Hello,
My name is Karin Beyaert. Or at least it is in this special corner of the internet it is.
In daily life just a very ordinary guy. But sometimes the girl inside takes over. And for a few wonderful hours Karin enjoys life as well. She may go out for a walk, go shopping or meet friends. Normally without any major problems to mention. The only thing I regret is that I cannot take over more often. Or should I perhaps say for ever...?
I have many interests, one is for sure literature. I love this site with many very good authors. And at one moment one of the authors here asked me why do you not write a story yourself? That is how my career here started.
I do my best every now and then to make a contribution to the site and the a little bit special literature we are all of us fond of that is on it. Which is not only fun to read but also to write it oneself. You will find out that I have my very own style. If you like it that is of course great. If not, don't worry, there is so much around here you are bound to find something you do like!
I am certainly interested to meet new people or to discuss interesting topics (regarding my own stories or other items) so if you want you can always contact me.
If English is perhaps not your first choice you may also write in German, French, Spanish or Dutch if you want.
And there is also a site on facebook that I have no doubt you will find if you want to.
Wishing you a wonderful day,
Karin Beyaert
By Karin Beyaert
Alex has a very special hobby he keeps secret to everybody. But his best friend discovered his secret by accident. She wants to know all about it, and invites him for a candle light dinner and a demonstration.
The sequel to Moonlight Queen, but written in such a way that it can also be read as a stand alone story.
I was awakened by a loud banging at my bedroom’s door.
“Hey Alex, are you going to stay in bed all day?”
Nine fifteen. If you do something, do it well. I had overslept, not well but very well. Clearly I could therefore begin this day with a very satisfied feeling.
“Sorry Hen, seems I overslept a little bit…” the bed was warm and soft and felt soooo good. “Turn on the coffee machine, I will be downstairs in a few minutes.”
“Coffee and scrambled eggs are already waiting. See you in a moment.” I heard him go downstairs, clearly in a very good mood since he was singing.
I was still dozing. I had the most pleasant of dreams. I had got up in the middle of the night, dressed up as my female alter ego Xandra and mastered the worst untamable polish horse the world had ever seen. And… And normally the clothes I wear in my dreams are not hanging over the chair in my bedroom the next morning. Xandra’s clothes. Luckily Henry had not rushed into the room. I would have needed a very original explanation for the items lying around . I took a closer look at the clothes. The vest was smeared and smelled like horse where Pjotr had pushed his head against Xandra. The trousers smelt like the leather of the saddle. Holmes and Watson could take the day off, it had not been a dream.
I started to remember it all again. And especially how Claudia had surprised me riding in full drag. What a disaster! At least she had taken it quite relaxed for the moment. I could not change it anyway.
For now I took Xandra’s clothes and folded them. They needed to be washed But not now. The Montana boots needed cleaning as well, covered with sand and dust as they were. I quickly put it all back in my secret closet, put on my own clothes and went downstairs, to begin another day as the king of my own little realm.
I was welcomed in the kitchen by my subject Henry, who showed his allegiance by preparing a deliciously smelling coffee and very aromatic scrambled eggs, with bacon! Above that there was my newspaper lying ready for me to read. It had some gravy over it where somebody else had read it before, but these trifle details could not spoil my joy.
Henry was singing some baby I love you song that was clearly not meant for me. I for my part could not make up my mind if I should ask him to sing God save the King or Hail to the Chief instead. So I just sat down.
“Morning Hen. Smells delicious… Sorry I let you down this morning. I had a bad night and only fell asleep by the end of the night.”
“Don’t worry, that was to be expected after what happened yesterday. So Ben said just let him sleep.”
“Did I miss anything this morning?”
“Only a man who called if we still have a box available to stall his horse. Told him we have and gave some information about the possibilities and prices. He will call you back.”
I took my breakfast and read my paper.
As always it was full of blissful news. Financial crises, house market crises, economical crises, political crises, killer bacteria in hospitals, terrorist threats, oil disasters at sea, the hole in the ozone layer, the disappearing tropical forests and a weather forecast that never came true any way.
Clearly human beings must have some strong masochistic traits to keep buying them every day. Hardened by years of bad news it did however not spoil my appetite in the least. And the Garfield and Dilbert cartoons amply compensated for the rest.
Henry by now had joined me in this simple but delicious meal. Henry was unlikely to skip a good meal, and frankly he also looked a little bit like that.
“By the way, how is Pjotr?”
“Hmm…. He has been trying to demolish the stables all morning. Nobody dared to enter to muck out his stable so far.”
“I will have a look at him after breakfast.”
“Take your field-glasses and look from a safe distance.”
“Please Hen, I am not a little girl!” Ai…, I only realized what I had said when it was already out. I glanced at Henry for a fraction of a second. No reaction….
Henry was right. Pjotr was not capable of mastering his enthusiasm. He could clearly been heard from outside.
Ben and Peter, my other two employees had taken the tractor and wagon inside and were unloading hay when I entered the stables.
“Good morning.”
“Morning Alex. How are you?” Peter said. “The Sleeping Beauty comes at last” Ben grinned.
“Fine, thanks. Just wanted to take a look at Pjotr. And, eh…Ben. Did you ever consider a beauty nap yourself, might not harm you at all.”
A friendly laugh was his answer. “Sure boss, most of us can use one.”
I walked passed them to the source of the great mechanical mayhem. Ben must have guessed my intentions.
“You are not going to commit suicide again today, are you?” He asked anxiously.
“No Ben, don’t worry. Just as in biblical times I had a dream full of divine inspiration how to ride him last night.”
Both of them looked at me and at each other as if I had read too many biblical verses and had gone mad like the famous hidalgo Don Quixote who underwent the same sad destiny after also reading too much one sided literature.
I went to Pjotr’s box and took care nobody could hear what I said to him.
“Listen Pjotr, I know I have been rude to you yesterday. I am sorry. I should have treated you with more respect, like Xandra did. I promise you I will never do it again. Can you forgive me?”
He calmed down, neighed several times and gave me a kind of questioning look. It was as if he really understood and answered. I envied Dr. Doolittle.
“Let me groom you and show you my good will.”
I went in. Perhaps his questioning look and the way he behaved now was caused because he felt I was Xandra, and at the same time I was not. That I was Alex and at the same time I was not.
Those facts were already confusing enough for myself, let alone for a horse.
I groomed him, I talked to him and Alex did all he could to be the best Xandra he could manage. As in many things it is not the splendid success that counts the most but the good intention. Pjotr understood that well. He seemed calm and friendly now.
“Well my Polish beauty, what do you say. Shall we go for a ride or do you prefer to stay here and kick the door all day long?”
He said nothing, just nodded.
I went for a bridle, blanket and saddle and a few minutes later we were in the riding hall.
Xandra had simply forgotten her spurs and whip when she rode him last night. I deliberately came unarmed.
The two ladies riding their private horses in the hall halted them and looked in surprise at what I was doing. Everybody knew that had it not been for Ben Pjotr might at least have injured me badly yesterday.
No doubt they thought it was my friendly personality that wanted to give him a second chance to kill me.
By now Ben and Peter had come in as well, followed by Henry and a few other people. I felt like a gladiator in ancient Rome. Eternal fame or a one way ride to paradise were awaiting me. Mohammed had allegedly visited Heaven on horseback, why not me? Elated by the insight that either way things were going to be fine I prepared to mount.
Pjotr looked at me and neighed in a very peculiar tone. Strange, he really seemed to talk. And I felt what he wanted to say.
“Yes, I promised you. And as you see, I have neither whip nor spurs as a sign of good will. Apart from that we both know what you can do with me if you really want to, don’t we? So, shall we?”
He just looked at me calmly. It seemed to mean, I believe you, go ahead.
I fastened the gird, and mounted.
“Please don’t let me down in front of all these people I whispered in his ear.”
There was no question of letting me down, he did his very best. Things went very very well. One after the other the spectators left the arena. Disappointed or relieved, who will ever know.
Only Ben remained in the end. There goes a rumor that in a previous life Ben had been a famous poet. If it is true, who knows? At least he expressed his astonishment in a rhyme.
“He boss, if I would have a hat, you know,
I would now be waving it, shouting chapeau, chapeau!
But even without I say aloud, bravo bravo!
It is that with my own yes I can see,
If not I would not believe it could be,
Certainly not after what yesterday happened to thee.”
I did not have a hat either, so I just took off my baseball cap, bowed in his direction and thanked him for his kind words.
In a very different tone Ben continued.
“And Mr. I-became-a-horse-whisperer-overnight, are you going to tell me how you did this!?”
“Secret of state Ben, sorry, can’t tell you…”
It occurred to me that after having all of a sudden a secret of state we might also have some official celebration day, commemorating some important deed of the Great Leader e.g. Today seemed a perfect candidate. Like so many good ideas it was never put into practice though.
All in all we rode almost two hours together. We even did a little bit of jumping, and it seemed that Pjotr had talent in that direction. For a moment I even considered to go out with him for a ride in the fields and forests. But I did not feel sure enough with him to go out on the public road for the moment. Later.
As was to be expected, the answer I had given to Ben did not satisfy him at all. When we had dinner he returned to the subject. And from the remarks of the others around the table he was not the only one who wanted to know.
“Tell us Alex, what did you do? This did not just happen, there is more to it.”
“Well, while I could not sleep last night it occurred to me that the problem might be that we did it all wrong with this horse. That there where violence failed, kindness might have worked. In that sense it is perhaps a kind of horse whispering after all.”
It was the truth and nothing but the truth. Only not all the truth. It was just enough truth. The explanation was accepted and no further questions asked.
We went back to work. I myself to my office where a pile of administrative tasks awaited me.
From the canteen you can look down into the riding hall through a big window that makes up almost the complete short side of the hall. My office used to be part of the canteen, now separated from the canteen by another glass wall. So I can look at both the canteen and the riding hall from behind my desk.
Next to the door is a small white sign with black letters “Alex Winter, director”. For reasons that likely need no further explanation it was never called the office, but simply the aquarium.
In an artistic mood Henry had even painted some fish and a mermaid on the glass. When I then objected that we were a serious business and that this went too far I was not quite well understood. The mermaid eventually got a bra and that is how things still are now.
I turned on my computer and set off to work. As always I was interrupted regularly and in the end I did only half of what I had planned to do. I wanted to ask a “do not disturb” sign for my last birthday, but since I was sure nobody would read it anyway I asked for a high percentage present in a bottle. A wise choice, especially since my birthday is in the middle of the Winter.
After supper I went back to work and was interrupted again. This time by Claudia. Funny, some interruptions seem much more welcome than others.
She had been to the farrier with her horse. It turned out he could solve the problem it had and even at less costs than expected. She was in a very cheerful mood.
“Do you want a coffee?”
“At last somebody asks! Yes please.”
She went out into the canteen where Peter was tending the bar and taking care of a handful of customers. Moments later she was back with two espressos. She closed the door behind her and sat down on the bureau, facing me as I sat in my chair behind it.
I knew what was now going to come. And she knew I knew. That is the nice thing about being good friends for a long long time, it saves the long discussions and you can just concentrate on your espresso.
