The Bit Bucket

A Transgender Paranormal Romantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Chapter 1: The Butterfly Garden

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Only girls can teleport from the butterfly garden to Aislinn's College, so what is middle aged Fred doing on the equinox at the butterfly garden trying yet again to do magic?

Copyright 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note:

This book, in it's entirety, is available on my Patreon. BCTS will get weekly postings on Saturdays to complete it here.

---

Chapter 1: The Butterfly Garden

The autumn equinox painted the Butterfly Garden in shades of amber and gold, each leaf catching the slanted light like stained glass. Fred stood among the swirling monarchs, their orange wings creating a living kaleidoscope around him as they prepared for their own impossible journey. His heart hammered with anticipation—today felt different, charged with possibility.

He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him: the electric tingle that started in his chest and spread outward like ripples on water. For thirty-six years, he'd carried this certainty within him, this bone-deep knowledge that he could step between worlds if he just believed hard enough. The butterflies seemed to sense it too, their flight patterns growing more frenzied, more purposeful.

The ancient college, he thought, picturing the crystalline spires he'd seen in dreams, the halls where students learned to bend reality itself. It's waiting for me.

The joy built inside him like pressure in a steam engine. This wasn't mere hope anymore—it was faith made manifest, burning bright as the equinox sun. Fred opened his arms wide, feeling the cosmic alignment of the season, the perfect balance between light and dark that made all transformations possible.

"I can do this," he whispered to the butterflies. "I know I can."

The world held its breath. Then Fred took a step forward—not with his feet, but with his entire being, pushing against the fabric of reality with pure intention. The garden exploded in white light.

When the brilliance faded, Fred found himself standing in a room that shouldn't exist.

Medieval stone walls rose around him, but they seemed to breathe with their own inner light. Tapestries depicting impossible geometries hung between arched windows that showed not sky, but swirling galaxies. The air itself felt thick with magic, making his skin tingle as if he'd walked through spider webs made of starlight.

A slate hung on the nearest wall, its surface smooth as black water. Without quite knowing why, Fred approached it and picked up the piece of chalk resting in its wooden tray. His hand moved almost of its own accord, spelling out his name in careful letters: F-R-E-D.

The moment he finished, the letters began to glow with soft blue fire.

"Welcome to the Bit Bucket," said a voice behind him.

Fred spun around to find a young woman watching him with eyes the color of storm clouds. She wore robes that seemed to shift between blue and silver, and her dark hair moved as if touched by an unfelt breeze. Something about her face made his chest tighten with recognition, though he couldn't place where he might have seen her before.

"I'm Gwendolyn," she said, stepping closer. "But you can call me Gwen. I'm what you might call a spirit monitor—your guide in this place."

"This place?" Fred's voice came out rougher than he'd intended. "I was trying to reach the college. The ancient one, off-planet."

Gwen's expression softened with something that might have been sympathy. "I know. But the Bit Bucket catches those who don't quite fit the college's usual categories. Think of it as... a waiting room for the metaphysically displaced."

She gestured to the walls around them, and Fred noticed for the first time that they were covered in names—thousands upon thousands of them, glowing faintly in the stone. "Everyone who's ever been caught between worlds ends up here eventually. The equinoxes are particularly active times for such transitions."

"Caught between worlds?" The words sent a chill down Fred's spine. "You mean I'm trapped?"

"Not trapped," Gwen said carefully. "But the way forward requires mastery of skills you haven't fully developed yet. Teleportation brought you here, but escaping... that requires understanding reincarnation as well."

Fred stared at her, his mind reeling. The joy of successful teleportation was rapidly giving way to a creeping dread. "How long have people been stuck here?"

"Time works differently in the Bit Bucket. Some find their way out in what feels like days. Others..." She gestured to the older names on the walls, their glow nearly faded. "Others take much longer to learn what they need to know."

As if summoned by their conversation, the air in the room began to shimmer. Fred felt a presence pressing against the edges of his consciousness—ancient, vast, and somehow familiar. The sensation was like trying to remember a dream that kept slipping away.

"The spirits are stirring," Gwen murmured, her eyes growing distant. "They can sense the change you've brought. Your arrival has awakened something that's been sleeping for a very long time."

Fred wanted to ask what she meant, but the words died in his throat as images flashed through his mind: a woman with eyes like starlight wielding power that could reshape reality; another figure wreathed in shadow, her beauty terrible and cold. The visions came and went like lightning, leaving him gasping.

"What's happening to me?" he managed.

