Fran had been deep into peeling the label off her coffee cup when her phone buzzed. She exhaled sharply at the name on the screen. Trevor.

For a split second, she debated ignoring it. Let it go to voicemail. Handle it later, when she wasn’t already bracing herself for a fight. But that wasn’t an option. Not with this case. Not with him.

She answered. "Yeah?"

"You’re working the girl, right?" Trevor’s voice was clipped. Guarded.

Fran frowned. "Found her last night on the way home from the alarm place. What about her?"

"Just checking in." He hesitated. "Anything new?"

She heard it—the measured pauses, the subtle restraint. Trevor wasn’t just checking in. He was setting the stage for an argument before it even started.

Immortality can come in many ways, some see it as a blessing, others, a curse. A man lays on his deathbed, welcoming passing on. Then the curse happens.

CAUTION: this is not an overall happy story and may cause triggers.

We got the formal ‘Go’ from the Super the following afternoon, presumably after he had cleared up the pecking order with Sedgewick and the Cheshire brass. Sammy was absolutely in full focus.

“Di, I want you to take Candice for the bags. She does fluffy better than you—shut it, Blondie. You know full well you can. Take a works car, and make sure the stuff gets locked away properly. Some of the court boxes, the ones with padlocks, they’ll do. And Blake?”

“Yes?”

Neil was late in arrival, and we had already given up on him and headed for the pub. No music, but an awful lot of people to smile at and be lifted by a smile’s return, often with extra warmth. Debbie and her girls were still with us, and Alys and I had a quiet moment of pleasure spotting which ones we recognised, and which were still coming to terms with their new lives. I could almost read their minds: is this real? I get to be myself, in public? There’s no catch, no taking it all away again?

Hope's Light

Prologue & Chapter 1

by Erisian

Book 6

Part One

Prologue - Bargain

“Are you certain this is the right path?”

Two figures crept down a narrow underground passageway, shoes slipping across shallow puddles lining the curved concrete floor. Their coats, one jet black and the other a lighter brown, flickered in the weak light offered only by a white crystal held forward by the taller and much darker-skinned man.

“They didn’t provide a map, Callas. I told you the same instructions they told me, and your memory is as perfect as mine. If you think we’ve misapplied the sequence, you should’ve spoken up.”

“Hmm.”

Charles is now at Jane's Winsome Girls' School for Wayward Boys. He has volunteered to become one of Jane's girls to help Jane not only clear his name but to help Francis. He has a lot to learn about being a girl in a short amount of time, as Toby Camber is arriving at the school in a weeks time. Something else occurs that Charles wasn't expecting, he learns something else about himself while being Charlotte.

Maeryn Lamonte Copyright ©️ 2024
Warning: This story includes mention of a suicide. Proceed with cation.

“So anyway, you know that New Year’s party my work always throws? Well, I asked Colin if he wanted to come, and he said no.”

“Sounds suspicious.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I mean free food, free booze, a chance to let your hair down and boogie. I mean what’s not to like?”

“Absolutely. So what did you do?”

Author’s note - After finishing the updated story of Laurence I was finding it very difficult to lay the story down. I knew that if I continued, then it would get dark and I knew that I couldn’t avoid that. As readers you may appreciate my dilemma or say it would have been better to leave it as it was?

This is written as a separate short story so readers can avoid the ending that appears here. I needed to write it, but you don’t need to read it although I hope some of you do.

I was overwhelmed with sensations all over my body.

There was a pull on my scalp where my wife's hands were pulling my braids. My lips felt buttery and smooth and velvety from the lipstick. I could feel my wife's soft lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth, kissing me deeply, smearing my lipstick.

Most of all, my body was contracting pleasantly, an after effect of the waves of pleasure that had washed all over me, centered in my groin.

I had leaked - that's right, leaked cum, which was pooled beneath us, on the floor.

"Wow, honey", she smirked at me, "You really are a woman"

The next morning, I woke up earlier than my wife. I had freshened up, put my hair in a messy high ponytail and then made us a pot of coffee. I sat on the couch, sipping from a cup. Waiting.

She eventually woke up and sauntered over to where I was sitting, "Last night was something magical. I didn't know we could do that"

"Mm-mmm, yes, it was great", I said, giving her a side ways glance. She was in her night wear, with bed head, hair tousled this way and that. She gave a yawn.

I was woken the next day, by the most excruciating erection I ever had. Or tried to have. I was still locked in the damn cage.

I looked around the room for the key. I searched the flat, but I couldn't find the key.

Finally, I went to wake my wife, to find her woken up, due to all the noise I may or may not have made. She smiled and it looked like she knew exactly what was going on with me.

She came to me and gave me a slow kiss, which made me curl my toes, "Frustrated much?"

"How does it feel to be a woman?"

It was a beautiful morning and we were sitting in the balcony, taking in the view with a cup of coffee.

She had been unusually quite. She's not a chatterbox, but she usually has something to say. If nothing else, she will drop a teasing remark or two.

So to bring her out of the flunk, I asked her, "How does it feel to be a woman?"

She seemed to register that I was talking and looked at me, "Hmmm, what was that?"

"Honey, how does it feel to be a woman? Or rather what's the difference between me and you?"

Next day was our weekly off.

After breakfast, we were getting ready to go shopping for weekly groceries.

Just as we got into the mall, she said, "Maybe you should have your ears pierced here at the shop, since we are here anyways"

I replied, "What's on your mind?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't mind if you wore earrings and had long hair. Come on, let's get it done already"

She grabbed me by my arm and led me to the piercing shop in the mall. The artist approached my wife, thinking she was the one who wanted the piercing.

"What does being transgender mean for you?". That was how we began our way through all of this.

I responded, "It means that I have a feminine side to me which feels more authentic than the male side I present to the world. It means there is a constant expectation from myself to express my feminity".

The next morning, I woke to find the bedroom door still locked from the inside. My wife usually woke up around the same time and we did the chores around the house. But not today, after the revelation last night.

I see that Mindful 1 is sometimes posted as a book on BC but I'm not certain if I ever posted Mindful 2 as book here on BC. In case I have not. I have posted 'Mindful 2 here on BC. Readers are warned that the story ends as a suicide but not necessarily an unhappy one.

If you reached the end, the final end of the final rope, and could take a mulligan, would you?

Have you ever asked yourself the following question? What causes a place to become haunted? Or to become infested with demons? That is the million dollar question that is often debated among theologians and paranormal scholars alike. I'm not here to answer that question. I'm here to tell you a story of a building that is haunted. Haunted by the lost soul of a wayward teenage girl who tragically took her own life in a fit of religious fever and my personal encounter with her. But first a brief history lesson.

The whole enchilada...plus a bonus epilogue.

Chapter 01-The Murder

This is a story I HAD to write last November. I kept spilling out of me. But it is too depressing to post in grey dull winter time, so I stalled its release until now.

Please do not read this if you are feeling down or depressed or are easily be pulled emotionally down!

If you are thinking about suicide, please get help. There are a lot of people out there willing to help whatever is the reason.
Suicide is never a solution!

Luv,
Louise