EXCERPTS

At the Stroke of Midnight

Lanette Curington

The shade watched from the tower window as guests, dressed in shimmering costumes with masks in place, emerged from their conveyances and ascended the stone steps to the castle entrance. As a diversion, he checked each one’s hourglass while he waited for her.

When she arrived, he glided closer to the window. If he still had a heart, it would have raced inside his chest at the sight of her again. She wore glittering white, a tumble of dark red curls cascading over one alabaster shoulder, and a white mask across her eyes. He summoned her hourglass…only a few grains of sand remained, slipping through in slow motion. She had very little time left, mere hours. He was not allowed to refill it because he had already used up the last of his options on her.

No matter the price he would pay later, he would take advantage of the thinness of the veil on this particular night and cross to the other side. From sundown until the stroke of midnight, he could mingle with mortals and not sense their unease at his presence, look into their eyes and not see fear, touch them and not cause their souls to flee their bodies. He anticipated the experience with an excitement he hadn’t felt in millennia. Tonight he would know again what they fought so hard to cling to when he came for them.

As the sun sank behind the horizon, his shadowy form filled out to resemble that of a living, breathing human being. He stretched out his upper limbs, spreading his fingers wide. The familiarity of this body startled him. He thought he had forgotten what his human body felt like. A smile curved his lips then fell away as quickly. She was running out of time.

He made a strange gesture, shrouding his body in black satin. He gestured again and a tall black scythe appeared in his hand. He wielded it with ease, the long curved blade whispering as it cut a swath through the air.

Snapping the edge of his robe, he dematerialized in a bright silvery shimmer. When he reappeared below, no one would question his presence. The masquerade ball celebrated All Hallows Eve and others would be similarly dressed. He wore the costume of the Grim Reaper, but it was no disguise. He collected the souls of mortals when their hourglasses ran empty, and his name was Death.

* * * *

“Isn’t everything lovely?” Olivia DeBenning raised her voice to be heard over the eerie music, raucous laughter, and buzz of conversation that filled the Great Hall of Greystone Castle. “I think the ball is a success, don’t you?”

On the other side of the banquet table, her friend Margot Conway fumed, a frown wrinkling her white-powdered face. The tall Marie Antoinette wig leaned perilously to one side. She pushed at it with the back of her hand, but that only made it skew the other way.

“Where have you been?” Margot snapped.

“Tending our guests and making sure everyone is having a good time. Mayor Dresden said—”

“They’ve emptied another bowl of punch and it needs to be refilled.” Margot planted her fists on the wide panniers of her costume. The froth of lace spilling from her sleeve threatened to knock over a stack of paper plates.

“I’ll do it.” Olivia moved to pick up the crystal punch bowl on loan from Davy Wilson’s great-aunt. Olivia had argued against using the antique, but his Aunt Louvenia had insisted. The elderly lady remembered the parties held in the castle when she was a young girl and wanted to help make this celebration special.

Margot reached for the bowl at the same time. “No, I’ll do it, Liv. You’ve already done so much. The castle is gorgeous, and all because of you.”

Olivia frowned, trying to decide if she detected a bite of sarcasm in her friend’s tone of voice. Margot was tired, that was all. They all were. Volunteers had been working every spare minute the past few weeks to prepare the castle for this night. “Nonsense. Everyone on the committee helped to decorate the castle.”

“But the Chamber of Commerce is giving you the award tonight,” Margot pointed out peevishly.

“Only because I was voted chairperson. It belongs to the entire committee.” Olivia brushed Margot’s hands away and lifted the bowl, hugging it close to keep it safe. “I’ll get the punch.”

“Are you sure you can manage, Liv?” Margot asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly and turned, but her leg had begun to throb.

At that moment, out of nowhere, a cowled figure in black satin appeared in her path. Awkwardly, she stepped to the side to avoid a collision. As her leg twisted beneath her, sharp pain raced up through her knee and thigh. She bumped into him anyway, the punch bowl slipping from her hands as she concentrated on regaining her balance.

Pale, slender fingers emerged from a voluminous sleeve and grasped the edge of the bowl to keep it from falling.

Olivia sighed as the pain subsided, returning to a steady throb. Her hands touched his briefly as she found a better grip on the bowl, and a shiver coursed through her body. She wasn’t sure what caused the response. Why should the sight or touch of the Grim Reaper unnerve her? This was a Halloween masked ball, after all.

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The Cat’s Meow

Mae Powers 

Chapter One

 Once upon an ancient year, there lived a prince from the magical land of Mythlick. This prince married a princess-witch with hair of the brightest sun-gold that couldn’t be matched anywhere else in the kingdom, including any surrounding magical or normal lands. He thought himself lucky, and in love with her. Until she cheated on him.

With his mistress, at that.

So he divorced the princess, and his mistress disappeared.

He swore he’d never marry again, perhaps not even have a mistress.

However, when the time came that the prince’s father neared death, and wanted to make sure the kingdom had an heir, he bade his son to reconsider his words and find a bride. Royal babies would make the king happy. The prince was very close to his father and could not disregard the king’s words. So, the prince promised he would find a bride by his father’s favorite day of the year; All Hallows Eve.

