THE EXCERPTS ARE FROM SHORT STORIES PUBLISHED IN WEIRD & WONDERFUL TALES
(summer 2008 edition)

A Sense of Morality by Sue Kelly

The huge white dog was walking down the hall, its plumed white tail waving lazily with pleasure. James had frozen seeing it approach.
As it neared him its tail went down and its lips drew back from it gums. With fangs exposed it growled warningly. The woman owner blushed and tugged at the lead.
‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into him, he usually so friendly. He’s a Pyrenean Mountain Dog. They were bred to guard the flocks you know, it’s why he’s so big. They had to fight off wolves-’
The dog lunged at him, nearly tearing the lead from its owner’s hand. James ducked back into his flat, slamming the door behind him.
‘We need to move, the new tenant has a-’
‘I know I’ve seen it.’ Diane continued to paint her toenail a deep almost pulsating purple.
‘Why didn’t you tell me, it lunged at me.’
‘Oh darling, did it give you a thrill?’
‘Stop laughing at me you bitch, it lunged at me!’
Diane laughed again. ‘You’re such a prissy man, you could do with a bit of the wild-’
James pulled the door open, checked the corridor was clear and quickly left before the dog could come back. As he passed the new tenant’s door he heard the dog throw itself against it.

Changelings by Teresa Holmes

Sybil Simpson was a failure, she always had been. Not a successful failure who could make things go spectacularly wrong, but a failed failure. Sybil’s failures were a constant reminder of her incompetence. Whatever she attempted seemed doomed to failure. The world plotted against her. If she wanted to turn left the road would immediately move to the right; if she stretched up to lift something from a shelf the shelf would grow several feet beyond her reach; if she dressed to impress her outfit would act as a giant magnet for all the dirt and grime in that sector of the universe.
Given Sybil’s capacity for disasters it was hardly surprising that pets howled and hid whenever she entered their territory; household items begged to be locked away whenever she came near; and her family protected themselves with a wide range of charms to ward off the evil that accompanied the hapless Sybil. They also refrained from informing Sybil that she was a witch.
‘Can you imagine the damage she’d do with a wand?’ Great Aunt Patricia muttered between clenched teeth.
‘Or with spells,’ Sybil’s mother blanched at the thought.
‘No,’ they all agreed, ‘Sybil must never know she has magical powers.’
She needed a familiar though, not to enhance her powers but to help quell them.