A Cloudy Summer Day

By Leslie Johnson

 

The air hung from the clouds, unmoving. It was humid, hot with the anticipation of something … something wicked and otherworldly.

The dark-haired woman walked down the gravel road, kicking up the dust behind her. Short little puffs that spread the detritus onto her toes and sandals. She wasn’t walking with purpose; it was more like strolling along even though she looked neither left nor right but kept her eyes locked onto a place in the distance that only she could see.

As I drove past her, I kicked up enough dust to coat her from head to toe. I wondered where she was going. Was she heading to my house? Should I have stopped and offered her a ride? As an older frailer woman, I didn’t pick up hitchhikers. They might overpower me. It bothered me to feel so vulnerable. I hated getting old.

At the crossroads, I slowed and looked back. She was still coming this way. But would she continue? She could go left or right or stay the course. If I hadn’t been in a hurry to get home before the storm hit, I might have travelled slowly enough to see which direction she took.

I parked the car and headed to the backyard, where I hurried to take the clothes off the line. As I turned toward the house, the first big, fat raindrop landed on my arm. I rushed into the house and set the basket of clothes on the dining room table.

I stood at the window, folding the laundry as I watched the storm pelt the ground with force. The wind picked up and smashed some raindrops against the window. For a minute, the rain took on a more substantial form as small pellets of hail bounced off the lawn before settling into tiny white drifts. As quickly as it started, the hail turned back to rain and soon was falling more gently.

I carried the folded laundry up to the second floor and put everything away. When I came back down, I noticed a large puddle of water inside the front door. At first, I thought maybe the screen door window was up, letting the rain in. Then I noticed water puddles leading toward the kitchen. My heart leapt into my throat and goosebumps rushed up my arms. It was then that I remembered the woman on the road. What did she want from me?

When I came into the room, she was standing with her back to me, looking out the window over the sink. My heart raced and my breath caught in my throat as she turned toward me. When I had driven past, I had thought her to be a young woman in her thirties. Now I saw I was wrong. She was much older, even older than me.

The crone grinned. Her broken and rotting teeth were like monuments to something long dead. The stench that wafted from her made me gag, and my legs trembled before giving way. Sitting on the floor, I knew I was trapped. There was no possibility of rising and running before she surpassed me.

“What do you want?” I cried.

A high-pitched cackle broke her silence. “You know what I want, Velma my dear. I told you I would come. You just chose not to believe me.”

I remembered. It was a long time ago. I had been desperate. Desperately in love with Peter, who had eyes for Jillian and only Jillian. I heard there was a place where, for a small fee, you could make things happen. It was a gloomy place, down many dark alleys, with twists and turns. I had gone alone, knowing that my friends would not let me travel to some place so nefarious.

She was there inside the dank little shop. There were crystals and potions and tinctures on every surface—shelves and counters, windowsills and even some herbs hanging on thin threads from the ceiling. I shuddered as the door slammed closed behind me. Swallowing hard, I stepped toward her and she looked up from her crystal ball.

“I knew you were coming. I saw you a long way off. It is time.”

With a wave of her hand, she urged me closer, and I stepped into her presence. The cold swept around me, freezing my thoughts. She took my hand and with a long-pointy finger she drew a circle in the palm, not once but three times. My fingers jerked and my hand tingled and grew warmer. I didn’t understand a word she was saying, as a peace fell over my heart and the air cleared.

I don’t remember leaving the shop. I don’t know how I got home. Life went on as usual for a week, before Peter stopped and asked me if I wanted to go to the movies. The rest, as they say, is history. I never asked about Jillian, and he never mentioned her. We married, had three beautiful babies and eventually we moved to this tiny piece of heaven outside the city of Madison.

Peter had died earlier this year. Although I felt the loss, it did not devastate me. I discovered soon after we married; I was not in love with him, but I could not remove myself from this marriage forged in black magic.

As she moved toward me, I heard her words from the past echo inside my head. I had not heeded them. Instead, I pushed them deep into my subconscious and now she was here to collect. I was not ready. I could not believe she was here for my soul. Please no, I wanted her to leave me alone. I wanted to live; so I could enjoy my home without the restraints of an ailing husband. The freedom of a single life was enticing. Peter had never wanted to travel, but there were so many cities and sites I wanted to see before I died. I needed more time.

For years, I rued the day I had made the deal because Peter was not my perfect mate. She gave him to me because I had asked and back then, I willingly agreed to pay the cost.

“I don’t want to die.” I cried as I tried to crawl away from her advancing form. “I still have lots I want to do. Can we make a deal?”

“What do you have in mind?” she asked as she slowed her pace.

“You tell me what you want. I’m sure you want something.”

“I want the flesh of your favourite grandchild. Bethany. I will take her life and leave you alone. You will die an old woman many years from now. Or I take you and Bethany lives. Your choice.”

I thought of Bethany. She was only ten years old. She was beautiful and talented and had a promising future in front of her. I had lived a decent life and was in my mid-sixties. Not the life I wanted, but I could not find enough faults to complain about, other than Peter. I should let her take me, so my granddaughter could live out her potential.

“You can take Bethany. Just leave me be.” The words fell from my lips, though I didn’t feel like I had said them.

“Fair enough. You will have twenty more years. I will come for you again.”

I woke on the floor of the kitchen. How had I gotten here? I shook my head and wondered about the strange dream I had. It was unnerving and a little upsetting.

The phone rang. Call display revealed it was my daughter, Brianne. “Hello my darling. How are you?” I chirped.

“Bethany is dead, Mom. A car hit her while she was out riding her bike. She’s dead” The anguish of my daughter’s loss broke through the icy shield around my heart, and I knew then that the dream had not been a dream.

“What have I done?” I cried.

“What do you mean?” Brianne asked. “How could you have done anything—we live hours away from you.”

“It was … I was …” I couldn’t go on. “I will come immediately, Brianne. Just give me time to pack.”

I hung up the phone, but the words echoed. “Bethany is dead … Bethany is dead …” The voice belonged to the old crone. Her cackle ran up my spine as I stumbled to the stairs. I never made it to Brianne’s.

With suitcase in hand, I reached for the banister at the top of the stairs, when I felt tiny hands push me in the middle of my back. I tumbled down the stairs, my suitcase falling under, over and into me. The last thing I remember before I lost consciousness was looking into the smirking face of my beloved granddaughter.

It was three days before they found me. I lived twenty more years in a coma, strapped to machines. My mind was still active, so the doctors hoped for recovery. During this time, I could not speak or move or do anything for myself. I longed for death every day, but I knew this was my punishment for allowing my granddaughter to take my place. Bethany made sure I paid.

