Out of the mouths of babes...

---

“But I’m a BOY!” the words echoed through the house like a gunshot. In the immediate silence that followed, a plate could be heard shattering against the floor in the kitchen. Cousins turned off their gaming system, grandpa glanced over from his chair beside the brightly decorated Christmas tree.

Aunts and Grandma poked their heads curiously around the kitchen door, and one very humiliated uncle stood, red-faced and uncertain as to what he could possibly say in response to his little niece’s outburst.

Five year old Christina Noel Roberts, dressed in a dark crimson holiday dress, stood with her feet planted firmly in black patent Mary Janes, stark contrast to her white tights. Her hair had been done up in little pigtails, and a well-meaning older sister had painted her lips with just the lightest touch of strawberry-flavored lip gloss for the occasion.

No one dared to speak a word. Uncle Frank, the accidental instigator of the scene, whose only sin was to tell her how pretty she looked, quietly slunk away. Grandpa Joe offered Frank the not-so-well disguised bottle in his hand. Frank crumpled the brown paper bag as he up-turned the bottle, and Mark Roberts, little Christina’s father, took control of the situation.

“Sweetheart, who told you you’re a boy?” he asked gently, assuming one of the child’s older cousins had been playing a nasty prank on her earlier in the day. But she emphatically shook her head.

“No one, daddy,” she answered.

“Then why do you think you’re a boy?” Again, he tried desperately to keep his cool, despite the fact that his boss, Tim Higgins and his lovely wife Katherine had only moments before joined the otherwise family gathering. He worked so hard to convince Tim to stop by for a drink, assuring his employer that they believed in strong family values not twelve hours ago.

“Because I don’t like being a girl,” the child answered honestly as she stared at her shoes uncomfortably. By now Helen, little Christina’s mother, had crept into the room, her face a mix of stricken shock at the outburst’s ramifications, and concern for her little baby’s well-being.

“Darling, why don’t I take Christina to her room and talk to her about this while you make your famous eggnog?” Helen gently advised even as she scooped the girl up into her arms. She gave her a motherly kiss on her forehead to reassure both Christina and the silent onlookers that everything would be okay.

Mark smiled, exchanging a brief kiss with his beautiful bride of twenty-eight years, giving her a gentle nod. He kissed the top of little Christina’s head, and turned to step into the kitchen while Helen quietly ducked out of the room.

Christina’s room looked the part for any little girl’s room, painted in bright pastels with portrayals of fantastic creatures like unicorns and mystical, friendly dragons. Her bed lay awash in lace, her favorite stuffed animal, a small brown bear wearing a baseball cap, sat at the center, though it toppled onto its side as Helen gently set her daughter down, kneeling in front of her.

“Am I in trouble?” the little girl finally, hesitantly whispered. Helen smiled as she shook her head.

“No, honey, you’re not in any trouble.” She took the little girl’s hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze. “But why did you wait until now to say you don’t like wearing a pretty dress?” Granted, that's not exactly what Christina had shouted, but Helen felt certain she understood what she really meant.

The child shrugged her shoulders. “I’unno,” she mumbled softly.

“Well, would you feel more comfortable in your favorite jeans instead?”

Christina’s eyes lit up and she nodded emphatically. Immediately she began to tug at the pretty ribbons holding her pigtails in place. Helen chuckled softly to herself as she helped her undo them, letting soft, natural curls roll down her shoulders.

When she re-emerged holding Christina by the hand, the child, at least from the front, now looked every bit the tomboy. She wore a bright yellow baseball style shirt and her favorite jeans. She had exchanged the tights and Mary Janes for white socks and her play sneakers. Perched atop her head, a blue baseball cap with her favorite baseball team, the Cubs’ logo embossed across the front. Most importantly though, she wore a bright, beautiful smile for the first time that day.

Tim pulled Mark aside after a brief eggnog toast.

“You promised me when I agreed to stop by today, that you would show me traditional family values,” Tim began. Mark’s face fell.

“Sir, I can assure you, I had no idea-”

Tim shook his head as he held up a hand, indicating for Mark to let him finish. “You told me that you would show me something special, and you have. Most parents, if their little girl had made an outburst like that, especially in front of their boss, would have lost it. I know; I’ve seen it before. It never becomes any less painful for anyone involved.”

He paused to smile as little Christina passed by, stopping to hug her daddy’s waist for just a moment before she raced into the living room. Her older cousins, rather than teasing her, immediately welcomed her to their group, and one could even be overheard complimenting her baseball cap.

“Now with that said, I have a contact I’d like you to consider. He’s a child psychologist. He helped my niece, and I think he can help Chris.”

“You mean Christina?” Mark asked gently.

“Chris, Christina, it’s hard to say at this age. My niece used to be my nephew, after all, and now she’s one of the most successful attorneys in the state. But getting back to what I was saying before, you really showed me something today, and I’d like you to consider the open Supervisor position.”

“I,” Mark stammered, staring blankly back at his boss. Tim simply smiled as he extended his hand.

“Merry Christmas.”

---

“Who was at the door?” the lyrical voice called from high atop the stacked staircase. Outside a bitter, terrible wintry bluster roared, snow and ice covered the land, but the young princess cared not for such things. She lived in her palace, wrapped in silk, gold, and the finest furs, knowing only warmth and comfort.

The palace servant, a jittery man of advancing years, nervously stumbled forth to answer the Princess’ call, for he knew she would not take lightly to such a trespasser on her palace grounds.

“I-i-it’s an old woman, Majesty,” he called nervously.

“And w-w-what did she want?” the voice snapped back, its owner appearing just a moment later on the first landing, dressed in a fine silk gown of deep purple, inlaid with golden threaded flower patterns and precious pearls. Her long, golden hair lay in a perfect braid across her shoulder, beneath a lavish, jewel-encrusted tiara.

The old crone, by contrast, stood huddled by the door. Even from the distance, the princess could see bare skin quivering beneath the holes in her rags. She immediately turned up her nose as she descended the stairs.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting! What do you want, hag, and be quick before you dirty up my floors any further!”

The old woman’s form shrank back further at the spoiled girl’s approach.

“I ask only shelter for the night, Majesty. A place in the stables, perhaps. I would not dare to offend your senses further with my presence.”

“But you would dare to offend my horses instead,” the girl answered with as much cruelty and bile as she could summon, which any palace servant would attest is quite a bit.

“You should be wary, child, for appearances can be deceiving.”

The princess glared angrily at the crone. She strode closer now, raising her hand to strike.

At once, a brilliant light filled the entire room with such a terrible glow that it blinded the Princess. She shrieked as she shielded her eyes and turned away. The palace servant, too frightened of what the spoiled princess had unleashed, fled in terror without looking back.

When the light had subsided, an impossibly beautiful woman of indeterminate age now stood. Clad in a gown that looked, to the Princess’ eyes, to be of pure, solid gold, the Princess stared enviously at her new guest for only a moment before a broad smile crossed her lips.

“You should not play such silly tricks on a Princess. But now that I see who you truly are, please come in and warm yourself. You shall have my finest guest bedroom tonight!” She clapped her hands together, but no servant came.

The woman smiled, but the palpable malice behind the expression struck a chill down the Princess’ spine. She extended her hand, revealing golden jewelry, and a perfectly manicured finger which she pointed at the Princess.

“You wear the face of one on the cusp of adulthood, and yet you are but a petulant child, weak, spoiled. You see only that which is on the surface. It is just as I had feared. You are not worthy to bear that crown.”

“What? How dare you!” the princess tried to protest.

“You are sixteen years old today. If by the end of your twenty-first birthday you have not learned to love another, and to be loved in return, I shall wipe your memory from this world and curse you to an eternity as that which you fear most.”

“And how do you propose to teach me this lesson?” the princess asked. For the first time in her life, she knew fear. It tasted bitter to her lips. She tried hard to fight back the tears that threatened to burst forth, but no man nor beast had ever challenged her, nor threatened her in such a manner.

But the Enchantress did not answer. Instead she simply smiled, turning away from the Princess, and with a blinding flash of light, she disappeared.

“Foolish wench,” the princess grumbled. “How dare she threaten me; guards!”

But no one answered.

“Guards, your Princess demands your presence!”

Again, no one answered. She turned, storming into the nearest hallway, but nearly stumbled when her gaze set upon a newly added statue within the palace. A statue which looked conspicuously like a stone guard, dressed in the official armor she had personally picked out for them to wear. She covered her mouth, backing away.

“This is a dream. It has to be a dream. That’s right!” she laughed nervously, now sprinting upstairs. “Therefore,” she continued, ignoring the stone maid that precariously perched on the balcony, as though eavesdropping, “If I go to sleep here, I shall wake up and all will be as it should!”

Unceremoniously, the Princess disrobed. A strange sensation began to develop within her body. It felt as if she had an itch inside her that she simply could not scratch. She ignored it though, dressing in her finest silk sleeping gown. She fumbled with the material, finding it difficult to dress herself, but her dressing attendant stood still and silent as the grave outside her bedroom door, no help whatsoever to her now.

She threw back the covers and dove recklessly into the large canopy bed, tugging the covers high over her head, but it was a restless, sleepless night. She tossed, turned, and squirmed, trying vainly to ignore the feelings developing inside her, and when sleep did come, it was only to torture her more, presenting terrible images of her attendants throughout the castle as the stonework she now saw them as.

At dawn’s first light, she awoke. She did not feel the weight of her hair as she sat up, and her body somehow felt heavier. Her sleeping gown had been shredded in the night, as though someone had tried to put the garment on a raging bull. She laughed at the ridiculous notion, but cut it short when the tone that came out was not her lilted, lyrical giggle, but a deep baritone belly guffaw.

She covered her mouth, only to throw her hands away. Her delicate fingers had been replaced by massive, disgusting globs of meat and flesh. She shrieked, insomuch as the new voice would allow, leaping from the bed.

Always, the Princess kept a full length mirror beside her bed, so that the first thing she saw in the morning was her own radiant beauty. Now, instead, a strapping young lad of about fifteen or sixteen bore a look of abject horror etched seemingly permanently across his features, back at her. She shut her eyes tightly, but when she looked again, the lad still stood there. She yelled out, cursed, and smashed the mirror to pieces.

~oOo~

Sobbing bitterly, covered only by the shreds of cloth that managed to cling to her new form, the Princess sank to her knees. “Why?” she cried out, although it came as a low growl.

A subtle light began to grow from a corner of the room. No window existed there, and besides which, it was in the southwest, while the sun had only begun to pour in through the east. The sound of shoes stepping softly, slowly drew nearer to the crumpled mass of human flesh on the floor.

The Princess dared not to look at her tormentor, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

“Come to gloat,” she sobbed, a mix of both anger and hatred.

But the woman’s response came as gently as a mother’s might.

“I am not here to gloat, child. I have come to check on you, to see how you like your new form.”

The Princess hissed angrily. “Like?! You turned me into a man, you hag! Why did you do this?!”

“I told you last night, it’s to teach you a lesson. I know that it hurts now,” she knelt, and with hardly any effort, for the Princess chose not to resist, the Enchantress cupped her face in her delicate hands, letting their eyes meet. She smiled. “But if you can learn from this, then your kingdom will grow and prosper. This, I swear.”

“And if I don’t?”

The Enchantress frowned sadly, a harsh contrast to the maliciousness she had shown merely hours before. “If you don’t, then you will remain in this form. I told you that last night. Were you not listening?” She breathed an exasperated sigh.

“Stop it! I don’t WANT to learn. I don’t NEED your stupid lessons or your magic. You’re a monster! I had everything I ever wanted already, and my kingdom has been just fine without your meddling!”

“Was it? Loyalty to your family name has dwindled since the passing of your father. Whispers of war in other lands drawing away young men who thirst for adventure leave fields to lay fallow. Old hands still work the crops, but for how much longer? Your realm is dying, child, because of your cursed vanity. There is one other stipulation I forgot to mention, by the way.”

“What else could you possibly do to me that you haven’t already?” the princess answered. By now, despair and hate had given way to acceptance and hopelessness.

“You are not allowed to cut your hair or your nails, and that includes your beard.”

“My … beard?” she answered, reaching a hand up to touch her own face. The thought of facial hair had not even crossed her mind yet, in her despair.

The Enchantress nodded. “And just so you get no ideas about trying to huddle here until the Day of Judgment, you are banished from these grounds. I will keep your servants safely here and under my spell. Indeed, the entire kingdom sleeps, awaiting the day their Princess returns. You see,” she paused to stand, offering the transformed princess her hand, “If you fail, then your kingdom will stand forgotten to all time, just as it would have.”

“But how am I to survive like this? I know nothing of how to take care of myself! And you say I’ll be even uglier! People will throw things, or worse!”

“Neither man nor beast shall lay a hand on you. I will give you my blessed protection from their blades, but you shall suffer their malice, ‘tis true.”

The Enchantress knelt, taking the Princess’ hand now, and pulling her to her feet.

“And what will I wear? I have nothing that would fit this ugly form.”

“You will wear this,” the Enchantress answered. As if retrieving something from an unseen wardrobe or closet, the Enchantress plucked from the ether, a bear-skin shawl, a pair of woodsman’s trousers and tunic, and a heavy pair of boots. She spun around once, holding in her hands as she turned to face the princess again, a simple leather pouch which she dropped at her feet.

“Whenever you reach into this pouch, you will always find the exact amount of gold you require to buy food and lodgings, wherever your travels take you. That is, assuming you can find lodgings that will take you.” The Enchantress’ smile had taken on that malice it had the night prior. The Princess recoiled, frightened.

“You must tell no one of this, or the curse will never be lifted. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes,” she answered, choking back a sob. “But if I am a princess no more, who… what am I to be called?”

“Indeed, you are Arianna no more. I believe ‘Bear’ is a fitting name for your new form. Yes, Bear shall do nicely,” she cackled as she threw back her head. Arianna, now Bear, cringed, but when she looked again, the Enchantress was gone. She breathed a slow, sad sigh.

“This is unbearable,” she muttered, collapsing onto her bed and sobbing.

A disembodied voice echoed through the chamber. “Do hurry up. I will escort you out of the castle, whether or not you are dressed, within the hour.”

Bear jolted from her bed and into her clothes. She packed nothing else of her old belongings. After all, she had been disallowed from telling others of her curse, and could give no other conceivable reason for carrying such fineries with her. They would only remind her of the world she had lost, anyway.

What else had the Enchantress said, though? She must learn to love another, and be loved in return? But what man could ever love her in this form?

Tears stung her eyes as she looked upon the silent façade of her former home from outside its mighty walls. A chill wind gusted past, forcing her to pull her bear skin shawl more tightly about herself. She exhaled slowly, turning to trudge down the path where she once rode a magnificent white horse in Springs past.

~oOo~

And so it was that Bear made her way into the world. Dressed like a common woodcutter or mountain-dweller, and forced to let her appearance bedraggle, at first she vowed not to allow her curse to ruin her, but as more and more innkeepers closed their doors to her, insisting she need to move on, mistreatment and hatred, both of herself and others, began to take hold. She had lost the only thing that mattered to her in her beauty, and she began to take it out on the rest of the world.

Rather than ordering her meals, for example, she would demand them. She began to find more gold in her pouch than she needed to pay for her room and board, but always, she let those extra coins lay unused, not realizing why they would be there in the first place. When her pouch became too heavy from the excess money, she would go out into the woods somewhere and fling them into a ditch, or off a cliff, into a well, it didn’t matter, so long as she was rid of them.

Two years passed, and rumors had already begun to fade of what became of her old kingdom. Talk of the war abroad had taken over the local gossip, but Bear didn’t care. She ignored them, sitting alone in her corner, trying to drown her sorrows in whatever specialty spirit the tavern had on-hand, waiting to be thrown out.

One especially bitter night, when the local customers had all returned to their homes, she could hear someone shouting. It was the innkeeper and his daughter, arguing her fate. The innkeeper insisted that Bear, now beginning to live up to her namesake after these past two years, had overstayed her welcome.

Of course she had done nothing truly terrible. She merely frightened children and old women with her glower, and a display of her magical protection scared one drunk too foolish to leave her be from ever returning. None of that mattered. “He” was costing the tavern money. One boarder scaring off the rest was bad for business.

Bear watched in silent, semi-sober amusement as the girl raced out of the room from which the arguing had come. The innkeeper, a portly middle-aged man with entirely too little hair on top, began to approach. Bear stood to her full six feet, staring down at the innkeeper. The portly man flinched, but Bear shook her head. She flung a handful of coins at his feet, shoved him aside, and plodded out into the night.

“Please wait!” the innkeeper’s daughter called out. Bear gave a disgusted grunt and refused to look at her as she raced closer, trying to catch up.

“Go back girl,” she growled. “Leave me in peace.”

“But where will you stay? It’s too cold already, and there are whispers of bad omens that a blizzard might strike.”

“I said leave me be!” she shouted, pulling her hand away as the girl tried to reach for it. The innkeeper’s daughter, startled by the sudden motion, tripped and fell, her face striking a stone.

“Did you see that?” one man shouted. “That monster just attacked that poor girl!”

As the man raced off to heaven knew where, though probably to rally an angry mob against her, Bear sighed.

“You stupid fool. I told you to leave me be.” She exhaled as the girl sobbed, cupping her bleeding face. Bear knelt down to scoop her up, carefully carrying her back to the inn.

“What in heaven’s name did you do to her?!” the innkeeper shouted. Bear said nothing, instead setting her down by the fire. She reached into her pouch, for the first time taking everything she found there. She dropped it into the girl’s lap.

“The stone she fell against was buried deep in the snow, or it would have been worse. Take the money and get your village doctor here straightaway.”

The dumbfounded innkeeper stared in silence as Bear turned to leave. Outside, the angry man from before stood with a group of villagers, though most were simply standing off to one side, watching as he vainly argued with a little old woman.

“Mother Maitia, your eyes are old and feeble. You cannot possibly tell me you saw the girl fall! I watched him push her!”

“And I am telling you, dear Marcus, that looks can be deceiving.”

Bear froze in her tracks at those words.

“I can prove to you that he did not lay a hand on her.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” he balked, generating a deep chorus of laughter from the men in the crowd. She approached Bear, taking her by the hand.

“Come along, dearie. I need your help for this.”

Bear started to recoil, but something about the old woman’s gentle nature set her mind strangely at ease for the first time in years. She hesitantly nodded, following the old woman. The crowd of onlookers, defiantly led by the loud-mouth, came in a great procession behind them, to the place where the girl had fallen, meanwhile the village’s doctor shoved his way through to get to his patient.

“There, you see. Gunther, you’re an expert tracker aren’t you?”

A broad-shouldered man with a short, black ponytail laughed as he stepped forward. “Aye, Mother Matia, I could track a flea ‘cross a forest, I could.”

“So look at these tracks. There, this young man’s, and there, the girl’s. What do you see?”

“Well.” He stepped forward to kneel. His gaze carefully set upon each footprint and for several seconds, he knelt, staring. It seemed the longer he stared, the less sure he became.

“Here, this is where she was standing when she fell of course, but if he shoved her down, then there woulda been a more aggressive footprint here. This looks more like he was pulling away from her.”

He scowled at the boisterous man. “You pulled us from our beds just to tell us that the innkeeper’s daughter slipped on some ice? I ought to run you out of the village myself, you blockheaded fool!”

Angry grumblings from the villagers followed as the crowd slowly dispersed. Marcus stayed behind until the end, though his attitude seemed vastly more subdued. The old crone quietly returned to her one room cottage, and Bear, shaking her head, began her journey anew, or so she thought.

“I’m sorry,” the man called hesitantly. “It’s not easy to say, but I figure, if the rumors are true and you are some sort of enchanter, it’s best not to be havin’ that kind of enemy without due cause.”

“What did you say?” Bear asked as she spun about to face the man. He held up his hands defensively.

“Well it’s just, you show up in town dressed like a Wildman, yet you got more than enough gold to get by with, and I saw what happened to old William when he got too close and took a swing at you. Everyone’s spooked to have you around, and then when I saw Karrick’s daughter go down, I just thought…”

“You thought I struck her,” Bear concluded neutrally and quite unceremoniously. It was hardly the first time such accusations were lobbed at her, though usually rotten fruit accompanied it.

“I’m no enchanter,” she answered softly. Without giving further explanation though, she continued into the night.

~oOo~

The sun shone brightly down on Bear the next morning, despite warnings of a blizzard. She hadn’t the time, nor the light of day to find her next bed, so instead had hunkered down in the hollow of a rotted out old tree. Something felt strange inside her, though. The calm she felt when the old crone took her hand remained this morning, and she felt ten pounds lighter.

She stood to dust herself off and quietly walked down to the edge of the main road. She looked first north, toward the village she had abandoned not a mile away, then south toward what fate might have in store for her. Regardless what evidence, and one witness, had suggested though, the girl’s fall was partly her fault. Had she not jerked away her hand, it would never have happened. What would it hurt to see how she’s feeling before hitting the road again?

She arrived back in the tiny village to find all as quiet as expected. With the dead of winter upon them, there were no fields to tend, and only limited livestock to look after. Winter was a time of resting for the sleepy little village, a time to wait out the bitter cold and prepare for the Spring planting.

The door to the inn stood wide open, and as she drew closer, Bear discovered why the hard way, for around that blind corner, a mighty cloud of dust was swept up, right into her face. She coughed and sputtered, backing away to dust herself off, followed quickly by a soft and apologetic voice.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cooed. She dared not to approach the large “man” a second time, having learned that lesson the night prior, but she still gave her best apologetic smile, even despite the heavy poultice bandaged against her face. “I secretly hoped you might return so that I could thank you properly.”

Bear slowly shook her head, keeping a healthy distance from the girl. “How are you feeling?”

“Better thanks to your generosity sir,” she answered, batting her big brown eyes innocently. “The doctor was concerned about how he would replace the herbs he needed to use on me, until I presented him with the money you gave to me. He said he could replenish his stock ten times over the very next time a trader passes through!”

Hints of a smile tugged at Bear’s lips, though she could not explain nor fathom why. The enthusiasm exuding from this girl, barely at the cusp of womanhood, reminded her somehow of herself, once upon a time, yet her happiness seemed more genuine, more pure. Bear envied her, not just because of her beauty, but because she didn’t seem to care that Bear had marred her beauty so.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, rousing Bear from her contemplation.

“It’s nothing,” she answered simply. “I am glad you’re better. I hope you make a full recovery soon.”

“Wait, where are you going?” she called after Bear.

Bear stopped, but refused to look back at her, lowering her head instead. “I do not belong here. I do not ‘belong’ anywhere. I must keep moving.”

The girl slowly approached. When she reached for Bear’s hand, the large form did not recoil this time. She walked slowly around, reaching out to touch Bear’s cheek.

“There’s such a terrible sadness in your eyes. Why don’t you stay at least another day? The entire village knows what you’ve done for me already. You could belong here.”

Bear shut her eyes tightly. “No. You don’t understand. This isn’t… this isn’t my home. This isn’t where I belong. I have to find… Have to find…”

Bear found herself unable to complete the sentence. For what man could love such a hideous beast as she had become? She sidestepped the girl, but found herself unable to continue. She cast her gaze back to see that the girl still held fast to her hand, callused and filthy as it was. The girl smiled back at her.

“Just stay for a day, and see what the weather will do.”

“I don’t belong-”

“I know, you don’t belong here,” the girl echoed. “But I want to know where you do belong.”

Bear gave a heaved sigh as she shook her head. “I cannot tell you that either. I have no hope of returning there so it does not matter. No one could love a beast like me.”

“You’re wrong,” the girl answered more softly now.

“Don’t say it,” Bear answered. “You, most of all, can’t love me. You’d regret it for the rest of your life, I swear it.”

Her words were not a malicious, hateful warning as they might suggest though. They were genuine fear for this poor girl’s safety. If she were to fall in love with Bear in this form, and that love were returned, then the curse would be lifted, but what kind of love would they share after?

“I’m sorry.” Bear spoke gently as she placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “But for your own sake, forget about me. Marry Marcus or Gunther, or one of the other men of this village, raise fat babies, and live happily.”

“Gunther’s married, and Marcus is to be wed in the spring. There are no men in this village. The young men all left to fight in the wars, and from the rumors, I fear there will be none left before that stupid war’s concluded. There may not even be anything left of these lands.”

For the first time, the girl’s tone took on a sadness that Bear had never heard from her, yet it echoed true within herself. Though their circumstances were different, she had found a kindred spirit. She exhaled slowly.

“Alright, I’ll stay, but ONLY for a day. And I stand by what I said, that you should forget about me when I leave.”

“Oh, thank you!” she answered as she threw her arms around Bear. Though she flinched after kissing her cheek, it was largely because her poultice had shifted in her excitement.

Bear gave the girl a weary smile, too tired to fight back after sleeping only a few hours in the frigid cold. She followed the girl slowly back inside.

“By the way, what is your name?”

“I am called Bear,” Bear answered simply. “My old name isn’t important anymore.”

“Oh… Okay. Well, I’m Rose. You know my father Karrick, and my mother Arabella. Can I get you something to eat? I bet you know some great recipes from your travels, too!”

“I never learned to cook,” Bear mumbled sheepishly.

Rose gave her new friend a peculiar stare. “Most woodsmen at least know how to cook their own fish or wild boar, or whatever it is they can catch. Come into the kitchen, and I’ll teach you a thing or two. The next village is three days’ walk from here, so you’ll need to know at least how to cook a rabbit if you’re to make it without starving.”

~oOo~

After a thorough hand-scrubbing at Rose’s direction, Bear removed her heavy fur shawl for the first time in awhile to exchange for a cooking apron. She stayed mostly out of the way, watching Rose work, though at one point the girl insisted Bear help out too, or she’d never learn anything.

“May I ask you something, Mr. Bear?”

“Just Bear. No ‘Mister’, please,” Bear answered. Even after two long years, she hated being referred to as a man. She hated everything about being a man, from the awkward smells to the nervous stares, but she had learned not so much to accept, but to tolerate her fate.

“Okay, Bear then,” Rose answered. The inn had only a simple, brick oven, though it opened wide enough to easily facilitate the kinds of baking the typical customer asked for here. “Why do you let your hair and beard, and your fingernails grow so long? If you’ll forgive me, you really do look like a Bear,” she giggled.

Bear flinched at being reminded of her hideous outward appearance. She closed her eyes as she thought back to how this whole mess began, and she exhaled.

“I made a vow never to speak of the exact details. It is a punishment, of sorts. I shunned someone in need of help, and was cursed with this form in return. More than that, I can’t tell you, if I ever hope to lift my curse.”

The sound of a bread pan clattering noisily against the stone floor drew Bear’s attention. Rose stared in awkward, stunned silence. “That’s awful!”

“I know. I am a terrible person,” Bear exhaled. But Rose quickly shook her head.

“No, that someone would do that to you. No matter how terrible your actions, you didn’t deserve to just lose everything like that.”

“How did you know I lost everything?” Bear asked, taking a step back as she warily eyed the girl.

Rose lifted her shoulders into a gentle shrug as she stared at the ground. “You talk in your sleep. I could hear you in the hallway. Besides, you told me before that you don’t belong anywhere.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose tried to offer. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that you seem so… so like me. I thought perhaps if we spent some time talking, that I could convince you to stay. I’m so alone here.”

Bear shook her head. “No, Rose. You can’t. You mustn’t.”

“But why?”

Rose stepped closer. Bear matched her steps, keeping their distance.

“Rose, do you not see? This path is too dangerous for you. I hurt you once already. I can’t let you get hurt again.”

“You said ‘can’t’,” Rose giggled. Bear stared blankly back at her. “You said ‘can’t’, and not ‘won’t’. You DO care about me don’t you?”

Bear sighed, defeated. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you. You have to trust me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed.”

Rose heaved a heavy sigh, blowing her bangs from her face in the process. “If it doesn’t matter, then why can’t you tell me the truth?”

“Because if I do, then I’ll remain like this forever. I have until my twenty-first birthday to find a man to love me as I am. Do you know how slim those odds are?”

Bear wanted to cry. For two years she built up a tough outer exterior to match the physical one she had been cursed with, but all at once Rose had brought it crashing down. A nearby stool creaked under Bear’s weight as she collapsed upon it.

Rose stepped closer, kneeling in front of her.

“Why must it be a man?”

“Because, I… that’s… I mean…” she fumbled. Rose stood and bent down to kiss her.

Bear stared, stunned as Rose stood once more, and Bear stood to her full height, wrapping her arms around Rose. She had to bend down to cry on Rose’s shoulder, but in that instance she let out two years of pent-up frustration. Rose simply held her, ignoring for now the scent of burning bread close by.

“Please stay with me,” Rose whispered softly.

Bear shook her head slowly. “You will hate me if you are the one to lift my terrible curse.”

“No, I won’t. I never believed in love at first sight, and I never thought I would fall in love with someone who looks so … unusual, but I do love you.”

“Then… I’ll tell you the truth. You deserve that much.”

“Wait, Bear, if you do that won’t you remain like this?”

Bear gave a sad nod. “Yes, but Rose, I love you as well, but it’s a sacrifice I have to make, otherwise I’ll only break your heart.”

Rose tried to protest, but Bear simply placed her large hand over the girl’s lips to silence her. She bade Rose sit while she retrieved the toasted bread from the simple brick oven.

She began to relate to Rose her long tale. She regaled her of palace life, of her life as a Princess in a faraway kingdom, and how the people now slumber there. When she finished, she gave a sad sigh.

“Perhaps, if I beg, the Enchantress will at least release my people from the curse. They did nothing to deserve their fate, and they should not be included in my punishment.”

“I suppose since we’re being honest, that I should tell you the truth as well.” Rose flinched as she lowered her gaze. “I wasn’t always ‘Rose’ either. My father turned away such a crone as you described. Only it wasn’t he who carried the punishment, but me. We left our home and traveled here to start a new life. I gave up long ago on lifting the curse, but this is why I argued so vehemently with my father before, about throwing you out. I was afraid history would repeat itself.”

Bear nodded sadly, but before she could speak, a faint and very subtle golden glow began to develop in the corner of the room. Its brightness increased steadily until it blinded the two, and the Enchantress’ voice spoke in a caring tone.

“Finally, you understand.”

“W-what are you doing here?” Rose stammered, still shielding her eyes, and afraid to look. A gentle hand on hers pulled her arm away, revealing to her both the ageless Enchantress, and a young woman no more than a year or two older than herself, dressed not in the ragged, filthy woodcutters’ garb, but a long, deep purple gown. Even without her tiara, she looked every bit the regal she admitted to being moments before.

“I am so very proud of you both. I knew you could do it.”

“What are you talking about? I broke my promise by telling her.”

“Yes, you did, but you did so for the right reasons. You were ready to sacrifice everything to avoid breaking her heart. You learned to love another for the right reasons, and she you.”

The Enchantress now turned to Rose, placing her hands on her shoulders. “So, now comes the time for you to decide. Do you wish to remain as Rose, or do you choose to return to that which you once were?”

Rose turned to stare at the Princess. “Can you love me like this?” she asked softly. “Even knowing we can never ... I can never give you an heir?”

The Princess laughed softly as she stepped closer. “I already do love you. I don’t care what you look like. You freed me, and you showed me that there is so much more to life than simple appearances.”

Rose smiled fondly as she turned to the Enchantress. “Then, I make my decision, and a humble request.”

The Enchantress stepped back, a knowing smile on her lips. “Then make your wish known.”

“I want to remain as Rose, but … I want to bear a son for my future Queen as well, so that someone will carry on the lessons you’ve taught us, to rule when our bones turn to dust.”

“Are you certain this is what you want?” Though the Enchantress’ tone remained neutral, her expression revealed hesitance and uncertainty. That may well have just been part of the ‘game’, however.

Rose immediately nodded. “She was ready to give up everything to be with me. I’ve lived over half my life in this form, and wouldn’t know how to be a man if I tried, but if I can give her an heir in this form, I will gladly make that sacrifice.”

The Enchantress smiled proudly. She took each by the hand and pulled them into a loving embrace. “Then it shall be done.”

“What will we tell my subjects, though?” The Princess asked with a hesitant tone. Her gaze sank to the floor. “Our love is forbidden.”

“You are the rightful Queen of your kingdom, dear child. Lead and your people will follow you. My time here grows short. Arianna,” the Enchantress turned to the Princess formerly known as ‘Bear’.

“Take your old pouch. I want you to return to your home, and stop at every village you pass along the way. Reach into your pouch, and leave behind in the village coffers what you find there. Do this in the name of your kingdom, and earn back the fealty that has been lost.”

“I’ll need a horse.”

“Your faithful friend is waiting outside,” the Enchantress advised.

Rose slowly glanced between the two. “What can I do? I want to help too.”

The Enchantress turned to Rose with a cheerful smile. “Prepare your parents for the shock. They saw a Beast enter this room with you. They will not be expecting a Princess to emerge.”

~oOo~

Queen Arianna and her beloved Rose never again saw the Enchantress. In time, Rose convinced her parents to move to Arianna’s palace with them. Arianna ruled her kingdom justly and kindly, taking great care to ensure that no mouth would go unfed if she could help it, and in time, Rose was blessed with a healthy baby boy. To both their surprise, he had as much of Arianna’s appearance in him as Rose, but then, Rose did ask to bear the Queen’s heir.

In due time, Queen Arianna rallied a great army from those lands whose loyalty her Enchantress benefactor's coin had bought. Though she, herself, never rode out into battle, she trained the finest knights to set upon the foreign invaders and push them back, uniting the scattered lands abroad under her banner.

And of course, they all lived happily ever after.

A Spirit Within (The Closet)
 © 2011 Zoe Taylor

College life is hard at the best of times; books, pop quizzes, ghosts? Can Trisha's already complicated life get any worse?

---

Author's Note:
This story is a work of fiction that was inspired by a ghost story told by the residents of Stevens Hall sorority house, at Gettysburg campus. None of the characters, names, or places in this story however, are in any way connected to Stevens Hall, Gettysburg, or the real American Civil War.

~ Zoe

---

“Who are you?” The young woman gasped more than shouted, staring down the pretty young lady in Victorian garb who had not only violated her supposedly private dorm, but busied herself perusing her wardrobe, considering she had, until the dark-haired college student interrupted, been admiring a lovely, sequined black evening gown.

Until that day Trisha never understood the “deer in headlights” expression, but it was the only comparison she could draw to the fear in the soft, emerald eyes of her flame-maned intruder as she dropped the gown, racing across the dorm. Trisha tried to follow, but her foot caught on a chair and sent her crashing to the ground. The girl disappeared into the closet, where she knew she’d have her cornered.

Trisha flung the doors wide to find the closet completely empty. She slowly limped back to where the girl had been holding up the gown to herself in the mirror. A faint scent of roses wafted on a nonexistent breeze as she lifted it, carefully returning it to its hanger.

“What just happened?” she mumbled as she flopped into the chair, slowly rubbing her knee. “Do I call campus security? What do I tell them? ‘A weird girl was checking out my clothes then ran into the closet’?” She laughed to herself. “Yeah, they’ll totally buy that. My first week at college and I’m seeing things.” She sighed.

There was no possible way she could have gotten out of that closet. She saw her enter, and she never left, so logically, she never existed in the first place. She mulled it over and over again in her mind as she returned to the door, locking it tight. She took one last look around the area, checking her closet and bathroom thoroughly, before curling up on her bed with her Calculus textbook.

~oOo~

For the next couple of weeks, things fell into a sort of routine. She didn’t see the mysterious girl again, and she had begun to forget her completely. Surely she had just left that gown lying out and forgotten it? That was of course ignoring the fact that she distinctly remembered hanging it in the back of her closet to keep it safe in case she ever needed it.

Not that she expected to need it. Trisha had always been a shy child growing up. Now in college, she thought she could finally break the cycle, but it seemed the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

One late afternoon, following her Intro to Computer Science class, as she stood at the elevator two girls, one shorter than Trisha with long, wavy red hair, the other slightly taller with medium length blonde hair approached.

She knew the shorter girl, Sarah, from her Calculus class, and saw the pair in passing in the past, so she gave them both a polite, brief smile, quickly returning her attention to the elevator, impatiently waiting for its arrival.

“So it happened again,” Sarah whispered to her taller companion as the doors creaked closed. Trisha tried to tune them out, without success. “I found my missing headband lying right on the bathroom counter.”

“The one you lost last week?” the other girl asked. Sarah gave a weary nod.

“I swear I turned that bathroom upside down, twice.”

“You know your sorority house is haunted don’t you? Don’t worry. She’s friendly.”

“Um,” Trisha interrupted. Both turned to stare at her expectantly. She bit her lip. As if ordained by heaven, the elevator doors slid open, allowing her an escape outlet. “Never mind,” she sighed, rushing out. The blonde haired girl caught up to her first. Trisha tensed as she laid her hand gently on her shoulder.

“Hang on a minute. What were you going to say?”

She nervously turned back to face her pursuer, answering softly, “I was just wondering about the ghost, but it’s not important.”

Sarah had by now caught up to them. “I’m curious too. I mean normally I don’t even believe in ghosts, but after my favorite headband went missing, only to turn up right out in the open, I’m kind of wondering now. My roommates are shallow, but they wouldn’t lie about something so stupid.”

The blonde haired girl smiled at both of them. “It’s kind of a long story. Do you guys want to go get some coffee? My treat.” She paused to offer her hand to Trisha, “I’m Ashley, by the way. This is Sarah.”

Sarah lightly elbowed Ashley, but smiled.

“Trisha’s in my calc class,” Sarah answered. Much to Trisha’s relief, she failed to mention the part about being the one who usually answers the professor’s questions when no one else dared.

“Oh, cool. So how about it? I know I don’t look like it, but I’m studying American History, officially. Unofficially, I collect ghost stories.”

“She’s a ghost hunter,” Sarah added dryly, and then she smiled. “Wow, usually when I say that, people start backing away slowly.”

“Sarah!” Ashley demanded. Her cheeks began to redden as she turned back to Trisha. “Sorry, I-”

Trisha had to laugh. She couldn’t help it. “It’s okay. Coffee sounds fun. I usually just stay in anyway. It’d be nice to get a little air.”

~oOo~

It wasn’t as if Trisha didn’t have anyone to talk to or to turn to when she really needed someone, but her introverted nature tended to leave her comfortably adrift in the background white noise. Somehow just hanging out with Sarah and Ashley felt different though. They saw her as an equal with a shared interest for once, even if that interest was a bit on the unusual side.

“So Trisha,” Sarah suddenly perked up. “You never did tell us why you’re interested in this.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, shifting her gaze. “It’s stupid.”

“Come on,” Ashley insisted. “I told you before; I’m really into this sort of thing. Please?”

“I sort of,” she sighed. She knew she’d regret this. “I mean, I think I might have seen something.”

“What?”

“Really?” They answered in unison, making it hard to pick out who said what, exactly. Ashley leaned forward.

“Nobody’s gotten a good look at her this year. I talked to a senior whose roommate supposedly saw her last year though. What did you see?”

Trisha rolled her shoulders, trying to play it off as nothing. “It was late, and dark,” she lied. She never entered her dorm without turning on the lights first. “I saw … something. It was about Sarah’s height.”

Sarah threw up her hands quickly. “Hey, don’t look at me. I live in a sorority house.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t tell them what she’d actually seen. If she wanted any chance at having normal friendships with these two, then this was the last thing she needed.

“It’s okay,” Ashley answered gently. “You’re in the Williams building right?”

“That’s right. How did you-”

She smiled. “I’ve heard about you. Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. It’s just you requested a private dorm, and my older sister’s the resident advisor, so I hear things — usually more than I want to hear.” She laughed quietly. Trisha’s cheeks burned as she lowered her head. Ashley immediately stopped and reached out to touch her hand. “Hey, come on, I wasn’t talking about you.”

Sarah smiled at her friend, and then at Trisha. “Well, this has been fun, but I need to study. Don’t stay out too late. We wouldn’t want what’s-her-name raiding anyone’s panty drawer.”

Trisha could feel her cheeks burn more brightly as Sarah giggled to herself, picking up her coffee. Ashley rolled her eyes.

“Don’t mind her. She’s still upset because someone dropped a house on her sister.”

“I, uh, what?” The crack at least took her mind off her own embarrassment.

Ashley shook her head. “Never mind; bad joke from an equally bad movie. So, Trisha,” she changed the subject, “Can I ask you a big favor?”

