STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

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Halloween Contest

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Oct 28, 2005? 

Subscriber? 

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Today??™s Announcements:

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? The contest continues.?  Deadline to enter submissions remains Oct 30^th.?  Nothing will be accepted after that date.? 

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The membership will vote according to their favourite writer.?  Each day the entries of what has been published to date will be posted at the beginning of the newsletter and the list will grow daily as the submissions increase. ? Voting will be held after the contest ends.?  The contest ends when there are no more submissions.? 

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All members can access the archives of Storytime Tapestry? ? http://archives.zinester.com/98907?  to reread an entry before voting if need be.?  If you have any problems please contact me at: winterose@videotron.ca

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Contest winner will get a copy of my new book, Angels Watching Over Me upon release.

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Welcome Lynne Stevenson, who becomes writer #256 for Storytime Tapestry.?  I am impressed, a new writer, and she has jumped right in to join the fun.?  Lynne we hope to see more of your work in the future.

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Now on to the good stuff..........

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Submissions for the contest to date:

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Name? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Title? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  ? ?  ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Date

Sharon Bryant? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Halloween Cupcakes? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  ? ? ? ? ?  ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 25

Sharon Bryant? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Pay Attention To Your Dreams? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 25

Sharon Bryant? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Coke Glass?  ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 25

Sharon Bryant? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Fire Wall? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 25

Sharif Khan? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Witch Doctor? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 26

Barbara Deming? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  A Stranger At the Foot of My Bed ?  Oct 27

Barbara Deming? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Houses Of The Living Dead ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 27

Barbara Deming? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Cemetery March ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 27

Debra Shiveley? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Haunted House? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 27

Pam Patterson? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Trapped? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 28

Mary-Ellen Grisham? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Heavenly side of Ghost-ly? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 28

Lynne Stevenson? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  The Aurora Borealis ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 28

Lynne Stevenson? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Halloween In Gastonia? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Oct 28

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Halloween Contest Submission

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Trapped

Pam Patterson

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We??™re trapped here, inside this frame.?  How long has it been??  A lifetime??  It has been some 32 years that our bodies have been immovable, paint on canvas.?  Our minds are the only means of leaving this prison.?  We wander the night watching children as they sleep, longing to live their lives, to feel and touch and be in the world of form.?  Our longing has only grown over the years as we watched the children, looked into their sleeping minds.

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We saw them laughing, running, playing, touching the world around them, each other.?  We can still remember when we could run and play.?  I remember playing kickball on the school playground; remember being pushed by Jimmy Keller, the feel of a skinned knee.?  I remember the feel of snowflakes melting on my tongue.?  My sister remembers an ice cream brain-freeze, the feel of her face buried in the fur of our dog, Crackers, how it tickled.?  I remember his rough tongue licking my face.?  We both remember the incredible pain, the metallic taste of blood in our mouths??¦

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That was the night we escaped into the portrait, the night we died.?  We didn??™t know it would be forever; we just wanted to get away from the awful pain, the horror of that night.?  We heard the screams from our parent??™s room, the sounds of struggle.? ?  My sister crawled into my bed whimpering and hid, trembling beneath the covers beside me.?  I tried to be brave for her, but I was trembling too.?  I looked over at the portrait our father had painted of us that hung on the bedroom wall.?  I told my sister to pretend she was in the portrait and that nothing could hurt her.?  I told her to close her eyes and wish herself into the painting.?  When the door flew open I did the same; I closed my eyes and wished myself into the painting.? 

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The pain was intense but brief.?  The smell and taste of my own blood is something I will never forget.?  And then we were here, inside the portrait, trapped.?  For awhile we were adrift in shock, but safe.?  We were content to exist in this frozen state, out of body, in a painting.?  It was later, much later, during the night wanderings that the longing to be REAL kids again grew unbearable, brought us to this night in this room with these sleeping children.

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We picked them because they like the portrait and can see us when we come out at night.?  Our minds have grown increasingly stronger.?  Sometimes the children we visit can see us.?  Most of the time, however, they are afraid and the parents put the portrait away or donate it to a garage sale.?  It was one such sale that brought us here to these children.?  We have taught them our favorite game:?  How to wish your way into the portrait.?  They have gotten much better at it.? ? ?  Tonight they will play for keeps; they won??™t be coming back.?  They will stay and we won??™t be playing with them again.? 

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We watched their parents tuck them in, kiss them good night.?  There??™s even a dog like our Crackers that snuggles in bed with the little girl.?  My sister likes that. ? We like the mother and father; they remind of us our parents.?  We??™re sure they will love us as their own.?  My sister is growing impatient.?  She wants to nestle her nose in the soft fur of her new puppy.?  She wants to feel hot tears on her face, warm goodnight kisses again.? 

