The table was covered in finger foods. Pointing at one that looked like it was peaches in a steaming purple sauce, the dish floated up and came over to me, putting a single piece of fruit on my plate. Using my fork I cut off a small piece, and gave it a taste. As it melted in my mouth, it had an odd flavour of a sweet peach, and a slightly sour taste that worked really well together, keeping both flavours from being too strong.

Keeping my knees and ankles together was difficult for me, holding them together in a upright position worked the best for me and to have my legs at a angle looked better and more feminine but it was even harder to sit in that position for any length of time.

Mom could see this so she had me cross my legs and wala that was the answer for me, it really felt way more comfortable and natural crossing my legs, so that became my sitting position from that morning on, plus I really kinda loved it.

“I can imagine,” Mage replied. “Can we talk a bit?”

Stephen beckoned her inside, but she said, “Maybe out in the garden?”

He followed her out to the garden bench. It was a typical iron and 1x3 board bench, but instead of being in a flower garden, it was in between giant cabbages, each with heads over a foot in diameter, and pumpkins that would end up being over 100 or more pounds because of the incredible growing conditions in the Matanuska Valley.

Continuing the tradition I started last year of posting a horror story for Hallowe'en.

The Master of Cuts

by

Rodford Edmiston

Diva Dismayed: Chapter 19 – In the swim

When I awoke it was late evening. I could see that the sky was dark outside. I sat up on the bed to see my hostess across the room. She had a jacket on and was about to exit by the apartment door.

“You’re awake, sleepy. Sorry I disturbed you. How do you feel now?”

“Okay, I guess.”

The man with the unruly mane of long, dark hair stepped into the dimly lit club, his eyes scanning the room with a sense of detachment that had become a habit. His hair, a cascade of midnight strands, flowed down his back like a rebellious river. It was his signature, a defiant statement against conformity, and an unspoken challenge to a world that preferred neatly cropped conformity. He was no stranger to curious glances, smirks, and whispered comments as he moved through the crowd. Tonight, however, would be different.

Pollygeist
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It is a strange story, but like many such stories, its effects changed lives. There are two essential characters in this story. I will call one of them Kevin, and one of them Polly. The third character in this story is 456 Masefield Road, one of those grand old homes in the small but once wealthy town of Hambleton, sadly well beyond an easy commute to the city.