“So you were serious about what you asked me this morning?”
“Sure, why not?” And with a naughty look at me she continued “And if you can style yourself so nicely for a horse I am really very eager to see what you can do for me.”
“Well, perhaps…we will see…”
“Oh no Sacha, you are not going to weasel out of this! And after all you promised you would show me!”
True, she had decided that I had promised her I would show up in drag, wearing a skirt.
“Ok, ok, what do you propose? We could go inside and I put one on right now if you want.”
She took a sip of espresso, looked at the ceiling for a moment and then turned to me.
“I invite you for a candle light dinner, my place, Friday, eight o’clock. Is that OK with you?”
“I will see that I arrange it with Ben.”
After all, I was the boss, why could I not just ask for an evening off?
She looked at me, again with a naughty twinkle in her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing… Just trying to imagine how you will show up.”
“You may have a say in that. Any preferences?”
“Hmmm… not really. Just surprise me. Just do your best I would say. And don’t forget to wear a skirt.”
“I promised already, don’t worry.”
I leant back in my chair while she was still sitting on the bureau. We both drank our espresso while I looked at her, admired her, I adored her. No doubt any other guy would have wanted to have her. My fantasies were slightly different in that respect, to say the very least. Although, did I not want to have her too, in a certain way? In a much more absolute way than any normal guy would ever imagine. Is there anything more divine than dreaming?
Freya, goddess of love and war, goddess of fertility and death. A really great goddess has also two sides. Preferably, unlike mere humans, twice.
Finally as every week Freya's day had come, it was Friday. What marvels were to be expected of a day named after such a Lady?
I had made some arrangements with Ben to have the evening off after six o’clock. All had been prepared previously, so I could just drive away. Not to Claudia’s house though.
My little realm had some overseas possessions. Almost a hectare of ground, roughly half forest half meadow. In the centre of the forest there was a little cottage. Living room, two bedrooms, small bathroom and small kitchen, a little attic. Behind it a stable for two or three horses.
I let it in Summer to people who wanted to explore the surroundings with their own horses or used it when we had a lot of visitors e.g. when having some special activities like the annual Pony Camp. It was empty now. I had used it before from time to time for a sorti en femme.
I parked the car and entered the cottage with two bags of clothes and stuff. I took a quick shower and a shave to get rid of my two days old beard. Concealer is great stuff, but it is not magic.
It had taken me several sessions in front of my secret closet to find the perfect combination for tonight. Yes, it is not easy to be a girl…And perfect it had to be!
Xandra always takes care to look well and dress with some style, and for her first dinner invitation it should be really perfect en feminine.
The miniskirt with tight T-shirt high boots and net stockings looked very feminine and sexy. For Alex’ taste perhaps even a little bit too much. It had earned her honks and whistles from the men in the street occasionally.
It is strange, but long ago I thought honking and whistling at girls was rude until guys started honking and whistling at me. What a rush!
But no…it was not the combination for this night. I tried several other combinations and regretted I had never bought a classic black dress. But surely something in my reasonably impressive collection must meet the requirements for such an evening? Eventually I settled for the following. A dark blue jeans skirt, just above the knees, tight by not a real pencil skirt. Black boots, some seven or eight centimeters below the knees, with about six centimeter heels. Black tights. A dark red blouse on top, for which I had the perfect nail polish to match. Over it a broad black belt with a beautifully decorated silver buckle. With a little bit of artificial filling at the right places it looked great.
Next came the long chestnut colored wig I wore during my first encounter with Claudia and a ladies coat in some silver colored fabric just long enough to cover my bottom. A black purse that hung from my shoulder completed that whole.
The jewelry to wear should simple but elegant. Eight centimeter massive silver earrings. A silver necklace and six small silver bracelets on my right wrist; left I added a stainless steel lady’s watch.
There was plenty of time for the make up. So I took my time, both to do it as well as possible and also because I simply enjoyed doing it. Becoming Xandra simply felt good.
In one bedroom there was a closet with a big looking glass on the inside of the door. While waiting for the nail polish to dry I went there to watch the results of my efforts to look fair and see if something extra could still be done.
“Looking glass looking glass on the wall…eh...closet door,
Please tell me what could I do more?”
“My Queen my Queen, there is no doubt, you did it very well,
A perfect lady Xandra is at first and second sight, that is what I can tell.”
Well, that was nicely said! I just wanted to say thanks but he was not yet quite ready.
“For future compliments my Queen, only one advice to head,
At this dinner it is not too much that you should eat.”
Thanks Mirror, I have always felt that only having Ben and Claudia around telling me what to do was not enough. Glad to see that problem fixed.
And what kind of comment was that after all? What was he hinting at? I took a closer look at myself. I was not fat!. Sure, I had a nice ass, but I was supposed to have one! And part of it was just padding. And my B-C cup was also not overdone.
Wait a minute! I was not going to have my evening spoiled even before it began by some retired fairy tale looking glass! There was one major advantage it had over Ben and Claudia, I could close the door...
“Looking glass looking glass on closet door you know I have an important date,
It is almost time to go, I cannot afford to be to late,
I am very sorry, but I just have to close the gate.”
Bang!!
Stupid Mirror. Start to understand now why your previous owner sold you as a bargain.
My nails were dry. I picked up Alex’ clothes and took them with me. Just in case somebody might visit the cottage during the evening. With some fifteen minutes to get to Claudia’s house I would be perfectly on time.
It felt great and strange at the same time for me, Xandra, to visit her, but I was confident I would stand my man.
After being divorced Claudia had moved to a nice house in the centre of a nearby village. There was ample space in front of the house to park the car, but I decided to park it some fifty meters further down the street. There was a small parking lot where, behind some shrubs, it could not be seen from the street.
Ding Dong.
The light in the hall went on. The door was opened.
“Hi Sacha. Come in”
“Hi Claudia.”
She glanced at my outfit. “Looks quite good. Let me take your coat.”
A compliment from her, in this domain!? I felt proud.
“Yes, if you want to see me like this then it has to be perfect.”
She kissed me on my cheek and took my hands and drew me with her.
“Come into the kitchen, we have better light there. I want to see how you look.”
She made a turning movement with her hand and I turned around twice to show her.
“You really did it all, whouw!”
She could not hold her laugh, but there was also disbelief and admiration in her look. She took a very close look at my face.
“You are very good at make up. Who thought you?”
“You would be amazed about all the instructions you can find on You Tube. And experimenting a little bit also helps a lot.”
She slapped her own hips and looked at mine.
“Whap did you do here?”
“Just a little bit of padding to get the right silhouette.”
“And this?” She indicated her own breasts.
“A bra with silicone inlays.”
“Silicone? Hmm.. may I touch it?”
“Sure.”
Touching apparently meant investigating thoroughly.
“They feel quite real.”
“It is all kind of an illusion, but let it at least be a good illusion!”
Mischief glinted in her eyes and a naughty smile appeared on her lips.
“Jump up and down.”
“Ehh, what? Why…?
“Come on! Just do it.”
“Oh nooo…please, this is ridiculous….”
She gave me the I-am-your-best-girlfriend-and-I-would-like-you-to-do-this-for-me-look. Moments later I was jumping up and down. And she burst out into laughter.
“Indeed, they look very real. Even in that respect you look like a girl.”
I put my hands on my hips, looked as self-assured as possible at her and asked:
“Well, what do you say. Do you like it?”
She became serious again. Looked at me from head to foot and contemplated her answer for a moment.
“I am not sure. “I mean, sure you did a great job. It is hardly possible to tell you are a guy. And your choice of clothes and everything testifies of good taste. I appreciate what you did to comply with my request.
But it is also strange to see my best friend like this. It confuses me. And I am not sure if I like it….”
“Shall I change back then?”
“No!! Don’t!!”
“So, that means you do like it?”
“Well, it is kind of cute and it certainly has class, I admit that. And I suppose I have to get used to it anyway now that I know that you are a cross dresser, don’t I?”
Those are the remarks that make good friends stand out from the rest. Now it was my turn to kiss her on the cheek
“Just one more question. Do you have any suggestions to improve it? Make it more convincing?”
“Hmm. I think you did already pretty well. Let me think it over. Perhaps I can eventually suggest a few things, but right now I would not really know.”
“What about our dinner?”
“That makes two questions. Give me a few more minutes to put everything into the oven, and then some 20 minutes for the pizzas to be ready.”
Pizzas. I loved pizzas. And from what I saw in the kitchen she had prepared home made ones especially for me.
“Shall I dress the table in the meantime?”
“If you want, you know where to find everything.”
I went into the living groom. In the centre was a big table for six persons. In the right hand corner were two couches and the TV, in the left hand corner was a bureau with the telephone and computer.
I dressed the table according to all the rules of the art, including six candle holders.
I was about ready when Claudia came in.
“They are in the oven.”
She saw the results of my work, apparently very pleased.
“Shall I uncork the wine?”
“Excellent idea Sacha.”
I handed her her glass of wine. “Cheers!”
“You know…” she said as we sat down on the couch, sounding philosophical, “…what would a normal guy have done?”
I was about to protest that I was a normal guy. But somehow, looking at her painted nails, Xandra told me to keep my mouth shut up. I gave her a questioning look instead.
“He would have sat down here, turned on the TV and shouted into the kitchen, honey can you bring me a beer! And he would not have moved a finger to help. So, that is one of the little details in which you are different.”
She smiled at me.
“And some of these little differences I like a lot.”
If she said so.
The caveman gene must still be much more widespread than I would have ever deemed possible in modern society. It gave me a nice and warm feeling inside to know that I was not a caveman. Which was after all also all the better for me. Imagine running after mammoths in my tight skirt and heels. And even if I would catch one, it would never fit into my purse to take it home for the barbecue.
“….. details to improve your presentation.”
My thoughts about the diner preparations of our ancestors had been so absorbing that I had missed what Claudia was saying.
“Sacha, are you with me?” Well, I was now anyway.
“Eh just listening, please continue.”
“For a start, why don’t you wear some rings? Most women do, so if you want to look like one…”
“I know, but lady rings are just all just too small for me. And I think it looks better without that putting on men’s rings.”
“OK, I see. Hmm, I think you should wear some and I think I know a place where it is possible to get them. I will help you with that, don’t worry.”
Who even thinks about worrying with a manager who so well takes care of all?
“Then you only have one pair of ear holes. Look…”
She pushed her long dark blond hair back to clearly show me she was wearing two pairs.
“… hardly any girl these days has only one pair. I suggest you have at least one extra pair done.”
Well, that thought had already occurred to me from time to time. But it seemed not that important. And after all, as a woman I normally wore long hair wigs, so it was difficult to see how many earrings I was wearing anyway. So who cares? I clearly was too sloppy in these matters to be a good manager.
Clack, clack. Tic tac, tic tac….
Somebody in heels had just opened and closed the driveway gate and was now heading for the backdoor. Whoever it was, in a moment she would enter via the kitchen door….
