"Happy birthday dear Robbie..." The modest crowd cheered as the blond-haired boy cringed. "Happy birthday to you!" Robbie grinned widely as he leaned down and blew out the sixteen candles on his plain chocolate cake, before grimacing as he braced himself for the inevitable.

A smile creased her face as she pressed her foot down, feeling the vehicle respond to her request with a restrained eagerness. A quick lane swap and she pulled around a pair of SUVs who seemed to be doing their best to become a rolling 70 mph roadblock, a mere obstacle to be avoided as she squirted past, smoothly accelerating to 90 mph with a blue BMW right on her heels. She pulled aside to let the speedster behind her pass, maintaining her pace until he was almost 1/3 mile in front of her.

This is something I never imagined writing. It only came about as a result of a bit of playful word play between Daphne Xu and myself. So Daphne thank you for the inspiration. ‘Elle and Elle not Kiss and Tell for Big Girls’ is dedicated to you.

Peter Collins laid in his bed crying to himself. The tears came from the question “Why doesn’t anyone come to see me?” Most of the time he accepted his fate, he knew his decision made the bed he was lying in now. It was his choices which led to Peter being alone. Today was different. That inquiry kept on repeating in his head and not moving on from the question was what made those tear fall.

It was well into the afternoon when I finally reached creole-style cottage that I called home. I quickly climbed the wooden steps that lead onto the wrap around front porch and then taking a deep breath entered into the living room. The air inside was scented with the smell of roasting meat and vegetables. I guessed tonight corned beef, and cabbage was on the menu, judging from the heavy, savory, beefy smell that perfumed the air.

“Jamie.” My mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you dear?”

Door in the mirror
 

While passing the minivan I glanced at it. Its polished side was reflecting the wall with graffiti and there was a door. When I turned to the wall there was no door. Then I turned to the minivan and there was I in the mirror and the door behind me. Following myself in the mirror I took small steps toward the door. I felt the wall with my back already. Still looking in the mirror I groped the door and took its knob firmly in my hand. I turned it and the door cracked open but I couldn’t see what was behind it. I pushed it open but I had to step through the doorway to open the door. At the same instant, I was standing again with my back to the wall and there was no minivan.

I am Penelope Dowager Queen Consort and ex-Regent to His Royal Majesty Hargenter XII of the house of Fjellrijk, but I used to be Kieran O’Brien from the wrong side of the tracks of the city of Wenwath many years ago. Many would ask how did I, a male from a family of thieves, pimps and murderers become the ranking member, and a female at that, of the most prestigious royal family on the planet. A more pertinent question would be how did Kieran a fearful and self effacing little boy of no status at all become Penelope the most respected, venerated and yes even feared too political power on the planet.

CHAPTER 15 - Once you’ve hit rock bottom there’s only one place you can go, and that’s up

"Tell me more about this motel. The last time I looked getting hired requires ID and a social security card."

Beth announced, "From what I hear, that is not a problem. The motel is known for hiring undocumented Latinos. With your swarthy skin coloring, you would blend right in; the manager won’t ask many questions. He is just interested in cheap labor."

It was the first Halloween I was allowed to go trick or treating without my brother. I was going with a number of my school friends and one of their mother's so mom thought it would be ok. Andy had a new part-time job after school and couldn't get off until late. He blamed himself for everything that happened.

Federal Astral Transfer Assistance Agency

This one emerged out of a conversation on the chat site. You'll have to tell me what you think.

I got in the elevator, pushed the button, and then flexed my toes inside my shoes while taking the ride up.

For the upteenth time I cursed the dress code that meant I was stuck in heels.

I managed to put on my “pleasant professional” face on before the elevator door opened.

“Holy Mary mother of God!” gasped Pat as he downed Sasha’s Bulgarian spirit which was stamped Plum Slivovitz over the label. “That makes Sean’s poteen seem positively refined and ladylike.”

The others seemed to be in agreement and Sasha asked, “I take it then if I get the offer of any more I accept?”

“God yes,” said Gerry. “Just not too often. I really don’t want to get used enough to it to say I like it.”

A short ghost story for Halloween.
I heard a heartbreaking story a few weeks ago about parent who texted their dead children as a way to remember them.
What happens if they reply and need your help?..

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I should have been going to bed but wrote a short piece for Halloween instead. I hope y'all enjoy it.

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"We’re going ice skating Saturday after next and shopping for a costume for me next Saturday. There will be about a dozen of us, all girls from twelve to seventeen. Sarah’s friends are great at keeping boys in line and I’m learning how to as well. They all want to know how soon the hormones are going to give me my boobs, cos they think it’s not really fair that I haven’t got any at my age. Have you any idea?”

CHAPTER 14 - Just two illegals crossing the border

I often imagine myself as Grace Darling, the heroine, battling the elements, forcing a way through the surf, my hair blowing wildly in the gale, my dress sodden and clinging, but I am not a 25 year old Victorian heroine, I am Jack Armstrong, a 22 year old man living in modern times.

Hey, before the chapter, I want to say that I've scrapped the two versions idea because it was dumb.

After Julian left his sister’s room, he went on with his day. On occasion, he would stop to stare at his nails, and appreciate how cute they made him feel. Over the course of the week the week his nails wore out. He was staring at his nails more, this time with disappointment.

Henry Dickens pulled his knees tighter to his chest, letting out the tiniest of whimpers for what must have been the twentieth, thirtieth time.

“Her conversation was curiously, completely literal. All figures of speech, metaphors and use of idiom went completely over her head, and she never used any. I know she only read non-fiction and not much of that deeming most non-fiction to be implausible. She described newspapers as lies and fantasy and didn’t read them. I never saw her reading any of the magazines in the waiting room here. I know she’d never been to the cinema nor a stage production, and perhaps most curious of all that she said she had hated listening to stories as a girl. That was the only time she ever referred to her life as a child.”

This tale was inspired by a comment made by ‘Outsider’. Thank you, Dave.

Aisha pets her cat Felix as he laid at the corner of her desktop at home. He was stretched out near her keyboard as she worked on the game code she had been hired to do. She already had sixty hours working on the game.

“So, what do you think Felix. Do you think we’ll get this game finished on time?” She reaches over and pets her tabby color Maine coon cat.

CHAPTER 12 - Indentured servant.

The next morning, his body had come down from its orgasmic high and he woke thinking that being a guy with boobs and a working joystick wasn’t so bad.

George shrugged and said, “The last time I’d felt like I was in the cross hairs of a rifle sight I was in uniform in Northern Ireland, but I had a load of mates who could shoot back there. Scary. I didn’t like it at all.”

It moved the Landrover thirty-odd feet. That winch had no chance of doing anything. We looked at each other and I shrugged my shoulders and said, “You can’t lose them all either, but hell that was lucky.” I think we both got the shakes a couple of hours later.