ROUND TWENTY

[sidra]

THANK YOU!!!! i know my excuse was lame... but it was real. my dog and i really were sick. and she ate my homework, too. yeah.

also, would it help if i mentioned that the story i'm working on is set in Mystic Springs? yeah, i thought it might...

[sidra]

all right... here it is! i think it's pretty comprehensible, even if you don't know the Mystic Springs back stories... we'll see... at least i got enough time on this computer to write SOMETHING!

[sidra]

SG1

Sid stood and stared at the glowing red inverted pentagram on the front door of her coffee shop for a good ten minutes. It was, she decided, the fact that it was glowing that bothered her. She could understand why it was there, otherwise. It was, after all, April Fool’s Day, and the kids of Mystic Springs tended to go all out in their pranks. There were a bunch of them that were particularly fond of defacing people’s property, and though she was pretty sure they were Satanists, they were generally harmless. They liked to scare people, that was all. And despite the best efforts of the police force to discipline them, they always seemed to go hog-wild on April Fool’s Day and Halloween. Sid didn’t mind so much, as long as they didn’t steal things.

She had just returned from a short town meeting concerning a vote on a moratorium for arrests for teens caught committing acts of vandalism on April Fool’s and Halloween. The police were just too overworked to worry about some kid painting pentangles on people’s doors as opposed to some kid bashing in another kid’s head with a brick. Kids who were just vandalizing things would be ticketed and fined, until they thought of something better to do with the little hooligans. The vote, finally, after two hours of hot debate, passed and Sid could get the hell out of there and go home. The feeling that something was wrong at home had been growing and growing inside her the entire time, and it was all she could do to keep herself from running out of Town Hall in a panic. But she didn’t want to loose it in front of everyone again. There was no reason to share her nightmares with the rest of the world.

Sid tentatively reached out and tried to open the door of the Mystic Springs Coffeeshop and Empourium of Doom. It was bitingly cold, and she shivered all over. It also remained firmly shut. She cursed and pulled her hand away. No, this was most certainly not the work of kids. Sid knew exactly whose work it was. And she shouldn’t have been surprised, either; after all, the dreams had started up again. And now the worst fear of Sid’s life had been realized… Belladonna was back.

Not only was she back, but she had managed to get into Sid’s house and business, tear down the protective spells and wards that she and Ashe (well, mostly Ashe) had set up around it, and put up spells of her own. And that meant that she had probably gotten the better of Ashe, too, unless he’d been out. He had been a cat more and more these days, even when the moon wasn’t full. That should have been another clue that Belladonna was coming.

“Well this is a lovely little pickle,” Sid muttered sarcastically to herself. She tended to mutter sarcastically to herself when she was scared out of her mind. It was a coping mechanism. She wiped her sweating palms off on her jeans and fished out a Lucky, hoping that would calm her down. She didn’t really have any powers to speak of; nothing that could compare to Ashe’s or Belladonna’s. She just knew what Ashe had taught her, which was basically how to defend herself. And she knew that there was no one in town that would be able to fight or even distract Belladonna. There was no way she was going to call Chaos or the Wench to help her out. First of all, she was sure they both thought she was crazy, and second of all, she didn’t want to put them in any danger. Belladonna was only here for Sid and Ashe… she would leave the rest of the town in peace after she got her revenge. But if anyone got in her way, she would have no qualms about killing them, too. Sid knew things about Belladonna… they might be enough to defeat her. Magic wasn’t the only thing that could fight magic.

She exhaled deeply, and then lit up a fresh cigarette. She drew the little ebony-handled knife she always carried with her and stepped up to the door. She hated to do this, but it was the only way she would be able to get into her own house. With the cigarette burning in her right hand and the knife held tightly in her left, she cut a proper pentagram into it, over the inverted one that was glowing red there. The knife grew unbearably cold to the touch, but she didn’t drop it. She inhaled deeply and blew smoke all over both pentagrams. The cold abated, and the pentagram that Sid had carved began to glow with a soft bluish-purple light. Sid said a word, and the inverted red pentagram flared once, impossibly bright, and then vanished.

“There’s that taken care of,” Sid said softly to herself, turning the handle of the door, which was restored to its proper temperature. “Now she knows I’m home. No turning back now.” She prayed and prayed that Ashe had been out when Belladonna came, and that he was coming home soon, and then stepped inside.