 

Seven Year Itch

 Seven Year Itch

 

It began with love letters. Words of introduction and appreciation. An opening of his heart to mine and mine to his.

I carried a few of his letters in my purse and when I felt lonely for his presence, I pulled them out and read them. When I was done, I’d close my eyes and inhale deeply, remembering our times together and reliving those experiences he wrote about. It brought him back; it brought his love back. It brought our promises together into a mosaic that became tomorrow.

He loved my stories. He told me that he read them when he was in camp, alone and lonely. “Your stories are snippets of your soul. I feel you, I feel your heart and I’m no longer there. I’m here with you.”

We got married. We lived happily. He was away from three weeks so his time at home was a celebration. A holiday from real life. We spent hours wrapped up in ourselves, seldom venturing outside our front door. We were overwhelmed with joy when I found out we were expecting.

Life changed when Olivia came along. We no longer had unreserved time alone. In order to sustain our connection, we promised to keep writing love letters to one another. I would find them in the bread box, a cereal carton, or under my pillow after he’d gone back to work.

I placed my letters in his suitcase, in the glove box of his truck, in his laptop case. I wrote my thoughts of motherhood, my dreams, my hopes and always my love. His letters were filled with memories of our times together, of longing and of regrets that he was so far away.

Our second child, Daniel, came along and life moved forward at breakneck speed. Tough words began to creep into our world, harsh words that ripped at our love and picked holes in our hearts. Life outside of our world looked greener for the first time since we found each other. He was no longer eager to come through the door, no longer aching to wrap his arms around me and draw me deep into his heart.

We grew apart and the love letters became less and less frequent until they stopped completely. I no longer missed them, and anger brewed in the places they used to be. I found myself alone with the duties of a single mom, holding tiny hands and kissing skinned knees. I forgot how to be a wife; I was only a mother. The world slipped from its axis and skewed my view of my future.

Seven years - seven long years we were together. We’d had our ups and our downs and brought two souls into the world when with pen in hand I wrote one last love letter to him. I signed my name to the bottom of the divorce decree, shedding not one tear. I was incapable of feeling, my heart a block of ice, frozen from being on the far side of the sun for too long.

“It’s the seven year itch,” everyone said. “It happens all the time - you either survive it or it survives you.”

He moved on with his new love and I forgot his name. Olivia and Daniel were my world and I wrote love letters to them every day. I watched the sun as it rose every morning with a promise and a prayer. I watched the sun set at the end of another weary day, stripping me of the hope that used to be mine.

I found an old love letter today. It was in the bottom of the junk drawer, where tiny screws and twist ties go to die. I opened it, my heart tripping along at an unnatural beat. There was no date, just the words of a love song, spilling beauty onto a white page. The words swirled into my frozen chest and shattered the icicles and my soul began breathing anew.

Hugging that precious piece of paper, I felt the stirrings of romance sweep the cobwebs of apathy from the inside of my soul and as I spun around, the world righted itself on its axis and I inhaled life deep into my lungs. I was ready to stand on the battlefield of love - to live once more the words of a love song.

 A Christmas Carol

By Leslie Johnson

It was a silent night—the one after Grandma got run over by a reindeer. I heard Prancer laid her out beside Frosty the Snowman.

Good King Wenceslas last looked out at the winter wonderland an hour before and asked. “Do you hear what I hear?”

We harkened to the herald of angels singing away in the manger for the entire twelve days of Christmas. Then it came upon a midnight clear the news about Grandma.

Grandma survived, and there was joy to the world in the little town of Bethlehem. She told us to have a merry little Christmas, as it was the most wonderful time of the year. “Deck the halls.” She said. “And I’ll be home for Christmas.”

It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. We’d been rocking around the Christmas tree when the little drummer boy from next door came dashing through the snow. He said he’d been in a one-horse open sleigh when he heard sleigh bells jingling. Looking to the east, he saw three ships come sailing in. They were early. They should have arrived on Christmas Day.

I picked up some silver bells for the First Noel. It snowed again, and I knew we would have a white Christmas. So glad it would not be a blue Christmas. We’d had those since Elvis died in 1977. Let it snow, I thought.

When Grandma got home, she asked, “What child is this?”

“It’s Mary’s boy child, Grandma.” said Rudolph.

“Oh, how wonderful. For unto us a child is born. It is the miracle of life.”

I handed Grandma some chestnuts roasted on an open fire. Jack Frost took a handful, too. It was nice for him to be part of this Carol of the Bells.

After my ears stopped ringing, I told the boys, “God rest ye merry gentlemen. It’s time to put those bells away for another year.”

Grandma called from the couch, having seen the time. “I heard the bells on Christmas Day.”

“Yes, now it’s time to go to church. O, Come all ye faithful!” I called. “Let’s go hear the angels on high.”  We walked through the winter wonderland, past Parson Brown marrying a couple of lovebirds to Hark, the Angels we have heard on high.” Then we returned home to find Grandma and the children were still up playing checkers.

“Oh, holy night, Santa Claus is coming to town. We should get to bed.” exclaimed little Johnny. Looking back at the checkers board, he said. “We three kings take all your game pieces.” He hopped his stacked checkers over all the others to clear the board.

 “It’s time to have yourself a merry little Christmas.” cried Susie, Johnny’s little sister. “All I want for Christmas, is my two front teeth.” She grinned, showing that expansive break in enamel.

“Good night, Johnny!” Grandma said. “No peeking.”

“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus last Christmas. I will not be peeking ever again.”

“Good night, Susie. You two had better scoot. I hear reindeer up on the rooftop, click, click, click.”

And with that, the crowd dispersed, and we all headed upstairs.  Snuggled in our beds, we prepared for the new dawn. No creatures were stirring though sugar plums were dancing when I heard those infamous words. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”  

Snow and Mistletoe

 Snow and Mistletoe

By Leslie Johnson

Ben and Joan walked hand in hand back to her house as the snow began to fall. It was twelve days until Christmas, and the weather had been working hard to ensure they would have a white one. The street lights had come on earlier, lighting their way home.

Inside, Joan set the kettle to boil and began setting cookies onto a plate: shortbread cookies, gingersnaps, sugar cookies, and a few chocolate chips. “Sorry, there aren’t many chocolate chip cookies left. Leah was here yesterday and I sent her home with a bag full.”

“How is your granddaughter?” Ben asked.

“Oh, she is perfect. She is such a blessing to me. She reminds me of my Leah, yet she is definitely her own person.”

