Going North

by Bill Rowan

Read Goin' South

It had been about a month since I had heard anything from my best bud Cletus and I was worried. He hadn’t returned any of my phone calls or text messages and that was not like him at all. When I talked to the sheriff all he would say is his deputy was up north on some assignment, but he wouldn’t give me any details. Then one day I got a call from someone named “Mark”. I was just about to decline the call when for some reason I hit the accept button instead.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry to be incommunicado for so long. How have you been?” The voice on the other end didn’t sound familiar to me so I had no idea who this “Mark” person was or how he got my number. Yet he was calling me buddy like he had known me for a long time.

“Do I know you, Mark?”

“Sure you do. It’s me… Cletus.”

“Cletus? Y’all sure don’t sound like Cletus and Cletus wouldn’t say no highfalutin word like incommuni…whatever.”

“No, I don’t, but I can’t explain now. Trust me. It is really me. Remember the time….” He proceeded to relate a story only Cletus and I would know.

“Do you fancy a road trip up north to Rhode Island?” Rhode Island? I had never been out of North Carolina never mind going up north to Yankee country. Pops would never let me associate with no Yankee scum. Not so sure he would cotton to the idea of me going to Rhode Island to meet up with Cletus either.

“Damn boy. I can’t get over how different you sound. I gotta talk to Pops first. If I can I’ll text you and y’all can give me the details.”

“Tell him to talk to the sheriff and that I need your help. By the way, have you met Bo?”

“Yup. Met him the other day. Just moved into the old Jenkins’ place. Was out plowing the fields. Something different ‘bout him though.”

“You’re right there. I’ll explain everything when I see you. I know Pops will let you come to visit. You have my number now so give me a holler so I can give you directions.”

“Sure thing Cletus. Be careful whatever you’re doin’.” I disconnected the call and went to talk to Pops.

I high tailed it home and told Pops everything Cletus had said, whereupon Pops went to talk to the sheriff. Whatever the sheriff told Pops it was enough to convince him to let me go north, with one provision: I had to stay with Cletus at all times and not go wandering alone among the Yankees. I could tell Pops was none too thrilled with the idea in any case and if he had said no I would not have disobeyed him, no matter how much I had to find out what had happened to Cletus. I called Cletus later that night and he told me the route to take and where we should meet. I was to call him when I got there or if I needed help along the way. I barely slept that night I was so excited, so I started to throw clothes and other things I would need into my huntin’ pack. Made sure my rifle was all primed and in the rack of my new truck Pops had just bought for me. As soon as daybreak hit I had breakfast with Pops, told him I would see him soon, and took off for parts unknown.

Goin' South

Dedicated to "Pops"

Mark was never the type to be anything less than arrogant, snobby, egotistical, and a hundred other adjectives, none of them flattering. Granted he was a very handsome man who came from a very prominent Newport, Rhode Island family vested with so much old money that it would take several lifetimes to spend, but in no fashion would that ever excuse his behavior. His viewpoint, the only one that mattered to him of course, would be that no one was quite like him.

There was no denying that dressed totally in black leather that only accentuated his muscular body and dashing good looks that he was the epitome of every woman’s ideal and every man’s wet dream. Add to that mix his hot black motorcycle and voila he was a true force of nature.

 On a whim he decided to take a road trip on his motorcycle. He had no planned destination in mind, only that he wanted to get away for a while and see what adventures he might have someplace different. He had no worries because if anything happened Daddy would be there to bail him out, so it was a win-win no matter how he looked at it. A stop in New York saw him bedding a few women, much to the dismay of their husbands and boyfriends. And some asses got promptly kicked when some Pennsylvania boys thought they could jump him from behind. West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee, well, those could be tales unto themselves. Heartbreak and mischief followed in his wake wherever he went. He was having the time of his life. Until he came to North Carolina.

Threesome

Note: Inspired by Mr. C. and his writer’s guild. Thank you, gentlemen.

      Mr. Cavanaugh made his way to Chris Pratt’s trailer. Still in the guise of the hot young actor KJ Apa, it was a breeze for him to get on any shoot he desired. Normally he would hang around to watch the proceedings but today he was on a mission and couldn’t waste any time. After finding Chris’ trailer he knocked on the door, waiting for the actor to open up.

     The door finally opened, Chris looking ruggedly handsome in his Starlord costume as he greeted KJ.

     “KJ? What are you doing here? Want to come in?” KJ started up the steps but stumbled, albeit on purpose, as he reached the top. Concerned, Chris rushed out to help the lad to his feet. “You alright?”

