Smaller, Smaller, Smaller by Melissa Andres (Team Otter)

Peeling paint and cracked stained glass filtered weak sunlight across empty pews. Each corner whispered stories of a lively past now faded into memories.

As the seasoned leader stood in the center of the sanctuary, he spoke aloud, "I can speak faith, Lord, yet I cannot see it." He patted the resignation letter in his suit coat pocket. Ernestine would receive the paper in the morning right before his last service.

His last service. Hot tears welled in his eyes. How had it come to this? And why?

He spun to walk back up the aisle, the heels of his dress shoes clicking. The sanctuary was empty. He stopped short. It was Ray Saunders. Almost. Big bushy grey eyebrows. Bald head. Hearty laugh. Surprising how that elderly man could laugh like that after what happened to his boy all those years ago. How could anyone be so happy? In this place?

And there, in the pew right beside him was Ms. Pertha Abernathy sporting her wide-brimmed straw hat with that colorful peacock feather. "Fine sermon Sunday, Preacher Jack," she was saying. Her oxygen tank hummed in his ear.

They were all there. Almost. All eight of them. Shoulder-to-shoulder. On a Saturday evening. Ray, Pertha, Clarence and Agnes Lindley, Biscuit Wallace, the twin sisters Mary Nell and Tilley Peregrine. And his faithful servant, Ernestine Ambrose. The church secretary had been there for forty years. Decades longer than he had. He would miss them all, but he would miss that woman the most.

Jack Sullivan blinked and they disappeared. Into thin air. He blinked again. They were still gone, just as he would be tomorrow. "I can't stay like they do, Lord. I just can't."

And then he noticed it. A Bible sitting right where Biscuit Wallace had been. Was it Biscuit's, or someone else's? The preacher gathered the shabby leather-bound book into shaky hands and sat with a muffled thud. He sighed. Deep. Deafening. With a bowed head, the man flipped through the highlighted, marked up, dog-eared pages.

He landed on 1 Corinthians 15:58. "Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

Coincidence? No. Jack Sullivan didn't believe in coincidence. He read the passage again. And again. He had believed in God since he'd been a small child. God had called him into ministry when he was a teenager. He knew he was meant to serve. But how could he continue with only eight followers? Their sparse coins in the offering plate each week wouldn't even pay the church's light bill.

But wait. He raised his face to the baptistry. Long unused. He hadn't baptized a single soul in years. Long years. A sadness he couldn't contain washed over him like sacred waters. "You know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain," he said.

Had he truly given himself fully to the work? If he was honest, the answer was no. His stomach knotted and the palms of his hands began to sweat. "Let nothing move you."

The man stood, knees creaking, Bible still in hand. A small smile played across his lips as he remembered the many casseroles he had consumed during potluck lunches. Mexican Quesadilla, Sour Cream Chicken, Tuna Noodle. Baptist women were the best cooks in the world.

He grinned widely when he recollected all the weddings he had performed. The beautiful flowers. The uplifting music. The loving couples dressed with such elegance. He prayed they would each stay together until death do they part.

Death. Eulogies, burials, and sad family encounters were unfortunate events in a religious leader's career. Jack Sullivan had orchestrated more than he cared to count. But a person must separate from physical life in order to reach eternal life. How could he ever think of separating from this church? Its flock was small, but faithful.

"Be on guard for yourselves and for all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has appointed you as overseers, to shepherd the church of God, which he purchased with his own blood," Acts 20:28, Jack Sullivan quoted.

Removing the resignation letter from his pocket, the preacher nodded his head. God had appointed him as overseer for all the flock. No matter how big. No matter how small. He was to shepherd the church. It was how the Holy Spirit had intended.

His fingers tore the piece of paper in half. Folded the halves in half and tore again. Smaller, smaller, smaller. And each rip offered a satisfaction he had never felt before. Ernestine would have to put up with him for perhaps years to come.

Pertha Abernathy's peacock feather would too.

Empty Jar by Evangeline Beggs || Team Otter!

Everyone in my family can see ghosts. Even my extended family can see ghosts. All the kids in my class can see ghosts, too. In fact, everyone in my school can. Everyone can see ghosts.

Except me, I guess.

            I stared into the jar intently once more. Supposedly, the ghost of some old professor lived in this jar. He was a bit bonkers—or so I’ve been told—so the board of this school, Ernest Grant’s School for Necromancy, decided to use him for “testing”, along with many other ghosts deemed “too far gone”. Obviously testing meant: closing every curtain in the lunch hall, putting all first-year students in chairs, and making them each look into a jar until they saw something.

