Where's the sisterhood?

At our blog, we pride ourselves on being authors who write intelligent, strong, positive heroines. As a group of bloggers, we work to support each other in our publishing careers. When you are around these types of women, you forget that not all women are treated in the same manner. Three stories this week make that issue abundantly clear.

First, Disney faced a maelstrom of criticism with their choice to give Merida, from the movie Brave, a makeover. 

Original Merida

"Makeover" Merida

Second, H&M rolled out their summer campaign featuring a model more in line with the average American woman, only to face comments that she’s too fat and she needs to lose weight.

Finally, an Oklahoma City Thunder NBA cheerleader, was called out on a blog post, written by a woman, for being “too chunky.” The passive aggressive nature of the post is a thin veil for its meanness. The blogger thinks the cheerleader is beautiful, but she's just "discussing what men like." Did this post even need to be written?

The lack of sisterhood is disturbing and it’s very pervasive. Even on something like reality competitions where the American public votes, most of the winners turn out to be “attractive” boys, the magnet for the tween/teen girls who tend to vote. While watching Good Morning America on Friday, where they were discussing this week’s Dancing with the Stars finale, an anchor mentioned she thought the lone male left standing would win because young girls are the ones “who vote.” On shows like Survivor, where alliances are important, you rarely see women align together, even when they have the numbers on their side.

Am I the lone “conspiracist,” foil hat and all, for seeing a link between these stories? Or am I a seeing a problem where none exists? 

Stress Eating by Elvy Howard

As a few people who know me, know, I’ve been feeling a little stressed lately, due to the, ahem, publishment  (I know, publishment is not even a word) of my book, Love on a Half Shell (I’m supposed to insert a link here to the Amazon page where you can get it. http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=elvy+howard. Evidently it’s impossible to not promote yourself enough.)

Feeling the stress of this reality, of having worked most of my life towards this goal, only to find out I am completely freaked out that it is actually happening, has prompted my latest urge to Stress Eat.

I have strategy to not weigh three hundred pounds, and one component of it is, thou shalt not imbibe high-fructose corn syrup of any kind. So, if I’m gonna eat anything like cookies or cake, I gotta make it. 

Another strategy in my plan, if I’m ever so stressed that I actually take the time and effort it takes to make some kind of goody, I’ll also have the time to be smart about it, and Oatmeal Raisin Cookies (with optional walnuts) is the smart answer. The reason? They are delicious and even I, in a state of being able to eat the entire house, can’t eat more than six of these. Because they fill you up. And you poop good too, a second benefit to counter-act symptoms of highly stressed individuals. 

 So I’m giving this gift to you, anyone else who gets stressed out there. Enjoy!

De-Stressing Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

-1 cup all-purpose flour

-1 tsp baking soda (not powder)

-1 tsp salt

-two sticks butter (I use salted), softened

-two cups packed dark brown sugar

-one egg

-one tablespoon vanilla

-two teaspoons vanilla/nut/butter flavoring

-two tablespoon of Cinnamon and one tablespoon of nutmeg

-three and a half cups rolled (not instant) oats (I love the organic brand I get in the bins at Good Foods Grocery)

-one cup of organic raisins and an optional cup of chopped walnuts for people lucky enough to be married to someone who LIKES walnuts.

In your mixer, beat the butter for at least three minutes. Add all the sugar and beat it for at least three more. Mix in the egg, the flavorings and slowly pour in the flour/baking soda/salt/spice mixture.

When all mixed, put in the oatmeal, raisins and optional walnuts. You may need your hands to accomplish this.

Pre-heat oven to 375. Use parchment paper on cookie sheets or on baking pans. Parchment paper is the bomb and if you’ve never used it, you owe me five dollars for telling you about it. Or, you could go to http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=elvy+howard and buy my book instead.

I use the little ice-cream scoop I bought just for this purpose. But you can use your hands to make walnut sized balls you place on the parchment sheet I already got you to buy, and then flatten them out some with the palm of your hand, and bake. 

Here comes the cool part. If you like chewy oatmeal cookies, bake them for around ten minutes until they are very light brown. 

If, like me, you like them crisp, cook them for around fifteen minutes, or until very brown, let them cool for ten minutes on the parchment and then put them on a rack to finish cooling.

You can’t eat over six, I promise. 

