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************* PROLOGUE ************
"Damn you!" The woman of the thieves snapped. She finished looking around the store, and still had not been able to find anything really worth taking.
"Ok, calm down and maybe we will pull this off." One of the males, named Steven, said as he once again tried to break the lock on the door to the rear of the shop.
"Look, It was you who said that there would be a safe here." The woman snapped. Her name was Diane, and she was a stereo-typical red hair. Quickly to fire up, and had a blaze like a rocket blast.
"I thought there was!" Steven replied, kicking at the door "The bloody old man must have it stored behind this door somewhere. I wish we had never seen this bloody store." Steven spun round to face the others in his thieves group. "Look it would be better if we did the other stores and just forgot about this shitty store anyway."
"Wait, how about we take a few of the items," The youngest of the group, Karl, said grabbing a small figurine that looked like crystal from one of the shelves, "they may be useful and maybe we can sell them on the black-market."
"Look it was your idea to come to this town." Diane was cornering Steven. "Damn it I could be with the New York group breaking into the new giant magic store instead of doing this small bit mall in some small bit town."
"Hey, this town has class and none of that supermarket shit." Steven snapped back, knowing he would have to defend himself with teeth and claw if Diane got any more angry. "You should see the great bars around this place. Anyway McCraw's team is nothing compared to the New Jersey hit team. They hit eleven shops, all big ones mind you, in one night."
The tallest and eldest of the group pushed the two bickering robbers apart. He glared at them both, his face grim "Look are you two finished, I would like to go rob some place that has some money and not these stupid items that are worth nothing." The leader of the Morocco gang said, his voice deep and that of a sergeant major in an army.
Chris Morocco ushered the rest of the gang together and gave them the drill. "When we leave, we break into two small groups. We have wasted to much time in here, and we need to make it up. Karl and Diane I want you to hit the Clothes supermarket up the walk way from here. Mike, Gene hit that bookstore, you go with him Mike." He paused and regarded Mike with a mean stare. "And Mike -- no reading!"
Mike nodded quickly, his face blushing from the embarrassment he still felt from getting caught on his last raid, because he stopped to read a Chalker book.
"Steven, you are with me and we are hitting the apartment store across the mall." He looked back at the gang. "We may not be able to get all the shops, but while hit the bigger of them. Right, now any question?"
"When do we meet back?" Came Mike's reply, the slim twenty year old geek asked. He wasn't much of a robber, but he could deal with nearly any security system that was in place. He had quickly dealt with the security of this place, overloading all the camera's with one little device he had made.
Chris nodded and quickly answered. "Ok, we meet back in the car in eighty minutes. Anything else?"
There was silence indicating everyone was ok with the plan. "Right we are out of here." Chris order as he grabbed his gun from the counter and started for the door. "Everyone got want they want?" He order.
Everyone nodded, grabbed a few items, then exited.
As they left a figure seemed to walk out of the darkness and watched as the six robbers started walking off to their next hits. He smiled and knew that soon they would regret hitting Spells R' Us first.
************* PART 1 *************
They entered the front of the shop through a hole in the glass that Diane had quickly made with her glass cutter. She had always been full of surprises, and Karl smiled as yet another of her bag of tricks helped them in to a shop of their choosing.
"Ok, I'll right the right side, you hit the left. I'll meet you in the middle in 35." Karl whispered as he looked up to see the video cameras, but it didn't matter as they had already got rid of the security guard which monitored the cameras.
Diane nodded and rushed over to the right side of the large clothing store. Karl watched as she run and couldn't help watching her ass moving. He took a long deep breath and smiled. He knew he would get his way with her, it was a simple fact of getting her drunk and leading her off somewhere.
"Well back to work boy." Karl whispered to himself as he rushed over to the left side of the store, and started searching for anything that is worthwhile.
Diane quickly made it to the other end, and without rest, she started searching around the area for anything that would get them money. After a few minutes of searching she wondered if anyone else had found something of worth. She looked over to Karl and still could see him anywhere and she wondered if he had found another room. It would just be her luck if didn't find anything and the rest of the buggers did.
Suddenly she felt something fall out of her pocket and she looked down to see the ring she had snatched from that Spells 'r' us store. She picked it up and looked at the shining gem that was on it. It's brightness shone like a diamond, yet it wasn't as straight edged as a diamond and looked roundish, like a pearl.
She place the ring on her finger, as not to loss it by it falling from her pocket again. She got up from were she had been crushing and walked further into the store looking for something that would catch a good price on the black market. She turned around and saw someone standing in front of her.
She jumped and wiped out her gun. She pointed it at the figure who was pointing a gun at her. Then she saw the face and smiled.
"Oh shit you scared me." She said to reflection in the mirror.
"Really?" Came back a reply.
Diane did a double take and looked at the mirror again. "What the hell." She said and walked towards the mirror. She moved, to make sure the mirror image did as she did. She looked at herself in the mirror and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. She did look pretty, she thought to herself.
She looked down at the black cat-suit she was wearing and frowned. "This just doesn't work for me." She said.
"No it doesn't" Came a reply from the mirror again. This time when she looked up the mirror image was smiling at her. She back pedaled and dropped the gun to the floor. She stared as the mirror image of her stepped forward and out of the mirror and walked towards her. "You know you could look a lot prettier then that."
Diane tried to speak but found her voice was taken with fear, and also wonder. The image of her stepped up to her and touched her face with a soft hand. Diane couldn't help but move forward slightly, unable to control her bodies sexually reaction to the way the image of her had touched her.
"I think you need something a lot sexier on don't you?" The image of herself whispered.
Diane found herself nodding and following the image to the mirror again. She looked in the mirror to watch as the cat-suit around her body started to pull inwards and become silk like. The arms retracted in, as did the legs of her cat-suit. She watched as the black became a pastel pink and then finally she was wearing a pink silk teddy. She looked up at her hair which had been taken out of the tight bun, and was now flowing freely down her near naked back. The teddy push her beasts upwards, making the stand at attention, her hard nipples pushing firmly against the teddy's silkiness.
She was turned around and she came face to face with her mirror image again, who was now wearing exactly the same as she now was. "That looks better." Her mirror image said, as she leaned forwards and kissed Diane on the lips.
Diane moved her lips forward and suddenly found she couldn't move. She looked as her mirror image move away from her. The woman shimmered slightly and seemed to reform into an old, but a strong and wise looking old man.
"I think I'll be taking that little ring, dear." The man said as he brought his hand to her still hand and removed the ring. He placed the ring in his pocket and grabbed Diane by the waist with both his hands. He twisted Diane and turned her around so that she could see straight into the mirror. "I think you'll want to watch this." The man said.
She stared into the mirror and watched in horror as her feet seemed to become some type of shinny more artificial surface. She watched as it grew up her legs, hardening her skin to become as hard as .... plastic....
She was becoming a mannequin,. She tried to move, but felt like her body just was wasn't even there. All she could do was watch as the plastic grew upwards, past her stomach, touching her breasts and making the hard as rocks. It grew up her neck and then when it finally touched her head she felt a rush of panic and then all thoughts left her forever as she became a store mannequin.
The old man shook his head and turned the mannequin back round to face the store. "One down," he said looking at his watch. "Five to go. I'll need to be faster if I ever plan on stopping them all." He looked up to were the next person was in this room. He thought about the item that Karl had in his pocket and he smiled. "Oh too easy." He said as he started the objects magic.
************* PART 2 *************
Karl slowly opened the safe, and checked the edges of the safe door to make sure there was no hidden traps. He opened it slowly and found himself staring into a safe full of....
"Children's clothing?" He said taking the clothing out. "What the hell is this all about." He muttered to himself. He grabbed the clothing from out of the safe and looked it up and down. There was a girls dress, a pair of white stocking, black shining shoes, there was also a pink hair ribbon.
"I have spend twenty minutes breaking into this safe for nothing." He said, throwing the clothes to the floor.
"That isn't anyway to treat clothes now is it." Came an male voice from behind him.
He spun around spotted and old man. His hand reached into his pocket and grabbed for his gun. He pulled it out and fired. Nothing happened. He looked at the gun and stared in surprise. Instead of a gun, he held the crystal figurine; which was of the posh girl dressed in a dress and Alice in wonderland shoes.
"Oh ouch you got me." The old man laughed. "Now what are you going to do about the clothes."
"Your dead old man." Karl snapped, dropping the figurine to the ground. As he rose from the ground, the figure hit the floor and smashed. Karl felt a rush of air and suddenly mist filled his vision. He turned to see where the mist was coming from, but he couldn't see anything. It was if he had just landed in the middle of a great fog in England.
Then just as suddenly the fog vanished and he stared in wonder at his new surroundings. "What the fuck."
"Young girl!" Came a reply from behind him. "I will not hear you using words like that!"
"What?" He turned around and came face to face with a woman who could only be described as a nanny from hell.
"Don't what me young lady. I heard you." Why was she calling him a young lady? And where did she get that think British accent from, she sounded like she was talking through her nose. "Now take your clean clothes and get ready for school." She handed out some clothes and throw them into his stomach. He caught them on relax, and as the door closed behind the angry nanny he looked down to see the pink frilly dress, white panties, white think denim stockings and a pink hair tie that he had found in the safe.
He looked up and around in amazement at the room. It was like out of a fairy-tale, all frilly and made up for a young girl. He noticed the bed and walked over to it. Pushing down on the bed with his free hand, he heard the springs squeak underneath. He sat on the bed and looked at the clothes he was holding.