“Sure, I guess,” she answered neutrally.

Ashley took a pen from her purse, scribbling something on a napkin which she passed to Trisha. “If you see the girl again, will you call and let me know?”

Trisha stared at the phone number for a moment. There was a time when she would have killed to have a cute girl’s number, but more and more she found herself questioning where she stood on that front. She needed to find her place in the world before thinking about such things though. She neatly folded the napkin.

“Sure, no problem. I’d better get going though. Big calculus test tomorrow.” Trisha stood, and Ashley gave her a concerned stare at that. She didn’t give the other girl a chance to ask though. “Thanks for the coffee. We should do it again sometime: you and Sarah and me, I mean.”

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she walked away.

~oOo~

Giggle.

“Who’s there?”

Giggle giggle.

“Hello?”

Silence. She sighed. She could enjoy the rest of her evening in peace, or she could call Ashley. She flopped into her chair with a mild grunt as she weighed her options, but Ashley had been nice enough to take her out for coffee with Sarah so the least she could do was repay the service.

“Hello?”

“Ash, hi it’s Trisha,” she mumbled.

“Well that was fast,” she mused dryly.

“Sorry. It’s just you told me to call if I saw something, and-”

“You saw her?”

“Not exactly. I heard giggling when I came in. I wasn’t going to call, but I figured since you invited me out for coffee the least I could do is let you know about it.”

“Aw, thanks. Listen, I’ll be right over. Just give me a minute to get the girls.”

“Wait, hold on, what girls-” but she’d already hung up.

Trisha exhaled slowly as she glanced over the room. She had always been a bit of a neat freak anyway, so the only particularly glaring flaw in her otherwise perfect dorm room sat neatly on her nightstand — a pill bottle. She snatched it up and stuffed it into the back of her nightstand drawer, just as someone knocked.

“Trisha? It’s Ashley,” her visitor called from the other side.

After unlatching the lock and chain she pulled the door aside. Ashley stood alongside two other girls she didn’t recognize. The first had straight black hair, save for a dark purple streak across her tapered bangs, bobbed close at the back.

The other girl, dressed more conservatively than either of the other two, wore her chestnut hair in a tight ponytail, a pair of gold wire frame glasses resting delicately on her nose. Both carried expensive-looking electronic equipment, while Ashley had a couple of what looked like digital audio recorders in-hand.

Trisha stepped aside letting the three enter. Immediately the leather-clad girl stopped in her tracks and wrinkled her nose. “She’s here. I can feel it.”

“Yes, well, you could also feel Henry the VIII on that summer trip to London,” the conservatively dressed girl advised wearily. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but, well, your track record speaks for itself.”

“Yeah, don’t forget I have a track record of collecting teeth,” the other girl warned without looking her way.

“Alright you two,” Ashley cautioned. “I don’t want blood on Trisha’s carpets.” She turned back to Trisha with an apologetic smile. “This is Luna,” she pointed to the goth girl, “and Mae,” she then pointed to the conservatively-dressed one. “Ladies this is Trisha.”

Luna stepped away, pacing from the entry kitchen/dining/living room area into the bedroom. Trisha had been just about to ask Ashley and Mae what the equipment was for when a bloodcurdling shriek echoed from her bedroom. She turned to see Luna racing out, hiding behind Ashley. “B-b-big spider!” she yelped.

“Second generation Wiccan, and yet you’re afraid of spiders?” Mae teased. Ashley did her best not to laugh, though it still earned her a swat on the arm.

“Shut up!”

~oOo~

Sometime after Trisha let the poor, helpless spider out through the window, Ashley and Mae had been sitting on her bed with Luna standing by the door, while she busied herself washing dishes in the kitchen. Ashley came meandering into the kitchen where she paused behind her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder to catch her attention.

“It’s been three hours now. No EVPs, no unusual electromagnetic readings, not even an odd temperature fluctuation. If you were a guy I’d swear you just wanted another date,” she teased. Trisha's cheeks flooded crimson as she turned to attempt to defend herself.

Ashley quickly shook her head. “Relax. It was a joke! Listen, I’m going to leave one of our digital recorders here.” She held up the device, pointing to the ‘record’ button on the front. “Just press that if you hear anything strange again. If she is here, she’s probably hiding from us because of Luna.”

“I can’t imagine why she’d be scared of her,” she mused, and quickly bit her tongue as she turned away. “Sorry. That just slipped out.”

Ashley offered Trisha a sympathetic smile. “She’s not so bad. She just has a terminal case of foot-in-mouth disease.”

She set the recorder down as the other two approached to say their goodbyes. Luna eyed Trisha for just a moment before she turned to race out after her friends. Trisha breathed a slow sigh. As soon as the door closed, she heard it again.

Giggle giggle.

Trisha grabbed the recorder, but the moment she pressed record, silence fell. She shut it off again and stepped into her bedroom to find the pill bottle she had tossed in her nightstand drawer earlier resting neatly atop it now. Nothing else had been disturbed.

She slowly eased herself down on the bed, lying back and shutting her eyes tightly. For the briefest moment, she thought she felt a hand, or perhaps a pair of lips, caress her cheek. It wasn’t as a lover would kiss her mate, but as a friend comforting another. This ‘whatever this is’ was clearly intelligent, and afraid of Ashley and her friends. She’d have to find a way to confront it herself.

~oOo~

Over the next few weeks, she started to notice strange little things happening. At first it was subtle. A dress or skirt would be hanging in a different part of the closet than where she remembered hanging it, and she’d find hair accessories she knew she put away, lying out in the open. She tried to ignore it.

On the research front, she started spending much of her free time in the campus library, either searching the internet, or the history books for any clues to the girl’s identity. As she rounded a corner, carrying a heavy stack of books late one afternoon, she literally ran into Ashley. Both girls went tumbling down with a grunt, along with the heavy book stack.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly, moving to help Ashley up. She smiled up at her as she pulled herself up, and then knelt to help collect the scattered books.

“It’s okay,” she replied, adding “I haven’t seen you in awhile.” She paused when her hand fell upon a heavy, old leather-bound tome with gold engraving. “Civil War history?”

“I’m sorry Ashley,” she offered hesitantly as her lower lip quivered. The day’s events had already piled up on her, with a condescending letter from her mother, a C on her last Calculus exam, and now this. She didn’t have it in her to concoct another lie.

“The truth is I did see more of the girl. She was wearing a white Victorian gown, not like a wedding gown, but she definitely looked like an upper-class young lady, maybe sixteen or seventeen. I think she might be from that era.”

“Why would you lie about something like that?” She sounded as though she were trying not to sound offended. Trisha exhaled slowly as she motioned for her to follow. They walked past several rows and shelves of books, to a quiet corner of the library away from potentially embarrassing eavesdroppers.

“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy. I mean, it’s hard enough being me, and now some… Something-or-other has attached itself to me. I’m scared, Ashley,” she trailed off.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Ashley responded, quickly setting the collected books down and pulling Trisha closer. “Is there anything I can do?”

Trisha shook her head. “I’ve always had trouble socially. I thought things would be better now, but I’m a bigger freak than ever,” she sobbed. Ashley reached for the small handbag slung over her shoulder, retrieving a fresh tissue to offer Trisha, who gratefully accepted it.

“Trisha, honey, you’re not a freak. I’ve been fascinated with ghosts since I was twelve. I know I’m kind of attractive, but it doesn’t make it any easier to meet guys. Sarah usually scares them off when she tells them what my friends and I do, and the ones that aren’t scared off are usually mouth-breathing computer geeks who’ve never seen non-pixilated-” she trailed off and started to blush. “Sorry.”

Trisha managed a weak laugh. “Feel better?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Hey, at least it got you to smile. Come on, let me help,” she insisted.

“Ashley and Trisha in the make out corner? That’s so sweet,” Luna chided playfully as the pair emerged. Ashley scowled darkly at her.

“Luna, shush! It’s not like that.” She hesitated, glancing at Trisha. “Can I tell her?”

“Can you trust her?” she asked hesitantly.

Luna frowned. “Ouch, man. Look, whatever you two are doing back there, I don’t need to know. I was only teasing.”

“Oh Luna, it’s not like that,” Ashley began. Trisha sat down with the first of several books while Ashley pulled her friend aside. She had already begun to lose herself in the book when she felt Luna’s hand touch her arm. She smiled brightly as she flopped down beside her, grabbing a book. Ashley joined on the other side.

“What are we looking for anyway?”

“Anything that can give us a clue who this girl was. I kind of want to help her, but I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done.”

“Or if she even wants help,” Luna advised.

~oOo~

The next few days passed uneventfully, as Halloween drew closer and closer. Trisha hadn’t made any plans other than to stay in and watch a monster marathon. She used to love Halloween, celebrating it as the one night a year when she could truly be herself, but now it had become just another day on the calendar.

“Hey,” Ashley called, jarring Trisha from her wandering thoughts as she sat alone at one of the campus library’s far tables. She giggled. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sarah’s sorority is having a big Halloween party. Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.” She offered a disarming, friendly smile.

“I’ll think about it,” Trisha answered simply, returning to the book. She hadn’t heard Ashley’s footfalls as she approached. She reached back, intending to motion for the other girl to step closer, but instead found her hand precariously close to Ashley’s right breast. She quickly withdrew it. “Sorry,” she mumbled softly. Ashley didn’t even seem to notice, instead leaning on Trisha’s chair to read over her shoulder.

“Wait a minute, there was a Civil War era mansion built on these grounds before the college? That doesn’t make any sense. Historical mansions are usually preserved, not bulldozed,” she mumbled, as much to herself as to her companion.

“Now we have a name to go on at least,” Trisha responded, pointing to the single paragraph. “Judge Nathaniel Anderson.” Trisha pushed the book closed, and with Ashley in tow, made for the nearest computer.

Ashley watched in amazement as Trisha pressed a couple of keys on the keyboard, instantly bringing up a web browser with multiple, separate tabs. As she proceeded to type the addresses for different search engines into each tab, Ashley finally broke her silence.

“You’re really good with this. Computers, I mean. You should join our paranormal investigation group as lead tech guru,” she offered seriously.

Trisha paused for only a moment to turn and smile at her. “I’m majoring in Computer Science, but I wanted more than just a degree from ITT Tech or whatever. I wanted the whole college experience. I should really talk to the Dean about putting ‘haunted dorms’ in the brochure,” she teased. Trisha cracked a smile.

“You’re lucky. I would kill for this kind of experience.” Trisha paused again, and Ashley frowned. “What?”

“Can I ask you something without you being offended by it?” Trisha asked as gently as she could manage. The question really needed to be answered, but she didn’t want to sound accusatory. Ashley quickly nodded.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t be offended because I don’t know what you want to ask, but I’ll try not to be.”

“The other day, when your … para-whatever group was in my dorm,”

“Paranormal investigations; we’re an official club you know,” she corrected.

“Did any of you go through my things?” Ashley’s jaw went slack, but Trisha quickly held up her hands. “No, it’s not like that. Nothing’s missing, but something important to me was moved. It’s a small pill bottle that I know for a fact I put in the back of my nightstand drawer. After you left, it was sitting on top of my nightstand again, and I’m wondering if one of you moved it, or if the girl did.”

Ashley smiled apologetically as she shook her head. “Luna was standing by the door the whole time and neither Mae nor I went anywhere near your nightstand.”

As Trisha went back to her search, clicking through search engine links, Ashley slowly turned away in thought. “That’s seriously freaky though. This ghost girl has never been reported as messing with anything other than clothing. What was in the bottle?”

Trisha froze at the question. Ashley turned back, quickly shaking her head. “Forget I asked.”

“Judge Nathaniel ‘Nate’ Anderson. Born 1809, died 1865,” she trailed off. Ashley leaned closer to read.

“Implicated as a traitor and a Confederate spy, failed plot to assassinate members of Lincoln’s cabinet,” she hesitated to read the next part. “Hanged along with his eldest son, seventeen year old Marcus. Both protested Marcus’ innocence until the very end.”

“So the Judge had an eldest son, but no mention of a daughter. Maybe this is a descendent, or even an ancestor,” Trisha posited. “I’ll keep looking.”

“I have a meeting to get to. I really shouldn’t have even stayed as long as I have,” Ashley offered apologetically as she straightened. “Keep us informed though, okay?”

“Us?” Trisha echoed, her gaze still locked with the computer screen.

“The paranormal club,” she answered and turned to leave Trisha to her thoughts.

~oOo~

Try as she might Trisha’s searches proved fruitless. There simply was no evidence to support a death in or around the house when it was built, or for that matter, anyone connected with the house or the Judge’s family. As the days grew shorter, and Sarah’s Halloween party drew nearer, Sarah and Ashley joined forces to convince Trisha to attend. Ashley had after all, seen Trisha’s breakdown in the library. She knew Trisha needed to mingle and have a little fun.

The night of the party, as Trisha was just getting ready to leave, a knock at the door startled her from her makeup application. She quickly threw on her costume such as it was. After all, a Victorian gown is hardly original, but it was a far enough cry from her usual appearance, plus the paranormal experiences and civil war research inspired her, though not enough to dye her hair red. A wig would have to suffice for that.

Trisha opened the door to find Ashley dressed as a bar wench alongside a, presumably girl, that she didn’t recognize for the heavy green makeup and warts covering her face. The girl confirmed her identity when she cackled madly in Sarah’s voice at seeing Trisha’s costume.

“God I thought you were the ghost for a second there,” she joked from somewhere beneath the witch attire. Ashley giggled.

“I hope it’s okay that we came to pick you up. There’s a full moon tonight, and we didn’t want you to have to walk all the way over on your own.”

“Aw, thanks,” she answered in a more open and friendly tone than she’d used with them in awhile. “Just give me one second to get my student I.D., and I’ll be set.”

Sarah breached the subject first. “So did you ever find anything else about the ghost?”

Trisha glanced back, her face a mask of uncertainty and unease. “I searched through every archive I could find, traced Judge Anderson’s genealogy back five generations. The family line ended with him and his eldest son, and the younger died of an unmentioned disease, so it’s not a descendant, and the land was just open farmland before he built his manor. The girl’s too much upper class to be a farmer’s daughter. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“What about his son?” Ashley interrupted. “You said he had a son that was hanged with him. I mean, I know it sounds weird, but…” Trisha flinched at Ashley’s side-comment. Ashley frowned, wondering what she’d said wrong, though neither girl wanted to risk saying anything more. Sarah cleared her throat.

“Anyway, the party’s going to start soon. Time waits for no one.”

Sarah and Ashley stepped forward, linking arms with Trisha to escort her out. It wasn’t as though they were really dragging her along so much as offering moral support and encouragement.

~oOo~

By the time they arrived at the stately two-story building, the party was already in full swing. Loud, pulsating music blared obnoxiously, and silhouettes of dancing college students flickered across the closed curtains. A young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen at the oldest, sat on the front stairs. She was dressed in a sequined black evening gown, her chin resting neatly in her hand as she watched passers-by come and go. It almost seemed as if no one saw her, or if they did, no one acknowledged her.

Trisha and her friends saw her, though. As they drew nearer, Sarah veered to the side to approach her first. “Hey, what’s up?”

The girl seemed mystified by Sarah’s appearance. Her soft, emerald eyes danced from her pointy hat to her buckled shoes before settling on her face. She smiled cheerfully. When she spoke, she had a certain genteel air to her voice, like something out of Gone with the Wind.

“I just needed some air is all.”

Trisha stepped closer. “Do you go to this school? You look familiar.” That dress also looked strikingly familiar.

The girl lilted a soft giggle. “In a manner of speaking I do. I don’t really know anybody at this party though. Is it alright if I come with you?”

The girls looked at each other, and Sarah rolled her shoulders. “Fine with me.”

Ashley smiled as she followed Sarah inside, leaving just Trisha, who rather than simply answering, offered the girl her hand. “I’m kind of new at this too. Maybe between the two of us, we can get through tonight with our social reputations intact,” she mused in a friendly, almost teasing tone, causing the girl to giggle again. A slow trickling shiver ran down Trisha’s spine as she walked the strange girl inside.

~oOo~

Trisha danced and mingled much of the night away, quietly chatting with her fellow students about nothing particularly important, though true to her word she always came back to the mysterious girl. She never did give her name. Every time it came up, she’d find some polite reason to excuse herself quickly, and watch from a distance. Trisha thought she saw the girl dancing with one or two guys though, and she had her own chance to let her hair down, so to speak, before the night was done.

Later in the evening, as a slow song began to play, Trisha left the dance floor, only to feel a gentle tug on her arm. She turned to find the mystery girl smiling at her. “May I have this dance? These modern steps are too much for me,” she mused. Trisha couldn’t explain why, but she felt compelled to say yes. She smiled as she offered the girl her arm, and quickly found herself being gently led back into the middle of the floor.

The girl placed her hand chastely on Trisha’s waist, taking her hand with the other and gently leading her along. They looked quite the pair, one dressed like a lounge singer, the other a Victorian ghost. The girl smiled as she leaned in to whisper something in Trisha’s ear.

“Thank you for believing.”

“What?” Trisha asked, but the girl gave no response, simply smiling. When the song ended, the girl pulled her into a close embrace. She leaned closer to kiss her cheek softly, and then turned to flee, leaving Trisha staring dumbly at the door. Sarah approached and, after a moment had passed, waved a hand in front of her eyes.

“Earth to Trisha. What’s wrong?”

“Er? Oh, nothing. Listen, the party’s been a lot of fun, but I am wiped out. I’m going to go back to my room and crash.”

“Oh, okay then. Thanks for coming though. We have a couple of open spots in the sorority if you’re ever interested. You don’t have to live up in that dorm all by yourself.”

“I’ll think about it,” Trisha answered distantly. She gave her best approximation of a smile and turned to leave.

~oOo~

Back at her dorm, Trisha kicked off her shoes. She was still humming the song she and her mysterious new friend had last danced to as she knelt to pick up her shoes. When she rounded the corner, she found the girl sitting on her bed, legs crossed daintily, with her hands neatly folded in her lap. Trisha shrieked with surprise, dropping her shoes. The girl brought a hand to her lips, letting out a dainty giggle.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

The girl slowly stood. “That is the second time you’ve asked me that, Ms. Trisha.”

“Second time,” Trisha echoed softly. Her eyes became saucers, her lips agape as she stared blankly back at the girl, who slowly nodded. The girl’s expression took on a forlorn sadness as she turned to approach the window.

“I only have an hour left before my time is spent. I was hoping you’d come back here, so I could…” she trailed off, lowering her head. “So I could apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” Trisha asked, surprisingly gently, once she finally found her voice. She dropped her shoes, and her Halloween wig, letting her own tresses cascade down her back as she stepped closer. The girl turned with tear-stained cheeks to face her.

“It’s not easy being dead. Most people never see me. The few that do yell or shriek and run away. I am so painfully lonely, but then you started looking, and your interest… I don’t know how to explain it. It gave me strength. I squandered it doing playful, silly things. Moving your pills, rearranging the closet. Sometimes, if I was strong enough I’d try something on.” Her face fell.

“That’s why I’m sorry. It was the only way I could let you know I was listening, that I knew.” She turned back to the window as Trisha stared in silence. Finally, she exhaled.

“Who are you?”

“Ask me who I was,” the girl murmured softly. Trisha couldn’t help the smile that crossed her lips at the Dickens reference.

“Well, who were you then?”

Unmoving, the girl answered, her forlorn gaze cast out across the moonlit night. “In life my name was Marcus Anderson.” She turned back to Trisha, staring expectantly, as though Trisha should now shriek and flee. Instead, she pulled the girl into a hug, causing her to burst into fresh tears.

“Please don’t-” she protested, but Trisha simply squeezed her closer.

“You’re far too pretty to be a ‘Marcus’ anymore,” she offered, soothing. “When I became a girl, physically I mean, I changed my name to Patricia, but everyone calls me Trisha now.”

The girl furrowed her brows as she stared, uncertain, even a little frightened, into Trisha’s seemingly deepening gaze.

“Those pills you found are what help me be who I am now.”

“Y-you mean there’s a magic pill that makes men into women now?”

Trisha laughed as she shook her head slowly. “Oh God, how I wish. This was a slower, more painful route, but it was worth it I’m as close to female physically as I can get, but it’s not magic. It’s science.”

The girl pushed herself from Trisha’s arms to return to her window, and Trisha let her go. The two stared respectively in silence, the girl out her window, and Trisha at the girl. Neither moved for a full ten minutes, until the younger finally broke her silence again.

“Mary.”

“What?”

“My mother… She told me that if I had been her daughter, her precious flower, she would have named me Mary. I suppose in death I was given that which was denied to me in life. That’s why I,” she trailed off. “Why I’m afraid to cross over. Being dead is painful, but I fear what waits beyond even more, of losing what little I have now, that I could never have in life.”

“I’m sorry, Mary,” Trisha whispered. By now her eyes stung with fresh, salty tears, but she didn’t dare move closer. She didn’t have to though. Mary spun around and returned to Trisha’s warm embrace, burying her face in the older girl’s shoulder as she sobbed.

“No one’s ever called me that. I have to go soon. Please… Can you just hold me until then? I just want to be held a little while longer.”

“Of course,” Trisha cooed as she stroked Mary’s hair. One hundred forty-six years of emotional turmoil and loneliness burst through as she clung to Trisha as a drowning man clings desperately to a life raft. She could feel her time drawing shorter, like an assassin stalking her in the night, but she didn’t care. She only wished she could stay a little longer.

On the stroke of midnight, though, silence descended over the room. Trisha wrapped her arms about herself as she slowly paced to the bed. She sat down where Mary had sat when she first came in, and she sobbed in silence for her new friend.

~oOo~

Just over two months had passed since the Halloween party, and Trisha had seen neither Mary, nor any signs that she was still watching. She never told anyone about what happened that night, mostly fearing no one would believe her. It seemed too fantastic for even Ashley to accept without physical proof.

In that time she had become closer friends with Ashley and Sarah though, and she even learned to love Sarah’s biting sarcasm and blithe honesty, so much so that when Sarah invited her to come visit Ashley and Sarah’s families for the holidays instead of staying on campus as she originally planned, she jovially accepted the offer.

Sarah and Trisha were moving her things out of her old dorm to her new bedroom at the sorority house. They thought they had packed everything, but when Sarah went back to check one last time, she returned with an elegant, sequined black evening gown on a hanger, eyeing Trisha.

“Wasn’t this the dress that weird girl wore to the Halloween party?”

Trisha gasped as she rushed to Sarah’s side. She slowly ran her hand over the dress, stopping at the hem. “Oh my God. Where did you find this?”

“It was hanging at the back of your closet in the far corner. Want to take it with us?”

Trisha nodded quickly. “I don’t know how it ended up here though.”

Sarah gave her a skeptical glance. Trisha held up her hands. “I really don’t. She was still wearing it the last time I saw her. I… haven’t seen her since,” she added with a pang of sadness in her tone that Sarah didn’t dare to remark about. Instead, she pulled her friend into a gentle hug and then turned to toss the dress over the stack of boxes she intended to carry out.

Trisha grabbed the last couple of boxes, following behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder one last time at the barren dorm, bumping the light switch with her elbow and stepping out.

As they walked up the stairs to the sorority house, a familiar voice called after them.

“Those look heavy. Do you need a hand?”

Trisha felt faint as she cautiously turned around. Sarah smiled cheerfully. “Oh hey, we were just talking about you.”

Trisha dropped the boxes and sprinted right down the stairs into the girl’s waiting arms. “Mary!” she wept uncontrollably.

Mary just smiled as she held her friend close. “I know what you want to ask, and it is a long story. Come on, ‘housemate’. I’ll tell you about it over tea, and maybe you can catch me up on how to speak like a girl from this age instead of this infernal accent.” She drew out the ‘infernal’ dramatically to emphasize her point.

“Housemate? You mean you’re-” but Trisha couldn’t finish the thought. Mary nodded solemnly.

“Alive? Yes. ‘They’ gave me a second chance. As I said, it is a long story.” She turned slightly to smile at Sarah. “And Sarah, do close your mouth, dear. You’re liable to catch flies.”

---

12 year old Cassy Teegan is excited to spend the summer with her aunties June and Denise, not least because she gets to spend the summer as her true self, but also because Denise is finally going to teach her how to play guitar. But there's something unusual about the instrument that Denise brought home for Cassy as an early birthday surprise. The previous owner was quite attached to it, and it seems she isn't quite ready to let it go just yet.

---

Foreword
Yes, it's another damn music story, but, I am a musician. I love all things music, and, this is a story that I've had playing at the back of my mind since I returned to writing, but it's one that I just could not get into words until now.

I had originally wanted to write a much longer story, but I felt like a shorter, one shot format worked better for the story that I wanted to tell. I won't lie, though. I made myself cry twice when editing this for publication, so, you have been warned!

---

Black Forest, Colorado definitely earned and deserved its name. Founded as an artist colony back in the early 1900s who were drawn to the beauty of the literal black forests and the winding stream that still runs through the town itself. My auntie June loved it there, always sending me postcards made from photos she had taken, and, now I finally got to visit her for the summer, the summer of my 13th birthday.

I was excited because there was every bit of a real chance that I’d be moving here come September, if I liked it that is.

I was struggling back home, dealing with depression and failing grades, even though I tried to stay active because that’s supposed to help, right? It couldn’t help me with my real problem though. I wanted so desperately to be the girl on the outside that I knew I was on the inside.

My well meaning parents thought a change of scenery was what I really needed, and, I’d decided this was my chance to try out being my real self in a place where absolutely nobody knew me, apart from June of course. June was gay, so I had no doubt she would support me and even help me. But it still felt completely nerve wracking bracing myself to come out to her. At the same time though, I couldn’t wait another moment and told her immediately.

“Have you talked to your parents about this yet?” June asked me, as we sat on the front steps that led up to her front patio, the morning sun shining down through the branches of the big oak that sat in her front yard.

“I was hoping you could talk to them for me?” I asked hopefully.

“I can talk to them,” she said, “But you have to be there, too, sweetie. They need to hear it from you directly, that this is really what you want.”

“It really is,” I sighed as I leaned my head on her shoulder. “More than anything.”

June put her arms around me and I felt her lips on top of my head. “Then we’ll talk to them together. Have you thought about what you want to be called as a girl?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at her again, the wind tossing her honey blonde hair gently as she smiled patiently back at me. “I’ve always thought Cassy was pretty.”

She laughed softly. “Wow,” she said, as her partner Denise’s car came rolling slowly up the road, a pretty metallic green late model Ford Escape. “Your mom’s going to think I had something to do with this for sure now,” she teased.

“Why?” I asked, giving her a confused look as Denise got out of the car, and then went around to the back of her SUV to open the back hatch.

“Because,” June said, smiling at me again, “That’s exactly the name she wanted to give you if you had been her daughter. Cassy Marie.”

“Oh my gosh,” I said, “That’s so pretty!”

Denise, it’s important to mention, had very long and very dark blue hair. Today, it was braided in a ponytail, and her blonde roots were only just beginning to show due to the tight weave. She was wearing a neon pink tank top and carrying a hard guitar case - one of those ones that’s shaped like an acoustic guitar.

“She finally said yes!” she said, grinning as she approached us, carrying her new treasure. She stopped a few feet away and looked between us. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” June said. “I just found out we have a niece staying with us instead,” she said, grinning as she motioned to me. “May I introduce Miss Cassy Marie Teegan.”

“Well, hello there Cassy!” Denise said brightly, throwing her free arm around me and hugging me tight. “I’m so happy for you! If you need help with anything, don’t you even hesitate to ask.”

I blushed. “Thank you, Auntie Dee.”

“It’s great you’re coming out early,” Denise said. “It makes transitioning so, so much easier pre-puberty. It was for me, anyway,” she said with a knowing grin, and my jaw dropped.

“You? You mean you used to be...”

“A dopey looking boy named Kyle,” Denise giggled softly.

“Exactly why I wanted her to be the one to tell her parents,” June said. “I don’t want them to think we had anything to do with this.”

“Oh, Junie,” Denise said, “Babe, you worry too much. You know what your brother’s like. He’s the one who introduced us, remember?”

“Yeah,” June said, “But it hits different when it’s your kid.” She turned to me, and then hugged me again. “Don’t get me wrong though, Cassy, I am so, so happy that you came out to us first.”

“I guess it’s kind of fitting,” Denise said, grinning as she pushed the acoustic guitar case toward me without explanation as to why it was fitting. “Happy birthday?”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“I know you’re not turning 13 for another month,” Denise said, “But there’s a story behind this guitar, if you’re still interested in learning, of course. If not, I’ll keep it for myself because it’s a hell of a guitar,” she teased.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, “No, thank you, I am dying to learn!” I squeaked and hugged her tight. “Thank you!”

“I’ve been trying to get the owner to sell it to me for awhile now, and when I told her it was for my wife’s brother’s kid to learn on, well, that changed everything. She practically gave it to me, just made me promise to wait and tell you the story behind it after you turned 13.”

“Weird,” I said, but shrugged. “But yeah, I can’t wait to hear it though!” I said, and hugged her again. “When can you start teaching me to play?” I asked.

“Well,” Denise said, glancing at June, “That‘s up to your aunt June.”

“Elaine and Chris won’t be available to talk for a few hours,” June said, and shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve already ordered pizza, should be here in ten. So, right now?”

“Yay!” I said and rushed inside, but I didn’t open the case until I knew where Denise wanted to set up for our first lesson so I had no idea what to expect, or even what kind of guitar it was. I just knew that it was mine, and I would never, ever let it go.

Denise got out her Martin D-35 and we went out to sit on the back patio together, where I finally got to open my guitar case for the first time. Inside was not the standard blonde spruce top I was used to stereotypically seeing, but instead it had a rich, dark patina, almost cedar or amber like, and the pickguard was a dark red glossy rosewood that matched the body back and sides. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt myself tearing up.

“Oh my Gosh, it’s gorgeous!” I finally managed. I had no idea that Denise had literally just given me a $4,000 guitar, or just how spoiled I was in that moment. I very cautiously pulled it out of the case, and noticed it had a white guitar strap already attached to it. The strap had a little pink rose design on each of the white leather ends where it went over the strap button, so that the button protruded through the flower.

“You must have spent a fortune on this Denise!” I said, hugging the guitar close to me like it was the most valuable thing in the world - because to me it was. I knew how valuable her guitars were, and this looked every bit as expensive as any of hers to my young mind.

“It’s like I said,” Denise said, shaking her head, “She wanted you to have it. Now, let’s get you started playing it,” she said. “First I want you to place your first finger here, right up next to that fret wire, and really curl that first knuckle. There you go.”

Following that first lesson and lunch, I spent the next two hours straight just practicing strumming. Denise had taught me this really neat trick where if you make an open ‘E’ cowboy chord, you can move your hand up the fretboard to the third and sixth frets and get a very cool sounding version of 4 Non-Blondes’ “What’s Up?” And when my fingers were just too sore to keep playing anymore, auntie Denise and Auntie June took me to the local mall to get my ears pierced.

Auntie June called it a rite of passage, that no matter what happened, she was going to at least make sure I got to spend the summer being the happiest girl in the state. But, I already was thanks to Aunt Denise! Still, I was excited to have my ears done since all my female friends had pierced ears, some as young as when they were 7 even. We even picked up a couple of tops for me to mix in with my usual tee shirts and jeans, and my very first dress so that I could wear something nice to dinner that night to celebrate.

They were really, really confident that my parents were going to be okay with everything, and, it turns out, they actually were. They embraced the idea, only complaining that I should have trusted them more and said something sooner. Mom even promised to fly out next weekend to see me, and take me to see a doctor up in Boulder.

Everything was just going so perfectly, but I was so exhausted that night that I hadn’t even noticed my new guitar, which I dutifully put back in its case so it would be safe when I wasn’t playing it, was now sitting out of the case and leaned against the wall instead. I mean sure, I glanced at it briefly, but I convinced myself that surely I’d just thought I put it back in the case, or maybe auntie Denise had taken it out for some reason.

That night was when the really weird stuff actually started.

I fell asleep quickly, but woke up at some point during the night, moon beams pouring through the curtains of my big picture window. My window had a window seat with a thick, comfy padding, and as I stirred, I heard guitar strings being played. I opened my eyes, and for just a second, I could swear I saw the silhouette of a girl sitting on my window seat, playing a guitar - my guitar.

I rubbed my eyes, and the music stopped. I looked around the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. I looked over at my guitar, and it was still leaning against the wall. I got up out of bed, padded across the plush carpet, and gently placed it back in its case. This time, I latched the little TSA lock that auntie Denise had given me one of her spare keys to, just to be extra sure, and then crawled back into bed.

The next morning, the case sat open, and the guitar had been leaned against the window seat, exactly where I saw the silhouette the night before.

“What is going on...” I said quietly, more than a little spooked as I picked up the guitar and strummed a couple of bars of “What’s Up?” again, since it was the only song I knew. As I sat there, I felt a sense of ease wash over me, the uneasy fear just completely disappeared.

Auntie Denise appeared in my doorway, holding a wooden guitar stand the same color of the pickguard on my guitar, and brought it over to me. “If you’re anything like me,” she said, “You’re going to keep that thing out on a stand all the time so you can always grab it and play it as you walk by. So, I got you a stand to keep it on,” she said, setting it on the ground beside me.

“Thanks Aunt Dee,” I said as I carefully set the guitar on its new stand and then got up to hug her. I decided not to mention the weirdness for now. I didn’t figure she’d believe me anyway, and instead followed her out of the room, heading down to get breakfast.

My new guitar and I, which I named Rose, after the pretty rose strap it had come with, were inseparable after that. Except for when I’d go for a jog in the morning, if I was at home Rose was with me. If I was watching TV, Rose was across my lapp and being played, so I developed pretty fast. Not to say I was some kind of child prodigy or anything, but practicing 4-6 hours a day does that no matter who you are.

I hadn’t met any other kids my age yet, but my aunts told me a lot of them were just on different summer vacations, like girl scout camps, basketball, even a photography camp over at the state university campus, so, I was a little surprised when out on my jog maybe a week and a half later, when I saw a girl my age was sitting on the front porch of a big old three story house playing an acoustic guitar that looked a lot like Rose.

She had her long black hair in a French braid, and she was wearing a Minnie Mouse tee shirt and plaid pink shorts, and looked just as normal as any other tween girl you’d see, so I walked over to her to say hi.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully as she noticed me, giving me a bright smile.

“Hi there,” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything. I just didn’t know there was anybody else my age around, with all the camps and stuff going on.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It gets pretty quiet until the 4th of July.” She shifted in the big old porch swing and then patted the spot beside her. “I’m Sarah,” she added.

“Nice to meet you,” I said as I sat beside her. “I’m Cassy. I love your guitar. You play beautifully.”

“Oh, thank you,” Sarah brightened and giggled. “I just got it for my birthday. Do you play?” she asked, offering it to me.

“Only a little,” I said. “My auntie Denise is teaching me.”

“Come on,” she said, “I want to hear you play something. You heard me playing already,” she said, almost begging, so I took the guitar under my arm. It felt so familiar, just like Rose, actually. I got a small cold chill, but I figured it was just because they were the same type of guitar, a Taylor 814CE with rosewood body and pick guard. The only difference was the top looked like the usual blonde spruce I was used to seeing.

“Let’s see,” I said, “How about,” and I started playing “Country Roads”. She giggled and even joined in singing with me as I played. When I finished, I gave the guitar back to her. “You know, I have my new guitar back at my house. If you want you can come over and we can jam sometime.”

“Oh,” Sarah said, “No, I’m not supposed to leave the house while my parents are gone. Thank you though,” she said. “That means a lot to me. If... If it’s okay, you can stay and just talk to me for awhile, keep me company?” she asked. She almost had a kind of sadness in her voice that I didn’t fully pick up on, but even as a kid, I could tell she didn’t want to be alone at least.

“Sure,” I said warmly. “Let me just text my aunties so they know I’m okay,” I said, pulling out my phone, while she began to play a song I didn’t recognize.

“I walk a lonely road. The only one that I have ever known,” she sang softly.

I occasionally saw Sarah again after that, usually on my morning jogs. Sometimes she’d just be sitting in the window of her house upstairs. She’d wave at me as I jogged past, and I’d stop and wave back, point to the door and motion with a knocking gesture, to ask if I could come in. She’d shake her head sadly and step away from the window. Other times, she’d be out on the front porch though, and we could talk again.

Finally, July 2nd, my 13th birthday rolled around. I already got what I really wanted a month early, but my parents flew out to see me, too, and Mom took me to the big city for a mother daughter shopping trip - but Aunt June and Aunt Denise came, too.

As we were driving back home, we passed Sarah’s house. Before I could point it out to them, because I wanted to tell them that was where my new friend lived, auntie Denise, who was sitting in the back with me, sighed sadly.

“I guess I need to tell you the story behind your guitar, now that you’re 13. I think the reason Bethany wanted me to wait is because Sarah was 13, too.”

“Was?” I said, confused.

“Yeah. She lived at that big three story place we just passed. She loved that guitar, so much. She took it everywhere,” Denise said. “Well,she was staying with her grandmother and... there was a house fire. Sarah didn’t make it out, but they found the guitar almost completely unscathed, just... taurified. I’ve been trying to get Bethany to sell it to me so that I could find it a good home, and when I told her I wanted to give it to you, she asked how old you were. I said it was for your 13th birthday, and... Yeah.”

Denise put an arm around me. I was literally shaking.

“That’s not possible,” I said softly. “Sarah... I just talked to her yesterday,” I whispered.

Denise stared at me, looking paler now. “Sweetheart, Sarah died ten years ago.”

That night, before going to bed, I sat down on my window seat and picked up my guitar. I strummed the chords to the song Sarah liked so much, ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’. “Sarah,” I said quietly, “if... If you can hear me, I just want you to know, I love your guitar so much. I promise I’ll take the best care of it for you. I am so, so sorry you died,” I said softly, fighting back tears.

“Hey,” I heard Sarah whisper in my ear. I blinked and looked up. She was sitting next to me, smiling. “Don’t cry for me, Cassy. Because of you I can finally rest, knowing my baby is in good hands. I have to go now, but we’ll see each other again someday,” she said, standing.

She bent down and planted a kiss on my lips. I closed my eyes to blink away tears, and when I opened them again, she was gone.

I never saw Sarah again after that, but I did go and visit her mom, Bethany. I also visited the place where Sarah was laid to rest, and now I take her pink roses at least once a month. I know she’s at rest now, and I don’t do it just for her. I do it for the memory of our friendship.

What’s funny is that Bethany became kind of a surrogate mom to me, probably because she has another daughter my age, and a son that’s a couple of years older than us both at 15. Life moved on, but she never forgot Sarah, and now, neither will I.

And, yes, I am living full time as Cassy Marie Teegan. I start Black Forest Prep Academy in the fall with my new friends, and I’m even thinking of forming a band with them. Not sure how that’s going to work with me being attached at the hip to Rose, but hey, this was Sarah’s guitar. I’ll find a way to make it work.

Ten long years since her grandfather passed away,
a stranger comes home to walk old, familiar paths
and finds someone she didn't expect...

The dust of disuse and time’s cruel abandon layered everything as heavy-soled boots, given a light step only by their owner’s feminine grace, touched down inside the cabin. Emily hugged her hands to herself, tens of hundreds of summer memories flooding to mind as she cast her gentle gaze upon the forgotten dwelling.

Outside, thick grass had grown up around the house. A tree she and her cousins had planted when she was six had grown mighty and tall in the back yard to replace the long-rotted stump where lightning took its toll, a stark reminder how fragile life could be.

Grandpa moved to a nursing home long before he passed ten years ago, and Grandma had gone on to be with the Lord five years earlier. Even so, through the heavy patina, she could still remember. There, in that corner, was where Grandma made Timmy sit and stare at the wall for uttering his first, and last swear word. And there, on the rotted remains of what once was a sofa, Jessie dared her to wear a dress for the first time.

She smiled fondly. How exhilarating it felt, the first time cousin Emily came for a visit. In time “Emily” came out to play more and more often. Grandma thought it was adorable, and a harmless children’s game. Mom and Dad disagreed. They forbade Jessie and Emily from being alone together anymore, but it didn’t stop them.