     “Fine. How are you feeling, Chris?” That was a strange question, Chris thought, but then he noticed something odd happening to him. His bare arms were turning silvery, like chrome, and getting thinner and hollow.

     “What the…?” but before he could complete his sentence he found himself falling to the ground, his hands and feet transforming into shiny chrome forks supporting tires. The costume he had been wearing disappeared, leaving only his ass covered in black leather. In a matter of seconds where one of the hottest actors had been standing now sat a metallic midnight blue Harley just begging to be ridden.

      Abandoning the bike for the time being, KJ went to find the next part of the triad he required. Chris Evans was already on set in his Cap costume shooting an intense action scene when KJ wandered over.

The Thermometer

By Bill Rowan

As I was walking to my car after a long day of shopping I came across this little hole-in-the-wall shop I had never seen before. From the outside it looked like one of those olde musty book shops like one might see in Dickens’ London, ones that held wonderful treasures concealed inside. My curiosity aroused, I entered, not knowing what to expect. Sure enough the scent of “olde” assaulted my nose as I gazed on the plethora of wonders.

“May I help you, sir?” A friendly looking older gentleman asked as he approached. He fit perfectly with the aura the store was exuding.

“Just browsing, thank you.”

“Take your time. If there is anything I can help you with, let me know.” He started to move away and as he did my eyes focused on something shiny.

“What is that?” I asked him as I pointed to a long glass tube with spheres suspended in a clear liquid. Each sphere was filled with some sort of colored liquid, giving the object a very intriguing appearance.

“That? That is a Galileo thermometer. The young fellow that brought it in said he thought it was broken though because the balls always stay at the top. Said his uncle had it for years before he just disappeared one day.”

I had seen such tubes before but had never bothered to find out what they were. I couldn’t fathom how little glass spheres could accurately tell the temperature. Science was never my strong suit.

“How much?” I asked as I stared transfixed. He named a price and after a little bit of haggling I bought it on the spot. While it might not be anything other than a conversation piece I found looking at the balls to be quite fascinating. He carefully wrapped my newly acquired treasure in tissue paper and placed it in a bag so it would be safe on my trip home.

Seanday Cheer: New Lease of Life

“December already? Damn, I’m getting too old for this job,” Santa groaned. He looked over at his son casually snapping a selfie on his mobile. "I used to be like you," he told Jerry with a chuckle.

"Yeah, right pops," Jerry replied. "They didn't have smart phones when you were my age."

"No, but I was just as strong as you, and I had some manners," Santa muttered. "Are you going to help me with the deliveries this year? I could do with some help son."

"Love to, but I've got some plans. You know I would otherwise."

"But I could do it in half the time if you helped me."

"Pops, I could do it in half the time by myself," Jerry sneered.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt3: The Placeholder

I scratched my ass and paused for a moment looking at the young face in the mirror. I cocked a grin again and raised an eyebrow it felt so right in this guise, young cocky and overconfident.

The strength in this kid seemed boundless; I started to duck and weave shadow boxing with my reflection, it felt natural as if my newly acquired muscles somehow knew what to do.

Picking up the notebook I tapped at the name ‘Alex O’Brian’ wondering if it would be possible to get his memories at a later date, “Of course.” Whispered the voice.

I looked at my reflection again, smiling I rifled through Chapman’s clothes and found a green vest similar to the one the kid was wearing. Quickly I swapped it with the t-shirt; I loved its tightness, and the way it hugged my borrowed body.

Grabbing the notebook and heading out the door, I returned to my own house. Inside I spent a good couple of hours exploring the kids body, it would have been longer but my enjoyment was disturbed by someone ringing that damn doorbell again. To be on the safe side I checked out the window, it was a police officer. Quickly I shifted back to my own identity before opening the door.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt2: There Goes the Neighbourhood

Throwing on some sweat pants and a cotton t-shirt I picked up Chapman's keys and went to leave, but something tugged at my subconscious, and a soft voice in my head told me take the notebook, shrugging I picked it up and left the house.

It had been the first time I'd been inside Chapman's house, even though we'd spoken many times; a big, strong guy kinda dwarfed me a bit and always seem to talk down to me with a 'grin of superiority'. He told me that he'd broken up with his wife soon after he moved in and since then he'd been living alone.

The heavy door swung open after I'd found the right key for the lock. Inside I was a little surprised, not the tidy well presented home I would have expected but a bit of a mess. Discarded workout clothes and a kit bag lay in the hall, in the bigger room there was a huge TV with a couple of takeaway cartons on the table. What looked like a protein drink half finished sat on the floor. In the kitchen the sink was full of unwashed plates and dishes, some cooked chicken still in the pan.