Being in a magical kingdom, of moderate to advanced or light to nothing magically endowed subjects, the prince knew it would be hard to make a wise choice and pick a beauty that would please him.

Now as it happened before, he’d thought himself in love with his mistress, who’d been a favorite lady-in-waiting to his late mother. But when he’d met his ex-wife, the witchly Princess Marigold from a neighboring kingdom, he’d fallen in lust and more with Marigold. However, he’d felt bewitched throughout the marriage. So when he’d found out about his wife cheating with his mistress, he felt as if a spell had been broken, but he’d also been disheartened in love. For part of him had really loved his mistress.

Middle-aged King Rychard, a sorcerer of sorts, couldn’t have been more pleased with his son, Prince Draemond. Though ill, he swore to live to see the day his son married again for happiness. Draemond, unlike his conniving younger brothers and cousins, really cared for his father, the king, and didn’t want the kingdom to pass on to them. So, he decided to hold a ball and invite all the eligible princesses and ladies in his kingdom and surrounding ones.

Of course, being a cheerful monarch who liked to make sure his siblings were happy too, King Rychard decided he wanted to attend, if only to sit and watch. The prince agreed to this, but only if the king let his son take care of the preparations and choose his own bride.

The king, even though ill, promised all his son asked, provided he would at least let him meet the bride-select before the announcement to make his comments. Draemond could find naught wrong with this so agreed to this provision too. The prince trusted his father’s instincts where people were concerned, and as it seemed to make the king perkier in his health, Draemond decided that as long as the king’s health held and the festivities weren’t too much, he’d let the king assist in his choice of brides and help with the ball.

Since his father hadn’t chosen his former mistress or wife for him, Draemond felt that King Rychard would probably be good at helping him to see past any bewitching allure the invited princesses might use to cloud his judgment in settling on a future queen.

Draemond’s heart was already crushed twice emotionally, so he decided it would not play an active part in choosing his queen. He knew besides seeking a healthy body and prettiness, he had to at least feel amicable towards the unknown future bride so they could get along the rest of their lives and rule a kingdom. Draemond thought hard about what he wanted in a new bride.

Standing on his private balcony, he looked out over the vast magical kingdom of Mythlick and pondered all he wanted in a woman, his future queen. One hand behind his back, the other holding onto the marbled railing, he watched as the sun set, reminding him of Marigold with her bright gold-red hair, more gold like the brightness of the midday sun. They’d gotten along well, he thought, and he’d had a tendresse for her. And her sky blue eyes bewitched his libido and his heart too.

She’d been dainty and of a sweet demeanor, but with very lush curves. So why had she strayed to seek out other lovers—amongst those, his mistress Silvera?

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Love Never Dies

Imari Jade

Chapter One 

“Who is that?” Donovan Flowers asked his best friend Trent Sinclair, now they were out of earshot of the rest of the funeral attendees.

“Who?”

“That hot looking dark-haired babe standing next to Reverend Goodrites. The one with the big breasts.”

 “What hot looking babe with big breasts? The only people I see are my uncle Adam and a couple of his creepy friends from the bar.”

She’s right over there dressed in a black blazer and a very short black skirt. Don’t tell me you can’t see her. She’s the one with legs that go on forever.”

Taking off his glasses, Trent squinted. “I still don’t see her, man. You need to stay out of Mandingos.”

They’d stopped at Mandingos on the way for a drink. Two beers would not make him hallucinate. But for some reason Donovan knew what he saw, no one else did.

The young woman moved away from the reverend’s side and stepped closer to the grave. This move gave him a better view of her svelte body. Her ass looked great as she bent over the grave. She seemed to be speaking to the grave. What did she want with Uncle Manny? Too far to hear, but he watched her rose-colored lips moving. His penis moved in his briefs as he thought about how lips like those might make him feel. Probably suck him dry. Trent snapped his fingers in front of his eyes.

“Earth to Donovan.”

Donovan shifted his stance, “What were you saying?”

“I said that Uncle Manny left a nice chunk of money to the family. Uncle Adam is the executor of the estate now.”

“So does that mean you’re not opening the new funeral home with me?” Donovan came to Midland  to get into the mortuary business with Trent, something they talked about since senior year.

“No. It means that now I finally have enough money to pay my share in it.”

The woman looked over at him and then slowly walked away. Her sexy strut made her butt bounce like dueling beach balls beneath a blanket. He needed to find out who she was, and why the ghost of Manny Sinclair now stepped out of his grave and followed her.

Reverend Goodrites ended the service and the family and friends headed for their cars.    “Will you excuse me,” Trent said to him. “I need to talk to my uncle about something.”

Donovan nodded. “I’ll meet you back at the bar later on.” She crossed the parking lot with Manny’s soul in tow. Donovan moved stealthly around the back of the crowd so he wouldn’t call attention to himself and followed her through the cemetery. The woman glanced back at him once and continued to walk.

