Three nights since I received my mother's gift, and sleep continued to elude me. I stared at the ceiling, awakened again by memories and feelings that were not my own, and pondered how the world had turned so dark. All the torch fire in existence could not illuminate the blackness that clung to the underside of Cradalym. I could not look in any direction and not see the disease that corrupted the Gifts of Goddess. I slipped from the bed, from the warmth and light of the man I loved, took up my hearthstone, and stepped quietly into the hall. Shadows stretched, long and dark across the walls and floors as I moved; they seemed alive, avoiding the light of my hearthstone, creeping into crevices and behind furniture as I moved.

Sparrow's Nest looked the same as I remembered it. The inn had been my master's choice, and I saw no reason to second guess him. We hitched Mina out front and stepped into the main tavern room. Memories came flooding back. It had been seven years since my last visit, and I felt I could walk the place with my eyes closed. I smiled as I saw a handsome man come out from the kitchen. His ears still looked like someone tugged on them daily.

With a smile, I walked past the bar. "Nathin."

Nathin turned and looked at me for a moment with a blank, servile smile. As he recognized me, his smile wavered and his eyes went wide; he nearly dropped the bucket. "Master Gaerlin?" The joy on his face warmed my heart. He was my fondest memory of Kessel's Claw, and apparently I'd had made a similar impression on him.

We spent two weeks in Kessel's Claw. By the time we left, Nathin was a friend for life. He was a couple years older but our difference in status seemed to even that out. I realized that other than Master Almidion, Nathin was the first friend I had ever had. It hurt to leave, but such was my life for the next year. My master and I traveled, renewing alliances and forming new ones. I had never realized the world was so large. None of it, however, prepared me for my first sight of Seer's Watch.

The morning started like any other. I rose first, rekindled the fire and packed most of the necessities before my master woke. I had his tea ready and had cooked the second rabbit from the night before. Master Almidion had smiled more with each day that week. Before we started, master pulled out his grooming kit.

Almidion chuckled as I fidgeted with my new tunic. "Come out here, Gaerlin, and let me look at you." I came out, reluctantly, and stood just inside the door. I had never worn clothes that felt so fine. They were solid, but soft; clothes that were simply tailored, but made with small embellishments like complimentary colored trim and solid brass eyelets. I felt like I shouldn't brush against anything for fear of soiling them.

"Master, these are too fine." My discomfort wasn't that I was exposed in any way, but that I simply wasn't worth the expense and effort.

"Hah," he smiled at me as I pulled at the hem of the tunic, "You worry far too much about what you are or are not worthy of, Gaerlin. It is my money; I will not have my apprentice dressed in clothing unbecoming of his station." He turned to the mirror and straightened his own very fine robes.

It wasn't until Bourent had completely finished packing the camp that I remembered I had never actually ridden a horse. The thought was completely ridiculous. I had been around horses for most of my life. I had groomed them, fed them, boarded them, saddled them and even led them as pack animals. Yet, in eighteen years of life, I had never actually ridden one. I would have laughed, if I hadn't been so embarrassed

Bourent caught me eyeing his horse dubiously and smiled. "Afraid of horses?"

"No, I love horses." I let the mare sniff at my sleeve before scratching behind her ear. "I've just never ridden one."

"Never?" He looked at me in disbelief.

Shrugging, I looked at the packs. "Never. It seems ridiculous when I think about it." I smiled at him self-consciously. "I've always walked where I needed to go."

I stumbled for the two hundred and twenty-seventh time in the last three days. My yelp, as my knee impacted the rocky soil, was muffled by the gag that became ever more fused to my mouth by the hour. It was nearly impossible to keep my balance in uneven terrain when my arms were restrained behind my back. I could hardly feel my arms any longer. I was certain the bonds were cutting off my circulation. The hands that yanked me up belonged to a creature that cared nothing for these things. With a harsh bark of a barely discernable language the beast shoved me onward.

I dared not look around to see how many of us were left. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the flames rising from the tower; my home for seven glorious years. In those flames I could see Almidion's body, broken and bloody, on the floor of the great hall. The great sage was a man of peace; yet he died at the hands of violence as surely as any peasant, warrior or thief. I tried not to close my eyes. This was more a practical than sentimental choice; I needed to watch my step lest I add another stumble to the growing succession of them.

"I'm not so sure about this," I commented as Patrick descended the steps of the Kings Row PYRC to greet me.

"I was nervous my first few meetings also, Jason, but you're doing a great service," he assured me as we shook hands.

"Yeah," I breathed, looking at the front doors like the gates of the Zig in Bricks.

"The Paragon Youth Recreation Center Outreach Programs are the last safe place our kids have before they end up on the streets." Patrick put his hand on my shoulder as we started up the steps.

"Yeah," I said again, with no more enthusiasm than before.

Patrick raised an eyebrow at me as we got to the doors.

I shrugged. "I don't know what kind of example I am, you know? I did time on the streets, I was in the gangs, I did shit I'm not proud of." I took a breath. "And I'm not so sure I'm any better a person now than I was then."

395 / 50,000

Yes, I know this is madness! 
*runs off, screaming and rending my hair, to write some more!*

I've already done two NaNo Novels in the past 2 years, so I really don't feel like I need to prove that I can complete yet another "new story".  Instead, I'm going to use my month to finish or continue in process works.  I may possibly start some new stuff, but I have so many series and stories that need to be moved along that I don't feel compelled to add more to the "in process" pile.