She didn’t recognize the interior of the coffeehouse at all, but that really didn’t surprise her. She knew Belladonna would try and do something to unnerve or upset her. And there were unnerving things in the room. It was filled with rows and rows of tall cast-iron candleholders, surrounding a bloody altar with more inverted pentagrams carved into it. Sid almost felt the urge to sing “Wrapped Around Your Finger”. She didn’t, though, because of the thing in the room that was most unnerving of all. Ashe was tied down on the altar, pale and unmoving, a thin red line across his throat. His eyes were wide open and blank, pale blue and dead.

Sid stifled her first reaction, which was to cry out and run to him. She was sure that was exactly what Belladonna wanted her to do. And, she remembered, trying to think rationally, Belladonna’s specialty was illusion. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. Ashe wasn’t dead. Sid would have known if he’d been killed. Not only that… but his eyes weren’t blue.

“Reveal yourself!” Sid said, waving the cigarette in smoky circles around her head. A smudge stick or even some incense might have been better, but Sid worked with what she got. She closed her eyes and said another word, and then opened them again. The candles were still there. The altar was still there. But Ashe was gone, and in his place was a tall platinum-blonde woman, dressed in clinging lace and satin, sitting on the altar with her legs crossed and a smug expression on her face. Her eyes were the same as those on the false corpse that had been lying there earlier; ice-blue and dead. Sid narrowed her own dark eyes. This wasn’t Belladonna had she’d remembered her; she had some sort of glamour on.

“Well, well, Sylvan,” she said in a voice like poisonous honey, “you have leaned a thing or two, haven’t you?”<br>
“Hello, Belladonna,” Sid said, keeping her voice surprisingly calm. “I can’t say I think much of what you’ve done with the place.”<br>
“You’re speaking rather glibly for someone whose demise is eminent,” Belladonna purred, sliding down from her gory perch in a rustle of satin.

“And you’re speaking rather glibly for someone who lifted half of her dialogue from old Buffy re-runs,” Sid responded, her knife ready. She knew she’d have to be fast if she was going to take Belladonna physically; her magic was great but her fighting skills were nil. And her outfit didn’t offer her much in the way of protection. “Where did you get that dress; at the stripper’s store?”<br>
“Don’t anger a witch, little girl,” Belladonna said menacingly. “You got lucky the last time we met, but this time your precious kitten isn’t here to save you.”

[sidra]

SG1 (con't...)

Sid went pale with fury, forgetting her fear for a moment. “If you’ve hurt him…” she began, but Belladonna interrupted her with laughter like shattering icicles.

“It’s your own life you should be concerned about, Sylvan,” she said, stepping towards Sid and raising her hands, which were beginning to glow with a pale blue light. “It’ll do him enough damage when he finds you dead.” She clapped her hands together.

Pain exploded throughout Sid’s entire body. Every cell in her was aflame; there was not one part of her that was not in complete and total agony. She hung suspended in mid-air for what seemed like an eternity, and then crashed to the ground. She was not sure if she had screamed or not, but she was whimpering now, barely able to move. But she tried. She moved to get on her feet and fight Belladonna as best as she could. She would not be killed. She would not. She tried to remember the words that Ashe had taught her… and then Belladonna clapped again. Sid screamed this time for sure, writhing on the floor at the dark witch’s feet.

“I don’t know what in the world he saw in you, Sylvan, honestly,” Belladonna said conversationally, walking in a slow deliberate circle around Sid’s agonized form. She clapped again, and Sid went fetal with the pain, still managing to keep hold of her knife. She opened her mouth, and a fountain of dark blood rushed out. She wasn’t sure she could survive another clap. “I mean,” Belladonna continued, “to think he would have left us just for the sake of a powerless little nothing like you… it really annoys me. I don’t understand it. There’s nothing special about you. You were just an experiment.”<br>
She suddenly reached down and grabbed the front of Sid’s shirt and lifted her in the air with unnatural strength. Sid hung limply, barely able to move, blood dribbling from her nose and mouth. “There are a plethora of things I could do to you before you die,” Belladonna whispered. “I can drive you mad in a matter of seconds. Your friends would all come in for their evening cup of decaf only to find you slashed your pretty little wrists all up. Such a tragedy. Poor thing. Finally driven insane by all those horrible nightmares.”<br>
Sid finally managed to open her bleeding eyes and look defiantly into Belladonna’s face. “No,” she rasped, through a mouth filled with blood. She tightened her grip on the knife Ashe had given her, and felt warmth slowly return to her nerveless left arm. She remembered the words Ashe had taught her… she only hoped they worked…<br>
Belladonna’s face went paler than death when she heard the words that Sid forced out of her mouth. “How did you…” she began weakly, then dropped Sid to the ground. She looked down at her breast, and saw an ebony silver-inlaid knife hilt sticking out. “Where… where did you get…” she stammered, and then she fell lifelessly to the floor. Sid’s killing strokes hardly ever went awry.

