Captions Sunday!

I’ve been accused of many things, none of them are true; but my career in medicine is gone. Well, not totally gone...I guess I’m technically still in the medical field... 

I researched ways to combat and reduce the severity of the COVID virus. I NEVER claimed—ever—to have a CURE. What I researched, tested, and discovered was a suite of nutrients, and substances naturally occuring in the body that not only made you healthier, but reduced the SYMPTOMS of COVID until you never even feel sick at all. Yes, you’ll still NEED a vaccine, you still need to quarantine, but not only would the virus NOT KILL YOU, but you would barely feel ill! 

I had six months worth of double-blind testing! The results I got were NOT FAKE! But I think, on instruction from pharmaceutical corporation higher-ups (I will never be able to prove this), I was thrown into enforced quarantine-isolation for one month, I was officially declared “Deceased from COVID-19” and I have only been allowed back into the world of regular community and commerce if I accepted the latest form of “COVID Passport” which overrides the life and identity I’ve had for sixty years—even down to replacing my Social Security Number! No longer able to research scientific AND innovative ways to make people healthy, no longer the peer of my former hospital and university colleagues, no longer equal to the most skilled surgeons, I have been reduced to being a scrub in a hospital!

Story: The Education and Rehabilitation of Miss Caroline Drake. Chapters 4-5.

by Jackie J

Chapter 4

The first four weeks of Miss Caroline’s re-education were predicably harsh, brutal, demeaning and both humbling and humiliating. A snap of Miss Caroline’s fingers and a scowl had provided for her every whim now she begged for the most basic of her needs, all her needs.

Much to the amusement of Miss Prentice Jenny had not tired of the bullying of her once Mistress and dressing her in her frilly juvenile attire. The use of the cane and strap had become less frequent over time just its threat and harsh words now bringing total compliance to the accepted rituals of her childlike existence within the confines of Longwater manor. Such had been the brutalisation of Miss Caroline just a glare from Miss Prentice bringing an instant cowering, head lowered curtsy, from Bella. Yes Bella, a name chosen by Miss Prentice to be more fitting and one that had been, and continued to be, ingrained into the increasing fragile mind and nervous confused persona of Miss Caroline Drake, the once would be Mistress of Longwater manor.

Three weeks into Miss Caroline’s torment, Miss Prentice, satisfied the surly madame was compliant, began the next stage of her scheme. Dressed as always, in her pretty frills, her hair in ribboned pigtails Bella was sat at the desk Miss Prentice had prepared in one of the rooms on the top floor of the manor.

Instructed to, and holding out her left hand, Bella sighed with relief when her Mistress worked open the strapping on her wrist and tugged free the false hand. The bruising and swelling from her dislocated thumb had gone but the prime disfigured digit sat awkward across her palm.

Captions Sunday!

I was born in Oakland, California, but you wouldn’t know that, if you saw how my family has been treated for the last three years. Being Asian and a woman I thought the “Glass Ceiling” was obstacle enough.

Now, being Asian is an Occupational Hazard, and being an Asian Woman means regressive types target you—literally target you with guns—as CARRIERS OF DISEASE!

I was also an executive in the hotel business, but you wouldn’t know that to look at me now, either.

A general who doesn’t visit the front lines never gets the real news. One of our hotels, in a city I’ve never visited, had morale problems. They sure “smelled” like morale problems: compared to our other hotels, average length of employment was less than seven months! Our other hotels average three years! I’m no general, but time for this officer to visit the battlefield! Unlike most of my colleagues I’m willing to get dirty to “dig up the dirt”! I hired on as a housecleaner—yes, to avoid detection I actually took the job—and found out quickly what the problem was.

The reason morale was down, was because—I won’t soften the blow—the manager of this branch was a racist jerk, and he thought the Asian housekeepers under him were....unclean!

Story: The Cleaner Returns. Chapter 56.

by BigBird74

56.

Katherine had worked long into the night preparing the reception room for Dahlia’s big press conference. Carefully chosen flowers lined the sides of the room, placed strategically so they would show up clearly behind where Dahlia would sit. Katherine had always believed that, with sufficient care and attention paid to surroundings, it was possible to sway the sympathies of those in attendance. Her job had been made easier by the fact that Dahlia was looking her very best. After all, the public likes beautiful people. Katherine could only marvel at how trim and perfectly turned out Dahlia was after all those months recovering from her ‘breakdown.’ That word – breakdown – had been carefully selected by Tommy, again, to elicit a large dollop of sympathy. Drug use was still a complicated issue as far as public opinion was concerned, with a wide range of opinions, from those likely to have also indulged in the forbidden to those whose moral compass would never permit such abandon. Katherine knew, in our age of constant media, that playing the victim card would be best. It was therefore crucial that everything about the event played its part in conveying such an image.