He slowly placed the clothes on the bed. He then started to remove his own black cat-suit gear. As he was removing his clothes, finally removing his underwear, he wondered why he was doing such a strange act. He couldn't honestly think of trying to wear the young girls clothes. Could he?
He picked up the small white panties and look at them. You knew damn well that they wouldn't fit over his legs, let alone around his penis and waist. However, his hands brought them to his feet and he place, first his right foot into the hole, then his left foot. The panties seemed to have expanded and grown to allow them to fit around his legs and waist. He pulled them up to his groin and pulled them up to cover his exposed genitals.
Karl was mighty surprised that the panties had fitted his body, but before he had time to think on the matter his hand reached down and took up the white stockings. He looked at the thick white stockings and saw how small they were. His hand lowered them to his feet, and he pointed his feet into first the right, then the left hole. He pulled the stocking up his legs, and then stood up as he pulled them over his bottom and waist. Again the stocks had seemed to grow with his body, as if they grow to his adult size.
He collected up the dress and placed it over his head. His head touched the hole to the top of the dress, and just as it touched his ears, the dress flopped down over his body. This time however, he had felt something tingle all over his body. As the dress seemed to fall over his head, he noticed his hands grow smaller, then wrinkles disappearing behind soft young skin. His nails grew outward and became more pointed. As the dress settled around his body he felt his legs seemed to squeeze inwards, and he noticed the room seemed to get larger. Then he felt like he needed to pee as his penis seemed to leak into his body. He reached down quickly, wondering what was happening. Why had he even placed on these clothes. Before he even got his hands to the hem of his dress the door opened and an adult walked in. It was an old man.
"Well, Karl." The old man said picking Karl small body into his arms. He topped him on to the bed again and took the red ribbon from the bed. Karl tried to move but found he couldn't, or was it he didn't want to. The old man grabbed at Karl's brown hair and seemed to pull it from his scalp. "You can't go to school without your long brown hair tied now can you." He said, as if he was talking to a child.
"You won't get away with this." Karl said, his voice sounded strange. Young and like so much like a girl's voice.
"I think I already have." The old man said, as he placed the ribbon in Karl's long hair.
As soon as the ribbon touched Karl's hair, Karl felt a pain to his head and then she smiled and hugged her friend. "Thank you Mr." Karla said. "Will you help me with my shoes?"
"Of course I will, Karla." The old man said and picked up the Alice in wonderland shoes, placing them on her feet.
The door opened and Nanny Pine walked into the room. "Thank you for your help, Sir. Have you told her not to use that word again." She said in her strong accent.
"I don't think she even remembers what that word means." The old man said, leaving the Nanny to finishing tending to the young girl that was once Karl.
As the old man left the room he quickly clicked his fingers and returned back in the Mall. "Right," he said looking to the bookstore. "Next." He smiled walking towards his next victims.
************* PART 3 *************
Mike stared over to were Gene was noticed the well built man was again trying to crack the code on the lotto machine. He had been trying to crack that safe for about forty minutes now, and Mike felt like it was a give up job.
"Come on Gene," He finally said, "this is a waste of time."
"Oh shut up and read something if your bored." Gene snapped while he listened to the dial on the safe.
Mike turned around and walked down the isle. He stopped at the fantasy section and grabbed the first book on the shelf. Jack. L. Chalker's, Vengeance of the Dancing Gods. "Wow, this looks neat." He said skipping through the pages. He finally stopped on page 152 reading the section where Joe, who was a nymph, was so attracted to the Satyr and had to be fraught back to stop her making love to the Satyr.
Mike looked up from the book and smiled. "Wow," He said, "this man knows how to make a man feel really horny." Mike said feeling his penis pushing against his jeans. Suddenly he felt the long ruby wand, that he had stolen from the store, push against his side.
"Ouch, man." Mike said grabbing the wand from his pocket and held it in front of him. "Hey, I wonder if this wand is magic like them at that big store in New York." He suddenly had an idea and looked from the wand to the book. "Hey, idea coming." Sounding like Bill from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.
"I wish I could get girls as easy as that." He said. He waited, but nothing happened. He tried again. "I wish I could get girls horny like that satyr."
Again nothing happened. "Oh, bloody wand doesn't work!" He snapped. Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder. He spun and came face to face with the old man from the Spells R' Us shop.
"I'll take that, thank you." The old man said wiping the wand out of Mike's hand. "It isn't nice to play with wands that could destroy a whole township."
Mike backed up slight, letting the book drop to the floor. "Look, old man." He said, frantically searching his pockets for his gun. "Your not strong, I can beat you." He finally took the gun from his pocket and pointed it shakily at the old man.
"Go ahead punk," The old man said, "make my day." He raised the wand up and pointed it at the young man, the wand started to glow.
"NO!" Shouted Mike and dropped to his knee begging. "Please don't kill me!" His gun left his hand and skipped across the polished floor to the old man's feet.
The old man smiled and made a click sound with his mouth. "Damn," he laughed. "It was empty after all."
"I'm gonna kill you!" Mike snapped and rushed forward. But before he even left the floor he found his legs were changing. He looked down quickly and noticed his jeans were fading and his legs had become thinner and hairy. He reached down to grab them. He felt hard hairs pushing out of his now thin goat shaped legs. He watched in awe as he feet transformed into hard hooves. Then pain erupted from his head. He reached up and touched two little bumps that were growing into… HORNS!
"What are you doing to me?" Mike whimpered, his voice full of fear.
"You wanted to attract women," The old man said. "So I'm granting you wish." He watched as the man slowly transformed into a satyr, his long penis sticking out of the underneath of his hairy groin.
Mike felt his mind also start to change, his thought shifting like water being changed in a pool. All he wanted was to mate with a woman, a nymph. He wanted to mate and have fun. He didn't know where he was, but somewhere around this place was a nymph. Yes, that is what he wanted a nymph. He was a satyr and satyr's mated with nymphs.
The old man laughed as the satyr got up from the floor and started to run around the store.
"Nice, display old man." A voice said behind him. "Petty it will be your last."
The old man spun around and first noticed it was one of the other robbers that had spoken. Then he noticed what was in his hand, pointing directly at him. The robber's gun.
"Time to die." The robber said as his finger pushed against the trigger.
************* PART 4 *************
As Gene pushed against the trigger of the colt 45 his aim was knocked side-wards as a creature with human half and goat looking legs plowed into him, knocking him to the floor. The colt skimmed across the floor, as the bullet went into the air missing the old man by miles. Gene wrestled with this strange creature, who's genitals were pointed directly at him.
"Get off me you geek!" Gene shouted, trying to push the creature off him.
"I ain't no geek," The Satyr stated, his voice sounded strangely soothing to Gene. "and I ain't no weak."
Gene shook his head to fight the soothing feelings from it. He started kicking away, trying to get far away from this magical creature. "Oh god!" Gene shouted, placing his hands over his ears to prevent anymore magic. "Stop up with the crappie poetry too!" He kicked out and caught the creature between the legs. The creature's blue brown eyes widened in horror and pain. He moaned then fell backwards onto his back, giving out screams of pain.
"He kicked out true," The creature screamed. "Now I'm true blue."
"Good god." Gene muttered as he got to his feet and turned to reach for his gun.
"Not on your life!" The old man said in front of him. "You want it, your going to have to go through me."
"Oh really, old man," Gene said walking towards the old man who was standing in front of his pistol. "I'll rip you apart."
The old man just smiled and nodded. "Go ahead."
Gene lunged and grabbed the old man by the throat. The old man's arms came up and broke his grip. The old man pushed and threw Gene backwards, but not before Gene grabbed a knife from his picket and slashed out. "I'll cut you open like that stupid guard." He landed on his feet and lunged again.
The old man stepped to the murder's left. Gene stepped passed him his knife still nicking the old man's right arm. The old man felt a flash of pain which he forced into the black of his mind. Flashing out with his right hand, he grabbed the murder by the left arm as he passed him. The old man brought his left knee up into the murder's stomach and brought his left hand into Gene's head.
Gene fell down to his right as the old man's hand smashed against his left ear. He screamed in pain as he felt his ear drum pop with the pressure. He kicked out and collected the old man up with his swiping legs. The old man fell forwards and over Gene's body.
Gene looked up and saw the gun. He stumbled over to the weapon and grabbed out for it.
As he touched the gun something grabbed his legs and pulled him away from his grasp. He kicked out and turned to expect to see the old man, instead he saw that the satyr was pulling him over to the books. "Fun we have," The strange voice again start to soothe Gene's anger. "Shell we have a bath."
Gene's foot again kicked out, this time however the creature grabbed his foot and pulled off his shoe. "Oh, little game I play," The creature smiled. "I think I tickle thy."
Suddenly a feather appeared in the Satyr's hand and he started to tickle Gene's now unsocked foot.
Gene laughed, he couldn't help it. It was like he was being tickler like when he was a child. He kicked out, but each time the creature just seemed to make him laugh even more. "Stop it." Gene shouted. "God damn it stop it!"
"I think not," The creature grabbed Gene's other shoe and removed shoe and sock also. "You must be rather hot." The creature stopped tickling, but felt something strange happen in it place. He looked down and stare in horror as his clothes started to fade until he was naked.
"I need a mate," The creature's voice was eating into Gene's brain. "we have a date."
The creatures voice had suddenly changed from soothing to strange erotic and alluring. Gene tied to push away but the creature just pulled him closer. "A hole I need," The creature said as he pulled Gene's legs open, "To please my need."
Gene felt a rush of energy strike his penis and then the creature rammed forward. Gene screamed as something hard entered a hole where his penis was. Then he knew that he was being fucked and somewhere inside his changing body he was enjoying it. "NO!" He shouted again, but what came out was a cry of joy and a scream of more. "YES!"
