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Creative Creations From Author Tori Tucker

@ttuckercreationsofficial / ttuckercreationsofficial.tumblr.com

This is the official webpage for Tori Tucker (author of The Life and Times of Judith Fletcher), where one might receive updates on projects past, present, and future. Below you will find a jumble of book promotions, excerpts and even character sketches, all run by the author herself. Hello, and welcome all! (New short stories are posted frequently.)
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How to Finish

I drew this poster for Jon Acuff and his FINISH book tour. Big thanks to Jon for this collaboration, his book has some great ideas about how to complete creative and life goals.

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dedalvs

Love this, but reblogging it specifically for “Get rid of secret rules.” That’s one of the most amazing illustrations—and points—I’ve ever seen.

so important especially for perfectionists who procrastinate and never finish, or even start because they set such high standards for themselves.

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there’s going to be a difference sometimes between the stories that you find masterfully crafted and the stories that mean a lot to you personally and those two things don’t have to overlap completely or even at all to make that story worthwhile

and that’s a good thing to remember as a reader/viewer/etc but also as a writer because even if whatever you ultimately write is full of mistakes, someone out there is gonna take it so to heart that it fundamentally changes them as a person. and that is. Huge.

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What’s up? It’s been a minute since I’ve given y'all a life update so here’s the rundown. If you missed it, I proposed to Emma back in April at her final a capella concert and we’re planning a hella budgeted lesbian wedding for October this year before the Trump administration can fuck anything else up for us. We also moved out of Keene at the end of last month because WOW WAS THAT PLACE A SHITHOLE. So we’re back on the seacoast trying to live our best lives. I’m working at the library again but in a new department with a better position, as well as in a retail shop in town because, ya know, rent. We also have three furry little beasties named Moped, Segway, and Buggy. (Our kitties.) They all have their own Instagrams too so if you want to check those out you can find links from mine or by messaging me. Also I’m practicing witchcraft now because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ why not? So if you want to check out my witchy blog you can find it here: @craftingqueerly And if you don’t already follow my fiancé’s blog you can find Emma here: @wtfwasthat-sby

I’m going to try to be a little more active again on all of my blogs. (Yes that includes the Brienne one even though I’m not watching GoT anymore.) I’d love to know what’s new with everyone here too so feel free to reblog either with your own updates or shoot me a message. ✌🏼

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circeswife

writing is weird because sometimes I’ll have no ideas and everything in my head is kind of quiet but then something will happen and it’s like there’s these goblins living in my brain that just start shouting little phrases at me until I sit down and finally write the poem or story or whatever

ancient greek and roman poets:  sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story

me, banging pots and pans together:  wake the fuck up goblins!!  what the fuck is up!!

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fuck-usag

I wrote over 2600 words on my thesis today. No i am not joking or kidding. No I am not on any drugs or even caffeine. I just sat down and wrote. This is hands down the most productive day of my life. We will never see it’s like again.

Reblog to give urself the power of productive days. Ignore to still get the power of productive days because you have seen this post it will bless you and your mind anyway. But just know ur a lil shit for not sharing the power of productive days with your pals.

GIVE ME THE POWER PLZ

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My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them. My dreams are attainable and I will reach them.

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The real writer experience is standing in the shower and coming up with the most authentic dialogue with perfect phrasing and raw emotion in your head, then stepping out and drying your hair, putting on some clean pajamas and opening a word document to write down all your perfect ideas only to realize everything has evaporated. 

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kdxart

I FEEL CALLED OUT

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thelibrarina

Never lose a perfect shower line again.*

*Remember to erase promptly if you share a bathroom with anyone.

survivablyso

I’ve used these to outline term papers. nothing like a bath to get your brain to finally kick into gear and figure out your damn thesis

WHAT

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shell-senji

Also these handy little guys if you prefer a notepad:

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micromys

Are you kidding, shower crayons are the BEST when you share a bathroom with other people. When I was in college, we had them and we would use them to carry on philosophical debates, finish song lyrics, get life/writing advice, etc. It was so much fun and I miss it. 

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owl-mug

Reasons to Keep Writing

everyone starts small. just because you’re not big now, doesn’t mean you’ll never be. and if you’re just starting out, keep in mind those bigger blogs have been writing for much longer than you. building a following takes time. 

there will always be someone who enjoys your writing. every like, reblog, and comment is one person who enjoyed what you wrote and i can assure you they want more! and remember, not everyone remembers to leave evidence that they liked your writing or they might just be too nervous to interact with you. invisible fans exist, and you’ve got them.

going along with that last one, your writing has the potential to help others! you could write about a minority, or maybe you could publish a little something comforting at the exact time someone else needs it. and most of the time, when you affect someone like this they’ll tell you, whether it be through tags, or a private message or whatever. that’s an amazing feeling.

getting a compliment from someone becomes a sure-fire way to make your day better. nothing feels greater than seeing a comment from someone saying how much they love something you worked hard on. maybe write down these comments somewhere, so you can look at them when you’re feeling negative about your skills as a writer.  

writer’s block is not the end of your writing career. it sure feels like it sometimes, but everyone, even the popular writers you look up to, suffer from writer’s block. everyone puts out work they’re not 100% satisfied with sometimes, and that’s okay! when you get out of this slump, your writing will be better than ever before and you’ll enjoy it again. keep writing through a block so you can get there sooner.

