I had several dreams during the night.
Not all of them were nightmares, but they came close as they all revolved around real people in my life. I couldn't recall anything that they said, but it was more of their expressions—the lifeless, dead expressions they had with every face that flashed in my head. My parents, teachers, Karen Anne, Dick, maybe even Elvis, I don’t know…but they all stood along a line that lead to a door and ultimately closed it on me.

With the permission of both Sarah-Goodwoman, who wrote the initial story here: https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/69906/what-about-chil... ,
and of Laika, who then penned the reply in this little piece: https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/69929/what-about-bob ,

I'm adding my own little twist to this rather odd pair of tales. It starts a few minutes after Laika's tale ends. I hope you enjoy it.

**********

A few false steps
In finding Ellie's grave
Appreciating the personal space
Of a few moments alone
Before joining me.

Placing your hands
On my shoulders
In support and love.

Silently
We stand.

My mind
Reruns that fateful night
Tears running down
My cheeks.

Taking the patchwork doll
Holding it
Against my lips.

Tenderly
Kissing it goodbye
Placing the doll
On the grave.

With Sarah Goodwoman's kind permission, here is a continuation of her short story WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN, an excellent little tale about the everyday hassles trans people face; which can be found HERE: https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/69906/what-about-chil...

Okay, I guess Sarah's story can't be found there, she seems to have removed all her fiction from BCTS after becoming the target of some harassing reprobate political troll. But WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN should show up eventually at Fictionmania. My story begins just a few seconds after hers ends...

By Therisa Godwaldt

© 2008 Therisa Godwaldt

All rights Reserved

An angry feminine voice
Jars me
Back to the present.

My eyes
Bleary from crying
Realizing
It was your mom.

Hastily
Wiping my eyes dry
Turn to face her.

Knew
She was talking
But didn't understand
Her.

Slowly
Her words penetrated
My mental fog.

Judging
From her voice's pitch
She has been yelling at me
For a while.

"James Robert McLeod!"