He stared in horror as two mounds of flesh pushed out of his bare, now hairless chest, the feeling of being fucked was turning him crazy. One second he wanted to rip at the female breasts, the next he wanted to touch them and feel how they made him feel so sexy. He again tried to kick out, but found his legs lacked the strength they once had. He looked down, past the Satyr that was fucking his new vagina. They were slim and hairless. They were women's legs. He tried to push them against the satyr, but instead they seemed to just wrap around the Satyr's body helping to push the Satyr's penis further into his transforming body. His hands involuntarily raised up and started to fondle his breasts. The ecstasy that was running through his changing body ripped into his mind like knifes of passion and joy. He screamed, but not a scream of pain; it was a scream of joy. He couldn't help it, he wanted this creature, he wanted to be its mate. She wanted to be the Satyr's mate.
From just behind the isles of books the old man glared at the two making love on the polished floor. He scowled, his hands clasped in fist at his side. His anger built up as he watched the scene and he thought about his murdered guard friend.
In his right hand he held the wand of destruction and in mindless anger he Raised it and aimed at the two transformed robbers. He started a spell which he knew would finish them two off forever. It had been Gene, the person who was now changing into a Chalker nymph that had killed the guard. He didn't deserve to live. The wand shacked as the power built, yet he still didn't fire. He could release the power he had build up. Someone was trying to stop him. He fought but he had to much power being used to energize the wand.
"Let me fire, damn it!" The old man shouted. Behind him a hand touched his shoulder.
"You have beaten him." A woman's voice said. "You need not destroy him also."
"That guard was my friend." The old man snapped the wand starting to burn with power. "Tell my friend that his life is worth only a nymph spell."
A blond woman, aged one hundred and three but looking twenty stepped into the old man's vision. "You can't blame yourself for everyone who dies who is your friend old man." She said. She reached out and took hold of the wand. Her face showed pain as she tried to hide the fact that even with her powers the tremendous power of this wand was hurting her. "Release the wand, my friend."
The old man just stared at the now green nymph making love to the satyr. The gypsy woman frowned. "Does the geek deserve to die also?"
"He help." The old man's words were like venom. Poisonous to his soul, and the gypsy had seen this to many times. This pain, this poison had eaten many wizards up in her time. She had been lucky to see this happening in her dream, even more lucky to get her before the wizard had reached the evil magic of this wand. Finally she knew what would stop this. "Jennifer wasn't your fault!"
The old man flashed a glare at the gypsy woman. "How dare you bring her name into this!" He trashed out and his lack of concentration released the power of the wand into the air. A bolt of blazing fire released from the wand like a bolt of lightening from the sky. There was a roar of thunder that sounded like an explosion. It flew straight upwards guided by nothing and finally rammed into the roof of the building with a mighty explosion. Pieces of roof collapsed down around the old man and the gypsy. The gypsy spun around and noticed a larger piece falling down towards the two mythical creature that were still making love. She quickly threw her spell at them. The two started to disappear and fade just as the concrete piece of roofing crashed into in to the space they once occupied. She breathed in relief, hoping that they wouldn't mind the new woodlands where they would find more of their kinds. She heard crying from beside her and looking down to saw the old man weeping into his hands.
The gypsy woman placed her hands on the wizard's shoulder and brought him into her arms. "I'm sorry." She whispered, as she felt stink to have to bring up the death of the old man's wife. She had been there to see her death. The way her death had come about was due to a robber with a gun. New York held bad memories for the old man, that had been one of the major reasons for him to move from New York to this small town to set up a new store.
The old man looked up at her and nodded. "I understand your reasons." He said, his eyes red from crying. "I would have done it. I would have killed them."
The gypsy woman nodded. "I know." She said. "I saw it happening."
Suddenly the fire sprinklers came on and the gypsy woman looked up to see fire spreading around the roof of the bookstore. She looked down to the old man, and he nodded. "I will deal with the others."
"Don't…" The woman started to say.
"My way." The old man grinned. "Not death's way."
The gypsy nodded and kissed the old man on the cheek. "Look after yourself." She whispered in his ear and then disappeared.
The old man looked out of the glass of the store, the sound of a gun shot came out and the old man knew the their was now only one person to deal with.
"Damn you!" Chris snapped at the Steven who lay on the floor, dead. "how dear you tell me what to do!"
He glanced round him, the water from the sprinkler system drenching his body. "OK Where are you all!" He shouted out. He had heard the explosion and figured at first it had been one of his group setting an explosion on a safe, but the sprinklers either meant the blow had gone wrong, or it had been something different.
Suddenly an old man stepped from the bookstore that Chris had sent Gene to. "They are not coming." He said his eyes glaring at Chris.
"Who the fuck are you!" Chris said, raising his gun to the old man's chest.
"Your worst nightmare." Was all the old man repeated.
"DIE!" Chris shouted as he released bullet after bullet from his pistol.
The old man just stood their as the bullets seemed to pass through him. Chris stopped firing and stared in horror at the old man. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU!" Shouted Chris.
The old man stepped closer to him and smiled. "You can't kill a ghost." He finally said.
Chris panicked and threw his empty gun at the ghost of the old man. He screamed and rushed from the upper section of the mall and ran down the escalator. As he ran his feet caught on something and he fell forward. He fell down until he splashed into water. At first he wondered how the hell he ended up inside water, then he realized he had to breath. He swam upwards until his head broke the water.
Suddenly a hand grabbed his hair and pulled him up out of the water. "Well, seems I'm going to have to deal with you one way or another." Said a male voice. He turned to see the old man holding him like a rag doll. "You have a choice." The old man continued as Chris looked around this new place he was at. He noticed he was in some type of mansion pool area.
Nowhere did he see the mall.
"Your choices are, Animal or Woman." The old man said.
Chris glared at the old man. "What the fuck are you!" He shouted.
"An upset citizen of United States of America" The old man responded. "Now choice you I'll just kill you, because right now that is all I want to do."
Gene spat in the old man's face. "Stuff you." He replied. He wasn't scared of no old man. He trashed out with his hands but seemed to just pass right through the old man's body. "Shit you are a ghost." He cried in fear.
The old man smiled. "I had not thought of that choice, good idea." He said with a grin.
"WHAT!" Chris went to shout but already his lips with frozen in place, as was the rest of his body. His arm's dropped to his side and no matter how much he tried to move his body wouldn't respond. He was dropped to the concert poolside, as his body slowly started to transform.
First his feet fused together and then his body started to expand outwards. His arms and hands grew inwards, flattening into small fish tails. His head painfully expanded and reshaped. He felt every bone and muscle in his body shift. His body started to shrink and his eyes seemed to bulge out of his reformed head. He wanted to scream, but still his voice was froze in place. Then a flash of pain ripped through his whole body and his mind froze on one thought. 'fuck'
The old man picked up the stuffed prize New Zealand Trout from the ground and placed it under his arm. He walked over to the mansion and stopped at the back door. Knocking on the door he waited for the owner of the house to open it up. The door opened and President Clinton stared in surprise.
"Old man?" He said, "What the hell are you doing here, it's two in the morning."
"just though you may like this catch." He said handing the Present the stuffed fish.
Clinton glanced at the prize fish and then up to the old man. "Ok, should I ask?"
The old man shook his head. "Just sell it at the next crime prevention fund raiser." He said and disappeared, leaving the president of United
States of America wondering what the hell that meant.
"What 'Crime prevention fund raiser'?" But he had to admit, it was a good idea. Maybe, that would help bring down the crime in America.
************* AN ENDING ************
From his shop the old man stared at a photo which he had kept hidden away for years. From his eyes came tears; Not just tears of pain, but tears of remembering the joy he had once had with the woman in the photo.
He looked down at his companion, his pet, his friend and give the dog a weak smile. "You never met her," He said, showing the picture to the dog, "and you missed a wonderful woman." The dog nodded his head and barked, attempting to show he understand his friend's pain.
Peace had come back to the mall, and even as they spoke the firemen had brought the fire in the bookstore under control. The police had removed the dead robbers body and were at present in search of the person who had shot the guard and the dead robber. They had not come to the old man's store, thinking that everyone was out of the building. They wouldn't find the store anyway because the old man had placed his spell over the store again to hide it from view. There were something's that would never be the same. He for one would never sleep in the back of the store again, this was so he could make sure any robbers wouldn't get far if they attempted to rob the store again. Yet something else was now different, his master. He seemed tired, sad. He had never seen his master like this before, as if he had had enough. He tried to nudge his leg, but the old man ignored him and just stared at the picture. Finally the old man stood and silently walked into the back room where he placed the photo to the table and sat on the old wooden chair. He lowered his head into his hands and cried. Openly and painfully.
The dog watched his own pain at seeing his friend cry hurt like a emptiness in his stomach. He hoped his friend and master would recover, but, only time could tell.
or, enter your birth date.*
or, enter your birth date.*
As the morning woke me, I knew right away that something was wrong. Without moving my body, I felt the disconnection once again. I threw aside my sheets, and looked down at my *MALE* body.
"NO!" I protested, my wish had not been fulfilled after all. It had been some type of bloody dream. DAMN IT!
I ripped apart the white hospital pajama top, the buttons flying around the bed and floor. Staring at my chest, I saw there was no large, firm, red nipples that should have lain atop soft breasts. I reached down and lifted up the elastic of the pajama bottoms and shuttered as the final evidence lay between my legs. I screamed as I punched the mattress.