She knew he was following her. There was a little more bounce to her walk, which made her wide hips move up and down with each step she took. Manny floated close behind her like a puppy to the back of the cemetery and out of the back gate. There was nothing but woods as far as the eyes could see. A fear of bears and snakes kept him from considering himself a brave man. Donovan didn’t consider himself a brave man, and he didn’t know a damn thing about forestry. He didn’t have a fondness for snakes or bears, but followed her only because his penis led the way.

She disappeared from his sight for a moment, and the next thing he knew a bright light overhead. Was it a spotlight advertising a grand opening sale at one of the local shops in town, or a UFO? Not caring, he stumbled blindly toward the light, pushing aside low hanging tree branches and bushes in his search. The light disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Donovan found himself standing in the dark in a deserted forest, but he wasn’t alone. “I know you’re there,” he shouted. Being an empath did occasionally have its advantages. A loud sound made him turn around slowly. Lucky for him it wasn’t a bear. The young woman stood behind him completely naked.

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The Kissing Frog

Jennifer Bokal 

Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the neglected sitting room. Melinda tucked her hands into the sleeves of her sweater and watched the rain fall in thick gray sheets from the sky.

“Thanks, Mom,” Melinda said, taking the offered cup of tea. “It seems kind of natural to clean out Granny Lu’s house today of all days, doesn’t it? With it being a stormy Halloween and all.”

Connie sat in the creaky old rocking chair. Even in the dim light, dust motes swirled lazily through the air. “Thanks for helping me get this place organized. Your father has been after me to clean up the house since a week after she died. Taking care of the funeral and all of Granny Lu’s finances has been more than enough for me to handle. You know how higgledy-piggledy she was about keeping track of things. I still don’t know if everything is in order.” Connie blew gingerly at the steam rising out of her cup before taking a sip. “This morning, I just knew she would appreciate us being here.”

Melinda surveyed the room which had always been cozy but now seemed to suffer from the loss of its mistress as well. “You know the thing I miss most about Granny Lu right now? All her decorations. Those motion detector spiders that dropped down as you walked past, or all the ceramic cats she lined the windowsill with. Shoot, she put more purple and orange lights on her house than the Johnston’s do twinkling white ones at Christmastime.”

“And if one jack-o-lantern was good, then five would be better.”

“Exactly. And how she would Ohh and Ahh over all the trick-or-treaters! Every kid for miles had to stop by so Granny Lu could see their costume.” Melinda smiled at the memory of all the little ghosts and goblins lined halfway down the garden path waiting for a lollipop and a kind appraisal from Granny Lu. “I think the neighborhood children will miss her, that’s for sure. Everybody loved Granny Lu, especially at Halloween.”

Melinda and Connie sipped their tea in silence, listening to the rain pelt the windows.

“Not all the neighborhood kids loved Granny Lu,” Connie confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

A deafening rumble of thunder shook the tiny cottage. As the last echo faded away, Melinda wondered if her mother had really spoken at all.

Connie’s unseeing gaze fixed on the middle ground. “In the ninth grade, my true love was Danny Meadows. He was a junior in high school and the quarterback. A total dreamboat. On Halloween night he planned to sneak me out by the window, next to the tree in the backyard.

“The way he told it, when he got to the top of the tree, Granny Lu greets him at the window. She told him nice young men don’t try to convince girls to leave their safe beds at night. Supposedly, she said some words he didn’t understand and blew into her hand. Then a huge wind picked up Danny and sent him flying home.

“By the time I got to school, everyone knew his story and thought Granny Lu was a witch. Totally ridiculous, but your grandmother went overboard with the Halloween decorations years before it became fashionable. Anyway, it was easy for stupid teenaged kids to believe the story. I was furious, not at Danny. At Granny Lu. That afternoon I said lots of awful things to her. She swore she wasn’t a witch, and we never spoke about it again. But I never did apologize, and now it is too late.” Silent sobs wracked Connie’s slender frame.

“Oh, Mom. Granny knew you loved her, she knows now,” Melinda soothed while stroking her mother’s silvery hair.

Connie took a deep breath and gave a watery smile. “I hope you are right. Well, your father will go through the roof if I have nothing better to show for this day than a cup of tea and a good cry. How long did you say you could stay?”

“Two hours, maybe three. I want to get home to hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters. I don’t have the crew Granny Lu did, but I love to see all the kids dressed up.”

“And what about the boys? Don’t you need to be home for them?”

“No, Mom. They don’t go trick-or-treating anymore. Dave has to work until ten and Mike is volunteering at the fire station’s haunted house. I think he gets to be Vampire.”

“Well, I knew they were far too old to dress up and roam through the neighborhood begging for candy, but I thought you needed to be home to make a meal for them. What about Steve?”

Melinda’s neck muscles instinctively tightened at the mention of her husband’s name. “He’s working late, too.” Trying to cover up her anxiety over another late night for her husband, Melinda added, “Which is lucky for us since I can give you so much time today.”

“He’s working late, again?” Connie said, her tone an irritating blend between accusation and horror.

“Yes, Mother. Late again.”

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