“You’re not s’posta be here lady,” a gruff voice called, startling Emily from her thoughts. She spun about to see an older man who, for just a moment, reminded her so much of Grandpa; too much. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared. The man wrinkled his brow.

“Oh, it’s you,” he muttered.

“Hi, Uncle Nate,” the startled dove cooed.

Tired eyes cast downward; he hadn’t spoken to his nephew since the big announcement. Like most of the family, he cut his ties when the black sheep decided to cut his bits off and pretend to be a woman.

“What you doin’ here, boy,” he answered neutrally as he turned his gaze away.

“I wanted to see the old place,” Emily answered. She didn’t challenge his calling her ‘boy’. After all, that was just his way of letting her know he knew her, even after ten years. It had been an inside joke amongst all the male cousins after a fashion, growing up. “Haven’t been here since Mom caught me and Jessie playin’ that one time.”

He choked back a bitter laugh. “Your Mom howled like a banshee at Darla and me over that. Even more when you went and cut off your-” he trailed off. Even now, he couldn’t utter those words. How could any man do that to himself willingly?

But Emily smiled as she turned to step closer. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“Why you dressed like that anyway? Thought you wanted to be all girlie,” he added, referencing her heavy flannel shirt and thick denim jeans, to say nothing of her work boots.

“Uncle Nate, I AM a woman. Always have been. Clothes don’t change that — they’re just the camouflage that helps others see me for who I really am.”

She knew she’d struck a nerve with that one. Nate fought in Vietnam. He knew too well the importance of hiding from ‘the enemy’. When he turned about to face her though, she smiled.

“I’m dressed like this ‘cause I came to assess the damage. Y’know how you used to say — right tool for the right job? I can’t wander around what could well be a dilapidated wreck dressed like I’m going to Sunday dinner.”

He cracked a smile, but only for a moment. “Your Ma know you’re back?”

“Nobody does. Mom still blames me for Daddy’s stroke,” she answered simply. She turned from him, her footfalls leading slowly into the tiny kitchen. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I could almost smell the cookies baking. God, I loved helping Gram bake, even though Jessie hated it.”

Nate let out a deep, guttural belly laugh. “She still does. Poor Robbie does all the cooking in their house.”

“I guess I should go though. I was thinkin’ about fixing this place up, maybe making something of a summer home here, but now I ain’t so sure.” She cringed at that word. Ain’t. Ten years on the east coast let her shed most of her Southern twang, yet she’d been back less than an hour and picked up as though she’d never left.

“Well, now hold on a minute,” he argued as he followed her. He paused to cough deeply, though not because of the dust the two had stirred up. “Foundation’s solid. Old house just needs a little love and a good scrub down.”

She smiled sadly as she turned back to face him. “I’m not talkin’ about the house. Bein’ back here just hurts too much.”

“Why don’t you come to dinner, and we can talk about it. Jessie and Robbie are comin’ over tonight, bringin’ the twins.” He paused, his gnarled hand, aged prematurely, reaching up to remove his faded hat as he lowered his gaze again. “When I first heard what you were doin’, I thought you’d plum lost your mind, but seein’ you now I,” he paused, his weathered lips smacking together once as he swallowed a heavy lump. “Well, anyway, you know where to find us, darlin’.”

“Uncle Nate?” she called after him. He paused, turning back to glance at her. “Why’d you come here?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he answered simply, but her pleading gaze urged him to answer anyway. “I just had a feelin’ I needed to be here, like that time Pa got up in the middle of the night ‘cause he had a feelin’, and found the barn on fire.”

He seemed to have a hint of a twinkle in his eye as he turned to leave again. Emily stood, silently staring at nothing in particular for the better part of thirty minutes. Finally, she exhaled, slowly and carefully making her way back out of the old building.

She pulled into the only gas station in her small hometown, next to the only working traffic light, across from the only movie theatre, a single-screen affair where she and Jessie had gone to see many an awful movie together, six months past their “in theater” release dates. She sat, and she pondered where to go from here. She could turn left and pull out onto the highway, returning her to the hotel the next town over, civilization, safety, and security.

On the other hand, she could turn right, follow the old, familiar city road, and eventually find her way to Nate’s. As she struggled with her thoughts, someone gently tapped on the driver’s side window to get her attention. She jumped with a start, and Nate smiled back at her as she rolled down her window.

“Forgot to mention yer Ma will be comin’ over too. Y’don’t need directions do ya?”

“I still remember. I could walk it blindfolded. I guess I better go back to my hotel and change though.”

He gave a quiet, but at least genuine, chuckle. “S’pose you’re right. Wouldn’t want anyone thinkin’ you’re onna them whatsits that likes other girls, hey?”

Emily’s cheeks burned as she glanced away. “I would hate to have to drag John all the way out here to defend my honor, at that. One step at a time though. We’ll see how Jessie and Mom take to my bein’ here, then … we can talk about other stuff if they don’t run me right outta town.”

Maybe her Mother still blamed her. Maybe Jessie would still refuse to speak to her even though Emily suspected Jessie’s silence was more out of peer pressure from the rest of the family, and maybe she was walking right into another family feud, but at least she could always return to her friends and fiancé, her fancy job at the radio station, but this could be her last chance to come home, and she wouldn’t throw that away.

The Midnight Society were a group of friends who met in the woods to tell stories around a campfire, but after three generations, no one was left to carry the torch. They fell into urban legend, until Kristina decided to resurrect the traditions with a story of her own.

Life was hard for Kristina ever since her return to school as a girl. She was ready to try anything, but would a scary story really be enough to win over her peers?

---

It had been a very long time since anyone had even set foot at the old campsite. The Midnight Society had long been abandoned. No one seemed to care about sharing stories anymore, too busy with their fast-paced lives. The old guard had grown up and moved on, with nobody to carry the torch.

Every generation, the Midnight Society, a small group of school-aged friends would gather in these old woods to tell ghost stories by the light of the moon, and the warmth of a campfire. It harkened back to a different time, when things moved slower, and when friendships could still cross boundaries like race and gender, and Kristina wanted to bring back that spirit.

She had no friends at school. Everyone was afraid of her after the incident last semester. It wasn’t that they thought she was a terrible person, but after school bullies who tried to attack her were sent to a juvenile correctional facility until they turned 21, no one wanted to risk damaging their precious social standing talking to the ‘weird boy who dresses like a girl.’

She petitioned the local private school for emergency transfer status, but the matter had been under advisement for awhile. It was now mid-October, and with no one at school to talk to, she decided to take drastic measures.

She knew the old Midnight Society stories by heart. She knew every member’s name. Some might say she was obsessed, but in reality she just loved a good, scary story. She had sent out the anonymous e-mails, left a clearly marked trail of ribbons, and now she only had to wait.

She pulled her pastel pink coat more tightly around her body as she sat down on the old stone “throne”-like seat, the traditional seat of the leader of the Midnight Society, her hand-knit gloves tightening around her fingertips. The hem of her long floral skirt brushed and whipped at her ankles in the light, cool breeze as she stared into the crackling fire.

She rolled back her jacket sleeve just enough to glance at her lavender Hello Kitty watch. It read 10:23. If anyone else were coming, they would have surely been here by now. With a heavy sigh, she pushed a few light-brown bangs from her eyes and stood. As she reached for the old, red water pail, intent on dousing the campfire and writing off this whole experiment as a terrible mistake, a twig snapped nearby, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She froze, glancing around.

“Hello?” she called. “Is someone there?”

Suddenly, a hand reached out of the darkness behind her, touching her shoulder. She shrieked and spun around, very nearly throwing the water on Marie Anne Louis, the most popular girl in school.

Marie leapt back and scowled. They weren’t in school anymore, and no one was around, so she felt more comfortable treating Kristina like anyone else who very nearly threw a half gallon of water on her. “Hey, watch it. These slacks are dry clean only!”

“I’m so sorry,” Kristina tried to apologize, quickly setting the pail aside. “I was about to put out the fire. I didn’t think anyone was coming.” She turned to stare into the darkness, and Marie hesitantly stepped closer, following her gaze. She offered a sympathetic smile as she waited for Kristina to finish. “I heard a noise...” she whimpered.

“Oh you did, did you?” Marie answered dryly, a more relaxed, even slightly playful tone in her voice now. “I hope it’s not my idiot brother and his friend trying to spy on me,” she paused briefly, and then continued in a stage yell, “Or I’d have to tell Mom what he’s hiding under his mattress!”

“Playboy or Hustler?” an older boy’s voice called chidingly as Josh Miller, linebacker strode out of the woods and into the light. Marie punched his arm rather hard. Kristina had always thought of Marie as the ideal feminine. She cheered, she ran track, and she had an incredible fashion sense, and the money to back it, but by how Josh flinched, she had a tough side, too.

“Never you mind. So this midnight thingie...-” she started to ask, trying to change the subject when in the distance, another girl could be heard shouting.

“Hang on! We’re coming! Don’t start without us!”

It was Denise Mattock, the human calculator. Not that she didn’t have looks as well, though Kristina’s fantasies about Denise typically revolved around looking like her, rather than being with her. She did have a massive crush on Denise when they were younger, but lately, she had found her tastes changing.

“We haven’t started yet,” Kristina tried to shout back, but for her entirely too meek nature, her voice just didn’t carry that well..

Marie and Josh talked quietly amongst themselves as Denise emerged from the woods with two others - a slightly older, dark haired girl Kristina didn’t recognize at all and a geeky boy with wire-frame glasses whose name she just couldn’t quite recall. Kristina stood to greet the newcomers, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched the unfamiliar face.

The girl seemed to capture Kristina’s attention without even trying. She pushed back her long black hair to reveal two tiny emerald studs that matched her sparkling eyes. She moved gracefully, like a dancer. Strangest though, was that she carried a weathered-looking leather drawstring pouch.

“Welcome everyone, to what I really hope will be a regular thing. I’m assuming you’re all here because you’re interested in restarting the Midnight Society?” Kristina recited her planned speech with only a small falter in her voice. She practiced for three hours in the mirror that day alone. She wanted everything to be perfect.

Denise glanced around slowly, seeming to take note of Kristina, now sitting by herself on a raggedy old sofa that had definitely seen better days. The older girl approached Kristina and sat down beside her, and Kristina gave her a nervous smile.

“I am,” she said matter-of-factly. In the dim light, it was difficult for Kristina to really tell where the girl’s hair ended and her black hoodie began.

“Me too,” Marie and Denise answered in unison. Josh gave a slight shrug.

“Maybe,” he grunted. “I was going to go to the movies, but-” he stopped himself. He didn’t dare admit that his girlfriend of two months dumped him. At least not publicly. News traveled fast among the girls’ bathroom though, and Marie gave him a sympathetic smile.

“But there’s nothing good playing this week,” she added. He laughed a little.

“What she said.”

The somewhat geeky boy rolled his shoulders. “Actually, I was just curious to see who sent the e-mail. They really did their homework to keep it anonymous.”

Kristina grinned just a bit. She was far from a true geek, but she had gone out of her way to set all this up with an emphasis on mystery.

“I’ve always loved ghost stories,” she continued, “And I grew up listening to my grandfather’s stories from the old country. When I learned of the Midnight Society, how they used to meet out here, and how they all came from wildly different backgrounds, it sounded almost Utopian.” She paused, adding hesitantly after, “I guess it’s kinda silly.”

The new girl shrugged thoughtfully. “Not really, if you’ve got a good story.” She paused to glance around at the others. “Storytelling is a tradition that’s almost as old as the human race. People have been telling stories around campfires for thousands of years.

“That’s the tradition of the Midnight Society. It’s the mystique that brought friends from such different backgrounds together. Rich, poor, male, female, black, white - none of that mattered.” She turned her soft green eyes on Kristina, and a chill ran down her spine. The girl smiled sweetly as she asked, “So what’s your story about?”

“I know at least some of you go to my school, so you already know who I am.”

“Sissy Krissy,” Josh muttered with a laugh, quickly silenced by another sharp punch from Marie. “Ow!”

“That’s so not funny,” Marie admonished, bordering on a growl. She had already yelled at someone at school the day before for saying it. It wasn’t that she cared one way or another about Kristina in particular, but being half-black and half-white, she knew the sting of prejudice growing up, even in these so-called modern times. It was her father’s hard work and her mother’s dedication to medicine that got her where she was now.

Kristina frowned though, lowering her gaze. She stared intently at the flames, as if trying to find her focus there … Or perhaps simply trying not to cry. Suddenly, she glanced up again. She had found what she sought, and knew exactly how to proceed.

“What if you were in my position, only you couldn’t do anything about it?”

“What do you mean?” Marie asked, genuinely curious. Kristina smiled. She knew she’d gotten Marie hooked at least. She stood slowly, setting her gaze on each individual gathered now, before she continued.

“What if you were a boy being forced into dressing like a girl, acting like a girl, even going to school as a girl, and there was nothing you could do about it? For some boys, that’s tantamount to torture, and that’s exactly what my story is about.” She paused for dramatic effect, and the entire camp fell silent, but for the crackling fire.

“Being a girl isn’t a choice for me; it’s just how I was born. It’s who I am. But what if it was your parents, or an evil babysitter, forcing it on you? Even if, deep down, you really were a girl inside, after years of living as a boy, would you be able to cope?”

The raven haired girl stood. She leaned down to whisper something in Kristina’s ear, and the girl’s eyes widened. She grinned, looking back. The other girl nodded, taking her seat again and passing Kristina the leather pouch she’d brought with her. The others watched in complete silence, their eyes fixated on Kristina now as she reached into the satchel, holding her hand there.

“Midnight dust,” she answered their questioning stares, and then announced in a dramatic voice, “Submitted for the approval of the New Midnight Society, I call this story,” she paused, tossing a handful of some kind of strange dust onto the fire. Immediately, the flames leapt and danced as an eerie smoke rose.

Marie jumped slightly, much to Josh’s pleasant surprise as he stole the opportunity, wrapping an arm around her. She started to punch him again, but instead lay her head against his shoulder and smiled, as Kristina sat once more, beginning her story.

“The tale of the Demon-sitter.”

Thirteen year old Kyle Lawrence was constantly in trouble. If he wasn’t blowing up mailboxes, he was slashing tires, planting toilet bowl cleaner in shower heads, or any number of other horrible tricks on friends, family, and neighbors. His mother, Jennifer had been very ill for a long time now. The medicine she took helped with the pain, and kept her alive, at the cost of leaving her very weak, so his father Scott often worked long hours to make up the difference.

On the rare occasion that Jennifer felt strong enough to go out for an evening, they usually returned to horror stories of how Kyle had tormented the babysitter to the point of threatening to call the police, as well as all-too-familiar vows to never sit for them again.

And then Jayne came into the picture. They had never heard of her until a week ago, but every reference she had provided not only checked out, but enthusiastically recommended her, with promises that absolutely nothing would go wrong. She sounded too good to be true, but Scott hadn’t had a night off in six months, and Jennifer was feeling unusually strong, so they decided to give her a chance.

Meanwhile, next door, Kyle had just pulled off his best prank yet, at least in his own mind. The trap had been set masterfully, and the glue was sure to never come off, leaving a pair of shoes stuck permanently to the welcome mat. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for Cherie, not her mother, to get into his little trap.

“KYLE YOU LITTLE FREAK!” came the shrill shriek, echoing through the entire neighborhood as Cherie frantically tugged and pulled, trying to get her feet free.

Kyle had been hiding in the bushes, watching the whole thing, and even though Cherie wasn’t his primary target, he still couldn’t help himself. He tumbled out of the bushes laughing and tried to approach to help her. After all, she was his age, and they were really pretty sneakers.

“Get away!” she yowled, nearly clawing his face as he got within arm’s reach. “Stupid jerk!”

“Fine!” he yelled back, as if she should have been grateful for his help. “Do it yourself you whiny powderpuff!” He stuck out his tongue and laughed, turning to walk away as she burst into tears.

Feeling smug and quite proud of himself, he almost didn’t notice the new voice in the kitchen. As he drew nearer though, he could hear his father talking with someone, and decided to investigate.

“Oh, Kyle, good,” his father, dressed in his best suit, gave Kyle a parental look as he approached. Kyle was more intently focused on the older girl leaning on the cabinet and sizing him up. Something about her just didn’t feel right. He sneered when he thought his father wasn’t looking, but smiled angelically as soon as his gaze returned.

“Kyle this is Jayne, your new babysitter. Your mother is finally feeling well enough to get out of the house. Try to behave yourself for just one night?” he asked, as if he already knew the answer to that.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together,” Jayne answered for him, smiling sweetly. Scott gave her a look that screamed ‘I’ll believe that when I see it’, and reluctantly, he turned to step into the other room, just as Kyle’s mother Jennifer entered. She wore a long, stunning black evening gown, and even had her honey blonde hair up. For a moment, Kyle actually forgot she was sick. She looked so pretty that he cracked a smile.

“And just what are you grinning about?” she asked. “No tricks, Kyle. I need tonight. Just... don’t burn the house down?”

“Ohhh I won’t,” he answered mischievously. The gears in his head had already begun to turn, as to how he could torture Jayne into never setting foot here again. Jayne seemed unfazed though, which, for some reason, unnerved him.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Lawrence. Everything’s going to be fine. You go and have a nice evening. I promise I’ll call if there are any problems, but I’m absolutely sure there won’t be.”

“Yes, well,” Jennifer trailed off a moment, but Jayne interrupted her.

“I promise,” she insisted, and as she lay her hand on the woman’s shoulder, Jennifer faintly nodded.

“Okay. Be good Kyle. We’ll be back before ten - probably earlier.”

Kyle opened the refrigerator and grabbed a can of grape soda, but before he could even open it, Jayne placed her hand over the top of it, staring down at him. She smiled as he gave her an irritated glance.

“I know what you stole from the neighbors’, Kyle,” Jayne said slowly, a calculating expression on her face. Kyle’s eyes widened slightly. He only ever stole one thing, but he never got caught. How could Jayne have found out?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kyle stammered. Jayne shook her head slowly as she took another step closer to the frightened boy and moved one hand behind her back. Slowly, she reached one hand out as she stood in front of him.

He flinched as she gently caressed his cheek with her palm, and with her other hand presented a pair of girls’ satin panties in Barbie pink. “I’ve been thinking,” she trailed off, dangling the treasure in front of him. He didn’t dare respond, just staring at the silky fabric.

“Your mother’s told me all about the horrible things you’ve done to your parents, neighbors, even that cute girl next door, Cherie was it? Since you’re such a rotten boy, maybe you’d make a better girl, instead?”

“W-what’re you talking about?” he asked, growing more and more afraid by the second. She laughed softly, as if he had just told her a really funny joke.

“It’s really simple. I noticed you have an old sandbox in the back yard. When was the last time you just went out and played, and acted like a child instead of a juvenile delinquent?”

She used that word, ‘juvenile delinquent’, and it made her sound like she was ninety or something. It was just one of the many things that seemed ‘off’ about this girl. Kyle shrugged his shoulders though. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he played in that old sandbox. It was before Cherie moved in, anyway, and that was years ago. “I dunno,” he grunted.

“You ‘dunno’, huh?” she answered, and then pushed the panties into his chest gently. “Here, sweetie. Put these on for me.”

“What?! You want me to just strip right here!?” he squeaked, ignoring for now that she just told him to put on girls’ underwear. She giggled, gently stroking his cheek again. As she did, he could feel a gentle warmth in her hand. It had an oddly comforting feeling, almost pleasant, soothing.

“Of course not, silly goose. I want you to go into the bathroom and change. While you’re doing that, I’m going to get something else for you to wear over it. We’re going to try a little experiment to channel some of that destructive energy of yours, okay? I promise it won’t hurt.”

Kyle couldn’t understand why, but he felt an absolutely irresistible and overwhelming desire to see just where this was going, enough that he was willing to endure wearing his ill-gotten booty. After all, if she tried something weird he could always have her arrested, and then never have to see her again. That’s what he told himself anyway, as he went into the downstairs bathroom and closed the door.

He didn’t hear the front door opening and closing, nor the lighter, second set of footsteps outside. He thought he could hear voices, but just as he pulled the silky undergarments into place, the bathroom door opened, causing him to flee for the safety of the bathtub. “Hey! You said you wouldn’t look!” he demanded.

“I’m not looking,” Jayne’s soothing voice responded. Kyle cautiously peeked around the tropical print shower curtain just enough to see that Jayne was telling the truth. She had one hand over her eyes, and the other, holding a lavender girls’ tank top and denim shorts.

It was obviously a girls’ tank top because the shoulder straps were spaghetti ties in neat bows, and the front had a picture of My Little Pony’s Twilight Sparkle. Of course, he’d never admit to having actually watched the cartoon. The shorts were just as bad, with a rainbow patch on the front, and heart designs stitched into the small back pockets.

She expertly laid the clothes on the sink, picking up his boy clothes, and backed out of the room just as Kyle quietly protested. “I can’t wear that.” His tone had lost much of its defiance already. She had taken his other clothes, so his options were somewhat limited.

“Of course you can,” Jayne answered. “Remember? We’re trying an experiment. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to try something different. Have I lied to you yet?”

“... No,” Kyle reluctantly answered. Of course he had only just met her, but that bit of logic seemed to escape him at the moment. He sighed, defeated, and stepped out of the bathtub. After zipping up the jean shorts, and pulling the tank top into place, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and frowned. Even with his short brown hair, he looked like a tomboyish girl. He sighed again, and trudged out of the bathroom, where Jayne stood, holding out a pair of hot pink jelly flat shoes. Kyle groaned.

“Oh come on now. I think they’re cute. I wish I had a pair of these when I was your age,” she added with a giggle. She gently squeezed Kyle’s hand and led him into the living room. With just a light nudge, she had shoved him down onto the overstuffed sofa. Before he could protest further, she had taken his left foot, shoving the first shoe into place. It fit perfectly, as did the second. “There. That wasn’t so bad was it?”

He started to stick out his tongue, but as he stood, and the almost non-existent heel clicked against the hardwood floor, he cringed. The sound resonated quite loudly, and sounded almost exactly like the sound that Cherie had made the day before as she stormed into her house, after he nailed her with a corn syrup-filled water balloon.

“Now, I want you to go outside, and I want you to play,” Jayne began. Kyle’s eyes grew wide with fear, and he shook his head vigorously.

“No way!” he shrieked. “I can’t let people see me like this! What’d the neighbors think?!”

“That all depends on you, sweets,” Jayne answered gently as she stroked his cheek again. “The neighbors are pretty used to Kyle, the juvenile delinquent who sets fires, blows up mailboxes, slashes tires - should I go on?” she asked, without waiting for an answer before continuing. “But who’s honestly going to notice Karen, the well-behaved little girl playing harmlessly in a sandbox?”

“Karen?” Kyle echoed, frowning his disapproval. Jayne nodded as she pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead. Somehow, he felt instantly at ease now.

“You look like a Karen to me. Besides, this is part of the experiment! I promise you won’t be laughed at or teased or anything. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” She grinned, and Kyle, now Karen just had to laugh. He couldn’t help it. Jayne was the last person he expected to know the Pinkie Pie Swear.

Karen turned to start for the back door by way of the kitchen, and then paused right at the doorway. He looked back at Jayne, who smiled softly at him. “How long do I gotta stay like this?” he asked quietly.

Jayne shrugged her shoulders. “That depends on you, honeydew. If you behave yourself for the next hour, then if you want, I’ll let you come back inside and change. Of course if you want to stay like that I won’t force you to change, either,,” she added with a playful wink. “Now go have fun. Be a kid.”

He sighed, defeated. He couldn’t possibly fathom any boy in his right mind wanting to stay like this. Worst of all, he couldn’t prank anyone. He didn’t dare risk it given the backlash and relentless teasing he’d receive, not just from the other kids in the neighborhood, but from the adults too.

As he took his first tentative steps out onto the back patio, he wondered how Jayne could possibly make a guarantee like that. The only hope he could cling to was the knowledge that he still had an ace up his sleeve - if he still had sleeves - to call the cops if things got any weirder than this.

All those delightful thoughts of sending Jayne to prison though, disappeared entirely when he realized he wasn’t alone. He stood motionless as Cherie watched from the patio table, sipping a glass of iced tea, with an incredibly broad smirk on her face. She had pulled her golden blonde hair into a cute ponytail with an aqua colored butterfly clip.

“Hi, I’m Cherie,” she said simply, as if introducing herself for the first time. “What’s your name?”

“You know who I am,” “Kyle” started to snap, but, as if Jayne were standing right behind him, he quickly corrected himself. “Erm... I mean, I’m Karen, I guess...” he mumbled. His cheeks flushed deeply and Cherie giggled as she stood and approached. Much to Karen’s surprise, she reached out her hand to take the frightened boy’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Jayne says you’re trying something new, and she asked me if I’d help you. If you promise not to be a jerk, I promise I’ll give you another chance. Sound fair?”

Kyle didn’t have many friends, not surprisingly. The only boy his age that tolerated his shenanigans moved away three years ago, when Cherie and her family moved in. Even then, Cherie attended the local private girls’ school, so she had up until now been little more than another target.

“Um... Okay?” Karen answered. Cherie smiled brightly as she pulled her new playmate along toward the old sandbox.

“Great!” she announced. “I know it might feel weird. Kids our age are trying really hard to act grown up. I mean, I even wear makeup sometimes, but can I tell you a secret, Karen?” she asked, as if the past three years of torment had never happened. Karen, dumbfounded, just nodded, waiting until they had reached the sandbox to answer, as Cherie pulled off her matching jelly flats.

“Sure?”

She carefully dipped her toes between the sand. At least the neighborhood cats were wise not to use it as a giant litter box. Most of them were smart enough to steer clear of Kyle’s back yard entirely though, for that matter. Cherie carefully smoothed her sundress as she sat down on one of the old, weathered railroad ties that made up one of the four borders, and smiled up at Karen, patting the spot next to her.

“I don’t want to grow up. I want to be a kid a little bit longer,” she answered thoughtfully. Karen slid her feet out of her shoes and stepped into the sandbox. As she sat beside Cherie, she felt the cool sand work its way up between her toes, and she shivered lightly, burying her feet up to her ankles.

“Why not?” she asked quietly, one finger idly drawing stick figures in the sand between their two sets of legs. Cherie giggled and began a small tic-tac-toe grid, marking an ‘X’ at the top center square.

“Because... Growing up is scary. You know what adults are like. All they do is work, worry about bills, and when they get home they’re too tired to have any fun.” She paused to nudge Karen’s shoulder lightly. Karen, without missing a beat, drew in a little ‘O’ to block the center square.

“Why do you think I love pranking people?” Karen responded. “It’s fun. It’s freakin’ funny too.”

Cherie stopped mid-X to stare at Karen. She frowned. “It might be funny to you, but my parents are out $1500 this year alone - $1600 counting my shoes. The only reason we haven’t called the cops is because of your Mom’s health.” She trailed off, and Karen flinched outwardly.

Cherie frowned again, squeezing Karen’s hand.

“I’m sorry Karen. We’re supposed to be having fun. Let’s talk about something else okay?”

Karen drew a little circle, completing her three ‘O’s, and drew a line through them. Cherie smiled.

“I let you win,” she teased.

Karen smiled a little, sticking her tongue out. “Best two out of three?”

The two played together for another hour and then some. Time passed so quickly, as the two talked and shared interests, that Karen actually jumped when Jayne called the two inside for dinner. She had ordered a large meat trio pizza with extra cheese.

She also made a calculated move to downplay “Karen” still “visiting”. Not only did she avoid mention of their deal over dinner conversation, she quickly distracted the pair halfway through their meal.

“Eating at the table is fine and all,” she began, catching the girls’ attention with an innocent smile, “But I was thinking, why don’t we move this to the living room? I found some old board games in the closet.” She paused, and a sheepish expression crossed her features.

Karen covered her mouth and tried not to giggle, but giggle she did. “They found you? I SWEAR I didn’t do it. Hall closet’s Dad’s fault.”

Jayne laughed as she ruffled Karen’s hair softly. “I know you didn’t. I was just going to ask if you wanted to play a game while we eat, or maybe drop in a movie.”

She gave the pair a glowing smile, and Cherie almost squealed, squeezing Karen’s hand. “Oh, can we? My friends are all too “grown up” for stuff like board games. Just one? Please?”

Karen, caught between the two physically and metaphorically, slowly nodded. What harm could it do? Cherie was cute, and actually kind of fun to hang out with, and this way she’d have to stay over a little longer - bonus!

“Yay!” Cherie announced, grabbing her paper plate as Jayne picked up the pizza box and led the pair to the living room. Much to Karen’s own surprise, she found herself carrying all three of their drinks, as well as some napkins. Not only did Kyle never use napkins, but she didn’t remember picking up their glasses in the first place.

Late in the evening, as Karen found herself helping Jayne clean up, Cherie yawned sleepily.

“I’d better get home. I have to be in bed by ten, and I still need to get a shower. Thank you so much for having me over, Jayne!” she said cheerfully as she hugged the teenager. Karen ignored the exchange at first, walking into the kitchen to dispose of their paper plates, and dump the glasses in the sink.

“You’re welcome,” Jayne replied. “Thank you for helping me with this,” she added in a hushed tone.

Cherie giggled as Karen emerged from the kitchen again, and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her lips softly: both Kyle’s and Cherie’s first kiss. Karen’s jaw dropped slightly, and Cherie, smiling brightly, hugged her again. “And thank you for having me over, Karen. We should so do this again sometime.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Karen answered without really thinking.

“Sure!” Cherie replied happily. She waved as she stepped out the door - just as Karen’s parents entered.

“Well!” her father replied, startled by Cherie’s hasty, and extremely cheerful exit. “What was that-” he started, but seeing Karen, stopped in his tracks.

“What is it-” her mother asked, but she too froze solid. Karen tried to hide behind Jayne, but she, with entirely too little effort for someone so small, easily wrangled Karen around in front of her, wrapping her in a gentle, but secure hug.

“We decided to try a little experiment tonight, to try and channel some of Kyle’s destructive energy. Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, I’d like you to meet Karen.”

“This is … certainly unexpected,” Jennifer answered slowly. Jayne beamed, quite proud of her work. In a single night she had tamed the most unruly boy in the entire state. That was after all, one reason she chose him....

“Karen has been a perfect little angel. She and Cherie played in the backyard until dinner, and then we watched a movie and played board games. Right Karen?” she asked, looking down. Karen silently nodded. “Why don’t you go and get ready for bed while I talk to your parents, okay sweetie?” She whispered, and planted a soft kiss on Karen’s cheek.

Karen raced off down the hall, more to get away from the humiliation of her parents’ stares than to go back to being Kyle. Meanwhile Jayne held up her hands defensively.

“I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why is my son dressed like a girl’. I know it seems radical, but I think the results speak for themselves. Not only has he not been a problem at all tonight, but I overheard him talking to Cherie when they thought I wasn’t listening. He apologized to her for his latest pranks.”

Jennifer quite literally fainted right there. Scott let out a startled yelp as he raced to catch her. Jayne, frowning, helped him move her over to the sofa.

“Jennifer!” he called, fanning her. “Jenn, are you okay? Sweetie?”

Jennifer’s soft, graying blue eyes fluttered open. “Oh... I’m sorry, did I faint again?” she asked groggily. “I had the strangest dream. Jayne was telling us about how well-behaved our ‘daughter’ was tonight.”

Jayne exchanged a glance with Scott. He cleared his throat. “That wasn’t a dream, honey. Kyle - or Karen I suppose?” he asked, giving Jayne a confused glance. She shot him a reassuring smile as she nodded cheerfully. “... actually apologized to Cherie.”

As Jennifer slowly sat up, a loud crash could be heard from elsewhere in the house. Jennifer’s eyes widened, as if she knew the sound without even seeing it. Quick as a flash, she leapt to her feet and raced for the hallway. Kyle, dressed in a plain t-shirt and pajama bottoms, toothbrush in-hand, stared in wide-eyed terror.

“My vase!” Jennifer screeched. “That was my mother’s! Kyle, what am I going to do with you?”

“But I didn’t! I mean-” he tried to argue.

“That’s enough, young man,” his father bellowed. “Bed. Now.”

Jayne watched, seemingly helplessly, as he gave her a forlorn glance before turning to trudge back upstairs.

Scott exhaled a long, drawn out sigh as he pulled his wife close and kissed her forehead softly. This night had been so perfect, with dinner and a romantic movie, and a moonlit stroll in the park, only to come home and find Kyle actually behaving himself, but now it seemed, reality was crashing in around them once more.

“Oh Scott, what are we going to do with him?” she wept into his chest, irreparable fragments of family heirloom scattered across the floor. No one could possibly have noticed the kitchen window slowly slide itself open and shut again.

Jayne quietly stepped closer. She put on her best ‘concerned babysitter’ demeanor before speaking. “Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence … May I make a suggestion?”

The pair quietly turned their gaze on the young babysitter. With practiced poise, and all too much professionalism for someone so young, she launched into her presentation. “You saw for yourselves how well-behaved your son was as Karen. The second he changed, ‘Kyle’ returned. Maybe we need to send Kyle on a little vacation for awhile, and let his cousin Karen stay here?”

Jennifer slowly turned to her husband, shaking her head. “I... I don’t know about this, Scott.”

Jayne was only just getting started, though. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve already spoken to some of your neighbors while the kids were playing. I know how much damage Kyle’s done. They’d be willing to forgive it, and even chip in to help if someone were to, say, help him achieve a complete 180.” She paused to frown thoughtfully. “And Halloween is this Saturday...”

“Worst night of the year,” Scott groaned, “But you’re talking about forcing him to be a girl all the time, right?” he asked with a concerned frown. “That can’t be healthy for a boy his age.”

“Well, you have to understand where I’m coming from. I grew up with six older brothers who all resented me for being the ‘baby’ of the family, and their sister.” She lied, “Mom had to find creative ways to punish them because she didn’t believe in just senselessly beating them.”

Now she was going in for the kill.

“What about school?” Jennifer asked. “Kyle can’t attend school as a girl. The other kids would tear him apart after what he’s done to at least half of them.”

“My aunt Theresa is the Headmistress of St. Claire’s Girls’ Academy. I can ask her to let Karen attend school there. And before you say anything, yes, I know it’s ridiculously expensive, but if you ask Cherie’s mother I’m sure she’ll give Karen a glowing reference for financial aid.”

She reached out to touch Scott’s shoulder gently, and an almost comforting sense of warmth washed over him as she concluded. “It doesn’t have to be forever. We just need to give Kyle time to sort out these feelings he’s dealing with. In the meantime St. Claire’s has a fantastic guidance counselor with Masters degrees in child psychology.”

“Well, I suppose...” Scott trailed off, turning to Jennifer. “But I might just still be upset over losing a thousand dollars’ worth of liquor.”

Jennifer stifled a laugh. “You know you were never going to drink that bottle of scotch anyway.”

“No, but it was in my family for years-” he cut himself off as he glanced down at the shattered vase. “... Okay, we’ll do it.”

“Great. I just need to go next door and borrow something from Cherie for Karen to wear tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll take her shopping for her new uniform, and while she’s out of the house, ‘Dad’ can redecorate her room. Don’t worry - I have everything you’ll need back at my house. I was a total girly girl, and I didn’t have the heart to throw any of it away so I saved it. For Karen I’m more than happy to let her use my old furniture.”

“How much do we owe you for sitting tonight?” Jennifer asked.

Jayne shrugged her shoulders. “At first I was going to charge you guys my usual fee of $3.50 an hour plus $2 per incident, but since Karen’s turning into a long-term project, and I really want to see her blossom and get beyond this grubby juvenile delinquent phase, I can’t accept any money from you. There’ll be other sitting jobs, but a kid I can actually help comes along once in a lifetime.”

She grinned at the dumbfounded parents, quite proud of herself. Everything was moving along exactly according to her plans.

Meanwhile, Kyle sat on the edge of his bed. He knew the adults were talking downstairs, but there was just no way he could hear them way up here. The thought to lock the door crossed his mind, but his father was so angry, that mental images of him busting the door down genuinely terrified him too much to do anything but sit and wait.

He nearly jumped out of his pajamas when a gentle knock came. He didn’t answer, so Jayne called gently. “Honeydew, it’s Jayne. Can I come in?”

“I guess,” he answered quietly.

Jayne slowly stepped inside, holding up her empty hands to show she came in peace. “Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs?”

“Jayne, I SWEAR, I didn’t do it. I went to get my toothbrush from the downstairs bathroom, and I heard the crash, and when I came out to see what it was, Mom came running.”

Jayne frowned softly. “Are you really sure that’s what happened?” she asked as she stepped closer. “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally brush it on your way past? Or maybe you did it intentionally?”

Her tone, despite her words, didn’t sound accusing at all. Further, she reached out to stroke his cheek, and a calming warmth washed over his body. She smiled.

“Maybe Karen just wanted to stay a little bit longer? Put your panties back on, sweetie. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

It was at this point that Kyle realized he never actually took them off to begin with. He waited until Jayne stepped out of the room, however briefly, to quickly strip, holding his t-shirt in front of him as she returned. He nearly dropped the t-shirt, staring absolutely mortified at Jayne as she reappeared.

In one hand, she held a bundle of silky-looking cloth, which he ignored in favor of the clothes hanger in her other hand, containing without question, the frilliest pink party dress that he had seen in his entire life.

Without a word, she carefully hung the dress on the small coat hook suspended from his closed door before turning back to him and unfurling the cloth in her hands, revealing a lacy, white satin nightgown.

“You’re not really gonna make me wear that thing are you?” he asked, pointing at the party dress. She smiled softly as she approached.

“Arms up, honeydew,” she instructed. For whatever reason, he found himself complying, and raised his arms, dropping the t-shirt. She quickly draped the short-sleeved nightgown over his head. The lace-trimmed hem fell neatly about his ankles, and she motioned for him to sit. She sat down beside Karen, taking her hand and bringing it up to kiss her palm.

“It’s one of Cherie’s. I borrowed it to help reinforce what’s going to happen if you misbehave further. I’m trying to help you, honeydew, but you’ve got to work with me, too. If you can behave yourself, I won’t make you wear that dress tomorrow. If, however, Kyle tries anything, you’ll be having lunch with me at an upscale restaurant - in that adorable little number.”

Her sweet smile and gentle gaze met Karen’s terrified stare, and she pulled her into a hug. She easily scooped Karen up off her feet and tucked her into bed. “Oh, and one last thing. If you try to hide or destroy it, I’ll have to tell your parents what you stole from Cherie. Don’t make this any worse for yourself, okay?” she pleaded in a whisper just next to Karen’s ear. “Sleep, honeydew,” she added, and kissed her forehead. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

Just like that, Karen’s eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off to sleep. Jayne giggled to herself. “All too easy... Now for phase two,” she mused in a dark, frigid tone. She paused at the door to admire the party dress. “It really is a pretty dress. Shame I can’t make you wear it... Yet.”

She pulled the door open and smiled as Jennifer approached. “She’s sleeping,” Jayne whispered, pulling the door closed. “But I talked to her about what happened. It might have been an accident, but she seemed nervous. I think she might have wanted to stay ‘Karen’ for a little bit longer.”

Jennifer sighed softly. “Well, she can ‘stay’ Karen for as long as she wants now. I still don’t like this, but the results speak for themselves. Jayne, you’re an absolute miracle-worker.” She pulled the teen into a gentle hug. Jayne smiled brightly.

“Aww. I’m just so glad I can help. With you being sick it’s probably taking its toll on her. She just needs to redirect that energy into positive things, and being ‘Karen’ gives her an outlet for her misplaced anger.”

“I feel guilty,” Jennifer replied as the pair started back downstairs. “She knows I’m getting worse every day. There’s nothing she or anyone can do about it.” Jennifer trailed off slowly. It only just hit her that she had been calling her son ‘she’ this entire conversation. “I’m sorry. This pronoun stuff is going to take some getting used to.”

“It’s okay. It’ll be easier once she’s Karen full-time, and has a wardrobe to reflect that. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you? Do you need medications or anything?”

Jennifer smiled sadly. “It’s the medicine that makes me weak like this, but without it I’d be in too much pain to move. It’s a tradeoff. Unless you really are a miracle-worker, I’m afraid it’s just something I have to live with.”

Jayne frowned softly. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she wrapped Jennifer in a hug, and a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do. But I promise you won’t even recognize Kyle when this is all over.”