And whoever just enters here without asking via the backdoor must be a very good acquaintance of both of us…
I looked at Claudia in despair. Claudia looked at me in despair. It would have looked very funny had it not been so serious.
“I am not expecting anybody.” And off she was to the kitchen to intercept our visitor.
I recognized the voice in the kitchen at the first word it said. Sharon. Claudia’s sister.
“Hi sis, sorry to disturb you at this time. Won’t keep you long. I just wanted to borrow your laminator. It is on the bureau, isn’t it. Don’t bother, I just get it myself.”
So much energy and determination could not be stopped. She rushed into the living room, took the laminator from the bureau and turned around to leave the room again. Only then she saw me sitting at the opposite side of the room.
“Hey, Claudy, you did not mention you had a visitor.”
Somehow it seemed not quite fair to blame Claudy for that in my humble opinion.
She stepped forward towards me and stretched out her hand.
“Hi, I am Sharon, Claudy’s sister. Nice to meet you.”
From the corner of my eyes I could catch a glimpse of Claudy standing in the door, panic written all over her face.
With horses the Contingency Plan generally is to run away as fast as possible. Surely I could come up with something better than a dumb animal? A prayer! Yes!
Oh Master of the Underworld, Prince of Darkness, Lord of Evil.. Remember that I hardly ever go to church. I often drink too much, I swear, I scold at my horses and I cheated on my tax declaration. Even more than once! And if the situation were not so urgent I am sure that I could come up with a lot more... This is the moment to punish me. I deserve it. Open the gates of your Realm and let the earth swallow me right now.
As so often justice failed.
Hence, I got up and stretched out my hand towards her. Hers was soft, two sizes smaller than mine. So feminine. I noticed the difference, so should she…? I took great care to shake her hand as ladylike as I could. Sharon was standing just in front of me, in a reasonably well lit room, looking directly at my face. I felt my heart beating, my throat felt hot and dry…
“Eh..hi.. Xandra, friend of Claudia’s, pleasure is mine.” I managed in a voice that was at least not too deep and masculine, without sounding like Mickey Mouse either.
And then, nothing happened.
“I am sorry, I am really very much in a hurry now. We talk a little bit more next time, OK?”
She waved at me.
“Bye Xandra, bye sis. Have a nice evening together!”
The tornado left the same way it had come. Tic tac tic tac, clack clack and silence.
Claudia and I watched each other in upper amazement. Then together we burst out in hilarious laughter and dropped down on the couch. We laughed so long and so much that it hurt.
“What a joke! Sharon introduces herself to you and does not read you! Congratulations Xandra, you just passed the practical test for being a woman cum laude.”
“Yes, she did not even notice I altered my voice. I thought it sounded awfully artificial.”
I think we would still be sitting there laughing, if not the oven’s alarm clock had gone off at that moment to tell us that our diner was ready.
Claudia went to get it. I lit the candles and dimmed the electrical light. The pizzas were superb. The ones with salami and these small very spicy peppers. Just love them! The wine was very good, the conversation was, and last but not lease the company.
It was only a pity we did not have an open fire place to add to the romantic atmosphere. With of course an artificial polar bear skin lying in front of it.
Only about three or four weeks after that it struck me that Claudia looked somewhat out of place. She wore a kind of comfortable house suit, a white one with the kind of watch Salvador Dali painted printed on front of it, in stead of something elegant.
But at that moment neither the artificial polar bear nor the house suit mattered at all.
“By the way, are you still interested in more suggestions to look more feminine?”
“Sure. Do you have more then? A shorter skirt perhaps?” I joked.
“No, that is only a variation. I mean something new.”
“OK, let’s hear it!”
“What about something quite feminine that can be done easily, does not cost a lot, can be used in various ways and can be combined with the rest of your outfit as it suits you? But it will perhaps take a little but of courage to do so…Perhaps you don’t dare to…”
“Sounds nice. But it must be quite special if you think it takes more courage than what I am doing already. What is it?”
“I was thinking you might have your nose pierced.”
At least she managed to surprise me. I never taught about it and did not know right away what to say.
“Eh… you really think so?”
“Yes, I think it would look nice.”
“If so, why don’t you wear a nose stud yourself?”
“I am not really the type for it, but Xandra is according to me. I think she should try it.”
It occurred to me that Claudia must have recently bought shares in the jewel industry. All propositions so far clearly indicated this. The next proposition was no doubt going to be a navel piercing. It was feminine, sure, but perhaps a little bit more than I cared for at the moment…
“I see. Perhaps you are right. There is however one little problem. If Xandra gets it done, Alex also has to wear it for several weeks, and I doubt if he wants to do that.”
“You have a point there. Perhaps you can have it done during some holiday? Or we have to come up with a special way of doing it? A friend of mine at high school somehow managed despite that her parents forbade it. I could ask her what she did if you want me to.”
Perhaps this was a nice new and interesting idea, and perhaps things were going awry. I was not sure about it yet. And I did neither want to disappoint her nor to be called coward.
“Perhaps your school mate used the clip-on or magnetic ones? I could try those too and we can see if it is an asset or not.”
She smiled and gave me a look full of admiration.
“Sacha, that is a great idea. Sometimes you are a real genius.”
It was time to change the subject before she would continue about the navel piercing and God knows what else. And here no closing closet doors was going to save me…
“Thanks, but I really did not invent them myself. By the way, you are a great cook. It was delicious!”
“I know, but I never get tired of hearing it again. What did you say again…?”
She sat back, took a sip of wine and said:
“And there is Italian ice-cream for dessert.”
That one was not home made but simply bought at the supermarket. It was nonetheless delicious as well. To tell you a secret, I love ice-cream. I had two portions. What looking glass…?
“You know…”
No I did not, but that was not a problem, she would tell me anyway.
“…this has been such a nice evening, what about a finishing it with digestive evening walk at the park?”
An excellent idea. We put the dirty dished in the dishwasher. Claudia changed for a pair of jeans, a sweater and sneakers in such a short time that she might have won the Olympics for getting dressed easily and off we were.
Claudia held my coat out for me.
“May I assist you with your coat Milady de Winter?”
“You are a real gentleman. You would have made an excellent musketeer.”
“Hmmm… now you come to mention it, I have always wanted to have a hat with a feather on top of it.”
We went out laughing and joking, took her car and drove off into the night.
Clearly we were driving the wrong way. At least it was not the way to any park I knew about. No doubt this was going to be some special surprise for me. I kept silent, just waiting for what was going to come. At least I could be reassured that the local piercing shops were closed at this hour of the night…
Claudia parked on a small parking strip in front of some houses and opposite a long three meter high wall.
“This is not the park.”
“Sure it is honey, there are trees in it as you can see.”
That was true. There were trees. Beautiful old trees could be seen over the wall. We were standing in front of the Old Grave Yard. It dated from mid eighteenth century and had been in use till just after World War Two.
It had these beautiful old trees, shrubs and other green stuff, broad alleys, different styles of graves, many with lots of ornaments. It looked mostly very much end nineteenth century. But it was not, as you might have expected, the scary décor for a Halloween picture. It was a very attractive place actually. It had class and style. And since a couple of years it was a municipal monument and had been under restoration.
“How do you call a park with dead people in it?”
“Look. There are parks where you can rent rowing boats, rent horses, visit a restaurant, look at sculptures and many other things. Parks are often very multifunctional, you know. And that does not keep them from being a park in the least. It amazes me that you don’t know that. And this is just a park with some dead people lying around.”
I rested my case.
“But it is closed now. Do you want to climb the wall or what?”
“The service entrance is never closed. Come.”
She was right and a moment later we were inside.
“You come here so often that you know that?”
“From time to time. It is a place where I can relax and find my inner self. Especially after closing hours.”
I had been there myself once or twice, but never at this time. The place was relaxed, it was not to be denied. And it was not surprising after all, with so many relaxed inmates.
Nonetheless, it seemed a curious habit…
By now we had reached the central alley. We turned right, passed the sepulchral of the local bishops and stood now in front of the central chapel.
“I never understood what it meant.” Claudia said, pointing at the text written over the gate.
Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur. And in smaller letters underneath Apoc XIV — 13.
Although I had never done any Latin classes, Alex fortunately had.
“Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord from now on.”
It is from the Apocalypse, just a few lines beyond the much more famous mentioning of 666 as the Number of the Beast. Not that I knew that then, Alex looked it up later…
“Ah, you always know everything!”
She took my arm, pressed herself against me and we walked further, arm in arm. I smelled her hair, felt her warmth. Could it be that one day we would be like all those around us?
We came to the most famous couple of graves.
The place is divided into Catholic, Protestant and Jewish areas and on part for the special cases, like suicides and atheists. All with a wall around them. And then a big wall around the whole cemetery.
Of course religious narrow-mindedness is not a modern invention, already then it dictated that you should be buried in the appropriate part and decidedly nowhere else.
So a catholic baroness and a protestant colonel, husband and wife, were buried in their specific enclosures at the end of the nineteenth century.
The lady was smart and her love overcame these narrow-minded rules, at least in a certain way. She choose the places of their graves next to the wall intended to separate Catholics and Protestants for eternity.
From each gravestone a stone hand stretches out at the rear side, over the wall to the other, meeting halfway. I guess it was more like that that the Great Spirit actually had meant it to be rather than artificial separations mankind invented.
We stood looking at the grave of the baroness.
“You know the story…?” She nodded.
“It is beautiful, no? So very romantic…” I nodded.
She took my arm a little bit tighter and we remained there for several minutes, absorbed in our thoughts.
Then we continued our walk, in a silence that said more than words can ever express.
We came to an opening in the wall, clearly once there had been a gate. We had to stoop down because it was quite a low gate. We descended three steps. We were at the Jewish part now.
Seemed they took better care of their dead than the Christians. The graves were generally very well taken care of. Many even with gilded texts on the stones.
Strange to remark that some names on the stones were also gilded, as if there was nothing wrong with them at all. Auschwitz, Birkenau, Treblinka… Alex had visited Auschwitz. Only reading the name made me already shiver…
We went back and now walked along the outer wall of the Catholic part. Here were the graves for the poor people. And also those of the young children and those that were already dead on birth. Some were sixty or seventy years old, and still being taken care of. Some brother or sister, still taking care of a brother or sister after so many years?
Some had been abandoned long since. Texts faded, stones felt over.
One grave had a small stone on top of it, perhaps only forty centimeters high. On top sat two marble angels. One had fallen off and lay with his neck broken in front of the stone. To remember our little son that we would have liked so much to know it said on the stone. Underneath only one single date.
Claudia had once lost a child and never had any others.
I knew what she was thinking about when we stood there and watched. I knew why she came here at these untimely hours and where she went then. Alex was far, very far away.
There were two women standing next to each other, holding each other. One who had lost a child, the other knowing she would never have one. And all those others that had been long before us and that were still there. We mourned together, found comfort in sharing, not hindered neither by time nor death.
I felt she was crying. It was not Alex who comforted her, nor did she comfort Alex.
We had become girlfriends, overnight so to say, at the most unlikely of places.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
A special word of thanks to my dear friend Lora Guy for commenting on the beta-version in such a swift and professional way.