____________________

Elvy Howard's debut novel, Love on a Half Shell, is available in print and e-book at Amazon, Barnes&Noble.com, and coming soon to other online retailers . 

Love on a Half Shell
Three parts love, two parts grit...the perfect recipe to save a family.

Forward....MARCH!

So here we are on February 25th and March is knocking on our door. This year seems to really be flying by, but winter is still hanging on with it's fingernails dug right into my sunshine wishes.

Hopefully, we're running out of cold winter days though, at least that's what Punxsutawney Phil would like us to believe. So, here's to hoping that little guy was right and we're counting down the last of the cold and blustery days of 2013.

Today is a perfect day to celebrate that too because  IT'S NATIONAL CHILI DAY. 
Yes. Really. I wouldn't kid you about this.

So, how do you like your chili?
Good ol' Texas style with no beans?
Con carne?
Or are you one of those healthier eating turkey or vegetarian chili lovers. Do you like lots of chunky tomatoes or do they need to be pureed to suit your palette, like my husband?


And now the real question.
Do you like your romances as spicy as your chili?

Me? Well my chili tastes do match my choice in romances. I like mine with a mild heat that's hidden under a little sweet.

Happy Chili Day!
Nancy

Snow On Friday/(Tuesday*64) = Southern Virginia in January

Thirty degree variation in one week?
I know! Crazy, right?
I'm drafting my Monday morning blog post on Friday evening with nearly 3" of snow outside and temperatures in the 20's. But as a lifelong Virginian - I ain't scared. Oh no! Because if you're a Virginia native like me, you know that no weather pattern is going to stick around long in these parts.

Case in point -- our forecast ---


And quite honestly the snowy icy cold weekend is perfect timing, because I'm on deadline. PECAN PIE AND DEADLY LIES is due to my editor on February 1. It's been a really fun book to write because I've been spending all my free time with honky tonkin' country western singer Cody Tuggle and well....'nuff said! He's a hot hero and if you read Out of Focus, you already know that.

Knowing that we've got a couple nearly 70 degree days coming up next week, I think that I'll be able to keep my buns glued to the chair through the cold days and make the last tweaks so I can play outside later this week :)

Now -- today, JANUARY 28, is National Kazoo Day. So here's to happy memories of kazoo playing birthdays and driving our parents crazy when we were kids. Yes, they still sell them at Dollar Tree - so stop and pick some up and surprise your family with some dinner music tonight. That's bound to get a smile (okay maybe an eyebrow lift).  Trivia:: Alabama Vest (a man, not a clothing outfitter) first invented this delightful-sounding, easy to play instrument in Macon, Georgia in the 1840's.

Wish me luck on the deadline. Hopefully by next post I'll have the final cover for Wedding Cake and Big Mistakes to share with you - coming July 9th!

How's your January been?

About Nancy :: I am the author of the Adams Grove series and the co-author of the YA novel, inkBLOT. I write stories from the crossroad of small town and suspense.

Check out my website NancyNaigle.com and on facebook and twitter @NancyNaigle

Two more Adams Grove novels coming out in 2013. 
Wedding Cake and Big Mistakes will come out in July, followed by Pecan Pie and Deadly Lies around Labor Day.  
Join my newsletter to get all the updates first! 

Thanks so much for being a part of my journey.

Hugs and happy reading.

January & the Globes

January.

The first month of the year. 

A time of resolution. A time of revelations.

But not for me. I'm not promising myself I'll get to the gym more often or making a list of all the tasks I'll finally get to, like cleaning the closets or organizing my photos.

Oh no. January, for me, is all about the Golden Globes and fashion.

This was one of the best ceremonies in a long time, thanks to Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. The ladies were funny and classy and they kept things moving. In fact, the only thing I didn't like about them was that I didn't see them enough! I hope they're back next year, but I wonder if repeat performances will ruin the perfection of this one.

That said, here's my breakdown of the ceremony:

The Hollywood Foreign Press (HFP) got it right: Ben Affleck and ARGO, if only to show the Academy is a bunch of dicks!

The HFP got it wrong: Hugh Jackman. I love Hugh, although not as much as most people. Still, that award belonged to Bradley Cooper. I understand my fellow WiseWench, Sofie Couch, may disagree with me, but Bradley was awesome in Silver Linings Playbook and I'll take his baby blues any day of the week! Come on, Sofie. Bring it!! ;-)

Best Monologue Joke:  "I haven't paid attention to the controversy surrounding Zero Dark Thirty but when it comes to torture, I trust the lady who spent three years married to James Cameron." 

