A California Online Magazine with Local Focus and Global Appeal
I hate Halloween, Max Regan thought to himself in the dark of his living room. He was doing his best to ignore the endless knocking at the door. It was just stupid kids looking for free candy. He wanted the brats to think nobody was home.
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“Caramel apples are my favorite,” Shelly said to her partner. “The thicker the caramel, the better.”
“Yep, when I think of autumn, I think of food – apple cider, apple donuts and candy apples.” Buck patted his khaki-clad belly. His shirt, which looked ready to burst a button or two, demonstrated his love of Apple Hill delights. Buck stepped back and snapped a few more photos. “And Halloween ghosts and goblins, of course.”
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She stepped off the bus at the usual place, waving to the driver as he took off. Then she turned in the opposite direction and started walking. It was later then her usual time and, since it was fall, it was darker than normal.
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“If I’ve told you once,” Papa Red Warty Thing said. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to stray so far way. Look at you. You’re already at the end of your tendrils and into the road. The tractor is coming. You’ll be smashed flatter than a fritter!”
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Leah Fields shifted in her chair as she took a break from reading and translating the ancient scroll before her. She smiled to herself.
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He had the patience of a cat watching rain drops run down a window pane. But, at the moment, he was making no attempt to pounce. He had all the time he needed. He had been stalking her for over a month now. When he did pounce, it would be only once, and it would be the only time needed.
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“Hey, Barb. Wantta throw one?”
Barb stopped in mid-step. “Sure.” She entered Jason’s office, and he handed her a dart. She took as careful aim as she could and threw the dart at the large cork board hanging on the other wall.
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“You don’t get what you don’t ask for,” Marti always said, “but sometimes you get more than you wanted.” It was good advice from a mother who didn’t have much else to give, and I carried it with me as I moved through life. Although, right now, I wish I had understood it better.
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Seven weeks as an actual Cary Valley National Park ranger and Birdie McLaren was still excited to be wearing the time-honored “green and gray” uniform, although today she wore firefighter clothing, protective yellow and green Nomex. She adjusted her tiny frame atop the all-terrain vehicle, pulling a load of boxed food and bottled water up an old Army-built access trail.
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Charlotte usually experienced a transition at dawn. She had lost count of how many of these she had undergone, but then, since her murder, not much made sense. There was a familiar feeling when this smoky life force came over her. Charlotte often thought it must be how a butterfly feels when it comes out of a cocoon. There was no casing though for her to break through only heaviness that weighted her down making it difficult to move about as she once again became active.
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“You’re late.”
“Yes, Dad, there was an accident on Highway 95 or I would have been here a while ago.”
“You should plan better instead of leaving me looking like I don’t know what time you’re coming. How hard can that be?”
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“When day turns to night, the world will be turned upside down.” The crone’s throaty cackle penetrated Joseph Haydn’s consciousness as he walked through St. Michael’s square to his quarters in the Michaelerhaus.
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Sally Peale flattened herself in the back corner of Maureen Mitchell’s bedroom closet, hiding behind the longest evening gown.
“This makes no sense, Sally,” Maureen’s nephew, Brian, shouted from somewhere near at hand. “I know you’re upstairs. You can’t escape.”
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Yeah, I know I’m beautiful. At least I was until about a year ago, when the cancer reached my face. I don’t take any credit for my beauty. I was created this way. I didn’t have any choice or input. I don’t really pay it any mind; I just accept it, like we all accept that we have two eyes, two ears, one nose, and one mouth.
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