The cross shaped church was packed as it was every year for the Christmas Eve Family Service. The altar, pulpit, and lectern filled the top arm. The gaily and brightly decorated fifteen foot tall Christmas Tree had temporarily replaced the Baptismal Font on the right arm of the sanctuary. A three foot high nativity sat atop the closed lid of the grand piano in the left arm of the sanctuary. White lights twinkled in the green garland wrapping the railing separating the congregation from the choir and organ in the area between the arms of the cross. The main congregational seating was in twin rows of twenty pews each sitting 12 people. A flickering single candle sat atop each seven foot tall candelabra which were clamped to the inner and outer sides of every other pew.

The pastor was in the middle of his sermon pausing for a dramatic moment of silence when the door from the right vestibule opened with a squee from a worn hinge. A bedraggled emaciated figure staggered in looking around the sanctuary blinking with amazement in the dazzling light. Alerted by the noisy hinge everyone turned to see who entered. In that moment the sermon was kaput.

“Ex...excuse me,” the small person asked in a small quavering voice. “I... I’m looking for Harry and Livie Clark...”

Nearly everyone turned to look at Harry and Livie. The couple were a mainstay of the congregation. They were the somebody’s of the church... as in ‘Why doesn’t somebody do this?’ or ‘Why doesn’t somebody take care of that?’ The couple stood and looked at the scrawny child.

“We’re Harry and Livie,” Harry stated. “Who’s asking?”

© 2015 D.L.

The rain water slowly dripped down from the rafter onto the black bin liner covering the child curled up underneath. The thin plastic sheet proviing a waterproof shield, keeping the occupant of the abanonded barn dry. Macie was tucked as tight into the corner as she could manage.

It would have been drier against the other wall, where the roof wasn't leaking as much. However, that would have positioned the youngster in the direct path of the cold night wind coming in through the exposed hole in the wall where a access door would have once been hung. It had been a challenge to climb up eight feet into the opening. However, the wall was not vertical. The wall tapered towards the top. The soft cement holding the cobble and flint together was not enough to resist the subsidence that exagerated the lean. The rough surface providing just enough protrusions for climbing.

A PLACE BY THE SEA
The stone flew past her head immediately after the word. She’d spotted the kids sitting on the wall as she came round from the Co-op, but there was no other way back to the flat, sitting as it did at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was one of Billy Shaw’s boys, she was pretty certain, but she didn’t know the other boys, nor the girls standing by them laughing at how macho they could be. The rucksack should protect her back, she thought, so best just keep her head down and get in the door as quickly as she could.

Best Friends Forever is not just for Girls

Paul gave Bethany a birthday present – just a little gift. Would it have made any difference in the long run. He gave her a little heart which could be divided in two – he thought it represented how the two of them were for each other. Well, yes, but not the way HE thought. Oh dear.

I like wearing a dress.

It’s not unusual to wear a dress unless you usually wear trousers. But here I was, in a dress for the first time in ages. And, as far as I could, I felt wonderful, almost girly as the soft satin swished around my calves. The swirl of the fabric delighted me. I enjoyed the .... well, all of it.

Note : This story touches on the wish that there was a group like the SisterDom or as I'm changing it to 'SisterDy'. There is also a considerable element of autobiography. Alys P

The Waltz

The best friend asked me teach him the waltz for our school's formal winter dance. What happenned later was completely unexpected.

“Mr Charlton, unless you are prepared to tell me your troubles I really see no point in us continuing these sessions. Well?”

I’m Paul Charlton and I’m sitting ‘in the Psychiatrists Chair’. I was here because I'd lost it in a very big way and had a breakdown. That breakdown had led to the end of my marriage and thence to me becoming homeless and virtually penniless. Now three years later I was trying to rebuild my life but one huge thing was getting in the way. That was my secret.

I didn’t reply straight away. That didn’t matter to Dr Yacub Pakker, my Psychiatrist.

Typical me, always getting into arguments.

My name is Tim. I'm a senior in high school. This is the story about the time I took things too far.

I was on the basketball team at my high school. Recently, we had lost a game because of miscommunication. This was largely because of the cheerleaders. They were at fault because we couldn't hear over them. I chose to bring this up to Rachel, the head cheerleader.

"It wasn't our fault." She claimed.

"Yea it was. We couldn't hear each other over your stupid cheers," I rebutted.

Sometimes miracles can come from the humblest of places, especially when a selfless wish is made for another, on the first, pure snow, or when someone upstairs is watching...

Our flight continued. We were told to divert to New York for debriefing, but when the pilot made the plane’s billionaire owner aware of it, that order was quickly rescinded and we were able to go straight home. Score: one for the people, zero for the bureaucrats. I loved it. It helps when the people have lots of money and connections. What about my confrontation? Didn’t happen. I pictured myself sitting down for debriefing with an old man with a clipboard. It turned out to be an intelligent, attractive young woman named “Laura”.

The Producer sighed as he looked at the cast. He just as well should send them home from the theatre. What a situation! It could have been a producer’s dream: The leading lady stabbed at dress rehearsal. What could be better publicity for a detective play? The only problem was that the leading lady had been taken to hospital and wasn’t expected to recover for months while her understudy had been taken by the police.

The Ring of Competition
A Mercynaries Story from SinComics.com

Ivan's trial is winding down now. Jack / Daisy is preparing to move on with his life and is faced with heartbreaking news and a decision. In other news, the local HLS office has been seeing some changes. Some folks more than others.

Just Another Day.

by

Angharad.

A Gaby fanfic.

“C’mon kiddo, get your bum in gear,” Dave called from downstairs while his sleepy offspring stumbled about upstairs trying to dress himself. He’d been doing it on his own since he was about four years old, so it seemed reasonable for his father to expect him to be able to cope in reasonable time. Obviously he wasn’t, hence a second summons from below.

A young woman is singled out of superherodom, but is having none of it. A group of teenagers disturb a malicious spirit. A radical plan to improve the American political process. Hit play on the last TG Mixed Tape for 2015 for all these stories and more, featuring contributions from Efindumb, Ellie Dauber, Desert Willow, Misaania, Jenny North, Callie Messenger, Person42, Hikaro, Shauna, Trismegistus Shandy, kandijayne, Desert Willow and Anon Allsop

I watched the graphic depiction of our flight path on the screen. The plane crept slowly toward the northeast. I assumed the pilot knew the way, but it looked like we were headed for New York. We had been in the air less than a couple of hours, but it seemed longer. The total trip was almost 20 hours. The hormones I was taking provided some extra padding and made prolonged sitting less uncomfortable. I wished I could sleep, but I was never one who could fall asleep just anywhere. I certainly couldn’t sleep in a pressurized cabin miles in the air with dozens of strangers.

Chapter 15

Martin followed me through to the kitchen where mum was warming some plates

“Hi Martin love, how much do I owe you for the food?” She asked

“No problem Mrs M. It's ok, I should be thanking you for letting me take Joe out today” Martin replied

I stood in the middle of the kitchen listening to them chat not knowing what to do when mum looked to me

“Joe go and set the table whilst I dish up the food. There’s a good girl. Erm sorry boy” she corrected herself smiling

T-Girl Perfume
by Ellie Dauber
© 2002

Helen Atwell's mother hated her daughter's live-in lover, Fred. Buying the older woman a nice birthday present won't help -- or will it?

* * * * *

Get your own!

By

Angharad.

He was not expecting to lose