A Quick Fix

A short written in the posting window

By Melanie E.

"Uncle Joshua!?" Jonathan asked, his voice filled with panic. "Uncle Joshua! Get up! Please, please get up..."

"Oh my god," Viks gasped as she crouched down beside Joshua. "Steph, call 999! Now!"

"Uh, okay," Stephanie said, fumbling in her bag for her phone as Viks rolled Joshua onto his back and checked his neck.

"He's got a pulse but it's very weak," Viks said.

"What- what do we do?" Jonathan asked, unable to contain his sense of panic.

“Stephanie…” Beverly whispered. “Even if I wrote you a prescription, it’d still only be dated from today. I can’t backdate them for the time you were supposed to have been taking hormones.”

“It’s still better than nothing,” Stephanie insisted. “Please, if I have to get down on my knees and beg, I will.”

“Stephanie,” Beverly sighed. “We’ve been over this time and time again, you know that oestrogen isn’t a magical cure to all your problems-“

“Not all of them, but this one, it is-“ Stephanie interrupted.

Mel prepares for her first semester at Braintree. After graduating from middle school she is not as protected as she was. A near escape. Once at Braintree, things start taking on a momentum of their own.

Jamie-Lee Burke yawned as the alarm on her phone woke her from a dreamless slumber. It had been a long week, but it was now Friday- a chance to relax and let her hair down, which she had every intention of doing that night, surrounded by all her friends.

"Morning, sexy," Jamie whispered in the ear of her still-sleeping fiancé, who mumbled incoherently as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Does it have to be morning?" Stuart moaned, eliciting a small giggle from Jamie.

“Now this is showing confidence in your series,” Natalie sighed as she poured out tall glasses of sparkling wine for her seven friends. “Broadcasting the premiere episode at half past ten on a Monday evening.”

“They couldn’t even have put it on last Monday, when it was a bank holiday,” Rachel sighed.

Sydney Moya

(c) 2016

Life goes on.

For me it did, despite the pain and acute sense of loss I felt after Claire’s death. I awoke some mornings thinking it was a dream, some horrible nightmare I’d wake up from. Unfortunately this nightmare was all too real. It seemed I was a glutton for punishment as I’d dial her number sometimes.

The principal of Millard Fillmore High School sighed as freshman James Johnson entered his office. Not that James wasn’t dressed very nicely. The white shirt was clean and neatly pressed. The shoes were new and a discreet black. The black pleated skirt was also clean and neatly pressed and only about two inches above the knees.