14,523 words

I Can’t Go Home Like This
by C. Sprite
© 1999

Draft - (will comprise Chapters 66 – 70 when completed)

The door to a boy’s room opens and the mother enters.

“Peter, … Oh! Hello, Andrew. I see you boys are having fun.”

Andrew is lying on the bed not wearing any clothes. Peter is straddling him in what is called the cowgirl position. As opposed to Andrew Peter is not without clothes. In his case it’s a very becoming set of mauve bra, suspender belt and stockings.

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of the villainess he'd been writing, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Now stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amy quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she'd never even considered. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system or the infuriating demon that forced her into this situation to begin with!

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed - but surely she can come up with a way to get out of that...

...Right?

Cover by The Sweet Winter

Once in a Lifetime

You may find yourself
Living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself
In another part of the world
And you may find yourself
Behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house
With a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself
"Well... how did I get here?"

David Byrne and Brian Eno
https://youtu.be/5IsSpAOD6K8?si=Lv15qT47qZL_R7hu

The Marionette

Chris lifted the little wooden control bar.

The marionette rose from the bedroom floor.

She stretched her tiny arms toward the ceiling, then spun in a graceful circle. Her little skirt floated around her knees before settling again.

Chris smiled.

“There you are.”

The marionette curtsied.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”

The coming-out-at-work theme in Steph C's recent chapter of Perspective got me thinking of this little bit of comedy from back when I was in mid-transition. Couldn't fit it into a haiku, so a tanka it is.

< It all started as the holiday from hell.

We were going on a three week holiday
to a villa in the hills of Spain away from the
tourist areas so that we could practice our
Spanish. We had been learning Spanish at
night school and we had decided to try to
speak only Spanish whilst we were on holiday.

It all started well until we were caught in
a traffic hold up on the M25. We therefore
arrived at Gatwick with only minutes to go
until the last check in time.

The Sisters

By Jenny with a G

Chris was already at school when Lily arrived.

That was not unusual.

Chris was usually there before almost everyone, sitting on the wooden bench outside the library with a backpack tucked close beside one foot. Teachers passed with coffee cups and key rings. The custodian pushed a cart down the hallway. Students came in laughing, yawning, arguing, complaining about homework, and never wondered why Chris always seemed to be waiting before the day had even begun.

Lily noticed.

Lily noticed most things about Chris.

My Diary.

By Nikkie Silk

Dear Diary

Today was a busy day. This morning, I kissed Daddy goodbye at the front door, wearing my pink baby-doll nightie. The nightie rides up to show my matching knickers, which barely cover my little cockette in its cage. Daddy keeps the key close to his heart on a chain around his neck, which I think is supersweet of him. It is gestures like that which make me love him so much. Only he can use the key, as it should be, I hasten to add.

The Ghost of Tomorrow

Chapter 3: Coming Out

I don’t remember what we had for dinner that night. I know I needed
to tell mum and dad my story after we’d finished the dishes, but my
heart was pounding in my chest all through the meal. After dinner, Mum
and Dad had moved to the Lounge to watch TV while their dishwashers
cleaned up after the meal.

ROBYN AND MARION

1

What Should I Do
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Can anybody love someone as much as my Pete loves me? Sometimes I feel that I am the luckiest girl in the world – or I would be, if I were a girl.