These are the things I think about when I feel bad about my writing, so I hope they can help someone else too.

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i haaaaaAAATE descriptions of older women in books like “looking at her face it was easy to imagine how beautiful she once was” and the woman is like. 60 years old. 60. so she’s got like, some wrinkles? and gray hair??? but otherwise doesnt look that much different than when she was “young” and she’s still probably beautiful like a description like that isn’t even EDGING on acceptable unless the character is in their 90s and barely resembles what they would have 70 years ago and even in that case fuck you??? they’ve got more important things to do and recollect than missing an allegedly hot body byee

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My main problem as a writer is that I don’t write because “I have a story to tell”. I write because there are worlds I want to visit, ideas I want to explore, people I want to meet, conversations I want to hear, emotions that I want to express, and impossibilities I want to make real.

Which means that I still need a fucking plot.

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tlbodine

Damn if this ain’t the truth.

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The End

By Tori Tucker When the doorbell rang it woke Cathy out of a sound sleep. Blinking slowly up at the sun streaming in through the skylight over the bed, dust twisting through the bright afternoon rays, she waiting for the sound of Duff’s work-boot clad footsteps going to shoe away whomever dared interrupt their private life in the backwoods, but as the reality of his death came crashing back to her, just as it seemed to every time she woke from sleep, Cathy stretched and grudgingly extracted her weary self from the tangled bedding to see who called. As she shuffled down the wood paneled hallway, past the paintings she’d done so many years before, back when things had been so perfect, she rubbed sleep from her eyes as she pondered just who could have come to see her, who it was that had trekked the long journey down the old, forgotten dirt roads, and up the winding drive that lead to their cottage-- no, her cottage now. After all, it wasn’t as if she made good company these days. These days all she could amount herself to was fleeting, fake smiles and red tired eyes, mumbling words that only half made sense, and only half listening to the simpering, overly sympathetic replies. It could be Danny, or perhaps his wife. The pair of them had been absolutely indispensable the past few years, and especially the past few weeks since Duff’s passing; bringing food to the house, or helping with paperwork, sometimes even housework when it all seemed too much for her. At her age things should have seemed too much for her for quite some time now, but it had never been that way when Duff had been there. Somehow everything seemed doable. Even when they were both well into their seventies, it just worked. Nothing seemed too much: ever. It could be one of her students, perhaps one that had heard a bit later than everyone else about her husband’s passing, bringing more flowers that would inevitably end up in the trash with the others. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate the sentiment. It was only that they were a constant reminder of what had happened, and they always died too quickly anyway. But nothing could have prepared her for the man that stood on the other side of the door, with his perfect white teeth gleaming in the sun as he flashed her that familiar charming smile. “Marty?” she laughed, actually laughed in disbelief, the first genuine smile in weeks flickering over her lips. “What are you doing here?” she asked as he pulled her into a warm hug that lasted just a bit too long, just as his hugs always had. He was still so strong; youthful, even. “I only just heard the news Tuesday,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Are you doing alright?” He stepped back, cupping her shoulders, his glittering green eyes looking over her concernedly. “Tuesday…” mumbled Cathy. “What day is it?” “Thursday,” he replied, reaching up to tuck a lock of greyed hair behind her ear. She shook her head in disbelief. “You just dropped everything to fly down here? All the way from Kansas?” “Missouri,” he corrected, just as he always did, his eyes crinkling in a small smile. She’d missed that smile in many ways. She’d missed a lot about him. There was a time she might have been willing to spend a lifetime with him, but things change. She’d changed. She bit her lip, eyeing him and the way his eyes swept over her. “Don’t look at me like that, Marty.” “Like what?” he asked innocently, finally releasing her shoulders. “Like I’m somethin’ broken. I’m tired of it.” She didn’t mean to sound harsh, but that’s how it came out. She closed her eyes. They stung so much it almost made her tear up. “I’ll try not to,” he replied quietly, stepping forward again to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside. Is that okay?” he asked, quietly. She nodded, allowing him to guide her into the entryway and down the hall into the kitchen. As they approached the island counter Cathy broke away. “Sorry about the mess,” she muttered, only half meaning it. It really wasn’t that bad, yeah, there were a few dishes in the sink, a few crumbs on the counter, and the trash was probably past due to be taken out, but it wasn’t exactly a disaster area. She crossed to the sink to try to do some damage control, forcing the water on to half-heartedly rinse the dishes, but Marty followed her, leaning against the counter by the sink. “It wasn’t easy finding you out here you know,” he said, glancing out the picture window above the sink. “It’s beautiful out here though. Very you. Secluded, private… gorgeous.” “How’s Sarah- or was it Susan?” interrupted Cathy, pushing past him so she could put a plate in the dishwasher. “Sandy?” he laughed. “I haven’t seen her in years. We actually broke up a few days after your retirement party coincidentally.” “Oh.” “Cathy, I’ve missed you.” He leaned over the counter, trying to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him-- couldn’t look at him. He persisted. “Why did you stop calling?” She sighed, her shoulders slumping, a bowl dangling from her fingertips over the sink. “I don’t know. Things change, life gets busy… You know how it is.” “You never answered my calls.” “I was overseas.” “For five years?” “Well- No, but…” She turned to him, her eyes flickering up to find his. “Marty, I can’t do this right now. I can’t. I’m not…” She stopped herself. She wasn’t… what? Strong enough? Not really here, perhaps? “Cathy, I didn’t come here to interrogate you.” Biting at the inside of her cheek, she turned her head further away. He deserved some kind of explanation, but in truth there was none to give. Perhaps it had been guilt that kept her from returning his calls. Guilt over what exactly? There simply weren’t words for it. She threw the bowl down, the cheap ceramic shattering in the sink. “Then why did you come?” she asked, suddenly angry with him. “Why did you come here? I didn’t ask you to come. I didn’t want you to-” “I know,” he cut across her, his tone steady, but firm. “I came because… I care about you. You know that.” Cathy crossed her arms, bracing herself against him. “I came because… I wanted to make sure you were alright. I know how you get when you’re upset.