❖ Blog post by lwflouisa

Chapter 18. Post Brexit And Frexit

It has now been several months since Brexit and Frexit, the two like bumbling clowns on the global stage of the life. Temporary allies on the world stage, the world the crowd for their act. Guillotined women's heads like rubbery spheres for the juggling. Not caring how young they die.

Everyone knows the girl to poor to afford real shoes. Her family had perfected the craft of hand carving a pair of wooden clogs, as well as knitting thick stockings for the Winter occasions. A Dutch family having moved from the Netherlands, they lived in a farming town outside of the city where everyone wore modern clothes. They still maintained the custom of leaving your clogs at the door. There was a bit of the Southern US superstitious flare of knocking twice on the Chimney, where they hoped they could allow Santa's elves to listen to how they are creatures prone to mistakes, and tend to try to be good people.

Clearly they were not familiar with the fact that Saint Nicolas was very likely an evil person himself, although not necessarily a pedophile. Although I wouldn't necessarily put it past him to spank little children who he personally deemed as naughty on that particular Christian holiday borrowed from Paganism. They idea of anybody clinging onto any kind of belief to be out of a matter of tradition had always been a very foreign concept to me having come from a family with largely no traditions.

Despite the generally abusive nature of my dad strangling me, he was also surprisingly liberal for the area. For one he did not personally believe in capital punishment as neither do I, although this was largely prior to the invasion by France. The Post Nazi German Preservation party had kicked into full gear in Europe and were beginning to mirror the Nazis in some of their practices. A family of dark haired Dutch people visiting the US made a lot of temporary sense, despite the fact that France was every bit as imperialist, and that had been the case for the length of the previous months. One could justify it as North vs South, but there was some other thing going I suspected they were not telling the people. It was still strange meeting such a cute Dutch girl!

She had just turned nineteen, with Anna-Marie and Lisa-Marie having both turned a year older. Her shape was like an hour glass with a larger bottom than a top, her face having a small amount of baby fat she had not completely grown out of, making her look younger. Don't get me started on her black curls. It makes me wonder if there was some other blood line in her veins.

She had a bluntness and directness that was extremely soft, and not anything like the crowd publishing girls I had met on the inter webs when posting some of my fiction. It was the kind of directness and smooth talking that would give anyone trans lady a hard on. "I want to suck your cock." she could have said, and it would sound the same as he gently chiding me about my cleaning habits. So it was always a joy--with Anna-Marie's permission, to lead me into the bathroom in order to shower and bathe me. I'm not the regretful of talking into keeping her clogs on, saying I really like her wooden shoes.

Her hair was more reminiscent of the color of my first girlfriend, who she inadvertently brought back memories of when I lost her. It was then I made the determination I would help my friends save themselves rather than them relying on me to save them.

If only I could take care of myself.

Anna-Marie popped in, not seeming to care if I was naked. She blushed slightly, and then smiled. "Dinner is ready! I decided not use knives this time."

"We'll be out in just a minute you." said the Dutch girl. Aim Key said, her name Aim Key, because she could fire a crafted key into a door lock with her flick of the finger tips, and have that much more time saved to open the door. For here on out for simplicity we shall call her "The Aimer."

"I thought I'd said I'd make dinner." I said.

"Do you still not trust me, despite how far I came to see you?" She covered her right eye, almost as if to cover a tear. "I hate bladed implements."

"Good job Hemato, you just hurt her feelings." said The Aimer.

"No no, sharp angular blades give me issues." Anna-Marie said. Despite everything else having recovered including vocal training, there was still some aspect of her execution she didn't forget.

"Sorry, not fine. Thanks for making dinner." I mumbled something about hoping we don't all get poisoned, as I didn't want Anna-Marie to be beheaded again. There was no sure thing the surgeon would reattach her head again. He may well jack up the price just because he can.

"You're still a prick." said The Aimer, with a kind of half seriousness, abrasively brushing my junk and down, causing me to almost ejaculate if it were not for the fact that doing so brings back memories of my childhood.

So we had dinner together. Lisa-Marie helped guide in the kitchen, so as to make sure she did not poison anybody. She is wearing her newest Princess outfit wearing wooden clogs her favorite princess wore. I wasn't sure how she fared with the idea of my second girlfriend helping her, as I had always interpreted a kind of jealousy even for my affections even though Lisa-Marie considered me more of her mother.

I think Anna-Marie was the only one not wearing clogs besides myself. I only did do to weird associations of having grown up male despite considering myself female, and even still have weird issues about mom lecturing me for wearing ladies shoes.

So we had a family dinner, we a new guest.

Who really liked lady cocks. I still had dreams of maybe some day visiting Japan, since for the longest time that was the culture I was most familiar with. This made it difficult to maintain conversations, as I tended to prefer referencing anime and JRPGs over the--apparently--more lady like conversations ladies tended to have. But I was just twenty, I wasn't about to lose my childhood completely. I clung to games much in the same way a cyber sexual would cling to porn, the digital girls being more accepting of me being in someone else's body.

It was a chance for me to escape. Masturbation only reminded me of myself. And I hated being reminded of myself. This was an experience even Anna-Marie couldn't understand, but tried to be accepting of it when I tried to explain it to her. But there is only so much a "natural born woman" will understand about being a trans girl, despite however passing.

