rub its face and nose against my robe. I wasn't sure what to do next. If someone should enter the room they might think I wanted to harm this little child.

The child whimpered and I gently bounced him. I didn't have the foggiest idea why I would think of it as a him. "Shhh..." I whispered to the infant.

I could just make out a rocker resting in the corner. I made my way to it, carrying the baby in my arms. I took a seat and began to rock the child, softly humming into his ear.

I rested my head against the high back on the rocker, the infant resting in the crook of my arm. Slowly we rocked together, moving gently, back and forth. I realized that to dream within a dream was strange, but I was fighting the need to sleep... I began to nod off. Only the slight creaking of the rocker could be heard above our steady breathing.

***

Still dreaming, I could hear the little baby inhaling briskly through its tiny nostrils. My eyes felt heavy and desperately wanted to sleep, I allowed my eyes to open briefly and struggled to lift my head. My heavy head fall back against the rocker. It was sleep that I needed. After almost fifteen minutes had passed I raised the little child to my shoulder and began to rub and pat his small back. I was greeted by a small audible burp. I held him like that for another ten minutes. We both rested again. I could feel the child sliding in my sleepy grasp; his minuscule weight was becoming heavy in my arms. I lowered him to my lap and he quietly lay there while we both rested peacefully.

After what seemed like a very long of time, in my dream state, I felt a soft tug at my chest; its constant rhythm was relaxing and yet troubling.

My eyes fluttered open, I lifted my head and looked around the room. A glow was filtering through a window. I could hear the popping of an energized fireplace in the other room. I realized then that I was still cradling the infant in my arms. I looked down.

A gasp escaped from my lips, as the little baby somehow was suckling upon a breast that I knew that I knew could not possibly be mine; and yet there it was. I was so startled that I jumped to my feet, almost dropping the young child. I forced my index finger along side the infant's mouth, causing the suction to break. Quickly and carefully, I placed the infant in the crib.

I stepped back in shock and looked down. Blond hair cascaded down over my shoulder, covering the generous portions of my new-found breasts. A watery white liquid seemed to be suspended in a droplet at the end of one nipple. I slowly flipped the hair over my shoulder and looked at what I was wearing. What met my eyes were the sleeping robes of a young woman who had lived around the late 1700's.

But the strangeness didn't stop there. My hips flared out from under a very curvaceous torso. My young nipples, still engorged even though I had recently been nursing the baby, stood out from the white cloth that had become my nightdress. I placed a feminine hand against my stomach; the little bulge of a woman who had just birthed a baby met my exploring fingers. My hand moved downward. Gone was the equipment I had been so used to all my life. In its place, I felt the soft smoothness of a woman's sexual region. My hands trembled uncontrollably. I wiped perspiration from my face and new chest. I could feel my legs shaking as if I were about to collapse at any moment.

In fear, I slowly backed from the room, breasts gently swaying with each minuscule movement. I fought to control my breathing, which was coming out from frightened lungs as if I had just run a marathon. My hand bumped a chair, causing it to grind against the floor like a moan from a movie monster. I stumbled across it and fell. Both chair and I went crashing to the floor. I quickly jumped to my feet at the sound that came from the room beside me.

I scrambled to the opposite side of the great table, startled as a young male dashed through the doorway holding an enormous flintlock pistol, its huge hammer cocked back threateningly. Our eyes met and he began to fearfully back away; only the wall halted his movement.

I saw the abject terror in his eyes; it was as though he saw a ghost. My trembling hands gripped the back of a chair tightly, keeping it between us.

"Claire? Have you come to haunt me?" His face turned ashen as he slowly lowered the pistol away from me.

He began to shake, and the heavy weapon fell harmlessly from his grasp to the floor. "Lincoln?" I whispered; the name seemed to spring from my lips.

I watched the young man, who seemed to be more frightened of me than I of him, as he struggled to maintain standing. I looked away from him and down to the floor. "How could I know his name?" I thought to myself, but I knew I was right, this was Lincoln.

The young man quickly looked toward the bedroom where the young child was sleeping, "God no... Please, Claire, tell me you didn't come for little Jonah?" His frightened look darted between me and the room I had just left. I could think of nothing at the moment more than that this was Lincoln Chesterton cowering before me. Just my knowing this struck fear in my heart.

I looked toward the darkened room where the child slept, "I heard him crying..." I replied softly. Lincoln slowly stood to his feet and stumbled a step or two toward the nursery. I could see tears forming in his eyes as he began to cry, leaning against the hand hewn beams that framed the interior wall. I felt a knot build in my throat, but still couldn't understand why I was worried for this man.

The tall youth slumped his shoulders, "I tried to care for him, Claire... but with you... gone..." His body seemed to be oddly racked with grief. "He's just been so... hungry. Honest, I tried... but he won't eat." I felt his pain; my eyes began to well with tears. "Please don't take him with you." He fell to his knees in prayer, crying. I fought against the alien urge to comfort him.

"I only wanted to see why the child cried..." I crouched down in the front of the sobbing man. "That's what drew me here." I whispered to him. He rolled forward on his knees and buried his face into his hands, his cries echoing in the expanse of the room. I felt a tear roll down my own cheek; the reflection of the it glistened in the soft light, as I looked down at the finger that had just wiped it away.

Slowly he raised his head, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "I have missed you my young wife... why did God take you away?"

I only blinked back, trying to understand what he was talking about. He hesitantly touched my hand. Then slowly increased the pressure, touching me about the arms and hand. "Why are you doing that, Lincoln?" My mind raced with what he had just said. "Wife?" I thought and shuddered. "How is that possible?"

"This is the first time I have seen a spirit from beyond the grave, it is odd how you have taken an earthly form and shed your heavenly body." I frowned and gave him a strange stare. "Have you been returned to me? Will you remain?" His questioning eyes wet with tears.

"Are you saying that... I'm... I mean, Claire's dead?" I asked at his innocent belief. "I only wanted to check on why he cried... honest!" I looked at the nursery door again, then back to the cabinet that gave me access to this strange dreamworld of mine.

I had not noticed it before, but the wooden structure through which I had entered into this dream was an exact replica of the cabinet I had purchased. Only this one was much newer and one could still see the beautiful patterns in the wood grain. His voice brought me back to our conversation.

"Did not the angels tell you? You have laid in the meadow for nigh on two days!" His hand slowly reached for my face. I leaned away from him. "You must be a spirit, for I placed you into your earthly bed myself."

Again he reached out, I closed my eyes and knelt there trembling. Slowly, his hands danced along my cheek as if he were touching a hot stove. "Even in death, your beauty makes my heart soar." His sky blue eyes seemed to be searching into my very soul for answers. I cleared my throat and pulled my face away from his gentle touch, but still he held his hands out as if halted by a force unseen.

"I'm not dead, Lincoln. I'm not sure what's going on here... but I'm very far from being dead." My mind was racing at the thought of what was happening in this dream. I tried to pull further away, but his touch stopped me.

"Were it only true..." He and I both stood up in unison. "I would gladly trade my life for yours... Jonah needs you so."

"Lincoln... I'm not dead... but, I'm not Claire, either." He frowned and held my cheek in his hand. "I... I don't know what's going on here... I just followed the cries of the baby." I sighed and looked toward the little child's room, then back toward the cabinet.

Fear began to invade my mind. I gently pushed Lincoln's hands aside and stepped toward the cabinet. Lincoln continued to plead, "Beautiful Claire, please stay with us... I prayed to God that he would spare your life as you lay dying. Jonah needs his mother... I need my wife." His eyes were filling with tears as he took a step to follow me.

This entire dream was feeling too real for me. Lincoln placed his hand tenderly on my shoulder. "Stay Claire, my love... please?"

My mind grew more fearful with each passing moment. The warning of the old man began ringing in my ears; I covered the ground between the cabinet and myself quickly. I threw open the doors so fiercely that it made the whole cabinet rock. Lincoln placed one hand on my upper arm, "Don't go Claire... WE need you."

My hand shot into the closet, past the few items that hung there, only to come into contact with the back panel. The horror that was happening washed through my mind and across my face. The breath in me felt as if it were crushed from my lungs, I spun and leaned against the cabinet, one swinging door striking me as it swung back.

"What is it Claire?" The fear in Lincoln's eyes was showing.

I felt as if my whole world was being drained from my life. I could feel my heart racing as it beat wildly in my rounded feminine bosom. I threw myself against the back of the cabinet again, both hands slamming it with all the fury I could muster... I had to get through it... I had to go home! My hands began to bleed from the pounding. Lincoln pulled me in and cradled my body as it racked with sobs. "Please Claire... what is it? Are the angels coming for you?"

I felt my knees give in fear, my eyes wild in fright. I began to slip to the floor. As Lincoln pulled me to my feet, I could hear the little baby whimper behind me. I looked into the eyes of Lincoln, his concern for me written across his face. I let my eyes peer into the darkness, toward the room where Jonah began to cry. My face felt warm, my throat gripped tightly in my own grief.

Lincoln held my face, looking into my eyes questionably. I could feel a tear make its way to my chin. he slowly wiped it away with his thumb. "Please..." His voice choked with emotion. I again looked at the door to Jonah's bedroom, then back to the cabinet. I felt Lincoln's grip slowly relax.

I gently pushed him away and ran my hand inside the cabinet, the hard interlocking wood gliding under my touch. I pushed lightly against its surface; still, it refused to give. My knees buckled and I fell to the floor, crying uncontrollably. I could feel him move to my side and gently stroke my back and long blond hair, trying to console me. I sat on my feet, knees bent under me and leaned into the base of the cabinet. My tears fell against the wooden grain.

I could feel the anger building within me: anger at the old man who sold me the cabinet; anger at myself, for being so stupid and going through the door despite being warned; anger at the man trying to comfort me; and anger at the little one in the next room for drawing me into this trap. I pushed his hand away and quickly stood up. I began to furiously pound against the back of the cabinet, my bloodied fists leaving marks with each blow.

Lincoln tried to rein me in but I twisted myself from his grasp. With a mad dash, I raced across the room and threw open the door to the outside. I hurled myself down the little wooden steps and along the path; racing in fear past the daffodils and hyacinths and through the small wooden gate.

Lincoln was quickly on my heels. His efforts to catch me only spurred me to run faster. I ran across the little dirt road with young spring grass centered inside the dirty brown ruts. Chickens scurried from my path, afraid of the madman... madwoman who ran through them. I could hear Lincoln calling for me to stop, but still I ran on.

Up a slight rise, into a great bank of spring wild flowers I dashed, until I could run no more. At the summit I fell to my knees crying as I had never done before. My tears fell onto the brightly colored flowers between my hands. I felt my whole life was spiraling hopelessly out of control. I threw myself onto the grass and flowers and wept. Only when I heard footsteps coming up behind me did I stop and raise my head.

Lincoln sat in the flowers next to me and stroked my back with concern. "Don't you wish to stay with those who love you, Claire?" His voice shook with emotion as he caught his breath. I slowly rose to my knees, he pulled me in and hugged me tightly. He kissed my face and neck. I could feel his love slowly enfolding me. I gave him a gentle push and stood up.

A soft breeze made my hair float about my head. Lincoln pushed my hair to the side and raised my hand to his lips in a tender kiss. I gently pulled my hand away and began to walk. The robe I was wearing shined, brilliantly lit in the morning sunlight. I slowly approached a tree near the top of this small rise. Lincoln's eyes were filling with sadness and tears. "Please... Claire... please..."

My mind was torn between where I was and where I had come from... How could this have happened? I picked a single flower from the grass and made my way up the hill. Lincoln came no further; he seemed to have resigned his fate to my decision, whatever that might be.

I looked back at him and leaned against the tree, the foliage gently swaying in the light breeze. Sun was dappling the ground between the shadows of the leaves. I looked high into the canopy of the tree. A single leaf, dried from the last fall, floated down and spiraled harmlessly to the ground. I followed its path with my eyes until it came to rest.

I drew my breath in a slow gasp. The leaf had come to rest on a newly dug grave. There, at the head, was a wooden panel, with an epitaph deeply carved into its surface: "Beloved Claire, until we are together again"; below that was: "Born: July 1, 1760 - Died: April 22, 1776." My hand trembled as I looked upon the grave of Claire... the girl that Lincoln believed me to be. I staggered one step then sat down quickly on a nearby log to keep from falling.

Almost before my eyes the wooden grave marker began to shimmer and sway as if it were a mirage on a hot summer day. I tried to stand but my legs were weak with fear. Slowly the shimmering image of the marker began to fade. It became transparent; soon there was nothing left of it.

I blinked tears away from my eyes and looked around quickly. Gone was the marker--and the grave. In their place was a lush bed of beautiful flowers that cascaded down the hillside towards the little house in the meadow.

I sat up straighter and pushed a strand of golden hair behind my ear. A slight shuffle made me turn.

"I thought I'd find you here." The tall young man sat on the log next to me. "Been up here thinking again?"

I placed my hand on the log; it came into contact with a book lying next to me. I looked down and brought the book into my lap.

"Oh, I see... you've been up here reading," and he smiled and patted my knee, I turned the book over in my hands slowly--it was a Bible.

I brushed another blond lock behind my ear and stared intently into his handsome face. Back there, in my world I had nothing, no one to care for or about me. Here at least, I had a loving husband and a child that needed me. I felt myself gaze at Lincoln, the bright sun causing me to reposition my head within the dappled shade of the tree overhead.

His smile caused me to smile in turn. "I just came up here to let you know that Jonah is awake... I think he's hungry."

I nodded and smiled; I could feel the pressure slowly building in my breasts.

"Come back down to the house with me..." Lincoln stood and offered his hand. I tentatively grasped it in my own; he helped me to my feet.

As we slowly walked down the hill, he slipped his arm around my slender waist. I knew that this may be just a dream...I knew that I may wake up in a world long from here... but something strange happened when I entered that cabinet. I'm not sure if I will ever be allowed to return home, but for now, this would be home to me; with Lincoln and Jacob. I closed my eyes in the warm sun, and relegated myself to remain here if possible with those who loved me. I inhaled deeply, drinking in the heavenly scent of the spring flowers around me... and thanked God for the crying spirit He sent to my room.

***

On the side of the hill he made his choice, forever to be included among the residents of this sleepy little community: a tiny hamlet located on the outskirts of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
- Rod Serling

Max Kleebler has inherited a lovely old vacant building from his Uncle. Little does Max realize, the house also comes with its own inhabitants...players in a deadly triangle of love and murder. Enter now...down a sleepy little tree lined lane, where sits the Mooring House, firmly ensconced in the center of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

I pulled my car up the gravel driveway slowly, the tires crunching and popping the stones aside as I rolled. Coming to a stop, I leaned forward on the steering wheel and craned my neck upward, looking as high as I could see.

"Oh... shit..." I sighed.

Slowly I turned the ignition off and opened the door, "This is really going to be interesting..." I groaned, stepping out onto the gravel. Shielding my eyes from the brilliant sunlight, I looked up toward the old two story that was left to me by my Uncle.

I pushed the door closed and leaned against the car, contemplating the work that would be needed to improve the place enough to sell. "What the heck did I do with that packet from the lawyer?" I complained as I began to glance back through my car window. "Oh, there it is." I said to myself as I walked around the car and reached inside, picking it from the passenger side floor.

I began to sort through the papers until I found the one I was looking for, "This is it... To Be Opened Upon Arrival." I chuckled as I read it. "You'd think it was something important."

I seated myself on the hood and began to read the letter from the lawyer, as relayed through her by my Uncle:

History of the Mooring House.

The house was originally built in 1851 by Elias Montgomery from Addison County. He had fallen on hard times and was compelled to sell it in 1866 to Mr. and Mrs. John McQuien who lived in it until their deaths in 1881 and 1885. The house was then passed to their surviving daughter Rebecca McQuien after her mother passed away in 1885.

I glanced up from the papers at the house, "Built in 1851... damn... you're an old thing!" I sighed and continued my reading.

Rebecca McQuien married and the house finally acquired the name 'Mooring House', her husband Ephraim Mooring moved in around May 1887. They had a son who was tragically killed in 1891 by drowning in the pond on the property when he was three.

I looked up and scanned the horizon, trying to see if the pond remained, I couldn't see one on this side of the property. Determined to see if there was still a pond would be one of my goals this weekend. I made that mental note and then continued to read.

Twin daughters, Caroline and Adrienne were born in 1892. The girls gained sole proprietorship of the property tragically in 1912, when they lost both parents on the ill fated Titanic voyage.

Neither girl married as far as I could tell, but we know that her sister Adrienne lived with Caroline until sometime around 1920. I wasn't able to find out any more about Adrienne, she seemed to have just disappeared from the records. Caroline went gradually insane over time until her death in 1988, from a fall down the foyer staircase. However, from the time Caroline died, the house remained idle until I purchased it in an auction around 2005, but was never able to do anything with it.

If you are reading this, it is because I have left it to you. I know you will appreciate the architecture of this quaint old dwelling as much as I did, but being more adapt with your hands so you can actually do something about bringing it back to its former glory.

Uncle Elmer Kleebler

I smiled and pushed the letter back inside the folder, "Well Uncle, you sure did your research." I dropped the folder back on the seat of my car and pulled out my bag. "Let's check out whether this thing is worth fixing..." I sighed to myself as I began climbing up the steps toward the great porch.

At the top step, I studied the wide bowed door with its ornate carving and gently curved glass. The whole entrance appeared to gently bend out away from the house, with two curved windows were on each side of the door.

Looking down at the flooring I nodded, "So far... so good... I haven't fallen through."

As I approached the majestic door, I continued testing the flooring of the porch, I didn't relish the idea of falling through and possibly injuring myself so far from town. I pulled the key from my pocket and inserted it into the dull brass lock, the working of the mechanism echoed under the porch overhang.

I pushed the door aside slowly, and stepped through, the room before me was like stepping into a museum. Two mirror-like stairs wound from each side of the foyer toward the floor above, only to connect again by a grand balcony on the second floor. I stepped across the marble tile and fingered a three leg table covered in thick dust, centered below a wide oval mirror.

I moved around the room inspecting the deep cherry woodwork, the trim was exceptional and still held a soft shine of a bygone era. I stood at one of the inside windows curved like the door, another matching window was positioned directly opposite. I touched the ancient glass now distorted, creating misshapen images of the property beyond.

Here or there were small chunks of plaster that had fallen from the wall at some point in time, dust lay thick and heavy on everything. "It does have its possibilities." I thought aloud as I began to move into an adjacent room also in the same state of disrepair. Looming before me was a huge room, silk tapestry still hanging upon the walls. I entered slowly, testing the stability of the floor.

I could only see two items of furniture in the room, a huge table that looked as it were almost twenty feet long, and a single wooden chair. The chair missing a leg was lying on the floor next to the great table. Both covered in a thick layer of dust.

Across the room was a long fireplace, the mantle seemed to be made of the same Red Cherry, matching that of the trim. I moved slowly, still testing the inlaid flooring with each step that I took. At the mantle, I examined the wood closer, its wonderful wood grain was blackened by many fires built over time, with some cleaning it could be brought back to its original beauty. I walked back out of the room and across the foyer to the doorway on the other side; there I found what looked to be a den or library. Tall impressive cabinets were built right into the wall, again made of the dark Cherry wood. The room was empty of anything valuable, only dust and a few broken pieces of plaster remained.

In all, I found seven more rooms like this on the first floor, every one empty of its contents and strewn with both dust and broken plaster. I worked my way back around to the twin staircases where gradually, I touched the banister, well worn with age. I kept my steps close to the side I was on, fear of a weakened center as I ascended the stairs.

Once on the second level I looked back down the stairs, each step marked with my shoe print in the thick dust. Glancing toward the ceiling I studied a crystal chandelier, the luster of the cut glass dimmed under the weight of dust and cobwebs.

"Okay Uncle... where to next?" I sighed, talking to my deceased uncle. I began to move down the hall to my right, examining the rooms that were unlocked. Only one was found to be locked, to enter there, I would need a key. I continued on, mentally reminding myself to return to the locked room when my initial examination was finished.

On and on I walked. Here... was possibly a maid's quarters, there... a butler's. Still another room appeared to be some type of guest bedroom, its contents long gone and empty. Further and further down the dimly lit hall I moved, until I arrived at a long narrow stairway leading down into what I assumed was the kitchen or laundry. At the bottom of the steps I found two rooms, as I suspected, the first was the laundry. A quick examination in the dark dungeon like room, revealed nothing more than a single long table where they may have folded their clothing. Opposite this room was another brighter room, to this I walked into.

A few empty jars lined an old shelf; empty spice tins lay scattered in the dust. The tracks, where a small rodent scurried across the floor were visible in the dust. On a wide stove I saw an old copper pot laying on its side, a large spider making the distance between the handle and the stove back its home. I shuddered and quickly turned back up the steps, returning to the safety of the second floor.

At the top of the steps I turned toward my right, continuing down the hall. I found a small room that at some point was converted into a bathroom, a heavy claw foot tub sat like a sentinel... watching over a room long unused. I pushed open a cabinet in the room, suddenly a bottle fell into the pedestal sink sending shards of glass scattering from the impact. I stepped back quickly to avoid being cut and watched them slide across the polished wood floor until they came to a stop.

"Okay... that was just too damn exciting..." I blew out slowly, trying to control my breathing and racing heart.

Leaving the bathroom, I continued down the hall checking the empty rooms until I found my way back to the head of the second stairs. I glanced back toward the steps, a second set of prints were visible in the dust next to mine. I felt the short hairs on my neck rise.

"Okay... who's my visitor?" I looked back down the hall where I had first gone down since I had passed no one down the last. I frowned and looked back to the stairs, figuring on trying to get an idea on whether my visitor was large or small, male or female.

At the rail that framed the balcony I again peered over the edge at the steps, "...oh shit..." I gasped. Now there was only one set of steps coming up... mine... the other one was gone. I walked back to the top of the stairs and examined again, only my steps were visible in the disturbed dust. I rolled my eyes at my blunder, sighing to myself, "Dumb ass... what the hell you trying to do? Scare yourself to death?" I shrugged and chalked it up to just seeing things and drummed my fingers against the dark Cherry handrail.

I glanced down toward the room that had been locked, fingering the key that unlocked the big outside door. Again, I wondered if the key I held would open that door. Gradually, almost hesitatingly, I approached the door as if I were sneaking up on a wild animal. Examining the key, I determined it was the same type that may have locked this door... I pushed it into the lock and turned.

After a hard click, the door swung open... I poked my head inside and whistled, "Jackpot!" I shouted. This room, and only this room, still remained much as it did back in the days of Caroline. Still in the hall, I lowered my bag to the floor, thankful to be finally rid of it and being able to rest my sore shoulder. Quietly, I stepped inside and began to glance about the eerily quiet room, probably the only person to do so in dozens of years. "Everything... everything's here." I chuckled as I fingered the headboard of the antique high bed, gently pushing the mattress that was still upon the old bed. "Springs seem fine..." I mused.

In the corner was a tall straight back chair, next to that was a dresser with a beveled glass mirror. I crossed the room and pulled open one drawer, decaying scraps of tiny silk hankies were all folded and laying as they had been for years and years.

I looked back to the door, "Now... why were you locked?" I frowned and tapped the key nervously in my other palm. "...and... why didn't they empty this room when they took everything else away?" I tapped my chin in deep thought, "Just who's bedroom did you belong to... Caroline or Adrienne?" I was pretty sure that it was a female's room, the contents that remained spoke volumes to that fact. It was an interesting puzzle, one that I may never know the answer to.

Again I opened up another dresser drawer, only a few remnants of clothing remained... all eaten by moths and other types of pests. I touched one cloth, only to have it fragment in my hand and crumble into the bottom of the drawer. "How long has this been here?" I scratched my head using the key's teeth.

As I wondered, I happened to glance at an old photo hanging out from the wall suspended on a thin rusty wire. I leaned in closer to get a better look at the faded images within the frame, there were two very pretty light haired girls sitting on a long porch swing. They smiled before the camera. I recognized the area of the photo, it was taken just outside near the door where I entered. By guesstimate, I figured that it was taken around 1910.

I moved to another photo suspended on the other wall, it too was faded from exposure to the sun. I could see a young woman, exceptionally beautiful standing near a window. I quickly looked around the room, the window was there beside me. Behind her on the wall, was a dark shape... almost as a shadow of maybe the photographer or someone in the room. Its shape seemed male. Suddenly the hairs rose on my neck, I felt a chill race down my spine.

I shrugged it off and looked closer at the image, pulling it from the wall. Again the chill raced along my spine, causing me to shudder. She didn't seem to be unhappy; she was eying the camera in a sort of lustful way... almost flirting with someone either taking the picture or behind the photographer. Again the Goosebumps rose along my arms, I gently hung the picture back on the rusty square nail. I looked through the distorted window outside, this high vantage gave me an exceptional look at the surrounding property. From here I could see the ill fated pond that was the cause of the young boy's death.

I turned back into the room and looked at the bed, pulling back the covers I was a bit amazed at its condition. Although dusty, it still was in remarkable shape... nothing like the contents of the dresser.

One by one I went through the covers, the first one seemed to explode into dust as I shook them. The second and third only seemed to have been slightly weakened. I pulled back the second blanket and let it fall to the floor at the foot of the bed. The third blanket was fairly complete, almost useable if it weren't for the dust. This one I gathered in my arms and began to vigorously shake out, coughing as I did.

I felt around on the bed, surprisingly intact and relatively clean. I tossed the blanket on the end and sat down on the surprisingly soft bed. "This should work nicely..." I thought as I stretched out. Slowly I rolled to my side and sat up, swung my feet to the floor and headed into the hall where I laid my bag.

I picked it up and tossed it in the room where it landed on the bed, turning I headed down the hall where I bounded down the steps like some little kid. Through the beautiful curved door and outside I strolled, fishing my keys from deep inside my pants pocket.

I hummed my way to the car and unlocked the trunk so I could get out my gas lantern and Louis L'Amour western book. I grabbed the handle of my little cooler that contained my supper, and a few drinks. I sat it on the gravel so I could close the trunk, a slight shiver rolled across my back...

I picked up the cooler, and had the strangest feeling of being watched. I looked back over my shoulder at the lane, then up toward the house. For the briefest of moments I thought I saw the face of a beautiful young woman as she looked down from an upstairs window. Upon second glance, I saw the reflection of the swaying trees as they bent under the gentle breeze. "Stupid ass..." I chuckled to myself.

I stopped at the door of the car and flipped the seat forward to pull out my sleeping bag and pillow. Under each arm, I carried these cumbersome items up to the room. As I approached the door to the bedroom I noticed it was closed, slowly I lowered my items to the floor. My hand shot to the knob and was surprised to again find it locked. I frowned, pushing my hand into my pocket for the key. I unlocked it, and using my foot, pushed the items from the hall into the room.

I slid the cooler next to the dresser and tossed the pillow and sleeping bag on the bed over my shoulder. Sitting the gas lantern on the little nightstand that was next to the bed I dropped my book on the pillow. There I hesitated, a slow rolling chill crept up my back and stopped at my neck. Before me was the bed, only now... it had been made. I knitted my brows, trying to recall if I had done this before I went down to the car. "What the heck is going on..." I said, scratching my head.

I began looking for my overnight bag, I found it neatly folded and laying on the seat of the little chair in the corner. I raised a trembling hand to my mouth, "Okay... so... so where's the clothes that were inside?" My voice quivered from the strangeness of my situation. I looked at a dresser drawer that was slightly ajar, reaching out, I slowly pulled it open. There inside, were all my belongings. "Oh... that's just too freaky for my taste..."

I swallowed hard and turned back toward the bed, "...how the hell?" I gasped, the words sounding like steam from an old radiator. My pillow was lying at the head of the bed; the sleeping bag had been unrolled and was neatly stretched out over the blankets. I took a deep breath, "Okay... spook, I won't be chased out of here... so you can just quit your damn funny business, right now." I bit my lip, hoping that nothing would answer my challenge. All was quiet.

I contemplated bolting for my car, but I didn't want to show this poltergeist the fear that was collecting in my heart. I slowly strolled back into the hallway and toward the steps, easing my way down them and out on the porch. As I started down the outside steps, I again had a feeling of being watched, I could almost feel peering eyes coming from the bedroom window.

I made it like I was looking around and made a quick grab for the door of the car, only to find it locked... my keys lying inside, on the seat. "SHIT!!" I cursed.

I heard a giggle, it sounded far off as if carried on a breeze. I turned and stared at the window, only the reflection of the tree was looking down at me. I glanced back into the car, disgusted with my predicament. "How the hell could I leave them in there? I was sure I stuffed them back in my pocket after emptying the trunk... damn." I slapped the roof of the car, "How could I be so stupid!" I felt my pocket, still not believing what I was seeing. The only key in my pocket was the one for the house. "Shit... shit... SHIT!" I growled in frustration.

A great shadow fell across the land, sweeping the sunlight from the yard. I looked up at the sky, as great billowing clouds came rolling in, signaling an oncoming storm. "That's just freaking great..." I pounded the hood of my car in anger, a low rumble of thunder rolled to my ears. I looked across the open meadow toward the direction the storm was coming from, a thick veil of haze signaled the rapidly approaching rain.

I began heading back toward the safety of the porch as the deluge began in earnest, great watery projectiles stung my face and neck as I started running up the steps.

A loud clap of thunder and brilliant flash of lightning split the sky, sending me scurrying into the dry house. I stood at the window and frowned at the rain as it fell almost sideways. I sighed, my breath causing a fog to form against the glass in the door, "Just great... just freaking great..."

Now I was soaked to the bone, my hair dripping from being suddenly caught in that torrent. I looked back up the stairs to the bedroom; I knew that I had dry clothes up there. I shrugged and turned back up the steps, I wasn't really afraid, because whatever was in that room hadn't tried to harm me yet... but I didn't want to take that chance... if I could help it.

I stopped on the top step; the door was open like I had left it. I slowly approached the doorway, looking around the corner I peeked inside. Nothing seemed any different from when I left. I stepped inside the room and closed the door quietly behind me, "Yeah... as if that's going to help." I mumbled almost causing me to laugh. I looked at the window, the bright shards of lightning knifed across the blackened sky, splitting the dark with hot flashes of brilliant light. I moved my arm over the bed as if trying to discover any hidden ghost that may be sitting there. I chuckled at my own paranoia, and threw my hand up in a waive of amusement. "Now I'm acting like a nut..." I kicked my soaked shoes from my feet and began unbuttoning my wet shirt, tossing it in the corner on the little chair. Soon followed by my dripping jeans and soaked underwear. I frowned and slowly opened the drawer, pulling out my dry clothes and setting them on the bed. I headed to the gas lantern and fished a small lighter from my discarded jean pocket, lighting the lantern I carried it back to the antique nightstand where I sat it down and pulled on my dry underwear.

I bent over the lantern and adjusted the glowing bulb to its brightest level, once satisfied; I laid my book next to the lantern and walked over to my cooler. Pulling out a sandwich and a package of cookies I carried it back to the bed and flopped down, propping my feet up on the end. I opened my cola, took a drink, and sat it back on the stand next to my western. My glance carried my eyes to the door; I rolled off the bed and locked it. I laughed again and sat back on the bed; I read a little and finished my sandwich. Strangely comforted by the simple effort of locking myself in a room.

Picking up a cookie I stuffed it into my mouth, then took another swig of the cola to wash the crumbs down. I held a cookie out and laughed, "I'd offer you one spook, but I doubt you could eat it..." My shadow being the only other occupant of the room... that I could see.

After an uneventful hour of reading, I had finished my package of cookies and was still nursing my cola. I had just taken another drink when as I was setting it back, in mid swallow I noticed a folded cloth lying where I had been sitting the can. I swallowed as I let the can rest on the cloth. "Okay... I see... you're a tidy poltergeist." I brushed the crumbs off my chest and tossed the wrapper back in the cooler. A slow rumble of thunder rolled, as if saying that it wasn't through storming yet. I watched the ground outside for a moment; the bright flashes of lightning lit the ground below with each little blast. Afraid of seeing some walking corpse crossing the lawn like an old "Twilight Zone" episode, I turned my back to the window. Still unsure whether sleeping here was a wise idea, but how else would I have known if the house would be worth fixing unless I came out for a two day visit?

I scratched my head and walked back toward the bed, picking up my book I began to read until my eyes started to feel heavy. I glanced at my watch, "7:35 PM" I sighed... outside it looked much later than that with the storm still grumbling on and on. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting off to sleep, the thunder soothing me like a baby being sung to by its mother. Deeper and deeper I felt myself fall... until sleep finally claimed me.

My mind was drifting in a restful slumber, floating along on a cloud of dreams. "Wake up sleepy head..." the whisper brought my eyes open with a start. I bolted upright and quickly scanned the room. Nothing was amiss. I wiped the sweat from my brow, desperately wanting to open a window I glanced to the outside. A bright flash warned me that outside, the storm still raged. Water streaked down the window from the heavy driving rain. Using my hand, I wiped the sweat from my upper lip and took a drink of my now flat cola. "...Yuck... that's bad."

I figured since I was now wide awake, I would read some more. I glanced toward my gas lantern, "Did I turn the lantern that low..." I gave the knob a slight twist, the glow brightened up the room. Glancing at my watch I saw that I had slept about three hours, it was going on 11:00 PM. I found my place and began reading again, drawn into the story further and further along I was pulled by the author.

I felt something touch my cheek, again my eyes opened with surprise. Thinking it was a spider, I moved my hand as to flip it off and away from my face. I sat up and glanced around, realizing that I had again fallen asleep. I looked down at the bed where my book had lain and couldn't find it; I peered over the edge of the bed thinking that it may have fallen on the floor. "Where the heck is that book?"

I sat up and looked back toward the lantern; there next to it was my book. The page marked with my braided book mark. I frowned, trying to recall if I had placed it there before falling asleep. Not coming up with anything, I shrugged and flipped aside the covers. I stretched out in the cool comfort of the bed and looked toward the lantern, "Had I turned the glow back again?" I shook my head and shrugged, after a quick glance at my watch reached over and turned it all the way down without actually turning it off. It was 11:37 PM. I fluffed the pillow under my head and settled in, again falling quickly asleep.

I had grown so cold during the night it woke me up, I slowly opened my eyes enough to see my watch... 12:54 AM. It was so bad that I could see my breath, unusual since it was early summer. I snuggled down into the covers, pulling them up around my ears and fell back to sleep.

Sometime later, while sleeping, my ears caught the steady breathing of someone other than me in the room. I opened my eyes, slowly raising my head and looking around... other than me, the room was vacant. I started to reach for the lamp; a strange faint blue aura was on my arm. Holding my hand close to my face I could see the bluish haze glowing lightly inside my hand and arm. Quickly I pulled the other from under the cover; it too had the faint blue aura. "What the..." I stopped, there were two distinct voices coming from my mouth. One of my own, the other lighter, higher, soft and seemingly younger.

I sat upright, the covers falling down around my waist. It was strange to see, almost horrifying in fact, I could see my own rising and falling chest... but somehow, the aura was holding the shape of two very pronounced breasts. I shot from the bed and landed on the floor, scrambling against the wall in fear. The aura was not on the bed anymore. I looked down at my body, the faint blue aura was brighter... a young female's form seemingly superimposed upon my own. It was following me.

"My God..." Our two voices spoke in unison. My hand shot to my mouth, her glowing image followed with mirror-like precision. I hazarded another look down; the ghostly aura was wearing some type of gown. Through the image I could see my own naked legs under her transparent image. I felt my knees weaken as I approached the mirror, trembling in fear.

Our hands reached for the dresser at exactly the same time, her hazy glow reflecting against the mirror. We both stepped into the reflection, her reflection and mine as one. I looked down at her, the ghostly aura moving in unison. Her round bosom, heaving in time with my own. Slowly my hand moved toward my mouth, the glow lighting our faces. Behind me a face slowly appeared, starting with a faint haze, then forming clearer and clearer into the same type of blue aura.

I spun quickly, facing the apparition... a muffled cry stuck in my throat. I fell against the dresser, the mirror rocking from the collision. I scrambled to my feet, the glowing passenger doing likewise, her silvery hair swinging the aura past my face as the other poltergeist began to form before my astonished eyes.

I dove for the door, our hands matched in time like some synchronized dancers. The aura and I grasped the knob and twisted; I pulled and tugged at the handle which refused to budge. It was then that I realized that I had locked the door. I saw the key laying on the stand, and threw myself toward it; the little female ghost and I grasped the key and bounded across the bed.

The other spirit was almost completely materialized before my eyes; he was tall and ruggedly handsome. I watched as he slowly floated toward the bed, I moved keeping it between us. Slowly he began to move in my direction, I slid around the foot of the bed. The small ghostly hands holding the post along with my own, he began to move toward me, a smile playing on his transparent lips.

I spun and made a dash for the window, my fingers fumbling at the ancient lock. Behind me I could see the male apparition moving closer and closer in the mirror. The lock wouldn't budge, I slammed my hands against the glass intending to break it and throw myself to the ground below. It wasn't that far, and I have jumped from a second story window before.

I glanced into the mirror, he was right behind me as I continued to slap at the glass. The feminine aura growing brighter and brighter, over my own shape. A great icy chill fell across my body as the large ghost touched my shoulder. I tried to dodge and ended up before the mirror, the young ghost form I had with me closed her eyes and smiled lustfully. I cringed and shook as a large transparent hand slowly encircled my waist, I could feel his cool breath near my neck.

I tried to scream, only an echoing moan escaped, my voice shadowing her own. Slowly the male ghost's hands began to stroke upwards, I could see her throwing her head back, somehow dragging my own in her pleasure. The male's hand finally came to rest on her breast, his kisses danced like snow upon my neck. Strange as it may seem, I could feel his touch upon her body. Slowly she raised her hands up behind her to place one on his neck, forcing his lips into her even more. I tried to stop my movement, but somehow... now she had control... my hands now were following her motions.

His hands gently caressed upward onto her shoulders, his cool kisses still dancing upon my warm skin. I shuddered, she moaned as he began to lower her thin straps down. His hazy blue aura traced her side, stroking the outside contour of her breast. I could almost feel her gown fall to the floor, in the mirror her breasts swung free... glowing against my flat chest.

His ghostly hand slid down the length of my arm, toward her slender fingers. I could feel him gently urging her to relax her grip from the dresser. I gripped tighter as he forced my hand away, pulling it gradually behind our backs. I couldn't tell whether I was in control or she... or even him for that matter.

I felt something touch the back of my thigh, I looked down, my female aura's hair swinging into the way. Again something touched me, I tried to pull away but the feminine spirit would have none of my efforts. As if an ice cube was suddenly shaped like a hand, such was the coolness that fell on each of my sides. The male ghost began to slowly force me forward over the dresser. The fear in my reflection came nowhere near matching the arousal of the girl's expression. I opened my mouth to scream, her erotic moan was all that I heard... gone was our dual voice.

As he bent our bodies over I glanced at the floor, my legs spread wide... I was naked. His bluish, transparent hands gently gripped my hips; his touch was more loving than harmful. I tried to pull away but the girlish ghost wouldn't release her control over my body. Slowly he pressed his icy muscle into an opening that I didn't have. A slight tingle swelled upward from my crotch, a feeling strange and alien. Her feminine moan rolled from my mouth like a sigh, he began to push into me with a steady rocking rhythm.

I could feel his hips through her ghostly hands; she was pulling him into herself with each thrust of his aura. The electricity intensified as the two apparitions coupled, I being the only witness to this strange occurrence. A helpless rider in this strange, erotic haunting.

His body twitched and slowly jettisoned the contents of his unseen penis into my body, my feminine parasite seemed to relish in the act. She moaned louder, not a moan like you would expect from a ghost... but rather the moan of a woman who enjoyed what her lover was doing. As his shaft lost its hardness, she allowed me to pull away from him. Slowly she and I turned back toward him as he gently bent down, his icy kiss tenderly touching my own. I tried to recoil but his hand had snaked up behind my head, I doubted if she would have let me anyway as her hands worked up around his neck. Between us her ghostly breasts were pressed, I could feel both of her nipples harden with his kisses.

His hand slowly slid down my naked flesh, an icy tendril stroking its way toward my bottom. I felt him gently raise me up from the floor, lifting me higher... our kiss unbroken. Higher I rose until my legs gently locked around his waist. In the mirror, by body floated, being carried by a glowing brilliant blue aura. The spirit of the female enjoying her lover's nearness, she laid our head on his shoulder. My astonished eyes watched me float away from the mirror, carried back toward the bed, by her partners glowing form.

Gently he laid us both on the bed where his transparent hand snuffed out my gas lantern, bathing us in complete darkness. Only their glowing blue auras casting a faint light around the room. His kisses fell softly on my neck, icy and lustful with a gentle touch. Even though he couldn't weigh anything, I could feel him lying upon my stomach, then gradually move lower so he could kiss his lovers breasts. She arched her back, forcing my chest closer to his icy kiss. Her gratified moan, echoing against the wall of the room as his cool kisses moved further down our body.

Even though his kisses were falling upon the iridescent blue spirit that had claimed my form, I could feel them dance past my navel and gently approach my nether region. I felt my eyes being drawn downward, to where my softened shaft lay motionless... "What has she done to me..." I wondered, tears rolling from the corners of my eyes. The male apparition gently began pressing his face into the hair between my thighs, I moved... no, she moved my thighs wider allowing him greater access. I shuddered as his icy tongue began to touch me in a most sensitive place. I felt an erotic gasp pass from my throat. He continued on burying his face between my legs until I could feel a lustful energy building from deep inside of me. The feeling slowly forced outward until I screamed, not with the voice I was used to... but with a voice of a woman deep into the throes of passion.

A feeling of need washed over my body, I could feel her pull the man from between our legs. She wanted him up where he could penetrate her; she was ready for a coupling that only a man and woman could partake in. I tried in earnest to pull myself away from their sexual passion; it was as though she wanted me along for the ride... a ride that I won't soon forget. Slowly the male moved up toward my... her breasts where he began to suckle them. I watched in horror as the glowing blue orbs on my chest swelled and hardened with his stimulation. Between my thighs I could feel his stiffening transparent muscle began to gently rise, under their own volition, they slowly spread to accept him.

I tried to fight her spirit, wanting her out of my body, suddenly more afraid than ever at what she was about to have me do. I felt my hands raise, she slowly pressed against his wide chest, my hand cool from the contact. He rolled over onto his back, his rising member pointing to the ceiling. I could feel her smiling as she moved down toward his hips and gently took our hands and touched his throbbing icy shaft. I closed my eyes; afraid of the ride that awaited me... she bent down over him. I felt my mouth part; a shudder ran through my entire body.

Slowly she kissed his glowing tip using my mouth; she began to perform an oral ministration on her ghostly lover. I fought for control as she began to straddle his thick leg with her knees, positioning herself for only God knows what. I felt my hand move toward my face, brushing aside her glowing, cascading locks from the way. Her head and mine continued to bob over the pulsing blue image of her lover, his hands holding her... our... face from backing away. He tensed under us; suddenly my mouth was filled with an icy crystallized mixture. I gagged and coughed, finally able to momentarily control my own body. I felt inside my mouth, the icy contents melted into nothing... the feeling was still there though as she swallowed using my throat.

Now the male began to smile, for his feminine love began crawling up his body where she straddled his waist. Each of my thighs were alongside his glowing form, as she slowly began settling down on him. I could feel him enter me, his wide icy shaft pressing into an area that I knew I didn't have, nor something God had never intended on my body. Again his hips and mine moved in unison, a feminine moan gasped from my lips. We rode like that for several minutes, her glowing hair falling against my chest. A feminine flip of our head sent it flying back over my shoulder. Beneath me I could see him close his eyes, completely through him I looked into my sunken pillow.

He leaned his head back and grunted softly, I felt him shudder beneath my body. Somewhere deep within her womb I felt a pulsing as he drove his ghostly seed into her. Slowly she sank forward, leaning against his chest still coupled in their haunting union.

Suddenly the door was thrown open, the two spirits jumped in fear; I felt my throat tighten as another youthful spirit burst into the room carrying a long barreled revolver. I screamed, jerking in horror wildly, the movement causing me to throw myself off the bed, finally able to break her control of my body. I sat trembling in the corner as the spirits faced each other.

The young female holding the revolver scowled hatefully at the lovers on the bed, her haunting voice echoed in my ears. "How dare you..."

The male apparition put his arm around the smaller naked female. "I told you that it was over..." He bellowed. I shrank further into the corner, hoping they didn't see me.

She swung the revolver toward the female, "I could kill you for what you've done to me!" The glowing spirit on the bed screamed as the male reached for the gun, it suddenly moved and barked quickly twice... his body rolled off the bed from the impact. The horrified look on his lovers face sent chills down my spine.

"See what you have done..." The one holding the revolver raced around the bed to look at the fallen man.

"Good God, Caroline... you've killed him!" The female spirit on the bed cried.

Fear rose in the eyes of the ghost holding the revolver, "What are we going to do... sister?" I suddenly sat up, my fear washing from my astonished body. This ghoulish reenactment was somehow an answer to the strange history of the Mooring House, unknown... until now.

The spirit called Caroline lowered the point of the revolver, "You have to help me bury him Adrienne..." Her spirited sister looked at her in shock.

"I'll do no such thing! You killed him... you bury him!" Adrienne retorted in contempt.

Slowly the gun was raised, "You stole him from me, you WILL help me bury him!"

Adrienne folded her arms across her breasts, "I will not!" She scowled at the glowing blue ghost that was her sister, "You'll have to kill me too because the first chance I get... I'll report you to the authorities! You're insane!" Her haughty smile slowly faded as the unmistakable sound of a revolver's hammer being pulled back. "No... Caroline... I..."

A great deafening roar fell across the silence of the room as the woman who had inhabited my body sank to the end of the bed, her pained expression washing from her face like the blood she was losing. "Fools!" The remaining spirit growled at the dead couple.

I sat shivering in the darkness as I watched her begin to drag the ghostly bodies one at a time down the hallway. Quickly using the time alone, I picked up my folded pants... thrust my legs into each hole and raced from the room carrying my shoes. On the front porch she rested her glowing body, sitting next to her handiwork. I fell silent as I waited just inside the great curved door; the ghoul pulled her sister out under a large swaying tree, through the dampened soil, she drug her sister's body.

I quickly slipped my shoes and socks on as she returned in silence to the male of the spirits. "Dear... dear Anthony... why?" She bent low over him and cried, kissing his cheek. Slowly she stood, also dragging him from the porch and across the muddied yard where he lay next to his dead lover. During this time, I stole away toward my car... crouching down behind it.

She bent down and picked up a long shovel, silently crying, she began to dig under the wide spreading branches of the great tree. Before my astonished eyes, they each faded from view, vaporizing into the early morning mist that was floating just above the ground. I fell along side the car and buried my face into my hands, bawling like a child for the fear and sheer terror I had just been put through. I crawled around to the front of the Buick, still trembling from my ordeal. I sat leaning against my left front tire, eyes focused upon the spot where I saw the three vanish.

For almost four hours I sat fixated at the spot where the bodies had been buried, slowly I rose to my feet and leaned in exhaustion against the roof of my car. My eyes were pulled down, drawn by the unmistakable sight of the door button sitting high in the air. "No..." I sighed, as I noticed the door was unlocked.

I opened it up, and placed my right foot inside the car... the muscles inside my thighs aching in pain. I lowered myself into the seat and closed the door, not sure of what to do. I inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, the car roared to life. Putting it into gear I headed around the little circle and back out the drive. I knew one thing; I had to make a stop at the police station before I did anything.

Yet that day, the Coroner had a team of specialists out at the house, they discovered the bodies of Adrienne and Anthony in the single unmarked grave. Their bones entwined as if in a perpetual embrace... here in this unmarked grave of the young lovers.

***

One year and seven months later I sat sipping tea on the great porch; my contractor leaned against the railing. "It's done... sure looks beautiful." He pointed toward the house and smiled.

I nodded and sat my cup down, "...And the room?"

"I don't have a clue why... but we left it just as you asked." He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I guess if you can sign this form here... we'll be leaving." He held out a clipboard and a pen.

I took the pen from him and quickly scribbled my name, "Thanks for all you guys have done around here... It really looks wonderful."

He straightened up and pushed the pen into his pocket, "So that's where you found the bodies?" Indicating the base of the large tree with his pen. I nodded, picking up my glass.

"I can't understand why you buried them back in there..." He shook his head, "It'd give me the creeps." He said as he looked toward the pristine graves that lay beside the tree, meticulously maintained flower beds grew profusely inside a period wrought iron fence.

I smiled and took another sip of the cold drink, "I have my reasons..." I laughed as he shuddered like he was having a sudden chill.

"Well... ah... thanks." He backed down the porch, and headed out to his van where his crew had been waiting. I gave them a short wave as they drove off into the setting Vermont sun.

I enjoyed the darkness which fell slowly; when it had come, I gathered my empty glass and headed into the house, now richly decorated from the earnings off the book I had just written. I walked past the foyer and headed up the stairs to the bedroom where it all happened.

I opened the door slowly and entered, looking much as it had for almost a hundred years. I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed each shoe across the room by the corner, my pants quickly followed. I turned off the light, closed my eyes and waited, listening for any sound to be heard in my room. Slowly an icy chill ran along my spine, I stood up and slowly walked toward the dresser... facing the reflective surface of the mirror.

"Adrienne... are you there?" I whispered softly as I stood before her mirror.

A ghostly haunting whisper responded, "I am here..." I raised my eyes to the reflection of the beautiful naked ghost. Her face slowly appearing over my own. We both looked down, our hand resting and slowly making small circles over her erect nipples. I looked behind me, there appeared Anthony, his chilling kiss fell along my neck and exposed shoulder. I felt us both shudder with passion.

"Thank you..." He whispered in my ear. "For everything..."

I felt my head lean against his chest; my eyes caught the reflection of the loving couple in the mirror. Somehow they were able to return alone, broken of their burden of Caroline. The young lovers had crossed the boundaries and were again using my body... I had become a sort of channel for their love and desires.

Call me a ghoulish host if you will, but all of what I have, they made possible. It was because of them and their love that I sat down to write our story. I did it for them... their passion and love for one and another. Trying only to cement our bond between the here, and hereafter. This house is for them... and I am only their guest.

***

Max made his choice, forever to be included as the only "living" guest of the Mooring House. A house built upon the firm but gently rolling lands, down a quiet sleepy little gravel drive known to lead directly into... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

The End

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE."

- Rod Serling

***

Somewhere within the darkened hallways of the Steward Manor, lurks an entity seeking to claim his lost love, a love which can only be found by entering through a doorway into...The Twilight Zone!

***

“Hey Nub, come inside, Dan wants to see you!” The older woman called out to me as I sat on the bale of straw. I was there to stake out my spot at the haunted manor that we had been setting up all week. I wanted to be the guy that jumps out at the people that come through the gate; I was waiting on the bunch inside to finish their cast meeting.

“Why?” I hollered back, as I reluctantly started to walk toward the old brick building. It was a historic home with a grim past, everyone in town said it was haunted. A group in town had permission to use it as a charity project and collect donations for our worthy cause; I was here because I just wanted to scare people as I had every year since I was old enough.

She never answered, preferring to wait until I got into the room where all of them were meeting. As I entered the room where they were meeting, all faces turned looked up. “So…what’s up?” I asked, looking curiously at them.

Dan sat up and folded his arms; he was a large man with big bushy sideburns. “This meeting is supposed to be an ALL cast meeting Nub, you are a part of that too so we’ll need your input as well. So, that being said, we have a problem.”

“Well whatever it is; I didn’t do it.” I replied honestly.

“We’ve been talking amongst ourselves and…well, you know we’re setting up the manor for Halloween and we still need someone to play the part of Natalie Steward.” He waited until his words sank into my brain.

“So? I thought Miss. Becky was going to be Natalie?” I asked, taking a seat at the table.

“She would have but she’s got kidney stones and had to have surgery this morning.” An older woman replied to the question about her sister. Becky was the right size, they would have had to get her to wear a wig or color her graying hair some.

“That sucks. I guess we’ll just get a new Natalie then.” I replied, seeing the logic of my suggestion.

“That’s the problem.” Dan sighed with frustration. “The manor opens up tomorrow night and we don’t have time to go out searching for another Natalie. Besides, Miss. Becky and one other person were small enough in our cast, to fit into the costume we have for Natalie.”

“Okay, so…get that person to be Natalie. There. Problem solved.” I laughed and looked at the seriousness on their faces. “Who’s the other person?”

“You…” Dan replied bluntly.

“Oh - hell no!” I shot back, “There is no way that I’m dressing up as some Victorian lady just so we can do our haunted manor! Hell no!” I snapped.

Mrs. Yarnell, Becky’s sister put her hand on my arm, “It’s the only thing we can do. Think of our charity, this is how we raise money for them every year! We can keep it quiet.”

“Not a freaking chance! Do you realize what my friends would say about or to me if word got out that I’m in here and dressed as Natalie? I’ll never live it down!” I threw my hands up and began to pace back and forth with anxious energy. “I’ll be a laughing stock!”

“They’ll never know. No one here will say anything, so your secret would be safe.” Another of the cast interjected, “We’re all friends here, and we can keep a lid on this.”

I stood with my mouth agape, looking from one to another in bewildered shock. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this!”

“We raised almost $13,000 last year in running the haunted manor; do you want to jeopardize that much money? Think about our charity? Think of all the good they could do with so much money?” Dan was standing now and practically pleading with me.

“You can just stop with the guilt anytime soon; I’ll do it damn it, but only because of what it would mean to the charity.” I folded my arms in frustration, scowling my displeasure over the entire situation. “Not a word of this gets out or I’m gone! Oh…and next year, the gate is mine!” I said with a wry smile, knowing that I had them over a barrel and they’d likely give me anything to play Natalie.

“It’s a deal!” Dan said, “For the duration of the Steward haunted manor, you’ll be Natalie. Next year, for doing this, you can have any dang part you want!”

With hesitation, I shook his hand as he extended it. I really didn’t want to do it but it may be a cool part, but I didn’t want them to know I was remotely close to being interested in doing it.

Early the next morning the cast scheduled to meet and get ourselves ready; Mrs. Yarnell was there to help me. “Sorry to hear about Miss. Becky’s surgery.” I said as I was helping her sister get boxes of vintage looking clothing from the back of her van.

After Mrs. Yarnell’s husband passed away, she and her sister moved in together to set up manor in an attempt to stay afloat in today’s economy. The older woman laughed as she stacked another box on the first I carried. “Doc told her to take it easy for the next couple weeks; she was sad to miss this year but hoped everyone would understand.”

“What did she say when she heard I was playing the role of Natalie?” I said with a laugh.

“She laughed when I told her, but told me to tell you to be careful.” Replied Mrs. Yarnell as she was pulling the dress carefully from the back seat.

“Careful? Why is that?” I asked as I walked with the boxes around to wait on her.

“Becky said that in the past, she’s been pinched on the rump and groped while playing that part.” She raised her penciled eyebrows and looked up at me.

“I guess I should expect that from people, with it being dark inside the manor and all. Folks will try just about anything in the dark.” I frowned and waited for her to lock up her car and retrieve a box she had sat on the roof. “They touch me and they’ll get a surprise; I’ll knock them in the head.”

She laughed, as she draped the dress over the box and began to walk. “Oh, I don’t think she meant the guests pinched or groped her.”

“Not the guests?” I asked, momentarily unsure, “You mean…ghosts?”

“Not all of them, Nub, just the one.” She said as she held the door for me to enter into the old home.

“That’s so cool! It’d be awesome to have a ghost touch me…sure it’d scare the hell out of me, but it’d be awesome!” I have always considered myself like a junior ghost hunter and actually given the chance to meet one, would just make my day! “So, who is it that she thinks is touching her while in costume?”

“Ephraim Steward, Natalie’s husband.” She said as I followed her into the room where the cast was to get ready. “Ep was very much in love with Natalie, when the war came he didn’t want to leave her here alone. When she disappeared during the battle, many folks thought that the Confederates had kidnapped and had their way with her.”

“That’d suck.” I replied sullenly and sat the boxes down, “I wasn’t aware that the Confederates got this far into town?”

“There were little skirmishes all over this part of town; it took the Union three days to push them out entirely.” She spoke as she hung the dress on an ornate hook in the wall.

“They never found her then?” I asked, not really knowing the entire story of Natalie Steward.

She shook her head, “Some think she was killed during the battle, some think she was kidnapped and killed by the Confederates, others think that Ep snuck her out during the battle and they ran off somewhere. They just never found her body.” She shrugged her shoulders and began to sort out items in the boxes.

“What became of Ep then?” I asked as I began to open the second box for her.

“Ep was reported ‘MIA’, Missing in Action late on the first day of fighting.” She calmly brushed out a petticoat and laid it aside.

“Then he wasn’t killed.” I suggested.

“No one really knows. In those days, many young men killed, were laid in a common grave if they couldn’t identify them. The ones identified, either were buried properly or sent to family back home.” She shook out a second petticoat with silken bows around its bottom and laid it too aside.

“So why do we even need Natalie? It seems like if she disappeared, she shouldn’t be around here.” I reminded her as I started to remove my present day clothing and got down to my boxers.

“A few years back, there were some folks here who do the paranormal investigations that got some voice recordings that they thought might be from Natalie, of course there were many years of folks that it could have been.”

“No kidding? That is so cool, what did they say?” I asked, shivering as she handed me bloomers to pull over my boxers. “I love those paranormal investigation shows!”

She laughed, “I don’t remember what was said, but the people say they heard whispering, knocks and bangs; you know, the usual haunted stuff.”

“Residual haunting then…” I replied, trying to sound knowledgeable as I struggled into the satiny corset and waited while she began to lace it.

“I really don’t know…what I do know though is we had better get a move on or we will never get you ready.” She pulled at the strings tightly then worked the slack from the laces and drew it tightly again. Once she was satisfied, she handed me a long, plain cotton shirt.

As I was pulling it over my head, I felt the constriction from the corset as it drew in my waist and prevented much movement. The shirt covered my arms and was squared off at the bust; with the help of the corset it gave the viewer an illusion of youthful breasts, even to the point of believable cleavage. The sleeves were slightly wider just before the cuff and gave a billowy, feminine appearance.

The waist of the shirt ended at mid thigh, apparent that it was intended to be worn beneath a dress. As I was thankful that our conversation was taking my mind away from the character I was about to play, it still irked me that I had to go through it at all.

Mrs. Yarnell handed me a white pair of boots, they had a three inch heel and laces from the toe to the top. “I sure hope these fit, they were the biggest size that Becky had. Go ahead and put them on, it’ll be easier to do now before the petticoats and dress go on.”

I took them from her and pushed my foot into it, while tight; it was still comfortable enough to wear for awhile. Working the button hooks, I drew it tight and stood. “It feels about like wearing a cowboy boot.” I commented as I walked a few steps. “A little higher than I’m used to, but I think I’ll survive.”

I turned and Mrs. Yarnell handed me the first of two petticoats, “Step into the center, pull it up and tie it off to the ringlets at the bottom of your corset.” I did as she bid and with her help, I tied it off. Quickly following the first, I drew up the second of the petticoats and began tying it off.

“What you planning on doing about the hair?” I asked as she tied the last string to the ringlet in the back of the corset. “That’s what the box I carried in is for; but I have to wait until you are done with makeup.”

Both of the petticoats were long and almost touched the floor, the second one being slightly longer with white silken lace bows around the bottom. As I was studying the clothing I wore, she got the dress from the hook and held it out for me.

“Put your head into the hole and thread your arms into the sleeves.” I follow her instructions as she worked it down over my shoulders and gently guided its copious material over the petticoats.

It had a strange color to it, silken and yet almost resembled the reflective material of an old time movie screen. “Why does the color look so strange?”

“That’s Dan’s doing. The lighting upstairs has weird effects on the dress; it almost makes it blend in with the background better.” She knelt down and fluffed and billowed out the bottom. The dress ended in lace, slightly shorter than the second petticoat, allowing the silken bows to show.

“Cool, sort of makes me transparent; like a real ghost.” I smiled, thinking of the scares I was going to give our visitors.

“That’s his hope; you never really know until we get it under those lights.” She said as she made me slowly turn.

As I was standing there, a chubby lady walked in and sat a small suitcase on a desk. “This is Mary; she’s volunteered to do our makeup for us this year.” I groaned because I had never met Mary before and as sure as poop stinks; she’ll blab my identity out and I’ll be had!

“Just relax, Mary said, I know the reason you were asked and I could care less. Sit down; I don’t have much time to waste.” She spoke coldly and pointed to a chair beside the desk.

I sat down as she stood and opened up a jar, “Close your mouth and eyes; hold still.”

I closed my eyes and waited as she spread the strange substance all over my face and neck; even to the point of coating my ears and eyelids. After several minutes she sat the jar down, “Okay now, you can open your eyes.” Mary said as she began to spread the strange substance on my neck and chest right up to where the dress began.

My eyelids felt heavy and strange as I opened them. She finished and turned back toward her suitcase, “Look up”, she said as she turned back and approached my eye with a tube of white.

“Wait a minute, what’s that?” I asked, pulling away from her advance.

“It’s just white mascara; it’ll make your lashes feminine looking but eerily white.” She began to stroke the little brush up my lashes, coating them with the white substance. “It’ll make you look ghostly; but to keep them feminine.”

“I don’t know if I should be glad or what at that comment.” I groused as she continued to apply it to my eyes, both upper lashes and lower until they looked like a weed in heavy frost.

Above my eyes, she dusted them with a smoky gray powder, and then smoothed it out using a cotton swab. She wiped a small dab between my pectoral muscles, and then spread it out, the illusion it gave was that I possessed cleavage greater than I had wearing the tight corset. She then turned to working on my cheeks, “With the blueness of your eyes, this will give you a real ghostly appearance.”

“Can I see?” I asked.

“Not just yet Nub, I have to do your lips first.” She gently lined my mouth with a gray pen, “You have very nice lips for a guy.” As she spoke, she began to paint a liquid over my lips, making them only slightly darker than what was on my skin.

“This liquid will dry slightly shiny, but has mixed with the darker gray liner and will be a decent contrast between your skin and lips. She stepped back and admired her work, reached behind her and pulled from the suitcase a pair of dangling Victorian era earrings which were clipped onto my earlobes.

“She looks pretty good if I do say so myself.” Mary said as looked over her shoulder toward Mrs. Yarnell. “It’s a good thing for us that you had such a slender build.”

“It’s uncanny the resemblance.” She said slowly shaking her head. “I don’t think you should fear any about being found out.”

“Let’s get the hair on our Natalie.” Mary spoke as Mrs. Yarnell opened the box and removed a wig. “Whoa, that’s really dark!”

“I know, but it’s the only one the store had that would fit in the Victorian time period.” She said as she removed the little Styrofoam form from beneath the wig and handed it to Mary.

“It’ll be okay, I have some spray that will make it suitable and more believable to suit our purpose.” She reached into the suitcase and removed a spray can and slowly rotated the wig as she sprayed. After about ten minutes of spraying, she seemed satisfied and pronounced it complete.

As soon as she felt it was dry enough, she added spirit gum to the edges and carefully placed it on my head; being sure to completely cover my own hair. Smiling she raised herself up, “I present, Lady Natalie Steward!”

“Hello.” Someone whispered from the hall, we all turned toward the doorway, there was nobody there. Mrs. Yarnell walked to the hall and peered out to see who had called us.

“There’s no one there!” She said, looking slightly afraid.

“Cool, our first actual paranormal experience!” I said, my voice uncharacteristically coming out of this feminine looking body.

“I’m betting one of the other guys did it and just wants to frighten us!” Mary said as she began to push my sleeves up enough to use the white pasty substance on my arms. “It was probably Dan or one of the other cast members.”

“Maybe, but…wouldn’t it be cool if it wasn’t?” I said with a smile.

“You better start using a more feminine voice and mannerisms or you’re going to be caught by someone you know!”

I practiced for a few minutes under both of their direction, finally they were satisfied that I was as good as I would ever get. Using my ‘new’ voice, I slowly walked out into the hallway. “Hello?” I cooed syrupy, the dress I wore rustling with each step.

I heard the front door close, I turned quickly, startled to see Dan walk in. “Whoa, you look creepy!” He said upon seeing me, “I’d never have thought you were anything but a girl; damn Mary sure did a job on you! You look a hundred percent female”

“That’s good to know.” I said keeping within my character. “Now, where am I to steak out for the night of haunting?”

“There’s a bedroom upstairs that was hers, that’s where our ‘guests’ should see her. I got all the lighting set up and ready last night so all we have to do is start.” He said pointing in the general direction.

