Halloween and Other Seasons Read Online Free PDF Page A

hard into a place of remembrance that was fading. “That night,” she said to Ty, “when you put your hands over your ears, Mother’s face got a strange look on it, and she told Father she’d found a way.”
    “ You’re lying! ”
    Willa gave a single, strangled sob. “And when she brought us to the sleepover at cousin Carla’s, she had that same look on her face.”
    “ I won’t believe you! ” Now Ty clung to her, and closed his eyes, and shivered. “I’d rather be dead…”
    Suddenly—so suddenly it made her gasp—Willa wasn’t sure if Aunt Erin’s kitchen had had a clock in it after all.
    Or even what a clock was.
    Ty moaned, “ No… ”
    And then he closed his eyes.
    Willa whispered, stroking his hair, “We’ll have to make a new life here.”
    She stifled an abrupt, overpowering yawn.
    Beside her, Ty was asleep, still trembling. This time he wasn’t looking for attention. Willa lowered him gently to the hard obsidian surface and lay down beside him.
    She looked over at Eva and Em.
    “And now, other parents know the way…”
    She snuggled close to her brother, and closed her eyes.
    ~ * ~
    She awoke to a wailing moan to transcend the sadness of Limbo, and a world filled with children.
    Beside her, Ty sat up and rubbed his eyes.
    “Chickens were green,” he said.
    Willa answered, without hesitation, “Yes.”

EELS

    By Al Sarrantonio
    They were out on a mirror of green ocean. The land, save for a jetty of sharp rock a hundred yards to the east, a single pointing finger of the island, had disappeared into the hazy distance. At the far curves of the horizon mist squatted, but closer in the air and sea-waves were as sharp as knives.
    Davy’s father baited two hooks, whistling between his teeth, but Davy sat with his hands folded in his lap. Despite the warmth of the noon sun, and the brine tartness of the salt air, he felt cold: as if this were early morning and the mists had not yet retreated. He wore his jacket buttoned over his sweatshirt, and clenched his hands together as he turtled his ears down into his jacket’s collar.
    The boat rolled gently in the swells. His father, still whistling, now looked at him and suddenly scowled.
    “What is it, boy? You sick?”
    Davy shook his head no.
    His father’s scowl remained; he looked impatient to be back to his baiting of hooks, his whistling.
    “What, then? You didn’t have to come, you know; I would have been happy out here alone.”
    “Mother wanted me to.”
    His father’s scowl deepened. “Your mother…”
    For a moment a cloud hung over the boat. But then his father went suddenly back to his tackle, and began to whistle again. Davy was left to contemplate his cold clenched hands, his rolling stomach.
    “Father, I’d like to go back…” he said weakly.
    “What’s that?”
    Davy took once hand away from the clenched other, and pointed toward the finger of rock eastward. “If you could take me…”
    “I won’t!” his father snapped. “I told ye before we came out to either come or stay. I won’t be rowing back now. ‘Twould be near two by the time I rowed myself back out. That’s not enough time to make a day of it.” His coarse, unshaved face turned away from Davy, his eyes back on his hook. “You’ll stay, and be content with it.” He added, “You know what I think of you anyway, boy.”
    Davy’s hands joined again. If he had had anything in his stomach he would have emptied it over the side.
    ~ * ~
    The sun inched upward. A wheeling pair of seagulls appeared, complained loudly over the boat and circled up and away, disappointed. Davy thought of home, the house on the island, and the chair by the large window in the family room. The hearth fire there was warm. It was dry in that corner of the room, there was no sea-smell in that dry corner…
    “Here,” his father said abruptly, thrusting a fishing rod into his hand. It was one that barely worked, with a sticking reel. Davy’s hands opened in benediction to take