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Rascal's First Halloween
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman
-2-
BigCloset TopShelf, Fajitas, and Sailor Moon
Halloween was considered by many in our small, southern town to be the “Devil's Night”. But really, in our small, southern town that was set halfway in the hills and half way in the delta it was a major social event. It was also I guess a once in a life-time chance for me to really express myself. I'd spent the whole of the summer and most of the autumn reading nothing but transgender fiction on BigCloset TopShelf. I was too afraid to comment, and way too insecure to post anything of my own. And even if I did, I felt my own half-assed attempts at writing would just get me laughed off the front page.
Or that the uses would form a lynch mop and chase me off the site. Instead I just decided to buy stories from the writers that really spoke to me. Stories like The PomPom Fortress, a sweet coming of age story by Snowfall and of course Frills, again also by Snowfall. Frills really stood out for me and to me set the bar for what transgender stories could be and what they should be. Up next came the Tammy stories that had been by the lovely, and talented Shiraz Turney, those stories were massive and I'd often end up devoting whole afternoons to reading them. While I can't really put my finger on what made them special, each and every reading made me feel like I'd taken a small holiday to the Highland Region of Scotland.
Up next on the list we had Zoe Taylor, who wrote the wonderful Becoming Robin stories. I really liked those stories. I felt a certain kinship with the main character Robin. Her writing style really spoke to me, she had this kind of cool, old-school vibe about her that kind of reminded me of Nickelodeon. Like old-school Nickelodeon. Like I could see Becoming Robin being a smashed hit sitcom series on Nickelodeon back in the day.
Those three showed me what Transgender fiction could be, what it should be, they showed me the bar I needed to aim for. The next two on the list showed me how to possibly get there, okay it was more like they laid out a clear blueprint for me to follow. Emma Anna Tate, was from what I could tell as an outsider looking in was the beating heart of the community. Her stories were wonderful, her prose solid enough and her characters, well, had their own voice. Up next we had Angela Rasch, who reminded me of Steven King. I'd only read one of her stories and that was Shannon's Course. At the time I was starting to read It, so I noticed the King's style in Rasch. Almost like her style echoed King's.
Shannon's Course stood out from all the rest. In a good way, it was the only one I'd finished in the span of twenty four hours. I think I downloaded it from Amazon's Kindle page at four o' clock one morning and by four o' clock the next morning I'd finished it. The only time I took breaks was to get something to drink, take a quick bathroom break, or get a quick snack.
And yes, while I was too afraid to leave a comment on the site, I decided after two months to subscribe to BigCloset TopShelf's Patreon. I mean sure it was only ten dollars a month. And I knew that was not even a drop in the bucket, it was like spitting in the ocean in the grand scheme of things, I doubt it even helped in keeping the lights on. But that's all I could afford to give. Given the small weekly allowance of thirty dollars mom gave me each Friday evening for keeping the house tidy and yard from looking like a massive overgrown jungle.
I mean I also had other sources of income, like I'd do yard work for the little old ladies on our street. And on some weekends, I'll help my uncle at the catfish house he owned. But once I filled up with gas, brought a few snacks, and put a little in my PayPal savings. All I could afford at the end of each month was ten dollars.
And so those were my mentors who introduced me to the whole crazy world of Transgender fiction and what I've been doing since I've fallen down this rabbit hole. Now back to Halloween. Like I said, Halloween to certain people was a big deal. To some it was the best night of the year, to others it was the most unholy night of the year. To me it was another night. Not that I had any plans for Halloween, I was a little too old to go begging for candy from door to door and I was not popular enough to get invited to any Halloween parties that might be going on, not that my mom would have allowed me to go any.
Anyway, I'm going to open this chapter with mom and I sitting at a little corner table at El Sombrero Mexican Restaurant. El Sombreor Mexican Restaurant was located on the left hand side of Jerry Clower Blvd. Which was the main artery of Yazoo City. All the major chain restaurants were located on this road and most of your major business too. Anyway, it was one of those perfect autumn evenings. A light frost was already starting to settle on the ground.
Mom, who had just gotten off an hour and a half ago, was still dressed in her navy blue hospital scrubs, with her long, honey blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. She still smelled faintly of antiseptic and the ER of our local hospital and right now she was halfway through a frozen lime margarita. Which I knew would be her first and last margarita of the evening.
“So,” Mom said, taking a deep breath as she reached down and picked up one of those deep-fried tortilla chips. You know they give you a basket of deep-fried tortilla chips the moment your seated at the table. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?”
I paused and reached down and picked up one of the deep-fried tortilla chips myself.
“No, I mean I don't really have any friends I can hang out with. I mean I have plenty of friends on Bonfire. I mean I voice-chat with people all the time on Bonfire, but I don't have any friends I can hang out with, and I'm not popular enough to be invited to one of the private Halloween parties. And all the youth-group kids don't want to be around me, since you know I'm Pagan. And I'm way too old to go Trick-Or-Treating.” I said, taking a deep breath as I munched down upon the crispy golden brown chip.
I'm sure mom was about to say something. I knew she was about to throw in her five cents. But at that blessed moment our waitress popped in and smiled one of those famous disarming smiles all Southern Belles were known for.
“Y'all ladies ready to order?” She said smiling first at my mom and then she switched toward me.
