Charity Auction
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It was a charity event. I was wholly committed to raising money for research into the treatment of myeloma, a disease that killed my dear mother.

I suppose that myeloma is not a disease that people think demands immediate attention. Some people live with it, and some, like my mother, die – there is no known cure.

NEIL
I wasn’t relaxed. How could I be? I had managed to get a room at the Twice Brewed with no issues at all, as they seemed glad to have me back, but the alternator on the Kwak had needed replacing, and I couldn’t decide whether to trust the new one or simply switch all my luggage over to the Beemer, and all of that had been even more stressful due to the e-mails and phone calls about the other shots, at Cawfield. Would it work in monochrome? Could I handle colour as well as…

Early dismissal came as planned.

Natalie, Maddie, and Riley collected Samuel from the classroom and folded him back into their group with practiced ease. They left St. Catherine's among the other girls, surrounded by backpacks, voices, and the ordinary relief of a short school day.

Outside, Maddie's mother was waiting in the car.

Samuel prepared himself to sit quietly and say as little as possible.

"Hi, girls," Maddie's mother called from the front seat. "How was school?"

"Good," the three answered almost together.

The Dead Pixel Society

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

Heather actually beamed in the light of the lantern. “God damn. Maybe you really are one of us. Okay, let’s try a new one. Aria is what I call you, a nickname. Lewis Chambers is your scholar standard. Oh don’t look so surprised,” she laughed. “You think I’d let someone up here without finding out who they are?” She winked. “Anyway, you've got the trouser role, but up here in the shade you don't have to wear a mask. What's your true name?"

We changed the subject by unspoken but mutual agreement, and concentrated on planning for the barbie, Maz being very, very clear that it mustn’t be overloaded with our friends.

I woke early. At this time of the year it is getting bright around 4:30 and I had not slept well. What had started out as a good day two days ago had developed into a bit of a nightmare all due to an impulsive act involving me in something that wasn’t really my business. On top of that, I had possibly endangered Janet, and maybe my family. I hadn’t called home yet and was a little surprised that they hadn’t made contact with me. I would do it later; first things first.

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of a villainess, facing the end of a doomed route he himself wrote, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amelia quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance, and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she never even thought about. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system, or the demon that forced her into this situation to begin with...

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed... but surely she can come up with a way to write herself out of that, right?

...Right?

“Pete,” he said softly, holding his arms open.

Pete's Vagina
87. Spikes
by Erin Halfelven

Split Victory

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

“Hyperextended in the AAA finals,” Jade sighed, balancing her weight. “They had to carry me off like a sack of flour. Totally embarrassing. But hey, now I’m a scout. I didn't see your name on the NAMASA roster, T-Bird.”

“Late entry. Jen thought I needed to ‘expand my horizon’ beyond the TKD bubble.” Tiffani glanced at the gold ‘NAMASA #1’ pin on Jade’s jacket. It caught the fluorescent light with a mocking glint. “The 2028 Olympics are the goal,” Tiffani said softly, her eyes drifting to the crowd. “But the noise, the drama about trans girls on the mat. NAMASA is already rattling the cage, Jade. I don't know if I can hold the mask for four more years.”