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she spat, angry tears brimming in her eyes. She turned away so he wouldn’t see. “It means that I’ve seen you heart broken. I know you don’t operate well without him. I saw it that first week I knew you.” He moved to touch her arm but she swerved away. “I came because I want you to be okay. Maybe it won’t be today. Maybe it won’t be for years, but I need to know that you’ll be okay someday.” “Goddamn it,” she hissed, frustratedly wiping a tear from her cheek. “If you don’t think my being here will help then I’ll leave,” he said, his eyes wandering over her turned back. “I’ll leave right now if you want me to. I just… I couldn’t stand the idea of you dealing with this alone.” She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. She didn’t know what she wanted. Marty had always been such a good friend. He’d always been caring, tender. When they’d been lovers all those years ago there hadn’t been a single moment he’d been unkind, or even cool to her. That was part of why it had hurt so much to leave him. The floorboard creaked behind her. Hands: his hands, came to rest fleetingly on her shoulders as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her head. For a moment she thought of Duff, how his fingers always seemed to be stained black with oil and smell of machinery. Marty’s were different, his touch less familiar, his fingers too tentative... “I’ll go,” Marty whispered into her hair. His hands fell away, and he began to move past her, when her hand shot out to catch his arm. “No,” she whispered. He turned, his eyes going to her hand at his arm, before seeking her gaze once more. “No?” he asked, studying her. She shook her head and bit her lip. “No,” she stepped forward, her arms slinking up to wrap around him. “Please stay,” she whispered into his chest, tears soaking through his shirt. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do with myself. I just don’t-” She broke off unsure of what to say. “It’s alright. You’re gonna get through this.” She nodded, drawing in a quivering breath. He held her to him, gently swaying their entwined, withered bodies back and forth, trying to calm her, and after a while she felt at ease, really at ease. It was almost as if she’d forgotten what it felt like not to be constantly on edge. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice low and tired. “It’s alright,” Marty replied, kissing her forehead. “Why don’t you go sit down for a bit. I’ll take care of the bowl.” “No… no, I should-” “You should let me take care of this.” He leaned back a bit so he could look her in the eye. With a sniff, Cathy nodded and pulled away from him, her hands lingering as they slid down his arms. “I’ll be out back then,” she murmured, flitting away from him. “Come find me after?” She opened the door to the back porch and turned, waiting for his reply. His eyes glistened as they traveled over her, the ghost of a smile flickering over his lips. “Of course.” Over the next week Marty had all but moved into the house. The whole thing was entirely too familiar to feel comfortable for her. He moved around the house as if he owned it despite the fact that he’d never even visited before the day he showed up on the doorstep; and most frustrating of all was that he wouldn’t allow her to lift a finger to help him. Cathy had even became annoyed upon returning to the house one day to find that he’d vacuumed. And when she’d offered to make up the guest bedroom for him the first evening he informed her that he’d already taken care of the matter. Marty had always been far too efficient and accommodating, but this was a whole other level. Cathy found that she was making more and more excuses to get out of the house, either to pick something up from the store, or to check the mailbox all the way at the end of the drive. Even when she was home she would spend time either locked away in her studio, something she rarely even did the past few years when Duff was there, or go outside to wander the back garden or the woods. However, there were moments that she caught herself settling into Marty’s presence, which frightened and confused her. Some nights they would be sitting on the porch together and she would find herself thinking of how nice it was to have someone to sit with in the dark and quiet again before she’d remember that it wasn’t Duff sitting beside her. Another evening at dinner she found that she was laughing, really laughing with him like they had all those years ago when they both lived in Missouri, and she couldn’t tell if she was truly happy or not, but it did make her forget about her unhappiness a bit so it couldn’t be all bad. The back garden was overgrown. It had been for years, but it had always had a sort of charm, the smell of honeysuckle and magnolia suffocating all else, but now, the garden beds looked disheveled and unkempt. Cathy wandered through the yard, pulling her sweater a bit tighter around her frail form as she found her way towards the archway Duff had built at the back of the yard, the one that lead out towards the woods. Studying the wilted vines that hung limply from the old arch, she sighed and made a personal vow to at least try to spruce up the garden later in the week, before bowing slightly to stumble under the arch and into the small clearing behind the garden. Beside the dwindling wood pile that lay just outside the garden wall hung a swing from a gnarled old oak tree. Her heart ached as she crossed to it, brushing some fallen leaves and debris from its seat as she lowered herself gingerly onto it; the swing had been a surprise from Duff for their twentieth anniversary. Taking a deep breath, Cathy closed her eyes as she leaned back in the seat. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, just breathing in the rich earthy air of the forest and listening to the birds chirping overhead, but after a while she must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes again, it was to the sight of Marty leaning over her, the same worried expression playing over his face as it had for days, and the sun was beginning to sink from the sky. “I thought you’d run off on me for a moment.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you come back inside. It’s starting to get cool out here.” She pursed her lips, studying him. His hair was so white: not a single strand of blonde remained. His skin had dried and withered, and yet he was still very much unchanged by their years apart. Cathy narrowed her eyes. “I thought I told you not to look at me like that.” He chuckled. “Of course, you’re right.” He cupped her shoulder. “Come on. I made some dinner.” “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered, feeling slightly annoyed. “I know.” He shrugged. “But I did.” Shaking her head agitatedly, she worked herself out of the swing before she took his arm and allowed him to lead her back towards the house. That evening Cathy had retired to her room, leaving Marty to finish the dinner dishes by himself as he wished. She’d opened the bedroom window, trying to rid the staleness from the room that seemed to linger since Duff’s passing. Blinking wearily up at the skylight, she stared out at the stars overhead. It was a clear, calm night. As the breeze drifted into the room, she drew in a deep breath of the cool night air and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to allow the wave of crisp evening wind to wash through her. “Asleep already?” Cathy started slightly, unused to the presence of another person in the house. She blew air out of her nose. Duff wouldn’t have asked her stupid questions. Duff would have just let her be. She opened her eyes to find Marty leaning in the doorway. “Just relaxing,” she muttered, pushing her hair back. “Clearing my head.” Marty shuffled into the room, wrapping his arms around himself. “Cold in here,” he commented. “It’s comfortable.” “Did I do something?” he asked abruptly. She glanced at him out of the side of her eye. “No… What do you mean?” “Don’t play dumb with me, Cathy. I know you too well for that. You’ve been avoiding me all week. What is it, just because I didn’t call before I came out here or-” “No,” she sighed. “No it’s not that it’s just… It’s nothing.” “It’s not nothing.” “Marty, do we have to do this now?” “Yes,” he fixed her with a stare, moving to the other side of the bed. “Cathy, what is it?” “I thought that would be obvious,” she muttered darkly, drawing her arthritic knees up to her chest and wincing slightly. “This isn’t just about Duff.” “No, it’s because you come into my house and just start doing everything.” “Don’t kid yourself. This isn’t just because I vacuumed either.” He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her and held his head in his hands, trying to calm himself. “Is it because of the retirement party? Because that was stupid. I knew then that it was stupid. I just-” “Would you just shut up?” she snapped, hitting her fist on the pillow beside her. He turned. “It is about the retirement party! Cathy, it was just a stupid kiss. I know it was-” “It’s not! It’s-” she broke off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marty… I just lost my best friend: my husband of… God, fifty-six--seven odd years? And you think I’m upset because of a sloppy attempt at a hookup at my goddamn retirement party fucking five years ago? You have some damn nerve.” Marty flinched as if she’d hit him. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.” He stood and moved toward the door. “I’ll go in the morning if that’s what you want.” Cathy’s eyes flashed to him once more. “No, I didn’t mean--” “Well tell me what you want then,” he expelled, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Cathy, I can’t tell if you’re happy to have me here or not. You can’t just blow hot and cold.” She pursed her lips, knowing full-well that he was right. “I just…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right words. He moved towards her, carefully sitting down beside her on the edge of the mattress. “What do you want?” Her lips trembled as she opened them to speak. “Duff,” she whispered. “I just want Duff.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. Marty touched her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on her arm with his thumb. “I know.” “I can’t even cry anymore,” she mumbled. “What can I do?” he asked tenderly, running his hand down her arm to entwine their fingers. She shook her head. “What do you want me to do?” he tried, giving her hand a squeeze. “Do you want me to leave?” “No,” she answered too quickly. “No, I don’t want that… I… I am glad you came. It’s just that… I don’t know how to cope with all this. I want to just… I want things to be like they were, and I know I can’t have that. I know that.” He shifted to look at her. “So what can I do?” She thought for a moment. “Just… stay? I know I haven’t been… myself. I just-- I need time.” “But you do want me to stay?” he asked uncertainly. Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Yes.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “If you haven’t lost all interest in me,” she halfheartedly teased. “Oh, believe me,” he smiled. “I never lost interest in you.” She chuckled. “Oh, I know.” As she met his gaze she was taken aback to see how sad he looked. “Marty?” He shook himself. “Hmm?” “I do love you. You know that, right?” He smiled and shook his head. “I know.