Nope, you're not dreaming!!! While I'm sure most of you weren't expecting the anthology to go live for another day or two, I decided to go ahead and make it live a day early. If you've been looking for something new to read, here's your chance. Twelve brand new stories for you to enjoy, but don't forget to leave the authors a review to let them know what you thought. I could keep rambling on, but I think I've said all that needs said, so go ahead, you know you want to! Ready... Set... READ!!!

 

 

 

 

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“Completely certain. Even if there is an element of risk, we have to do it, Aitor. We can’t ignore a cry for help. Based on everything we’ve learned since leaving Canada, the danger is minimal. It has been over ten weeks since the original incident; we should be safe. The chances of him being sick and still alive are almost nonexistent.”

 

“I trust you, Lars. Just trying to be careful, babe. For both of us.”

 

“It’s the protective soldier in you, one of the many reasons why I love you. Go get your kill, that was a great shot; I’ll try to find our man.”

 

“Fire off a round if you need me,” said Aitor by way of good bye.

 

I went for my annual walk in the snow to the spot where I would say a prayer for my parents. It had been hard on me since they died five years ago, but I never forgot them. I prayed for them and also said a prayer of thanks for Stephan coming into my life. The past year had seen us as a couple, and I couldn’t be happier about it. As I walked back I got lost in my thoughts. I thought back to when I met Scott. God, three years ago at Christmas was that whole disaster. I am glad time has marched on and I am actually looking forward to Christmas this year. As the snow fell I couldn’t help but remember it was snowing the night I met Scott too.

 

“Hey TJ, want to go to the club?” my work partner Mike asked as we walked out to our cars.

 

“Which club?”

 

“How about the new one that just opened, The Bear Cave?”

 

How did it happen? How did he go from being one of the most celebrated people in the kingdom to suffering the humiliation of an arrest, trial and conviction for just being who he was? Was it right? Was it fair? He'd been hailed as having made the most important individual contribution that helped his kingdom win the war, but now he was scorned and ridiculed for responding to an inborn, primal urge. Was this the way the kingdom repaid a hero?

 

It had been a long and bloody war, one that the kingdom and its allies were on the verge of losing. The other side was more powerful and had better weapons, so the kingdom and those aligned with them needed an edge. In his determined and quiet manner, this man stepped forward and helped to come up with a way to decypher the intricately coded messages the other side was sending to communicate with each other. This singular accomplishment eventually helped to end the bloodshed and bring the war to a conclusion. His accomplishments were not only lauded, but he was also bestowed with many honors.

 

It’s funny how your life can change in an instant. One event can change everything that comes after.

 

That moment arrived for Randy Austin Taylor, affectionately known as “Rat” to his friends at Denton Academy, on a sunny Tuesday afternoon during his fifth period Geometry class on May 16, 1978.

 

He was summoned to the office by one of the girls who worked there. His anxiety was heightened by the way she spoke quietly to his teacher and looked at him sideways. That look spoke volumes.

 

As he took the long walk to the office he tried to think of anything he might have done to merit the attention of Vice Principal Maxwell. His primary duty was to tend to disciplinary matters at the Academy which he did with gusto. A large paddle nicknamed Old Hickory with which he tended to such matters was prominently displayed in his office.

 

If not for Russell Brannigan’s brake cable, none of this may ever have happened. If that stupid kid had just taken his car to the shop when it started making a funny squealing noise upon applying pressure to the brakes, I would not be here, alone at midnight, sitting on the narrow footbridge over the dark swirling waters of the river, drinking what remains of a bottle of honey-whiskey I had previously been saving for something special. Because of Russell Brannigan, and his faulty brakes, I now sit dwelling on the worst events of my life.
*
I braked and pulled the Land Rover to a halt at the junction, waiting for the car in front of me to seize his moment, turn left across two lanes of traffic, and join the stream of commuters going home for the evening. I had timed my day badly, which I could have avoided, but I hated going into the city and had waited until the store was about to close before jumping into my car and heading out to get groceries. If I had been smarter, or if I hadn’t lost myself in the soothing motion of planing a piece of cedar into the arched curve of a chaise-lounge, I would have avoided rush hour and would not have spent the last hour in stop-start traffic, staring at the red taillights of the car in front.

 

“So we just dump this out on the ground?” I could barely span the rectangle of scratchy grass. Moshe held two of them by the cords tying them into the rough shape, easily hefting one in each hand.

 

“Well, you need to break the twine and break off flakes of the hay, spreading it out in a long line. That way the cattle can come eat all at the same time. And you might not want to take too long about it. They’re coming.”

 

“They’re coming?” I squeaked. Those things were a lot bigger than I’d thought they’d be. And they had these wicked sharp horns on their wide heads.

 

Miah laughed. “Relax, Lisco. They won’t hurt you. Unless they’re spooked, cattle are pretty gentle.”

 

I could hear them coming, making those deep, low calls. They said nothing, but carried a lot like Moshe’s vibrations. I didn’t want to be standing anywhere between them and their food when they arrived, no matter what Miah said.

 

“It smells like you’re burning that steak,” Ricky called out to his line cook Marc. “You need to char the other side dude.”

 

“It’s not burning dumbass. It’s searing,” Marc barked, angry he’d been caught thinking about something else other than his job.