And if you really liked it, please don't forget to hit the button below!
Karin Beyaert
By Karin Beyaert
Alex has a very special hobby he keeps secret to everybody. But of course sooner or later somebody has to find out about it. How will his best friend react when she does…?
If you liked the story, there is a sequel: Candle Light Dinner.
Some years ago I was able to buy a riding academy. I have always liked riding on horseback and went there regularly. The man who owned it was no longer among the very young and running the business simply became too much for him.
So one evening when we were sitting at the bar after riding class he told us he wanted to sell the place.
There is a little irritating internal voice that starts to tell you you should do all kinds of strange things when you approach middle age. It told me I should buy it. I told it to shut up. It did not listen. It made me think. Why not turn my hobby into my profession?
I talked to my local bank director. I had some financial specialist look at the books. I even drew up a very nice business plan. I guess it is still lying around somewhere here, just in case anybody might be interested…
I quit my job and bought the place. No longer did I serve petty megalomaniac Sun Kings. I had become a King myself. It was a small kingdom, with two riding arenas. One indoor, one outdoor. A nice house, Stables for about 30 horses. A vintage lorry and a tractor of the same brand. House and stables were standing in their own grounds, with a decent amount of land around. The only huge thing in my kingdom was the mortgage. Neither that nor the fact that my crown was a baseball cap sponsored by a guy named Heineken did matter very much to me. I was a King, I loved my new live!
I was now the boss of over 20 staff members. True, only 3 were human. Two were donkeys, the rest horses, not counting the dog and the cats.
At this moment I was flying. Not the artificial thing ordinary people do while using machines. No, the real natural thing. I was not very good at it though.
“Alex…? Are you OK…?”
I smashed very elegantly flat on my face on the loose sand of the outdoor riding arena when my horse threw me off. It hurt a lot. I was stunned and it took a moment before I could answer my cousin Henry, one of my employees.
“Yes Hen, think I am fine.”
He knelt down next to me and looked very worried.
Meantime Ben tried to keep my rearing horse from finishing me off for good.
“See boss, I told you, this one is different.” Ben had warned me that he could not manage Pjotr and I had laughed at that and told him to pay attention how it is done. He still said boss instead of idiot though. Ben was the best horseman in the team, I ought to have known.
I got up with some help of Henry, picked up my crown which was fortunately unbreakable and sat down at the bench.
“Sure you are fine?”
“Yes, I am sure Hen. All is fine.” I tried to convince both of us.
Seemed nothing was broken, but it hurt a lot. I wondered why you never see witches wear helmets and fall protection stuff while flying.
We had been importing horses from Poland for some time. Normally they already had had some basic training for riding and we would turn them into acceptable recreation horses in a few moths and sell them at a profit.
When they got here they had been on the road for about three or four days and were exhausted. So we put a saddle on them right away to see how much training they had actually gotten. If not they would hardly have the energy to put up a major resistance. The harder and more resisting cases were longed for some time while carrying some sandbags. Sooner or later everyone of them gave in.
Except Pjotr, who seemed nuclear powered. He was big, brown colored with a big blaze. Ben called him a devil. In my opinion he had something noble, he looked proud and confident.
Something told me that if we were to continue with him the usual way we were going to have a very tough job. Plan B was needed. There was no plan B at present. And the Sybilline books were lost forever too, gone with all the rest of the Roman Empire. Nostradamus was after all just an ordinary physician and not a veterinarian, so he could be counted out as well. If Google could solve this?
“Anyone wants to give it another try?” Silence…
“Well, better put him in his box then. Tomorrow is another day…”
Ben took Pjotr inside, not without some difficulties and a little help from Henry.
We had dinner. After dinner we prepared everything for the evening. Normally we had one or two riding classes up to nine or ten o’clock. We had to feed the horses, clean stables serve customers in the canteen. The usual work. I passed Pjotr at least five times in his box that evening. And each time he whinnied mockingly at me. I wrote a note to myself to put the number of the horse butcher in my cell phone. A real King has a hangman and holds the power over life and death. But a real businessman does not destroy his proper investments. I had an identity crisis. Nothing working hard will not let you forget about though.
I took a shower. Had a shave. My body still hurt, but I felt clean and fresh again. I took a Schnaps, perhaps even two. I do not remember. I wanted to forget this day. To have a nice dream. Why can you not dream that what you want to dream? Like in this science fiction story where they had this book: “A guide to Lucid Dreaming.” I would buy a copy, for sure!
My dreams were far from lucid. Despite the Schná¤pse I could not fall asleep. My body hurt. My pride even more. Damned Pjotr. I turned from side to side and eventually sat up in my bed watching the shadows on the moonlit wall opposite to me. The black and white shadows formed into horses. Black and white horses from old movies and pictures. Tornado, Phantom…. And how appropriate, Midnight. Buck, Sport, Beauty, Cochise, Siete Leguas and Target and many others. Even Festus Haggen’s horse Ruth showed up, although it was a mule.
Funny, in the riding classes almost all participants were girls. And all these black and white horses were ridden by men. Except one, Target. Times change.
This was useless. Counting sheep might work, counting horses for sure does not.
In my frustration, an idea popped into my head. Plan B existed, and it had been there all along! I liked plan B; I loved plan B. Smiling a slightly tipsy smile, I got up and went to my private place; a place no one knew about but me. One bedroom had been turned into a storage room. In it was a very special closet, the key of which was always in my wallet.
It was full, piled up full. Perhaps I ought to buy a second one…? I watched it, relaxed and let go. I always felt there were two sides, if not to say two different persons inside. Alexander now leaned back and Alexandra took over. The closet was full of women’s clothes. Blouses, trousers, skirts, jackets, boots. And all the rest that is needed to make a perfect transvestite, for that was my very special and secret hobby.
It took Xandra about thirty minutes to take over not only the inside but also the outside.
Black jeans, a blouse in blue with some strass stone decoration on it and a blue vest. All that with real cowboy boots. Black lady Montana boots. The right thing for the mistress of a mená¨ge.
Makeup, not overdone, with the accent on the eyes. Chestnut long haired wig, six centimeter golden earrings with little diamonds to match the strass stones. Two bracelets in gold (or something that looked a lot like it), but without diamonds. And a very nice necklace I had inherited from aunt Martha years ago. She had explicitly mentioned in her last will that I should have it. Guess she would be pleased to know that I appreciated it. I watched the result in the mirror. Not bad for thirty minutes. No nail polish, the night was to short to wait for that to dry.
Breath in, breath out. This felt relaxed, felt great. This looked great and felt even better. Everybody ought to have some hobby. And I ought to have more time for mine, which was not always the case with all the work and the many people around. This sleepless night was a welcome present.
I went downstairs. Alex and the guys had not washed up the dishes after dinner. So I did it for them. There was nothing more to do. I went outside. It was a nice night. Calm and moonlit, on the verge of romantic. A loud knocking coming from the stables broke the spell. I went over to have a look.
It was Pjotr, kicking with force the door of his box
“Hi Pjotr, I am Xandra.” He stopped kicking and looked at me in surprise, as if he had never before seen a transvestite in full drag. Which was very likely true since he was only about three years old.
I called him. He came with his nose up to the bars. I caressed him while my bracelet ticked against the iron bars. I talked to him and he answered with a low deep neigh. Seemed not such a bad beast after all. Perhaps Alex and Ben should simply have been a little bit more friendly and polite with him?
I went inside the box. Started to groom him. He was actually quite a beauty. He liked the care taking and the soft words. I cleaned his hoofs. And I got a crazy idea. One is not a woman for nothing after all. I placed a bridle over his head, put a blanket on his back. No protest, nothing. I went for a saddle. He accepted it. I fastened the girth. No too fast. Still nothing. He even pushed his head against me to show his affection! I admit, it was not only my natural charm. I had given him also some carrots and sugar lumps.
I had to ride him. I had to. I took him out to the indoor hall. I turned on the light and it was brightly lit. This seemed a bright idea at the time, but it actually was not.
We walked up and down the hall a couple of times, while I kept talking to him. He definitely had the good taste to like the company of transvestites even though my Polish was nie bardzo dobra (not quite good).
I fastened the girth more tightly and adjusted the stirrups. I mounted. He stood like a statue. I gently pushed his flank with my calves. Only then it occurred to me I had neither spurs nor whip. He started walking. I leaned back and pulled the reins, gently. He stopped. I was excited, it was my very first ride ever in drag, and then with this horse.
I went a little further, step by step a little more. Seemed the Poles had taken care of his education quite well. At least to a certain level. We both liked it and did all kinds of exercise. We even galloped for some time. We both enjoyed it. I would not let Alex sell this horse!
Completely absorbed in all this, I didn't notice that I was no longer alone No idea how long she had been standing there at the small gate. Claudia, my best friend since early high school. She was going to take her horse to some special farrier at the opposite site of the country today. That was why she was so very early.
And I was Xandra now! I should flee. Fast and far. My kingdom for a horse! Unlike king Richard I had one, but with the main gate closed it was of little avail. I had to pass via the small gate that leads to the stables, right passed her. With all the self-assuredness and feminine grace at my disposition I put Pjotjr to a trot, straight towards her. And halted right in front of her. My wreck should at least be heroic. I threw my head back to get my hair out of sight. We looked at each other for a few moments.
“Hi Sacha The light was on, so I came to see what was going on at this time of the night. Seems you learned a lot since he threw you off last time.” She was the only one who called me Sacha, ever since... Well very long ago anyway. With one elegant movement I was of the horse and standing in front of her. “Look I can explain…”
I got a very clear shut up look. She looked at me from head to foot and back, she was trying not to laugh. But it was also a very serious and inquisitive look. “Nice tits.” Glad she noticed the special silicon inlays I once ordered via internet. I wanted to die.
“Took me a moment to graps why this unknown lady had such a familiar riding style.”
“Look Claudia, it is not what you think, I…”
“You can explain it all? Sure.“ She turned to Pjoter and praised him. “He is wet, we should walk him dry.”
The three of us walked around for several minutes in silence.
It became too much for me. “Look, I….”
She turned towards me and gave me the same mocking look again as she once more inspected me from head to foot. She took my hand and looked at my fingernails. “How many blokes do you know who polish their fingernails to make them shine like yours?” None, I said by not answering the question. She stepped closer, reached out for my neck, pushed my hair aside and played with my earring. “And how many have their ears pierced and never wear earrings?” True, Xandra liked them, Alex a lot less. “And do you have a certain preference for some clothes that are… How should I say, a little bit in between masculine and feminine, like the black leather jacket that I even once borrowed from you because I liked it too?” Seemed I was loosing this match on points.
“Oh, please Claudia…”
“Oh please what? Don’t say the truth? Ohh…poor Sacha. Every girl around you knows you have a strong female side. We women feel that. And together with all these little details you are a kind of open book. Although some read in it that you are gay, and I know for sure you are not.”
I watched her with disbelief. You think you have a secret and then all of a sudden this happens. “You have known all the time I am a transvestite?”