Ben smiled. He knew how hard it had been for Joan, losing two of her children over four years ago. He had walked with Joan in those early days, and then they had parted ways. It took Ben some time to realize Joan needed to find her footing as she entered into living life on her own for the first time.

He had missed her and longed for her, hoping she was doing well. Joan’s mother talked with him often during that first year, keeping him apprised of Joan’s life. It helped him avoid going to Jack’s Diner to see her, which may have ruined his future chances to be part of her life.

When Beulah felt that Joan was ready he stopped in. He and Joan had coffee together. That became their thing for several months. They didn’t start dating until last September when he called her and asked her out to the movies. It was so easy to fall into step together, though he was cautious not to push the boundaries. He let Joan take the lead. Now, they were going to spend their first Christmas together.

Chatting about Christmas plans, they drank the hot chocolate and Ben enjoyed a few shortbread cookies. Joan ate the gingersnaps, claiming they were her favorite cookie. He wasn’t a fan, so he left them all for her.

Looking at the clock, Joan stood and began to tidy up. “Here, let me help you,” Ben said as he grabbed the two mugs. Together, they cleared away their mid-afternoon snack. They had reservations for supper at six-thirty.

“I’m going to go upstairs and get ready,” Joan said. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good. I have my clothes in the back bedroom so I’ll change in a little bit. Take your time.”

Joan disappeared, and Ben heard the shower go on. He went into the back bedroom and pulled out the sprig of mistletoe he had hidden there. With a temporary adhesive, he hung the greenery from the arch between the kitchen and living room. At ten minutes to six, he went into the bedroom again, this time to change his clothes.

As he came back into the living room, he heard Joan coming down the stairs. Perfect timing, he thought. He moved to the bottom of the stairs, letting out a low whistle when he saw her. She looked lovely. She was wearing a high-waisted velvet gown, that flowed down to her knees. It brought out her eyes. Complimenting her outfit she wore a blue tanzanite teardrop necklace and earrings.

He took her hand and kissed it as she stepped off the last stair. Joan blushed and smiled. Gently, he brought her to the archway pointing to the evergreen hanging there. Joan laughed and he took her into his arms and kissed her. When he let her go, he dropped to one knee, and before Joan realized what was happening, Ben asked “Joan Bradshaw, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” He opened a ring box to reveal a stunning diamond solitaire.

Joan’s heart skipped a beat and fear rushed in causing her to shiver. Ben mistook it for excitement and squeezed her hand as he stood up to hug her. She broke away first and moved into the living room. Ben didn’t understand.

“Joan?”

“I’m sorry, Ben. I was so happy a few minutes ago and now all I feel is terror.” Her relationship with Joe brought up so many bad memories.

Understanding this, Ben pulled her into his arms and told her she didn’t need to decide that minute. “Let’s go for supper and forget this for now. We can revisit it when you’re ready. Take as much time as you need. Just know that I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side.”

Joan nodded. She allowed Ben to help her with her coat and they walked out to the warming vehicle. As Joan settled in the passenger seat she wished she could talk to her mother.

They arrived at their favorite Italian restaurant minutes later. Inside, the aroma of pasta and marinara sauce eased Joan’s tensions and she relaxed as she looked over the menu.

After they ordered, the conversation turned to life at the cafe. Joan regaled him with tales of Beckie and Brad’s trip to Italy. “I think they want to move there,” she said. “I hope she doesn’t because she is such a vital force at the cafe, but if she does…” Joan shrugged.

Their meals came and there was little talk while they each relished the food. Finally sated, they ordered tea and tiramisu. Joan enjoyed every minute of the night, but the fear in her heart sat waiting to be dealt with. She excused herself to go to the powder room. The space was divided into two rooms, one for the business you came to do and one for lounging as you fixed your hair and makeup. As Joan rested on one of the puffy stools, she pulled out her cell phone and called her mom.

Her mother didn’t answer with a hello. Instead, she asked, “When’s the wedding?”

“I might have known that you would be in on it.” Joan laughed. ”I sometimes wonder if he likes you more than he likes me.”

“Don’t be silly. He’s over the moon for you - always has been,” Beulah responded. “So, when is the wedding?”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“Why not? Don’t you love him?”

“I do Mom, but my last marriage was a disaster, I’m so afraid things will fall apart once we are living under the same roof.”

“I am not going to tell you that your fears are baseless, but Ben is not Joe. I never liked Joe, remember - but I like Ben and I always have.”

“I know,” Joan whispered. “We probably would not be together if it wasn’t for you pushing me toward him all those years ago.”

“So don’t decide today, but don’t leave the man hanging on too long. He’s already waited for four years.”

“I know - I just want to be sure.”

“I can tell you one thing that may help. Think back to how it was when Joe asked

you to marry him. Remember his impatience to get you into his home where he chained you to the stove, the washer and dryer, and the vacuum cleaner. Ben will not ask you to leave your job. He will not expect you to look after his every need. He has been on his own long enough to be self-sufficient - just like Wally is. He is a help to me - not helpless. I think you need to tell him how you are feeling.”

After another minute, Joan hung up, thinking back to her first marriage. She knew her mom was right. Ben was not like Joe - not one little bit. They were very different men.

“I was just about to send out a search party,” Ben said as Joan slipped back into her chair.

“I’m sorry. I called my mom.”

Ben nodded but didn’t say anything. He let Joan speak. She told him what she was afraid of and he didn’t negate her fears. He validated them, allowing Joan to let them go. They kept talking on the short drive back to Joan’s house. He left his truck running as he walked her to the door.

“Good night, Joan.” Ben swooped in for a peck on the lips.

“Good night, Ben.” She responded, her arms reaching naturally around his neck, pulling him closer.

A minute later, Ben pulled away. “I have to get to work.”

“I know.” Joan released him and he started down the steps. Just before he left the yard, she called to him. “Oh, Ben? By the way, I will marry you.”

Ben was late for work.

The Boulder Escapade

In the late summer, Laurie and I came to the decision to redo the backyard. When I moved into my house on Bluefox - I had a twenty-year plan to get the backyard into shape. After a few years of frustration - I bit the bullet and hired a landscaper (the same one who had done my front yard) to do the back. Within a week - my yard was in the baby stages of the end plan. At last, instead of fighting weeds and struggling to redo a portion of the yard, it was all done. This head start provided me with many years of enjoyment instead of many years of hard labor.

Fast forward to moving here and I am no longer as capable as I was at forty - so even though the space is one-quarter of the size I had on the north side - I was looking once again at a twenty-year plan without the desire and wherewithal to make it happen. So we decided to hire a landscaper (the same one I used all those years ago). With a plan in mind and some feedback from Karen, we were on our way to completing the new twenty-year plan.

