My name is, well, was Isabelle and my life kinda sucked. A lot. It started in my first year at St Helen’s School for Girls, which was actually three schools: junior, middle, and high. I joined the middle school, age twelve, after begging my parents for months.

The reason? I’m gay. Super gay. And the uniform is really cute, like a nun’s habit, but the headpiece is just a cap—a coif—no long veil that goes down to your shoulders, and the gown is, like, so mature and it gives a mystery to every girl. You know, the bit across the chest—a guimpe—and the long skirt. So, yeah, I love the uniform.

There’s one more reason. You see, I kind of heard that, like, the older girls liked to “adopt” younger girls as sisters. Did I mention I’m gay? I really wanted an older sister who wasn’t actually my older sister. Well, I really wanted to have one of those relationships where she’s like, “My Isabelle, shall I show you how to become a woman?” but I wasn’t that deluded.

But I was pretty deluded.

Never mind “adopting” me, none of the older girls would even speak to me. No one wore the uniform properly outside of assemblies, rolling up their skirts, even loosening the guimpe so it didn’t cover anything.

Anyway, my classmates caught on quick how weird I was, but at least didn’t realise I was gay. I learned that, apparently, all-girls schools weren’t the Sapphic haven I thought, especially since there wasn’t boarding and so everyone, it seemed, had a boyfriend. “Lesbian” was basically a slur they threw around if someone they didn’t like looked at them or, Sappho forbid, bump into them.

Maybe all the religion in the air was contagious because I stayed there until I was eighteen out of some kind of penance for my sinful thoughts. Or because, well, let’s just say there were a couple teachers I didn’t mind sitting detentions for.

Why am I telling you all this? Honestly, I just don’t get to talk about this much. Or at all. Ever.

So, that’s who I was. No friends, full of Sapphic yearning for an older woman to pamper me, and, um… a mild addiction to, you know, petting my cat. And no, I didn’t have a pet cat—it’s a euphemism.

Too much? Sorry. Like I said, not talked to anyone about this since back then. Oh Sappho, I miss the Internet. Those chatrooms got me so—

Ahem. Sorry.

No, I gotta stop apologising. Catholic guilt really does a number on you—even if you’re not Catholic.

So I was Isabelle, but I still am Isabelle too. Let me explain.

I graduated from St Helen’s and was all ready to go to university. Having learned my lesson, I scoured the web to find the most queer universities, cross-referencing the queer scene in nearby towns/cities.

Of course, I also had to visit the places. And it was on one of those visits that I was distracted by a woman arguing on the phone. Oh Sappho, she was beautiful. Well-fitted suit, hair tied in a bun, thin glasses, and her voice—so stern and a little deep, she could’ve told me to jump off a cliff and I would.

It turns out that, when you die a painful death, you vividly remember your last moment. And let me tell you, being hit by a truck isn’t painful—too sudden to realise what’s happening—it’s the being run over afterwards that hurts.

Fortunately, I died quick.

What happened next? I was floating in an emptiness, perfectly lit but infinite, all directions both clear and white, kind of suffocating. It didn’t take me long to realise what happened, so I called out, “Sappho?”

A deep chuckle sounded everywhere at once—not feminine at all. “Sorry, it’s me.” After a moment, as if He thought I didn’t realise, He added, “God.”

I sighed. “I always thought that, when I died, I could go to Lesbos.”

A second passed, then God said, “You do know Lesbos is a real place?”

“Yes, of course. I mean, like, a figurative Lesbos. You know, a place filled with women like me.”

“Oh, you mean hell?”

Startled, I tried to stare at God, but that Fucker was hiding. “You actually send gay people to hell?!”

“It’s their choice! In the beginning, I just told them that heaven was full of Jews, Christians, and Muslims, then things started snowballing.”

I frowned. “Is hell really a place of eternal damnation?”

“What? No! No, that’s just horrible. Why would you—no, never mind, I don’t want to know. I thought people would like some variety, so heaven is all angelic choruses and bright and cheery, and hell is dark and gloomy with punk music. There’s a few other realms, but no one has ever asked about them. And you can go between them as you wish.”

Things not adding up, I asked, “Have you… not looked at earth recently?”

“I visited a couple millennia ago to sort things out. Why, is there something I should know about?”