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I don??™t want these children to be lonely like we were.?  I intend to find other portraits of other children and bring them home.?  Then I will find other children and teach them how to play the game with us.?  Soon none of the children in the portraits will be ever be alone again.?  They will have friends to play mind games with during the long nights.? 

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My sister says it??™s time to wake the children for a game of hide and seek.?  She has gone to whisper in their ears.?  I will wait for them to come and seek me.?  They will find me easily enough.?  Then it will be their turn to hide.?  And I will leave and join my sister in the warm beds.?  She will already be happily curled up with her puppy, feeling its soft fur tickle her nose.?  I can almost feel the cold, bare floor on the soles of my feet, the chill night air on my face and neck.?  I will tip toe through the house, touching, smelling, and tasting long forgotten tastes, anything to erase that last metallic taste of my own blood.? 

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I will crawl between the warm comforter and sheets, in my worn flannel pajamas, pound my pillow to the perfect shape where I??™ll lay my head and finally sleep.?  After so long I will sleep again and dream of all the paintings I will find, of all the children I will find to play hide and seek within the frames.?  I will rescue all the trapped children, the ones who fled their beds in pain.?  I??™ll find those who escaped the deaths by hiding in the pictures.?  I??™ll set them free.? 

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I hear the children??™s whispers.?  They are here; they see me.?  They are elated, as am I.?  Closing my mind to them I begin to count??¦ 1??¦.2??¦.? ? ?  I step out of the portrait; I can almost feel the chill as I approach the boy sitting on the edge of the bed.?  My sister giggles from beneath her covers across the room.?  I feel the sob and the sting of tears as I settle into my new home.?  My sister claps and with her furry, white puppy bounds across the room and onto the bed beside me.?  We hug.?  As we revel in our freedom the plaintive calls from the portrait fade into the shadows.?  They won??™t be alone for long.

Pam Patterson ?© October, 2002

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Blkwid @comcast.net

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~**~**~? 

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The Heavenly Side of Ghost-ly
By Mary-Ellen Grisham

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The phone was ringing in the night, and I came awake startled.?  A year or so ago my mom had fallen and suffered a complicated hip fracture.?  I was so afraid that she had fallen again.?  Slowly I sat up to take the phone my husband was groggily handing to me.

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It was the same aunt who had called me about Mom's entrance into the emergency ward at the local hospital in St. Louis County.?  This time, though, the news was sobering and final.?  My brother had been killed in a home accident late Christmas night.?  I was stunned.?  My mind kept thinking...no, no, no, this cannot be right.?  My Aunt is too calm.?  There must be some mistake, but there was no avoiding the painful truth.?  My brother was dead--at the height of his legal career, with two young children and a grieving wife left behind.

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My husband and I began to get ready, and while he was showering, I sat at the end of our bed, putting on my shoes.?  Suddenly, within my mind, I could hear my brother's voice talking to me.?  While his message was personal and private, my heart and soul knew that this was a message from his spirit through the Holy Spirit.?  He gave assurance of life everlasting, the special province of God's time, and the overwhelming power of love.?  This communication began to alleviate the unbearable pain and loss I was feeling.?  I stood, ready for the drive to my aunt's house where my mother was staying after the shocking news came to her.

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Even though my faith and Bible study cause me to believe that I should not be involved with negative spiritual influences or mental harassment of any kind, I felt my brother's communication from beyond was for the purpose of love and comfort.?  I thought that it was a form of God's special comfort to me at a time of devastating loss.?  Several times throughout the troubled days to follow I felt my brother's presence with us and his words in my mind.?  With this spiritual strengthening, I was able to help my mom in her extreme grief and make it through all the funeral home proceedings and burial.

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At the funeral, the presiding minister spoke of the "no sea" passage in Revelations 21:1, giving it a comforting symbolic interpretation.?  He saw the absence of a sea as a way of saying that people would be brought together in spirit as well as in reality.?  There would be no more distances and alienation between people.?  Those that we had not fully related to previously would be in open and loving relationship with us, and there would be no absolute barriers between heaven and earth.?  At times my relationship with my brother had been competitive and troubled, but I realized that in soul and spirit the love was free to become whole.

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At the grave-side service on a hill overlooking the Missouri River, another special beauty occurred.?  Though very late for migration, a bevy of three geese was flying behind a small band of geese in V-formation.?  The three landed in the river with the one among them who was struggling, one who was perhaps injured or ill.?  They floated together until the minister finished his reading and prayer, and then with the amen, they took flight together as if renewed for the? journey to their next home.?  With tears in my eyes, I felt this special symbol of love from nature was another sign that all was well with my brother, Ken.?  I felt, beyond all doubt, that he was happily home with the Lord.