The dutch girl decided to try on my green-Irish cap.

She looks really fucking good in it!

I always had difficulty maintaining a job do to my personal sleep issues and overbearing memories from the past. Despite my sudden exodus from my parents house, they felt, for some purpose, a desire to help me gain disability. Therefore I maintain most of my sanity indoors when others besides Lisa-Marie at work, for she herself is occupied by going to school.

Inside those locked doors, I merely looked outside staring superficially a paradox of grumpy and cheerful to the young children that would come talk to me through my window. They would wonder why it is I never go outside. So I would always tell them something like this. "Well do you know what a duality is?" I asked. Often they would only have some vague knowledge.

"We can only count lady dude!" one said.

"Duality means two right?" the other said.

"Why yes, duality certainly does mean two. But it's not just about two, for you see there is a higher meaning, for there not necessarily be a conflict between the two. For the East and the West are brothers and sisters among the cities under the stars." I said, and they would be puzzled, yet polite enough to keep asking what I mean.

"My story is a story about the duality between East and West, not a retelling of the wild west. But the nature of love in the exodus from the South..."

And they would listen until the end.

I never understood why children here were so polite, but the culture had started to change after the French took over the United States. There was something about conservative cultures that made one still to a kind of vague general politeness that went beyond anything in the South East US. My expectation was, that as kids they may eventually find my story boring.

But I never told them about my second hand PTSD that went along with my main PTSD that torn my heart into pieces. For Anna-Marie was so young when I had thought that she had died by the Guillotine Gun. I remember the day as if it were yesterday, and I still only remember her face and the moment of severance between me and her, and what I thought would be the rest of our life. I longed to be by her side when she was about to die, for I felt a complicit nature in protecting her from the nation of France, who was occupying our country. For the nature of being a cowgirl was strong in my heart, and I wanted to lasso the invaders and shoot them to the stars.

The story of my second hand PTSD.

At nights I would have dreams that I was dressed in Anna-Marie's dress and clogs, clogs because they wanted to make sure I was the most uncomfortable girl in my feet before awaiting my fate. They had a contract by a disgraced Dutch shoe maker family, and they tailored shoes to be a specific amount of tightness, as was the case for the clogs put on Anna-Marie's bare feet.

I was forced to kneel in front a crowd on a scaffold.

The portable lunette was closed around my neck.

The sound of a Guillotine Gun being fired. And then I woke up in a one of my first panic attacks after a long time of remission after leaving my parents. When I almost attacked my father at seventeen. And my head and neck partiality was kink shamed by my mother. The thing about the nature of empathy is that it can sometimes get one into trouble. One can find themselves in love with the wrong people, yet for Anna-Marie it was a love more than love. She was my Anna-Marie. And our fates I felt were tied together, and on some level I felt I died that year ago.

I imagined our heads kissing each other.

We licked our faces in the basket.

Farewell to "The Aimer" when I tried to take my life. For her love for me was to strong within this life, that she knocked the shotgun out of my mouth, and accidentally caused me to fire into Anna-Marie's chest. It was the first time I felt that I might lose her again, and we tried taking her to the doctor.

She died that night.

The news libeled "The Aimer" who aimed for nothing but my heart. She tried to get them to recant, but it was to late. The angry mob was after her to remove her head.

They didn't understand she was trying to save my life. They did not understand she did not mean to kill Anna-Marie. They didn't understand that if she did not knock out the gun from my mouth, everyone including her would be so sad to see me go despite not believing it myself with a degree of lack of self-respect.

They took my Anna-Marie, they almost took Lisa-Marie. And now despite anything I could do, they would take "The Aimer" who aimed for my heart.

She went away asking for me to protect Lisa-Marie.

They dragged her into the street, and closed a Guillotine loop around her neck. The angled projectile blade cut cleanly, her black curls tumbling to the pavement coving the ground with blood. Her face convulsed, the severed neck losing blood rapidly. The crowd jeered with a kind of empathy I was not expecting. Only the gang wanted her dead. Nobody else wanted her to lose head. She died in sixty seconds.

Lisa-Marie cried in my shoulders.

I had nowhere else to go.

I only wanted to cry too.

I had dreams of a love with a tulip girl. Her funeral tap dance to the end of time. Farewell to sorrow, for we are only children.

The thing about the East and the West, we really are not so different from each other. We have minor cultural difference. Sometimes the fashion choices differ, sometimes we find a dichotomy between conservative and liberal values. Yet those values serve to separate those who could be lovers beyond the dreamer's edge. Make us forget how human everyone really is.

Lisa-Marie is not with me now, I am in a field of flowers beyond the dreamer's edge. I find Anna-Marie and "The Aimer" telling the stories of the "new US" that need not be separated by politics. Their love for me transcended all immortal qualities and quantities of love beyond the star crossed by time.

It was our love triangles rhyme.

They greet me as I have a threesome with them in a field, with them caressing my nude body, themselves also nude and happy.

We were the lovers that died together.

My only worry now is for Lisa-Marie, as I imagine her future.

I hope she knows how to dispose of me.

I hope she doesn't lose her head.



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