There was a knock at the door. Releasing the elastic and looking up from my disappointment, I saw Sara staring through the window. I nodded to her and she walked in, her looked happy, yet saddened also. "Mattie?"
I nodded, suddenly knowing then that the whole experience had been more then my own dream. “You remember?” I asked, hoping that she understood what I was asking.
“Yes. It was wonderful. You were wonderful. I feel great back in my body, but you. . . Are you going to be okay?"
I nodded slowly, realizing that I had somehow given her a gift that I had been using all of my life. She could now push aside the pain of her boyfriends death, allowing her to control the emotions and the feelings that came with the death. She would be able to continue on.
And I. . . I briefly had my wishes answered. I then knew, deep inside me, that being a man was wrong. That somehow Mother Nature had mucked up, and had placed my mind and soul into the wrong body. At that one moment of madness, there was no confusion. I was Malisa, and inside I was woman. I AM a woman. All I had to do was change the body to meet the soul. Easier said then done, but it WOULD be done.
After our brief talk, Sara requested that she wanted to go back home. The nurses were more then happy to get the doctor to check her over and the doctor had no problems.
I still had to wait for Christopher to be able to talk to me. However, I felt that I would be able to fight now. I knew who I was and that was fifty percent of my battle won. The rest could never be won, inside the mental ward of a hospital.
It didn't take long for the nurses to finally get sick of my moaning to see Christopher, and finally (only taking three hours of moaning) I got my meeting.
Christopher escorted me to his private office where we talked about how I was feeling. I had told him about the dream and about how Sara and I felt so strong after it. He smiled, telling me that strange things sometimes happen, but it would have been my subconscious that was sorting out my emotions for me. That sometimes the dream world can sort out things for us, that we can't do by ourselves.
I don’ t know. I felt that it had been more than just a dream. Something about that place had fulfilled Sara's wish and mine. She had wished to get help removing the memory of her boyfriend’s death, and I had wished to be a female, and to understand what was right for me. Now I knew.
The rest of the interview with Christopher had been about me getting out of the ward. Without a second thought, Christopher had spoken to the doctor and told him that I should be allowed to go home in the afternoon. The doctor agreed and Christopher called my friends to pick me up. He had arranged for them to pick me up at about five in the evening.
After the meeting with Christopher, I had walked back to my room. Still thinking about the strange night I'd had. I wrote it all down, again trying to catch my feelings and my emotions as they had happened.
That had taken me to around 3.00pm. I had heard during that time, Sara would be going home. I didn’t really want to say farewell. So I had walked out of my bedroom, and headed for the locked side exits of the ward.
Sara and I had not spoken since the morning. It was like we had shared something that was beyond words. I couldn't say if it had been a shared dream, or if it had been real. However, the impact of the whole experience had changed Sara’s life, and my own. It had given me the insight I needed, so I knew where I was to head.
I stood, looking out one of the side exits from the ward, watching as Sara walked out of the hospital ward, towards a car parked in the lot. An older looking man (her father?), followed close behind her. As I stood there, I couldn’t help but feel that she was escaping with my body. Something I knew I should have; something I knew I needed.
The man opened the door on the passenger's side and Sara paused before getting in. She stopped turned round and faced me. Our eyes touched briefly and Sara mouthed silently, "Thank you."
I smiled, and felt a small tear welling in my eye. This time, I wouldn't cry in pain, but with joy. I'd learned so much, and I had been able to help another too. "Ditto" I whispered back.
She turned back to the car, and got inside. I smiled and turned myself. I heard the car start behind me, as I had walked back into the hallway. I had tears falling down my eyes by the time I got back to my room, where I packed to leave also.
Well, diary that is about where I will finish. The rest isn’t worth really writing, as all I did until five o'clock was write down what had happened. I was picked by my friends dead on five o'clock, and brought back home. Then I started writing everything down inside you, diary. Shit, I have just looked at the time and I'm shocked to note I have been writing over eight hours. It is now 1am.
I'm just thinking about some of the factors that have affected my life over the last three days. If this is too ever affect my life in the correct way. I have to accept that I am prone to breakdowns like everyone else.
I have problems, and I can’t just push the problems aside. I told Sara in our final short talk, “Pushing a problem away is good. As long as you only put it off for a little while. You can't try to hide from it.” I should listen to my own words, as someone I once knew would say. "And damn good words also."
Brings back memories, and tears again. But this time, the tears are of happiness and remembering, good, joyful memories. This life I will have now, has to account for my inner self. It has to account for who I really am.
I affected my life because of pushing away my problems and then hiding them in little boxes that I hoped would never be reopened. I buried them and denied their importance in my life. The final breaking point had been TRYING to push my gender inside one of them boxes.
You can’t NOT have a gender. You have to be one or the other. I now know one thing. I am female. Even though I am not a typical female, my biological makeup doesn't match the 'normal' female physique. Neither the less, I am female. I feel that my life was created for womanhood. I am WOMAN.
Now all I have to do is live with it, deal with it, and work with it. The biggest transformation I shall ever undertake.
And I'm more stronger in mind, body and soul, that finally, that the transformation has started
End of Journey Entry . . . . .
or, enter your birth date.*
As I walked into the music room, I could feel a rush of excitement with the thought of being able to play a real piano again. It must have been three years since the last time my fingers had stretched out to caress the cool keys of a piano.
I saw the upright piano sitting in the back of the room. It seemed to call out to me, wanting me to touch it, make music with it. I walked over towards it, hoping and praying that it would be in tune. I pulled out the piano stool and sat down in front of the lovely polished wooden piano.
My fingers softy ran over the keys, touching each one without pushing them down to make a noise. Then spreading out my fingers, I played the C major chord. It was in tune. Next came a quick scale, and it confirmed that the piano was tuned to perfection.
I didn't want to be a doubting Mattie/Malisa, but this place needed something besides the decor to be not quite perfect. I wasn't hoping that the place should have been Bedlam, but would the piano being quarter tone off be too much to ask? It didn't feel natural and thoughts of wondering if I had died and somehow gone to heaven popped into my mind. Here I was, sitting in front of the first tuned piano in four years.
Just had a wonderful talk to a woman who understood me. I had even had one of the best cups of coffee I had ever tasted, yet, I was in a mental ward of the Palmerston North hospital.
Finally I pushed the uneasiness back. I could feel the creative energy inside of me, wanting to escape. With a slight release it took over and my fingers started playing across the keys of the piano, like I used to when I was a child.
It didn’t take very long until my song, my piece, had started taking shape and was taking control of where it was to head.
While I had been playing I failed to notice that someone walked into the music room, listening to my music. She'd been so quiet and I so absorbed that, until I had finally heard soft crying behind me, I hadn't realized she was there. I craned my neck around, my hands still occupied by the creative music. I stopped, but she shook her head.
“Please finish it.” Her voice had been needful, wanting.
I had sat there for a second, looking at her, not knowing what to do. I had never had this happen to me before. It felt like a scene out of a movie. I felt overly self-conscious, like I was causing this woman's pain. Still, I knew from the tone of her voice, that the request had come from the heart. I turned back to the piano my hands and my soul finishing off the piece I had started to create.
Bringing the piece to a close, my hands held the final chord, allowing it to fade naturally. She was still behind me, weeping softly. As I swung about on the bench, she came into my arms, hugging me tightly. As she cried in my arms, I whispered that it was all right. I felt strangely awkward, as if another circle was being closed. Only yesterday someone was holding me while I cried, and feeling this woman's cry for help made me feel like maybe there was some reason all this chaos had happened to me over the weekend.
“I’m sorry.” She had said as she moved out of my arms, her fingers wiping away tears from her eyes.
“Don’t be sorry. I should be sorry. I didn’t think my piano playing was that bad.” I said, smiling to her. She smiled, and sat on one of the plastic chairs that littered the room. Her eyes looked up at mine, their soft blueness like pools of water. "May I ask why you were crying?" I asked, hoping that Callahan's Law (Shared pain is lessened; shared joy is increased.) would hold. Don't they have staff for situations like this, I wondered.
"You play like my boyfriend used to."
"Used to?" She nodded gravely. "How long ago did he pass away?" I was playing on thin ice here, and I knew it. I didn't want to sound like a counselor, but I felt I had to help her out, somehow.
"A year ago." She started crying again and this time she flung herself into my arms like a child to her parents or a lover to her partner. I should have felt uncomfortable, but I didn't. Holding her, I felt calm. Here was a human being who needed _my_ support, if only for the moment.
Finally she settled back down again, and we could continue to talk.
She explained how lost she'd felt after her boyfriend's death. How she'd tried many times to deal with it, but she couldn't seem to let it go. Just when she thought she had got control of the feelings she would loss control again, falling into a deep despair.
“I just wish that there was some way I could get rid of these feelings of loss. They are just always there, and I don’t want to feel them anymore. She had told me, again her eyes filling with tears.
"You will, I can feel it." As she cried again, I tried to comfort her as best I could.
She looked up at me and kissed me on the lips. As we embraced, I felt a rush of panic over come me. Could this, should this, be happening. I pulled away from her, and she smiled to me. She got up from her chair, and just walked away. Not saying a word.
I sat there, stunned at what just happened. It was beyond belief. I knew that as a female I would still be BI-sexual, so nothing was confusing me with my transsexual problem. What was bothering me was the fact that I responded to her at all. She was obviously here because of her obsession with her deceased boyfriend. How could I like someone that fast? Was I so starved for some who wanted me, for whatever reason?
I looked back at the piano, not really knowing what else I could do. Where was all this confusion and strangeness leading to, and why?
“Mattie?” I had heard Sue’s voice calling out behind me. I turned and saw her standing at the music room door. “Lunch is up, and I was thinking you could keep me company while we eat.”