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean that. I’m not just saying it, Marty. I’ve always loved you.” His brow furrowed. “You loved Duff.” “I did,” she agreed. “I do still. But I love you too, Marty. I always have. That’s part of why it was so hard for me…When I left I mean.” His eyes flickered between hers a moment, as if trying to make out if she were being sincere or not. “Cathy, you don’t have to do this.” “Do what?” He shook his head and turned away once more. “Never mind.” Frowning she reached out to touch his cheek. “Duff knew how I felt about you,” she murmured. “But he also knew I loved him.” Marty’s eyes met hers briefly before quickly returning to his lap. “I’m not gonna lie, your name did come up in arguments sometimes… In the few we had.” “Why are you doing this?” Marty whispered, more to himself than her. “Because I want you to know.” She took his face in both her hands now. “There were definitely times Duff felt threatened by it, but once, not even very long ago, he told me that it was okay. Marty, he said it was better to love more than one person. He told me-” she paused to smile to herself. “He told me it was because my heart was too big. Now, I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that I loved you for years, and even though I didn’t realize it for a while, I think I always loved you.” His eyes found hers again. “You left me.” It was a question. “I know,” she replied evenly. “I don’t regret that either.” She traced her thumb along his cheek. “We wanted different things. It wouldn’t have been right for me to stay, to keep you from living the life you wanted.” “But I didn’t,” he replied, moving away from her touch. “The only person I wanted those things-- a house, a family, I wanted with you.” “Do you still want me?” He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?” Cathy bit her lip. “We could start over.” He blinked. “Cathy… Don’t you think you might be rushing into-” “I’m seventy-six years old, Marty. I think it might be alright to rush things a little.” “I didn’t mean… It’s just that Duff only died-” “I know.” Her gaze fell to her lap. “But I’d like to think he would have been happy for us. He would have said… It’s better to live and love, than it is to mourn.” She looked up to find Marty watching her wearily. “Of course, if that’s what you still want...” He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he moved to touch her cheek, before leaning in to press a light but lingering kiss to her lips. As he pulled away he rested his face against hers. “Is it what you want?” he whispered against her cheek. She nodded, closing her eyes and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. That night he slept by her side, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist. It was the first night since Duff’s death that she’d slept soundly; she had never been able to get used to sleeping alone, not even on business trips. Sometime around midnight she stirred, sensing a change in the air. Groaning sleepily she opened her eyes, finding that she’d turned over in her sleep and was curled up against Marty’s chest. Smiling contentedly she rolled over to find a more comfortable position, when her breath hitched, her eyes opened wide in surprise as she found Duff lying beside her. She blinked rapidly to be sure he was really there and not just a figment of her imagination. When he did not disappear she reached out to touch his arm. “Duff?” She breathed, her withered fingers making contact with his arm. He turned his head to look at her, making her gasp. He was young again, like when they’d first met. His long ash brown hair tumbled into his face and he smiled, his eyes crinkling in that mischievous way she loved. “Hey there, sweetheart.” “Are you really here?” she whispered, careful to keep her voice low, for fear of disturbing Marty. “In a sense,” he replied, taking her hand in his. She breathed out a small laugh, tears gathering in her eyes, real tears. Happy tears. “Why?” His smile faltered slightly, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’ve come to take you with me.” “With you?” Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s time,” he replied simply. Her heart dropped, her head turning to look over her shoulder. “Marty’ll be alright. He still has time,” Duff whispered. “Can I say goodbye?” she asked, still watching Marty as he snored softly. When Duff didn’t reply she turned back to him. He pursed his lips, but after a moment nodded. Drawing in a breath to calm herself, Cathy sat up to turn to Marty, but tensed as she realized she was no longer in her body, rather sitting in it. Her breath caught as if cold water had been poured over her. Trying to brave through it, she closed her eyes and turned, lifting further out of her body to lean over him. She managed a sad smile as she looked over him, sleeping peacefully. She reached up to brush the tear away, but stopped just short as she saw her hand. It was no longer withered and old, but young and taut, yet translucent. She paused, turning to Duff once more. “Can I touch him?” she asked, her voice quivering. He nodded again, watching her sympathetically. She turned back to Marty and reached down, resting a hand over his heart. Slowly and cautiously she leaned forward to press a featherlight kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she whispered against him. “I’m sorry.” With nothing left to say she sat up once more, tilting her head as she watched him. Marty didn’t stir. Pausing a moment longer she brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead, before turning away, finding it all too much to bear. Duff stood beside the bed now, smiling softly down at her. Taking a deep breath she met his gaze. He offered her a hand. Moving to the side of the bed she took his hand and unsteadily stood. “You ready?” She looked around, half expecting the roof to fly off, or a portal to open, but the bedroom was just as it always was. “What do I have to do?” she asked apprehensively. “Just walk through the door,” replied Duff, still smiling reassuringly down at her. Cathy peered past him at the bedroom door, a knot forming in her stomach as she found his gaze again. “Duff?” “Yeah?” “Can I kiss you?” her voice cracked with her plea. He laughed and touched her cheek. “You don’t have to ask,” he whispered, leaning in to capture her lips with a hungry kiss. “I missed you,” she cried, resting her forehead against his. He smiled crookedly and pressed another kiss to her lips. “I missed you too.” He pulled her closer to him, his hands resting at her waist. “Does it hurt?” she asked her eyes flickering to the door. “Not at all,” he replied, taking her hands. “What happens?” “We’ll be together for a while,” he replied, caressing her cheek. “But eventually we’ll have to part. But it’ll be okay. We’ll find each other again in the next life.” She blinked up at him, “The next life?” “We’ll be together again.” “But we’ll be different people?” “Yeah.” “Will I forget you?” Duff brushed a tear from her cheek. “For a little while,” he whispered soothingly. “But when we meet again we’ll know… And I know that I could never forget you.” She let out a choked laugh and hugged him, pressing herself as close as possible. Duff chuckled to himself and leaned his head against hers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Straightening up, she nodded. “Okay… I’m ready.”

