“Yes, you are wondering about the zombies. They were our enemies, so I have taken removed all previous thoughts from their minds and replaced it with only the ability to serve us. They know nothing else and are used as guards against other enemies. They neither eat or sleep, but are given long life –hundreds of your years. They are bandaged as zombies because their flesh cannot survive such a long life. You and the young lady with you will be spared that fate – but the others with you may not.”

A 23^rd Century Girl

in the 20th Century

Chapter 18

A 23^rd Century Girl

in the 20^th Century

Chapter 17

“Yes, zombies,” stated Jake. “Those things wrapped in bandages that grabbed us.”

“Things that grabbed you? When? How? I must ask the Pharaoh about that,” replied Lizzie Jane.

- The Hidden Hazard -

- Of Being A Stuntman -

-By-

 PattieBFine

* Chapter Three *

Meeting Of The Minds-

 Or, Danny gets Snowed!

* Chapter Two *

The Show Must Go On!

       “Well guys, looks like you can start packing it up.” said the production manager, Bob Wellington.

This story is of a different parallel dimension, though it's much like ours. The technical advances are of a more biological nature and the plant life looks the same but has much different and more friendly properties for the humans that live there. In this one, only some of the females even smoke at all. It's not even hazardous for them... in fact it's loaded with beneficial natural hormonal stuff! Only the wise elder women even know of the benefits of it. Such stuff when smoked makes men ill in the mornings for days... naturally, for the first week or so at least... and they leave it well enough alone, though only such women and doctors... know the why of it.

- The Hidden Hazard -

- Of Being A Stuntman -

-By- PattieBFine

*Chapter One*

Where's The Beef?

I have been gone a long time, so you may want to read a previous chapter to catch up with what is going on.  I am sorry for the delay, but I hope to be able to keep current. I may modify it later, but, as for now -- here is the new installment.

"Wait a minute!" I hear him say from beyond the door, wherever that is.

He comes back in, brings a chair, the two other men strip my clothes off me, tie me to the chair and put a bindfoild and gag on me.

"There!", he says, "That ought to do it!"

"This is getting bad,"  I think.

He looks at me.  I look away.  He grabs my chin and forces my face to where I have to look at him.  I close my eyes.  He slaps me.
“Keep your eyes open!”  He says.
I comply.
“What are you!”   He yells.
“What do you mean?” I reply.
“What are you!”  He yells louder.

It’s Jacques that goes forward to meet them.  The men, in camouflage fatigues, brush right by him.  He’s saying “I have authorization by the Israeli Antiquities . . . “

It was a hallway -- a corridor -- couldn't see the walls, but it was nonetheless a corridor -- couldn't move left or right, just straight ahead.

Then ended.

In the reddish landscape.  Just POP!

Then there they were:  Chloe and Ralph and  Brian and Tom and Dick and Harry and Ahmed and Raphael and Jacques.

Ralph?

Close Encounters of the Christmas Kind

My thanks once again go to Gabi for her sympathetic treatment of this story and I have to hope that she reads this version after the post edit additions I made.

I hope it improves the story...

“It’s a door!” I say, “A door upstairs!  How’d that happen?

In the brave new world of tomorrow everyone is normal. But Timothy Roberts has a terrible secret. Despite being a product of the same genetic engineering and mind control implants as everyone else, and despite the government's insistance that mental aberrations like homosexuality and gender conflict are a thing of the past, he has known since adolescence that he's gay. He lives a life of deeply closeted desperation, haunted by the fear that he might be the last homosexual on Earth...

Well, I start to tell my story.  Cars rush up to us, lights flashing.  Men get out, bullhorn in one’s hand and guns in the hands of others.

Wow, the way things happen.  So Raphael knows some people.  He’s been around.  He’s a surprising surprise.  Quite the cosmopolitan.  He has been helpful.
We are looking over the digs when men come up and talk with Jacques.  Jacques comes over with them.  They have uniforms on.

“Mon Dieu!” Raphael exclaimed.
“What is it?”
“La Mer Morte.”
”The Dead Sea?”  Chloe asked.
“Quite so,” Raphael said emphatically.  “Look at those!!  It’s a total row of doors!”
“Yes,” I said.
Raphael moved closer to inspect.

“We were nothing too.”
“Nothing, too.”
“Nothing too.”
“But you’re not nothing.”
“Nothing exists in the Nothing.”
“Okay,” I said, “let me show you.”  And I pulled the door out of my pocket.

We sit down at Raphael’s restaurant, at a sidewalk table.
“Won’t somebody notice “Pierre” there?”  Asks Chloe.

“Raff!” shouts the sales clerk, “Comment allez vous?”
“Tres bien,” Raphael replies, “Est-ce que tu connais mes amis?”
“Un peu. Porquois ils et tu entre sans habiillement?”
“Long story,” Raphael replies.
Then he turns to me.

Nobody’s watching as I look around to see if anybody’s watching.  There’s the door.  Here I am.  There’s everybody else.