“Can I go on in?” I asked, “Maybe I can figure out something to do as the visitors go filing past.

“Becky always just sat at the vanity and combed her hair…it always worked for her.” He replied as we both began to walk toward the stairs, Mrs. Yarnell and Mary started working on her costume, it was quite elaborate but not as much as the one I had on. Mrs. Yarnell was the cast member who would be taking donations out front.

Dan walked me up the stairs and pointed toward the bedroom, “That’s the room. Let’s go see how the lighting is on that dress.”

“Thanks!, this is going to be so awesome!” I said using my own voice, then laughed as Dan quickly looked up at me.

“You better watch that sort of slip up; keeping this under wraps will only work if you don’t screw it up!” He shook his head as I nodded and walked in behind me.

“You almost fade into the walls, it’s not the greatest, but it’ll do fairly well!” He said smiling at me. “I’m putting a velvet rope across the doorway, it’ll keep our visitors out of the room; just remember to remove it before you walk out or you’ll fall flat on your face.” In the dim light from the hallway, I watched him place the posts just outside the door, as he hooked the rope he waved and slowly walked back down the stairs to get himself ready.

Toward the back of the room I walked, entering the dress gently swaying as I moved. The lighting was eerie and cast odd darkened shadows across everything. A thick woven rug surrounded the bed, beyond that the wood flooring gleamed against the dim lighting. I slowly walked into the room and stood at the foot of her big four poster bed. “Hello?” I whispered, feeling suddenly stupid for calling out in the first place.

After hearing nothing I strolled over to the vanity, my heart skipping a beat at my reflection before realizing it was just me in makeup. I sat down at Natalie’s chair and studied myself in her mirror. While I cast a spooky image, there was still a strange inner beauty that I felt somewhat pleased with.

I smiled at myself coyly, “I guess if you have to be Natalie, you should be the best there ever was.”

“Natalie.” I heard the whisper, slow and drawn out; the mere sound of it created goose flesh upon my arms and the hair to rise upon my neck.

“Hello?” I asked softly, hoping that someone was actually trying to prank me. Inwardly, although it frightened me somewhat, I was strangely excited by the possibility of actual witnessing real paranormal activity.

I checked my fear and slowly turned to face the center of the room, “If you are hear with me, I don’t mind.” I said softly, keeping in character. I sat for a few seconds and listened, the only sound I heard was the cast getting ready for our haunting to begin.

“Go ahead and touch me, I won’t mind.” I whispered, peering into the eerily lit room, hoping to see, but afraid of seeing those shadow figures from the all the ghost shows.

I slowly turned my back to the room, hoping this sign of trust would enable the spirits in the manor to come forward. My eyes feared looking into her mirror, afraid that they would show someone in the room with me.

In direct contrast, the ghost hunter in me prayed that the darkness would reveal an apparition I so wanted to see. I began to fumble with a brush that was laying on the vanity, play acting and preening in the mirror. I tipped my head to the side, pretending to run the brush through my hair as something very cold touched the exposed side of my neck, just below the earrings. I froze, in mid-brush I hesitated and grew still.

“Did you just touch me?” I asked the empty room. I slowly reached up and touched the area where I felt the coldness. “Who is here with me?” I asked aloud, still maintaining my character thinking that if there is a ghost, they make think of me as Natalie.

I slowly turned around and gazed into the area behind me, no one was there. I was alone.

“Can you do that again?” I asked, closing my eyes and exposing my neck once again. I was offering myself up to be my very own trigger object. “Do that again! I don’t mind.” I pleaded; trying to make my voice sound as feminine as possible.

Once again the cold chill fell upon my neck, almost like two icy fingers gently touched the skin there. As I let my mind dwell on what I had just experienced, I realized that it wasn’t fingers that I felt but rather a kiss, tender and affectionate.

“Did you just kiss my neck?” I asked the silent room, “Do it again.” I whispered, using my own encounter as my experiment, bending my head to the side and once again offering my neck to my unseen visitor.

Once again I felt the strange coldness from ghostly lips, there could be no other explanation but the feeling of someone kissing my neck. This time though, the cold feeling was also low onto the wide area of my chest, as if an icy hand were place upon the surface of my skin.

“Whoa!” I squealed and stood, automatically touching the cold spots where I felt the touch, the chair I had been sitting in fell backward onto the floor.

I began to pace the room, “This is completely amazing! I can’t believe I’m actually experiencing the paranormal!” I said in a whisper, my voice soft and barely audible.

I heard boots upon the floorboard in the hall, looking up; Dan peeked into the room, he was dressed like a Confederate cavalryman. “You all settled in?”

“I think so. What if we need to use the restroom while we are at our post haunting?” I asked, trying to not look so nervous.

“We’ll have a ten minute break every two hours, if you have to pee, you’ll need to hold it until then.” He waited for a second, “If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll be going. Have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks!” I said as he was clumping down the hallway. The room grew strangely quiet; I sighed deeply and stood at the side of the bed, bending ever so slightly in the confined embrace of the corset and standing the chair back up. Moving to the window, I tried to see how long the lines were of the visitors buying tickets. Since it was still slightly light outside, the lines were not very long at all.

Through the course of the ‘tour’ that the guides were giving, I knew that I wouldn’t see anyone for almost a half hour. Sitting down on the big four poster bed I smoothed out the dress I wore and waited patiently, my mind still recalling the strangeness of my assumed kiss. I thought I’d attempt to make contact once again, even though I feared what could or would happen.

“Are you still in the room with me?” I asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Yessssss.” A voice nearby seemed to whisper, it was long and drawn out and ended up sounding much like the hiss of a snake.

“Are you Natalie Steward?” I whispered, almost fearing the answer.

“No.” The voice sounded as though it came from beside me, but I was seated on the bed…and alone.

“Are you Ephraim?” I wondered aloud. Almost as soon as I finished, I heard a knock on the wall. “Did you just knock? Can you do it again?”

Silence, nothing moved. I looked around me and everything appeared the same, outside I could hear more and more people lining up at the entrance to the haunt; their talking and laughter muted only by the distance. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the external sounds; only concentrating on the noise from this room.

Suddenly, there was a jarring of the bed; strong enough to cause me to feel it. It was almost as if someone had sat on the other side. With hesitation, I looked over my shoulder. If I tried to convince myself hard enough, I thought I could just make out the imprint that someone might make if they sat on the bed.

“Ephraim?” I asked softly, “Did you just sit down on the bed?”

The bed suddenly moved again, almost like whoever had been seated, now stood up. I again looked back of me, the indent was gone. “Shit!” I hissed in complete amazement.

Walking at the end of the hallway caused me to turn and face the door; several people were milling in the hall peering into the rooms. I took a position at the end of the bed, one hand on the post. As I stood waiting for them to pass, I felt a strange cold chill racing down my back, slightly around my waist and ending at what should be my breasts.

Before I could respond, the people were just outside the room I was in; the icy grasp was not forceful at all. It felt as though I was in the gentle hug of a lover, it was quite odd to say the least. I could feel the chilly grasp slowly manipulating my left pectoral as though my unseen visitor was caressing a woman’s breast.

I waited to move until after the group passed, in the hallway I heard one of them say, “That was Natalie’s room. She was pretty cool, better than last year?”

Another voice in the hall responded, “Yeah, I saw her, but…who’s the dude then?”

As soon as I could no longer hear them, I broke away from where I stood and spun to face my chilly visitor. “Not funny, not funny at all!” I spat, and pointed toward the nothingness that faced me.

“Are you Ephraim?” I asked out loud and into the silence once again.

My heart skipped as a shadow passed along the wall, the lighting from the hall outlining him in a definition that seemed unfathomable to me at the time. “Holy…” I gasped at the silhouette, the definite shape of a man in period vintage military clothing and not as large as Dan.

“Okay, now that was awesome!” I gushed, wishing that I had thought to bring a camera with me.

In the corner of the room a mist appeared, soft flowing edges seemed to dance in the darkened corner of the room. My eyes grew wide as I realized what I was seeing, but was it the same specter as the one who has been touching me? As it took on a more human shape, it suddenly shot across the room directly toward me. I fell backward against the post, unable to back away any further as it neared closer.

My breathing grew rapid, I’m sure my eyes were as large as saucers, the apparition stopping only inches from my face. I pressed my head into the ornate wooden post that held me from running away, coldness lightly touched my chin. I could feel what seemed to be a hand as it held my face, icy lips gently began to touch my own.

I couldn’t talk, fear racing throughout my mind and yet I felt amazement for the personal paranormal experience I was having. I could feel what could only be described as a hand against the pseudo swell of my breast, and then the kisses I had once felt on my lips began to return to my neck.

I began to pant uncontrollably, each breath forcing soft plums of icy vapor into the room. More sounds of people walking were heard growing louder outside the room in the hallway, their voices commenting as they looked in and eventually passed.

“Now that was pretty spooky!” One voice said.

“I wonder how they did it.” A female answered.

“It’s all done with lighting.” The first replied.

“I could swear that I could see right through the guy!” She said as they continued beyond earshot.

At that moment I realized that I no longer felt the visitor at my neck, its cold touch vacant from my body. Regaining my voice I slowly backed toward the door and pointed into the room, my thin arm swinging from one location to the next. “That kind of touching is going just a bit too far!”

I put my hands on my hips and frowned, “Lucky me to get the one room with a grabby apparition!”

I felt a tap on my shoulder, its suddenness startled me, I quickly spun around! “Holy Shit!” I squealed. Thankfully, Mrs. Yarnell was standing in the hallway.

“A few of our guests that passed through the manor have commented that you are the best Natalie we’ve had by far!” She laughed at my reaction and gave my shoulder a pat, “Becky will be so proud of you stepping in for this role!”

“Uh...thanks, I guess.” I said as I nervously stared back into the room.

“I have just one question for you, who is the guy that they are seeing you with?” She asked softly and peered into the room over my shoulder.

“That’s just what I’d like to know.” I replied also looking within the dimly lit room.

“Oh?” She wondered, quickly looking at me.

“There’s a ghost in this room; I’ve seen it with my own eyes!” I whispered softly, “It hasn’t really hurt me at all, but it has touched me.”

“Do you want me to get Dan?” She asked, hesitantly looking into the room further.

“No, I think I’ll be okay. It hasn’t done any harm and I doubt it will; so far, it’s only touched me a bit. I’ll just have to keep my guard up.” I frowned and folded my arms, studying the area where I had seen the apparition form.

“Well be careful!” She advised, and then quickly turned her head toward the stairs, “Sounds like more people are coming, so I guess I should be getting back to my post.” She turned and walked toward the group approaching, giving them an anemic haunting wail as she passed. They laughed, and then began to playfully mock her as they approached my room.

I stepped back into the darkness, my heels tapping against the wood floor and stood quietly waiting until they slowed outside of the room. As they peered in, I quickly moved toward them with a menacing look. Two of them screamed but I’m sure it was more from my sudden appearance than actually being frightened. As they were moving away, one boy hesitated and waived the rest of his group on.

“What’s your name?” He said, leaning against the jam of the door and looking in.

“Natalie.” I replied, staying in character and backing into the shadows enough so he couldn’t get a good look at my face.

“No, not who you’re supposed to be; your real name.” He smiled, trying to appear cute.

“I don’t have a real name. I’m a ghost, remember?” I replied back, attempting to sound coy.

“I’ll find out who you are.” He said as he grinned, “Do you go to school around here?”

“There’s no school for us ghosts.” I said back in my best spooky whisper.

“Well Natalie, I’d like to ask you out…but if you aren’t interested…” He broke off his sentence, trying to give me an opportunity to answer his offer.

“I already have a boyfriend.” I answered with a smile. “Perhaps you know him?”

“What’s his name, maybe I DO know him?” He smiled at me, trying to look handsome.

“His name is Ephraim.” I said slowly, almost hissing out the name, trying to be ghostly as possible.

The boy’s smile slowly faded away altogether, his eyes grew wide and he began to back away. Once his movement backward is stopped abruptly against the wall, he turned and began to run on down the hall. Almost as soon as he turned, I saw a wispy mist exit the room and turn in the same direction that he had.

I walked toward the door and into the direction where the boy ran, there was no one in the hallway so he must have ran completely down the exit stairs to the outside. Turning back into the room, I hurried to the window where I pulled aside the curtain and gazed outside.

It was dark; in the lamplight I could see people still in line. Several people were looking up and saw me, I could see them talking to each other. A few of them waived up at me, I demurely waved and as ghostly as possible, and allowed the curtain to fall once again.

Nothing else really happened to me for the rest of that night; my break came and allowed me to go to the bathroom. It was quite interesting going into a porta-john wearing several extra layers of the costume and still pee; I ended up holding most of the dress under my chin and hoping and praying that I was hitting the little trough at its side.

I decided for myself at that moment that a girl during the Victorian period had quite a rough go of it regarding bodily functions. On top of just going to the bathroom, she had to deal with the tight corset allowing her room to do almost nothing.

Thankfully, at midnight the manor closed for the evening and I retreated to the downstairs dressing rooms where Mary helped me remove all the makeup I wore. Mrs. Yarnell was there to assist me in removing the costume I had on. I headed out once I was me again, and got a ride to home with Dan since he only lived about a block from me and was going that way anyway.

I couldn’t sleep, no matter what I did my mind kept retracing all of the events that happened over the evening there in the Steward manor. When I closed my eyes, I would see the shadows and feel the icy touches from whatever haunted that room.

I laughed to myself at the poor misguided ghost of Ep, obviously thinking I was Natalie, dressed the way I was. It was like I was some sort of giant trigger object, and the others of the cast dressed the way they were, seemed to fuel all of the happenings within that room.

I rolled onto my side, pulling my covers up over my shoulder, one arm slid under the cool pillow. I remember thinking or reading somewhere that a scientist was trying to describe the reason why we are able to see ghosts, by saying that time does not follow a straight line. He likened it to a coiled spring with each era existing within one single coil and surmised that if you are seeing ghosts, you are actually viewing outside of your own coil and into another.

It was quite a deep way of thinking and it left me wondering perhaps they can view us as well? If you take credence to that scientists theory, should they view ghosts in their own era ‘coil’ they just might be seeing into ours, mistaking us for ghosts.

I was determined to not make the same mistake tomorrow as I had today, I would go to the manor, prepared to discover just who was in the room with me. Too much serious thinking left my poor brain exhausted; I rolled onto my back and slowly began drifting off to sleep all the while wondering what tomorrow might bring to this young paranormal ghost hunter.

The following afternoon, I filled my backpack with what I felt were essential items; a twenty ounce coke, a digital recorder, flashlight and my digital camera. Determined to be a ‘real’ paranormal ghost hunter like those I watched on TV, I wanted to be able to see and document whatever I found in that room; perhaps answering the question I had burning in my mind. Just what happened to Natalie and Ep?

Parking my bicycle at the side of the manor, I leaned it against the brick wall and walked around to the front entrance. I easily slipped past the cast members who were already there, making my way to the room and stashed the backpack I had carried with me between the vanity and the bed.

Once there, I began to search for a place to sit my digital recorder. Straight to the vanity I moved, I sat it down and pressed record. I was hopeful on catching some electronic voices made by the ghosts, which I suspected were in the room with me. I knew I would have enough battery unless the ghosts would drain it to use for their own manifestations.

I smiled, amazed that I was beginning to even think like an actual paranormal investigator. Carefully, I pushed it to the side so it could be hidden from the guests of our haunt. In a corner out of the way I sat my camera, flashlight and soda. Each item placed out of view, but within reach in the event I would need them.

Once I had everything where I wanted it, I retreated to ready myself in my Natalie costume. I knew what to expect once I walked into the room, as both Mary and Mrs. Yarnell was waiting on me. I took a seat and watched Mrs. Yarnell line up my costume, Mary began to prepare me for makeup.

“I heard you were quite good last night.” Mary commented as she smoothed the white powder out on my skin. “Many thought you were the spookiest of the entire cast.”

“That’s cool.” I replied calmly.

“Did you experience anything weird in the room?” Mary wondered aloud.

“Not too much, at least I could handle what I did have happen.

“I’d have run from the room screaming if I would have been touched like you said.” Mrs. Yarnell added.

“It just feels really cold.” I said with a shrug.

“No thank you sir! I’d fill my shorts if I were touched; like she said, I’d run from the room screaming to high heavens!”

I laughed and shrugged, wanting them to quit their yapping and get me done so I could investigate my room some more. After what seemed like the better part of an hour, I was done and thankfully released from my imposed prison.

As I walked out into the hall, Dan was entering for his turn at makeup, “I saw you rode your bike today; afraid of my driving?”

“No, I just am trying to get some good paranormal ghost voices on my digital recorder and I wanted to get home as soon as possible so I can copy them into my hard drive and see what I have.” I smiled, knowing Dan would appreciate my efforts.

“Let me know if you get anything. I’m a little miffed that I didn’t think of it.” He said with a frown.

“There’s always tomorrow.” I reminded him.

“That’s true, thanks for the idea.” He smiled as he headed in to take my vacated seat, allowing me time to scurry up the stairs as fast as I could in a dress and heels.

As soon as I stepped back into the room dressed as Natalie, the air changed remarkably; growing charged with a strange uneasy feeling. I quickly checked on the equipment I had left; everything appeared working in perfect order. I peeked out the window, the light outside was slowly dimming, being a Friday night; I had a feeling it would be quite busy.

As the evening progressed and dusk turned to night, I would take images with my digital camera at each down moment I could. Even as well prepared as I thought I was, I captured nothing on my camera. I only hoped I’d catch something on my digital voice recorder but it would have to wait until after we closed before I got a chance to listen to it.

I thought about how I would download the voice file into my hard drive once I got home and run it through the new program I purchased. It would probably take me a full day to go over all of the tape, just to catch one hopeful ghost voice.

So far though, I hadn’t heard much of anything; but that is the way it is with the paranormal. Sometimes you don’t think you have a thing until you are going over your equipment and then, WHAM! You get a class A electronic voice phenomenon; and that is what I hope and pray happens tonight.

During one quiet lull, I sat on the bed and asked questions, hoping beyond hope that I would get an answer on the recorder by the vanity. I heard no sounds; the room seemed as void as it looked. I frowned in frustration, thinking that if I would only have had my equipment on that first day, I would have had several perfect examples by now.

The evening wound down toward our midnight closing, I dejectedly gathered my belongings and headed toward the door, fearing that I had nothing on my recorder; especially when the only sounds I had heard all evening was the occasional knock somewhere within the room or footstep across the floor.

Picking up my bag and heading toward the door, I stepped off of the woven rug and felt my right ankle roll slightly under me due to the heels I was wearing and the difference in height of the rug. Losing my balance in the darkened room, I fell forward. While I was able to get my arms out to catch my fall, I still struck my head against the narrow edge of the opened door as both arms fell on each side of it. With a painful groan, I collapsed in a heap on the floor; my mind swirling in a quick envelope of darkness.

Rolling over slowly, I painfully raised myself to my elbows and gradually sat up. Feeling the area of my head that I struck, I could tell that a knot had already formed. I turned so I could lean against the wall and try to gather my bearings; the intense pain caused my head to throb.

I gingerly touched my sprained ankle, it wasn’t too bad, but I could feel it slowly growing warm. I gradually attempted to stand, but the dizziness would not allow it and I ending up sinking back to the floor. I groaned and gently massaged the knot as I rested my head in the palms of my hands. Instantly I resisted the urge to vomit, forcing my self to breath deeply was the only thing that would alleviate the nauseous feeling.

I began to test for evidence of blood on my forehead, thankfully there wasn’t any; I just had a horrendous egg on my head. Gradually, I fought through another fearful bout of nauseous stomach, I was so afraid I’d vomit all over the costume I had on.

In all of the years of playing sports and being knocked around, I had never taken a shot like I had into that door. From the symptoms I was having, a concussion wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. And with my own mother being a nurse, I knew that I must remain alert and get help as soon as I could gather my wits about me.

Slowly crawling toward the bed, I pulled myself up using the corner post and held on until my head mercifully quit its swimming. Testing my ankle, gently rotating it back and forth, I realized that thankfully, it wasn’t damaged as badly as I had first suspected although it did hurt. Perhaps those old high button vintage shoes that I was wearing saved me some of the damage to my ankle.

I looked back toward the doorway, the hall looked eerily darker. I gradually tested my foot by taking a step toward the exit; still hanging onto the post for balance. Feeling relatively better, I slowly limped my way toward the door, retrieving my bag from where I had fallen.

At the door I hesitated, peering into the darkness beyond me; it almost looked as though the lights had been turned off. “Hello” I called out softly at first. “Hello!” Calling even louder, so anyone down in the dressing rooms or hall could hear me.

“I need help, I’ve hurt myself!” I shouted.

I limped back toward the bed and sat my bag down, and began searching the pockets for my cell phone. In the very bottom I located it but upon checking; I found the battery was dead. I tossed it back, angry at myself for leaving it in there and on, since class last week

Limping toward the window and pulling aside the curtain I looked down; there was no one moving in the darkness outside. “Oh, this is not good.” I groaned softly, “How long did I lay on the floor?.

I hobbled back toward the bed and started searching in the bag for my flashlight, once I found it, I turned it on and slowly slung the bag onto my shoulder. Once again I headed toward the door, the light I carried illuminating the way.

Almost as soon as I turned, the light began to dim as if it was slowly loosing power. “Just great!” I groused, slapping the light with the heel of my hand hoping that would somehow make it begin working better.

“Note to self, remember to replace the batteries…you idiot!” I hissed, retracing my steps back toward the bed and throwing the useless item back into the bag.

As I turned toward the door once again, I felt a sudden chill wash over me. Standing at the foot of the bed, I hesitated in the darkness of the room, suddenly fearful of being alone in what I felt was a real haunted manor.

Without looking, I reached behind me and sought the strap of my bag, afraid of taking my eyes off the doorway and took a step toward the door; gently pulling the bag from the bed by the material in my hand.

An icy chill on my chest stopped me in my tracks; it almost felt as though an unseen hand was impeding my progress. “Now you show up.” I sighed, and mentally prodded myself to stepping through.

Suddenly it was as though a second hand was held against my chest, trying to push me backward by ghostly force. I started to take another step when all of the sudden, I was pitched backward onto the bed, the bag flying onto the floor nearby.

I sat up quickly and attempted to stand, once again I was forced back suddenly, falling onto the coverlet. Quickly spinning toward the side, I tried to roll off, but my feet were thrown back; I could feel the unseen hands as they had closed around the shoes.

My eyes darted toward the opposite edge of the bed, trying to peer into the darkness attempting to locate my spectral visitor. A hand on my back startled me; I screamed rather girlishly and scrambled toward the pillows. Picking up one, and holding it out in front of me as if it were a shield.

Icy fingers seemed to grasp hold of my legs, just above the shoes I was wearing; I felt a jarring tug, strong enough to fall backward and land my head in the pillows. I struggled up and swung the pillow hard; it flung across the room and struck the wall leaving me unsure whether I lost my grip or it had been torn from me.

At the foot of the bed, it began to sink down as though someone was climbing into it. I unconsciously pulled my feet backward; trying to avoid my advancing guest. Someone or something was on the bed with me; slowly crawling up the coverlet with each passing second.

“That’s far enough!” I gasped into the darkness as one of several hairpins in the wig I wore fell into my lap. I picked it up as a second and third fell, the hair from the wig dropping down as they were removed.

Several more fell onto the bedding, the hair began to cascade down in vast amounts, held only to my head by the wigs lining. “Look, leave me alone! I’m not Natalie!” I wined; my knees slowly began to move away from each other with an unseen force.

Slowly I was forced backward into the pillows, unable to sit up as though something was holding me fast to the bed. “Don’t. Please don’t!” I cried as icy kisses fell on my neck and chest.

I tried to use my arms to regain a seated position but one at a time, each was pressed back into the pillows as if they were being held. The icy kisses climbed my neck and began to fall onto my own lips, I began to struggle and move my head aside and free myself.

As I fought for my freedom, my entire body suddenly was pushed into the pillows, released, and then pushed into them again. After the third series of this strange feeling, I realized that my ghostly attacker was in their own way; making love to me.

Again and again it pushed into me; the movement began to rock the bed and caused the high canopy to gently sway under the repeated momentum. I tried to remove myself from what was happening to me but something held me against the bed, its continued repetition causing the wood to creak and groan.

I could not believe this was happening to me, icy open mouthed kisses pressing me with their unbridled love, forcing my own tongue into battle. With each thrust upward in the bed, my breath was forced outward; compressed in a way that I had no business experiencing.

My knees were slowly pulled upward, the icy chill evident that the specter wanted them there. I rose up onto my elbows once I realized that my hands were free; all the while the repetitive pressing into me continued though it was growing faster and faster.

I couldn’t help it, my breathing began racing as even though the room was chilled due to the apparition, leaving in little plumes of vapor as I exhaled. Sweat started to bead on my exposed chest; faster and faster the ghostly apparition pounded into me, as strange little tingles seemed to envelope me. I could almost feel the movement of something within me, riding back and forth causing a strange unfamiliar sensation somewhere deep inside my body.

The apparition above me shook slightly; its rhythm seemed to hesitate before once again continuing its assault. I felt a strangeness wash over me, my chin pushed hard against my chest as the odd tingling permeated outward into my thighs and stomach.

Again my ghostly specter lost his rhythm, hesitating only slightly before continuing, only the strokes seemed to grow slower and deeper with each downward thrust. I pressed my head backward into the pillows; a strange mournful gasp escaped my open mouth.

I felt him penetrate into me deeply, my head halting at the uppermost region of the bed; my knees began to shake uncontrollably as an erotic sensation coursed throughout my body. I felt my back arch upward, the tingling washing into my chest and arms; leaving me breathless as it ran its course.

As soon as that feeling coursed through me, I felt an icy flow down deep inside me. The bed shuddered as the strange feeling continued, the chilly throbbing pulsing within my body.

I closed my eyes as I tried to catch my breath, the tingling of what could only be an orgasm swelled again and again in my stomach. Its repetition washed throughout me, leaving me exhausted and weak in its wake.

I lay still reveling in my experience for what only felt a moment, and slowly opened my eyes. The room was washed in daylight; voices slowly came to my ears. I sat up and hurried to the window and pulled the curtain aside, hearing what sounded like thunder off in the distance.

The sun shone brightly, giving an illusion that conflicted with the approaching storm. There were no clouds in the sky, several of the cast members were milling about on the sun dappled sidewalk, still in their costumes. I backed away and let the curtain fall, hesitating only at what I had just noticed, and it caused me to look again. Somehow the curtain material on the window had changed pattern, even the color was more of a cream than the stark white ones that were there just yesterday.

I sat at the vanity and stared in confusion, trying to reason in my mind the color change. As I glanced into the mirror, I mulled what I had thought I had experienced during the night, knowing full well that the concussion was the obvious culprit for what had happened. As I sat in deep thought, I found myself staring into the mirror; the wig I wore was down the hair was behind my shoulders. I turned slightly and pulled at what I thought was the hair that spilled behind me; only it wasn’t loose and tangled, it was drawn and woven in a very long braid.

I frantically loomed into the mirror for a closer look; the hair was no longer altered to reflect my ghostly costume but instead was dark and felt very clean. I fell back into the chair and sat perplexed, drumming my fingers on the vanity’s shiny surface. Realizing that I no longer had the pale makeup on my arm, I again glanced up and into the mirror; my skin was pale and very smooth looking. I stood and focused into the mirror with a panic, my eyes no longer looked like those I had remembered seeing only yesterday.

My lashes were long and curved upward, each eye was large and very doe like. My eyebrows were thin and arched; evident of meticulous grooming and shaping. Still in disbelief I stood and threw aside the curtain, watching a buggy slowly roll past, the horse’s hooves clopping against the cobblestone street below.

I raced to the side of the large bed, my bag no longer lying where it had fallen last night. Bounding over the bed and back to the mirror I again looked into my reflection with abject fear, the clothing I had on only yesterday was gone replaced a long white sleeping gown, it was all that I wore. Outside, the steady roll of thunder seemed to forecast my very mood, as the fear of what was possibly happening to me flooded my brain.

Bending over the surface of the vanity, my astonished eyes were pulled directly into the fissure between pert youthful breasts. I dropped into the chair like a stone, my hands cupping the female protuberances in sheer terror.

“This cannot be happening!” I gasped in shock, my voice now matching the strange body I seemed to be in. “Wake up…please wake up!”

My hands flew to the area between my thighs, it was flat and void of any male organ as I remembered. Pulling at the cloth of the gown, I hiked it upward to my hips; the lack of underwear of any sort left little to be hidden. “This is a dream; just a dream…it’s not real!”

I spun in terror and raced into the hallway barefoot, down the stairs two at a time until I paused to gather my wits at the bottom. I made a beeline directly to the room we were using for our costume changes, and throwing aside the door I was confronted by what looked like a den or office.

“No...No…no! I cried out, “This can’t happen; it’s impossible!” Suddenly remembering where I left my bike against the wall, I raced to the door and out onto the great porch. The sun shone brightly, the trees dappled the walkway on that warm summer day.

Racing along the side of the manor, I rounded the corner where I had last seen my bike and came to a sudden halt. Nothing was there, only a planter containing flowers, which had not been there yesterday.

Far off into the distance, a loud boom echoed. There were several on the street who quickly turned and looked into the direction the sound came from. Just a mere block away, there was a massive explosion, hurling bricks out into the street.

I raced back into the house, up the stairs and to the window in Natalie’s room. Beyond the brick strewn road, a fire raged out of control; people were racing into town past the manor in a panic. Looking through the smoke and flame, I could just make out several hundred grey clad soldiers advancing from the south.

“No! I don’t want to live this life!” I cried, realizing for the first time what was unfolding before my terrified eyes.

I raced back out into the hall and down the stairs, and toward the rear of the manor I ran. As I was bounding out the kitchen door, I was suddenly grabbed and pulled to the ground; a hand clamped down over my mouth.

A man dressed in Union blue whispered in my ear, “Its okay Nat, I have you.” I looked up into his kind eyes; he smiled and gradually released his hold on me. “It’s me, Ep.”

He gently helped me to my feet and pulled me along a wall between the houses, using them for cover. “Ephraim?” I asked, still unbelieving in the strangeness of the dream I was in. “How?”

He looked back, “I lit out so I could find you before the Reb’s did. We don’t have time to spare; they’re coming down the street right now!”

He hurried me along, carrying me often over rough terrain since I had no shoes on my feet. After we crossed over several streets; using bushes and buildings to head north, he threw me onto the back of his horse he had hidden in an orchard. “We need to ride hard Nat; we’ll be okay if we can get a few miles farther north.”

“But I’m…I’m not.” I stammered.

“We’ve got no time to waste, Nat!” He scolded me as he deftly mounted the horse, placing himself protectively behind me. “Yah Horse!” He barked, kicking it in the sides to spur it to moving.

We raced as fast as the horse could carry us, across lawns and field, staying off of any road which we may encounter soldiers of either side. Jostled and bumped about, I hung on to the mane of the horse to prevent myself from falling; these strange feminine globes upon my chest bounced with unbridled and painful abandon. I had no worry of being dismounted though since Ephraim’s arm was firmly around my thin waist.

I wondered what the few people we saw thought as we raced past, hooves pounding with fury and kicking up earth in our wake, on a horse ridden fiercely by a Union cavalryman and a thin wisp of a woman in her nightclothes.

We rode hard, lather began glistening on the horse’s side; reining up at a stream he walked him back and under the cover of trees to let him cool down. Ep’s eyes searching the horizon for anyone following as he gently pulled me off the back and carried me to the bank at the water’s edge.

“We’ll have to take it easy on him; I don’t want to kill my best horse.” He watched as the Chestnut stallion drank deeply from the stream.

Ephraim walked to one of his saddle bags and opened it, removing a large piece of jerky, as he walked back he took his knife and cut a thin strip and handed it to me. I took his offering and bit off a piece, handing the rest back to him. He shrugged and put the remainder into his mouth; chewing and examining his horse.

“He’ll be ok now; his breathing is already becoming more relaxed.” He said as he chewed, patting the thick neck of his horse. “We’ll slow down now and try and find you a horse when we get into Bendersville.”

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, tucking a stray lock of hair that had been drifting across my face, behind my ear.

“We’ll ride further north, where they never heard of the Seward name.” He said with a smile.

“And then what?” I shrugged looking up into his young face.

While I sat waiting for him to answer, he gathered the reins of the horse and guided him to the stream’s grassy edge and removed his canteen and pulled the cork. “We’ll settle down and raise our family, I guess.” He bent down and pushed it under the surface of the water, bubbles rose upward as it filled.

As he pushed the cork back in he stood up, hanging it back onto his saddle. “Why you asking?”

I looked up at him, with all the serious I could muster. “I’m not Natalie.” I replied frankly.

He laughed as he held his hand out to me, “None of us are who we were before this war began…probably never be the same either.”

I took his offered hand and he pulled me to my feet, gathered his large hands around my thin waist and hoisted me onto the back of his horse.

Late in the afternoon when we crossed into Bendersville, Ephraim bartered for a smaller mare for me and clothing for both of us. She was a beautiful little bay with white on her hooves, gentle and easy to ride. Although the dress he found for me was nowhere near as fancy as the one I wore yesterday; this one was quite plain and practical for a cross country ride. Thankfully, it held me firmly in all the right places so that at least the riding was quite a bit more comfortable.

As the sun was lowering toward the horizon, we rode into a secluded little area dotted with several tall pine trees; their bases thick and spreading. Under the thick branches, using the covering to disperse our camp smoke, Ephraim prepared a small fire and began to toss his Union blues into the flames; we sat silently watching his uniform burning, knowing that if he were caught now, he’d most likely be shot for desertion.

As he changed into the clothes he bought for himself; common to what most of the farmers wore prior to the war, I found myself pushing sticks into the flames to be sure that it completely burned.

“That’ll do.” He said as the entire uniform was engulfed and blackened beyond belief. “When the fire cools by morning, we’ll gather the buttons and emblems so we can bury them.”

I sat beneath the overhanging branches upon old needles that had fallen and made a soft, thick area to rest. He slowly settled in beside me and placed his canteen on the ground between us. Ephraim handed me a piece of dried fish and a biscuit that he purchased back in Bendersville. As I slowly chewed a piece of the meat, I found myself staring into the fire, my mind whirling as I tried to comprehend what has happened to me.

For once, the entire story of Natalie’s disappearance was revealed to me, I also now knew what had happened to Ephraim. What I didn’t know was if I would ever be able to return to being me; or to the modern time that I came from.

To me this was a nightmare that I found myself a part in, a strange play that could only be dreamed up by a writer who had lost touch with reality. Only this was my story and I can only pray it is a dream. I began to feel sleepy and felt my head nod suddenly.

Ep pulled me close and pressed my head into his shoulder, “Go ahead and sleep Nat, it’ll be all right from here on out. I’ll take care of you.”

I closed my eyes, praying that when I opened them once again, I would be safely in my bed at home; and If when I opened them, I was once again trapped in the feminine form of Natalie, I was determined to make the best of it and try to move on accepting what hand this life dealt me.

If that meant living the rest of my life as a woman, I think I could do that…especially if it were with a kind hearted and understanding man. He gently squeezed me into his chest, softly kissing my forehead as I lay snuggled into him. I could hear the beating of his heart, the steady rhythm gradually lulling me into a deep, restful sleep.

***

Nub wanted to experience the paranormal, and experience it he did; just not in the way he would have expected. His plight brings up the old saying, be careful what you wish for! Especially when the wishes might bring you directly into the ghostly realm of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE!

The End

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

An ancient, blind Indian woman is asked to provide a bride for a brash, handsome warrior prince. She agrees to his wishes and summons one using her ancestral spirits, even though he seems to view all women as something to be used only for his pleasure.

Here on this sacred land, where drums pound the beat, old women and young girls sing their song, and where warriors dance around the fires. For this ancient land is located directly in the heart of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

******

The young bronzed warrior sat crossed legged in front of the small fire, opposite him sat an ancient woman. He laid the leg of venison in her lap as her knotted fingers traced the raw meat. She was blind, unable to see from a very young age. The weight upon her lap caused her to smile, revealing several missing teeth.

"I have agreed to support you in your old age, ancient one. Now, will you hold your end of our agreement?" The warrior spoke slowly in his broken tongue, for each was from a different tribe, speaking completely alien languages of each other. The White man's tongue being the only language they mutually knew, albeit somewhat shakily.

She tipped her head slightly, white hairs straying from the tight braid that trailed down her bent and crooked back. "A great and powerful warrior should go out and find his own woman, this is strange indeed! How do you expect me to find one for you...can you not see that I am blind?"

"You see well enough old woman. Many who have sight cannot see as well as you." The warrior slowly stood to his full height, his bronze skin was clean and deeply tanned. "When should I come for my woman?"

She held her slim, bony hand over her withered mouth, "The spirits say that before the moon becomes a thumbnail, you shall have your bride."

The warrior looked up at the half moon and smiled, "It isn't a mate or bride that I am after, but only a squaw."

"Woman or bride, if they live with you they are the same...a squaw though is something else." She pushed an iron rod into the length of the leg, as she struggled to penetrate the flesh she added. "You refer to her as a Squaw...we women are more than our womanly parts young warrior! Why do you want this woman if you do not intend her to be a mother of your children?”

He smiled, showing strong, white teeth. "My father wants me to marry a young maiden of his choosing, this is my way of saying that I want my own choice! She will be nothing more than my concubine...my squaw."

The ancient one hesitated at the use of the vile word once again, she did not like him using the term as the whites did, referring of her nothing more than her own feminine parts. "It will not be your choice if I find her for you, it will be mine." The ancient one cackled, choosing not to comment on his use of the word at the moment.

"She only has to pretend to be my wife; I could care less if she likes me." The youth pushed his quiver to the center of his broad, bronze shoulder. "When I am finished with her, she can go on her way or stay to be my squaw! Of course, it depends old one, if I should want her as my wife; if that happens...she will still move when I tire of her."

The old woman kept her face toward the fire, "You would disrespect any woman if you should bed her, and then throw her out of your tipi! What happens if she comes to love you?"

The tall warrior's face grew stern as he looked into the flickering flames of her fire. "Then I might have to decide if I love this woman enough to keep her beside me for the remainder of our lives...but there will always be young maidens to be had within the village."

She stiffened at his lack of loyalty to his future bride, as a brief moment of anger spread across her face. Far off to the west, the clouds flickered with electrical energy. The old woman tipped her head in that direction, "The storm will bring her to me, and you must go."

He looked off toward the lightning as it danced between the clouds, "I will stay here with you and wait for my woman."

"No. You must go. The spirits will not bring her to me unless you have gone away. Return when the Great Spirit's thumbnail is high in the sky, your woman will be waiting." The youth gave her a slow nod, even though she had no way to see it.

She smiled as she heard his unshod pony ride away, with it she could tell it carried the weight of its rider, headed back in the direction of his village. She had much to prepare before she could produce a woman for the young, warrior.

******

Elam Hunnicut raced out of the building and into the darkened street beyond, he spat blood as he touched the wound on his lip. The large man swung open the saloon doors and let fly a string of profanities trailed the racing youth.

Behind a large rain barrel the young boy hid, staying put until the large bartender retreated into the saloon he tended. With a huge sigh of relief, the young man sat in silence, his heart pounding in his ears. It was getting too dangerous in this town, he would move on to the next one where none would know him.

He sat out in the darkness, staying off the road, yet traveling parallel with it as the night wore on. Far off in the west he thought he saw a flicker of lightning among the clouds, as he walked, he kept his eye locked in the area he had thought he was seeing the developing storm. Again a bolt of lightning raced between two clouds, it was true; a storm was approaching.

Elam took stock in his situation, too far away from town to return, no real cover where he was. For only a moment he thought about sheltering himself under the canopy of the trees, but he knew well of the consequences of being under a tree when lightning strikes. He scanned the south; it would never work to head into that direction. Only rough, barren, open land lay that way, surely no shelter could be found there.

To his left, lay north. He knew that there were a few small abandoned cabins up in those wooded hills; hopefully he could stumble upon one of them before the storm hit.

******

The old woman moved inside her tipi, starting a small fire within several stones to contain the flames. Removing a burning twig, she transferred the fire from one pit to the next. Slowly she moved the venison leg to the fire inside where the rain had less of a chance to put out her flame. Outside, she scooped several handfuls of dirt onto the fire and extinguished it to a smoldering spiral of smoke.

As she was pulling at the flap door she heard a noise nearby, the old woman paused and listened as someone moved through the woods near her home. A slow smile spread across her toothless face as she heard a young voice call out softly.

"I saw your fire, can I come in?" The old woman recognized it as the language of the whites; she frowned, hoping that it would have been another Indian. "I don't have a weapon; I won't do you any harm." The voice said as the area around them crackled from the impending storm.

The woman stepped outside her tipi and held the flap aside for the youth to enter, as he did she drew it shut behind her. As she tied the flaps shut, the rumble of thunder could be heard just outside the thin hide wall.

******

Elam could see that the old woman was blind; she fumbled with the straps but managed to tie the door closed just as the storm hit. He watched as she sat down and slowly turned the large animal leg, hovering just above the fire.

He was unsure if she could speak his language, but decided to try to converse anyway. "I'm from town." He looked at the flap, all the while rain fell hard against its exterior, the vibration evident in the way it visibly bounced. "I ran away from the man who had been beating me." He continued to watch her, unsure of whether she understood him or not.

Finally, the ancient woman settled back upon her sleeping furs. "Your..." She frowned as if searching for a specific word, "Your father…s..strike you?" She asked, and then added, "How many seasons are you?"

Elam frowned, unsure what she was asking. "The season…It’s late summer...and no he wasn't my father."

The old one laughed then again asked, "How many seasons are you?"

He sat perplexed, not fully understanding her meaning. "Seasons? You mean years? Are you asking me how old I am?" It was as if a light was suddenly turned on in her head, she smiled and patted his small hand. "If that's what you’re asking, I'll be 18 next month." He replied.

She reached behind her and moved a clay bowl nearer the fire, inside were a plethora of leaves and nuts, many he had no idea what they were. She smiled at Elam as she placed her finger over the rim of the bowl, pouring water in it until it touched the bottom of her fingertip.

She sat crossed legged before that little bowl, her lips moving slightly as she chanted a Indian prayer. The boy said nothing, he was interested in what she was doing, and afraid that any noise on his part would break her concentration. She raised a long knife up and pricked the end of her finger, allowing three small drops of blood to dissipate in the concoction floating in the bowl.

Elam watched her stir it with the knife, raise the bowl, mumble something, and then place it down upon a snow white fir. She opened her unseeing eyes and smiled, gently wrapping the edges of the white fur completely around it.

Finally, she folded her hands in her lap and smiled. "What is your name, child?"

"Elam. Elam Hunnicut." he answered politely.

"Do you have a family, Elam?" She asked as she rotated the leg of venison.

"No, not yet." He replied as he watched her slowly rotate the large piece of meat.

"Do you want a family?" She asked softly as she continued her chore.

"Sure, I'd like to have one...be married with a whole passel of kids!" He replied exuberantly as he spoke.

"The spirits say you would have many." She smiled toward him.

"I'd like that." He replied.

"It is too bad you weren't born of the people. You would have made a find Indian." She continued truthfully. "The spirits, they look with favor on you. They tell me that they have great plans for you among the people."

"That would be interesting, I'd like it to live among the Indian people: maybe I could broker treaty's or perhaps trade between the settlers and them!" He thought aloud.

"Elam is no good for an Indian name." She thought hard for a moment. "I will give you an Indian name, would you like that?"

Elam nodded; the Indian lore had always held him fascinated. He anxiously waited for her to name him, she smiled at his eagerness.

"The great spirits wish for you to be named Ne-A-No." She proclaimed as she again turned the great meat on the spit.

"What does it mean...in Indian?" The boy asked of his new name.

She smiled and lifted the bowl above her head, "It means White Flower!"

Elam frowned, "That sounds like a girl’s name."

The old woman shrugged and handed the small bowl across to the boy, "As is custom, you must drink from the bowl! The great spirits require it." Elam frowned as he took the strange looking brew.

The ancient one could sense his apprehension, she smiled. "It would be an insult for you to refuse." Then she chuckled, "Once you have finished, we can eat of this venison which I have been cooking."

Elam smelled the bowl, frowned at the thought of her blood mixing within the liquid, hesitantly, took a small sip, then began to set it down. "You must drink it all; otherwise the spirits won't give you the gift that they have prepared for you!"

The boy smiled, "A gift?" Elam liked getting gifts, the last he had ever remembered was before he left Boston, when both of his parents were still alive...before he traveled west with his Uncle and was forced to work in his saloon.

As the storm raged outside, Elam tipped the bowl and drank down its entire contents, including the small fragments of leaves and crushed nuts. He frowned at the strange flavor; it was bitter and smelled awful. As he finished, he handed the bowl back to the old woman who promptly felt the inside with her finger, making sure that Elam had drank down every last drop.

"Ah, the Spirits will bless you greatly." She placed the bowl behind her and again turned the piece of venison on the long rod, its juices dripping and sizzling into the fire. “Tell me Ne-A-No, what do you think of...Indian Squaws?”

The youth was surprised, “I didn’t think you referred to your women as Squaws? It sounds a bit like an insult to call them that...why you asking?

She never looked up and continued to turn the meat, “It is...how you say...just a question.”
He nodded and using his arm, wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm getting pretty warm. Are you warm?" The boy asked, loosening his white shirt slightly.

"I am fine, Ne-A-No." The old woman said, checking to see if her meat was done. "Feel free to take off your shirt. I am a blind old woman; I have been unable to see for many seasons. You won't offend me."

Elam unbuttoned his shirt, and then rolled his long sleeves up to above his elbows. "Does that make you feel better?" The old Indian asked as she handed him a small slice of the meat.

"Some." He answered as he took the venison from her wrinkled hands.

Together they sat in silence, eating for over an hour. Finally the old woman wrapped the meat in a hide, trying to protect it for another day. "You feeling any better, Ne-A-No?" The old woman asked the boy. "Are you still too warm?"

The boy could feel himself becoming ill, the entire time that he had been sitting there, he grew more and more dizzy. "I...I feel so light headed." Elam answered. "My stomach is rolling as much as the thunder is outside."

The old woman smiled, "Do you feel it here?" She said touching his aching belly.

"Yes." Elam groaned, holding his stomach with his hands.

"It will pass." She calmly replied, "You will be better, Ne-A-No."

Sweat beaded upon the youth's lip, his skin glistened from the expelled moisture as his fever rose. Elam tugged where his shirt was tucked inside his pants, finally able to pull it out completely and remove it from his body. He fell back into a great pile of furs and slowly blacked out.

******

The old woman smiled as Ne-A-No fell to the furs; the Great Spirits were doing their work on this youth. Without seeing, she knew already, that he was developing slight breasts upon his chest, his small round nipples would be growing darker and expanding in size. In her mind she could see that his hair was gradually turning from its deep brown to an almost black, the hair on his lashes and brows darkening as well.

As the youth lay deeply unconscious, his skin darkened to a slightly copper hue, softening and becoming silky smooth to the touch. His hands slowly appeared to take on a feminine shape, the nails becoming longer and oval.

The old woman smiled at the drugged youth, gradually, she removed his shoes and other clothes. She smiled as his crotch was losing its once male attribute; another would take its honored place. She snickered softly as within her sharp mind; Ne-A-No's aureola expanded to the size of a small walnut, the flesh behind it swelling out as it grew.

Ne-A-No's waist tapered and flattened, her stomach narrowed, becoming tempting for the young man who would soon be there to fetch her. Her hair suddenly splayed out away from her head, expanding outward like a raven’s wing. The hair was very black and would most likely reach her soft, round copper colored bottom.

The young Indian maiden, Ne-A-No, slowly reshaped before the old woman's vacant eyes, the beauty's nose grew smaller, her young lips became fuller. The old woman smiled at what this creature would present to the handsome warrior, he wouldn't stand a chance against the beauty that Ne-A-No now possessed.

The sleeping girl continued to become more and more feminine, gone was the appendage that nestled between her once hairy legs. Replacing it was a soft mound of dark hair, shiny and black, soon to be a nest for another. Her legs became flawless and entirely void of hair, long and shaped sexily to lock around her lover’s waist as they coupled.

Ne-A-No's feet grew smaller, shaped daintily compared to what they once were. Her raspy male breathing gave way slowly to a higher pitch feminine timbre, able to woo any male she chose, with a single call with her lilting tone.

For four full days the young maiden remained sleeping, her body slowly altering from that of the white boy she once was to the lovely, Indian beauty that lay under the furs entirely unclothed.

At the end of the week, when the tiniest sliver of moon was showing, the old woman heard the warrior riding into her meadow. As he slid down from his pony she stood outside the tipi. He swaggered toward her bent and crooked frame, "Tell me ancient one, have you found me my squaw?"

She frowned and slowly gestured toward the tipi and then back to the warrior. "What will become of the girl in your tipi?"

"I will use her, and then send her away upon my own choosing." He strode past her, toward the tipi. "If she is beautiful I may allow her to be honored with my child."

The old woman frowned, "There will never be love in your tipi. This woman and your offspring will be unloved by you...this much I can foresee; the spirits have whispered it into my ear."

"I will be chief! My people will respect me!" The warrior boasted, "What do I care of love? The squaw will share my furs, possibly whelp my children, and when I tire of her and send her away, another squaw will take her place."

The old woman scowled at his comment, "Your father is not yet dead, you must learn that being chief is more than a title, you must earn the respect of your tribe, as well as give it as your father has!"

"Out of my way ancient one, my squaw waits!" The young brave spat as he pushed the flap aside and entered.

The ancient one touched the arm of the young warrior, "To awaken her, you must drink from the spirit bowl. Only then will her eyes be opened for you."

The warrior frowned at the bent, old woman, and then gently pulled back the fur covering his young squaw, revealing her nakedness. His eyes lit up with fire as he took in Ne-A-No's spectacular beauty. Gently, he traced a finger around her unexposed nipple, his light touch causing it to swell in arousal. "Bring me that cup old woman; I must have this young maiden as my squaw tonight. Her beauty will gain me respect among the other warriors!"

"The ancient one frowned, "Respect...bah! And when her beauty is gone?"

He flashed a leering smile at her, one that she neither could see, nor beheld the wickedness that was in his heart. She didn't need to see it, she already knew what was in his heart. "She will be replaced in my tipi." He said, jerking his thumb over his bronze shoulder.

The old one gave a disgusted snort, passing the prepared bowl unceremoniously, to the young warrior. "Drink this, only the leaves should remain behind, she will awaken once the tea is entirely gone."

The warrior tipped the bowl up, drinking down the concoction. As he finished he handed the bowl back to the old woman, and wiped his mouth against his muscular forearm. "You have held your end of the bargain old one; we will tell my village that she is your granddaughter. You may live in my village, beside our tipi, and help her prepare our meals until the last of your days.

The old woman smiled and nodded slowly, placing the bowl back on the white fur she had once wrapped it in. The young warrior turned and sat beside the fair Indian beauty, his bronze features glistening in the reflective firelight.

"When will the squaw wake?" He asked as he wiped the perspiration from his brow.

"It takes time, two full days." She sighed as she looked toward the unsuspecting, naked girl lying beneath the covers. She began to pack a long clay pipe with the wet leaves that the warrior left in his bowl, mixing them with more suitable dry ones. As he watched her light the pipe, the winding smoke floated about her head and began to crawl across the tipi toward the slumbering maiden and handsome warrior prince.

The young warrior frowned at its putrid smell; carried upon the smoke the air was bitter. Its stench was thick in the air, carried inward with each breath, disgusting was the taste each time he inhaled. Slowly though, his eyes grew heavy, the warrior's head began to nod with the onset of sleep.

The old woman was could not evade the smell, as she too slipped into slumber under the ancient spirit's unseen hand. A thick and hazy vapor enveloped the entire interior of the tipi, where all three were prone upon the great furs.

******

Two days later, the young maiden's eyes shot open as the handsome warrior placed her upon his wedding mat, she scrambled to the other side of the tipi in fear. "What are you trying to do?" She gasped in her native Ute tongue, and then paused to touch her throat in disbelief.

The tall warrior crouched upon his haunches, "You are now my bride, my wife." He smiled, patting the soft hide he was kneeling upon in an attempt to get her nearer to him.

Ne-A-No looked down at herself, unbelieving of what she had become. Her shock was worn upon her face; she was young, naked and feminine. "How have I become to be like this? How did I become an Indian woman?" She cried, holding a trembling hand against her quivering lip.

"The old woman made you for me; she said your name is, Ne-A -No! You are mine, you are my bride.” Again the warrior touched the fur beneath his knee, "You will bear many strong children for me!"

"I am a...a boy! I came from the town just west of here! Who made me look like this Indian girl?" Ne-A-No demanded in the strange Indian language of the man. As she realized she was speaking fluently the Indian language, she stumbled forward and pleaded with the great bronze warrior, her small fingers held onto his muscular arm. "How am I able to understand your tongue, when I am not the same as you?"

"The old woman, she gave you this gift!" The Indian Prince scooted closer to his terrified bride. "She thought it would be easier for you to adjust. You can speak both languages very well now; it will help when we make treaties with the white settlers."

"I am not a woman, nor an Indian maiden!" Ne-A-No cried, "I want to be a boy again!"

"Only the old woman can grant that for you, she lives just beyond our tipi. Everyone within our village thinks you are her Granddaughter and she is all you have left. They see honor in you for taking in the old one, caring for her in her later years, even though her mind is gone!"

"Her mind?" Ne-A-No asked, unsure of what he was suggesting. “She seemed fine when I first met her!”

"She doesn't speak our Ute language; she is of a different tribe. She used to know the language of the whites, but it seems gone now. There isn't much that we can make out, most is lost in translation now that her mind has flown away like a frightened bird."

"If she is my Grandmother, shouldn't I be able to speak her language?" Asked Ne-A-No.

"You would think so...but...she is old and not your true Grandmother. Now, enough of the ancient one...we have a life to live." He spoke softly, as he gently reached out to the beautiful girl. He touched the maiden's soft skin; she closed her eyes and leaned slightly into his hand. "She said that you would become more receptive to me, once you felt my touch."

Ne-A-No's youthful breasts heaved with each breath she took in, she felt a tingle race down into her stomach, then further into her soft nest. "I...I am...Ela..Ne-A-No..." She sighed, "White...White Flower...daughter of Two Feathers."

"I am your husband, you are my wife." The handsome warrior spoke softly as the young female's voice echoed his own. He leaned close to her ear, she closed her eyes and a smile broke from her beautiful lips, "Come to my bed, Ne-A-No. Let us create our child!"

She instinctively pulled closer to the young warrior's warmth; slowly they drew the fur over them as they snuggled into a lover's embrace. That evening, Ne-A-No became the bride to a Warrior Prince, and mother to their future child.

******

Sitting near her granddaughter’s tipi was an ancient, disheveled white haired, Indian woman, her mind lost to the senility of her advanced years. She sat in a crouch, rocking back and forth, her mind seemingly gone forever. One young mother stood nearby watching sadly, and then gently pulled her teenage daughter away.

As the two walked the young girl looked toward her mother and asked, "Why does everyone look at the old one, mother?"

"She is ancient, blind, and her mind is gone." The mother sighed as she looked back, over her shoulder. From what I've been told, "She believes she is the son of our chief!"

"But that's impossible, mother; didn't he just take her own granddaughter as a wife?" The younger woman asked in a laughing tone.

"Yes, and it has been a remarkable thing, he is much nicer to be around, especially since he has taken a wife. Their union seems to have done him good." The mother snickered, giving her daughter a knowing wink.

The younger girl smiled, glancing back toward the blind woman. The mother continued, "She is allowed to live here because the warrior prince has said he would care for her as long as she is alive."

******

The foolish warrior prince would spend the rest of his life in the shell of the ancient one, and that was his price for not yielding his demeaning ways. Though the spirits saw that the trio would forever be surrounded by many bronze skinned children, sons and daughters of a young and loving Indian couple. Together, they would learn to walk on the bright sunlit paths and grassy meadows of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE."--Rod Serling

***

Marlene was a unscrupulous woman that had made very poor decisions all throughout her life; decisions that for one reason or another would continue to haunt her until the day she would die. A day quite possibly determined on the mean streets of a dusty little town located inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

She grew up in the rough and tumble south side of the decaying urban landscape, running with street gangs and associating with the punks clinging to the underbelly of society. Maybe under a normal upbringing she might have fared better, got an education, married and raised a quiet family. But Marlene hated anything that seemed normal, or feminine.

She was no better than the thugs she ran with, at twelve, had killed her first person in a random incident of pure evil. A young girl just past eleven, crushed under a cinder-block hurled from a fourth story window. Marlene used her young age to get away with a lesser sentence, and then laughed right into the face of the young girl's grieving family.

By sixteen, she added her younger sister to her list of victims when she had set fire to her own home after a dispute with her mother. Jennifer, her sister, wasn't really the intended target, but with the way it caused her grieving mother to fall completely apart, satisfied Marlene in a strange and sinister way.

After being released from a woman's prison for the arson and death of Jennifer, Marlene was eighteen. Only having to spend four years incarcerated for her crime, being let go after confusion with paperwork had erroneously erred in her favor. The reluctant judge allowed her to go free, but swore that one day she would get herself in too deep and pay for the crimes she had gotten away with.

Again, Marlene laughed in the face of the old judge and strode from the courthouse a free woman. Staying one step ahead of the law, using petty robberies and mugging as her source of income. She never did try to get along with anyone, preferring to do her own thing as opposed to something that may or may not be considered proper. Marlene was evil, the personification of pure hate, the image of the devil himself.

Only with this one, it would seem that the devil himself, paled before her sinister profile. Marlene was hated by the people she knew, hated by her enemies and loathed by any who knew her name. And that suited her just fine.

***

A shadowy figure crept just below the window ledge, with a sudden movement the glass burst and was scattered in great shards across the floor. A silhouette blocked the light streaming into the window for only a second as the figure dropped lightly to its feet. Silently it moved across the room to a glass case, with one quick strike it too was rendered into crushed glass and wood. A gloved hand reached into the broken pile and pulled out a single object, pushed it into a slender jean pocket and silently faded into the dark recesses of the shadows outside. Marlene had struck again.

Back inside her filthy apartment, Marlene pulled off the dark ski mask and gloves, she threw them onto the lone chair in the room. Digging deep into her pocket for the coin that she had overheard ... worth thousands. She leaned against the counter and rolled the ancient coin in her fingers and smiled a wicked grin. She opened the worn book with her left hand and flipped to the page she had marked, her cold blue eyes read again the words that cast her into her latest bout with crime.

She was holding a fabled wish coin, she knew the great power it possessed. A power that could help as well as hinder the person making the wishes. She closed her eyes and began to seek out the strange magic within the coin.

She knew right away what she would wish for ... the old west. She knew that the law was few and far between back then, and she wanted to live a life free from the potential of being thrown back into prison. She tightened the grip on the coin, "I wish I was back in the old west!" The words came slow and deliberate.

She heard music being played and slowly opened her eyes, before her was a family dancing around a camp fire while one round man played a fiddle and another was picking away at a juice harp. She studied those before her as she took in the smell of stew as it simmered upon the fire.

Marlene rose slowly to her feet and started toward the glowing and crackling fire, those around it seemed to not notice her as she approached. She paused next to the flame when one large man laughed and quickly grabbed her hand only to spin her like a top to the beat of the music. As they spun, her lacy bonnet fell off her head and came to rest on her shoulder, suspended by its long strings. The man continued to dance and clap in time to the strange song being played by the musicians. Marlene looked around at the spinning world, the others laughing and clapping, encouraging her to dance more.

The song mercifully ended with Marlene gasping for breath, the big man tossed his hat into the air and closed the distance between the two of them with only one step. He pulled her in close and planted his thick bushy mustache upon her soft skin, she struggled under the weight of his kiss. When he broke, she almost fell only to be caught in his arms and be pulled in again.

From behind her someone shouted, "Oh go on and give him a kiss!" Marlene scowled at the speaker. Then, another shouted from somewhere else, "That's right, give your husband a kiss!" As the big man stepped close, Marlene pushed away from him and fell to the grass below. She wanted no part of this life, desperately seeking the coin buried within the folds of her long lacy white gown.

The man stepped close and laughing, not with a touch of meanness, but rather from the enjoyment of this, his wedding day. Marlene scooted across the ground quickly and scrambled to put distance between her and the large man. This isn't what she intended when she made her wish.

Suddenly, she heard a hissing ... she looked back. Nothing behind her voice that silent sound of impending death. She looked back toward the large man towering over her. His smile slowly being ebbed from his expression, his eyes seemingly void of life. Slowly he sank to his knees as someone near the fire screamed. Marlene watched in horror as he slowly fell toward her like a great Oak, tipping in a stiff wind. Slowly he dropped, face first into the stiff grass ... the arrow buried in his chest, protruding out the back even more from the weight of his fall.

All around her were people screaming and running as the little shafts flung through the dark sky, light hinting along their smooth surfaces. Not caring whether they hit man or woman, they only knew one thing ... to kill.

Marlene clutched the coin and closed her eyes as one huge Indian closed near to her, his knife reflecting the light from the fire. "I wish I was back in my apartment!" She struggled with her breathing as she swallowed hard, afraid to open her eyes.

One eye opened slowly, she was seated at the base of the counter facing the opposite wall. Clutching the wish coin so tight, that it left marks upon her slim hand. She blew air out slowly and hung her head, she wanted to go back to the old west but being a new bride to some large overweight slob was the last thing she wanted.

She pulled down a towel from the counter and wiped the sweat that had beaded on her face, No ... that wasn't the wish she had intended. Slowly, stood up and staggered into the bathroom, turning on the faucet she splashed more cool water onto her face. Looking up at her reflection in the mirror she pulled down a towel and wiped the water away.

She walked back into the living room and sat down upon a tattered couch, she wasn't sure on how many wishes she could get with the coin but was determined to not waste another wish, having already used two. Marlene waited for her heart to stop racing, then closed her eyes. This time she would word the wish more carefully. "I wish to live in the old west, in a city, surrounded by great stacks of money!" A slow smile crossed her evil lips. Knowing that with money comes great power ...

***

Upon opening her eyes, she faced a small man wearing a bowler hat, he was eying five cards in his hand. She turned slowly and to her immediate left was a young pock-faced boy with a scraggly mustache and beard, the man tossed a silver coin into the center of the table and sniffed grossly. He turned toward Marlene and smiled, his blackened and rotting teeth making her stomach roll.

Looking down into the pot of golden coin and paper denominations of the day, Marlene smiled to herself knowing that this time the wish was on track. "With great wealth, came great power." She recalled to herself. "There's the wealth ... where's the power?" She wondered.

From her right another frumpy old man growled at the pock-faced boy, "If you gonna make that damn noise ... use a stinking rag and blow yer freaking nose!" The youth eyed him sullenly and scowled. Then the old man looked Marlene's way, "You in?"

Even before Marlene could muster an answer, a voice spoke directly behind her ear, causing her to jump. "I'm in and I'll raise you two bits!" The coins were hurled by a scarred hand with dirt wedged under the nails. Marlene slowly turned her head back, "Let me finish this hand darlin, then we'll go on upstairs and have us a little party." His off hand resting upon her large pendulous breast.

Marlene swallowed hard, she could feel her own hand resting on the stiff crotch of the cowboy she was sitting on. His hand slid down, clutching her about the waist, she shook with fright, this definitely wasn't what she had in mind when she made her wish!

Marlene looked down into the vast expanse of her full bosom, the deep descending cleavage disappearing into the recesses of her gown. Long blonde ringlets bounced and swayed from her head as she moved ever so slightly. She was in the old west, but as a saloon trollop ... rather than the wealthy westerner she had hoped to be.

She watched in stunned disbelief as the cowboy she was seated upon played his cards, one by one slowly he tossed them into the center and pulled her into a kiss. Rough whiskers scratched at the smooth skin of her face. Under one hand, the increasing bulge signaled what he intended to do with her as soon as he took her to his room, in her other was the wish coin she stole. She knew what she had to do, to remain here ... like this, wasn't an option.

"Hey you damn asshole, how'd you get that card?" The old man spit toward the floor and pointed at the Queen the cowboy tossed into the pile.

"Yeah, mister ... where DID you come up with that card?" There were five Queens laying on the table. The youth suddenly stood up and went for the long Colt tied low on his hip. There was a thunderous blast behind everyone, causing all to turn. The bartender held his shotgun level on the table and scowled at Marlene.