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Queen Evelyn and the Seer

By Tori Tucker Many moons ago, in a far away place there was a peaceful kingdom ruled by two kind and beautiful queens. Queen Evelyn was known for her tenderness and wit, and Queen Magdelayna for her charm and sweet lilting voice. The common folk loved the queens for their charity and goodwill and admired them for the love they had for each other and all that lived under their rule were blessed with good fortune and long happy lives. However, one day, at the beginning the harvest season, a cold north wind blew through the kingdom, carrying with it a terrible plague. Many of the townspeople fell sick, those that worked in the fields grew too weak to bring in their harvest and the kingdom was plunged into a famine. As the air grew steadily colder with each passing day more and more people fell ill, including the beloved Queen Magdelayna. Her once rosy cheeks were ashen and hollow; her fiery bright hair had grown dull, and her sweet lilting voice was no more than a shuddering gasp with each shallow breath. Queen Evelyn was distraught. No tonic or spell could cure her true love, and her kingdom was but a shadow of what it had once been. But one stormy night, just as it seemed that all was lost, an old, hunchbacked man appeared at the castle door and was brought before the distressed queen. “Gentle Queen, I have traveled many miles, My weary bones have seen many trials. Grant me some food, and a bed to rest, And I shall tell you of one great quest. It will save your kingdom and will tell of How you may save your one true love.” Hearing this Queen Evelyn immediately met his demands; having her servants bring the old man the last of their salted pork and ready their finest feather bed. The following morning he was brought before the queen again. He bowed before her and began to speak. “Dear Queen, you’ve granted me all I could wish, and so with great warning I will tell you this: The quest you seek will take you from here, to a monster most foul, known as the Seer.” The queen had heard stories of the Seer, mere whispers amongst the townsfolk. That’s all she had thought them to be; whispers. The man went on: “It’s a dangerous path that you follow, But be brave, and your pride you must not swallow. Follow the ancient path through the dark wood to where the clearing has always stood.” Queen Evelyn knew of the clearing the man spoke of. It was said to be bewitched with many magical properties unknown to any man. “Speak well and loud there, at the end of the path, that you wish to see into the Seer’s bath. Then he will appear with his magic pool, and will do his best to make you seem the fool. Do not trust his games, but defeat him quick, and take from his pool the liquid; most thick. That is what you will need to save your queen, And your kingdom will return to what it had once been.” With this said the man turned and vanished, leaving Queen Evelyn alone. If this was what she must do to save her beloved Queen Magdelayna, then so be it. She set off at once, donning a suit of armor that had not been worn in many years, and rode through the dark wood, traveling for a day and night down the old path to the clearing that the man had told her of. The morning sun was beginning to filter through the trees as she dismounted from her horse. Drawing a sword cautiously she spoke to the trees. “I am Queen Evelyn. I have traveled day and night down this path, and I now wish to see the Seer’s bath.” No sooner had the words left her mouth then a foul odor began to fill the clearing. Coughing, and quickly covering her nose with a scarf, Queen Evelyn squinted through the nauseating fog, to see a large figure standing before her. As the fog began to clear she saw a pool beside the dark figure, filled with a thick yellow sludge. “Who dares call for me and my bath?” a deep voice rumbled through the clearing. “It is I, Queen Evelyn, ruler of this kingdom. Step into the light Seer, so I might look upon you.” The figure obliged, making the tender queen regret this request. The Seer was an ogre, uglier than any she had ever seen. His thin black hair stuck flat to his fat green head. His eyes were watery and bulging, and he had one long tooth that stuck sharply out of his mouth, making his face appear incredibly disproportionate. “Why have you called for me, Little Queen?” he asked, picking at his tooth. “I wish to take some of the contents of your bath to make my beloved queen well again and restore peace and happiness to my kingdom,” she replied. The Seer thought on this for a moment, scratching his dry and scaly chin. “A noble quest for a little queen,” he conceded. “But for this I need payment.” “What is it you wish?” asked Queen Evelyn, tightening her grip on her sword. “To save your lady love you must lay down your sword, And surrender yourself to me. That is my asking word. You can take from my bath all that you wish, But you must pay for it with a lover’s kiss.” The queen was appalled. “I will never be untrue to my beloved,” she declared. The Seer smiled a menacing grin, bearing his yellow teeth. “Then I’ll eat you up and you’ll never save your ailing queen. Your true love will die and with her your crippling kingdom.” With his the ogre rushed forward, arms outstretched, but the queen was ready and slashed at his horrid face with her sword. The fiend cried out in pain, clutching at his bleeding face. With a roar of anger he attacked again, and with a final swing of her mighty sword beheaded the brute. With the Seer slain, Queen Evelyn took all she could carry from the enchanted bath and returned home to her kingdom, restoring health to Queen Magdelayna and their people alike. And as the harvest season came to an end, a feast was prepared for the queens and their subjects to celebrate the love their rulers had for each other and their people.