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Within the next several years, my husband's sister, Karen, developed ovarian cancer; and even with all her profoundly courageous fight, did succumb to the illness.?  She died shortly before Thanksgiving that year.?  Once again, God's great love allowed the special dispensation of spiritual comfort, and I felt Karen's presence with me for weeks after her burial.?  At the time, I was having personal spiritual difficulties and a very mature battle with evil; and I believe that she lingered in spirit to offer the love of a sister that I had never experienced, partly because at that time my mother had passed to the other side too.

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While continuous contact "from the other side" would be unsettling for those of us on earth and perhaps something of a violation of the "chasm" between heaven and earth for those departed, still I think that God allows this spiritual comfort in times of need.?  My
"ghostly" experiences with Ken and Karen convinced me, beyond all doubt, that the love does go on.

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(c)2005 Mary-Ellen Grisham
meginrose@charter.net

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Mary-Ellen is a Christian writer living in Godfrey, Illinois, with her husband and son.?  She is the Editor of Eternal Ink, a Christian ezine newsletter that appears every other week.?  Her recent book, GRACE NOTES, is available from Amazon.com and from the Xulon Press bookstore.

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~**~**~

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The Aurora Borealis'? Only? South Carolina Appearance

Lynne Stevenson

ck during the 1970s, when my baby sister was little? I had the responsibility of taking her Trick or Treating. The festivities would begin at 6:00? and would end promptly at 8:00. The bank where our mother worked as the head teller for 27 years? was not on any computer system yet? and at the end of every month she and the others had to stay and balance their? windows and do paperwork by hand. Some of those end of the month nights it would 10:00 PM before she got home.

? ? ? ? ?  Most of the time at Halloween, one of our neighbors, "Mrs. Smith" would allow my sister and me? to walk with her and her two young daughters when they went Trick or Treating. By this time,? I was too old to go myself and would stand out at the road with "Mrs. Smith" while the three? children? went? collecting candy from everyone in the neighborhood. Nobody would have dreamed of putting razor blades, poison, or broken glass in anything. All of the neighbors knew each other and were nosy enough to know if something was amiss with a family. ? ? 

? ? ? ? ?  The last Halloween we did this together my sister was about 7 or? 8 years old. "Mrs. Smith" had clearly hit the bottle and was staggering wildly? down the neighborhood ditches. Several times I was afraid she would fall and I would not be able to pick her up. I was about 16 then and realized what I was smelling on her breath clearly wasn't? Scope.

? ? ? ? ?  The back street? that transversed? our neighborhood wasn't lit very well and made it almost impossible to be seen except by the glare of passing cars. Several times? "Mrs. Smith" staggered into the paths of oncoming cars, where people who didn't live in the neighborhood, would drop off their children and come back to get them later. Not only did these children not live there, they were also about the size of NBA basketball players. Luckily the DUI and Public Drunk? laws weren't enforced nearly as stringently as they are today and several? policemen sitting in unmarked cars kept driving past us. I held my breath each time they passed because I was? afraid that they would assume that? "Mrs. Smith" was? my mother and tell me to take her home and put her to bed.

? ? ? ? ?  The magic hour of 8:00 finally arrived and the outside lights on the houses where candy was being given out? flickered out one by one. I guess "Mrs. Smith" didn't realize what time it was, or wasn't wearing a watch.? All of the sudden the sky to the north was ablaze with gray low hanging clouds illuminated by the local factory, Essex Wire Company. "Mrs. Smith" started announcing at the top of her lungs, "Oh look, Lynne, it's the Aurora? Borealis, here in South Carolina! I've never seen it here before and didn't think it actually existed. It is so beautiful." I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was actually the halogen lights from the factory? parking lot lighting up the dark gloomy night.

? ? ? ? ?  I never did tell my mother that "Mrs. Smith" was more than slightly snockered that night more years ago than I care to admit. I asked her though if the Aurora Borealis was visible from here. She said that she had never heard of anyone seeing them in South Carolina. Evidently, "Mrs. Smith" was the first one.

Lynne Stevenson? 

Pugmom37@aol.com

~**~**~

Halloween in Gastonia

Lynne Stevenson

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? ? ? ? ?  The Halloween I was eleven years old stands out in my mind simply because our family?  celebrated? it by Trick or Treating in another state. That year Halloween fell on a Saturday and our cousins, Mack and Mary Dudley Nelson, called my parents and invited? them to bring my three? year old baby sister, Edie, and me? up to their house in Gastonia, NC. They, along with my parents,? took us Trick or Treating.? Allison Kincaid, their next-door neighbor who was? my age came with us, pointing out all of the? houses where "good? candy" was reputed? to be given.? 

