RUNNING INK PRESS Forever Nocturne Magazine Volume II, Issue II Herein are works of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or were used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Non-fiction (if any): news articles were thoroughly researched before being accepted for submission, and links are given for more information. All rights reserved 2012 Running Ink Press Edited by N. L. Gervasio and Sharon Gerlach Cover Design by N. L. Gervasio Magazine Design by N.L. Gervasio and Sharon Gerlach Cover image 2003 Ryan Arstegui Published by Running Ink Press, LLC PRINTING HISTORY 2012 This magazine, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form, without the prior written permission of the publisher or individual author. For information, address: forevernocturnezine@gmail.com ISBN: PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 1st Edition

MATURE CONTENT: READER DISCRETION ADVISED

Forever Nocturne Showcase

MARCH 2012 VOLUME II, ISSUE II

Welcome back, readers! We certainly missed you! This issue is a special one were calling a Showcase issue, because were showcasing some very talented writers, both present and

past. From Shannon Mayer and Christel Grady to RC Murphy, Jesse F Hayes and HC Palmquist, as well as Sharon and myself, we have new stories and poetry, as well as a few previously published poems you might have missed if youre new to our little magazine. This issue is also available in download format, and the October 2011 issue will be available as well in the next day or two to download. Just follow the links and they

will take you where you need to go. As a reminder, most pictures within the zine have hyperlinks, so click away and see where they take you, especially the books! Some go to the authors Twitter or Facebook fanpages, and some will lead you to their websites. Enjoy reading!

Warmest regards, Jinxie G

Inside this issue:

The Tower by RC Murphy The Smasher by Shannon Mayer Ahses By Lisa JS Lockridge Nocturne By TL Boehm In the Blink of an Eye 2 by Sharon Gerlach Tir na nOg: V by NL Gervasio Stop Crossroads Like Stars Learning to Fly

Featured Story

The Tower
Secreted away within Thurlow Forest stood a castle. Not much more than the main dining hall and western tower remain in present days. The forest reclaimed the land in and out of the estate. Trees sprouted up in the middle of the large dining hall. Walls crumbling

by RC Murphy
from years of neglect remain upright, held in place by vines woven through the rocks. None dared to enter Palsgrave Castle in the three hundred and fifty years since its occupants horrific demise. Lord Palsgrave refused to offer aid to an old woman. Fear and local gossip whispered dark allegations about her, sweet strychnine in his ears. Witch, they said and he believed every word of it. Upon his third refusal to offer her a bed for the night she spat these words, To enter this castle is to be cast into eternal darkness. To

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accept Palsgrave hospitality is to surrender to insatiable bloodlust. Slumber under this roof and feast upon your fellow man for eternity. After she departed, an illness claimed the household. Their teeth grew into those of a serpent. They fell upon the servants, feasting on their blood until every last body ran dry. Ravenous, the Palsgrave family turned on each otherripping limb from torso, flesh from bone. Days later, a cousin came calling. He found the youngest daughters arm trying to crawl outside on its own accord. Sunlight caught fire to it as he watched, horrified. Inside, the decapitated heads of the family argued and cursed each other. The news spread rapidly. A nearby landowner took it upon himself to destroy the cursed souls. He set the castle ablaze. The vampires and their final bloody feast were destroyed. And so the castle remained. Undisturbed. The forest closed in around the ruins. Centuries passed and with them the secrets hidden in the forest faded to legend. Tales of a green-skinned witch whisper across schoolyards miles from Thurlow Forest. "Go too far into the forest and shell turn you into a soulless bloodsucker," they say. No one ever made it within a mile of the cursed castle before losing their nerve to find out if the stories were true. ***** Grace Peterson never took no for an answer. Raised in the shadow of Thurlow Forest, she spent her entire life listening to stories about Palsgrave Castle. It became an obsession, the search for the truth. However, she always returned home from youthful trips into the forest empty handed and frustrated beyond belief. Now an adult, Grace possessed the means to find the castle that haunted her. She gathered together a group of locals likewise obsessed with discovering the truth. The story of the Palsgrave curse entwined with their DNA. Some way, some day, theyd walk through the ruins of the castle. In the parking lot outside of the main picnic area, Grace unrolled a map of Thurlow Forest on the hood of her car. A breeze caught the edge and the map tried to sail off. A second pair of hands helped pin it down. She looked up and gave Sal a grateful look.