Tentatively approaching the bedroom, I slowly opened the door; the blinds were still closed so I couldn't see much only dark shapes. Flicking on the light surprised me further; It was completely different to the turmoil of the rest of the house, everything was clean, and in its place. A huge double bed with black satin sheets dominated the room, evident that Chapman thought he was a bit of a stud and needed an appropriate stage to impress the fact. There were huge mirrored doors opposite which led to his closet and a personal gym. There were a number of framed pictures on the dresser, mainly of Chapman posing in what looks like some kind of contest.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt1: A Year and a Day

RIIIING, RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I turned over and looked at the clock, "6am? What the fuck?" I groaned and turned over.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

"THE FUCK?" it suddenly dawned on me that there was someone at the door. Throwing the sheets off I sat on the bed gathering my thoughts.

RIIIIIIING!

Looking out the window I tried to see who had disturbed my morning sleep but couldn't see anyone. RIIIIIING! "Who the hell is down there?"

A guy stepped back into my view, "Delivery for you sir!"

"Just put it down somewhere. I'll get it later," I groaned.

"No can do sir, needs a signature."

Letting out a groan, I pulled on some discarded shorts and made my way down the stairs. Yanking open the door revealed the culprit: a short stocky guy wearing a blue and red uniform grinned at me. Rolling my eyes, I frowned at him, and his plastic smile dropped a little as he handed me a box about eight inches square.

I was surprised when he unrolled a long sheet of paper, easily a couple of feet long. "Sign here sir." He pointed to a line right at the bottom. There were hundreds of names, and many didn't even appear to be from this country.

He thanked me heartily and shook my hand, and as I pulled away I felt a tingle creeping up my arm. His smile curled into something quite different as he left.

Still a little dazed by the whole experience, I put the package on the table and returned to bed. But as I slept a nightmare of giant, toothed beasts chased me through the darkness of never ending tunnels woke me with a start, and I had the feeling of an icy hand gripping my heart. Groaning, I rolled over and with a thump fell to the floor; then just as suddenly as it appeared the pain was gone.

Making my way to the kitchen, my eyes were drawn to the package. I glanced at the label. The text was blurred, and almost seemed to move. I rubbed my thumb across the label and snapped it away again, for it felt like something had just bitten me. A spot of blood bloomed from my thumb and dropped, hitting the surface of the label where it was absorbed almost instantly. The characters jumped and darted across the label and then pulled into focus; my name, my address. I gingerly turned the box on its side. The return address only had the name of some obscure building in New York, but as soon as I'd read the words they disappeared.

Another Thor

Loki suddenly appeared in my house.

“What the…,” Before I could finish my question he had whisked me off to someplace unknown.

My eyes went wide in amazement at the great hall bathed in golden moonlight I saw before me. The wonderful smell of jasmine on a warm summer night tickled my nose. Loki stood close by, a sly smile on his face as he seemed to watch me with a great deal of amusement.

“Welcome home, brother.” Brother? I wasn’t Loki’s brother. I was from Earth and he was an Asgardian. What did he mean by brother?

“Brother?” I questioned him, only to find the voice I heard was foreign to me: deeper, accented, and quite authoritative I was sure if it had come from someone other than myself at that particular moment. As my mind tried to make sense of all this I noticed I was now looking slightly down at him rather than looking up to him. Had he shrunk?

Just then a slight breeze wafted past, billowing a red cape around my body. Where had a cape come from? I stared down at myself. I was no longer dressed in the jeans and t-shirt I had on before. Instead I found myself clad in armor and maille that clung tightly to muscles that definitely weren’t mine. I brushed away a strand of long blonde hair hanging in my face. Wait… long blonde hair?? I was nearly bald and never had this color blonde hair. What had Loki done to me?

The Chase

I’m too damn old for this. I have no idea why I am chasing after some shadowy figure down streets I don’t know. I had spotted him when he had come around a corner near where I was standing. For some reason, I felt compelled to follow and then chase him, running as if my life depended on catching this guy. From the way he is running I would say he is a lot younger than I am as well as a lot taller and better built.

I go around another corner, only to see the guy standing with his back to me like he is waiting for me to catch up. He is not quite as shadowy as he was a few minutes ago. I can tell he is wearing a colored tee and jeans plus he is running barefoot. As I get closer he takes off, sprinting down a darkened alleyway. Why am I continuing to play cat-and-mouse with this dude when it is obviously hopeless that I will ever catch him?