One of the features we wanted was a couple of boulders but we nixed them from the quote - the cost was outrageous. Then I came up with a plan. I knew where to find two boulders - in the front yard of my former home on Bluefox. I told Laurie if we went in the middle of the night - after midnight and wore all black - we could have those boulders in the back of her SUV and home without any cost - except a few hours of sleep.

Sitting around brainstorming - Laurie said we needed to wear something unusual - not just black clothes and a balaclava.  She suggested we wear costumes - because honestly - she wanted to wear this gorilla suit she had purchased and never worn. I agreed that she could wear her costume. She then brought up the possibility that her gimpy leg might prevent her from helping me carry the boulders. This is when my brother Russ was conscripted to join in the escapade. 

At first, Russ thought we were kidding, and he laughed. When he realized we were sincere, he got serious. “It’s about time,” he said. “I told you to take those boulders when you moved. They were ranch rocks and should be with someone from the ranch!” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Drawing a rough layout of the street, he marked the page with Xs and *s - whispering our movements and directing our steps. We were soon in business.

The following Friday night, we drove to the neighborhood. Russ parked around the corner and we quietly exited the vehicle. Crouching on the corner behind the large juniper shrub we scoped the house for any cameras. The door was intact - no peephole just as it was when I lived there. We checked the frame, the corners, and the fence. No cameras in sight. Searching the neighborhood, all the houses were dark. We were good to go.

Crouching low, we scooted down the sidewalk until we were standing in front of my former home. I looked up to the house on the left to make sure the windows were closed. They were. We looked at one another and nodded. It was “GO TIME”!

Our first rock was partially buried under the large juniper. I peeled back the branches to expose it and Russ reached down to pull it forward. In the dark, I failed to notice that I had disturbed a large funnel spider web. Russ was bent over about to lift the rock from the ground when I spotted the web and the spider on my sleeve.

What happened next was all my fault. I shrieked and began batting at the spider, trying to remove it from my person. In doing so, I let go of the juniper branches I was holding and they sprung back into place with force, catching Russ on the side of his head. His glasses went flying and in the dark, they were impossible to find. He started cursing as blood flowed from the gash above his eyebrow. 

Laurie, who was sitting on our second rock to the right was so startled, she fell backward onto the gravel below. Her legs kicked the air uselessly as she tried to right herself in the small space where she lay. In the meantime, I was dancing on the sidewalk, stripping off my shirt to remove the spider. Of course, I was screaming the whole time. Lights in the neighborhood began to come on. 

Russ legged it to the truck around the corner, I was right behind him. We left Laurie to fend for herself. If she stopped struggling to get up, she would be nearly invisible to the naked eye. I wasn’t sure she would. 

In the truck, Russ put the vehicle in neutral and we started rolling backward. Once we passed the alley, he started the truck. He made a U-turn and we headed to Uplands Blvd. Turning left, we drove past dark houses and then turned onto Bluefox Road and finally onto Bluefox Blvd. Parking across from the park, we watched the street before us, waiting fifteen minutes, then twenty without speaking. We were scouting for movement and to see if the police were called. 

When half an hour had passed and the neighborhood remained quiet, we drove to the corner and did another loop. As we passed the house, I was unable to ascertain whether Laurie was there or not. I could not see her feet flailing in the air. Had she managed to get up? Was she still there waiting for us? 

After our second pass, Russ pulled another U-turn and parked in our original spot. The two of us exited quietly and then crouching low, we made our way back to the house. Laurie was nowhere to be found. That worried me a little as we didn’t have a plan for what to do if we got separated. We hadn’t brought our phones to avoid any GPS tracking so she had no way of contacting us.

 

Russ and I got to work. First, we needed to find his glasses. It took ten minutes to find them, they had been thrown quite a distance. Checking them out, we were grateful they were in one piece, seemingly unscathed.

With his glasses back in place, Russ pulled back the juniper branches and I reached down and lifted the boulder out. He let go of the branches as he reached to take the rock off my hands. The thick boughs swung back and smacked me across my shins. I held my breath - I guess I deserved that. He hustled the boulder down the street to the truck, then scurried back for boulder number two. 

With the second boulder settled into the truck, Russ and I whispered about what to do. Laurie was out there in the city wearing a gorilla costume. She wasn’t capable of walking all the way home. We decided that maybe we should make a quick tour of the five houses - along the street by foot and then down the back alley. I ditched my balaclava and we climbed out of the truck.

Walking nonchalantly down the sidewalk, Russ scoped out the homes across the street, looking for any movement. I peered under shrubs and toward back gates. We saw nothing out of the ordinary. Down the side street, we kept close to the fenced yard of the house on the corner. There was no sidewalk here. At some point, Russ tried to jump up and check the backyard, so I offered to hoist him up so he could take a longer look. That was a bad idea. 

I cupped my hands together, and he placed his right foot into the stirrup. Knowing this wasn’t going to be easy for me when he added pressure, I lifted with my legs and literally threw him over the fence. Unprepared for the force of my help, he landed on his back with a great thud - on the other side of the fence.  

Stunned, I just stood there waiting for disaster to strike. Only silence prevailed. I finally asked Russ if he was okay. He whimpered that he thought maybe he’d put his back out. Oh great! Now what? I tiptoed to the alley looking for the gate. It seemed locked, or at least I couldn’t get it open. I was starting to cry when I heard a click and Russ pulled the gate open from his side. 

As he crab-walked out of the yard, stooped over holding his back with one hand, relief flooded me. At least I wasn’t going to have to carry him. I followed him past the next home and then we came to my former backyard. The first thing I noticed was the tree, my beautiful tree, the one I had planted because there were no trees when I moved in, was dead. Naked branches reached toward the night sky, silhouetted by the street light. I felt crushed and really sad that the people who bought my home had done nothing with the landscaping. The other tree was gone altogether. At that moment I felt tremendous self-righteousness in stealing my rocks back. How dare they. 

An unusual noise came from over the fence. I knew the trick to opening the back gate, so I did and slipped into the darkened lot. There, swinging on the jungle gym, was a gorilla! Silver-haired and grunting, it swung from one bar to the next, enjoying her freedom. I whistled low and the gorilla stopped moving. It dropped to the ground and then knucklewalked to my side. I heard her mumble something like - about time - as she slipped past me down the alley after Russ. The two of them looked quite the sight as they hobbled toward the truck. 

Inside the vehicle, Laurie pulled off her mask. She gave both of us a tongue-lashing for leaving her behind. I took her anger staring out the window until a giggle caught me off-guard. I tried to stop it but it bubbled out and soon, Russ was laughing and finally Laurie did too. Five minutes later, Russ started the vehicle and pulled onto the street. 

