Accept me for who I am

A panicked scream filled the air as Yvon tripped over her own skates for the umpteenth time that afternoon. But the scream was soon replaced with laughter by a boy as he skated to a halt beside Yvon who was tending to the newest addition to her collection of bruises.

“Hey, here.” He offered to help her get back on her feet but she refused.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Yvon was sulking.

Rick sat down beside her. “So what do you wanna do instead?”

“Let’s just sit here and enjoy the view.” She grabbed his arm and pointed at the sunset. “Look how pretty the sunset is when it goes into the ocean.”

“Not as pretty as my sunset when it goes into your ocean.” Rick realized it right after he said it. That was not something appropriate to say on a first date.

The perfect first date should be skating followed by some ice cream then, if he’s lucky, maybe a kiss. But Rick had just given up all hope of that last item on his itinerary.

“What did you just say?”

Rick winced. He was hoping that she may not have heard it. No such luck.

“Yvon, I- I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said pervy stuff like that. Uh, I didn’t mean it. I’m really sorry…”

He fumbled around for the words to make this awkward situation less awkward. Again, no such luck.

“Rick, if you’re gonna yap away like that, you’re not even gonna get a shot at seeing your sunset entering my ocean.”

“I- what?”

“I like pervy stuff.” Yvon was admiring the sunset with a flawless smile on her face, looking every bit like the perfect girl- except for what she just said.

“You do?”

Yvon nodded and looked at Rick in the eye. “I’m actually glad and relieved that you brought that topic up on our first date. I would never know how to break it to you otherwise. It’s a part of me and I know it’s a part of you too. And I accept you for who you are. I don’t find you weird or anything.”

Rick was grinning from ear to ear. He really struck the jackpot this time. This girl is a keeper.

Accept me for who I am

At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently. You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points.

“That’s not a good idea, Zane. For one, we don’t have great data on the actual effects of enhanced Luck…”

“Look, can you do it or not? I need this.”

The gene tech sighed in the quiet office and swiveled his chair back to the computer. He was looking at a fairly standard representation of a human genome, red highlights in the mass of blue to indicate genes with likely altered function from human baseline and green to indicate potential areas for change.

“Let’s see, we have some modifiable options at rs2981205, rs730882133, rs423454-”

“Yeah, man, I get it, lots of fancy words. Bottom line it for me?” Zane shifted impatiently in his chair; flipping his phone from hand to hand.

“Based on population-level studies and retrospective analysis of lottery winners, survivors of freak accidents, etc, there’s about 20 genes we could modify in you to try to make you luckier. I’m obligated to point out that we don’t know for sure that these genes actually cause better luck, and frankly the latest research is casting some doubts on the validity-”

“Yeah, yeah, I signed the waiver already, do what you got to do; I have a lot riding on this.”

“Um, you already made the bet? And you want to get lucky now?”

“Not exactly, I don’t really want to explain.”

“Whatever, they’re your genes. Sign this form here, some more standard stuff. Given the specific genes we need to modify, you are looking at 85% chance for significant loss in strength, 90% chance for loss in fine and gross motor skills, 100% for loss in intelligence, 60% chance for loss in overall body aesthetic and symmetry, and 50% chance for loss in short and long term memory.”

Zane, took the tablet, skimming over most of the form. When he had scrolled to the bottom, he pressed his finger on the fingerprint scanner, acknowledging his agreement. He let his shoulders relax afterwards, like a weight had been lifted off.

“Okay then,” he said to himself in a quieter voice,”that’s settled.”

“Not quite, Zane. Given the severity of potential deficits you are required to provide a sperm sample on the chance that you would prefer to have unaltered children in the future. Furthermore, while we strongly suggest implantable birth control for all men and women that undergo elective alteration, per the 2024 SAFEGene act, prior to sexual intercourse with any potentially fertile partners, you both must be screened for possible gene incompatibility.”

“Yeah, everyone knows the rules.”

“OK, here’s your sample cup; I’ll give you some time to provide the sample and I’ll get the CRISPR transfer virus ready.”

Zane rolled up his sleeve, exposing a slightly faded tattoo; a simple heart motif with the name “Evon” on it.

“Just a slight poke, then you’ll be all set. This is your last chance to change your mind…”

“Get it over with.”


The tech injected Zane’s left deltoid with the modified viral delivery system. Over the next 48 hours, the virus, a modified version of the flu, would infect the vast majority of his cells and re-write all of his DNA.

“It’s done. Now, you’ll probably have some soreness, fatigue, and a fever for the next couple days, similar to flu symptoms. This virus isn’t contagious, but to be safe, you need to avoid the very young and the elderly. Take tylenol if the fever or pain get bad. If you have difficulty breathing, pass out, or anything like that, get to a hospital immediately.”