Following mallie_kite's example, I'm going to list out how I'm approaching this nano.

1) TorchSong: I only have 3-5 more chapters to go before this novel is done... maybe 25,000 words tops. This is my EPIC... Robert Jordan has nothing on me when it comes to verbosity! At present that little tale is over 200,000 words and climbing!

2) Awakenings: I have so many edits and additions to do to my most recent fan-fiction that I just have to put a few more chapters out.  Hell, there isn't any SEX until like chapter 8... and I've only posted the first 5!  My readers must really think I'm slacking off at this point! *snort*

3) Life Light: One of my few collaborative efforts. My co-author intends to give me back chapters to continue on our novel... if she does, then I'll do my best to get something back to her before the end of the month.

4) the Conquered: I haven't posted a new chapter on this epic collaboration, continuing series story, since early this year (February I think). It is time for another installment!

If those four little projects don't net me at least 50,000 words, I'll start on my erotic-horror short story I plan to submit for an gay-horror anthology.

I looked in the mirror as the last of my fire receded from my face and smiled; it was a tired smile, but my eyes looked bright and alert. "There," I declared, turning around for inspection. "How do I look?"

Pars turned away from his mirror and leaned in to examine my efforts. He scrutinized my face, coming ever closer until his lips brushed mine. "Beautiful," he murmured as he pulled back.

Best intentions aside, I didn't take well to being imprisoned in my own apartment. School, training, home, study, eat, sleep, repeat, that was the cycle of my life; if you could call that living. By the end of the first week I was going nuts. I found myself on the balcony, early Friday evening, staring longingly at the city. I watched people walking along the streets, hurrying mostly, on their way to get somewhere before dark. Behind me, the door slid open and Urioch stepped out onto the balcony.

"Would you like to do something tonight, Jason?" He rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

Well, Duh! Hello! Of course I would. I could think of a million things I wanted to do. At least I could until the muscle bound elf decided to ask. What was it about being asked a question that made me clam up? The question I hated the most was, What do you want? I could never answer that one. I pulled my gaze from the streets and shrugged. "Can't go out after dark."

The broken brick wall was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, but it was solid and gave me a good view of the training area. Exhausted wasn't a strong enough word to describe how I felt. Urioch had expressed his concern about my overtaxing myself since the construction site disaster. He'd expressed his concern every night, without fail. He meant well, but living with a know-it-all, who usually did know it all, was annoying. I was a big boy. I could take care of myself. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I tried to catch my breath, and eyed Blaize as he leaned against the wall near to me.

"How the headaches?" Blaize asked, grinning at me, knowing full well I wouldn't tell him the truth.

"Not bad," I mumbled, wishing I had taken two Aleve at breakfast instead of one.

**Second Chances has been Published**

The revised and edited version of my short story, Second Chances is a part of Coming Together, Vol.3, available from Charleswater Press and FictionWise.

Please support small press and independent writers and buy a copy.

The two prior volumes of Coming Together are also worth reading, and are available from CharlesWater Press (Volume 1, Volume 2) and Fiction Wise ( Volume 1, Volume 2).

First day of college was a breeze compared to the first day of Paranormal Parole Training Neither were like my first day in the gang. In a lot of ways, induction into the Skulls had felt more like salvation than anything else. Killer hadn't tried to convince me that he was the boss, or that the smartest path was to follow him. I'd just known it. Just like I knew that if I fucked up in PPP, my life wouldn't be worth living. Simply because I knew it didn't mean my Parole Officer wouldn't remind me.

"Huge." That was all I could think as I stared at the behemoth standing at the front of the room. . I wasn't sure which was larger, the man standing nearly eight feet tall and possibly five or six feet wide at the shoulders, or his reputation on the streets. I'd never thought, in my wildest dreams or worst nightmares, I would be face to face with Back Alley Brawler. My fellow classmates, all five of them, were similarly awed, save for the big guy in the back.

***** Sebastian *****

I walked into our apartment with my briefcase in one hand as I tried to jiggle the keys out of the lock while holding my cell phone to my ear. "Si, Mama."

"Sebastian, you need to call me after you talk to Donito. Let me know what he thinks."

I groaned silently in my mind. Great. One more wedding detail. "I will, Mama."

"Call soon, Sebastian."

"Si, Mama. Te quiero."

I scrutinized my reflection again, jutting my chin forward while I ran my thumb along my jaw. Shaving used to be easy. I never had a problem with getting a smooth, clean shave when I had a dark, maturing beard. Since I woke up in the hospital, I'd skipped maturing and gone straight to ancient. White. My hair was Santa-esque and I wasn't even twenty yet. Grumbling as I found a few nearly invisible missed whiskers; I picked up the disposable razor and scraped them away. My face looked like I'd run it through a sand blaster. I'd probably taken off more skin than hair.

Though exhausted from the research with Pars, the conversation with his mother, and giving him vigorously of my need, I could not sleep. Something pulled me from the comfortable warmth and soft serenades of sleeping in Pars's arms. Thrice now I awoke, as if expecting something or someone to be standing over us. Though no one stood at our bed, I could feel a presence; it was someone who could not possibly be in our rooms. I rolled from Pars's embrace, grabbing my hearthstone as I sat up.

Pars jerked awake at my sudden moment, sitting up moments after I had. "Janel?"

I put up my hand to quiet him. The glow at the far side of the room was barely visible to my natural eyes, but in my mind the purple and silver was bright as a bonfire. "Mother..."