The rows and rows of candles faded away, as did the grotesque altar. Sid knelt on the floor of her coffee shop, facing the corpse of a short, somewhat dumpy woman in her early forties with ice-blue eyes and dishwater blonde hair. She wore a normal housedress; she looked like someone’s mom, except for she wore at least a dozen pentagrams in varying styles strung on pale cords around her neck. The blood oozing out around Sid’s knife was thick and dark, nearly black in color.

“Sid!” She felt someone’s arms around her, supporting her, lifting her up. It was Ashe, kneeling beside her and taking her into his arms. His eyes were green. She smiled up at him through her bloody vision.

“We had a visitor…” she whispered, pointing weakly at Belladonna’s corpse.

“Sid,” he said, holding her close, “how did you get her? I felt her hurting you, I started running as fast as I could but I was across town…”

“S’okay… I used the words you taught me… and the knife... It surprised her… I caught her off guard… I did what I should have done ten years ago… I don’t know what I’m going to tell the Chief…”

“Never mind that,” Ashe said. “You did the right thing, Sid… we’ll set everything straight later… god, I’m just glad that you survived this…”

“Not… sure I did…” Sid coughed, and a bit of blood came up. “Probably should go to the hospital…” Her bloodshot brown eyes flickered and closed. Ashe frantically checked her pulse. It was still there, weak but steady. He gathered her into his arms and lifted her up, then paused and turned to look at the dead woman on the floor.

“Goodbye, mother,” he said quietly, and then turned around and carried Sid out of the coffee house.

[Chaos]

Yay, Sid! Well...two of us got our stories in, anyway...

Wench? HIM? Tricia? Anyone?

Well...look. I've got issues tonight..it seems I can't stay online for more than about a minute before I get kicked off again...have I mentioned before to any of you how much I really really REALLY hate dial-up?

Anyway...I know we've got at least one more story coming (right, Wizzay?), so how about we take this through 'til tomorrow night. Does that sound OK to everyone?

We've got to drum up some interest in this board, ya'll. It's getting a little bit sad 'round here. Anyone have any ideas?

And yes, Sidra...your story's Mystic Springs references more than made up for the sad excuse...and it kind of made me want to cruise on over there and see what I can get into. Then again...the dust is thicker over there than it is even here, and that's saying something, lately!

(And I'm sorry...very, very sorry that you and your puppy were sick...)

[RedneckDiva]

SHIT SHIT SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT!

I could've SWORN I hit the "notify" button on this round!

Thank goodness there were sick puppies, flailing penises, cantankerous dial-ups and whatnot to give me time to write a story with my oh so wonderful words that everyone hates!

AND I'll have you know that I'm foregoing working on my taxes to write a story, thankyouvermuch. Actually, this came along at just the right time so I'd have yet another diversion... even if my appt with the accountant is on Friday egad! Procrastinate much? I work better under pressure. *shrugs*

I'll be writing in the cloakroom this time. It seems pretty quiet tonight...

[ThatWickedWench]

Great story Sid, and by the way, MY EXCUSE WAS REAL TOO!! I WAS attacked and beaten profusely about the shoulders with a semi flacid penis. It was horrifying. But I put the monster to sleep and was able to save myself.
And Chaos, sorry about the dial-up but you DID say the other day Tuesday by 9pm... and it's Monday?? I am WORKING On it DAMNIT... lol I only had about 4 hours of downtime at work tonight. Give me a break, sheesh.

[RedneckDiva]

Ugh, here it is. Best I could do with my taxes laying on my desk behind me, screaming and squalling and crying and all...begging to be done....like so many old boyfriends...heehee.

RD1

CarrieAnn Majestic was bound and determined to die today.

She didn’t care what it, today was going to be her Death Day. She’d celebrated 26 Birth Days and she wanted to celebrate her one Death Day with flair and panache. She had a plethora of ideas for the party, but wasn’t sure how to get them all in order in her head. She was finding that one’s Death Day weighed pretty heavy on a person’s mind, even when not trying to plan a party. But plan she must because it was going to be a doozie

She called her best friend, Sayrie, and told her to invite a few of their closest friends over for a small get-together at 8. Of course, by calling Sayrie and telling her to keep it small just assured her that it was going to be a massive party for sure.