            I sighed. Still nothing. Just an empty, cold jar.

            Bored, I looked around at the other students. Nearly every other kid in the hall had passed the test and had been told to return to their classes. It was just me, a nervous foreign exchange student, and a stocky boy with glasses who kept picking his nose (and touching the jar with the same fingers, gross). As I watched, the foreign girl leapt to her feet and gasped. “I see it!” she shouted, clutching the jar, her eyes wide. I glared in envy as she was escorted out of the room.

One of the teachers who was walking around tapped me on the shoulder. “Focus, Ms. Lander,” he said, his tone condescendingly gentle.

            “I can’t,” I said through gritted teeth. ‘Cause that kid picking his boogers is driving me crazy, I wanted to add, but I knew that would get me in trouble.

            “You must. Do you really want to be the only student who didn’t pass simply because she ‘couldn’t focus’?” He looked down at me with rounded eyes, and that was the last straw.

            I tossed the jar down and heard it shatter, but I didn’t care. “I’m done!” I shouted. “I can’t see the stupid ghost, and that kid over there eating his boogers is driving me crazy!” Angry tears stung my eyes. “I’m done!”

            The lunch hall fell silent, the only noise being the last echoes of my voice, and I could practically feel the booger-picking kid staring at me. Everything felt cold. The ghost jar laid shattered on the floor. That was probably the source of the chill, or maybe it was just how angry I was.

            The teacher blinked. “Come with me, Ms. Lander,” he said softly, placing his hand on my arm. “Mr. Dennett, return to your class, please.” He pulled a radio out of his pocket as he led me out of the room. “Spirit cleanup in lunch hall, please.”

            Oh, no… I thought. I really did mess up. I had to be in huge trouble now.

            The teacher seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry about the ghost,” he said. His footsteps, I noticed, were nearly silent, despite him wearing dress shoes. “They’re easy to capture again.”

            “Am I in trouble?” I hated the way my voice shook.

            “No, no,” he said. “Not at all.” He smiled slightly. “Many students have problems seeing their first ghost. In fact, the majority of students don’t see a ghost on the first try. I didn’t.”

            I looked up at him, surprised. “What? How?”

            “Many of our students come from families that begin teaching their children simple necromancy, such as seeing ghosts, when they are young, or the kids will have simply happened upon ghosts before, depending on their lifestyle.” He led me into his office and sat at his desk, gesturing for me to sit on the opposite chair. I did. I noticed a simple gold plaque on his desk: PROF. EDWARDS. Where had I seen that name before?

            “My parents never taught me that stuff.” I fidgeted with my skirt, looking down at my hands. “They never had time to, with work and such. And my siblings just ignored me a lot.”

            “Why did your parents send you here, then?” Professor Edwards leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin absentmindedly.

            “They wanted me to live up to the family name, I think,” I said, thinking back. “Everyone in my family is really good at recovery necromancy—you know, sending lost ghosts on their way to heaven or hell. That kinda stuff is what they do. They’re the best in the state at it. So when Dad came back from one of his contracts and he realized I hadn’t developed any abilities yet, he and Mom sent me here.” I remembered the day vividly. Or, not really the day. Just his disappointed expression, my parents’ hushed voices from the other room talking about how I wasn’t good enough.

            “Hm,” was Professor Edwards’ reply. His eyes were a very deep brown, I realized. Kind of like a friendly dog’s. He’s a nice guy, I decided. “Ms. Lander, I think that you’re better at this than you realize,” he said. “But because of your parents doubting you, you’re doubting yourself. And that’s also making you sensitive and short-tempered.” I opened my mouth, offended, but he held up a finger. “You need to remember that just because your parents doubt your ability, you don’t have to,” he said. His gaze grew distant. “Having confidence in yourself is the first step to becoming yourself.”

            I stared. Well, that was deep. But he was right.

            “Well then.” He stood, and I followed suit. “You should probably return to your classes. It was very nice meeting you, Ms. Lander.” He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. Man, his skin was freezing.

            “Bye,” I said, turning to leave. But then I remembered: His advice was really good. I should thank him.

            I turned to say thank you, but he was gone, and so was the desk, and everything else in the room. Disappeared.