Shadowhunters: Lost and Found

“Jace. Jace, wake up. You fainted.”

He opened his eyes. Why was he in Jace’s room at the Institute? What was Clary doing here and why was she calling him Jace?

“Clary? I’m not…” he stopped short, his voice sounded… weird. He slowly raised himself from the floor, his eyes going wide as he surveyed his surroundings. He looked down at himself. He was wearing Jace’s leather jacket, the one that always looked tight, like it was molded onto Jace’s body. He was nowhere near as big as Jace and yet the jacket felt snug.

“Jace… are you okay?” Clary sounded concerned. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was finding a leather jacket that looked a lot like Jace’s and, since no one was around, had decided to try it on.

“Sure, Clary. I’m fine.” But he wasn’t fine. Nothing about him or this situation was fine. He started to get to his feet, only to fall back down as the change in weight and height hit him. Clary offered her hand as he tried once more.

“Let me help you.”

“I’m fine. Just need to splash some water on my face.” He made his way to the open bathroom door. Every movement felt so odd to him. Different. He closed the door to be alone, to think. He was glad Clary was there with him but now he needed to see if he could figure out what had happened. He was feeling somewhat better… until he saw his reflection in the mirror.

Simon found himself in the strangest circumstances of his life. He literally had become Jace Wayland, the confident, cocky, and handsome Shadowhunter that Clary loved, despite her protestations otherwise. Of course, Simon knew the Shadowhunters could change their appearance using their runes but he wasn’t, or least hadn’t been, a Shadowhunter. Almost anything was possible in the supernatural world he now was part of but how could trying on what must have been Jace’s jacket cause him to transform? For that matter, how had Jace’s jacket just been lying near where he had been?

His first instinct was to ditch the jacket. Maybe he would be himself again. He unzipped the jacket, revealing a tank that did nothing to hide his quite impressive physique. How he had often wondered what Jace looked like underneath the cool exterior people saw. Now he could find out. He excitedly ran his hands along his torso, feeling every sensitive touch for the first time. Jace had such a finely tuned body, the perfect specimen of masculinity and now it was all his. Did it really matter how it happened? Why not just enjoy it…?

The longer Simon stared into the mirror the less he thought about how this had all happened or even trying to change back. Why would he want to? After all he was now the stud he always wanted to be… what every nerd dreamed of being. True once he had become a vampire his vision had cleared so he no longer needed glasses and he had become somewhat of a chick magnet in his own right but this was something entirely different.

Seanday Lunch: Best Man for the Job

Kurt was surprised to find me in his hotel room.

"What the fuck," he managed to yell before I silenced him with a single gesture. He stood there, mouth gaping, eyes wide, with a confused look on his face.

"Trying to figure out why you can't talk or move?" I asked, of course he said nothing. His mouth moved, but nothing came out.

I could see he was grinding his teeth. He scowled, and I was grateful that he was under my control. Kurt was a big man, thick and strong. His attitude and persona was just as big; I'd been watching him act like a jerk--the big man at the wedding reception. He was the grooms best man, and I'd seen the bride had her eyes on him as well.

Seanday Feast: Hard to Swallow

I looked at myself in the mirror, I was proud of what I'd achieved, but there was still something that I couldn't fix. My height; at only 5'5" I was short, and I hated always being the 'little guy'.

I'd been working hard at the gym, and found a quiet spot in the locker room to try some posing, and taking a few selfies. It was then I heard an argument from somewhere in the room.

Deceptions

Read Part 1 "Expectations"

“Hello, Casey”.

“My name is Peter, not Casey. Who are you and how did you get in?” Casey was certain he had locked the door and he certainly was not going to let anyone know who he was, let alone some stranger that somehow just walked in.

“Name’s Finn. Merlin sent me, mate, so you can drop the “Peter” act. I knocked but no one answered and the door wasn’t bolted so I came in.” Finn extended his hand in greeting.

“No act here, Finn. I’m Peter Quinn and this is my home. What do you want?”

“Like I said Merlin sent me. He thought you might need some watching over while you’re in hiding.” Casey was still puzzled. He had only been Peter for about an hour and Merlin was already sending someone to watch him? That just didn’t make sense to him but then nothing Merlin did made a whole lot of sense. Maybe Finn could be trusted.

Casey shook Finn’s hand. “Have a seat and let’s talk for a while.”