It did not help that the cleaner seemed to be distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere. More than twice, Katherine had caught ‘Petra’ staring at the podium that was to elevate Dahlia back to her former glory, deep in thought. She had brushed off the fat slob’s excuses and firmly reminded her that the hallway and reception room must be spotless by 11am when the various guests were to arrive. It was only after the third time of telling that something finally shifted inside of ‘Petra’ and the next time Katherine checked on her, she was busy mopping the marble floor.

Checking her watch, Katherine could see that Tommy was due to arrive at any moment. Of the many men in her life, Tommy was, by far, the one she cared for most. Their relationship was purely platonic, but grounded on a real affection formed over many years of working together. Tommy had always looked out for Katherine and sent various projects her way. But Dahlia was something special. Until the ‘incident’, she had been Tommy’s prized client and he was understandably nervous about where he stood with her. Now, given what amounted to a second chance, he wanted nothing to go wrong and had asked Katherine, as a safe pair of hands, to take the job of assisting Dahlia.

Story: Severe Housecleaning Vacation.

by Dolores Azul

Social downgrade has one great boon, and another huge downside. The great boon is: if you are the sort of person who needs it, who craves it, it keeps you vital, young, and alive! I almost pity my fellow executives who age so quickly because they are fighting so hard, every day, to stay On Top of Things. If those “things” they stay “on top of” are 5G cell phones, they're 5G cell phones; if “those things” are multi-level marketing of Non-Fungible-Objects—that’s what you have to focus on, Brother! Move it, move it!

No, I’m not saying I don’t pay attention—or can’t keep up! I’m saying I have (or, I HAD) a way to de-stress, that my colleagues....don’t. But it does have a downside: you need increasing doses of social downgrade to get you the same “high” you got when you first found out What You Are. Sometimes the dose you end up taking is so big that you can’t climb back out! I knew I was taking LOTS of risks, but I thought I covered everything. 

Well, no...I didn’t. 

Story: The Bridal Shower

by Inanimate77 

Leah’s eyes lit up wide as the Uber driver dropped her off at the Davenport Estate.  In all her life, she had never seen such an opulent display of money and power.  From the first day Leah had met her roommate Charlotte, she was aware that the girl came from immense wealth.  The Davenports were one of the richest families on the entire East Coast.  Charlotte’s attendance at the elite private university, that both girls attended, was all over the news as everyone tried to pry into her life.  The paparazzi could not get enough of her. 

To say that Leah was heartbroken the day she found out the two of them were going to be roommates would be an understatement.  All her life, Leah had worked hard and pushed herself to be the best.  Countless hours of study and dozens of extracurricular activities had resulted in a full academic scholarship.  It had all paid off, but with the circus that was sure to follow Charlotte, Leah was deeply concerned that everything would go off the rails. 

Much to her surprise, the hubbub around Charlotte quickly dropped off and both girls settled into college life.  The rich heiress turned out to be every bit Leah’s academic equal.  Her focus was driven by a desire to prove that nothing had been given to her.  She earned a degree in Biology and Business, and was determined to prove herself in the world of Genetics.  Leah meanwhile excelled in her passion, pre-law with a focus on environmental matters.  Over the years, both girls became fast friends as they pursued advanced degrees in Law and Genetics.

 

Story: The Cleaner Returns. Chapter 55.

by BigBird74

Dahlia was finding it increasingly hard to ignore the growing sense of dread she felt as she neared the address Melissa had given her. Her last encounter with Katherine, just before leaving Hilltop, had been unsettling. She was angry at the cleaner’s “rude” disturbance of Ms Western and had warned ‘Petra’ to be at the house early the next morning. Having forgotten that the press conference was to be held tomorrow, Dahlia was fretting over how fast things were moving and how she had no control over events. After a long anxious wait, she was relieved to see that the bus back into Barton was empty and she was able to hide out the journey far away from any sneering kids and judgemental adults. Already Dahlia’s fragile mind was adjusting itself from that of a pampered princess loved by all to a relative outsider who felt shy about her looks. While she still valued the ability to step out of the public eye, the risks of losing everything was now apparent and explained a great deal of her unease.

Once back in Barton, it had taken some time to orient herself and find Edge Road. If a description had ever fitted a name, this was it. The closest end of the road was situated not far from the main bus station, with all the dubious charms common to those districts around the world: beggars, homeless vagrants, sex shops and bars all covered in graffiti and litter. Wherever she looked something unappealing caught her eye. The roughest denizens of Barton seemed to inhabit this space and it shocked Dahlia. Of course, no-one paid her the slightest attention. Why would they, she caught herself thinking? In her current guise she was no better than any of them. In fact, given her gross weight, lack of money and worn through dress, she was arguably worse off.