Gwen's hand found his shoulder, her touch surprisingly warm and solid. "You're not just anyone, Fred. The Bit Bucket doesn't call to ordinary people. There's something about you—something that connects you to the ancient powers that shaped this place."

The room pulsed around them, the medieval stones seeming to breathe with renewed life. Somewhere in the distance, Fred could swear he heard the sound of wings—not butterfly wings, but something vast and powerful stirring to wakefulness.

"I need to get back," he said, though even as he spoke, he wasn't sure what he was going back to. The Butterfly Garden felt like a memory from another lifetime. "There has to be a way."

"There is," Gwen said quietly. "But it's not the path you think. The way forward isn't back—it's through transformation itself."

Fred looked at her sharply, something in her tone making his pulse quicken. "What kind of transformation?"

Before she could answer, the slate on the wall began to glow more brightly. New words appeared beneath Fred's name, written in the same flowing script but in a hand, he didn't recognize: The wheel turns. The sleeper wakes. What was divided shall be made whole.

Gwen's face went pale as she read the words. "It's beginning," she whispered. "After all these centuries, it's finally beginning."

"What's beginning?" Fred demanded, but the room was already starting to change around them. The medieval stones began to shift and flow like water, and the air filled with a sound like distant thunder.

In that moment of chaos and transformation, Fred caught sight of Gwen's face in profile, and the recognition that had been nagging at him finally clicked into place. He knew those storm-gray eyes, that stubborn set to her jaw. He'd seen them before, in another life, in another world.

But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

The Bit Bucket pulsed once more, and everything went white.

The Bit Bucket

A Transgender Paranormal Romantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Chapter 2: The Bit Bucket Discovery

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Who is Gwen, the ghost, that Fred in The Bit Bucket can't place her, as he ponders this detour from his destination?

Copyright 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note:

This book, in it's entirety, is available on my Patreon. BCTS will get weekly postings on Saturdays to complete it here.

---

Chapter 2: The Bit Bucket Discovery

The white light faded like morning mist, leaving Fred standing in a space that defied every law of physics he thought he understood. Stone walls rose around him, their surfaces breathing with an inner luminescence that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. This wasn't the crystalline spires of the ancient college he'd envisioned—this was something far older, far stranger.

Medieval tapestries hung between arched windows, but the scenes they depicted moved and shifted like living dreams. Through those impossible windows, Fred glimpsed not sky but swirling galaxies, their spiral arms rotating in slow, hypnotic dance. The air itself felt thick with possibility, making his skin tingle as if he'd walked through a web of starlight.

Environmental Exploration

Fred moved deeper into the room, his footsteps echoing strangely in the charged atmosphere. Every surface seemed to hum with contained energy—the wooden table with its silver bell and platter, the bookcase filled with volumes whose titles shifted when he wasn't looking directly at them, the lamp that burned with a flame that cast no shadows yet illuminated everything.

"Aislinn C" was stamped on the flyleaf of every book, the letters glowing faintly blue. The mysterious liquid in the lamp's reservoir never diminished, though the flame danced as if responding to unseen winds. Everything here existed in a state of perpetual almost-motion, as if the room itself were holding its breath.

Most intriguing of all was the slate mounted on the wall near the bookcase. Its surface was smooth as black water, and carved at the top were three simple words: "Who Are You?"

Writing on the Slate

Fred approached the slate with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. A piece of chalk rested in the wooden tray beneath it, worn smooth by countless hands. Without quite understanding why, he felt compelled to answer the question.

His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the chalk. The moment his fingers closed around it, warmth spread up his arm—not unpleasant, but definitely magical. He could feel the room watching, waiting.

Carefully, he spelled out his name: F-R-E-D.

The letters blazed to life the instant he finished, glowing with the same soft blue fire he'd seen in the books. But more than that—the moment his name appeared, Fred felt something shift in the room around him. The air grew warmer, more welcoming, as if the space had been waiting specifically for him to arrive.

"Fascinating," said a voice behind him. "It's been over a thousand years since anyone wrote their name on that slate."

Meeting Gwen

Fred spun around, his heart hammering. A young woman stood near the arched doorway he was certain hadn't been there moments before. She wore robes that seemed to shift between blue and silver with each breath, and her dark hair moved as if touched by an unfelt breeze. But it was her eyes that made his chest tighten with impossible recognition—storm-gray eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries.

"I'm Gwendolyn," she said, stepping closer with fluid grace. "But you can call me Gwen. I'm what you might call a spirit monitor—your guide in this place."

