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And here we go
into the lion's den, or down the rabbit hole which is probably closer to the truth.
I do like Luigi's cynicism about the special effects.
What does his future hold (apart from a beautiful gown which he will, of course, be putting on - how could he resist?)
Loving it,
Alison
Luigi is a sucker for rabbit holes
Poor Luigi just has the kind of brain that has to check out the depths of every single one of them. Which is kind of a dangerous trait, if you think about it. ;-)
Thanks, Alison!
— Emma
Satiny Lucia
Satiny Lucia....
I can look at fabrics in a photo or even while walking past a person.... woman... and 'feel' the texture of the fabric. Unlike Luigi, who is having a huge exposure to strangely familiar feelings about new aspects of his body, I can only imagine.
Do I imagine the feeling of newly grown breasts or other such delightful body parts? Is a bear Catholic?
Love, Andrea Lena
Yeah . . .
The pure sensuality of some women’s clothes, from fabrics to designs to colors, is enough to bring a sensitive trans girl to tears! Does that inspire our writing?
Does the Pope live in the woods?
You know, ‘Drea, I can hear John Travolta delivering that line, like he was right here. Memory is a strange thing!
— Emma
Whoa...
What a fun, confusing, and entertaining romp of a story! Good God! The creativity in this is off the charts Emma! LOVE IT!
Hugz!
Rachel M. Moore
Thanks, Rachel!
Funny thing is, we still haven’t gotten to the part of the story that inspired the whole thing — the germ of the idea that expanded to fill somewhere around 30,000 words. Logorrhea much? :) But I’m delighted that you’re enjoying it.
— Emma
Some stories keep telling themselves
Sometimes it's not possible to limit the length of a story. You point it toward the end and swear it's in sight, but somehow your muse just keeps cranking out verbiage. I call it writers mirage. You keep moving, but get no closer to the epilogue.
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin ein femininer Mann
So true!
I really did think this one was going to be shorter. But then, I always do!
— Emma
Incensed
I suppose Luigi would have been exposed to incense in a catholic contest.
He shouldn't visit the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela on July 25. That would be a truly thurible experience for him. They really let it swing.
On another matter. Cryptic messages should be handled with care.
Incensed
That actually would have been a good title for this chapter, between Sylvia’s reaction to Luigi’s bad behavior, and the clerics’s reaction to Geoffrey’s casket. :)
Should you ghost someone who sends a cryptic message?
— Emma
Great
I love this. I can't wait for the next chapter.
Thank you!
I’m so glad you like it. :)
— Emma
I must congratulate you on your research!
You threw me off track completely by mentioning the suite's location in the "quire", a term which so far as I am concerned means a quantity (24 sheets) of paper. remembered from the days of my (relative to now) extreme youth before metrification converted a ream of paper from 480 sheets to the preset 500. But before I sent a PM accusing you of mis-spelling, I looked it up. I am lazy and these days my nearest reference is Wiktionary, which also has the advantage of being much more modern than all my printed dictionaries! It stopped me in my tracks! There was the second deinition of "quire" as an archaic spelling of "choir".
As a choral singer, I am aware that "choir" can mean both the singing group, and the special part of the building from which that group sings.
What could be more appropriate for your spooky setting than archaic spellings for a narrower meanings for a (still) current terms.
I must confess to be totally fascinated by this story.
Many thanks
Dave
In quires and places
A bit of research with Prof Google will lead you to a mention in the Book of Common Prayer during a morning and evening service and the comment "In quires and places where they sing, here followeth the anthem" I think the old spelling is still used.
Better no connotation. . .
. . . than the wrong connotation. In the U.S., for the most part, “choir” as an architectural feature of a church will make people think of a loft, usually at the front of the church and at the furthest distance from the sanctuary, where we stick singers and instrumentalists. In contrast, the “choir” (arch., “quire”) in an old English church, is the area around the altar, but not including the sanctuary. I figured if I used the older form, people might wonder where it was and look it up. So, Score!!! :)
Yay for getting you hooked! Thanks, Dave.
— Emma
Thanks for the explanation!
As was blindingly obvious, I was once again failing to realise that you (US) and we (UK) are "two countries separated by a common language" though in this case it also covered a difference of spacial utilisation in a place of worship. And your trick did have the effect of making me look it up though my source did not refer to the distinction between traditions which you have just made!
Dave
I have to say……
That it appears almost as if the special effects were pulled right from Luigi’s own thoughts. Seriously? Blue arrows pointing the way? I think I would have laughed at that.