She ran to the store and picked up a few dozen bags of chips, some beer, some soda and cleaned them out of Little Debbie cakes. As she was checking out, she grabbed a pickle from the jar on the counter. “It’s my Death Day,” she told herself, “Fuck how much sodium I’m partaking of right now,” and chomped into it with a grin. The check she wrote at the Kroger was as hot as hot could be, scorching even, yet she didn’t care. She hadn’t practiced too much discipline with her finances previously, and obviously she wasn’t going to start on her last day alive. She’d taken somewhat of a moratorium on her car payments the last few months in anticipation of her upcoming Death Day, even though she hadn’t decided on a date until she woke up that day. She was going to live it up until she quit living and the countdown was on.

She tidied up her small house, washing all of the dishes from last night’s dinner, ran the vacuum and even dusted, a chore she despised. She had told her mother when she was a very precocious eight year old, that dusting was going to be her demise, always saying with while putting the back of her hand to her forehead and feigning weakness. Her mother always laughed and told her to “dust anyway, it builds character” and if she was going to die at least she’d die with character. And even still, as much as she hated the task, she always thought of her mother when she sprayed Lemon Pledge on her furniture.

Sayrie showed up at 6, dressed in her newest, skimpiest halter, tight shorts, bordering on the Daisy Duke variety, and enough makeup for at least three Vegas showgirls. But damn if she wasn’t hot. CarrieAnn grabbed her as soon as she opened the door and pulled her in roughly and kissed the surprised girl full on the lips. As her tongue pushed into Sayrie’s mouth, she tasted lip gloss and spearmint gum. Sayrie had given up protesting and was now kissing back with fervor. The two girls stumbled and staggered to CarrieAnn’s bedroom, giggling and kissing the whole way. CarrieAnn pulled the string that held Sayrie’s barely-there top in place and flipped the fabric up over her head. After freeing her of her top and then helping her wiggle out of her shorts, she pushed her almost gently onto the bed and knelt between her legs. “Do you want me to?” she asked as she softly stroked Sayrie’s outer lips, looking up at her coyly. Sayrie didn’t reply with words, she just pulled CarrieAnn’s head into her and held it there, moaning when her hungry tongue found its mark, her hands bunching the sheet into twisted mounds within her fists.

For an hour, the two played and explored each other. Their friendship wasn’t a new one, they met in the 3rd grade, but for some reason had never chosen to experiment until now, nearly 20 years into their relationship. Finally, they both seemed sated and after a playful kiss, CarrieAnn jumped up and ran naked to the shower.

“Sayrie, I think I should change the theme of the party tonight,” she yelled out from the shower.

“Theme? This is a theme party?” Sayrie asked, looking up quickly from the magazine she’d been thumbing through while she lay sprawled and naked on CarrieAnn’s bed. She cocked her head toward the bathroom, listening for CarrieAnn’s reply through the rush of the shower.

“Eh . . . not really I guess. I dunno, I kind of wanted to celebrate something, but now I’m thinking that maybe my celebration has changed a little. I dunno . . . ”she trailed off, frowning while she rinsed her hair.

“Hey, whatever. Theme or not theme, I just want to party! Hey, what do you think everyone would do if you and I started making out during the party? How many gasps and squeals do you think we’d get for that?” she asked as she walked into the steamy bathroom. The gasps and noises that came from her were definitely from shock and surprise, but not from watching two girls make out like she imagined her friends doing at the show she planned on putting on. She finally managed to make herself scream when what she was seeing finally clicked. She covered her eyes and slid down the door facing, trying to block from her mind the vision of CarrieAnn limply lying on the floor of the shower, her wet hair in her face, blood mixing with the water as it swirled around the drain.

[ThatWickedWench]

Wench1

*Note*

There is no moratorium on the amount of trouble that any one child is allowed to get into while growing up, but maybe there should be. For every ex-kid there is at least one mildew covered skeleton hanging in a closet somewhere, just waiting to be discovered; However, it's the skeleton which never surfaces that one should ultimately be concerned about.

***

Hot summer rain pelted the windows of the old victorian two-story fervently. Talia Cooper and her parents had moved in just months before, but it already resembled a museum rather than a home. It was full of a large plethora of incredibly fascinating antiques and other such nostalgia from the Cooper's worldwide scavenger hunts. These things which usually intrigued Talia, today, merely depressed her.