Jennifer laughed softly. “I won’t lie to you, Jayne. I’m at my wit’s end with that boy. I wouldn’t mind if he stayed a girl forever, if it meant no more visits from the boys in blue.” She paused, and began to sob, large tears streaming down her cheeks. “Does that make me a terrible mother?”

“Oh, Mrs. Lawrence, of course it doesn’t,” Jayne answered, quickly ushering her into the kitchen. She pulled down two ceramic coffee mugs, as well as the battered old tea kettle. “You’re frustrated. It’s understandable,” she continued, as she set the kettle on the range top and then turned back to Jennifer.

The woman blinked. She didn’t seem to remember Jayne filling the kettle with water, but she ignored it. She was tired, and upset, and such a mundane thing was easy to miss in her condition.

“We’ve literally tried everything: therapists, threats of military school, every kind of punishment you can imagine... We even let him spend a night in jail once. Do you know what happened?”

Jayne quietly shook her head, and Jennifer laughed dryly, almost bitterly.

“He learned how to pick locks! He wasn’t even put with anyone else, for God’s sakes!”

Jayne recalled that night well. She hated disguising herself as a man, but it was worth it for the payoff. This day had been a long time coming, and Kyle’s soul energy and rebellious nature were exactly what she needed in a daughter.

She smiled reassuringly as she picked up the kettle by its handle and carefully poured the boiling water over tea bags in the two mugs.

“Sugar?” she asked.

“Yes, please. My one vice is that I love my tea extra sweet,” she chuckled wryly. Jayne giggled.

“Oh, me too. I can’t drink it without at least four teaspoons’ worth.” She handed Jennifer one of the mugs, and raised the other. “To Karen?”

“To the first good night’s sleep I’ll have had in years,” Jennifer answered softly. Jayne laughed as their mugs clanked softly together. Scott was nowhere to be found. He seemed to be giving the women some peace. After all, Jayne was now the closest thing to a family friend they’d had since Kyle entered this awkward phase..

“Thank you again for everything you’re doing. I swear it’s almost as if you planned all this.” Jennifer laughed again, and in the next room, Scott smiled. It felt good to hear his wife laugh again.

“Oh, it’s no trouble Mrs. Lawrence. I did my research before accepting this job, so I knew what I was getting into, plus talking to the neighbors earlier tonight. I didn’t expect Karen to take to our little experiment so easily though.”

“When she was little, I think she wanted to be a girl,” Jennifer exhaled slowly. Jayne’s brows quirked slightly. She was genuinely surprised by this little bit of information. A certain imp would receive the thrashing of a lifetime for not informing her, but for now, she slowly lowered her cup. This new territory warranted further exploration.

“You mean she actually said it?”

“Well no, not at first,” Jennifer trailed off. “But she didn’t really have any interest in boys’ toys. You’ve seen that old sandbox out in the back yard haven’t you?”

Jayne nodded. “I sent the girls out there to play earlier,” she answered casually, taking a gamble that this was going somewhere important. Jennifer stared back at Jayne for a moment.

“She used to spend hours building sand castles out there. I remember when she was five, right before I got sick... I was planting azaleas. I happened to look up, and she was sitting next to the biggest, most beautiful sand castle I’ve ever seen a child create. She must have used half the sand in the box... And she was waving. Not at me, but just … moving her hand slowly, gracefully.”

Jennifer paused, taking another slow sip of her tea. Scott had been about to step into the kitchen to get a broom, to sweep up the remnants of the vase, but stopped short, listening.

“... When I asked her what she was doing, she excitedly said ‘I’m a princess, Mommy!’ I...” she stopped herself, and started to sob. “I told her boys can’t be princesses. She frowned, kicked her sand castle down, and stormed off. Oh God.”

“Hey, hey,” Jayne set her cup down, pulling Jennifer into a hug. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“That’s when it started,” she sobbed. “That’s when she turned into a little terror. It’s only gotten worse since then. It’s my fault she’s so miserable!”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Jayne answered with a kind of genuineness to her tone that surprised even her. “You reacted the way you felt you should have. But this means that she’ll have a chance to explore that now, right?”

“Mm-mm?” Jennifer sniffed.

“This is perfect,” she blurted, a little too excitedly. She quickly corrected herself. “I mean, if Karen has these latent curiosities about being a girl, then this gives her a chance to explore that fully, without any guilt because her “evil babysitter” - i.e. me, is forcing her to dress like a girl.” She grinned, and Jennifer managed a weak laugh, and a small smile.

“You’re hardly evil,” she answered softly. “That honor goes to Momma Dream Crusher here.”

“We all have our demons, Mrs. Lawrence,” Jayne answered soberly. “Even me.” The response caught Jayne by surprise as much as it did Jennifer, but rather than press the subject, the older woman simply shook her head.

“From now on, young lady, I want you to call me Jennifer, alright? No more of this “Mrs. Lawrence” business.”

Jayne smiled brightly. “Yes ma’am. I should get going though. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Before you go... I know you said you didn’t want us to pay you, but at least let me give you something?”

Jayne shook her head quickly. “You’ve given me a lot to think about Jennifer,” she answered. Her enigmatic tone gave the woman pause, but her reassuring smile dispelled it just as quickly. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Someone’ll be here with a moving van to unload the furniture shortly after we leave. They’ll put Karen’s old furniture into storage in place of mine so it’s no big deal. Just exchanging one bedroom set for a much girlier one.”

And with that, she turned to leave.

Scott emerged from the hallway and immediately Jennifer raced to him, burying her face in his chest. She tried, incoherently, to explain, but he shook his head, kissing her forehead. “Jenn, it’s okay. I heard it all, and it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay!” she cried. “My baby hates me!”

“She doesn’t hate you,” he whispered. It felt odd to him, saying ‘she’, but even if there was no truth to this revelation, the results did speak for themselves, so he had committed himself to adjusting. “She’s just a confused, frustrated kid who doesn’t even know what she’s so frustrated about. She’s a rebel without a cause - or a clue.”

Jennifer laughed weakly at that. “Maybe you’re right... Either way things can’t possibly get any worse, can they?”

Scott smiled reassuringly. “Not from where I’m standing, they can’t. Let’s get you to bed. I think this is the first sound night’s sleep I’ll have had in years.”

Jennifer gave an exhausted nod, leaning into Scott’s embrace, as he carefully led her upstairs.

Outside, Jayne walked alone, to the end of the block. There in the street light, a cackling voice hissed.

“You’re getting too close to this one... I almost believed those tears-” it tried to taunt her, until, with lightning reflexes, she thrust out her fist, clamping thin air with a vice-like grip. The voice gargled and sputtered desperately for air.

“You didn’t tell me the kid wanted to be a girl from the beginning.”

“I didn’t know-ACK!” the voice tried to defend itself, but her grip tightened, forcing more gurgling and gasping sounds.

“You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to insult me either. As a matter of fact?”

With a flick of her wrist, a sickening crunch echoed through the otherwise empty street. A hideously grotesque, sickly green, malformed creature that would have stood about two feet tall, with mottled wings growing out of its back that ended in razor-like talons, crumpled to the ground. It looked as though the creature had already suffered its share of abuse and then some, with numerous scars and burns across its body.

“You don’t even get to live,” she icily snarled. As she sauntered away, a flicker of a shadow nothing like her current form cast itself in the street light. It had long, flowing hair, and two large, vaguely batlike wings folded neatly against its back. As the shadow returned to normal, the grotesque little imp’s corpse caught fire, almost instantly burning away to nothing but ashes.

“Whoa, ferocious!” Josh blurted. Kristina couldn’t help smiling at the interruption. It meant the least likely person she expected there to be paying attention, was probably the most interested.

“So what happened?” the dark-haired girl asked curiously.

“Well, as you can imagine ‘Karen’,” she emphasized the name using finger quotes, “Wasn’t exactly ready for what happened next. Everything was moving entirely too fast for her, and by Tuesday she had a whole new life thrust on her. She was attending St. Claire’s girls’ school, where Cherie was the only person she knew, and there were physical changes taking hold too.”

“That’s terrifying,” Denise replied quietly.

Marie cleared her throat next, asking, “Before you go on can I ask you something?” she asked softly. Kristina nodded for her to go ahead, and she bit her lip. “Is that how you feel at school? Constantly afraid one of us’ going to say something mean, or worse?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I do,” Kristina trailed off slowly. She felt the raven-haired girl’s arm around her, and leaned into the sudden hug just a little as she continued. “All I want is to be treated like any other girl. I want to have friends and go out on weekends, normal teenager stuff. Being transgender isn’t contagious. It’s a physical deformity. My brain is literally, physically, closer to yours than Josh’s or Brent’s,” she added, now that she finally had remembered the other boy’s name.

Brent laughed a little. “If it’s any comfort I’m constantly worried about people judging me from my appearance. I mean I’m a computer geek, and I accept that, but I like sports too. Everyone has layers.”

“Anyway...” the unnamed girl interrupted. “What happened to Karen? You said there were physical changes? What kind?”

“The next morning, Karen noticed her hair had gotten longer overnight - not much, but just enough to make her look more feminine. By Sunday, the changes were more extreme, and they were starting to freak her out a little... Meanwhile Jayne was facing her own struggle. You see, Jayne is a kind of demon known as a succubus.”

“You mean a sex demon?” Denise asked, concerned. Kristina nodded.

“Generally speaking, yeah, but don’t worry. This story’s PG.” She grinned, causing everyone to laugh. “But you’ve probably already guessed what she has in mind for Karen. What she wasn’t expecting was for Karen to be like her - a boy who wanted to be a girl, but also having it shoved on her. It brought back memories of her life as a human - memories that were supposed to be wiped away in the process.”

“Ooh... The plot thickens!” the raven-haired girl cackled.

The next morning, Karen woke to her mother gently shaking her. She glanced over at the door, somewhat relieved to see the hideous pink dress had been taken down, but then the realization that she might be blamed for it welled up inside.

“Mmm-mommy I swear I didn’t do it,” she mumbled groggily.

“Didn’t do what, sweetheart?” she asked innocently. “If you mean the dress, I know you didn’t. I hung it in your closet.” She smiled sweetly and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As Karen sat up, she felt a light tickle on the back of her neck, as if her hair had gotten just a little bit longer while she slept.

Strange, new sensations followed as she shifted and moved, and reality came flooding back. Sleeping in a satin nightgown was a strange experience, and perhaps worst of all, she actually found herself enjoying it.

“We’ve got a big day, Princess,” Jennifer whispered, doing everything in her power not to burst into tears.

“Princess?” Karen asked, rubbing her eyes slowly. “Mom, what’re you talking about? Jayne said if I was good I wouldn’t have to wear that dress.”

“I know, but she didn’t say anything about letting you out of being Karen,” she answered. She rehearsed the conversation over and over again with Jayne earlier in the morning, but it still stung. “That vase was a priceless family heirloom, sweetheart. After talking it over with your father, we’ve decided that it’s in your best interest to stay Karen for awhile.”

“I can’t go to school like this!” she blurted immediately, trying to push herself out of bed and simultaneously pulling at her nightgown. It seemed the harder she struggled though, the more the fabric clung to her body. She calmed noticeably as Jayne entered the room.

“You’re not going to school as Karen, honeydew,” she answered gently. “At least, not public school. My aunt is the headmistress at Cherie’s school. I’ve arranged for you to attend there.”

“But that’s a girls’ school...” she tried to protest, but her face fell as she realized where this was going. “Oh.”

“You’ll have a clean slate there. Nobody knows Karen. I know you’re not thrilled with this right now, but remember what I said yesterday - have I misled you yet?”

“No...” Karen answered slowly. “But what if kids from my old school see me?”

Jayne glanced at Jennifer with a knowing smile. “All I see is a pretty young girl. What about you Mom?”

“Oh, I agree. She could pass for Cherie’s twin!”

Jayne giggled just a little and smiled as she pulled Karen into a hug, though this time, she decided to forego the magical influences in favor of a simple kiss on her forehead.

“Cherie’s been generous enough to loan you an outfit to wear today, but we need to get you some things for yourself. We also need to get you fitted for your new school uniform.”

“I promised Cherie we could hang out today,” Karen whined, trying to get out of shopping, but Jayne just smiled.

“Oh, yes, that’s true... I suppose we’ll just have to take her with us. She can help you pick out some nice dresses.”

Karen frowned. That backfired utterly.

“So what do I have to wear today?” she asked hesitantly. Jayne approached the closet, and Karen flinched, expecting the party dress again. Instead Jayne pulled out a cute, if bright, floral print dress with a red plastic belt looped around the waist. Karen found herself admiring it for a brief second or two before giving a reluctant nod. “Okay.”

“I’ll let mother and daughter have a bonding moment,” Jayne teased. “I need to check on breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Karen asked hopefully. Usually breakfast on a Saturday just meant cold cereal. Scott typically had to work early on Saturdays, and Jennifer barely had the energy these days. Jayne nodded simply.

“You and your mom could both stand to start eating better,” she admonished, giving Jennifer a look before turning to head downstairs.

“Maybe he was right,” she mumbled to herself. “Am I getting too close? … But that girl... She’s just like me,” she sighed. “And Jennifer... Can I really do this to them?” she asked no one in particular, while, upstairs, Jennifer helped Karen with her dress.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jennifer began as she stood behind Karen, buttoning her in. “When you were little, I said something awful to you. I wasn’t even thinking when I said it.”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Karen tried to interrupt her. She really wasn’t comfortable with where this was going.

“Let me finish, please,” Jennifer begged. After the last button, she spun Karen around and pulled her into a tight hug. “I told you boys can’t be princesses...” she trailed off. Karen frowned deeply.

“I remember.”

“That’s still true,” she continued, but before Karen could respond, she quickly added, “But I don’t see a boy here. Do you?”

Karen stammered. She couldn’t come up with a response to that, at all, so Jennifer simply pulled her close, kissed her forehead, and smiled through her tears. “Let’s get your shoes on then go eat.”

Karen, without waiting to be told, sat down on the edge of the bed. It was unseasonably warm for being mid-October, so Cherie had loaned Karen a pair of sandals to wear. They had a slight one inch heel though, so once they were firmly strapped into place, she had a bit of trouble walking downstairs.

Jayne had two plates ready, with two large scrambled eggs each, and three pieces of bacon, as well as a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk each, when the pair entered the dining room. She glanced up with a smile.

“Karen, you look adorable.”

“Doesn’t she though?” Jennifer echoed with a proud smile as she reached for her chair. Karen quickly pulled it out for her and smiled quietly as she took her seat. She hadn’t realized it, but both Jayne and Jennifer noticed when she crossed her ankles, but neither commented on it.

“Aren’t you eating too?” Karen asked. Jayne quickly shook her head.

“Oh, no. I had a big meal last night. I’m still stuffed.” That little imp was surprisingly tasty. Perhaps it was just the side of vengeance though. Instead, she sat, quietly sipping a cup of coffee, losing herself in thought. Everything was already set up. She had blackmailed the headmistress to pose as her aunt, and enough dirt on the neighbors to keep Karen safe for years if she chose. Now all that was left was to decide.

“There’s no question. You’re growing boobs, Karen,” Cherie said thoughtfully. The late Sunday afternoon sun filtered in around the new, dusty rose lace curtains over the window as the two sat on the edge of a four post bed. Even the carpet, once dark navy, had been pulled up and replaced with soft plush pink.

Karen sighed, defeated as she slumped into the pink, lace-frilled comforter. There used to be a dark blue one with Spider-Man slinging a web at the Green Goblin on it. “I’m telling you, she’s doing this to me. Maybe she put something in my food?”

“I doubt it. I’ve watched her cook, and I know you have too.”

Karen blushed deeply. “Shut up. She looks cute in an apron,” Karen tried to defend herself. In reality, she was trying to learn to cook by watching. Karen had been around almost constantly that weekend, and this afternoon was her first free moment to talk to Cherie in private, so she had plenty of opportunity for it.

“So do you,” Cherie giggled quietly as she gave Karen’s shoulder a playful poke. “Tell you what; my older brother was really into spy gadgets and stuff. He’s off at college, but he left his junk in the attic. We can like, borrow some of it and go spy on her?”

Karen perked up for a moment, but then she frowned and shook her head. “My parents won’t let me out of their sight. I can’t even sneak out. They’re too afraid of ‘Kyle’ coming back.”

“I’ll tell them we’re taking you to get your nails done to help with the illusion when you start at my school.”

Karen flinched at being reminded. The new uniform fit like a glove. Worst of all, she actually liked how she looked in the skirt, but it was all happening too fast. Some part of her loved being treated like a girl by everyone, but this was too much too quickly. “Won’t they know something’s wrong when I come back without painted nails?”

Cherie rolled her eyes as if she had just asked if the sky were blue. “Duh. We’ll go get your nails done then conveniently swing by Jayne’s house on the way home.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Karen stated flatly as she stood, unconsciously flattening her dress. This caused Cherie to giggle.

“You don’t even realize it do you?” she asked. Karen glanced back at her with a confused expression, and Cherie shook her head. “Nothing. Anyway, consider this payback for ruining my shoes. Now come on. Let’s go talk to your parents; I’ve been eyeing a sparkly Barbie pink nail polish that I think will look fantastic with your skin tone.”

As the two stood, Cherie added, “Um, by the way, did you dye your hair?”

Karen blinked, even more confused. She slowly shook her head, and as she started to ask why Cherie would even ask such a ridiculous question, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror by her new dresser. Not only was her hair a full two inches longer than it was a day ago, it was much lighter and had a faint red tinge. “... I think I’m losing my mind.”

“It must be contagious,” Cherie quipped, but without her usual cheer. She squeezed Karen’s hand and pulled her into a hug. “Whatever’s going on here, I believe you, and I’ll help you get to the bottom of it, okay? You’re not crazy, and you’re not alone.”

Karen smiled faintly as she nodded. “I’m … really sorry about-” she started, but Cherie put a finger to her lips and smiled. “You’ve already apologized three times. Just... don’t ever do it again, and we’ll call it even okay? I’ve really enjoyed getting to know the new you. Even if you reverted to being a jerk again, I’ll always have the memories of a BFF who ‘gets’ me.”

She grinned, pulling Karen along toward the door.

“How do you even know where she lives?” Karen asked, as the pair stepped off the city bus. Cherie shrugged and smiled. “Hey, just because I’m all girly and junk doesn’t mean I’m not resourceful. C’mon, it’s the house on the end.”

As they walked down the sidewalk, Karen began to notice something, or to be more accurate a lack of something. It was a brisk October afternoon, and though many leaves had fallen from the trees, there were still more than enough for the wind to rustle, but it seemed almost dead around them. No dogs barking, no traffic, no birds chirping, no wind.

“Hey Cherie...?”

Cherie didn’t respond. Instead she slid her heavy purple backpack off her shoulders as she knelt behind the bushes in front of the old house. Karen quickly joined her, as she retrieved two pair of high powered binoculars, as well as a strange device that resembled a hand-held satellite dish.

“Listening device,” Cherie whispered, offering one of a set of earbud headphones to Karen. She nodded, sliding it into her ear as Cherie did the same, and both took up a pair of binoculars. The house was dark, and at first they could only hear a muffled conversation, but as if by magic, things suddenly became clearer.

“Little Jaynie, have you seen Kipthop?” a sweet, young-sounding voice asked.

Jayne answered, irritated, “It took you two days to notice? I ate him Mother,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“You what?!” the second voice bellowed, but calmed almost immediately. “I realize he got on your nerves, which is precisely why I let you use him for target practice, however he was a useful tool.”

“Tool being the operative word, Mother. When a tool no longer becomes useful, you find a new use for it. He botched my plans,” she explained.

Cherie nudged Karen, pointing up. On the second floor, staring out of the window facing the road, stood a pale figure with long, purple hair. As the figure spoke, Jayne’s voice could be heard over the listening device, and Karen gasped.

“All he had to do was knock over a vase and get out, but he couldn’t even do THAT,” she lied. “So I used him for a midnight snack.” She didn’t dare turn around. She knew she’d be caught in her lie if she did, so she pretended to stare out the window.

“Besides, everything’s going as planned. You have Jennifer’s life energy to sustain you, and I’ll have a new daughter soon. All Hallow’s Eve is almost here.”

Suddenly a glint of light caught her attention. The sunlight reflected off the girls’ binoculars, and she smiled broadly, revealing a mouthful of fangs, as she stared directly at the girls. “Excuse me a moment, Mother. It seems we have guests.”

“Uh oh,” Karen whispered. Cherie didn’t say anything, but she was breathing shallowly, as if gripped by mortal terror. Karen lowered her binoculars and glanced over, to find Cherie staring face-to-snout with an angry-looking black chow. The creature growled, its stained yellow fangs showing. Its hot breath smelled of the worst kind of rot, as Karen slowly stood, grabbing Cherie by the arm and pulling her to her feet very slowly.

The dog took a step forward, and the girls cautiously, slowly backed away.

“Lobo, down,” Jayne commanded from the front steps, now looking just as human as ever. The dog immediately lowered its head, and Cherie frantically rushed to hide the spy gear in her backpack.

The dog snorted at the two before turning to prance away harmlessly around the side of the house, as Jayne approached. The two stared, too afraid to move, too afraid to speak, until she stood in front of them, and pulled them into a hug.

“I’m sorry if he scared you,” she cooed, setting them both immediately at ease. She kissed each girl lightly on the forehead. “Was there something you needed? Do you want to come inside? I was just baking cookies with my Mom,” she added with a sweet smile.

Karen shook her head quickly. “No, we really can’t stay. We um,” she tried to think of a lie, but for the first time in her life, had nothing.

“We were just on our way home from the mall, and we wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for Karen the last couple of days.” She grabbed Karen’s hand, pulling it up for Jayne to inspect her new, sparkling pink manicure. Each nail bore a letter in white, that taken together, spelled out ‘Barbie Girl” in perfect cursive from pinkie to pinkie. Jayne giggled.

“Oh, Karen!” she squealed as she swept the poor girl up off her feet in a hug before setting her down again. “That’s adorable! I’m thrilled that you’re finally enjoying yourself, Honeydew.” She kissed Karen’s forehead and smiled brightly as she turned to head back inside. Karen and Cherie took the opportunity to bolt in a dead sprint back up the sidewalk. They didn’t stop until they had reached the bus stop, gasping and panting for air.

“They’re the reason my Mom is sick,” Karen said in a shaky, uneven tone.

“What ARE they?” Cherie asked no one in particular. “We need to do some research. But we can’t let on that we know. Let’s go to school tomorrow like nothing’s wrong.”

“We’ve got to tell someone!” Karen squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure the police aren’t going to believe us. Let’s face it Karen, you look more and more like a thirteen year old girl by the hour, and even if we did somehow convince an adult to believe us, who’s to say they wouldn’t get to them too?”

Karen glowered as she slumped onto the bus stop bench. “You’re right. We can’t put anybody else in danger. But what am I gonna do?”

Cherie sat down beside her and pulled her into a hug. “I told you, we need to do some research. I’ll look around online tonight. I can’t promise anything because we have that cybersitter software on my laptop and the main computer, but we can try the public library after school tomorrow.”

“What about that name … Kipthop?” Karen asked. Cherie shrugged slowly. To her mind, there was no question they were dealing with something evil here, but she was conflicted. After all Karen was becoming a much better person. How could that be bad? Did it make her a bad person that she wanted Karen to stay Karen?

As the bus rolled to a stop, they stood and quickly boarded, with a silent glance exchanged, a promise unspoken, not to speak a word of this to anyone.

Apart from adjusting to new teachers and classmates, all of whom treated Karen as just another girl, some even welcoming her into their social circles, her first day at St. Claire’s passed uneventfully. Every chance she could find, she visited the library to try and find some information, but unsurprisingly, the school library was absent of a section on demons and ancient evils, and the internet filters ensured that they found little useful online, other than a Dungeons and Dragons monster name generator.

By Tuesday Karen was getting desperate. She no longer looked anything like her old self, and in fact, seemed to be acting less and less like her old self. Worst of all, nobody else even noticed the physical changes, except of course Cherie. The two had decided to try the public library Wednesday afternoon, but when Kristina wasn’t where she promised Cherie she would be, she became very worried and went to look for her.

She found her, giggling and gossiping with Cherie’s and her friends outside the gym.

“Cherie, there you are!” Karen bubbled. “Mindy’s having a huge Halloween party this Friday! You are going right?”

“Um, yeah,” Cherie answered hesitantly. “But don’t forget we’ve also got that thing, too...”

“Oh come on, Cherie! You totally flaked on my last boy-girl party. Please tell me you’re not backing out of this one too?” the brown-haired girl whined.

“No, I’ll be there. You know how much I love Halloween. BFFs right?” she asked. Mindy smiled and hugged her.

“Totes. I’ve gotta go though. Mom’s picking me up. I’ll text you tonight!” she called as she raced off, waving haphazardly. As the others dispersed, Karen giggled a little.

“Oh my God, my first boy girl party. This is going to be so cool!” she squealed. Cherie frowned softly, and Karen turned to stare at her. “What? Oh, I haven’t forgotten about Jayne. Evil witch, gotta stop her, grr.”

Cherie shook her head slowly. “Would you listen to yourself? Even Mindy’s not this vapid! Focus, Karen! We need to stop Jayne. They’re responsible for your mom being sick, remember?”

That got Karen’s undivided attention. It almost seemed as if a veil of fog was lifting, and she scowled. After a few seconds she nodded, and then hugged Cherie. “Oh my God, what was I thinking?” she whispered quietly. Cherie shook her head.

“It’s not your fault. It’s Jayne. At first I thought this whole thing was adorable. I loved what you were becoming because you were actually a lot of fun to be around, but now it’s starting to scare me. This is wrong, and we have to stop it.”

Karen hesitantly replied, “But … Is it so bad not wanting to go back to being the boy everyone hates?”

“Of course not,” Cherie answered quickly. “But you don’t need magic for that. Karen, I don’t think it was Jayne that made you be nice to me that first night. It was only today that I started noticing this … fake you coming out, after we got caught spying on her.”

Karen nodded soberly. “Let’s get to the library. The sooner we find some answers the sooner we can stop Jayne and the other girl.” She added quietly as they started down the empty hallway together, “But I’m keeping my new stuff,” she added with a quiet, more natural giggle, which caused Cherie to laugh.

The girls had already worked everything out with their parents. They would check in with the librarian every half hour, and call home from there so that the public library would show up on their Caller ID. If they were going to get any research in, they needed to reassure their parents that they really were at the library ‘studying’ - even if it wasn’t school work they were reading.

By six-thirty, the girls had already gone through a stack of books, with no end in sight, when Jayne’s voice broke the dead silence of their surroundings.

“Ancient Mythology...” They looked up sharply, gasping in unison to find Jayne sitting on the edge of the table with an open book in hand, skimming it idly. “Deep subject for girls your age isn’t it?” she teased, but her facial features were practically unreadable as to what was going on behind those calculating eyes. Outwardly she wore as friendly a smile as ever.

“We were just-” Karen tried to lie, but Jayne slammed the book shut with one hand. With the other, she reached out, placing a delicate finger to Karen’s lips.

“I know what you were looking for, honeydew. That’s why I’m here.”

“What you’re doing to Mrs. Lawrence is wrong!” Cherie exclaimed.

Jayne tilted her head slightly, staring at Cherie. Part of her wanted to backhand the girl for interrupting, but a greater part of her, a part that she believed long dead, resisted that urge, and a sympathetic smile crossed her lips as she withdrew her finger from Karen’s.

“I wasn’t always a monster you know,” she said softly, as she slid down off the table. She took a seat directly across from the girls. Delicately, she folded her hands, waiting patiently for the girls to take in that statement.

“Why should we believe anything you say?” Karen asked softly. Suddenly, a book was in front of Jayne that wasn’t there before. It was a very old, somewhat weathered yearbook from Karen’s old school, circa 1952. With a wave of her hand, the book opened itself, its pages fluttering past at lightning speed, causing both Karen and Cherie to jump. She slid the book across the table.

Karen and Cherie leaned closer, to see a picture of a rather handsome 16 year old in a leather jacket, standing in front of a 1949 Ford Thunderbird, along with three other boys. His head had been circled, in faded ink, with an arrow, and a signature.

“Love you forever! - Meg”

“My girlfriend, if you’re wondering,” Jayne answered their questioning glances, “Wrote that two weeks before I met ‘Mother’. Meg was the sacrifice that gave me new life, so that I’d forget my old life, and wouldn’t have any ties to it anymore. I chose Jennifer for yours because Cherie wasn’t in the picture yet.”

She stated it so matter-of-factly, as if she were describing how to solve a simple math equation, not toying with human lives, that it sent a shock of rage through Karen’s body such that, had Jayne not held up her hand, she would surely have leapt across the table to strangle her, magic or no.

“You’re a monster!” she cried, and Jayne nodded.

“Yes. I am,” she answered simply. “I’m sorry, Karen.”

Karen froze solid. Jayne’s tone, her posture, everything about her movements seemed to suggest that she genuinely meant it. It was the last thing Karen expected. She sank back into her chair, staring blankly back at her. Cherie spoke up.

“What do you want, exactly? Why are you here, if you didn’t come to stop us?”

“It’s because Karen... reawakened something in me. Something I thought died with Meg.”

“What?” Karen asked, quietly and cautiously. Jayne lowered her gaze thoughtfully.

“My soul.” She glanced up again. “I can’t stay long. Mother will realize I’m up to something if I do. “If you want to find the truth, look for a woman named Claudia Miklos, in a novelty magic shop at the corner of fourth and Elm. Tell her you need a ritual of Banishment. When she asks, show her this.” She then slid a piece of paper across the table. On it, something was written that, to the girls, looked like incomprehensible gibberish. They looked up again, to ask.

And suddenly, Jayne wasn’t there anymore. She didn’t vanish before their eyes. It was simply as if she was never there to begin with. Karen and Cherie slowly turned to stare at each other, as if to silently ask the other if she had really just seen that.

Slowly, they stood, and after returning their books, they started home. Already the sun had set, and their parents would be expecting them very soon, but tomorrow was another day. Unfortunately, Halloween was nearly upon them, and according to the other voice, the one Jayne identified as ‘Mother’, that would be the pivotal night.

Karen thought she had the perfect plan to look for the magic shop Jayne had told them about, but Jennifer’s health had taken a turn for the worse during the night. Jayne would be picking them up. Even in her weakened state though, Jennifer insisted that Jayne take the girls shopping for Halloween costumes.

“I’ve never seen Karen so excited about a party,” she had said. In fact, Kyle had never been invited to any parties - and usually was banned from crashing them. So Jayne reluctantly agreed. She had hoped to keep herself out of the brimstone that was to come, one way or another, but fate had other plans.

“Cheer up, you two,” Jayne insisted, as the girls climbed into the back of her late model electric blue hybrid. “I know a costume store that’s off the beaten path. They’re sure to have what you’re looking for.” She glanced over her shoulder with a wink. “My front left tire’s a little low on pressure so I’ll have to let you shop alone. I hope that’s okay.”

Cherie and Karen looked at each other, dumbfounded. Neither dared say a word, and Jayne just snickered under her breath as they pulled away from the imposing edifice that was St. Claire’s.

She let the girls out in front of a costume shop, at a little four-way intersection. Directly across the way stood another, much older building, “Herbs and Spice.” The shop windows were decorated with beautiful, dark velvet curtains contrasting various knick nacks, jewelry, and even a stuffed raven on a perch. It was Cherie who realized first, and pointed up at the street sign.

“Let’s go check it out?” she asked, hopeful that Karen’s head was still clear. Karen nodded enthusiastically.

“Hello?” Karen called, as the pair entered. “Mrs. Miklos?”

“Call me Claudia, but I am unmarried, so “Miss”, if you must,” a young woman’s voice called. She had a very slight Eastern European tone to her voice, at least to the girls’ ears. A moment later, a brown-haired woman in her early twenties. She wore a loose-fitting white peasant blouse and a long skirt, as well as a brightly colored kerchief in her hair. She looked every bit the stereotypical gypsy, which on any other day would have made either girl chuckle, but today, they stared in awkward silence.

“Come to browse my books, or is it something more that you require - a popularity charm, perhaps?”

Karen’s eyes lit up, and for a moment, she seemed to forget why she was there. “Wow, really?”

But a sharp glance from Cherie seemed enough to clear her thoughts. She cleared her throat. “We were told you could help us - well, help me. I... Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. My babysitter told me to give this to you.”

She carefully took the folded paper from her backpack. She approached and extended it to the woman, who at first, unfolding the note, gave it only a cursory glance. After a second, more careful examination though, she dropped the paper and took three full steps back, staring, scowling at Karen.

“Who sent you? I want a name!” she demanded angrily.

“Jayne!” Karen squealed, frightened. “She’s my babysitter, and she’s turning me into a girl!”

The woman calmed somewhat, as she stepped closer. She was quite careful not to step on the piece of paper, but as well, she didn’t pick it up just yet. She stared intensely at Karen, and several agonizing seconds passed.

“... I see. I’m sorry if I frightened you, child. I know what it is you seek, and it is no small thing. But you said this... Jayne is doing this to you. But she sent you to me as well?”

Cherie spoke up next, even as the woman returned her attention to the paper. She sprinkled what looked to the girls like simple table salt onto the paper, and the writing immediately vanished. She crumpled the paper, tossing it aside.

“We think she feels guilty. We’re not really sure what her deal is, but she’s trying to stop what happened to her from happening to Karen.”

The woman gave Karen a skeptical glance as she asked, “You say this is forced upon you, but your soul and body are coming into alignment, not away from it. Are you sure this is not something that you invoked upon yourself?”

Karen quickly shook her head. “No ma’am. I-it’s something I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, b-but not like this. I don’t want to be a monster!”

The woman chuckled to herself. “Come with me. You seek a ritual of Banishment, do you not?” she asked, as she disappeared into the back room. Despite how the front of the shop appeared, the room behind the heavy curtain was actually a very modern office area, with another offshoot room stacked with neat rows of shelves and boxes.

“Surprised?” she asked with a grin, glancing back at the pair. “Most of my business is tourists seeking a palm reading, or an alternative remedy for an upset stomach, so I play up the ‘gypsy’ angle. Though it is true, my grandparents were Romani.” She paused again, and turned back to face Karen. “Tell me something. Do you know what it is that you face?”

Karen slowly shook her head. “No idea. All we have is the name of an imp-” she started, but Claudia held up both hands.

“Don’t repeat it,” she said swiftly.

“But it’s dead,” Cherie added. Claudia shook her head. She motioned for the girls to follow again.

“Doesn’t matter. Even in death, a demon’s name has great power. Wielded carelessly, it could bring terrible harm,” she explained. She led the girls into the large stockroom, where she walked down a long row of shelves, stopping near the end. She took down what at first glance, appeared to be a harmless shoe box, but when she opened it, the pungent aroma of dried, sweet herbs filled the air.

“Everything that you will need, except the name of your tormentor - the succubus. These kind of creatures work in pairs always - a mother, and a daughter. When the daughter becomes the mother, then the mother is free, and the cycle begins again.”

“But we know her name,” Karen insisted. The woman shook her head.

“No. You know her chosen name. Besides, if this … Jayne sent you to me, then she might not be the one you wish banished.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Jayne answered cheerfully from the end of the shelf row. The three looked up to see her standing with her arms neatly folded in front of her, leaning against the metal shelving. “Hi Claudia.”

“So you are the demon... I might have known. It was too convenient for one so young to have such knowledge of the Old Ways as yourself.”

“Demon is such a harsh word,” Jayne replied sweetly. “I prefer the term ‘morally ambiguous entity of extraplanar origins’. Of course I had no idea when I started doing my grocery shopping here, that I’d end up coming to you for a Banishment ritual. I love it when a plan falls into place.”

“I am doing this for the child, not for you, creature,” Claudia hissed, but Jayne simply laughed.

“Hey, tell yourself whatever you need to, as long as this works, and I’m free of the hag. I’m not really a bad person.” She paused to giggle vapidly. “Okay, yes, I am, but something’s happening to me, and I can’t decide if I like or hate it. I’m hoping that helping Karen will resolve this inner turmoil.”

“... And if it doesn’t?” Karen asked nervously.

Jayne shrugged softly. “We’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out. I’m right though, aren’t I?” she asked, more hesitantly. Her voice suddenly lost its superior edge. She almost sounded human. “If Karen banishes Mother, then the cycle is broken, I’m free, and she doesn’t have to become my new daughter right?”

Claudia nodded slowly. She sensed the change in Jayne’s tone, and her dimeanor shifted significantly. She approached Jayne, locking her gaze.

“The stink eye doesn’t work on demons, babe.” Jayne stared back at her, but nervously, despite her snide remark. Claudia was unfazed.

“It’s small, but it’s there,” she said, finally. “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would never have believed that a demon could reclaim their soul. She must mean a lot to you, Jayne,” she used her chosen name this time, rather than simply calling her ‘creature’ or ‘demon’, and it caught Jayne by surprise.

She started to respond, to snap at Claudia, but a greater resistance washed over her, and she quietly turned to walk away. Claudia remained unmoving until she heard the bell on the front door ring twice, as Jayne walked outside. She turned back to the bewildered girls and smiled.

“I will find the demon’s true name. You girls must prepare. Judging by your uniforms, you both attend St. Claire’s academy, correct?”

Both girls silently nodded, as she handed Karen the box. Once closed again, the scent of herbs seemed to dissipate entirely.

“Excellent. It is a blessed place, and we will have better success there. The gates will be unlocked when you arrive.”

“When?” Karen asked. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sneak away.”

“Tomorrow night,” she answered. “The ritual is always performed on Halloween night. The Banishment must be performed then.”

“Tomorrow night?” Cherie echoed. “Karen that’s perfect! Jayne’s supposed to take us to Mindy’s party. I bet her ‘mother’ thinks she’ll be keeping an eye on us to make sure we don’t interfere. But with Jayne on our side she can get us to the school without raising suspicions.”

She turned to Claudia and hugged her, and Karen quickly followed suit. “Thanks for all your help, Miss Claudia,” Cherie said warmly.

Karen nodded her agreement, asking after a moment, “... Will I go back to being a boy after all this is over?”

Claudia frowned softly. “I honestly cannot say. Ordinarily, the answer would be an emphatic yes. You would be free from the demon’s curse, and nature would take over, purifying you of the taint. But in your case...” She trailed off, frowning thoughtfully, but Karen nodded.

“It’s okay. I kind of wouldn’t mind staying like this. I just don’t want to be a demon. Come on Cherie. Let’s get our costumes, so your parents don’t get suspicious.”

“Good idea,” Cherie answered. “They’d ask way too many questions if I came home empty-handed. You’re still staying over tonight right?”

“Yeah,” Karen answered, as they left. Unfortunately for them, they were already outside and halfway across the street, too far away to hear Claudia’s startled screams.

Despite the looming darkness, there was some silver lining to be found. It turned out that St. Claire’s had a tradition of students wearing their Halloween costumes to school. Karen was at first reluctant - she had chosen a lavender princess costume, and was nervous about being seen in it at school all day, but Cherie had gotten a soft pink version of the same costume. “We’ll be twins!” she had excitedly insisted.

The idea certainly won Karen over. It was the same comment her mother had made the previous weekend, after all. And Jayne had a special surprise in store for Karen to lift her spirits, as well.

As a sign of good faith, she took the girls by the hospital before school that day. Much to Karen’s surprise, Jennifer seemed to be surprisingly healthy and in high spirits. Jayne seemed more reserved and languid though, by contrast. With promises of being let out of the hospital by Saturday, and a looming end to the demon threat - so Karen thought at least - she found it easy to let go for a day and enjoy herself, and her new life.

That evening though, things changed. Jayne never came to pick the girls up, so they had to take the bus over to the school. Nearby, there were few streetlights on, completely out of the ordinary for the neighborhood. A dread silence seemed to permeate the surroundings, much like the day they went to spy on Jayne.

“I don’t like this...” Karen whispered. Cherie nodded her agreement.

“Miss Claudia said the gate should be unlocked. Do you know where we’re supposed to meet her?”

Karen shook her head. “No. I assumed she’d meet us by the gate,” Karen answered. “Let’s go look for her.”

Cherie nodded, quietly squeezing Karen’s hand as she followed. The pair barely made it past the gate though, when Claudia approached from the shadows of a nearby oak tree. Strangely, the tree seemed much more intimidating now than it had that afternoon. Perhaps it was the ring of unlit candles surrounding it. Looking around, Karen realized the other trees had similar rings.