Traveling down Scenic Drive, the only vehicle in sight for miles, we relaxed. We had done it. Then, at the bottom of the hill, a car was backing out of the parking lot by the shooting range. As we passed by, the blue and red lights came on as the car pulled in behind us. Russ pulled over to the other lane and slowed his speed. I watched anxiously, worried that we had been caught when the cruiser zipped past us and away into the night. 

Home again, we unloaded the boulders and went our separate ways, a little the worse for wear, but happy that we had completed our mission. According to my old neighbors, they did notice the rocks were gone and had reported it to the police, who said they would keep a lookout. My hope is the police never think to check the former owner of the house. Keep positive thoughts for me - will you?

Cold Case

    

    Her head hurt. Moaning, Cassie tried to move but couldn't seem to make her body respond. A warm hand touched hers. She opened her eyes. The light was too intense, so she closed them again, but she’d seen enough. The bright lights overhead told her where she was. She was in the
Emergency Room again.
    What had Paul done? The last time she was here, he'd broken her arm. This time, she had lost consciousness so it must be worse. She moaned again. A cold wet object was placed against her dry, cracked lips. Instinctively, she opened her mouth and the small ice chip slipped onto her tongue. A sigh escaped and the warm hand squeezed hers.
    It took weeks to recover. Her left orbital bone had been smashed and her jaw was broken. She also had four broken ribs, her wrist had been twisted to the breaking point. A few surgeries followed by months of rehab and she was on the mend - at least physically.
    Paul was charged and convicted. While he was in jail, Cassie divorced him, and then before she could change her mind, she moved across the country leaving everyone she knew behind. She didn’t want to be living in Brampton when he got out. Five year was a long time, but not long enough. His letters to her - full of remorse and begging for forgiveness proved that the time away was not going to ease his desired worried that any new man would prove to be a repetition of Paul kept her isolated. Until Molly.
    Molly pushed through all her pretenses and arguments. They became fast friends. Cassie tagged along with Molly and her boyfriend on occasion when they went out on the town. The first night, Tim tried to set Cassie up with a friend, but he learned the hard way that this was not a good idea. He never did that again.
    A few months ago, Cassie began getting some calls from an unknown number. When she answered, no one was there - or at least no one responded. Molly assured her that it was probably a telemarketer and not to worry. Cassie wasn’t sure - she felt a niggling of fear burrow into the back of her mind. Her career as an ER nurse predisposed her to accept drama as part of her world and something about these calls, the regularity, the consistency, the fact that there was never anyone there, all raised red flags that she wanted desperately to ignore.
    Mid August, Cassie and Molly decided to get away - a girl’s camping trip. Unfortunately, The day before they were set to leave, Tim fell off a ladder at his work site. Molly canceled and Cassie hesitated. She really didn’t want to go on her own, but this was the first time she’d been able to get away all summer and everything was booked - from the vintage blue Boler trailer to the campsite along the Milk River.
    Boldly she pulled away from the rental place, embarking on her own adventure. After she had parked the unit and considered the site set up, she followed one of the many trails and walked off her nervous energy. On her way back to the site, she met a few of her neighbours.
    Feeling less isolated, she lit a fire and cooked her supper. Afterwards, she sat mesmerized by the flames as they leapt and fell in some exotic dance older than the universe. The sky darkened and the fire brightened but she stayed outside remembering those long ago days when she and Paul went camping - in the early days of their relationship. Finally, knowing she couldn’t turn back time, and that those summer nights belonged to someone she no longer knew she turned in. Paul was gone and so was that young girl - the naïve one who believed that people could change - with enough love.
    She cranked open the air vents and tucked herself into bed. The night air flowed in, allowing her to settle deep under her covers. It didn’t take long before she fell into dreamland, swept away by memories and the knowledge that Paul was a long way away and she was safe.
    The crunch of gravel woke her a few hours later. Her eyes popped open as her heart began to palpitate in her chest. Laying there, every fiber alert, she strained to hear anything that would tell her who was outside. Was someone walking their dog in the middle of the night? Or was someone with nefarious intentions just outside her small trailer?
    The crunching of the gravel stopped and then a crack of a beer can being opened startled her. She jumped, causing the little trailer to rock slightly. Damn, now whoever was out there would know she was probably awake. She lay there, her breath coming in short nervous bursts but nothing happened. There was no knock on the door, there was no other noise at all and she wondered if she had made it all up in her mind.
    Eventually, she fell back asleep and when she awoke, the sun was up and the world was brighter and seemingly more secure. She could hear children laughing and she sighed. The night was nothing more than a bizarre set of imagined noises brought on because of an overactive imagination and the fact that she was on her own.
    She dressed quickly, and grabbed her bag. The showers were not far away and she needed the washroom. The door swung open and she stepped out into a beautiful summer morning. She took a deep breath of fresh air and closed the door. And that’s when she noticed something.
    On the side table of her camp chair sat a can of Labatt’s Blue. The distinctive beer can mocked her by its presence. She saw another one in the cup holder. Alongside the beer can was a package of cigarettes. She shuddered. It looked like a no name brand rather than the sort Paul preferred. Then she remembered a few years ago reading that the government had forced companies to remove their logos and brand names in an effort to make the packaging less appealing to smokers.
    Was it Paul? Was he here? Had he found her? How? All these thoughts flooded her mind. Adrenaline began coursing through her veins causing her body to tremble. The sound of her heart beating double time filled her ears, drowning out all thoughts. Fear took over, her muscles tensed, ready to flee.
    Hearing a noise behind her, she screamed and ran blindly, not stopping until she ran into the arms of someone she used to know intimately. Her screams echoed across the campsite, drawing men outside and pushing women and children back in.

* * *

    “I can’t get her on the phone.” Molly complained to Tim. “I’m sorry, but I‘m going to have to go out there and make sure she’s okay.”
    Tim nodded his understanding. He wasn’t going anywhere with a broken arm and leg.
    A couple of hours later, Molly found the Boler trailer and Cassie’s SUV. Everything looked in place but there was no sign of Cassie. None of the neighbours had seen her since that first day and for some reason no one thought to tell Molly about the scream they had heard.
    The next day, Molly filed a missing persons report. Months went by and then years and Cassie became a memory to those she knew. Her case, though cold, is still open.

Nine

 

 

It was nine minutes to five when Molly checked her watch.  She was sitting in the doctor’s exam room after the nurse escorted her back from the office lab over twenty minutes ago. 