I nodded, knowing that she had managed to tell me what I was doing, while making me feel if I didn't go with her, I would be hurting her feelings. Shit, this woman was good.
I got up from the piano stool and walked over to her. As I passed she smiled at me winking. "You know you're clever don't you. I stated as I walked past her towards the lounge.
“That is why I have this job.” She had laughed, while following up behind me.
The lunch-time conversation went mainly along the same lines as our talk over morning coffee. Sue's intuitive questions continued to make me think about what I really wanted in life, and where I wanted to go. However, throughout the whole lunch, the crying woman from the piano room, had been on my mind.
I didn't know how I should feel about this, and I didn't know whether to say anything to Sue about it or not. So I didn’t, and in some way, I am glad about that. In others I feel that I didn’t give Sue a chance to help me, meaning I had allowed myself to think of others, before I had looked out for my own problems.
While noshing a nice ham and cheese sandwich, another of the ward's nurses came into the lounge and called out my name. I raised my hand, and she told me there was a phone call from Christopher for me.
I knew why he called, and I needed to tell him that I wanted out of this hospital as soon as possible. I excused myself from the table, and made a bee line for the phone. When I got there, the office transferred the call through to me.
“Hi, Mattie.” Christopher’s voice came out like an anchor to the outside world. It was a nice feeling, knowing that people out there where still interested in me. Even though I felt like a mental case.
“Christopher, thank god.” I replied.
“How you doing?” He had asked sounding a little worried.
"Well I'm okay, but hospitals drive me batty, Christopher." I wasn't really feeling that bad about this ward, but I knew I would if I had to stay in here.
“Okay, Mattie. We will see how you feel tomorrow and we’ll go from there. Understand that you were admitted last night under doctor's orders. You will have to be checked out by a doctor, before they will let you leave the hospital. So let's work on getting you better, okay?. Do you still feel like killing yourself?”
I had known Christopher would ask that question, but I knew I needed out of this hospital. I lied again. "No, I'm fine now." I said, knowing full well that I would do it if pressed too hard again too soon. Even if it meant my life, I couldn't take the chance of losing my liberty, even in pleasant surroundings.
“Fine. If you still feel that way tomorrow I’ll talk to the doctor for you. You have a great night okay?”
"Okay," I said, then placed the receiver down. I walked back to the lounge, hoping to grab another coffee and maybe talk some more with Sue.
After getting a coffee, and not finding Sue in the lounge, I asked the office for some pen and paper. I wanted to start writing down what was happening. I had created something on the piano, but now my first love, writing, wanted to be used.
For the next three hours I rested in my bedroom and wrote. My feelings, emotions, thoughts all flowing from my mind to the paper. Again, writing was a release that was helping me explore my feelings and ideas.
At that time I didn't have a _real_ goal, I was still very lost, directionless inside.. My gender, my life, everything seemed to be ganging up on me. Things I had ignored, and pushed aside, even though they are still here inside me now, even as I write this, they were stronger and more powerful then.
At the mental ward I was too weak to control the feelings and the pain. I understood that the pain would go away with help, yet them thoughts didn't seem to really help then.
After about three hours of writing on the paper they had given me, I heard someone shout out the dinner was up. I didn’t feel that hungry, but while I had been writing I had been thinking about the girl who had cried in the piano room. I figured I could meet up with her again at dinner.
Well I didn't have to wait till I got to the lounge. Walking out of my room, pen and paper left behind, I bumped into her in the hallway.
I said, trying to seem like I hadn't been hoping to see her again.
“Hi.” She smiled back to me. “You going for dinner?”
I nodded and before I could say another word she spoke again. “Well you can keep me company then, can't you?"
What was it in that ward? Every woman in there I had spoken to, had TOLD me I was eating with them. I didn’t mind, but it was funny.
“Okay.” I said as I followed her to the lounge. “Oh, by the way, my name is Mattie.”
She turned and smiled to me, “I’m Sara.” Well that was the start of a. . . . lets say, "interesting friendship" that I had in the ward. My feelings for her, are still strong, but not just because of the friendship. Because of what happened that night. But I’m jumping the gun. Sara and I had spoken about a lot during our dinner together. Mainly all about me. Even though I tried to turn the conversation back at her, she was more interested in my problems this time.
She had asked why I was in, and even though I liked her, I didn’t know if telling her about my gender problem was such a great idea. Not just yet anyway.
“Um, does the food get better in here?” I asked, changing the subject. It was my worse change of subject yet, and she picked up on it like a hawk spotting a mouse in a field.
"You need a lot of work on changing the subject, Mattie. You're supposed to make it look like you hadn't changed the subject." I laughed and nodded, knowing she was right.
“Depression. I had a bad…” How could I say anything without making her wonder what was the matter. She had looked at me with her lovely blue eyes, waiting for the rest to come out. There I was, unable to really finish what I was about to say. Damn this fog. I couldn’t seem to think straight past this bloody fog in my mind. “I had given up on life on Sunday. For some reason I got enough hold on my emotions and feelings to call my counselor, who in turn, called the crisis team.”
Whew, I had got it out and none too soon. I felt like I was about to break down and cry. This was stupid. No, not stupid, frustrating. I still for the life of me can’t seem to place my thoughts into the order I used to be able to. It is like this pain that is inside me, has dulled my mind. Dulled my emotions and feelings.
“I see. So you tried to kill yourself too?” She asked. I had nodded, while taking another bite of the meal, wishing I hadn’t.
“This is really bad you know.” Indicating the food. I looked up to Sara and smiled. Sara tried very hard to keep her smile down, but failed and finally laughed. There we were in the lounge, surrounded by people with various problems, laughing. Some looked at us in confusion, and then they followed and laughed along.
The dinner went well from then on. She and I spoke about all sorts of things. From life, to the color of her nail polish, which had been a nice reddish pink. Finally, after about two hours of talking, she had to leave to get her medicine. The nurses and doctors had placed her on two Prozac a day, while I only needed the one.
I left the lounge, with another cup of coffee, and headed back to my room. The time had grown on, and I really couldn’t believe that it was then ten in the evening. Where had the day gone to? I wasn't that tired, even though there had been a lot to tire me out that day. From Sue to Sara, and the way Sara made me feel. Oh, my affection for Sara and sympathy for her plight had only increased during dinner. She was a wonderful person, and if there was a why to help her get over her boyfriend, I would try to help her with it.
I laid down on my bed, and started writing again. I hadn’t even got past the first part of the Sunday’s break down, it was so hard to let the emotions come to the surface again, so soon. Yet, it was helping to write. It made the problem look small (and "it", the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, was indeed minor), but the emotions it struck into were the real problem. Those feelings of inadequacy caused by an accident of birth (not some note from a love-struck boy pointing out the emperor's clothes), were the things causing this pain.
While writing someone had knocked on my door, and looking at the time, I was shocked to see it was mid-night. Shit, I had been writing for two hours. Who could be knocking on my door at twelve in the morning? I got up and opened the bedroom door to see Sara standing there in her dressing gown.
“Sara?” I asked, stunned. I had never been in this situation before either. It was like another scene out of a movie.
“Hi. I was going to have a shower, but I can’t get a nurse to look over me. I need someone to be in the shower room while I shower. I was wondering if you could help me, and be in there for me if I need help.”
I was stunned, shocked. My mouth dropped like a brick, and I was lost for words. “"Um. . . Do you think that's a good idea? Me being male and all?” I stated, hating myself for pointing out my flaws. I felt very much that being male was a flaw, something that was preventing me from living the life I wanted, that I dream about.
“No, it is okay.” She had answered, maybe a little to fast. “Please.” Oh, there was that needful voice again, and it would win over common sense every time.
“All right.” I had surrendered to her, but really while thinking about it now. I really didn’t put up much of a fight. And yes diary, I am glad that I didn’t.
Sara took me by the hand and walked me to the Women's showers. As she opened the door, I had one of those panicked feelings again.
Was this right? I wouldn't have even wondered if I was able to concentrate. The fog that STILL had a hold of my mind was trying to block out the inconsistencies in Sara's story. This wasn't just an ordinary hospital ward, where you'd expect to find several nurses on duty at all times, it was a psychiatric ward. You shouldn't be able to walk three paces with out running into someone, especially at night when many people have at least some problems anyway.
There was a stool in the shower room, presumably for people keeping an eye on patients needing supervision. I quickly walked across towards it and sat resolutely facing the wall. I sat there, instantly taking my mind of Sara, using the tiles as a study focus. This was so damn confusing.
I felt like a lesbian sitting there. I am a woman (Screw that last gene!) and getting sexually aroused by an another woman. This was really confusing me. It reminded me, quickly, that I was different from normal women.
I mean, was my attraction spurred by jealousy of her body, or was I responding to the wonderful, interesting person I saw inside her? Sara could really brighten somebody's life, but she needed out of this mental ward first.
She needed out of this mental ward, so she could brighten somebody’s life.
“You don’t have to look away from me.” She said, while I heard her turn on the shower behind where I sat, facing a bare gray and pink tile wall.
“Its okay, I’m shy.” I replied trying to keep my attention on the small gaps in the caking between tiles.
“You know, you're interesting. You’re a man, yet I feel like you are different then other men. Why is that?”
Sara's question caught me by surprise, and the sound of clothes flopping to the floor had also caught my attention. How could I answer that question, without lying? “Just special I guess.” I answered, making it sound like I didn’t know what she was on about.