The Control-Alt-Delete was a cute line, lol. Maybe he should have tried to hard boot the system, lol.
The huge jump in time was unexpected, as was the revelation that he had pretty much purged everything and cut his hair after the incident with Heather. I am a little surprised at the supernatural nature of what is going on, but not surprised that Luigi suddenly finds himself back in women’s clothing - or even with breasts. I do wonder if there will be an age regression involved as well since the woman in the portrait appeared to be younger than the 50 or so that Luigi apparently is now.
D. Eden
“Hier stehe ich; ich kann nicht anders. Gott helfe mir.”
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus
Soft boot
There are times when I get so tied in knots that I wish I could do a soft boot on my brain! Luigi has spent a lot of years marinating in the online world, and has started to think of his mental processes in those terms.
Dee Sylvan flagged the fact that I’d tagged “magic” on this story from the start in her comment last week. I responded to her comment but ignored that part of it, not wanting to give away the game. The twenty-four year jump was definitely different, though. I hope it works. ;-)
— Emma
Ah yes...
Luigi really should have listened to the ghost stories all those years ago! But now, well, there may be a need to get used to being both addressed AND dressed in new ways!
Ah what a fateful hole to have stumbled into... :)
Lots of fun this is, greatly looking forward to the next installment! Thanks Emma!
Stumble
Well, I don’t know that I’d call it a stumble, exactly. Luigi was led by the nose. Glowing corridors, blue arrows, an engraved invitation. . . . Holweard was about out of ways to get the invitation across!
Thanks, Erisian!
— Emma
“He looks cute?”
Not breathless?
[Sorry; meant for the previous chapter.]
Damn!
Wish I’d thought of that!
— Emma
On So Many Levels
Including the deep darkness that Luigi now finds himself in this chapter is showing us the long-promised magic after a journey back across the world and maybe back in time as well. The conversations between our hero, his mother and colonel (?) Holweard sparkle.
My mother sent me to High Anglican Church when I was about ten years old so I know all about those censers, and the robes that were more Catholic than the Catholics wore. She had to bribe me with enough money to buy an icecream after enduring one of their services. I rebelled, refused to learn the catechism and dodged confirmation and she gave up after six months. My visits to churches since then have been for weddings and funerals.
I 'knew' that portrait of the beautiful lady held a secret and I'm betting that Luigi will be its next victim or beneficiary.
Now I can't wait to find out. Inquiring minds have to know. What a hell of a writer you are, Emma.
Tractarians
The very model of a High Church Anglican, and leader of the Oxford Movement, was John Henry Newman. He wanted an Anglican Church that was neither Protestant nor Catholic. So, no Pope, but otherwise Catholicism and all the trimmings. Altar boys, vestments, smells and bells. Like so many who try to fight the world’s artificial binaries, he ultimately threw in the towel, ending his days as a Roman Catholic Cardinal.
Good job figuring that the mysterious woman in the painting would make her way back into the story. Gold Star!
Thanks, Joanne. I always love your comments.
— Emma
Odiferous by any other name
As one with a lifelong aversion to overdone odors - and yes, I include perfumes - I can sympathize with our (almost)anti-hero. There appears to be something rotten in the state of Britain. Maybe as a result of those pesky Danes who invaded long ago?
The Danelaw
Ooooh! There’s a neat thought — those dastardly Great Danes are behind it all!
— Emma
“You stink enticingly” is a compliment
That reminds me of an obnoxious door-to-door salesman over a decade ago. He was offering me as a gift and totally free of charge two bottles of perfume. But it turned out that they were mine only if I bought another bottle of perfume at a ridiculously overinflated price that was more than four times the price of a bottle of “cheap” perfume. As part of his sales pitch he grabbed my hand and spritzed some perfume on my arm. And even though I immediately scrubbed my arm with plenty of soap and water as soon as I was able to get rid of him, I still got a rash and an itch for a few days afterwards.
And late last year I got one of those battery operated air-freshener atomizers for the bathroom in my apartment. After just four weeks I was suffering from constantly inflamed mucus membranes and a permanently clogged-up nose. It took almost a week after I put that darned device out on the balcony to recover and being able to breathe normally again. (I do not use the balcony because I have a huge fear of tripping and falling over the railing.)
I also can not use any clothes softeners/fresheners, because those scents irritate my case resulting in itchiness and slight rashes. The same applies to many skin care products as well.
I’m thinking . . .
“Obnoxious door to door salesman. . . .”