“Sure” Mom said without skipping a beat. I could tell she wanted to correct the woman, instead she just seemed to roll with it. Mom was good with rolling with what life threw at her. She was also good at shrugging things off. You could have told her in three days the moon was going to crash into the earth and she would have just shrugged it off and given you a dead fish look.
“I'll have the shrimp, steak, and chicken fajita.” Mom said as she folded up her menu and handed it to the girl. “And oh, could you please bring a glass of water?”
“Okay one shrimp, steak and chicken fajita, and one glass of water.” The waitress said she repeated the order to mom as she wrote down the order on her little note pad of paper. She then turned toward me.
“And for you sweetheart?” She asked.
“I'll have the shrimp, steak, and chicken fajita too. But please no beans or salad, just Spanish Rice and if you could, please add two soft shell tacos with just ground beef. No lettuce or cheese or anything else. And I'll like a glass of tea, unsweetened please ma'am.”
“One shrimp, steak, and chicken fajita, one glass of unsweetened tea, no beans or salad, just Spanish Rice, with a side order of two soft shell tacos with just ground beef, no lettuce or cheese.”
“Perfect!” I then folded my menu and handed it to her.
“Okay, I'll put these orders in for you.” She said after a brief pause. “And I'll bring those drinks right to you ladies. And like I said before I'll put these orders in. Just a quick heads up, the kitchen is kind of backed up at the moment. So there will be a little bit of a wait time.” And with that she just vanished into the crowd.
Mom and I then spent several minutes attacking the basket of chips in front of us. The girl returned a few moments later with our drinks. Water for mom and unsweeten tea for me. A peaceful silence had seemed to fall between mom and I. Until mom decided to break the silence.
“So, you're not doing anything for Halloween?” Mom said as she drained the last ounce of water from her glass and held it up.
“I might hang around the house and hand out candy.” I said, rolling my shoulders. “That or binge watch Bedtime Stories, Wartime Stories, or Into the Fog by Peter Laws.” I paused and took another handful of chips into hand and started to much. “That or I could try to play with Grok, or finally make time to finish The Epic of Gilgamesh.”
Mom paused.
“Or could go volunteer to staff the dunking booth at the upcoming Sharbrough's Landing Halloween Celebration.” Mom said, smiling sweetly. “You know, spend Halloween around real people, and raise some money for charity.” Mom then paused. “I'll let you go as any character you want!”
I blinked and before I could stop myself I found myself saying.
“Even if the character is a girl?”
Mom paused and blinked and took a moment to thank our waitress who had returned with a fresh glass of water. She took another long sip and then she said in a matter of fact tone of voice.
“Sure why not!” She said grinning. Her smile reached from ear to ear. “I mean if that is what you want. I mean you already dressed up as a girl once for an anime convention last year and it was cute.” Mom then swallowed more of her water. “So who were thinking about going as?”
“I was thinking about going as Sailor Mercury.” I said blushing.
“Ooohh.” Mom said, smirking a little. “Oh Ami Mizuno. The shy bookworm of the Sailor Senshi. I can totally see you being the perfect little Ami Mizuno. Your hair is the perfect length all we'll have to do is dye it. And I can order the costume off Amazon. I mean with Amazon Prime it should arrive before Halloween. And that's good because the carnival is the Saturday that falls on the week before Halloween.” Mom was clearly doing the mental math already.
“So do we have a deal?” I asked.
“We have a deal. I'll email my cousin and tell her you'll be volunteering for the dunking booth. And as soon as we get home I'll go on Amazon and see what I can find.” Mom said.
And with that our food arrived. And well I found myself going a little deeper down the transgender rabbit hole. Or being given another chance to experience life as a girl.
End Chapter Two.
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Comments
Rolling with it
Mom’s a clever one for sure. Can’t be any doubt she’s on to what her child is thinking, but rather than catastrophising, she just rolls with it. Making a big deal about it would only harden her child’s curiosity. A little exploration can do no harm.
Thank you for the plug, Rebecca. I can only shake my head at the thought of being the heart of this community (’cuz I think that’s Dorothy Colleen!). Your perception was particularly startling since I still think of myself as a newbie. “O wad some Power the giftie gie us, To see oursels as ithers see us!”
Interestingly, I believe Jill Rasch highly recommended Stephen King’s book about writing, so you may well be onto something there!
— Emma
When I was a starting out.
When I was trying to move from fanfiction to orignal fiction. I remember reading several novels and short stories by Steven King. Including his advince to new writers in his book, On Writing. Now I never followed his advice and and now I rarely read king. Focusing instead on Light Novels and Manga. But I wanted to tip my hat to both of them. To Jill and Stephen because both have left a handprint upon my soul and both deserved to honored. Thank you Emma for the lovely comment!
The Dunking Booth
Must be a feature of celebrations in the southern parts of the USA as it features strongly in all (well most) of the stories that you have posted.
It seems to me to be a somewhat masochistic/sadistic procedure, but, I guess, whatever turns you on. It does give our heroine the opportunity to express her femininity and her Mom is supportive!
You are correct!
It started with 'Becoming Madeline' and has kept going. I blame the fact that most american teenage sticoms at one point or another feature the main character volunteering to staff the dunking booth at a local fair or something. Also I must agree with you it is something of a maschistic/sadistic procedure often dressed in the guise of charity. But still an enduring part of the small town scene! Thank you for the lovely and somewhat blushing comment!