“Not exactly. But I had a strong suspicion. This does not really surprise me. By the way, you look cute as a girl. I think you might get some compliments for your effort. And who knows, Ben might fall in love with his new mistress.” Ben was over 50, still a bachelor with only horses in his mind. This time she could not refrain herself from laughing. “Too bad we don’t have the same shoe size, I would have loved to borrow those boots too on occasion.” I tried to imagine her in several other things that were in my secret closet and that should be pretty much her size. There were a few miniskirts that might even look better on her than the tight riding trousers she was wearing now.
We had left the hall for the stables and unsaddled Pjotr together.
Claudia peeked at me from the corner of her eye. “I want to confess something to you. Seems to me I ought to after this.”
A confession? Sounded promising. The twinkle in her eyes told me something very special was going to come up in a moment.
“Do you know why I call you Sacha?”
“Because it is short for Alexander and you underline with it also how good friends we are because only you use it?”
“Almost right my friend. There is only one tiny detail you did not get in over 20 years. Sacha is not only short for Alexander but also for Alexandra and it did play a role in choosing this name for you.”
Check mate.
I loved Claudia, I had always loved her. And although I felt somehow mortified about all this I was secretly also relieved. She knew now, our friendship would not end, it would become stronger than it was for sure.
“Look, I have an appointment at the farrier’s with Buster. I really should be going now. Can you give me a hand to put him in the trailer? Or is that asking too much from a lady…?” She asked with a teasing voice that only a very good friend could manage.
I helped her with it and we said good bye. She turned at me once more before getting into the car. “I was serious about it. You really look cute as a girl. And that reminds me of something. I want you to promise me something.”
I would have promised her my heart and soul if she would care to ask for it. She gave me another of these looks that I already described. And it was clear this was not a promise I had to make. She was just going to tell me what I had to do. I nodded. She looked me into the eyes and waited just long enough for me to feel uneasy.
“I want to see you in a skirt before the end of the week.”
She turned away from me without waiting for an answer, got into the car and drove off.
I walked back from the parking lot into the stables, passed Pjotr and went on to the house. When I walked out the door I could see the sun rise just next to the house, the moon still there but fading away. The night was over.
The art of lucid dreaming is one thing. What I needed now was the art of preserving emotions. I had never felt happier ever before in my life. While the Montana’s gently walked their Queen home I could not prevent crying.
What away to start a day.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
My first contribution to world literature. I hope you liked it.
I want to thank Lora Guy for providing the idea and commenting on the beta-version. And to thank her especially for pushing me a little bit when I needed it.
And if you really liked it, please don't forget to hit the button below!
Karin Beyaert
By Karin Beyaert
Kathy was always a little bit insecure. But then she meets Angelo and her whole live changes. And all that just because she caught a bus she never intended to catch.
A story dedicated to all guardian angels, and especially my own.
Done. At last, after hesitating for ages. Well, I have never been among the most audacious. Which actually makes me feel even prouder when I take a step into a new and unknown direction. But feeling lonely can be a strong motivation, believe me.
Well, I am not completely done yet. I am staring at the profile I just wrote on my freshly created BuddyBook.com account. Hesitating again to press OK.
Nice looking romantic t-girl, mid thirties looking for some fun and companionship. I feel 100% like a lady and would love to date a guy who treats me like one.
I wanted to keep the text rather simple and not overdone. But is it not too simple? I added my one favorite pass time: sailing. I even have a small boat of my own and love to pass a day, or even two, on the water if I have the time. How romantic would that be, making a tour with the three of us. A new friend a good bottle of wine and myself. Pick nick on the lake....
And what about my pictures, was the one with the very short mini, that I actually never dared to wear outdoors not a little bit too much of a good thing? I changed it, from profile photo to photo number three. The pic with me on the boat was actually much nicer for the profile. But then, you never know who will react, and... Oh Kathy, why do you always hesitate! One more look, a deep sigh.... ENTER.... Done!
Then for quite some time not very much happened. I checked the site regularly via my smart phone at work and in the evening on my computer at home. There were some visitors according to the counter, but for two days no messages of any kind. Not even a like on my miniskirt picture.
On day number three I was apparently discovered. Four messages within 6 hours.
Number one was desperately seeking for a t-girl slut where he could stick his dick into her ass. Number two wanted somebody to suck on his dick. I will spare you the details of the other two. Those who are in desperate need have my full sympathy, but it was not the more or less romantic thing that I had in mind. To be frankly, I had been warned this would happen. But I felt disappointed anyway.
That same evening I also had my first live meetings in the chat room. I had chosen Romantic Evening. Seemed the best and safest choice. It is interesting what kind of rooms there are. Fetish rooms, for leather and latex, for desperate house wives, cat and dog lovers, for pony girls. Well, if you have t-girls, why not pony girls? But it would also have been nice to have a t-girl room, which was not the case. There was on the other hand even a room for extraterrestrials! I also went there. Just out of curiosity, just imagine you can discover intelligent alien life at home sitting on your couch via the internet. Exciting! NASA could have saved a lot of money!
Sadly there was nobody there. Either because intelligent extraterrestrial life is not on the level of visiting our chat roams, or because they do not yet have a decent internet provider on Mars. At least it had an on line Klingon translator available, where the room France did not have any translator at all.
Well, as I already said I ended up in Romantic Evening. Some people said hello to me. I said hello to some people. We did some small talk. And only one made it to my ignore list that night. Five points in one day. Not bad. But what I was looking for I did not find. And then when it was about time to hit the hay, Angelo turned up.
- Good evening sailing lady. Was his opening sentence
- Good evening Angel. Was my response
- I hope I am not disturbing you so late at night?
- Not too much.
- No need to go to work early tomorrow?
- Well, yes I have to. But I can stay a little longer, why not?
And thus we started off. He was of Italian descend and a human resource manager at some major company. He had stumbled over my profile by accident and liked the pictures and the very basic presentation. It had made hum curious. We talked about being alone, about boats, about history, films, our favorite holiday destinations. It turned out that he knew the ones I like to visit also quite well.
Had I really found my soul mate here? We chatted on several evenings and he charmed me more and more. Nobody had ever before said that I have a beautiful soul. It was very romantic. A man who knows how to treat a woman with respect and not with macho contempt. Ah, and I almost forget to mention, he was good looking too!
- Honey, how would you feel about meeting in real life?
- I think that would be wonderful. What do you have in mind?
- The classic approach, I invite you for dinner on, say, Friday evening?
- With candles and the like...?
- Of course!
- Do you like Italian cuisine?
- I love it! OK, I am all yours, you may make a reservation for Friday If you want.
- I already did honey. I knew you would come.
Sure I would come, this invitation I would not have wanted to miss for the world! I felt happy. Really happy.
- The restaurant belongs to a friend of mine. It is just to the east of the city, right on the other side of the river. With a beautiful terrace overlooking it. Since the weather will be fine by the end of the week we might enjoy our diner and a splendid view.
Ah, Italians, many generations away from their country, but they will never loose their sense for romance.
Angelo gave me the address. It sounded vaguely familiar, but it was a region where I rarely went, so it did not mean very much to me.
- If you want I can also pick you up at home.
Despite all the positive feelings I had, so far I had not given him my address. Should I now? Perhaps it was wisest to wait till after this first meeting. Hesitating again. But on the other hand, better safe than sorry!
- Do not bother Angelo, I can manage perfectly well. I will take the bus as I do so often. And that also prevents discussions with police officers who think you should not drink wine and drive.
Perhaps you should follow my example honey?
- Hmm... I am more a car-man myself. I will see if I take the bus also. Perhaps...
OK, that is the male answer where you should wisely keep your mouth closed. I managed to do that. With some effort.
The week that followed was one of the slowest ever. Einstein is right, the flow of time is relative.
But there are some female distractions to help you over this that Einstein never mentioned.
I tried every outfit I have in my closet. And believe me, I have quite a nice collection. From a classic evening dress to cow girl. And I could not decide what to choose. Not because I am Kathy the non-decisive, it is simple a general female trait.
Eventually it was blue jeans and a white silk blouse, with my half long blond wig and sandals with a small heel. I looked nice and feminine and was not overdone. I painted my nails, shaved very well and did my make up. Some fifteen years of experience guaranteed a very nice result.
I had come home a little bit earlier than normal and I was completely ready to leave at about seven. Diner was at eight. The bus would take me about half an hour and from East to the restaurant would be a ten minute's walk more or less. So the timing was perfect!
A quick peep at the door. The gallery was free. Off to the elevator. Also free! Across the parking lot. Nobody! And out on the street was Kathy without arousing too much suspicion from her neighbors. I think some must have seen me anyway in the course of the years and no doubt there is some gossiping behind my back. But, trying to make it out unseen just ads to the excitement.
The bus was on time. I checked in and had a seat. At the shopping mall I changed from line 15 to line 17 that would bring me to Bus Station East.
It was indeed the beautiful mid September evening Angelo had predicted and I was already daydreaming about our perfect evening. You should not do that when you are crossing a busy street.
With squeaky brakes the bus tried to come to a halt. I turned my head to the left, I saw it coming in slow motion. I saw the fear in the driver's face. I was paralyzed like a bunny in front of the poachers lamp. It stopped. Just a few centimeters away from me. My heart was beating up my throat. I could not move for a few moments. I looked again up to the driver, who was even paler than a moment before and did not answer my look. Pfff......
Well Kathy, you should not do that too often if you want to make it to your appointments! I decide to walk on and just leave the matter there. After all it was my fault and I did not want a lengthy argument with the driver to ruin my evening.
I walked alongside the river, there was the bridge and a little bit further on the opposite side the restaurant. The agglomeration ended quite sharply at the river. The countryside was beautiful on the other side and looking at it made me somewhat forget my unpleasant experience.
Angelo was already there waiting for me. He stepped out of his car when he saw me arriving.
- Hello Kathy.
- Hi Angelo. By car after all?
He walked up to me, took my hand and kissed it. That is, kissed it almost, as it should be done.
- I told you, I am a car-man. It is in my genes, I cannot help it. Can you forgive me? He said with a smile.
- I will think it over, I answered with a smile.
We went inside.
- Come, I will introduce you to my friend Luigi. He owns the place.
We walked up to a tall man of about forty. Slightly bald, short black beard, friendly brown eyes.
- Luigi, let me present my friend Kathy to you.
Luigi greeted me in the same manner as Angelo had done outside and welcomed both of us heartily in his restaurant.
He did give Angelo a questioning glance, and then glanced quickly at me and back again. He got it that I was a t-girl? Angelo shook his head slightly and made with his hands a small gesture that meant as much as No!
- What did he want to know?
I asked when we were sitting at our table. As promised, on the terrace, with a very nice view over the river.
- Did he notice I am a t-girl?
- He knows you are, and do not worry about that, it is no problem here.
- But what then?
- Eh... how shall I say. He wanted to know if we are a couple. It is the first thing Italians ask you know. Do not be angry with him.
Sure I was not angry. Men! It is just the way they are.
- May I offer our new guest a little welcome on the house? Luigi asked me.
