"That is strange," I said aloud before touching the first letter with my forefinger. I immediately felt a pleasant tingle along my arm and into my body. Under some strange compulsion, I slowly traced each of the throbbing letters of the word. As I finally reached the last part of the letter 'E' the tingling stopped and I felt a little faint. Halloween Moon by Alys

---

 

"Thank you for calling Bettertech, Johnnie," I said to Mr Jonas from Wiltshire," I hope you have no further trouble"
     
"Thanks for your help," he replied and then disconnected.
 
I took a sip of my almost cold coffee and prepared for my next caller. A glance at my daily score showed I was at least ten down on my daily target. I quickly gulped the rest of the contents of my cup and pressed the receive button on my console.
 
"Good afternoon, this is Bettertech IT Support services, you're though to Jenny, how can I help you?" I said into the mic using the cheerful, friendly voice expected by the company.

There was no immediate response, even though I could clearly hear someone breathing at the other end of the connection.

"Hello there, this is Jenny your support engineer today, could you tell me what Bettertech model you are using?" I asked, hoping my more direct question would elicit a reaction from my caller.

At the same time I flagged a possible nuisance call, hoping it wouldn't be one that wasted more of my few precious minutes available to try and fulfill my quota for the day.

I wished I could be as cynical about the job as Phoebe in the next aisle. She always suggested the most obvious solution and used her husky voice to persuade the, mostly male, clientele she had solved their problem for them. As a result she was always way over her quota of completed calls and sure of her monthly bonus.

I looked at my call timer. It showed my 'breather' had so far wasted nearly a minute of my shift.

"Hello caller, my name is Jenny with whom to I have the pleasure of speaking to?" I asked, giving the call my last shot before breaking the connection.

"You don't sound like a Jenny," came the gruff male voice.

I mentally cursed being 'clocked' for the third time in a day and tried to pitch my voice in a slightly higher register as I replied," Sir, I can assure you my name is Jenny, so how can I help you today?"

"You can't," he replied.

"Then why are you calling then sir?" I responded a little perplexed by the answer.

"No-one like you should ever do this job," replied my unfriendly caller.

"Would you like me to transfer you to someone else, sir?" I asked, trying not to lose my temper.

"Yeah and make sure it's not another ........" he responded unpleasantly.

I cut him off before he could complete the sentence with whatever insult he was intending to use. I quickly transferred his connection to Andrew's list ensuring as long as possible a wait for him to listen to the mind numbing company song 'We do it better at Bettertech' followed by the stress for his bigoted mindset of having to converse with the campest gay guy in the company. I smiled as I visualised his frustration.

The flashing light on my console, indicating an internal company call, dispelled my self-satisfaction. I made the connection to hear the unpleasant tone of Mr Bradley the day shift floor manager.

"Miss Jones," he began in his clipped Daily Mail* English, " that's your third transfer today."

"Yes, Mr Bradley, sorry," I responded, cursing prejudiced customers and over officious managers.

"Sorry isn't good enough Miss Jones, time is money, as they say, please make sure it's the last one today," he said curtly before breaking the connection.

"Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir," I said under my breath as I showed two fingers to the console.

"Know how you feel, Jenny," said the familiar voice of Carol, my team supervisor," he's a prick."

"Definitely," I concurred, turning in my chair to look up to her friendly, mid forties plump face.

"But we do have to work for him and unfortunately he decides our bonuses," she added," talking of which you know you're behind on your quota so far today."

I nodded, anticipating where the conversation was going. I thought I might as well pre-empt the expected suggestion.

"It's OK Carol I'll stay on and catch up," I said, resigned to the extra hours of unpaid work to ensure I was paid the extra twenty to thirty percent needed to bring the pay up to a level where it might be feasible to pay all the bills this month.

"Good girl," she responded, before giving me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and returning to her own workstation.

I smiled at her parting comment and considered how Carol and most of the rest of the workforce, apart from a few older men, had easily made the switch from my old male name to Jenny in the months since my transition. If it wasn't for my general dissatisfaction with my appearance, my shoulders, my height, my too male facial features and my disappointing boob size, I would be very happy with the way things had turned out.

I sighed and returned to the grind of work.

*********************

It was almost six thirty when the green l.e.d. appeared on my console, indicating I had, at last, achieved my goal for the day. With relief I logged off the system, picked up my shoulder bag, stood up, stretched my legs and shoulders and then bade goodnight to John and Lizzie, who shared the aisle.

They both nodded a response while they were busy with their respective calls. I made my way out of the large open plan office to the lifts.

"Hiya Jenny, have a good day?" asked Paul, the young receptionist, as I clocked out with my smart card using the reader next to his desk a few minutes later.

"OK, except for having to work extra to make up my quota, how about you?" I responded, smiling at the attractive man, a few years younger than me, who while shy and a little tongue-tied with most of the female staff, was always chatty and relaxed with me.

"The usual, nothing too exciting, apart from a couple of kids 'trick or treating' about half an hour ago," he said smiling.