The doctor wanted to give her the results of her bloodwork and urine sample before she went home. Although this was unusual, Doctor Howe was old school. Molly knew she was going to miss his attention and care when he retired in a few years.

Sitting in the chair by the desk, Molly eyed the hard examination table with more than a little desire. She wanted to lay down, curl up and sleep, something she’d been doing a lot of lately. That and feeling nauseous.

The door opened and Dr. Howe and his nurse came in. She was carrying a cupcake with a candle in it and he held up a tiny banner that read congratulations.  As he got closer, Molly noticed that the words were make up of tiny baby paraphernalia – all held up by storks.

The world shifted and softened around her. She couldn’t catch her breath. The last thing she saw before a misty gauze fell over her eyes was the nurse’s face. Her mouth was working, but there was no sound. Then everything disappeared.

When she came around, the only sound she could hear was her heart – kathumpa-thumpa-thumpa and the blood rushing through her veins. It took a few seconds for other sounds to come back. They started softly before growing to normal decibels. She opened her eyes to see Doctor Howe’s worried expression.

“I’m so sorry Molly,” he said as he patted her hand. “You and Matt have been trying for years for a baby. I thought you’d be on cloud nine with the news.”

Molly tried to sort out her thoughts. She and Matt had been trying for years. But then they stopped. They stopped trying, they stopped talking and Matt stopped coming home every night. Molly cried, Molly stewed, she made ultimatums, but none of it changed how dysfunctional their relationship became. She grew lonely and one night, nearly three months ago, she succumbed to temptation.

Josh was a co-worker, a few years younger than Molly. He flattered her – he made her feel pretty and when he asked her to go for a drink, she went. She drank more than she usually did, so her inhibitions were down and when he kissed her, she kissed him back.

She tore off his clothes when they got to his apartment. He took his time with hers. She wanted to feel loved, she wanted to feel sexy, she wanted to feel. When it was over, recriminations swept over her. She grabbed her clothes, sobbing her apologies as she scurried home. Under a hot shower, she scrubbed herself until her skin was raw. Then exhausted, she fell into her empty bed and cried herself to sleep.

Molly called in sick for a week. Josh called her for the first few days and then he gave up. When she went back to work, she avoided him, and he seemed happy enough to ignore her too.

This baby was not Matt’s. They hadn’t been intimate in nine months, maybe more. What was she going to do? There was only one thing she could do – she’d get an abortion.

The minute that thought entered her brain a fierceness raised up inside her – the fierceness of a lioness. She knew that she wanted this baby – damn the consequences.

Assuring Dr. Howe that she was just taken by surprise after all the trying, Molly left the office and went home.  Matt for once was there – sipping on a beer and frying himself some bacon and eggs. Molly gagged and ran for the toilet.

Back in the kitchen several minutes later, she held a cold cloth to her forehead as she sank to the chair opposite her husband.  He was eating with gusto – like he’d been starving for weeks. “Molly – I’ve been thinking…” he began.

Molly held her hand up and Matt stopped talking. “No, I have something to say first. Then you can tell me what you think” She waited a moment and then blurted it out. “I’m pregnant.”

Matt’s fork dropped from his hand. He looked at his wife incredulously. “Oh God, Molly – are you sure?”

Surprised by his words, Molly nodded and waited.  Matt flew across the room and dropped to his knees by Molly’s chair.  “This is so terrific.  I was going to tell you that we should find a donor – I knew the problem was me – I got tested a while ago and it made me sick to think I couldn’t give you the one thing you wanted in this world – a baby. Now – like a miracle from God – you’re pregnant and I am so happy for you – well for us. And I’m sorry I’ve been an ass this past year – really sorry – but I love you and I want this baby – well – if you do.”

Too stunned to talk, Molly simply nodded and then they were tangled together – laughing and crying and praising the universe for the miracle they had been given.

Months later, a baby girl was born to the couple – they named her Jessie after Molly’s mother. Matt loved her like she was his own. He never asked about the miracle and Molly never told him.  Josh had moved on anyway – to another city and she never thought about him or that night.

Life is funny. You never know what’s around the corner and you never know what’s in someone’s heart. Matt and Molly were lucky – they had each other – and the miracle of birth is always nine months in the making. 

Destination Christmas

 Destination Christmas - by Leslie Johnson

Last year, Maggie had entered a contest to spend Christmas in a Scottish Castle. With a passion for the British Isles, Maggie subscribed to a publication on British tourism. She had seen the advertisement from Inverlochy Castle just outside Fort William, Scotland for years. Unfortunately, it was out of her price range. But after COVID – businesses were looking for ways to bring back clientele. She entered the contest and never thought anymore about it until she received the phone call saying she had won.  Since it was a trip for two and Maggie was currently in a state of unwedded bliss, she took her younger sister Carole with her.

They flew over on the twenty-third of December, landing in Scotland the morning of Christmas Eve.  Arriving at the castle, the sisters checked the list of activities planned. Guests could make their own gingerbread houses for judging on Christmas Night. There was an hourly shuttle to the ski hill where guests could go snowshoeing, skiing or snowboarding. There was a games room with a billiard table, and several assorted board games and a large jigsaw puzzle started but not finished. Across the hall was a library filled with comfortable chairs and books to satisfy any reader’s taste. The girls dressed warmly and went for a walk around the grounds to keep the jet lag at bay. At six, dressed in their best Christmas finery they made their way to the Great Hall where they enjoyed a champagne reception.

That’s when Maggie noticed him.  He stood across the room, near one of the two fireplaces. He seemed to be alone, but Maggie couldn’t be sure – there were nearly twenty-five people in the room, many couples but there were more women than men. Her heart sank when she saw him talking with some familiarity to a gorgeous brunette in a form fitting royal blue wrap dress. He must be married. 

As Maggie adjusted her dress over her ample curves, she assuaged her disappointment by telling herself that she wasn’t there to find a husband – she would just enjoy the supper and she couldn’t wait to see Father Christmas as he bestowed each guest with a champagne cocktail and a small gift on Christmas morning. She was looking forward to it all.

After the welcoming speech, the group moved into the large dining room.  It also boasted two fireplaces, a long table, elegantly set with crystal and china. They found their name tags and sat down.  Maggie looked to her left and noticed she was sitting next to a Beatrice Sharp and to her right…she saw masculine hand reaching for the back of the chair and she looked up into his face.  She blushed and looked back at her plate. It was the man from the fireplace.

Once the man was seated, he leaned over and introduced himself. “I’m Hamish McGregor. And I see you are Maggie Templeton. Please to meet you.”

