Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

It seems that my Muse shared an amphora of The Good Stuff with Bacchus, from his Private Cellar.

And she came back with this “hangover” drabble.

No real bugs were harmed in writing this offering.

Allie - The teenage years of Alexander Horten

Some final notes

“Love is a powerful thing, isn’t it?”

The Light Between (Part 8 of 8)

by Erisian

Book 5

Chapter 30 - Terminus

For more than thirty years, Deniz Akbas had given fishing tours of the Bosphorus with his small boat. With his pleasant demeanor (and perhaps due to a few missing teeth lending him a certain charm) tourists had found him trustworthy as well as deeming his white-tire clad vessel seaworthy for a day’s cruise. From his pilot’s position in the wooden front compartment, travelers to Istanbul had relaxed in the glass-walled and ivory-benched area in the back where they enjoyed whatever food and drink they’d brought aboard inside their many baskets - all while marveling at the magnificent views of the Turkish seaside and the wide bridge connecting Asia to Europe, a construction officially known as the 15 July Martyrs Bridge and unofficially as the First Bridge.

In all that time he had never been paid so much to do so little.

Author retains all rights to this original work of short fiction.

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Monday, June 20th, 8:15 AM – My apartment…
I woke with a sour taste in my mouth, much like a rotting egg sort of thing from what I could smell of my breath. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to work today feeling the way I did so I called my boss to say I was taking a sick day. I barely made it to the bathroom to piss, downed some antacid, and returned to bed.

The Pinky Confessions 7

There is a debate about transgender children. Should a Child be allowed to change gender? Some parents even allow their children to be drag kids! Should we allow this so the child is happy? Or is this just a form of child abuse?
You may know me as Pinky and read a lot about me. This is my story in my words.
A story of who I was, who I wanted to be, who others wanted me to be and who people thought I was

“Jiang, what has you so excited? It’s really urgent?”

“Just watch the video, all I ask, Ranveer.”

“Ok, somebody on the Great Wall of China, walking funny, big deal?”

“Our recognition engine gait-matches this video from Badaling to what you gave us from Roosevelt Island.”

“Oh! They came to China too?”

“Probably when they checked out our ‘uranium.’ But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Their illusion only covered visible light; look at the terahertz and infrared images! You see their real shape!”

When you make a wish on Christmas Eve. Even if it is a wish that you have been hiding from everyone your whole life.

The party was sprawling down the lawn towards the harbor, splashes of bright colors against blue skies, scudding white clouds and a crystal clear view of the Boston skyline. It reminded me of the dream I had taken across the threshold into morning. It had been years since I had seen that dreamscape, but there it was, whole and healed and perfect: me, making a graceful dive from a wooden pier into a deep, pristine lake, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, pine forests and the clearest air in the world. Wearing a lime-green one-piece and curves that were, finally, all my own.

"Be A Girl - It's Just For One Day!"

Four teenagers: one girl and three boys are partying before they go their separate ways to different colleges when someone says 'lets play spin the bottle'. But they are one girl short so they spin the bottle to see which boy will become a girl... just for the day of course.

A permission slip is a problem.

He continued to glare at me, until suddenly his expression changed completely and he simply looked like he’d been hit by a locomotive. “Fi IS saving the world, jackass,” I said conversationally. “And you’d be the first to agree that the world can spare a lawyer or five. So stop being stupid, will you?”

“It’s like one of those bad dreams, where you can see a train go off the rails, or a car careening into a group of people, and you try to cry out, or move, but you can’t.”

I slipped back into the apartment that had been my sanctuary for these incredible months of change, and suddenly, so very suddenly, wasn’t. Life was just coming at me too quickly.

“You know about hell, I suppose?” she asked.

I thought of my upbringing and said, “It’s been mentioned.”

She responded, “I expect they’ll give you a refresher course.” I could only nod.

“Dorothy was a child, and she missed her home. Her Aunty Em. I left home when I was 21, and I don’t think I’ll ever go back even to visit. It’s not home anymore. And I’ll be honest: I’ve always thought Dorothy was an idiot for going back.”

She cocked an eyebrow in question and I said, “Have you been to Kansas?”

“Okay,” I said. “What you heard was a transwoman talking to a friend. A friend who needs some comforting, and I don’t intend to let her down.”

"I’ll tell you this, Cami. If heaven excludes women like you and the other trans people that I’ve known over the years, just because they are trans, then I don’t want any part of it. I’ll stay with you. You’re my people.”

The name on my driver’s license, and every form of identification I have ever possessed in the 27 years since a St. Louis physician attested to my live birth, is Cameron Ross Savin. I suppose that is my name still. But in a very real sense, I truly was born yesterday. I am a woman, and I would like my friends to call me Cami.

The Customer Presentation.

So we spent most of Monday night gluing Lori back together. We didn't bother with the makeup since I wouldn't be showing any seams. For all the good it did, Aida gave me a titty squeeze to welcome Lori back.

Family Matters

As if to emphasize that my period of contemplation of Eden Atara Goldman's letter was finished, the doorbell started to ring. The new doorbell was one of those electronic types that can be programmed to practically play a symphony when the button was pushed. Stan the ass-grabber had set it to play Roy Orbison's Pretty Women. I still was trying to grasp that I was a pretty woman these days, it was almost as strange as living with a ghost.

I am Not Julia - Part 3

Taylor has a best friend and when she is gone, he has to replace her. How can a boy take the place of his best friend, who is a girl?