"What the heck you doing just sitting there, Don't you have a job to do?" He then turned toward the other three, staring intently down the business end of the double barrel shotgun. "I still have one shot left, and I don't give a shit if you blow holes into each other at all ... but if you do ... DO IT OUTSIDE!" He motioned to the door with the barrel, "Now Get!"

Softly, under her trembling breath Marlene closed her eyes and muttered ... "Wish coin, I wish to return to the safety of my apartment.

***

Marlene sneered with contempt as she opened her eyes, the familiar room she was in was enough to signify that her wish had been fulfilled. She dropped the coin onto the end table and frowned at it, both times she had used the coin it had worked but left her weakened and helpless as a female of the old west.

The first time she was the young wife of an overgrown ox who met his fate at the shaft end of an Apache arrow. She stood up and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a beer from the refrigerator even though she was still too young to drink. She pulled the tab and kept bending until it broke free of the can, then threw it against the counter.

Thinking back to the second real wish, she swallowed the bitter liquid and wiped her mouth against her sleeve. That wish landed her in the lap of an aroused cowboy in the middle of a card game. Only making her some frail saloon whore who's job was to let the patrons of the place screw the hell out of her. She sneered at the coin and took another swallow from the can, she was slowly learning to word the wishes more carefully with each time she used it.

She retrieved the coin and took another long swallow, the liquid spilling down her cheek and running into the collar of her shirt. She decided to try again, this time being careful to word the wish the way she wanted.

"Okay you freaking little coin, I wish to be in a city of the old west, clothed in the finest MALE clothes and crisp dollars folded neatly in my pocket! I want to be a powerful man who is quick on the draw, and even quicker with the ladies." A slow menacing grin crossed her smooth face as she once again closed her eyes, "Okay coin ... I wish it so!"

***

Slowly the eyes were opened, they squinted across the wide empty street under a blazing hot sun. Tobacco juice was spit, landing in a heap in the powdery dust just beyond polished boots.

The eyes surveyed from right to left, the passerby's casting furtive glances their way as they moved past. Slowly the eyes caught a glimpse of their reflection in a store window. Marlene had gotten her wish.

The rugged face was handsome and chiseled, piercing gray eyes looked back from under the shelter of the dark hat. The weight of the Colt tied low on a leg told the wearer that this person was very proficient with a gun.

A tap on the shoulder caused the cowboy to turn, "Hi Marney ... you going to be up later?" It was a beautiful woman ... the woman he had been during his second wish, a quite lovely saloon girl. That meant, Marney's eyes shot back into the reflection ... it was him, the cowboy playing cards. He smiled and stood taller, well over 6' in height. He said nothing to the small petite woman standing next to him gently resting her small hand on his arm. He smiled down at her, feeling compelled to tip his hat and slowly amble away.

He could feel her watching him as he strode across the street, he would have to make it a point and test out his new equipment the first chance he could get. But for now, he had something pressing ... an unfulfilled issue to contend with.

"MARNEY!" A voice shouted from behind. The big man slowly turned, "You and me are gonna finish this one right here and right now! You stinking dirty cheat!"

Marney spat, "Go home boy!" He drawled slowly, taking the leather thong from the hammer on his holstered gun.

"You don't scare me!" The young man shouted, "I ain't afraid of you!"

Marney sensed the weight of his Colt, his callused fingers hovered close to it's bone handle. A single bead of sweat rolled down his cold and calculating features. Marney was reader of people, knowing his victim's by the way they hold themselves ... and ... a killer is always ready. What did he have to fear from a tenderfoot, like the one that faced him now?

Marney turned slightly sideways and gave a slimmer target to the youth, "Go on back home kid, afore you get yourself killed!"

The boy only braced himself and stepped away from the stores and into the street, "I ain't afraid of you Marney! You tried cheating me and I aim to settle!" The boy repeated.

Marney watched into the brown eyes of the kid, slowly people began to filter away from behind them. He felt the coin in his left hand ... what should he do? Slowly he ran his thumb across the coin's smooth surface, rotating it once between his thumb and index finger. Twice ... the coin slipped, Marney's eyes for the briefest of moments were drawn toward his hand. The youth saw the movement and mistook it for an escalation of action, his trembling hands flew to the big revolver strapped to his hip. Marney knew it was put up or shut up time, his right hand dropped to the handle of his Colt.

The sound from two loud shots, barked in unison as they bounced from store front to store front ... sound echoed between them. Marney smiled slowly as the smoke began to dissipate between them, the boy had fired ... but Marney had as well. The youth stood steadfast in the dusty street as Marney scanned him for the bloody hole that was sure to be. His eye was drawn to the ground only inches from the young man's feet. Marney smiled, the boy hadn't even cleared his holster, the divot where his slug had penetrated the ground was the only evidence he would need. Marney began to raise his arm and take aim again, only ... the pain wouldn't let him.

Marney looked down, his shirt was red and seeping with blood ... his blood. The revolver spun against his index finger, upside down and hung there as Marney dropped to his knees. The coin lay just below him, Marney felt himself grow light headed as he sought to reach the coin. The thud of the great Colt hitting the ground seemed to reverberate within his head as he fell forward, catching himself with one hand. Coughing, the blood flecked the ground with the white bubbles of a lung shot. Marney was dying.

He struggled and grasped the coin in his left hand, his eyes looking at the boots of the black toothed boy ... the boy who had shot him. Slowly his vision blurred and became foggy. Marney coughed and swallowed hard, the boy leaned over and pulled the coin from Marney's trembling hand. "I'll take that ..." Marney coughed with spasms, his eyes glazed, with one great sigh... he breathed no more.

***

Justice has its own terrible way of dealing with evil, Marlene thought she could escape into the west where 'law' was nothing more than a word spoken between lawyers. She thought she would be at one with the times and be able to take from weaker people, those items that she felt was needed. Only, Marlene found out the hard way, that there's someone who is always faster, even on the dusty little streets of...the TWILIGHT ZONE.

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

The Miracle - A TWILIGHT ZONE story
By Anon Allsop

Nash was a foster child who cared deeply for everyone around him...so deeply that in grief, he was transported beyond that of his own life! Just how do you investigate a death that happens inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE?

***

It was a large house, not unlike many of the others that were built in the older addition. In the front, great oaks and maples grew along the lane, creating shade for those hot summer afternoons. The time of day was morning, with the sun rising above the trees that were on the opposite street. Their ever-swaying shade dappled the sidewalk of the quiet, early morning setting.

From off in the distance wailed a siren, growing steadily louder as it made its presence known. Closer and closer it came toward the quiet neighborhood. Where there had been only one wailing siren, if one listened, another and yet another added to the din. As the first city police car raced into view, it was followed closely by another, this one driven by a state trooper who had been in the area.

Flashing lights began reflecting off of the houses and windows, while still another siren loomed in the distance. By the time it arrived upon the scene, two officers were at the large house's front door. Neighbors came outside of their homes, or peeked from their windows, to see what was happening. Before their astonished eyes, an ambulance climbed up and over the curb, into the yard. The big rear doors were thrown open and a gurney was removed by a man and a woman, followed by another person who quickly raced from the front and began to unload several items from inside. Quickly, the paramedics threw on their equipment and directed the cart toward the front door.

Breaking into the scene, radio communication from a speaker blared out instructions for yet another officer who had just arrived. Then a blue four-door sedan pulled up to the front of the home. The driver and his female passenger stepped from the vehicle and hurriedly made their way toward the house.

At the door they met an officer coming out. "We're too late, the paramedics on the scene said the subject was already expired," he said softly, his voice almost carrying a foreboding of what they would find inside.

The Detective stepped back to allow the officer to exit the porch; while he waited he picked up his cell and punched in several numbers. "Marge...Detective Kirk here. The paramedics are here, but the subject is already dead...better send over the coroner."

Sadly he closed the cell phone and returned it to his belt. Turning to the other detective who had been in his car, he sighed. "Come on Delaney, we've got some questions to ask." The detective gave him a knowing nod and as he held the door, she stepped inside.

Detectives Kirk and Delaney slowly made their way toward the back room, following the other voices. The hall they were in opened into a large room, perhaps at one time it had been a parlor. Kirk surmised that with an older home, the bedrooms would be smaller than most new homes, yet this room was considerably larger. There seated around the room were several children, frightened and wide eyed.

"Do any of them know what happened?" Kirk asked one of the officers, while indicating the children with a nod of his head.

The uniformed man shook his head, "Until the commotion, I was informed that they had all been asleep."

Kirk looked at the children, "Did any of you touch the body after you woke up?" In unison, they all shook their heads. Kirk guessed that each child was somewhere between eight and sixteen. He turned toward his partner and softly said, "Get them outside...they don't need to see this."

The officer who had first spoken tilted his head slightly, he was listening to another officer talking into his earpiece. "Child Services is in the front yard, Detective Delaney. They just arrived."

She nodded and slowly turned toward the children, "How about all of us going outside?" The youngest were more than willing, but the older ones needed a slight bit of coaxing. "Come on, let the investigators do their work."

Reluctantly, the older children began to head out the front door and into the yard, where Child Services was waiting. As soon as she was able, Detective Delaney made her way back to Kirk's side.

The detective was in a crouch, beside him was a sprawled youth still in his pajamas. "Damn, it's a kid." Kirk sighed.

Delaney watched the Crime scene photographer take a picture, making sure to get the boy's position from every angle. "This is always the toughest part of this job," she said with a frown as she watched the man lower his camera. "What do you suppose - sixteen? Seventeen?"

Kirk sighed deeply as he took in the entire room, his training had already kicked in. He wasn't intentionally trying to ignore Detective Delaney; he was just consumed in thought about the youth lying before them.

She pointed out the boy's foot, it was hooked inside one leg of his chair. "Looks as though he just fell over."

Kirk stood, with his arms folded against his chest. "Why would a seemingly healthy kid, just keel over like this?" He frowned and watched another Crime Scene Investigative officer dusting the desk for prints. "You getting anything?"

The officer checking for prints looked up, "Nothing more than the normal pattern of use. The room is remarkably clean."

"Do you think someone got here before we did?" Detective Delaney wondered aloud.

"I don't think so..." Kirk said as he glanced around the room. "Are this boy's parents around?"

Delaney tapped his arm and pointed into an adjacent room where another detective was speaking with an older woman. Her eyes were red with tears, as she kept looking toward the deceased boy.

Both detectives walked into the room, Delaney purposefully stepped into the line of sight of the woman. Once she could no longer gaze upon the dead youth, she looked up at them. "Ma'am, are you the boy's mother?"

The older woman shook her head, "I'm his fo...foster mother." Her voice broke, as it was evident to the detectives that she had been crying.

Her reddened eyes slowly returned to their morbid gaze, so Detective Kirk cleared his throat, and the woman again looked up. "Are you the one who found him?"

"When I woke the others up for breakfast, I knocked on his door..." Again her eyes drifted toward the youth, but she could only see his arm and hand among the confusion of the investigators within the room. "...it wasn't too unusual, since he's one of the older boys...I do allow him to sleep in."

Delaney spoke up, "How old is the boy?"

"Nash. That's his name...Nash would be...eighteen in December."

"Would there be any reason for us to suspect foul play in his death?" Detective Kirk asked.

"No...no, Nash was a good boy, real sympathetic to everyone," she replied softly.

"Ma'am, we need to know for our investigation...were you the one who found him?" Detective Delaney questioned the woman.

"No. His foster brother Marc found him." She pointed outside where the children were standing. One older boy sat in shock, leaning against a tree.

"The boy by the tree, is that Marc?" Delaney asked moving closer toward the window, to which the woman nodded.

"He's a good boy, the two of them were friends," she added. Slowly the two detectives made their way outside, and quietly approached the anguished youth.

"Marc?" Kirk asked as they approached the boy. Hearing his name he looked up, then just as quickly his eyes lowered toward the ground.

"This boy inside, Nash...he was your friend?" The youth nodded without really looking at either detective. "Your foster mother said you were the one who found him?"

Again the boy nodded, "Nash was like a brother to me..." the boy said softly, using his collar to wipe the corners of his eyes.

"Marc, do you know of anyone who would've wanted to hurt him?" Delaney asked, trying to soften her question.

"He was a good guy, real decent...everyone loved him." He finally looked up, square into Kirks eyes. "Nobody who had a brain would want to hurt Nash!"

Delaney was crouched down next to the youth; she glanced toward Kirk and then began to carefully word her question. "Marc, your friend Nash...do you know if he took any drugs?"

"We smoked weed now and then, but other than that...Nash was clean." With that answer, Detective Delaney stood, Kirk nodded. "Marc, would it be okay to speak to you again...we may have more questions later."

The boy sat quietly wiping his tears, "Okay...I got nothing to hide." The officers started walking away and the boy called out to them. When they stopped he added, "I'm not sure if it's important. Nash had been sort of upset, he would be turning eighteen...once you hit eighteen, Child Services pushes you out of the system. Being eighteen means you're an adult...makes you too old to adopt, they just expect you to go..."

"He was upset about that?" Kirk asked, then glanced quickly toward Delaney.

Kirk and Delaney turned and walked away a few feet. "I believe him," Kirk said as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

"Do you think, maybe...suicide?" she whispered.

"I'm not sure what they'll find, but I really do believe that the kid, Marc, had nothing to do with Nash's death." He glanced back toward the distraught youth, still with his back to the tree.

Delaney followed his gaze. "I do too...maybe we're chasing ghosts here and he just died from natural causes...or took his own life?" Delaney replied to the senior officer.

"We'll know more when CSI is done processing the room." He gave her a nod with his head, indicating that he wanted to return to the room. She followed his lead and was just steps behind him as he returned inside.

A commotion in the living room caused the detectives to alter their path, as two officers were trying to hold back a very distraught man. When they approached, the man was crying out, "Please...he's my son!"

Kirk directed the officers to release the man. "You are the boy's father?"

He looked past Kirk and down the hallway toward the boy's bedroom, "Well...actually, I'm his foster father." He blinked away his tears and dropped into a seat on the couch. "I was at work...came as soon as they called me...what...what the hell happened?" he pleaded.

"That's what we're trying to find out, sir," Detective Delaney replied. "Any information that you have could help shed some light on all of this."

The man looked down toward the floor, "Nash was a quiet kid...kept to himself most of the time." He suddenly looked up, "How's his mother...my wife? Was she the one who found him?"

"She's handling it as well as possible," Kirk replied. "Your foster son outside was saying that something was bothering Nash...do you know anything about it?"

The man's eyes drifted toward the hall. "I know he was upset that we couldn't adopt him, he was soon to be too old for the system. But he understood and insisted to us that it was alright! We would have...but the money - it's just not there! We couldn't afford to adopt him!"

"You said earlier that you came from work. When was the last time you remember seeing Nash?" Detective Delaney asked the man.

He rubbed his chin and looked up at her. "I left at 5:30 in the morning. Nash was on his computer in the bedroom...I remember asking him if he had been on it all night long."

"What did he say?" Kirk asked.

"I don't remember everything we said, but he told me he had been having trouble sleeping and thought browsing the internet may help him relax." The boy's foster father sighed deeply, realizing that what had been spoken that morning, was the last exchange of words that they would ever share.

His gaze was distant, and tears clung to his eyes. He had a far off stare, as if remembering happier times, a fatherly smile drifted across his face. He began to speak as he focused out in the distance, and his voice trembled with emotion as he added softly. "Nash was something special. Not special in a 'special Olympics' sort of way, but really special, in a heartwarming way. I...I remember him watching sentimental television programs, then looking over at him sitting there with tears in his eyes. He never hid them...it was as though he could channel their emotion somehow through himself. I never met a more sympathetic kid in my life till Nash...and now, probably never will again." He looked up at the Detectives. "9/11 almost killed him...it got so bad that we would have to change the channel when the news reports came on. He couldn't bear hearing of their suffering."

"None of us could," Detective Delaney softly replied.

"No...It's much more than that...I'm not sure if I can explain it...Nash's suffering was more than normal...it seemed to penetrate deeply into his very soul, leaving him weakened from crying."

At that moment, the foster mother entered and fell into her husband's arms. While both were sobbing, Kirk motioned for a uniformed officer to come over. "Stay with them and keep them out of the room. Don't let them leave...we may still have more questions for them." The officer nodded his reply.

The two detectives made their way down the hallway and stooped under the yellow tape. The Medical Examiner was finishing his initial examination. Kirk walked directly toward the familiar face. "Hi Neal, what do you have for us? In your opinion...off the record, are we working a crime scene here?"

The Medical Examiner looked down at the boy, "Off the record...he's only been dead for a few hours. We're placing the 'T.O.D.' to be somewhere between six and seven-thirty this morning."

Kirk looked down at his watch, it was approaching nine. "The information the boy's foster father gave us, would corroborate your estimated time table. He said he actually spoke to the boy just prior to 5:30 this morning." The Medical Examiner nodded in agreement to what Detective Kirk told him.

"In any of your preliminary findings, do we have reason to suspect foul play?" Detective Delaney asked as she looked down at the youth.

The Medical Examiner also looked down, "Nothing. But of course, we won't know for sure until we run an autopsy."

Detective Delaney crouched down next to the sprawled teen. "He looks like he's asleep."

"That's what I thought when I first came into the room to investigate. He has a sort of peaceful look about him...nothing like you would see on someone's face in a traumatic death event," Neil replied, closing a medical box lid and clasping it shut. "Here, let me show you something..."

He bent down beside Detective Delaney and with gloved hands, slowly rolled the boy's head to the side. Kirk moved closer and was standing near the youth's head. "Tears? Are those tears on his cheeks?" she asked.

"They are, they dry rather quickly which gives us a very short window for our time of death." He gently returned the boy's head to its earlier position.

Kirk glanced up at the computer that the boy had been seated before, a blank screen with large letters '404 Error'. "Do we know what he had been looking at?" the detective asked another investigator who was also in the room.

The man shrugged. "It's been sitting on that screen since I got here."

Detective Kirk leaned closer to the screen, "I want to know what he was looking at...box this thing up and find out!" He touched the man on the arm as he started to approach the computer. "Take care with it, for all we know...he may have been electrocuted by the keyboard." The man quickly drew his hands away.

The Medical Examiner laughed, with a nod toward the other CSI examiner. "If it could have electrocuted the boy...he'd probably be dead as well. He was the one who dusted the keys!"

The other man smiled. It was more of a smile from relief. "That's true...I did dust them!"

***

Later that day, in Kirk's office, Detective Delaney sat across from him. Something in the father's words had been troubling her. "Nash's dad..."

Kirk looked up from his paperwork. "What about the dad?"

"He had said that Nash would cry at anything which touched him deeply..." She looked out the window and contemplated what she was saying. "What if something he saw on the internet...touched him in that way?"

"You really think something he saw on the internet could elicit that type of emotion?" the tired detective asked. "One strong enough to kill him?"

"I'm not sure..." she sighed. "The coroner's report from the autopsy only turned up two aspirins in his stomach. That's not much on top of whatever he ate the night before."

"I saw that on the report too..." He took a drink from a bottle of water at his desk. "They found nothing out of the ordinary...hell, how can I explain how a boy died, if there's nothing to go on? It was like he was a watch and his body just ran down...stopped working!"

"I guess this whole investigation will be downgraded to natural causes..." She shrugged, glad that at least nothing criminal had shown up in the case. Thinking back to Nash's seemingly advanced emotional responses she spoke aloud. "I wonder what he was looking at when he passed away? What would have been so traumatic to him?"

Kirk leaned back and tossed his pen onto the table. "Have we heard back from the techs yet? They were supposed to let us know what they found on the computer."

Still focused on the window, Delaney pursed her lips in deep thought, and replied almost vacantly. "Give them a call..."

He began to punch in the numbers on the phone and hesitated, "Is that 4317 or 4137?"

"4-1," she replied without looking up.

"I'll put him on speaker..." he said as he keyed in the speaker phone button.

"Lab," the voice on the other end replied.

"The computer that came in this morning? The one from the kid's room...what did you find on it?" Kirk leaned forward and folded his arms on top of his desk.

"We pulled the files, they were all over the place. ESPN, FightingIrish.com, Old Navy...you name it," replied the voice.

Delaney turned her head and looked at the phone. "What about the very last thing he looked at?"

There was a moment of silence. "The URL shows that he was on a site for 'Living Memorials'..."

"Explain please..." Kirk exchanged a glance with his partner.

"I'm pulling it up right now..." Again there was a long pause. "It's a site for people who want to create web memorials for the deceased."

Delaney sat up and leaned forward. "Can you tell us which one...specifically...he was looking at?"

"Hang on, I'm accessing his cache," the voice replied. "While I'm looking up the information, you have to realize that these sites are from all over the country...not just on the local level."

"That's fine, we're just curious," Kirk replied as he began to tap his pen against the palm of his hand.

"No...there's nothing there. The landing is dead...so to speak. It's blank," came the reply.

"Can you at least give us a location in the vicinity he was looking at?" Detective Delaney's frustration was evident in her voice.

"Uh....from what I have, and it isn't much...he was looking at a memorial from Minnesota," the technician replied.

"No name...?" Delaney asked again.

"Nope. Nothing...it just stops after Minnesota's landing page."

Kirk dropped his pen and began rubbing his temples. "Get the names that are on the Minnesota landing page...we'll see if any of those ring a bell with the family."

"No problem. I'll get back with you as soon as I have it downloaded." There was silence which enveloped the phone, Kirk reached out and pressed the button to hang up the phone.

"Not much to go on..." Delaney sighed.

"Not much at all." Kirk pulled his glasses off and began to pinch the bridge of his nose.

***

Earlier that morning, Nash lay wide awake in his bed. His mind was in turmoil at the approach of his eighteenth birthday. He tossed and turned in his bed, fearing that at some point, he would be forced to leave this loving family and enter the adult world.

He sat up and looked out his window; the birds were just starting to make their presence known. Outside the sun was beginning to lighten up the night sky. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

He got out of bed and opened his door, silently he walked down the hallway and into the bathroom where he got a drink of water. He took two aspirins from the bottle in the medicine cabinet and washed them down. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he quietly made his way back to his bedroom. Just down the hallway, he heard his foster father's alarm going off, waking him for work.

With a yawn the boy pushed his door open and stepped inside. He gently closed it behind himself and walked over to his computer, with a touch of his finger he turned it on.

Taking a seat on the chair he launched his internet browser, within a few minutes he began to peruse the sites he found there. Nash wasn't looking for anything specific, he was just looking. Somewhere close to 5:10 in the morning, he heard a light tap on his door.

"Yeah," he called out softly, and the door opened slightly, as his father popped his head in the room.

"You should still be sleeping, Nash," he smiled and glanced toward the computer monitor. "What are you looking up?"

The boy shrugged., "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd browse the web a bit."

"Stay away from those sites you know you shouldn't be on..." he reminded his son.

The boy laughed. "You know me better than THAT, dad...I'm only going to be on for a few minutes."

His foster father smiled. "Okay, Nash, I have to finish getting ready for work."

"Have a good day," the boy called out softly.

"You too, Nash," the man replied as he gently closed the bedroom door.

Nash continued to browse, bouncing from one web address to another. He went into his local newspaper and ran down the scores, as he was inside he accidentally clicked on a link for the obituaries. He shook his head sadly and was about to back out when he noticed a banner for Moving Tributes. He clicked on it, curious as to what was behind this link.

He read on, it was a site for loved ones who had passed on. There was a heading which said, "View a sample collection of 'Living Memorials'." Each had a small thumbnail showing their faces below the heading. Nash clicked on one picture of a beautiful girl, near his own age.

It opened up a separate page, and the title read 'Lindsay Rene Allen'. Below it was the date of her birth and death...under that was her high school yearbook pose. As he sat and listened to the soft music playing behind the site, picture after picture began displaying on the screen from the slide-show which had automatically launched. Nash's throat tightened with sympathy for the beautiful girl, whose life must have been cut short by tragedy.

There was a photo of her with friends, appearing happy and full of life. There was one with her in her graduation cap and gown, she was smiling and mugging for the camera in her bright blue gown. Nash sighed deeply, wondering how she had died.

Again a photo came up with her beside her parents, all smiling, posing for the graduation photo. Next was one with her family, images of smiling brothers and a sister along with parents in a happier time. Tears formed in the boys eyes as a harsh photo of a gravestone appeared. On it were the dates of Lindsay's birth and death. A Christian symbol with the words below, "The day you died, an angel was born."

Nash felt a tear racing toward his chin, his vision was beginning to blur. The boy swallowed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. When the image cycled again, it returned to a professional shot of the beautiful girl standing beside a tree. Beneath it appeared a poem as if from nowhere. Lindsay had written it while still in school...it was about hope.

As he read, those words touched Nash to the core, and he began to cry. His soft sobs were choked with true, heartfelt emotion. Lindsay had been full of life with dreams and desires to live on. In that poem, she spelled out a future as beautiful as she had been. Nash felt his throat tighten, and tears raced down his face like rain as he tried in vein to choke back the sobs. Slowly the words began to dissolve...replaced by those from her family.

Through the tears that welled in his eyes, he read on. "Dearest daughter, the day you died a great piece of us died too." Nash swallowed hard - his mind cried for these grieving parents, crushed beneath the weight of their daughter's death. The text went on to tell of her tragic end. She had been visiting friends until late in the evening, on her drive home there was a terrible accident. They held on to hope as she lay in the hospital, her body deep in a coma...but her fight became hampered by her injuries. To the family, it seemed that day by day, her very soul itself began to disappear. They were certain that, on the morning her body expired, her soul was pulled into heaven. Just like that, a beautiful life was over...Lindsay was gone.

Nash's bottom lip trembled, his heart ached with grief for the family and the life cut short by death. Tears fell onto his shirt, one after another. He sat crying and trembling, facing the image. Lindsay's picture burned its way deeper into his mind, consuming him totally in grief.

Nash knew that this girl had no desire to die, she had goals and plans for her life mapped out, well into the future. With her now gone, what would fill the void that once was Lindsay? Would her family ever be able to truly move on?

Sorrow engulfed his heart, if only he could have experienced a love like hers. A hopeful life, carried aloft by parents now crushed by their daughter's death. By siblings who she had shared her innermost thoughts and desires. Under this weight, his cries grew slightly louder, forcing him to cover his mouth to prevent his wrenching grief from escaping.

Through her mother's words, he realized all throughout her young life, this beautiful teen had lived as though every day would be her last. Then, on the fateful day it came, he knew that she had no regrets...but, her poor family... He wiped away his genuine tears. He wasn't sure if he cried for the death of a beautiful stranger's soul, or for that of her family and their loss. He just knew that he would have given up everything to experience a life like she had.

Nash's tear-filled eyes watched as his arms dropped to his side, no longer was he able to raise them. A strange feeling began to permeate Nash; it was unexplainable, almost as though the heavens had taken notice to the grief that he too, carried! Slowly his body leaned in the chair, as if he were a sinking ship about to roll onto its side. Still crying, he collapsed onto the floor. Softer and softer came the sobs until a brilliant flash rendered his mind calm. Was it the angels coming for him?

Was this what death felt like? Nash could feel himself being pulled away, faster and faster he moved until his room was but a blur. As he rose from the lifeless teen boy he had once been, he could see his calm body laying as he had fallen. Upward he was pulled, away from his foster family and out into the unknown.

His soul floated in a sort of suspended bliss, then instantly plummeted toward the earth, and noise once again began to fill his ears. As the sounds became clearer, the slow screech that he had been hearing became drowned out by the tearing and rending of twisted, rolling steel. Time itself slowed to a fraction, almost within an instant it froze still.

A wispy form floated out from the carnage that had been a once gleaming automobile, and it hovered for a brief second. It appeared to be a ghost or spirit; she seemed to focus on his soul and smiled. An instant later, the specter seemed to rise upward upon a great beam of pure energy... straight into the heavens.

As the energy's light dissipated, Nash's soul floated toward the wreckage, as if being pulled along by unseen hands. He was drawn inside, entering through the same window the other soul had exited. As it settled, his body became aware of the most excruciating pain it had ever endured, constricted by the crushing weight of the automobile's metal.

Fighting for breath, the youth tried to look past the blood that ran into once bright eyes, but the pain was too much. Fighting to remain alert, the youth cried. Fearful of dying, foremost in the remaining conscious thought. Surviving against the odds this body was in, the pain neared the insurmountable. With a shuttered gasp, the body relaxed. Eyes slowly closed. Was this the bitter sleep of an unwanted death? The last thing heard, which was able to place within this mind, was a wailing siren growing closer...and closer.

***

For several long days the little family stood beside their daughter's bed. The prognosis had been grim, and they were told to not hold out much hope. When the final decision was made, her life support was terminated, and they were finally allowing her to die.

One by one they said their goodbyes, each distraught with their own personal grief. A tender kiss fell lightly upon the cheek of their dying sibling. Her brothers, trying to remain stoic for their parents...a sister trying to find the words through tears that would not stop. Each said farewell to a beautiful girl...their own little sister.

A mother and father watched their children's grief unfold, sad to be able to do nothing, all options seemingly gone from them. Too soon, it would be their turn.

The trembling woman fell onto her youngest daughter, great heaving sobs tore at her chest. The father stood at the opposite side of Lindsay's bed, gently stroking her hair. Words failed him, tears rained down from his cheek. He gently squeezed his dying daughter's hand...and felt an almost imperceptive squeeze back. His face lost its expression as he leaned in closer...an eye twitched.

He shook his wife, bringing her to look up...her eyes widened as their daughter licked dry, swollen lips. The mother's mouth hung agape, unsure if what she was seeing was true. Soft, almost inaudible sounds began to be issued from a throat which hadn't spoken for several days.

"Ugh..W...what...what happened?" the strange, raspy sounding voice gasped.

"Oh...God! Honey? Lindsey?" the mother cried desperately. "She's alive! Lindsey's alive!"

Suddenly there was a commotion around her, many rapid footsteps raced to and fro in an attempt see the miracle. Doctors and nurses raced inside to assist in the family's greatest news. The girl, who had been so close to death, opened her bruised and swollen eyes!

The girl looked toward the machine which had been unhooked only moments before, and knew that she should have died in that accident...the website said so.

Nash knew he was given the life he had wished for, a family who loved him completely. Somehow he would go on, inhabiting the life of a beautiful girl. He really had no concern that he didn't know much about her life, the accident would be blamed for that. He knew that he would settle in and live it as he knew Lindsay wanted...full of life, full of love.

Nash had come home.

***

His soul had been catapulted backward in time, landing at the very moment it was needed the most! A spirit finally home...at rest. His life-force provided the healing for a girl he only knew as a image on a computer's screen, a body which only moments prior, had been removed from life support as the family prepared to move on. Somewhere within that little bent and broken body, a young teenage boy's soul had been captured. Unable to leave, his soul became Lindsey, fulfilling that little miracle we call destiny. A newfound life uncovered during a terrible accident, discovered on a quiet rural road somewhere within...The Twilight Zone.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

A young brave defends a friend from the verbal attacks of his sisters' friends. Hear-ka is angered by their inability to look beyond his friend's stature as a warrior, seeing that through his kind ways he can also be a respectable leader. They laugh, but the Spirits do not. Hear-ka is sent to the mountain, there in the circle of the ancients he will find and bring back 'La-Ana-ha, the Pale Deer' to become his friend's willing squaw. A willingness that could only be contrived inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

From my vantage, high on the hill, I could see the lone youth as he worked his way from our village. Hunt-ka-chuk was a tall gangly youth; his raven black hair was long and shining in the sun. He led a white pony; it had a darkened patch upon its face and had one black foot. The pony was limping slightly, as Hunt-ka-chuk led him down to the cool waters of the stream.

I stood watch among the raspberry bushes as several young girls about me, gathered the berries. One young maiden paused beside me and looked down the hill, she whispered to the others and they broke into a chorus of girlish laughter.

I looked at them and scowled, "Don't laugh at him, Na-ie-ya, he will be a great leader someday!"

She smiled then rolled her large brown eyes, "He spends too much time with his horse!" This comment caused the other three girls to laugh.

I leaned against the long spear in my hands, "Is it wrong to be at one with the animals? Even Ma-chee-chek, our chief, has been known to talk to his horse."

All the girls giggled, Na-ie-ya glanced down at the skinny youth. "I agree, Hear-ka, but Ma-chee-chek has never claimed that they answer back!" Her comment was followed by loud laughter. "Besides, who would want such a skinny husband, Hear-ka? Even the rabbits that he would bring into our lodge would have more meat on their bones!" Again, the little group broke into laughter.

I scowled them into silence, and then pointed down the worn path beaten bare from generations of naked feet. One by one they picked up their baskets and began to walk down the hill past Hunt-ka-chuk, as he stood with his horse in the water.

Hunt-ka-chuk looked up and smiled, each of the young Indian females gave him not a single glance. I nodded greetings to my friend, and continued on toward the village, marked with dozens of little round wigwams. I sadly shook my head at their lack of respect for a member of our tribe, and continued following the young, spoiled females into the village.

Na-ie-ya sat her basket down beside the doorway into our wigwam, "Hunt-ka-chuk will never find a wife among our village, Hear-ka, he will have to sneak into another tribe and steal his mate."

I pointed into the wigwam, "Go inside sister, and turn your back on Hunt-ka-chuk. A dream has told me that his mate won't be from among you or your friends!" I smiled and turned to leave, she laughed as I walked away.

"You are as crazy as your friend, Hear-ka! You waste your time having visions of Hunt-ka-chuk, you will see brother, that no girl wants a mate that speaks to the animals!" I didn't even turn around; with a wave of my hand I brushed her insult aside.

From beside me as I walked, I heard an elderly squaw, Usa-ho, calling softly to me. I paused, turning my steps toward her little home; she was grinding corn in a small earthen bowl. "You worry for your friend, Hunt-ka-chuk?"

I tapped the ground with the blunt end of my long spear, its long feathers danced in the wind. I nodded; looking at the small round indents my spear made in the soft earth. "Na-ie-ya has turned all the young squaws against, Hunt-ka-chuk. My dream visions tell me...she is wrong, what they say is a great mistake."

"Have you told her...the words she speaks trouble you?" The woman looked up from her work.

"She doesn't care. She is set against him and will prevent others from showing their interest; Hunt-ka-chuk only wants her friendship."

The old woman frowned, looking back toward Na-ie-ya as she helped our Mother ready a fire. Slowly turning her head looked back up at me. "Na-ie-ya is right, Hear-ka, your friend, Hunt-ka-chuk will have to find a mate from outside the village."

"Thanks to Na-ie-ya and her friends." I growled, staring back at my sister. If Hunt-ka-chuk ever hopes to find a squaw...he'll probably have to steal her." I crouched down beside the tiny, old woman as I spoke; she patted my hand and smiled.

The old woman smiled, "I had a vision about Hunt-ka-chuk."

"Oh?" I wondered aloud. "And what vision would that have been?"

The old woman held out her hand, I pulled her to a standing position. She nodded her thanks and hobbled into her round wigwam, at the door she motioned for me to follow. I stood inside as she knelt down next to the fire; she smiled and pointed to the great animal skin beside her, indicating where I should sit.

She waited for me to seat myself, and then opened a bundle wrapped in a beautiful hide. "The Great Spirit told me to give you this." She handed me the bundle, I raised it up to my eyes.

"I don't understand?" I asked, "These are the trappings of a woman." I placed it back on the hide, fingering the intricate beadwork that was stitched to the light tan colored hide.

"The Great Spirit told me in a vision that a beautiful squaw would be coming from the east." She held out a bony finger, pointing the direction. "She must enter our tribe wearing the hide in the bundle." I looked back down at the creamy tan garment, feeling the soft leather of the skin. "The beautiful squaw is coming for, Hunt-ka-chuk." She calmly replied.

"So, ancient one, what has this to do with me?" I straightened up and began to stand. "Can't Hunt-ka-chuk go find his own squaw, or do I need to steal one for him?"

The old woman stiffened, "The Great Spirit said you alone could find her, and bring her here to Hunt-ka-chuk. She will come willingly; you won't have to steal her."

I picked up my spear from the ground, "What if I find her so beautiful, I take her for my own squaw?"
Again the old woman scowled, "She is meant to be Hunt-ka-chuk's mate only. From her coupling with him, will she bear many children."

I frowned, "Why is it so important that Hunt-ka-chuk beds this stranger, has the Great Spirit told you this?"

She began nodding even before I finished speaking, "It is one of their children that will rise up to lead a great nation into battle, perhaps, even one of their children's children. It does not matter, Hear-ka, the Great Spirit will lend all of this to pass."

I flexed my strong brown muscles, leaning against the spear. "If you say it will happen, ancient one, then it will happen. What must I do?"

The old woman wrapped the soft, white dress in the furry hide, tying it tight with the thin cord. "You must take this to the Circle of the Ancients and wait for the Great Spirit to show you where to find the La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer, it is she that you must bring back to Hunt-ka-chuk."

I nodded as she finished speaking, tucking the fur beneath my arm. "I too have had a vision about Hunt-ka-chuk. My vision also said that his woman would not come from those females of our tribe."

The old woman smiled and gave my forearm a gentle squeeze, "You are a good to Hunt-ka-chuk, and he is blessed to be able to call you his friend." Before I turned out of her wigwam, she stayed me, "No one must see you leave to get La-Ana-ha, or bring her back into our village.

"Why is that, wise one?" I paused, holding my hand against the flap, hanging in place to keep the weather out.

"La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer, is from a tribe known only by the Spirits; you must never reveal her true origin.

I nodded at her, knowing it would never be wise to undermine the trust of The Great Spirit. "When should I leave, Usa-ho?"

She stood and handed me a small pouch, "The Spirits said to provide you with sustenance, your journey will take you two full days." I glanced at the package she had given me, full of what appeared to be dried fish.

I was a young, seasoned brave. To slip through a sleeping village unseen, played itself out like a young boy's game, both simple and quick. Within an hour, I was far from our village, pacing myself as I jogged along a moonlit path. As I ran, I couldn't help but wonder why the Great Spirits wanted me, and only me, to retrieve Hunt-ka-chuk's woman. Still, I didn't think any lesser of Hunt-ka-chuk, knowing that it would be me and not him to set my eyes upon his mate first.

Our friendship went far back, when we were mere boys, hunting our first deer together. I smiled as the memory of that hunt formed inside my head, when long ago; Hunt-ka-chuk had interfered just as I was releasing the shaft that would have fallen a large Doe. I still remember the anger I had first felt, when the thin shaft raced into the soft earth below the red deer, just as her spotted fawn stumbled from the brush nearby. Indeed, Hunt-ka-chuk, possessed great medicine. Medicine that seemed to allow him understanding of the woodland animals that moved around us all. It would have been a bad omen for our tribe to take a doe from her fawn.

I frowned, remembering how my own sister and her friends had treated, Hunt-ka-chuk. They would pay someday for their pride, when they saw the beautiful La-Ana-ha at his side. Perhaps the Great Spirits would make them realize what they have passed up when they see what kind of lover Hunt-ka-chuk would be with his beloved, La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer! I smiled at the response I imagined the young females would have.

I paused beside a small stream, drinking deeply the cool waters of this ancient land. Over the next rise I could see the low hills of our ancestral people; somewhere within those hills was the holy ground that I seek. The Circle of the ancients would not be far away now.

For the rest of that morning, I slowed my pace. The ground was littered with small stones where an ancient earthquake had tumbled them from their original resting places. Higher and higher I climbed, further up the hills I made my way until I felt I could almost walk among the Cloud People. Here was the ancient ancestral home of my people, here they laid their stones in a large circle...here, stretching out before me, was holy ground.

This was the second time that I have stood before the white stones of my ancient fathers. Only two seasons prior, I had stood with Hunt-ka-chuk as we left offerings to the Spirits, hoping for a hunt that would bring meat to our starving tribe during a brutal winter. We had no sooner laid our offering down in the center of the ancient circle, when a great stag stepped into the clearing.

I felled the great buck with one arrow, even Hunt-ka-chuk smiled as we brought the meat, wrapped in the large hide back to our village. I looked down at the fur bundle in my hands, "I wonder if this is what happened to the hide of the Stag?" I smiled, imagining it was true, "Perhaps it is worth dying, knowing that you will comfort a beautiful woman with your soft hide."

I sat down at the edge of the circle, unsure as to what to do with the package. Finally, after a while, I carried the bundle into the very center of the great circle. I held it out over my head and waited; slowly I faced the East and called out loudly, "La-Ana-ha!"

I waited, my voice echoing against the hills that surrounded me, again I raised the bundle toward the heavens. Turning to the South, I again shouted out, "La-Ana-ha!" I paused, and then repeated my call to the North and West, each time pausing between calls.

I placed the bundle down on the flat stone that was seated in the middle of the great circle. Finally, I returned to the edge of the circle and sat down in the sand and rock, waiting for the appearance of the Great Spirit.

As Father Sun began to sink low in the sky, I leaned back against a great rock, chewing at my dried fish. All the while, wondering whether La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer, would appear out of nowhere as if formed from a fog. Perhaps she could be scaling the side of the hill as I sat here waiting, soon climbing over the edge from one of many directions. I glanced across the great span of the hilltop, and began to wonder if I could take her unseen into our village at all.

I knew that for a single warrior, it was mere child's play to move about undetected...add an inexperienced female into the mix, and it wouldn't be as easy. I settled back into a comfortable position, resting my eyes for only a moment.

I had only closed my eyes for a short while, when I again opened them, there was a great uneasiness in the air around me. I sat up and quickly scanned the terrain to each side, nothing was moving. I stood and walked to the edge of the hill, far away from the holy ground where the circle resided. I looked down over its edge and wondered if the Great Spirit was close to sending La-Ana-ha to his sacred circle. I stood silently for a moment, and studied the clear, dark sky, each twinkling gem reflecting back as crystals of ice on a sunny, winter's day.

I returned slowly, to the edge of the circle and sat upon my rock, here I would wait for La-Ana-ha. As I sat, the wind began picking up, gently blowing at the feathers tied into my hair. I scanned the sky as more and more of it became swallowed by dark, bulbous clouds as they began to blot out my starry canopy. A storm was moving in, I could feel the strangeness within the air. The Spirits seemed agitated.

Once, as a young boy, I remembered seeing the anger of the Sky People, on a hot summer day they rained rocks of ice upon our heads, chasing us under the cover of the trees. Our village had angered them greatly, so much that once the ice rocks were thrown, they sent a towering finger of wind into our forest, felling any tree that stood in its path. Many of our village had died that day, we all understood as well as our great chief, Ma-chee-chek...that the Sky People were angry with us! We had become like the pig...gluttonous, wasteful and greedy. After that day, our tribe would always share with the lesser bands, our food and shelter. We had become their protectors, in peace or in war, slowly they were each absorbed into our tribe until we became one, powerful tribe.

Again I looked toward the Sky People, something had angered them again. I looked back toward the flat rock where I had placed the little bundle; the ancient one had given me. I noticed my footsteps as they crossed the soft sand of the Sacred Circle. The sudden realization dawned; their anger was intended at me! I defiled their sacred circle when I walked across it with my moccasins still upon my feet. It was customary as an honor to the Spirits, to remove our skins when we trod upon their holy ground; with fear in my soul, I hung my head and dropped to my knees, gently removing my moccasins.

Shouting just above the great, roaring wind, I called out to the Sky People, "I have wronged you, Great, Mighty Spirits of the Clouds! I beg your forgiveness!" Light flickered between the billowing, green and yellow clouds. "I only seek your help in finding La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer."

The clouds said nothing, they only grew angrier. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to protect myself and flee. Still, I remained; I knew that if the Great Spirit was only testing me. It would not go well if I should run like a frightened child before the Sky People. I must accept their punishment, whatever it may be.

High overhead, little tendrils of light creased the dark sky, each one brighter than the last. I closed my eyes, hoping the Great Spirit would forgive me of my transgression. The light grew steadily brighter around me, almost as if setting before a raging fire, compelling me to open my eyes.

A great, glowing ball was suspended over my head; it floated as a log upon the water. I fell prone to the ground, hiding my eyes from the power of the Great Spirit, its displeasure evident in the anger of the clouds.

The sound was low, like a rolling thunder, "What brings you to our holy circle?"

I dared not look into the face of the spirit, "I was sent by the ancient one, I am to fetch a squaw for her."

"What would an ancient one, do with a squaw?" The voice demanded, trembling the ground as it spoke.

I held out a quivering hand, "The squaw isn't for the ancient one, Great Spirit, she is for my friend, Hunt-ka-chuk."

The winds ceased to blow, the air grew calm, and the clouds ceased their anger. The great booming voice spoke, softer, less menacing. "The Spirits look with favor on Hunt-ka-chuk."

"Who is it that comes before the Great Spirits in the name of, Hunt-ka-chuk?" The glowing orb questioned.

"I am Hear-ka." I said, still speaking into the soft earth. "I am to return with the beautiful woman, La-Ana-ha, foretold by the ancient, Usa-ho."

"Look up, Hear-ka. Stand. It is demeaning for you to be wallowing in the earth like a snake." I slowly raised myself to my knees, still averting my eyes. "Do not fear looking at me young one, we have also looked on you with favor."

That comment surprised me, I slowly raised my eyes. "You look upon a common warrior with favor? But I am only, Hear-ka."

The glowing tendrils floated about the ball like wisps of smoke, giving it the appearance of a living, breathing creature. "You have defended, Hunt-ka-chuk when no one else would. You have been a good friend, for that, you shall be rewarded!"

"I have asked for nothing, I should receive nothing." I stood proudly before the Great Spirit.

"You show great pride, Hear-ka." The orb pulsed, "Pride in oneself can be very vain."

"It is not pride, Great Spirit, but Honor. I am honored to be looked with favor by the Spirits." I suddenly felt as if I had spoken out of turn.

"Remove your buckskin shirt, breechcloth and leggings, if you stand in the Sacred Circle, you must be as pure as the day you were born." I pulled the heavy leather hide over my head; with it fell my beaded breast plate and moccasins I had removed earlier. I dropped my long knife to the ground, slid off my leggings, throwing them onto the pile.

Again the wind grew strong, buffeting me with a great force...I stood still as the dirt and dust spiraled and blew across my naked skin. As it settled I opened my eyes, blinking the last visages of sand from them.

The ground all around me was bare, nothing of mine remained; only the small package for, La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer remained and the large circle of white stones. "Great Spirit?" I whispered softly.

"Yes, Hear-ka." The orb replied.

"Where did my clothing go? Where is the knife of my father's, father?" I tried not to sound worried; I knew that if the Great Spirit didn't want me to have them, he wouldn't give them back to me.

"Hear-ka, you are standing in a Sacred, Holy Circle, constructed by the first humans in honor of the Great Sky People. You have brought impurities onto this Holy Ground. The garments you wore are impure." I nodded slowly, understanding the insistence for the removal of my clothing and the attempt to keep the circle holy.

I began to hear tiny droplets of rain; they slowly swept across the circle and washed the dust from my body. The deep voice of the Great Spirit rumbled softly, "The rain washes your skin, clean. Now you are pure and suitable to meet, La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer."

I began to scan the edge of the circle, trying to observe from which direction she would come. I only hoped that I wouldn't disappoint the Spirits, for my embarrassment, especially if La-Ana-ha should see me unclothed.

From the corner of my eye I watched my warrior feathers lift slowly in the air, pulled gently from my hair by the breeze. I watched them twist, and roll in the light wind, as if being carried away by an unseen hand. "My eagle feathers!" I gasped as they disappeared from my sight, as if carried off by the Spirits.

My hair began to drift about my head, the breeze playing with each dark brown lock. I held it back, encircled by my right hand, the left one trying to tuck the stray tresses behind an ear.

I kept my vigil, looking out for the great beauty that would accompany me back to our village, betrothed to my friend, Hunt-ka-chuk. After a great span of time I looked into the orb's pulsing lights, "From which direction will the beautiful, La-Ana-ha come?"

The orb broke the silence with its deep, rumbling voice. "She is already here."

I quickly scanned each side of me; she was still out of my range of sight. "I still don't see her, Great Spirit. Is it because my thoughts are impure as my body had been?" I had convinced myself that this could be the only reason I wouldn't be able to see the great beauty of La-Ana-ha, perhaps the Great Spirit was punishing me for suggesting that I might keep her for myself.

"Hear-ka, before you can look without...you must look within." The voice throbbed within my ears as it spoke. "She is here." As it spoke, the tendrils lit the area brilliantly; still my eyes searched the darkness in vain.

Again I searched far out into the night, straining my eyes. I felt saddened, I was still unable to see the beautiful, La-Ana-ha. "I am unworthy, Great Spirit. I still can not see La-Ana-ha, what is hiding her beauty?"

"Do you look within?" Questioned the orb thoughtfully, pulsing with energy.

I closed my eyes, focusing my mind on 'within'. Then, as if a thick fog was lifted away from my terrified eyes, I saw her.

I felt the soft flesh pulling at my chest, the womanly orbs that would nurse her young. I raised a trembling hand to them, "I am La-Ana-ha?" My voice shook with terror. "I am Hear-ka, I can not be a woman! I can not become a squaw!"

"You can be what the Spirit's want you to be...for now, you are, La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer." The orb pulsed, its energy beating with each throb of my terrified heart.

My skin was now a golden bronze, smooth and pure. I looked to be no older than 17, maybe 18 seasons. My legs were flawless, long and slender, smooth and silky to the touch. I stood in stunned silence and rotated my hands before my eyes, now small and feminine. The Spirit's great tendril again washed through me, touching my thigh as it passed. A shudder rolled throughout my body, like a great energy from within, causing gooseflesh to break across my soft skin.

I closed my eyes and stifled a cry, gently lowering a hand down to the flatness below. The great orb spoke, "You are now, La-Ana-ha, The Pale Deer. Go home to your husband; bring many sons from your loins. You are ready; you are La-Ana-ha! Go."

I felt a tear rolling down my cheek, "But...I am a warrior...a brave for my tribe."

"Aren't all squaws’, great warriors?" The Spirit said, "Don't they all bleed for their tribes? Go home, be a strong wife to Hunt-ka-chuk and mother to his children."

I looked down past the soft mounds upon my chest, tipped with their deep brown teats, resting upon large areolas. From beneath the soft globes, my waist tapered in dramatically, then gradually bowed outward as my hips swelled and fell toward my small brown feet. "I am naked. I can't go back to my village!" I suddenly felt a tiny pull at my hand, directing me back toward the center of the circle, where I left the little package. It was still there.

It was with fear and embarrassment that I donned on the pale hide and tall moccasins, I felt like a fool to be dressed like the beautiful woman I had become. The fringe was tied at the edges, little knots holding the soft leather together. Ornate beading spilled down the front and rested upon the rounded flesh of my breasts. Two long beaded strands were sown into the collar of the dress, looking much like a necklace, and made from the same bead as what adorned my chest. Below, the high moccasins were also patterned after the beads upon my heaving bosom; they went from ankle to mid calf, topped by a band of leather fringe as the bottom of the dress had been. As soon as I had finished pulling the long, dark hair over the collared edge I let it fall. As my dark tresses fell about my slender shoulders, beading appeared at the edges of my long, dark raven colored hair. I held it out, in awe of the powerful medicine that I had been swept up in. Reluctantly I stood before the orb. I was La-Ana-ha.

The orb danced before my eyes, the tendrils moving and reaching out as a broken spider web before the wind. I touched the dress, fighting back the feminine tears that were forming at the corner of my eyes. "Please don't make me leave the circle, Great Spirit, I can't become La-Ana-ha!"

The orb said nothing; it only floated gently in the air. "I know nothing of being a woman, Great Spirit. I will be scorned when they discover that I had once been, Hear-ka!"

"Tell them nothing." The orb pulsed. "Hear-ka is no more."

"I am Hear-ka!" I cried, touching my soft breasts. "How can I be no more?"

The orb ignored my outburst, "Go back to your village, open yourself to your husband, and give him many children."

I stamped my tiny foot, "I am Hear-ka! I will never give myself to, Hunt-ka-chuk!" I wiped away the tears sliding down my cheeks, "You have twisted and molded my frame to match that of La-Ana-ha, but my mind is still my own, I will never allow Hunt-ka-chuk access to my body!"

The orb danced slightly. To me, it seemed as if it were laughing. "From within your young body, La-Ana-ha, you will sense a great need to be filled. The more you hold Hunt-ka-chek at bay, the stronger your motherly desire will become. Know this, La-Ana-ha, the spirits wish for you to become as one with Hunt-ka-chek."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, the Great Spirit not only transformed my body into that of the young and beautiful, La-Ana-ha, but would create within me a desire to bear his children. I felt my lip tremble, "Please don't do this to me, Great One, I do not desire to be his woman! I cannot bear his child! I know nothing of being a Mother!"

Again the glowing sphere danced slightly, "What young squaw does? The old one will help you, La-Ana-ha."

I pushed my tears to the corner of my eyes, brushing back the long dark hair that fell down over my youthful breasts. "I am Hear-ka! Please Great Spirit, please stop calling me La-Ana-ha!" I sobbed as I fell into the sand upon my knees, "I don't want to be a squaw!"

"Rise, La-Ana-ha. You are Hear-ka no more!" I pulled my slender hands away from my face and looked up, slowly drawing myself to a standing position. "No longer will you answer to your old name. You are La-Ana-ha!"

I frowned and folded my arms against my firm bosom, "I will never answer to the name, La-Ana-ha!" I glanced down at my chest as it pillowed out, making it quite obvious, what was just beneath that soft animal skin and beaded covering. "Call me what you wish, Great Spirit, I will go by no other name than my own!"

"And what name is that?" The sphere pulsed.

I frowned, dropping my arms from where they had been emphasizing the soft globes upon my chest. "La-Ana-ha the Pale Deer!" I spat out, quickly, and then realized what I had just said. Inside my head I thought 'Hear-ka' but by the time it came to my lovely, soft lips...La-Ana-ha the Pale Deer, was all that spilled out.

I hung my head in sadness, "Why are you making me do this, Great Spirit? What have I done to anger you so? Why do you make me this woman, and then push me out into the world alone to fend for myself?"

"La-Ana-ha, you have done nothing to anger us. It is your friendship for Hunt-ka-chek that we are rewarding you. The Spirits will not abandon you no more than you could abandon a child grown from within your own womb." The orb glowed, danced and pulsed as the voice spoke. "We have given you the gift of life, within; you will nurture a child into either a beautiful squaw, or handsome young brave."

"The village will see right through me! What will happen when they realize that I behave like no natural born woman?" I used my fingers to brush aside the tears that were rolling down my soft cheeks.

"No one will know. You will behave like any young squaw, they will not see through you. Your actions, speaking, behavior will all be like that of your former sister and her friends. Only, instead of gossip, you will create...and show great interest in, Hunt-ka-chek. Between you, there will flourish a love that will continue to grow throughout both of your lives."

I looked down the hill, back toward the valley where my village lay. "When should I leave, Great Spirit?"

"For now, you shall rest. When Father Sun rises from his slumber, so will you. Then go down from the Circle of the Ancients, and return to your village!"

I nodded, slowly turning toward the rock where my dried fish still lay wrapped in the thin hide. As I walked the orb whispered into my ear, "Go to the old woman, you are her granddaughter, born from a child of hers that was taken away at a young age." I sank down to the ground, slowly nodding off as the wind continued to whisper into my delicate ear. "Rest well, La-Ana-ha, tomorrow you meet, Hunt-ka-chuk, the father of your children."

Slowly the memories were eased from my tired mind, replaced with those of the girl I had willingly become. I knew that everything would be different when I awoke, and with a knowing smile...I accepted my fate. Allowing myself to be rewritten by the Great Spirits, was the only way I could help my friend..."Great Spirits, to honor you and my friend...I gladly release my male bonds." I sighed as sleep pulled me in. I felt my head grow heavy; the breeze blew softly across my slender neck and smooth cheek, as I drifted away upon a river of slumber.

I sat up and stretched, my slender arms reaching out into the early morning dawn. I yawned and slowly stood, and began heading away from the strange circle of the ancients. Down I climbed, my lithe arms folded to protect them from the morning chill, past the huge boulders and into the smaller crushed stone of a long ago earthquake. By the time Father Sun had reached high overhead, I had picked my way into the lower foothills, pausing to take in the breathtaking beauty of this strange land.

I crouched upon a small outcropping of rock, looking into the hills beyond where my grandmother's village was said to lay. Far to my right, a low hill stood, dotted by scrub pines and sparse vegetation. The sky was a brilliant hue, colored like a Jay's wing; a soft breeze was gently caressing my face. I smiled, inhaling deeply the scent of the moist earth, the warm sun upon my face. This was the land of my mother and grandmother...this was my land, here I would nurture and raise my family. For a short while, I gazed upon the land until a great urging to move on pulled at my heart.

I slowly stood and brushed the dirt from my soft dress, my beads rattled against themselves as I made each pass. I tucked back my hair and stepped softly down the ancient path I had been following, always looking ahead toward...my ancestral home.

---

The Brave Hear-ka was no more, replaced with the beauty of the Spirits. La-Ana-ha the Pale Deer was reborn within the Circle of Ancients on a mountain high within the clouds; willingly giving herself to her handsome young husband. Strong sons and beautiful daughters were to come to this loving family, yet within that lineage would be the prodigal child which would lead a great nation in battle. A battle fought on bloodied soil, far away from...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Here is another older story I thought I'd knock the dust off of.

******

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE."
- Rod Serling

Chris Blake had one wish, to appear on stage in front of a large crowd and experience the thrill of their applause and adoration. Chris is about to find out what happens, when you open the door to... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

He wanted stardom, and headed west with Hollywood as his destination. Hoping all of time and money spent on singing, piano and acting lessons would surely pay off. Confidant of his abilities, he decided that the time was right for the move.

Motoring along a dusty back-road, Chris happened to glance down into a small tree lined valley and spied what looked like an old town. His curiosity being what it was, he began to look for a way down into the well hidden little town.

After what seemed like hours, he finally found a path which had grown over through the years, it was apparent that at one time this may have been a bustling little road, but had been unused for many years. He might be the only one to have ever stepped foot in the town for a long, long while.

Pulling his car to a stop outside one of the dilapidated buildings, Chris shut off the engine and opened his door. With fascination, he surveyed the entire surroundings before stepping from his vehicle. Leaning against his car he looked up one street and then turning, looked back down the other. It looked as if he had just stepped onto the back lot of some Hollywood movie set.

Still sitting as it probably had for years, was a wagon, its tongue resting against the ground where their long gone drivers must have placed it. He approached it and peered inside, not much of the was left as weather had taken its toll. The weeds were thick and growing right through the rotted floor.

Chris stepped up onto a nearby sidewalk made from wood planks nailed to a frame, his weight making the old boards creak. Gingerly he tested the walkway before moving any further, once satisfied, he began to explore. The building that he had parked before appeared to be an old Livery Stable, with rotted saddles and tack still where they were placed long ago. The heavy smell of straw filled his nostrils, as he moved about the room.

Some of the items there were in surprising condition; the leather was a dry but with work could be resurrected. He found an old roll top desk and opened it up, not much of value inside, as most of it was of the written nature. He picked up a bill that had been lying on the top of the long ago manager's desk, it was for 10, 25 lb. sacks of grain at a cost of $15.38. Chris chuckled to himself at this paltry sum, in today's market... it would most likely be considerably more.

He stepped back out into the walk and started down the near side of the street, he could imagine the people of the time as they passed nodding their greetings toward one another. He tipped his head and touched the brim of his imaginary hat as he smiled at a lovely young woman who existed only in his thoughts.

Stopping at the end of one street he looked back at the buildings. Closing his eyes, he could almost hear the sounds that this small town made in its day. After several quiet minutes, he stepped down into the street and began walking once again. He could hear the crunch of the stone and gravel under the weight of his feet. Most of the street had already been reclaimed by weeds from un-use, some of them seemed to have remained untouched... like the one he was currently on.

He crossed the street and stepped back onto another walk, approaching the first building he came to. From the look of the shingle out front, it appeared to be a mercantile of some sort. The door gave way to minimal efforts and slowly swung open, gingerly he peeked inside. To his amazement, most of the shelves were completely stocked, though dusty. He began to look over some of the items and realized that there was a fortune of antiques in here. Even the nondescript items like blue denim jeans lying on the rack were probably worth thousands. Smiling to himself at his fortunate luck, he made a mental note of the items he would take with him when he left the little town.

He noticed a long display case and looked down through the glass, as he wiped the dust aside gasped at its contents. Four Colt revolvers, each one in near mint condition, only a slight patina of surface rust appeared to mar their beauty. Chris could almost count the money he was going to get for this bounty, which made him wonder how he would free up enough room in the car for everything he wanted to take along. He imagined his poor car would be mighty full as he returned to the main road.

All about the room were items as simple as a hairbrush or hand mirror, to the rather large items like the plow resting under the window. He stood in the center of the room and smiled, everything was covered under a layer of dust which revealed the fact that none had been here since the day that the people had abandoned their sleepy little village. Thoughts of why they had left in such a hurry never once crossed his mind, perhaps which was left for time itself to explain.

His eye caught a small glass-beaded pouch suspended on a string of decorative chain, it had been intended for a beautiful genteel lady of a bygone day he was certain. What cloth interior of the purse that was there was still pretty soft and pliable, but it was the beauty and sheer elegance of the item caused Chris to push it into his pocket.

Now, more determined than ever to explore this valuable location, he headed out of the shop and moved on down the street. He passed a dress shop with yellowed clothing still in the windows, their beautiful color long since fading into history. This door was still locked, so for the time being he continued on down the walk. The second building he came to was an Undertaker's residence. He passed on this shop for fear of what he might find in the back room. The third store he came to was their barbershop; he pressed his face to the glass and looked inside. The dirty distorted glass made a quality view almost impossible, but Chris could see nothing of interest or value at this shop and decided to move on.

He noticed that he was coming toward a small cross street, on the opposite corner sat the little town's bank. Greed will do strange things to a person, and Chris was no different. He crossed this street lined with high thistles and horse weed, meandering as he looked for an easy path to the opposite side. Finally, he stepped to the door, after a moment he realized that it too was locked, but only for a fleeting moment. His shoulder splintered the door away from the hinges and he caught it as it toppled toward the floor. Leaning it against the wall he brushed the dust and wood chips from himself and stepped into the room.

His heels thudded against the planking of the floor as he was now a man on a mission, he was looking for the riches this bank might relinquish. His efforts paid off as the safe was still open and the contents were for all to see. He picked up a few of the paper bills and looked at them...most had dates of 1877 or earlier. At least that gave him the era of the town. The bills most likely weren't worth anything on today's market; he knew that only antique collectors or dealers would want those. At that same moment, his eyes caught a small glint of yellow coin, strewn about under the bills thrown in disarray. He began to sift through the bills in an effort to find the golden coins. Each gold piece would bring a hefty sum in today's market.

Chris removed all of the golden coins and dropped them one by one into his trembling hand, counting them as each fell. Digging deep into his pocket he pulled out the ornate bag and began to drop all eight of them in. His smile grew wider as the light clink of the coin sounded as each one fell. He placed the chain around his neck where he could feel the small pouch and its valuable contents nestled next to his skin. There was an odd waive that quickly passed through him, a slight shudder of dread that crossed though his mind.

He pushed the paper contents around in the safe and not seeing any more, he decided to move on. His brief moment of fear went out of him like a light. As he left the bank he once again found himself on the sidewalk planking. Off in the distance, he thought he heard a piano being played and decided to check it out. Only a diagonal across the weed covered street was a building, he made his way through the weeds that grew in this particular area of the street.

Slowly he pushed the big double doors open and watched as the beams of sunlight reflected the dust that was in the air. There were chairs arranged at each table to look like some type of restaurant or high class pub. He moved toward a huge dusty red wall of cloth, he surmised that this might have been some type of theater. As he climbed the short stairs he tried to find his way behind the curtain without luck. Slowly he fought with the dust covered cloth until he found the antiquated rope cord that would open the curtain; he began to pull at the cord. It gave to his efforts eventually, and slowly began to open bathing the entire area with a soft light of the dust covered windows.

Within the dim lighting of the stage he saw a fancy antique piano centered before a vast bank of mirrors. As he stood on center stage he was in awe of the buildings sheer size and splendor, it truly was a work of beauty. Ornate silks and rich woodwork abound in this beautiful theater, its polished floors need only to be cleaned to show their luster again. This was truly a gem, Chris would love to have seen it in its day, all clean and polished...filled with people. He closed his eyes and imagined the room filled with sounds of talking and clinking of dishes welcomed his thoughts. Ting-ting-ting, a soft plinking came from the old piano. Chris opened his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he slowly turned toward the sound.

