This story is a dedication to Kelly, for without her stories we would all be the poorer.

This story is dedicated to my father, who never understood my need to be Kelly. Despite our problems, I know he loved me even though he didn't tell me the way I wanted him to. I miss you dad. Thank you for caring for me when I didn't care about myself. (With tears in my eyes)

This story dedicated to The Professor, whose Ovid stories and support inspired me to write the Andersonville series. Helping a fellow writer is what makes our community so strong.

This story dedicated to Beverly, who owns and maintains Beverly's Balcony. Her creative insight and hard work has made her web page a favorite of mine. Thank you for allowing us a place to post our stories, Beverly.

This story dedicated to Crystal, for her unselfish and generous devotion in providing a place (Crystals Story site) for writers like myself to share their stories with others.

Lizzie Jane, still thinking that the strange man was giving her a ride to Tuscaloosa, was unknowingly flown to a small airport outside Miami. Still unsuspecting the true motive of the strange man, she was placed in a room with two other girls “to wait for just a little while”.

It was when she was given a pair of short-shorts and a short top that revealed her belly button that questions seem to pop up. Puzzled, she asked, “What are these for?’

“Because that is the way our clients like for our young girls to be dressed,” came the reply.

”Clients?” questioned Lizzie Jane.

“Shut up and put them on,” was the response, followed by a sharp slap on the face.

Surprised and being overcome with fear, she complied. The two other girls looked on at the spectacle.

After the door was closed, one of the girls spoke, “Didn’t you realize that you have been kidnapped and to be sold to someone of another country? We are all in the same boat.”

Lizzie Jane was speechless. The girl noticed Lizzie Jane’s confusion, so she continued, “We tried to resist and were beaten for our efforts. We have talked about escape, but there isn’t any chance."

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 73.

“Good afternoon Columbine girls.” A friendly voice sang from the door to the cabin. In stepped a young woman with copper hair, twisted up and clipped to the back of her head. Her fair skin was dotted with freckles and her green eyes were warm and sparkling with merriment. She was wearing shorts, flip-flops and a lavender Camp Kumoniwanalaya T-shirt that clashed with her warm coloring and orange hair.

“Is everyone here?” She asked looking around taking a head count. She nodded to herself and plopped down on the bed next to the door. “My name is Phoenix and I’ll be your counselor for the next two months.”

The girls all greeted her with smiles and a murmur.

“I hope you like this cabin, I had to fight to get it, it’s further away from the boys, and close enough to the showers that we don’t have to hike to them, yet far enough that we won’t hear them every morning and night.” Phoenix smiled. “As my name is Phoenix, I like to give my cabin-mates the opportunity to ‘burn’ their past and be ‘re-born’. So shed who you were before you got on that bus this morning. Toss it aside and think of the next few weeks as a time of change so that you can emerge a new person."

In more ways than one... Erika thought to herself.

Dave makes his first work trip to Germany for Apollinaris...

More emotional trauma for our heroine.....read on, I dare you!

Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad & Bonzi (the bored)Cat.
part 72 (that's like six dozen!).

“Tell us, Mr. Bond, have you any children?”

“No! Wait! This is all just a mistake!” he shouts as he is taken through the door.

This was too good to be true, thought Lizzie Jane, but she was so excited that she did not stop and think that the man may not be telling the truth. Also, he appeared to be a gentleman. What harm could come from that?

She decided to take him up on his offer.

The police was back at Reverend Walker’s home. “We may have some bad news,” one of the officers reported.

“When the Mobile police got to the address she called from, she was gone. They questioned some boys who last saw her and they said that she got in a car with a unknown male. The Mobile police department has been watching that address very carefully and have planted a plainclothes woman in the area to investigate the suspicion that white slave traders work out of that section of town. From the description given by the boys, the male who has her in his car may be the suspected ringleader of the group.”

“You mean---“ began the shocked Reverend.

“Yes, she may never be heard from again,” replied the officer. “She may be shipped to another country and sold as a slave — if the male is indeed the person the Mobile police think he is.

Life around Casa Bond tries to return to normal...but just what does THAT mean???

A poem and a statement all wrapped up in one tidy package. I wrote it this morning after a conversation with a friend... that really led to places that it shouldn't have but was a fun and entertaining conversation, anyway!