"Spirit monitor?" Fred's voice came out rougher than he'd intended. The recognition nagging at him was growing stronger, like trying to remember a half-forgotten dream. "You mean you're...?"

"Dead? Yes, technically." Gwen's smile was both sad and beautiful. "Though 'dead' is such a limiting term when you're dealing with metaphysical spaces. I exist here, between life and whatever comes after, helping those who find themselves caught in the Bit Bucket."

"The Bit Bucket?" Fred gestured to the medieval walls around them. "That's what this place is called?"

"A rather undignified name for such an ancient space, I'll admit." Gwen moved to the window, her form seeming to shimmer slightly in the strange light. "But accurate. Think of it as a cosmic waiting room for souls who don't quite fit the usual categories."

Exposition on Metaphysical Mechanisms

Gwen turned back to him, her expression growing more serious. "You see, Fred, teleportation isn't as simple as most people believe. When someone attempts to travel between worlds, they enter a metaphysical state where reality becomes... fluid. The college has rooms designed to intercept girls of specific ages—Room 11 for eleven-year-olds, Room 12 for twelve-year-olds, and so on. Each room is modern and appealing, designed to make the transition comfortable."

She gestured to the medieval surroundings. "But the Bit Bucket is different. It catches those who don't fit the college's usual parameters. The thirty-six-year-old man with a woman's soul, for instance. The spirits who've lost their way. The ones who are... complicated."

Fred felt a chill run down his spine. "How long have people been trapped here?"

"Time works differently in metaphysical spaces," Gwen said carefully. "Some find their way out quickly. Others..." She glanced at the slate where his name still glowed. "Others take much longer to learn what they need to know."

"And what exactly do I need to know?"

Gwen's eyes grew distant, as if she were listening to voices he couldn't hear. "The way forward isn't back, Fred. You can't simply teleport home—the pathway that brought you here was one-way. The only escape from the Bit Bucket requires mastering not just teleportation, but reincarnation as well."

Understanding the Prison

The word hit Fred like a physical blow. "Reincarnation? You mean I have to... die?"

"Not die, exactly. Transform." Gwen moved closer, and Fred caught a scent like rain on summer flowers. "The Bit Bucket doesn't just trap people, Fred. It offers them a chance to become who they truly are. But that transformation requires letting go of who you think you are."

Fred stared at her, his mind reeling. "I don't understand. I came here to reach the college, to learn, to become whole. Now you're telling me I have to give up everything I am?"

"Not give up," Gwen said softly. "Evolve. The college accepts students who fit certain categories, Fred. But you—" She paused, studying his face with those storm-gray eyes. "You're something special. Something that doesn't fit their neat little boxes."

The room pulsed around them, and Fred felt that presence again—ancient, vast, and somehow familiar. The sensation was stronger now, pressing against the edges of his consciousness like a half-remembered song.

"There's something else, isn't there?" he said. "Something you're not telling me."

Gwen's expression grew troubled. "The Bit Bucket has been empty for a thousand years, Fred. No one has been sent here since the time of the great sorceresses. Your arrival has awakened something that's been sleeping for a very long time."

As if summoned by her words, the air in the room began to shimmer. The tapestries on the walls fluttered without wind, and the flame in the lamp flickered wildly. Fred felt power stirring in the depths of the space—not malevolent, but vast and patient as mountains.

"What's awakening?" he whispered.

"Memories," Gwen said, her voice barely audible above the growing hum of energy. "Ancient memories that have been waiting for the right person to unlock them. The question is, Fred—are you ready to discover who you really are?"

The slate on the wall began to glow more brightly, and new words appeared beneath Fred's name in flowing script: The wheel turns. The sleeper wakes. What was divided shall be made whole.

Fred looked at Gwen, seeing something in her face that made his heart race with both hope and terror. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Gwen said, her form beginning to shimmer more intensely, "that your journey is just beginning. And that perhaps—just perhaps—we've both been waiting for this moment far longer than either of us realized."

The Bit Bucket pulsed once more, and Fred felt the first stirrings of a transformation that would change everything he thought he knew about himself, about magic, and about the impossible woman standing before him with storm-gray eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

The Bit Bucket

A Transgender Paranormal Romantasy

From the Paranormal Visitor Universe

Chapter 3: Past Love Revealed

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

What can Gwen, the ghost, tell Fred that rocks him to his core?