He walked back to where the piano sat and tapped a key, the sound cut through the quiet like a knife. He could see where a small rodent had been walking across the keys...that must have been what caused the sound he had heard. He picked out a cord and played it on the yellowed keys, it surprised him that it was still in tune for such an old piano.

He moved to the side and lifted the lid, propping it he began to search around for a place to sit. his quick glance revealed the bench resting near the back of the stage. As he carried it across to the piano he wondered if there were any old sheet music nested inside the bench...he couldn't get that lucky. He carefully placed it in the front of the piano and opened the bench; it was completely full of old yellowed music. He pulled one out and sat it on the piano, he studied the title... "If Wishes Were True".

He glanced to the copyright date is said 1869, “Fairly new for this era”, he thought. Slowly he placed each hand in the proper position and began to play. The room was suddenly filled with the melodious sounds of the antique piano, Chris was in heaven. As his hands drummed out the happy little tune he imagined that others were in the room with him.

He turned his head and imagined a young woman in a provocative dress carry beers from the long bar to a table of men taking a moment while playing cards to watch the stage. Chris couldn't help but to imagine each person's eyes were upon him while he continued to play on and on.
The people, he imagined were very appreciative of his ability as he smiled and nodded at them from where he sat and played. Closing his eyes, allowing the music to envelope him, once and a while someone would give a "whoop". He imagined that they came there for him, to hear him play.

As the beautiful notes were caressed from the piano, he looked out across the tables and imagined one fellow raise his mug of beer in a toast to his talent. Chris slowly closed his eyes and continued to play, allowing himself to be pulled into the melody he was creating - knowing that the images he was seeing was only in his imagination.

As Chris finished the tune the crowd erupted with a boisterous cheer and rose to their feet while clapping - for him! Chris was all smiles – realizing that they were cheering for him and his music! He wished that it were real, but sadly it was only a result of his overactive imagination.

He rose from his seat to take a bow and as he did his eyes fell upon the long golden tresses that cascaded down from one shoulder, the ornate braid bouncing as it reached its length. He lifted it up and pulled gently, the effort caused his head to slowly turn – it was attached. In panic and fear, Chris spun toward the mirrors where the sight that met him caused all his breath to escape in one gasp.

Chris no longer looked as he had when he woke up, his form no longer that of Chris Blake. Now they all knew him as Christine Blakeley "The Golden Songbird of Willow Valley". Even Chris' own mind began to cloud with confusion, as he couldn't determine which life was real.

Her eyes wandered downward as she took in the clothing... dressed in a long flowing gown of pink and white silk, it had a high collar where it concealed her creamy white complexion and ample bosom. Gracefully, she brought a slender hand to her chest where she felt the little pouch and its golden treasure nestled tenderly and protectively between her breasts.

Little ringlets of golden hair framed her stunning face, and stared back out of crystalline blue eyes under long dark lashes. Christine felt her knees weaken and fell back into the piano and as she did...caught herself from falling, not able to take her eyes from the mirror. She felt she was losing her mind but couldn't remove them from the reflection.

Upon her head she wore a hat which complemented her dress; it had a long single feather descending, which had been dyed pink to match her dress. Christine's trembling hand went to her mouth as she took in her reflection, behind her a concerned man had moved and supported her from falling. He smiled and helped her to the side of the stage as the curtain began to close.

"I was afraid that this might happen to you Christine, you shouldn't be performing in your condition anymore." The man held her close while the young woman's stunned eyes sparkled back at him. "You really need to think of yourself now."

Christine tried to speak and the man placed his finger against her very kissable lips, "Shhhh, lets go home." He gently began to guide her off the stage, through a back-door. "You can perform AFTER the baby has been born, but first you must take care of yourself."

Offering the exquisitely beautiful and distraught woman his elbow, he waited for her to hesitantly take it. She frowned... not sure on what to believe.

"Oh come now, Christine...it's not that bad! You'll be back, your fans will see to that!" The tall man smiled and kissed the woman's upturned lips as they glistened back in the reflected light. "Let's go on home, Love."

With each step away from the piano, Chris Blake became no more. Christine had her husband and career to think of... and the tiny child developing in her womb. She knew that she would return to the stage, you can't really keep a true performer away for long.

***

Chris did get his wish of sorts; he was now adored by his fans and cheered by countless hundreds. However, Chris Blake never made it to Hollywood; instead he took a trip through time. His destination became a sleepy little town located in the middle of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

Eric Covington's anger at a colleague had built into a rage, forcing him to commit the unthinkable and taking a life, murdering Doctor Goodwill. Eric attempts to escape justice by using a portal developed by his murder victim. However, for Eric, he's about to find out what happens, when the portal leads directly inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

******
[Warning - Contains a Rape]

His blood still dripped from my fingers, for I had killed him. I glanced back toward his body and trembled, still seething from my rage! I stared at the gaping wound in his throat, slowly oozing life onto the polished floor of the lab. Then I laid the sticky knife down on the stark white counter and hurried out of the room, heading back toward my office. Behind me a single scream could be heard, his body had been discovered!

I raced around the corner, his blood smearing the area I touched upon the wall. "This way!" Someone shouted from behind. Throwing a door open I burst into the project room and fell upon the slick floor, his blood staining the area where I landed.

I hurried across to another set of doors, deciding to use the 'Portal' to make good my escape. Once inside, no one would be able to follow! A sick smile played across my lips as I hurled another set of doors open and dashed down an adjacent hall. I laughed at the prospect of using Doctor Goodwill's Portal as a way to allow his own murderer to escape justice.

At one time we were colleagues, but our careers went into opposite directions. He knew that I was fabricating information and saw to it that I had been removed from the team. I showed him what I thought of his decision! I glanced at my red-stained hands as I threw open the door to Doctor Goodwill's personal lab. Across the room was the instrument of my escape...The Portal!

I threw off the great white cloth that was used to cover the strange looking disk as it sat like a silent window to the eons. I began to flip switches and push buttons, a slow droning hum began to build, beginning low and steady, and then gradually built into a high whine. I flipped the switch, and the portal started to turn on its edge, rotating slowly. I quickly ran to the door and looked beyond the room, which still showed no sign of pursuit. I returned to the long instrument panel, my hand hovered above the colored buttons. I let it drop, deciding against entering a date into the display for fear of being followed. It would be better if they weren't sure of where I would end, so I had the whole history of the earth as my hiding place.

I again snickered, knowing that I was about to get clean away for the murder of Doctor Goodwill. I laughed aloud as the portal continued to spin faster and faster until it was a great blur, rotating on its axis. Again, I returned to the door as the first few security officers had emerged into the hallway. One spotted a small droplet of Doctor Goodwill's blood from where I had inadvertently spattered a wall as I had passed.

As the disk continued to rotate faster, an image began to appear inside the swirling dish. It was a rolling plain, grassy hills and a few trees dotting the landscape. I could see no animals that would strike any type of fear into me. Into this peaceful land I would take my chances, happy to be anywhere away from the true justice that would be sure to convict me of the murder I had just committed. No, most assuredly, I was looking for the easiest way out of my predicament. And this random selection that the 'portal' had chosen would provide the perfect escape for me. I smiled at my own brilliance.

The digital numbers began a countdown, racing toward the zero that I knew would alert me to the full power that the 'Portal" possessed. I tore off my lab coat and threw it on the floor, beside it I tossed my name tag that the company required us to wear. The photo of me spun in a circle as it fell to the floor, beside it was my name. They would all find out soon enough that it was I who had taken the famous Doctor Goodwill's life. Doctor Eric Covington would be known forever more as the man who murdered Goodwill, but nothing would come of it once I stepped into the 'Portal'. As soon as I disappeared, all traces of me would disappear as well. I would not return from the path that led through the 'Portal', and the grassy image before my eyes would remain my home forever once I entered through it's blurry plane.

My beating heart thumped in tune with the receding numbers, finally a line of four zeros blinked its readiness. I glanced over my shoulder as the door to my room suddenly opened. "Eric! For God's sake, don't go in there!"

I laughed and stood upon the platform, "Nice try, Doctor Richter, I'm not afraid!" We both knew that a leap into the portal would propel me into the body of someone nearest the area on the spinning disk. It had been tested only once, and that person had never been able to return.

"Covington!" The security guard again shouted, reaching back for his revolver. "Damn it! Don't make me shoot you!" I smiled and made good my escape, I knew that they couldn't trace my landing site since I never entered the numbers...and they knew it too. I was just depending on luck to place me anywhere other than here.

I jumped, knowing that they would see me instantly disappear, my clothing falling to the floor, my body suddenly vanishing from site. Along with my disappearing body, the image of the grassy field faded, both gone forever. I was suddenly propelled through time, great bands of color flowed across my consciousness as I landed in the being who I would soon become, pushing their soul into the quiet nothingness of oblivion.

Slowly I rose up from the grassy field, warm sunshine caressing my back. I shielded my eyes and quickly glanced around. I was alone...and free! I smiled as I knew I had made my escape complete, never again would I ever have to fear the long arm of the law. I began to run for joy, the grassy plain was soft under my bare feet. Escape was mine! Freedom!

A twig snapped loudly behind me, causing me to suddenly spin around. A great brutish man stood looking at me from under bushy brows, between us lay close to fifty feet. He glanced around quickly and took a step, his shoulders hunched and ready to spring as if he sensed my fear.

His sudden appearance made my heart leap, I spun quickly and began to scramble up a small grassy knoll in panic. He started off in a run, heading directly toward me. I fell, long blond hair spilled across the ground where my hands were. "Oh, my God!" I gasped as I struggled to my feet, flipping the long tresses over my slender shoulders. "I'm a girl! I've leapt into a freaking girl!" I cried as I began to run, my voice sounding strange and young. I wanted to stop and fearfully examine my body, but the brute bearing down on me propelled me to run like a frightened deer.

The strange movement upon my chest brought panic in my heart, my young breasts gently swung, confined only by a thin animal skin that barely held them in place. I could hear his footfalls as he slowly closed the distance between us, our breathing becoming winded with each step. A hurried glance over my shoulder provided me a glimpse of my new pursuer, and I saw he was youthful and had a strong build with a thick chest. His arms were long and very muscular, his legs seemed shorter and somewhat stocky. His great brow stuck out slightly, giving him the appearance of a young Neanderthal.

Around a tree I ran, he had closed the distance between us to only ten feet. Out into the flat ground I sprinted, he was tiring and I actually felt as though I was pulling away. Suddenly, the ground fell away and I plunged down into a hole, he paused at its edge and peered over. I glanced around me at the sides, it definitely wasn't a natural hole in the ground, it had been dug by an intelligent being.

Trapped like an animal, I ferociously sprung for the hole's side only to fall back inside under the crumbling earth! This short female that I have found myself trapped in, was hopelessly small and could not grasp the high edge. I soon realized that it was this man who had most likely dug the deep hole that I found myself in. But why?

I tried to jump higher, grasping for the slender roots that dangled from the side. He smiled as I fell back into the hole. He crouched at the edge, studying me with his dark eyes. He moved around the outside of the hole, smiling and showing his white teeth. I stayed always facing him with my back to the earthen wall of my 6'x6' prison.

In one great movement, he jumped down into the hole. I screamed and backed into the furthest corner, he slowly reached his large hand out and touched my long golden hair. Reflexively, I jerked my hair away. I watched as he lowered his hand to his side and pulled on a little ringlet that a leather cord passed through.

My eyes widened as I watched the string loosen, and the thin skin that hung over his crotch fell suddenly to the ground. His penis twitched and slowly began its apex toward the sky. Fear danced in my chest as I struggled for air, "You stay away from me!" I cried. He only smiled, cocked his head slightly like a young dog and took a step toward closer!

With a girlish squeal, I again jumped for the edge, he moved in behind me quickly. As I hung from several roots, I felt him grasp me around my tiny waist and slowly pull me back into the hole. He maintained a firm grasp of me, as he forced me to my knees, his chest pressing me forward until my hands were compelled to hold both our weights. I struck at him in futility, he was just too strong!

"Get off me!" I pleaded as he pushed the little flap of the skin I was wearing aside. I tried to scramble from under him but his grip was too powerful. I shuddered as his huge penis brushed the inside of my thigh as it continued to rise and stiffen. "Please, don't do this!" I screamed, my feminine voice echoing within the hole.

He grunted and pushed some leaves into my mouth, I assumed it was to silence me. I spat them out and bit at his finger when he attempted to push them in again, but he continued until he forced several into my mouth and held my jaw shut tightly. I wanted to vomit, as they tasted so bitter and caused my eyes to blur. I felt my mind wander, the effects of the leaves addled my brain. It was as though I fell into some kind of drunken stupor, and in horror I suddenly grew calm under him and ceased to struggle.

His huge penis was poised before the door of my maidenhead, and slowly he forced himself in! I stared into the ground and helplessly let him thrust into me as an animal might impale its mate. He pushed forward, driving deeper into my opening until I could feel his great sack tapping me high on my thighs! Again, and again, he pushed and retreated until he built his movement faster and faster. I felt my body growing warm, I could feel myself leaning into each of his thrusts. I was breathing hard and could feel his hands slowly releasing their grip upon my slender waist, slowly they worked loose my covered breasts.

He made a strange guttural sound as he began to stroke my youthful orbs, all the while he continued to assail my young womb with his ridged penis. Deeper and deeper, each thrust more forceful than the last. His steady rhythm rocking me along with it, then he gradually leaned back on his knees, pulling me along with him. His penis pushed deep into my womb until I was impaled hopelessly upon him! His huge hands held my breasts tightly as I heard him grunt, suddenly filling me with his seed. A strange guttural gasp left my throat as my own body jerked and twitched erotically on its own. I began to cry.

He continued to hold me upon his firm maleness, gently manipulating my soft breasts. He placed one hand over my naked thigh and began to stroke the soft curly hair between my legs. I gasped as he massaged me into a hungry need, still pushing the strange leaves into my panting mouth he began to assail my now feminine body once again until I felt him propel another jet of seed into this strange, alien form I now possessed.

Finally, I felt him softening deep inside. Easing his grasp, he let go and I fell forward onto the ground, limp and lifeless. As he stood up, I continued to lay where I fell, the strange leaves seeming to have removed my ability to function on my own. He crouched beside me and rolled me onto my back, then using his finger, he removed the few leaves from my mouth and returned them to a pouch hanging from his neck.

He pushed my golden hair aside and studied my eyes, his fingers tracing along my slender neck to my exposed breasts. He smiled then slowly lifted me up and holding me high overhead, he pushed me back onto the grass of the plain. I could hear movement beside me as he climbed from the hole and again hoisted me to his broad shoulder. In a slow jarring trot, he began to head west, toward the setting sun.

As we traveled, I felt feeling slowly returning to my body. About an hour later we stopped beside a little lake and laid me down so he could get a drink. By this time I could drag myself toward the water and get a drink, the young girl in the reflection looked to be no older than 18 or perhaps 19 years old. She looked as though she could have been any blue-eyed teenage girl from a local high school. I looked down at my smallish breasts and thin waist and cried, but he sat watching me all the while, grinning with lustful desire.

I could feel nothing below my waist as I struggled to move next to the water's edge, then he again touched my blond hair. In horror I saw him reaching for the little string at his waist again, in one quick movement he was naked and towering over my paralyzed body.

He spread my thighs, pushed my legs open and laid down his heavy body on top of mine, forcing his semi-erect penis into my feminine opening. He continued to grow as he pumped into my helpless body. Again I felt him expel his seed into this fertile young womb I had no business possessing. What he was doing was evident to me, he had tracked down the young girl that I now was, drugged her and claimed her for his own! Now, he intended to impregnate this body with his seed as to further claim me as his! I have become nothing more than his prize mate for this young neanderthal, forever to be claimed again and again by this early human.

He slowly rose to his feet and smiled as he donned his little animal skin, saying nothing he pulled me to my feet and threw my helpless body over his shoulder. In a moment, I had another little leaf pushed into my mouth, its bitter flavor reminding me of what had just transpired!

By nightfall, he stopped upon a grassy hill, small domes dotting the span in the front of my vision. Each little hut was created by the long tusks of a great mammoth, skin stretched over each one to create the shell of the little home.

He carried me toward one such home, passing others from his village as we moved. Each man smiled at my captor in approval, each woman ignored me and carried her child on her hip as it suckled from her exposed breast. "Help me!" I cried as another woman with a hugely distended belly passed, she smiled, her ignorance at my language evident as her three little naked children followed her in a row.

I cried, my tears falling hopelessly onto the dusty grass under the big Neanderthal's feet, for my fate had been sealed! This truly was a prison, because this man and the offspring I would bear had become my jailers. I grabbed onto a great tusk as he pulled aside the flap to the little home, but he laughed and one by one, loosened the grasp of my fingers and easily took me to my cell.

******

In a time long since forgotten, Eric found himself as a young feminine captive trapped in a shell of a woman. Unable to converse with those around her for she possessed a language that none would hear for thousands of years in the future!

Eric thought he could escape justice for a death caused by his own murderous hands. She though, would be forever imprisoned; sealed inside the beautiful form as the young Neanderthal's lifelong mate...His justice coming swift within the ancient realm of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

Philip was a young teenager running from abuse, an abuse brought on by his foster father. Thinking escape was the only option for him, he bolted from home and ran head-on into the warm embrace of...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

***

I had run away from home two days ago, and was bent on putting as much distance as I could between my abusive foster father and me. I had been traveling by night and keeping out of sight during the day, always moving west at every opportunity. While staying in the shadows last evening, I came across a bicycle recklessly dumped near a driveway in someone's darkened yard. I took it, and began to peddle into the night in earnest...quickly allowing the miles to drop behind me, silently hoping that its owner would somehow understand my reasoning for stealing their bicycle.

In the early September dawn, I felt confident that I could continue traveling with the morning light, at least as long as my strength would last. As the sun climbed in the morning sky, I turned down a hard-packed dirt road and headed away from the main highway. Further and further on I rode, as the fields of corn seemed to whisper their encouragement to my desperate attempt to escape.

I was rolling along fairly quickly. To my left was a green and rolling pasture, where a few cows dotted its hills, lazily lulling in the warmth of the sun. To my right was a long, seemingly endless run of field fencing; behind it was mile after mile of tall greenish brown stalks of tall, drying corn. Ahead of me was a long, dusty white ribbon of road, with each rise visible in the distance, until it disappeared entirely in a small point on the horizon.

On one of those far hills, I saw the gleaming reflection from an eastbound automobile. I slowed down, afraid that the reflection may belong to a local county police officer. I glanced first toward the pasture, then looked toward the dense corn.

Making a quick decision, I hoisted the pilfered bicycle over the fence and let it fall upon the other side. Slowly I worked it through the corn until I was somewhere around 12 rows deep, and waited there in the corn. As the light wind passed through the corn, it hissed its displeasure with me being there, throwing the long wild leaves around with its warm breath.

I saw the vehicle pass. I was right; it HAD been a county police car! I stood among the corn for almost ten minutes, too terrified to move. Slowly, gently I lowered the bike's kickstand and ventured toward the fence, still keeping hidden in the safety of the corn. Several hundred feet down the road, the car had stopped. The officer was standing beside his car with the door open. He was searching the opposite pasture with binoculars.

I quietly retreated into the corn and returned to the bicycle. I knew I couldn't chance going back out on the road. If I were seen, the officer would surely stop me and wonder why I was in the field... on a bike.

I quietly began to walk with the row, hoping the noisy, dried corn leaves would hide the sound of my movement. After I walked a few yards, I saw a gap in the row where two or three plants had failed to grow. I pushed the bike through this, and moved deeper into the cornfield by one row. Again and again I found gaps like this, and each time I moved further into the interior of the field and away from the road.

At first, the corn leaves had been slightly wet with dew, but that dew had left long ago. I looked up and noticed that the sun was almost directly above, so it had to be close to noon. As I continued, the dry leaves scratched at my arms, hands and face, and the irritation left me feeling desperate for some avenue of escape out of this field. I was hoping that I would come to another road soon, or perhaps the cornfield would empty out near a house where I could try and scrounge up something to eat.

Suddenly, I found myself upon a path meandering in the middle of the field! It was several feet wide and thick with ankle-deep grass. I carefully looked both ways before I pushed the bicycle into the lane. I could travel in either of the two ways; one would lead me back toward the road... the other in the opposite direction. I had no real way of knowing how far I had moved away from the main road, but I was certain that I didn't want to go back into that direction again.

I squinted in the bright sun and turned the bike down the path, silently praying that it was moving away from the main road. The grassy lane that I peddled the bike down wasn't much to speak of; it was probably wide enough for a tractor or truck but didn't look like it had been traveled upon very recently.

After I rode for almost an hour, the path merged and opened up into a large grassy meadow. I stopped at the outer edge and looked to see if I was in the vicinity of a house or worse yet, another main road. Fortunately, there was neither; only an ancient windmill stood sentinel on this ground, apparently the last remnants of an old farm. I pushed the bike over toward a small grouping of trees and lowered the kickstand. I rested on a log and examined the area for anything that would be useful for a night's stay.

I walked back toward the bike and noticed a small, misshapen greenish ball as it hung from the tree. Moving toward it slowly, I smiled as I realized it was a pear and gently picked it from its branch. I scrubbed it against my soiled shirt and began to eat, holding it with my teeth I began to search out others that grew close to the ground. After retrieving several and returning back to the bicycle, I sat down and ate each and every one of them.

Soon, their cores littered the ground at my feet. I stood, and with one great stretch, I picked my way through the tall grass, heading toward a small stand of trees about fifty yards away to relieve myself. Not far from the trees, I noticed an ancient vehicle hidden among the tall grass. The old wooden spokes at the centers of the tires were long gone, so the rusted fenders were sitting directly upon the ground. I picked out a spot several feet away from the old car and peed, intently studying the auto as I relieved myself.

The great round headlights sat high upon the fender. Their glass was still intact, looking like ancient eyes now lifeless and dead. I zipped my fly and moved toward the rusted car. The glass was smoky around the edges, yet amazingly I could detect no visible cracks or breaks. I gently worked the handle, and it yielded under pressure and allowed the door to groan open.

Antique cars had always appealed to my curiosity. Even under the pain inflicted by my foster father, the happier times that I remembered were gleaned through the discovery of his old car magazines. I stuck my head inside of the ancient car and smelled the deep aroma of the mohair seat. It was a strange scent, combining the musty odor of age with the actual material itself.

I pulled my head back outside and gently closed the door, slowly making my way back toward the stolen bicycle. I pushed the kickstand up with my foot and slowly guided it back toward the ancient auto, where once again I stood beside the car. Not far from my foot was a strange object no bigger than a small drinking cup, I picked it up and cleaned the soil from its surface. As I cleaned, script letters were again exposed to the light of day. "Ford," I said aloud as I wondered about the object in my hand. My eyes were drawn to the rear of the box-like body, still upon the hub was another cup looking thing, exactly like the one I held. I crouched down and pushed it upon the rusted front hub where the wheel jutted out from the grass, it was clear to me that it was an old hub cap... at least, that's what I imagined it to be.

I stood up slowly, and my reflection was returned in the dirty glass. I once again grasped the pitted chrome handle of the door with my left hand. Wetting a finger inside my mouth, I scrubbed the rear skin panel, just behind the door with my right hand. Under the vigorous scrubbing, I could see the once black paint revealed under the grime of thick dirt. I gently pulled opened the door, leaned inside and pushed down upon the seat, the springs and ancient cloth flexed under my pressure.

I slowly eased myself upon the seat, and sat behind the thick wooden steering wheel, now cracked and weathered by exposure from the sun.

"Man, it's too bad I wasn't a bit older and had a place to restore this old car!"

I sighed, pushing against the clutch, brake and gas pedal in separate intervals, testing their freeness. The tall, old shifter bounced under the touch of my hand, its knob moving back and forth within the normal movement of the ancient transmission.

I dragged my left foot inside from where it had been resting upon the running board, then pulled the door closed. The ancient door groaned as it latched in place. Some part of me felt silly sitting inside the old car, making sputtering noises like some fool child...yet, the sound added an effect of what I imagined the old engine might have sounded as it was driven. At sixteen, I wasn't too far from being a young child myself, and besides... I was alone.

I rocked the steering wheel back and forth in my hands, and looked through the door glass and into one of the two side mirrors... as if I were actually driving. The vibration of my sputtering was creating such a bouncing of my lips that it was making my vision blurry. I laughed and curtailed my sounds, and began to play with the shifter as if I were in an auto race. As I was 'shifting' the car, the large round knob fell from the tall shaft and rolled beneath the seat on the passenger side. I leaned over and reached under the seat, trying to find the ball. My hand came into contact with something that felt like the shifter knob. I pulled out the item and promptly returned it to the shifter, screwing it down as tight as it would go.

Once again I started my sputtering. As I happened to glance out the door, I felt very dizzy, I blinked and clutched the steering wheel, trying to hold myself from falling. As the nauseous feeling continued, a black swirling image spun before my eyes. I buried my face into the palms of my hands, and stayed that way until the image disappeared. Once I felt relatively certain that it was over, I lifted my head.

Before me stood the pear tree, but the windshield I was looking through, was now void of its filth, and remarkably clear! 'What happened?' I whispered.

I sat up and looked through the side glass, and it too was no longer cloudy but rather pristine and clear. I felt for the handle, raising the latch to swing the door aside, it moved as freely as if it were brand new. I stepped out, and turned, closing the door behind me. As it latched shut, I felt my legs go out from under me at the reflection I saw in the shiny black paint.

I caught myself with my hands and touched the reflective door, and I saw a young female's image mirrored where my own should have been!

"What... what happened?" I gasped; my voice was soft and feminine!

The image was wearing a long, straight mid 1920's style dress and looked to be in her early twenty's; her hair was light colored, perhaps blonde, cut short with the ends curled forward in the style of the day. She had large piercing blue eyes, slender arched eyebrows, long eyelashes, a small nose and rather full lips! I was so stunned that I fell onto my bottom and buried my face into gloved hands. Beneath my wrists I could feel the round bosom of this female that I now appeared to have become, she wasn't huge...just pleasantly adequate for her apparent, young age.

A heavy thudding behind me caused me to turn, before my astonished eyes stood a huge horse.

"You okay, lady?" Mounted atop the great beast was a young boy, around the age of twelve or thirteen. "You ain't hurt none?" He asked again.

I stood up and clutched the door to the old car, then let go as soon as my eyes came into contact with the sparkling paint.

"I...I...uh," I stammered and fell, at almost the same instant as the boy lightly dropped to the ground.

He helped me to my feet, brushing the dust from the long dress I was now wearing.

"You okay? I saw you swerving all around when you came by the field. I saw the dust fly when you jumped the ditch, and figured that you might be needing some help!" He gently guided me back to the seat of the car, on the lane behind him walked an older man.

"You almost took out our windmill!" The boy said as he eased me down into the seat.

I looked up into the sun, there stood the windmill, bright red and white blades turned slowly in the breeze. From the top dropped a long pipe, where it came into a cement square with a tall pump handle. Not far away was an old barn where several cows stood silently chewing behind the fence. In a daze I slowly looked around, unsure of whether I had knocked myself out... or was just dreaming.

"She okay, Chet?" The man asked the boy as he approached.

"She be fine, Pa." The youth said smiling, "She must've lost steering in a rut or something."

I could feel the perspiration as it beaded my upper lip and forehead. I pulled a strange glove from my left hand and I ran my fingertips across my mouth. I sat in shock and examined the glove, a glove I hadn't been wearing when I entered the old wreck.

The man placed his hand upon the roof of the old black Ford. "Well, that answers one question," he said. "She must be ill."

The boy looked down at my hand as it rested upon my covered thigh, I glanced down as well. There upon my slender white finger, was a large gleaming diamond, and beside it was a golden band made to match its mate!

"What's your husband's name?" The man asked as he glanced around the auto's interior. "Chet, can drive you home, seeing that you're still rattled from your accident."

"Husband?" I whispered. "I'm...I'm not married."

"Uh oh," whispered the boy to his father. "She must have hit her bean!"

"Looks that way." He frowned, rubbing his chin as he thought. "She has to be the girl that married Edward Burroughs, she'd be about the age of that girl."

I looked up at the man, "Who...who's Edward Burroughs?"

"She must've took one real hard to the bean, Pa! She can't even remember what her husband's name is!"

The man frowned again. "Slide on over, ma'am, Chet here will see that you get home." He grabbed the long mane of the huge horse and swung up upon its bare back. "You think you can figure out how to drive that contraption?" he asked his son.

Chet nodded and quickly walked to the front, cranked it several turns and returned to the seat. One push of the starter and the engine lumbered to life.

"I'll have you home in a jiffy, Mrs. Burroughs."

He backed up from the spot where I had found the car, then he slowly eased it through the ditch and back onto the grassy lane.

All the while the youth drove the old Ford, I sat, stunned at the sudden transformation that befell me! One minute, I was a boy not much older than Chet, then I was suddenly a young woman...and I knew that I had become one; the strange empty feeling between my legs was proof enough! My heart was pounding!

The boy turned onto a gravel road and picked up speed, rolling to who knew where... I surely didn't! On and on he drove until he turned into a drive with short stone pillars on each side. He wound along it, until he stopped just in front of a large two story home.

He jumped out, removing his foot quickly from the clutch, causing the car to suddenly lurch forward and ran around to my side.

"You wait here, I'll see if your mister is around."

Before I could respond, he was gone, bounding up the stairs to the front door. He knocked several times then quickly retraced his steps back to the car.

"He ain't in the house, I'll see if he's in one of the barns."

I swung my feet out and placed them upon the running board step plate, over a script-style writing saying, 'Ford' that was stamped into the chrome.

"Abigail!" I heard someone call, as the boy and another man approached. "Are you alright?"

I found myself nodding, somehow answering to the strange name. I looked at them approaching, and a blank expression on my face met the young man as he quickly knelt beside the automobile. "Are you hurt, Abby?"

"I think she hit her bean." The boy interjected, "She ain't been acting right since I found her."

The man hugged me tightly and looked back at the boy, "What happened?"

"As far as I can figure, she lost control on the lane and jumped the ditch."

He pulled aside the door as the man scooped me into his arms, carrying me up the steps and into the house. "She just missed hitting our windmill and pear tree!"

Down the long hallway he carried me and gently placed me upon the bed, turning to the boy he nodded, "Thanks for seeing my wife safely home. The least I can do is give you a ride back to your place."

"That's okay; I was getting bored working in the field. Your wife gave me a bit of excitement to break up the day!" He smiled down at me, and I found the corner of my mouth pull into a smile as well.

The man... my husband, dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver dollar, "Here then...for your trouble."

The boy backed away, "My pa would tan my hide if I took that from you, Mr. Burroughs!" He continued to back away, "I'll see myself out, sir." Then glancing to me, "Ma'am, I hope you're feeling fine real soon." He flashed a smile at the both of us and quickly headed down the hall and out the front door. I sat up in the bed and could see him hop a wooden fence by the field and race into the swaying grasses as he ran.

The man sat upon the bed and gave me a weak smile, "So... what'd the doctor tell you?"

I swallowed, "Doc... doctor?"

"That's where you were coming from... surely he must have given you some indication?" He had a worried look upon his face as he spoke.

"I... I don't know," I stuttered, my mind racing with wonderment.

He stood up and left the room. He was gone for several minutes, then he returned with water in a washbasin and a clean cloth. He dipped the cloth and squeezed it out, slowly began to dab it upon my face. Its cool comfort helped clear my addled brain.

I felt him working at the buttons on my dress, so quickly did he have them undone that it was open before I could protest. He gently, lovingly dabbed at the cleavage between my breasts. He smiled, and brushed the hair from my eyes, lowered his head and lightly kissed the swell of my breast!

As he assailed my bare chest, I began pushing him away and scrambled to my feet. In an instant I had raced down the hall and outside. Straight to the old Ford I ran. Throwing aside the door, I lunged in and slammed it behind me. As I frantically pressed the starter, I felt a sudden change. Again my head swam with dizziness, I almost blacked out, and finally after several seconds I raised my head. I was once again sitting inside the ancient automobile with its dirty windows!

I sat up quickly, and I noticed that water droplets raced down my neck where my shirt was opened and hanging loose to my side! I grabbed at the handle of the door and threw it aside, staggering through and falling onto the ground just beyond.

It was strange, somehow I had become a girl and found myself being accosted by a man whom I had no idea who he was! I had a good reason to believe that he and I... well, my female self, were married, yet was it possible that any of this could actually happen? Or was it all a dream?

"Surely that was it! It was all just a dream!" I gasped as I rolled onto my backside.

I sat down on the ground, slowly drew my shirt closed, and used my arm to wipe the water from my face and neck. I could still feel his kisses upon my chest; so erotic was the feeling that I still felt the arousal of the moment. I stood up and took a seat upon a fallen log.

"It seemed so real!" I sighed. "Way too real!"

I couldn't help the feeling that I was still reeling from, the experience was so feminine, that it felt like nothing more than a dream, and yet, it was so real that it staggered my mind! I slowly stood and walked back to the car, wondering if I could create the same effect once again.

I sat in the seat and glanced at the old shifter knob. "Was it the knob... or the car?" I wondered, yet I hoped that I would soon find out! With a slight amount of hesitation, I pulled the door shut behind me just as the dizziness returned.

I opened my eyes, I found myself laying upon a bed in complete darkness. I sat up and touched my head. The lightheaded feeling was gone... had I fallen asleep?

I gently let my hands fall upon my chest; the feminine swell had returned... I was once again Abby! I was wearing a light cloth, some type of sleepwear. I scooted to the edge of the bed, and stood.

"Abby, are you okay?" The man asked in a sleepy voice.

I thought quickly. "I have to pee," I said softly, amazed at the gentle sound of my feminine voice.

He nodded and returned his head to his pillow, as I gingerly made my way down the hallway to the front porch. There in the drive was the old Ford, I stepped lightly down the stairs and walked to the side of the gleaming auto. The bright moonlight danced upon its spectacular finish. My reflection in the paint looked like a ghost with the way the soft wind was fluttering the light nightgown around gently.

I touched the cool steel with my slender fingertips, all the while wondering... hoping that this was part of some strange dream. I spied the outhouse not far from the porch and quietly made my way to its shadow. Not wanting to lie to Edward, I went ahead and finished my business, marveling that now I needed to sit to urinate.

Once again, I climbed the steps to the house and quietly reached for the door. As I stood holding to the handle, the moon cast a shadow of me onto the house. My feminine shape was unmistakable. I truly was a woman!

I tiptoed down the hall, returning to the bedroom. Softly snoring was the man whom I was supposed to call, 'husband'. Yet everyone else knew him as Edward. I touched my forehead, wondering if as his wife, should I call him Edward or Ed?

As I stood pondering, he raised his head and pulled back the covers. "I've been waiting for you to come back inside."

I sat on the edge of the bed, as I did, he sat up and touched my shoulder. I could feel him massaging the tension out of my shoulders. Gently he pulled me down with him, his kisses falling upon my neck. His nimble fingers began to work at the drawstring on my collar, loosing it up to allow egress to my chest.

"I found the note from the doctor," he smiled, lightly kissing my chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I searched the darkness with bewildered eyes, "What note?"

His kisses forced me into the pillow, "The note that said we are expecting!"

"EXPECTING? A BABY? ME?" I cried loudly, and scrambled for the door, falling over the rug as I raced for the car. Quickly I threw open the door and fell in, crying and panting from my exertion. I leaned out and took hold of the handle, pulling the heavy door closed with a great slam.

***

I felt a flood of fear wash through me as I sat up quickly, once again alone in the old car. Darkness had fallen outside. I pushed the door open and fell upon the ground, and again my shirt was open to my waist! My body tingled with excitement as I struggled to catch my breath.

I gently touched my chest; once again flat with boyish nipples. I let my hand drift down my waist, resting upon my flat stomach. I wondered what it would be like to feel the infant growing inside of my womb, to feel the slight fluttering of the baby as it moved.

Then I shook my head, "How would I know that?" I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm only sixteen! Why am I wondering about things like that?"

For almost an hour I sat quietly and listened to the crickets as they chirped out their song, then near to my ears an insect hummed in the darkness. I again touched my boyish chest, "What would it have been like to suckle an infant upon swollen nipples like a young mother?"

I found myself looking again at the old car, somehow my only link with the young woman called Abigail Burroughs. I thought back at my childhood, constantly being beaten by my foster father, and I wondered, "Could I be a better parent than he was? Would I ever be able to live in peace without worrying and constantly looking over my shoulder?"

Suddenly, being a young wife and mother didn't seem so strange. I stood and took a deep breath, "Could I do it?" I sighed, taking a hesitant step toward the door. "Yes" I said and in one motion I climbed inside, afraid that I might change my mind. As soon as the door closed behind me, I felt the strange tingle. In a brief moment, I felt my knees slowly parting, as if beyond my will... then suddenly, I was there with him.

Edward was lying between my smooth thighs, his stiff penis deeply stroking the feminine crease between my legs! I was panting with each thrust of his hips, then felt the slow tingle building within my own body. My eyes darted back and forth, 'No!' part of my mind cried, while the other half shouted, 'I can't go back!'

I felt his body shudder, for deep within my womb he jettisoned his precious fluid. At that same moment, my vision went black and the air escaped my mouth. I gasped, trying to return air to my lungs, but only a low moan would be heard. It was as if all the stars from the heavens suddenly lit the sky at one great pulsing blast, I felt my body shake and stiffen. It wasn't the transformation I was feeling, but rather, an intense orgasm of my feminine body!

***

Each day that I remained with Edward brought me further and further from the life I had once lived. Now, I was more than some child sputtering inside an ancient automobile. I had somehow become a young bride, and the mother of Edward's child. Eventually I was able to accept what was offered me, as what I once had been didn't matter anymore.

My life had become inexplicably locked in the time of this young family, I was unable to return to when I had lived as a boy, nor did I want to. I was determined to make the best of the hand dealt to me and accepted it as my own.

I gave birth to a boy, Eric, our only child, a child who lost his life in 1944, on a beach in Normandy. I thought my heart had been ripped out from inside when we received word of his death. Yet life marched on, only it was Edward and I, alone well into our golden years.

I sat upon the porch and set aside my sewing. It was just last year, 1985, that my dear Edward lost his fight to cancer, for he had only been 79. How much longer would I remain in this life, how could I without Edward? I played with one of the pearl earrings that Edward had given to me on our fiftieth wedding anniversary. I sighed and stood, slowly walking down the steps and out to one of the many buildings that dotted our old farm. I made my way toward an old corn crib, it took some effort to push aside the great door; there the sunlight hit the tired black paint of the old 1926 Ford that brought me to where I am today. I gently caressed its cool fender. We had come so far from that day in the meadow... yet, I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

I glanced down at the old Ford's hand crank. It had been several months since I had last heard it run, when a friend had come over to try and get me to sell it to him. But I couldn't because it meant too much to me. I touched the crank reverently, my golden anniversary ring glistening and throwing little prisms upon the black fenders. Using all my strength, I worked the crank around one full turn. Waiting until I caught my breath, I again pushed it a full circle. After a third time I hobbled back to the door and squeezed between it and the old barn wall, sliding into the seat of my old friend.

I pushed the starter, and the old car began to spit and sputter, slowly filling the barn with its cloudy exhaust smoke. I gently worked the shifter into gear and rolled it out into the sunlight; the engine popped and knocked with each revolution of the tired, old pistons.

Further out into the road I drove, past the gleaming sedan that Edward and I had purchased over a year ago. Guiding the old Ford down the drive, I headed away from the farm... I knew where I wanted to visit, at least once before I left this earth.

I pulled into the meadow, the very same that I wandered into on a bicycle. Near the old pear tree I stopped and shut off the car, and I slowly opened the old door. Not far from where I stood was the rusting windmill that I had almost hit on that day, long, long ago. I shuffled to the tree and snapped off a pear, scrubbed it against my blouse and took a small bite.

As I gently chewed the pear, I glanced up the lane, toward where I knew lay Gossamer Road... where I once feared the police and hid in the corn. I chuckled to myself as I rolled what was left of the pear into the weeds. Long ago, something had brought me to this spot; was it luck? Destiny perhaps? Fate?

I smiled, so what if I had to spend the majority of my life as Abigail; I would do it again in an instant! Pulling a thin weed that my dear Edward called, Fox-tail... I lightly traced it along my face and closed my eyes, trying to once again remember what his loving touch felt like.

I pulled slightly at one of the gray curls that framed my face, wondering at the strange fate that pulled me back and forth through time, seemingly so long ago. How ironic it was that it all started on this spot, a beautiful meadow that was once a farm. I could imagine seeing the cows as they mulled behind the old farmer's fence. I could still see the face of the boy, Chet, as he drove me to the home I would come to love. I sighed deeply; imagining the fuzzy end of the weed was my Edward's tender caress.

Behind me a strange noise brought my eyes open, I turned and gasped with surprise as a familiar young face came bounding into the lane. He froze in the grass as soon as he spied me standing next to the old car, his eyes quickly searched back down the lane in the other direction. He was so much like me on that day so long ago... I inhaled deeply and took a chance.

"Philip?" I whispered to the shocked youth.

His eyes began to dart about. "H... how do you know my name?" he stuttered.

I felt my heart skip, somehow it was true, and I had returned to meet myself in some strange sort of fractured time loop where we both exist in the same bizarre reality together. Finally it was clear to me why I was drawn to this meadow once again, somehow with me being his past and he being my future...and I was put here to help him...to help me.

I smiled to the boy, "I know quite a bit about you... but, it's okay, I won't harm you, child... I've come to take you home."

The boy stood, a tear slowly rolled down his dirty cheeks. "H... home?" He cried. "I can't go back there...please."

I smiled and slowly walked to his side, "It's okay, Philip, we're going home... but, not back to where you're running from. This time, child, you're going with me to my own home. I'll take care of you. You can live there for as long as you need."

I smiled even more broadly and pulled him into a grand squeeze, and his slender arms slowly snaked up to my shoulders and returned my hug. I could hear him softly crying with relief, a relief that spanned time itself.

***

Many famous scientists view the line of time as a straight plane, beginning and ending with a person's death. For Phillip, his timeline was like a large, overlapping circle, able to meet and touch and then resume out into the great unknown beyond. A timeline without the stringent boundaries known to men, a timeline which could only exist inside the realm of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

******

Eric Carroll was a child prostitute who did his tricks for drugs. An unscrupulous doctor with a strange kinky desire, traded the drugs he supplied to the boy with feminine hormones from the hospital's pharmacy. As the angry youth realized he was developing feminine body characteristics, he began to use those characteristics and mannerisms on unsuspecting strangers, stealing much of what he needed to live. That is, until he faced a 'magician' in a crowded bar inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

I was a small kid, a homeless teen, a street rat, making a buck just about any way I can. When I first landed on the street, I tried it all: drugs, prostitution to pay for the drugs, robbery... you name it. It was a rough life, but I had grown accustomed to it.

About a year and a half ago, I stumbled onto one freak. I say "freak" because he preferred that I dress like a chick - I guess he got his jollies from it. I wasn't into that sort of thing, but the money was really great so I figured 'what the heck.'

The dude was a doctor at the local hospital and eventually he became a regular of mine, almost wanting me exclusively as his own. Through him, I was earning anywhere from $500 to $600 an evening. He set me up in an apartment and would often stay three times a week with me. Between the drugs and his money, I was sitting on easy street.

Over time, the doctor began controlling me more and more. He insisted that I look feminine just for him. Again, the money and drugs he supplied were too awesome, so I found myself complying with his demands. At some point during that period, I stopped getting my hair cut and let it grow to a rather girlish length. When I was with him, I would curl it so it would look feminine. Otherwise, I would just pull it back into a pony tail.

All the while, this doctor was providing me with drugs he pilfered from the hospital. Sometimes, they fit the need that I craved; sometimes, the drugs would leave me in such a stupor that I could care less what he was doing to me; and sometimes, they left me disappointed in their ineffectiveness. It was remarkable that all this had been happening since I was fourteen...sometimes getting high...sometimes not.

Whether it was the ineffective drugs he was stealing for me, or perhaps it was because of them, that I began to put two and two together. Since the doctor and I spent almost a year and a half together, it dawned on me that I hadn't really grown in stature as I would have thought. From the age of fifteen, I remained small and had developed uncharacteristically slender thighs, arms and legs and almost womanly wide hips with a thin waist. My fingers were long and slim, and my nails were more oval than most guys I knew. But the bell ringer was that my aureola were the width of two fingers across with a slight pudginess behind each that made them stick out slightly from my body!

You never really believe that someone could do something without your knowing it, but somehow he had! For the first few weeks after noticing the strange changes marked within my stature, I pushed it to the back of my mind telling myself, 'It just wasn't possible.' Then one day, after my shower, I stood naked in my room and stared at my reflection in the mirror. An overwhelming revelation enveloped me...there should be no way that a normal boy would develop these feminine characteristics! With my long hair, and slender shape I gasped, "That bastard has been feeding me female hormones!"

I could feel my heart dropping into my feet, as I touched the girlish breast perched upon my chest! I looked like some freakish cross between me and a teenage girl. "It's no wonder he's been pushing me to wear these damn chick clothes full time - the bastard!" I spat as I quickly pulled on my t-shirt to cover up the adolescent breasts I now realized I'd been sporting, jiggling and quivering with each movement of my body. I trembled and removed my long hair from being trapped under the shirt, and quickly ran a comb through it to remove the tangles.

"I have to get out of here!" I said to myself as I slammed the comb down on the dresser.

I quickly pulled my underwear up my smooth legs and grabbed my cutoff denim shorts from the bed. Sliding my feet into them, I quickly zipped the zipper and buttoned the fly, and forcefully worked the white pocket lining back into the pockets of the jeans. I grabbed my wallet and tried in vain to push it into my back pocket. I couldn't do it; the pants were too damn tight! "Bastard!" I roared.

I slipped my feet into my flip-flops and yanked an elastic hair tie from the top of my dresser, deftly pulling the wet hair into a ponytail. Grabbing up a plastic bag that I stored all of my 'feminine' make-up, I began tossing in my brushes, combs and perfumes.

I turned and headed for the door, but I paused as I reached for the doorknob. In the mirror, I still looked more girl than boy. Running a hand across my chest, I could feel my breasts as they tried to fulfill the programming of the damned hormones. The same ones that he had been feeding me, for God only knows how long!

In anger, I yanked the door open and stormed throughout the house, gathering odds and ends as I went, pausing only long enough to gather a bank card that the doctor absentmindedly left on the counter. Knowing the pin number, I gritted my teeth as I forced the card into my pocket. "I'm going to make that bastard pay for what he did to me!"

In moments, I was outside and I headed down the sidewalk...looking for the nearest bank machine.

******

I thought about what he had done to me...to my body as I carried what was left of my belongings down the street. I was sure the people who saw me, probably thought of me as a female, especially since I couldn't really hide the girlish swell of my unfettered breasts. I cringed as I walked, each jiggle reminding me that I no longer could go without some type of support. His damn feminine hormones saw to that. I knew I had to do something...soon. I forced myself to wear one of the outfits that 'HE' had purchased, one which didn't make me look like a tramp, as I dressed in a public restroom...I began to formulate a plan on how I'd make him pay!

Over the next three days, I set the plan in motion with a vengeance. I used the bank machines as often as I could, and not all in the same area. In every case, when I would approach a bank the machine to use his card, I'd make sure that I was looking as feminine as I could possibly be...that way, when they would eventually look at the film of who was using the account, they would only see a female. I was sure that the 'good doctor' would know who I was - but he'd never say anything because of the embarrassment our little trysts would have on him. He had a very good reason for 'US' not getting out, he wanted to keep everything quiet about me, because he was still married.

Once I had pilfered enough to satisfy my anger at him, I'd cut off my long hair... pick up a sports bra at some church's clothing drive for the poor, to flatten out my breasts... and disappear into the city.

I was able to siphon off almost $3,000 from his savings account before he shut off the access, but it was enough for me to buy a fake ID and some clothing, and I gradually slipped into the crowded city life.

I had no choice that I could see, because I still needed money for food, clothing and shelter and to pay for a drug habit that I couldn't seem to shake. Using the current form I'd been saddled with, I began to slip into the network of prostitution. Sure enough, with my girlish teenage-looking body, I became quite successful.

As I had done with that doctor, I began to steal from my 'tricks' to support both my worldly and drug needs. I lined up a sucker, gave him just shy of what he wanted, and then stole him blind when he wasn't looking.

Twice I walked away with a pervert's keys to their expensive cars and had them in chop shops before they knew what had happened. Yes, my forced profession was truly good to me and for five years I did quite well. How could I know that my luck was about to change - permanently!

******

I entered the club; its loud music thumped inside my ears, and I could almost feel the beat caress my body the closer I came to it. A large bald man held out his arm and snapped his fingers, impatient to see my ID. I fished inside the purse I carried and retrieved the fake ID.

The man looked from it to me, then back again. Then he did it a second time. Finally, he smiled and handed back the card. The cost of the fake was worth it, as it allowed me entrance to select my next 'trick'.

I smiled through my glossed lips, inwardly sighing with relief as I made an attempt to stuff the ID back into my purse and began to walk away. After a few steps I felt a hand touch me lightly upon my elbow, which caused my heart to fall into my feminine shoes.

"Miss, you dropped your ID," the bald man said as he held it out to me.

I took it from him, smiled and pushed it into the purse once again. "Thank you," I replied in my 'best' feminine voice.

As soon as the man returned to his post, I disappeared into the crowd. One by one I mentally crossed off the targets I saw. It wasn't until I had been in the club for almost a half an hour when I spied my newest 'victim'.

The shy man looked to be in his early to mid thirties, was well-dressed, and best of all — was alone. I made my move. "Is this seat taken?" I asked softly.

"Uh...no, no help yourself." He glanced around himself nervously.

I smiled and placed my purse on the table, "I had to fight my way in here, it's almost impossible to find a place to sit down."

"You're welcome to sit here as long as you like. I don't mind." He smiled and took a sip of his drink.

I studied the man, and I saw that he had a kind and gentle face. In a place like this, it meant more than I could hope for.

The man quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners." He extended out his hand, "I'm Daniel Morgan...my friends call me Dan."

I grasped his hand as femininely as I could. "Emily, Emily Carroll."

He looked toward the bar, "May I buy you a drink?"

"Sure, beer is fine," I said smiling, nervously glancing around.

Dan got up and quickly pushed his way to the bar. While he was there, a large man approached the table where I was sitting. "Care to dance, hon?"

I quickly looked up and said, "No thanks."

The man glanced toward Dan who was still waiting to be served at the bar, "Your date?"

I knew where the man had been indicating. Dan. "Yes, he's my date."

He shrugged and rose to his full height, "You don't know what you're missing, little lady. I'd have shown you a real good time... a whole lot better than he could!"

"Thanks, however I'll have to pass on your offer." I sat up, but tried to avoid eye contact with the taller man.

As he was leaving, I noticed Dan was returning. "Who was that guy? Did you know him?" he asked as he placed the beer in front of me. There was a glass inverted on the bottle's stem.

"I'm sorry, but I said you were 'my date' so he'd leave me alone," I replied as I took the glass down and began to pour the amber liquid into it. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. In fact, it's the most action I've had in a long, long time." He laughed as he took a drink from the bottle he held.

I liked this man's sense of humor. It was too bad that I had to deceive him, but that was what I marked him for. Perhaps, in another place, we may have become friends.

"So, Dan, what is it that you do for a living? A girl should know this information, especially since we're on a date," I asked, tipping my head in the direction the big man had drifted off in. I was trying anything in an attempt to spur on a conversation, trying to draw him into my web. I daintily took a slow sip from his glass, turning it slowly toward him so he could see the lipstick smudge I left on the rim of the glass. To some men, this was a turn on.

"I'm a magician of sorts. It isn't much, but it keeps a roof over my head." Dan waved his hand as if it embarrassed him to talk about his job.

"That's cool! Show me something magical," I whispered, trying to stroke more than just his ego.

"Uh...sure...what would you like to see?" Dan shrugged.

I looked around and pushed a cheap metal ashtray across the table, "Make that disappear."

Dan calmly picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder. It clanked against the floor and rolled on its edge toward the bar. "Gone! Presto!" I saw this all transpire and burst out laughing.

Dan just sat with a smile on his face, all the while I laughed. "You must not be very good at magic," I was finally able to say.

Dan only shrugged his response. "I get asked that all the time. Make this or that disappear, levitate this, card tricks. I'm more in to the unexplained types of magic."

"Like David Copperfield?" I asked, taking another sexually provocative sip of my beer.

Ignoring my flirting, he continued. "That's a little closer to what I do," he said smiling.

"You'll have to show me; I'd love to see some real magic." I smiled, trying my best attempt to flirt with the man.

But Dan calmly stood and pushed his chair in. "If you'd allow me to take leave of you, ma'am, I have an early start in the morning and I really need to be going home."

"Did you drive here?" I asked softly, worried that I would lose my target.

"Unfortunately, I didn't. I was brought to this fine establishment via yellow cab."

"Oh..." I whispered softly.

"Would you like me to share a cab...I can have it drop you off. I hope you don't mind, Emily, I just don't really feel like the bar scene tonight." He smiled as he was pointing toward the club's exit.

Part of me didn't want to take him up on his offer. I liked Dan; he seemed like a good guy and I just didn't want to hurt him with my deceitful ruse. But as usual, old habits die hard so I said, "If you insist."

Dan offered me his arm so I took it, and demurely rose to my feet. Dan stood slightly taller than I, and I was wearing my tall heels.

******

I knew my plan was working as our first stop was at the driveway of Dan's home, "Emily, would you care to come in for a nightcap?" Dan said as he stood at the curb.

I smiled and popped my door open, once again carefully swinging my legs out to the car. As I began to stand, a hand was offered to assist. Dan had covered the distance from the passenger side of the car and was attempting to help me out of the cab. Politely, I took it and rose to my feet - knowing full well that I had him, hook, line and sinker.

Once inside, I began to scan the comfortable home for items that I could pawn. Dan walked into his kitchen and began pulling down wine glasses. "It's not often that I have a young lady in my humble home, I should do it more. Uh...Emily, would you care for a beer or something perhaps a little 'harder'?"

"Oh...uh, sure. Whatever you're having would be fine," I mindlessly responded to his earlier conversation. "Why's that?"

"Why's what?" he asked from the kitchen.

"Why isn't it often that you have a young lady in your home?" I replied as I took a seat on his couch, pulling the hem of my skirt higher up my thigh. I was determined to give him a show and reel him in further.

"This house needs the company of a beautiful woman, as do I," he responded as he returned to the living room and handed me a tall amber-colored beverage.

"I wouldn't consider myself beautiful," I said with a laugh. Although I was being serious, Dan took it as something entirely different.

"Not every girl is perfect, Emily. You don't have to have a successful career, or be a movie star, to be considered beautiful," he replied politely. "What you were born with, and what is here inside, is what makes you beautiful." As he spoke he tapped his chest over his heart.

I laughed as I took a drink, "You can't be serious."

"Is that what prevents you from enjoying life?" He shook his head. "Sadly, you are a misguided, beautiful young lady. What is it that you expect in your future, Emily? A husband? Children? Financial stability? Beauty?" He counted off the items as he spoke.

I almost said something, but quickly remembered why I was here, and answered as I assumed Dan would expect. "Sure, every girl wants those things, but more importantly, I want a life that isn't surrounded by prostitutes and drugs."

I cringed as soon as I spoke; if he didn't know that I was a prostitute before, he certainly knew now. We both grew quiet. "I assume you've probably already guessed..."

"You're a user and a prostitute?" he replied nonchalantly as he finished my sentence. "You are bent on seducing me and then stealing me blind...am I right?"

"You...but how?" I whispered, shocked.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not offended...it happens." He smiled and sat on the arm of the couch. "While you were picking me out as a target, perhaps I was picking you out as one of my own."

Under his steady gaze, I needed to get out...to get away from him! I quickly began to scan for an exit, the door would be the logical choice, but he was in the way. There had to be another avenue of escape that I hadn't thought of. Then it came to me! "Uh...too much liquid tonight," I said laughing, "I think I need to use your bathroom before I head home tonight."

"Down the hallway to the right," Dan pointed, and I began to walk down the hall. He didn't seem worried, almost as if he knew that I couldn't get away.

As I walked down the hall, I could feel Dan's eyes watching me. Once inside the bathroom, my hopeful spirits fell as I found no window with which to escape. After a reasonable time plotting, I flushed the toilet and ran water in the sink. I returned to the living room, where somehow my plan of escape had to lead me through the front door.

Dan watched my eyes glance furtively between him and the door, judging the distance between both.

"Have a seat, Emily," he nodded his head toward the sofa. "We need to...talk." With trepidation, I sat down.

I became slightly uncomfortable as he sat down beside me, "Are you going to turn me in?" I asked, suddenly feeling more like the victim in our strange meeting.

Dan sat quietly for a moment, then stood up and walked to the back of the couch. I was forced to look up to see him, and was afraid to make a break for the door just yet. He seemed to be staring into space. How had this whole caper suddenly backfired on me, placing me into such an unaccustomed, vulnerable position?

After several minutes, he looked down at me. "You know you shouldn't continue to take drugs and give of yourself to prostitution. Neither are very healthy." He paused and rubbed his chin with a finger. "You know, Emily, I can't let you leave. Especially when I know that you'll just go out and harm yourself with the drugs you've been taking, or steal from another unfortunate 'trick' of yours. Your deceit has to end here."

I suddenly looked up, over my shoulder at him. "Dan, you can't hold me here against my will!"

"True. But I can't let you leave to continue living that sort of life again," he replied with a smile. "It's my duty as a man interested in you, to do everything I can to prevent you from harming yourself."

I tried to stand...more than once, but I couldn't! "Don't bother, you can't get away."

"How are you holding me down? Release me this instant!" I demanded.

"How old are you, Emily?" he asked softly, ignoring my demands, leaning on his elbows against the back of the couch. "Seventeen, maybe Eighteen? Surely no older than Nineteen..."

"I'll be twenty-two in May!" I snapped, still trying to raise myself from the couch. "You could be arrested for what you're doing to me!" I cried.

He sighed, "And still your beauty bespeaks the woman you've become...providing you haven't already contracted some dangerous disease to shorten your life. Besides, I've done you no harm, no police force in history could find any of my DNA on you. So, all they would find is a prostitute...it's you they would arrest."

Slowly he raised himself up and walked around the couch. "I will help you, so then perhaps you can help me."

"What do you mean, 'help you'?" I wondered aloud, still trying to remove myself from his couch.

Kneeling at my feet, he gently placed his hands over mine. "Don't trouble yourself over it, Emily." I felt a tingle race throughout my body, from hands to feet and every upward...my scalp was the last to experience what felt like thousands of tiny pin pricks. "You are very lucky, Emily."

"Lucky? How?" I asked, trying to remove my hands from his grasp.

"You were in the very early stages of HIV; had I not interceded, you would have died within a decade." Slowly he released my hands and dropped his own to the couch, still touching my thighs with his thumbs. "But now, you are cured."

"Please let me go..." I whispered, suddenly fearful that in our close proximity, he would discover that I was a male!

"When I'm done, if you wish...you can go your own way."

"When you're done doing what?" I tried to raise my knee and push him away...but I still couldn't even move my legs or feet! "What have you done to me? How are you holding me here?"

He smiled, "I told you...I'm a magician of sorts."

I frowned and tried to raise my hand to slap him...each limb felt like lifting lead. "Let me explain something to you, Emily. When I was a teen, my brother accidentally placed a...well a curse on me that prevented any innocent female from becoming interested in me. Then you came along...as young and beautiful as can be...but hardly an innocent. I mean, how could any prostitute be considered innocent?"

"You don't understand," I pleaded. "I'm not who you think I am!"

"I know exactly who you are, Emily, or rather who you will be - the future mother of our children!"

I almost laughed, "I got news for you..."

"Stand, Emily." He motioned to me and offered me his hand. I felt compelled to take it, yet could still not move in any direction. As if I were some sort of pose-able doll, he took my hands and placed them on the backside of his neck. Try as I might, I couldn't pull them down.

Dan slowly encircled my waist with his hands, then he gently slid his left hand down my backside and onto my thigh. Effortlessly, he drew my knee up to just above his hip. I trembled as I looked down toward my smooth thigh, held there beyond my control!

Once again, his left hand returned to my bottom and supported me as his right followed suit, gathering my thigh and pulling it upward so I was no longer standing on the floor, then returning his right hand to my bottom and help support my weight.

I could feel my biceps tensing up, slowly drawing me higher up against Dan. As I rose upward, I could feel his hand sliding up my back, stopping at my hair. He held the back of my head and slowly pushed me into his lips. "Don't fight it, Emily," he whispered just before I felt our lips touch.

His kisses were soft and strangely inviting, slowly working outward and down my neck, causing my eyes to close in erotic bliss. "What are you doing to me?" I gasped, unable to withstand the intense passion I was feeling.

As an adult would carry a young child, I found myself moving down a hallway toward another room. Finally he sat me down, allowing my feet to touch the floor. "Undress for me, Emily."

"I...I can't!" I cried. "Please...I can't!"

"Emily, are you afraid to show me your young body? Are you embarrassed that I'll see the small breasts you have?" He smiled and gently traced along the collar of my shirt, almost following the bra line. "You'll never have to be embarrassed again, Emily. Your youth is an asset, your age inconsequential. Your need...is unquenched."

Again a strange erotic tingle washed through me, centering upon each of my hormone-induced nipples. I felt the air escape from my lungs, as if it was being crushed from my body by a huge weight.

"Please, Emily, return your kisses to me..." he sighed, closing his eyes once again and kissing my mouth provocatively. Gradually he opened his mouth wider, I follow his lead without control, and began to French kiss him in earnest.

Gradually he pulled away, yet kept his face only inches from my own. I still kept kissing him, unable to prevent the butterfly kisses from stopping. "Arouse me, Emily."

With his suggestion, my eyes flew open. I could feel my hand dropping, but could do nothing to prevent its decent! In seconds, I firmly placed my hand upon the front of his trousers. In panic, I began to manipulate him to an erection. I could feel him growing, stiffening harder and harder. It was one thing when I did this for money, but what I was doing at that moment...seemed to be happening for pleasure - his!

"More..." he sighed, his hot breath sending chills down my spine. His hands never left me, mine never left their erotic manipulation of him...yet, suddenly he was wearing nothing at all!

Higher and higher his erection grew, slowly inching its way upward! He began stroking my inner thigh with its strange dancing caress. Still unable to resist kissing him, I was prevented from looking down. Feverishly my hand encircled his hot penis, now engorged and straining, with warmth. I could not help myself, and slowly began to stroke him!

"Not too fast, honey," he sighed again as I continued my passionate caress.

I could feel his hands at my waist, slowly and gently raising upward, lightly touching me as they traveled. At the underside of my bra he paused, then began to caress its surface with a heavenly touch.

The feeling changed in perspective however, from being caressed through a bra to feeling his touch directly onto the smooth skin of my breast! I shuddered, knowing that I had no part of ever removing either my shirt or bra! Still, further we passionately kissed.

His touch transformed from being light and innocent, to lustful and hungry. I felt him palming my entire breast, stroking my powerfully stiff nipples with his thumb. "Yesssss!" he gasped as one of my hands was stroking his ridged penis and the other hand was caressing his sack with feminine desire.

My body had long ago given up control, no longer was I able to fight his will! My mind was filled with blissful passion, so much that I couldn't even think straight. Yet, deep down, I knew that what was happening was impossible and unthinkable.

I felt his kissing upon my forehead, then each one traveled to the top of my head where he began kissing my hair. It wasn't until I felt the carpet touching my knees that I knew what was happening! The warm heat from his penis radiated to my cheek as I began to silently nuzzle and kiss its surface. "Oh my God!" My mind screamed as I began to slowly take him in, prolonging his pleasure with my own erotic ministrations. His hands were gently touching the back of my head as he rhythmically stroked into my mouth.

My mind was reeling; many times I portrayed a female prostitute in an attempt to steal from the 'Johns' that I would select. Not since the doctor did I ever go so far as to have sex with them! Usually, I would get the guy too drunk to ever know anything of what was happening between us. True, what was now going on between Dan and I, the fellicio, was as close as I ever did get to having real sex with a man as a woman.