"Cheeky things," I said," did you give them anything."

"Well I thought I'd avoid having to clean the eggs off the window later so I gave them both a handful of the corporate sweets," he replied.

"Well that's one way of getting rid of the disgusting stuff," I said, laughing at his ingenuity.

"So Jenny are you off to any parties tonight?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"No, afraid not, no invites and no money," I replied, feeling a little downcast again about my fragile finances still bearing the strain of my trip to Thailand the previous year.

"That's a shame, I thought someone as good........as friendly as you would be tripping over offers," he said.

"Nope, how about you?" I asked.

"Well I was thinking of going to the Black Cat, they always do a good night," he answered, while looking away from me as his shyness reasserted itself.

"That sounds nice," I said as encouragingly as possible, wondering if this conversation was leading somewhere.

There was a pause, during which Paul's face reddened before he turned back to his computer and said a little abruptly," Maybe I won't though, hope you have a good evening Jenny, goodnight."

"Yes goodnight Paul," I responded a little downhearted, my hopes of spending some time with Paul dashed, and walked out into the dark October evening.

The wind was cold and fresh on my face as I made my way to Camden Town tube** station. Small groups of children were making their way from house to house in the side streets, extorting their usual cheapand nasty confectionary, as I reached the sanctuary of the ticket booths, rubbing my cold face back to life.

*********************

Twenty minutes later after a boring but uneventful journey I had exited the rather bleak Archway station and was waiting for my bus. There were only a few fellow passengers waiting for a bus to Highgate. There was an old couple, standing close together to keep warm, three school girls gossiping loudly a hundred words to the minute and a group of four men in their late teens or early twenties indulging in their pre-party booze up from their carrier bags full of lager cans.

The sign on the busstop flashed up three 143 buses arriving in ten minutes. I wondered if the bus drivers were unofficially travelling in groups for mutual protection this evening, the worse night for mayhem and disruption of the year. I'd already seen a couple of 'egged' and 'floured' buses and it was still not yet seven thirty.

As the minutes ticked away I noticed the drunken youths repeatedly glancing at me and I heard the occasional remark of 'tranny'.

At last the buses arrived, however the first two, obviously full didn't stop and it was an almost empty 143 bus that we alighted.

To my relief the drunks made their way noisily upstairs as I sat in the back of the lower deck of the bus.

Ten minutes later after the bus had slowly made its way up Highgate Hill I stepped down onto the windy, empty pavement.

"You fucking tranny freak!" shouted one of the drunks out of the upper window as the bus pulled out of the stop. I looked up at the ugly face staring at me and flashed two fingers*** in response before turning off Highgate High Street along Bisham Gardens towards my flat.

The wind had risen and the sound of the rustling branches and leaves in Waterlow park on my left, as I walked along the street, was eerie. The Halloween full moon appeared from behind some dark clouds and cast the wildly moving shadows of the trees across the poorly lit road. Suddenly some fallen leaves were blown in my face, startling me. I increased my pace seeking the nearby sanctuary of my little one bedroomed home.

"There it is!" was the shout from some thirty metres behind me.

I turned to see the four louts from the bus running towards me with anger on their faces. They'd obviously got off at the next stop, a few hundred metres further on and ran back after me.

"Stop there you fucking tranny!" the leading thug screamed.

Without another look back I took my bag in my hand and began to run as fast as I could in my flat heeled slip-ons and medium length skirt.

I turned down Swains Lane briefly out of their sight and looked for somewhere to hide, since I knew there was no chance to outrunning my pursuers.

The ancient gate of Highgate Cemetery beckoned. I slipped through the small gap in the cast iron barrier and quickly crouched down behind a large monument surrounded by some bushes.

"It went in here, I think," said one of the louts from the entrance to the historic burial ground.

"Oh come on, let's go to Jessie's I need another drink, this is boring," whined another of the young men, sounding out of breath from the pursuit.

"Not before we've taught that freak a lesson," said another, sounding less sober.

I watched as the moonlight silhouetted the four as they slowly made their way into the cemetery. For the next few minutes they systematically checked the tombs and grave stones in an increasing radius from the entrance.

I considered my options. At their present rate they would reach where I was hiding in maybe another ten minutes. I looked around for somewhere else to move to, further away from my pursuers, but such an action would be suicidal while the full moon was lighting up the area with its cold, unearthly whiteness.

Suddenly the cemetery darkened to almost complete blackness as a cloud cut off the illumination.

"I can't see a thing," said the lout who had been whining earlier," I'm sick of this let's go."

"Don't be such a whuss," said the one who had sounded the most determined earlier.

"Shit, something touched me," said another of the gang.

"It's only a branch," said the single-minded one," keep looking, no tranny freak gives me two fingers."

As I moved my right hand on the ground, to support me as I crouched, I felt some small stones. I picked up one and an idea suddenly grew in my mind. I tossed the stone to the right of one the young men, who I could make out from the small amount of street light from the distant lamps.

There was a 'crack' as the stone hit a branch.