Worst Sense of Humor: Tommy Lee Jones. Maybe the cameras got him at a bad moment. But Will Ferrell and Kristen Wiig were funny. Come on, Tommy Lee, smile for the camera.

Off-camera moment I'd love to see: I love Ben Affleck. I've always been fan, even when it was hard to say so. But I would have loved to be in the seat beside Ben and Jen's table when the other Jen stopped by to chat. Runner-up moment: Jen Garner hanging out with Bradley Cooper and Victor Garber. Alias reunion!

Now, the fashions...

Best dressed

Anne Hathaway in Chanel. Simple and stunning. Beautiful.


Worst dressed

Rachel Weisz in Louis Vuitton. Daniel Craig was the only beautiful thing she was wearing and even he wasn't looking his best.


Overrated

Kate Hudson in  Alexander McQueen. Her body was banging, and she looked good. But that's it. JMO


Did you watch the Globes? What did you think? Who would you pick Hugh or Bradley?

Make sure you join me next month for my Oscar recap!


Tracey Livesay just signed a contract with Entangled Publishing for her interracial, contemporary romance, The Billionaire's Socialite Bride and the other two in the series. She blogs here on the third Monday of every month. If you like the flavor she's bringing, you can check out her blog, Mimosas at Midnight or Like her Facebook page.

A Little Halloween Romance

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Okay, I'm a day early, but I'm excited, aren't you? In keeping with the holiday, a few of us talked about posting Halloween Stories involving characters from our current WIP (Work In Progress). Here is mine, introducing Norah Cartright, a young witch/Tarot card reader, and Tristan Byrnes, a lone wolf shapeshifter, from Aces Down.

"Trick or treat?" asked a familiar voice in Norah's ear.

Trying to keep her expression neutral, Norah turned from watching a guy in a Wookie suit doing shots with a Vampira wannabe to face the hot guy from Byrnes' Bikes. Yow! She had to stop and blink once before she burst out laughing.

Tristan Byrnes smiled. "Do you have an apple for the teacher, young lady?"

In a tweed suit and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a college co-ed's wet dream. Wavy brown hair fell across his forehead and over the frames making her fingers practically itch to push it back. A striped shirt and bow tie peeked out above the matching vest. The suit had an appropriately rumpled look but could not disguise Tristan's broad shoulders and chest. Norah snapped her gaze back up to his amazing green eyes and tried not to blush. Yeah, he would have fit the role very nicely.

Meanwhile, his own gaze traveled over her costume with a rapid but thorough sweep that left her a bit breathless. One corner of his mouth quirked up. She'd been a little worried about the outfit, but he seemed to approve of her flirty schoolgirl ensemble complete with a skirt so short she didn't dare sit down, white thigh-highs, and shiny Mary Janes she's picked up at the thrift store.

She scrambled to retrieve her wandering thoughts and tried out a perky smile complete with a Valley Girl head tilt. "Will it get me a better grade, prof?"

Tristan's smile broadened into a grin and a wink. "Depends."

A shout burst out from behind her and Tristan's gaze shifted over her shoulder. He frowned and reached out to cup her elbow. "Why don't we go find some place a little quieter to discuss my grading scale?"

Norah's skin tingled where his fingers touched her elbow and she bit back a gasp. His aura was stronger than she expected and his warm energy flowed around her like a blanket. As a witch, she was used to the occasionally zing from contact with other paranormals, but this was a man with a lot of power.

She let him lead her back toward the front room where the majority of Alison's guests were dancing. She directed a fine tendril of awareness through the contact with his hand and received an image of fur and teeth. A wolf!

She'd suspected something like it from her first day at Josie's Java. As soon as he'd pushed open the door of the coffee shop, her personal wards had sparked in recognition of someone "other." And their slowly developed pattern of increasingly flirtatious chatter every morning had gotten to the point that Josie had insisted they meet.

"My party will be perfect!" Josie had declared. She'd ticked off her reasons on her fingers. "One, neutral ground. Two, mutually unfamiliar ground. Three, easy exit strategies. What's not to love?" She peered over her dollar store reading glasses at Norah and winked. "Finally, plenty of libations to ease the nerves."

