The old man sat on the park bench enjoying the warm spring air. He watched a young teenage boy dribbling a basket ball down the sidewalk toward him. His icy blue eyes, still watchful and alert even in old age. The boy was concentrating on the dribble, trying to bounce it between his legs but kept hitting himself in the bottom. The old man smiled.

Now working the ball behind his back, the boy was able to get it to bounce forward through his feet. He smiled and looked around to see if anyone witnessed his great feat. Only the old man was there smiling.

Single Parenthood

I’m a single parent, after the death of my wife I'm forced to raise my daughter of five

Guaranteed Cure

Author's note: This is another example of what happens when I let my darker side out to play. You have been warned ...

“It would give more credence to the rumors if Serenikha shows up and can’t control her tail because it feels like a pair of human legs, or can’t talk sense because she’s still speaking my native language.”

From Troll to Triumph

Inspired by Erin Halfelven in the Goddess of Exxor Universe

By Sasha Zarya Nexus
and revised from a story completed 2008/4/2

"What might happen to such a person {'a troll'} who ran a foul of some of the mythical beings who lurk in the back of the BigCloset? :)" ~ Erin Halfelven

EPILOGUE

“Colonel Washington, you state that you are now receiving prime intelligence from your source now embedded in the Columbian drug cartel. Is that correct?”

“That is correct Senator. Our operative is now relaying the cartel’s distribution plans and timetables to us. This provides us with the opportunity to locate and identify participants in the smuggling operations and ascertain the financial institutions they are using.”

“I am so close,” he said, hissing with frustration. “I could feel Serenikha’s soul returning — but it would not lodge securely in her body, your own was still tethered there.”

Dreams of my past life.

I remember seeing *Akira Kurosawa's Dreams* a few years back and thinking what a senile mess it seemed, despite some incredible imagery. Dreams are incomprehensible except to the dreamer because they lack a context. The great surrealist artists, writers and film-makers manage to grab fleeting meaning from them and turn them into works that transcend their gibberish origins by recontextualising them in line with the concerns of their body of work.

So, I found a folder called "dreams" on my archive hard drive recently. I have as you know, always had trouble sleeping and often wake up at night having had vivid dreams. I went through a phase of writing them down in the 90s as a basis for more finished pieces of writing. This period is when this selection originated. There are many film references here - I was an aspiring film maker at the time.

Like I said, they are raw and probably gibberish and I'm not sure you'll gain anything from reading them, but I like some of the writing here. It's compact and sparse, and I found some of it funny, reading them back all these years later.

No specific TG content.

Time by Jenn C. Copyright © 2014 Jenn C. All Rights Reserved.

She never leaves my mind
86400 seconds a day

The rapid fire pace of the last two weeks continue. Some problems solved. New Problems develop. New Allies discovered, and a nasty villein in the shadows. Oh My.

By Nina Adams

Please read Part 1, 2 & 3 first----

Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change – Spring, part 2 of 13
By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson © 2014

Rev. Yingling's petition causes problems. Gregorio sends Maggie a letter. Jubal Cates gives Emma a chance. Wilma's painting is finished. Arnie helps Mrs. Spaulding and Clara. Sam Braddock gets a carpenter's job at the Lone Star. Some new arrivals come to Eerie. Jane wants to buy the painting. And lots more.