TRAGEDY OF THE SPIRIT PART 28

THE TRIAL EPISODE 1

 © 2008 prairie_girl_64

This is a story about love and hate. It is a sad story, but it has an important message, and it's not all sad.

“Wait!” I said in a surprised tone. “A safe house? You mean like witness protection? What about my work? My apartment? What am I supposed to do with my stuff?”

“Slow down,” he said while holding his hands up to emphasize things. “We don’t know how long it’ll be, but I wouldn’t expect it to take too long. For now, anything you don’t have to have with you should stay here. I’ll have a uniform posted here as a guard, okay?”

“Will there be room for my upright?” I asked.

“I don’t know why not,” he responded before adding, “Which one is that?”

After an encounter with an incubus, which had a surprising result, Dale tells a friend. This is a sequel to The Only Thing I Could Do so you may wish to read that first. (It’s short.)

Contains an explicit dream sequence.

Love Requiem
By: Jane Barker

A half an hour, 45 minutes outside town, the hills begin to lift, and
if you know just where to look, you see the first blue line of
mountains reaching towards the sky. That's where he left the highway,
dipped and swooped through steepening hills, past trees that seemed to
grow taller, deeper green as we climbed. A gravel road following the

I watched deep blue lighten to gray, felt that extra stillness, extra
quiet of a weekend morning in a strictly-business downtown. Standing by
the hotel window, I stared down the long, straight, empty streets of
this place I didn't know, at all the hopes and happiness, despair and
desperation sheltering under the endless neat rows of roofs, beneath

You always worry, can they see? Is there something, maybe the way
you've let your hand relax or your wrist bend, despite all the times
you've caught yourself and clenched your fingers, straightened the
curve. Something -- the way you hold a hand to your mouth? Or tilt your
head? Why do you hook your knees together when you sit: ankle on

It was getting dark when I got there, and I'd managed to get off the
wrong exit, too, guessing downtown was where it wasn't, as I always do.
It meant an anxious tour through the dark and empty streets down by the
river, looking for a place to stay, finding nothing until I finally
passed an open space -- park or vacant lot, I couldn't tell and didn't

I try to shape my days now by my work. Numbers in charts, words battered out of a keyboard, spit out from a whirring printer: Let's say it is work like that I do, work meant for grey-walled cubicles under flickering fluorescent lights.

Maybe it's just a question of an inch or two

Yes: I see you nod.

"You will have experiences that will help you grow and become responsible members of society," Agent Mitchell said.

"Your other partner in crime is also being held accountable. Nick is just now waking up to a big surprise as well," laughed Agent Johnson.

Chapter 9 - Aftermath

" I got us dates with four of the hottest pieces of ass at James Madison High School" Josh bragged.

" Who are they? asked Bill.

" Stacy Ross, Tracy Reynolds and their sisters Sarah and Jill" said Josh.

" I get Jill!" said Bill. " I saw her walk down the hall on Monday and I knew she has to be my next notch"

" I want Stacy" said Josh.

" I'll take Tracy" said Stan

Caution, some rape and abuse scenes. Please feel free to post points to improve on or comments. This is true and this reflects what I had to start doing in order to survive. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it very much.

John Henley is transsexual and wants to transition at work. His workplace is not TG-friendly.

Since I'm still blocked on the two stories I'm currently writing, I'd like to re-post this old story of mine here. It was the first fiction story I tried to write. I've gone over it and corrected a lot of things and generally cleaned it up. I hope you'll enjoy it. It's a long one, but I didn't want to push other, newer stories down the page by posting it in parts.