"How do you know he'll come?" Norah asked, too honest to deny being interested.

"He always comes. It's a neighborhood tradition and, despite his biker vibe, Tristan is very traditional." Josie smiled.

Now, as they skirted the edges of the crowd, Norah saw Josie give a little nod, though whether it was for her or for Tristan, Norah wasn't sure.

"Wanna dance?" he asked.

Josie had pushed all her living room furniture to the walls, leaving a dance space larger than some clubs boasted. The music was smooth and slow, the sultry voice of a local songstress belting out a Patsy Cline song. Couples swayed back and forth, talking in low voices or snugged up close.

Norah hesitated for a moment. Slow dancing was so intimate and she didn't know how she felt about being so close so quickly. He evidently took her silence for acceptance, taking her hand and giving her a slow spin out into the space. However, when she faced him, he slid his other arm around her waist, not too close, and his other hand shifted into a traditional hold. The space he created between them helped ease her comfort level and she followed his lead easily as he moved them into the middle of the crowd.

All too aware of his hand on the small of her back, Norah tried to keep her pulse and her breathing even. Every morning, across the counter, she'd noticed his aftershave, something spicy and a little woodsy. Up close it was even nicer.

"You're a good dancer," she said, trying to keep it light.

He looked down at her, that crooked smile tugging at something in her chest. "You're a good partner."

They circled slowly for a few moments before he continued. "I've been wondering. Among other things, I noticed you've got a bit of a southern accent. What brought you way out here to Seattle?"

"Stretching my wings I guess," she answered. "I was born and raised in Richmond, Virginia, but most recently, after my mother died, I was living with my Aunt Mattie in Arizona."

He frowned. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Norah nodded, taking a moment to swallow the lump in her throat. "Thanks. Anyway, I decided I wanted to see some more of the country and after a few months, I ended up here." She shrugged. "Seemed like a good place to stop."

He smiled. "I'm glad you did." He held her gaze for a few moments, enough to make her feel as if she were sinking into that green gaze, before he looked away.

Despite her mother's warnings about the dangers of witches mixing with other paranormals, Norah couldn't deny that there was something about Tristan Byrnes that called to her. Something that resonated with her, despite her efforts to keep her focus strictly light and friendly.

While the music continued and dancers shifted around them, Norah and Tristan exchanged life stories in bits and pieces, feeling out similarities and differences. She'd been raised by her mother since her father died in a car accident. He'd been raised by a single dad when his mother left for parts unknown. She'd gotten her Bachelor's Degree in English, he'd taken some night courses. He'd started his own business repairing motorcycles and had grown enough that now he left repairs to his general mechanic so he could spend his time customizing bikes. She'd worked one job after another, not finding anything that fit, nothing that held her interest. They both loved Italian and Indian food, but neither one had any patience for diet food or drinks.

The conversation far outlasted the slow dance music and they'd adjourned, with a couple of beers, to a couch on the edge of the room. Tristan gallantly surrendered his coat to provide Norah a little extra coverage when they sat down and the residual warmth felt wonderful as she curled her legs up beneath it.

Norah enjoyed listening to his baritone voice as the back and forth exchange of life stories continued through the remainder of the night. He had a habit of absent-mindedly shoving back that flop of hair, but it always, fell back over his glasses.

She took one opportunity to ask. "Are they real glasses or fakes?"

He grinned and pulled them off to hand to her. "Fake. I got them at the costume store."

She peered through them and nodded. She would have been surprised to find a shapeshifter with less than perfect vision. Imagine a near-sighted wolf. Wouldn't last long. She handed them back. "Wondered. since I'd never seen you wearing them before."

"Trick or Treat!" Josie called, walking into the room and tossing candy around. "Why should the kids have all the fun!" She strolled past the couch and tossed some mini-candy bars in their laps. "Enjoy." When she crossed behind Tristan, she gave Norah a thumbs-up and continued on her way.

"What?" he asked, noticing her smile.

She shook her head. "Nothing." She scooped up a few candy bars and held them out. "Trade. You mentioned you didn't like peanut butter and I love those."

"Works for me." He plucked them out of her hand and dropped his candy in hers. He set them aside and slid the fake glasses into his pocket. "Listen, I was wondering. Would you like to go out to dinner some time. I know a good Indian restaurant."

