A collection of novellas from Elizabeth Gunn, Allana Martin, Tom Mitcheltree, and Connie Shelton

From How Still We See thee Lie:

"Ray," I stood up and yelled in his ear, "bend down here and look in the tree."

Ray bent, looked, stood back up and said something that dissolved in the din but looked like "...Willard?"

"Call the paramedics," I screamed, "and get that mall manager to stop the train."

"You got gloves? Here," Ray said, pulling some out of his pocket. He turned and pushed through the children, getting glared at by mothers.

I vaulted over the wall around the display and jumped across the train tracks just ahead of the engine. The nearest kids, surprised and delighted, began calling to their mothers, "Look, Mommy, look what that man's doing, can we do that?" as I laid down amongst the dolls and teddy bears, and skootched under the tree.

There was a great, "Oooohh," from the crowd as the tree went dark. The train stopped and the music died with a little groan. I was blind for a few seconds; then my eyes adjusted and found plenty of light from the surrounding stores. I rolled onto my back, spitting out the flock and glitter that rained down on my face, and looked up at the big man in a Santa Claus suit, tied snugly to the trunk of the tree with what appeared to be clothesline.