Careful, those maps are sneaky, he said, a teasing gleam in his eye. A dimple formed at corner of his smile. Good God, she wanted to kiss it. Since forming the research group, shed found Sal to be very distracting. Hed certainly grown up a lot since they went to high school together. Shaking the thought away, she studied the map while they waited for the others. Whats that? Sal tapped a thick red line drawn on the map. The area where people report feeling ill. None of them go past that line. It makes a near perfect circle around a grove of old hemlock trees. She looked up at him, excitement in her eyes. I think thats where the castle is. You think well find it this time? Of course we will. Walt called as he approached the car. Sal pulled his hand away from Graces before the newcomers saw. Gracie could lead us into hell and back without a scratch, couldnt you? The older man pulled her into a tight hug. Honey, dont tease already. I havent had enough coffee to deal with your good mood. Walts wife, Cathy, gave him a playful shove. Shes just afraid the ugly old hag will turn her into a bloodsucker. Walt lunged for Cathys neck. She squealed and batted at him with her backpack. They laughed and joked, hauling their equipment out of the cars. Sal loaded the tents and ice chests onto a cart. The plan was to hike to the edge of the hemlock grove and set up camp. Itd take them most of the day to get there with all the gear. Saturday and Sunday theyd pass the barrier, go into the grove and search for the castle. Mid-morning light filtered through the old trees. The group walked with a purpose, sticking to the trails as much as possible. Walt regaled them with different variations of the legend as they ventured deep into the forest. Cathy found this one last week. Get this; a witch didnt turn the Palsgrave family into vampires. A band of space aliens came down to experiment on early American settlers instead. I nearly choked when I read that one. Some people watch far too much TV. Cathy shook her

head. Damp leaves underfoot kicked up a nose wrinkling smell. The rumble of a nearby waterfall accompanied their excited conversation. Birds hopped from limb to limb above. One took particular offense of the ugly bowling shirt Walt wore and tossed pieces of dead tree branches in his hair when they stopped to eat a picnic lunch. Red-orange sun lit the forest outside the grove of hemlock trees. The others set up the tents and gathered wood for a fire. Grace stood back looking through the trees. The castle waited in there somewhere. She knew it. If not for the dying light, shed be in there searching. Birds are going to mistake you for a statue, Grace. Sal hooked an arm around her shoulders and led her over to sit on an upright log beside the campfire. I wish we had time to search the grove today. Sal knelt in front of her and smiled. Tomorrow well go in. The castle will be there and we can explore the ruins. But if you dont relax, you wont sleep tonight and end up falling asleep on the hike in. I hate when youre right. His grin widened. I wont make a habit of it, promise. Cathy took control of the makeshift kitchen stationed between the tents. Just after sunset they gathered around the fire with steaming bowls of stew to chase off the damp chill. Fog crept across the ground from a creek left of the camp. The four of them talked about how cool itd be to see the castle with the evening fog rolling across the ruins. Grace yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand so the others wouldnt notice as they discussed the game plan for morning. Come on, we need to sleep. Sal helped her up and led the way to their tent. To save packing space, they agreed to share a tent. Grace stepped into the tiny space and realized shed screwed up royally. Over weeks of preparing for the trip, shed grown close to Saltoo close for them to share a tent in the middle of nowhere without the intense desire to crawl in his sleeping bag in the middle of the night. She sat on her makeshift bed and started to take

off her shirt. With it half way up, Grace remembered she wasnt alone. Dont let me stop you, he said. Embarrassed, she lowered the shirt and reached behind her back. A flick of her fingers released the hooks in the back of the bra. She reached into the sleeves of the shirt and pulled the straps off her arms. Giving a wiggle, Grace tugged the bra out of the bottom of her shirt and shoved it in her backpack, lest her roommate get any ideas in the middle of the night. Across the tent, Sals eyes bugged out of his head. She realized hed never seen her like this, dressed down and comfortable. Not even on those long nights pouring over local history texts at her place, but like awkward teens, they never did anything other than research Palsgrave Castle and Thurlow Forest. Damn, he muttered. What? A blush crept up her cheeks. I dont have any nifty underwear tricks to share. And here I was hoping to get a glimpse of your Scooby boxers, Grace said. No Scooby this trip. Hed get spooked and leave me in the middle of a vampires lair without any underwear on. Grace laughed, glad for the break in tension. She turned her back on him and snuggled down in her sleeping bag. Goodnight, Sal. Sweet dreams, Grace. She listened as he followed her lead and burrowed down in to his own sleeping bag. Grace wished hed make his move on the trip, before some other man swooped in to sweep her off her feet. Frustrated with the mess they made by not doing anything before, she punched her pillow and tried to sleep. That night, four minds were visited by nightmaresshadows that took on the form of ravenous vampires and slaughtered them all while they slept. ***** Bright morning sun filtered between the leaves and shined down on two tents outside a grove of hemlock trees. It hit just the right spot on each tent to wake the fitfully slumbering people within. They stumbled outside, pulling on jackets with one