Is there another kind? Asking for a friend. :)
— Emma
I have met many non-obnoxious
doors
Allergies
I always replied 'no' when questioned if I had any allergies, but then along came Covid and those little bottles of hand-cleaner were everywhere. After religiously using them for about two weeks my hands looked like something out of a horror movie, so I went to see my GP who immediately spotted the cause.
I had discovered that I was allergic to alcohol after 78 years! Luckily it was only in alcohol-based hand sanitizer and not in the variety ingested orally.
I'm worried about you
Clerestory windows, Churchillian comments, padding about... Have you gone over to the dark side, my dear? Will you be on 'holiday' after this?
I'm glad that Luigi's mom was able to snap Weej out of his prepubescent, arrogant attitude and send him on his quest.
Leave it to you, Miss Emma to weave a purge (of not only clothing and makeup, but also hair and Heather) into this magical transformation. Magical is the word I would also use when first feeling new breasts. Or perhaps heavenly. Mischief does indeed come in many forms.
Strictly brilliant, my dear friend! :DD TAF
DeeDee
I love the English language
I probably shouldn’t. It’s an absurd mishmash of languages with about as much internal logic as a Jackson Pollock painting. But I do love it, and an adore its idiosyncratic variations from country to country, or even from county to county. I can’t talk to someone from England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, or Alabama without my voice modulating to take on some of that country’s distinctive linguistic color. So writing this story has been a lot of fun (though I have leaned heavily on Alison and RobertLouis to make sure I don’t screw up!).
Yeah, that last scene sure sounded heavenly. Or at least dreamy . . . .
— Emma
Blue Arrow
Having had not only the benefit but also the privilege and joy of previewing each chapter of this miraculous fable, something in the covidian brain fog of my cerebellum tells me that there was a national carrier in the UK back in the 70s called Blue Arrow, so I was momentarily distracted by the surreal vision of a Leyland artic trundling smokily across the ancient floor of Shingles when I first read this chapter, but, as usual, I digress.
I’m fortunate to, in a sense, live more or less in the world that Emma has created. That is to say, in the beautiful and ancient city of York, traditional capital of The North (fight me!) and therefore on the fringes of the dales and moors where the original Shingles is to be found, if you’re prepared to look hard enough, right Ms Tate? I’m pretty sure I’ve shared a convivial pint with both Holweard and George Deavers in Muker, Reeth or Hawes, and swapped tales with the former in front of a roaring fire in a lonely moors inn on a wild night up by Scalby Dam.
It all gets under your skin folks. You’ll see.
☠️
Atmosphere
I don’t know whether you ever saw the cult classic, An American Werewolf in London, but the atmospherics in the early part of the movie probably influenced me here. “Don’t go out on the moors tonight” is always good advice!
I love York, and York Minster is one of my favorite Cathedrals. I haven’t been back since the big fire, but I was so glad to hear that the restoration had gone well.
Many thanks for your assistance, Rob — You’re a gem!
— Emma
An American Werewolf in London
Amazing special effects, but all done on a shoestring. The Slaughtered Lamb pub wasn’t actually out on a windy moor - it was in a pretty village outside Bedford in the Home Counties. And the scene fleetingly features the first ever celluloid appearance of the great and much lamented Rik Mayall as one of the grotesque locals. Yes, I’m familiar with the movie!
☠️
What an extraordinary story, I'm loving it!
I'm beginning to wonder if Luigi is going to turn into the beautiful lady whose portrait hangs in the crypt? Whatever happens, like everyone else I'm totally fascinated by this story. Emma, you have us all hooked!
Big smile!!!
It makes me incredibly happy to know I’ve got you hooked, Bronwen. Let’s see if I can’t reel you in!
— Emma
Over privileged thinking
I love how the over privileged mindset Luigi has is so well presented here.
I mean, here he is, it is the middle of the night, suddenly some totally weird shit starts to happen due to sources unknown who may have been benign or not that is leading him on like a dungeon crawl like search that has him more than likely totally lost and he just blithly keeps going without a concern.
Frankly, he deserved what he got as anybody with an ounce of instinct for self-preservation would have been far more cautious.
Funnily when he discovered that he now has 'big ones', his obvious sense of strangeness is quite foreign to me since I've always felt strange when I did not have breasts but then *duh*.
Anyway, this change may hopefully the making of him (her?) as till now, despite actually some significant accomplishments he was still not a complete human being.
Pegged him.