Maggie nearly swooned as she looked into his warm brown eyes. They twinkled with merriment and mischief and she knew she was a goner. The night faded into a filmy and gauzy dream, the live music, the caroling, the dancing. Hamish never left her side that night, nor during the days that followed. Hamish made sure Carole was included in their activities, though to her credit, Carole often begged off to spend time with a group of widows she had befriended. When the sisters flew home to Canada on January first, Hamish and Maggie were madly in love.

For the next year, they called each other and flew back and forth a few times.  It was a whirlwind of getting to know one another and making decisions about the future. On the twenty-fourth of December, they met again at Inverlochy Castle.

Later that night in their beautifully decorated room, Maggie watched Hamish try to relight the fire in the gorgeous stone fireplace. Looking at his broad shoulders, his wispy brown hair with silver threads beginning to appear, she thought herself the luckiest woman alive. A moment later, she said, “I think you should call someone. You don’t know what you’re doing.” She pulled the covers of the oversize four-poster bed up a little higher, trying to stay warm.

“I was a boy scout.” Hamish countered. Then he shivered loudly and stood up. “You might be right, though. I can’t seem to get it to draw.” He crossed the room and climbed under the covers bringing cold air with him. Maggie moved away but Hamish pulled her back. “Come on, I need your warmth.”  She let him pull her to his side and they lay there looking into each other’s eyes.

The day was coming to an end – a fairy tale wedding in the Great Room where Hamish had first noticed Maggie, where he had asked his friend, the hotel manager to make sure he was seated next to the lovely lady in the plum-colored dress, where Maggie had noticed him and wondered… It was the perfect way to start their marriage. Perfect, even if the fireplace had gone cold because Maggie could wrap herself in the arms of the man she loved.

Christmas in a Scottish Castle – Maggie whispered a soft thank you to the fates that had brought her here and brought this man into her life. Then she pressed her lips to his as the clock chimed the hour. Soon Father Christmas would come with champagne and a little gift. She could hardly wait.

The Hairy Scary Hallowween Extravaganza

By Leslie Johnson

It was the night before Halloween as co-owners, Sheila and Wanda prepared the bookstore for the annual “Hairy Scary Halloween Extravaganza.” Tomorrow, the mayor and other local officials would arrive to read passages from several well-known horror novels. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Stephen King’s Carrie, Bram Stoker’s Dracula to name a few.

“Gosh this stuff is disgusting.” Sheila said as she stretched the fake cobwebs across the window of the bookstore. “I hate these rubber spiders.” She laughed and turned towards Wanda. “I guess they are better than the real thing.”

“That’s a given.” Wanda laughed, her short black bob bouncing as she did. “I don’t get people who like spiders, you know, those big furry things some people have as pets. They are just creepy.”

Sheila nodded in agreement. “The only good thing about All Hallows Eve is the candy. Little chocolate bars, snack size bags of chips. They are just the right size.”

Pulling the corner of the white strands to the edge of the window, Sheila couldn’t get it to hook. She went a few inches farther and stretched the corner over the electrical outlet. Standing back to admire her handiwork she said, “There. How does that look?”

Wanda turned to admire the web. She counted the spiders, ten fat black arachnids hung in the white threads. “That looks disgusting.”

Sheila climbed off the ladder and grabbed the bag with glow in the dark spiders. She began dispersing them throughout the store, hiding them among the books on shelves. Forty-eight spiders, each with a coloured dot on the bottom. A promotion value of two percent to ten percent when turned in at the time of purchase on Halloween. It was one of the busiest days in the store.

When they were done, there was a witch on her broom hanging precariously over the front door, there were several jack-o-lanterns and two clouds of bats filling vacant corners at the back of the store. Several small gruesome statues were scattered in the shop and a cauldron of candy sat on the front desk. Tomorrow it would cackle whenever someone took a candy out.

It was midnight when the storm struck. A large bolt of lightning hit the protective rod over the bookstore, sending a surge through the wires. A few seconds later, the black spiders in the web began to move. The bats in the corners flew around the store several times before settling again – hanging upside down from the top shelves across the store.

The witch also flew around, zigging and zagging through the aisles. She cackled and hissed with glee as she thought of the many ways, she could scare people when the store opened. She landed her broom near the back of the store and hide behind the rack of newly released paperbacks.

A line formed in front of the store an hour before it opened. The citizens of Temple Grove loved Halloween and the bookstore was the place to be. When Wanda and Sheila arrived, they made their way to the front of the line, greeting the regulars by name. Sheila unlocked the door and held it open. The crowd filtered in, making their way through the aisles of the store looking for bargains and those glow in the dark spiders with the discount tags.

Wanda flipped the lights on and turned the sign before making her way to the seating area to plug in the coffee pot. The brew began to perk and soon the heady aroma of fresh coffee filled the aisles. She also set out the cookies she had baked. Eve, Wanda’s daughter who was helping for the day stepped forward, her orange Halloween smock tied tightly around her small frame as a few customers lined up for coffee and treats. The day’s festivities began.

Sheila got the cash register set up for Molly, their part-time cashier before she took a walk through the store. The first thing she noticed was the ten black plastic spiders were not in the fake web. She crinkled her brow and went over for a closer look. Beside the window, she noticed real cobwebs and one of the large spiders sitting at the top of the web waiting for his prey. She shuddered.

A scream rang through the store and a loud cackle ensued. Sheila and Wanda rushed toward the sound and were nearly bowled over by Luther Hicks, a skinny, over-excitable man, as he scrambled out of the far aisle, an ugly crone on his heels. He shrieked again as he made for the door, his feet spinning and skidding on the low pile carpet. He fell in front of the door before scrambling back to his feet and escaping, the witch right behind him.

Several customers came to look at what was going on. They began to clap. Sheila overheard one of them say, “They have really gone overboard this year. That was a fantastic show. This is truly the best bookstore in the world.”

The women looked at one another, eyebrows raised. Sheila told Wanda about the spiders being gone and that’s when they noticed the bats hanging on the edge of the top shelves. Sheila slapped her hand over her mouth to prevent a scream. Trying to get a grip on their building hysteria, they didn’t notice Janet Blakely until she was right beside them. She pointed at the furry creatures. “Those are terrific decorations. Where on earth did you get them. They are so lifelike. The only ones I found were black plastic.” Without waiting for a reply, she walked to the end of the shelves and disappeared around the corner.

“What is happening? That witch was real. The spiders are real. The bats are real. I suspect those glow in the dark spiders are too and what if one of them bites a customer when they try to pick them up?” Sheila ran her hand through her mass of red curls. Wanda stood across from her, hands over her mouth, shaking her head. “We’d better find those spiders.”

