Sandy, Rise

By Ann Struck

Sandy drifted from the bed into my arms.

 “I can walk by myself.”

I’d dreamt of this moment since I was ten—my quadriplegic cousin, who’d babysat me before her accident—ambulatory again.  The day we visited; she was dangling upside down. I’d surreptitiously pinched her arm, testing if she were faking it.

Sandy took steps like a stilt-walker. I hovered, ready to catch her; certain she would fall. She took my hand, “Let’s dance.”

We sang and waltzed to Sinatra.

I glanced in the mirror. My lined eyes framed by thin, gray hair. Sandy’s face smooth, her hair raven.

The Haunted Tree

By Pauline Ludgate

Lichen covered walls surround the ancient burial ground. An ashen moon peeks through barren branches of an old, gnarled oak tree, revealing crushed and crumbling gravestones sunken in marshy plots. An ethereal swirling mist envelops the roughhewn trunk. Two intrepid adventurers, guided by torchlight; thrilled by tales of folklore, approach the ghostly tree, and sit under the creaking branches. They drink whisky from flasks. A chill wind whips the swirling mist as shapeshifting soil moves beneath them. Thorny branches creep down to encircle their throats and drag them under the moving earth. Two empty flasks roll along in the breeze.

Homeowners’ Association

By Michelle Bennett

“This meeting of the Homeowners’ Association is called to order. First on the agenda is the failure of 48 Elmwood to sell. Well done everyone involved in preventing that sale. It was quite the ‘spectre-acle’. We need that same spirit for number 16’s open house this weekend. Don’t forget what happened to Ivan. Didn’t make his presence felt during the open house and ended up living with the buyers for 43 years. We want to rest in peace, not be haunted by these living soul home invaders. Lastly, welcome to Ethel who has recently joined us from the other side”.

Caveat Emptor

By Fiona Bailey

I used to have a cherub in my shower pipe. He said it was a long story how, but he wasn’t leaving due to agoraphobia. On the plus side, I developed golden highlights in my hair and my skin was flawless. Then he started banging for attention, and the neighbours complained about my plumbing. 

A good squirt of limescale remover, a sizzle, an incandescent cloud, and it was all over. 

The little sod in the hall radiator will be next.

Take my advice, don’t buy a converted chapel apartment. I should sue.

Honestly, they’re worse than spiders.

Vuata Vatoa

By Tinamarie Cox

Years of research brought Sebastian Monroe to Vatoa. Of the 300 Figi islands, he knew this was the one. Sebastian would find his mermaid. His colleagues called him crazy. His sponsors pulled their funding. He made it to Vatoa despite it all.

Wearing homemade diving gear, Sebastian slipped into the crystal clear depths toward Vuata Vatoa reef. Among the disintegrating wreckage of the Oeno, was a glittering tail. Sebastian pumped his limbs to the fast pace of his heart.

The Figi Mermaid smiled at Sebastian with her pointed teeth. Then, she sliced his oxygen tube with a sharp claw.

The Doll at the Top of the Stairs

By Finnian Burnett

The doll watches from the top of the stairs, chipped porcelain face, unblinking eyes. It’s kept me from mother’s rooms, from sorting her things.

I should stay at a hotel, wait for my sisters to come.

But the dark stairway beckons me. Sarah, the doll says in mother’s voice.

The light switch rests just beyond the doll. Porcelain hands on stuffed fabric arms graze the hem of my pants and then I’m on the landing, out of reach, my fingers fumbling along the wall.

Something breathes on my neck as I grasp the switch, praying the light will come on.

Ghost of Futures Passed

By Amy Wilson

The ghost’s name changes every day. Today, it is Sarah, but yesterday she was Amelia. Tomorrow, she might be eight, but today she is only five – small, chatty, and yet to feel embarrassment at the touch of my hand on hers. She walks beside me everywhere, this ghost, taunting me with her perfection. Whispering to me of all the things that might have been if I could just have kept her safe for those nine short months. Back when the whole world could see her in blurry images and in my expanding waistline. When we all agreed she was real.

Transformation

By Alice Shaw

With grizzled hair and staff in hand, a man stood staring at the sea; a greatcoat laden with dust and a pair of holey underpants lay on the sand at his feet. Early morning walkers, with averted eyes and stopped noses, maintained their distance. He strode into the surf where the sun had painted a silvery web and did not flinch as a breaking wave washed over his head. Gulls whirled and shrieked as he went under. A thunderclap applauded from a cloudless sky as a whale breached, spraying water to the heavens, and disappeared.