thought in mindcoffee. Cathy took kitchen duty again. She cooked up a pot of oatmeal and enough coffee to keep a moose awake while Grace crawled back in her tent to check her backpack. The men busied themselves fixing the fire to stay in Cathys good graces until she finished waking up. Eerie silence engulfed the forest. Grace frowned and peered out of the tents window. A pair of birds sat on a nearby tree. They tilted their little black heads, looked down at her, and took off without a chirp. Freaky. Sal hunched down to look in the open tent flap. Hey, are you getting the willies too? She jumped, and a handful of granola bars scattered over the ground. Sal knelt and picked up the ones that tried to make a run for the great outdoors. He handed them back, fingers lingering over hers for a moment before he stood. Its this place, Grace said. The land knows what were up to. It doesnt want us to find the castle. Itll have to do a heck of a lot more than be creepy to keep us from finding what we want, Grace. Yeah, but I cant shake this feeling in the back of my mind. She stuffed a bottle of water in her backpack and zipped it up. Sal took the pack and set it beside his outside. Were at the edge of the barrier. That feeling is what makes me so sure well locate the castle today. What if we cant make it through? Grace ducked out and zipped the flap. I never give up on something I want. Overhead a hawk screeched. The wall of silence crumbled. Noise rained down around the camp. Grace shivered despite the sun warming her shoulders. They were out of camp within half an hour. Walt and Sal led the way, clearing low branches so the women wouldnt get a mouthful of foliage. Occasionally they stopped to consult the rough map theyd hashed together from the old stories and recent ranger reports. It wasnt much to go on, but any port in a storm.

The hemlock treesmost over three hundred years oldblocked out the afternoon sun. Cathy passed out sandwiches when the men started grumbling about catching one of the rabbits scurrying through the underbrush. After lunch, they walked in silence. Each lost to their ideas of what lay ahead. One oclock came and went with no sign of Palsgrave Castle, nor any sign of the buildings reported to be on the property: a barn, servants quarters, and one or two small houses. The groups spirits sunk. Weve got to be close, Cathy said. She stepped around a large pile of rocks and peered at the map in her husbands hands. Theres a lot of land to cover. For all we know, we should be walking northeast, not northwest. Walt turned the map, cursed, and folded it. This thing is no help. Grace sighed. If we dont find anything soon, well have to turn back. I dont want to be stumbling through this part of the forest after dark. Give it another hour, and then well head back to camp. Sal passed her a bottle of water. She took it gratefully. Grace tipped the bottle up, well aware that her lips touched where Sals had been only moments before. The thought distracted her. A rock caught the toe of her hiking boot and she tumbled into a thick bush. Something hard scraped her elbow.

God damn it! The distraction himself came to her aid, untangling her ponytail from around a branch. He dusted her off and handed over a tissue so she could clean up the blood running down her arm. Theres something in here, he called from the shrubbery. Walt stepped up closer to the hole in the bush Grace made when she fell. Hunched over, he reached an arm in. A grin deepened the lines on his face. It feels like a wall. The women stared at him. Cathy pulled aside a handful of branches. Sure enough, behind all of the greenery stood an old rock wall. Oh my god. We found it, Grace whispered. Sal circled around behind the bush. Grace listened to his footsteps in the leaves as he got further away. He came back their way in a hurry. This is the corner. I found a gap in the wall over here. Come on. He grabbed Grace by her uninjured arm and pulled her toward it. She paused at the gap and ran her fingers over matching sets of round holes in the stone, likely made by hinges. Theyd found the front entrance of the castle. Sal reached to trace the same marks. His fingers took a detour and stroked the back of Graces hand. She gave him a curious look. He pulled away. They looked up at the canopy of trees over what should have been the second story and roof of the castle. To their left, the tower loomed like a shadowy giant. Tree limbs formed a circle around the roof, but didnt touch it. No plants touched the tower, actually. The rock walls were naked compared to the ones of the main structure, which were more vine than rock in some places. Beautiful, Cathy said from the threshold. Its a lot bigger than I thought. How are we going to get through all of this before nightfall? Split up? Walt offered. Sal nodded. He handed a digital camera to Walt and kept the second. Walt, you go with Cathy. Take as many pictures as possible of the lower rooms. Grace and I will explore the tower. If the steps will hold us, Id like to go to the top. The tower seems to be the only enclosed room left intact.