"What was that?" asked the nervous one.

I threw another stone nearby another of them, there was another sharp sound.

"It's over there now," said the same anxious thug," I've had enough of this place it gives me the creeps."

My luck was in as the moon briefly appeared from behind the clouds and cast some rapidly altering shadows across the graveyard. It disappeared again and the mysterious darkness reappeared.

Two more stones thrown and two of the louts had had enough and were clumsily making their way out of the cemetery. At that point a third fell over a fallen monument and decided to leave too, forcing the most resolute of the gang to follow.

As I watched them leave I gave thanks for their Halloween superstition. I was glad my scepticism of everything supernatural made me immune to such fears.

I stood up and stretched to relieve the cramp in my arms and legs while I waited a prudent time before leaving myself.

I wondered around to the front of the imposing tomb that had given me sanctuary. The moon reappeared and I made out the head of a bearded man on top of the plinth. I looked down to make out, in the ghostly moonlight, some large golden letters which identified the person who was buried there.

"KARL MARX"

Underneath was a sentence. I slowly made it out.

"THE PHILOSOPHERS HAVE ONLY INTERPRETED THE WORLD IN VARIOUS WAYS - THE POINT HOWEVER IS TO CHANGE IT"

'A nice objective,' I thought to myself as my thoughts went to the latest list of wars, famines and suffering covered in the news programmes, 'if only.'

I was preoccupied with my thoughts for a few seconds and didn't immediately notice the word 'CHANGE' begin to pulse a little brighter than the rest of the inscription.

"That is strange," I said aloud before touching the first letter with my forefinger. I immediately felt a pleasant tingle along my arm and into my body. Under some strange compulsion, I slowly traced each of the throbbing letters of the word. As I finally reached the last part of the letter 'E' the tingling stopped and I felt a little faint. I sat down on the steps of the monument before a deep tiredness overwhelmed me and I put my head on my shoulders against the plinth.

I woke up and looked at my watch. It showed I had been unconscious for around ten minutes. I shivered in the cold and got up. I felt different in an undefinable way. I looked around and everything seemed the same as before although I felt my perspective had changed. Was I a little shorter? I started walking towards the entrance and felt my shoes a little looser. As I moved I felt my bra constricting me a lot more than usual. I stopped and felt my boobs. They seemed to be really straining to escape the confines of their restraint. I reached inside and took out the inserts. That seemed to help although my bra still felt too small.

"How weird, I wo..." I said to myself and then stopped in mid-sentence at the new sound of my voice. It was me but it wasn't me there seemed to be a more feminine lilt in the cadence.

I knew I needed to get home as soon as possible to explore these mysterious changes.

*********************

Some ten minutes later I reached my destination. Wearily I made my way up the steps to my front door. The safety light came on automatically and I stood there in astonishment as my reflection in the glass of the entrance gave me a faint, but clear view of the changes that had occurred in the cemetery.

I was definitely shorter, no longer a six-footer, an unusual height for a woman, but more like five nine. My body looked rounder in the right places, my previously wide shoulders seemed narrower and my face looked much softer.

I eagerly reached into my bag for my keys and couldn't find them!

I checked my jacket pocket to no avail. I felt disconsolate. I wondered if I had dropped them in the cemetery. I considered my options, I was tired, cold and hungry and I couldn't get into my flat. What could I do now?

I took out my mobile and looked at the list of people I could possibly contact for a place to stay for the night since I knew the landlord wouldn't be contactable and the letting agency was closed until the following morning.

Maybe my parents in Haringay, I thought, even though at the moment, since my transition, they only just about tolerated my existence.

"Eureka!" I said to myself, while resisting the inclination to emulate Archimedes in running around naked at my discovery.

I got up and made my way back to bus-stop to return to my workstation where I remembered leaving my house key securely earlier in the day.

"So secure, I forgot it, aren't I a 'dizz'," I said to myself as I walked along the pavement.

*********************

Almost an hour later I walked into the main entrance of Bettertech. The journey back had been surprisingly pleasant as I noticed a complete change in reactions of other travellers towards me. There were appreciative glances instead of disapproving stares.

"Hey Jenny, working another shift?" greeted Paul.

"No," I replied, smiling," I left my house key behind, aren't I an idiot?" I responded.

"No, you're never an idiot," he said, staring a little dreamily at me," you look different in some way."

"Hopefully not for the worse?" I teased.

"No Jenny, definitely not for the worse, you look much better...I mean you look lovely," he said.

"Thanks," I responded, returning his gaze.

"Jenny," he said, after a few moments, " you know the party I told you about earlier, you know the Black Cat?"

I nodded and waited hopefully.

"You know, well, would you like to come, you know, with me?" he blurted out.

I put my hand over his on the reception desk before replying," I'd love to, Paul."

The End

*The Daily Mail is a right wing daily in the UK
** The 'Tube' is the London underground railway system
*** The traditional insult in the UK is the 2 fingers, forefinger and middlefinger in a V shape (as per Winston Churchill) with the hand facing the person being insulted.