“Good, you’re here,” Claudia said, though absent her accent now.

“Your voice-” Karen started to ask, and Claudia nodded.

“I only do that stuff for the tourists.” But Karen knew she was lying. Even after Claudia had dropped the ‘gypsy’ act the day before, even as she confronted Jayne, she still had a distinct accent.

“You’re lying,” Karen hissed. She reached into the box, grabbing a small pouch of salt which she flung into Claudia’s eyes. The woman yowled in pain, swinging blindly.

“Let’s go!” Karen shouted, pulling Cherie along as they ran. The gate slammed shut, trapping them on the school grounds, as the candles sprang to life. Between the candlelight and the full moon, they could now better see where they were going. Unfortunately they had no idea where they could run. They could hear ‘Claudia’s’ footfalls and angry shouting in the near distance behind them as they ran.

Eventually they found themselves in the school auditorium. Claudia’s limp body lay in a crumpled heap, bound and gagged with a strip of cloth torn from her skirt, beside what Karen could only guess was some kind of altar.

“You set up the ritual, I’ll untie her,” Cherie instructed. Karen nodded and threw open the box. First she drew a circle of salt, and then began setting out the bowls of incense as prescribed by the scroll they had found in the box the night before.

Cherie meanwhile attempted to revive Claudia, trying everything from pinching and slapping her to shouting in her face to shaking her. The woman’s eyes slowly fluttered open just as Karen finished setting everything up, but a slow, methodical clap from the entryway caused the three to freeze.

An attractive young woman, just slightly older than Jayne, but remarkably like her in appearance save for the darker auburn hair, slowly approached the stage. “Well done, children,” she announced coldly. She was the owner of the second voice Jayne had called ‘Mother’ before.

“It’s a good thing I decided to keep an eye on my little Jayne, or else you might have actually succeeded.” She laughed grimly, seeming to hover in mid-air up onto the stage. She stopped just outside the circle of salt.

“Now why don’t you be a good little girl and come over here by Auntie, and let’s get this finished, shall we? I’ve got big plans for the cosmos.”

“Don’t do it Karen!” Cherie cried out.

“She is right,” Claudia added softly. “She cannot touch you. The circle of salt keeps her at bay.”

“Silence fool!” the woman hissed, turning her glare on the unguarded pair. “I may not be able to cross the sacred circle, but that doesn’t mean I can’t force her to watch as I rip out your still beating heart and shove it down your throat!”

“No!” Karen shrieked as tears stung her eyes. “Please!” she begged. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt Cherie!”

The woman smiled sweetly, her voice taking on a gentle tone again. “There, now that wasn’t so hard was it? Now just be a dear and break the circle, and I promise I’ll make this quick and painless. If that rotten girl can’t be bothered to complete her own ascension, then I’ll just have to do it for her.”

Karen hesitantly approached the circle. She stretched out one white shoe, intent on knocking away the salt, when suddenly an invisible force, like an unseen hand, grabbed her ankle. She shrieked, nearly stumbling backwards as Jayne faded into view.

“It turns out, absorbing your imp gave me some of his power,” Jayne said with a smug grin as she tossed a parchment to Karen. “Read it!” she shouted.

As Jayne’s ‘Mother’ lurched for Claudia and Cherie, Jayne threw an arm around her throat from behind. “Oh no you don’t!” she shouted. Though by all rights, the older of the pair should have been able to overpower the younger, somehow Jayne was able to draw her away just long enough for the two to enter the circle.

“You miserable brat!” the elder demon howled. “When I get loose I’ll have your guts for garters!”

She spun around, and with tremendous force, knocked Jayne backwards, off the stage, and well into the fifth row of seats. She spun around to face the three humans, who now spoke almost as one as they read from the scroll. Her eyes widened.

“My true name!” she hissed as she attempted to strike at them, but a powerful magical barrier left a searing wound on her arm, forcing her to recoil.

“You taught me... too well,” Jayne wheezed as she staggered forward. A proud smile crossed her lips as she slumped to the ground. A brilliant light washed over the immediate area, snuffing out the candles, and with a terrible, unearthly scream, the older demon’s form withered into ashes and dust, and then faded entirely.

“Jayne!” Karen squealed, leaping down off the stage to where the younger demon had fallen. She rolled Jayne onto her back, and Jayne smiled faintly, as Claudia and Cherie raced over.

“I’m fine,” she groaned. “Been keeping Jennifer alive.”

Karen, with panic in her voice, and tears in her eyes, looked up at Claudia. “Will she be okay?!”

Claudia glanced slowly between Jayne and Karen. She exhaled softly. “Grandfather forgive me. I cannot believe I’m going to save a demon.” She turned her gaze on Jayne. “If you make me regret this, so help me...”

Jayne half-laughed, half-coughed, as a sickly black liquid trickled from the corners of her mouth.

“Go,” she whispered. “Go to your party. Go enjoy your new life,” she insisted.

“Save your strength,” Karen argued, but Jayne forced her hand away, mustering enough strength to shout.

“I said go!”

Karen frowned as Cherie took her hand, pulling her away. “Come on, Karen. If this is her last wish, then we need to honor it.”

Karen slowly nodded as she turned to walk away with Cherie. As soon as the girls left, Jayne sat bolt upright and dusted herself off. Claudia jumped slightly.

“You’re a cruel one,” she hissed, but Jayne laughed.

“Oh pipe down. The girls needed some closure.”

“But you ARE going to tell them, aren’t you?” Claudia admonished. Jayne reached out to take Claudia’s unoffered hand, pulling herself up.

“Of course I will. I’ll stop by the party in an hour, say you saved me, blah blah blah. In the meantime, do you want to go get some coffee?”

“Excuse me?” Claudia blinked, caught completely off guard.

“Sure. I mean I haven’t been on a date in sixty some years. Come on, humor me? I just got my soul back, and I want to keep it.”

“Going out for coffee with you … will help you keep your soul,” Claudia responded with a skeptical tone. Jayne grinned broadly.

“Yep.”

“Do not make me regret this,” Claudia answered dryly as she left the auditorium, still holding Jayne's hand.

“True to her word, Jayne stopped by the party that night. She remained Karen’s regular babysitter, and a regular fixture in her life. With Jayne’s mother out of the picture, Jayne steadily relinquished her hold on the town. It turned out all she really wanted was what Karen wanted - to live a normal life.

“Karen woke the next morning to find her transformation was complete. No one remembered Kyle anymore, except of course for herself, Cherie, Jayne, and Claudia. It took her awhile to adjust to all the new changes in her life, but with the knowledge that she no longer would become a demon like Jayne, and her mother’s rapid recovery to full health, she had plenty of time to figure it out. After all, being a teenager is awkward for anybody. The end.”

Kristina smiled as she leaned back into the old sofa. Denise had joined her on the other side at some point during her storytelling, and the raven-haired girl, like everyone else, sat speechless. Finally, it was Josh who broke the silence.

He removed his arm from around Marie, and started to clap. “That... was awesome. So Jayne and Claudia hooked up?”

Soon the others joined in applauding as well, as Kristina answered, “Yup. Jayne was a demon after all, and not bound by human notions of “taboo”. Karen and Cherie were more like sisters, though, don’t worry.”

“Aww,” Marie giggled. “I think they would’ve made a cute couple.”

“Great story,” the unnamed girl said happily. “Aunt Sam would be proud.”

Kristina gave her a startled glance, but before she could answer, a newcomer quietly emerged from the woods. He was younger than Kristina by a few years, maybe twelve or thirteen.

Marie immediately rolled her eyes. “I knew you were spying on me,” she teased as he approached her.

“I’m sorry,” he answered quietly, which caused her to give the boy a puzzled stare. Kristina and Denise exchanged an amused glance.

“What’s wrong?” Marie asked. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“That story... It’s not true is it?”

Marie tried not to giggle. “I don’t know... You’ll have to ask Kristina. It’s her story. But I’ll tell you this much, you’d better not put your nasty gum on my hairbrush again, or I just might take a page from Jayne’s spell book,” she added, giving her little brother her best evil big sister glare.

Everyone started to laugh as the boy shrieked in terror, backing away from Marie. She rolled her eyes and reached out to gently take his hand. “Come on, I’m just teasing. Let’s get you home before Mom freaks out. Hey Josh, can you give us a ride please?” she asked, glancing over at the older boy. He smiled chivalrously and bowed.

“Your chariot awaits, ladies,” he teased, shooting a grin at the boy, and laughing as Marie swatted his shoulder. “Just kidding. C’mon, I’ll stop for tacos on the way.”

He paused though, turning back to Kristina. “Oh, um... sorry for... what I said earlier I’ll deck the next person I hear saying it after tonight,” he added soberly.

Marie smiled sweetly as he started up the path, adding, “See you guys next week.”

“On that note,” Kristina said cheerfully, “I declare the first meeting of the New Midnight Society closed.”

She picked up the pail as Brent chuckled to himself and stood, “I’ll see you guys next week. I’m feeling kind of inspired to write something now too.” He quickly disappeared down the trail.

Denise giggled as she stood. “So who’s turn is it next week anyway?” she asked, glancing back Kristina. “Because I’ve got an awesome story if you don’t mind?”

“I’m just glad everyone liked my story enough to have a next week,” Kristina answered wryly. Denise waved as she started off down the trail, and though Kristina hadn’t noticed until she put out the fire and set the pail down again, the dark-haired girl had stayed behind.

“I never did get your name,” Kristina said sheepishly as she turned to smile at the girl, who laughed.

“Jayne,” she teased. It was too dark to see, even by the full moon’s light, but Kristina’s awkward silence was enough to make her start giggling. “Just kidding. I’m Amy. Hey Kristina, do you want to hang out tomorrow?” she asked cautiously.

Kristina furrowed her brows slightly as they started down the path away from the campsite together. “Really?”

“Sure. You seem like a really cool girl, and I was thinking maybe I could introduce you to some of my friends from my school.”

“St. Claire’s, right?” Kristina asked teasingly as she stopped to untie one of the ribbons marking the path to the campsite. Amy reached out to take her new friend’s flashlight, holding it in place so she could see to untie the ribbon.

“Actually it is. And your description was perfect. You’ve been there before haven’t you?”

Kristina slowly nodded. “Yeah... I wanted to transfer there after I was attacked at school last semester. There’s some legal crap going on right now to try and get it through, but in the meantime I’m stuck. But at least now I have friends.”

“Wow, that sucks,” Amy answered softly. “But my friends are all cool. You won’t be treated badly. I promise.”

Kristina glanced back at Amy. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, and she could see Amy’s genuine smile. She stepped closer and hugged her. “Would you walk me home? It’s kind of late, and I hate walking home alone.”

Amy smiled warmly at the friendly hug, replying, “Or I could drive,” she answered casually, holding up a set of car keys.

And for once in her life, Kristina’s future finally looked a little brighter. She had accomplished what she set out to do, and now the New Midnight Society’s flames were rekindled for another generation.

The End?... Perhaps, at least for now.

---

Author's Note:
One of the biggest influences on my life, and my love of the macabre and bizarre, was a television show on Saturday Night Nickelodeon called "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" which I've tried very hard to recapture in spirit with this story. I have nothing but the absolute deepest love, respect, and admiration for D.J. Machale's work on the series, and write this as a humble homage.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Split Victory
©2026 Zoë Taylor

14 year old Tiffani and her identical twin Morgan were both assigned male at birth, but due to an unusual intervention, they were separated and raised in vastly different lives. While Tiffani was allowed to simply exist, following her dreams of studying Taekwondo at a prestigious global academy, her long lost twin brother Morgan found himself under the oppressive shadow of his stepfather, billionaire playboy John Roth.

But now, Tiffani has left the singular world of Taekwondo tournaments behind to join the global world rankings of the North American Martial Arts Sports Association, she and her long lost sibling are put on a collision course that was never meant to happen, and along the way they'll unravel a mystery that's bigger than the both of them.

Sword and Sacrifice:
A Feudal Fairy Tale

Every hundred years, a sacrifice is demanded in order to ensure the prosperity of the nation, but one young noble swordswoman has taken it upon herself, not to break the cycle, but to at least postpone the loss of another innocent life for the next hundred years. How will the deity that holds back the dark react to her gesture, though. Will her sacrifice be accepted, or will both she, and the woman she loves, be taken for daring to try and change the pact?

Foreword
As I'm posting this, this story is only a couple of hours old. I honestly couldn't say what inspired it. I woke up from an extremely vivid dream in which the vast majority of this tale had already unfolded right before my eyes. I only had to write the ending and clean up some of the rough details.

But the tea ceremony, the ritual, it was all there. I don't normally post something so soon after writing it, but I'm extremely excited by how this one came out and couldn't wait to share it as soon as possible.

Please also note that this tale is INSPIRED BY Japanese lore and mythology. It's meant as an homage, not as something that reads like it was written by an actual Japanese person, as I am, in fact, very much a white girl who just really, really loves multiple global cultures.

Please read it through that lens, and not as someone attempting to in any way usurp or coopt Japanese culture. I write out of a place of love and respect.

---

In a now long and distant time, in a place whose history has been forgotten, but whose resonance echoes forward and backward, sending ripples like an anchor dropped into still water, a small village in the high mountains stood. This village had both the honor and sorrow that every 100 years one of innocent youth would go willingly to the slaughter in order to guarantee the prosperity, not simply of the people of the village, or the crops and animals therein, but of the entire nation.

It was a pact as ancient as anyone could remember, and the nation, from its wealthiest shogun to its meekest young maid, understood the stakes of the pact, though they might not know its true nature, or what entity held the reins of whatever disaster awaited should it be left incomplete.

And so when the appointed day arrived, with no fanfare and no jubilation or celebration, for this was a solemn and somber occasion, a gift to an unknown god or demon not to be praised, but honored and given thanks in quiet contemplation, a young swordswoman appeared beneath the open gate to the village.

Dressed in the finest silk kimono, radiant white over pink the very color of the sakura blossoms that bloomed all around them. Her hair, the color of dried summer grass, a rich golden and as long as a rice stalk, had been delicately braided and swung neatly at her back.

And at her side stood the absolute contrast, as the young woman beside her might have been her equal in age, but she was no noblewoman, and barely more than a peasant, her face dirty, her eyes swollen and dark from crying, for despite how she knew the gift she was giving to her nation, it did not make the sting less bitter.

She too had tied her long hair, as black as a moonless midnight, into delicate braids, and torn the hem of her ragged dress for a securing ribbon at both ends.

And though they did not celebrate their coming, the townspeople were grateful nonetheless. They all came out, both young and old, forming an unbroken line along the cobbled path for the pair to walk. They knew only one would leave, and they would not come back to greet the executioner, as was the custom.

The destined pair walked in wordless, steady determination through the village square and to the other side, to the gate which led to the path that would take them to their final destination further up the path, and gradually they reached the open grove whereupon stood a long, low, flat stone.

They were both surprised to see not a bone, not a scrap of cloth, and not so much as a drop of dried blood upon the ritual stone. Did this mean the legends were true? Was there truly some divine or unholy creature dwelling here, who respectfully, or perhaps greedily, took the whole of the sacrifice leaving nothing behind every hundred years?

The pair set about their duty, preparing the site for what must be done. The peasant girl gathered loose branches and kindling from fallen, small logs for a fire. She kept only enough that she could cobble together a makeshift broom that would, itself, be consumed in flames by the end, while the swordswoman walked to each corner - northeast, northwest, southeast, and southwest, breaking her silence only to recite a small blessing and thanks to the forest spirits.

Already, she could feel the eyes of someone - some thing, upon them. Something more than mortal, something deep, ancient, lurked here, and it was awake and aware of them.

In an odd juxtaposition of roles though, it was not the peasant who prepared the tea, but rather the swordswoman. The peasant sat uncomfortably kneeling by the fire, her hands folded in front of her, not out of fear for what was to come, but rather, out of discomfort from being served by someone of such a high status as the swordswoman.

Indeed, they knew each other very well. They had grown up together, and until societal roles required otherwise, played together as friends and as equals. She wondered, hoped even, in the far back of her thoughts, if She remembered those days so fondly as the peasant did. She found strength and courage in those thoughts as the swordswoman poured two cups of sweet sakura blossom tea, giving the first to her.

She sat kneeling across from the peasant, her blonde braid now resting gently on her shoulder as she sipped her own tea in quiet thoughtful silence. When their cups were empty, the peasant girl placed the stick broom which was always more for symbolism than actual cleaning into the fire, drawing it out ablaze and turned to approach the altar stone. She placed it down and watched as the fire consumed the wood, leaving ashes behind - ashes to soak up the blood that would soon spill. Her blood, she thought, and a fresh wellspring of tears fought their way forward.

The swordswoman approached her from behind and the peasant stiffened, but lowered her head in silent unspoken obedience. And for the first time since the trip began, the noble spoke.

“Please, Ami, place your braid over your shoulder, and do not flinch. I do not want to miss.”

Ami, as she had been called by her friend, did as she was told, her eyes shut tight because she feared her tears would otherwise fall onto the ashes and disturb the ritual. She heard a quick swipe as the blade cut the air. She flinched, and yet, she felt no pain, no great stinging burn, and this confused her, even as she heard the thump of her hair fall into the grass.

Once, when she was on kitchen duty, she had accidentally sliced open her palm. It burned like unholy fire and stung for a week and a half after. Yushida had been the one to help her bind the wound initially, and then gone out of her way to find sacred herbs for the village healer to create a poultice to ease her pain. But now? She felt nothing, and, she was now quite confident she was still standing as well. She dared not raise her head, just in case this was not yet the end. Yushida understood the ritual, after all. Ami’s only role in it was completed, and she only had to wait for the end now.

She heard a second thump, as Yushida’s braid fell onto the grass alongside it, but, then she heard a sound that she did not expect - that of the clatter of wooden shoes upon stone. She opened her eyes, and then opened them wider still. From her position, neck tilted forward, she was now staring into Yushida’s unblinking eyes, kneeling on the altar before her.

“What... What are you doing?” she asked. She knew protocol demanded her complete silence, but this? This was not the way this was supposed to go. Yushida had her long katana in its scabbard now in front of her, and she was using their braids to weave and twist a tight belt around it.

Without turning her face away from Ami’s, she said, “What I must. The ritual demands a sacrifice of innocence. I am as innocent as you. My blade may have spilled the blood of many innocent and guilty in its past lives, but as MY blade, it has spilled none yet. It’s too long for me to wield against myself, and so, it will rest at your side as witness to my sacrifice. One of us must die, and I see no reason for it to be the woman that I love.”

Ami’s jaw fell slack. How could she respond to something like that? Yushida continued her preparations as Ami stood unmoving and stunned into utter silence by the declaration. When she had finished binding the sword, she sprinkled some of the ashes onto the twists of black and gold hair around it. She then lifted it in her open palms, for Ami to take.

“May this symbol of our love bear you safely back home, that everyone who sees it knows that I made this sacrifice willingly and with a full heart. My code will not allow me to harm you, no matter what being demands it of me, and I am left only to give myself instead. I love you, Ami. Always remember that.”

Ami reluctantly took the blade. She bent down just that little bit more and pressed her lips to Yushida’s for what she thought to be the final time, the sweet taste of sakura tea still on both their lips. “I love you as well, Yashi. I always have, and will love no one else again for so long as I live.”

She sobbed openly now as she backed away from the altar. She knew she had to bear witness to what came next, but it burned worse than any blade ever could. She wailed as Yushida drew her short dagger and raised it to plunge it into her stomach, and lay bear the proof that she was no coward, that her sacrifice was real. Yushida shut her eyes, and then...

And then, all at once, like a gentle rustling of leaves, and at the same time as loud as a thunderclap, she felt something grab both her arms and wrench the blade from her hands.

“STOP!” the voice bellowed such that even Ami nearly threw herself to the ground in mad terror, but managed to stay herself. Her eyes were blurred with tears but she could make out, only faintly, what appeared to be a shrine maiden, except that couldn’t be the case.

The figure before them was taller than any man or woman any of them had ever seen, towering at least eight hulms - or feet in the modern, with hair as red as a summer fox’s, though wild and free, unbound and unbraided, and even here and there, caked with dirt or twigs, or the stray leaf.

Yushida stared into the face of the creature, even as Ami could only see her back. Where Ami saw the ragged, forest-worn attire, bare feet, and the sash of vines, Yushida saw only the milky white skin, pale blue eyes, soft red lips, and felt the gentle, but firm grasp on her arms, like silk, but also like steel. She could not resist the woman’s grip if she wanted.

“Speak your peace, spirit,” Yushida said gently and respectfully, but firmly. “But if you intend to stay me from my duties to my nation, know that as soon as you release me, I will finish what I came here to do.”

The woman with no effort at all, easily pulled Yushida to her feet, even lifting her off the ground briefly before letting her wooden shoes touch the altar stone again.

“You are very brave, little mortal,” the creature disguised as a woman said. She tilted her head in thought. “For countless centuries, have I sat and watched as mortals come here to willingly sacrifice their lives to me in exchange for the selfish pact made by ancestors so ancient that even their bones are mere dust. And yet, of all those, you are the first to choose yourself over your charge.”

“It is as I stated,” Yushida said without breaking eye contact. “My life for the life of the woman that I love.”

“Tell me then, little mortal, what if another were to sacrifice herself in your lover’s place? What if you could instead go forward, live happily with your beloved, and reign as Empresses upon this land? Would such an offer interest you?”

Yushida looked at Ami, who now had a new hope slowly beginning to fill her eyes as she clutched the sword, bound by the symbol of their love, closer to her chest, but she didn’t answer. Nor did Yushida initially.

“I would be lying to say your offer didn’t tempt me even a little. I truly wish I could live in that world, a world where our love was accepted, whether as empresses or as peasants, a world where we were equal.” Now she began to shed tears, despite her best efforts. “And I have no doubt that your magic could make such a thing possible. But it would still mean the death of another innocent. I was chosen as the executioner, and I have selected myself as the condemned. I could not live with the guilt of knowing I murdered an innocent, whose only crime was to sate your own greed - with all due respect.”

The entity scowled for just a moment, and for a moment both girls thought she would strike Yushida down in righteous fury, but instead, her face contorted. She snickered quietly at first, and then as she could hold it back no more, threw back her head in a full, deep bellied laugh that rang across the grove and off the mountainside around them.

“Very well,” she said, and even lifted a delicate finger to wipe away a tear from her eye, shed in pure, unbridled amusement. “Then I shall take you both.”

“No!” Yushida protested, but the entity held up her hand and placed it on Yushida’s lips.

“Let me finish. I will take you to the place where I take all who come willingly to me to exchange the providence of their kingdom for their own happiness, where you and your beloved can share in your marital bliss. Only you, she, and I will know that you come from a different time and place, and you will be prosperous beyond your wildest dreams. And,” she said, almost as an afterthought, “You will be equals.”

Yushida blinked. She sat bolt upright as the dull thump of the wall clock droned away the seconds, her bleary eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She turned to see it was 5 a.m. on the dot, her alarm clock sitting in silent witness to the night’s transgressions.

She turned her head to the other side. Ami slept soundly beside her, only occasionally stirring before nodding back asleep again.

Yushida crept out of bed and padded across their New York penthouse. She stopped at the large window that afforded them a view of the city unfolding below, one of the many cities that never truly slept.

“That was some dream,” she whispered to herself, the weight of her wedding ring seemingly heavier than she remembered it being the night before.

A moment later, Ami came into the room behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned into Yushida and smiled. “Hey, it’s still early. Come back to bed.”

Yushida turned to Ami and put her arms around her. She planted a kiss on her lips and giggled to herself. Ami, unable to help herself, giggled too.
“What?” she asked.

Yushida shook her head, still beaming. “Nothing. It was just a silly dream. But it’s given me an idea for a new fantasy manga. I want to write some of it down before I forget, and then I’ll be right back with you.”

“Okay,” Ami said. “I’ll be waiting.” She turned, hesitated, and turned back. “But, remind me to tell you about the crazy dream I had, too. It was about us, and you were about to commit seppuku like some crazy ass anime when a fox goddess stopped you.” She giggled and kissed Yushida softly again before walking away.

Yushida was left in stunned silence to wonder if it really was a dream, or if perhaps there was just a little more to it.

She shrugged her shoulders and sat down at her laptop to write a few lines, a few stray notes, and then, getting up again, returned to bed, snuggling close to her beloved, the love of her life, and, her true equal in all things, Ami.

The Dead Pixel Society
©2026 Zoë Taylor

Clarity Prep was sold as the pinacle of perfection, a place where the top students can become even better at whatever their chosen life goals, but the realityis far more complex, especially for a closeted transgirl like Lewis "Ariana" Chambers.

Even after an unexpected event forces her to spend a night in the girls' dorm, forces her to confront her true self and finally come out to her friends and to the school administrative staff, it only presents a new set of challenges for her long term. She quickly learns that the only thing worse than being a nobody in a school full of pixel perfection, is being somebody. To make matters worse, she seems to be trolled by decades old notes left behind by previous students who formed "The Dead Pixel Society" - an homage to the 1989 film, The Dead Poets' Society.

Is the Society still around? Are they still recruiting misfits like her, or is she going to have to resurrect it from the ashes just to survive four years of Clarity Prep with her sanity ihntact?

And what's with Madison Fox? In a school where everyone is performing to perfection, what deep, dark secrets is the Queen Bee hiding?

Author's Note:
This novel is in its pre-publication phase and will eventually be available in e-book format if you want to grab the full, completed manuscript. I will update this title page (and whatever posted chapters are available) at time of publication with a direct link!

He had been lost for what felt like a week now, even though it had only been a day or two. But the intense fog that just refused to lift made navigating the thick forest nearly impossible. He had so far managed to stave off hunger, but he was getting desperately thirsty, when in the distance, he thought he could hear running water.

He knew better than to run. Running would only quicken his growing exhaustion, and he needed to conserve his energy, but it wasn’t easy. His feet felt heavy, his lungs and legs ached, and he regretted not staying in place. But then, he wasn’t in the best state of mind to begin with. That was what this whole solo hiking trip had been about. He wanted to get lost for awhile.

“Mission accomplished,” he muttered to himself dryly. He could kick himself, if his legs lifted that high.

He trudged through the woods, not another sound to be heard but his footsteps in the undergrowth and the increasingly nearer sounds of a gentle stream and soft roar of water flowing over a cliff. But then he thought he heard something else, intermingled with the water’s gurgle. Laughter?

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone there?”

Silence. He sighed. “I’m losing my mind. I swear to God if I get out of this alive I’ll never-” he stopped short, hearing something rustling in the undergrowth, and would have wet himself if not for the dehydration, as a deer leapt from the bushes and sprang past him. He jumped back out of the deer’s path and then quickened his pace, not wanting to find out what scared a deer more than a human stumbling through the brush could have - although that could have just been the lightheadedness talking.

“Is anyone there?” he called out again, but only after the stream came into view. The waterfall tumbled gently over a cliff some 9 or 10 feet up, pure white water. He knelt down by the water’s edge. Something felt wrong. The mists seemed to clear up around the stream and the waterfall.

He scooped up some of the cool, refreshing water and drank slowly from his cupped hands. He thought he heard the laughter again. It was coming from the direction of the waterfall. He glanced up, and for a moment, thought he could see the silhouette of a woman with long, fiery red hair showering in the water. He quickly looked down again.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” he called out louder this time, trying to be heard over the waterfall that, even now, seemed to grow from a trickle to a roar in his ears. He heard the splash of someone diving into the stream, as he got to his feet, his eyes shut tightly. He even raised his hand theatrically over his eyes to show that he wasn’t looking, as he turned around.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeated as he heard sounds of someone rising up out of the stream and stepping onto the mossy bank beside him. He jumped slightly when he felt a hand from the opposite direction gently grasp his arm, and then another hand, further down, slipped into his, interlocking its fingers with him. The hand gave him a reassuring squeeze, even as the other figure moved to step in front of him.

“Lost, little one?” came a strong, dominant female voice. It sounded like it belonged to someone much taller. He was 5’9”, but this was a towering figure.

“Yeah, I slipped and fell down a gully, and I’ve been wandering in these woods for like two days. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you were bathing. I was just so thirsty.”

The woman chuckled to herself. “It’s alright,” she said, more calmly now.. “You may open your eyes now. My daughter and I are, ah, what is the human word?”

“Decent?” came a softer, more innocent and cheerful voice from beside him, definitely the source of the laughter he had heard earlier.

The taller figure snapped her fingers. “Ah, yes. Decent. Although I must say, your respect is quite... unexpected. But not unappreciated. Not like the last fool who wandered into my woods at any rate.”

“Actaeon wasn’t nearly as fun,” the voice beside him giggled, and as he slowly opened his eyes, he looked up, and then up again. The woman standing before him was certainly towering. She had to be at least 6’10”, but he had to admit, quite beautiful. To say that she was pale would be an understatement though. Apart from her fiery red hair, which confirmed she was the one he saw in the waterfall, and her crystal blue eyes, and strawberry red lips, she was practically monochrome.

She wore a very loose tunic dress in forest green with a near off the shoulder neckline and a simple vine for a belt, and, he observed, carried a bow that was very nearly as tall as the woman herself. He didn’t dare risk a glance at whomever was holding onto his arm just yet. Somehow though, he felt, deep down, that he would sooner be able to rip his own arm from its socket than to move her unwillingly.

“Would you care for some tea?” the woman asked. “You said you were thirsty,” she added. “And, my daughter seems to have taken a fancy to you.”

He blushed slightly at that, risking a quick glance at the figure beside him. Unlike her mother, the young woman to his left looked much more human, with nut brown hair and a bright, innocent, or perhaps mischievous grin - he wasn’t sure yet.

“Uh, yes, thank you,” he said. “You said these are your woods?” he asked, as the young lady beside him let go of his arm, but only after giving his hand a last gentle squeeze, and he stepped in line almost automatically as the lady hunter stalked away determinedly toward a small clearing nearby.

He may have been delirious from dehydration before, but he knew for certain that the campsite was not here before. For one thing, it lay directly in the path that he took to get to the waterfall, and yet now, here it sat with a roaring fire, and a buck skin tent pitched close by. Rugged looking, handmade deer skin chairs even sat neatly arranged around the fire, and a copper kettle hung from a rod, steam slowly beginning to billow from its spout.

“That is correct,” the huntress stated as she placed her bow against the crook of a tree and removed the quiver from her side. He also knew for certain that she had no quiver when he first saw her, in part because he was following directly behind her and would’ve seen it swinging. “It is unusual for someone, particularly a man, to find his way into my woods - even more so a mortal man,” she said as nonchalantly as if she were discussing the strange fog that surrounded them.

The young woman walked around and past him, and he could see now that she had light olive skin in comparison to the monochrome white of her mother. She wore a similar tunic dress though, and sported a pair of rugged deer skin sandals up to her knees. She lifted the kettle off the fire, and began to pour the water into three wooden cups.

“So,” the huntress said, crystal blue gaze locked firmly on her visitor, “How is it that you have come to my woods today. What is it that you hunt?”

He blushed slightly and quickly shook his head. “N-nothing,” he stammered out, as the young woman handed him a cup. “Thank you,” he added, graciously. The older woman gave him an approving smile, though for his answer, or for his gratitude, he couldn’t yet tell. “I’m not a hunter. I’m just a down on his luck dumbass who slipped and fell, and woke up here.”

The woman laughed slightly to herself, watching as he looked into the cup. The outside was wooden, true, but he quickly realized, the inside was plated in pure, solid gold. He lifted the cup to his lips. “Chamomile,” the woman said. “It’s an excellent herbal tea to calm the nerves.”

“It’s delicious,” he said, again, graciously. “Thanks a lot for letting me rest here. I felt so bad for disturbing you guys. Ladies. Women,” he tried to correct himself. The younger woman snickered. “I’m sorry. I’m Don,” he said.

“Oh, that’s a pretty name!” the young woman burst out. “Nice to meet you Morninglight! I’m Amber!” she bubbled happily.

“And I am The Huntress,” Artemis stated matter-of-factly, before he could correct Amber. The name Actaeon flashed across his mind again. That was the name she had mentioned earlier. Actaeon and the Huntress. Surely this couldn’t be... Could it?

“And, my dear Morninglight,” Artemis said as she leaned forward slightly, staring directly into his soul from across the campfire, and making him wish there was at least another mile and a half, and preferably a very deep canyon, between them too, “Everyone seeks something. No one merely stumbles into these woods - my woods - who doesn’t desperately want something.”

He started to speak, but Amber cleared her throat. He glanced at her. She grinned, shaking her head very slowly. He sipped his tea instead.

Artemis laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Do I intimidate you?” she asked bluntly.

“Does the nearly 7’ tall woman whose land I apparently stumbled onto, who could bury me so deep in the woods that the wolves would never find my bones, intimidate me?” is what he didn’t say. He certainly thought it quite hard though. Instead, he said, “A little?” And then sighed. “Yes. No offense, but you scare the hell out of me.”

Amber nearly spit out her tea with laughter at that, and Don shot her a glance. She was enjoying his discomfort entirely too much. Artemis, though, let out a deep, booming laugh that seemed to echo off some distant mountain behind him. “You’re honest at least. I appreciate that. And, in case I haven’t made it quite clear by the mere fact that you still draw breath, little Morninglight, you’re in no danger here.”

“Mother simply wants to understand how, and why, you found your way here,” Amber translated, still giggling mirthfully. “There are, ordinarily, only a small handful of humans that find their way to this place, you see, and... Most of them are less respectful.”

“And so they are treated like the animals that they seem so keen to behave as,” Artemis finished. “You, however, are different. And so, that leaves me with a bit of a quandary in what I should do with you.”

He tensed up slightly at that, and the Huntress chuckled again, less mirthful than Amber had.

“I told you,” she said, “Here and now, in this time and place, you’re safe.”

“But if I tried to leave, that could change, right?” he asked bluntly. Artemis’ strawberry red lips parted into a wide grin.

“Ooh, you catch on fast, little Morninglight. But, in truth? I don’t think I want to hurt you, if only for the sake of my daughter. She so rarely takes an interest in anyone.” She tilted her head to one side slightly, staring past him in thought.

“What was it you were fleeing?” Amber asked. “If you weren’t seeking something, then you must have been fleeing something - whether you realized it, or not.”

“I was just trying to get away from it all for the weekend, to clear my head,” he answered, beginning to relax and feel much more comfortable now, as at least, here and now, he did feel safe. Of course, for all he knew, he could be lying at the bottom of that gully with a concussion, and all this was a fever dream.

“My girlfriend was cheating on me with my roommate, I was on academic suspension because my grades sucked, I just needed to get away from... everything.” He trailed off and then stared into his cup. “I really liked her, too. She said I wasn’t man enough for her. She should’ve had the damn decency to break up with me at least, instead of sneaking around.”

He threw back the last of the tea and swallowed it. To his surprise, it was Artemis who stood up to refill his cup this time. “The pieces begin to fall into place,” she said, putting her hand on top of his head briefly before sitting again.

“How’s that?” he asked, adding, “Thank you, by the way. This really is amazing tea. I’ll have to get you to teach me how to make it like this.”

“Millennia of practice,” Artemis said bluntly, but smiled as she said it. Was it his imagination, or was she actually warming up to him? She seemed more friendly, even matronly, which flew in the face of the Greek myths he remembered about her. Then again, up until this point, she lived up to them every bit and then some.

“I guess I’ll have to make the most of the time I have, then,” he said. “Since I can’t leave.”

“No one said you can’t leave,” Artemis said, looking back directly at him again. “Just that I can’t let you speak of this place. I need some guarantee of your silence.” She trailed off, as he sipped at his second cup of tea. He was really starting to relax now.

“You have it,” he answered. “As far as I’m concerned this has all been a concussion induced nightm- he caught himself, and glanced at Amber, who returned his gaze with a giggle. “Dream. I haven’t decided yet if I want to wake up or not.”

“Oh, my sweet little Morninglight, this is no dream,” Artemis said with a chuckle. “But you will wake up soon, with my blessing.”

His eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier, and he looked down at the empty cup in his hands. His vision blurred slightly, and he slumped back in the chair.

“Remember,” her voice echoed in his mind. “My blessing, for your promise.”

Great big drops of what Dawn at first thought were rain splattered her face. She jolted awake, lying on her back, and caked in mud where she had fallen down off the trail and into the small gully, as a red and white bloodhound licked her face happily.

“Dawn!” she heard someone calling. The dog bayed and yelped. “Artemis!” the voice said, more excitedly. “Did you find her?”

Bark!

“Okay, just a second! I’m almost there!” And a moment later, a familiar face peeked over the edge. A young woman with a light, olive tan and who wore a forest service jacket, her nut brown hair tucked up but peeking out from under a Search and Rescue cap, waved as she called down. “Don’t move! I’ll be right there to check you out okay?”

Dawn raised her hand to give the woman who looked suspiciously like Amber a thumbs up, coughed, and groaned, stroking the dog’s big floppy ears. “Ooooh Gods, my head,” she moaned. She could hear possibly Amber chattering on a radio as she ran the length of the gully and then, her rapidly approaching footsteps. She slid to a stop on her knees, whipping her backpack off.

“Hang in there Dawn,” she said. “My name is Amber. Another ranger’s on her way with a backboard. Try not to move, okay?”

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” Dawn answered. “My ankle’s pretty swollen, and my head’s pounding. I think I sprained one and brained the other.”

That got a genuine laugh out of Amber. “Your spirits are up anyway. Here, let me give you some water. You’ve been missing for almost 24 hours,” she said as she unscrewed a bottle, bringing it gently to Dawn’s lips to let her sip. “Easy now. One sip at a time. Good girl Artemis,” she added, giving the dog a treat and scratching her ears.

“Artemis, huh?” Dawn said. “That’s a great name.”

“Almost there,” another female voice came over Amber’s radio, as the sound of an ATV roaring through the woods drew closer. Before too long, they had Dawn loaded on the backboard, and once back at the trail head, Amber rode with her in the ambulance.

Dawn floated in and out of consciousness, occasionally mumbling something about how Amber made the best chamomile tea, and how she looked forward to meeting Artemis again.

In the hospital, she occasionally dreamed, both about that place, those woods, and about the life she only half remembered, how miserable everything was, how depressed she always felt. It was odd though. Whenever she dreamed about Artemis’ realm, it was no longer Amber there with Artemis, but another girl, younger and more blonde, always the same girl, but nothing like Amber had been.

She was surprised to find that, once she was out of the ICU, once they were sure her concussion had healed, Amber - the forest service girl that is, was the first of her visitors. She had brought fresh cut chamomile flowers, along with packets of Bigelowe’s brand ‘Calming Chamomile’ tea.

Dawn couldn’t help but to laugh. She wanted so badly to ask Amber about it, but her promise to Artemis kept her silence. Fortunately for her, Amber explained it away as how Dawn ‘kept mumbling about chamomile’ in the ambulance ride. After that, the two became fast friends. Dawn had a certain ease about her that Amber found alluring, and Dawn for her part, was falling for Amber quite fast.

On the last day of her hospital stay, when she was almost ready to check out, Amber appeared in the doorway, carrying a thermos of chamomile tea. It had become their little inside joke, their tradition, that Amber brought hot tea whenever she visited. Dawn’s doctors for their part, approved of it on the grounds that it was definitely helping Dawn’s recovery.

“I know this is your last day,” Amber said, breaking out the cups. “This might sound forward of me, but... Do you... Would you want to... have dinner some time, after you’re settled back in? I know you’ve got loads of college work to catch up on though.”

“Like a date?” Dawn asked cautiously as she looked at Amber over the rim of her tea cup. Amber blushed.

“Or as friends.”

“A date sounds heavenly,” Dawn said. Amber tried her best not to squeal, causing Dawn to laugh as she sat forward, motioning Amber closer, and put an arm around her. “I wanted to ask you, but I was afraid you might say no.”

“How could I say no,” Amber said, putting her forehead to Dawn’s, “To the girl of my dreams?”

They both giggled as Dawn blushed deeply. “I love Artemis,” she sighed. She couldn’t help it. It just slipped.

“Me too,” Amber said automatically, and for just a brief moment, she gave Dawn the most knowing, mischievous grin, and then kissed her. “Come on you. Let’s take a walk around the courtyard one last time before they unhook your IV and we don’t have an excuse to take it slow anymore,” she teased.