The way I saw it, if no one else had told Him, then it can’t have been important. “Not really. So anyway, hell? There isn’t a Sapphic realm?”

“Of course there is, but aren’t you a Catholic? That’s why you’re here.”

At that moment, I realised that getting Confirmed to “impress” that one teacher had been a mistake. “Can I, um, take it back?”

“Well, it is possible. However, you would have to… no, if we….”

God mumbled to Himself for a while until I asked, “Is that a yes?”

“Your soul can’t return to the earth you know, but I can send you to another world where Sappho can collect you later. It might take Her a while, though, very busy Woman. Or should I say, very busy with women.”

I ignored His joke. “Really? That’d be perfect!”

Again, His chuckle filled the emptiness. “It is not quite perfect as you will be lost in a world unlike your own for I would guess a lifetime. So, if you have a request, I would grant you a small comfort to ease the transition.”

Once again, I let my gay tongue speak without thinking and was punished for it: “I want a mommy!”

“Really? Well, if that is what you wish. Goodbye, Isabelle.”

As suddenly as I’d died, I was alive, darkness replacing the light. The ground was hard underneath me, cold too, and my head hurt like, well, like I’d been hit by a truck. Rubbing my head, I sat up and forced open my eyes. Stuck squinting, I couldn’t tell much, but it looked green and brown, and the air was fresh. Out of habit, I went for my phone, only to find no pockets—I was wearing a dress. A kind of itchy dress, the fabric rough.

After a lot of blinking, my eyes managed to see something.

“This… really isn’t earth,” I muttered.

The grass looked turquoise, a kind of greeny-blue, same for the leaves on the trees—leaves that were crinkled, even on the different kinds of trees. Bushes and weedy plants weren’t any normal-er, their leaves curled up in spirals. It also seemed a bit dim; when I looked up, the sun was there, but… less orange? Was the sun on earth actually even orange?

Confused and still coping with a head ready to pop, I sat there wincing until, after a bit, I noticed something moving.

Trying not to squint, I stared into the forest’s gloom. The shadow slowly got closer and, with the sun’s help, I saw what it was. Well, who it was.

An elf. She had dark skin with a purple tinge, hair deep red like wine, a sharp face—the pointy ears why I say elf—but a big, natural smile, and her eyes were open wide, yellow irises like pale gold. She wore a loose gown that bulged at her chest—why I say she—and it was a pretty pastel pink. Her hair was gathered up in a bun, but a couple bits were left loose and they framed her face nicely.

Oh, and she was tall—I could only imagine the legs she was hiding.

It’s hard to say I was caught staring when I stared at her the whole time she walked up to me, but that first impression may have caused me a lot of trouble.

“Aww, are you a little human? How’d you get all the way here?” she said—like she was talking to a child.

I tried to say anything, but my brain was still imagining those legs.

Taking that for my answer, she squatted down, held me under my armpits, then lifted me up and held me… like I was a child. “Don’t worry, baby, mommy will look after you.”

My heart clenched and I swear I nearly met Sappho much earlier than God expected. “I-I can walk,” I blurted out.

She tittered and, oh Sappho, my thighs clenched together. “Baby can talk? You’re so clever,” she said, putting me down ever so carefully.

“I’m not a baby,” I said, even though a beautiful, older woman calling me baby was basically my life goal. Glancing up, I saw she didn’t look convinced. “I’m eighteen.”

“Really? You’re such a big girl,” she said, her tone still the same. “Do you know where your parents are?”

Not sure if it was worth trying to explain, I just said, “Dead. I’m all alone in this world.”

“Aww, poor thing,” she said and ruffled my hair. “How about you stay with me for a bit and we can see what’s best for you?”

I wasn’t happy with the babying, but somewhere to find my feet sounded nice… and, I mean, the company. “Thank you,” I said with a big smile.

And she pinched my cheeks, muttering, “Oh, you’re such a charmer! I could just eat you up.”

It took a lot of willpower to not say, “Please do.”

“Now, don’t let go of my hand, okay? And no eating the berries—some of them can make you very sick, understand?”

I bristled, but said, “Yes.”

“It’s not far, but, if you get tired, I can carry you.”

“Okay.”

The way she tittered this time didn’t sound as good to me, thinking she found my short answers, like, grumpy. Fortunately, she hummed while we walked, not saying anything else annoying. Unfortunately, well, her strides were really long and she obviously lived in a forest where she had to walk everywhere—not like an Internet addict whose mum drove her to school and back.