Delighted, she nodded. "I'd like that."

Choruses of good-byes floated from the front hall and he glanced around. "Looks like the party's breaking up."

Startled, Norah realized they were now practically the last folks in the room. Where had the evening gone? She pushed her feet to the floor and sat up. "Wow! I didn't mean to monopolize you all evening. Sorry."

He gave her another lopsided smile. "I'm not." He stood up and held out his hand. "Walk you to your car?"

She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet so fast, she staggered. For a moment, she stood, her hand against his chest to balance herself, her gaze locked with his, and her heart doing strange gymnastic feats in her chest.

"Sorry," he said. "Sometimes I forget my own strength." But the look in his eye was far from sorry.

Norah stepped back and handed him his suit jacket. "Thanks for the loan."

Like everyone else, their outdoor coats were piled on Josie's bed. He held her trench coat for her and then dragged his leather jacket over his suit. At the door, Josie gave Norah a tight hug.

"Good work," she whispered into Norah's ear.

Knowing how sharp paranormal hearing was, Norah felt her face grow warm, but she just squeezed Josie and stood back so Josie could give Tristan his own hug.

"Thanks for coming," she said as they walked down the front steps to the sidewalk.

Tristan glanced up and down the street. "Where's your car?"

Norah waved a hand up the street. "A few blocks that way. Did you ride your bike?"

"Naw. Walked. I just live a few blocks over."

They walked the two blocks to her car in a comfortable silence, the sounds of the city filling the spaces. When they reached her mustang, she pulled out her keys, pressing the key fob to unlock the driver door.

"Thanks for walking me to my car," she said. She paused, uncertain whether she should offer to shake his hand, but he stepped closer.

"My pleasure." He looked down at her for a moment.

What the hell. She lifted her face to his and he quickly leaned down, his hand reaching up to cup her face as his lips touched hers.

His mouth was firm and warm against her lips, the pressure gentle, undemanding. However, gentle as it was, it ignited something warm and liquid inside Norah. She opened her lips just enough to touch the tip of her tongue to his bottom lip and, recognizing the touch for the invitation it was, he deepened his kiss. His hand shifted the back of her head, gently guiding her to a position that gave him better access to her mouth. His tongue slid across the surface of her lips and then between them to tangle with hers.

He tasted of beer and something a little spicy, pepperminty, and she matched his explorations with explorations of her own. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, to his hair. She wove her fingers through the soft lengths and a sound rumbled through his chest again. His kiss deepened and her body responded, pressing herself along the length of his.

He lifted his head slightly and she opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. "Nice."

She nodded. "Nice."

He paused and pushed some hair out of her eyes. "You know, I wasn't sure what I expected from seeing you tonight, but I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say I was hoping for something like this."

Norah's cheeks grew warm and she glanced aside for a moment before returning his gently questioning gaze. "Then it's a good thing I was kind of hoping the same thing." She leaned forward, her mouth a breath away from his, her gaze locked on his. "I'd say this might be one of my favorite Halloween trick or treats."

He shook his head, his lips brushing across hers. "No trick, just treats."

I hope you enjoyed meeting Norah and Tristan and seeing how they met. My WIP, Aces Down, picks up their story a few years (and one terrible event) later.

Denise Golinowski is a reader and writer of fantasy and romance. Her first enovella, The Festival of the Flowers: The Courtesan and the Scholar is available now through the Wild Rose Press. Her second enovella, Collector's Item will also be published by The Wild Rose Press in 2013. You can also visit her blog at Golinowski's Gambol.

The Moaning Tree, by Sofie Couch

The Moaning Tree (A Young Adult Ghost Adventure)

It just felt weird, going out on Halloween without Caleb. Caleb’s like my left arm. I don’t often use it, (being right-handed and all), but if it wasn’t there, I’d sure miss it. That’s what this felt like. But would just one Halloween apart really kill me - us? Because 1) Caleb and I have been trick-or-treating together since we both turned eight and my Grandma Skye let us go out alone, (but who was she kidding? We totally knew she was following us in the pick-up truck), 2) Caleb and I have been too old for trick-or-treating for four years, the age limit being twelve, 3) Caleb’s my best friend, but we’re not boy-friend/girl-friend or anything, and 4) when Trey Molenado asks a girl out, the girl says “yes” unless she’s too tongue tied, in which case, she’d say, “yeth.”

