I looked out at a grey white world. Particles catching in my throat . Trees absent without leaves. Hills only remembered. A church decontextualised, alone.
The radio spoke of Saharan dust settling on the country, of record pollution levels triggering asthma and bronchitis. Best to stay indoors, they said.
That made me wonder.
Outside the world was silent, the air tasted strange in my mouth.
I walked out into the greyed world to see what I could.
As I watched my own hands vanish, softly stroked out of existence. I recognized the smell of rubber and friction. Then my arms, then

They said he should make a bucket list. There was no doubt. Everyone hoped the doctors were wrong, but they weren’t. It was time to quit his job and follow as many dreams as he could.
Everyone had suggestions. He should swim with dolphins. He could visit Fiji. What about abseiling? Why not try BDSM?
All his life he’d ticked off things on lists. Grades, qualifications and, latterly, sales targets. It seemed unfair that his last days should be spent doggedly achieving.
He had six months.
He had never had six months in his life.
He decided to waste them.

In my defense, I’m VERY tired today…

His name was Moonstruck Vanguard Thermidor. He was highly intelligent and well read, considering his background and associated prospects.
Moonstruck realised at an early age that he did not fit in. The other woodlice who lived under the log showed no interest in sneaking into houses to crawl onto smartphones: trying to generate enough pressure on the screen to search the web, read ebooks, tweet and generally connect with the world. Moonstruck wondered what his online friends would think of his physical form. Whether they would be any more accepting of his body than his neighbours were of his mind.

When the music lady came to school, she would tell stories about the different instruments, demonstrate musical styles and talk about the attributes that might make a person particularly suitable. Strong lungs, quick fingers, stamina…
Jeanette’s parents hoped she would pick up a clarinet or a tuba – even the drums – and be inspired. That she would have a passion that would inflame her and carry her to greatness.
When the music lady came to school, Jeanette pulled faces in the brass, made fart noises down the woodwind and made indiscriminate noise on the drums.
Jeanette’s chosen instrument was the fool.

Thanks to @Tannice_ for the prompt. Not an area I know loads about, so peer reviews welcome!
(Note: I am told that people with chimeraism wouldn’t experience it like this. It’s intended as a metaphor for the pathologisation of intersexuality)

It was strange, finding out that he would have had – did have a sister.
The doctor explained it as if he were five, which helped, as his teenage self threatened to dissolve, the sister he’d always been surfacing, screaming.
“Back when you were first in the womb, you were going to be twins. Non-identical; two different eggs. But the clusters of cells merged. Now that puberty’s hit, you have some female traits. We’ll give you drugs to stop that”
He winced; she screamed, nameless and angry.
She was shaking his head.
“No treatment. We’d much rather be who I am. “

Thanks to Helen Blejerman for explaining the symbolism of traditional star-shaped piñatas to me.

“Boys and girls, I’ve brought a souvenir from our sister church in Tijuana!” smiled the still-tanned priest.
He brought out a gaudy polyhedron.
“This is a PieNyahTah” he enunciated. “The seven points represent the deadly sins. We wear a blindfold, denoting our faith, strike against sin, and receive the rewards of virtue. Who’d like to go first?”

That night, the Father’s BMW 700, (bought with embezzled funds and the site of many mortal transgressions) was set upon with sticks and righteousness. The packages of powder (another souvenir) fell from the wreckage to a cheer.
Virtue sometimes is its own reward.

Prompted by Chella Quint and also inspired by a story I heard Tim Ralphs tell.

Such a nice man, that “poultry inspector” who had demanded access to the coop, his clipboard hiding a twitching, pointed face.
His questions about when the birds were transferred from run to coop had displayed nothing but concern. His suggestion of a morning a week in the big field “so you can really call them free range” seemed reasonable, and the hens loved it.
Perhaps they’d flapped off independently, but they weren’t that adventurous; you’d expect to find them nearby.
Where could they be?
That nice inspector, short, slight, redhaired, would surely have ideas, if only he could be found.

Robot arms dress me in synthetics. A computer program plans a sanctioned makeup style. I insert my face into the niche provided, eyes closed, feel damp, hot, dry and today’s look is sealed on for the time being.
Sustenance comes via a pouch of high energy paste, squeezed like toothpaste down the throat the flavour, I’m assured, like what peaches once were.
Living costs little enough, but is priced highly. Work is scarce but necessary. At the hotel, I’m paid to smile at guests, each whim is catered to by machine, but machines cannot smile, and smiles keep business booming.

You’re in a box. It is dark and cold. at one end there’s wire, too robust to push or bend: you’ve tried.
It isn’t a cell; it moves, the view through the wire mesh blurred, obscured.
You don’t know where you are. A vague hope that your mum’s ok is obliterated by motion sickness.
With a click, the door releases.
The urge for freedom fights fear of the unknown, and loses. You cower, flinching from the light. Despite yourself, you’re crying.
Hands drag you out. Kind tones and caresses from a terrifying stranger aren’t reassuring.
You won’t be going home.

Bit late. Wrote this yesterday but forgot to post!

“You’ve got to join in the game!” Rebecca privately doubted the veracity of the statement made by the ferociously cheerful activity leader.
“It’s FUN! You want to have FUN! Come on, don’t be shy!”
Rebecca wondered whether “shy” was the most appropriate adjective for the disdain coruscating through her soul. She reflected. “Bashful”? “Reticent”? These did not fit her mood.
“Look at everybody else’s happy, smiling faces! Don’t you want to turn that frown upside down?”
Rebecca looked. She saw teeth and malicious inanity. She longed for a book.
“Cheer up, Becky! ”
Becky. The indignity was inescapable.
She rose, seething.