? ? ? ? ?  Every child needs a Mack and Mary Dudley in their lives. They were in their middle?  fifties? about the time this occurred? and had no children of their own. Both of them were school teachers, Mary Dudley in? elementary school, and Mack, a? high school English one. ? My sister, Edie (Mary Edna), was? Mary Dudley's namesake. Every time? the opportunity presented itself, she showed off and bragged about her "beautiful little Mary Dudley II" to anyone? within earshot. It really meant a lot to her that my parents thought so highly of her as to name their second child after her.? They were both the most immature adults I have ever known, and I have always considered them to be just big "kids," even though they were both well into their forties when I was born. ? ? 

? ? ? ? ?  Right after my mother got off? from her job? as the? head teller at First Citizen's Bank in Clio at 6:00 PM, and my father got off from his job as an Engineer at the South Carolina Highway Department,? they loaded up the old white 1970 Plymouth Fury my father had bought the year before and we headed off for a Halloween memory northward up South Carolina? Highway 601 toward Pageland, and then North Carolina Highway 74 toward? Monroe and Charlotte. ? 

We made it to Mack and Mary Dudley's at about 9:00PM. They? took us out to the local Shoney's Drive Inn for a late supper. The next day we went shopping for Halloween costumes at the local Five and Dime Store. I can't remember the costumes we ended up with, but? I do remember browsing through racks of colorful costumes. ? ? ? ? ? 

? ? ? ? ?  My sister and I? had a hard time navigating the steep and hilly terrain,? since Gastonia is located in the foothills of the North Carolina? Mountains.? Of course, Allison had no trouble at all, since she was used to walking? around her neighborhood on a daily basis. She laughed as we struggled to make our way up the steep ravines and driveways that led to the houses in the cul de sac of mostly two story homes.? ? 

? ? ? ? ?  At one point in the afternoon it had rained and the grass was as slick as glass in some spots. Somehow I managed to slip on a wet patch of grass and went tumbling down one of the ditches.? I must have created quite a sight? as I tumbled end over end into a deep patch of water? at the bottom of a cemented? ditchbank. I still remember Allison standing there laughing at me as I went whirling by her feet. She was standing next to a lighted? lamppost? with her long blonde hair? shining? in the glare, framing her thin face, holding her sides from laughing so hard.? As I made my way down the embankment 90% of my candy stash for the night made its way into the ditch. ? 

? ? ? ? ?  Allison told me, "Don't worry about it, Lynne. Here you can have some of mine." She proceeded to empty about half of her? plastic orange pumpkin? into mine.? "No, Allison, you keep this. You worked hard for it," I said as I brushed off my muddy hands onto my costume. She wouldn't hear of it and insisted that I take it back to the house. Her mother called the house after we? finished Trick or Treating? to see how I was doing. Mary Dudley told her how proud she was of Allison and how she had single-handedly saved my ruined Halloween.

? ? ? ? ?  About 3:00 the next morning we heard what we thought was hail pelting the roof of the house. Turns out that some of Mack's students from the? local high school had? taken it upon themselves to egg the house and "tp" the yard and trees.? I remember Mack and my father running outside. I remember Mary Dudley grabbing her mint? green housecoat and calling the police.? The spotlights in the yard with the police finally arrived illuminated? the entire street.?  My father was able to give the police the license plate number from the car and the? juveniles in question were taken in and arrested for vandalism and destruction of private property. We finally went back to bed about 5:30 or 6:00 Sunday morning and left to come home late that evening.? 

? ? ? ? ?  This was truly the Halloween from hell on several levels. Through the years I have lost touch with Allison Kincaid. I'm sure she is married with a couple of children by now, possibly? even a grandmother.? Mary Dudley passed away from a blood clot in her lung in September of?  1994.? Mack is now well into his? middle to late 80s.? The last time I spoke? to him was at my father's funeral service last May. My mother died in March of 1997 and I seriously doubt that my sister remembers any of this at all.? Mack, Allison, and I are the? only ones remaining who can retell this story? and not leave any details? out. ? ? 

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Lynne Stevenson? 

Pugmom37@aol.com

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About Me:

Biography:? I am a senior? transfer student at Coastal Carolina University in Conway, SC. I hope to graduate with a BA degree in English next December. My children include: Michael, my two legged son; Maggie, Bubba, Samantha, Ed, and Missy the? 5 beautiful Chinese Pugs? who own me. I? am an AKC Certified Chinese Pug breeder. I have been married to my husband Ernest for 16 years.

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