Me, that’s me.

So I struggled to keep up, but I had some pride, holding on like it was a matter of life and death. When we finally reached a clearing with a house in the middle, I was ready to collapse.

“Here we are,” she said brightly, not at all breathless.

I just nodded, trying to, like, not breathe so obviously.

The house was strange. It took me a bit to realise, but it was big. I mean, the ceiling was kind of high for, like, a cottage, and the kitchen counter was high, and the chair—my feet didn’t touch the floor when I sat on it. Made me feel like I’d shrunk.

Otherwise, it was really nice. All made of wood, except the fire pit which used stone, and it was kinda rough wood, not sanded down or carved or anything. I mean, the floor was pretty smooth, but the walls and furniture weren’t. It smelled really fresh too. Not, like, green, but outside-y, and there were a few pots of potpourri around.

Curious, I sniffed one of the pots. “Wow, it smells really nice,” I said.

She put a hand on my shoulder, almost making me jump. I thought she was still by the sink. “It keeps away bugs, especially ones that like to eat wood. But thanks for reminding me—it’s almost time to smoke out the place,” she said and kissed the back of my head.

I froze up, recognising the sound and feeling something touch me.

“Now, those clothes don’t look too comfortable. How about we have a bath and put on some of my old pyjamas?”

Still in shock—I was really sensitive to affection from older women—I just nodded. If I’d thought about it, I might have noticed she said “we”.

A few minutes later, I was beyond shock, very seriously considering I was already dead. The bath was a large hole dug in the ground next to a hot spring, a shed built around for some privacy, stone slabs for flooring. The water streamed in at one end and out the other, warm enough that it prickled, but didn’t hurt.

Oh and we were both in the bath. Naked. She was behind me, but her legs sort of encircled me as I sat there cross-legged, trying to make myself small enough to disappear.

Staring straight ahead, I managed to come out of my stupor enough to say, “I, I can bath by myself.”

She giggled. Oh Sappho, she giggled! Right by my ear too. “I know you’re at the age where you’re embarrassed about your body, but we’re both girls, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Everything she said was wrong. That’s—I mean, she’s an elf, I’m a human, so saying we’re both girls isn’t quite right.

Anyway, before I could say anything else, she leaned forward. Let me remind you, she was sitting behind me… and had big boobs. I had tried to not look at her so far, but I still found out they were really big boobs. Really, really big.

Then I found out why she’d leaned forwards, her soapy hands grabbing my… not really big boobs. A different kind of shock, I jerked forwards, my hands coming up to defend. Just that… if I didn’t do that on instinct, I could have had an older woman rubbing my chest while her chest pressed against my back.

Self-sabotage of the highest degree.

She laughed out loud. “Oh my, an early bloomer?”

Stuck between so many emotions, I ignored them and focused on what she’d said instead, but that just confused me. “Early bloomer?”

“Yeah, most girls don’t start growing there until their twenties.”

That was weird enough to break me out of the daze I’d been in. “What?”

“Puberty starts early for some people and that’s perfectly natural,” she said. “In fact, I had my first period when I was nineteen.”

My hands gave up defending to rub my face, so confused until it finally clicked. “I’m a human, not an elf—I’m already an adult.”

There was a long moment of silence, then she let out a giggle. “You almost had me there. How can elves and humans be so different? And you’re still so small.”

I didn’t know if she meant my height or chest, but, compared to her, she probably meant both.

Ouch.

“Have you ever met a human? This is just how big women grow,” I said, self-consciously crossing my arms.

“They don’t come this far south,” she said softly, sounding like she was thinking aloud. “Jeda might know… or I guess we could go see my sister.”

Trying to strike while she wasn’t focused, I said, “Besides, you aren’t that much taller than me. If I still had to go through puberty, I’d end up taller than you.”

“I’m the shortest in my family, so I’m sure you would.”

Another stab in my… not pride, but… I wasn’t a child, okay?

Her hands took advantage of my frustration to take advantage of me, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me back into a hug. “Anyway, if you don’t have a home, you just stay here until we can sort something out. And if you want to call me mommy, that’s fine too.”

My heart pounded for one beat, then seized up, almost killing me.

God, this isn’t what I meant!