“Got it. Thanks, doc.”

“Good luck.”

Two months later, Zane’s life, as far as any outsider was concerned, was pretty much unchanged. He’d had to quit his job as a barista; it was a bit too fast paced for him with his new weakness and difficultly remembering simple tasks. He’d found a perfect job, working at one of the few private libraries remaining in Baltimore. He’d only get one or two customers a day and they were usually older; if anything, Ben found himself getting along better with them than people his own age; the elderly clients seemed to talk and move at the pace he was accustomed to these days.

He settled in well to his new life; he was more lonely than he had been, but that suited him well. He had a new companion, in the form of a stray he named Tipsy, that had wandered up to his feet when he was getting back to his apartment one night. She only had three paws and occasionally fell over, but they were fast friends.

All in all, his life was stable, boring; an easy sort of anguish. And every day, as he left the library, sometimes with Tipsy peeking out of his backpack along with a few children’s books; the short ones with the easier words, he would take the 57 bus and transfer to the 23 to get to the long term care facility. There he would take the elevator to the fourth floor, his legs a bit too weak for the stairs, and sit next to Evon, who was perpetually silent except for the occasional hiss and beep of the ventilator, and read to her. Often, he would fall asleep in the chair next to her, dreaming that perhaps tomorrow would be his lucky day, and he would get to talk to her again.

At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently. You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points.

Utterly Confused

(C) Just what the heck is going on?

Never a dull day where you don’t learn anything new.
Today the female friend I thought I had may have just become something much more.
And the female friend I wanted seems to be not a friend at all.
I want what she has with the other guy, but I can’t compete and so I withdrew
But as it turns out, the other guy, may have a thing for guys, one of the few
So dear reader, I’m as confused as you are, I’m facing the stuffs of good drama lore.

Utterly Confused

Patiently, Silently, Innocently


I could not get enough of the new cheesy custard buns at Pappa Rich’s. They changed my life forever.

I was innocently walking home from work and passed by Pappa Rich’s, where the most unsuspicious banner caught my eye.


Being a huge fan of both cheese and sales, I could not say no. Thus, I walked into Pappa Rich’s and was greeted by knocked off my feet by the scent of freshly baked bread.

How could anyone say no to this!? Credits:
How could anyone say no to this!? Credits:

My eyes darted frantically right to left and right again in search of my quarry, the cheesy custard buns, and I found them. They sat seductively in a glass shelf beside the cashier, tantalizing my taste buds which were already began to water. But then I noticed her. She was dressed oddly. Faded tee, oversized handbag, shoes that were out of place with the rest of her outfit, complete with a pair of jeans with patchwork squares of other materials sewn onto it. She was fidgety, trying unsuccessfully to remain inconspicuous in a corner of the shop.

Her eyes were those of trapped prey, and she behaved as one as well. This was when my survival instincts kicked in. I immediately knew she was up to no good. I halted my mission and told myself that custard buns can wait. I had to stop this minor menace first.

So, I took up a tray and tongs and began to browse through the bakery slowly. I scanned each tray with an agonizingly slow pace, all the while keeping an eye on the suspect through the corner of my eye. She still has not moved. And I was beginning to come to the conclusion that she was waiting for the bakery to become emptier before she robs it.

Gotta let you know that my eye is on you!
Gotta let you know that I’ve got my eye on you!

I suddenly had a thought. What if she had a gun! I froze in my tracks as I contemplated what I would do in face of the unexpected. I glanced at her once more. That oversized handbag… She definitely had a gun! Suddenly, my knees grew weak and my courage faded as quickly as it came. I had never come face to face with a gun before. And if I do, it may be my last…

As I grew more and more into a nervous wreck due to my paranoid soliloquy, an employee of the bakery walked out of the kitchen. A young beautiful girl, and she was approaching the suspect. Her eyes were on the floor, she looked tired and her body hunched from the fatigue of working all day. She was about to walk into arm’s range of the suspect, and that was when the suspect suddenly moved.

It all happened simultaneously, the bakery’s grandfather clock chimed ten times, and the suspect’s sudden movement, and the employee walked between me and the suspect and blocked the suspect from my line of vision. I reacted immediately, I straightened, and grabbed my tongs and tray as if they were weapons and circled around the bakery shelves that separated me and the suspect to get nearer to her. The suspect was now opposite me and I could finally see her face clearly.