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I hereby Agree to the Terms and Conditions

By Tori Tucker Riley bounced their leg nervously against the stool’s rung from their perch in the window seat of the cafe. Brushing their bangs back from their face, Riley took a sip of hot chocolate and scanned the street outside for what must have been the thirtieth time in the half hour they’d spent waiting. Setting their drink down on the bar, Riley reached for their phone to check and see if maybe she’d cancelled. Hands shaking, they opened the app “Magic Swipe” and tapped the matched category on their profile. As it opened a single photo appeared of a beautiful dark skinned girl, her green eyes crinkled in a laugh. Riley smiled and tapped the chat bubble next to her name: Kendra. There were no new messages, just their conversation from last night deciding where they’d meet for coffee. Closing the app again, Riley set their phone on the bar and was about to do another scan of the street when the entrance to the cafe beside where they were sitting opened, a brisk fall breeze swirled through the warm coffee house as Kendra came inside, her beautiful green eyes sweeping the place before falling on Riley. “Hey, you,” she said affectionately, approaching their seat and pulling off a beanie to reveal a mass of kinky black curls. Riley stood to make room for her and was surprised to find Kendra’s arms suddenly wrapped around them. “Oh! Uh, hi,” they mumbled awkwardly returning the hug. Kendra grinned as she pulled away and tossed her beanie onto the bar. “I’m sorry I’m late. Parking was awful. You already order?” she asked, gesturing to Riley’s half-finished hot chocolate. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I was going to wait but-” “Oh no, it’s cool! I’ll just go grab myself a latte, yeah? Don’t you go running off.” With that she gave Riley a fleeting peck on the cheek before clacking her way over to the counter in her heeled boots. Blinking in surprise Riley rubbed their cheek and fell back into their stool. This was going much better than they’d expected already. Smiling to themself Riley took another sip of their hot chocolate. It was cooling off again. With a shrug Riley rubbed their hands together, allowing a spark to ignite before directing their power into the beverage, steam immediately streaming from its surface as they did so. As far as they were concerned there was nothing worse than cold hot chocolate, (except maybe cold coffee,) but thanks to their fire powers they never had to worry much about that. They’d even avoided getting coffee for fear that they’d be too jittery, but now that Kendra was here Riley wasn’t even shaking a little bit anymore. That being said, Riley had really taken a while in finding, not only a match that was accepting, but an app too. Even in the twenty-first century it was sometimes difficult to find people accepting of those with powers. That was when Riley saw an add on television about Magic Swipe. It was an all-inclusive app developed by a sorceress. Even its tagline was something along the lines of “so accurate it’s like witchcraft.” Kendra had mentioned on her profile that she had powers too, but hadn’t mentioned what kind. Riley watched as she thanked the barista with a smile, taking her coffee from him. At that moment she turned and made eye contact with Riley. They blushed and turned away, taking another sip from their drink. Moments later the stool beside them was pulled out and Kendra sat down next to them. “So, how’s it going?” she asked, dipping her head down to catch Riley’s eye. They gave a bashful smile in return. “Good. Really good.” Three hours later Riley checked their phone. “Wow, I thought it had been like a half hour or something.” “Oh, shit. Yeah, me too! It’s just so easy talking to you.” Her hand brushed Riley’s as she stood up from the counter. “I should get home.” “Oh… erm, yeah.” replied Riley a little disappointed. Kendra’s eyes met theirs as she pulled on her beanie, a curious look settling over her face. “You know, you could… come back with me if you wanted.” Riley perked up a little. “Are you sure?” “I mean, I know it’s a first date and all, but I just feel like I know you, you know?” “No, I feel the same,” Riley replied, their heart hammering in their chest. “Did you drive here?” “No, I walked,” they replied grabbing their scarf from the counter as they stood up. “Right, it must be nice living so close to town.” Kendra smiled as she took Riley’s hand in hers. “Are you far?” Riley asked, leading them both out of the cafe. “Like twenty minutes. I hope that’s not a problem.” “No, it’s cool.” Riley’s heart was singing. They couldn’t care less how long the ride would be. Kendra was so beautiful and nice they