Hospital about a day or so ago. The girl had developed a nasty case of pneumonia that had gone under the guise of a really nasty common cold for several days, slowly withering away her heat till at last her mother had enough. The woman taking the bull by the horns, barged into Jane's room, and quickly bundled her up in a cocoon of colorful, woolen blankets. She then tossed her into the back of one of the many SUV's that belonged to the house. Once Jane was safely locked away, she then climbed into the drivers side of the SUV and made a light night, bat straight out of hell and ran to St.

Potter's Mercantile is a family owned and operated general store located in the heart of downtown Benton. According to local legend and lore the shop has stood at the corner of main and sixth street since the founding of the town way back when. The store has a little bit of everything and the owner Mr. Potter often extends credit to those who need it. Mom also likes it, because the owner's wife has a small selection of gently worn dresses, blouses, skirts and shoes she sales on the side. Most of my clothing came from Potter's.

Being Cerridwen had changed my life, for the better I believe. My mom is now more involved with my life than she was before. She also started teaching me a lot of domestic skills, like how to make up a bed, how to deep clean a house, how to sew and how to handle a broom. She also started teaching me more of the craft, see my mom's a witch, and since the craft is normally passed from mother to daughter, she always figured the craft would die with her. That's not to say she was overjoyed to find me wearing that old skirt and blouse one afternoon. No, quite the opposite.

Tales of the monsters Rougarou have been passed down from one generation to the other. The Rougarou, is something of a werewolf type creature that is said to stalk the underbrush of Big Cypress Swamp, searching for its favorite prey, a careless hunter, trapper or fisherman. It's also said to prey on household pets when the picking is lean. It's said to favor cats more than dogs. Its also said to make the many hidden hollows and vales that dot the thickly covered area the locals call “Haunted Hollow” its home.

I took a deep, deep breath as I climbed up the soaking wet ladder. Holding in that breath, I started to slowly climb from the ladder over to the dunking board that was already soaking wet. My heart started to flutter as I inched my way toward the very end of the board. Looking down, I noticed there was a good two feet from where my feet were tangling down and the freezing water below. Releasing my breath I eased my hands down to my side and focused my eyes toward the crowd that was starting to huddle around the throwing line.

I don't really live in Benton proper. But in one of the area's that was annexed around thirty years ago into the township. The local's call the area 'Haunted Hollow' for reasons that have never been explained to me. Many of the houses in this area are simple log cabin Unlike the wealthy people who live in town in creole-style cottages or the middle class people who live in simpler cottages that line the 'Town Creek' section of town. People here are mostly lower middle-class farmers. The descendants of the poor sharecroppers that came to this area following the Civil War.

The township of Benton has three main water towers, one of which has been closed down and is no longer in operation. That one happens to also be the tallest of the tree, the structure looms over the skyline of the town like a sleeping giant made out of copper, iron and steel. The rails lining the catwalk that surrounds the dome have turned to orange rust and are crumbling and decaying. The once bright navy blue letters that once spelled out the word “Benton” have become chipped and turned to an off color of blue.

The 'Fishing Rodeo' was an annual tournament that was sponsored by the 'The Benton Bass Federation' a local association of professional and amateur fisherman and women. The tournament often meant big business for the downtown merchants too, as tourists from the surrounding cities and towns would flood in, some even entering their names into the event in hopes of claiming the bragging rights that came with catching the biggest fish. And of course, some hoped to pocket their share of the prize money being offered.

For several generations, a rumor has persisted among the residents of Benton, Mississippi that the swampy bottomlands south of town are home to a monster that is said to stand nine feet tall, have fiery red eyes and possess immeasurable strength and endurance. The monster is said to walk upright on its two feet and is said to swing its massive arms as it stomps through the countless streams, brooks and creeks that crisscross the thick woodland, the best is said to be covered from head to toe in thick, tar black fur that's often matted and muddy.

The news of me volunteering for the dunking booth had traveled around school like a Californian Wildfire, the hallways too were buzzing too with rumors of the two open spots at the bottom of the list would go to. One rumor said Mrs. Kimberly the girls P.E teacher had volunteered, another rumor said that one of the girls from the Junior High had volunteered. I tried to float above the rumors. The night before the fete, I took a good hot bath and made sure to shave under my arms and my legs too. I wanted to smooth as velvet for my time in the booth.