Sometimes miracles can come from the humblest of places, especially when a selfless wish is made for another, on the first, pure snow, or when someone upstairs is watching...

It was a bitterly cold winter afternoon, snow and ice blanketing the ground and the roadways, with talk of a blizzard. This was Washington, after all. If it wasn’t raining, it was snowing. If it wasn’t snowing, there was fog. The town of Winter River looked like a veritable picture postcard of holiday decorations - predominantly Christmas themed, but with a token menorah or other festive decorations in shop windows around the quaint little city.

Shoppers bustled about getting last minute presents for friends and family, and on the bridge that led to the other half of town, as well as the university, a figure stood on the roadside walkway. From a distance, one would be hard pressed to tell if the figure were male or female. It wore a heavy black trenchcoat and loose fitting ski pants over heavy ski boots. The only telling sign was a mop of long, red hair peeking out from under a plain white knit cap.

She wasn’t thinking of jumping, though. Not really, anyway. She was just standing there, staring into the frigid waters below. She was reflecting on what brought her life to this point, 18 years old and shut out of the family completely, a thousand miles away. Suddenly a voice cut through the dull roar of passing vehicles. It was soft and sweet.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the girl said, “But there’s always another way.”

Sarah gave a quiet laugh in a voice distinctly not very feminine. It wasn’t exactly deep either, but it wasn’t the lyrical waft of angelic chorus either. “I’m not going to jump,” she said quietly. “I was just thinking,” she said as she turned to thank the girl for her concern.

A girl her age smiled back at her. She was wrapped in tattered old rags, and an ugly pea green coat about five sizes too big for her, but her hair and face looked for all intents, perfect. “Good,” she answered. “Because it would be a waste of a great coat,” she teased.

Sarah gave her a wry smile. Sarah wasn’t dressed as Sarah. She couldn’t afford to. She could barely afford her hormones right now. No makeup, let alone clothes. She got by with what she could find on deep sales and clearance. There would be time for transition after college, she figured, or at least hoped. “There’s a blizzard coming,” Sarah said, searching for a way to change the subject. “Do you um...”

“Do I have somewhere to stay?” the girl asked, and shrugged. “Not yet. There’s a shelter across town I was on my way to check out.”

Sarah frowned. “Hey, listen... This um, might sound forward, but I’m not trying to be. There’s literally nobody else around for the holidays where I live. Why don’t you come with me? It’s just over the bridge. You can wait out the blizzard there.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t impose...” the girl said as she shook her head. Sarah smiled.

“You wouldn’t be. I’ll fire up the hot plate and make you some hot chocolate and top ramen.”

The girl laughed after a moment. “Right now, that sounds like a Christmas feast.” She smiled at Sarah. They were both about the same height at 5’5”, both slender though the girl couldn’t see that just looking at Sarah under her heavy coat. “I’m Carol. Please, no Christmas Carol jokes,” she teased, grinning to let Sarah know it was okay to laugh.

Sarah let out a small laugh at that. “James,” she said sheepishly. Carol shrugged.

“If you say so,” she said, as the snow started to fall, almost as if the heavens themselves had just opened up over their heads. Carol gave a startled squeal as they picked up their pace. “Make a wish!” she laughed.

“What?” Sarah asked, racing to keep up with Carol as she glided across the icy bridge almost effortlessly.

“The first snow of a new blizzard is always the purest,” Carol said. “Make a wish. Maybe it’ll happen.”

“I don’t think there’s enough snow to make my wishes come true,” Sarah laughed. She thought about it for a moment though, and made her wish.

Their cheeks glowed pink with frostbite as they made it to the campus. They had to take it slowly now because the sidewalks were covered in ice unlike the roads’ sidewalks, which at least had someone to shovel or salt them. The university had quite literally shut down, though.

The entryway looked surprisingly clean, if a bit sparse. There were freshly stocked vending machines, an errant chair here or there in the common room. The walls were plain off-white, not quite warm enough to be called cream though, and the tile floors looked freshly waxed. A small, fake plastic tree sat in the corner of the common room, undecorated but for the garland that came hot glued to it from the factory.

None of that mattered to Carol though, who was just happy to be out of the storm.

“Wow,” she said as she looked back outside. “I’m glad I came with you now. I can’t see two feet past the door.”

“The building heat’s stuck on 68, but I’ve got a space heater in my dorm if you want to get warm,” Sarah said as she removed her gloves. Her nails were well manicured, with a clear coat, and she wore a plain, cheap silver ring, a celtic knotwork design, on one finger. She buried her hands in her pockets as they made the slow trek upstairs.

“Since it’s just us here,” she continued, “I was thinking we could hang out down in the common room, maybe watch some movies?” she asked, noticing Carol had been rather quiet for awhile.

“Sounds great,” Carol answered warmly. She seemed, despite her situation, perpetually cheerful, and more than a little grateful for Sarah’s kindness. Sarah for her part had no ulterior motives beyond wanting to help someone who somehow managed to have it worse than she did.

“So, what’s your major?” Carol asked casually as she sat down on a big, fluffy, pink tie-dyed bean bag chair next to the space heater, stretching her shivering hands out toward it to warm them.

“Psychology,” Sarah said sheepishly. “But I’m thinking of changing my major to business, and then going back to Psych after i find a job.”

“Child, adult or animal?” Carol smiled. “You should stick with it in any case..”

“Teen and child, with a little adult for framework,” Sarah said as she put a funky, dented old dollar store tea kettle on the hot plate. “I guess I just really want to help others as much as I want to understand my own problems,” she said with a laugh, adding some dry hot cocoa mix to a couple of plastic mugs bearing the school logo.

She didn’t dare ask Carol how she ended up on the streets, and Carol didn’t volunteer to share her backstory, quietly warming her hands by the space heater instead, the only sound being that of her rubbing them together occasionally, and the whistling of the tea kettle a few minutes later.

“Thank you,” Carol said as Sarah handed her one of the mugs.

“I lied about the ramen, by the way,” Sarah chuckled. “I actually have a couple of family size TV dinners in the mini fridge. We can use the oven downstairs if you’re hungry.”

Carol laughed. “That sounds great,” she said, sipping her hot chocolate as Sarah took one of the large Banquet turkey and gravy meals from the small freezer section of her fridge. It was in point of fact, her old roommate’s fridge, but he managed to get himself expelled for smoking pot while IN class, and left all of his things in the dorm.

Sarah grabbed a big, heavy fleece blanket from off her bed - plain navy blue, but in great condition, and gently draped it over Carol’s shoulders. Carol gratefully pulled the blanket around herself, smiling softly at Sarah for a moment before they both started back downstairs again.

While they waited for the turkey to cook, Carol watched Sarah dig around in the couch cushions, to some surprising degree of success. She managed to find enough loose change to buy some snacks from the vending machine to go with their feast, and then the pair, Carol now sufficiently warmed, set to work making impromptu Christmas decorations.

A red plastic disposable cup made a festive top for the little plastic Christmas tree, and a strip of an old, already ragged red t-shirt someone had used for a polishing rag made excellent ribbons to tie into bows, that now hung from wherever they could find a place to hang them, using the rest to wrap and hide the tree’s metal base. By the time they had finished hanging a sprig of broccoli someone left in the commons refrigerator for mistletoe, the oven timer beeped.

As they sat down at a small, rickety foldable card table with their paper plates and a fresh mug of hot coffee each, Carol bowed her head to say grace. And while Sarah wasn’t particularly religious, she bowed her head out of respect for her new friend.

“Our Father who art in heaven,” Carol began, and as she prayed, Sarah couldn’t help the warm, tingling feelings welling up inside her from not having to spend Christmas alone, and from being able to share what little she had, with someone who had less. “Thank you for this bountiful meal, and for the warmth and kindness of my new friend.” She looked up at Sarah. “At least... I hope you don’t mind that I think of you as a friend now.”

Sarah shook her head. “Of course not. I don’t have much, but I’m really happy I could help,” she said as she carefully scooped out a piece of turkey for herself. “When the storm passes, after they dig us out,” Sarah laughed, “I’d like to help you find a place to stay. I can talk to my professor, see if she has any connections. I’m her favorite student,” she said with a wink, causing Carol to laugh.

“And when I get back on my feet, I’m going to repay your kindness a hundred fold,” she answered, giving Sarah the most genuine, warm smile of anyone she had ever seen, spoiled only slightly by a small drop of gravy on her chin.

After they finished their dessert of vending machine cupcakes, Sarah moved to the sofa in front of the 90” TV, with the half a dozen game systems wired up in a jungle of black rubber cables behind it, and Carol took off her shoes and sat beside her, draping the borrowed blanket over herself and Sarah, as Sarah picked up the universal remote.

They talked long into the night as they watched all the Christmas classics, either on live TV or one of a number of on demand video services tied to the various consoles Sarah’s dorm mates had left behind for the holiday. Eventually Sarah even opened up to Carol about her life, how she was only partially transitioned, and her family in Alabama throwing her out and disowning her.

Long about midnight, Sarah woke briefly. The common room had fallen silent as Netflix had defaulted back to video selection, the TV providing a soft, dim glow on the immediate area in front of it. But there was another soft glow, coming from the far corner of the room. There was no lamp or nightlight, no overhead lighting, or even any window there. Sarah grew drowsy, and quickly found herself fast asleep again, just like Carol, leaning into her with a contented smile that came with a hot meal and a warm soul to share it with.

Sarah’s dreams were confusing, and strangely vivid. She dreamed that she had met Carol six months ago at the welcome mixer, and they ended up roommates in the girls’ dorm. Carol’s family had basically adopted Sarah almost immediately the moment they heard what had happened to her.

She had fond memories of a very happy Thanksgiving with Carol’s family. She remembered she wore a pretty floral dress that Carol’s nieces adored for some reason, and kept asking Carol if ‘her girlfriend was a fashion model’.

Sarah stirred in her sleep. Something was tickling her nose. She moved her hand up to swat it away and found that it felt like hair. She heard a soft giggle, and slowly opened her eyes to find Carol smiling down at her. Only, she was sleeping in a warm, soft bed: softer than her normal dorm mattress, too. Carol leaned down to kiss her lips. Sarah stared, stunned.

“There’s my angel. I thought you were going to sleep all morning,” Carol giggled softly as she sat up to let Sarah sit up too.

Sarah slowly looked around the room. This was definitely a girl’s dorm. A discarded bra hung over the side of the clothes hamper, and assorted makeup sat neatly in two side-by-side cases on one of the dressers. Next to Sarah’s old textbooks, another set were neatly stacked, the top one being some kind of medical textbook. But there was her pink, tie-dyed bean bag at the foot of her bed. “Wha...” she groaned. “Carol?”

“Hmmm?” Carol asked. “Sarah, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Or an angel,” Sarah managed a small giggle. “Was... it just a dream? You were homeless, and I was living in the boys’ dorm, and...”

Carol put her finger to Sarah’s lips. She leaned closer, wrapping her in a hug, and whispered softly in her ear, “I told you the first snow was the purest. You made a good wish. I’m just returning the favor.” She pulled away and winked, as Sarah stared, dumbstruck.

Carol giggled again, and as if she hadn’t said anything at all, she grabbed Sarah’s hands and pulled her up out of bed. “Come on. Mom’s going to be here to pick us up in an hour, and you still need to pack.”

“Huh?” Sarah asked groggily.

Carol rolled her eyes. “Okay girl, we have to get some coffee in you, stat,” she giggled out.” We’re going to my parents’ for Christmas, remember?”

“But it's Christmas,” Sarah tried to argue. “We’re snowed in.”

Carol laughed and pulled open the mini blinds over their only window. “Christmas isn’t for two whole weeks, and it only snowed a little. See?”

Sarah stared out, at the whole inch and a half of snow on the ground, and then shook her head. “Okay... I think I’ll take that coffee now...”

“In that case,” Carol said, “Then I might as well give you one of your presents early.” She giggled excitedly as she knelt down and reached under the bed, taking out a brightly wrapped parcel and giving it to Sarah.

Sarah laughed as she sat down, reality gradually beginning to make more sense to her, and opened it to find a white ceramic coffee mug. It had a picture of Sarah and Carol set inside a heart, with the words ‘I love you, my Angel’ in wrapped lettering across the top and bottom. Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears as she stood to hug Carol.

“I love you too,” she whispered and squeezed her tight. “Always and forever.”

----------=BigCloset Retro Classic=----------
Christmas Special!

 

---

 
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Tuesday 12-24-2013 at 11:02:15 -0500 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 

---

The wind whipped hard, blowing a fresh powder of snow up into Laura’s face. Laura was a young lady down on her luck in every possible way. No job, no family to go home to, and no means to support herself, all she had to her name now was the clothes on her back - a hooded sweatshirt under a light jacket, a pair of jeans, and her black sneakers - an old backpack, and the remnants of her journal that peeked over the top of her backpack. She kept the pill bottle from her last hormone refill - expended two weeks ago, deep in her jacket pocket.

The people on the street ignored her. After all, what’s one more homeless person when they had their own lives, their own families to think about? With three days until Christmas, and a terrible storm blowing through, it was as if Laura didn’t exist.

As she stumbled through the snow, her face and fingers near-hypothermic, the wind broke enough for her to spot an opening between two boards of an abandoned theater from a time long passed, just across the street. Narrowly evading a taxi driving far too fast for the icy conditions, she sprinted across the street.

Never a large boy growing up - nor a large girl after transitioning, and made smaller from malnutrition since losing her temp job, Laura easily squeezed between the boards. She at least wouldn’t freeze to death tonight, but part of her wondered if, perhaps, freezing to death would be for the best. So preoccupied was she that she didn’t hear her hardback journal’s soft “thump” in the snow, as she crept across broken glass and dead leaves.

She couldn’t have known, as she slowly walked through the dark and empty theater, its stage covered in a thick layer of dust, that she wasn’t alone in the forgotten relic. An old man in a black suit - but no tie, his face dark and weathered by time, his short whiskers a stark contrast of white, but with gentle, concerned eyes, watched the girl come into his theater.

He left no footprints in the snow as he emerged just long enough to pick up the journal. He held it in one hand as the other waved over it. It stopped at a torn page, with a partial letter begun beneath.

“Dear Mom and Dad,” it began. But the next part was scratched out, replaced with, “I’m sorry for what I said,” more words were scratched out still. “I want to-” followed, with ‘come home’ scratched out. “Please help.”

Tear stains - some fresh, dotted the slightly yellowing page. The old man smiled sadly as he turned to step back inside. His legs and torso passed easily through the boards, with no need for him to duck between them.

Inside, he found his new ward fast asleep on the front row, curled up in a ball in one of the theater seats, with her backpack as a pillow. He tucked the journal into his pocket for now - as its role would come before this night was finished. As he stepped up onto the stage, the dust and grime at once was gone, replaced by a bright, new red curtain.

In front of the curtain, stood a small Christmas tree decorated in lights and ornaments. He reached down to plug in the tree, and at once, a set of bright auditorium lights illuminated the area, causing Laura to jolt awake, nearly falling out of her seat.

She looked, with mortal terror, at the old man.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, barely above a whisper, but the old man smiled as he held up a withered hand, his palm open as if to say ‘I’m not done yet’.

She sat and watched quietly as he walked to the side of the stage. A series of strange levers, polished oak with gilded decorations, from what she could tell, stood out against what looked like velvet wallpaper, from her distance, in brilliant red and gold. He began to pull the levers, and before her eyes a spectacular scene opened.

He stepped down off the stage, and the theater seemed to take on a life of its own now. As the auditorium lights fell, a spotlight settled center stage.

Suddenly, Laura felt very different. She looked down, to find herself dressed in a gorgeous red evening gown and heels. Long, white silk gloves covered her arms. Her shoulder length honey blonde hair, though still down, had been styled. She looked as though she were ready for an evening at the opera, or any number of holiday parties no doubt happening now. For a moment, she actually forgot she was starving.

“What is all this?” Laura whispered as the old man approached. He grinned softly at her as he produced from behind his back, a large bowl of popcorn in one hand, a steaming cup of hot cocoa in the other.

He didn’t answer though, instead offering the food to her, and nodded for her to sit again. As he joined her, she heard footsteps on the stage. She looked up to see a woman dressed in an angel costume. Her robes were shimmering silver that obscured her feet entirely. Her wings and halo, while obvious stage props, were of incredible quality to Laura’s eyes.

Most unusual though, was that as Laura ate a bite of popcorn, she suddenly felt much less hungry. She took a sip of cocoa, and instantly the chill left her bones. She began to smile as she settled in, and the angel took her place at the center of the stage within the spotlight. A soft mist began to roll over the stage as the woman spoke.

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

As she spoke, the stage began once more to transform. Laura felt almost as though she were being transported to another time and place. The angel had been replaced by shepherds watching sheep. The back curtain had risen now to reveal rolling fields and a night sky full of twinkling stars.

“And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

The scene again shifted. The shepherds faded into silhouette and shadows.

“This is amazing,” Laura whispered. The old man smiled as he replied.

“This is only the beginning.”

She looked, surprised, at him as he offered up his hand. In it, he held a small, round object. It was a snow globe. She stared at the delicate glass globe, and he nodded for her to take it.

“Go ahead. Give it a shake.” His soft, good-natured smile had already set her completely at ease, for she had already decided this to be some wonderful dream from which she never wanted to wake.

She took the snow globe and shook it. As she stared more closely though, she realized something. This house looked very familiar. She turned to ask the old man, but he was gone. She stood, and suddenly found herself standing in snow, but she wasn’t cold at all. In fact, she felt very warm. She knew this place. This was her cousin’s house. It was Melissa who first met Laura on a Christmas Eve long ago.

She walked to the window and peeked inside. The angel from before stood inside the house, beside the Christmas tree. She had lost the wings and halo, but still wore the long, silky silver gown, and now bore a wreath of holly on her head. She smiled as she motioned for Laura to come inside, and the door opened on its own.

Laura stepped through the door, and as she approached the woman, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that sat over the fireplace, just above the stockings. She could now see that she was made up very naturally, except for the shimmering ‘wet’ lipstick. Still, it was her shade, and she did look very naturally female - more than she was used to at any rate.

Upstairs, she could hear her cousin and another child giggling happily. Her eyes widened, and she turned to the woman, who smiled broadly back at her as she approached Laura.

“This was your first Christmas, wasn’t it?” the woman asked.

Laura nodded. “This was ‘Laura’s’ first Christmas. We played for hours with Melissa’s dollies,” Laura said in an almost distant voice. She giggled. “Melissa let me wear the holiday dress she had worn for Thanksgiving. When Auntie found us, she sternly insisted to have a ‘talk’ with Melissa.”

The woman chuckled. “You thought your cousin in trouble?”

Laura nodded again. “I was so scared. Imagine my surprise when Melissa returned wearing her Christmas dress.”

Laura turned away from the woman, just long enough to look - and sure enough, in a silver picture frame on the mantel, she found it: two pretty little girls in holiday dresses. Laura had never in her life smiled and laughed so much as she had that day.

“My parents thought it was just a phase,” Laura said, as the two little girls from the picture raced down the stairs and past them, into the small kitchen. Young Melissa stopped though, turning to look at Laura and the other woman. She grinned as she ran to Laura and, grabbing her hand, pulled her down to hug her.

Tears rolled down Laura’s cheeks as she returned the unexpected gesture. “I miss you Mel,” Laura whispered. Melissa smiled softly and kissed Laura’s cheek..

“We miss you too Laura,” the little girl whispered back. She took Laura’s hand once more, leading her excitedly toward the kitchen.

But, instead of entering the kitchen, Laura suddenly found herself back in the old theater again. Young Melissa tugged on Laura’s hand, back to where the old man was once more sitting. Laura sat down again as Melissa hurried up onto the stage. It was now her turn to shine.

From nowhere, the sounds of a soft harp accompaniment began to play, and Melissa began to sing “Silent Night”. Her cousin Melissa always had such a beautiful, angelic voice. She was quite jealous of it growing up, and teased her about it occasionally.

But Melissa and Laura were practically sisters otherwise. Melissa was, for many years, the only way Laura could be herself, after all, but after Melissa moved away, Laura lost her only outlet. She had planned to move out to California to be with her cousin and her new family, but when she lost her job, and her apartment, those plans went out the window. It didn’t help that she’d spent her life savings on a costly operation barely six months ago.

But now, Laura listened as the little girl sang. Her eyelids though, were growing heavy, and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Melissa smiled sadly at the sleeping older version of her cousin as she, too, faded into silhouette. The woman approached as the old man stood, and offered to him five crisp, 100 dollar bills.

“Will this be enough?” the woman asked. He nodded, and a small, hand-written note appeared from nowhere, clipped to the bills.

The note simply said, “It’s never too late.”

He placed the bills, sticking out like a bookmark, with Laura’s letter. She once more was curled up in the movie theater seat, dressed in her jeans and hooded sweatshirt, her jacket pulled tightly around her.

He carefully lifted her hand, just enough to place the journal in her hand. She pulled it close to her as she slept, like a security blanket from her childhood, and he turned to walk away from her, slowly ascending the stage stairs. He stopped beside the Christmas tree, knelt, and unplugged the lights. At once, the lights throughout the auditorium went out, waking Laura with a jolt once more.

Her soft gaze darted from one corner of the quiet, dark theater to another. “W-was that a dream?” she whispered. She looked down to confirm she was still dressed as she remembered before coming in here. That’s when she noticed the money sticking out of her journal. Blinking, she slowly pulled it out, staring at the note.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. She thumbed through the bills, and her eyes widened. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she leapt to her feet. The smile on her face could have lit up New York in a blackout.

“Thank you,” she whispered through sobs. “Thank you,” she repeated, and she ran out into the night toward the nearest bus station.

Some three days later, in a quiet snow-covered suburb, a seemingly childless couple decorated their tree half-heartedly. The man had just placed a little angel, dressed in a shimmering silver gown, atop the tree. The woman neatly hung three stockings. Sewn into each was a name - “Mom”, “Dad”, and most importantly, “Laura”.

Outside, a heavy snow fell, blanketing street and sidewalk, leaving heavy drifts against the houses. The silhouette of an 18 year old girl stood, staring in the window from the sidewalk. With tears in her eyes she nervously approached, and opened the door.

She closed the door behind her, getting the couple’s attention. They looked up, startled. The woman froze, staring as though she had just seen a ghost. The man’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he ran to her and grabbed her in a tight hug that lifted her off her feet.

“Hi Daddy,” she whispered as her mother now, too, came racing over. Through tears, she sobbed, “I’m sorry,” as she hugged them both close to her. “You’re never going to believe...”

She trailed off as she looked up and saw the angel on the tree. Her eyes widened, and she smiled brightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” she continued. “I’m home now.”

“We’re sorry too honey,” her mother finally found her voice, after checking Laura over. “We should never have forbidden you to have that operation. But you must be starving,” she managed, trying not to cry. “Come into the kitchen and let me get you something to eat, okay?” she doted, without waiting for Laura to answer before grabbing her by the hand and pulling her into the kitchen.

Her father turned to look up at the angel Laura had been staring at before. In truth, he didn’t know where the little angel had come from; it was left on their doorstep three days ago. He smiled at her though. “Thanks. I guess somebody up there really is listening,” he said, as he walked into the kitchen to join his wife - and his new daughter, for a late Christmas Eve dinner.

2013-12-24 23:02:15 -0500

---

I didn’t know the woman. I didn’t even know there was another woman like me in this little hick town, but I felt so bad for her. Nobody knew who she really was until they read her last will and testament, that she be laid to rest dressed appropriately, and under a grave marker bearing the name she wanted for herself, “Virginia.”

I knew what it was like, to live my whole life not being myself, but for her to have died without ever really living shook me up enough that I decided it was time to make my move. I had been working on my voice for two years, and building up a small wardrobe, but what I lacked until now, was the courage to step into the role I so wanted to play. I would become Zoe today, now, and forever, and I would attend this poor woman’s funeral to honor the fallen friend I never knew I could have had.

As I approached the church, a chill wind whipped at my ankles just as an older man, easily old enough to be my father, approached me. He had a snakelike, lecherous smile as his gaze started at my heels, following the curve of my legs to where they disappeared into my black pencil skirt at my knee. Only then would he look me in the eye, pretending to offer a friendly smile as though I hadn’t noticed his leering mere seconds before.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts before, Ms.,” he trailed off, waiting for me to give him my name. I smirked indifferently and walked inside. This was a funeral, not a bar. Even if I did like men, everything about him told me I should keep my distance.

I found a place to sit near the back, and I watched as the lecherous snake in sheep’s clothing stood at the pulpit. To my horror, he would be giving the service for the fallen woman who had lived her entire life as Virgil.

“What makes a man a man, or a woman a woman?” he began. “This abomination before you will surely burn in righteous fire for all eternity my friends.”

As he preached his bile, the congregation gasped and whispered, murmuring varying levels of agreement and disagreement. Finally, I could take no more of this, and I stood up. His lecherous smile returned as I approached the pulpit, and I whispered in his ear.

“I would like to speak,” I said softly. He nodded.

“By all means. I’m glad I’ve moved you so,” he replied as he stepped aside.

“Most of you don’t know me, but I’ve lived here my whole life. I never knew Virginia, but I know how she suffered. This man,” I pointed to the bile-spewing monster, “claims she was an abomination, but who is the real abomination? A woman who lived her whole life in secret to protect her family from people like him, or the monster who would condemn her at her own funeral for asking to be allowed in death, to be who she couldn’t in life?”

“Now wait just a minute-” he began, but a tall, bearded man with broad shoulders stood up.

“Hey, let the woman speak. We’ve heard enough of your brimstone rhetoric.”

He shrank back, and I continued. “Thank you. Let me remind you all that pride is the greatest of sins. Pride is why Lucifer was thrown down to earth, and pride makes men spew filth and bile under false pretences of love. If this man is an example of God’s love, then he represents no God that I know or want any part of.

"The God I know teaches that we are ALL His children, not just those who don't make us uncomfortable with ourselves because they make the hard choices we would never have the courage to make.

“Without Virginia, I would never have found the courage to stand here, before you, to stand up for what’s right, and to say I am a woman, and I am human. Do not let pride rule your life. Don’t hate her, or me, because we made the hard choices to be ourselves. All I, all we, ask is tolerance and acceptance.”

Silence filled the room as what I had just said, that I had lumped myself in with Virginia, sank in. The lecherous snake gawked in shock. Slowly I turned to leave, and the preacher returned to his pulpit.

“Well, now that’s quite-” he began, but was drowned out by the thunderous applause that rose up behind me. When I turned back, not a man, woman, or child still remained seated. The bearded man who spoke in my defense earlier approached the preacher, taking his microphone away from him.

“Son, I do believe you’d better be finding a new town to spread your filth ‘cause you’re not welcome here anymore.”

---

Author's Note:
I'm going to go ahead and apologize here at the end, for the roughness, surrealness, and the super-shortness, but that's just the nature of dreams. :-)

Demons? Ancient Celtic Goddesses? It's bad enough Samantha's stuck in a new house and starting a new school, but can she also survive the evil that lurks in the shadows?

---

The shadows danced across the barren white walls of 15 year old Samantha’s new bedroom. She tried to ignore them. She told herself it was just a dream. Somewhere in the distance, the howl of a wolf calling to its mate shattered the otherwise silent autumn night. Dark pink fingernails buried themselves deeply at once into her white comforter as she jerked it over her head.

“I hate this,” she whimpered. “I wanna go home.”

A minute felt to Samantha like an hour, but eventually she felt sleep’s embrace. As she cautiously poked pale green eyes over the edge of her comforter, a calm neutrality seemed to have returned to the room with the coming of the morning sun that now poured around the heavy, well-worn drapes.

She squinted as her bare feet touched the icy linoleum floor, causing her to hop back onto the bed. Her golden dark blonde hair brushed the floor lightly as she swung down over the edge, hanging upside-down for just long enough to grab her house slippers.

“Morning honey,” Samantha’s mother, a woman not quite yet at the cusp of middle-age, wrapped in a heavy pink bathrobe, commented despite her yawn as she passed Samantha in the hallway.

“Hi mommy,” Samantha answered meekly. Their argument the night before still rang fresh in her mind. She had done most of the arguing, and had said some things she wished she hadn’t now.

“How did you sleep?” she asked, as though nothing were ever wrong. She always pretended nothing was wrong, and Samantha hated it.

Samantha for her part tried to smile though. “It’s a new house, right? It just takes getting used to.”

“That’s my girl,” her mother responded tenderly. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s all we can afford right now. Maybe if your father were still alive,” she began, and immediately regretted it. Samantha quickly buried her face in her mother’s shoulder at the mention of her late father. Six long months had passed, but the wounds still ran deep.

“Shh-shh, It’s okay honey.”

~oOo~

By nine, Samantha had the house to herself, and already she began to understand how her mother could have come to afford such a large place. The house felt to her entirely too unwelcoming.

A constant chill ran down her spine as she tried to curl up on the sofa — a leathery, cracked affair left behind by the previous owners, trying to watch Saturday morning cartoons as she drowned her sorrows in a large bowl of cereal. Neither the heavy blanket nor the food could take her mind off her restless sleep the night before, and worse yet, starting a new school the following Monday where no one knew her, or her secret, made things even harder.

At least the previous owners were kind enough to leave behind their furniture. It seemed that they had been in a great hurry to depart the house like that. Almost every stick of furniture Samantha and her mother now owned had been left to them by the previous owner.

By noon, Samantha’s unease finally outweighed her fear of meeting new people. The gloomy sensation of someone watching her seemed to follow her back up the stairs. She carefully averted her gaze from the dusty old mirror that hung halfway up, as if a monster might jump out at her if she dared to look, and at the top step raced into her bedroom, shoving the door closed.

“Hate this place,” she whined, pressing her back to the old wooden door for only a moment. At least she had been able to keep her wardrobe. It made no sense to try and sell what she’d only acquired inside a year ago after all.

After selecting a pair of daisy-embroidered boot-cut jeans and a thin, black mock-turtleneck, she took a heavy button-down green sweater, grabbing a pair of black clogs with a scant two inch heel, disappearing into the upstairs bathroom to get dressed and do her makeup.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, or that she was able to lose herself in her work, but she felt less paranoid in the cozy little bathroom. The walls had fresher paint at least in contrast to the rest of the house, in a warm, creamy yellowish-white with light tan tile countertops and a lighted mirror. She almost wished she could stay in there forever.

The house itself had a few neighbors close by, but with an ample front and back yard and a large privacy fence in-back, it could feel very secluded, cut off from the surrounding area. Samantha hadn’t yet met any of her neighbors, though they had only just moved in a couple of days prior.

It nevertheless made her feel more uneasy and vulnerable. She grabbed her simple black purse and stepped out into the chill autumn air. Not a bird in the trees could be heard, just the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. She felt as if she were utterly and completely alone, a feeling she hadn’t felt in at least two years. Not since she first-

“Hey, hello?” a distinctly female voice shattered Samantha’s thoughts, sending her spiraling back to reality. Indeed, it took all she had not to shriek — either to surprise or joy, that another living being existed here. She spun around to find another teenager, somewhat shorter than herself with long black hair and thin-rimmed red glasses staring back.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the girl offered warmly as she approached. “My name’s Jade. You just moved in, right?”

“Um y-yeah,” Samantha answered as she nervously shook Jade’s hand. “My mom and me.”

“I didn’t think they’d ever sell the old Whitmoore place,” Jade commented matter-of-factly as she pulled her dark brown suede jacket a little more tightly around herself. “Hey, do you want to go do something?”

Samantha hesitated, shyly chewing her bottom lip.

“Come on. You look like you could use a friend. I can show you around town and introduce you to a few people. I won’t bite, I promise. Well, unless you ask really nicely,” she added playfully. Samantha cracked a smile.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Oh, um, I’m Samantha, by the way.”

“Cool. Can I call you Sam?”

Samantha cringed, and Jade quickly corrected herself, “Samantha it is. My house is just over there, across the road. The heater in my car doesn’t work so don’t roll the window down unless you want to play freeze-out.”

~oOo~

Jade and Samantha drove around the sleepy little suburb, though Samantha didn’t seem particularly interested in the tour. Eventually Jade broke the awkward silence between them. “So how do you like the new house?”

The question almost seemed baited, as though Jade already knew what Samantha’s answer would be. Samantha slowly turned away from the window to stare at Jade, who offered the girl a sympathetic smile.

“I miss home,” she offered quietly. She’d already burst into tears twice that day, and refused to do so in front of this relative stranger now. She stiffened, sitting up slightly. “I guess I’ll get used to it.”

“If you say so,” Jade answered quietly. Samantha’s attempts at stoicism faltered as Jade rounded a corner, pulling up to a small public park. Samantha gave her a puzzled glance, to which Jade smiled and motioned for her to get out. She led Samantha to a small duck pond, though the fowl had by now departed for more southerly waters.

“Dad used to bring me here when I was little. I love coming here to skate when it freezes over, or to just sit and think.”

She buried her hands in her jacket as she sat, the rickety bench creaking under her slight stature. Samantha reluctantly sat at the far end opposite the stranger. Finally she turned to her, breaking her silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jade answered simply. She smiled reassuringly, though kept her hands buried in her pockets, respecting the distance between the two girls.

“It’s about my house. Has anyone ever … um… I mean…”

“Is it haunted?” Jade answered. Samantha nodded. “I can’t say for sure. The last people who lived there moved out in the middle of the night, but the old lady before them lived in that house since before I moved in across the way, and she never seemed to have any problems. It’s just sort of an urban legend now, you know? It sat empty for so long. Why, did something happen?” Jade asked, concern filling her voice.

“Not,” she hesitated, “Not exactly. It’s just, when I’m alone I feel really uncomfortable there, like something doesn’t want me there. It’s like when,” she trailed off, biting down on her strawberry-glossed lower lip with enough force to make Jade cringe.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Jade offered gently, instinctively scurrying closer. As she reached out to wrap Samantha in a friendly hug, Samantha recoiled.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, standing.

“I was just trying to help,” Jade spoke softly.

“Sorry,” Samantha answered. “I’m just having a bad day. I didn’t mean to take it out on … Jade?” but Jade was nowhere to be seen. In fact, no one, anywhere, could be seen or heard. A deathly silence had fallen over the area. Darkness seemed to rapidly wash over the area, as a chill, animalistic and yet somehow unnatural howl pierced the silence.

Samantha turned to run toward Jade’s car, only to find a rusted-out wreck in its place, as though it had been sitting there for years. She turned back to find that where the bench once sat, a pile of maggoty wood now lay across a dried-up bank. The trees, a few seconds before, rich and beautiful, now seemed gnarled and, to Samantha’s mind, almost alive, and very angry.

The sky overhead became red as blood, and embers seemed to rise from the barren ground. Samantha turned to flee, screaming at the top of her lungs. Something, some shadow-like creature that she could only barely perceive at the edge of her vision pursued her.

How quickly and for how long she ran, she wasn’t certain, but one of her ill-fitting clogs had become lost along the way, leaving her half-barefoot by the time she had reached what appeared to be a dilapidated version of her house. She felt her pursuer directly behind her, and as she fell to her knees, she shut her eyes, preparing for the end.

“Samantha?” her mother’s gentle voice called. “Sweetheart what’s wrong?”

As she felt her mother’s warm embrace envelop her, she slowly opened her eyes. She began to sob uncontrollably, mumbling incoherently about the nightmare she had just endured. As Samantha’s mother led her inside, Jade pulled into the driveway across the way and raced over, carrying a familiar black clog.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked, near-frantic. Samantha’s mother glowered at the intruder.

“I’d like to know the same thing. Who exactly are you young lady, and why do you have my daughter’s other shoe?”

“I found it back at the park. One second we were sitting by the duck pond talking, the next she was gone.” She paused briefly to catch her breath. “I’m Jade. I live across the road. I was showing Samantha around town. You’re her … sister?”

“Mother,” she answered more softly. “Angela Davis-Frost. Will you stay with her for a moment while I go make some tea?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jade answered. Samantha reluctantly relinquished her grip on her mother as Jade pulled her close, carefully guiding the quivering mass that was once a girl to the sofa. She grabbed Samantha’s discarded blanket from her earlier cartoon-watching escapades, draping it over her. “Hey, Samantha? Come on, what happened?”

“I-I-It was awful,” she wailed. “Why’d you abandon me?!”

Jade stared blankly, utterly confused back at her. “I didn’t abandon you. I glanced off for just a second, and when I looked back again you were gone. I drove around looking for you, and when I couldn’t find you, I came back here, hoping you just ran home or something.”

Samantha slowly tilted her head, trying to decide if Jade was telling the truth. Had she really not experienced the same nightmarish Hell Samantha had? Though even now it had already begun to fade, as though it were just a bad dream, easily forgotten rather than a true and tangible experience after all.

“S-so it… it was all in my head? But it felt so,” she paused, shivering as she wept, her eyes shut tight from the stinging tears, “so real.”

“Alright now, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day young lady,” Angela cooed softly as she reappeared, a steaming mug in-hand. Samantha gratefully accepted it and began to sip.

“Jade, was it? I’d like a word with you.”

Samantha nervously jerked her head up. “Please don’t leave!”

“We’ll be right in the next room sweetheart. I want you to just relax and drink your tea, okay?”

Jade hesitantly stood and followed Angela back into the kitchen.

“I want the truth, young lady. Did you slip her something?”

“What?! No! Look, I’m not that kind of person. I’m the head of the drama club at school, straight-A student. I’ve never even tasted alcohol. My mother would kill me if I even looked at a joint, not that I’d want to. I don’t know what freaked her out, but,” she trailed off as a contemplative expression crossed her features. She pursed her lips, choosing her next words carefully. “This house has a history.”

“I’m well aware of that silly urban legend,” Angela snapped back. She left off the part about this being the best house in their price range, or selling off every stick of furniture they owned just to make a good faith payment. Martin’s insurance policy just wasn’t enough, and eight months’ unemployment had taken their toll.

“I’m just saying the last people who lived here moved out in a hurry. Samantha seemed pretty tweaked when I first saw her. I thought maybe she could use a friend, someone who’s lived here awhile, who wouldn’t think she was crazy if she saw something,” Jade paused, searching for the right word, “Weird, you know?”

“She has trouble with new people,” Angela finally, reluctantly sighed. “It’s just who she is. Maybe it’s best if you go back home for now. I’ll get her up to bed.”

“I’ll help,” Jade offered sincerely. “It’s the least I can do.”

As the two rounded the corner, they found Samantha slumped over on the sofa, empty tea mug hanging delicately by one finger. Angela carefully set the mug aside as Jade took her by the arm, and together the two carried Samantha up to her bedroom.

“This is the first time I’ve ever actually been in this house,” Jade spoke quietly. Angela ignored the comment, and after they reached Samantha’s bedroom, Jade promptly showed herself out. It took no act of supernatural or extraordinary psychological phenomena to make her feel unwelcome in that house, but the simple stare of an overprotective mother.

~oOo~

Samantha woke with a start, lying curled up at the base of a tree. How she got there, and where ‘there’ was exactly, she couldn’t recall. She had never seen a forest like this before. A low mist hung in the air, yet somehow, it felt neither foreboding, nor oppressive.

Slowly, she gathered what little courage she could muster, and rose to her feet. She felt the cool, rich soil beneath her toes and for the first time looked down, to find herself barefoot. Perhaps more unusual though, she was clad in a shimmering silver gown. Its sleeves, a fine, sheer cloth, barely hung together, tied with an almost rope-like golden thread at the shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Somehow, her body felt different, not so much lighter, but reproportioned.

At first she panicked when she could no longer feel the weight of her hair on her shoulders, but reaching up, her fingers quickly found it affixed in a kind of ornate bun, held fast by what felt like a jeweled hairpin.

“Hello?” she called out as she cautiously took a first, tentative step. “Is someone there?”

She moved another three hesitant steps, but stopped when a faint sound like a woman’s singing seemed to surround her, coming from everywhere and yet from nowhere. The scene shifted, as though the entire world were spinning rapidly underfoot while she remained still, and she suddenly found herself by a small lake.

The singing had stopped, but she now stood alongside a taller woman with striking red hair which hung in ringlets from a simple ponytail, save for a set of loosely curled bangs that framed her face perfectly. Her flawless, milky white skin set a stark contrast to the deep mauve gown she wore, very much in the same style as the one that adorned Samantha but for the silver threadwork instead of gold.

