Dot’s Harlequin Dreams
Author's note: Sometimes, my brain doesn't make sense. If you doubt me, read this

Dream 1

I dreamed that I was with a caravan of performers, and we were taken into custody and brought to a beautiful Arabian nights style palace.

Once there, I told the guard what we were, and then the prince of the kingdom came in.

He was about twenty-five, very handsome, and for some reason, shirtless.

‘All Rise for Judge Smethick’ the Bailiff intoned solemnly. I rose beside my solicitor, trembling slightly with the beginnings of a cold sweat. This was when I would hear my sentence for my crimes.

‘Be seated’. The court settled down with a shuffling of feet and some stifled coughs.

‘The defendant shall rise’. I stood again. The Judge shuffled his papers and stared at me over the top of his glasses. It was not a friendly stare.

My cell-phone chimes rang, indicating a text. I picked up my phone. The text was from... Great Grandma Gloucester?

Daniel Driver was at a low point in his life. For years, he'd been aspiring to become a police officer. He'd spent years training and learning about the duties of a police officer, but he'd ended up failing the final test. All of his education and training had been for naught. He'd given it everything he had, and yet he'd been turned down. Daniel was absolutely crushed.

I’m a ninety-five year old man and my dream since early childhood had always been to be a teenage girl whom a kind, young man fell in love with. He wouldn’t have necessarily been handsome, wealthy or clever, just kind and someone who cared about me. My favourite song has for a long time been ‘Words Don’t Come Easy to Me’ by F. R. David, for it resonates with my soul in ways I have never understood.

There is something special about sharing a meal with somebody. When you share a common meal with somebody a bond is formed. And existing bonds become stronger. It's that reason that when me and my friends gather out in the woods, I always have us share a simple meal. Most of the time it's a snack, like somebody would bake cookies or something. Other times we'll go the whole hog and have a little cook-out in the woods. If we have a cookout, you know then there's going to at least three or four good stories told that night.

“Hello, Helen, come in. I take it you’ve heard the news and have come to congratulate us?”

Sitting Pretty
Lynda Shermer

I was earning a little extra pocket money by babysitting. These particular fraternal twins responded best, it seems, to the supposed extra authority of a male.

Beth and Sam were fraternal, but still quite similar.

The second time I sat, they had been messing about in the kitchen, and had two glasses. One held grape juice, the other pink lemonade.

Beth drank the grape juice, and Sam the pink lemonade, and for the rest of the evening, they pretended to be each other.

"One of the very few benefits to my medical condition is that I can easily pass as an anatomical female. As previously mentioned, by the time I reached my mid teens, I was physically indistinguishable from any other teenaged girl, even – in some cases – under the most intimate of circumstances...

This story was inspired by ”What Happened” by Daphne Xu. The premise there was reality shift. I wondered if I could come to the same scandal without a reality shift.

The hurt and pain are too much. Being rejected by her parents was the last straw, it was time. S/he may have thought it was time, but plans can and do change.

The Crew of the Argo-1D1S gets stranded when a spacial anomaly transports them into deep uncharted space. They're mission to return home begins now.

Tales from the Argo follows the story of Cassie Martinez, an ensign class recruit new to the Argo. What she expected to be a month long diplomatic mission has become a long fight for survival. And that's not even the first of it, Ensign Martinez boarded the Argo as a human male named Casey Martinez!

(Migrated from my Wattpad entry)

Extra Body Shampoo

Author’s note: You can blame my friend Olivia Hope Matteo for this bit of silliness.

It started as a typical day.

I got my chores done, which gave me time to let my inner girl out. I was what my transgender friends would call an "egg" -occasional crossdressing in private, but I haven't seen a gender therapist yet - but on my days off I let my inner Olivia out for a while.

I honestly don't do a whole lot once dressed, just imagine what my life would be like if I went full time.

I am sorry, Helen, but your role model anthem just fitted another type of role model – that is if you adore Hitler, Pol Pot or Mussolini. The Italians found out that you never trust a politician who promises to make the trains run on time.

I am Donald

I am Donald, hear me crow
To all you morons down below
And I know too much to go back to before
'cause now I’m the big boss
And I cannot take a loss
No Democrat will show me to the door

"The Afterlife"

Two siblings, children to bakers, form a bet without wages. If no one loses anything more when they lose, what does the winner get?

Joseph Eduardo Vincent was your average fifteen-year-old boy. He loved being outdoors and running around. Like most boys on his soccer team, Joe had longer hair. His blonde locks now reached just passed his shoulders, although you wouldn’t be able to tell with the amount of dirt and grease built up. He kept up in a bun like most of the boys on the team to prevent it from getting in his eyes. Besides having a manbun was all the rage nowadays with the elite players having one. Fortunately for Joe, his parents were completely indifferent to his long hair.

My muse forced me to do it...

Personal Protective Equipment

A drabble by Penny Lane

Yes, dear. I agree. What you suggested was necessary, given that I am classed as vulnerable, but...

A very short story...

Copyright © 2020 by AuP reviner

Dang, trying to find a lose ground when it's still in the split bolt inside the breaker box and isn't making contact is interesting.