The antiseptic tang of the living room haunted the air, a faint ghost of the hospital ward. Melanie, propped on the sofa, a patchwork quilt draped over her plaster-encased leg, flipped through a magazine. Her ankle throbbed, a dull ache that resonated with the silence hanging between her and Mum.

I lingered in the doorway, the scent of burnt toast from my failed breakfast attempt clinging to my jumper. They hadn't noticed me yet. Their voices, hushed and conspiratorial, floated from the other side of the room.

I looked at myself in the big mirror on the back of the door.

Another Country -9-
by Erin Halfelven

Brown sat off to the side, an outsider. Not family, not friend. Not Catholic. In the packed assembly, gathered together to celebrate a life, to mourn a death, he felt alone.

Chapter 3

We had lunch with Mum in the library café, telling her what was happening and how far we had got with the house. Margaret told her that the two of us would be at the church earlier to stand with our Uncle and Aunt. After that, we went back to the house, where I had to get shirtless and sit in the garden while my sister worked on my hair.

Chapter 3

“What have I got myself into,” Rose thought as Swanky handed her a black and white referee’s shirt. It was the week of their first practice and Swanky asked her to come in early for a birthday party.

“Do you have a bigger one?” Rose asked.

“Nope,” Swanky said with a shit eating grin on his face. The young man with Rick behind the counter rolled his eyes.

“Grandpa, you know we’ve got one in every size,” he said.

Rick glared at him, “Mikey, you’re ruining it.”

Ethan Martin and his mother live a simple life in a small Southern town... with a twist: She makes dresses to pay the bills and he helps out as best he can.
 

Ethan takes on a dare… and has second thoughts.
 

Coming Out Posthumously: a grave admission

A foreboding premonition caused now deceased cross-dresser Joel to schedule and pre-pay for his 'Makeover of a Lifetime' many months prior to his demise.

His ‘Makeover’ included being laid to rest perfectly made-up, with nice hair, wearing his prettiest earrings, his nicest high heeled pumps, manicured and painted nails and dressed in his feminine finery with the delightfully feminine “Miss Dior by Maison Février Essence de Parfum” wafting from his satin lined casket.

“I asked him, once. All he would say was, ‘I kept faith.’”

And now for something different. Not different for me, come to think about it, but a change from the general gloom.

This is a sequel to “And the Winner is …” To understand this sequel you really need to (re)read that.

While my parents just stood there shocked Arnold said

“Until tomorrow morning then. I’ll take you up in the mountains so wear sturdy shoes and suitable skirt if you have one.

Thanks to my parents I did have one. A short one.

True to his word Arnold rang the bell at exactly 10 am. The skirt was the only girl garment I wore. Shoes, socks, shirt etc. were all my ordinary boy stuff. If only they had screamed “BOY” instead of just whisper it!