Expectations

Casey was the town street rat. Ever since his parents had died he had to survive on his own, stealing food and evading capture by the local constables. Wise beyond his tender 17 years, he had street smarts, as people called them, and plenty of them. He didn’t trust or need anyone, which suited him just fine.

Merlin was the town eccentric, the person others loved to talk about. Little was actually known about him other than he seemed to have been around for as long as anyone could remember. He would be quite congenial when he met folks, but he preferred to be left to himself.

Their lives intersected one day when Casey accidentally acquired Merlin’s watch after the two bumped into each other.

“Sorry mister,” Casey apologized to the older man. “I didn’t see you.” Merlin smiled at the youth. For some odd reason, he was feeling uncharacteristically guilty about stealing the old guy’s watch.

“That’s okay son. Accidents happen.”

Casey nervously fingered the watch in his pocket, trying to make sense of why he should feel so guilt-ridden about what he had done. He never had been bothered by his thievery before so why this time?

“Say son, you don’t look so well. How about coming home with me and I give you something to eat. You look like you haven’t had a good meal in a while. What do you say?” Something about the man set Casey’s defensive instincts off but he couldn’t tell just what it was. Go home with him? He might be some kind of perv or worse. Was it the glint in the old man’s eyes as though he knew something he wasn’t telling Casey? The dude was only trying to be friendly, right? Besides he could take care of himself and this guy was certainly no match for him if it came to that so what did he really have to worry about?

“Yeah, okay, but only for a meal and then I’m gone. Deal?”

“Fine. My name’s Merlin. And you are?”

“Casey.”

“Follow me, Casey. I don’t live too far away.” The two started to walk, Merlin setting a rapid pace that surprised Casey. He certainly was spry for an old guy. They soon arrived at what Merlin called his ‘humble’ abode. Strange thing about the house though: it appeared small on the outside but upon entering Casey was overwhelmed by just how large the interior was. Must be an optical illusion he told himself.

A Scottish Holiday

Walking the Highlands of Scotland was amazing. Never had I seen such an abundance of wildflowers, especially heather, all in one spot, and the views from the top of the crag were fantastic. Ah, such a place to call home must surely be like a bit of heaven on Earth.

Of course, it wasn’t my home. I was just a visitor, an interloper into the serene scenery and clean mountain air. But oh, to look up into that clear blue sky with the clouds rolling lazily by, what I wouldn’t give to stay in that spot forever. I could believe Brigadoon was just over yon hill.

How aggrieved I was when night started to come on and I had to make my way down the hill. Sure the inn I was staying at was nice, the people friendly, and such a preponderance of food the likes of which I had never seen, but by comparison to the natural wonders I beheld outside everything else paled.

I wasn’t watching where I was going having been so caught up in the beauty around me that I stumbled on a rock as I continued downward. I cursed silently to myself for having been so stupid. A hand reached down to help me to my feet.

“Thank you.” I must have hit my head for the man attached to that hand looked like a British soldier from centuries ago. In full military garb, he was immaculate in his formal red uniform.

Time Off

Special Guest Courtesy of Mr. Cavanaugh's TF Stories

Chris wanted time off. After a rapid succession of movies, he needed some down time alone to recharge his batteries. Not that he didn’t love his family and acting mind you. He just hadn’t had a good vacation just for himself in a while.

There was a break in filming on location in New York City and the weather had turned sunny after raining most of the day so he decided to go for a stroll.  Along the way, he came across a newsstand with a tabloid he had never seen before. Not usually one to care about tabloid gossip he nonetheless picked up the paper and paid the vendor.

Cavanaugh’s Celebrity Chatter

The front page had a picture of the Amell cousins and the second page had a story about Matt Bomer, both of which he glanced at but quickly skipped over. It was page 3 that really caught his attention. There was only one headline.

Chris Hemsworth: Tired of Acting?

The picture showed him dressed exactly as he was now. Intrigued for sure how that was even possible but after all it was only a tabloid so he closed the paper and thought no more about it. As he started to leave he made eye contact with a young man just coming out of a bar. He shivered as a cold chill travelled throughout his body. Shrugging it off as just a cool momentary breeze he continued onward to a small coffee shop. He opened the paper again while drinking his latte, surprised to see his picture had changed.

Just Desserts

Special Guest Appearance Courtesy of The Body Swap Clique

I had gone shopping at my local WalMart store the other day and decided to browse through the magazine section. My eye caught a glimpse of a very handsome model on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine, one of a kind apparently since there were no others like it on the shelf. Upon closer inspection, I discovered the model was Matt Bomer, an actor I recognized from a few TV shows I had seen. I wasn’t particularly a fan of his but for some reason I had an overwhelming desire to buy the magazine and that compulsion and excitement only got deeper as I stood in line to pay for it.