Though she couldn’t explain why, Samantha felt at once completely at ease, and closed the short distance between herself and this strange woman. The woman opened her arms, gathering Samantha up in a hug, and the younger buried her face in the woman’s shoulder, weeping softly as she smiled, a brighter smile than she had in her entire life.

A sense of protection, of love and absolute peace washed over her as the woman stroked her neck and back. Samantha slowly raised her head, staring with confusion into the woman’s face, searching for some recognition, some feature that might be familiar to her.

“Who are you?” she whispered softly. The woman leaned closer and kissed Samantha gently on the forehead.

“You already know who I am,” she replied in a simple, even tone.

As the dream faded into reality, the feeling of absolute peace lingered. No shadows shifted, no wolves howled in the distance. Samantha slowly crawled out of bed and stepped out into the hallway. She could hear strains of the downstairs television, and as she reached the bottom step, her mother leapt to her feet, racing to her daughter’s side.

“Honey, are you okay?”

Samantha smiled, and it was as broad and genuine a smile as she had given the woman in her dream. It was the sort of smile Angela hadn’t seen from her daughter in months now, if ever. Mother and daughter embraced as Samantha burst into tears.

“I’m great, Mom,” she whispered. “I feel amazing.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Angela asked, completely stunned. Samantha just smiled, kissed her mother on the cheek, and turned away to disappear into the kitchen for a snack.

~oOo~

Two full weeks passed following that first incident. Samantha never spoke of what had terrified her so completely, nor did she tell of the vision that had come to her immediately after. As surely as she had been able to dismiss the nightmares, she had found ways to dismiss the vision, though in a strange way, both clung tightly to her, as if there were more to them than simply bad dreams.

Though Samantha mostly kept to herself, she had begun spending more and more time with Jade, much to Angela’s chagrin. Whether intentionally or passively, she felt certain Jade had a hand in Samantha’s mental anguish, though since her daughter refused to speak of it again, she couldn’t do anything about it. Even threatening to go to Samantha’s new therapist did her no good, so she resolved to let it sit, at least for now.

Generally, Samantha preferred to walk home from school. It gave her time to think and to clear her head before she had to enter that house, though even at that, she typically preferred to stay at Jade’s for as long as possible, but Jade had a date tonight, so she had no recourse but to take her time. As she walked along though, she suddenly became aware of the traffic - or rather, the lack of any. It was as though time stood still.

Her heart began to race as, far in the distance, a piercing, animalistic howl shattered the silence. She took off in a brisk run, no mean feat in the long skirt she’d decided to wear to school that day. No matter how hard or how fast she tried to flee though, it seemed the inescapable shadows gained on her, until at once, she found herself surrounded by desolate ruin again.

Her chest ached; she had to stop to catch her breath. As she did, she took in her surroundings. The signpost, though twisted about, and rusted with age, its white lettering reddened and partially illegible, at least seemed to suggest she was still six blocks from home. The area around her had fared no better.

Where a small convenience store once stood, a ruined shell remained, its glass door and windows shattered, leaving ugly, jagged glass around the edges like a gaping maw, waiting for something to stray too close. One of the rusted-out pumps lay on its side, its electronic face long scavenged, by the look of it.

A low hiss shattered the absolute silence, not like a serpent, but more guttural and angry. A shadowy whirlpool began to develop on the ground just in front of Samantha, from which a formless mass slowly emerged.

As the mass took shape, she shrieked in terror. She recognized it straightaway., for though the hair was shorter, almost a buzz cut, and the body more muscular, the face and frame were unmistakably her own.

“W-who are you? What do you want?!” she cried as she recoiled.

The boy smiled a cruel, dark smile, twisting familiar words.

“You know who I am.”

“But you can’t be,” she shouted. “You’re-”

“Dead?” He laughed deeply, mockingly. “You’d certainly like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

“GO AWAY!” she yelped. A blinding light washed over her, and she fell to her knees, cowering. A moment later, a gentle hand touched her shoulder. She slowly raised her head, lowering her hands as she came face to face with a woman in a police uniform staring with no small concern back down at her.

“Hey, miss, are you okay? Do you need me to call a paramedic?”

“What? I...” Samantha stammered. Everything was as it should be. No gnarled trees, no broken sidewalk. Her gaze shot to the gas station, where an old woman had just stepped out of a bright red SUV next to the pump, now upright and in its proper place. She turned back to the officer, nodding slowly.

“I-I thought I heard a bee. I’m like super-allergic.”

The officer gave her a skeptical stare, but slowly nodded. “Okay then. Do you need a ride home?”

“Um, sure,” Samantha answered. She didn’t want to tell her the truth because even she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t going crazy, at this point..

“I’m Sheryl Baker,” the woman offered more gently, trying to set the girl at ease. She smiled meekly.

“Samantha,” she answered simply. Sheryl motioned toward the sleek white car bearing the local police department logo, and opened the front passenger door for Samantha to sit.

“I’ve never ridden in one of these before,” she mused. Sheryl laughed to herself as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“Well I’ll make sure to explain to your parents that you’re not in any trouble, if that helps. Where did you say you lived again?”

“End of Maple Drive. It’s the ‘haunted’ house,” Samantha answered blithely.

“Oh,” Sheryl stated quietly.

“Oh?” Samantha echoed.

Sheryl slowly shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“You know something don’t you?” She pressed, but Sheryl held her silence.

~oOo~

Angela’s car wasn’t in the driveway when the squad car rolled to a stop, and Samantha stared nervously at the house. She dreaded being home alone in that place. Sheryl reached out to place her hand on Samantha’s shoulder, causing the girl to jump.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Samantha nodded numbly as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’m okay. Thanks Ms. Baker,” she answered with a certain neutrality unnatural for a girl her age. She quickly stepped out of the car, and though the thought crossed her mind to make a break for Jade’s house across the way, the fact that Sheryl seemed to be waiting, watching her drove her to swallow her fear, and go inside instead.

If only she had known what waited on the other side of that door.

~oOo~

“That hurt,” the voice of her assailant hissed. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and yet, nowhere. She spun around to run back outside, but the knob wouldn’t turn. She raced to the window, slamming her fists against it and screaming, but Sheryl didn’t seem to notice. She had already begun to back out of the drive. Samantha could see Jade racing over, though by now something had grabbed her shoulder, flinging her away from the window.

“You tried to destroy me,” the voice seemed to snarl with pure rage. “Now it’s MY turn!”

“I didn’t want you!” Samantha shrieked in response.

“You shut me out, pretended I didn’t exist. How do you think that makes me feel?!”

“I’m sorry,” Samantha pleaded as she curled up where she lay, sobbing bitterly. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it. I didn’t want to be you. I don’t like being a boy! Just leave me alone!”

A growing, low rumble, like a growl, had until that point been building somewhere within earshot, but on those words, it grew abruptly silent. Samantha shut her eyes tightly as she drew her knees to her chest. “Just leave me alone,” she repeated, sobbing.

“Samantha?” she thought she could hear Jade’s voice outside the door.

“Go away!” she cried. “Just go away!”

The front door slid open, and Sheryl stepped through, Jade following close behind her.

“Samantha, what happened?” Sheryl insisted as she rushed to the girl’s side. “You’re bleeding!” She glanced over her shoulder back at Jade, throwing a keyring to her. “Med kit’s in the trunk. Go!”

Jade nodded, quickly turning to race back outside. Samantha hadn’t realized it, but the left shoulder of her blouse had been shredded, leaving claw-like gashes in her shoulder. Sheryl finished tearing the long sleeve away, doubling it over to put pressure on the wound.

“I think it’s just a flesh wound. Who did this to you?”

Samantha tried to sit up, shaking her head slowly. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” she replied simply.

Jade burst through the front door carrying a large first aid kit, and set it down next to the two.

“What can I do to help?”

“Put pressure here while I get some gauze. I’m going to bandage your shoulder, but I strongly suggest you let me take you to the hospital.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad. He just scratched me when he-” She flinched as Sheryl tended to the area, and grew silent as she realized what she was saying.

“This is insane,” she whispered. “This can’t be real. HE can’t be real!”

“Who can’t?” Sheryl echoed.

“Him. … Me, sort-of.”

~oOo~

Samantha had gone upstairs, with Sheryl escorting her, to change out of her shredded top and skirt into a comfortable, baggy sweater and jeans. She now sat barefoot on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea with her favorite blanket draped over her shoulders. Jade sat next to her in silent thought, and Sheryl paced slowly across the living room.

“Let’s go through this again. You’re telling me that you were attacked by a “male you” that can change the world into this twisted version of the town at its whim, and now he’s physically attacking you?”

“Um, basically, yes,” she answered softly. “I think there’s someone else looking out for me too. Both times I told him to leave me alone, and then there was this bright light, and...”

“I’m sorry, Samantha, but that doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, in a way it does,” Jade finally spoke up, causing both to turn and stare at her, Sheryl expectantly, Samantha hopefully.

“Sorry Sammy, but I have to tell her,” she spoke softly then turned to Sheryl. “Samantha’s dad passed away about six months ago, and she took it really hard. On top of that her Mom got laid off a few months earlier. They moved here because she got a job offer, but with all that stress, losing her dad then having to move,” Jade trailed off into silence, letting her commentary speak for itself.

“I don’t get it,” Sheryl answered, shaking her head. “You mean she’s having a kind of Post Traumatic Stress encounter?”

“Well not exactly. I think she’s beating herself up over her dad’s death, to the point that it’s manifesting physically. I read somewhere that sometimes if the mind believes the body is hurt, that the body will manifest the injuries. It’s used to explain a lot of so-called poltergeist activity where a victim is attacked, and even some demonic possessions.”

“But what about my top? Did my mind do that too?” Samantha asked desperately.

“I... I don’t know. Maybe a psychokinetic reaction, or maybe you did it yourself and don’t remember.”

“So you do think I’m crazy,” Samantha answered quietly. “Maybe I am. But what about my top? Did my mind do that too?”

“No, sweetie,” Jade tried to console her. “Everything you experienced is very real - to you. But why your mind manifests it as a guy’s beyond me. I like the spooky stuff, but I’m not a shrink.”

“Maybe I should talk to my therapist,” Samantha finally exhaled.

“That’d be a good idea,” Jade answered. “Why didn’t you bring this up with them if you already have a therapist?”

“Because he’s a … Well,” Samantha shut her eyes tightly and sighed. “Fuck, I knew I couldn’t keep it a secret forever. I’m transgendered. He’s a gender therapist, and he’s the only one I could see. He’s the reason we moved here, because mom’s new job came with insurance that would cover it, but just barely. I don’t talk about the other stuff, about losing my Dad. I don’t trust him yet, and the only reason I talk about the gender stuff is because if I don’t, I’ll go completely insane.” She paused to laugh bitterly at the situation. “Which didn’t seem to work out too well.”

“You’re … I mean, you used to be a...” Jade fumbled, staring in shock at Samantha. Sheryl stepped closer and knelt, gently squeezing Samantha’s knee. Whatever her personal beliefs might have been, she took a professional attitude, at least.

“She’s Samantha, a bright, beautiful young lady with far too much stress in her life.”

“Right,” Jade quickly agreed. “And she’s not staying in this house tonight. Come on you. We’re having a sleepover. You and me, and my cat.”

“But-” Samantha tried to protest.

“No buts!” Jade answered. Sheryl seemed to relax a bit as she stood.

“Frankly, I’d feel better if you weren’t alone either, at least until your mother comes home. I’ll stop by to check on you tomorrow as well. Are you absolutely sure you’re okay now? I can get you to a hospital in just a few minutes.”

Samantha quickly nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be okay. I-it’s just a scratch. It doesn’t even hurt now,” she lied, but the officer seemed convinced enough by it.

As Sheryl left the two, Jade followed Samantha upstairs. “What about your date?” she asked

Jade rolled her shoulders. “There’ll be other dates, or other boys. You do not need to be alone right now.”

“Do you really think this is all in my head? That I’m just, I dunno, stressed?”

“I’m not sure what to believe. My family is, er, well you’ve met my Mom. You know what my home life is like,” Jade added with a mild giggle.

“At least both your parents are still alive,” Samantha responded seriously. Jade frowned as she watched Samantha move about the room packing her duffel bag for the impromptu sleepover. “I’d give anything for my Dad to be here.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Jade asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Sure,” Samantha answered simply. “You already know my biggest secret. The fact you didn’t call me a freak or worse and run out of the room the second Officer Baker left speaks for itself.”

“I’d never do that. But anyway, how did he take it? Your... wanting to be a girl I mean.”

“Surprisingly well. Better than Mom actually,” Samantha sighed, folding over a pair of loose white pajama bottoms in her hand and laying them in the plain black duffel bag on her bed. “Mom and I never got along until really recently.”

“So what changed?”

Samantha paused to stare at Jade. She hadn’t really thought about it herself until that moment. “I guess it started with that freaky dream I had. Let’s get out of here. This room creeps me out.”

~oOo~

“She’s a friend,” Jade barked defensively into the cordless phone. “Well if that’s the way you’re going to act over a first date then you can kiss the fattest part of your mother’s ass, pal.” She slammed the phone down on the receiver and growled. “MEN! I swear they’re all like spoiled children.”

Samantha giggled behind her hand, and Jade smiled faintly. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother,” she sighed, but smiled a moment later. “Anyway, you were telling me about your dream? Did she ever say anything?”

“Yeah, when I asked her who she was. She responded with ‘You already know who I am’, and then I woke up.”

“Say that again?” came the familiar, faintly lyrical tone of Jade’s mother Amber. The woman stepped around the corner from the family study dressed in a long white bathrobe, her dark auburn hair tucked up into a matching towel on her head. She had a small wine glass in one hand, and an old leather bound book in the other.

“Um... You already know who I am?”

The woman giggled. “You said you heard that in a dream?”

“Yeah,” Samantha answered, and proceeded to recount, yet again, the strange vision that had stayed so strongly in the forefront of her mind those last two weeks.

“Hmm. Just a second, girls,” Amber replied, dashing back into the study. She very nearly spilled her wine as she haphazardly lay the glass aside on an end table, hurrying to the bookshelf.

“Where is it,” she stated, more than asked, barely above a whisper as she scanned the large oak bookshelf on the south wall. “Ah!”

Samantha caught a glimpse of the title, ‘Celtic Gods and Goddesses’, in a kind of penned, gilded lettering on the front just before Amber flipped the book open and thumbed through several pages. She stopped at one point, holding the book in front of her for the girls. Although the sketch had not been colored in, its depiction of a beautiful woman with long hair in ringlets immediately caused Samantha to stumble backwards.

“Oh my God, that’s her,” she whispered.

Amber smiled knowingly. “Goddess, actually. She’s a nature deity, a protector and patron goddess of women.” She glanced down as she turned the book back toward herself and began to read aloud. “The goddess whose name few still remember, she responds to those females, young and old, who reach out to her for protection, whether they know it or not. Slow to anger, her wrath is as the harsher side of Nature itself. She loves all her daughters, but holds a universal dislike of males.”

Jade and Samantha slowly stared at each other.

“That’s... interesting,” Samantha mumbled with uncertainty. Jade just shook her head slowly, turning back to her mother.

“So this … nature goddess is real?”

“I choose to think so, yes. Some call them angels, others ancient gods. They’re just labels, dear. It’s what they represent that’s truly important, and you, young lady,” Amber smiled broadly as she pointed at Samantha, “You are truly blessed if she is looking out for you.”

“Speaking of protection, Mommy?” Jade elongated the ‘y’, complete with puppy eyes. “Is it okay if Sammy stays over tonight?”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with her being dropped off by a police officer would it?” Amber asked more skeptically. Before Jade could answer, Samantha spoke up.

“Sheryl was just giving me a ride home. She saw that I was walking home alone and just wanted to be sure I was okay.”

“Ah, I see. Well in that case, I don’t see why not. I’ll let your mother know you’re here when she comes home.” She paused to place her hand on Samantha’s shoulder, causing her to flinch. “And remind me to change your bandages in a few hours.”

“How did you..?”

Amber simply smiled back at her. “It’s a mother thing.”

~oOo~

“I don’t care what she says,” Samantha mumbled, leaning against the white marble countertop and watching Jade as she set a pan of popcorn on the stove. “That was not a mother thing.”

“Not a normal mother thing. She’s really perceptive. She probably saw that you were favoring it when you moved or something. Don’t let it spook you.”

“Hey Jade? Thanks for inviting me over.”

Jade smiled and shrugged. “Hey, what are friends for?”

“No, really. You gave up a date with a cute guy for me, even if he was a jerk. Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”

“What, dumped a pig to hang out with you?”

“You know what I mean,” Samantha insisted. “You came running when you saw Sheryl dropping me off. You... you care. You’re a real friend.”

“Aaand you didn’t have real friends where you were living before?”

“I had friends, sure. I had more friends as Samantha than I did as …”

“Sam?” Jade finished for her. Samantha nodded.

“I don’t mind you calling me Sammy because it still feels like a feminized ‘Sam’, but truth be told, I really wanted to change my name entirely. Mom wouldn’t hear of that though. I wanted something cute like Jennifer or Crystal, or even Amy.”

“You sound like you really hated being a guy. Not that I blame you. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.”

Samantha nodded softly. “Almost as bad as-” but before she could continue, a strange sound caught both their attention, not unlike a faint scratching sound. It was enough to cause Samantha to jump, cowering behind Jade, but even her friend seemed mildly spooked now. Jade shifted the popcorn off the heat, turning off the burner, and the two crept slowly around the corner as the sound continued to get louder.

“Mrreow,” Jade’s plump, three year old white Persian cat lazily yawned as it stared up at the intruders then returned to scratching the drywall. Jade giggled. “Stardust you scared me half to death. What are you doing anyway? Is there a mouse in the hall closet?”

She pulled the door open to find a boy of approximately Samantha’s age and height smiling grimly back at her. “Boo,” he hissed.

Jade shrieked, and tried to slam the door closed, but he easily forced it open, leaving a distinct claw mark along the door’s edges.

“NOW do you believe me?!” Samantha shouted as she raced for the door. Jade, not far behind her, just shook her head.

“So what do we do now?”

Samantha grabbed Jade’s hand as the two raced across the street. Already things had begun to warp and twist into the hellish apocalypse that had tormented Samantha once that day.

“I don’t know!” she answered frantically.

“Well what did you say you did to get rid of him before?”

“I told him to go away,” Samantha responded, stopping abruptly. She turned to face their pursuer. “Leave me alone!” she commanded, but he laughed.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” she shrieked, yet their pursuer continued to laugh.

“Why isn’t it working?!” Jade demanded.

He stepped closer, slowly and methodically. The ground seemed to smolder in his wake, but one unfamiliar word, in a very familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. He spun to scowl at Amber from across the broken and shattered street.

“Leave them be, creature of darkness. Run, girls.”

“Mother?” Jade questioned, stunned, but Amber ignored her. There was something different about the woman. It almost seemed as if she radiated light, driving back the darkness immediately surrounding her.

“Meddlesome fool,” the boy scowled. Samantha grabbed Jade’s hand, pulling her along as they raced away, back toward town.

“Sammy, stop! We can’t leave her!” Jade insisted, jerking her hand back. They had run two blocks by this point, and already she had to stop to catch her breath. She turned back to stare down the darkened, desolate path that was once her route home.

“We have to! Look obviously your Mom knows what the hell she’s doing, right?” Samantha took Jade’s hand again and squeezed it. “We’re in this together, okay? Okay?”

Jade slowly turned back to Samantha, staring up at her. She nodded numbly. “All right. So what do we do now? And where the hell are we?”

“I don’t think ‘hell’ is too far off. I don’t know where we are, but that … that thing is exactly what I’d imagine I’d find there. It... It accused me of trying to kill it. It’s right, too. I did try to kill everything male about me. My former therapist called it ‘purging’. I hated being a guy. I hated looking like a guy and being treated like one. It was a kind of personal hell for me, Jade.”

“But that thing isn’t you. It can’t be. I’ve only known you a couple of weeks, but you’re a really nice girl. You’re pretty and smart and … And I really like you.” She paused, holding her hands up. “As a friend, I mean.”

Samantha laughed quietly. “Yeah, sure. I’m everyone’s friend.” She smiled faintly and squeezed Jade’s hand again. “But I’m glad you think of me as a friend. Let’s get out of here. We can talk about this later.”

“Yeah, when there’s not some psychotic demon-guy trying to kill us.”

A low growl interrupted the girls’ banter as a trio of wolves, fur as black as night, and eyes glowing red, emerged from the shadows of a ruined nearby building. Jade shrieked, and the pair took off again as fast as their aching legs would carry them, with the creatures right behind them. Suddenly Samantha grabbed hold of Jade’s forearm and dragged her toward the abandoned convenience store.

“Come on! They’re too fast!” she shouted.

The store appeared to offer little shelter, at least initially. Metal shelves had been knocked over with only a few badly rotted packages that once contained foodstuffs of a now unrecognizable kind littered the ground. The girls quickly found their way to a back room however, with a stout wooden door. Jade slammed the door shut, holding it closed while Samantha pushed a heavy, old office desk toward it.

“This isn’t going to hold them forever,” Samantha admitted reluctantly as the girls hunkered down with their backs to the desk. Jade leaned against Samantha, burying her face in Samantha’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Jade. I am so sorry.”

“I’ll never call my mother crazy again, I swear to God. Or … goddesses.”

Samantha wrapped her arms around Jade, both girls shaking badly. Jade slowly glanced up at her. “I know we’ve only known each other a short time, but I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. I-if we get out of this alive-”

“Look,” Samantha interrupted her, practically leaping to her feet. “There’s a window up there! I think we can fit through easily if we can just reach it.”

Jade bit her lip and nodded simply. “Okay. Is there like a stepladder here or something?”

“I don’t see one.” Samantha approached the rickety-looking shelf along the back wall. She forced her weight against it, and while it wasn’t completely stable, it didn’t immediately fall to pieces either. “I think we can use this. Come on, you go first. I’ll hold it steady.”

Jade nodded quietly and rushed over, even as the wolves continued to batter the door behind them. With Samantha’s help she began the uneasy climb, and on finally reaching the window, she called back. “Sammy, it’s stuck!”

“Try hitting it!” Samantha responded. Jade slammed her fist against the window, causing the shelf to shake, and the entire rotted-out window frame to slowly creak, giving way to a loud crash as the window shattered outside.

“Oops...” Jade flinched. “Oh man, that’s a lot of glass.”

“Be careful, but hurry! They’re almost through!”

Jade hoisted herself over the broken wall, dangling by her fingers to give herself a shorter fall to the ground even as Samantha scurried up. She had no sooner hoisted herself over when the shelf gave way with a thunderous smash, and it took all she had in her not to scream when Jade grabbed the bottom of her feet at that exact moment.

“I’ve got you,” Jade called. “Just let yourself down like I did.”

Samantha shut her eyes, releasing her grip. Just on the other side she could hear the door splintering, and one of the wolves’ razorlike claws tapping on the poured cement floor. Jade grabbed her as best she could to ease her fall, lingering for just a moment before letting her go.

“Okay, now what?” Samantha gasped, leaning forward with her hands against her knees and breathing heavily.

“I’ve got an idea. Follow me!” Jade responded.

~oOo~

“Where are we going?” Samantha whined between heavy, exasperated breaths. It felt to her like they had been running for miles. Her feet ached, her heart pounded so hard it might burst through her chest, and her lungs felt as though they’d whither at any moment.

“There’s a church just around the corner. I know it’s cliche, but if ANYWHERE is safe it’ll be there. You know, hallowed ground and all.”

“If it’s even standing,” Samantha added solemnly. She couldn’t have known how prophetic those words would be, though. Where the sleepy little chapel once stood now looked as though someone, or something, had taken out a great deal of aggression on several occasions. All that remained amid the splintered rubble to signify what once was, was the shattered steeple, lying in pieces in front.

“Hey, look,” Samantha pointed toward the small patch of greenery alongside the church.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Jade answered uneasily. “That’s the old founders’ graveyard. Let’s just keep going. There’s got to be somewhere else we can go.”

“No, I’m telling you it’s a sign. It has to be. Let’s go!”

Jade sighed reluctantly as she allowed Samantha to pull her along. Despite the age of the iron-wrought gates, they opened easily, permitting the girls entrance. As soon as they set foot on the soft grass, though, a piercing, unearthly howl filled the area. Several sets of glowing, blood red eyes began to line the borders of the small graveyard. Gradually their bodies followed, forming into a pack of black wolves not unlike those that pursued them earlier.

“Oh yes, I feel so much safer here,” Jade whined as she clung to Samantha’s arm.

“They’re not attacking,” Samantha whispered. Jade blinked back at her.

“What’s going on? Why not?”

“Because they know better,” a familiar female voice answered, causing both girls to shriek and jump. They quickly spun around to find themselves face to face with the woman from the book, and from Samantha’s dreams. She smiled down at them.

“You are deep in His domain, my daughter,” the woman mused. Samantha felt immediately at ease, but Jade continued to cower, at least until their mysterious visitor stepped closer, and lay her hand on Jade’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, little one. I am here to help you.”

“Nyyyyeagh!” the boy shrieked, knocking the iron gates aside. “No! She is MINE! They are all MINE!”

The woman turned to face him. As he crossed into the graveyard, his form began to shift. He became less and less average teenaged boy, and more a hunched over, malformed, clawed monstrosity, his eyes burning as red as the nearby wolves’.

“You have no power here, wench! This is MY domain!”

“No, but she does,” the woman stated simply. “You have the power, sweet child. You can end this nightmare.”

“No I don’t!” Samantha insisted, shaking her head. The demon cackled.

“You see? She is weak. Her anguish will sustain me for years to come!”

“Yes, you do. Listen to his words,” she again stated quite calmly.

Samantha hesitantly looked from the creature to the woman, and back again. Jade, by now had taken to cowering behind a nearby grave marker.

“My anguish sustains him,” she echoed.

She slowly nodded and turned fully to face the creature.

“What is this? The kitten has grown some claws? No matter!” He turned his attention toward the weathered grave marker where Jade had hidden, and Jade let out a startled shriek as he raced toward her.

Samantha cried out and rushed to put herself between Jade and the demon. The demon screamed, in both disbelief and agony. He recoiled in pain, his claws drenched, dripping with the blood of his unintended victim. Samantha touched her stomach, and as the full realization of how grave her wounds were sank in, she collapsed backward into Jade’s waiting arms. The wolves along the boundaries of the graveyard began to howl, and the largest, the only one of the creatures whose muzzle bore some silvered fur, leapt over the low fence. As the pack joined, it crept closer.

Jade eased Samantha to the ground, cradling her near-lifeless body. “Don’t you die on me,” she insisted through tears. “You can’t! Not now!” The alpha wolf padded closer. Its eyes locked with Jade’s.

“Please... Please leave us alone. Haven’t you done enough?”

The wolf seemed to bow its head, only slightly, and spun about, placing itself between the girls and the demon. By now the pack had begun to encircle the demon. He growled low with agitation.

“What are you doing?!”

“You no longer have power over these beasts. You harmed one whom I protect, and even your foul sorcery cannot go against the natural order forever,” the woman calmly responded.

“No! NOOOOO!” the demon howled as he lashed out at the alpha wolf. Two of the smaller wolves nipped at his exposed legs, and another attempted to jump onto his back. He managed to fling two of the creatures aside, but in the end, he succumbed to the wolves’ fury. Samantha smiled weakly up at Jade.

“I’m glad,” she whispered.

Jade pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh. Save your strength.” She turned her attention to the woman now. “Help her! I’ll do anything; just save her!”

~oOo~

Samantha awoke with a start, back in the forest from her first dream. Again she had been adorned in fine cloth and jewelry, but this time, she wasn’t alone. Jade lay sleeping just beside her, still in her street clothes, stained with Samantha’s own blood. The gentle splash of the lake drew her gaze, and surely enough, the woman stood close by, smiling back at her.

“What … What happened? Am I dead?”

“Yes and no,” she answered simply. “You sacrificed yourself to protect one you love. It was that act of sacrifice that shattered his domain. You … died, but such acts are not lightly, nor easily ignored. I must confer with another, and then we shall see.”

“And the demon?”

“Banished.”

“Good. But I don’t understand how...”

“In that instant, when you were thinking of your friend’s well-being above your own, you let go of your hatred. You allowed yourself to be free, to see what was truly important.”

“Where did he come from? How... why did he find me?”

The woman chuckled to herself. “I don’t know when or where it came into your world. I would suspect though, that someone invited it, or perhaps opened a gateway they couldn’t close, and it stepped through. Once there it latched onto you, to your anger, and your sorrow, your fear, twisting them, turning them against you to drive you further into sorrow.”

“I think I understand. So what happens now?”

The woman smiled as she leaned close and kissed Samantha’s forehead. “For now you will rest here. You will know safety in my domain, little one.”

Samantha nodded. She knew no doubt in that moment, no fear. A very large part of her wanted to stay regardless, to bask in the love and the peace she felt in this being’s presence. At the same time, though, as she turned away from the small lake to return to Jade’s side, a growing sadness filled her. She sat down beside the sleeping girl, and she waited.

A shadowy form stirred in the darkness, just barely within her sight, and the large, old wolf padded closer. At first Samantha rose to her knees, intending to protect Jade if need be, but the wolf lowered its head as it drew closer. It collapsed a few feet away, resting its muzzle against its paw in an almost human gesture. It stared at the girls in silence.

“You protected us didn’t you?”

The wolf’s right ear twitched.

“Thank you.” She glanced down at Jade with a quiet smile. “I didn’t realize how much she meant to me. She’s a good friend, but I … I never thought I’d sacrifice myself for someone.”

The wolf slowly rose to its full height and padded closer. It settled at her side, nuzzling its way up under her arm. It continued to stare at Jade, though Samantha couldn’t decide if the creature was unsure what to make of her presence, or if it was simply watching over her.

It felt to Samantha’s mind, as though hours had passed, yet Jade still slept. No sense of boredom entered her thoughts, though. She passed the time prattling mindlessly to Jade or to the wolf about her life before Samantha and after, about her father, about things she had kept locked deep in her heart.

“I wish I could see Daddy again. I mean, I’m dead right?” She looked questioningly at the wolf. Its left ear twitched, but it gave no response otherwise, and she sighed, returning to her one-sided conversation.

When the mysterious woman returned, she had a strange, very faint glow about her. Samantha and the wolf both rose at her approach. She smiled as Samantha rushed to her, and embraced the girl.

“It has been decided, but now, you have a choice to make.”

As Samantha nodded, the woman held her left hand out, and a small orb of light winked into existence. Its surface shifted through several shades of blues and reds, purples, greens, until it finally became transparent, and Samantha saw within the orb an image of herself. At first, she couldn’t tell a difference, save for the pretty smile, but as she stared, she became subtly aware that this Samantha had the proper body to match her mind.

The woman then outstretched her other hand, and another orb, like the first, materialized, shifted, and another image formed. Samantha gasped, her eyes widening as she reached out instinctively to touch the orb, as it depicted her father, dressed as he had for a business trip a week before his passing.

The woman stepped back to deny Samantha’s attempt to take it.

“Think carefully, sweet child. This is not a permanent, second chance. It was his time. You may see him once more, or you can have what you’ve always wanted.”

Samantha bowed her head. “It’s true. Even with the hormones, even with surgery, I’ll never be a ‘real’ girl. But... Daddy. I’d give anything,” she paused, choking on her words. “Anything,” she repeated, and as she shut her eyes, she touched the orb.

~oOo~

“Dad?” Samantha called. Surrounded by brilliant, white light, she shut her eyes tight. She thought she could hear the trickle of a nearby stream. Slowly the light faded, and again she felt the ground beneath her bare feet. She slowly opened her eyes again, looking around.

“Right here, Princess,” he answered gently, resting his large hand on her shoulder. She spun to face him, about to bury herself in his shoulder like she used to, when she became aware of a girl her age standing close by. Her dark red hair and black tank top struck a startling contrast to her almost brilliantly white skin. On her right shoulder, a large raven perched, and by her side, the old wolf rested its muzzle against its paw. The girl smiled as she casually turned to walk away.

“Don’t be afraid, Samantha,” her father insisted as he pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “She won’t harm you.”

“Daddy,” Samantha wept as she buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh God, I’ve missed you so much.”

“You look amazing,” he responded softly, and kissed her forehead again. Samantha smiled up at him, and then looked back over her shoulder, slowly taking in their surroundings. Behind her, a babbling stream ran for as far as she could see, singing an almost lilted, wordless song. Beyond the stream, a vibrant field of flowers stretched, in colors she never fathomed could even exist.

“Is this heaven?” she asked softly. He smiled as he shook his head.

“No, this place exists for our benefit. You bought this with your sacrifice.”

“You mean saving Jade?” she pressed. Again, he shook his head.

“No, I don’t.” He squeezed her hand, leading her to the edge of the stream. “Remember when you were little, and I tried to take you fishing, but you started screaming when I baited my hook?”

Samantha blushed. She knelt down to poke at the cool, clear water, just as a fish swam past at a leisurely clip. “I felt bad for the little worm,” she pouted playfully. He laughed as he sat back on a conveniently placed boulder that Samantha was sure wasn’t there just a minute ago.

She stood to return to his side, leaning into him. “I missed you so much. Things with Mom got worse after you … After you,” she echoed, but couldn’t finish the sentence. “But they’ve been getting better.”

“She loves you, you know. She just blames herself for, well,” he paused, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as if not sure how to put it, “For you being you.” He sighed softly. “I wish we had more time.”

“What?”

“Just remember that I love you, and I will always be with you.”

The teenager approached again, though this time without the large, imposing raven. “Ready?”

He nodded, turning back to Samantha. “I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

The girl hesitated a moment, then knelt beside the wolf. She whispered gently in its ear, and the wolf stood. It plodded a few paces then turned back to stare at the three.

“He’ll show you the way back. I’ll look after your daughter and see her home safely.”

Martin smiled, turning his gaze to the wolf. “Well, fella, it looks like it’s you and me.”

The girl stepped closer. As she extended her hand, her dark, reddish purple nail polish sparkled and glinted, causing Samantha to laugh to herself.

“What?”

“You’re not what I expected Death to be like. I was expecting heavy robes or something.”

“I’m not Death.” The girl exhaled, mildly exasperated. “Look, it’s complicated. Think of me as a kind of spirit guide - a go-between or … caseworker.”

“If you say so,” Samantha answered, rolling her eyes.

“Are you ready to go back?”

“Can I … I mean, is it okay if I stay here a little while longer?”

The girl nodded, motioning to the boulder before seating herself. “Suit yourself. I’m assigned to you so I can’t really say ‘no’.”

Samantha slowly approached, sitting beside the girl. After a moment or two, the red-haired girl reached out to hug Samantha. “I know you hate me right now. I’m taking your father away for the second time in your life, but it’s not your time.”

Fresh tears sprouted forth, but Samantha shook her head. “I don’t hate you. I just … It’s not fair. I gave up being a real girl to see him again. I should get him back for that.”

She chuckled, causing Samantha to glare. “You are a real girl, where it counts. Your body? Just a shell. Trust me, I’ve been dead a long time. I know these things.”

She paused, adding, “By the way, when you wake up, don’t bump your head on Jade’s bed.”

“Wait, what?”

~oOo~

In that instant the world around her faded. She suddenly found herself lying in a cozy sleeping bag, on the floor next to Jade’s four-post bed. She sat bolt upright with a start, banging her head squarely on the horizontal mattress support rail and let out a mild yelp which caused Jade to slowly sit up, staring sleepily down at her.

“You okay?” Jade whispered as she reached over, squeezing Samantha’s shoulder. Samantha flinched, quickly slugging the neck of her night shirt aside. “Bandages...?”

“Yeah, remember? Your house, earlier? I had the weirdest dream about that though.”

“We were being chased by a demon that looked like me?”

Jade blinked several times. “H-how did you know?”

Samantha smiled as she reached up to take Jade’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Never mind. We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” Jade answered quietly. She lay back again, but after several seconds, she broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. “Hey Sammy, do you want to go catch a movie tomorrow?”

A light, nervous giggle escaped Samantha’s lips. “I’d love to. Jade?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, thanks.”

Samantha carefully eased herself out of her sleeping bag and stood, padding out into the hall. Amber smiled proudly back at her, as though she had been waiting for her the whole time.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Samantha half-asked, half-stated.

“She forewarned me, yes,” Amber answered softly. She turned to walk down the hall to the small study. Samantha followed her, watching as she carefully took the book she had shown Samantha earlier, and placed it on the shelf.

“So what happened anyway? How did you survive?”

“That was,” she paused, “Ah, how to explain it: that was me, but it wasn’t. Once the demon realized he was fighting a projection he was furious,” she added with a chuckle. “Luckily I distracted him long enough for The Lady to find you.”

“Why did it choose me? And why did she for that matter? I’m nothing special,” Samantha offered quietly as she shook her head.

“If she took an interest in you, then you are very much something special, young lady. And as for why the creature chose you, I think it has to do with the last people to live in that house. They were a … troubled family.

“I never told Jade this, but they fought, bitterly, and one night the woman tried to take her own life out of desperation. I believe the entity may have lain dormant in that house for years, but her anguish, her loathing for herself and her husband, was great enough to feed the creature. It’s possible she even attempted to summon it though. It’s hard to say.”

“So... I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Or the right time, depending on how you look at it. Come, I was just about to offer my thanks. Why don’t you join me?”

“Thank you. I … I can still hardly believe any of this was real. At least I got to see Dad one last time though.” Samantha hesitated, but started to smile. “You know a lot about this stuff. Do you think maybe you could teach me?”

“Of course I can. As Jade got older, I respected her wishes not to learn the old ways, but I suspect I’ll be seeing a lot more interest from her now, too.” She reached out to take Samantha’s hand, and when she let go, Samantha found a pair of rolled up bills had been left behind.

“W-what’s this for?”

“Dinner and a movie,” Amber responded with a wink and a smile. “Come, dear. Let’s say our thanks, then get you back to bed. I promised your mother that I wouldn’t let you stay up all night, after all.”

---

I'd like to just take a moment to thank Piper and Erin for their amazing work on the cover image. It looks spectacular, and it's quite fitting!

Love,

Zoe

With humblest apologies to the Disney Corporation (Please don't sue!)

~oOo~
Look at me
I will never pass for a perfect son,
or a perfect husband.
Can it be I’m not meant to play this part?
Now I see that if I were truly to be myself
I would break my family’s heart.

Who is this man I see,
staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?
Somehow I cannot hide
who I am, though I’ve tried.
When will my reflection show who I am inside?

~oOo~

So many things to tell him,
but how to make him see
the truth about my past? Impossible.
He’d turn away from me.

She’s holding back, she’s hiding,
But what, I can’t decide?
Why won’t she be the girl I know she is;
the girl I see inside?

Christina loved John like a brother in life. Can she learn to let go of him in death before it's too late?

One of a pair alongside John's Story.

---

Okay I admit it, I was driving while talking on my cell phone, but come on, everyone does it! It’s no different from talking to someone that’s sitting right next to you in the car.

That semi came out of nowhere. He ran the stop sign. I remembered feeling light-headed as the ambulance siren blared in my ears, then silence. A soft, warm glow washed over my body.

“Relax,” a gentle voice echoed in my mind. “You will suffer no longer,” she cooed.

“What? What’s going on?” I demanded as I sat up on the gurney. I felt dizzy. The voice echoed a soft, lilted giggle. Slowly my surroundings faded. The ambulance melted away, and a girl of perhaps seventeen years stepped around in front of me. Her dress, more like a golden robe, danced about her bare feet.

She wore a ring of daisies around her black hair that honestly made me want to roll my eyes. For some reason, everything seemed so vibrantly bright and beautiful, yet not overwhelmingly so.

“We’re losing her!” I heard a man’s voice shout as the girl squeezed my hand. I recoiled, and felt the faintest jolt in my chest.

“Ow!” I cried out. “What’s happening?!”

She sighed. “You must let go, Christina,” her lips remained shut tight as her voice echoed at once around me.

“You mean I’m- I mean I- … Oh God!” I bawled. She rushed closer and pulled me into a hug. A tender hand lifted my chin. She used her thumbs to brush away my tears.