could hardly believe it. The car ride flew by just as their time at the cafe had. She even let them play some music for them that she seemed to like. Twenty minutes later they pulled up outside a gate. With a wave of her hand, the gate swung open for Kendra and she drove the car up the long, winding driveway. At the end of it stood a beautiful house-- no, a mansion. Riley’s mouth fell open. “This is your house?” they asked in disbelief. Kendra shrugged. “I don’t do too badly for myself.” She led Riley inside and brought them into a sitting room. “I’m just going to change,” she told them, pressing a more lingering kiss to their cheek this time, before wandering out of the room. Riley smiled and looked around. There was so much to see! The room was extravagantly decorated with paintings hanging from the walls, a piano nestled in the corner, and so many throw pillows. Great setup for a pillow fort, Riley thought ridiculously. They stood up and wandered toward the piano, but paused by a spindle legged table. On this table was a framed photograph of three older women all seated elegantly before the camera. They looked as if they could be sisters. Picking up the frame Riley squinted at their faces. The woman in the middle looked familiar, as if they’d seen them on television before. Not thinking much of it, they set the frame back on the table and jumped as their eyes connected with the very woman they’d recognized from the photo. “Oh, uh, hi,” Riley said, moving towards her. “I’m sorry. I’m just uh-- Kendra told me to wait in here.” The woman didn’t reply, but smiled. “I was just, uh, waiting for her to come back.” “Oh,” replied the woman in a sweet voice. “Kendra won’t be coming back.” “I’m sorry?” asked Riley, very confused, before it hit them. “Wait, you’re the woman from that commercial.” The woman smiled wider, stepping towards Riley. “You’re the developer of Magic Swipe.” “That’s right, Riley,” she replied, reaching a hand into her robe pocket. “What are you doing here?” “This is my house,” she replied, pulling out a menacing looking metal instrument. “What’s that?” Riley asked, their eyes widening in alarm. “What this?” she asked, twirling the thing between her fingers. “Well this is going to allow you to follow through with Magic Swipe’s terms and conditions.” Riley furrowed their brow. “Um. What?” “When you signed up for the app you agreed to the terms and conditions. You couldn’t have used it without doing that,” she explained in that sickly sweet voice. “Uh, I guess so? What does that have to do with--” “Take out your phone.” Her sweet voice had vanished and was replaced by a demanding tone. “What?” asked Riley scared now. “Take. Out. Your. Phone.” Riley did so without question and opened the app. “Look at the terms and conditions.” Riley opened the page for terms and conditions and start reading. “Users will be respectful when messaging-” “Oh, let me see,” the woman wrenched the phone away and scrolled down what must have been four pages before stopping. “Here.” Sure enough, there in the fine print was the following condition. “Any users that possess powers will be brought to the sorceress’s home in order to relinquish their powers to the sorceress and thereby will allow the sorceress to use their appearance to lead other users to her home.” “But--” Riley looked up at the sorceress in disbelief. “That’s not fair. No one ever reads the terms and conditions.” “Of course it’s fair. It’s all there. If anyone bothered to read they would know that.” Riley’s heart sank. “So, you were Kendra?” “I was today.” replied the sorceress with a shrug. “You could still have a perfectly lovely date. After tonight your debts to me and my app are paid.” Their pulse was racing and fire was ready to roar from under their skin, but at the thought of meeting Kendra, the real Kendra, they found themself waiting to make a move. “Is she…” they began, “Is she like… what she was like today? Was that her?” “It was as like her as you can get with a possession charm,” replied the sorceress nonchalantly. “She seemed to like you despite my spell.” Riley nodded, lost in their thoughts. “Will she be alright?” “Completely unharmed,” she replied. “And so will you.” “What do I have to do?” A week later Riley sat in the window seat of the cafe. They turned to watch Kendra as she smiled at the barista, accepting her drink from him. As she turned, their eyes met. Riley blushed and looked away, picking up their hot chocolate. It had gone cold in the time they’d waited for Kendra to meet them. At that moment Kendra pulled out the stool beside them and smiled. Riley grinned and happily sipped at their cold hot chocolate. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

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