            All that remained was an empty jar sitting on the floor, with the name “Professor Edwards” scrawled in Sharpie on the lid.

So creative!!

"The Housekeeper" by Melissa Goonan

Emily Perkins can’t see her family.

This thought came to her as she put in the fourth load of laundry in her new job as a Housekeeper as a live-in nanny. She knows that this is going to be a temporary job as she needs to make some extra money, but it seems endless, and she misses her family. She has been working this job for about three months now, but she doesn’t care for it.

As she walked into the sunny kitchen to start breakfast for the two children, Evan and Addison, her boss, Jason came down the stairs whistling, ready for the work day. He smiled warmly as she poured coffee for him. Emily wearily went back to the stove to continue stirring the scrambled eggs for the two kids who should be bounding down the stairs and getting ready for school. “Good morning, Emily,” said Jason. “Why don’t you grab yourself some eggs as well and sit down and eat breakfast with us?”

Emily turned around and continued stirring the eggs and was annoyed. This family was way too nice to her, and these kids always wanted to be around her. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t just leave her alone and get through the workday. It made her miss her own family more, and she knew in her heart that she needed to work this new job long enough to make the money needed for her family. She could hear the kids rustling around upstairs and questions of “Where are my cleats!” or “Evan! Why did you put my favorite sweater in your laundry?” She knew they’d be downstairs soon, so she needed to get the toast made and the orange juice set down at the table. She wondered what her own family was doing right now and pushed back the question in her mind of why they haven’t called her yet at her new job. This family reminded her of her family, and she wondered if that was why she was struggling with this new job.

“Dad, I’ve got practice today, remember?” Evan ran into the kitchen and Emily set down a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Addison was close behind him. She set her pink backpack down and went to work on her eggs that was set down in front of her.

“We-ell,” said Jason looking at Emily then back to his children. “I thought maybe Emily could walk down to the field to your practice. Addison could meet you there, then we could all go together to my doctor’s appointment. Remember that’s today? “Emily frowned. She thought her duties would be cleaning, cooking and helping with homework. She wasn’t sure why this job included Jason’s doctors appointment. She was starting to find this family very strange. She kept telling herself that this job was temporary, and she’d need to go along with the requests of her boss, funny as they were.

“I can walk to the field dad, “agreed Addison. “I have cheerleading right before that. Then I can hang out with Emily. “Emily frowned again. What was the deal with these kids? This was only supposed to be a job. It seemed like the family was trying to forge a friendship with her. She struggled in the back of her mind to understand why her own family hadn’t reached out yet.

She wiped away a tear and smiled brightly. “Yes, I will walk over. The field is close to here. But are you sure you want me to go to this doctor’s appointment? You could drop me off here and I could make dinner before I’m off for the evening.”

Her boss and the kids all gave each other a quick glance. Emily noted that they looked sad of all things. She wondered to herself why they cared. Then Jason smiled and said “I would like you to come to this doctor’s appointment-it’ll be part of your duties for today.”

Emily nodded and started to clean up the dishes as the kids hugged their dad and ran off for school before they were late. She felt frustrated because she wanted to stay at the house this afternoon and get ahold of her family. She wasn’t even sure why she hadn’t yet, that was muddled in her brain for some reason. She sighed. Maybe she was exhausted from this new job.

Emily spent the day finishing up the laundry and cleaning the kitchen. When she was done, she walked over to the field where Evan was having his practice. Addison was already there, and they sat quietly on the bleachers together. Emily was really struggling with the fact that her family hadn’t reached out to see how her new job was going, and she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t reached out to them yet. Addison kept trying to chat about different things, but Emily just kept smiling and nodding. She told herself that she would get ahold of her family this evening. She had settled this thought in her head when Evan ran over with his bag. “Dad is here to pick us up!” Emily followed them to light blue Honda. “I once drove a car like this,” she said out loud. They all looked at each other. It was quiet for a few moments, then Jason smiled. “Get in everyone, let’s get to my doctor’s appointment!”

When they arrived at the doctor’s office, they all went in the waiting room together. When the nurse called them back all together, Emily noted how strange this continued to be. “I might look for a new job,” she told herself when they all piled into the small sterile room.

Dr. Finnegan came in and greeted everyone with a smile. “How is everything going?” he spoke to all of them.

“Dr. Finnegan,” asked Jason, “It’s been three months since the accident. When is Emily going to remember that we are her family?”