“Shh, it’s okay. Yes, you died in that car accident, but there’s more. There’s so much more for you to see.”

“But I can’t die! I have to take care of John!” I demanded.

The girl gave me a forlorn stare. She sadly sighed. The colors seemed to grow muted and dim. I found myself surrounded by chill darkness. When I opened my eyes, a cold metal slab lay beneath me. I groaned, rolling off it.

My face hit the floor, but when there should have been a thud, I heard nothing. I scrambled to my feet. The green sweater I’d been wearing still clung to my body good as new. My jeans looked as they did when I put them on this morning.

When I turned back to face where I had just been lying, I saw a body covered by a sheet. I reached a shaking hand out to pull at the sheet, but my fingers passed right through it. “What the hell?”

“This isn’t your world,” the disembodied voice spoke softly. “You must let go Christina. There will be-”

“Shut up!” I shrieked. “I have to see John!”

I stumbled out of the morgue and down the hall. Tears stung my eyes as I desperately sprinted away from that terrible room, and that terrible ghost. I couldn’t be dead! I could still feel my clothing clinging to me! I could feel my tears roll down my cheeks! I must have just been delirious, or maybe I was dreaming!

I don’t know how I got to John’s room. I never stepped into an elevator. I just suddenly found myself there. It felt so good to see him again. John and I were never romantically interested in each other.

At least, I never was, and the few times anyone teased us about it he’d just smile that cute little smile of his, laugh, and claim I’d beat him up if he even thought of such a thing. I wouldn’t have, of course. It would just have been too weird. John and Melissa weren’t just my best friends. They were like my brother and sister.

Well, okay, John was like a sister too, but come on; you don’t spend your youth playing Barbies with girls without starting to feel like a sister after awhile!

We threatened to dress him up as a girl on a few occasions, but never seriously. With John’s poor heart we were afraid to give him too much of a hard time about anything. I would give him my heart in a second if I thought it would help.

“Hey bro,” I mouthed softly. “Just came to check on you.” I bent down to kiss his cheek as I squeezed his hand.

“He can’t hear you either,” my tormentor’s voice echoed. I glanced back at her, forcing a smile for John’s sake. I stepped away, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out into the hall.

“Look, whoever, or WHATEVER you are, you need to get off my back already. I’m NOT leaving John’s side!”

She gave me a puppy-like pout that, where I not already the Mistress of abusing said pout, probably could have melted even my steel resolve. “Please, don’t do this. I keep trying to tell you there will be dire consequences!” she begged.

“Like what, you miss your soul quota? I get it. I’m dead, now leave. Me. ALONE!” I shouted, and with a terrible clap of thunder, she vanished, leaving me alone in silence.

I blinked, glancing around. “That actually worked?” I rolled my shoulders and quietly stepped back into the room. It was empty.

~oOo~

I couldn’t quite grasp what had happened until later. As I wandered around the hospital, I began to find myself aware of “pockets” of time that seemed to just randomly disappear, as though time now flowed differently. John wasn’t in his room because he was in another part of the hospital. I found Melissa in a waiting room with her chin on her knees, staring off into the distance. I sat down beside her.

“I know you probably can’t hear me,” I began as I turned to stare at her. A tear trickled down her cheek. I reached out to try and hug her, but my fingers passed right through as though she wasn’t real, or I wasn’t. “Damit all! This isn’t fair!” I sobbed. “They need me!”

I decided to latch onto her, metaphorically speaking. I spent every last bit of energy I could muster keeping my focus tightly set on her so that wherever she went, I wouldn’t lose her to these weird time lapses. Eventually my patience paid off. Doctor Becky, John’s cardiologist, appeared in the doorway.

“Melissa?” she called.

Melissa shot to her feet and ran the length of the empty waiting area. “How is he?” she asked hesitantly. I crept closer, taking a seat next to them to listen.

“He’s resting in ICU. Heart transplant is a system shock even under the best circumstances. These next few hours are crucial…” Her voice faded into the background. No, no, no! Not now!

The next thing I knew, I was in John’s new room. I spotted Melissa, slumped over in a chair by his bed, snoring like an old hog. Some things never changed. I giggled to myself, fondly remembering all the times I’d beaten her about the head in the middle of the night with a pillow to get her to stop.

Poor John. I leaned over his bed to kiss his cheek. He stirred, and I jumped back again. I felt something in my chest, like a faint twinge. He tilted his head from side to side, staring right at me for just a second before glancing over at Melissa.

“Oh John, something bad happened.” I drifted in and out of consciousness as they talked, sobbed, and hugged. My arms ached to hold him, and to tell him everything would be okay. Why couldn’t I reach out to him? Why couldn’t I hold him?

I backed against the wall and slumped to the ground. If I couldn’t hold him, couldn’t talk to him, then I would at least stay silently by his side. He obviously knew I was there, that I wanted to comfort him, and that would have to be enough for me, for us. I couldn’t move on until I knew he would be okay.

“She kept her promise,” John sobbed, catching my attention. I tried to stand. I felt a faint twinge, a touch of warmth in my chest. What promise?

“John what are you talking about? Who kept her promise?” I begged, but he couldn’t hear me. I sighed and shut my eyes. Big mistake.

~oOo~

I only shut my eyes for a moment, but a moment was all it took. It was daylight now. I had no idea how much time had passed. John seemed to already look stronger than I’d ever seen him though, but he did something strange. As I stood watching him file down his nails, he reached for his bedside table. He had a look on his face like he was expecting to find something.

“Silly goose. You never painted your nails before. Why would you think about it now?” I teased, like he could hear me. He seemed genuinely puzzled, causing me to giggle to myself. He picked up some strange little habits like that since the last time lapse, as I now referred to them, those … missing pockets of time where things just sort of surged forward.

He walked differently. He seemed to carry himself more delicately, even for John. It stopped being cute, and began to worry me. I decided to wait, and watch.

I suppose I could have attended my own funeral instead of staying by John’s side, but he seemed to be the only one to take my ‘transition’ in stride. He talked to me constantly, and he kept apologizing, but he didn’t seem as broken up by my death. Maybe he was just holding it in? I just knew I wanted to be by his side more than anything. I needed to be with him more than I needed to see my parents or Melissa bawling their eyes out over an empty shell.

The next thing I remembered it was time for John to come home. I tagged along, and against my better judgment I even followed him to ‘my’ grave. It was a really pretty plot at least. They buried my body under a big old oak tree, which kind of made me giggle. Momma knew me too well.

“Chrissie, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he spoke softly. He sat down under the oak tree, but he didn’t look at my grave. I had ‘spirited’ myself up the tree. When I was a little girl I used to love climbing trees. God, I longed for John to join me on a high branch just so he could see, but I never pressured him. In truth I felt sad that he couldn’t do the things a normal kid could, so I decided years ago to live my life to its fullest, enough for both of us.

“It’s okay John,” I answered, stretching out over a low branch. I couldn’t help smiling down at him as I listened to him talk. He really took my death a lot harder than I realized. I scrambled down the tree when he finished, and knelt to try and hug him. I don’t know if I got through or not because Mom came over and hugged him right after. I had to giggle when he called her ‘Mom’ too. That’s what she was to him though, ever since our family took him in along with Melissa.

~oOo~

It felt strange being home, knowing I could never truly ‘live’ there anymore. I stayed close to John, but when we passed by my room, he stopped and stared. I could tell he wanted to go inside, and truthfully, so did I. When he kept walking, I didn’t. I sat down on Melissa’s bed, staring at the small collection of stuffed animals across the way. Tears began to sting my eyes the longer I stared. I mentally replayed the conversation I had with Mom the last time I was in this room.

She wanted me to take my stuffed lion to college with me. She asked me to take it every single time I came home, and every time I’d refuse. I was a grown woman. I was too old for stuffed animals. Now I sorely, desperately wished I could hold that old stuffed lion close to me just one more time.

My focus was shattered by John entering the room. He came in and sat on my bed, directly across from me. He stared at me, as though staring through me, and then he did something that surprised me. He picked up my white lion, and slowly started stroking its hot pink mane. I watched him curl up on my bed. I stood and sat on the edge beside him, bending down to kiss his cheek as he dozed off.

“Oh, John…” I whispered. He stirred only slightly, a little smile crossing his lips. I smiled back.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I remained still, watching him sleep, and he never stirred again. He seemed so peaceful. My mind started to wander. I began to wonder if he even needed me after all, but Mom stepped into the room, shattering my thoughts.

“Sorry, I guess I dozed off,” he grumbled sleepily as he looked up at her.

“It’s alright sweetheart. I came to check on you, and when you weren’t in your room, I got worried.”

His face contorted into the strangest puzzled expression at that.

“But I am in-” he tried to protest.

I leapt off the bed. “John, what are you saying? This is my room you dork!” I shifted away from the bed, sitting on the edge of Melissa’s again. What was going on with him? Why was he acting so strangely? My consciousness faded just a little. I couldn’t pay attention to the conversation anymore. I felt lost, scared, and suddenly very alone. Mom leaving the room caught my attention though. John had begun to search for something.

“If you’re looking for nail polish, I keep a secret stash under my bed,” I joked. John wiped the smirk from my lips when he bent down, grabbing a bottle from under my bed. “John what are you doing?” I asked hesitantly. I watched him pull off his socks and sit down again.

Suddenly everything felt different, somehow. I could feel again. I could feel the nail brush in my hand, and I could smell the distinct scent of varnish burn my nostrils. Was I in John’s body?! I didn’t care how it happened, I needed this as much as he did. I guided his hand along each toenail. I couldn’t stop myself, doing his fingernails as well.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of weakness. I collapsed to the floor as Mom re-entered the room. I struggled to stand as they talked, but I just couldn’t do it. I could barely move. I cried out for help, but no one answered. What had I done? Oh God, what if I stayed like this?

I could barely muster the energy to curl into a ball, weeping. Was I a ghost? Was I something else? Something worse? “Someone help me!” I sobbed. “I’m sorry!”

~oOo~

I don’t know how much time had passed before I regained consciousness. John sat on my bed, dressed in a pair of my old pajamas. I stared blankly up at him. My eyes still stung. I never knew a ghost could feel such pain as I felt for him. What had I done to my best friend?

After Mom tucked him in, I struggled to stand, sitting on the edge of my bed. I bent down to kiss him softly on his cheek, and I buried my face in his chest.

“John I’m so sorry,” I wept softly. I suddenly felt a very gentle hand on my shoulder.

“I told you there would be consequences,” my former tormentor’s voice softly whispered in my ear. I turned to stare at her, and she smiled sadly back at me.

“What have I done to him?” I wept.

“Christina, are you ready to listen now?” her voice asked, even as her lips never moved from their perfect, forlorn smile.

I nodded slowly. I only wanted to protect John, just as I always had. I never wanted … never meant for any of THIS to happen.

“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” her voice answered, reading my thoughts. “You are holding on too tightly to life. Christina, your heart now beats in his chest.”

“W-what?” I stared blankly back at her.

She nodded very slowly. “You gave him life, but as you hold onto this existence, as you hold on to him, you are slowly taking that life away.”

“Oh God!” I bawled openly as I lurched forward. With inhuman speed she swooped closer and caught me. She held me aloft as though I were a child’s doll, squeezing me to her chest. Her forlorn smile shifted and softened, brightening a little. She kissed my forehead.

“Now you understand.”

I nodded. “What do I need to do? How do I let go of him? I’ve always protected him!” I protested.

Her smile brightened further. She reached out to touch the sleeping John’s forehead. Suddenly, everything changed.

~oOo~

A brilliantly beautiful night sky stretched on forever overhead. Everything seemed so vibrantly beautiful, and at once, calming and peaceful. In the near distance on a hilltop, a lone oak tree stood tall and proud. My former tormentor now stood beside me, looking vastly more like a real girl of about seventeen.

Her delicate black locks hung at the sides of her head in two braided pigtails, tied by bright blue ribbons. I then realized she wore a simple sundress and sandals in the same color.

Noticing my appraisal, she parted her lips to giggle, pointing at me. I looked down, suddenly acutely aware that I was dressed just the same, with the hem of a yellow sundress tickling my calves.

“What is this place?”

“Shh, not now,” she whispered. Her voice seemed more real now, more human, and I instantly felt assured, though I could not explain why. She squeezed my hand, leading me along. I followed her slowly toward the small hill. As we drew closer, I could see a familiar face.

“What’s Melissa doing here?” I asked. She sat under the old tree, adorned in a pretty white sundress, a pair of wedge sandals on her feet, reading a book.

“I’m not Melissa,” the girl ahead of us answered. When she looked up, I could see the family resemblance, but surely it couldn’t be.

“John?”

The girl giggled as she stood. “Kind of.”

“Oh God. John I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. My knees buckled, but the girl rushed to catch me, grabbing me up in a tight hug as she giggled.

“Don’t be sorry, Chrissie!” she smiled warmly.

“John, please forgive me. I had no idea-” I tried to explain.

She laughed and squeezed me closer. “I told you, stop apologizing! It’s okay, really. I’m just so happy to see you again.” She paused and pushed me out to arm’s length, staring appraisingly. “It IS you, isn’t it?”

My guide smiled fondly as she nodded. “Yes, it is her John. Think of me as an intercessor. We can’t stay, but in order for you both to move on, this meeting was necessary.”

“John, this isn’t you,” I continued, pulling her into a tight hug. “I did this to you. I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me!” I begged.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she insisted. “You saved my life, Chrissie. I’m the one who should be feeling guilty. You had to die for me to live.”

“No, John. Don’t blame yourself. Never, ever blame yourself.”

My nameless guide stepped closer. “She’s going to be okay, John. I promise. You have to let her go for her to be able to let you go, okay? You will see one another again.”

“Um, just one thing,” she asked hesitantly. We both nodded for her to continue.

“If I want to keep dressing like this, may I?”

I had to laugh. “What?”

“Don’t laugh!” she chided, poking my chest. She smiled fondly. “Chrissie, I feel closer to you and Angel than I have in a long time. I feel like I’m part of some sort of secret club guys aren’t supposed to be a part of. I don’t want to let that go.”

I finally nodded and kissed her forehead. “Of course. Do whatever you have to do to find happiness, but please do find that happiness. Don’t mourn me anymore. I’ll wait for you on the other side, when it’s your time, and not a day sooner, okay?”

“Not a day sooner,” she answered, as we shared one final embrace. “I’ll live enough for both of us, just like you used to do for me. I love you sis.”

“I love you too, ‘sis’,” I teased, giggling a little.

My guide gently tugged my hand. “It’s time, Christina. I’m sorry.”

“Wait, will I ever see you again?” John asked, turning to my guide. The girl’s lilted giggle echoed through the area as she nodded.

“When it’s your time, you’ll see us both. Remember to live life to its fullest, so that when your time comes, you’re ready to let go too.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek and he smiled, waving as we stepped away. We turned, and she squeezed my hand. “Let’s go home.”

They say that when you receive an organ donation, the person lives on as part of you, but what if the donation was from your best friend? Would their impulses and compulsions become yours?

Would you be able to cope with the grief of their death, knowing they gave you life?

One of a pair alongside Christina's Story.

---

Christina often said, with every ounce of seriousness she possessed, that if she could, she would give me her heart. As I lay in the hospital bed, drearily wasting away, I felt her warm hand touch mine.

I spent my entire life with the specter of this day hanging over me. Born with a genetically defective heart, I could never participate in intensive sports or even “pump iron” which left me with a frail figure despite my height — five feet seven inches, thank you very much.

When we were children Christina would invite me as well as my younger sister over to play with her friends. They weren’t the rough-and-tumble sorts, and while playing with dolls seemed odd for a boy, we did other things together too. She and her Girl Scout friends would take me along on their non-sanctioned nature hikes, always letting me stop to rest as I needed it, or just sitting together watching movies or television.

I had just turned twenty-one a week ago, and now found myself confined to this bed, for doctors’ fears that any strenuous activity might make things worse. Christina, my beautiful, loving childhood friend seemed almost angelic as she smiled down at me, her soft, strawberry blonde hair in perfect waves over her shoulders. She mouthed something and bent down to kiss my cheek. She turned to leave, and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I couldn’t explain it. I just knew I would be okay.

“John?” the melodious voice of Doctor Brahms called from the door. I tilted my head, smiling as she approached. She had the most beautiful chestnut hair, cut into a short summer bob, despite it being late September, with just enough leftover bangs to frame her olive-hued face. “How are you feeling dear?” she cooed. A cold chill rolled with determination straight down my spine.

“Hi Becky,” I whimpered. Rebecca had been my primary cardiologist for the last year, even though she only had about eight years on me in age. She always insisted I call her by her first name. She had such a wonderful bedside manner.

“Same old same old, but seeing Christina helped.” I had only been in the hospital for a few days, but If I didn’t get a transplant, I wouldn’t live to see the end of the month, so I’d take whatever small victories I could get, be they a visit from an old friend, or my doctor sneaking my favorite salad dressing in when no one was looking.

Rebecca’s face seemed to falter at my comment. She seemed uncertain about something, as though she wanted to tell me something important, yet she stayed quiet, instead moving to my bedside to read over the various monitors that seemed hard-wired to my body. Finally, she turned back to me.

“I have some good news. We have a donor lined up. I was surprised to learn the match was so perfect, but everything looks good. We’ll prep you for surgery tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” I cheered, as best I could anyway, given the circumstances. “If you don’t mind my asking though, what happened to the donor?”

She shook her head slowly. “I’m not at liberty to say yet,” she answered in an uncharacteristically neutral tone. She reached out to squeeze my hand. “It’ll all make sense when you wake up.”

“Does this mean I can’t eat anything?” I asked as I looked up at her. I knew Rebecca well enough to know when something seriously bothered her, but I decided not to press the subject.

She laughed warm-heartedly. “Yes, that means I can’t sneak you any salad dressing. Look on the bright side though. In a few days, you’ll be able to eat a real hamburger without your dietician having an aneurysm,” she teased. Even though she had gone back to joking with me, she had a twinge in her voice that felt so out of character for her.

I passed most of the rest of the evening into the next morning sleeping. No one, not even Christina came in to check up on me. I tried to call my sister’s dorm, but no one answered, and Christina seemed to have turned off her cell phone. She NEVER turned off her cell phone. Someone would have some explaining to do when I came out of surgery.

~oOo~

I awoke to find myself in a darkened room. I vaguely recalled, earlier in the day, waking and dozing off again several times over as nurses poked and prodded, albeit gently, while they ran their various and myriad tests, though now all seemed quiet. I squinted, shifting my gaze slowly from one side to the other.

I could just barely see the top of my nineteen year old sister’s dyed-blonde crown as she slept, slumped forward in a chair at my side. I thought I caught the briefest glimpse of Christina out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to say something, I saw no one. I groaned lightly, causing the slumbering angel’s snores to subside.

She sat bolt upright, her soft, jade gaze focusing on me for just a moment as though she were the one that had been sedated. She smiled gently, almost sadly as she leapt to her feet, her sneakers eliciting a muted ‘thud’ as she leaned over the bed. She bent down to kiss my forehead.

“You’re finally awake,” she sobbed in a bittersweet tone. My sister and I had always been very close as children, and she beat the ever-loving snot out of more than one boy who picked on me in high school even despite being nearly two years my junior.

When her tears finally subsided enough for her to speak, she cleared her throat. “Oh, John, I’m so glad you’re awake. Something bad happened, but we weren’t allowed to tell you because the Doc said your old heart wouldn’t be able to take it.”

I frowned, shaking my head slowly. “I knew something was up when Christina turned her phone off. What’s going on Angel?” Angel, by the way, was my pet name for her. Her real name was Melissa, but she had been my guardian angel all my life.

“I-it’s Christina,” she started to sob again. “John I don’t know how to tell you this, but,” she paused, swallowing a lump in her throat that just wouldn’t go down, “a-around noon yesterday, sh-she … she was in a fatal car accident.”

“What?!” I yelped more than shouted. This couldn’t be possible. “You’re joking right? This is a sick joke!”

She shook her head slowly as she tried to contain her own grief. “I’m so sorry.”

I could see in her eyes that this was no joke, even as much as I wished it was. As close as Christina and I were, she and Melissa were as much like sisters after these past few years as well.

“But she was just here last night! She came in and squeezed my hand and smiled at me!” I insisted vainly.

Melissa stared awkwardly, her bottom lip quivering. “John, that’s impossible; she died on the way to the hospital!”

Suddenly, I no longer cared whose heart I’d been given. I slowly released my sister’s hand, which I hadn’t realized until now that I’d had a tight grip upon, as I numbly lay back. This was a nightmare. I had to be dreaming.

“Please, dear God let me wake up. This has to be a nightmare,” I begged, but no answer came, other than Melissa’s light squeeze on my forearm.

“John, there’s more,” she whispered more softly. “Christina had a donor card.”

I slowly tilted my head to stare at her, bitter tears beginning to sting my eyes. “A-are you saying she…?”

She nodded. I could no longer hold back the floodgate and burst into tears. Melissa leaned close and wrapped me in a tight hug, carefully avoiding the tubes in my clean-shaven chest even as I weakly buried myself in her shoulder. Christina kept her promise. She gave me her heart, but at a terrible cost to us both.

~oOo~

I found it incredibly difficult to think about anything over the following week, but how much I would miss Christina. Even as adults she had always been there for me with a smile and a hug. To add to it, I felt horribly guilty that I could live on at the expense of her life.

It was an accident. Accidents happen, but it still hurt deeply. Worst of all I couldn’t even attend her funeral because my doctors wanted to keep me under constant observation to ensure that the transplant was a success. I first started to notice the impulses about a week after the funeral, though.

It was such a subtle thing that at first, I literally gave no thought to it. I chalked it up to grief, to missing my best friend. The first thing I was going to do when I got out of that hospital was to visit her grave, and apologize for not coming sooner, then maybe I could start to find some small semblance of peace. At the two week mark, I was finally discharged.

Christina’s parents had for the most part become my and Melissa’s parents. Mom died giving birth to Melissa, and we lost Dad five years ago from complications to what should have been a routine operation. Nancy, Christina’s mom, wanted to take me straight home, but I insisted they let me visit Christina first. I owed it to her.

I said before that I had begun to feel the strangest subtle impulses, and it’s true. As time passed they became more deeply nagging. I never truly felt compelled to do anything, so much as that it felt wrong NOT to do these things.

For example, when I would go to the bathroom and noticed my hairy legs, I felt a subtle compulsion to shave. When I’d clean my fingernails, I’d instinctively reach, expecting to find a bottle of fingernail polish on my bedside table, and more than once I thought of asking if I could borrow some of Melissa’s. Things like this, I chalked up to grief. It had to be my addled mind missing my dear friend.

The cemetery where they had laid her to rest moved me to tears in its beauty. They buried her in the shade of a large oak tree. Christina loved climbing trees when we were little, but never once, not once did she give me a hard time about not being able to join her. She’d scamper like a squirrel up to a high branch as I sat at the base and watched in awe.

I sat at the base of the ancient wooden behemoth that would now watch over her through eternity, and as I drew my knees closer, I stared at her grave marker. I rambled, ranted, babbled endlessly and incoherently at her, and when I could finally say no more, when I cried my last tear, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I looked up, hoping to see Christina, instead coming face to face with her kneeling mother, twin trails of tears rolling down her cheeks. She embraced me, and I turned to squeeze her tightly close. It felt ‘right’ somehow. Being held like that, crying into her arms felt right on so many unexplainable levels. Before, she had been more like a favorite aunt, but now…

“Please don’t blame yourself like this. She always said she would have given you her heart if she could. She’s a part of you now.” she whispered in my ear. I simply nodded and laid my head on her shoulder. I never wanted to let go.

I never thought of it like that though. Christina was now a part of me. I smiled meekly and kissed her cheek. “Thanks Mom,” I responded without really thinking. We both stared awkwardly at each other for just a moment after that before she smiled a little more brightly, pulling me to my feet and into a proper hug. I’d never called her that before, but that’s really and truly what she was to me now.

~oOo~

When Dad died and we moved in with Christina’s family, she and Melissa shared their bedroom up until college. Melissa had her dorm to go back to, but I’d been so weak since June that I simply couldn’t bring myself to re-enroll. Instead I arranged to take my classes for the semester online, so that I could rest as often as I needed while hoping, vainly, for an organ donor.

I followed Nancy as she carried my bags inside. I tried to help, but she insisted, saying that I could help her with groceries tomorrow if I felt up to it. I certainly physically felt up to it, but emotionally I wasn’t so sure.

I stopped outside Christina’s and Melissa’s old bedroom. Nancy paused and turned back. She set my bag down and approached, wrapping me in a hug. “I haven’t had the courage to go through her things. No one’s even been in there since August except to move the boxes from her dorm into the closet.”

I felt the oddest compulsion to go inside. My hands shook as I eased the door open. I’d been in Melissa and Christina’s room a thousand times, and knew every nook and cranny by heart, from the twin beds in matched white lace-trimmed bedding to the plethora of stuffed animals both girls collected, but neither felt brave enough to take to college with them.

I quickly pulled the door closed. Nancy had already gone on to my bedroom. I moved to follow, squeezing her hand as we passed in the doorway. As I sat on the edge of my bed something felt wrong, though. This was my room. This was my personal space where I spent every night before college, on breaks, and now while I took online classes, yet it didn’t feel like ‘mine’. I slowly eased myself off the bed, and after pulling my shoes off, I padded barefoot back down to the girls’ room.

Again, I eased the door open and stepped inside. The feeling of ‘wrongness’ faded, despite my grief. As I sat on Christina’s bed I picked up her favorite stuffed lion. I stroked its hot pink mane and white fur as I curled up on her bed and closed my eyes. I felt the beginnings of a faint smile tug at my lips. I began to relax, and soon found myself fast asleep.

I woke with a jolt to find ‘Mom’ gently nudging my shoulder with her hand. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching as I let go of the stuffed lion and sat up. After a bleary second or two to collect my scattered thoughts, I smiled at her.

“Sorry, I guess I dozed off,” I whispered groggily. She smiled back as she leaned forward to kiss my forehead.

“It’s alright sweetheart. I came to check on you, and when you weren’t in your room, I got worried.”

“But I am in-” I began, but stopped myself. Wait, this is Christina’s room.

Mom — sorry, NANCY gave me a funny look, but she apparently decided not to ask, instead shifting her gaze toward the stuffed lion. She picked it up and turned it over slowly in her hands as tears welled up. “This was Chrissie’s favorite. She hated leaving it home, but refused to take it with her.”

She exhaled slowly, setting it aside as she sniffled. I slid down the bed, planting my bare feet on the floor as I wrapped her in a tight hug, letting her cry into my shoulder. “I wish I could stay here,” I mumbled quietly. She slowly looked up at me, and I shook my head. “I mean, in this room. I dunno what it is, but I feel ‘right’ being here. I feel safe, ‘home’.”

“If that’s what you want, honey, we won’t stop you,” she replied gently. " I know it’s going to sound silly, but I’m making Chrissie’s favorite meal tonight — stuffed bell peppers.”

Oh God, stuffed bell peppers sounded so tasty right now! But I’d never eaten them before because they were so bad for my diet, at least the way Christina liked them.

“I guess you could say it’s my way of saying goodbye,” she added as she stood. “I’ll whip you up a salad if you want?” she looked back at me, and for a brief moment, a thoughtful smile crossed her lips.

I shook my head quickly as I stood to wrap her in another hug. “Mom, I … I think I’m going crazy,” I exhaled slowly. She looked at me with no small amount of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s little things. Like this room doesn’t feel like Chrissie’s. It feels like mine, and right now stuffed bell peppers sound-” about that time, my stomach rumbled, loudly. I giggled. Yes. Giggled. “Really, really tasty.”

She pulled me into a hug, slowly stroking my hair. I never wore my hair long before this past few months, but I’d let it go as I hardly ever had the strength to go anywhere, even before the heart attack. It now hung delicately just at my shoulders.

“We’re all grieving differently honey,” she cooed, trying to be strong for me, I guessed. “Chrissie’s father has been burying himself in his work, and I’ve taken up sewing again. I don’t want to forget her. I’ll never forget her,” she insisted, “But right now, I do what I can to take my mind off the pain because it’s what she would have wanted.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed as Mo- Nancy left the room. What would Christina do? Christina would wrap me in a hug, kiss my cheek, and tell me it would be okay, but what did she do to relax? Well, besides yoga, she painted her toenails. She once joked that painting her nails was to her what meditation was to a Buddhist monk. The slow and methodical act of deliberate strokes with a nail brush required focus and dedication.

I was ready to try anything right now, and given the odd impulses I’d been having to bother Melissa for a bottle earlier in the week, I couldn’t really find an argument against at least trying. Christina’s makeup kits, along with the rest of the things she had taken to college with her, resided in one of many boxes in the closet that I dared not touch, though I felt another odd compulsion. Following it, I knelt down beside the bed, reaching up into the darkness.

A bottle of raspberry sparkle had been suspended from a single piece of twine. A note on the bottle read, “Chrissie, found this in my makeup kit. Hiding it here in the usual place in case you leave yours in the dorm next time you’re home. Love, Melissa.”

I smiled thoughtfully. Christina was so forgetful at times. She’d lose her head if it weren’t so firmly bolted to her neck. I laughed to myself as I sat down on the bed and, drawing my bare foot up, peeled off my sock, planting my foot flat on the bed. As I rested my cheek against the side of my leg, focusing intently on my toes, I began to lose myself in my work.

My mind drifted to happier times. I thought of the fun the three of us had with Christina’s other friends, how excited Melissa always seemed to be hanging out with the ‘older girls’, and how no one seemed to really mind or care that I was a boy. We were all friends. Silly things like gender only mattered when we were going to the bathroom, and even then, I had been dragged more than once into the girls’ room to guard a stall, much to my embarrassment.

“Dinner will be ready in … an…” Mom trailed off as she stared at me. Not only did my toenails now sparkle, I had apparently gone on to do my fingernails as well. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it until her voice roused me from my reverie. I blinked a few times.

“Sorry. It’s just, I-” I fumbled, trying to explain my twisted logic, but she interrupted me.

“No, you don’t have to apologize sweetie. It’s just … Well for a second there, you looked just like Christina,” she spoke in a soft, reverent tone. I felt tears welling up for no explainable reason. I stood to approach her, but she met me halfway, embracing me as I rested my head on her shoulder.

“Chrissie used to talk about how painting her toenails was like her way of meditating,” I sniffed. “You said you guys are coping differently, so I asked myself what she’d do if it were her.”

“I think it helped,” she offered softly, kissing my forehead. “You don’t seem as tense. Hey, do you want to help me make dinner?”

“That sounds like fun. I’d love to.” Granted, I’d never actually cooked before, it did sound like fun. She squeezed my hand as she led me back down the hall.

“I’ll talk to Dean about your nails,” she teased, “But I don’t think he’d give you any trouble anyway. Honestly I’m surprised Chrissie and Melissa never ganged up on you.”

“They threatened to once in awhile,” I laughed, fondly remembering, “But they’ve always been careful with me. It’s so weird. Chrissie gave me a new lease on life. Now I can go jogging without fear of collapsing somewhere away from a phone,” or get involved in cheer at college. Wait, what? Christina was a cheerleader at our state college so that thought didn’t entirely seem alien. She looked so cute in her red-and-white uniform.

Mom smiled gently at me as she set to work on dinner. Utterly clueless as to what I should be doing, I just stood to one side awaiting each instruction as it came then after the bell peppers were ready for the oven, sat at the kitchen table. I couldn’t help staring at my self-manicure, the sparkling nail polish gleaming in the overhead light. I felt so relaxed after finally giving in to these subtle little compulsions.

It’s important to emphasize that I never felt coerced or goaded or anything so bizarre. It just felt ‘right’ to do these things, as weird as they sounded when I let myself think about them. I decided to try an experiment. The next time I had a compulsion, I’d just let myself follow it and see how I felt afterward.

If this was my mind’s way of dealing with my grief, then that’s just the way it would be. I’d get through it eventually, and maybe have a better respect for my friend, and my sister, on the other side.

~oOo~

The strange, subtle impulses I’d been ignoring for the last two weeks since my surgery seemed less strange as I allowed myself to indulge them. Sitting down to use the bathroom, for example, didn’t bother me as much as I had expected, though the desire to take a long, very hot bubble bath on the other hand, I found more difficult. I only ever took showers, so I had some trepidation about boiling myself in hot, soapy water, to say nothing of taking a razor to my legs in the process!

I survived, though. Through bubble bath and scented beads, I truly felt renewed as I stepped out of the tub and carefully patted myself dry. As I picked up a pair of boxer shorts though, I again felt a sense of … off-ness.

There was no way in Hell I was going to do something about that, though. All of Christina’s clothing had been carefully packed up by someone at the school, and Dad stacked them in her closet, but I refused to violate Christina’s privacy like that.

Grumbling to myself that such a thought could even cross my mind, I pulled my sweat pants up, throwing on one of my baggy t-shirts and padded out of the bathroom. I slowly walked into the kitchen. I needed a neutral place to think, which meant my old bedroom wouldn’t work. As I buried my face in my hands, Mom stepped in from the living room.

“I thought I heard you in here. Is everything okay dear?”

I shook my head slowly. “I think I’m losing it,” I whimpered. She rushed to my side and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Oh, sweetheart. Do you want to talk?”

I nodded, turning to bury my face in her midsection as I threw my arms around her. “I-it’s these damned little compulsions.”

“You mean like painting your nails?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes, and wanting to stay in Chrissie’s room, and now, I-I-” I stammered. I closed my eyes tightly. She slowly stroked my still-wet hair, waiting patiently for me to continue.

“I caught myself thinking about going through her boxes for something to wear,” I sobbed. “This isn’t normal. This isn’t just grieving. I think I’m going insane!”

She smiled softly as she leaned down to kiss the top of my head. She pulled me up into her loving embrace.

“Sweetheart… Chrissie was like a sister to you as much as you’ve been like a child to us,” I noted she carefully avoided use of the word ‘son’, but didn’t say anything. “Chrissie loved you with all her heart. She would want you to do whatever you feel will make you happy. We were just going to donate everything to Goodwill without even looking at any of it, but … but if you want to go through her things,” she paused, cupping my face in her hands. I melted at her soft, unconditionally loving smile, “Then you should.”

I gave her a meek smile as I nodded. She made a lot of sense. Melissa and Christina were forever sharing their things. I’d swear I’d see them wearing an outfit one week that the other would wear the next on many occasions. But I still had to wonder if she would really be okay with that.

“You said earlier that I looked like her. Are… Are you sure it’s okay?”

Smiling fondly, she nodded. “It hurts not having her, knowing I’ll never see that precious smile again, but it’s as I’ve said all along honey, she’s a part of you now. Her heart beats in your chest.”

“Thanks, Mommy,” I whimpered as we both burst into tears. We stood, quietly sobbing as we clung to each other for what felt like an eternity.

That night, before I went to bed, I went through Christina’s things and found a simple pair of white panties and a peach colored pajama set. I took her favorite purple hairbrush from another box, sitting on the edge of ‘my’ bed and brushing my hair. Mom appeared in the doorway holding a glass of warm milk. She smiled so softly at me as she approached, and I set my brush aside.

“Here, this will help you sleep. It’s something my mother used to mix up for me when I had trouble sleeping.”

“What’s in it?” I asked as I accepted the glass, yet somehow I already knew. I felt, for the first time, an intense impulse. I felt strongly that I should drink it, and as I did, a warming sensation washed over me. I smiled at her as I handed her the glass, sliding my legs up onto the bed and lying down.

“Honey and cinnamon mostly,” she answered as she pulled the covers up over me. She reached for Christina’s favorite stuffed lion, carefully laying it beside me. As she bent down to kiss my forehead, I smiled a little and whispered.

“Good night Mom.”

“Goodnight Princess,” she whispered back. “We’ll sort all this out, I promise. Just do what you feel is right. It’s what she would want.”

~oOo~

I suddenly found myself in a strange and unfamiliar place, but it still felt kind of relaxing. A big oak tree like the one that now watched over Christina stood tall behind me, and I could see an endless, starry night sky sprawled out overhead.

“I must be dreaming,” I said softly, and blinked. “Was that… is that my voice?!” I sounded female. I giggled. Now I knew I was dreaming, but what a dream!

I felt something tickling my calves and when I looked down, spotted the source. A simple white sundress clung to my newfound curves. Further along, a pair of wedge sandals hugged my feet as though they were handcrafted for me.

I couldn’t explain why, but I felt an overwhelming urge to stay here and wait, as though I were supposed to meet someone here.

I eased myself down, and suddenly felt something beneath my hand. A book? Its gilded pages, bound in rustic leather, seemed at once ancient and brand new. I leafed through a few pages, but I couldn’t focus on the words. I suddenly became aware of a pair of footfalls approaching, and a familiar voice: one that I never thought I’d hear again.

“What’s Melissa doing here?” Christina asked in surprise.

“I’m not Melissa,” I answered, smiling up at her. I giggled as I stood to hug her.

“John?”

“Kind of,” I answered gently. I still hadn’t gotten used to this girlish voice, but I kind of liked it.

“Oh God. John I’m so sorry,” she wailed. Suddenly her knees buckled, but I’d already been on the approach to hug her so I managed to catch her in my arms. I pulled her close, and another giggle escaped. I couldn’t help it. I was just so happy to see her again.

“Don’t be sorry, Chrissie!” I answered cheerfully, beaming a smile that could melt the coldest heart. It felt so good to hold her again, just one more time.

“John, please forgive me. I had no idea-” she tried to protest, but I cut her off.

“I told you, stop apologizing! It’s okay, really. I’m just so happy to see you again.” I had to hold her out at arm’s length to look her over again. This felt too real to be a dream. “It is you, isn’t it?” I asked, hopeful.

Until now I had been ignoring the younger girl with her. Despite the pigtails I had to guess the other girl, dressed in a cute blue sundress, had to be about seventeen or eighteen. She stepped closer to us and smiled reassuringly.

“Yes, it is her John. Think of me as an intercessor. We can’t stay, but in order for you both to move on, this meeting was necessary.”

“John, this isn’t you,” Christina sobbed as she wrapped her arms around me. “I did this to you. I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me!” What was she talking about? She gave me my life!

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I told her as gently as I could manage. “You saved my life, Chrissie. I’m the one who should be feeling guilty. You had to die for me to live,” I practically whimpered.

“No, John. Don’t blame yourself. Never, ever blame yourself.”

The other girl moved a step closer. “She’s going to be okay, John. I promise. You have to let her go for her to be able to let you go, okay? You will see one another again.”

I bit my lip. There was something I just had to ask. I’d thought about this all afternoon. I knew it felt sudden, but I couldn’t escape or deny how much closer I felt to both my Angel and Christina now. I didn’t want to give that up.

“Um, just one thing,” I hesitantly asked. They nodded in unison. “If I want to keep dressing like this, may I?”

Christina laughed. She laughed! “What?”

“Don’t laugh!” I teased, poking her lightly in the chest to put a point on my statement even as I smiled at her to show I wasn’t really upset. “Chrissie, I feel closer to you and Angel than I have in a long time. I feel like I’m part of some sort of secret club guys aren’t supposed to be a part of. I don’t want to let that go.”

She nodded happily as she leaned closer to kiss my forehead. I gave her a light squeeze in response. “Of course. Do whatever you have to do to find happiness, but please do find that happiness. Don’t mourn me anymore. I’ll wait for you on the other side, when it’s your time, and not a day sooner, okay?”

“Not a day sooner,” I answered happily as I gave her one last sisterly hug. “I love you sis.”

“I love you too, ‘sis’,” she teased. I felt a little blush in my cheeks as she giggled.

The other girl took her by the hand and smiled gently. “It’s time, Christina. I’m sorry.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“When it’s your time, you’ll see us both. Remember to live life to its fullest, so that when your time comes, you’re ready to let go too.” The girl responded. She leaned up to kiss my cheek cheek. I could still feel the warmth of her lips as I smiled and waved.. They stepped away, turned, and she squeezed Christina’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

I woke early the next morning. Darkness pervaded my surroundings. Was that all just a dream? Did that really happen? In the distance, I heard a lilted giggle. I suddenly became aware of something in my hands that felt rough, almost like rustic leather.

I reached out over the nightstand, turning on Christina’s lamp, to find the book from my dreams. I clutched it to my chest as I sat in silence, smiling fondly.