But now, my body was acting and reacting to him as I imagined a real female would. And the thing that was really scaring the hell out of me...I seemed to be enjoying it! He began moving faster, was and then I began moving faster! I was trying with all my being to bring him to orgasm, using every method that I had ever heard or read to bring about his release!

In all of my life, I have never felt the arousal that I was feeling right at this moment. It was as though my entire body suddenly began to glow from within. I could feel his pace quicken, yet knew that it was really my own rhythmic movement that engineered his response to my ministrations. There was some strange desire, building a need for his seed. Yet in that desire was no want to orally take it inside of me...the need wanted it within my body, driven deep into my womb, a womb that I could never hope to have...nor want.

Slowly, I began to regain control and gently pulled myself away from the oral stimulation I had been doing. As I gradually arose to my feet, his ridged penis touched me lightly along my inner thighs! It was nothing more than an airy caress, but it was extremely arousing to me, and very dangerous!

As we stood facing each other, his eyes searching mine, I realized that I too was unclothed. With the state of my arousal, I began to grow fearful that my own pitiful penis could be extremely close to alerting him!

I slowly could see my hands as they rested upon his chest, gradually I gently pushed him away. "I can't...I won't," I cried, "You can manipulate my mind, but you can't force me to love."

"You are a prostitute no longer; from this day forward you will open yourself only to me!" He gently caressed my cheek, my hand guided his along my face and neck, pushing him further down to my breast. My eyes close as my face turns upward toward the ceiling...an erotic moan escaped my throat.

"You sought to steal from me, as you had done to countless others. Only, I will be the one gaining the most." His hand began to knead my breast, sending my desires even higher. "Open your feminine gate to me, Emily. Allow me entrance."

"I can't!" I gasped, the air in my lungs expelling with lust.

"Spread yourself for your future husband," his voice was calm and reassuring.

I felt my bottom touch his bed. Easing backward, I slowly took the weight off of my feet. My breath was leaving as if I was being submerged in icy water on a cold day. Panic ensued as I could feel my knees parting of their own violation!

"Dan..." I sighed, trying to speak through the eroticism of his hand slowly trailing down my stomach, dangerously close to my hormonally shrunken privates.

My hands fell back toward the bed, supporting the weight of my upper body. I could no longer hold my head up; it felt heavy, my neck weak. I could only focus on the ceiling as Dan's hands touched me lightly upon the knees. I wasn't sure if it was at his suggestion, or whether he was actually guiding my knees to the bed...but I could sense that they were slowly dropping.

Dan leaned forward, and his kisses danced upon my breasts. Both of my damnable nipples were engorged with desire, standing out toward his hungry lips. Gently, Dan buried his face into my chest. His kisses became open mouthed, tonguing me into a passion that was far beyond anything I could ever imagine!

I tried to summon up the courage to tell him 'no', but the only sound that escaped my mouth was unintelligible. Gasping in passion was most likely what he heard. "Now my love, let us seal our union in a bond that will forever show others that you are mine."

A feminine squeal escaped my voice while Dan worked his kisses toward my neck. Sweat began to dapple my lip, I was sure it was all over, but I could taste it when I licked my lips. Finally his kisses enveloped my own mouth, hungry and passionate, yearning for the love of a woman, a woman he assumed me to be!

Terror filled my disappearing mind as his penis came into contact with the inside of my thigh, against the soft skin nearest my privates. My eyes opened wide, yet I could do nothing more than kiss him like some love starved female!

Closer and closer he came to a discovery that would doom me, each dance from his tip brought me closer to certain death! At the surface just below my sack he pushed, once...twice. "A tight little thing, my love?"

I could only hold his face and smother him further with my kisses, terrified that he would discover that I wasn't a girl, yet wanting him inside me! Again he pushed, this time harder, "Guide me, Emily. Guide me into your womb!"

I tried to speak, but my tongue was only interested in the wrestling match with his...gradually, my hand sought out his erection!

"God NO!" My mind screamed as my knees rose slightly and reached through them to guide him into the feminine opening that wasn't there! Slowly I placed him, then pulled my hand back out to touch his face.

He pushed in, gradually at first then as his penis met a slicker surface, it slid in quickly! Pulling out slightly, he gathered up again for another push.

"Work with me, Emily. Help me to create our child." I lay beneath him and stared up, unable to even speak had I wanted to! Gently at first I could feel my hips begin to rock with his rhythm. Faster and faster I moved until we were nothing more than some sort of machine, moving with a need for a single common goal.

Then the look upon his face began to change, and his speed with which he had been moving slowed. It was as though the command he held over me had broken, no longer was he able to manipulate my movement to his bidding. Suddenly he rolled off me and to my side!

"I'm so sorry, Emily, I had no right to do this to you! I've removed all of my control over you...it will never happen again. God...I'm so sorry, Emily!"

I wiggled my toes, it was true. I could now control my own actions! From the position I was lying, I knew that he hadn't been inside my anal cavity but rather buried within what could only be a feminine hole! Somehow he had altered my body! Looking downward, my breasts were no longer those of an undeveloped preteen, hopelessly full of feminine hormones. They were very real! Smaller than some pin-up queen, but better than average. Somehow, he had changed me into a real woman!

"How...How did you change me?" I asked, completely shocked.

"I am a descendant of a great order of witches, although I don't usually practice it." He bit his lip as he looked at me. "The form you have was written on your soul...I only brought it out of you."

"Did you really see disease in my future?" I asked.

"You would have been dead before 2020...I cured you with my magic." Again he looked downward as if contemplating our current situation. "I can't believe I did this to you! So powerful is the lust I've been feeling for you!"

My mind raced; he cured me when he could have killed me! He could still turn me in to the police as a prostitute, I suppose. It would serve me right with all that I've done to my other victims. But, somehow he had transformed me into a woman...a real woman. This meant that I could live a life like a real person and not spend the rest of my life hiding in the seedy shadows of the city's underworld because of what the doctor had done with hormones. A wave of love for him overcame me!

"I can return you back to...before...before this," he asked softly.

I inched closer to him. "I'm afraid if I go back, I will only continue down the path that had brought me here," I whispered, a tear slowly rolling toward my ear.

"You will, and it will bring about a vengeful, painful death from one of your victims."

"Can you make it so I will always have been...a good girl?" I whispered.

"Is that what you truly want?" he asked softly.

"I feel that I should pay for what I have done to the others...my victims. Even though what I did will never have actually happened in the new reality."

"I won't be the one deciding your punishment. Only you can decide that for yourself," he observed.

"Fine," I responded. "From this day forward, I will only remember being your mistress, gratified in your love for all of my days."

He shook his head, "No. That's not right. I don't want that kind of life for either of us."

"Make me be drawn only to satisfy your desires. Impregnate me with your children, use me as you would your wife," I offered aloud.

"I will make you my young wife and 'WE' will be desirous of each other. 'OUR' children will be conceived, knowing that their parents are deeply committed to and love each other." He smiled, "How's that?"

"But how will I 'pay' for my past deeds?" I asked. "I can't continue on without feeling as though I've paid for my actions!"

"Fine then, if that's the way you want it. Everything will come to pass as we have said earlier...however, when I become aroused...you will be unable to control your desire to me. No matter if you want it or not. Because of your desire for making love to me, you will become pregnant many times. There will be at least a year and a half between children and our family will be large, and each labor will not be easy. All this will pass until in your middle years when it is no longer safe for you to bear a child."

I thought about his comment. "I have only one thing to add." Dan's eyebrows raised slightly, waiting for me to continue. "I never want to forget where I came from... but I will never be able to tell. I want to be a very good wife and mother, as long as I am alive."

"It is done," he whispered, and he slowly climbed on top of me and lowered himself to kiss me while I guided him into me.

It was as though a unbridled desire washed through me; I wanted my husband as no wife could ever want her own! Together we began our motion, his movement feeding the lust I felt for him since the spell was said. No longer did I care of my past as everything that I ever had was focused on my Dan.

I felt a shudder race through him as I clutched him tighter with my legs, which were wrapped around his body. My heart was pounding with desire as I felt the first wave of pleasure racing toward my new opening. Again another followed the first...than another, each building upon the one preceding. More stronger than the last until I was washed by a monstrous tidal surge that swept my mind from my body. The gasping cry became more breath, like steam escaping an ancient radiator.

Finally as he ended, his seed no longer being pushed by the force of his dominant male lust...I was once again able to focus my eyes. "Dear God, Dan, that was incredible!" I squealed like a child as I kissed him upon his neck and chest.

"And it will feel that way every time we couple..." He smiled as I removed the grip I held with my legs. "Remember, it is how you wanted."

"Well then, I guess we should do something about soundproofing our walls." I smiled as I began to play with his softening penis. "We wouldn't want the children to hear our lovemaking."

"Speaking of children..." He smiled as I guided him into me once again.

"Did we make one yet?" I asked.

"So soon?" he laughed. "You want children already?"

"I thought it was all predetermined by the spell." I began to adjust the tilt of my hips.

"Not really, just that with as desirous of me that you are now...it will be impossible become pregnant each and every time we make love. But know this my dear Emily, your maternal instincts have been elevated to almost unheard of levels. All of this is my gift to you, helping make the time in between something to look forward to."

I closed my eyes, imagining our baby suckling at my engorged breast, "I'm ready now...please Dan, make love to me until I'm pregnant."

He smiled, speeding up his stroke with my own rhythm. "If you insist, my love...if you insist."

Even in our current passion, questions began to assail my mind, he sensed that my mind was preoccupied and slowed his rhythm. "What is it now, my love?"

The words were forced in intervals of his gentle thrusts, yet I was able to concentrate enough to ask, "Do we need a wedding ceremony, or are wedding bands sufficient?"

Dan thought about it for a minute, and surely realized that every woman he had ever known placed their wedding day as a huge milestone of their lives, could he deny that of his Emily?

Giving me a smile and with a slight wave of his hand, asked. "How's this?"

Instantly I had images of being the bride and wearing a wedding gown, saying our vows, and watching as my husband placed the ring on my finger! The images were so real that I looked at my hand and saw both a diamond ring along with a wedding band! Then, additional images flashed in my mind, as I saw myself feeling pleasure while shopping for clothes, trying on outfits, and being naturally classy and gracefully feminine as a young woman. These thoughts carried through and continued, making them one of the reasons Dan had asked me to marry him.

I glanced at my closet and saw it filled with clothes, and I remembered buying almost all of them! I also knew about my menstrual cycle and how to handle my period! Memories of being a little girl, growing up, and meeting Dan cascaded like a waterfall, and I now my mind was full of childhood stories that I could tell our children. I just knew that I had been remolded, emotionally, mentally and physically, to be the perfect companion to Dan, and I loved it!

Tears of happiness rolled down my cheeks. Dan looked concerned, but I smiled broadly to my husband and softly said, "Thank you so much, Dan. I love you!"

He wrapped his strong arms around me and gathered me in, with his finger, he tilted my head back, kissing my soft lips tenderly and smiling. I noticed tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he whispered with emotion, "Oh...Emily my lovely bride, welcome home."

******

Eric thought he could turn a bad experience into a profitable livelihood, masquerading as a female, stealing from his clients. Mistakenly thinking that in their embarrassment they would desperately try to keep their own friends and families finding out. He thought their embarrassment would protect him...he was wrong.

It was Eric, or rather Emily, who found her future changed. His once reckless nature, now femininely twisted and altered beyond all imagined possibility. Destined to forever become the vessel of many, and the loving bride to only one. The burden no longer was that of male prostitution. She had been morphed and transformed into a life of maternal bliss, bearing her husbands children for years to come. Emily's fate was sealed...in a pretty little house, somewhere inside...THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

I will try to upload a Chapter a week. The story is complete but very large - thus the reason to release it in smaller chapters. It was originally intended to be a novel, but I don't have the desire to pursue publishing. I want to thank my most trusted Editor, J.P. for all of his help on making this story be all it can be, without him, in my opinion - this story wouldn't be half as good. Hope you enjoy!

Preface: Origins of the Amulet of Asclepius

The amulet was a thin medal of hammered silver, an ancient necklace which dated back to before the time of Christ. It first came to knowledge with the early Greeks, said to have been imbued with great mystical powers, forged directly by the hands of the gods. On one side of the amulet was a clear, blue sapphire teardrop that appeared to have a sunburst deeply etched within the backside of the beautiful stone. On the reverse side was an engraving that looked somewhat similar to the Rod of Asclepius, a snake wrapped around a staff. It was believed to have been suspended on a thin but unbreakable chain, thought to have been made from woven strands of Zeus' own silver hair.

If touched to a person, the amulet was thought to cure the individual of any injury or illness. Should the amulet be touched to a person who was recently deceased, and if that dead had young and dependent offspring, there was a possibility of the amulet transforming the holder inadvertently, just to save the life of the orphan, especially if the child had no way of fending for itself.

It was created to be used only as a last resort to save a life, and only a chosen few caretakers knew its true origin. Over time, several who held onto it for safekeeping began to use it on themselves so they could experience unheard of life spans. Their addiction to the power left them feeling as though they too were immortal. They had begun comparing their own lives upon equal footing with the gods! Upon hearing of this, it was said that Zeus became furious at their blasphemy; he took it from them and threw it into a far distant land where it became lost to the ages ever since...

-One-

With a failed farm behind them, Ezrah Garrett and his family set out one early April morning in 1860. Frost hung thick on the bushes and grassy low areas, almost looking as though it were snow. They only had their courage, a solid wagon, two good oxen, an old milk cow, and his father's prize possession: a thoroughbred race horse.

Ezrah had grown up along the banks of the Wabash, near the small town of Delphi, Indiana. Ezrah and his parents began their trek into the west, following the dream of good land for the taking in the far off Oregon territory.

The Garrett family was no different from many families who set out for the west. Illness, lack of water, too much water, intense cold, sweltering heat, and Indians all impacted them along their way. While this writing includes his trip into the west, it is about a more personal journey young Ezrah took in getting from there, to Oregon.

Tired of the constant pitching of their wagon, Ezrah eventually begged his father to allow him a chance to ride the great black horse. His father relented and pulled his wagon out of the line and quickly showed him how to saddle the sleek black thoroughbred, aptly named Blackie.

Under his father’s watchful eye, Ezrah rode the horse slowly alongside the wagon, ever careful to not do something that would have this honored privilege revoked.

"Keep it slow, boy," his father would say. "Don't want him to stumble and break a leg. That's good, son, don't ride too close to our wheel."

"Are you sure he'll be okay on Blackie? It is a powerful horse and he is a young boy." Mother worried as she watched Ezrah sitting confidently upon the back of the big horse.

"He’s nearly a man honey; only three months shy of his eighteenth birthday! You mother the lad too much - besides we don't want Blackie to turn green from the lack of riding, the lad is doing the horse good...and I'm pretty sure that Blackie is helping the boy as well."

Ezrah could barely hear his parents discussing him in the background, because their conversation was nearly overwhelmed by the continual squeaking of their wagon's wheels. He pulled his kerchief over his face for the dust being stirred up from the leading wagons made the air incredibly hard to breathe.

"Don’t go too far out, Ezrah," his mother shouted.

"I'm okay, Mother; I am only as far up as our oxen. I think they like me walking beside them," the youth replied, then quickly drew his kerchief back over his nose for the dust that the wagon train was kicking up.

His father looked skyward, pursed his lips and called out, "Going to be raining soon, keep him close."

They rolled along for a few miles; the terrain always looked the same as what they left behind. In the distance, the sky was streaked with rain falling from a far off cloud. A worried glance that was exchanged from wife to husband spoke volumes, so his father finally called Ezrah in.

The wagon was slowed and Ezrah slid to the ground and quickly tied the horse alongside their milk cow. They only stopped long enough for the youth to remove the small racing saddle and were quickly on their way, once again in their place within line.

He settled in beside his father upon the hard seat, and his mother now behind them inside the wagon. The cool storm wind had intensified and was too much for her delicate condition. She was pregnant, nearly four months along.

They knew of the dangers of trying to give birth along the way, but it could not be helped. Just beginning to show, the young mother prayed that they would be able to get close to their destination before their baby was born. After Ezrah, she gave birth to two who died very young; one was stillborn, the other from illness. This child would be her third and final try to get the young girl she coveted.

Thunder rumbled long and low and lightning flashed across the sky. Ezrah studied his father for signs of concern but he found none. The man hid his worry well. "Just a lightning storm is all, Ezrah. We'll be fine."

"Will it rain?"

"It may." His father glanced back toward the horse tied behind their wagon. "I'm more worried that Blackie will get spooked. He doesn't care for storms much."

"I don't care for storms either," snapped a voice from deep within the wagon.

Both father and son glanced back into the wagon, turned and shared a knowing glance and smiled.

"Pa, do you think we'll see any Indians?" Ezrah asked with a slight amount of trepidation.

His father shrugged, "Not sure, son, but I hope we don't." He again scanned the sky and the deepening clouds, "Ever since that fool soldier, Lieutenant Grattan, stirred up the Indians back in 1858, there's been hell to pay trying to head west."

“Do tell, Pa,” he asked softly, the wonderment evident in his voice.

Always eager to hear about battles, Ezrah perked up and turned his head toward his father as he continued. "Seems an old cow wandered away from a wagon train and this tribe of Indians found it. You see, son, they were hungry and thought it was a gift from the Great Spirit and... Well they ate it. When the Lieutenant found out he had a parlay with them Indians and was told that it had been eaten."

"What happened next? Was that what caused the battle?" Ezrah asked.

"Well those Indians were saddened that they ate someone's cow and offered to give a horse in trade but the Lieutenant Grattan wouldn't hear of it. He had his solders fire on the tribe and killed and wounded many of them Indians."

"So then it was over?" the youth asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Oh no, you see the chief wouldn't let his braves fire back at them soldiers… that made Grattan powerful angry and he had his men fire at the Indians again and they killed that peace-loving chief. After that, all hell has broken loose and hasn't let up since." He turned back toward the oxen and watched a small patch of sunlight race across the land toward them.

"I guess that would make them angry at us," Ezrah reasoned.

"Like hitting a hornets’ nest with a stick." He sighed and looked at his son with a smile, “The lesson there would be?”

Ezrah grinned, “Don’t be hitting no hornets’ nest with a stick.” This made his father laugh out loud; he shook his head and nickered to his oxen. It began to rain but it was short lived, a swift storm that was soon pushed beyond them. More of the little patches of sun racing across the prairie could be seen, and eventually the sun returned and the air grew still and dry.

"Can I ride Blackie again?" Ezrah looked toward his father hopefully.

"Not today, Ezrah, maybe you can ride him tomorrow sometime." He noted the disappointment on his son's face so he continued, "I'm figuring that it's going to be a long haul, so it would just make more sense right now that you learn how to drive the wagon."

"Are you sure, John? He is just a lad," chimed the worried female from behind.

He looked at his mother in frustration; at nearly eighteen many young men his age were married by now with families of their own. He was growing tired of her smothering him, wanting a chance to make decisions on his own.

Ignoring her concern, he placed the reins in Ezrah's hands. "We'll have you spelling me in no time." His wife sighed and he spoke with his head turned so she could hear, "It'll be good, I may want to sleep or walk... he can give me a break from time to time."

"Am I doing alright?" Ezrah asked.

"You're doing just fine, son." He leaned back, propped his feet on the front of the wagon, pushed his hat back and folded his arms against his chest. "Wake me when we get to Oregon."

The comment caused Ezrah to smile; he enjoyed helping his parents out on such a long journey. His father was right - it was time that he learned to pull his own weight on the trail, and he knew there would be plenty enough of chances to prove himself along the way.

-Two-

The wagons continued to roll westward, as days piled upon days. The constant groan of the wagons and lowing of the oxen seemed to make the days drag on. The dust was unbearable; it made Ezrah itch and nearly long for a stream to bathe in. His mother was now showing signs of the baby. Ezrah knew they hoped for a girl but inwardly, he felt a boy would be much better suited for this land.

At nightfall, the wagon train circled up for the evening. His father always pointed their wagon's tongue toward the North Star so when they woke up, they knew exactly which way to head out.

Ezrah noticed the men exchanging odd glances that evening. There was concern in their expressions. Even though the lad was inexperienced to the ways of the west, he knew they were in Indian country, and all of them would have to be ever vigilant. Their very lives depended upon it.

Morning broke, and found the little family two days west of Fort Laramie. The wagon train rolled slowly along, Ezrah was riding about a hundred feet to the right of his own wagon. His father allowed his son a bit of freedom to go out and come back, showing his trust he had in him. While the father was quite sure of his son skill, Ezrah's mother was constantly on pins and needles with worry.

Ezrah rode Blackie up a few wagons, but still within sight of his father. He wanted to show off to his friend the big black thoroughbred he had been bragging about the night before. He removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead, for the day was hot and very dry. Far off to their right, dust was hanging high in the air. It was evident to the boy that a dust storm was approaching.

Wheeling Blackie around, he trotted back to his father. "Pa, looks like a dust storm is fixing to blow over us." He pointed as the horse pranced, causing him to continually adjust the direction he had been pointing.

His father rose up in the wagon, studying the area his son indicated. "Not sure if that's a storm, son - I'll keep an eye on it though."

As Ezrah rode back up to his friend’s wagon, another rider approached his father, "What do you make of that, Lem?"

"Ezrah just showed me the same thing; he thought it was a dust storm but I'm not sure." He pulled the cork on his canteen and took a quick swallow.

"You don't suppose it’s Indians, do you?" the mounted rider worried.

"It's probably just buffalo. They can move in a herd large enough to kick up a big cloud of dust." He again glanced in the direction of the great cloud and looked over at the mounted man, "Probably should let the Wagon Master know, just in case."

As he began to ride off, Ezrah's father called out to the other man, "I wouldn't say anything to anyone else; you don't want to spook the whole train if there isn't anything to it."

The man slowly nodded and then quickly moved off to find the Wagon Master. As he rode past Ezrah, the lad trotted the big black thoroughbred over to the side of the wagon. "Keep within eyesight, Ezrah."

"Okay Pa," the boy replied, and then looked again toward the advancing cloud, "What did the man think it was?"

"Probably nothing... thought it might just be a big herd of buffalo." He forced a smile to his son and continued to study the dust as it approached.

"Maybe it's soldiers from Fort Laramie?" Ezrah offered.

His father nodded, "That's a good suggestion, son. I hadn't thought of that."

Ezrah turned the big horse, moving slightly away from the wagon. He wanted to see what a column of cavalry soldiers might look like, two or four abreast with their grand pennant flying overhead, wearing their smart blue uniforms. Perhaps it just may be a great migrating herd of bison, as vast as his eye could see. One thing was for certain, the dust cloud was getting closer.

The teen hesitantly glanced toward his wagon, and saw that his father was preoccupied trying to turn the wagon and avoid hitting a large rock. Ezrah slipped the big stallion behind an outcropping of rock and worked his way toward the dust cloud. As he broke out around a boulder, he knew that he was almost on top of whatever was creating the dust. From where he currently was, he could tell that it was not a storm.

From his left and in the distance, he heard a rifle shot and then another. The horse stepped into the open and he felt his stomach take a sudden fall into the pit of his belly. Hundreds of Indians were swarming the few wagons already attempting to form a circle.

As the Indians hit the wagons hard, shots rang out sounding more like a battle than anything that Ezrah had ever heard. "Pa... Ma!" he cried as he wheeled his father's horse back up the trail.

He stood up in the saddle, tears running down his cheeks, trying to figure a way to get back with his parents. Just as his father had implied, the Indians were swarming the train like angry hornets, racing completely around and between them. They had hit the train so quickly that the lead wagons weren't able to turn into the circle for protection.

He sought out his parents; he could only see dust and Indians, each one with their voices raised and whooping their call of victory. Ezrah covered his ears and cried. Eventually as the maelstrom before him subsided, the shooting became less frequent until there was a deafening silence that enveloped all.

Ezrah stayed concealed until the Indians finally left, taking anything worthwhile with them as plunder. By then it was well past dark. Slowly he walked the big black horse down into the scene of the massacre; everywhere he looked lay men, women and a few of the older children. Wagons were burning, and smoke drifted across the lonesome prairie. In the matter of what had been minutes, everything was gone.

He was trembling. “Ma…Pa!” he shouted as he walked Blackie among the burned out wagons.

He found his parents’ wagon; one of the oxen had been killed, and it lay where it had fallen. The wagon was on its side, his father lay beneath it. Ezrah raced to him and dug at the ground beside his father until he could pull his body from under the long wooden bows that made up the frame for the canvas cover. He had three arrows deeply imbedded in his chest, these he removed, crying all the while he was doing it. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he tugged and pulled him away from the wagon, until he was a safe distance from the burning flames.

He looked back and raced to locate his mother, being a smaller woman he was able to carry her much more easily to where his father lay. As he knelt beside them crying he felt a touch upon his arm. His eyes followed to where he felt the touch, it was his father's hand.

"Pa? You're alive!" he quickly wiped the tears away and hugged him.

His father grasped his arm and held him tightly, "Leave us. There is nothing you can do for us now. Ma is gone...I'll soon follow."

"No, Pa, I'm not going to leave you!" Ezrah again began to cry; his father slowly lifted his hand and touched his son's cheek.

He swallowed hard, looking up at his son with tears in his eyes. He licked his lips, “In the wagon…in the bottom drawer, there’s a tin.” He winced and coughed, “That tin has all the money left from the sale of our farm and what we could save, if it ain’t burnt, get it.” He motioned for Ezrah to go, and within moments he had returned holding the blackened tin.

“Open it…” His father wheezed. “There’s $954.00 in there…take it, build the horse ranch I dreamed of.” He arched his neck in pain, and then coughed up blood.

"Get back on Blackie; put as much distance as you can from here. I'll die well knowing you are still alive." Tears began to form in his father's eyes as he gently reached out and took his wife's hand. "Go on, son; don’t worry about us... leave before they come back."

Ezrah slowly stood and wiped his tears; his father turned his face toward his wife and gradually closed his eyes in death's eternal sleep. Tears flowing and barely able to see, Ezrah sought out Blackie and fell against the saddle. When he was able to compose himself, he hesitantly climbed atop the horse. He sat quietly for a moment looking upon his parents for what he knew would be the last time, angry at himself for riding out on his own, but knowing that if he hadn't he would most likely be dead as well.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Three-

Two days west of the attack site, Ezrah was on foot walking the big black horse in an effort to rest it. Ever since that terrible day, the boy used every trick he could think of to elude the roving bands of Indians. Unsure of whether they were those who attacked and killed his parents, yet to him, all Indians were now suspect.

He was walking through a small canyon, and the echoing of Blackie's hooves rattled within his ears even though he was trying to keep silent. As they emerged from the other end, he saw a band of at least a dozen Indians riding diagonally toward him. If he delayed too much, they reach him in no time. He quickly mounted and took off across the prairie in an attempt to outrun them.

When he heard the loud whooping, he knew that he had been seen and it was the second time he had heard their telltale sound. The terrible feeling once again returned to the pit of his stomach. Lying along the back of the big horse, Ezrah entwined his fingers in the long black mane of the horse. Still with the reins in his hands, he hung on for dear life. The horse ran like the wind, ears flat back, tail out and its long ebony main flailing in the terrified youth's face.

It did not take long for him to see that the Indian ponies and their adult riders were no match for a thoroughbred racehorse and a skinny teen who weighed thirty pounds less than they did. He began to distance his pursuers; the powerful muscles rolling beneath Blackie's hide were too much for the Indians smaller ponies.

They rode at break-neck speed for almost a half hour, until the boy could no longer see the band of Indians in pursuit. Ezrah slowed the horse down to a walk, but constantly kept looking back.

As he stroked the big horse's side he whispered, “Thank you, God... thank you for providing Blackie."

The sun was dipping low on the horizon and the moon was promising to be bright. Either way, Ezrah did not want to be caught in the open at dark. As he walked the horse, he began to look for suitable shelter. The youth was very hungry, and he was sure that the horse would be as well. Unless they received a miracle, they would not eat again tonight.

The sun began casting long shadows as Ezrah came to the edge of a butte; he looked down and over a vast valley. There nearly a mile down stood a solitary building. Even from where he stood there was scarring damage from an old fire.

One last time he looked back and stared for a good long while, trying to see if there was movement along the horizon. Satisfied, he slowly began to pick his way down the incline to the bottom. As night washed over the sky, Ezrah worked his way toward the tiny ramshackle building.

He began to look all around him fearfully because as night set in, the valley took on a sinister appearance. Thankfully, they soon arrived at the shack. He walked inside; part of the roof had collapsed, and arrows were embedded in the door frame and walls, but it still appeared solid. He took Blackie inside with him; the shack would offer both of them protection from the night.

On the less destroyed side of the building, Ezrah found a candle and three matches lying on the floor near the old fireplace. He ruined two of them before he finally was able to light the candle. Placing it in an old can, he slowly carried it through the cabin and investigated his surroundings.

In what was left of the kitchen, he found a door to the root cellar. Opening it, he carefully made his way down the steep ladder still carrying the candle. At the bottom of the cellar, he began to search the bins for a potato or carrot or something that would fill his stomach.

He found a burlap bag that looked like it could have been oats or corn meal; in the light from the candle he decided it was corn. He dipped his hand in it; it seemed dry enough and not too mealy. Nearby, he found two onions, a single potato, and an apple with one side that was bad. All were placed in the bag.

He held the candle up, studying if there was anything overhead that may be edible, possibly hanging from the rafters. Far above his head, he saw the glint of something gold. Moving closer, he noticed that it was an old necklace that had been caught between the floorboards. Ezrah tried to reach it but it was still at least a foot out of his reach and there appeared to be nothing that he could stand on.

He grabbed the burlap bag and slowly made his way back up the ladder into the kitchen. Forgetting his hunger, he set the bag aside and began to calculate where he saw the gold necklace hanging. Pulling aside several burnt beams, he found the area where he thought it would be.

Lowering himself to his hands and knees, he began to dust the floor carefully until he found a glint of gold lying amongst the debris. Only a couple of the links were sticking above the floor. Into these he inserted a straight pin that he found among the rubble, and then turned it so it spanned both boards and wouldn't allow the chain to fall the rest of the way into the cellar.

Using a broken pot handle, he began to pry the boards apart, attempting to spread them enough to simply pull the necklace through. He took hold of the pin and slowly pulled out the chain. As he began to retrieve it, the medallion on the end became stuck in the narrow gap between the boards.

Getting a second bite with his makeshift pry-bar, he spread them further and simply pulled the medallion on through. He smiled as the strange little amulet spun in a slow circle, reflecting back a tiny bit of candle light that reflected upon its surface.

He quickly dropped it into his shirt pocket only to hear it hit the floor of the room. Inserting his fingers into the offending hole, he began cursing to himself as he felt around in the darkness until he once again found the chain. Not wanting to lose it for a second time, he slipped it on over his head, and let it dangle against his chest.

He settled down and removed the onions, potato and apple from the bag, then made an improvised feed bag for the horse using an old rope. As Blackie sat quietly munching on the corn meal, the boy cut the bad spots from the onions and potato and began eating them. While he chewed, he inspected the apple, cutting off the bad portion from it. After cutting a piece of it for himself and finding it over-ripe, and much too soft, he fed the remainder to Blackie.

While he didn't care for the onion like he would have a fresh apple, he thought fondly back to the onion sandwiches that his mother would make for his father and him early on the trail. The memory of those sandwiches and the special times he had with his parents carried him through. It was in no time before he realized that he was quietly chewing on the potato.

His meager meal would not be fit for a king, yet it sufficed and helped quell his hunger. He remembered praying to find something for Blackie and him to eat while out on the prairie, and here was his miracle. He drifted off to sleep shortly afterward, very tired, but no longer hungry.

-Four-

Morning broke and young Ezrah awoke with a shaft of blinding sun directly in his eyes. He groaned and slowly regained his feet. There was a small portion of the corn meal that Blackie couldn't get in the very bottom of the bag, so he emptied this into his hand and fed it to the horse.

While still in the old ramshackle shack, he saddled Blackie and carefully walked through the rubble to reach the outside of the building. Eagerly he mounted the back of the horse and once again, started riding with the sun at his back. It was already very warm and sticky, and he knew the day would be hot.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Ezrah stood on the ground and wiped the sweat from his eyes. He had seen no sign of Indians all morning, and was thankful for it. For the moment, he was trying to locate a place in the shade for them to cool down and wait for dark.

About two hours later, the pair stumbled across an old creek-bed. As Blackie began digging with his hooves, water began to seep into the hole. The two then took turns drinking the dirty water until their thirst was sated. The teen wished he had searched the house for something that he could have carried water in; instead they had left without giving it nary a thought.

Once again they set out, still heading west. Ezrah was on the ground walking slowly in an attempt to keep Blackie fresh if they should need to flee. He broke over a rise and saw wagon tracks in the grasses; there had been many through this very spot over the years. He only hoped that he could find a train to hook up with.

For miles, he continued to follow the tracks, the scene only changing when he would pass a discarded piece of furniture or a grave. Seeing the crudely made crosses saddened him, for it tore at his mind and soul that he never buried his parents. However, he knew that his father had been right; had he remained much longer he might have lost his life too.

As the late afternoon sun lengthened the shadows, Ezrah came across a wagon. There were several arrows embedded in its structure. He quickly dropped to his knees behind a clump of tall prairie grass, forgetting the black horse that stood only feet behind him, towering over his head.

He scanned in every direction around him, searching for any sign of their attackers. He gradually rose up and began walking toward the wagon. In the distance another wagon was laying on its side; it too had several arrows within it.

The lad hesitantly inched his way to the first wagon he saw. Its contents were of household items, nothing he could use. The second wagon had a can of peaches that had been wedged under the frame of the wagon.

He found a canteen lying in the tall grass, only about ten feet off the trail. There was a dent in its front but it didn't look punctured, from the heft, it seemed to be holding something. Ezrah pulled the plug and cautiously took a sip, but the water inside was extremely hot and quite brackish. Immediately he spit out the water, and then he reluctantly poured out the remainder on the ground; he hoped that this act wasn't a mistake and he would be able to locate cleaner water soon.

He hung the canteen on the horn of the saddle, and then continued to walk among the debris of the two wagons. He found two graves near the second wrecked wagon, each marked with a crude cross. From their looks of the young weeds that were already starting to grow, Ezrah guessed that the graves were a couple of weeks old.

He continued on, afraid of loitering for too long, in the area where two more lost their lives to Indians. There were still tracks moving westward, and he followed these on foot, allowing Blackie a chance to rest…well into the setting sun. With miles from the last attack behind him and the moon nearly full, Ezrah again climbed upon Blackie and started to ride in the cool air of the evening.

In the haunting shadows of the dark, Blackie pulled up short and silently stood like a great sentential in the night, ears turning to pick up something he had heard. Ezrah strained his ears, trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly the big horse’s' head swung and its ears perked straight up to catch every nuance of sound.

Ezrah turned his head in the same direction; he too thought he heard something far off, a strange sound faintly carried by the wind. A slow chill ran up the lad's back. He fearfully looked toward the trail he had been following, then again looked into the darkness toward the sound he had heard. It sounded like deep sobbing; it was far off but unmistakable.

Again the strange sound repeated itself and he shivered in fear. He tried desperately to convince himself that it was just the wind. It had almost worked, but on the second instance of what he heard, he knew that the sound was quite human. Again he looked toward the west where the trail met the starry night sky, but slowly turned the horse toward the sound.

He and Blackie carefully worked their way toward a line of trees near a rocky outcropping. Ezrah estimated that he was a mile from the trail he had been following. He climbed down and quietly picked his way through the grasses, weeds and rocks.

Again his horse froze, ears perked and turned toward the rocks. Ezrah cautiously approached as wild stories raced through his mind. Stories of the sounds the Indians made to draw unsuspecting people to their traps. He neared a tree and tied Blackie's reins to a branch, then hesitantly continued toward the rocks.

Like a banshee's cry, the sound echoed around the rocks and to the boy’s ears. He stumbled and fell trying to return to the horse's side. No attack came, no pursuit from a grim reaper closed in. Swallowing hard, Ezrah regained his feet and inched his way toward the rocks, his mind a whirl as images of what it could be raced through.

Again there was a softer sound, much like a young infant would have made. He tipped his head, hearing it for a second time, slowly working his way around a large boulder. He felt that on the other side, would be the creature that he thought he was hearing.

Just peering around the edge of the great rock, with only the moon and stars for light, he saw what had been making the sound. It was a woman; even in the moonlight he could see that her hair was brilliantly red. As he looked on, he realized that she had a great bloody patch on the bodice of her dress, with an arrow shaft protruding from her chest.

Forgetting the reason that he was trying to be cautious, he raced to the poor woman's aide. Kneeling beside her he examined the shaft of the arrow; it looked as though it was buried near her heart or possibly a lung. She was still breathing, but barely alive.

Not too far from where she lay, Ezrah saw a very small pool of water, the remainder of an earlier rainstorm. He quickly scrambled to his feet and raced back to the big black horse; he untied the reins and led it to the water-hole. As he retrieved his found canteen, he promptly rinsed it out and refilled it with the clean, cool water.

Leaving the horse to drink, he raced back to the woman and lifted her head to allow her to drink. Even in the light of the moon he could tell she had blisters from lying in the sun, he poured a slight amount into his finger, then dabbed the water across her parched lips. She stirred, moaning in pain.

Ezrah supported her head and held the canteen as she sipped the water. Slowly her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at the boy, partially in surprise, partially in relief.

"You'll be okay, lady; I promise I won't leave you alone out here." He again allowed her to sip the water, pulling it away only as she began coughing.

As she coughed, little flecks of foamy blood fell against her bodice. He didn't need to have a doctor beside him to know that she had been shot through the lung. "There are some trees here, I can probably rig up a travois like the Indians use and we can..." He began to prattle as she gently touched his arm.

"I won't make it, we both know that." She wheezed, "I'm grateful... that you came though."

"No, lady, you'll be fine," he replied, trying to sound convincing.

As he sat holding the canteen, he heard a soft sound coming from beside the injured woman. He then noticed movement and the woman gently pulled a portion of her skirt aside, revealing the baby that was concealed by the material.

Instantly, the boy realized that this revelation would compound the issue even greater. He glanced toward the mother; she was young perhaps in her early twenties. Her pretty face was sad with regret. "Can... can you hand her to me?" she softly asked.

Ezrah gently lifted up the child and placed it in her mother's arms. "Did you have her out here?"

She weakly nodded and replied, "Months back… along... the trail." then began to unbutton her bodice; her fingers no longer with the dexterity necessary to function in her weakened state. Her hands dropped to her side, "Please." she whispered, "I can't... myself."

"Lady, I…" Ezrah stammered, afraid of what he thought she was asking.

"I'm dying... she needs to nurse... one last time." as she spoke, Ezrah stepped to her side and slowly fumbled with the buttons. This was the first time he had ever been this near to a woman's exposed breast.

As he finished with her buttons, he aided her by raising the baby up to the exposed teat where it could nurse. The opposite side of the bodice was pinned to her bloodied chest with the arrow.

There were tears in the woman's eyes as she watched her daughter nurse, perhaps for the last time. The ashen color of the woman's face spoke volumes to Ezrah, it was of the same color that his own mother wore the last time he saw her.

Turning away, Ezrah did not want her to see him crying. He had witnessed death before and did not want to watch this woman die. He walked to the water, knelt, and splashed it onto his face. He took his kerchief that had been tied around his neck and rinsed it in the cool water. He stood up and moved Blackie to a tree that would allow him shade, come daylight and still be near enough to the water, should he want to drink. There he removed the saddle and hung it over a large rock. While casting a backwards glance at the woman as she shared her last moment with the baby, he brushed Blackie down with wads of dried grass.

After he finished he washed his hands and moved to the bag he had taken from the shack. He removed the can of peaches from it and began to cut the top open with the blade of his small pocket knife. Carrying it carefully to the woman he settled beside her and offered her a peach, "Excuse the fingers, lady."

She smiled and took a tiny bite, her eyes closed as if she was savoring her final meal. Ezrah's mind was trying to figure out what he would do with the baby after she passed, because there was no way he could care for her without the mother around to feed her.

"So, you was attacked by Indians on the trail?" he spoke as he offered her another bite of the peach.

She nodded, "They came fast... on us before we knew they were there." She commenced to coughing deeply, with each one the shaft of the arrow bounced viciously. Sighing, she leaned her head back and looked into the sky.

"Find my family, take her to them." She began coughing again.

"Lady, I don't even know your family's name! For all I know, they was killed by those same Indians that got you!" he shouted in frustration. As he sat there mulling over her plea, he felt ashamed for yelling at a dying woman.

"I'm Hannah... Hannah Shepherd... my baby... her name is Emma... named after Gideon's mother." She again began coughing profusely, so the boy held the canteen for her to take another long drink that seemed to quell it for the time being.

"You said ‘Gideon’, is that your husband?" She nodded in response, and looked down at the infant nursing. There were tears in her eyes.

"I have a son... he's four... Cade." She looked up at Ezrah, and then looked out across the prairie; tears were beginning to fall down her cheeks. “I should have been a better wife…to him…I was so spiteful and angry.”

“Spiteful? Angry?” Ezrah asked, thinking this poor dying woman could never possess a spiteful bone in her body.

She continued, "When the Indians came…I jumped from the wagon…with Emma…I ran." Her gaze was still off in the distance, "I ruined everything..."

"You can't talk that way, Hannah," Ezrah reasoned, "By running - you may have given your family a chance to escape."

She coughed and turned toward Ezrah, her voice remarkably clear and determined. "Promise me that you will find them." She studied the lad’s face for several long moments. "You promise me, boy..." She suddenly realized that she never had asked the youth's name, her questioning look said what her voice could not.

"I'm Ezrah."

"Promise me, Ezrah...” She again demanded, grabbing him forcefully by his shirt, “Promise me that you will find Gideon!"

There were tears clinging to Ezra's cheeks as he nodded, "As long as there is a breath in my body, I will find your Gideon. I will take your Emma home." As he sat looking down at the woman, her eyes slowly drifted downward and her grasp on his shirt relaxed with the onset of death.

-Five-

Ezrah quickly reached down and untangled the deceased woman's thumb from his necklace, then reverently placed Hannah's hand by her side. The infant had finished nursing and he gently lifted the baby from Hannah's arms, sitting her down upon the portion of dress material that had originally been covering her.

As he sat back upon the ground with hands upon his knees, he began to take notice of her face. It looked subtly different. He knew some of what happened after one of God's creatures passed, how time would break down the tissue until nothing but bones were left. But... this was different. Something strange was happening right before his eyes.

He was he puzzled, as he could actually witness changes to her feminine structure right as it happened; it was miniscule, but was happening in front of him nonetheless. As her shoulders began to widen and her arms lengthened from her half-sleeves, he looked around in fear and quickly stood holding her child as if to protect her from whatever was going on.

He backed away as a lump, halfway down the front of her neck, began to grow outward. It seemed to be forming into an uncharacteristically misplaced Adams apple, especially on a female as pretty as she had been. As the shock of what he was seeing overwhelmed him, he clutched the baby tighter, backing even further away. Almost as an afterthought, his own hand felt for the bulbous Adams apple of his own. In panic he frantically felt again, fear of what was happening to her perhaps infecting him. He could no longer feel his Adam's apple upon his own throat!

Hair began to tickle his neck, in panic; he reached up he felt the growing tresses as they fell over his collar. "What is going on!" he cried in fear, his young voice echoing against the large boulders that surrounded them. Each desperate cry slowly began inching up in octave until he could no long recognize his own voice! He retrieved a lock that had begun snaking down the front of his shirt and pulling the ever lengthening hair out to see; it was brilliantly red, just like the young mother's had been!

"What have you done to me?" he cried aloud at the body of the woman, as more and more of the red hair cascaded over his narrowing shoulders. “No! Please no!” he cried as he realized that the pants he had been wearing no longer fit. His waist now began to grow narrower and the pants became very loose as opposed to his hips where they became snug as the time progressed. His shadow cast upon the ground was unmistakable, his hips were somehow widening!

He stepped back a few more feet, stumbled and fell onto his bottom hard. He narrowly escaped injury to the baby in his arms as he was able to hold her in front as he fell. Tears were coursing down his cheeks as he desperately tried to remove himself from whatever strange magic had somehow befallen him.

As Ezrah placed his hand upon the ground for support, trying to regain his feet, he slowly stood. His eyes never left his fingers, holding them out in front of him; he stared in wonderment as they gradually morphed from his stubby round nails to slender fingers with long, tapered nails that extended slightly past their respective fingertips. His hands were slowly mirroring a woman’s!

His terrified eyes darted toward where Hanna lay in death. Ezrah hesitantly stepped closer. What was it about her that looked so familiar? As the horror of the situation suddenly washed over and enveloped him, he realized that Hannah was slowly beginning to resemble... him!

In fear he staggered to the water-hole and peered over the edge, using its surface like a mirror. What he saw in his reflection, made his heart fall, seemingly only to crash into the pit of his stomach. There was no denying what his eyes were seeing - he was slowly transforming into an exact copy of Hannah! That fact was being driven home by the gradual expanse he was witnessing upon his chest. As if being filled from within, his chest was enlarging, drawing upon his skin, pulling outward and down by gravity. Hanna’s haunting green eyes looked back from the reflection as terror etched into Ezrah’s slowly transforming face.

“This can’t be happening…” he cried as he tried to push them back in, but painfully had to cease for fear of dropping Emma, and the discomfort he felt by pressing against them. In anger he ran to her side, the shaft of the arrow still standing out from her chest, and placed her child on the ground beside him.

Falling to his knees beside her he cried out in agonizing pain, as his breasts continued to expand, now filling with the life giving fluid that her baby needed. “NO!” he shouted, and then fell prone onto his side in despair. His confusion only compounded by the changes he could see on both Hanna’s corpse and on him. His head fell forward and copious amounts of wavy red tresses fell like a shroud around his face.

Deep racking and very feminine sobs were emitted from his throat, as he looked upon the form that he once claimed. Only now for him, there was a shaft from an Indian’s arrow sticking straight from his chest. He reached out with a slender trembling hand and touched the shaft of the arrow. Tears began rolling down his feminized cheeks as he realized just how very real this had become.

His head became light, swirling black tendrils seemed to engulf him. He fought hard, but as the sweat began to bead his upper lip, he began to lose consciousness. Trying to stand only made it worse. He fell in a faint, laying only inches from where Hannah had died. Her young baby lay in between them.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Six-

As Ezrah dreamt, far off he could hear the sound of a train whistle. The closer it came to him, the louder it became, sounding much like he was laying right there on the tracks. The shrill train whistle screaming like a banshee woke him and caused the youth to bolt upright, his now unfettered feminine breasts seemed to have a life of their own. As they settled he looked down, a great wet spot saturated the front of his chest, right at their very summit.

“Oh shit!” he cursed as he sat up and felt the front. There was no mistaking that by becoming Hanna, he was now lactating. He looked over at the baby fussing and crying, and tried desperately to ignore her, but it was no use. It was the baby crying that made him dream of the train, and it seemed the more she cried, the wetter Ezra's shirt became. As he sat up, his eyes came into contact with the body of the woman, although she was an exact duplicate of what he had once looked like… only wearing the bloodied dress.

Ezrah stood and took stock in his own changes. He could no longer hold claim to the male vernacular, no - he was now a she. He had somehow transformed into Hannah! His shadow, now growing longer in the afternoon sun, was unmistakably feminine, and even he could see that. From head to foot, he would never pass as a boy again.

Ezrah glared at the baby crying, and stepped over the corpse with the arrow shaft and cautiously grasped it and with a slow steady pull, attempted to retrieve it from the boy. It was all he could do with his diminished strength. All of a sudden, the shaft broke and he fell backwards to the ground hard. As a male, he often found that his strength nearly matched that of his father, but now... he was a pitifully weak female.

It was quite shocking to see his former body, lying in death and wearing the trappings of the young mother. He was completely perplexed on how any of this was possible. He could think of nothing that would allow this to happen in either nature or science, and yet it had... he was a direct result of it.

Again the young baby began to fuss; again he continued to ignore it. He leaned over; the long red tresses seemed to have grown even more and slid off his narrow shoulder and hung before his face. In one sweeping motion, he flipped it behind his neck. He imagined that if he would have been watching from a distance, the movement would have been decidedly feminine. He paused and placed his tiny hands against his temples, “Just how far will this transformation take me?” He spoke aloud, but the more he thought about the possible answer, the more it scared the hell out of him!

He leaned across the body and tried to move the arm of the boy, but it was evident that rigor mortis had already set in. He stood and brushed the dirt from his knees, and the movement again set his unwanted breasts in motion. He stood and walked to the water hole, completely in a funk on what his next step would be…or should be.

He sat down on a large rock, facing his former self and the tiny baby as she fussed and cried. "How is this even possible? How can I get back to my old self?" he asked himself. His shirt grew more and more uncomfortable with an ever-expanding area of wetness. He looked down, and sadly shook his head, again sending the luxurious red tresses swinging.

His eyes returned to the corpse, the ashen skin reflecting the death state it was in. He could not fathom how strange it was to see the 'dead' Ezrah lying so near, wearing the dress the woman had died in. He frowned and looked down imagining the emptiness of his own crotch. He knew without a doubt that there was nothing between his legs now... although that wasn't entirely true, he now possessed the female equivalent of what he once had claimed.

He anguished over what he had to do, but it was needed. Slowly he stood and returned to the side of the corpse, bent down and gently picked up a rock. Slowly and methodically, he began to cover the body, and as he did, he bawled like the woman he had suddenly become.

As he finished, he stood, his shirt was saturated from chest to waist. His new feminine breasts ached painfully, and try as he might he could not ignore them any longer. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it to the water.

The huge breasts of Hannah’s seemed to defy gravity, standing straight out painfully. Ezrah winced as he brushed his engorged breast when he removed his shirt. He knew what was needed but he would be damned if he would stoop to such a low state, baby or no baby. He knelt at the side of the water and slowly washed the milk from his shirt, continually casting hateful glances at the orbs that adorned his slender chest.

To him, they were huge! Giant feminine globes that had no business on his chest! As he squeezed the water out of the shirt, he frowned as each breast seemed to conspire to get in his way. Each was painfully bouncing against the other with every simple movement. As he again dipped the shirt and began ringing it out, tiny droplets of milk leaked out from each nipple and fell into the water.

"NO, DAMN IT!" he screamed. "I won't do it!"

Yet the pain and discomfort only continued to worsen. He could ignore the screaming child behind him, and he could even ignore the way each breast swung and bounced with movement, but he could not ignore the pain as it was nearly bringing tears to his eyes.

He sat back on his haunches in defeat, crying from the ache that he was feeling, his hands sadly attempting to both cover and conceal them in embarrassment. He looked down at the large protuberances that extended outward from his chest, their blue veins clearly visible to even his own eyes. And somewhere within that globe, the little ducts that created the milk were working overtime, conspiring to make Ezrah's life miserable.

He looked at Emma in defeat, then slowly raised himself up and laid his shirt on a boulder to dry. To him, walking the few steps toward the baby was much like walking toward the gallows. He knew that if he broke down and performed this necessary function to ease his own discomfort, he would be stuck doing it until he was able to figure out how to change back, if he even could. Or worse yet, until she could leave Emma her with her father

He sat down beside the pile of rocks, the shade once again stretching out beyond the little water-hole. He frowned as he picked up the crying Emma; almost as soon as he had she calmed down and turned her tiny face toward the leaking teat he offered, it was as though the infant could smell the milk. Her tiny mouth began making the motion of sucking before she even closed upon the teat. Once she had a firm grasp, Emma latched on and began her rhythmic sucking much to Ezrah's consternation.

He winced as her little mouth began moving in earnest, her tiny tongue pressing against the teat forcing the milk into her mouth. The pain he endured was almost as unbearable as the fullness he had felt. He bit his lip as she continued on and on, so hungry had she been. He tried to occupy his mind, watching birds soaring high overhead, a lizard scurrying across the ground... yet, strangely his gaze kept coming back to the child at his... no, nursing at her breast.

She realized that as she looked now, even in the old boy clothes, she could never pass as a male. Yet it was too hard to think of herself as anything other than Ezrah. She sighed deeply as she continued to watch Emma nurse, the slight movement of her temples and jaw the only portion of her that moved. Her tiny nose so close to the warm skin of the exposed breast.

Looking down at the top of her head, the slightly reddish tint to her blonde hair, she realized that without her in this current form, Emma would most likely die. Forced to continue wiping the exposed nipple of the breast opposite to what the child was currently nursing with a slender finger, she noticed that the little necklace she had found was gone.

Her eyes darted toward the huge pile of rock that the corpse lay under, somewhere under all that weight probably lay her necklace. Frowning and realizing that there was no way he was about to remove all of those stones to locate the lost item, a cheap trinket that probably wasn’t worth more than a silver dollar.

"I guess it wasn't meant to be, was it, Emma," she quipped, his voice now much higher of a timbre and soft like Hanna’s had been. She moved the child to the other breast and wiped the one Emma had been using, all the while wondering if this is what life had become for her. “I’m nothing more than a milk cow for you, isn’t that right, Emma,” she complained to the infant at her breast in a sing-song voice.

She needed to make some decisions now, decisions that could prove to shape the remainder of his life. ‘His?’ he thought. Stifling a laugh she glanced down at the two unfettered globes she now possessed. "I can't claim to be a male anymore - that's pretty obvious."

It irked her how her voice now sounded, almost mocking her in its femininity, softly sounding like the woman she had become. Again she looked down upon the infant nursing at her breast, what would she do now that they were alone? She had promised to Hannah that she would try to find Gideon, but that was before... this.

And what of Emma, she thought to herself, should she raise the infant as her own in the meantime? She frowned, as she watched the little one nurse, “Anyone who sees us will be certain that you’re mine.”

She shook her head and sadly looked toward the heavens; the early evening sky was washed with hues of pink and yellow. A cool breeze blew over her teat; it caused her to look down. Emma had dropped off to sleep; her hold on the nipple had become lost.

Using her slender finger, she wiped the little drop of milk from Emma's chin. She raised the baby up to her bare shoulder and began to softly pat her tiny back. She felt lost, having no clue on how to be a parent, let alone a mother seemed unfathomable to her. What she needed to know wasn’t taught in schools, so she would have to learn on the fly. Normally a woman would have a lifetime to prepare, where she only had minutes! Hopefully it would be as his mother had once said, “Anything that doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

-Seven-

Placing the baby on the soft grass, she stood and touched the shirt she had worn as Ezrah, trying to see if it had finally dried. Gathering it up she quickly threw it over her shoulders, as a boy she would have preferred to go buck naked... now that she actually thought about it, there was a pang of embarrassment of seeing herself with no covering.

The sleeves were slightly long, but buttoning them fixed this slight problem. The shirt was big in the shoulders, and as she buttoned it up, horribly stretched over her new breasts. She looked down at the open gaps between the puckered buttons, sighing.

She hefted the canteen, pulled the cork and took a drink. While it was nearly full and moderately refreshing, it was not cool in the least. Pouring it on the grass, she refilled it with the cool water from the water-hole, and then re-corked it.

Bending over and low, with her hands in the water, she realized that she needed to pee badly. She stood and leaned the canteen against a rock and turned toward the brush to relieve herself.

Quickly undoing the buttons that held together the fly, she reached in to retrieve her penis. The shock of finding nothing in contact with his hand made him momentarily panic. Then as her new reality set in, it came as no real surprise. He groused to himself as he was forced to completely remove his pants and urinate as would any other female. Without a normal woman's years of practice, the entire necessary chore was well beyond her comprehension.

She placed her feet far away and very wide apart, then slowly leaned her shapely bottom against a large boulder. The surface was quite rough against her soft feminine skin. It was an entirely different set of muscles to control; eventually she knew that she succeeded as her urine splattered against the rock and the backs of her legs.

With a groan she looked down at the ground, sighing in defeat at her hopeless predicament. Tearing at a handful of grasses she wiped the unfamiliar area and attempted to clean her legs where she splattered them. She pushed her large breasts aside and stared at the junction of her legs, afraid to touch it for fear of something else nearly as terrible happening. Casting the grass aside she slowly pulled up her pants and refastened them. All the while wondering how a woman could put up living like this... and now she would be stuck as one for the remainder of her life unless by some miracle she could figure out what had caused the unwelcome transformation.

A stirring to her left startled her. She turned her head quickly, her long wavy red hair flipping out from the motion. It had been the infant moving, yet Emma was soundly sleeping in the grass. The new Hannah walked over to Blackie, she moved him closer to the saddle that Ezrah had removed earlier. Soothingly speaking to the huge horse now made even more imposing because of her diminished size as a female.

Blackie kept sidling away from the unfamiliar woman, yet her persistence paid off and she eventually got the blanket on him. She turned and lifted up the saddle, and stumbled due to its greater weight compared to her weaker muscles. For nearly fifteen minutes she wrestled with the saddle and horse until she was finally able to place it on its back.

Gently massaging the feeling back into her slender arms, she decided that they could not remain here for much longer; the water was a Godsend, but what meager food she had was almost gone. Hanging the long strap of the canteen on the saddle horn, she stood back looking at the huge horse, and then glancing toward the tiny baby... somehow she had to get both Emma and herself up upon that saddle.

Walking Blackie to a large rock she held him there as she bent down to scoop up the infant. It was a precarious situation in her weakened state trying to mount the horse with one arm, and maintain her grip on little Emma, yet she managed.

Settling in the saddle she inwardly thought of how high she now felt, not to mention just how wide the saddle had become since her transformation. It wasn't uncomfortable, just very wide. Placing a slender arm around the baby, she held the reins in her opposite hand. With one last look back at the grave that marked Hanna... no in truth it was Ezrah laying under those rocks... in a dress. They began their journey; the unlikely pair began riding, as the first twinkling stars were visible in the night sky.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Eight-

Tears filled her eyes as she rode into the dark, back toward the trail where she had found the canteen. In the bright moonlight, she found the trail and once again headed west. Behind her she left her former identity, a corpse forever clothed in feminine garments.

She glanced behind her; the trees and rocks were only a blackened shadow upon the horizon. Ezrah’s passing was now only marked by the pile of stone covering the young mother's body…it was too confusing! Grimly she wondered if hundreds of years from now, some archaeologist like those who have stumbled upon the strange bones of past monsters, might locate the altered bones of... Ezrah. What might they think about him, wondering why he was clothed as he had been?

She sighed, and looked down at the tiny charge asleep in her arms. She felt sorry for herself… to be so young and saddled with such great responsibility. She knew that women all over this great big world have been taking on responsibilities like this for thousands of years, so why should she be any different?

The situation she found herself in was overwhelming; her mind became a vast turmoil of emotion. She constantly sobbed in desperation as the baby and she rode slowly in the dark. Her legs ached because in her new form she was slightly shorter than Ezrah had been; this made the stirrups too long, and forced her to dangle her legs from each side with only her toes touching the stirrup. She had forgotten to adjust them prior to leaving, and the added weight of her legs hanging was causing them to become numb.

To alleviate the tingling feeling of numbness, she was forced to stand from time to time, but it didn't help for very long, as she was only able to rise up on her toes to alleviate the numbness for only a short while. She knew that at some point when she climbed down from the tall horse, she had to be extremely careful with Emma or she could fall.

As night wore on, she had to stop in the middle of nowhere, long enough to nurse the child. After her earlier lesson back at the water-hole, she did not want a repeat and as much as it loathed her to admit, it did provide necessary relief from the discomfort of being 'full'.

It had become cloudy during the night so as morning broke, she and little 'Em' rode on. She had given the child the 'nick-name' while she nursed her during the night. It wasn't as formal sounding and to her ears, would be simple enough to use from day to day.

As the day wore on, she became hungrier and hungrier. Blackie was fine because there was plenty of grass for him to eat, and nursing Em would take care of the immediate need of the infant. But what had her concerned the most is that if she couldn't eat, and it was prolonged for more days, it meant that her body would produce less and less milk for the baby. Even though she could hold out for a day, she needed to eat for the both of them. She worried as she contemplated what needed to be done; already she loathed thinking like a ‘responsible’ woman.

Again her mind returned to the newness of responsibility, it was more important to her now than ever as Ezrah. All he ever had to worry about was whether he fed the animals and cleaned their stalls before bedtime. Now as Em's... surrogate mother, she literally held the fate of the tot in her hands.

Always she would scan the horizon looking for sign of Indians or better yet, other settlers headed west, abandoned wagons... anything that may help her and Em live another day. As the afternoon approached, with arms aching from continually holding the infant, only gaining a moment of respite when she shifted her to the opposite arm. She spied an abandoned wagon down in a shallow ravine. Cautiously she rode Blackie to it.

It wasn’t a wagon as she had initially thought; it was a small two wheeled cart. It was just about all she could do to lower herself down from the large horse without dropping baby Em, thankfully she was able to step into the tongue of the cart and remain there until the feeling returned again to her legs.

She placed Em in the front of the cart; the back end was high into the air with all the weight resting on the tongue. She slowly walked around the little cart, examining it, looking for any reason why it would have been abandoned. She guessed that it couldn't have been there for longer than two weeks as the harnesses were still on the ground where they had been dropped. Slowly she moved Blackie to a tree and tied the reins fast, removed the saddle and blanket, putting them into the back of the little cart.

She moved back to the harnesses and stood examining them, making sure that everything was there. Meanwhile, it began to sprinkle. She picked up Em and then noticed a wooden box under the seat. Inside of it was a bottle of liquor and a bag of pipe tobacco, and underneath the tobacco were three home-canned jars of bread and butter pickles.

The rain grew steady, so Hannah moved Em and the box beneath the cart, and then crawled beneath it. As the rain continued to fall she took time out to clean up herself and crudely changed Em. With the onset of darkness, she had pried open one of the jars and using her fingers, and ate the contents within. The first few bites she was unsure if she liked them, but the combination of onion, dill and cucumber floating in a sweet liquid proved to be quite tasty. As she contentedly ate, she nursed Em; not far off Blackie had been tied to a tree and was quietly munching on grass.

-Nine-

Far off a rumble of thunder rolled. Its constant drone made the surrogate mother and child sleepy, giving them welcome rest. In her dreams, young Ezrah found himself sitting on the ground, wearing a dress. His embarrassment was compounded when he realized that he had wet himself. The coolness of his 'accident' slowly came into the forefront of his mind. In his dream, as he put his hand against the ground to raise himself up, his hand landed in about two inches of water.

Instantly her eyes flew open, and she noticed that water was pooling all around the cart. It was still raining hard, with the water inching higher up the spoke of the big wheels on the cart. Like a shot, she scrambled from beneath the cart, pulling Em with her. She placed her into the cart, and then she placed the box she had found and secured the tailgate so nothing would fall out.

Lightning began to flash, as thunder rolled like a great drum on a forgotten battlefield. In a panic, she traced the reins to the tree where Blackie was tied and retrieved him. He fought against the weaker female as the lightning flashed, but to lose him in this wash would be like suicide for both Em and Hannah.

As Blackie danced in fear she quickly began to hitch him to the cart, only pausing long enough to adjust it as she went. By this time, the water was well over her ankles. She ran down the length of reins and climbed up into the seat of the cart, glanced toward Em who was safely secure in the box, and then gave a shrill whistle like her father had done. She quickly snapped the reins, the big horse reared up and tried to run but with all her strength she held him firm, "Don't you go panicking on me, Blackie. Come on boy; get us out of this water!"

He fought against her for about one hundred yards before he realized that he couldn't shake the cart loose, and then he attempted to scramble up the side of the embankment only to have it collapse under his weight sending water and mud flying everywhere.

"Come on boy!" She shouted above the rain and thunder, "You can do it, find us a way out of here!"

The big horse fought against the higher bank of what was now a rapidly rising creek. “Come on, Blackie, and pull like you’ve never pulled before!” she screamed into the wind and rain.

Little by little, the big black horse dragged the cart out of the mire and pulled it to safety on the other side. As soon as their wheels hit solid ground, she began to cry. She sat at the edge of the rapidly flowing water; as Blackie slowly began moving them away in fear of being sucked back in.

She looked down at Em, and then pulled the horse blanket over her to keep some of the rain out. She had no idea which direction she was headed in, she only wanted to be away from the dried creek bed, now made more dangerous than any river she had seen before.

-Ten-

As the morning sun began breaking over the horizon, the surrogate mother raised her head. She had been sleeping throughout the night with Blackie pulling her only God knew where. Tiredly, she lifted the reins and directed him toward a small stand of trees so he could rest up for the day.