But it was doomed from the get-go. Even if it hadn’t been for Caleb being all weird and not quite pouty, but just kind of stoic, Trey doesn’t get trick-or-treating. He showed up in regular street clothes, skinny jeans and tee shirt and his black biker coat and boots, so he could have been going for a James Dean thing, only that’s what he wears all the time. So instead, I was just left looking like an idiot in my zombie cheerleader road kill outfit, complete with a tire track that ran diagonally across the front of my uniform and face.

And Trey made it pretty obvious what he wanted. He kept staring at my chest, and not because of the painted on tire track. I found myself constantly comparing his behavior to Caleb’s – Caleb who treats me like I’m androgynous… or his little sister… or a best-friend who just happens to be female.

“We could bag this whole trick-or-treating thing and just… hang out,” Trey suggested hopefully.

I knew that to be code for make-out and I don’t make-out. I need a purpose.

“Hey,” I spun around and whacked him on the shoulder; because that’s the sort of thing I would have done to Caleb when I came up with a great idea, only Trey looked put out and rubbed his shoulder. Okay, so maybe I hit him harder than I might have, but he wouldn’t stop staring at my breasts. “Let’s go to the moaning tree.”

“Moaning tree?”

“You know that ancient oak in the middle of Lewis and Clark Park?” If we followed the trick-or-treating route that Caleb and I devised to optimize our foot-step to loot ratio, it would take us right through the park, past the statue of Sacagawea and Lewis and Clark, around the bench where all the drug addicts slept, and right past the tree. In all honesty, the whole “moaning tree” thing was totally contrived by me and Caleb.

In Halloweens past, Caleb and I would park ourselves on the back side of the tree where there was a giant cleft. It would have to be giant to hold both me and Caleb who was, shall we say, of disproportionate girth. We would sandwich ourselves in the hollow spot on the back of the tree and speak to passersby through a hollow knot hole that went through to the other side. It sounded as if the tree itself was talking and we’d make up crap to scare little kids. A few times we scared people slightly older than little kids and we had given the tree quite a reputation.

“Yeah. That’s cool.” But he glanced back at my breasts and I started to regret inviting him to the tree. I would just have to make sure he was to the inside of the cleft and I was on the outside.

Trey didn’t show any interest in trick-or-treating and as he was trying to grow a moustache, he really couldn’t pass for twelve years old any more. With me and Caleb, we didn’t really care that we were too old for Halloween. We still hit the homes of the people we knew and raked in plenty of booty. The real fun of Halloween was our time at the tree.

Little kids darted around us in their rubber masks and capes. There were no less than three Minecraft block heads, three kids in a Viking boat with their legs sticking out of the bottom, and the best costume of the evening was a kid in a wheel chair who was decked out like a Transformer. Retro.

At the park, which was really more of a manicured city block, we waited for a lull in trick-or-treaters before moving down the sidewalk, through the bower of boxwoods to the tree. It was dark here. The street lights were spaced far enough apart that there were dark hourglass shapes between the yellow orange arcs of light.

Trey’s heavy heeled biker boots ka-clunked on the sidewalk, because they weren’t quite broken in and didn’t bend with his foot. We hadn’t had a lot of quiet spaces yet during this, our first date, so there hadn’t been any awkward silences before – until now. And it’s only during the awkward silences that you can tell if you click with someone or not. Caleb and I never had awkward silences. It occurred to me then, that I didn’t really know Trey at all. He wore biker boots, but I had never actually seen him on a bike. Caleb wore the same pair of blown out sneakers, because all of his friends had autographed them. Trey wore skinny jeans that highlighted his chicken legs. They don’t make “skinny” jeans in Caleb’s size. Trey wore a black leather biker jacket. Caleb dressed in layers, because that’s what people do when they’re trying to mask their weight. Caleb and I could talk about anything. The only thing Trey and I had in common were my breasts – me, because they’re attached and he, because he wanted to attach himself to them.

“Look. There’s a bench where we could hang-out.”

I knew that bench. There are used hypo needles under that bench. There’s dried vomit on that bench. That bench is somebody’s bed… and toilet.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to share the secret of the moaning tree with Trey. I just wanted to finish the circuit, not get any candy, and go home and call Caleb… and apologize for blowing him off tonight.

