Dime Novels From Oblivion

Francis Strauss was among the nobility of the entertainment industry. He resided in a palace built precariously on a cliff overlooking a stretch of coastline. The enormous structure dug into the edge of the bluff seemed in itself a statement of defiance, an arrogant challenge to the mighty forces of nature, embodied in the Pacific to just try and take down his opulent fortress.
Francis was a composer and a very well renowned one. His scores were featured in dozens of movies and tv shows. His unseen hand emotionally supercharged dramatic moments. His highly discerning ears expertly layered the melancholy piano and swelling strings into scenes that aroused the deepest felt human emotions.
Through the pitch and arrangements of notes, Francis could connect with humanity. Still, in all other aspects, his social skills were terminally deficient, and because of this, despite his immense wealth and notoriety, Francis was never loved by anyone.
A vague inkling his life was lacking something, a…

"William's Ride!" as it was christened by an enthusiastic press riding on a wave of jingoist fervor, was billed as a glorious cross country ride by the King and his dragoons to the front.  The stunt was calculated to boost morale at the front. By the cocksure warrior king's estimation, once he took to the field, the enemy's resistance would not last one day longer.
It was a gamble, to say the least, and the young King met with disappointment from the very start. When he rode from the barracks, he was lead to a secluded platform where a private luxury car awaited him.
"I am as sharp as my saber's edge and ready for battle." the eager King protested to his handlers.
"Please, your majesty, the calvary was just for the front pages." A Royal Minister explained. "The bulk of our field forces are moved by trains now."
The King shot the minister a cock-eyed glance."
"Yes, your highness," The Royal Chief of Staff intervened…

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It used to be true that you only live once. Robert Clive proved this maxim entirely false, though when he born for the second time late one morning on the top floor of a large metropolitan hospital. Robert’s second birth was not as messy as his first. There was no placenta, no after birth, no cord to cut. This time Robert opened his eyes fully conscious and aware. In a fully developed body that he was grateful to receive but unable to hide his disappointment with its build.
“He’s a bit pudgy, don’t you think? Also, it appears I am now Asian.” Robert pointed out to the team of doctors engineers and biologists that had just orchestrated the Lazars style miracle.
Doctor Gupta, the lead physician, politely apologized and explained it was the only suitable donor for the consciousness transference procedure they could find. However, there were suitable female hosts Clive could house his mind in if he’d prefer.
Robert considered the option. “Would I have to menstruate?” he asked.
“I’m afraid…