Copyright 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note:

This book, in it's entirety, is available on my Patreon. BCTS will get weekly postings on Saturdays to complete it here. Patreon Free Members can read my new complete book by chapters, Things We Do for Love

---

Chapter 3: Past Love Revealed

The white light faded, leaving Fred standing in the same medieval chamber, but something fundamental had shifted. The air itself felt different—charged with recognition, heavy with memories that weren't quite his own. Gwen stood before him, her storm-gray eyes wide with an emotion he couldn't immediately place.

Then it hit him like a physical blow.

Recognition

"Sarah?" The name escaped his lips in a whisper, barely audible above the humming energy of the Bit Bucket. But it was her—the curve of her smile, the way she tilted her head when thinking, the gentle strength in her posture that had first drawn him to her three years ago.

Gwen's ethereal form shimmered, her spirit-monitor composure cracking completely. For a moment, her careful mask slipped, revealing the woman he'd loved and lost. "You remember."

The memories came flooding back in a torrent that made Fred's knees buckle. Sarah laughing as butterflies landed on her shoulders in the very garden he'd just left. Sarah's hand in his as they walked the winding paths, talking about dreams and possibilities. Sarah's eyes lighting up when he first told her about his belief in teleportation, how she'd listened without judgment, even encouraged his wild theories.

"But you're..." Fred's voice broke. "You died. Three years ago. The summer solstice."

"I know." Gwen stepped closer, her form becoming more solid, more real. "I remember everything, Fred. Our casual relationship that became something deeper. The way you used to bring me wildflowers from the garden's edge. How we'd sit by the fountain and you'd tell me about the ancient college you dreamed of finding."

The Truth About Her Name

Fred stared at her, his mind reeling with questions. "But why Gwen? Your name was Sarah. Sarah Elizabeth Hartwell. I remember because you always said you hated how formal it sounded."

A shadow of pain crossed her features. "Gwen was my middle name. Sarah Gwen Elizabeth Hartwell—though I never told you the full version." She looked away, her spirit-form flickering with emotion. "When Aislinn first found me after the accident, when she offered me this position as spirit monitor, she asked what I wanted to be called in this new existence."

"And you chose Gwen," Fred said quietly, understanding beginning to dawn.

"I couldn't bear to hear my first name spoken aloud," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sarah was the woman who loved you, who had dreams of a future together, who died on the way to meet you that solstice evening. Gwen... Gwen could be the spirit guide, the one who helps lost souls without being reminded every moment of what I'd lost. Of who I'd left behind."

Fred felt his heart breaking all over again. "You were trying to forget me."

"Not forget," she said quickly, her storm-gray eyes meeting his. "Protect myself from the pain of remembering. Every time someone said 'Sarah,' I could see our last conversation, feel the excitement I'd had about telling you..." She stopped, her form wavering.

"Telling me what?" Fred pressed gently.

"That I loved you," she whispered. "That I wanted more than just casual dating. I was going to tell you that night, at the garden. I had it all planned out."

Flashback to Their Relationship

The Bit Bucket around them seemed to respond to their shared memories, the medieval walls shimmering and shifting to show glimpses of the past. Fred saw himself as he'd been then—younger, more carefree, his hope untainted by years of solitary practice. He watched as past-Sarah traced patterns in the air with her finger, creating temporary light trails that made him believe magic was possible.

"You never thought I was crazy," Fred said, his voice thick with emotion. "Everyone else looked at me like I was delusional, but you..."

"I believed in you," Gwen finished. "Because I could see it, Fred. The way reality bent slightly around you when you concentrated. The way flowers bloomed brighter in your presence. You had magic in you even then—you just didn't know how to access it."

The visions shifted, showing them their last day together. They'd been planning to meet at the Butterfly Garden for the summer solstice, to watch the sunset and talk about their future. Sarah had been excited about something, had mentioned wanting to tell him something important.

But she never made it to that meeting.

Gwen's Death and Transformation

"The accident," Fred whispered, remembering the phone call that had shattered his world. "They said you fell from the hiking trail. That you were alone."

Gwen's expression grew pained. "I wasn't alone, Fred. I was with someone—someone who claimed they could teach me about the magical world you'd described. They said they knew about the college, about teleportation." Her form flickered with anger. "It was a trap. They were looking for people connected to those with magical potential. They thought if they eliminated me..."

"They thought it would break me," Fred finished, understanding flooding through him. "They wanted to stop me from ever reaching the college."

"Instead, it did something they didn't expect." Gwen's voice grew stronger. "My death on the solstice, combined with my connection to you and your latent magical abilities, created a spiritual anchor. I became tied to the metaphysical spaces between worlds. When the Bit Bucket needed a spirit monitor, I was... recruited."