I got to my house and set the magazine down on the table while I took off my jacket and went to hang it up. Imagine my surprise when, instead of the magazine I had purchased, I found a tabloid paper upon my return. How had that gotten there? The front page had a picture of the Amell cousins Robbie and Stephen rather than Matt. Curious, I opened the paper to find Matt on the second page yet every page after blank. Strange tabloid with only two stories in it.

Cavanaugh’s Celebrity Chatter

Matt Bomer: Sexiest Gay Man Alive?

A Chrismas Tale

What a Christmas eve. The worst snow blizzard in a century was howling outside and I just got a call from work. Seems some dumb ass brought the whole system down and now I needed to go into work to fix their mistake. Great.

Bad enough I had to bundle up to go out into the bitter cold and snow but to add insult to injury when I got there it turned out to be nothing more than someone tripping over a server connection that only had to be plugged back in. Someone’s boss is going to hear about this one in the morning.

I trudged my way back to my car, which by now had a few inches of wet snow piled on top of it, and headed back home. So much for my Christmas eve. Bah humbug.

I finally got back to my warm nest. Now to relax. After getting out of my wet gear I went to pour myself a drink. That’s when I noticed this basket by the tree that I swear hadn’t been there before. My curiosity aroused, I glanced at the colorful tag attached. Ha! “Merry Christmas! From Santa” was printed in bold golden letters. Santa indeed! I had given up believing in Santa a long time ago. Still…

I downed my drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor spreading throughout my cold body, and started to inspect this strange present further. I picked up one of the four small boxes. It had a silver “1” embossed on the wrapping. Strange. I looked closer at the remaining three. Each was a different color and, like the first, had a number on it. I started to open the box with the “1” on it. It was Christmas after all so I wasn’t breaking any rules. Nestled inside red tissue paper was a tree ornament of a golden slipper. While quite beautiful, it did seem like a rather odd gift for a man of my age, but not really thinking too much about it, I hung it on a branch of the tree and started to reach for the next box. Before I could reach down to get the box, a bright light started to emanate from the slipper, engulfing me totally in blinding whiteness. I must have passed out for some unknown amount of time, finding myself in strange surroundings when I came to.

My body was craving a smoke, which was odd since I never indulged a day in my life. Instinctively I reached over to the night stand to grab a cigarette and lighter. That first hit of nicotine cleared my thoughts, but why? I swung my feet over the edge of the bed to the waiting softness of plush carpet below. Awake but still not quite focused, I stood in amazement as I looked at the room around me. I had never seen such a bedroom before. I slowly made my way over to glass doors overlooking a porch, feeling my legs move much more easily than normal. As I opened one of the doors and stepped out, the piercing cries of seagulls overhead and crashing waves assaulted my ears. The strong scent of the ocean tickled my nostrils. I stood there for a moment watching the waves caress the sand, so serene and peaceful. I wondered what the rest of what I guessed must be a high-priced beach house must be like.

A sudden cool gust of wind made me shiver, making me realize I had very few clothes on. I looked down to find I was wearing only boxers. Stranger still, they weren’t on my normal body! Instead of my pasty thin legs I was looking at well-muscled hairless tan legs. And I had abs and pecs! Confused, I retreated into the room, trying to decide if this was all a dream or real. I mean after all how does someone suddenly find themselves in a different body? My mind was telling me that was simply impossible.

Seanday Break: Ring of Deception

I'm taking a break for a while, but just to entertain you I'm reposting some of my favourite stories -- I hope you enjoy them as well.

Sean.

---

Smiling to yourself you remember the day exactly when you discovered the ring, the quiet run down curio shop in one of the back streets of Alvin, the glint in the sellers eye as he warned you about it ancient powers and the unbelieving sneer of a smile you shot back to him.

It was quite a shock when you triggered the ring for the first time - by accident. Joshua your younger brother by just a year was really annoying you mouthing off, giving you shit. You grabbed him by the throat pinning him against the wall, an action that activated the ring.

You blinked, frozen; just for a split second you glanced at the ring, it was glowing - yellow, orange and then a deep red which started to encompass your hand.

The glow travelled down your arm and started to envelope Joshua as well, it seemed like minutes but in reality it was a blink of the eye. It flashed a brilliant red and when you were able to focus again, it dawned on you that it was your own face your were staring into.