She was alone in this ancient exhibit again.

Talia precariously balanced a plate piled high with juicy and sour pickles and a glass of lemonade while trying to open her bedroom door. She was not really supposed to have food in her room, but she broke that rule regularly when her folks were not home. And that was happening more and more these days, it seemed.

She got the door open, and her fuzzy purple phone began to ring as if on cue. She almost dropped the plate scrambling to answer.

"Hello? Oh hey Jana." She grabbed the phone and plopped herself into the lime green beanbag chair in front of the TV. "Now? Well OKay, I can do that.. No, mom and dad are out of town for a dealer's convention. Again. I'll be over there in a few, just let me pack some stuff."

Jana Munroe was Talia's best friend of five years and they had practically lived together every summer since they met.

Talia scrounged in her messy desk and found some paper and a purple gel pen to scribble the note to her parents: Gone To Jana's, probably for a few days. Love, Me. Nothing new there- Talia had her own drawer in Jana's dresser and a toothbrush in the bathroom. She was there that often.

Folding the note, she went to the kitchen and tacked it to the message board next to the phone. Then, back in her room, she rummaged for some clothes that she haphazardly threw into a bag along with some CDs and a DVD. Snatching up the bag, she exited the room, slamming the door behind her. Coincidentally, she failed to notice the demise of the plate of pickles that had fallen to the floor.

It was then, that Talia heard the eerie noise emanating from somewhere above. It was a keening pitch that sounded much like the cry of a child- a desolate, lonely kind of sound. But she knew that couldn't be the case; Nobody was in her house- especially not upstairs.

The attic door was a plain door, not like the pull-down kind in her friend's house. Talia knew that behind that door, a rickety stairwell led up to attic storage. She'd been disciplined by her father to stay out of the attic- it just wasn't too safe up there, he'd warned her. She knew there were many valuable items stored in the attic that he had plans to sell, but the old floors just weren't too trustworthy.

The cries had ceased for the moment, and Talia had herself almost convinced she'd imagined them when they began again- even more desperate sounding than before. The wailing was certainly human, although any words were not distinguishable.

She had to know who or what that was! Talia opened the creaky door and took the steps to the attic.

A bone chilling breeze swept down the stairwell accompanied by an even more chilling silence. Whatever it was had stopped making the noise, and Talia found that almost as disturbing as the sound itself. A sudden pungent stench penetrated the stairwell, but it dissipated almost as soon as it was detected. Her heart pounded and her skin tingled as the hairs all over her gangly, twelve year old body stood on end.

She had reached the summit of the staircase. She looked around slowly at a collection of very old trunks and furniture, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. A large, ornately decorated dressing mirror stood in one dark corner, and movement in that area gave her cause to jump. Talia looked again and determined that the movement was her own reflection, and sighed, relieved.

A sudden sob that appeared to have come from behind the remarkable mirror, startled her out of her reverie.

[ThatWickedWench]

Wench1 <cont>

Nearing the corner that the mirror occupied, Talia stepped over a bunch of odd looking toys that lay strewn about the floor. They were definitely valuable and maybe her dad would let her try to sell them at the Antique Boutique.. so she picked them up and decided to head back downstairs. This was just too creepy, and she wanted OUT of this house.

"Hey, those are MINE." A tiny voice implored from the corner. "you can play with them, if you wanna, but please don't take them away."

Talia dropped the toys and looked frantically around the mirror for the source of the voice. Simply nothing.

"Where ARE you?" she called out.. and then, "Who are you? Why won't you come out? And what are you doing in my house?" Talia's search was in vain, however. She leaned against the mirror and closed her eyes. This wasn't happening! She was NOT crazy!

"My name is Charlotte." the little voice breathed into Talia's ear from behind. Talia spun around in a panic.

Her fear turned into amazement when she looked into the mirror and saw that the reflection in the mirror was not her own, but the somewhat blurred image of another girl! The mirror-girl appeared to be about 8 or so and wore a simple white frock. She sported long, bouncing blond curls tied up in pigtails with pink ribbons. She looked as if she were from another time completely!

"Are you a ghost? Did you die in this house? And why were you crying?" Talia stumbled over the words.. she wasn't scared anymore, simply fascinated. She could see INTO the mirror.. there was a children's playroom reflected back at her behind the white-clad girl. More toys much like the ones at her feet could be seen in the mirror-room.