- Luigi is famous for his nachos honey. I recommend them it will be a very nice starter. But of course he has a great many other things to offer too. It is your evening!
- I love nachos Luigi, but so far I only had them Mexican style. It would be an honor to try the Italians tonight.
Luigi smiled and made a small bow.
- And what would you like to drink with it? May I suggest our Barolo?
- It is red wine?
- Yes senora, and one of the finest you can find.
I looked at Angelo. He nodded.
- OK Luigi, we will take the Barolo.
Our main dish was chicken balsamico for me and seafood pasta medley for Angelo. And tiramisu to end with.
I had eaten way too much and no doubt tomorrow I would reproach myself for it, but what the heck, this evening was wonderful. And I was convinced Angelo would also love my if I were a little bit too fat. At least I hoped.
We had a second bottle of Barola and enjoyed the sunset and our conversation. Angelo was drinking a little bit too much. But I kept my silence.
- You seem to feel better now.
- What do you mean?
- When you arrived you looked as pale as a ghost.
He had seen it!
- Yes, you know I was daydreaming about our dinner and got almost knocked down by a bus. I think I must have a very good guardian angel. It was really very very close.
I started to shiver again when I thought about it. He drew his chair close to mine, put his arms around me and held me. I felt fine and secure again. I closed my eyes and enjoyed.
- Angelo...
- Yes.
- I don't want to stay alone tonight. Can I...
- Yes.
When you are in a certain state of understanding matters are easily settled with hardly any words at all.
We walked toward the car, overlooking the river. It had grown dark by now. The city was brightly lit, the water reflected the light. The bridge was beautifully illuminated in different colors that changed at a regular interval. We just watched. Together.
- There used to be a ferry instead of a bridge long ago.
- Really? I did not know.
- Yes. It was operated by a grumpy old man who got weary of the job and had no successor. And also the number of people passing steadily increased, so they built a bridge in stead.
- That must have been a long time ago then?
He turned his face towards me and smiled.
- Not that long. I can still remember it very well when I was young.
We drove off to his place, which was practically around the corner. He had a nice house, standing in its own grounds, small garden in front, big one behind. With a big living room, a nice kitchen. Well basically everything. It was also furnished and decorated with style. I liked it.
We sat down in the living room on the couch. We embraced and kissed. And I fell backwards. Yes, I think it is the best way to describe it. I fell backwards. Into a pool of soft bliss and happiness. An overwhelming pool of soft bliss and happiness. And then there was nothing. I passed out.
The next morning I woke up in bed. Angelo's bed. I could hear him singing in the bathroom. The room was flooded with Summer morning sunshine. The door to the balcony was open. Birds were singing in the garden. I was dozing and enjoying.
My clothes were hanging over a chair next to the bed. I noticed I was wearing pyjamas.
Oh my God! He must have drugged me and done whit me whatever horrible things you do with people you drug! How could I ever have been so wrong with him! How could I have been so stupid to go with him the first evening! How...
It was then that I noticed what really had happened. I was sitting upright in bed. Staring at my breasts. It took me a moment to realize. And another to slowly move my hands downwards.... What had been there was no longer there. Or at least not in the form it formerly had...
I had become a women overnight!
Angelo saw my bewilderment and questioning looks as he entered. He smiled at me in such a friendly and reassuring way as can be. He opened a drawer and took an envelope out of it and sat down next to me on the bed.
It contained pictures. The big size e.g. the police use in crime scene investigation.
- Be strong but not afraid he said.
The pictures showed the Bus Station East. Some accident. Police, ambulance, lookers on. Somebody covered with a white sheet. And the front of the bus that almost knocked me down yesterday. Distorted, though not very much and smeared with blood. I stared at them. I could not make anything of it.
- That was actually what Luigi wanted to know yesterday honey. If you knew already yourself. And I did not want to spoil the evening so I did not tell you either.
- But... You mean... I am dead!?
- Do you feel like dead?
- No.
- Well, I would rather put it like this, you are on the other side.
I was perplex.
- And who are you then?
- I am the one who loves you. The one who always cared about you and still does. The one who was always with you to protect and guide you. The one who worked when you amused yourself. The one who was on guard when you slept. I am your guardian angel.
- When He decide your time had come I asked for a special favor. To guide you to this world myself. I tried to make it as pleasant as possible. The rest you know.
I thought things over for a moment. I was dead, but I was not. I had changed to female. I had spent the night at the house of my guardian angel after having eaten at a restaurant that likely belonged to another angel. I think I got it.
- But why am I a female now?
- You always wanted to be one if I am not mistaken?
- Yes, but even so. Why did you change me into one without even informing me?
- I did not. You did yourself.
- How do you mean that?
- It is your own desire, your own feelings and conviction that decided over your presentation in this world. You are what you want to be now. I did not do anything about that. I only knew that it would happen long since. What you saw in the one world you will harvest in the other.
It sounded logical enough. It was still confusing enough.
- Hold me.
He did it with such love and tenderness as only angels can, kissing and reassuring me.
- Can I stay with you? Do you still love me?
- I have been loving you with all the love an angel can give and always will. And nothing would make me happier than your free decision to stay with me.
The birds were still singing. The wind brought in the smell of fresh Summer green. The room was till flooded in this magical morning light. I had come home.
Though not the most active author, I am still with you.
The idea is loosely based upon the Belgian classic De Trein der traagheid (The train of Inertia) written by Johan Daisne in 1950.
I wonder too what will happen when we arrive to the other side. Is it so unlikely what I wrote...?
We will see!
I hope you enjoyed the story, and of course, every kudo is welcome just as any comment or personal mail.
Karin Beyaert
By Karin Beyaert
Kurt had always dreamt about having his own castle. And one or two other minor changes in his life as well, like e.g. becoming very rich.
As so often good deeds get rewarded and wishes fulfilled.
Kurt gets all he ever longed for. And as a real man he is prepared to pay the price for success. Or is he eventually not…?
Be careful with what you wish, you might get it. And, even worse, have to keep it!
“And this brings us to the last room of our tour.”
Kurt said as he invited with a gesture the members of the little group to enter the room.
It was a spacious room situated on the second floor of the southern tower of the castle. With, for that time, spacious leaded windows overlooking the court yard and smaller ones overlooking the landscape around.
Kurt had been a guide now for over six years. He had learned a lot about castles and the late Middle Ages since then and he had fallen in love with them. He loved his job, he loved his castle. And he knew how to fascinate others when he talked about these things.
“This room is called the Ladies Room. As you can see at once it is one of the most luxurious in all the castle. The spacious leaded windows, the beautifully crafted wooden benches, chairs and table.”
Kurt walked about the room and indicated the various objects.
“But there is more. This is, apart from the kitchen and the Knight’s Hall, the only room with a fire place. It even features a kind of barbecue like device that could be used to prepare small meals on site. A kind of microwave so to say. Then these tapestries…”
The walls were almost completely covered with big tapestries depicting hunting and war scenes.
“… do not only have a decorative function. They are the medieval equivalent of our modern insulated walls.”
Kurt went on with his story, explaining many details about the lives of our ancestors. At least those ancestors with enough money to afford a castle.
“Has anybody an idea why it might be called the Ladies Room?”
“Because it was the private room of the Countess?” A young man answered.
“Yes, it was. But then you might also expect a private room for the Count, which does not exist.”
Everybody knew some other interesting explanation was coming up now and they looked inquisitively at Kurt to hear it.
“Ladies were not expected to take part in all social events as liberally as it is the custom today. They were quite often expected to retire and leave the men alone. Very much as we still see in many parts of the Muslim world today. And in the same way as it is still custom there, this room was off limits to strangers, i.e. strange men. Here the noble ladies had a room especially reserved to them.
Great care was taken that the noble ladies, not only the Countess but also her daughters and other female relatives that lived here, would be as comfortable as possible. They would spend their time here with embroidering, spinning,…”
Kurt indicated a spinning wheel standing in a corner
“… music and dance, story telling and other female activities en vogue before the TV was invented.”
Kurt walked up to a door in the outer wall. A little smile appeared on his face. He especially loved this part of his tour.
“Talking about luxury. This room features the most luxurious aspect of all the castle. Right behind this door. Anyone..?”
“A bathroom?” An elderly lady declared, with a sight of relief as she suddenly realized they had not seen one at all during their tour.
“Almost right madam. It is the only private toilet in all the castle.”
Kurt opened the door. Apart from having a door it was like all the other toilets. A kind of window sill with a hole in it, covered with a wooden lid. From there you could drop your droppings directly into the moat below.
Everybody stepped forward to look at this miracle of medieval luxury. Most even took pictures. Perhaps to build a copy of it at home? Kurt, who had redecorated his own apartment in a quite medieval way, always wondered how far others would go.
For Kurt this was always the most difficult part. He had to end his tour here. But he would so much have liked to explain all about how the moat was cleaned and maintained. What fish were bred there, that not only the French ate frogs and many many other things that in modern terms are called recycling and bio and were already known over seven hundred years ago, though they did not have fancy sounding English words for them then.
“Well ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for you attention. Our tour ends here, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. And of course, if there are any questions I will gladly try to answer them.”
The husband of the lady looking for the bathroom raised his hand, as no doubt he had done long ago at school.
“This room here, it is the one from the legend of Count Black Beard, isn’t it?”
“It is not a legend Sir, but yes it is the room.”
“Who was Count Black Beard” several voices asked more or less simultaneously.
Kurt loved this. An opportunity to tell one of the most spectacular stories of his castle. That was fun. And would certainly provide an extra tip!
“Count William, nicknamed Black Beard, was the richest and most powerful lord that ever owned this castle. He was a cousin of the Emperor and married to Giselinda, grand niece of the King of Bohemia. By the way, the man in the middle of that battle scene is Count William.”
Kurt pointed at one of the tapestries where a big strong man in armor was busy fighting half a dozen enemies at the same time.
All turned around to see what Count William looked like, at least according to some artist from the mid 1960’s who had made it.
“He was a soldier, a harsh and rude man, though in courage and force second to none. He served his Imperial cousin in many battles, generally leading his Amy from victory to victory. The Emperor held his cousin in high esteem and rewarded him richly with land, privileges and titles.
However that was not enough for William. In his long military career he also plundered and stole putting together an immense treasure. A treasure that is still hidden somewhere in or around the castle according to legend.
Perhaps the legend exaggerates a little bit when it says that twelve strong wagons were needed to transport it, but there is historical proof that William did possess immense riches and that there might very well be an considerable treasure hidden in the vicinity. But nobody knows where, since William had all the workmen and wagoners killed by his soldiers after hiding the treasure. It all fits in well with what we know about the personality of the historical Count William, but there is no real historical proof for this. It is a legend. Nobody knows for sure if there really is a treasure or if these workmen were really slaughtered.”
Kurt had some talent as a narrator and he clearly had the attention of the group. And the best part of the story was yet to come.
“On the other hand, what happened in this room is not a legend at all. While Count William was campaigning, Giselinda took care of the estates, assisted by a Jewish steward. Jews were generally despised, but esteemed for this kind of work.