A bell tinkled as the door opened. The witch flew back in cackling as she circled the store. No one seemed to pay her any attention. Everyone assumed she was simply part of the day’s festivities.

“Mom!  Mom!” Jimmy Caldwell yelled from the children’s section. As the two women and his mother approached, he said, “Look what I found.” He held up his forefinger. Wrapped around it like a ring was a lime green spider. His mother looked at it, her eyes wide.

“I swear that thing looks real, except of course, there are no such thing as lime-green spiders.” She grimaced.

“Look what it does.” Jimmy continued. As the women watched, Jimmy ran his finger along the back of the spider. Each leg released and reattached itself in kind as it was stroked. “Isn’t that cool?”

All three women reacted with shivers. “Yes, quite cool,” the little boy’s mother said. “Have you chosen your book?” He held up the latest book in the series he was reading. “Well let’s go pay for it. Bring that spider. I think it’s the discount?” She looked at the two women for confirmation. They nodded in unison. The pair made their way to the front counter, where they paid for their purchase. Jimmy ran out of the store his book tucked under his arm and his spider still hanging on his finger. At the door, Debbie Caldwell turned back to Sheila and Wanda, smiling. “This really is the best bookstore. Thank you, ladies for making it so much fun and celebrating Halloween with such ferocity. I have no idea how you’re going to top it next year.”

              Wanda and Sheila stared at each other. Top it next year! This shouldn’t even be happening this year.

The mayor read his passages, while a large black spider sat on his shoulder watching the crowd. The mayor, who had a terrible phobia of spiders, didn’t even notice his little passenger who leapt to the back of the chair and disappeared as he stood up to shake hands with those gathered to listen. No one mentioned the spider and he left unaware he had hosted the creature. Most of the audience was euphoric that the store owners had gone to such lengths to appreciate the scariness of Halloween, though a few people were critical that they would put a plastic spider on someone who had severe arachnophobia.

The day passed quickly, the witch cackled and flew around the store scaring only a few people. Some disturbed the bats and they also flew around. The first time it happened, people shrieked and dropped to the floor, but after that, they simply clapped and cheered. The bats always returned to the top shelves, hanging upside down, wings folded around their furry bodies.

The statues stayed glued to their spots except they reached out and pinched bottoms whenever someone turned their backs. Again – other than the initial indignation – the customers passed the word and people tried their best to not put themselves in a precarious position. If they did, they shrieked and then laughed. It was an insane day in the book aisles for sure.

The glow in the dark spiders, held on to the fingers of the people who found them. Even at the cash register, they refused to let go. Molly didn’t fight with them, she simply let the customers leave with their pink, purple, blue, yellow or lime-green spiders.

As the last customer left, Molly pulled on her jacket. “This was quite a day. I don’t think I can remember ever having so much fun at work.” She hoisted her purse over her shoulder and slipped out the door.

Eve appeared just as the door closed. “Everything is cleaned up back there, except the spiders of course. You’ll have to deal with those on your own. They look so real that I got the creeps whenever I had to go into the storeroom for more cups or sugar. But what a day. I don’t know where you found those decorations, Mom. Everyone was amazed at what you guys did.”

“Thanks, Eve. See you at home.” Wanda said. Eve left and Sheila locked the door behind her. She flicked off the overhead LEDs, leaving the store bathed in the soft glow of the night lights. Her shoulders slumped as she turned to Wanda.

“What are we going to do? Those spiders are real. That witch is real. How are we going to put her back in the box?”

“What I’d like to know – is how did this happen? When we went home last night, everything was normal. By morning, we have live spiders, live bats and a witch that flew around the store trying to scare people. She was paper mâché, not flesh and blood.”

“The storm! Do you think that storm had anything to do with it?”

“You mean – if lightning struck the rod or something?”

“Yeah.” They stared at each other before Sheila shook her head. “There is no way – I mean – it’s not possible to bring a plastic spider or a plastic bat to life with a jolt of lightning – is it? That’s so… Frankenstein-ian – Frankenstein-ish?”

Wanda shrugged. “Maybe?”

“We’re back to the same problem, though. How do we get rid of these… creatures?”

“Maybe we open the door and shoo them outside?”

“You mean, set them loose on the unsuspecting citizens of our fair town?”

Wanda nodded. “Maybe? Those discount spiders all went out into the world on the fingers of customers. What’s a few more… um… curiosities set loose.”

Not able to come up with another solution, Sheila propped open the front door and Wanda went into the storeroom for a couple of brooms. They met at the back of the store, where they found the paper mâché witch, laying on the floor. As they searched for the bats, they found the black plastic creatures scattered on the floor between the aisle. Confused, they stared at each other.

Sheila began to laugh. “Is this real – have we lost our minds – I mean pinch me – I think I’ve just had a long – intricate and very bizarre dream.” Wanda pinched her. “Ouch!” She cried. “That hurt.”

“So, we aren’t dreaming?”

“No, but I will never understand. I’ll never know how they did what they did, nor how they reverted back to being fake just because I turned off the lights.”

A few seconds ticked by before the words Sheila spoke registered. The ladies stared at each other. “Go, turn on the lights – quick.”

Wanda rushed to the front of the store and flipped on the overhead LEDs. As the store lit up, the witch on the ground stirred and began to sit up. Sheila yelled. “Turn them off – turn them off.” Wanda flipped the switch again and the witch fell back to the floor with a clatter.

Meeting in the middle of the store, Sheila confirmed that the light brought the witch back to life. In the dimness of the night lights, the women gathered up the decorations and stored them in the boxes. Then using the torches on their cell phones, they cleared the spiders from the storeroom. When they were done, they sealed the boxes and put them on the top of the farthest shelf.

“Well, I’m glad that’s done. I wonder if they’ll come back to life next year?”

“No idea – but I sure hope they don’t find their way out of those boxes until then – especially those spiders.” She shuddered. “Did we get them all?”

“We got all ten of the black ones, but I don’t know about those discount spiders. Every year we find a few stragglers once Halloween is over. This year… oh gosh… I hope they are all gone.”

"Me too.”

Grabbing their coats and purses, the women went out into the night. The streets were alive with tiny, scary creatures running up and down the sidewalks, carrying bags of candy. Shrieks of delight echoed as they shared their bounty with one another. Sheila turned to lock the door, glad the day was a success and happy it was over for another year. Wanda headed to her car as Sheila crossed the street for the short walk home.

Inside the store, a tiny egg sack sat nestled in the high corner above the window. A few weeks from now, it would hatch, and a hundred tiny black spiders would spring free, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of everyone’s favourite bookstore.  

“Happy Halloween!”