 

Marcus Adamson was proud of his work. He’d been working at Maillard’s since he graduated from Gastronomique four years ago. He had started at the bottom, doing the cold prep and worked his way from the salad and appetizer stations, through sous prep to working the meat and fish stations on the line. On the nights his boss, Ricky Shannon, didn’t work, he would even expedite the line. Marcus loved his job and right now it was the only thing holding him together.

 

The cook shifted the fillet with the tongs to char the side. He’d gotten caught up in his own thoughts about what he would do after work. When he had a home it wasn’t a problem. Since last Tuesday, it had. Losing his heart and bed messed him up. Marc had to quiet the voices somehow.

 

“Twelve dead in freak chain reaction this morning. The fog was thicker than expected when the semi slammed on its brakes on Highway 14 this morning causing the twenty-two car accident. It took the police and rescue workers ….”

 

“Turn off the TV, Mike. I don’t want to keep hearing about that awful disaster.”

 

Mike turned off the television as his mother rushed by for the third time, sliding a bobby pin into her hair as she raced past on the way to her pocketbook and the front door.

 

“I’ll be home late. Remember, there is a TV dinner in the freezer or money for a pizza by the phone. Eat something.” She slipped on her coat before giving Mike a peck on the cheek. “Try to call your friends, would you? I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but things can only get better.”

 

This all started when I was pledging one of the more popular fraternities, Phi Alpha Gamma. My name is Donovan Estes and I'd decided to do this because I wanted to take part in the total college experience. The pledge period culminated with what they called Greek Week. It was a period during which a bunch of different activities were held and all of the sororities and fraternities were expected to participate. Along with various social functions, it also included both the Greek Olympics and Greek Talent Show.

 

"Estes, I'm signing you up for the talent show," the frat's pledge master announced. He'd obviously noted my athletic prowess and realized I didn't possess any.

 

"Who am I doing it with?" I asked, since I wanted to know who I was being paired with.

 

"No one," he responded. "The guys in the band will perform too, since each Greek chapter can enter two acts, but you'll be on your own. We need everyone else for the other activities or they're involved in setting up one of the other functions held during the week."

November 24th

 

Max sat in his car, watching white flurries gliding down the windshield, melting into drops of water, only to freeze again on the cold metal. The lights of the streetlamps blurred as the snow came down harder and harder. He didn’t want to go outside, but when the cold crept up his legs, the dying snowflakes rapidly lost their fascination in favor of the promise of warmth at his apartment.

 

That and Aristoteles and Plato are probably wondering where the heck their can opener is.

 

Sighing, Max flipped up the collar of his pea coat, pulled a bright green scarf out of its pocket, and wrapped it around his neck several times. He grabbed a beanie and a pair of gloves from the passenger seat, put them on, and grimaced when he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He really wasn’t the hat wearing kind of guy; he always looked like a dork. For a moment he thought about pulling it off his head again, but then - with such weather - who would see him?

 

 

Elliot stirred, moving away from the bright sunshine streaming through the window. He opened his eyes, frowned, and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Eight a.m.

 

“Shit!” He bounded out of bed and into the bathroom. He took a shower and dressed in record time. The only thing on his mind as he grabbed his briefcase and coat was getting to the office in time for his morning meeting.

 

“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Max poked his head out of the kitchen just as Elliot was about to open the door.

 

“I’m late! The alarm never went off!”

 

“You told me you didn’t need to be at the office until nine. I turned the alarm off so you could sleep in. I made breakfast. I thought we could eat together.”

 

"I have some good news to share with all of you today," Duncan Fitzpatrick announced to his employees, whom he had unexpectedly called together. "My daughter-in-law has given birth to twin sons!"

 

There were a lot of smiles, cheers and shouts of 'Congratulations', as the smile on Duncan's face widened. After allowing this spontaneous expression of happiness to continue for about a minute, Duncan signaled for everyone to quiet down, so he could speak again.

 

"As you know, my wife and I have been blessed with a good life and a great deal of financial success. My car dealership has prospered, while many others have failed, and it has provided continued employment for all of you. However, not everything in our life has gone this well." Duncan paused briefly and scanned the faces before him, to see how they were reacting to his last statement.

 

It was Christmas Eve and I watched the snow collecting on my antlers and fur. It wasn't light and fluffy like a snow-globe or a favorite artist's holiday rendering, more like when we dumped the whole box of white glitter in the elves toilet. Who knew it would be such a mess? A fast, wet coating turned my glowing nose into a cheap lava lamp. Wonderful.]

 

I shook off inside the main workshop, the clop of my hooves masked by the insane flurry around me. Hammers and soldering guns were making quick work of the last loads of toys needed for the holiday. The cacophony of industry echoed in the factory as the horde of workers struggled to keep up with the Christmas toy demand. The enormous red sleigh was the centerpiece of the workshop with an overflowing sack of gifts weighing down the rear end. The little toymakers were dumping more packages into it from an endless hand-off assembly line. I could imagine the seams bursting in mid-flight, spewing little Timmy's Tonka toys all over the northern continent.

 

I looked at the eight reindeer strapped to the front of the sleigh and looked out the window. The snowfall was getting heavier. It was only a matter of time before a new bridle and harness would be added to the front. I wondered if there was time to sneak out without being seen.