Bleary-eyed, Christina looked groggily out of the bus window. Her back was a little stiff from sleeping in the bus seat, but not much more than it would have from sleeping in her own bed. Only the bus' air conditioning system, something Christina's apartment lacked, made the overnight trip more than bearable than it would been had she spent it at home.

        Chris now realized that it was going to take more than just a casual effort to resurrect Christina Chase. It had been foolish to think he could just throw on some old clothes and hop on a bus. It was going to take planned and determined effort. He was going to work on being Christina every day until the end result was flawless. He decided on a few steps early on. First, he was going on a diet. Chris had always been tall and thin, but he wasn't going to take any chances. From now on, it was salad for lunch. Secondly, he was going to change his workouts. He hadn't spent much time exercising, but after his experience in Oak Grove, he'd tried some weight lifting. That was over. He was switching to aerobics or Yoga.

Synopsis: a young Marilyn Monroe impersonator auditions for the role of Sugar Cane in a remake of Some Like It Hot. "If I'm a star, then the people made me a star."

Like a Candle in the Wind
by Laurie S. aka l.satori

Part 3

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Before a performance on the Civic Holiday weekend, the first Monday in August, Heather handed me a tabloid newspaper. On the front cover was a picture of Marilyn Monroe.

"You've made the big time," Heather said with a smile. "You're on the front page of the Star Enquirer."

Synopsis: a college student with a talent for mimicry applies for a summer job at a Niagara Falls wax museum.

Like a Candle in the Wind
by Laurie S. aka l.satori

Part 1

CHAPTER ONE

        Anastasia was livid. She stormed into her room and slammed the door. The bed was covered with stacks of clothes and two open suitcases. One case was stuffed over the edge, and the other was only half filled. She didn't care what her father said; it wasn't his decision. She went to the chest of drawers and slammed each drawer as she searched for her makeup bag. The antique lamp that she'd bought at the County Fair teetered dangerously with each drawer slammed underneath it. She angrily pushed the items on her shelf aside, breaking her sophomore year soccer trophy.

        Christina woke just as the first rays of sun hit the mountain. Rolling over, she pulled the blankets over her eyes to block the light. She savored the warm, comfortable feeling of being cocooned in her luxurious bed, remembering that her bed at home wasn't remotely this comfortable. Eventually she pulled the blanket off of her head and looked around, realizing that everything that happened yesterday was real. She didn't want to get up, not only because the bed was so inviting, but also she knew that if she looked in the mirror, she would see a girl looking back.

        As Chris rolled over and opened his eyes he could tell by the light on the ceiling that it was morning, but something was different. He felt as though he was floating on a cloud. This wasn't his bed. His bed was only marginally better than sleeping on the floor, and that was only because he rarely swept. Even the soft feather pillows molded perfectly to the curvature of his head. He couldn't remember feeling so relaxed in his life. Most mornings, his first action was to untwist his underwear, but today, his pajamas flowed marvelously from his body. He sighed, reveling in the sensation of being absolutely pampered.

        Christopher Chase stared at the tiny clock in the computer's taskbar. 8:45 PM. "I'm the last one again," he said aloud, the sound of his voice echoing through the old factory building. Chris regularly worked late; it was just part of the job. At the age of nineteen, with only a high school education, he felt lucky to have the job at all. Still, being a full time support technician, aside from his role as an unofficial and underpaid junior programmer, gave new meaning to the phrase "low man on the totem pole." He was more like the guy who waited on the park bench across the street from the totem pole, praying for the day they decided to make it just one face taller. That would only help him if the three guys on the bench with him would quit or drop dead before that day ever came.