In the trees she did her best to conceal the cart and tied Blackie back in the shadows. She settled down beside the cart and began to nurse Em while she picked out the pickles with her fingers from the jar. As the two quietly sat eating, enjoying the warm sun that was drying out their wet clothing, she felt relaxed for the very first time.

Watching Em nurse, she began to think of what life as a woman and mother might mean. She could handle the mother portion, she thought; at least she was doing a decent enough job keeping them both alive for now. But… what would it mean if she actually was able to find Gideon? He would think she was Hannah, and he would want more of her than she was really willing to give. But everyone they came across would think she was Hannah, and that Em was actually her daughter.

Glancing down, she admired the soft curls that framed her daughter’s head. She laughed, realizing that she actually thought possessive of Em, thinking of her like she was her own flesh and blood. It wouldn’t be too farfetched since both looked like they were related anyway; anyone could see a definite resemblance between them. Both females had red in their hair, with the daughter’s being slightly more blonde. Her red color seemed a perfect match, it actually fit her former self’s fiery temper much more than perhaps it had the original Hannah.

She decided right then and there that she would refer to herself as both a woman and as Hannah Shepherd… at least until she found Gideon. She wasn’t so young while she had been Ezrah that she didn’t know what was expected between a husband and wife, but she just wasn’t sure that she really wanted to find out for herself.

She felt her eyes grow heavy and allowed herself to sleep while Em continued to nurse; she only woke up long enough to switch sides with Em. Sometime during the late afternoon she felt a cool breeze upon her breast and quickly pulled her shirt together, covering up the exposed area. As she sat with Em upon her slender thighs, rocking them side to side and patting her back, she for a moment thought she had heard music.

Pausing she listened carefully, again though it was far off, she could swear it sounded like a violin. She rose up and held Em as she meandered through the trees, past Blackie and to the opposite side of the little stand. There in the distance was a wagon train; she only counted six wagons in all. They were arranged in a circle and several people were milling about on the inside. She looked back at Blackie and then quickly retraced her steps back to the cart.

Her mind had already been made up before she reached the big horse - she would drive the cart down to the train for safety’s sake. A helpless female and a tiny baby needed the company of numbers that a wagon train could provide, even a small one. She carefully wrapped Em and placed her into the back of the cart, went back up and untied Blackie from the tree.

Within an hour she had him harnessed and was slowly riding down into the area where she saw the small wagon train. As she approached, a rider came out to meet her. The older man appeared to be the wagon master; he held an air of authority about him.

“You lost, sonny?” He said as they met. “I saw you driving in from the north…”

He reined in his horse and studied her face, “Why, you ain’t no boy! What in the Sam Hill you doing out here all alone?”

“I was part of a wagon train that was attacked by Indians back a piece, we was heading toward Oregon.” She squinted at him as the sun was directly in her eyes. Moving her head slightly allowed his shoulder to block the sunlight for her.

“Well I guess you can gather your cart and come on in with us… although I had better ask if you have any druthers about heading to California instead.” He pushed his hat back and admired the young female’s courage on going it alone instead of just giving up and turning back.

“I’ll stay the night with you and then head out in the morning then, I’m going on to Oregon.” She looked across the distance to the wagons and added, “My husband and I became separated during the attack.” She was thinking that if they knew she was married, there may be less trouble for her in their camp.

He reached his big hand out, “Name’s Harley…though my friends call me Cap…and you are?”

“Hannah Shepherd.” She held out her diminutive hand, in his it looked like a child’s.

“You follow me, I’ll put you beside my wife and I’s wagon.” With that, he began riding; Hannah was forced to keep up with him. He only slowed down as they neared the wagons. “Hey Del!” He shouted, and when the man looked up he said, “Move the wagon tongue so we can get this little gal’s cart through.” The man nodded and quickly moved the tongue and she drove Blackie on through.

As they came to a stop several people walked up and were admiring the horse, “I ain’t seen a horse like that since I left old Kentuk.” One man said. “Is he for sale?”

“No, he’s not for sale. He belonged to my father.” Hannah replied as she reached into the box and retrieved Em.

“What the hell would you do with a horse like that, Elmer; he can’t pull nothing bigger than this here cart!” another said laughing.

“All right, all right…leave the girl alone.” A small sassy older woman scolded as she pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered. As they were leaving, she gave Hannah a long look. “What part of the country do you call home?”

“Indiana,” Hannah replied, lifting Em to her shoulder.

“I see…” She said subjectively, “Do all the women from Indiana dress like fellas?”

“No not all…oh.” She followed the woman’s eyes to her own attire, “I lost mine when the Indians attacked our wagon.” It was partially true, so she thought she was safe with her white lie.

“What’cha got there?” She asked, finally noticing little Em in her arms. “You had a young’en out here on the trail?”

“This is my daughter Emma, Em for short,” Hannah replied with a nod of her head then turned her so the woman could see her tiny face and little strawberry ringlets that framed it. For a fraction of a second, Hannah thought she almost saw the woman smile.

“Cap says we’re taking the Overland into California in the morning. You coming with us?” She spoke as she began to direct Hannah toward her wagon.

“No, ma’am. I’m heading to Oregon where my parents had been headed.” Hanna stopped and looked back at Blackie and her cart. “I have to take care of my horse.”

“Harley’s got it, see.” She pointed, Harley was on the other side unhitching him and leading Blackie toward his wagon behind them. “So, trying to meet up with your folks in Oregon?”

Hanna looked down as her face washed with sadness; the woman noticed and gently hugged the young mother, “Lost them in the attack?” Hannah could only nod her response. “You got a baby with you, where’s the mister?”

Hannah’s mind worked quickly, she gave the woman a half truth, “When the Indians attacked, we were separated…I don’t even know if he and our son got out alive!”

“What are their names?” She asked, showing respectful sympathy.

Hannah smiled, she really didn’t know why, but she did as she replied. “Gideon, he’s my husband and Cade is our son.”

“Well, I’m sure if your mister is as resourceful as you, he’ll have made it through.” She patted Hannah’s slender back and pointed toward her own wagon. “We’re going to sup soon, you’ll be our guest and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Thank you for that, it’s been awhile since we’ve had much to eat. I’ve been living on potatoes, onions, and bread and butter pickles.” Hanna said with a laugh as they arrived at the wagon.

“I can’t tell you when the last time I had any bread and butter pickles, probably been nigh on to six or seven year!” The older woman laughed and wagged her finger in front of Em as she spoke. Straightening up, she held out her hand, “I’m Luttie.”

“Hi Luttie, I’m Hannah.” She replied as she shook her hand. “I would be happy to share a jar with you. It would please me greatly since you invited me to eat with you, I’d feel like I was contributing,” she excitedly added.

As the two women were talking, Cap walked past with Blackie, and tied him to the wagon wheel where the grass was thick and lush. “Hannah, did you know that you got a cracked wheel on your cart?”

She glanced up; surprised that she recognized her ‘new’ name immediately. “I must have cracked it last night during the rainstorm. We got caught in a dry creek bed when it began raining; it was all we could do to get ourselves out of there!” She then looked toward her father’s big black thoroughbred, “We would have never made it if it weren’t for Blackie.”

“Well, no matter. We have us a top-notch wheelwright on the trail with us that can fix it for you in no time; I can go and speak to him right now.” He hesitated before he started off, “He’s going to ask for money or trade…you got anything you can part with?”

Forgetting the money that had been her parents, she replied. “I have no money; all I have is the clothes I’m wearing and Em.” She then recalled the box still in the cart, “Oh wait…in the cart there’s a box, in the box is a pouch with good tobacco and a bottle of whiskey. Would your wheelwright take that as trade?”

He laughed, “We can just start with the tobacco…I don’t want him to be drinking while he’s in this wagon train.”

As Cap started to walk away she called out to him, “Cap sir, can you bring the box back when you return? I want to share some bread and butter pickles with you for supper.”

He paused and turned, his smile was beaming. “Lady, for that I’d do just about anything!”

Hannah placed Em on a pile of blankets to sleep; while she slept, she began helping Luttie make their supper. “You know, I got an old dress that was my Eliza’s…I bet it would fit you perfectly. She was a ‘well formed’ woman like you on top.” Hanna never looked up though she could feel her face growing warm and she acted like she didn’t hear, and “I think I’ll go find that dress. You can change while I’m finishing up supper.”

Hannah looked up in horror - it was bad enough to be suddenly transformed into a woman…she definitely didn’t want to dress the part of one! “I’m okay; you really don’t need to…”

“Oh poppy-cock, a woman needs to look like a woman. Stop hiding your figure under all those boy duds and show off what the good Lord gave ya!” She laughed and climbed into her wagon. “I got some other items in here that were hers. Might as well give the rest of them to you.”
Hannah sadly looked down at Ezrah’s old clothes. “Oh heaven help me…” she sighed, “Because I’m going to need it!”

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Eleven-

She approached the back of the wagon and began setting things down. After a while, Luttie climbed down and escorted a reluctant Hannah to the back of her wagon. “I’ll hold the little one for you. Get into the clothes I set out for you, everything should be there to give you at least one good outfit suitable for a young woman.”

Standing inside the wagon, Hannah began to reluctantly disrobe. She peeled herself out of the pants and ‘johns’ that Ezrah had worn and hesitated to drag up the drawers that Luttie had picked out. Once it was on, she sighed and picked up the chemise and pulled it over her head.

“Here are some stockings that were hers too…” She said as she tossed them toward Hannah. Hannah sat on the floor of her wagon and pushed her feet into the long stockings. She watched as Hannah stood and drew up the corset.

“I know it isn’t as fancy as you probably wore back in Indiana, but out here you’ll be thankful for the support that it’ll give you. Your back has to be pretty tired with the size of your bosom.”

Hannah’s face reddened as she strapped it around her waist and began to draw the string tighter, finally tying it off in the front. Reluctantly she reached down and picked up the petticoat and stepped through the opening. Once it had been raised over her generous hips, she tied it off. She was thankful it wasn’t like the one her mother had worn with stiff rods all around the waist; it was bad enough though since she found it cumbersome to bend.

“See if these old shoes will fit you,” Luttie asked as she tossed them back where Hannah was dressing. The new mother stood one shoe up with her foot and gently slid it in.

“It’s a bit on the large side but once it’s tied…I guess it’ll work.” Hannah replied as she slipped the other one on and began to fasten them up.

“This dress was one of Eliza’s favorites.” As Hannah watched she noted a hint of sadness etched on the older woman’s face. “She loved the tiny little yellow flowers on the white backing.”

Hannah stepped into the skirt, and pulled it up. Then she buttoned it fast, and put the blouse on and began to button the multitude of buttons on the front. “It is pretty, I guess,” she replied as she dropped her hands to her side and stepped out to where Luttie could see her.

There were tears in her eyes as she looked at Hannah, “She ran off with soldier boy during the night a month ago. Her father and I didn’t approve.” She sighed and wiped the tears with her apron, “What you going to do…she was eighteen and wanted to live her own life.”

She shook off her funk and smiled, “Give me a whirl and let me see how you look.” Hannah obliged and pirouetted slowly for her, “The light colors of the dress really set off your red hair beautifully. You are such a pretty woman.” She laughed as she handed Em back and began to pick up Ezrah’s clothing, “I’ll toss these for you.”

“I want the money and knife out of my pocket.” She called out as the woman was exiting the wagon, “It’s all I got that belonged to my folks!”

Hannah looked down; there was no way of hiding the femininity that was radiating out of her now. “Well, I guess every butterfly has to come out of the cocoon sometime,” she sighed with reluctant acceptance.

As she was stepping out of the wagon she heard Luttie talking to Cap. “She’s such a beautiful woman; it does my heart proud to see some good coming from Eliza’s old clothes.” He hugged his wife as Hannah came around the corner.

She walked over to the couple, her skirt jutting out with each step she took. She was thankful that the heels on the shoes she had been given were not too tall, for it would have been impossible for her to walk if it were. “I’d like to thank you both for the clothes, I really appreciate them.”

Luttie stood stirring a pot and pointed the spoon as she spoke, “You need to be properly attired when you meet up with your husband, and not wearing some frumpy old clothes like you had on earlier. He needs to know his woman…is a woman!”

“Yes sir and she’s all woman I’ll say!” Cap said with a laugh as Luttie gave him an evil glare.

“So what did you find out about my wheel?” Hanna said trying to change the subject.

“He jumped at the tobacco, he was out and tired of smoking the crap he was finding along the trail. He said you’ll be ready to go at first light.” He smiled and fingered the whiskey bottle in the box.

“Do you want it?” Hannah asked.

“Sure…but for medicinal purposes only, of course. I’ll trade you something for it.” He began to look around then quickly walked to seat of his wagon, under it he removed something. When he turned he held a huge pistol. "It's a Walker Colt, model 1847. I was issued it during the Mexican - American war... I got no use for it anymore; it's been lying around just collecting dust since then. Would you take that in trade for your bottle?"

She eyed the gun, its long barrel gleaming in his hands. "What would I do with a gun?"

He shot her an exasperated look, "Why... you would protect yourself and the youngin from Indians!"

Luttie continued for him, "…or other riffraff that would cross your trail."

"When we leave this trail for California, you'll be going northwest... alone. You can't tell me that you wouldn't feel a mite better knowing that that hog-leg is close by."

Not sold on whether it was necessary, she hesitated, "I'm just not so sure I'd need one."

"As my old pappy would have said, it’s better to have it and never use it, than to need it and never have it." He looked from the Walker Colt to the bottle, "Are you planning on drinking the bottle?"

"No, I don't drink," Hannah replied curtly, somewhat feeling insulted.

"Well there then, I guess it's settled," he replied. "Once you find that man of yours, you can trade the pistol for something that you would like." He looked at the cylinders and remarked, "I'll get her ready to shoot... I'll show you how, give you some shot and powder too."

Hannah sighed as she looked down toward the baby, "If you think I'll need it, I guess it would be okay to trade." She started to turn and hesitated, "Are you sure that YOU won't need it?"

He smiled and motioned for her to follow, they walked to the seat of their wagon and he pulled back an oilcloth. There under the seat were three or four rifles and another two pistols of a more modern kind. "I think I can afford to part with one old pistol."

"Papa used to be a gunsmith before he started to lead the wagon trains west, after a few years of watching other people fulfill their dreams, he decided to take a chance on ours." Luttie added with a smile.

"This will be my last train heading west, going to hang out my shingle and grow old with the misses." He smiled and tickled the cheek of Em with his huge finger, causing her to broadly grin.

Luttie picked up a tin and began to scoop her stew into it, “Come on, now… let’s eat while it’s still passable.”

Hannah looked at the plate of food; it had been quite a spell since she had eaten any ‘real’ food. Something in her told the new mother that it wouldn’t be proper to eat before the child, so she quickly asked to be excused so she could nurse Em.

“Feel free to use the wagon; a woman needs her privacy.” Luttie offered.

“Thank you both; I really appreciate your hospitality,” Hanna replied warmly as she and Em left for the wagon.

Cap smiled and gave his wife a wink, “Sure envy the youngin.”

“You old fool; you wouldn’t know what to do with it, if she invited you herself!”

He laughed and gently smacked at his wife’s backside, “I’m old… but I ain’t dead!”

She handed him a plate and spoon, “Here, fill that hole of yours…” There was more she said but it was all under her breath as she walked away. Cap laughed to himself as he sat down to eat.

Hannah climbed into the wagon, the long skirt she wore fouled up her motion. After finding success inside the wagon she settled in and slowly began unbuttoning her bodice. Once that was open she was forced to untie the chemise so she could expose her engorged breast. As she nursed her charge, she sat quietly studying the flower pattern on the dress she had been given.

She shook her head; the garment she wore was cumbersome, heavy, hot and all too feminine. Yet here she sat like a woman, and offered her breast to her surrogate daughter. This life she was now saddled with was a far cry different to that of Ezrah’s. He had freedom and solitude where she was now forced into the role of responsible mother, protector and giver of sustenance. She sadly looked past the puckered end of the wagon’s canopy, and wondered if she would ever be able to return back to the male she had been.

Em began to fuss, let go and cry. Hannah lifted a cloth that Luttie had given her onto her shoulder and raised Em, as she patted out the air bubble, she couldn’t get over the smell of her daughter, sort of sweet and fresh, like lavender soap and talc. Once the burp escaped the tot’s mouth, she lowered her to the opposite breast.

As Emma suckled, Hanna decided that the first chance she got to take a real bath, they both would receive it. Her hand cupped the bottom of Em as she nursed the all too familiar feeling of wetness made the young mother sigh. When she finally had finished nursing, Hanna changed her soiled clothes and placed her in an oversized shirt that had belonged to Eliza.

As the two stepped down from the wagon, Luttie noticed that Em was wearing one of Eliza’s shirts. The wet spot on the lower bodice of Hanna was all too telling to the older woman.

“Let me take Em so you can eat.” She smiled and stood. Having already eaten, she took Em and returned to the wagon. “She can nap in the wagon.”

“Thank you Luttie,” Hannah replied as she picked up the plate of stew, noticing the bread and butter pickles to the side. She gently swept her hand behind her as she sat down, then felt strange for doing something that only a woman would have done. It was odd that she had never done it before, yet did it without thinking.

As she ate, her mind became turmoil with thoughts. Was it possible to begin thinking like a woman without having been one for her entire life? She had only been a woman for a matter of days. Would she fall more and more into the role of one as time passed?

Cap brought her out of her deep thought. “How far ahead of you do you figure that your mister is?”

“I’m not sure, a day, perhaps two?” she replied as she daintily ate. “I think because I’m lighter and don’t have so much to carry; I actually could be gaining on him.”

Hannah grew quiet, her mind returning to her transformation. She sadly thought about what she had given up as its result: taking a bride, being a father. Everything had changed when the original Hannah died, for now she was forced to care for Emma and live the life of this female. She felt like crying and quickly looked away when she saw Cap had been watching her.

“Aww…Honey, you’ll find him. I’m sure of it.” He sat beside her and tried to comfort her, completely misunderstanding her tears. “Shucks, if I could I’d ride with you and see that you find him.” He looked down and sighed, “But I can’t, I’ve been paid to lead these folks to California and I’ve got to…”

Hannah patted his big hand and felt her bottom lip quiver as he drew her close. Luttie had also returned and sat on Hannah’s other side, rubbing her slender shoulder. “I’ve got great faith in you, Hannah. Not many women would take on what you’ve had to do without rolling into a ball and shriveling up. The west needs women like us, women who can stand with their men-folk through thick or thin, good or bad. Like Cap said, you’ll find him, I know you will.”

Hannah nodded and dried her eyes with her fingers, pushing the tears out. “Thank you…thank you both!”

Cap slowly and reluctantly stood, “I have to make my rounds, and we’ll need to get an early start in the morning.” He patted her shoulder softly, “You go on and get some rest, Luttie will make a bed for you in the wagon.”

As she watched him walk away she hugged Hannah, “You’re always welcome to come on to California with us. You know that, don’t you?”

Hannah nodded, “I made a promise to… to myself that I would find Gideon. I have to try.”

“That fella of yours sure has his hands on a spectacular woman…not many come around like you,” Luttie said as she too stood. “Come on to bed now, I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

Sleep didn’t come easy for Hannah; her mind was occupied with everything from the wagon to food to Em. Not forgetting of her promise to take Em to her father…but then what? Where would she go? As she began to drift off to sleep, she decided that after she returned Em to her father, she would leave for California and try to locate Cap and Luttie. In them, she felt she had found true and lifelong friendship!

-Twelve-

Even before the rising of the sun, the wagon train began its quiet movement. Everyone had packed their belongings and were anxious to be off once again. Cap helped Hannah hitch Blackie into the harness, while Luttie stood off to the side holding Emma with tears in her eyes.

Cap walked the reins back toward the little cart; he flipped them over the front and onto the seat. He paused to examine the work his friend had done on the broken wheel, "He sure did a fine job. I guess we know now why they abandoned it on the trail."

"I'm thankful it didn't break on me when we were trying to get out of the creek bed when it overflowed from the storm’s runoff." Hanna softly spoke as she approached and looked at the repaired wheel.

"Whoever had it probably just made it too dang full... or they beat the tar out of it running from someone or something." He patted the wheel and bent down to look at the axle. "Looks like he greased it for you, so it should be fine for the next hundred miles or so."

The three adults stood together, Hannah was watching Luttie holding Em and thought back to her own parents, and began to miss them horribly. Cap stood with his hat in his hand, often glancing up at the others as they began to climb into the seats of their wagons.

Hannah recognized that their time together would soon be ending. She knew she would desperately miss their friendship. "I want to thank you for all you've done... the clothes, food, and gun, really everything."

"It weren’t nothing," Cap drawled as he kissed the top of Em's head. "It was our pleasure."

Luttie handed over Em and hugged Hannah; there were tears in her eyes. "I'm sure going to miss you and your little one here." She dried her eyes with her kerchief, "I put a sack of food under your seat, the clothes ain't much, but with our daughter running off the way she did, we got more than we need."

"I don't know how I can ever repay you for your kindness. You both have been so good to me!" Hanna's eyes began tearing up with her deep felt gratitude.

"Think nothing of it, child; just take care of yourself and this here little one." Cap brushed the strawberry blonde curls on Em's head. "Maybe when you get settled, you could write a letter and let us know how you're doing?"

"Yes, a letter would be nice!" Luttie added, and then picked up the concern on Hannah's face. "Oh don't worry, Hannah, you'll find your man soon. He'll be happy to see you both so much he won't care how long you've been apart."

Cap hugged Hannah and walked to his horse. Once he climbed into the saddle he leaned forward, the leather groaning as he did. "Keep your powder dry and your wits about you, Hannah. God speed to you!"

"Be safe, I'll miss you and Luttie!" She quickly turned and as she did, her 'new' dress flared out and she hurried to her cart with Em. Both Cap and Luttie exchanged a glance; they knew she didn't want them to see her cry.

She sat with Em in her lap as Cap on his horse waved the wagons forward; as they began to roll he rode over to her cart. "Remember what I said about keeping that powder dry. Keep that hog-leg close as you may need it at the spur of a moment." He looked at her glassy-eyed, and Hannah knew he was missing his daughter fiercely.

"I will, Cap," Hannah promised, almost tearing up again.

Cap shook off his sadness and turned his horse to face the same direction she was and pointed, "Now follow that trail right on all day, keep the river to your right. You’ll be fine. If you’re running short on provisions, you can cross it at a point and go on toward Fort Boise, but I’d avoid it and stay on the trail. If you haven’t caught up with your husband by then, you might be able to gain some time staying out of the fort." He straightened up and ran his hand across his stubble, "I sure wish you were coming with us. I don't like leaving a woman and a child to fend for themselves in the middle of nowhere."

"We’ll be fine, Cap. I'll find Gideon; he can't be too far ahead." She leaned over and placed Em in the box near her feet, it had been fixed up comfortably by Luttie and Hannah earlier that morning.

“Sure wish that horse of yourn was a mule, damn thoroughbreds are pretty near useless out here with their spindly legs.” He sighed as he saw her conviction to completing the journey to find her husband. “Well, watch the terrain and keep him at a walk if you can help it.” He blinked away tears and gave her a quick waive, reluctant to let her travel alone.

Hanna saw this and gave the reins a snap and Blackie began the cart to rolling, Cap sat upon his horse like a statue watching the little family disappear down the trail. For him, it was almost like losing his daughter all over again.

With only a quick backward glance, Hannah watched him turn and break his horse into a trot, quickly catching up with the wagon train. She returned her gaze toward the trail ahead, glancing only once toward the sleeping child near her feet, adjusting a lightweight cloth over her face to keep out the sun.

Once again, Hanna and Em were alone.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Thirteen-

When the sun climbed high into the sky, Hannah had found a small stand of trees to rest the horse and nurse Em while enjoying the comfort of the shade. She contentedly watched the child... her child, as she had finally accepted, nurse.

She had taken to pinning her long fiery hair up into a bun recently and removed a bonnet that Luttie had given her. This effort allowed a cool breeze to wash over her.

As her daughter suckled, she rummaged in the sack and removed a biscuit to eat. Both she and Em sat on the seat of the cart quietly eating, when an unusual sound brought the young mother to alertness.

She quickly picked up the Colt she had been given and placed it on the seat beside them. Taking a portion of her skirt, she concealed it under the material, yet handy to retrieve at a moment's notice.

Again she heard the sound; it was of a horse’s hoof kicking gravel. She began to watch through the trees and saw a rider moving nonchalantly toward her. Hannah lowered her hand to be nearer to the butt of the gun, unwilling to use it but to be ready nonetheless.

The rider pulled up short as soon as he realized that she was there. He rose up on his stirrups and quickly scanned the distance around them. From the look about him, Hannah did not trust him in the least.

"Howdy, ma'am," he politely called out as he tipped his hat. He walked his horse closer; Hannah's hand grasped the gun tighter.

He again shifted his eyes as if looking for whoever was with the young woman. "Now if you ain't a sight for sore eyes!" He smiled as he spoke.

Hannah took sight of him; she was revolted by his appearance. His teeth were stained yellow, and he was filthy and unshaven. His face was long and thin with a slightly upturned nose... but it was his voice that made her shudder.

He looked at her, his eyes shifting down to Em nursing and then back up to the lovely woman holding her. "Now, if I would have said I ain't seen a prettier sight, I would be lying." His nasally voice droned.

Hanna realized that she was showing this stranger much more than she wanted him to see, so she quickly covered herself with the bonnet she had removed. This action caused the stranger to snicker.

"You... you don't have to do that on my account. I was just beginning to enjoy myself."

"If you are wondering where my husband is- he’ll be back momentarily." She lied, hoping her ruse would make him think twice before pulling something.

His eyes shifted for a second, Hanna dropped her hand to her side to be nearer the gun once again. The slender man sat up straighter in his saddle and turned his horse to the side so he could look over his shoulder and still keep sight on this beautiful woman before him.

"I'm sorry; ma'am, but I don't see no sign of your man. I'm thinking you are alone out here in the middle of nowhere." He dropped his right hand to his side, making her feel all the more uncomfortable as it was resting upon the pistol he carried inside his belt.

"He's on horseback. He rode over to the river to truck back some water for us." Hanna replied as she used the hand that was holding Em to also hold the bonnet that was covering her breast from his view.

The man leered at her leaning back, flexing his shoulders from the discomfort of riding. His eyes were constantly on the move for the husband returning from the river. Feeling confident that she was lying, he began to swing down from his saddle. One leg had just started over the back of the horse.

There was a loud report and he hesitated as he returned his leg back into his stirrup. "Crazy bitch! You shot off the horn on my saddle!" His head quickly swiveled to face the young mother, the gun barrel still smoking in her right hand.

"I think you need to leave, because the next shot will be about a foot south of that!" Her words caused the man to look down at his crotch.

He tried to act like he wasn't spooked but he was definitely terrified by her marksmanship. She on the other hand was wrestling with her crying daughter, startled from the loud pistol shot, and the fear that was flip-flopping in her stomach.

He smiled and slowly shook his head at her, "You wouldn't shoot me in the pecker... would you?" His answer was to hear her cock back the hammer on the Walker Colt.

"Try me."

"You are one friggin crazy bitch, I'll say!" He thought for a second about climbing off his horse, but she was still holding all the cards in this high stakes game, and that included the gun. "I'll go, I'll go," he said raising his hands upward, each was holding the reins of his horse.

He shook his head and again looked down to see where she completely destroyed his saddle horn. "One crazy bitch..." he repeated as he turn his horse and trotted toward the south, all the while she held the big Colt on him.

Her eyes followed him until she lost sight of when he dropped over a slight rise in the terrain. Hannah looked down and thanked her lucky stars for the gun that Cap and Luttie traded to her.

She took her finger and gently broke the suction that Em had upon her breast, working it between her nipple and the child's lip. As she switched her to the opposite side she looked up and scanned the surrounding area, hoping the man would just keep on moving, for she didn't trust him any farther than she could have thrown him.

Kissing the top of Em's curly hair, she stroked her cheek lovingly as she held her. Unbelieving of everything that had transpired since she had been transformed, her eyes darted to the gun, half hidden under her skirt. Closing her eyes she prayed, thankful she didn't hit him... even though she had aimed to.

She looked up, a smile played at her face. The man must have thought she was a marksman... markswoman, but the truth be known it was just a horrible miss. She had been aiming for his chest and missed that by close to two feet. Sighing, she realized just how close she had actually come to burying her bullet deep into his chest... for that was where she had been aiming.

The shadows of the day had grown long when she came up to a little, secluded pond. She found a small trail that she could take her cart down that completely secluded her from prying eyes. There she unhitched Blackie and picketed him where he could get to the cool, clean water.

Em was asleep and she left her that way, wanting to take advantage of a brief moment of 'mommy time'. She climbed to the edge of the embankment that surrounded the pond, nothing was moving as far as her eyes could see. Cautiously, she returned to the pond and began to remove her clothing and set it aside. As best as she could, she brushed the dust from the trail off and gently laid them on the side of the cart.

Turning, she again cautiously looked around. Feeling quite secluded from prying eyes, she disrobed from the chemise and drawers. Completely naked, she retrieved a bar of lye soap from the bag that Luttie had given her and headed down to the water. Gingerly stepping in, she walked out until the water was well past her knees.

There she sank into it until it was over her shoulders and began to vigorously scrub at both articles of clothing she carried into the water with her. When satisfied at their cleanliness, she carried them back up and laid them out to dry in the sun.

The water ran down her body, and dewy drops clung to her skin almost like the kiss of rain on the soft green grasses of spring. She removed the pins in her bun and allowed her hair to once again fall around her slender shoulders. She was a breathtaking sight as the sun reflected back the water that dappled her soft skin.

Slowly the beauty returned once again to the water, gliding out into the deep where she gracefully dipped beneath the surface. She rose out of the water, looking much like a goddess in a long forgotten painting, and began to carefully wash her hair.

Any man who would have come upon her at that moment would have sworn that he had breached the very gates of heaven. She was beyond words in her beauty, and it seemed the longer she remained as Hannah, the more beautiful she became. It wasn't as though she changed in her physical appearance, but rather an unspoken inner beauty had begun to assert itself into her very being. It was as though her soul had become lit from within. She could feel it, but couldn't explain why it was happening.

Once she felt she was thoroughly cleaned, she swam to the shore and tossed the bar of soap onto the grass beside her clothing. Then she returned to swim and relax in the warm water, allowing the trials and tribulations of the day to release.

She heard Em waking up, and slowly ended her swim, once again returned to the cart. She peered over the edge and smiled as Emma was staring directly at her with the broadest grin. "You want to go swimming with momma?" She asked the small tot as she lifted her from the box, and removed her clothing.

The two quietly returned to the water, once it had reached Hannah's generous hips, she dipped her hand into the cool pond and slowly spread it onto her daughter’s legs and back. This was to allow Em to get used to the coolness of the water and show her that she had nothing to fear as long as her mother was close by.

Hannah could feel the bond between the two of them growing strong; she had been fearful but there was just something about this young person that made her heart melt. Whether she wanted to or not, she felt that she could never live without her.

She knew that somewhere between the burial place of Ezrah and here, she was slowly transforming inwardly almost as much as she had outwardly. No longer could she lay claim to that awkward boy, but now had emerged a grown woman with a young child of her own.

She held Em close and gently lowered herself and the baby into the water, soft supple skin touching soft supple skin. Both played in the water for nearly half an hour; it wasn't until Hannah examined her own wrinkled fingers that she decided they had had enough.

She carried Em to the box and laid her down, completely naked, picked up her clothing and returned to the water to clean it too. No time at all had seemed to pass as she climbed up the shore and wrung out the water from Em's gown.

Hanging it nearby, she tested the dampness of her own clothing; remarkably it was already dry. She quickly threw it over her head and returned to the side of her daughter. "Did Em like her bath?" she chirped to the youngster as she picked her up.

The sky became lit with pinks, blues and yellow as the sun dropped low on the horizon, Hannah sat in the lush grass with Em and admired God's handiwork, as her own mother would often call it. Once again she sadly recalled her mother, before Ezrah's change.

She had been a worrier, but her heart had always been in the right place. She had a good reason to worry though as Hannah thought back to the attack. Tears blurred her vision as she reflected that horrible day when she lost her parents.

She still was angry at herself for not burying them, even though she may have died had she tried. Then she frowned as she realized that she had been referring to herself as the female of the species. Seemingly she had left the male side long ago as she recalled having referred and answered to the woman within since probably when she found the cart.

She sighed. It didn't matter anymore, she would probably never figure out how to change herself back anyway. As she played with a curl in Em's hair she marveled at the role of a woman, now her role.

She wasn't ignorant to a woman's ways; her mother was a woman, wasn't she? Laughing, she realized that much of what she saw in her mother she would probably see in herself as she got older. Again her thoughts returned to the days that preceded the attack.

Her mother had been around four months pregnant, the little bump just beginning to be noticeable. Her eyes drifted past Emma and glanced at her own stomach, flattened from too little food and the exertion of the trail. Yet as she took her trim waist in, she couldn't help but to wonder what it was like for her to feel a child developing within?

Had the original Hannah been excited for this beautiful girl, had she been a willing mother to Cade? What was it like for her to...make love to Gideon? She had been a male once, she knew what caused the baby to be placed into the womb, but what did if feel like being put there?

Her face grew warm as she quietly thought of Gideon making love to the original Hannah. Did it hurt her? What did he look like? What type of lover was this man she had yet to meet? Could she allow herself to be taken if he asked? More importantly, would she want to?

She felt her heart race as sweat began to dapple her upper lip. She shouldn't be thinking this way... yet why not? Wasn't she already married? How else could she be holding her own daughter? She thought back to something that Hannah had told Ezrah, something about running from the wagon when the Indians attacked. She had seemed to be a good woman, a good mother… so why would she leave the safety of the wagon? Was it just confusion, panic… or some other reason altogether?

Had the original Hannah been a good and loving mother? From what she could remember, she had seemed to be. Was she a good and dutiful wife able to perform as she was expected to? Her thoughts swept over her like the waves of an ocean, coming one after another until she could stand no more. There were too many questions that she had no answers to… was it even possible for her to pull off ‘pretending’ to be Hannah when the time came?

She tried to occupy her mind with something other than the woman whose body she wore, because the constant internal turmoil would drive her insane. Thankfully she realized that as it grew darker, it would become colder. This was exactly what she needed to take her mind off of her situation. Hannah began to search for twigs and small branches, wanting to build a fire before the night turned cold. Once she felt she had found enough she laid Em aside in the soft grass and began to clear a spot big enough to not set the grass on fire. She found and began to pull at a dead patch then stuff it between the twigs. She lit one of the matches she had found in the shack and cupped her slender fingers around the flame to protect it.

The flame began to dance as she slowly drew her hands away; her eyes began to examine the slender fingers that Ezra's had become. Her mind again returned to thoughts of Gideon, and whether those hands had ever pleasured him. A strange feeling from her feminine opening caused her to grow strangely warm. She knew what was happening, although it had always happened to Ezrah, and his had a much different result.

She sat back upon her haunches; her chemise had ridden up above her slender thigh. She reached out and touched it, wondering if she had ever been touched there by Gideon? Hannah quickly stood and brought Emma up with her, trying to find anything that would distract her thoughts from those things she and Gideon may have done.

Hanna found a quiet place and pulled aside the neckline of the chemise, exposing a creamy breast to Em who eagerly latched upon the offered nipple. From where she sat, she tossed dried branches and bigger twigs onto the fire. While it wasn't a huge fire, it threw off enough light to softly glow the banks of the small pond.

There the two quietly lay as they, Hannah tired from her swim and Em growing full from nursing until both mother and daughter were gently sung to sleep by the tiny peepers and crickets that lived near the pond. Sometime during the evening, Hannah had tossed a few more sticks onto the glowing coals of the fire, and covered Emma with a lightweight shawl that Luttie had given her.

She sat up for another hour staring into the fluctuating coals of her fire, wondering what the next day might bring. Was she any closer to finding Gideon? Could he have been killed in the attack that injured the original Hannah? Sighing heavily, she settled back upon the soft grasses that cradled Em and ate another of Luttie’s biscuits. Around the time she was finishing her biscuit and drinking from her canteen, Emma began to stir. She was waking up and from the fullness she was feeling in her breasts, it was time to nurse her daughter. The young woman settled back and nursed Em until both fell soundly asleep. It was probably the best the two had ever slept.

-Fourteen-

The night was waning as a faint lightening of the sky began to slowly ebb away the darkness; Hannah had risen early and was chewing a piece of jerky. It was quite salty and made her extremely thirsty. She rose up, still wearing only her chemise and walked to the water’s edge and began to refill the canteen. Behind her, Em began to stir.

Past the blackened stubs of wood, the fire all but died long ago, she carried the canteen back toward Em, taking a sip as she walked. Quickly pushing the cork in, she made her way back to where Emma was still trying to wake herself, as she opened her pretty eyes up she grinned broadly. Hannah took a place in the grass beside her, leaned over and kissed her charge lightly upon the cheek.

“Good morning Em! How’s my beautiful little sleepy head?” She cooed and tickled at Em’s chubby chin, then laid aside the shawl that had been covering the precious child.

She poured water from the canteen onto a rag she had and began to gently wipe Em’s bottom clean of the night’s use, “We’ll get you all taken care of first, then how about we give you your breakfast?”

As she played with Em’s feet and hands, she skillfully dressed the young girl in her gown, with the expertise that only a mother would possess. Once she had been dressed, Hannah lifted her to her shoulder and began to walk her, singing a lullaby in her ear softly. She had to admit, never in a million years would she have taken to this little bundle of joy as Ezrah… but something was happening to her that she could not explain… something special.

Carrying her off to the side she sat upon a soft tuft of grasses, with a huge patch of wild daisies as her backdrop. She placed Em upon her thighs and blew softly upon her neck and stomach in play, which Em seemed to enjoy. Her nearness created a reaction to Hannah’s newfound maternal chemistry and she could feel the pressure beginning to assert itself within her bosom.

Gently lifting Emma up, she pushed aside the loose neckline and offered her nipple, Em began suckling almost immediately. Hannah started rocking from side to side humming the lullaby she had sung earlier, enjoying the quiet moment she was able to share with her daughter.

The sun was climbing higher, a hint of yellow was reflecting off the few clouds that hung in the sky. It looked to Hannah as it would be a beautiful morning, but at that moment, nothing could pull her eyes from the child in her arms. She had somehow found love in the middle of nowhere, a love that only a mother would understand. There were tears in her eyes as she looked upon the nursing infant, drinking what only God could have made possible.

Was this some sort of strange destiny that had been prearranged long before she had been born? Hannah was unsure, but whatever it was she would make the most of it. If God was going to place her here, instead of the original Hannah, then so be it.

To her right a small fish jumped in the pond, little ringlets circled outward from its wake. She momentarily glanced up, but what she held in her arms was to her, more breathtaking than any glorious sunrise or playful creature. What she held was the future of this nation, a lovely child put upon this earth for her to protect.

Hannah was mesmerized by the strawberry blonde ringlets that framed Emma’s face. They were so much like her own, and that she felt that as a child Hannah had to have looked very much like her. She couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than this moment with her young daughter, a moment that she would likely cherish for the remainder of her days.

The time had come for her to gently persuade Em to let go and to switch sides and it took only a finger slid alongside her nipple to break the suction. She lifted her up and gently patted her back, trying to drive the air bubbles out. After a momentarily short burp, she parted her chemise and again lowered Em to the other side.

She looked up at the edge of the bank that surrounded the pond, the high side concealing her from possible discovery, the shadows were now growing shorter, the sun lighting more and more of the interior. Smiling, she listened to the sounds of her daughter nurse, little mews and squeaks from her drinking and the constant rhythmic breathing through her tiny nose. Em held onto Hannah’s finger as she drank, her tiny hand grasping the only woman she would ever call ‘mother’.

That thought wasn’t lost upon the young woman; she knew that with the change into Hannah heaped great responsibility onto someone who normally would have cared little. She studied this tiny child in her arms: she would become her protector, and she would give her very life in her defense.

At that moment, Em spit out the nipple and moved her face away and began to cry. Hannah lifted her up and began to gently pat her narrow back until she was rewarded with the burp. Once again she lowered her to her breast, thinking that surely she wasn’t finished… she did latch on for only a few pulls, then spit her out again.

“Okay, mommy understands… you’re through.” She used the hem of her chemise to wipe the milk from Em’s mouth, and then held her close, not wanting for this beautiful moment to end. Hannah sat holding her, a smile played upon her face as she watched her precious daughter looking back.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Fifteen-

In her dreams she looked down at herself from above sleeping with little Em, and there was a man standing at the rim of the embankment. She sat up and turned to face him, the Walker Colt raised and threatening.

The man in the dream was a kind man, he approached her, gently removing the gun and placing it in the grass beside them. He kissed her passionately, as his rough, working man's hands tenderly held each side of her face. Again and again they kissed, until he had lowered her into the soft grasses. She was beside herself with concern. Why didn't she resist his advance? Why did she so willingly allow him to control her as he did?

She threw her head back into the grass as he began to kiss and fondle her breasts, arching her body to allow the man better access to her femininity. Even though asleep, she couldn't fathom why she would allow this to happen and yet, why she wouldn't put up more of a struggle. It was as though her body wanted to experience this from the feminine perspective.

She raised her head and looked toward her lover, both were somehow unclothed. Her knees opened wide to allow him access to her most private parts, she touched his warm length with her tiny hand, guiding him to the area they both coveted. With a pleasurable sigh from her willing lips, he settled in and proceeded to impale her repeatedly with his ridged penis.

As they rocked in unison, her mind told her that she shouldn't be doing this, yet her body wanted it more than anything she had ever needed. He grunted and she felt his back shake, another grunt and she could feel the pulsing from within. She couldn't feel the release she desperately wanted, the desire was there but without the result.

As he finished, he rose up and almost instantly he alone was clothed. He tipped his hat and walked away into a blur-filled landscape. She on the other hand was still sitting in the grass, completely naked and now, enormously pregnant. Her dream self looked down at the large belly, wondering how would she cope, heading west with two babies to care for. She began to cry. In the midst of her sobbing she heard a sound, almost like a whisper, and this caused her to slowly open her eyes.

To the east, there was a lightening of the sky, and thankfully, it had only been a dream. She sighed looking down at her narrow waist and tummy, still feeling the residual effects of her dream's lovemaking as she sat up. There was still a pleasant strangeness to her vagina.

Her mind went back to the voice, the softness of it almost made Hannah think that she was hearing things. It came from above her, yet as she looked up onto the uppermost side of the embankment, nothing was there. She rose up to her feet and looked as far as she could see without climbing to the top, her eyes rewarded with absolutely nothing.

She nervously settled back down and played with Em, but continued listening. Glancing toward the daisies that surrounded her, none were moving, so she felt relativity confident she could cross off the wind as what may have made the sound. Her mind kept returning to the stranger she met only yesterday, and became fearful. Silently she stood carrying Em, and retrieved the Walker Colt, then returned to her spot near the daisies.

"What was it exactly that I thought I heard?" she wondered to herself. She replayed it again in her mind, recalling it sounding much like a child's whisper. "Mommy?" it had said, in a haunting specter sort of way.

With the voice and her recent dream still unnerving her, she laid the Walker Colt in the grass beside her, and covered it with a part of her chemise. She was taking the wagon master's suggestion, and keeping it close.

"Hannah? My God, it is you…" The voice whispered incredulously from above her. Her eyes darted toward the voice and at the same time, her hand sought out the gun.

She was standing now, brought quickly to her feet by the male’s voice. She looked up toward the stranger, Em cradled in her arm and the gun rose, held by a trembling hand. It was all she could to muster the strength and cock the gun using only one hand.

The man standing at the top of the embankment was quickly joined by a young boy. Cautiously, he pushed the youth behind him, holding his hands up with palms out. "I'm not going to hurt you, Hannah." He spoke softly, not wanting to scare the woman into pulling the trigger.

"Do I know you?" she asked, taking a more firm grip on the gun. "Are you with that man that I had to chase off yesterday?" The gun was heavy; the weight caused her aim to waver.

“You know damn well who I am, Hannah.” He sighed in his frustration, “Now put the gun down and let me come down to talk.” She lowered the barrel off of him directly, but still kept it elevated.

Hannah’s eyes went from the man to the little boy who was hiding, he looked at him and then back toward her, “Son, you’d better wait up here.”

She watched him crouch low and then slide the length of the embankment face, loose dirt following him down. He stood at the bottom and began to walk toward the distraught female. “Hannah, please put the gun down. You may still be mad at me, but I don’t think you want to kill me.”

“Gideon?” she whispered, unbelieving; he looked so much like the man in her dream.

“Yes honey, it’s me…Gideon,” he said, easing slowly toward her. Hannah lowered the gun as he began to walk nearer. “You are alive…but how?” he asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

“When the boy ran back to the wagon and said he saw the ghost of his mama, I thought he was making it up.” He gently took the gun and eased the hammer back into its resting position, then inserted it inside his belt. “I saw you shot…the arrow, and oh my God…I saw you fall!” he recalled.

Hanna didn’t know what to say; she just stood in the glade in her chemise and holding Em. He gently touched her shoulders, his fingers entwined in her long red hair as he gently cupped her soft cheek. Drawing the stunned female in, he kissed her deeply. Again and again he smothered her with his hot kisses, his tongue more than once sought out her own.

She backed up enough to pull away from his kisses. While it felt somewhat strange, it wasn’t without an odd sense of pleasure. “You don’t understand, Gideon. I’m not the Hannah you think I am.” She said as she touched her lips where he had just kissed.

He stood, saddened beyond words, tears in his eyes. “So you ARE still upset with me?”

“I don’t know anything about you, upset or not, Gideon. This is the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on you!” She felt a pang of embarrassment as she was sure he could see through her chemise. She bent over and picked up the shawl that had covered Em the night before and placed it over her shoulders, allowing the long ends to cover her breasts.

Gideon sat down hard, removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you remember anything of what happened?”

“To me or to Hannah?” she replied.

He looked at the ground and softly groaned, “Just before they had attacked, you and I were arguing. You said some pretty spiteful things to me…told me that the first chance you got you would be leaving and heading back to Pennsylvania.” He rubbed his chin and continued, “Them Indians hit us fast, later on that day, and when they did, you jumped out of the wagon. I tried to stop you, I saw you shot in the chest; the arrow was sticking out…that’s when I was struck with a war club. They would have scalped me if it weren’t for Mr. Bloom. He shot the Indian and they drug me back into their wagon with Cade.”

“Papa, can I come down there?” the soft voice above asked.

Hannah recognized the voice as the one she heard as she was coming out of her dream. She watched Gideon stand to help his son down. “See, mommy is no ghost, and she’s here with little Emma.”

The little boy raced toward Hannah and embraced her and Em, “I’m glad you aren’t dead, momma.”

“So am I, Cade,” she said as she crouched low, and let her son see his sister; Gideon was standing watching the entire scene with a smile.

“So you don’t remember any of what happened?” he finally asked.

“I have to be honest with you, Gideon. When I found your wife, she was shot in the chest with the arrow and dying.” Gideon folded his arms and just sighed. “She was begging me to take Emma to be with her father…you.”

“Hannah, I…”

She stopped him as she continued, “When she passed, something strange happened and somehow …we swapped places…only I was her and she became me, but she was still dead.”

Gideon’s face lowered to the ground, “You know that what you are claiming should be impossible….but…”

“But it’s God’s truth,” she interrupted him. “If you don’t believe me, go dig up her body…you’ll see.”

“I already did,” he said sadly.

“And what did you find under those rocks?” She asked smugly.

“A teenage boy wearing clothing my wife wore on the day of the attack…” He reached his hand out and caressed Emma’s tiny face lovingly. “I also found this.” He removed a cloth from his pocket and gently unfolded it, “It wasn’t hers but I was wondering if you could recognize it.”

“It’s the necklace I found in the shack!” Hannah reached out to grab it, but Gideon pulled it away and wrapped it once again in the cloth. “But that’s mine…” she demanded.

He pushed it back into his pocket where she could only look at it. “I accidentally touched it to what she was wearing. I became her for quite a spell. It’s not something I want to do ever again.”

“That little thing caused me to change into her?” She was filled with wonder.

“Yes, it took me a half a day to be able to figure out how to become myself again. Thank God I had thought to hang my hat on the horse…one touch and I returned back to normal.” He patted the pocket and smiled.

“I can return to being me then?” she asked hopefully.

“It depends; do you have any clothing that your old self wore prior to the change?” He asked, wondering if she thought to keep anything.

She shook her head no, the long red hair shifting from her shoulder as she did so. He shrugged, “Then I guess you’re stuck like you are… but that might not be so bad.”

“Since you already have the… ah…proper equipment, perhaps you would consider staying as you are for the time being?” he asked hesitatingly.

It dawned upon the beautiful woman what he had said only moments before, "Wait a minute; you said it happened to you too?" Hannah questioned, but was thankful that she had someone else that could prove the occurrence. "So, you know how I can change back?"

"I do, but I want you to hear me out before you try anything." He pursed his lips, unsure how she would take what he was compelled to ask.

Hannah stared at him, almost dreading what he was going to ask, but inwardly knowing. "Go on..."

"I know being Hannah isn't without its distraction, and I know that from my own experience. But... Emma needs her mother and since you've been doing it for awhile now, and are obviously better equipped for that duty… I was wondering if you might keep it up for both Emma and Cade." He took off his hat and stood, nervously rotating it in his grasp.

"For the children..." she repeated, not believing him or his sincerity."…or is it for you?"

"Look, I know what you must be thinking, but I'll leave you alone. I just need help with them, especially Emma. Without you being Hannah, I don't think they'll have a chance." He again nervously rotated his hat, and then severely began to roll the brim.

Hannah stood there with Em in her chemise; Cade reached up and took her hand in his own. She looked down at his face, filled with innocence turned toward hers. "Can we go back now? I'm hungry."

Hannah adjusted her stance, and then sighed deeply. "I'll go with you, I'll play the dutiful mommy, but when we arrive in Oregon...I'm done. I want to be changed back so I can go on my way."

"I understand." He hesitated, growing quiet for an extended length of time. "We'll have to keep up the ruse of a happy union, you and I." He cleared his throat, "I loved Hannah with all my heart, but I won't have anybody thinking she was a 'shirker' on being a mother."

"Okay, that's fine… as long as we keep all this on the up and up." She made a circle motion with her slender finger then looked down toward the children, "If you can agree with that, then I think we understand each other clearly."

She stood in silence as he turned to look at Blackie, "He's my father’s horse...well, I suppose he's mine now."

"He's a beautiful horse." He slowly approached him and, surprisingly to Hannah, he allowed Gideon to pet his face. "You're a good boy, aren't you?" He cooed as he stroked the side of the sleek black thoroughbred, "He sure is a magnificent beast."

Hannah slowly walked the children to her cart and began to dress herself, Cade insisted on holding Emma so their mother carefully placed her in his arms. As she continued dressing, she caught Gideon looking over the back of the horse at her getting ready.

It wasn't a lecherous stare but rather one of wonderment. To her though, his attention span was about as short as a child. As she was lacing her corset she decided that she would have to work on that with him.

She began to adjust her skirt and realized what she had been thinking; in reality she had no real interest in 'working with him' on his attention span. That sounded too much like something a woman would say and she would be damned if she would go that far with any male.

Gideon studied her cart, "Where did you find this little thing?"

"In a dry wash. We had been riding on Blackie for some time and... we just found it." She was adjusting her bodice as he stepped around, and he watched her for a full half minute before she realized he was there.

For some strange reason, it didn't really bother her that he was watching her dress. She wasn't sure if it had to do with who she used to be, or that she didn't care... or the fact that 'she' was already used to him being near when she dressed, a sort of residual comfort level that the original Hannah may have had. That last thought troubled her, so she tried to push it out of her head by changing the subject.

"So where did you put your wagon?" She asked as she lifted Em to her shoulder, "Do we walk there or did you want to take the cart?"

He had been mesmerized at her beauty. Although she still looked like 'his Hannah', there was something exotic about her, with her red curls flowing in disarray about her face and shoulders and not in the tight bun that his Hannah had worn. Her comment suddenly sank into his mind and he quickly replied, trying to avoid staring again at her breathtaking loveliness.

"We... we can take the cart," he stammered. "It'll be easier than trucking everything back there by hand."

Hannah quietly played with the Cade and Em in the grass, showing her son how to create a daisy-chain while Gideon hitched up Blackie. When he had finished, he walked to them and bent down to pick up Emma, then offered Hannah his hand.

She felt strange being doted on like he had been doing, yet she didn't mind it in the least. It was nice not having to hitch the team or do much of the manual labor for a change. He led her to the cart and placed Em in the box where she had been cradled since she left Cap and Luttie.

Hannah stood off to the side while Gideon picked up Cade and sat him in the back of the cart.

"There you go, son, hold onto the box so Emma doesn't slide." He then turned toward Hannah, "Next." He held his hand and waited for her to step onto one of the spokes, supporting her as she climbed into the seat.

She felt a strange thrill within her stomach as he gently slid his hand across her waist, helping her settle in. She tucked her dress beneath herself and sat, demurely waiting with her slender hands in her lap while he climbed into the narrow seat.

He nickered to Blackie who began to pull the family around the pond to a point they could exit the embankment. As the cart crossed the rise in the land, Hannah leaned close, linking her arm around his. She wanted to make sure that anyone who saw them approaching, would only witness a very loving family... just as she had promised.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Sixteen-

As they rode closer to the wagon train, Hannah looked over toward Gideon, admiring his rugged handsomeness. She knew that she could pull off the ruse; she had been doing it for weeks already, but one little question was in the back of her mind and she wanted to ask it before they got too close to prying ears.

“Gideon?” she asked.

“Hannah?” he said with a laugh and then smiled boyishly to her, and decided now wasn’t the time to kid with her after all that she had been through. He decided that he should respectfully reply, “Yes Hannah, what is it?”

“I’m basically giving up my… let’s just say ‘life’ here… to help you with the children.” She looked at him, studying the expression he would give for asking. “What is in it for me?”

He looked toward her and in his expression; she saw that he didn’t really have an answer.

“That’s the best you have?” she responded sharply, angry that he said nothing. “My parents were already going to Oregon. I have this little cart… I was well on my way there by myself!” She retorted, making sure he realized it wasn’t the answer she was hoping to hear.

He pulled up on the reins and stopped Blackie halfway between the pond and the wagon train, “Hannah, I’ll treat you with kindness as long as you are with us. I won’t hit you… I will treat you like the beautiful woman you are. I promise you this, Hannah; you will have nothing to want for as long as you are with us.”

She said nothing, but turned her head back toward the wagon train and just sat in deep thought. She could do this; she only needed to stay this way for a few more months. She looked down at Em already asleep in the box, then turned back to watch Cade trying to see around them to the wagons. She had made a promise to the original Hannah and she wouldn’t go back on her word. She couldn’t do that to her.

Still with her head facing forward, she nodded like a woman born to prominence. For at that moment, she was the queen of her household, and would rule with dignity, poise and grace…or die trying.

Hannah and Em 'rejoined' the wagon train and several strangers spoke to her about her serious injury, they all seemed very surprised to see her up and around so quickly. One particular family asked them to supper with them since Hannah had only returned that day. As evening rolled around, Hannah was sitting inside Gideon's wagon nursing Em. Cade and his father had been off caring for Blackie and the mules.

She heard Gideon just outside the wagon, then saw him lift Cade and place him in with her. "Here's the boy, he was getting underfoot." He quickly peered over the edge and did a double-take at Emma nursing.

Hannah looked up and their eyes momentarily locked. "Uh...I'll wait out here," he stammered.

"Why? I'm sure I don't have anything you've not seen already," Hannah stated the obvious.

"Well, no... But I don't want to stare." He quickly looked away.

"I'm okay." She replied quietly, "It isn't like I have anything to hide, now is it?"

He hesitantly climbed inside and began to busy himself with several blankets, all the while he was trying not to look. "I'll set our bed up outside, Cade and Emma can have the wagon." He picked up several folded blankets and carried them out with him, Hanna momentarily watched as he left. With her free hand, she peeled back covers and motioned for Cade to crawl in.

"I don't want to go to bed yet, I'm not tired," he complained with a broad yawn.

"You can just lay down there and talk to me then. Will that be okay?" She said with a smile, knowing full well that he would be asleep in minutes.

Cade sat there staring at her, and then folded his arms behind his head. "Does it hurt?"

Hannah replied without looking, "Does what hurt?" thinking he was referring to the wound from the arrow shaft that his 'real' mother received.

"Where Emma's biting you." He yawned.

Hannah laughed, "Your sister isn't biting me, she’s just nursing, it’s how Em gets her food."

Cade began rubbing his eyes but it didn't prevent him from responding in the way his young mind could fathom. "Like with a kitten and his mommy?"

"Yes, something just like that.” She laughed, the adjusted a thin blanket over him, “You really need to go to sleep so you'll be ready to help your Pa, come morning." She adjusted herself to make nursing more comfortable, when she had finished she exchanged sides with Em.

"Okay, Mommy," he yawned. She could barely make out the words, but Hannah understood him just fine. After around fifteen minutes had passed, she had burped Em, cleaned her up, kissed her then placed her in the handy box in lieu of her crib. As she was backing out of the wagon, she paused and watched them sleeping.

It was strange to go from one child depending on her, to now having two; she stared at Cade sleeping soundly. She found herself smiling, and realized that it wasn't so bad being called ‘Mommy’; in fact she was rapidly growing to like it. She bent low, her corseted frame constricting her movement. As she tenderly swept the hair from off his face, she kissed him and finished backing out of the wagon.

She stood on the ground and looked for Gideon, but couldn't locate him. "Gideon?" She whispered, "Where are you?"

"Down here..." He said laughing, "Under the wagon."

"Well that's clever." She crouched low and peeked underneath, "You placed cloth around the sides and everything."

"I did that for you... so you'd have privacy getting undressed and all." He slowly scooted out, straightening the thick blanket that he had been laying on. Rolling onto his hands and knees he straightened up and stood beside her.

"My Lady, your chamber waits." He pulled the cloth curtain aside to allow her in.

She bent low and crawled in as she was turning around to remove her shoes; he dropped the curtain and began walking away. "Wait a minute - where you going?"

"A woman needs her privacy, Hannah, I understand that. Don't worry about me; I'll be sleeping over by the mules and horse.

"No you won't," she responded flatly. "There's enough room under here for the both of us."

He turned and looked back, "Are you sure?"

"I know who I am inside my head, you see me as Hannah so either way, I figure I'll be alright." She held aside the curtain, "I'd rather get this over with now than if I think about it for too long."

"Get what over with?" he cautiously asked as he started inside the curtain.

"Sleeping… with you," she again replied flatly. It was almost as though she was channeling the original Hannah, a woman who most assuredly, had been well acquainted with and was comfortable around Gideon, whether clothed or not.

He sat off to one side and watched as she continued to ready herself for bed. Was it right to view this stranger who was an exact duplicate of his wife? Hannah hesitated and looked back over her shoulder as she was untying her corset, "You going to get ready for bed?"

"I... well...I guess," he faltered, nervousness evident in his voice.

She removed her corset and sighed in deep relief as the cool night air hit her, "I sure won't miss that thing..." she said with a laugh as she cast it to the side. Hiking up her chemise she began to remove her stockings, "Gosh, that feels so much better."

"I really think I need to sleep outside," he finally worked up the nerve to say.

"Why?" She glanced toward him and then looked down at her bare leg; the chemise had ridden up to mid thigh. Gideon's eyes were fixated on her supple form. Hannah laughed as she followed his eyes, "If I'm not concerned, you shouldn't be either."

"Hannah, you don't understand... she had been so mad at me, right after she found out she was pregnant with Emma... we had no..." His face reddened as he searched his mind for a word.

"Relations?" she added with a laugh. "What you've got, I've already seen, and what I’ve got… I’m sure you have already seen that too."

He sighed deeply and removed his boots, "I'll do it, but I'm not going to be responsible for what you see..."

She only laughed; her male side was too naive to fully comprehend what the man meant. He lay down and sighed deeply, she on the other hand was on her side and facing him.

Gideon placed his boots aside and removed his shirt, settling down on the big blanket he slid off his pants. He cast a glance her way and lied down, clad only in his drawers made of lightweight linen probably by the original Hannah.

“This will be alright, you’ll see. Those that see us crawl under here will see us leave in the morning,” she replied as she made herself comfortable on the blanket, adjusting the roll under her fiery red hair.

“You’re right; we must do what we have to do to propagate this ruse,” he reluctantly whispered. “But I don’t have to like it.”

“Like it or not, we’re in this together until I can leave somewhere in the Willamette Valley.” Hannah responded as she rolled quietly over and placed her back toward him.

The night enveloped them, and their slumber became deep with the weight of their travel. It was an uncomfortable full feeling in her breasts that woke Hannah up; she rolled to her side and faced Gideon. He lay on his back, chest bare and sleeping soundly. Hannah eyed him, admiring the way he slept without snoring like her father did.

She watched the slow rise and fall of his breathing as he slept; sparse hair covered his muscular chest. There was something about being so close that she felt compelled to reach out, and held her tiny hand over his chest. Quietly she placed one of her slender palms upon his left pectoral, and then gently drew her fingers through the chest hair. It surprised her that it wasn’t as coarse as she might have thought it would be; instead it was soft and easily moved under the grace of her fingertips.

She lifted herself up on an elbow; he rolled his head slightly to the right, away from her. She quietly traced her finger around his smaller nipple then glided her fingertips toward the opposite one and touched it. Remembering that it hadn’t been so long ago that hers mirrored Gideon’s… but now she could not claim that similarity… at least not for awhile.

Hannah traced around the furthest nipple of Gideon’s, and then drew her finger back through his chest hair as lightly as possible. The young beauty tried to ignore the feeling she received within her swollen breasts, full with milk and needing the comforting draining that she would receive from nursing Em.

Sighing, she resigned herself to having to crawl out and nurse the baby even though she was very tired. She allowed her hand to rise from Gideon’s chest and as she was pulling it back toward her, she happened to look down toward the end of the wagon. There was no mistaking the erection that Gideon was experiencing.

She was taken aback at the realization that she alone did that to him; her gentle touch created such a response to this man that even in his slumber he would react to her touch. She quickly looked toward him, guilt caused her face to grow warm, yet he still had not awakened from his sleep.

Thinking back to the early days on the trail, she had experience one such morning as Ezrah… but this was much different in so many ways. She raised herself further on her elbow, almost compelled to examine what she had done. Slowly and hesitantly, she touched the material where it was ‘tented’, it didn’t move in the least. Her fingers traced its circumference, and then rolled slowly across the very peak.

Again she allowed her hand to slide toward the base, and a slow smile spread across her face as she realized that she had some sort of magical power to be able to do this to the poor man. He was at her control and as she closed her fingers tighter at the base, Hannah marveled at the sheer thickness that this man’s penis had grown.

Remembering back to the day when Ezrah woke, experiencing a similar result, she slowly pulled cloth and all upward. As she forced the cloth of his drawers down, she repeated her manipulation for several more times before she reluctantly released her grasp.

She too was experiencing a strange result from her exploration of Gideon’s body as he slept, her nipples were swollen and stood out like two twin sentinels, and there was a strange feeling within the apex of her groin. Hannah slowly backed out of the wagon and stood in the cool night air, her nipples hard and demanding immediate attention. Mistakenly, she felt that it was the way of this body reminding her to nurse her daughter, so she quietly climbed into the wagon and woke Em.

As she began her climb inside, Gideon’s head raised and he looked at the slender legs of Hannah as she began to climb into the wagon. His eyes shifted then toward his powerful erection that only moments before was being manipulated by an exact duplicate of his dead wife. He sighed, realizing just how difficult this journey would be when he would lie beside one of the most beautiful women he had ever remembered seeing.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Seventeen-

In the pre-dawn light, the train was slowly coming to life. Families had eaten and were now hitching their mules, horses and oxen to them. Hannah was holding Em and standing beside Gideon, while Cade sat on the back of the near mule watching.

“What do we do with the little cart?” she asked, capturing a loose lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear.

“I’d love to take it with us, but we’re going in some real rough country soon and I’m afraid it will just drag us down.” He looked past Hannah to the cart where it sat off the side of the trail.

Hannah sighed, then turned to also look at the cart. “We can leave it; perhaps someone else could use it for repairs or may have use for it in some way.”