“Oh.” I heard her say, as she stepped into the shower. I started to ignore the cracks in the wall, as I was listening to her. She asked me questions about where I was born, what I did. She'd evidently decided to find out what it was that made me different.
I felt like telling her, but I couldn’t. There was some feeling inside that told me, don’t. Maybe, it was because I was sick of telling people that I was different. I don’t know.
“Can you wash my back please?”
I didn’t know what to say. That question had come totally out of the blue, like a bolt of lightning. I stuttered, trying to reply. Then I had felt wet hands touching my shoulders. I knew that turning around would have placed me face to face with her. . . well, you know. But that thought didn't stop me. I turned and quickly looked straight up at her face, trying very hard to ignore the naked female breasts who's nipples stood erect towards me. Okay, sue me, I glanced a look.
“I like you, and I know you like me. I can feel it, however there is something different. It doesn’t feel like any attraction to a man that I have had before. Somehow I know being with you will be different, new. Something I really want to explore, with you.”
While she told me this, I had just stared at her. God, I was so confused. I was attracted to her, but was it male attraction, or female attraction. I didn’t feel like I should be attracted to women. . . but I was.
She took a hold of my hands, then pulled me up from the stool. As I rose, I felt her breasts push against my clothed chest. I didn't have time to undress as she dragged me willingly into the shower along with her. The water was warm and instantly saturated my clothes. She had helped me quickly take my cloths off, and naked, together, we started to kiss.
There we stood, kissing deeply under the warm water. I felt my body shiver with excitement and sexual, passionate energy. My eyes were closed, and I felt her strong arms pull me closer to her. It surprised me that she had got that much strength. As Sara brought me into her embrace, I felt my chest being crushed against hers. I felt her hand gently run down my spine, gently caressing the top of my bottom. This sent shivers through my body, something that I couldn’t remember feeling so strongly before.
I felt something pushing against my crotch. It had been hard and firm. It's top pushed forward, and touched something in my groin that opened slightly, sending more powerful shivers through me as it rubbed against the openings lining. I wanted that firm thing inside of me, I wished there was a way for it to push it's way inside of me.
I opened my legs slightly, and Sara, stilling holding me, lifted me up slightly. Then slowly, easily, she lowered my down so that her firm member pushed into the opening in my groin. I didn’t know what to feel then, but somehow, I knew what had happened. Somehow, we had changed bodies. It was my wish come true. I was a female. It felt right. I felt at home. Sara, who was now in my old male body, kissed my nipple, making me moan softly. I hoped no one heard us, as I had not wanted the feeling of being a woman, being me, to disappear.
Slowly we made love, moving from the wall to the floor of the shower. All the time, my eyes were closed, not wanting to see if it was just my imagination. I wanted it to be real, so real. It was heaven to me.
The force of Sara's thrusts increased and with each thrust, a small tingle shot through my body. I felt myself getting closer and closer to something that felt like an explosion inside of me. We hadn't spoken throughout the whole experience of love making. There hadn't been a need for words.
Suddenly Sara, in a male's voice (Do I really sound like that?), let out a soft moan, and I felt her final pushes become deeper, more powerful. I felt another push, this one ramming far into my vagina, pushing against my vagina wall. I felt a sudden build up of tension, as Sara released her semen into my body.
My own body shook, and I started to scream with pleasure, as my own orgasm came over me in waves of pleasure. My lover's hand gently came over my mouth, cutting off my screams. I felt like I was out of control as my body spasmed around Sara's Penis.
After that powerful moment, Sara had lowered me off her, and placed me to the wet floor, where we kissed and touched each other. Finally I opened my eyes, and I felt so happy to see a man lying down next to me, the water of the shower falling over his body.
“Welcome to wonderland.” Sara, in that male body, said. “I was wondering when you would open your eyes.”
“I didn’t want this body, this feeling to go away.” I said to her. I knew this body felt right, it felt correct. Where before my male body and my inner self didn’t feel connected. With this body I felt connected. I felt womanhood. I knew I would be accepted, seen as a woman. I knew I would feel like I fit in, because I could see myself as a true woman now. Not some male outer shell that was hiding the woman inside it. That moment, in Sara's body I felt complete.
I was Whole.
We spoke after, and I told her all about how I had wanted to be a woman since I was about eight. I explained about what had happened to me, and about the way all the problems had built up to make me come to this mental ward.
As we spoke, I felt a lethargy come over me. It was like the sandman had thrown not just dust in my eyes, but the whole bag. I noticed that Sara had the same tired look. I got up, and looked down at my body. It was perfect to me, it had been everything I had ever dreamed, and more.
“I’m going to bed.” I said, picking up my/Sara's, female clothes.
“I think I will also. It would be better if you went to my room and me to yours. Since it looks like we now have each other’s lives.” It would have been about then, that I realized that Sara would now have to be a man. I asked her how she had felt about that.
She smiled, her male lips raising up slightly. “My dear. This feels wonderful. I have all the power that I wanted in my life. I can now be free of something that, in that body I couldn't be. I can be free of my boyfriend's death. I don't know why, but the pain is gone, and if I need to be a man to live without it. So be it."
I rushed into his arms then, kissing him on the lips. This was so wonderful. I would be a female, and he would stay the male. I had never felt so happy in my whole life. I knew then that he and I would become very close.
I dressed in the nightie Sara had brought to the showers with her. Then I helped Sara dress in a couple of dry towels and wrapped his wet cloths into another towel.
Then with our last kiss for the night, I walked to my new room. It was a wonderful feeling, lying down on the bed, the satin nightie flowing over my soft body. I caressed my body through the soft satin, feeling its smooth surface against my skin. Then my exhaustion won, and I slept the best sleep I had ever had.
And I dreamed wonderful dreams of my new life as a woman.
or, enter your birth date.*
My night had been deep and restful. I hadn’t woken, until a nurse, dressed in jeans and a red blouse, had come in and told me she was getting me my medicine.
I nodded absently in my sleepy state, and it wasn't till after she'd gone, it occurred to me I didn't know where the hell I was. I remembered breaking down... Oh, did I remember that! I could also remember finally being taken to the hospital, but what had happened then? I couldn’t remember much of the time from leaving the house to waking up that morning.
As the nurse walked back into the room, I bombarded the poor woman with a million and one questions, like a small child would do to his mother or father. She stopped and raised her hand for quiet and smiling, told me she would explain and answer what questions she could.
“Matthew," Ouch! That name hurt me enough to glare at her. She paused, then smiled, seeming to relax me again. "You were admitted to us last night as the crisis team didn't think you should be by yourself as depressed as you were. When you got here, you where unable to stop crying. You wouldn't or couldn't respond to the doctor's questions, so he finally requested you stay, and that we would see how you where today." She explained what had happened, while I sat there in my bed just nodding, like I understood. Which I really didn’t.
"How are you feeling now?" she asked while handing me some pills and water.
I quickly dodged the question, and played the clever ‘answer a question with a question’ game. "What are these?" I asked, referring to the two tablets she had handed me.
“Just Prozac, to keep you calm, and Colmazopan. They will help you keep calm and be able to cope while you’re in here.” She answered, with a gentle smile.
"Do I have to take them? I'm feeling heaps better this morning." I wasn't lying either. Compared to the day before, I felt at least eighty percent better. It was nearly as if it hadn’t really happened. Nearly.
“Well it would be better. However, you don't have to take the Colmazopan if you are not feeling anxious.” She said in a soft voice. As she spoke, she edged a chair closer to my bed, and sat on it. . . Waiting, watching, observing and annoying.
She was going to ask me questions, interrogate me. I was going to have to try and give her the answers they're looking for. Having already won the medicine battle (I hate taking medicines I don't need), I felt I could answer some of her questions. Still, she seemed like a nice enough person anyway; I'd humor her.
"So... How _do_ you feel today?", she asked again, knowing this time there was no easy way for me to get out of answering.
The Prozac fell out of the little cup it was in and into my mouth. I took the cup of water and swallowed down the pill, questioning if it would really help or not and wondering if taking it hadn't answered her question already.
I reached inside myself, wondering how to answer that question or if it would even be wise to. A second of self-examination revealed I _was_ feeling better. At least I didn't feel caught in the downward spiral of thought I had been yesterday. I knew that. The all-consuming emptiness that had been pulling at me like a black-hole had subsided. But its event horizon, surrounding a core of pain, was still there holding a grip on my heart, making my chest feel tight and compressed.
Having considered all those points carefully, I looked the nurse dead in the eye, smiled (hoping it didn't come out as a grimace) and said, "Fine." I lied. It could be dangerous to have my pain displayed here, for everyone's examination and discussion. This was my private pain, and only I could deal with it, somehow.
And there was something else now, something that was heaps stronger, that was eating away at my spirit. Eating away at my being. I placed it down to being in a hospital. One of the most disliked places of my life. I don't know why I dislike hospitals, but I do. The sooner I was out of that place, the better.
"Do you still feel like killing yourself?" She asked, her voice calming and somehow compelling me to explore the question. I couldn’t answer.
That one question had me teetering on the edge of bringing back all the emptiness I had felt the day before. This could not be a yes/no question. Until the heart of my pain was dealt with, one way or the other, I knew the void would continue to temp me. Even then, the dreaded sequence of can/can't, would/could and that dreaded 'why', circled just a thought away. I steeled myself and answered, the only way I thought I could.
"If the world," I said gulping down the hard lump that had formed in my throat, "out there, gave me a way out. I think... no not think. I know I would take it." I felt tears building up again, but I squeezed them back, dancing back from the encroaching void. This time I was in control, and blow my emotions. Blow them to hell, I would deal with this, and I would make sure that there would be NO MORE CRYING!