“You know, I’m not really feeling great. I think I should head back home.”

But Trey was steady in his purpose of moving toward the bench.

Looking beyond his shoulder, I yelled, “don’t sit there!” I put my hand out at almost the same time he was about to sit and he stopped, butt bent, ready to land. But then I felt stupid, being so vehement about his sitting in dried vomit. “Whatever you do, do not sit on that bench.”

“What?” He jumped up and spun around, looking for whatever was there that wasn’t. “What is it?”

I thought on the fly. “Someone died on that bench.”

“No shit?”

“Yes. Shit. Blood. You name it. All over that bench.”

He swallowed it and his smile faded. “No kiddin’?”

“Yeah. A night, just like this one. There was a little nip in the air. Usually the people walkin’ through this park, they stay to the well lit sections, but this couple, they wanted some place dark, secluded, where they could… you know. That’s why they came here, into the park, where it was darker and they’d have some privacy. So they came here, saw the bench in the shadows and thought, what better place?”

I slipped my hand through Trey’s arm and pulled him along, past the bench. “If only they had kept to the path, to the well lit spaces and moved quickly through the dark patches.” I took a dramatic step out of the arc of the street light and stopped. Trey was snatched back into the dark, and then I took three rapid steps to get us back into the light.

“But they paused. They hesitated a minute too long in the dark patches.” I looked ahead. We were coming up on the moaning tree. “They say even today, some nights, when the weather conditions are just right – a nip in the air, a starless night…” I looked up to point out that the stars were hidden by clouds, “that you can still hear the moaning as he bled out on that bench.”

Trey laughed. “You’re makin’ up this shit. When’d it happen? I think I would have heard about somebody bleeding out in the park.”

“Oh, it was before either of us was born – back in the sixties. He was a biker – a James Dean sort. She was flattered that he had asked her out and she had stood up her steady boyfriend for one night on the wild side. Too bad. Her boyfriend, the steady, reliable one? He snapped!” I snapped my fingers in front of Trey’s face. “He followed his girlfriend and the biker into the park, moved around behind them through the shadows, and when the mismatched couple started making out on that bench, that’s when he made his move. The boyfriend attacked the biker, slitting his throat with a switch blade.” I made movements like I was flicking open a knife, then running it across Trey’s throat. “Diced him up like a pancake.”

“Sounds crazy.”

“For sure. But they never did arrest him. He disappeared into the night, leaving the girl to grieve over the loss. But it’s the biker’s moan that people always hear in this park.”

And just then, the tree moaned.

Trey’s eyes widened. “What the…?”

“Get your hands off of my girlfriendgggrrdgrgrd...” The tree moaned, ending with a gurgling sound, like someone choking on the blood of their own slit throat.

Trey jumped six feet over the hourglass of dark at the moaning tree. His biker boots made a staccato ka-clunk, ka-clunk, ka-clunk, as he beat a path out of the park, leaving me alone at the edge of the dark.

Trey was probably half-way home by the time Caleb extricated himself from the crack in the back of the tree.

“How long have you known I was here?”

I shrugged. “How long did it take us to figure out Grandma Skye was following us in the pick-up truck when we were eight?”

“I didn’t start out stalking you, ya know. I was planning on just comin’ here and scaring the crap out of some trick-or-treaters.”

“I could help.”

“You told Trey you weren’t feeling’ well.”

“I wasn’t.” I slipped my arm through Caleb’s and he and I both looked down at my hand over his forearm. I don’t think I had ever held his arm before. But it wasn’t weird. It was a thrill… for me, at least. “I felt crappy about ditching another guy I’ve had a standing date with every Halloween since we were eight.”

Caleb bent his arm to give my hand a squeeze. “Whoa. Double burn.”

I pulled Caleb to a stop. We were standing in a dark patch of the park. “Double burn? What?”

“First you ditch him for Trey and now you’re ditchin’ him for me?”

I giggled and pulled him with me into the cleft at the back of the moaning tree… where it's dark.

Sofie Couch writes YA Paranormal novels and southern gothic romance. Watch for her upcoming release of a mystery novella featuring the characters in this short story, FLIPPIN’ THE BIRD: A PUDDIN’ PI MYSTERY.