It was well into the afternoon when I finally reached creole-style cottage that I called home. I quickly climbed the wooden steps that lead onto the wrap around front porch and then taking a deep breath entered into the living room. The air inside was scented with the smell of roasting meat and vegetables. I guessed tonight corned beef, and cabbage was on the menu, judging from the heavy, savory, beefy smell that perfumed the air.

“Jamie.” My mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you dear?”

Ten minutes later, Jamie reached the main office. The lobby was filled with the tapping of fingers on keyboards as the two office secretaries, the sinews of the school attacked there daily mounds of paperwork and filled out forms and filed forms. Jamie stood behind the desk for a solid minute before one of the ladies looked up from her work and motioned for her to step behind the desk.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15: 12 & 13 - The Bible

The sun was hanging high over the township of Benton. The hours of the day were getting longer and longer with each passing day. All across Benton, both teachers and students were counting down the days till the sweet release of Summer. With bated breath, they waited for that final bell that would grant them freedom from the desk, freedom from homework and pop quiz’s and exams. Many dreamed of long, lazy summer afternoons spent playing in the grassy fields, or sitting by a cool shady spot down by the river.

The Plymouth Renaissance Festival was one of the large Renaissance Fairs in Erehwon. Located in the district of Ashen the fair covered a area of roughly four hundred acres. The fair by local tradition and its founding charter always opened the weekend of Victoria Day and always closed by Labor Day.

Jane took the offered towel from Katherine and smiled as he tried to clear some of the icings away from his face, fingers and from the front of his dress. Josephine helped by bringing out a wet rag that was used to get most of the remaining icing and a little from his dress. Susan, once she finished laughing guided Jane over to the table where the presents where kept, while she darted into the kitchen to fetch a broom and a dustpan. She started to clean up the mess while Josephine handed out the gifts.

Once James had finished his bath, Josephine dressed him in the yellow and pink party dress, styled his hair and even applied a thin coating of lip gloss to his lips. Once he was dressed, she stepped back and nodded her approval as she watched the boy look down and blush. Her smile only grew as the boy turned upon his heel and peered into the mirror of the bathroom.

Sunday afternoon, after services, was the time set aside for the women of the foster home to sit down and enjoy a little afternoon tea and unwind from the week and get ready for another one. Sunday was considered a day of rest in the Forest Home, some of the children attend services either at the local Catholic, Episcopal or Methodist Churches. It was those three that supported the foster home with donations of either money or canned goods, but mostly money as cold hard cash was the sinew that kept the house running day to day, month to month and year to year.

Time seemed to slow down, really it seemed to grind to a halt. As the minutes ticked by, the fever seemed to get worse, the pain in my belly grew more intense and small beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. Each time I opened my eyes the room started to spin around and around and around. And what worried me the most was in one of the chairs of the room there appeared a shadow. The shadow looked like me, we’ll a version of me before I started taking steps to become Jamie.

I woke up a little late the following morning. The sound of mom hammering on my bedroom door jarred me from my sleep. It took only a brief glance down at my phone to tell me why my mom was hammering on my bedroom door. I had overslept by a good half hour and was now running behind. Going into panic mode, I jumped out of bed, threw on a school blouse, slipped on a pair of panties, slipped on a skirt and forced on some socks and laced up my shoes.

Once I reached the alter, a acolyte wearing a black cassock and white surplice approached me and offered me a hug. I was shocked at first, till I noticed the acolyte had shoulder length brown hair and baby blue eyes and a soft heart shaped face, I could place the face but not the name, then when she spoke I knew who it was.

The lunchroom was filled to the brim with people, lunch today was watery chili, stale bread, warm milk and something that looked like a brownie. A rumor was going around school that Mr. Henderson had been fired, it seemed his outburst this morning had ruffled a few feathers. I considered that a small victory. I was about to finish off my watery chili when much to my surprise Joan appeared and sat her tray down in front of me.