"So you think you would still take your life if you were given the chance?" She asked, the worry clearly in her voice. It didn’t seemed forced either. This was nothing like the movies that you watch on TV. The ones where the white coats come out talking to you like you are nothing but an object that's broken, rather than an person in need of a hand. This honestly seemed concerned and really wanted to help.
I nodded, knowing no more words were needed on this subject. It was clearly making me upset, and I couldn’t talk about it anymore. She smiled and nodded to. "Then it would be better for you to stay, for today at least." She explained her voice calm and soothing."
I nodded again, knowing that inside myself she was right. It didn’t make me feel better about being in the hospital, but it made me realize for my own safety, it was the best option. For my safety.
"Well there's lots for you to do, during your stay here.. There is a games room, where you can play pool and snooker. We've a piano and some other instruments in the music room. There is also the TV room where you can watch TV and make cups of coffee, tea and hot chocolate.” As she was explaining the services available in this ward, I was starting to think it sounded more like a hotel, than a hospital ward.
Finally she finished telling me what this ward could offer, and I was surprised at the amount of things available. There was a sauna, a pool, there was soccer, tennis, cricket. You name what game, and they had nearly every one of them there. There was chess, and nearly every type of board game you would wish for. The only thing they didn’t have was a computer, and really all I wanted to do right then, was write. I wanted to create something. It was like my way of channeling my emotions into something that others could understand. I loved creating, it was my escape from the real world, in a hope that the pain would not be waiting for me when I get back.
Somehow the pain of everything I had gone through, the emptiness, wanted to be placed on paper. Written down, explained, seen that it really did happen. I didn't want to lose it, I just wanted to write it all down and store it somewhere safe, so that I could look back and say, "This was me then… now look at me now." The start of it all, and then been able to say it was over at the end.
Just then I remembered feeling it. There was a fight building inside me. Something in me had suddenly, at that one moment, lit into a burning fire. It was like a flaming desire to BEAT this thing. A burning drive that wanted to survive, that wanted something. What was I aiming for now? What was I aiming to achieve? Was this all just the start of dealing with my gender issues, was this the way I should have done it oh so many years ago? I asked myself each of those questions, like a game show host throwing question after question at an off-balance contestant.
"How are you eating?"
The question refocused me. I answered automatically, allowing the simple question to draw me away from the larger issue for a moment. "I really don't feel like eating usually, and besides, big meals are such a bother to make. Keep me in bread and butter and I'm a happy camper."
"Well," She chuckled gently, "at least you're losing weight. What are your plans when you get out of here?"
I couldn't answer what I was going to do when I got out of there. It didn't seem like I really cared. I wanted to live, and fight, but something couldn't let me look past that little area of living, and fighting. Was there really any more to life than that?
"I don't know." I fight for my life, my grades in class, my right to my individuality. Was simply "Live and fight.", a proper answer?
"Do you know the problem that caused you to get so depressed is?"
This one was easier to identify the answer to. I told her about my Gender Issues, and she seemed to understand. She made sure I was aware of the pager and reminded me that if I needed anything, to just call. Then she left.
Once she had left, I felt like getting out of bed. I noticed that my clothes where neatly folded on another of the grey chairs, sitting there waiting for me to get dressed. Slowly crawling out of the covers I looked down at the white hospital gown I was in. It is funny, but if it had been in another place, wearing any type of gown would have been great, but in this place it just seemed to remind me I was in a hospital. I hated it.
I slowly dressed, while looking round the small pink and white room I was going to be calling home, at least for the day. It was strange seeing a dirty kind of pink in a hospital. It didn’t really make me like the place either, even though pink is a colour I love. It didn't match the grey furniture that stood in the room. I smiled at the thought of sacking the person who painted the room. This room looked stupid. I laughed. It felt good laughing at the stupid colour scheme of my room. Some of the pressure in my chest seemed to dissipate for the first time in over a week, I found something genuinely funny. I found something to take joy in, even if to mock the Hospitals pitiful attempt at relaxing their patients. Then, in a way, I had managed to laugh.
Slipping into my clothes and still amused at the decor, I actually felt ready to start day proper with a nice cup of coffee. It was always the first thing on my morning list. I can’t think how people operate without at least one cup of coffee in the morning. After the coffee I knew I would have to call Duke and Lisa, and tell them what had happened. I wondered if the crisis team had contacted them at all. The coffee suddenly became second on the list. Shit, I hadn’t thought of them. Would they know that I was at the hospital? For all they could have known, I may have gone missing.
Panic filled me as rushed into the hallway and caught myself. I stood there for a minute, calming myself down. I couldn't let the nurses and doctors see me running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I had to get out of here at some point over the next few days, and if they saw me panicking they would have kept me in for longer. I looked down the hall and saw the sign that said “Office”. Walking to the office, I knocked on the closed door, and waited.
I could see a male in there, through the small window on the door, but he just ignored the knock. I knocked again, this time more forceful. And waited.
"MY GOD…" I muttered under my breath. He was still not coming to the door. He hadn't even bothered to call, "Its open." This was stupid. I took hold of the door handle, and opened the door. "Excuse me, I did knock." I said to the man sitting in a chair and chewing on something.
He snapped, sounding like one of those bimbo secretaries, speaking rote phrases with no concern. "What do you want?" He hadn’t even turned to see me, his attention still on the magazine he was reading.
“Some manners to being with.” I snapped back, my mind now set on making this nurse’s job a bitch. “Just remember who pays your wages thank you.”
The man turned to me, and finally faced me. “Don’t talk to me that way, you mental freak.”
Oh if there's one thing I can't stand its people who think they're better then others. It just makes me angry that people can be so cruel. I pushed open the door slowly, methodically, and stepped into the office. This brought about a quick defensive reaction from the male nurse, and he jumped from his chair and stepped towards me, his fists drawn.
A smile came to my lips as I looked up on him. “You touch me, and you’ll be hearing from the police.” I informed him, while I stood my ground in front of him. “And don’t think I will not be reporting your attitude to the head nurse when I see her.” I hadn't felt that forceful in a long time, it was like another valve had been released allowing me to vent some of my pent up anger and tension this time. “Now sit back down, read your magazine, and just tell me where I can find a phone!”
The man stopped in his tracks and looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I had suddenly felt really bad inside, like I shouldn't have lashed out at him. Another rush of frustration over came me, and I started to question myself again. Was that what a female would have done? Would a woman have flared up like that?
I felt like backing out of the office and running back to my bedroom crying. I had hurt this person’s feelings, and that had hurt me. As he stood there, in dead silence, just staring at me, I felt like a ten-year-old who had just shouted at my father. I felt weak and sick inside.
Then he spoke, and as he opened his mouth I thought of all the nasty things he could say to me, making myself feel even worse. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you. I shouldn’t have called you a mental freak.” He looked uncomfortable, and like someone who knew he had done wrong, or at least knew he could get in trouble for it. I didn’t know whither to laugh or cry. There I was questioning if I had done right or wrong, and all along this man had wanted to say sorry.
“It's okay. Just tell me where the phone is.” I asked, not trusting myself to push the matter any further.
“Up near the games and music room. In front of the games room door.” He told me, smiling. He must have thought it was over, that my, "It's ok", signalled my willingness to let the matter drop. I thought about all the things I could do to him. I stood there thinking of all the nasty things that would come from my complaining. Yet deep inside, I knew I wouldn’t tell. I would let the whole thing go, like I did with everything that caused confrontations in my life. I was too weak to fight, and that was something I knew I would have to deal with later. But not now.
“Thanks.” I muttered as I had left the office, glad to be out of that situation. I closed the office door behind me and walked towards the sign that said “GAMES / MUSIC ROOM”
As I reached the sign, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled my nostrils. I stopped dead in my tracks and suddenly found myself wondering whether calling my friends, or having coffee was more important. There I was, in the middle of a hall in a mental ward of a hospital, and I was fighting between calling my FRIENDS, or drinking bloody COFFEE! WHY COULDN’T I THINK STRAIGHT!!
I must have been looking really strange standing there frozen in the middle of the hall, because as I stood transfixed there, a woman stepped up behind me and touched me on the shoulder.
I spun around, and had come face to face with the nurse who had woken me up that morning. She was smiling at me and nodded. “The smell of the coffee?” she had asked with a cheeky grin on her face. “Don’t worry; it does it every time, to everybody.”
I nodded, but I didn’t like how I felt. I didn’t like this non-thinking state. I was someone who could make up my mind when I wanted to. When had this thick fog come over my mind, making it hard to sort out what I was thinking.
“I’m standing here debating if drinking coffee or calling my friends is more important. This is stupid. I can’t make up my mind.” I said in frustration, clearly distressed over my problem.
“Well, why do you want to ring your friends?” The nurse asked.
“So they know what happened to me, and so they can bring me some things.” I replied. I remember feeling then that I was losing control again. I felt somehow panicked, I felt like this simple thought process was causing me more pain.
“You don’t need to call Lisa. I called them this morning and explained you where here for a little while, and she told me she would bring some extra clothes and toiletries down for you also.” The nurse said while placing her arm around my shoulders. “So, I suppose you’ll just have to come and have a cup of coffee with me then won’t you.”
I stood there blank faced. She had just solved my whole problem in one sentence and that made me feel like an idiot. It had made the problem seem small, and maybe it had been. The problem now was. Why couldn’t I think for myself? Why wasn't my mind working correctly, making choices instead of letting others do it? I nodded to the lovely nurse, and let her guide me towards the lounge where the smell of coffee was the strongest.