Charlotte balked at Talia's forceful line of questioning and her image grew blurrier as she started the troubled wail again.

Talia lowered her tone in an effort to soothe the child. "Sorry," she said.. "But why are you so sad?"

The little girl's hazy image pouted, "I want my toys back now. Give them."

Talia turned and picked up a ragdoll that lay limp on the floor... "but how did you get here?" The mirror girl interrupted her.

Charlotte's eyes seemed to light up, "My dolly!" She pleaded to Talia imploringly with her eyes.

"Tell me how you got here, and you can have her."

Charlotte's face grew dark as she spoke. "I got really sick and my mommy made me stay up here. She said I could come out when I got better. But I never got better."

Talia wasn't satisfied, she wanted to know how the little ghost came to be trapped in the mirror.. "but are you stuck inside the mirror?" she touched the glass and her skin tingled. "Can't you come out?"

The little girl shook her head, causing her face to distort again. "No. I try to but I can't. I am so lonely up here. I liked to play dress-up, but one day I laid down and took a nap in front of this mirror, but I was so so sick and I didn't wake up. My mommy must have been really sad when I didn't wake up."

Wow... Talia calculated. This poor thing had spent an eternity in isolation.. no wonder her ghost was so tormented!

"Can I have Dolly now?" Charlotte asked.

Talia stepped forward and pressed the worn doll up against the mirror, unsure of what to expect.. the ghost's fingers wrapped around the doll's arm through the mirror and the toy was pulled through the glass to the other side, where Charlotte snuggled it tightly.

"I'm sorry you are lonely, Charlotte. That is very sad.." Talia wiped a tear away. This little girl was much like herself- sad and alone. "But you don't have to be alone anymore.. I can be your friend.." Talia picked up another toy and pressed it firmly to the mirror for the ghost-child to take from her.

Charlotte's imaged un-blurred slightly, and Talia thought she saw the beautiful child smile for the first time. The two girls giggled together then and Talia knew that all that Charlotte's spirit needed was companionship. Now, maybe her ghost could rest!

"Oh I am so happy you came," Charlotte blurted out..."I always wanted a friend." She placed a perfect little hand on her side of the mirror, the palm was showing to Talia, who, in turn, placed her hand on the mirror, over Charlotte's. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Friends," the ghost whispered. "Friends, forever."

The spirit's fingers melted through the mirror and interlaced with Talia's own, closing over her hand firmly.. But then Charlotte gave a vicious yank and Talia cried out in surprise. She felt her whole being slip away as she was pulled into the mirror-room and out of the reality that she had only just come to appreciate.

***

The Next Afternoon

Frank and Paulette Cooper arrived home to an empty house. While Paulette unfolded the note that her daughter had so thoughtfully left them, Frank marched into the attic to take care of business. He lugged the huge, dusty vanity mirror down the attic stairs and out to his antique broker's waiting truck.

Frank Cooper was oblivious to the frantic wails and the sounds of small hands banging on the other side of the looking glass as he accepted the five-figure check with a hearty hand-shake.

[Chaos]

Well, see, what had happened was...

My evil twin, the bitch, was smoking crack and she decided to come over here and impersonate me! Can you believe the gall of some people? I'm gonna kick that biya's ass ... just as soon as I find her, that is.

If any of ya'll cloakroom freaks see her in there, would you please tell her that I'm looking for her? And take her crack pipe away from her...she tends to get a bit out of control when she's on that shiiiiiit.

OK, so deadline's tonight at midnight. I won't be up at midnight to close the forum, obviously, so we're on the honor system, here. (Yeah...as if we're actually going to get anymore stories, right? )

Voting will start at midnight, if you're so inclined. I think we'll vote for two stories each this time.

Good luck, everyone!

[ThatWickedWench]

OKay I will step up for votage.

My votes are:

SG1 (props for the Mystic Springs references, that rocks)

AD1 (you continue to creep me out, Ang. I like it)

[Chaos]

OK, kids, I can see that, with the notable exception of the Wench (who, incidentally, voted for ME!!!!), nobody is going to vote unless I post a voting deadline, so that everyone can fly in here and vote at the last minute. So...to that end, I'd like to finish up with the voting by Saturday night, if possible.

So cast your vote already!

[Tammie]

Wench1
Chaos

[RedneckDiva]

At the risk of incuring the wrath of well...any of the powers that be around here....I'm voting now. Late, as usual. But voting nonetheless.

Wench
Sid