Apparently Giselinda felt lonely during all these months and even years Count William was away. This Jew was as it seems not that despicable and comforted his mistress with more than only gentle words. Giselinda’s daughters knew about it and helped their mother keep the secret for several years….”
Kurt paused for a moment to let them realize what inevitably was going to come now. With a broad gesture he underlined their thoughts and continued.
“And of course eventually things went awry. The Count found out. He found the Jew at his office. - That is the room where you just bought your tickets by the way.- There is no other way to put it, he simply butchered him and in his rage cut up the corpse into a great many little pieces with his war axe. One like that.”
Kurt pointed at the chimney from which an all steel war axe was hanging that looked very business like. By now Kurt had made his way to the door as he continued.
“Then Count William in rage and covered with blood came up to this room where his wife and daughters were, together with a servant.”
Violently he shoved the door closed and turned the key.
“They were trapped. They knew what must have happened and why William had come. And they knew that this formidable adversary did not know the meaning of the word mercy. The servant girl somehow managed to slip away unnoticed and hide in the toilet. That is how we know what happened.”
Funny, all people always looked at it then, probably expecting her to come out at last now that is was safe again. This group was no exception.
“Giselinda threw herself at his feet, trying at least to save the children. My Lord, it was I who dishonored you. Punish me as it pleases you but please spare our children. In the name of our Savior I beg you!
Count William was not at all impressed.
Not only did you dishonor me, but of all men you choose this filthy heathen. You implore our Savior? You the whore of one of those who spilled His Holy Blood? And those, pointing at his daughters, those who chose to let this happen, how can my honor ever be reestablished as long as their treacherous breath envenoms the world?”
Kurt was quite good at imitating both a heavy masculine voice and a convincing female voice. An art that had taken quite some practice but made his performance very convincing. His audience was entranced listening to him. And he enjoyed it every bit.
“In his rage he started to beat up the three women with his bare hands. Breaking ribs and bones until they were more dead than alive.
Perhaps you have once seen how not so very long ago farmers used to cut up a pig after butchering it. They tied it to a ladder with stretched limbs so the job could easily be done. That was what Black Beard now did with the women, using the benches instead of ladders. And with the little difference that they were still alive.”
Although Kurt loved telling the story it never failed to move him immensely when he imagined the cruel fate that these women underwent here in this very room, even if it was some seven hundred years ago.
“I will spare you the ghastly details. At the end Count William took his dagger and cut their throats to let the little blood and life that might still be left flow out. At that moment Giselinda gathered all her remaining strength and with her last breath she cursed William for his brutal and merciless behavior that his soul would never find rest and never leave the castle that witnessed his ignoble deeds.”
Kurt fell silent. Submerged in his thoughts, as were the others.
“It seems it did not work though. Nobody has ever seen the ghost of Black Beard. But there are some who say they saw Giselinda. And she is said to bring bad luck, for on several occasions she was seen when people died.”
“Have you ever see her?” A young man asked.
“No, and I have been here for six years now, both during day and night. And for some time we had a group of scientists here calling themselves The Association for Scientific Measurement Of Ghosts. They did not find anything either.”
“What happened to the Count afterwards?” The husband of the bathroom lady wanted to know.
“He had the bad luck to be only a Count, so unlike King Henry VIII of England he did get punished. Although the King of Bohemia exacted his head he was eventually not executed. He had to renounce all his titles and possessions which passed on to his son Gernot. Finally he was then sent as a pilgrim to Jerusalem in an attempt to save his eternal soul and to get a no longer sociable person out of the way for several years. He never returned and we do not know what became of him.”
Kurt had opened the door again by now and let out the little party downstairs into the court yard towards the main gate. They said good bye and as was to be expected the tips were generous.
It was well past five and this was the last group for today. The guides would now make a final round and prepare for the night.
Formerly a private security man would stay there during the night, but in order to economize it had been decided that the guides would alternately stay at the castle during the night. Today it was Kurt’s turn.
Kurt liked the night shift. Ordering pizza or Chinese food at the costs of the museum. Quietly watching TV and having a beer. He was even allowed to sleep a few hours on the stretcher which was especially provided for that purpose. And for this hard work he got double pay. It always surprised him how you can save money like this, but according to their accountant it worked.
But the best part of it was that he had his castle all to himself, from dusk till dawn.
At first Kurt had just wandered around, enjoying the quiet and imagining he was an ancient Count. But soon he got bored. He decided to spend his time in a useful way by inventing his own little private Plan of Professional Development.
Since the museum had a nice collection of historical costumes, arms and utensils for historical reenactment he decided to try some of them. At first as Count, knight and merchant. Soon however the Count became a Countess.
Many nights Kurt had wandered around the empty castle, daydreaming he was Giselinda managing the estate while William was fighting the enemies of the Reich, or at least the Emperor and himself, and filling his pockets with their gold.
He had perfected his looks as a Countess, he had learned a lot about all the female arts of those long since gone days. He knew how to play several old music instruments, knew medieval dances and even how to use a spinning wheel. More and more he had started to identify himself with the unfortunate Countess. In short, things had gone slightly out of control. But as so often nobody really bothered.
On various occasions Kurt had even been on the verge of asking his director if he could play the role of Giselinda at the reenactments and other festivities. And always he had cursed himself for being such a coward and not daring to ask.
But at least he could be Giselinda at night, though unfortunately not every night. Perhaps being her forever was his greatest wish…
Many hours she spent with the joy of acting and the pleasure of pretending. A play without spectators but she did not care. She was a Countess, dressed to the nines, splendid and fair.
It felt very right, too bad it was only at night.
And that is how we find our wannabe Countess again. Making her rounds in a magnificent dress and wig.
With only two concessions to modernity, an electrical torch and a cell phone, she entered the Ladies Room for the umpteenth routine check in her career.
With a sharp bang the door closed behind her. The key was turned from the outside. Kurt turned around and tried to open it. In vain. He beat at the door with his fist.
“This is not funny! Open up!”
Silence. Some joke of his colleagues? Burglars? But then he must have heard their footsteps... Should he call the security firm? Better not dressed like this. Perhaps a look from the window might clarify the situation. He turned around.
“Hello young man.”
Kurt’s flashlight fell on the floor. His breath stopped. He could no longer move nor think, just staring at what he saw in front of him. In front of the fireplace the ghost of Giselinda was sitting on a bench and looking at him. A genuine ghost of the fourth category.* His first ever.
“I have been watching you for quite some time. It seems you like very much to be me. And I admit that you are quite good at it too.”
The ghost seemed to be friendly. By now Kurt had partially regained control over himself.
“Who are you?” He managed to stammer.
“Well, we both know that is actually a quite stupid and superfluous question, don’t we?” The apparition answered.
“Well, yes… I think you are right.” Kurt said, moving around, though not knowing were precisely to go, since he felt very uncomfortable in the presence of the ghost.
“What do you want from me? Why do you only show up now?”
“In short, I think you can redeem me from my present situation. I observed you for quite some time to be sure about it. Now I am. I come to ask your help.”
“My help?”
“Yes, your help. You know very well what happened here and I think you can easily understand why my soul cannot find eternal peace. I need a man who can identify with a woman, in an ideal case with me, and who can reach my soul at a special level of communication so that I can at last be freed.”
“special level of communication…?”
Kurt had read the Ghost Handbook and did not recall anything about levels of communication. Perhaps there were two volumes after all?
“Yes. It was William’s lack of understanding for female feelings, his lack of compassion that caused my misfortune. What is needed is the opposite to undo it.”
“But why me?”
“If you know someone else who can identify with me sufficiently I would be most willing to ask him.”
“I see…”
Kurt answered in a tone that betrayed his total lack of enthusiasm. Kurt was still not at all comfortable in her presence, even though there seemed no threat.
“Perhaps a little reward might increase your enthusiasm. I will tell you where William’s treasure is if you help me. You will have more gold than you can ever spend. What about that!”
Giselinda said with a very sweet smile on her slightly translucent face.
“And what would I have to do?”
“Prepare a magic potion and drink it, that is all.”
“And why don’t you do it yourself?”
“I am a ghost. I can neither prepare nor drink anything.”
A more philosophical mind might have remarked that that saves both the time for eating and drinking and going to the toilet, but Kurt was not in the mood for that right now.
“And how will this then help you?”
“It will make you enter the right state of mind for this special level of communication I already explained to you. And once there, things will move on automatically. You need not to do anything at all.”
Kurt contemplated what she had said. Twelve wagons full of gold…. His own castle was within reach. Perhaps not even a second hand one but a comfortable twenty first century copy with floor heating. Despite his admiration for the Middle Ages even he had to admit that they lacked a certain level of comfort.
“Is this treasure really as big as the legend tells?”
“No, it is considerably bigger. Seems for some reason they always need the numbers seven or twelve in legends. It was actually more fourteen or fifteen. And not only is it just gold, many objects are pieces of art of unimaginable worth. There are precious stones, well all a real treasure needs.”
For Kurt that settled the matter. After all, what did he have to loose?
“Well, tell me what I have to do then.”
“Listen carefully, I will tell you what ingredients we need for the potion….”
The Countess told Kurt exactly what was needed and how it should be prepared at the fire place in the Ladies Room.*
The room was empty when Kurt entered at the agreed day, or actually night, and time.
He put his bag with ingredients and a kettle on the table next to the fire place.
“Why did you not dress as a Countess this time?”
Kurt started and cringed together as he heard the well known female voice behind him. He turned around and there she was, standing at the opposite side of the room, near the window.
“Well, I eh… it seemed more appropriate not to I thought. After all, you are…”
“Never mind, did you bring all I asked for? Put it on the table and let me see.”
Kurt did as he was asked. The Countess looked at it and seemed very pleased.
“Light the fire and let us begin.”
Silently Kurt started a small fire with some old newspapers and wood chips, Several minutes later he had a nice fire burning and added some logs. The Countess directed the preparation of the potion and soon a very peculiar smell filled the room.
“Very good. Keep stirring. And just when it starts boiling get it off the fire.”
Again Kurt did as he was told.
“And now?”
“Put it on the table and let it cool down.”
Silently they sat opposite each other while waiting. Kurt wanted to start a little conversation with his idol, but he did not know at all how to start one with a ghost and what to talk about.
Clearly the Ghost Handbook was not as comprehensive and complete a guide as it pretended. Like most handbooks it was unable to close the gap between theory and practice and in this respect Kurt was no better than the handbook.
The Countess for her part was completely absorbed by the magic potion. It was absolutely clear she was very eager to finish the whole operation.
“I think it has cooled down sufficiently. Pour it into a mug and drink it.”
Kurt did so. A few moments later the world started to spin, he went dizzy and lost his conscience.
As he regained consciousness the first morning light could already be seen. He must have passed out for several hours. Slowly he recovered. As he lifted his head he saw himself sitting opposite him. Which did at first not strike him at all as being odd. Only when he saw his own white and slightly translucent hands he uttered a cry of horror.
“What happened?” He asked himself, or at least the person who looked like him sitting on the other side of the table.
“Well, we changed places as you can see.”
“But I only wanted to release you.”