As we walked into the lounge, I noticed the colour scheme changed, from pink to a light blue colour. Now this colour scheme I liked better. The white top and blue bottom was more peaceful to me. Yet I couldn’t help but think that blue was for boys, and pink was for girls. I smiled at the thought that the person who had painted this room was trying to make a silent statement that this room was meant for males only.
“What are you smiling at?” The nurse had asked while she took two cups from the shelve, above the metal bench that the coffee maker was on. I watched as she poured me a cup of hot brewed coffee. She pointed to the milk and I nodded, then she pointed to the sugar and I shook my head.
“The paint scheme in this place is . . . interesting.” I said taking the cup of coffee from her offering hand. “Thanks.”
“Yes, when they did the pink rooms and halls, I wondered if they could get worse. Then I came in here and they answered yes for me.” She laughed, taking me over to one of the large sofas. I looked over the battered sofa, its grey and brown colour didn’t match the blue and white walls, and the orange and reddish carpet.
“I would sack the person who did the décor in this place.” I now felt more relaxed. More at ease.
“I think they did.” She laughed, and I followed with laughing also. It was like another break of tension, something I had felt since I had woken that morning.
I took a sip of the coffee and felt the strong Brazil flavor tickled my taste buds. “Nice.” I commented, taking another sip. "I didn't know mental wards had freshly brewed coffee. If I did, I would have got in here a long time ago."
"One of the bennies of the job." She said, taking a sip of her own coffee. "Oh, by the way, I'm Sue."
I smiled and nodded to her. I was glad she had told me her name; I hate not including people's names while I talk to them. Saying their names makes them more real for me.
“Hello Sue, my name is Mattie.” I smiled; taking her extended hand and shook it.
“Mattie? Is that a way of kind of testing the waters?” She asked.
“Not really. My female name is Malisa. However, since I've been having so many problems with my gender, I needed a name that others would feel more comfy with. Mattie can be a female or male nickname, so I feel a little more comfortable with Mattie then with Matthew. Even though a lot of people place it on the female first.” I explained it slowly, wondering if it was coming out correctly. I remember one of my lecturers asking me the same thing. It was like a tough question to answer. "I want to use Malisa in real life, which is the name I like and feel is my REAL name, but I have to use a name that won't disturb others' sensibilities. Even though people keep saying, 'Do what you feel comfy with.', I still have to get on in society. A male named Malisa Sophia Powell, doesn't sound like it would go down very well. No, I KNOW it doesn't go down very well."
She asked, a question I hadn't been expecting. "Well, why not Malisa?"
The question had thrown me. “Pardon?” I asked. Couldn't she see me? How could she ask that? I looked like a damn male. I had a balding hairstyle for Christ sakes.
“Why not use Malisa? It’s a beautiful name.” She was saying it like it was stupid to think otherwise. This didn’t feel right. She was making me think again.
“Because I don’t look like a Malisa.” I told her. Her look changed and I felt a strange feeling of guilt. I don’t know why, but it seemed to be just want she wanted to do.
"So because you don't look exactly like a woman, you can't have a feminine name?" She finally said, breaking my guilt and sending flashes of anger through my body. Not at her, but at me for letting myself fall into this trap.
That comment sounded like something one of my woman’s studies lecturers or classmates would have said. It was like a major slap in the face. I knew just want she was saying. There I was, hoping for gender and sex equality, and I was saying that only a woman could only use a female sounding name. Someone, who looked male, couldn’t use Malisa because it was a female name. Even though I could see the point she had just made, I just couldn’t accept that I could use Malisa as my name. I thought about going to university and telling all my lecturers and my friends that from now on, my name was Malisa. It wouldn’t work. Or could it?
I shook my head, and smiled to Sue. “I don’t think it would work. Society, I don’t think, isn't ready for a Malisa just yet. I don’t know if even I am ready for a Malisa just yet.” I knew inside that I wanted to be ready. Shit! If someone offered the chance to change sexes now, I would. But as I am right now. Could I do it? Could I start dressing like a woman? Wearing a wig? Living as a woman, with the possibility of being stung when someone turned around and said “OH, look there’s a transsexual.” I don’t want to be a Transsexual. I want to be a woman. I know that, and it is like all or nothing for me. Like this whole thing is not about being TS, but being a woman.
“In time you will feel like society can screw itself, Mattie.” She had started to explain. “And when you do, you’ll use the name that you feel is right for you. I think your friends will back you up, and help you out where they can.”
I remember feeling like she didn’t seem to understand, but now after really thinking about what she had said I wonder if she did know. Could I start using Malisa? If I made it that my name was now Malisa Sophia Powell, would there be any kind of problem? It is something I would like to explore, but I ’m too scared to. Maybe, I’ll talk about it with my counsellor. Maybe I’ll talk about it with my friends? Maybe I will ignore it and hope it will all just go away and the pain will finally go with it.
“So how do you feel inside?” She had asked, breaking me out of thoughts about the name issue.
“What do you mean?” I asked again. I noticed one thing about her. She didn’ t ask simple straight questions.
“What is the gender you feel inside?” She asked, while taking another sip of her coffee.
I felt like she was trying to make me explode with emotion. How could I answer that one? I didn’t know what gender I felt inside. How could I know if I felt like a woman? I didn’t have the background of a female, nor did I have the body that was female. Shit! How did a woman know if they felt like a woman or not?
“I identify with women. I identify with a female status.” I said, hoping that was enough. It wasn’t.
“Yes, but how do you know what you are feeling isn’t just the feminine side of your being?” She wasn’t making this easy on me. In fact I was starting to wonder if coffee had been the better choice.
“I don’t. But let me throw it back at you. How do you know what you feel is like what other women feel like?” I felt better as she had nodded and sprouted another of those cheeky grins on her face.
“You are so right. So how does it feel to you?” Oh, this one was good. I don’t know if she was trying to make me think, or defend myself. Either way she had started me thinking straight again, even though I felt like I was defending myself. Defending who I felt I was.
“The only really way I can tell you how it feels, is from something I read a while ago.” I started to say, only to have her butt in.
“No, I don’t want to hear the technical terms. I don’t want to hear how others feel. I want to know how you feel, your words.”
I was knocked back. I hadn’t been attacked like that before. I had always included other people’s words into describing how I had felt. I had always used other people to back up what I was saying. Now here I was, having to think about my feelings myself, placing them into words I didn't know. I felt another lump form in my throat, but I answered.
"I sit here, talking to you, and even though you are making me think, making me defend myself, I feel like I am a part of womanhood. The way you are talking to me isn’t like you would talk to a male. It is hard to explain, but there is a difference when you are the man, or you are accepted as one of the women. I watch women in women’s space at university, and I listen to them talking about issues I would love to be included in, and I suddenly realize, that to them that I am a male. Maybe this is my problem. Maybe I’m cutting myself off from them, but without my own feeling of womanhood, I don’t feel like I fit in. Anywhere. I talk to people in a store and they call me, sir, and I feel like they have just called me a name, insulted me without knowing me. I sit in my classes, women’s studies and all the other classes and wish that all the others in the class could see me as a woman. I watch the way that men look at women, and wish that I could be looked at that way. I know it is sometimes undermining of women, but if you didn't get those looks, then you would feel there was something wrong with you. I have feelings of sex, of love, of life, even my interests don't match the body I am in." I stopped and looked at Sue, my eyes hurting from new tears that were falling. “I wish I were you, or any other woman in this world. No matter if she was most ugly or the most beautiful woman in the world. At least I would be woman.”
She nodded, lowering her eyes to her coffee cup. She seemed to be taken back from the power of the words I had used. She took another sip from her coffee mug, which made me remember I hadn’t had a drink from mine in a while. I placed the cup to my mouth and as I did I thought of something else that popped in my mind. “If I could, I would get rid of these feelings.” I said, wondering if that was the right thing to say.
“Really?” She asked, sounding like she didn’t believe me.
I paused while thinking, then finally I chuckled, “No.” I said, knowing full well that I had been wrong.
“I didn’t think so. That would be like someone making me think I was a man. It would be like killing me.” She said, explaining it just the way I felt inside. I nodded and smiled at her.
“You know you are the first person I haven’t used other people’s words to explain how I feel. I hope I explained how I felt okay.” I had a feeling that I hadn’t done a good enough job. I felt as if there was more then I could place into words. It felt that placing my feelings into words made them seem so small, so easy to deal with. They aren’t. Placing them into words doesn’t lessen the problem, nor does it make it easy to control. It just gives others the chance to understand.
"You explained yourself well. From those words I could see how you feel, better then if you had drawn me a picture. I feel that there is a young girl trapped inside you. A young woman, who has never been able to live, to grow and explore life as a woman. That girl is screaming for release and you can't hide that Ma. . . lisa." I didn’t know how to feel with her using that name. I felt great that she wanted to use it, but I couldn’t accept that people would use that name without problems. She looked down at her watch and shook her head. “I’m going to have to go, but I would love to talk to you again. Where are you going to be in about two hours?”
I quickly thought about it. I wanted to create something. I felt all this creative power building up inside and there was nothing to let it out on. Then I remembered Sue telling me before about the piano. It had been ages since I had created a music piece on a piano. I knew then that I was going to create something. “Playing on the piano.” I smiled.
"You play?" Sue asked, a little surprised.
"You could say that." I answered, finishing my coffee in one final gulp. "Self taught."
"Wonderful. Then in two hours, I'll be able to hear you." She said, getting up from the sofa and stretching. Sue turned back to me and had gave me one of those warm smiles of hers. "I'll see you then." I rose from the sofa as she started away.
“It’s a date.” I smiled, as we both left the lounge.