The Name Request

"So when you ask me to call you Gwen..." Fred began.

"I'm asking you not to rock the boat," she said, her voice carrying a note of pleading. "Sarah died that night, Fred. She died with dreams unfulfilled and words unspoken. Gwen is who I became—the spirit who learned to guide others through their transformations. If you call me Sarah, I'm afraid I'll fall apart completely. I'm afraid I won't be strong enough to help you escape this place."

Fred studied her face, seeing the careful control she'd built around her pain. "But I loved Sarah. I've been grieving Sarah for three years."

"And I've been existing as Gwen for just as long," she replied. "It's not about forgetting who we were, Fred. It's about accepting who we've become. Sarah and Fred had their chance at love, and it was cut short. But maybe... maybe Gwen and whoever you become after reincarnation can have something different. Something that transcends death itself."

Years of Isolation

The weight of three years of grief crashed down on Fred all at once. He remembered the months after Sarah's death when he couldn't bear to enter the Butterfly Garden. How he'd thrown himself into studying teleportation theory, desperate to escape a world that felt empty without her. The way he'd pushed away every friend who tried to help, every potential romantic connection that might have healed his heart.

"I couldn't love anyone else," he admitted. "I tried, but every time I looked at another woman, all I could see was you. All I could think about was how you'd never get to see the magical world you believed in."

"Oh, Fred." Gwen reached out as if to touch his face, her spirit-form wavering with the intensity of her emotion. "I watched you sometimes, when the barriers between worlds were thin. I saw you sitting alone in your apartment, practicing teleportation until you collapsed from exhaustion. I wanted so desperately to tell you I was still here, still believing in you. But I was Gwen then, not Sarah. I had to maintain the separation."

The Bit Bucket pulsed around them, responding to their emotional reunion. The slate on the wall began to glow more brightly, and new words appeared beneath Fred's name: Love transcends death. Hearts remember what minds forget. Names may change, but souls remain constant.

Spiritual Reunion

"This is why you're here," Gwen said, her voice filled with wonder. "This is why the Bit Bucket called to you specifically. Our connection, our love—it created a resonance in the magical field. You weren't just trying to reach the college, Fred. You were trying to reach me. Even if you didn't know it consciously."

Fred felt something shift inside him, a piece of his soul that had been missing for three years suddenly clicking back into place. But it wasn't the desperate, grief-stricken love he'd carried for so long. This was something deeper, more mature—a love that had been tested by death and separation and emerged transformed.

"I don't want to lose you again," he said. "I can't lose you twice, whether you're Sarah or Gwen or anyone else."

"You won't," Gwen replied, her storm-gray eyes blazing with determination. "But Fred, our love has evolved beyond what it was when I was alive. We're not the same people we were three years ago. You've grown, learned, suffered. And I've become something more than human. If we're going to escape this place together, it won't be as the couple we once were."

Fred nodded slowly, understanding. "So I call you Gwen. Not because I'm forgetting Sarah, but because I'm accepting who you are now."

"Exactly," she said, relief flooding her features. "Sarah was my past. Gwen is my present. And whoever we become after reincarnation... that will be our future."

The air around them began to shimmer again, and Fred felt that familiar presence pressing against his consciousness—ancient, vast, and somehow connected to both of them. The artifacts in the room hummed with increasing energy, and the flame in the lamp flickered wildly.

"Something's happening," Gwen said, her spirit-monitor instincts taking over. "Our reunion has triggered something in the Bit Bucket's magical matrix. The ancient powers that created this space are responding to our combined spiritual energy."

Fred looked at the slate where their story was being written in flowing script, the words appearing faster now: Two souls, divided by death, united by love. The wheel turns toward transformation. What was lost shall be found in new form. Names are but vessels; love is eternal.

"Gwen," he said, deliberately using her chosen name, "what does that mean?"

Before she could answer, the medieval walls began to shift and flow like water. The bookcase with Aislinn's volumes started to glow, and the silver bell on the wooden table chimed once, its note hanging in the air like a promise.

"It means," Gwen said, her voice filled with both hope and trepidation, "that our love story isn't ending—it's about to begin again. But in ways neither of us can imagine."

The Bit Bucket pulsed once more, and Fred felt the first stirrings of a transformation that would change not just his form, but the very nature of his connection to the woman he'd never stopped loving. Their reunion had awakened something ancient and powerful, and there would be no going back to the simple life he'd known before.

The only way forward was through the mystery of reincarnation itself, where Sarah and Fred might finally become something new together.