“You did. Thanks. But you could only do so by taking my place. Perhaps you could blame me of not mentioning that very explicitly…”
“You betrayed me! You…”
“Calm down, I did not betray you at all. Had you asked more into detail I would have been obliged to tell you everything. But you were so keen about the treasure that you forgot. My only obligation to you now is to tell you where the treasure is, since I promised you that. It is in a hidden vault under the keep. And you will have no difficulties going there at all in your present form and see it for yourself.”
“But..”
“Ah. Come on, stop complaining, you now have all you ever wanted…“ New Kurt gave the new Countess a mean smirk “.. you are a Countess now, with your own castle and a fabulous treasure. More gold than you can ever spend!”
“But how can this be, why this changing places? In every normal ghost story the ghost is simply released, why not here!?”
“There is always an exception, you are simply in the wrong story. Just bad luck. Life is not always fair.”
Kurt did not get it at all and kept staring utterly confused at his former self.
“Remember the curse? It was a little bit different from how the legend tells it. Giselinda wanted William to get more understanding for the fair sex. Wanted him to know what it meant being a women, waiting alone at home year in year out. Both as a lesson and as a punishment by stripping him of his violent masculinity that he liked so much. Forever. The curse was granted and when he died William had to take up his new role. But he was granted one final pardon. If he could find a man, willing to take the role of a women, especially of Giselinda, and could make him drink the magic potion he would be set free in the way you just experienced yourself.”
Kurt listened with amazement. That was indeed completely new to him.
“Then you are William?”
“No, William only spent three months as Giselinda. He was too clever for this curse. William knew very well his Master of Arms had this little inclination as well. He told him what had happened and promised him the treasure. He too was greedy and forgot to ask what would happen.”
“But he died. He fell off his horse, reputedly frightened by seeing Giselinda’s ghost.”
“True. William was in such a hurry to get away that he had an accident before even making it to the gate.”
“So, you are the Master of Arms?”
“No, he too managed eventually to escape his prison. But it took him several centuries. I was just a simple old servant when he deceived me. He did not enjoy his success very long either. Once free he danced and sang around in this very room. But my old body was to frail for that and he got a heart attack and died on the spot. And when the other servants came in to have a look what was this noise about, guess who they saw and blamed for his death.”
Kurt remembered this story as well.
By now Kurt had found the solution. This was a dream, He would wake up any moment and find himself on the stretcher. Unfortunately it did not happen.
“Well, Frau Grá¤fin, it was nice talking to you, but I have a life waiting for me, so please excuse me.”
Kurt’s body was off, heading for freedom. Kurt realized that he should act now or all would be lost for God knows how long. He followed his body. That was by now walking the gallery towards the stairs.
“Stop, you can’t leave me like this. It is unjust and you know it. Come back…”
His body was standing at the top of the stairs and turned around.
“Get lost. There is only one thing that can help you know.”
He waved with his arms as if he wanted to chase the ghost away.
“Start looking for someone to release you…”
New Kurt was apparently a little bit annoyed. Standing near the edge of the first step he did not pay attention when he started waving and shouting. A moment later he lost his equilibrium and fell down the stairs. His head hit the cobble stones with a clearly audible crack. A moment later blood started to flow out of his mouth and nose.
From the other side of the courtyard a female voice cried out loudly.
“No!”
Hilde and Walther had just arrived in time to see the accident happen. Both ran towards Kurt to offer medical assistance. After all, all guides were certified first-aiders.
Half way Hilde stopped, struck with horror as she saw the Countess standing at the top of the stairs. She pointed at her.
“Look…”
Walther saw her now too. Though also afraid, he did not stop. Yet, the only thing he could do for Kurt when he reached him was to close his eyes.
Now both were looking at the ghost. Paralyzed. Their faces full with fear. Not really knowing what to do they just stared.
The apparition that causes people to die, hitherto just a legend, was there, right in front of them and the bloody proof of her lethal powers laying at their feet.
Kurt descended the stairs. He wanted to explain to his colleagues what had happened. But he was unable to bring forth any sound. He felt that it was impossible for him to contact a world, a reality that had been his just a few moments ago.
He saw the impression het made on Hilde and Walther. He felt the first sun rays touch him. He felt how he slowly started to fade away for the first time.
It started to dawn upon him how desperate his situation was.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Notes:
* The Ghost Handbook, chapter 3, page 72. (1998 edition). Ghosts of the fourth category show the following characteristics: Humanoid, white in color, 10 — 20% translucent, low light emissions, no extra features like chains, tools or animals. Basically what most people would call a classic ghost.
** Originally the author wanted to give a detailed description of the receipt and the whole preparation of the beverage. To underline the authenticity of the story and also to show off with her immense knowledge of these matters.
Her legal advisor however pointed out that this, even accompanied by a stern warning “Do not try this at home!” might imply severe juridical consequences for her. Safely can be said however that the main ingredients are goat milk and henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) and that it should not be prepared in a micro wave oven. Honey can be added to overcome the awful taste if desired.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Just an idea that popped up at some moment and eventually ended up as a story.
The picture is Burg Linn (Linn Castel) in Krefeld, Germany. A nice example of a fairly original medieval castle with a moat. It is sure worth a visit should you ever come in the vicinity.
Again I want to thank my friend Lora Guy for commenting the beta version and iron out some of my mistakes.
Ah, and of course, if you liked the story, please hit the button below. This is to motivate authors to write more stories as you know ;-)
Karin Beyaert
By Karin Beyaert
It was a very beautiful day when John went jogging and got his new full dress mirror completely for free. But even so, he remembers the day with mixed feelings whenever he looks at the mirror and even more when he looks in it.
Since John had noticed he was becoming a middle aged man and getting slightly overweight he had taken up the daily habit of going out jogging twice a week. So far he had not lost an ounce. But at least his conscience kept quiet and he felt happy.
Of course he went the more or less three kilometers from his house to the surrounding forests and fields outside his village by car. But once there he seriously jogged. No really, he did! And he even manged not to get an extra beer out of the fridge when he got back home tired and thirsty. Mostly.
It was a beautiful day and he was making his usual round of about five kilometers. He had been doing it for several weeks now and his condition had clearly improved. He could enjoy the landscape, breath the fresh morning air and hear the birds sing. He regretted he had not started this new activity much earlier.
As he jogged through the forest he suddenly heard a strange noise. At first he thought it was a bird. But the sound was to high for that, and somehow did not sound birdy at all.
He stopped. What was this? It came from the forest. And it sounded like a voice. But it did not sound human. It was too high, sounded somehow unreal. It reminded him of an adult who tries to mimic a child's voice. But it was a voice and is was calling for help.
Carefully he got off the road into the forest. There were lots of nettles and John was wearing shorts, so you can imagine.
The voice seemed to come from under some tree that had fallen over.
- Hello..? Is somebody there..?
- Yes, of course there is! Help me out will you?
John tried to lift and move the tree. With a little effort he managed. It was just a not too big pine and not a full grown oak tree.
A moment later he was looking at an elf. A real one! Not that he had ever seen one, but even so he was quite sure about it. It looked exactly like the description you will find on Google and the videos on YouTube.
Strangely enough he was not really surprised. He had seen many strange creatures, especially years ago when he was a student and frequented the wrong people who provided him with the right stuff. Carefully prepared by these simulations in his younger years he was now fully ready for a real encounter of the third kind.
- You are an elf! A real one!
The elf looked annoyed.
- You know, it is just to avoid this kind of stupid remarks we normally prefer not to draw any attention to us. How would you feel if every time you met an elf he or she would greet you with: Oh, he, you are a human. A real human! So please, cut it out, will you!
- Ok, ok, I did not want to annoy you.
- Well, it is all right, let's just forget about this. Thanks for liberating me.
- You are welcome. How did you manage to get there in the first place if I may ask?
- We were dancing here yesterday evening and then this half rotten dead tree fell over and I got stuck. My elf friends were unable to move it, so I guess I was lucky you passed by and helped me.
- Don't mention it. I am always glad to help. I did not know elves dance here in the evening.
- We do. Just like you go to a dancing, we dance here. But, I have already lost a lot of time lying under that tree. Perhaps we can do the small talk some other time and talk business right away?
- Business?
- Yes, you helped me escape. You did your good deed for the day and are entitled to three wishes.
- Oh, come on! This is not true is it? Just tell me where the candid camera is, will you?
- It is quite true, after all it is a fairy tale you are in.
- Well, I never gave this a thought. I have no idea what to wish...
The elf sighed.
Another one who has made no preparations at all, the elf thought to itself. They read these stories, they know it happens all the time, but nobody ever cares to carefully formulate and write down his three wishes to have them ready when needed.
I take any bet things will again go awry before you know it... Shall I help this friendly guy, or just let him try? I can see it from his face, it is a difficult task, he does not know what to ask.
These things the elf was pondering over while John was racking his poor brain what to ask. Money, fame, power, a cat perhaps...?
- You can just do anything, or are there certain limits?
- As long as you don't want to become e.g. God or have a sneaky way to eventually get more than three wishes pretty much everything is possible.
A great idea came to John's mind. He had always felt he would have liked much more to be a woman than a man. And had he had a little bit more guts he would long since have gone into some shop to buy some female clothes and a wig to become at least a cross dresser. But he never dared and thus robed himself from all the fun.
But with three wishes everything seemed to be possible.
- Could you turn me into a woman?
- Sure I can.
- Then please do so!
There was a flash, there was some smoke. And a moment later John found himself to be a female.
He touched his new body (or was it the same but only altered?). It felt very real, all seemed to be there and some parts seemed to have vanished. John was thrilled. This was simply too good to be true.
- Whow!! I really want to see how I look now!!
Another flash, more smoke and next to the small sand road where they were standing a full dress mirror had appeared.
John watched himself and discovered he was actually a quite attractive woman now. He should only have asked to be a 25 year old beautiful women he now realized. Should he ask that perhaps now? Realizing a moment later he had wasted one wish to only get a mirror. Even though it was a pretty one. There was only one wish left!
- Well lady, one more wish to go. What shall it be?
Joanna was deeply annoyed about her own stupidity. And at the same time admiring her looks in the mirror. And while she was busy like that she said half aloud, half to herself.
- Damned, what a stupid cow I am. I wished I could have my useless wish undone!
As a good understander only needs a half word, this was enough for the elf to promptly fulfill her wish. A flash, some smoke and John was looking at himself again in the looking glass and the elf was gone.
The full dress mirror turned out to be useful indeed for many years to come.
And every time when John uses it, in his imagination he still sees the beautiful women he had been once, for a moment, and deeply regrets he had not prepared his wishes in writing. He now has, just in case.
He often went to the place again, but never again met an elf, not in the morning not in the evening.
Still not daring to make any moves of his own. Dreaming his life, not living his dreams.
*********************************************************************************************************
I hope you liked it. I know, the theme is old, but I hope I have been able to present it in a funny and philosophical way at the same time so it was enjoyable after all.
As always, feel free to comment, feel free to contact me if you want.
And of course, feel free to award a kudo.
Karin Beyaert