Gideon had been watching her, remembering to what she had done only last night, his mind dwelling on what his heart wanted him to do to, and for her. But alas, it wasn’t to be… for as soon as she could, she would be gone. He couldn’t help studying the curve of her form, mesmerized in the beauty she possessed. Her wavy red locks drifting in the morning air, she was so much like ‘his’ Hannah…and yet, nothing like her.

This Hannah was civil to him, unlike the woman whom he had married and slowly changed over time. She absolutely had hated the thought of moving west, loathing the trail as much as she possibly could. He thought of their last argument, the hateful words she had said to him…yet, he loved her with all his heart. And always would.

This Hannah seemed to relish in the caring of the children, allowing them to even go as far as calling her ‘Momma’. It was as though, when she had changed, this new Hannah took only the good…seemingly becoming the woman he remembered of his youth. She wasn’t above learning to do the hard work it would take to make their way out here, almost accepting of her place within his little family…if only…

“Did you tie up Blackie in the back of the wagon?” she asked as he was doing the final check of the harnesses and leads.

“He’s ready to go, as soon as we are.” He looked up and swiped Cade’s nose with his finger, “You ready to go with us, son?” The boy slid into his father’s arms and laughed gleefully, as Gideon lightly tossed him onto the wagon seat. Turning, he looked down at Hannah, “Do you want to be tossed, or climb up on your own?”

She laughed and began to climb; he gently grasped her narrow waist and assisted her into the seat, then followed picking up the reins as he settled in.

***

The afternoon grew very warm; it was sweltering inside the wagon. What little air movement there was could be felt in the wagon seat. Hannah sat holding Em, while Cade was seated between Gideon and her. The wagon was being pulled by four mules; Blackie was tied up in back.

Dust was kicked up from the wagons; just the mere fact of breathing left them all with dirty brown noses. To prevent Em from being forced to breath in the dust, she had a thin cloth over her face.

Gideon spat over the edge of the wagon, "Darn tired of chewing grit."

Hannah reached behind them and retrieved the canteen she had found. "Would you care for a drink of water? It may help get rid of the sand."

He took it from her and quickly raised it up, the first mouthful was promptly swished around and spit out, and then he drank deeply, a small trickle of water rolled from the edge of his mouth and down his neck. "That hit the spot. Thanks, Hannah."

She smiled as she took the canteen from him and held it for Cade; his was an exact repeat of Gideon's drink, first the spit and then the drink. Hannah giggled to herself as she waited for Cade to place the stopper in.

"Are you going to want a drink too, Momma?" he hesitated, holding the canteen for his mother.

"Can you hold it for me?" she asked as she positioned herself to drink and still hold Em, using her free hand, she slightly raised the canteen to sip from it.

"Spit," he reminded her in his youthful voice. She did with a smile and then followed it with a much longer drink. She mimicked both Cade and his father, much to his amusement.

Cade giggled, and when his father looked down at him, the boy pointed toward Hannah. "Mommy's nose is brown."

"I doubt if anyone told you yet, son, but your nose isn't any cleaner." He nudged him with his elbow and laughed, "It's from breathing all this dust."

Hannah took out a cloth and wetted it from the canteen, then proceeded to wipe it from her own nose. "Would you like to keep your dirty nose? Perhaps you should start grunting like a little piggy?" She made a sound with her throat; it was the same sound that always made Ezrah's own mother laugh.

Cade held his face still for her to begin washing his nose. When she was finished he exclaimed, "Pa’s next!"

She reached across and wiped the dust from the underside of Gideon's nose. She then placed the cloth and canteen back behind them and sat quietly, rocking to the stiff ride of the wagon. The constant jostling was creating a pain within her milk-laden breasts.

After several minutes she sighed, "How much further do we have to go before we're where we need to be?" She raised her arm to help hold her feminine breasts still.

He shrugged, "Wagon master says it averages around 140 to 150 days."

"That doesn't help...".

He smiled, thinking of how the original Hannah would have been complaining, as she rode along in the dust. "We left in April; probably have a month and a half travel to go."

Hannah only nodded, and then began to gently ease herself into the back of the wagon to nurse Emma. "I guess it could be worse, couldn't it?" she said with a laugh.

"There's been quite a few poor souls who didn't make it this far," he said glancing back and gave her a knowing look. "This here's some rough country; it isn't fit for someone who won't go all the way to see it through."

"You used to hate this... what changed, Momma?" Cade asked as he peered over the seat, back toward Hannah as she prepared her clothing to nurse Em.

She thought of his comment for several long seconds, "I didn't change, honey... riding this trail changed me." As she spoke, Gideon quickly looked over his shoulder toward her. She glanced up as she was placing Em at her breast. She thought about what she had said, but didn't feel badly in the least, because it was the truth.

She sat in the back looking over the sparse contents of their wagon, “Why don’t we have so much back here? Did you end up tossing it?”

He laughed, “No, we just didn’t need it. I can build just about anything that we would ever need, so there was no real need of packing it.”

She nodded, “I guess that makes sense.”

He sighed deeply, “It was also a reason that Hannah disliked the most, she didn’t like leaving her affluent lifestyle behind. She downright hated me for it.”

Hannah shrugged, “On a trip of this length, with the trail the way it is… you don’t need the extra weight. It’s better anyway to save the room for spare wagon parts instead of unnecessary items.”

Emma began to squirm, impatient on how long Hannah was taking to ready her for nursing. With a smile on her face, she began to unbutton her bodice.

She leaned against a bag of Hannah's clothing... now, her own actually. Crouching low, she hid herself from the wagon behind as she began to nurse Em. She really didn't have anything to fear as the dust they kicked up would have concealed her.

Her life had taken a seemingly impossible turn way back on the trail when she stumbled upon the original Hannah. Now, after the strange twist of events she wore a duplicate of that poor woman's body. "What a strange and extreme swing of life's pendulum," she sighed aloud as she covered Emma with the cloth once again.

Gideon glanced back as she was adjusting the covering over Emma; he turned his head back slowly and watched the mules plod along. In his peripheral vision, he saw the boy's head dip suddenly, then quickly up where he looked around. "Come on, son, why don't you take a quick nap in the back with your mother and Emma."

"I'll be okay, Papa...I promise!" he pleaded.

"No son, you need to rest. You're not going to be of any help to us if you fall off the wagon." He smiled and jostled his son's hair. "Go on now, you're mother's waiting."

Reluctantly, Cade climbed in the back with the encouragement of his father to rest awhile, Gideon had become fearful that the boy would fall forward and be crushed under the prairie schooner’s huge wheels.

Reaching out with one hand, he assisted Cade over the seat back; meanwhile from her position inside the wagon, Hannah also helped him. They acted similar to a well oiled machine, working together like an ancient timepiece; and it was all the more remarkable because she held Emma in one arm suckling for all she was worth.

Gideon adjusted his hat and turned back to face forward. He thought about how the original Hannah simply hated riding in the wagon, and let him know about it constantly. Then he thought back to what she had started doing to him last night, and how he wished she would have continued.

It was hard for him to believe that she had ever been a male; she had become so feminine in every way that he often forgot that she wasn't the Hannah he had married. He laughed to himself, thinking of how she had hated doing anything domestic, living up to the 'silver spoon' theory to the hilt.

Her family had been quite wealthy, and as long as they were willing to live in the city she was the beauty with whom he had fallen in love. As he began looking toward the west, she had changed. Hell, even her father tried to dissuade him with a bribe to stay put.

There was something, though, that he could never turn away from, some beckoning call from the distant west. It was this call which caused him to sell everything he owned, and drag his little family out in the middle of nowhere.

He thought about the day Hannah and he argued, how at the point of the attack she fled from the safety of their wagon with little Emma in her arms. The love of his life was taken from him that day, and even he knew she would never return.

Yet, that strange necklace had given him a gift that he could never really hope to fathom, much less deserve in his own eyes. It gave him back his dear Hannah, the mother of his children, the love of his life.

He knew from his own experience with the necklace that there would be a way back for the duplicate of his Hannah, but he also knew that the only way to return to who he was before, would be if the boy had an original article of clothing that had remained untouched by his new feminine self.

He again glanced back at the pretty red hair that spilled out from under her bonnet. He had lost her once... and it had left a void in him that he never thought could be filled. He had a chance to rectify it, and would do whatever it took to convince her to remain as she was... his Hannah.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Eighteen-

A fairly steady breeze was blowing as the sun steadily sank in the sky. The wagon train stopped for the evening in a little glade near the Platte River that they had been following for the past several days. For the most part they had settled in a circle, the traditional routine for both safety and protection.

Emma was napping in the wagon, so Hannah and Cade set out in search of fuel for their campfire. With them walked several other women and children. One of the younger women there was walking close to Hannah; she looked to be near the same age.

She was young and pretty in a ‘girl next door’ way, and when Hannah 'returned' to the trail she had been aloof but lately began to converse on a more regular basis. Under her arm she carried a bushel basket for the sticks.

"There doesn't seem to be many sticks lying around," she sighed.

Hannah nodded but was observing as she walked. "The prairie is full of these flattened chips... my Pa once told me that they burned fairly well when they were dried."

"These?" she asked, holding up one particularly thick one up. "What are they?"

Hannah smiled as she began to look for the driest of them, "Buffalo make them." She quickly glanced up to see if the woman understood; she had been raised up on the east coast similar to the original Hannah.

"You mean..." The young woman examined it closer.

"It's poop," Hannah said laughing. "They dry in the sun and we can burn them."

She quickly dropped it on the ground and grimaced as Cade picked it up and placed it into her basket. "It's just poop. Poop is just…well, poop… it won't bite you."

"That's disgusting." The young woman stood looking down at another she had found. "Why do I have to touch it?"

"If you want a fire tonight, you'll have to burn something, and since we aren't finding any sticks, these will have to do." Hannah picked up another couple and tossed them into the burlap sack that she carried.

"How can you possibly touch them?!" another woman cried as she watched in horror.

"You do what you have to do to survive," she replied as she held the bag open for Cade to throw another two in. "Our men folk have to do things they don't like... are we any better because we’re women?"

As she finished speaking, several of the women began to scour the ground looking for the chips and dropping them into their bags, buckets and baskets.

Hesitantly, the younger woman began to touch the chip and eventually picked it up and placed it into her basket. "I don't understand you."

"What's to understand?" Hannah replied as she tossed one into the bag she carried.

"You wouldn't give me the time of day before you had been shot; I had always got the impression that you felt you were above me. Now though, you will talk freely with me." She studied Hannah's face, looking for a hint of anger or emotion that never came.

"I just changed, I guess. Being shot and being on this trail will do that to a woman." She looked down at the chips in the young woman's basket, "See there, you are no different. An hour ago, and you would have rather died than pick up dried poop... by tonight you will be cooking your meal over it." The smile she beamed to the young woman caused her to also smile.

"The name's Hannah," she said as she offered her tiny hand to the woman.

She glanced down at Hannah's tiny hand, and then gently grasped it in her own. "Arden Hollywell. It's a pleasure to finally meet you and actually talk."

Hannah pushed Cade's hat off of his head, the string caught and his hat hung from his back. "This is my son, Cade. And the pleasure is ours, Arden."

"You have a baby too, if I'm not mistaken." She smiled at Cade and held her hand up to shield the sun from her eyes; it had lowered enough so that her bonnet was doing no good.

"Yes, her name is Emma." They continued to talk as they picked up the chips.

"So, is she with her father then?" Arden asked as she accepted a chip from Cade. "Thank you, Cade, but shouldn't you be helping your mother?"

"Yes, Emma is with her father right now. As for Cade, it’s fine, he's a good helper. So Arden, do you have any children?" Hanna asked as she pushed her bonnet off her head and let it hang down on her back.

Arden looked toward the grass. "I was kicked in the stomach when I was a young child; it did something to me... I'll never be able to have any children. I'd love to be able to have some, but not many men out here are interested in a barren woman."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hannah apologized as they continued to search for chips. "There are several men here with children who have no mothers, perhaps you could be introduced to one of them?

"There is Mr. Bloom; he has three young girls tagging along with him." She replied softly, "I heard his wife died just before they started out, I guess it was the impetus that got them moving."

Hannah paused; her long skirt swept the tops of the prairie grass, pushing and bending them with its weight. "So what's stopping you?"

"I'm an ogre, Hannah! Look at me - large hands, not much of a middle. I can't give him children... what good am I?" She picked up a chip and tossed it into her almost full basket. "I was fortunate to get my mother's looks, but I also got my father's build."

Hannah thought back to her Ezrah days, "There could be worse things for you."

Arden laughed to herself, "My saintly mother had eleven children. There were six girls and five boys; unfortunately I'm the only daughter who looks like her brothers.”

"You are out here, so who did you come west with?" Hannah held the bag for Cade to drop another handful of chips in.

"I came out with an elderly family friend... he died before we passed Fort Laramie. I've been driving his wagon, alone ever since." She again picked up a chip and held her basket on her wide hip as she walked.

"So, you favor your mother then?" Hannah asked as she gathered up three more chips and deposited them in the bag. "At least you have a way west even if you are alone."

"Yeah I do... but the ride is sure lonely." She looked down at her chips and sighed; "Now I seem to be relegated to picking up poop, so I can fix my supper."

"It's okay, ma'am. As long as you don't smell your fingers or lick them," Cade interrupted as he threw two more chips into the bag Hannah carried.

Arden and Hannah exchanged a quick glance and burst out laughing. The boy stood in between them with a confused smile on his face, "What are you two laughing at?"

Hannah walked beside her new friend for a few more steps, Cade followed behind still picking up the chips they missed. "Tell you what, Arden, my husband Gideon knows Mr. Bloom. Why don't you come and sup with us tonight. Perhaps we can convince him to introduce you?"

Arden paused and smiled broadly, "You'd do that for me?!"

"I'd do that for my friend." Hannah replied with confidence. "Come on over to our wagon in about an hour, and we'll ask him then."

"Do you want me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," she said with a smile. "... and these chips," she added with a laugh.

-Nineteen-

By nightfall, Hannah was stirring a rabbit stew; Em was in her free arm. The stew was cooked with wild onions and some carrots she traded with another wagon. Arden walked into the firelight and stood quietly, "Do you need any help?"

Hannah smiled, "You could hold Em for me; that'd really help me out."

Arden sat on a rock with Em and played with her, "She still nursing?"

"Always."

As she glanced toward Arden she noted sadness in her eyes, and then felt bad for the poor woman being barren. As she continued to stir, Gideon walked in from tending the mules and Blackie. Cade was with him.

"Gideon, I'd like you to meet Arden." Gideon shook her hand and glanced toward the simmering stew.

"Pleased to have you sup with us, Arden. It isn't often we get company," he replied as he poured first Arden a cup of coffee and then himself. "Careful, it's hot."

"Gideon, I know you are good friends with Mr. Bloom..." Hannah began, "I would like for you to introduce Arden and him."

"Oh, now I see... when women folks get together they always seem to conspire about something. Now I'm sure I know what the conversation was about when you were looking for fuel for our fire."

He smiled at his own humor, "Oh sure, I can introduce you sometime." He took a sip of his steaming coffee. "I have no problem in doing that, be happy to. But..."

Hannah looked up quickly from her cooking, "But what?"

"What's in it for me?" He said with a grin. "There's got to be something in it for me."

Hannah shook the spoon at him. "I'll let you eat this stew - how does that sound?"

He laughed and gave Arden a wink, "Aw come on, Hannah. What can you offer to sweeten the pot?"

"I have a jar of molasses that you can have. Would that be enough?" Arden offered.

Hannah fought off a smile, "It'll be alright Arden, you keep your molasses. What Gideon wants, is something only I can give to him."

He laughed, "I didn't say that... but since you are offering."

Hannah gave Arden a sideways glance, "Men - it seems they always have 'THAT' on their minds."

Hannah filled a tin and handed it to Gideon, "Here, eat this before you stick your foot further into your mouth." Behind him, Arden giggled.

He accepted the plate and in turn handed it to Arden, "Company first."

As the little family settled down for supper, their discussion meandered across the threshold of many different subjects. After the supper dishes had been cleaned, Arden helped Hannah put Cade to bed.

She began to excuse herself when Hannah readied Emma for nursing, but was dissuaded by Hannah commenting, "It's okay for you to stay, and we’re both women here. I'm pretty sure we're the same when it comes down to this."

After watching for several long minutes Arden finally spoke, "Does it hurt? Nursing babies, I mean."

"There are a lot more things that hurt worse," she replied frankly. "You get used to it after awhile, I suppose."

Arden sighed, "Just once I'd like to be able to have a child. I mean if it works out with Mr. Bloom it would be great. But there is something about having your own, growing inside of you that must make you truly feel like a woman.... sadly, I'll never know it for sure."

"You never really know for sure though, Arden. Stranger things have happened." Hannah specifically was speaking of her own transformation, but without coming right out and saying it. But as she looked down at Em suckling, her mind began to formulate a plan.

The two continued to talk throughout the feeding and after Hannah put Em to bed, they stepped down from the wagon. Gideon was sitting quietly wiping oil on his ‘58 Springfield rifle.

"Gideon, honey, I'm going to walk Arden back to her wagon. I won't be long." She gave him a quick kiss, which surprised him enough to watch them continuously as she picked up their lantern and they walked away.

As the two walked, they began to discuss family life. Eventually their conversation swung around to Arden's mother and her knack for sewing. When they arrived at the Arden's wagon she invited Hannah in to see her mother's wedding dress.

"That is a very beautiful dress, Arden!" Hannah exclaimed as she looked at the beautiful sewing. "Have you ever tried it on?"

Arden laughed, "Never." She fingered the intricate bead work, "Momma wasn't quite as 'thick' as me." She reached in the chest and removed a tintype, "This is Momma… don't we look a lot like each other?"

"I'd say twins," Hannah replied as Arden held the tintype up next to her own cheek. "She is a lovely woman."

"Was… Momma died from influenza when I was seventeen." She carefully laid the photo back into the chest and began to put the bridal gown back where she found it; Hannah assisted so it wouldn’t become wrinkled. "Ouch!" Arden exclaimed as she jerked her hand from under the dress.

"What?" Hannah quickly stepped back from the chest, "What happened?"

Arden rubbed the back of her hand, "I think I just was stung or bit by something." She held her hand in the light to see if there was a welt. There was none, and it wasn't even red.

"That was strange. Perhaps there is a pin or needle in the dress somewhere that I missed." Arden carefully finished putting it away and closed the lid. “I’ll have to remember to look for it the next time I have Momma’s dress out.”

Hannah stepped out of the wagon, and then took her lantern down from the hook. Arden scooted toward the rear of the wagon and leaned on the gate. "Thank you for supper."

"You are very welcome, I'm glad we could be of help." She paused, "I mean with setting you up to meet Mr. Bloom."

"I wish I would have spoken to you earlier. I was so wrong about you." She hugged Hannah, "I'm glad to have friends here."

"Likewise. If you need anything, just give me a holler," Hannah spoke over her shoulder as she began walking away, the lantern’s glow illuminating a wide circle around the woman.

"Same here, Hannah. Thanks again!"

As Hannah rounded the corner of her wagon she climbed quickly inside to check on Em and Cade. Both were sleeping soundly. Carefully she removed a folded cloth from her waistband and returned it to the tin that it had been in.

-Twenty-

She smiled as she put the necklace she had found seemingly so long ago back into the tin where Gideon had placed it. Slowly she began to remove her clothing for bed, once done; she blew out the lantern and slipped out of the wagon.

She pulled aside the blanket flap that concealed her and Gideon from prying eyes. He was resting. "See her home okay?"

"She is such a lovely young woman," Hannah said sitting up and untwisting her chemise from under her. "It's a shame she is alone out here."

"She's handsome, I'll give her that, but would never take away my breath like you do." He glanced quickly toward her as she settled down beside him.

"That was a sweet thing to say - thank you." Hannah replied, rolling to her side, her breasts pushing together creating a voluminous amount of cleavage. It didn't go unnoticed by Gideon, yet he said nothing.

"Are you going to say something to Mr. Bloom?" Hannah asked as she rolled onto her stomach, raised slightly upon her elbows.

"His name is Charles, and he is no older than I am so you can stop calling him ‘Mr. Bloom’." He fidgeted, trying to avoid looking into the deep crevasse.

Hannah scooted close and lifted her head and kissed him on his lips, and the softness he felt made him hunger for more. "Thank you, Gideon."

She rested her cheek on his arm; he was still watching her, feasting his eyes upon her beauty. "What?" she finally asked.

"You are so beautiful... sometimes I forget why I married you in the first place." He sighed, realizing how his comment sounded to her. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Do you miss her?" Hannah asked softly in the dim light of their shrouded bed.

"Always. Even after I was certain that she had been killed." He sighed again, gently running his fingertips through her red tresses. "Sometimes I even forget you and she aren't the same person."

Hannah raised her head and looked into his blue eyes, "Let's just say for tonight, she and I are." She lowered her eyes and then raised them back up toward his, "Only this Hannah wouldn't refuse you."

"Are you serious?" he whispered, "I was only kidding with you earlier!"

"I know. I decided that if I'm going to look like this for any great length of time, I should at least reap the benefits of having a handsome man at my side." Gideon suddenly looked downward, toward his feet. Her hand was resting upon his rapidly stiffening penis. "Make love to your Hannah."

"If we do, I won't be holding back," he replied gruffly.

"I wouldn't expect you to," she replied as she placed her tiny unoccupied hand on the side of his face and kissed him deeply.

Gideon rose up on an elbow; gradually Hannah eased herself toward the blanket. He held her there and stared into her lovely eyes, even though the lighting that eked through was dim. She laid on her back waiting for whatever would come next, a willing partner if he chose her to be.

His eyes followed his hand as he ran it through her long hair, then he leaned forward and deeply kissed her upturned lips. Her eyes danced as Gideon lifted his head, there was something causing him to hesitate.

"What is it, Gideon?"

He lustfully sighed and let his eyes wander over her face, then downward to where her chemise had become untied and greatly exposed her cleavage. Gradually he rolled onto his back and looked up at the underside of their wagon. "I can't."

"But I'm here... and I'm willing," she pleaded, the confusion was plainly written on her face. "I don't understand, Gideon. I thought you wanted this?"

"I do. My flesh is more than willing... but to continue, I feel as though I would be cheating on Hannah." He sadly looked over toward her, torn by the emotion he was feeling. Part wanted to have his way with the willing female, part was ashamed to be feeling this way for another woman... and it didn't help that she was an exact duplicate to his Hannah.

Hannah rolled back toward Gideon and lay partially upon his bare chest, "Your Hannah isn't here, and she’ll never be here again!" She pleaded, "I'm here right now... and I'm willing!"

"I know you are, and I love you for it, but..." He began only to be cut off by her kissing him, her loose hair draped around their faces like a shroud. The untied opening of her chemise allowed one of her generous breasts to lie upon Gideon's thick chest.

Slowly his hands touched her face; she pulled one down and placed it upon the breast which was touching him. Their kissing became hungrier; Hannah gently slid her soft leg over his hip and straddled Gideon. Behind her, she could feel his erection straining against his cotton drawers.

Hannah rose up and reached between her creamy thighs to untie his drawers. Snaking her hand further she began to push them down toward his knees, all the while she furiously ground herself against his erection.

On one of the downward thrusts she had, his ridged penis broached her nakedness and entered her. Hannah was beside herself, driven insane from her ferocious passion. She began to pump her hips against him; her need for him consumed her.

As the two lovers continued, a soft sound from above caused them to slightly hesitate. "Noooo..." Hannah whispered in frustration.

Gideon looked up at her as she straddled him, his hands were within her chemise stroking down the sides of her breasts. "What is it?" He began to shift his own hips to continue impaling this beauty above him.

"Em... she's crying." She looked down at him sadly, while above the crying only intensified. Hannah leaned forward, Gideon still deep within her. "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered.

Gideon quietly removed his hands from within her chemise, "You're leaking." He held his hand out so she could see the wetness glistening.

"Every time she cries, I start to leak..." She sighed and leaned forward once again to kiss him. "She might fall back asleep... it's happened before." Again she started to gently rock her hips, Gideon's hands slid down her narrow waist to rest just above her generous hips.

The crying only intensified, causing Hannah to sigh sadly. As she repositioned her chemise a soft voice called out from above. "Mommy, Emma's crying."

"I'll be right up, honey." She gave Gideon a sorrowful glance and gently raised herself from him. "Maybe later... please?" she whispered, and then kissed her husband.

He sighed, "Maybe later."

His eyes followed her out of their makeshift bedroom, as the flap dropped down he sighed with pent up frustration and pulled his drawers back over his gradually softening erection.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Twenty One-

As the wagon train was beginning to come to life in the early morning hours, Hannah was cooking fish that Gideon and Cade caught while the sun was still below the horizon. As she was crouching over the skillet; she noticed that her dress was smoking at the bottom.

In frustration she smacked at the scorched hem, "If I don't set myself on fire wearing these dresses, I'm going to kill myself over sexual frustration." She groused under her breath. Hearing a noise back of her, she turned to see Arden standing slightly behind their wagon. She smiled sheepishly, "Sorry... just about set one of my best dresses on fire."

"Can I talk to you, Hannah?" Arden softly whispered as she approached.

Hannah pointed toward a nearby rock, "Sure, Arden, have a seat."

The woman sat down and picked at a ruffle in her skirt, "Do... do I look different to you?"

Hannah knew what was coming but played ignorant. "No - why do you ask?"

She looked slightly around, then leaned forward and whispered, "I'm smaller. Well, I feel smaller."

"You look like the same Arden to me." She replied as she turned one of the big fish that lay in the skillet. "These trails like we're on will sure change a person. Perhaps you just lost weight... it happens you know."

"Well perhaps, but how do I account for my breasts being slightly larger than only yesterday?" She shyly looked around as she whispered.

Hannah pursed her lips in deep thought, "I know that when I had my last cycle, my breasts seemed to feel a bit swollen, even bigger. Could that be what is happening to you?" It grated on Hannah to deceive the poor girl; she had yet to experience a monthly cycle since she was still nursing Em, and she knew just how real the changes were that Arden was experiencing.

Arden slouched at Hannah's observation, "You're probably right, and I think I'm due to start any day now." She smiled and hugged Hannah, "I'm sure that's it."

As Arden stood and brushed her slightly lighter hair back, Hannah noticed that her friend’s hands were more in line with the size of her own. Inwardly she prayed that the change also fixed her 'other' problem, but that wouldn't be revealed until much later.

"Would you like to stay for breakfast? I'm sure we have enough for one more." Hannah stood up and pulled her dress back to make sure it didn't lie near the glowing coals.

"Oh, no thank you. I had some biscuits and molasses just before I came here, but thank you anyway." She smiled; even her teeth were slightly straighter than they had been yesterday. After all, Arden was an exact duplicate of her younger mother.

While Arden and Hannah were talking, Cade and Gideon walked up to their camp. "Good morning, Arden." He smiled as he gave her a tip of his hat. Then to Hannah he spoke, "Got the mules and your daddy's horse watered and ready, once the wagon master gives the go ahead." He hovered over the fish, inhaling the aroma of them cooking.

"Well, this smells really good! Are those potatoes with them?" He smiled and Hannah could sense his excitement, as it was evident in his voice.

"You sound somewhat surprised by your wife's cooking," Arden said with a laugh.

"Oh I'm not surprised... now. Let's just say that when Hannah and I were first married, she couldn't cook a bit, she avoided it like she would a plague. In fact, only a few months ago we were pretty much fending for ourselves." He drew a line in the air, between Cade and him as he spoke.

Hannah didn't miss his comment; she knew he was talking of the original Hannah and not her. "I guess I just didn't find the experience as enjoyable as I do now, although I wish I could figure out a way to keep from scorching my dress hem." She purposefully looked down and moved aside her long skirt.

Arden laughed, "I always thought of Hanna as a lovely cook, I ate here yesterday and our meal was wonderful!"

"Thank you, Arden," Hannah replied as she dished some of the fish and potatoes into a tin for Cade, and then another for Gideon. "First my boys - and then me."

At that moment Em began to stir, little whimpering sounds could be heard coming from within the wagon. "You've got to be kidding..." Hannah sighed as she began to set her plate full of food on a rock.

"You go ahead and eat, Hannah. I'll see to Emma." Arden offered, and then climbed into the wagon before Hannah could answer.

Hanna was hesitant upon picking up her tin, so she looked at Gideon questionably. He only pointed toward the tin plate in her hand. Hannah slowly sat down and began eating, feeling slightly strange for letting another take care of her child.

Arden finally returned, climbed out of the wagon and stood swaying with Em in her arms, "She was wet, and I fixed her up real good." She giggled as she rubbed her nose on Emma’s; it was evident to all who were watching that Arden desperately wanted children of her own.

"Well, would you look there, Hannah, the woman is a natural," Gideon said as he looked up from his coffee. "She has ‘future mother’ written all over her."

Arden blushed and looked down at Em, "I wouldn't mind being one..." she whispered to Em but Hannah overheard.

"Did you have a chance to speak with Charles?" Hannah quizzed, then as Arden looked up, she smiled, "Mr. Bloom."

Arden gave a nod, finally understanding that they were indicating the young widower that Hannah and Gideon had been trying to match with her.

"I spoke to him." He said as he was finishing a bite of his fish, "Said he is mightily interested."

Hannah smiled and looked toward Arden who was also beaming, "And?" Hannah wanted more than just his initial comment.

"He thinks our Arden here is a mighty handsome woman." He chewed some more and then added, "He'd be a fool if he lets this pretty woman pass through his fingers."

Hanna grinned broadly; she drummed her hand against her slender lap in her excitement. Arden smiled shyly and giggled at Hannah's enthusiasm.

Gideon stood up and placed his empty plate on the ground by the fire, "He wanted me to ask if you thought it would be okay for him to call on you, during the remainder of the time on the trail?"

"Oh yes, of course it would!" Arden was bubbled with excitement.

"You don't want to seem too eager..." Hannah cautioned.

Gideon suppressed a laugh, "Eager?" He took Cade's empty plate and placed it on top of his own. "We'll have to talk some about... eager."

Hannah's face grew red and she looked away quickly, Gideon ignored her embarrassment and continued, "Out here, I wouldn't be surprised if they were married before the wagons begin to peel away once we get into the Willamette Valley.”

"Oh my!” gasped Arden. “I never thought it could happen so suddenly."

"Out here, everything seems to happen suddenly." Once again he looked directly at Hannah who again flushed red and looked away.

As she finished she gathered the plates and washed them in her wooden bucket, tossing the water away from their wagon. Gideon took Emma from Arden and helped her exit from their wagon. The three stood watching Cade fight sleep, tottering upon his seat as the sun was only now rising above the horizon.

"Arden, I hate to rush you, but you're going to have to head off to your wagon. I have a feeling that the wagons will be lining up soon." He then turned and walked toward their mules and in pairs, began to lead them toward the front of his wagon.

Arden had a panicked look that crossed her face, "Oh good heavens, I still have to hitch up the oxen to the wagons... I'll talk to you later on, Hannah."

She hurried off and Hannah shouted after her, "I'll send Gideon to help once he has our mules hitched!" She never responded but when Hannah turned back around, Gideon had a smirk on his face. "What do you find so funny?"

"I showed Charles where Arden's oxen were, and pointed out her wagon. He wanted to impress her by having it done before she got back." He continued to position the team in their places.

"How did you know she would be here?" Hannah asked as she stood nearby holding Emma.

"It was a hunch. I'm figuring her attention is going to be occupied for the next few nights." He buckled one strap around his lead team and drew the reins up to the wagon seat.

As he finished adjusting the harnesses, he walked over to Cade and lifted him into the back of the wagon. "Make you a comfortable spot to lay down in there, son."

Hannah gathered up what little belongings they had out for breakfast and placed them into the wagon; Gideon assisted her with the heavier items. As she approached the wagon, Gideon took her by the hand and gently guided her toward the back so she could place Emma down for a short nap.

She climbed in and quickly made up the little box for Em to sleep in, then worked her way toward the front. Gideon was just settling into the wagon while she was fighting her skirt over the back of the seat. He reached past her and unhooked it from where it had been caught.

"Thank you. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to wearing one of these," she sighed as she stood and untwisted it from under her.

"I like seeing you in them... though you're pretty to look at either way. He smiled and slowly directed their wagon into the line with the others waiting for the official start of their day.

They waited there in the wagon at the ready; slowly everyone was in one long line. The wagon master slowly trotted past asking drivers if they were ready to go. As he passed he tipped his hat to Hannah, "Looks to be a fine morning, ma'am."

"Indeed it does!" she replied as he rode on.

Gideon adjusted the reins in his hands, and then turned to glance at Hannah. He sighed deeply and slowly moved his head from side to side. "What?" Hannah asked.

He smiled and again looked down at his hands, "I had a dream about you."

"Me, or the other Hannah?" she questioned softly.

"It was of you." He pushed his hat back slightly so he could see her better, "We were making love."

"Sounds interesting," she grinned.

"Oh indeed it was." He used the back of his wrist to rub an itch on his nose. "I guess it was a continuation of last night."

"I think I'd like that," she whispered back, and then leaned her shoulder into him quickly.

He smiled, leaned over and kissed her. "You sure did in my dream."

She giggled like a young girl, "Was that all of your dream?"

"No, there was more." His face reddened, "You ah..."

"What? What did I do?" She giggled at his discomfort.

He looked over his shoulder and back behind them, making sure no prying ears could hear them talking. "You took me... into your mouth," he whispered.

She laughed aloud, then quick looked into the back of the wagon; this was something that she didn't want Cade to hear. Thankfully, he was sleeping. "So that was all?"

"No." He glanced ahead and tried to change the subject, "The lead wagons are moving."

"Oh no you don't! I want to know the entire dream, so stop trying to distract me." She giggled and circled her own arm to his, and leaned against him. "Out with it. You can't leave me hanging."

He smiled as he glanced toward the ground, snapped the reins and started his mules after the wagon ahead. "Gideon Shepherd, it isn't fair that you leave all the good parts out of the conversation."

"Good parts?" He laughed, "I think I was the one getting the better end of the deal."

"You know what I mean." She poked her slender finger into his rib; he jumped and laughed out loud.

"Well... I uh," he laughed with embarrassment. "You sure you have to know the entire dream?"

"If I can't live through Ezrah, I sure want to know what it's like for you!" She took her slender fingers and grasped his thigh hard.

"I shot my... uh... into your mouth." He spoke very low, almost so she had trouble hearing him.

"Couldn't handle it, huh?" she teased.

"I WASN'T handling it, you were... and doing quite well." He laughed, "Using only your mouth and tongue."

"Ew!" She made a wry face.

"You asked," he laughed.

"So, did you enjoy it?" She looked at him incredulously.

He laughed out loud, "Well, Hannah, what do you think?"

She turned her face forward and thought for a few moments, "I guess I probably would have enjoyed it if I were a man."

"There's your answer," he replied as they turned parallel with the Platte River.

"So then your dream ended there?"

"No there was a bit more. You were pregnant at the very end."

"I'm not totally sure of the workings of a woman, but I'm confident enough to know that I can't become pregnant that way!" she laughed.

He looked down, embarrassment colored his face. "True. But..."

"Oh, there's more?" She leaned into him, her green eyes sparkling with laughter.

"I... well... I woke up with a wet spot..."

She began laughing, "And that is what embarrassed you? I was the one who had your... your... ew... in my mouth… and that is what embarrassed you?" The more she pondered over what he was telling her, it caused Hannah to grimace at the thought, "I probably vomited it out, didn't I?"

"No, you swallowed it, I think." He laughed as Hannah began to dry gag and her eyes were watering. "I promise, the next time I have a dream, you'll get the better end of the stick," he added.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," she replied, wiping the 'gag' tears from her eyes.

The wagon rolled along in relative silence, as only the constant squeaking of a rear wheel serenaded them. After several minutes of quiet contemplation by both of them, he cleared his throat.

“So, about last night…” He began, “How far would you have gone with me?”

She hugged his arm tighter, “I guess I would have gone as far as you wanted me to go.”

He looked toward her, his expression softened. “I loved Hannah more than anything. She was everything to me… until.” He frowned as he continued to look forward. “Something changed in her after Emma was born, she stopped kissing me… holding me.” He turned toward her once again, “She stopped making love with me.”

“I’m not her,” the new Hannah reminded him.

“I know you’re not, but the similarities are so uncanny.” He looked down to her slender arms circling his bicep, “She was a beautiful woman…” His gaze returned to stare into her emerald eyes, “But you are a beautiful person on the inside where it counts.”

Tears welled in her eyes as he continued, “I know it is unfair of me to ask…”

“Ask anyway,” she whispered.

“I want you to stay,” he replied with seriousness.

“You mean for Cade and Emma, right?” she answered.

“And me.” He sighed with emotion, “I want you to share my bed with me in every way.”

She fought through her tears and laughed nervously, “You just want me to reenact your dream.”

“I will never ask you to do that unless you want to,” he replied.

“I…I’m not sure what to say, Gideon.” She looked at her hands where they were holding onto his arm, “Do you realize what you’re asking of me?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve frightened you.” He shook his head slowly, in anger of himself. “I should have kept it to myself for awhile longer.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Her reply caused him to look at her suddenly, “I’ve…actually been wondering what living as Hannah forever, would be like.”

He turned his head toward her, his mind racing from her reply. “I would make sure you never regret your decision. I would give you everything you could ever desire! I would…”

She placed her slender finger upon his lips, silencing him. “I already have that with Cade, Emma…and you,” she softly replied. “I’ve only ever wanted to feel needed.”

“And you are…by us all.” He glanced down, navigating over a particularly rough spot on the trail, “So last night?”

It was her turn to look away from embarrassment, “I would have done anything you asked.”

Gideon smiled, “Good to know.” He again was forced to straddle a rather large rock with the wagon wheels. “I like what you were trying to do before Emma…” He quickly glanced toward her, trying to gauge her reaction, Hannah was smiling playfully.

He cleared his throat and spoke softly, “I know that women aren’t much different than their men-folk. I know they have certain desires that they want tended to as well.” He could feel her watching him closely, “I’d be willing to do them to you if you’d a mind to?”

“I wouldn’t chase you away if that’s what you’re asking” she giggled softly.

“Hannah would have.” He frowned, “If I wanted love in that way, she would…” As he spoke, Hannah pulled his face toward his and kissed his lips deeply, her tongue slipping within as the kiss continued.

“I’m not ‘that’ Hannah,” she reminded him once again. “My mother taught me long ago that there is a constant give and take with husbands and wives; if he wants, she gives.” She again kissed him deeply, drawing his lip slightly into her mouth as they separated, “But then, it goes the same the other way, when I want…you give.”

“Gladly,” he replied flatly. “And if you keep kissing me like you are, I’ll give it to you real good!” Her response was to close lips with him again, her hands gently holding him for an incredibly erotic kiss.

“Jesus, woman, all I can think about right now is what your kissing is doing to me! You have to save that all for later when I can react properly.” He shook his head and smiled, “You sure that you were a normal boy before you tangled up with that necklace?”

“I’m sure as I’m sitting here, Gideon.” She laughed, “Apparently you have your doubts?” Hannah looked at him for several seconds, “I just want to experience everything I can while I’m living, love, raising family…everything.”

“Children? Would you become pregnant again…for me?”

She thought about his question for several seconds then replied, “If you want them, then I will do my best to provide one.”

“Only one?”

“As many as you can handle, honey,” As she spoke, he laughed very loudly.

-Twenty Two-

Their ride grew silent for nearly an hour, the quiet only to be broken by the Wagon Master as he rode alongside their wagon. Hannah had been quietly reading from a book in the shadow of her bonnet, Gideon slowed to a stop when he appeared.

"Gideon, we're going to be crossing the Platte a couple of times today, you may need to take it easy going across, I'd hate for you to bust a wheel or axle on a hidden rock."

Gideon nodded then glanced back up, "How deep are you expecting it to be?"

"When I scouted it last night, it looked to be somewhere between eight to ten inches deep, of course that's only the first crossing, the second one could be closer to a foot." His horse danced a quick circle as they talked.

Hannah placed her mark in the book and took a quick glance in behind the wagon to see if the children were still asleep as Gideon continued to discuss the river with the wagon master.

"May want to say something to Hanus up in front of us, he's got his grease bucket hanging underneath his wagon, if we get into deeper water he'll be losing it." He pointed to the gently swinging bucket just ahead of them.

"Will do, Gideon." The Master turned to Hannah, "Ma’am, you keep yourself and the boy inside the wagon when we're crossing; I don't want to have either of you falling in."

"Thank you sir, I'll do that," Hannah replied as he tipped his hat and rode up toward the Hanus' wagon.

They slowed momentarily for Hanus to get off and set his grease bucket inside of his wagon, as he walked back toward his seat, he waved to Gideon. Once again they were slowly rolling, the squeaking wheel calling out to them. “Guess I better find my grease bucket tonight and get some into that squeaking wheel.”

Again they rode for almost a half mile in silence before crossing the first stream, Hannah stayed in the wagon seat, feeling that it wasn’t as dangerous as the Wagon Master led her to believe. “That was easy enough,” she spoke as she was looking back into the wagon at the children sleeping. “The water there looked murky.”

“They’ve been having a bad cholera outbreak on several of the trains that were ahead of us. I’m suspecting it has something to do with the water.” He glanced behind him to watch other wagons crossing the river. “I don’t want for you or Cade to go anywhere in that water, hear me?”

She nodded, “We have enough for a few days, and hopefully there will be better water up ahead.”

“I’m sorry about the way I spoke back there; I just don’t want anything to happen to any of you.” He apologized.

“I understand, Gideon, you worry for your family and I love that about you.”

Again they rode along in silence, long enough for her to return to her book. Finally Gideon tapped her leg with his hand, “I’ve been wondering something.”

“I’ve nothing to hide. Ask away.”

“When we were talking to Arden this morning, I was noticing…” He began.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon,” she laughed sheepishly.

“So you did use that amulet on her, didn’t you?” he smiled knowingly.

“I did, but I was just trying to help her out.” Hannah looked up at him; he was already staring at her with a concerned look on his face.

“You have got to be careful with that damn thing; it’s too dangerous to be handling it!” He then looked at the reins in his hands, “I’d die if anything were to happen to you!”

“I’ll be careful,” she replied guiltily.

“No. I don’t want you touching it at all…promise me, Hannah.” There was a look of fear in his eyes.

“I promise…we will discuss with each other prior to it being used ever again.” She gave his muscular arm a loving squeeze.

“Agreed.” Again they rode for several minutes, Hannah was beginning to locate where she left off on her book when Gideon commented again.

“I do have to admit, Arden did look lovely…how did you do it?”

Hannah smiled, returning her finger to hold her spot again. “She was folding her mother’s wedding dress after showing it to me, and I was able to touch it to her without her noticing.”

“I’m sure Charles won’t mind in the least!” he laughed.

“I did it because Arden told me she wanted children but couldn’t have them, although her mother had several. Hopefully the necklace with correct whatever was wrong with her and she will be able to bear many more.” She grinned broadly.

“You sure it can do what you’re hoping?” He spoke softly, “That’s quite a lot to ask.”

“If it can do this to me…” She gently cupped the underside of her breasts, “Surely it can fix her issue.”

He chuckled, “I guess you have a point, my love. Do you think she’ll notice?”

Hannah smiled, “She did, but I told her it was probably caused by her feminine cycle.”

“And that is?” As soon as it left his mouth, Hannah gave him the look and he responded, “Oh…never mind.”

Hannah pulled at her high collar, “I so need a bath.”

“I think you still smell quite lovely,” he responded truthfully.

“Ever since I’ve become Hannah, I can only think of being clean.” She sighed, “It’s been far too long since my last bath back at the little water hole where you found us.”

She looked over at him; there was a distant gaze in his eyes and a playful smile on his lips. “Are you okay?”

He laughed, “I was just thinking about seeing you beside that little pond…reborn. God, I wanted to ravish you right there, only thing that kept me from doing it was Cade.”

She patted his leg, “Find me clean water, away from everyone and I’ll give you everything you ever wanted, or could handle.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“I promise.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Twenty Three-

A light misting rain began to fall as the afternoon closed; it was more of a nuisance rain than anything. On Gideon's urging, Hannah retreated inside as both children were awake and had been for hours. Cade was now sitting up on the seat next to his father.

As what seemed to Hannah as her 'usual' position, she calmly sat in the bottom of the wagon quietly nursing Em. The ever continuing rocking of this wagon was something that she desperately wanted to avoid experiencing again. She stretched out, to relieve the cramping of her legs and uncovered something fascinating.

As she moved her foot, she struck a worn, blackened case that was pushed under an old dresser. She slowly worked it out with her foot until she was able to reach it, and she saw that it had a strange hourglass shape, long and flat. She glanced up toward the boys, and then gently lifted one of the two strange buckles that held it closed. Again she glanced up to see if the creaking of the rusted metal attracted attention, and lifted the other.

Inside the case lay a very old violin, the bow nested safely beside it. She carefully examined the strings; they were all intact and unbroken. While the instrument appeared old and worn, it looked as though it could still be played.

She carefully closed the lid and gently slid it back to where she had found it. Since the day that she had met Gideon, not once did he play it. She began to wonder if the original Hannah had played, and she decided she would ask when she once again returned to the wagon's seat.

The mist had stopped and the bright sun had been shining for the last couple of hours, and Hannah had fallen asleep with Em in her arms. She awoke to a rider approaching; it was the Wagon Master.

"Gideon, we're about to cross the river up here." He then spoke to Cade, "Son you'd better go on in the back with your ma and sister, because it could get a bit rough in all of these rocks up here."

As he rode on to inform the other wagons, Gideon assisted Cade over the seat; Hannah helped him settle down in the back. "Do you need me up there?" she asked nervously.

"I'll be alright; you keep the young-ins company until we cross." He glanced back quickly as he spoke, "I can see the crossing right up ahead; it won't be long now."

Hannah gently placed Em in the box, and then motioned for Cade to sit beside her and wait out the crossing of the river. He looked slightly frightened, so she smiled to him and his expression changed somewhat.

"Isn't this exciting?" she asked, trying to mask her own fear. "It's almost like we are in a great ship riding in the ocean blue!"

He smiled and peeked forward under the seat at the river ahead, "I guess so." He hunkered down beside her. "Mama?"

"Yes, honey, what is it?"

He looked up at her face and motioned his fingers for her to lean low so he could whisper into her ear, "Is it okay if I'm afraid?"

She hugged him and kissed his forehead, "Of course it is."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm scared too."

"I bet daddies aren't afraid." He was proudly watching his father fight the team through the rapidly moving water, the jostling within the wagon caused the sparse household goods around them to rock and tip over. Hannah cradled both children, covering them with her body as the rocking continued, and more items fell.

When she felt them emerging on the opposite side of the Platte, she smiled at her son, "No, I guess daddies aren't afraid, not like mommies and little boys.”

"Will I ever get to 'not be afraid' like Daddy?" he asked innocently.

"Someday, but for now...I want you to just stay the way you are for a while longer." She pushed a basket from them and scooted toward the front of the wagon, "Keep an eye on Em for me. It may be awhile before we stop."

"Goodness, I'm glad that's over with!" she exclaimed as she leaned over the seat back. "We've got a mess back there to tidy up."

Gideon laughed, "I remember reading that we have to cross rivers several times along the way, so I wouldn't get too thankful just yet."

"I can be thankful that we have two of them behind us then, can't I?" She sighed, adjusting the bonnet she wore that had bumped on one of the wooden canopy stays.

"I'm pretty sure he's taking us higher up the hill so we'll be away from the water, I heard someone say earlier this morning that there is a good little lake somewhere about." He looked over at her and smiled, "It'll look like you may be getting that bath you were dreaming about."

"If it's there..." she replied softly, remembering her earlier comment about letting him have his way with her if it was found; now she wasn't so sure she was willing to give up so easily.

He watched her in deep thought. "Giving up our deal already?" he said laughing.

She glanced at his twinkling eyes and laughed nervously, "No, not at all."

“Don’t worry; I won’t hold you to it.” He smiled and studied the lead wagon as it was directed toward a small stand of trees up ahead. “Looks like we’ll be stopping up here for the night. It’ll be good to get down off this hard seat.”

“I could always fold a blanket for you to sit on,” she offered.

“I just might take you up on that,” he replied as their wagon was pulling abreast of the Wagon Master, mounted on his horse.

“Are we stopping here for the night?” Gideon called out to him.

“Tonight and maybe tomorrow, we have some ill folks and I want to give them a day to rest up.” He glanced down the line at the last few wagons climbing out of the river.

“What sort of illness do they have?” Hannah asked.

“They’ve been throwing up, and are having the screaming shits,” he replied prior to motioning them on.

Gideon scowled, “That doesn’t sound good.” He glanced toward Hannah, “I’m going to move our wagon to the side…I don’t want to be around anyone who might be ill.”

Hannah suddenly had a worried look on her face, “What do you think they might have?”

“I can’t say just yet. But if you’ve never listened to me before, please do so now; I want you and the children to stay away from the other wagons.” He had a serious look on his face as he spoke, and it was frightening Hannah.

“The last few trains that rolled along the Platte have come down with cholera; some of them lost quite a fair bunch of folks. We’ll know better as morning arrives.” He forced a smile, but she could tell he too was worried.

“What about Arden, Mr. Bl…Charles and his children?” She worried. “I don’t want them to get sick either.”

He smiled and patted her hand reassuringly, “If they aren’t the ones who are ill, they can camp next to us.”

His offer seemed to ebb her worry, because she only hoped that the wagon who may be ill, wasn’t either of theirs. She settled back and tried to see which wagon Arden was in; after a few minutes she saw her and motioned for them to follow.

Gideon drove his team to the opposite side of the small lake, which was nothing more than overspill from heavy rains earlier in the month. He stopped behind the Shepherd wagon, followed by Arden and the Bloom’s.

When they stopped, Gideon stepped down and gently lifted Hannah to the ground. She rubbed the feeling back into her legs, thankful to be standing again. Gideon soon placed Cade on the ground beside Hannah. She began to pet Blackie as she waited for the remainder of the group to collect.

Loosening her bonnet, she let it hang down behind her and waited for Arden to climb down. Arden gave her a puzzled look, “Why did you come way over here?”

When Charles Bloom arrived to the small gathering with his brood in tow, Gideon explained his fears. “We’re keeping ourselves away from the train, ‘cause there is illness there and I don’t want my family to become sick.”

Charles Bloom was a barrel-chested man with a good heart; he was always smiling and jovial. He wore a bowler type of hat that covered his thinning hair. “Thank you, Gideon, for thinking of us too, I really appreciate it.” As he spoke his eyes were constantly upon Arden, and his look was of sheer admiration.

Hannah caught Gideon’s eye and she slightly nodded her head toward him. Gideon also nodded, and then continued, “I read somewhere that the water along the Platte may be the reason people are getting sick, so this small lake may not be any better. Don’t drink it or cook with it, if we can help it… it should be okay to bathe in and wash our clothes though.”

“We can use our stored water for cooking,” Arden spoke, looking toward Charles for agreement; he nodded and stepped closer to her.

“We’ll see to the livestock, but Charles, I was wondering something…” Gideon looked across the small group toward Charles, “You a very good shot?”

“I’ve been known to hit what I was aiming at from time to time,” he laughed.

“I hope so; I saw some small deer or antelope back there a ways, maybe we could add to our stores a bit while we’re idle?” He reached into his wagon and removed a long rifle, and bag with powder and lead balls. “It ain’t much, but it’ll still bring down what it needs to.”

“Take Blackie, he needs to stretch his legs from all of the walking he’s been doing.” Hannah called after the men as they were heading toward Charles’ wagon to pick up his rifle. “Just don’t push him too much; he won’t be used to being ridden by anyone for awhile!”

Cade and the Bloom children began playing with a ball they brought made from a goat’s bladder, as they moved away from the wagons and water, Hannah and Arden began to talk.

“Charles asked me to marry him!” Arden said with a huge smile.

“My, that was sudden!”

“He doesn’t want to wait; he would like to be married before we start again.” She pushed a long light brown hair from her face and smiled at the youngsters playing.

“I heard of weddings and such happening on the trail all the time, but I never heard of one happing after only a day or so of knowing each other.” Hannah laughed as she began to gather sticks from a few of the trees that surrounded the water. Arden began to help; they carried them to a central spot near the three wagons.

“So are you going to marry him?” Hannah asked as she placed a bigger log off to the side.

“I think so; I’d like you to be my matron of honor, that is, if you will agree to it?”

Hannah beamed widely and hugged her friend, “I’d love to do it!” She paused to watch Cade and smiled, slowly walking toward her own wagon as Gideon and Charles set out hunting. Charles was on one of his mules, and Gideon was on Blackie.

She climbed into the wagon and picked up Em, who was slowly growing cranky from being in the box for such a long time. It was time anyway; Hannah could feel the pressure building within her breasts and needed the assistance of Em to alleviate it.

She sat down on the tongue of the wagon and began to open her blouse and untie her chemise, as she gently extracted her engorged breast she began to suckle Em. Carefully she threw a soft cloth over her shoulder so it would cover her exposed breast and child from young eyes.

“I hope someday to be able to do that,” Arden spoke wistfully. “There is nothing I would want more than to be married and have a child or two.”

“You will already be having several…and they’re out there playing with Cade,” Hannah laughed.

“I love his children, I’ll be a good mother to them…but I’d love to have my own.”

“You are a good woman. I know you will be a great mother to those children.” Hannah turned to watch them playing very nice together. “I have a feeling though that you will have your fair share of little ones yourself.”

“I hope you’re right, Hannah…I hope you’re right,” she sighed.

-Twenty Four-

While the men were out hunting to bolster the meat supply, Hannah and Arden readied their camp. They couldn't assume that Charles and Gideon would be able to get something, so meal preparation had also begun.

In an effort to conserve food, both women combined items to make a hearty stew, and at the same time, Arden baked biscuits in her Dutch oven. They quickly fed the children and were putting them to bed for the night, and as they were quietly drifting off to sleep, Gideon and Charles arrived back in camp.

Gideon walked Blackie to the picket and tied him to the rope that was strung between two trees, and then removed his saddle and blanket.

As he was brushing him down, Hannah walked up with a plate and a cup of coffee. "Feel like eating?"

"Yeah, I'm so hungry I could eat a cow with the hide still on it." He continued brushing and then looked over the back of Blackie and noticed she was holding his supper. He took the coffee from her and drank some, and then handed the cup back for her to hold.

"Did you see anything?" she asked, still holding onto the plate.

"We got one; it didn't give us much meat though," he replied as he was continuing to brush the big black thoroughbred. "We'll split it and it'll give us some meat to eat for a couple of days." He looked at the plate and smiled. "That plate of stew sure does look good."

"Arden and I pitched in together to make enough for everyone." She studied his tired face, "I hope you don't mind."

"That's fine, Hannah, what's mine is yours. You know that," he said with a laugh.

"I knew you’d say that." She watched him continue to brush Blackie, "So, you going to be at it awhile?"

He paused and leaned against Blackie, he on one side, she on the other. He was still holding the brush in his hand, and sighed tiredly, "I'll finish this right quick, and then give him some feed. I'll be in camp directly. You can leave me the coffee though."

She nodded, handing him the cup. "I'll stir this back into the pot so you can have it warm when you do come in." She carefully lifted her skirt and made her way back toward the fire, while he constantly admired her petite and shapely figure walk away.

Hannah removed the lid using her skirt to hold onto the hot iron, pushed the stew into the pot and then recovered it. She looked up as Arden was walking back into the light with Charles; she too had filled a plate for him. “The children are all bedded down, Hannah.”

Hannah stood and tucked a lock of her long red hair behind her ear, “Did Cade give you any problems on going to bed?”

Arden giggled, and handed Charles his plate, “Nope, all of them fell right to sleep. I guess playing as hard as they did, does have its benefits.”

Hannah looked back over her shoulder, “Gideon is finishing up with Blackie, and then he’ll be here for his supper when he’s done.” She made an uncomfortable face, “I really need to nurse Em, so if you will, can you take care of Gideon and get his supper for me?

“Sure, honey, you go on and take care of that little one of yours, I’ll make sure that Gideon gets supper.” She sat on the seat of their wagon; it had been removed to give them additional places to sit.

Hannah carefully climbed into the wagon and changed Em, then prepared herself for nursing. As she watched the tot suckle, she began to think of how the last several weeks had nudged her thought patterns even further into the realm of womanhood.

This act that she continuously endured was probably her most extreme act of femininity; it reinforced each and every time that she was no longer male. She sighed and kissed the tiny face so near to her own; even she had to admit that it has become easier from repetition.

She was well aware that this feminine body came with its own obstacles that no male could fathom. Yet, she had come to expect them in what looked to be a lifelong event. Outside she heard Gideon finally enter their camp, and he chatted with Charles on which direction they should go hunting in the morning.

After nearly twenty minutes of listening to their conversation, she heard him excuse himself and approach the wagon where Emma and she were secluded. “Hey, you planning on coming out anytime soon?”

“I’m sort of preoccupied for the moment,” she said with a smile, and then looked down adoringly at Em. “Your daughter is quite hungry tonight.”

He stood there at the back of his wagon watching both of them sharing a bonding moment. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” she replied softly. As he began to turn back toward the camp, she called out to him.

“There is one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“What’s that?” He stepped back to the tailgate again, “Ask me anything.”

Hannah glanced back toward the little violin case. “Is this yours?”

His face grew red, “Yes, it’s mine.” He looked down at his feet, and then back up to stare once again into one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen.

“Will you play it for me?” she asked softly.

“I’m not that good…you never…” he began then smiled and glanced back over his shoulder, nervous that someone might hear. “Hannah never liked the violin; she said it was like fingernails on the chalkboard to her.”

Hannah gave him that look again. “You already know what I’m going to say about that…so, please play it for me.”

He smiled and reached for it. When Hannah pushed it closer to him with her foot, he said, “Don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

He opened up the case and removed the violin, drew his thumb over the strings a time or two, then adjusted the pitch. He winked at Hannah and then slowly walked toward the fire.

As he was out of her sight, she switched Em to the opposite side and settled back for what she hoped was a private concert. She had found other things that the original Hannah didn’t like and she enjoyed, so she hoped that this would be another one. As he stood quietly by the fire, his silhouette projected onto the canvas top of their wagon.

Charles and Arden both exclaimed their surprise of his hidden talent as he drew the bow over the strings; it sounded much like an evil hiss. “Sorry,” he exclaimed softly with a laugh, “It’s been awhile.”

Inside the wagon, Hannah fought off a laugh. She looked down at Emma, “Shhh, we must be quiet…daddy’s going to play a song for us.”

Gideon began to play, the sad lonely sound of his violin drifted out into the night air, its melodic beauty caused Hannah to gasp in awe. In silence she sat in the wagon nursing Em, tears welling in her eyes. The song he played was hauntingly familiar, one that her father would hum while he was sitting by the fire back home.

Her mind was instantly drawn back to her childhood in Delphi, her mother on one side of the fireplace quietly reading from her Bible, father smoking his pipe and staring into the crackling fire. She hadn’t thought of them in several days, and the song made her realize just how much she missed them. She raised a trembling hand and wiped tears from her eyes. Now it was she, alone in the world.

She looked at the shadow playing the lonely but beautiful music on the canvas, and then sat up straighter. She realized that she was not alone; she had Gideon and the children. She smiled - her parents would have liked Gideon; he was a lot like her own father.

As she sat quietly humming, rocking with Em to the sad tune, she realized that she could hear singing. It was Charles; he was singing quite low, it again called the image of her father to her mind.

“'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen
On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond
Where in the purple hue the hieland hills we view
And the moon coming out in the gloaming”

As he was singing, she realized that Em was soundly asleep. She carefully burped her and placed her down in the box to sleep. Hannah dressed and climbed down from the wagon as Charles was finishing. She stood and watched both Charles and Gideon in the light of the fire for the remainder of the song, Arden smiling the entire time.

As Gideon pulled the bow across the strings for the final note, he glanced toward the wagon and saw Hannah standing like a beautiful Grecian statue. He slowly lowered the violin as he saw her tears reflecting from the firelight on her beautiful cheeks, He began to walk toward her.

“I’m sorry…I…” He began to apologize.

“Please don’t. It was so beautiful,” she softly sighed as he hugged her. “It made me think of my folks and when I was but a youth.”

He carefully walked beside her as they made their way to the fire, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would you like to hear another?”

She stood beside Gideon; Arden reached up and took her hand lovingly as a sister would. Hannah glanced at her and smiled, “Yes, please play us something.”

There were tears still in Hannah’s eyes, so Gideon smiled and asked, “How about a happy song this time?”

He played well into the evening, one song after another until he had played most everything he knew. Gideon would have continued to play several over, but everyone was tired and he knew they needed to get some rest. Hannah and he slowly walked back to their wagon and he placed the violin back into its case.

Hannah turned to him and hugged Gideon tightly, “Thank you, this was a beautiful evening.”

“It was my pleasure.” He smiled and gave her a tender kiss.

After another lengthy kiss he slowly pushed himself from her arms, “Let’s get the wagon ready. When we’re done, then you can head to bed while I check on the animals.”

“I can do it; you go on and take care of them. It’ll be all ready for when you come back.” She shooed him away and began to ready the wagon.

-Twenty Five-

When Hannah finished attaching their curtains, she crawled inside and quickly fell asleep. At one point, she rolled over and when her hand fell to where Gideon would have been, she slowly lifted her head. He was not in his usual spot beside her.

Wearing only her chemise, she scooted outside of the wagon; the coals were glowing, with small flames licking up around them. Hannah dropped a few pieces of wood on them and stirred the coals; she walked to the edge of the camp where it became the darkest.

"Gideon?" she softly called out, keeping her voice down so she didn't awaken Arden or the Blooms. She walked several feet out into the darkness, "Gideon, are you out here?"

Still, she heard nothing - only the crickets and frogs answered her. She stood with her hands upon her generous hips, trying to discern where he could have gone. Hearing Blackie softly nicker, she slowly turned and made her way toward the picket line.

When she arrived at her horse's side, she spoke softly to Blackie, and slowly walked the picket line. Hannah was stumped; she found no sign of Gideon there. She began to walk toward the lake and stood on the edge, her toes just where she could feel the ebb and flow of the water. "Gideon?" she whispered again.

She stood for several seconds and then moved down the shoreline, pausing every so often to softly call out to him. Finally movement in the water caught her eye, "Gideon? Is that you?"

He laughed softly, "I sure hope so."

She frowned at him, and then folded her arms under her breasts, "I thought you didn't want us to use the water."

"I'm just swimming, I ain't drinking it!" He whispered sarcastically, then began to chuckle. "Come on in, the water feels great."

Gideon swam close, but stayed where the water reached only to his chest. Hannah sat down on a patch of grass, carefully folding her chemise beneath her. "I woke up and noticed you hadn't come to bed yet."

He laughed softly, "So... are you saying you missed me?"

She giggled and ignored his reply, "Is the water warm?"

"Jump in and see for yourself." He teased, "It feels pretty good to me."

"You'd probably try to drown me”.

She stretched her lithe legs out into the water, drawing the hem of her chemise up to her thighs. Gideon noticed and appreciatively moved closer. He was kneeling on the bottom of the lake, yet the water was still at his chest. "Wasn't you the one who wanted to clean the trail dust from off of yourself?"

"Yes... but can't a girl have second thoughts?" She leaned back, her arms propping her up. Gideon could see the shadow of her nipples through the chemise. He was thankful that she couldn't see under the water, and what she was doing to him.

Hannah closed her eyes, the moonlight gently illuminating her face. She quietly listened to the night creatures sing their heavenly song; it was a sound that she would never grow tired of.

"What you thinking?" he asked softly.

She gradually opened her eyes and smiled, slowly drawing her knees to her chest, "I just love the night sounds. There is something to be said of the sounds of late summer."

He laughed softly; she took it as he was laughing at her. "What was that for?"

"What was what for?"

"You laughed at me."

"I wasn't laughing at you. I was thinking of... Hannah. She absolutely hated bugs of any kind; she despised the outdoors! Hell, she would have never been found with her feet in the water like you had only moments ago." He smiled and chuckled again, "I guess you could say, aside from looks... you two are nothing alike."

"Well, thank you... I think." She tried to look at him angrily, but a smile slowly crept onto her face.

"So, are you planning on coming out of the water soon?" she whispered softly.

The entire time they had been trying to keep their voices to a minimum; the last thing they wanted was to have their quiet moment together invaded by a stranger. Gideon began to lean backward, intending to swim on his back. Once he realized that his erect penis would break the water's surface he quickly righted himself.

