Haunted....

He came looking for a job. He still had a little money then and back then we had a good time. He was awfully good looking, but he was so unsure of himself. He wanted me to buoy him up all the time, keep him afloat. And he thought I was going to hire him at my place. Well, I didn’t have any work at that time. So he stayed around as my walker. You know what those are? They help you with your shopping, and go to dances with you. Only you pay for them to do that. It was fine in the beginning. Then he got to be tiresome. We went on and on about having to find his own work. He never gave any indication he was leaving, and I wanted him to move on. So that March I sent him out ice-fishing. I stayed behind to wash the linens and I told him, if you can catch five fish today, I’ll get you a job at the Canadian Tire. I know someone there. It was late March and I was so damned tired of him hanging around. He wasn’t fun anymore.

No one pushed him. He just went ice-fishing too late in the season. It’s not murder if they go out and fall through the ice by themselves. Is it?

Contributed by Jared Mitchell
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I shone the lamp on the wall to make sure the blood had been completely washed off. I still couldn't believe what I had done, but my mind was calm as I worked. I tried not to look at the corner where I had dragged the body. The floor would wash more easily. Not for the first time I was thankful that I had chosen eggshell paint. Oh, the things your mind thinks of at a time like this!

I didn't plan this. Oh yeah, he made me angry sometimes, so mad I could scream. But I think I loved him anyway. But tonight was different. He was different. Cocky almost. Told me he wanted to leave. For good. I had the chef's knife in my hand, I think I was chopping carrots. I crossed the room and suddenly, the knife plunged into him. He slid down the wall and slumped over. I jumped backwards and then froze for what seemed like forever. I remember being thankful that we hadn't yelled much tonight…the neighbors wouldn't be suspicious. That should buy me some time.

Think! What do they do in the movies with bodies? I'm not very strong. Dragging him to that corner was almost too much for me. How am I supposed to get him out of here? Maybe I should leave. Quietly, quickly. Just disappear. How much time are they going to really spend looking for me? Just wash up, grab my purse and go. No-one will ever know.

Contributed by Heather Hewer
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Bobby Su decided on a whim to visit an aunt she’d only heard of at family dinner tables.

Aunt Myrtle has this tendency (for “tendency” sounds more dignified than “condition” or “bad habit”) of falling asleep with a jar of jujubes opened in her lap while snoring in that mouth-breathy, light-sleeper sorta way.

What Myrtle doesn’t know (for how could she?) is that Bobby Su is allergic to Red Dye 4--the ingredient that makes jujubes demonically attractive. Bobby Su will stick anything chewy, sweet and sinful into her mouth, sparking the devious in her thoughts to snag a taste for what she shouldn’t.

Bobby Su studied the lamp resting in the back corner. An unassuming tool is the key to perfect crimes, and a lamp would fit the main ingredient of all good murder mysteries: deception lurks in dark shadows. Bobby Su, being the kid that she is, got lost in the play of shadow shapes on the stark wall. She soon discovered her magical power: she could control the tones of Aunt Myrtle’s snores.

Bobby Su was smart enough not to eat all the candies, but not smart enough to take only red and green ones. Aunt Myrtle knew something was fishy when she woke up,
for there were only black and yellow jujubes in her dish and Bobby Su was laid stiff on the floor.

Aunt Myrtle should’ve known better than to allow this child into her home, for children do mean things to meek and worn-out old ladies.

Contributed by Heather Wiley
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...common sense tells you that when a bulb burns out you change the bulb. You don't leave the burned out bulb for someone else to change. Rise to the challenge and change the bulb. Common sense. Spare bulbs are easily located in the cellar closet. Take a deep breath and summon the courage to face the demon you think lives in the cellar and go down into the cellar and get the bulb. This is what a man with common sense does. Not cower in his den whenever his wife goes to get meat from the cellar. Meat she asked her husband to get three times before giving up and wishing aloud to anyone who is not hiding in his precious den, locked behind a door that could withstand no demon attack, wishing that she had listened to Father. "Why, daughter," he had asked, "Why would you not choose to be a spinster rather than marrying this man?" I chose this man, who I once called "wonderful." This man. Who will not enter his own cellar? A modern cellar no self-respecting demon would care for. If my husband knew where the demon lived, he would never set foot into his den. But what does he know about demons? Nothing. I will change the bulb. I will let my husband have his fear, for it is his fear that feeds his demon. Who doesn't live in the cellar, fool! He lives in your -- Well, I did promise not to say...

Contributed by Sam Hancock