Kimmie, I love your comments, on any story. Here you really have Luigi pegged. Smart, but clueless. Accomplished, but incomplete. Still, there’s some runway yet. And you know I do like a cheerful ending, especially to a humorous tale.
Thank you, my dear!
— Emma
Pegging?
:)
Strange Manor
So, about those grandkids. How old was the Dark Lady portrait, did it update or was it permanently on the end as a reminder of who the master was.
Time is the longest distance to your destination.
Interesting questions!
As the TV announcers used to say, when camp was king and remotes were still remote, “Don’t touch that dial!”
— Emma
There is so much here to love!
There is so much to love in this story, first we have a strong momma laying down the law. I'm a big fan of strong momma's laying down the law! Up next we have High Church Anglicans! I'm very much of the High Church branch of the Anglican Faith. And love when they do incense at mass. I'm not allowed to do the incense anymore because I always use too much, so much that the church needs to air out. But I love the flickering of candlelight while clouds of gray, scented smoke fills the air and the Latin tongue is sounded out in chat. It all so.. so pagan? And some scenes of this really brought that home. Now, I've never seen a castle, cause Mississippi does not have castles.. I wish we did though.
Anyway, a High Anglican Mass, Witty comment, Emma's wonderful prose, and now a ghost! This story checks all my boxs! Thank you Emma for writing this wonderful story! It's been a joy reading this and rereading it until I found the time to drop a comment!
“A ghost, you say?
A ghost, may be. He seemed just like a ghost to me. One minute there and he was gone!”
But what seems may — or may not — be what is. Stay tuned!
Thanks for the great comment, dear. :)
— Emma
Lovin The References
"Our father buit the castle just to show em , , , , and it sank in the swamp
So he built a second castle . . . that fell over and then sank into the swamp
So he built a third castle . . that burned down, fell over and sank into the swamp
But the fourth one stayed up - and that's what you're getting son - the best castle in these islands"
You write a fabulous story with a wonderful touch - I am a mere scribbler in the company of greatness !
Hugs&Kudos!!
Suzi
Don’t do it!
If I compare myself to other writers here, I’d never write at all! :)
So glad you are enjoying the story— and that you found The Holy Grail! Wait . . . What’s that? You’ve already got one?!!!
— Emma
A logical explanation!
When I arrived at the full breasts, I honestly thought, "Ah, so there's a logical explanation for his desire to wear women's clothes."
hugs,
- iolanthe
Logical explanation
There absolutely is a logical explanation. Well, working from certain not-yet-revealed axioms, anyhow.
It’s just not that one. ;-)
Hugs back atcha!
— Emma
And this
Is where the story gets much more interesting.
Yup!
You have the character firmly in your head. So . . . the universe has suddenly thrown Luigi the biggest surprise imaginable. How’s he going to react?
Fortunately, you don’t have to wait a week to find out! :)
— Emma
This strikes fear..
This is the darkest chapter so far. If you read this chapter word for word, you will catch some very dark plot lines. The darkness though comes from deep inside the main characters head. It clear since his break up with Heather that our main guy has gone through a lot. A hell of a lot that the break up emotionally wrecked him. We get this bit of information in the last part of the store as our main tells us that he forced himself to purge following the break up, even going as far as to cut his own hair. Something I've seen happen too two of my friends. Well I know two sisters who have done just that when they were coming out of the egg.
That and being confronted with the requirement that he needs to now revisit those old feelings and face them, is something that even the strongest man would withdraw from. We also notice a change, our main guy has gone from this peppery youngester full of life to a swollen old man, aged before his time? As for the older gentleman, something tells me he's not as quite as he seems. There something off about him. I can't wait to see what the next chapter holds.
Swollen
“A swollen old man” — such a wonderful, vivid description!
You are absolutely correct that the tone of the story darkens in the back half; it’s something I wrestled with. But Luigi is older; it’s hard to maintain the lightness of youth through the weights — and weight! — that pile on with years. Still, I hope you’ll find he has not lost his sense of humor altogether!
Thank you, my dear, for your careful read and your insightful comment.
— Emma
One must
One must read your stories like one will read Tolkien. And by that I mean one must take time to read each word. It common to read text by blocks, indeed we who read a lot on the internet often do just that, read by block. But you Ms. Tate, you force the reader to read by word, otherwise they will miss so much of the story. One can not read Tolkien by block but one word at a time, one can not read a Emma Anna Tate story, but one by one word at a time. A wonderful lesson for any writer to take to heart.
Let us hope
That this is not a take off from the Rocky Mountain horror show. Things are starting to get interesting.