"Problems?" she whispered knowingly, her wide grin speaking volumes.

"Might be…You could come on out here and give me a hand; I'd be appreciative of it."

She giggled softly, "Oh I bet you would." He rolled onto his stomach and struck out toward the middle, giving Hannah a supreme view of his backside.

She decided quickly, stood and peeled out of her chemise. Quietly stepping out into the water until the water was past her breasts, she was almost to him by the time he turned around. She slowly dipped her head into the water and flipped her flowing red locks behind her shoulder.

"Well hello there," he whispered, surprised that she actually left the shore. "What brings a lovely woman such as you out here in my neck of the woods?"

"Well..." she began. "I was sitting on the shore over there..." She pointed, "And I saw this man out here in the water. Naturally, I was curious who he was, and thought I should come out and introduce myself."

He swam closer to her, “Well hello there, ma’am, my name is…” his eyes traveled across her lovely face. "God, you're beautiful."

She smiled, "I like hearing that." He swam slowly around her; she rotated herself to keep him in front.

"You know from our conversation earlier that it's pretty dangerous for you to be out here with me." He moved closer, she playfully backed away.

"I didn't forget," she giggled.

Finally, he gently reached out and pulled her close to him. He leaned in and kissed her deeply, "I've wanted to do that all evening."

"Well you accomplished that, so what's next?" she spoke softly as he then drew her close and began to kiss her exposed neck. "Oh my..."

"Is there a problem?" he said asked with a soft laugh.

"No, but I think a fish just bumped into my leg." She looked down into the inky water with concern.

He grinned broadly, "That was no fish..."

Hannah again looked down; a slow smile crept across her face. "So, kind sir, now that you have me prisoner, what are you planning to do to me?"

He leaned in to whisper in her delicate ear, "I want to make love to you. Right here, right now."

"And if I refuse?" she replied playfully.

He frowned, "I guess then, I'll just swim back to shore and get dressed." He turned to leave and she gently grasped his elbow, and then pulled him back to her.

Gideon's face showed surprise as he allowed Hannah to pull him close, "Okay, to use your words... Now that you have me, what do you intend to do with me?"

She said nothing, just drew him even closer and kissed him deeply. As she was kissing him, she locked her feet around his back, forcing him to carry her entire weight. Gideon began to kiss her fiercely; her face, neck and the upper most portions of her breasts were the objects of his desire.

Hannah allowed her head to fall back; it was an attempt to allow him greater access to her unfettered breasts. Her weight was nothing for him to hold, so buoyant in the water was she. Gideon placed his hands under her soft thighs, adjusting her enough to place his erection at her feminine opening.

She realized what he was doing and reached into the water and positioned him right at her maidenhead, then began to gradually roll her hips as in a great dance for the ages. Slowly she sank onto his erection, all the while he continued to kiss her with abandon.

"Oh, yessssss..." she sighed in pure erotic pleasure.

His kisses fell close to her ear where he whispered, "I told you that if we did this, I wasn't going to stop at 'half way'."

"I don't care..., was her reply. Make love to me..." She placed her dainty hands on the side of his face and began to kiss him hard, her tongue found its way into his mouth. There was a longing in those kisses that transcended who she had been, replaced with the absolute fact of who she was now.

Gideon slowly worked his way toward the shore, falling half in and half out of the water. Hannah lay in sand on her back, the water covering from just below her breasts on down. Raising her knees just above the water's surface she waited, her lover began to slowly impale her, his rhythm increasing with each rock of her seductive hips.

He had been so long without the love of his wife, and was wrought with unbridled passion in his lust for her. The only sounds that emanated from their lovemaking, was the soft little grunts and moans of Hannah's each time he thrust into her.

As his animalistic thoughts faded, he realized that he was very near to releasing his seed deep into her unprotected womb, he faltered, which caused the woman beneath him to suddenly open her eyes.

"Please don't stop..." she begged.

He slowly rose up on his hands, planted firmly in the sand on each side of her head. "I shouldn't be doing this; after all you were once a ma..."

She looked up at him angrily, "If you stop now, you might just as well change me back."

"You don't mean that..." he whispered softly, "What about Emma?"

"Well for her, I'd stay... but you'd never see me as I am right now, ever again." The anger in her face softened, "Please, Gideon, I need to see this through, and I need your help in doing it!"

She lifted her feet up behind him, locked them around his waist and pulled him in deeper, "You told me that you had to finish what you started, that you wouldn't go half way." The tears in her eyes glistened as she spoke, "Take me... please!" Her voice trembled with emotion.

"What if you become pregnant?" He whispered his concern. "You could be stuck nursing another child all over again."

"I wouldn't look at it as being stuck. If it happens, it happens. I'm a woman now and it is a part of a life that I must now learn to live with, so stop talking, and make love to me!" Her voice grew slightly louder as she spoke, finally coming out as an exasperated growl.

Nothing more was said between them, aside from her soft mews and his deep grunts. A slight splashing sound could be heard if one had been straining their ears, where the arch of her back came down hard against the water and sand, would cause a wave that lapped between her and his arms.

She was immersed in a deep bliss, her mind swimming in erotic desire. Never before had she ever experienced the dynamic pleasure erupting from within, like little sparks from a blacksmith's hammer the ecstasy spread outward.

It began within her stomach and spread into her extremities, like the tendrils of a great ocean beast. Wave after wave of rapture began to wash over her, permeating her feminine soul to its very core. Her eyes rolled back as the tsunami washed through her body, rocking her in a way that only a woman could describe, leaving her breathless and shaking.

While she was experiencing her first real orgasm, she felt Gideon's back tremble above. As she felt it the second time, he softly grunted in her ear, his muscles spamming with release. It had happened somewhere in the middle of nowhere, her lover had made her a woman.

They lay half in and half out of the water entwined, their bodies slowly returning from the stratosphere of sexual energy they had just endured. Hannah was still relishing in the orgasm that she was rewarded with, Gideon meanwhile just adored being so close to a woman who loved him for just being himself.

Reluctantly, he rolled off of her and lay beside Hannah half out of the water. He reached out to cup her face in his hand, "I don't know what I ever would have done without you."

"You would have managed," Hannah softly replied, still breathless from the little pulses of energy she was still feeling.

His eyes drifted to her lovely long red hair, now growing curly from being wet and un-brushed. He lowered his hand and swept sand from her shoulder, "Thank you for loving me."

"You make it easy to do," She whispered, kissing him deeply.

She rolled him onto his back, her leg sliding between his, her hair falling down over their faces, creating a world where only the two existed. Her kisses methodically began downward, each closer to his now limp penis.

Her hand gently grasped it, almost as soon as it was touched; it began to grow more ridged. By the time Hannah's face fell over his phallus, her lovely hair covered even that from his view.

"Ugh...I..." He tried to speak, but what she was doing drove all his ability to vocalize from him. It left Gideon only able to gasp, with enraptured pleasure.

She continued her ministrations upon him, her head slowly and rhythmically bobbing like some sort of human metronome was the only view he had of her. Her perfectly white teeth gently glided over him, which heightened his eroticism all the more. As the feeling she was enveloping him in was driving Gideon wild with desire, he suddenly felt as though he would burst into her.

"Oh... God, no..." he pleaded softly, gently touching Hannah's head, but she would have none of it. Her small hand gathered his sack gently, cupping them as they were gold, and her other hand rested delicately at her lover's base. His back began to quake, Hannah felt it even from where she lay, yet she maintained her tender massage upon him.

He erupted into her, and if Hannah had been repulsed, she showed no sign of revulsion. She continued to take him in, even after he was spent. When Gideon had grown limp, softening so much that he was no longer above the water, she leaned out and carefully spit the contents of her mouth into the lake, then rinsed her mouth of any lingering seed.

Gideon inhaled deeply, and whispered. "What you did…my God that was amazing!"

She smiled and slowly lay on top of him, half in and half out of the water. She was looking so lovely in what light eked from the tiny sliver of the moon, her red hair cascading over her narrow shoulders and falling over her generous breasts. The desire of kissing her pushed foremost into his mind, yet only moments ago had her mouth on him.

Gideon pulled her close and smothered her delicate lips with his hungry kiss, "If I could, I'd gladly take you again."

She smiled and whispered, "... and I'd let you."

He enveloped her in his thick arms, hugging this new woman in his life, never wanting to ever let her go. "You make loving you easy, it feels like it has always been so."

"It never has to stop, you know that," she replied softly, and then kissed him tenderly upon his lips.

He made a wry face, looking back toward their camp. "As much as I don't want to stop..."

Hannah frowned, "I guess we probably should, as it will be time to get up pretty soon anyway." She kissed him quickly and rose upon her knees, giving him a chance to drink in her lovely breasts as she moved, still firm and youthful in the moonlight.

He reluctantly sat up, and then rose to help her stand. Together they walked off the shore and returned to their clothing, each basking in what the other had done to them. Hand in hand they returned to camp, looking much like the young lovers they had become.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Twenty Six-

Crawling out from under the wagon, Hannah struggled to rise up; looking about in the early light of morning, she could not see any sign of Gideon. She was feeling out of sorts, as she made her way to the fire to replenish the wood to begin cooking their breakfast.

Arden climbed down from her wagon and came to assist Hannah. “You look a mess this morning, did you have trouble sleeping?”

Hannah smiled, “Not really, I slept like a baby.” She bent to pick up a small log and hesitated, a strange feeling of dizziness washed over her. “Whoa, I think I moved a bit too fast there.”

Arden came to assist Hannah, guiding her to sit on the wagon’s tongue, “You’d better just take a seat for awhile, and let me take care of getting breakfast started.”

As she began preparation, she continued to watch Hannah, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like I was run over by a wagon,” she whispered, gently rubbing her leg.

“Are you pregnant?” Arden said with a smile.

“I’m not pregnant,” she groaned, feeling her stomach lurch slightly, “I’m pretty sure it won’t happen as long as I’m nursing Em.”

“Well maybe you’re just pushing yourself too hard. That could be it you know?”

“Maybe,” Hannah sighed, slowly rising up and feeling the ache in her hips and legs. She had a good feeling that what was ailing her had more to do with the activity with Gideon at the lake than anything.

She sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the young ones slowly climb out of their respective wagons. Cade climbed out and made a beeline into the brush. “Where you going, young man?” she asked the boy.

“I gotta pee, Momma!” he shouted over his shoulder, it caused both women to laugh.

“Don’t go too far, honey,” Hannah called out to him.

Hannah slowly climbed up into their wagon, and then she whispered to Arden, “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to duck inside and nurse Em for a bit.”

Arden glanced up as she was kneading the dough for biscuits, “I’ve got this, Hannah. Do what you need to do.”

She sought out Emma, lifted her from the box and quickly changed her. “How’s Momma’s pretty little girl this morning?”

She was rewarded with a broad toothless smile, “What, what am I seeing here?” She gently moved Emma’s bottom lip slightly; there were two tiny buds from her bottom teeth beginning to show. “Uh-oh, when those little things come in, you won’t be nursing long.” She made a face and caressed her breast, imagining the pain of teeth upon her tender nipples.

Hannah readied herself, exposing a breast to the child who took it earnestly. For the next half hour, the two sat quietly in the wagon. Finally Hannah emerged from the wagon with Em, carrying her back toward the fire. Arden looked up as they neared. “Feeling any better?”

“I can’t say, I’m just feeling puny this morning… sort of queasy or something.” She placed her small hand on her stomach, “One thing’s for certain, I do need to make a trip…”

Arden reached out and took Em, “Katy, come sit with Emma for a moment. Mrs. Shepherd needs to um…get herself ready for the day.”

Katy was Charles Bloom’s eldest child, nearly seven years of age, old enough to assist when needed. “Good morning, Em, would you like to play with my dolly?” she asked her tiny charge.

As she was speaking to Emma, Hannah was already well on her way into the thick brush. Quickly scanning the ground as Gideon had taught her, she looked for the snakes which hid themselves in the leaves. Finding none, she lifted her chemise and almost instantly her bowels emptied. The diarrhea she had was clear and fluid.

“This is the last thing I need today,” she sighed as another stream jetted from within.

After nearly thirty minutes she walked back into camp and leaned against the wagon, her forehead resting wearily on her arm. She stood like that for another few minutes, then spun on her heels and returned to the thicket once again.

Arden noticed with concern, but continued to prepare the breakfast for the children. Again she watched Hannah return only to take up a position once again against the wagon. Arden slowly walked over to her, “You aren’t well, are you? Your face is so pale.”

Hannah shook her head, “I seem have a touch of the stomach flu.” She slowly walked to the water bucket and lifted out the ladle, took a long drink, and then a second. “Do you know when the men will return? Did either say anything to you?”

“Sorry, Hannah, they were gone by the time I woke up.” She gently used the back of her hand to feel Hannah’s forehead. “You do seem to be running a touch of a fever; maybe you should go in the wagon and lay down for a spell.”

“Best idea I’ve heard all morning,” Hannah replied wanly, forcing a smile.

Arden helped her climb into the wagon, and then followed her inside to clear a spot for her to lie down, “You stay put, and when Gideon returns, I’ll send him in.” Hannah only nodded as she lay down on the blanket that Arden prepared. When Arden left the wagon she quickly gathered the children, “Mrs. Shepherd is feeling poorly, so you stay away from the wagon and keep the noise down, okay?”

They nodded quietly, then slowly moved away to finish their breakfast. Arden motioned for Katy to come to her, “I know you want to play, but for the time being, can you help me with Emma?”

The youngster grinned, and then carried Emma around as if she were her own. Arden watched her and smiled, as she was beginning to feel like Katy’s mother already.

-Twenty Seven-

Late in the afternoon, Gideon and Charles returned to camp. Even before he dismounted Blackie, Arden was at his side. “Gideon, Hannah is ill.”

He dropped to the ground and met Arden as she was coming around the horse, “She’s powerful sick, and what makes matters worse, now Emma is too!”

“Go on, Gideon. I’ll take care of your horse,” Charles spoke as his friend and fiancée began to walk away. As Gideon walked stridently toward his wagon, Arden informed him of Hannah’s and Emma’s condition.

He quickly vaulted up the gate of the wagon and stepped inside. There his Hannah lay, and nearby was Em. Arden followed him inside, “I’ve been wiping their faces down with cool water… I’ve never seen anyone get so sick, so quickly!”

He frowned and glanced back at Arden, “It’s cholera, the main camp buried three just yesterday, and another two this morning.” She could see tears in his eyes as he collected his thoughts, “Two of the dead were fine in the morning and by nightfall, yesterday… they had died.”

Arden raised her hand to her mouth; the horror of the situation was evident in her expression. “There has to be something we can do!?”

“I wish there was.” He gently touched Hannah’s hand, “She looks so gaunt and drawn.”

“She’s been throwing up quite a bit this morning and afternoon.” She looked over to little Emma, whose skin had an ashen look to it. “Will they die?”

Gideon’s tears rolled down his cheeks, he pushed them out with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know; there haven’t been many who get it that survive.” He then looked toward Emma, reached out and caressed her tiny cheek, “No children that I’ve ever heard speak of.”

“Maybe someone at the main camp could help?” Arden offered, “I could send Charles over to see?”

“Do that.” He looked at Arden, his bottom lip quivering, “I can’t lose her again!”

Arden quickly vacated the wagon, leaving Gideon inside with his loved ones, Hannah’s eyes fluttered open, and she weakly turned her face toward his. “You’re back…good.”

“How’s my best girl?” He fought through the overwhelming sadness he felt and forced a smile.

“I’ve been better,” she whispered.

“Would you like a drink?” He offered her a tin cup of water that Arden had left nearby.

Hannah nodded and Gideon gently raised her head so she could drink, when done, he lowered her head back to the blanket. “I sure have made a mess of things, haven’t I?” she sighed.

“We’ll be okay - you’ll be okay,” he corrected himself.

“Is Katy still taking care of Em?” she asked softly, not noticing that Emma was laying only feet away from her.

“She’s right here, Hannah.” Gideon moved aside, to where she had a better view past him.

When Hannah saw the ashen coloring of Emma, she began to cry, “Oh God no!”

“No, no…honey, she isn’t…dead,” he said, in his mind he feared that she might be, within the not too distant future. “We just sent Charles over to the main camp to fetch someone who can help, he should be back directly.”

Her eyes were glassy with tears as she stared at her little Emma, “I don’t care about me, Gideon…please don’t let Emma die!”

He quickly rose and looked out the wagon; Arden was standing nearby crying, “Where the hell is Charles?” he shouted in frustration.

She only shook her head and buried her face in her hands; somehow she was feeling as though she were to blame. Gideon noticed and sighed, “Please forgive me, Arden…I…” As he was speaking, Charles came riding in hard. As soon as his mule stopped, he dropped to the ground and ran quickly to Gideon.

“Doc was one of them that died last night.” He peered over the side of the wagon at a gaunt faces of Hannah and Emma; both had a grayish cast to their complexions. It was hard to pull his eyes from the once vibrant female, seeing her so close to death as she was. “His wife said all we can do is make them comfortable and wait it out.”

Gideon sank to his knees and fell over Hannah, crying like he had never cried before. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” He kept repeating as he kissed her hand, slowly she raised it; he grasped it and gently caressed it against his cheek.

“Don’t apologize,” she weakly whispered, “You have given me so much over the last few months to last me a lifetime.” She smiled weakly, “If I had to do it, even knowing what I know now, I’d do it all over again.”

He kissed her fingertips; tears fell from his cheeks onto her hand, “I can’t lose you again, my love,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Hannah lifted her hands to his face, using her thumbs she brushed aside his tears, “I became Hannah by accident, I probably should have died when the Indians attacked and killed my parents. I’m just happy to have been her, and got to know your family in the short time I have been here. I can die today knowing you, Cade and Em, will always remain in my heart and prayers…forever.”

His throat grew tight; he swallowed hard at her words, “Don’t say that, Hannah, as God is my witness, I’ll find a way to save you two!” She pulled her hand away and lowered them to touch Emma; tears were in her eyes as she held her tiny hand.

Gideon sat back, his mind racing for a way to save them. Suddenly, as a realization lit him from within, he quickly stood up and began searching. Finally he pulled down the tin he was looking for, the one which contained the little amulet. “Please work like I think you will!” He whispered as he slowly removed it, being careful to keep from touching it to him.

He quickly pulled out one of Hannah’s dresses and trapped the amulet against her exposed skin with it. Then, tossing the dress aside, he did the same for Em, using one of her articles of clothing. As soon as he had performed this miracle on the two females he loved so dearly, he returned the amulet to the tin once again.

He left the wagon and gradually made his way toward the fire, crouched down and poured himself a cup of coffee, but it was very difficult because his hand trembled. Arden saw his sadness and quickly came to his side. “Is she…”

He shook his head, and then looked back toward the wagon. “I hope there is enough time…”

It began as a soft whimper, and then turned into a loud wail; it was Emma. Gideon stood and hurried to the wagon, once there he peered over the gate, a grand smile upon his face. There was Hannah, pulling aside her chemise, readying herself to nurse again.

“How are you feeling?” Gideon asked his beautiful wife.

She smiled, “Well enough to take care of business.”

He smiled and turned, leaning his back against the wagon he slowly sank to his knees. Gideon was so thankful that Hannah mentioned being changed all those many weeks ago, because it gave him the idea. He stood up and returned inside the wagon, he found the little amulet and wrapped it in the cloth once again.

“Where you headed to?” Hannah asked as he threw his leg back over the gate.

“I’m going to the main camp; I’m going to find whoever is sick and pay them a visit.” He smiled, and then quickly dropped to the ground. Within moments, she heard him ride off with Charles’ mule.

-Twenty Eight-

The wagon train was again heading west; many who rode in it was happy to put the area behind them, and some unfortunately were not. In total, seven of the participants from their group were left behind including the doctor; shallow graves were their final resting places.

Both Hannah and Gideon rolled past the seven graves, piled high with rocks to prevent coyotes from digging. Everyone who passed was lost deep in their own thoughts. Tears wetted Hannah’s cheeks as she looked back at what could possibly have been an additional spot for her and for Em.

Her eyes fell to her hands as she fumbled with the shawl that hung off her shoulders. She inhaled deeply, thankful that it was not her time.

"Are you okay?" Gideon asked as the wagon rocked along, Hannah merely nodded.

They rolled along for almost a full mile without a word passing between them, before Hannah finally spoke. "I want to thank you for saving both of our lives yesterday."

He smiled and looked toward her, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I wouldn't have been able to go on if either of you had died."

She gently reached out and placed her slender hand on his thigh, "I just wanted to know that I'm grateful.” He nodded and continued to call out to the mules, encouraging them over a particular rough patch of terrain.

"How much of being ill do you remember?"

Her eyes slowly drifted downward as she thought, coming to rest on the prairie grass as the wagon passed. "I remember feeling mightily poorly, laying in the wagon and just getting worse.”

"I used the amulet. I touched some clothing to it and against you, and then I did it to Emma... I was gambling with your lives…but at the point of losing you, I'd have made a deal with the devil himself to save you." He tightened his mouth to fight off the flood of emotion he was feeling.

She slipped her arm through his and hugged him, "Have I ever told you that I loved you?"

He thought for a long while, "Hannah never told me for a long, long time. You on the other hand, never had to tell me.... because I already knew."

She beamed at his response, hugging him again. Then leaning her head onto his broad shoulder she smiled and sighed. She rode for awhile then sat up as if she had recalled something. "Arden said you had left to go to the main camp."

"Yes I did," he admitted.

"Why? After you used the amulet on me, what reason did you have to go?"

He nodded slowly, "That's a fair question." I slipped into camp and found those who had what you had and touched them as I had touched you." He drew on the reins as he was riding too close to the wagon ahead of them, and then continued. "I simply changed them into who they were before they became ill."

“Did anyone see what you did?”

He glanced at her shaking his head; there was a look in her eyes that made his heart leap for joy. It was a look of unconditional love, a look he had not seen since he and the original Hannah married.

She sat up straighter and leaned forward slightly, her hands clenching the seat she was on, "So what do you suppose was it that exposed me to cholera?"

He glanced at his hands and pursed his lips, "Well, I'm sure that you gave it to Emma through breast feeding."

"I suppose that would be a pretty accurate statement... but how did I get it?" she spoke aloud as she sat deep in thought.

"Did you drink any water?" he asked, glancing at her as he drove.

"None. I only drank what was in our barrel," she replied perplexed.

They rode on in silence for a distance, "When you were... um... kissing me, down there." He motioned with his head toward his crotch, she glanced down too, "I was naked and in the water."

Hannah leaned forward, "But it wasn't like I was drinking from it!" Her voice gradually got louder as she finished her sentence. Her face was red and she was looking right at Gideon as if he held all the answers.

"I don't know, Hannah. You asked and I am just guessing. Somehow you ingested some of that water, maybe while you were swimming?"

"No, I didn't 'ingest' water while I was swimming," she said frowning.

He sighed, and then leaned close whispering. "Do you suppose it was when I... well, you know... shot my seed into your mouth?"

She shrugged her narrow shoulders, "Perhaps, but I didn't swallow it." She made a face, "If you remember correctly, I spit it into the water."

He reminded her, "And then you rinsed your mouth out using the lake water!" He looked over at her; she was staring, recalling her exact steps from that night.

"I almost killed our daughter because of my idiocies," she sighed and hung her head in shame.

"Honey, it was an accident. I wouldn't expect you to..."

"Swallow?" She made a face, "I should have - I could have killed the both of us!"

"But you didn't." He reminded her, "The amulet saved you both... and several others."

"I suppose." She again grew quiet for several more minutes, "I have to ask, because when I was younger I had always wondered... was what I did pleasurable? Did you enjoy it?"

He smiled and tipped his head, "What do you think?"

"I think you liked it a lot more than you're letting on," She squinted at him playfully.

"Perhaps sometime I can return the favor?" he said with a wink.

Hannah's face grew beat red, contrasting greatly with the yellow in her bonnet. She put her hand to her face and turned away from him, too embarrassed to show the smile she wore.

-Twenty Nine-

They had crossed the South Platte and began the trail toward the North Platte River, crossing many swiftly flowing creeks along the way. Within the week they entered the Sweetwater River Valley and the train headed almost due west. Looming far in the distance was Independence Rock.

As their wagon rolled on the seemingly endless trail, Hannah felt them gradually progressing uphill. It wasn’t as noticeable at first, but she could feel the incline nonetheless.

Thankfully they had ventured into better water; the cholera seemed to be behind them now, although the constant concern of whether it would return was always foremost in all of their minds.

Ever since Gideon used the necklace to save them, Hannah had noticed little nuances that had changed on both herself and Em. One she discovered right away. Em’s little teeth that had just begun to protrude were nowhere to be found; it was like she had lost a month in her development. She had heard that children sometimes would have their teeth float in and back up from time to time, but Em’s were absolutely gone. It was as if she was starting all over from day one. She too seemed to be slightly smaller, even lighter.

On her, she noticed that for the first couple of days, it was harder for her to breast feed Emma. It was as though her milk was still trying to come in and she wasn’t completely sure, but she felt smaller in her bosom.

She once heard, long ago when she was still Ezrah, her father say, ‘When a woman has time on her hands, she’ll start to scheme; when that happens, there will be hell to pay!’

She smiled as she ran the needle through the light cloth, dragging the thread along behind. Ever since Hannah and Em came down with cholera, Gideon had burned what they had been wearing so Hannah had been forced to sew new items. It was easy enough to clothe Em; she just reverted to the clothing that previously fit her. But for Hannah, she was forced to learn to sew on the fly, and had begun to create herself a new chemise to wear. She grew tired of the lack of support in the rocky terrain they were constantly on; her breasts grew sore from the constant undulation. This garment would take care of that, but it was the extra little effort she put in that caused her to grin.

She smiled as she again drew the needle through the pleats and darts that would encase her breasts, thankful she had found a new bolt of cloth that Hannah’s mother had sent along with her daughter. Just a few more stitches and she could be finished, and then…she stifled a giggle as she pushed the needle through the white material once again.

Gideon was proud that she had taught herself to sew. It wouldn’t have been to his mother’s standards, but compared to what the original Hannah knew, she was years more advanced at it. Again Hannah smiled as she knotted the final thread and bit through the tether that still was attached to the needle.

She would experiment tonight with the new chemise she had made, saying nothing to Gideon. She smiled ruefully, and bided her time, preferring to wait until she readied herself for bed. Quietly she folded the garment and hid it among her belongings, then moved to the front of the wagon where Cade and Gideon were seated.

“There it is - Independence Rock!” He smiled and glanced toward his son, and then noticed Hannah had scooted up behind the seat. “Hi, honey, you finished nursing Emma?”

She grinned broadly and leaned against the back of the wagon seat, “All done. She’s been nursed, changed and readied for bed.” She reached up and tapped Cade’s hat, “How about you, buster, are you getting hungry?”

Cade nodded as his father spoke the obvious, “The boy is always hungry, aren’t you, son?”

He giggled and turned back toward his mother, “I’m always hungry - you should know that, Momma.”

She sighed as their wagon lurched, “I’ll be so glad to get out of this wagon!”

“You can say that again.” He guided their mules around a large boulder and back onto the trail once again, “Up ahead is where we have to cross the Sweetwater around nine times before our trail can cross over the Continental Divide at South Pass.”

“And then what?” she asked dejectedly, her heart sinking with each destination he mentioned.

He sighed at her reaction, “From South Pass we go on to cross the Big Sandy Creek. From there it’s onto the Green River crossing.”

She sat back in frustration, “I’ll be an old woman before we ever see the Willamette Valley!”

“No you won’t… at least, not to me,” he added with a wink.

“What do we know about the Green River?” she innocently asked, really having no understanding of the places he had mentioned, other than in name only.

He raised his eyebrows, “The Green could be a bad one. Coming in when we are, it could be pretty treacherous. I heard someone say that you had to use a ferry to cross it. The Wagon Master said he heard tell that they were running three to five of them during this time of year.”

She did not look happy, but held her facial expression so Cade wouldn’t see the fear that was in her heart. She decided to change the subject, “Do you have any idea how much longer before we will stop for the night?”

He shrugged. “This morning he was saying that he wanted to get across this rough patch and stop at South Pass. It’ll probably be dark before we stop for the night, might as well feed the young-uns what you can. We can make up a hearty breakfast for them in the morning.”

Hannah nodded and opened up a tin of biscuits she had baked in her Dutch oven the night before when she had some extra time. It often came down to this sort of light meal when the Wagon Master wanted to push on.

Reluctantly, Cade took the biscuit from her and began to chew. “It’d be better with some honey, jelly or even a glass of milk,” he sighed, taking another bite.

Gideon looked down at his son and smiled, “We have to be thankful for what we have, son. There are probably young ones on this very train that don’t have it nowhere as good as you do.”

“I suppose so.” He took a second and handed one to his father, “At least Momma can make them better than she did before Emma was born.”

“She must have figured out how to do it. Practice will do that to a person,” he said smiling, then looked at Hannah and winked.

She smiled as she settled back into the wagon and woke up Em, then changed her before nursing. Once she had readied herself, she lifted the little child to her breast. As Em suckled, she busied herself by eating the biscuits she had set aside for herself. As she sat there with her daughter at her nipple, she watched the sun sinking lower toward the horizon.

As the evening enveloped them, they located a flat spot and settled down for the night. Cade and his father walked just out of view so they could use the privacy to defecate. After they left, Hannah burped the tot and readied her for bed, and then she changed into the new chemise she had just finished.

She quickly looked out the back of the wagon for Gideon and Cade, neither were within view. Carefully she returned to the tin where the amulet was hidden and opened it. With a wry smile, she slowly pulled it out and watched the little object spin in the night air. She patted her chest where the material hung loosely to her, then allowed the cool necklace to lightly touch the creamy slope of her bosom.

Hannah could feel the tingle once she had been touched, within mere moments, her breasts swelled slightly. While the average person might never see a difference… she would know. Carefully she placed the amulet back in the tin and closed it, returning the necklace to where she had found it.

Darkness had nearly fallen as she gracefully climbed from the wagon, down to the ground. Hannah passed Gideon and Cade as they returned from their toilet. "Do you want me to come along... for protection?" Gideon asked as she passed.

"I'll be fine," she chirped and continued on.

Gideon put Cade to bed and built a small fire nearby to their wagon; he hung the curtains on the wagon and was lying inside when Hannah finally returned to the campsite. Throwing aside the curtain, she crawled in.

Gideon held a biscuit in one hand and was just finishing off another. She watched him chew, as the muscles flexing along his jaw line and temples was quite handsome.

As she was crawling into their bed, Gideon could see that something was slightly different about Hannah. "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

She followed his eyes; the chemise was untied and hanging open, offering him a wide view of her cleavage. "It is barely a change, Gideon. Nobody will notice."

"I noticed," he replied as he bit into the second biscuit. "You were beautiful already; why take the chance of messing with that damn thing?!"

"Are you forgetting that you used it to save both Emma and me?" she reminded him as she lay down on the blanket, facing him.

"You know that was different, Hannah. Besides, after what happened to me back a piece, I don't want you touching it." He scolded her, and then felt guilty for doing so. "Look, Hannah..."

"No, that's okay, I understand," she whispered, interrupting him. "It’s easy to figure it…you don't like what I’ve done."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it." He chuckled, "What guy wouldn't like his gal having a bigger bosom?" He sighed and then reached out to caress her face. "I'm just scared to death that something bad could happen with that thing... we really should get rid of it."

"Do you think that would be wise?" She looked fearful, knowing what just had happened to both Emma and her. "A rash decision or an accident could doom one of us or another member of this train."

He nodded, "Not making a smart decision could also doom one of us just as well." He lay on his back; Hannah scooted close to him, laying her head upon his shoulder. "I'm just afraid of that thing, even though I know it saved you, Em and those others."

"Hide it or lock it up then," she reasoned.

"I can do that." He looked down at her face, and was thankful that he had it to use when Hannah and Emma were so close to dying. "Just promise me one thing; you will stay away from it, from now on. Okay?"

She nodded and took her slender finger and crossed her heart. He looked down as she made the motion, and then noticed her open neckline. "So was there a reason for doing that?" He indicated her breasts as he spoke, not taking his eyes from them.

"Whatever you used to cure me left me slightly smaller in the bust." She placed her slender hand over her chest, "I felt that if I could notice it, everyone else could too!"

"Well, for me the jury is still out." He looked at her expressionless, when she frowned he added, "Of course, I'll just have to investigate this case further." He began to draw up the hem of her chemise, until it was above her unfettered breasts.

He leaned over and began to kiss her, their tongues entwining in passion. Gradually she guided his kisses toward her breasts; he obliged and let her, falling upon them with the primal lust that he had building for her.

His kissing had aroused her fiery passion; his tonguing of her nipples was sending her to the brink of ecstasy. Slowly, his hands slid down to her soft thighs; to his surprise she was not wearing any underclothes. She reached down and gently guided his hand onto her pubic hair, then pushed again so he was at the opening of her vagina.

He began his manipulation of her, and within seconds he had her writhing from his efforts. His kisses slowly drifted in a downward spiral, past the underside of her breasts, and onto the smooth flatness of her stomach.

Gideon caressed the soft red curls of her pubic hair, and then drifted downward onto her, kissing and nuzzling her warm vagina. During his ministrations, he could feel her slowly elevate her hips to allow him access, and then her knees parted outward.

Without realizing she was doing it, Hannah arched her back to allow Gideon room to maneuver. As he positioned himself at her maidenhead, her fingers sought out his head and held him at her opening. Desiring him to continue, and yet unable to control him as she wanted.

Her legs began to tremble; he looped his arms around them to hold each steady and continued to assail her womanhood with his mouth and tongue. Hannah became lost in little stars and bursts of pure delightful energy; they permeated outward into her willing extremities.

After her third such orgasm, she found her voice. "Oh my sweet lord… Gideon... please make love to me!" she panted. He made the slow climb up to her, kissing all the way; each kiss was tantalizing and sexually charged with eroticism.

Hannah was completely out of sorts and panting when he reached her lips. She wasn't waiting any longer; reaching through her legs she guided his erection into her. He began to assail her slowly and methodical, picking up speed with the passing of time. Again and again he surged within her opening, rapidly at first then slowing to prevent his own orgasm, then again built up speed again.

Finally after teasing her for nearly twenty minutes, he thrust in and jettisoned his seed directly into her womb. She shuttered beneath him and her eyes fluttered as her body was racked with another powerful orgasm. It had fallen over her like a tsunami, obliterating everything within its path.

All she could do was pant savagely, and attempt to collect her thoughts. Once he could no longer penetrate Hannah, he rolled off and lay beside her. She lay on her side facing him, both were still naked. In the darkness he could see the reflection of the dim fire outside in her eyes, making them all the more beautiful.

Without any words spoken, she scooted closer to his naked body, relishing in the warmth he emitted. Gideon in turn enveloped her with his arm, caressing her delicate skin as she laid her head to rest upon his thick chest.

He lowered his face toward her and kissed her forehead, she in turn kissed his chest, placing her slender arm over him and covering his nipple with her palm. There they lay, in each other’s arms, the two lovers drifted off to sleep, thankful to have each other.

A Love So Bold
by Anon Allsop

The story continues - Hope you enjoy!

-Thirty-

For three straight weeks the wagon train pushed on, battling their way through the great Continental Divide, always heading toward the Willamette Valley. The terrain was very rocky, forcing them to set up block and tackle to haul the wagons over particularly steep inclines, and then down the deep ravines.

Often they would take their teams down separately and the men would work the ropes and slowly guide each of the wagons down alone. It was safer this way, but often mishaps could and did happen.

For much of this, Hannah and Cade were forced to walk. She had created a cloth papoose to carry Em in; this allowed her to keep her hands free to assist Cade and herself. At one particularly terrible spot, she watched Charles Bloom's wagon roll sideways and tumble down the hill, breaking the tongue right at the wagon’s box. His team was safe, but the wagon was completely destroyed in the process. He nearly didn’t jump free until at the last minute, and only received a few cuts and scrapes.

Thankfully, Arden and the children had been with Hannah, watching from the safety of distance. It forced them to finish the journey solely in Arden's wagon. Any wreckage from his wagon that was salvageable was gleaned and repacked in her wagon.

It was early July when they were crossing that rough terrain. Each day was warm and welcoming with sunshine, but at their elevation, the nights were cold and had the hint of a fall yet to come. Here in this most inhospitable land, the wind was strong and biting. The women and children were cold and miserable, yet the constant focus westward was enough to push them on.

Arden and Hannah were picking their way through rocks, and the children were close beside the pair, when suddenly a great wail rose among them. Commotion just two wagons ahead of them brought the entire train to a stop. Hannah and Arden hurried to the wagons; while behind them Cade sat with Katy and Emma on the rocks to rest.

Hannah was among the first to arrive at the wagon's side, there a young teen lay, his legs nearly crushed by one of the wheels. Gideon and another man used a spare wagon tongue to pry against a rock and raise the wagon enough to pull him free. The youth lay crying in agony.

"What happened?" Hannah asked as she stood beside Gideon, her heart going out to the young man's mother as he lay crippled and bleeding.

"I saw him walking next to the wagon, when he stepped down on a rock; it rolled and pitched his legs under the wheel." He shook his head sadly, "He's going to be crippled for the remainder of his life."

Hannah shot a quick glance at Gideon, "We have the..." she began.

He shook his head, "We can't chance it."

Hannah was beside herself with anger! How could he turn his back on this young man's future just to protect the amulet?! She frowned and again looked toward Gideon. ‘What exactly is he protecting?’ she wondered to herself.

She left the spot and returned to the children, for she no longer could stand hearing his pleas or crying. She gathered up Emma and moved Cade back so they wouldn't see the accident. Arden was more reluctant to move, but for the children in her care, she finally did.

After awhile, Gideon and Charles sought them out and stood with them, "They are probably going to have to amputate his legs," Gideon stated.

Hannah immediately grasped his wrist and dragged him to the side, "With that necklace, we can fix him!" Her eyes were tearful and pleading.

"We can't chance it, Hannah," he replied, knowing his response would further upset her.

"Gideon, if that was Cade underneath that wheel, you wouldn't think twice about using it." Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her voice was trembling.

He looked at the ground, the muscles in his jaw flexed. He was torn asunder, he wanted to keep peace between Hannah and himself, yet his desire to not interfere was making his decision nearly impossible. He glanced over at Hannah's teary eyes. Saying no to her, and then seeing her cry, was like taking a knife and stabbing him in his heart.

"We can do it, only if you can figure a way around him trying to walk too soon." He decided if he put it to her in that way, she would be less apt to do anything rash.

She thought for several minutes then looked at him, "Get the tin, and meet me near the boy."

He hesitated, yet nodded slowly, unsure of what was on her mind. Turning, he hurried to their wagon, Hannah on the other hand made a beeline to the lad.

They had him off to the side, and it was evident that his legs were badly broken. She pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered around him and knelt beside the boy's mother, who was crying. "You people need to back away and give the young man some room!" She spoke with confidence, and then indicated a gesture to the mother. "Someone please take her somewhere so she won't see what needs to be done!"

One of the women hesitated and then gently coaxed the mother up, "Do you know what you’re doing?" the woman asked.

"I know enough to save his life. Someone cut me two long poles and fetch a blanket!" Hannah demanded . Several men quickly took off toward a small stand of trees, and a woman raced toward her wagon. Gideon appeared out of nowhere; in his hand wrapped in a cloth was the amulet.

Under his breath he whispered to her as he knelt beside Hannah, "So, how are you planning on using this with all these folks around?"

“I’m not sure, but I’ll think of something!” she whispered, and then quickly wrapped a rope around his thighs and tied it off, then slowly inserted a stick into each and tightened them until the bleeding stopped. Gideon was quite impressed as he watched her, wondering where she had learned how to administer care in this manner.

As she was tying off the sticks to prevent them from moving a woman approached quickly with the blanket. "Lay it out beside him." Hannah directed her, "No, not over him... beside the boy. Lay it flat on the ground."

She looked strangely at Hannah but said nothing, quietly working with another woman to lay it out flat. At that moment two men came up carrying two long poles, each about two inches in diameter.

She had them laid out about two feet apart, running parallel with each other. Then she carefully folded one edge of the blanket over and then the other over that so they were all piled on top of each other with the poles at the sides, folded within the cloth.

"Bring it over here!" she ordered, the men picked it up and placed it beside her as she directed, "Now whoever isn't squeamish, grab hold of the boy and we'll gently lift him and place him on the stretcher, everyone lift together on the count of three! Someone take hold of his legs and lift when I say so…Okay? One… two… three, lift!"

The young man cried out in agony as he was lifted, then collapsed as he passed out. "I need a wagon that has some room!" One man directed them to his wagon and the young man was carried there.

"Gideon, can you assist me?" She ushered the others from the wagon.

"Sure, Doc," he replied with a smile and climbed into the wagon. "Do you want the gate raised?" Hannah nodded.

The widow of the doctor came to the back of the wagon, "You going to try and save his legs?"

"I'm not going to try... I'll succeed!" Hannah replied as she hung an extra blanket over the opening of the canvas top covering the bows, in an attempt to keep out prying eyes.

She looked at Gideon, "We've got to straighten his legs, she whispered, when done we'll touch the amulet to him."

“How are you planning on straightening the bones? They are all busted to hell!” Gideon said under his breath.

“There’s a way we can use a rope to tighten against it that’ll pull the bones straight. I saw my father do it to a neighbor when I was a child.” She sighed as she began to fasten the rope as she had seen her father do. “But we need to find something to touch the amulet to.”

"We don't have anything that he's worn other than what he has on right now?" He whispered softly, "I don't think it'll work without something to initiate the transformation?"

She glanced up at him and whispered, "Then go and find something of his, a hat, a shirt… anything!"

Gideon quickly left; as he dropped to the ground, several outside were questioning the youth's status. Ignoring them, he sought out the young man's wagon, there he found his mother still distraught. As he was speaking to her, he unobtrusively gathered up his shirt without her seeing and quickly excused himself, and returned to the wagon.

Once inside he handed it to Hannah, "Here you go, make it quick!"

Hannah paused as she reached for it, “If we’re to make this work, I’m going to need some splints cut for his legs.”

Gideon nodded and turned back to the woods, and again several people were asking of the young man. Gideon only hesitated slightly, “He’s in good hands, Hannah’s pa was a country doctor and she was raised around that stuff all her life.” Without any additional information, he hurried toward a stand of trees and cut several short branches capable of using for splints.

Hannah was impatiently waiting for Gideon to return; she looked at his legs and winced at the damage the wagon had caused. Normally, his legs would have been amputated or he would have died from the loss of blood.

Outside she heard Gideon’s voice asking several of the men to keep everyone back so Hannah could perform what was needed for the youth. Looking up, she saw him push aside the curtain and climb in. “I figured four splints would be enough. Is that enough?”

“It’ll do.” She motioned for him to get on the other side of the young man, “We have to hurry, he’s beginning to wake up!” She spoke low so her voice wouldn’t carry out of the wagon.

“What do I do?” he asked, unsure of what her ruse would involve.

“Carefully pick up the broken leg and straighten it up to look more normal.” She winced as his leg moved in several different places, in ways that they were never meant to.

“My God, this is bad!” Gideon whispered his concern.

“Okay, now they are straighter, tighten the ropes to align it better. Good - now get the amulet and touch his shirt to it,” she whispered softly. “Be careful with that thing, remember what you told me.”

He nodded, and then gently trapped the youth’s shirt against his skin with it. After he quickly wrapped it once again in the cloth, Gideon and Hannah began to tie on the splints.

“It’s already working,” she pointed as the skin was repairing itself.

At that very moment, the youth began to stir. “Keep him still until we get the splints secure,” she whispered as she hurried to tie them. In only minutes, they had both legs bound so he would be unable to move them, let alone walk.

As they were tidying up, he opened his eyes and began to panic when he could no longer move his legs. Hannah lay across them to still him, “You have had a terrible accident. You will need to keep these splints on or you might never walk again!”

Gideon helped the boy raise his upper torso and supported his back with a bag of cloth that was inside the wagon, “Listen to her, boy… you mess up what we did here, and they may have to cut them off of you.” He saw the fear in the youth and added, trying to soften the blow. “It wouldn’t do very well to dance with your best gal without your legs.”

Hannah waited for Gideon to exit first so he could assist her with climbing down. She commented as she was leaving, “I’d rather have died than to look the other way and leave that poor boy hurt so badly.”

That evening as they lay naked and entwined in each other's arms, Hannah asked, "Do you think that anyone will figure out what we had done?"

"I sure hope not,” he sighed, knowing how Hannah was with matters such as this, "You are going to have to keep after that boy, and let no one else remove the bandages until you think he’s ready.”

She smiled and knew what he was driving at, "Well, with your help we’ll be alright. Perhaps we could move him into our wagon?”

"Leave him be, Hannah." He sighed, "Let's not become involved."

She rolled over, folding her slender arms upon his chest, and rested her chin on the back of her hands. "So what do you think of your doctor…”

"So now you're a doctor?" He chuckled, “Maybe you could check and see if I’m healthy.”

"You’re making fun of me... But I honestly think I could be one."

"Maybe with access to the amulet…" he laughed.

Gideon shook his head and touched her nose with his finger, "I think you have entirely too much time on your hands…learning to be a doctor takes years of study. While I don’t want to crush your dreams, you really need to just focus on what’s in front of you right now."

“You?” She smiled coyly, and then replied, "I could learn how in my spare time."

"I need to do something about occupying all of your time." He grinned.

"And how do you suppose you're going to do that?" she laughed as she replied.

"We could work on making you pregnant - that should keep you busy." He leaned toward her and caused her to roll onto her back. There he lifted himself up and began to caress her uncovered body.

She giggled at what he was doing to her, and then held her finger up to his face, "Hold it a minute, buster, that would be extremely unfair to me! I'm so close to finally weaning Em!"

"Where is your sense of adventure?" he laughed as he kissed her cheek and neck, trying to 'put her in the mood'.

She squirmed beneath him in a fit of soft giggles, attempting to keep their play subdued. "I still haven't had my feminine cycle yet. I'm pretty sure a girl needs one to even remotely become pregnant. You can blame our young daughter for that issue."

He laughed, "Well that is all the better for me then."

"How so?" she asked giggling; he was holding onto her wrists and tonguing her breasts.

"With lots and lots of practice, I can take you as far as I want... all the way, or just enough." He said laughing, and then began to rake his teeth lightly over her nipple; it was causing her to squirm even more.

"Just enough?" she was panting from her exertion under his attention.

"Sure, Hannah, I can just make sure I take care of my own business," he replied with a laugh.

"If you plan on including me, you had better take ME all the way! Halfway just won't do."

"Your wish is my command," he said, lowering his head down toward her navel.

-Thirty One-

Hannah rode in the seat alongside Gideon; it had been nearly two weeks since the accident. She was reading; Cade and Em were inside the wagon resting. All of them were growing tired of the constant downward lurching of the wagon as they descended down the western edge of South Pass.

Gideon spoke without looking, “Did you check on the boy?”

“Gabe? Yes I saw him this morning.” She glanced quickly at him, and then returned to her reading.

“How is he doing?” He again spoke, his hands continuing to hold the reins and guiding their wagon.

“He’s fine - the amulet worked like a charm. Of course, we both knew it would.” She slowly looked back to her book, and then added with a laugh, “He’s fit to be tied though!”

Gideon smiled, “Wouldn’t you be, if nothing was physically wrong with you?”

“Probably, I told him that he must have been in a hole and that is what most likely saved his legs.” She put her finger in the binding and laughed, “I had to tell him that he needed to lie still for awhile longer, or risk having infection set in or the bone wouldn’t heal correctly.”

“What are you reading?” he asked, looking down at the brown leather binding on the book in her hand.

“Apparently, you weren’t lying when you said my father was a doctor.” She held it up, “I found one of his books.”

“I had no reason to lie. Your father wanted you to study nursing but you didn’t want to.”

Hannah sadly shook her head, “And I left that affluent life to head west?”

He laughed, “No, you didn’t want to leave the affluent life at all. You just didn’t want to work.” He glanced toward her to judge whether or not she seemed puzzled, “In fact, you were downright adamant about not coming west with me… almost to the point of divorce.”

Hannah sighed, “I’ve come to realize I really don’t know much about her… or you for that matter.”

“What is there to know?” he softly replied, “We were married and deeply in love until the children came.” He leaned forward, and used his wrist to push his hat up, not wanting to let go of the reins. “You loathed having to care for the children.”

“That’s so sad,” Hannah whispered in pity. “I imagine it is why she said that she ruined everything.”

“Obviously, you…Hannah never realized what she had, until it was too late.” He sighed.

“She never knew what had happened between us, I mean with my transformation…but I feel that if she did, she would have accepted it, given that the outcome would have been the same.” Hannah whispered softly.

Gideon looked off into the distance; Hannah could see that a tear was clinging to the corner of his eye, “She would have been 22 this coming Monday.” He sighed again.

“July 16th?” Hannah asked, to which Gideon only nodded.

“This may sound strange, but it is nice to know I have a birthday.”

“You had a birthday as Ezrah,” he said laughing.

“True, but that was his birthday. Now that I’m Hannah, I have my own.” She smiled and held her face to the sun, closing her eyes and relishing in the warmth it offered. She then pushed her bonnet to hang from her back, releasing the flowing red tendrils down.

“When is your birthday?” she asked.

“December 20.” He glanced at her with a smile on his face, “You going to have a special something planned for me?”

“Maybe I should plan something extra special?” She frowned, “You poor dear, born on one of the coldest days of winter.”

“I’d like some of what I had experienced back at the little lake…only without the cholera.” He said laughing. Then he responded to her earlier comment regarding it being a cold time of winter, “Aw, it wasn’t so bad…I would get two presents that week.”

She giggled, leaning into his shoulder, “Perhaps I could do a special favor for you like that, and yes - without the cholera of course.”

“It’d be even nicer if you didn’t wait for my birthday though.” He laughed, “December 20 seems a long way off.”

She looked up at him with her beautiful green eyes sparkling, “I might to be able and work out something for you.”

He grinned broadly, “That, my dear, sounds like a date.”

She laughed, then stared at him playfully, “So, how old are you? How did we meet?”

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” He chuckled, turning back toward the mules, “I’ll be 29 on my birthday.”

She whistled and then laughed, “You’re getting up there, aren’t you?” He shrugged, and quickly looked toward her smiling at her insult of him.

“With age comes experience. You didn’t seem to mind it much our last time.”

She smiled, but ignored commenting, “So how did you and Hannah meet?”

He grew quiet, and a sincere smile crossed his lips. “She was still in school, and I would watch her from the window where I worked when she walked past. God, you were so adorable. I couldn’t sleep at night without replaying the moment I would see you pass.”

“You mean, Hannah,” she reminded.

He nodded, “That’s right; It took me almost three weeks to finally work up the courage to talk to you…her.”

“I find it hard to believe she really didn’t care for the children. I mean, they’re beautiful!”

“She wasn’t you,” he stated the obvious. “You have a knack with them that only a mother would have. You have taken to them as if you WERE their real mother.”

Her face reddened at his kind comment, and he continued, “I’ve told you before…Hannah was a beautiful woman. I loved her dearly.” He kept his face turned toward hers, captivated by her long red hair and beautiful green eyes. “You though, are both beautiful on the inside, as you are beautiful on the outside. I thank God every day that he placed you in my life.”

Hannah only smiled, thoroughly enjoying his company. Their friendly banter drew her closer than with anyone else before.

She glanced at his rugged good looks; his angular jaw was covered with a dusting of stubble. He felt her watching and quickly glanced at her, she smiled and he returned it. He too was relishing in her company - this Hannah was so different from the woman he married. He could honestly see them settling down in a lifetime together.

-Thirty Two-

The following evening they made camp on the ground near South Pass. The dust seemed to be everywhere. Hannah had just returned from ‘checking’ on the injured youth. Gideon noticed as he was seeing to the livestock and slowly made his way toward her.

Hannah was doing just about everything she could to keep it from getting inside the wagon or within the children's clothing. Gideon walked near the fire and slapped his hat against his leg, sending a miniature cloud of dust scurrying across the open ground.

"Have you ever seen so much dust?" he asked wiping his neck with his kerchief.

Hannah stood, her once pretty blue dress appeared to be gray, and the entire bottom ruffle was the same color as the earth. She tried to brush it but the effort was deemed hopeless by her. "Please tell me that we'll be out of this area soon!"

Gideon sighed, “We’ve got about three or four months to go.” He shrugged, “No one said that coming west would be all that easy.”

She sat down on the wagon’s tongue, and then ran her small hands through her fiery hair. “It just seems to last forever.” She looked up at Gideon, her hand dangling off her knee unladylike. “I mean, I just want to sit idly by and do nothing for a long while.”

Gideon sat beside her and hugged her lovingly, “We’ll have that idle time… of course, we have to build us a house and make it into a home.”

She smiled, and then looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “Sounds like more work to me. What exactly do you call this ‘idle time’ so I know when we’re actually in it?”

He smiled broadly, “Around these parts, they have a good name for it, and it’s a name that is aptly deserved.”

“And that is?” She hung her head and looked toward him.

“We call it winter,” he said without cracking a smile.

She laughed, shaking her head, sending her long red tresses to gently brush against her shoulder. “You are impossible!”

He smiled, “Do you know what it is that I adore about you?”

“Would it be that I’m an exact copy of your deceased wife?” she rolled her hand over and gestured.

“Long ago, I would have said that it was...” He slipped his hand around her slender waist, hugging her to him. “It is the way we talk; in sort of a teasing and loving way.”

She laughed, he continued, “Hannah had always been cold and aloof to me over the last two or three years. We were married, but we never really talked.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she replied flatly.

“Well, we did talk…but it was never a loving sort. It usually was stale and bitter, and only to comment or question what had been said.” He kissed her cheek; she turned toward him and allowed their lips to touch. “It’s just like that little kiss that you just returned, had I done that to Hannah, she would have turned her head away from me.”

The girl swept dust from her dress, right onto Gideon’s leg. It caused them both to laugh. Hannah looked at him and untied her bonnet, laying it beside her on the wagon’s tongue. “I’m not sure what to say about that. Perhaps it is the necklace or amulet to blame?”

“How so?” He tilted his head as he asked.

“Maybe it has a way of filtering out the impurities in the system of the transformed? I mean, if it made me an exact copy of her, why am I able to do things she can’t?” Hannah turned toward him, her knees almost touching his. “You said yourself that I have been a better mother than she was - perhaps that was the amulet’s doing?”

He stared at the ground, his chin resting in his hand as in deep thought, “I guess it’s possible - you can cook a hell of a lot better than she ever could!”

“And…well when we are intimate, why am I so…”

“Excited?” He finished with a smile.

“Okay then, excited.” She laughed and then continued, “How is it that I’m so relaxed around you?” She looked at him and forced a smile, for suddenly their conversation was becoming too intimate for her.

Gideon took his palm and placed it on top of hers, the size dwarfed her dainty hands. “Look, Hannah, it’s like I have told you several times…the Hannah you found was lovely, and when you transformed into her, you became just as lovely. The difference is, while you are indeed a beautiful woman… you have an inner beauty that she could never have hoped to attain, and that is what draws me to you like a moth to a flame!”

He looked down at her hand and closed his own around it, “You are the reason why I get excited to climb into bed. You are the reason I love waking up!” He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “It is YOU, Hannah, who are my sun and moon. It is you who motivates me to go on.”

“Well…I…uhhhh, thank you,” she stammered.

He leaned into her and kissed her soft lips deeply, and then gently pushed a fiery lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Emma has been nursed?”

She nodded, “I put Cade to bed when you were picketing the mules and Blackie.”

Again he kissed her even more deeply, and the sensation she began to feel within her stomach and even lower was causing her to tremble. “How about we turn in to bed and continue our conversation there?” he whispered in her ear, the warmth of his breath creating a shiver to race down her spine.

She leaned into him as he continued to kiss her neck, moving the thick red tresses as he assailed her soft skin with countless kisses. “Do you think we should?” she finally whispered, her breath becoming labored.

“I only know that I want you…” He slowly stood, she saw that he was excited by the way he kept adjusting himself.

She smiled. “You may want to do something about that before you go too far,” she said, indicating his erection.

He leaned close to her ear whispering, “I plan on having you take care of it for me…now off to bed with you, so I can ravish you like a husband should!”

She stood and kissed him, and she whispered as her lips were near his ear, “I have been slowly weaning Emma of late, and while I haven’t had my season just yet; there is always that chance that I could become pregnant from our act.”

He smiled, “And I would cherish our child nearly as much as I do you.”

Hannah watched him lift the curtains from within, and then he began to fasten them to the side of their wagon. Hannah started to place their sleeping blanket below, a smile playing upon each of their faces.

-Thirty Three-

In three days time, the train approached the Big Sandy Creek. Gideon and Hannah sat in the wagon seat looking out at each wagon as they began to cross. Hannah was steadily growing more nervous as their turn came closer. Cade was seated between them, Emma having already been nursed, was asleep in her little wooden box.

“It looks deep. Is it deep?” she nervously asked.

Gideon stood up in the seat, removed his hat and began shielding his face with it. “Looks like it could be a foot deep, maybe more.” He sat back down and saw her concern, “Before we left home, I coated the bottom of the wagon with pitch so it would float for a short while. We’ll be fine.” He attempted to reassure her.

“What of Blackie?” she wondered, looking back at him through the wagon’s opening, “Will he be alright?”

“He’ll be fine.” He glanced toward him and then added, “One of us could ride him across if it’ll be any more comforting to you.”

Hannah nodded her agreement, “He’s my horse. I’ll ride him.”

“Can I ride with you, Momma?” Cade asked in his soft voice. “I promise I won’t be no trouble.”

“Do you think it’d be alright?” she asked, looking toward Gideon.

“I can’t see any harm in it; the river doesn’t seem to be very swift. I suppose it’ll be okay.”

Cade beamed as he looked up toward his parents.

One by one each wagon crossed the Big Sandy; at times some of the wagons would slightly lift up due to the water’s height, but always seemed to return to good footing once again. They watched as Arden and Charles’ wagon rolled slowly across, with the water only rising just above the axle.

Hannah and Cade climbed down from the wagon and walked to the back. Gideon picked up Blackie’s saddle and hung it on the gate, then hopped down to assist her in placing it on his back and cinching it.

Hannah sat Cade on the saddle, and then with Gideon’s help, mounted the tall horse. “Do be careful, we don’t know how he’s going to react crossing that water.”

She leaned over and kissed him, then nudged Blackie’s side to begin him across the water just ahead of Gideon and the wagon. Cade sat very still as they began to pick their way across slowly, but she had nothing to fear as Blackie seemed to relish not being behind the wagon any longer. The deeper the water became, the greater the hem of her dress grew wet. She reined him and stood alongside the path while she waited for Gideon to cross, her long skirt dripping and heavy from the trapped water it held.

“It was no problem at all,” she laughed as he reined the team beside her on the high ground.

“How was the boy?” Gideon asked as he pulled out of line and set the brake. “Did he behave himself alright?”

“He’s quite a horseman,” she replied as Blackie did a slow turn and faced the water.

“You want to hand him over and tie Blackie back up?” He held out his hand, readying himself for her to pass Cade to him.

She reached up and pushed her bonnet from her head, releasing the fiery locks to the gentle breeze that was blowing. “I think we’ll ride him for awhile, it’s been some time since he was walked last…I don’t want him turning green on us.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied smiling, and then he looked sternly at Cade, “Mind your ma, son. I don’t want any bad reports.” He removed his hat and wiped the inside with a kerchief, then placed it back on his head.

“We’ll be fine, Gideon.” She looked down at Cade, who was also wiping the inside of his hat with his kerchief, mimicking his father. “Like father, like son,” she mouthed to her husband, before tapping her heels and starting Blackie off slowly.

Blackie walked slowly along, Hannah allowing him to take his time while she talked to Cade. "So, what do you think of my daddy's horse?"

He looked up at her, "I didn't know Grandpa had any horses."

She smiled and slid his hat off, allowing it to catch on the string at his neck; Hannah wanted to see his deep brown eyes. "Sure, Grandpa had many horses, but this one was his favorite."

"When we went to say good-bye to Grandpa, I never saw Blackie." He replied in his childlike innocence.

She sat up straighter and it was at that moment that she realized that 'her' daddy and his Grandpa weren't the same person. Now she had to try and explain herself better. "Blackie was a very important horse; he kept him on another farm where he could run."

"Oh, can we make him run now?" Cade asked, and then began to kick his heels into the saddle as he had seen both his mother and father do.

"Oh, no, no, no." She quickly placed her hand upon his leg to stop him, "He needs a special place to run, he could be severely injured trying to run fast way out here."

She was thankful that instead of actually tapping the horse’s flank, he was striking both her leg and the saddle. Blackie never felt anything.

"So we just sit on him and ride?" he asked as they walked him around a bush.

"That's all we do," she replied, smiling. "He just needs to see things other than the back of Papa's wagon."

Hannah watched him as they rode; he was sitting up tall and straight in the saddle. He had the makings of a fine horseman, and she was just the person to teach him.

Later that evening, the family was sitting by the fire celebrating the wedding of Arden and Charles Bloom. It was a simple affair, but welcome from the constant drudgery of travel which they had all been experiencing.

As their gift to the newlyweds, Hannah and Gideon offered to have the Bloom children sleep in their wagon and allow the bride and groom a chance to be alone for a change, and become 'better acquainted'.

The older Bloom children were having a fun time playing with Cade, and their game of choice appeared to be tag. Hannah sat beside Gideon; he was gently bouncing Emma on his knee. "Charles was saying that we were supposed to be arriving at the Green River sometime tomorrow."

"That's true. From what the Wagon Master said, they've been getting quite a bit of rain and we've got one of two choices to be deciding." He blew into Emma's neck and made sounds that caused her to squirm and giggle.

He laughed, "She's quite a bit like her mother, letting something like a little blubbering kiss that would cause her to giggle so."

Hannah laughed, "Are you speaking of me?" She sat and giggled at her daughter’s antics caused by what her father was doing. "I doubt seriously if I would carry on like a child if you did that to me!"

"Maybe we should try it and see?" He leaned toward her, making a fish face and caused Hannah to quickly stand up and move away, her dress swinging as she stopped. Her laughter caused the children to stop their game and see what was so funny.

"What you playing, Momma?" Cade called out to her.

Hannah's face was beat red, Gideon broke out into a hearty laugh, and then he stood and handed Emma back to her mother. "Mommy just saw a spider, that's all." Then to her he said quietly, "Perhaps later then?" He walked through the cluster of children as he made his way to bed the mules and Blackie for the night.

"Come, children, it's getting late; you should probably be turning in soon, so we are sure to have an early start in the morning." She made a face at Gideon, who was watching, which caused him to laugh again.

Katy helped put them all into bed, then returned to watch Hannah ready little Em for night. Feeling uncomfortable being watched even if by a child, Hannah covered herself while nursing Em. Katy helped put away the items that the children had strewn across the campsite, and then finally returned to sit with Hannah.

"Your baby is cute," she offered as the two sat silently. "I like babies."

"Thank you, Katy." Hannah said with a smile, "You're a good helper, you know that?"

"My mommy always said I was," she softly replied as the evening grew heavy.

She grew quiet, playing with her fingers; Hannah smiled at her beautiful innocence. "Your daddy was married today." She tried to draw the youngster into a conversation.

"Yeah, I like Arden, she's nice." She looked up from her fingers and watched as Hannah switched Emma to the opposite side.

"Will I have a new sister or brother someday?" She glanced back at the ground, using a stick to draw a tiny face in the dirt.

"Perhaps, I guess you just never know." Hannah smiled, hoping her interference with the amulet would make a difference. "Would you like a brother or sister?"

"It makes me no never mind," she replied, "Boy or girl...I'll have to watch over them anyway."

"You don't want to watch your little brother or sister? You are so good at it." Hannah reached under the cloth and refastened her blouse, then began to burp Em. “It’s good practice for when you become a mommy someday.”

“I’m not sure I want to be a mommy.” The youngster shrugged her shoulders, "Did you want to be a mommy when you were my age?"

The question came at Hannah like a slap across her face; it was all she could do to keep from laughing. "Let’s just say that being a mommy was about the furthest thing from my mind when I was seven." Hannah couldn't hide her smile.

“But now you have two, Cade and Emma.”

“That’s true.” Hannah replied, “I guess when the time was right, I became a mommy.”

She sighed, “Well, I guess then…when the time is right, I’ll become a mommy too.”