Altered phase: part two
(a little change from where part one was saying it was going. This seems a good way to progress)

LISA’S DREAM -3-

By Susan Heywood

Robert Pemberton answers an advertisement in a contact magazine. The resulting changes to his life are the stuff of dreams.

LISA’S DREAM

By Susan Heywood

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Robert Pemberton answers an advertisement in a contact magazine. The resulting changes to his life are the stuff of dreams.

Presents

S-Idol - Episode 5 (The Babies)  

Presents

S-Idol - Episode 4 (The Fashion Show)  

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