Welcome Wagon Visit to the New Neighbor

By David Klotzkin

Old lady dies, new old lady comes, nothing changes, Linda thought.  “How’s the new home?” 

“Nice,” said Gertrude.

“It’ll be lovely,” Linda said.  “But it went to pot when Edith got sick.”  She tssked.  “This lawn…” It needed mowing desperately. “I’ll recommend a gardener.”

“She was dyin’…” 

“…too young, poor Edith.”  Linda kicked the creaky porch steps.  “And fix these, honey. That homeowner’s association…” 

“Ain’t you their president?”  

Another terrible neighbor!  Linda sighed, started downstairs.

Shove! Tumble! Snap.

Ghostly Edith’s transparent hand settled over Gertrude’s. “Wish I’d done that when I was alive.”

“Well,” said Gertrude, “Better late, than never.”

Time and Tides

By Whisky Teagan

Grandma's last request came immediately after Grandpa's passing. 

Following the instructions, Mairi hauled the old chest onto the cold sand and levered the clasp. Inside, a moleskin-soft material flowed with hues of grey that sang moods of the sea. Her ears pounded as if she held a conch to them. 

'Mine' Grandma rasped, crispy fingers angling towards her shoulders. Mairi gently placed the sealskin over the frail woman. 

Rain fell. Grandma softened and silkily moved seawards.

In the Hebridean waves, grey heads bobbed in approval as their sister slid into the water, her past captivity eroding like ancient coastlines. 

Wolf Moon 

By Ed JM

Beep... Growing up in the village was fun. The fields, trees, mud and bugs.  Adolescence in… beep… rural Kent is dull. We'd go camping, get pissed, fight. But life was boring until my… beep… mate Max sold me a dream. 'Let me bite you,' he said. So I did. Every full moon we'd... beep... go berserk. Chasing lampers and campers, doggers and badgers. Then his rich dad  paid… beep… for treatment and now he works in banking and has blocked me on Instagram and I… beep… work on the McColl’s checkout getting  taunted by teenagers for my hairy hands.

See that pretty girl in the mirror there

By Jay McKenzie

I feel pretty.

I pinch snow-white fabric, fan the skirt wide. She does the same.  

He’s going to propose, they say. Tonight, tonight. 

We dab on a classic rouge, press a pout against the glass. 

I step back to survey our lips’ ruby signature. 

She remains pressed in the kiss. 

But…?

Her mouth parts in a triumphant grin and she steps away, palm lingering on the mirror. 

“I hardly can believe I’m real,” she says. 

She examines her ring finger, waves, then disappears in a flash of white.

I hit the glass, my world in reverse.

Shelby’s Song

By Olivia Todd
Come, little children, to Shelby’s van,
where the ice-creams are silkier
than seaweed.
Greed breeds.
Salty caramel leaves pearl on your tongues.
Your squeals of delight gives air to my lungs.
How parched they’ve been on land,
aching for the inky depths.
Beached and yearning for the day
I no more require steps.
My cramping tail hidden as legs
longs to leave this stool to thrash on sand.
So close, so close, that rippling shore.
These fry are clueless to what’s in store.
For that merry melody that plays away,
guides them ever-closer to a watery grave. 

The Skinwalker of Calverton County, AK

By Ben Wakefield
18-wheelers thunder endlessly down the strip. Past grimy diners and hourly rate motels, where speed jacked road dogs sate themselves. Sure Thing Suzy kicks her neon leg and tips her neon Stetson at the uncanny sky. Two Auroras dance tonight.
In the alley behind the club, a naked woman crouches over a man’s flayed body. Steam comes off the corpse in waves and the snow drinks his blood. She peels the last scrap of skin away, stands and costumes herself. By morning she will become him, wearing his skin for the remainder of his appointed span. Before he hunts again.

Just Dessert

By Rachel L. Tilley
I poisoned my neighbour.
He’s running around our street like a rabid animal… and it’s difficult to know whether to intervene. If my neck wasn’t dripping with blood, I might feel more inclined to assist.
When leaving the house, I’ve been winking at him in shared camaraderie. A therianthropic misfit waving to the vampire next-door.
With hindsight, he’s only ever seen me shape-shifted into human form; an eighteen-year-old schoolgirl.
There seems to have been a misunderstanding.
This is on him. He really should’ve been able to detect I was rotten. I guess his sense of smell truly let him down.

The group chose ‘Caveat Emptor’ as their favourite. Congratulations, Fiona Bailey!