She had brown, worn eyes that hinted traces of a lifetime of hardship, and her many wrinkles on her face folded over each other as if trying to knit a pattern. I realized how old she could have been probably past her forties. She was now inspecting a tray of bread and I was contemplating my next move. Shall I talk to her? Be cool like one of those agents you see on Hollywood films and say, “I know what you’re up to.” Would she freeze once she realized she was discovered? Or would she react back? And if she did, would she react violently? But before I could do anything, the employee spoke to her first.

She said, “Hi there aunty! Same time everyday, huh?” A regular? She must have been scouting out this place for a long time! I thought. Then the aunty replied, “Yes, dear! I could not possibly afford anything here unless they were half price. I’ve been waiting for you to put up the sign since just now!” I then realized something crucial and how very wrong I had been. I bought my cheesy custard buns for half price then promptly left the store. The cashier did not understand why my face was flushed red.

So embarassing!
So embarassing!
Patiently, Silently, Innocently

The Angel That Changed My Life

(C) Alastair Forbes. Sunday Photo Fiction, June 28th, 2015. This photo brings you to the prompt page. Hosted by, Alastair Forbes.
Rolls Royce Angel. (C) Alastair Forbes. Sunday Photo Fiction, June 28th, 2015. This photo brings you to the prompt page. Hosted by, Alastair Forbes.

Magic is real. I discovered magic when I first met my soulmate. When she touches me, the world becomes brighter and feels lighter. I forget all my problems and her presence becomes the only thing that matters.

I did not think I could be any more in love but she proved me wrong when she unfurled her wings. Her beautiful wings. They were as divine as an angel’s, as full as a swan’s, and as majestic as an eagle’s.

She taught me some of her magic. Having her as a teacher had to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I got pretty good at magic too. She changed my life in ways I never imagined. I never imagined that my plan would work either. The statue spell was one of the most difficult spell to master. But it worked, and now she is mine forever.

Word count: 171

The Angel That Changed My Life

A Very Watery Date

(C) Sonya O. Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFFAW), June 10, 2015. This photo brings you to the challenge page. Hosted by Priceless Joy
(C) Sonya O. Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFFAW), June 10, 2015. This photo brings you to the challenge page. Hosted by Priceless Joy

The Sea World would be an excellent venue for their first date, he thought. He has never been so wrong.

The instant that she realized that his plan was a visit to Sea World, she burst into tears. She did not tell him why though. She did not want to ruin the date; he booked the tickets in advance too. They did not come cheap.

But the tears invariably came again as they passed by the Angelfish aquariums.

“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Mike asked, genuine concern evident on his face.

“Aquariums remind me of Gabriel,” she struggled between tears.

Shit. Ex-boyfriends are never a good first-date conversation topic, Mike silently berated himself for asking and braced for the imminent emotional roller coaster ride.

“He was found dead last year,” Jenny sobbingly continued, unaware of the horror spreading across Mike’s face. He was thinking, a dead ex-boyfriend!? Shit, this girl is full of baggage that I don’t need. Why do I always pick the bad ones? Then she added, “Next to a cracked aquarium,” before her turbulent sobbing made the rest of her words inaudible.

Mike did not know how else to react, so he put his arm around her, and listened to her incoherent tearful speech. But at the back of his mind, he thought he heard, “Gabriel was such a good angelfish!”

Word count: 222


A Very Watery Date

When Death Walked In

The door swings open. It’s a bald, gleaming, shiny head. The bald, gleaming, shiny head. The stench in the air is palpable. It is the stench of fear, and it was an all-you-can-eat-buffet for the nose which belonged to the bald head.
“What are you idiots waiting for? Go greet the food auditor!” The supervisor reprimanded his staff in a hushed whisper.
The staff proceeded to welcome the Grim Reaper wearing a bald-man-suit as a practised choir. Grim Reaper paid no attention, instead stalked straight for the kitchen.

The supervisor trodded behind him, not unlike a freshly nagged kid. Then Death spoke, “If I can taste a trace of food on whatever that used to contain, I’m suspending your license.” He stared pointedly at a container.

The unorthodox test caused the supervisor to take a moment to process what Death uttered. When at last he understood, he began to word his confused disbelief, “You can’t be serious…” But the container was already cradled by Death’s spiny spiderweb-y fingers, and it appeared to corrupt at his very touch. Death opened his mouth, and a tendril slithered out. The air stilled in that room, and a morgue may arguably be a more lively place than that kitchen at that precise moment.

Death’s tendril traced a slimy path on the container’s inner wall and withdrew.

“I can taste it…”

The supervisor and his staff visibly stiffened. Teeth were gritted, veins throbbed, breaths were held and five pairs of eyes widened.

“I can taste your license renewal.”

And nobody imagined that even Death was capable of a warm smile.

When Death Walked In