It was a cold winters night, the week before Christmas. The sky was dark and mysterious with only the moon peeking through the snow-clouds. All the stores were closed and shuttered, all the streets were empty dark and bare. Nobody in the right mind was out and about on such a bitter unwelcoming night, the only sparks of life were the homeless shivering in shop doorways, wrapped in cardboard, paper, or whatever other items for warmth and protection that they could salvage.

I was just about to escape into sleep when I heard someone approach me. In the short time I had been sleeping rough I had come to learn it usually meant either Police who were normally ok as long as you moved on until they had left, Security guards who were a lot more intolerant brusque and even violent, or other rough-sleepers who were looking to steal the few possessions or scraps of food that I had.

However this one was different, it was a young woman, well wrapped up in warm winter clothes with her long-blonde hair peeking out from under her woolen hat and wearing a pleasant welcoming smile.

The next morning, I was once again forced to sit still as my friends taught me how to put on makeup. “Why do I need to do this again? I don't look that bad,” I said.

I really did look good. I'd gotten a good nights sleep, and I was learning how to comb my hair so it wasn't tangled, or looked like I'd slept in it. And with my new, unwanted, assets, most people wouldn't be looking at my face.

Morning came all too quickly.

Fathers
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I found a canoe. I had taken a job for a few days cleaning out an old shed behind a house on the shore bought by somebody in the city. The realtor said that I could stay in the basement under the house for a few days and earn some cash for emptying the contents of the shed into a dumpster, sweeping the floors and wiping the place down.

James Kirkpatrick was not quite fourteen, small, and trans. Of a timid disposition she was constantly bullied by both girls and boys alike at school and in the neighbourhood where she lived with Keely her nineteen year old sister.

Slowly, Tiberius is getting the hang of things.
One year ago he joined the adventurers Conway, Debtar, and Sinea as a freshly baked mage.
His new friends had been generous with their advice and friendship.
But when the topic of Shroom Dungeon is brought up, they are unusually mum about any details.
They agree on one thing quickly. It was time for Tiberius to delve into Shroom Dungeon.
A dungeon yet undefeated. A place to lose yourself.

Caution: This story contains references to prostitution, murder, and suicide, but there are no graphic depictions of any of them..

I’m George Walda. Shortly after I turned 17, some strange things started happening to me. First it was this recurring dream that I had turned into a pile of goo.

I pulled the front door open with a jerk, surprising an imposing man with a completely bald head just as he was about to hit the door again. “If you say anything about knockers, you’re a dead man!” I growled.

I felt at a bit of a loss the next morning now that Sylvie was going back to her duties with the FBI. She had arranged for my stay to be extended by one more day and as one or other of the FBI or DOJ were picking up the bill. The only upside I could see was that I was under no pressure to check out by 11 am.

Elizabeth, David, and I are sitting in their home library. David is pacing around the back of the library concentrating, and Elizabeth is sitting across from me in a recliner. "Mother, why did you have to scare me so bad? Do you know how hard it was on us when you left us the last time? It destroyed our family, and I just got you back."

"My darling Elizabeth, I am so sorry that I put you through that again, but I couldn't think of any other way to get out of the situation without exposing magic." I lean forward to grab her hand and comfort her.

Mischief Night Magic
Sequel to 
Cemetery Shenanigans
Part Two: Making Plans

The English language is full of idioms. One of the simpler ones is “Time flies when you're having fun.” I'm not sure how true that is, but it seemed I soon lost myself in my work. The simple act of bending down, picking up a weather worn trinket and tossing it into the trashcan before moving on to the next one was like a simple form of meditation to me.

I thought about what Sophia and Savannah had talked about last night, about their fathers and their long estrangement and how they were trying to be friends again now. Would it be like that between me and Nathan when I made contact again after I turned eighteen?