Meet you back here in two hours. Walt checked his watch and nodded. Any longer and well be stuck out here for the night. This place is cool, but I dont want to sleep in it, Cathy added. They took off into the castles ruins. Cathys excited commentary echoed around them. Walt did the husband nod, agreeing to anything she said so long as shed stand still long enough for him to take pictures of their find. Grace laughed at them and took a left inside the door. Ahead, a dark mouth carved out of the wall beckoned them. Sal passed her the digital camera. He pulled out a flashlight and stepped into the bottom room of the tower. Pausing, she snapped a few pictures of the doorway and a close-up of the rusted torch sconce hanging on the wall. Inside the base of the tower, darkness swallowed her up. Easing a foot across the stone floor to check for debris, Grace shuffled forward. Sal? A flashlight beam cut through the black. Her heart jumped into her throat before she could tell it to chill. I want to look around down here, and then we can try the stairs. The dim light revealed a sad truthvery little remained in the room. Itd been ravished by the fire that destroyed the rest of the castle. Grace took pictures of the soot marks on the walls where flames licked at the stone. They followed the circular wall around to the base of the staircase. The bottom stairs were coated in dust. Sal swiped his boot over the first step. Beneath, the stone step was as black as the walls. Ladies first. Chivalry doesnt count when climbing something that could crumble under us. Grace shot him a look as she fished around in her backpack for her flashlight. Youll be fine. Im here to catch you. Oddly relieved, she took a breath and stepped up onto the staircase. It felt sturdy under her. Taking it as a good sign, she climbed slowly, making sure to listen for any noises that may signal trouble. They reached the top floor without incidentunless she counted Sals muttered comment about follow-

ing her sweet backside anywhere. Grace chose to ignore it. She couldnt think of a comeback anyway. The door before them hung open at an odd angle, held in place by one twisted, rusty hinge. Grace took a picture of it. Sal leaned in around the doorframe and looked around. Frantically he waved a hand for her to come closer. You wont believe this. The furniture is still here. Really? She edged around him to glance in. Do you think the floor will hold us? Give it a shot. He looked concerned. Walk carefully, Grace. The wood floor creaked with Graces first step. She held her breath, like thatd make her weigh any less. When the floor didnt snap and send her plummeting to certain death, she walked to the center and looked around. Along the curved wall to her left sat a large fourposter bed. Intricate carvings ran up each post. She crossed over and brushed some of the dust away. A bird perched on a blooming tree branch greeted her. The flash of the camera lit the room like a bizarre rave party while she documented the craftsmanship displayed on the bed and the matching carvings on the armoire set beside a shuttered window across the room. Think itll hold both of us? Sal asked from the doorway. Grace nodded. Feels nice and sturdy. Just dont do any jumping jacks. She turned back to the armoire. The camera zoomed in on a pair of children playing under the same blooming tree that covered the posts of the bed. A pair of hands wrapped around her waist from behind. I cant believe how lucky we are. I thought wed find maybe a chair or something, but not an entire bedroom set. His body vibrated with excitement. The details are amazing. Grace wiped away a little more dust coating the carvings. You can see the tool work on these. Sal leaned closer. His chin rested on her shoulder as he studied what she uncovered. He stole a peek at the bed. Too bad there isnt a mattress.

Frowning, Grace turned out of his arms and took a step toward the door. What do you mean? I mean, he said, closing in on her. That Im so excited about what weve found that I could take you right here, right now. Speech failed her. The moment she hoped would happen since they started on the trip came out of left field. Unable think of a response, she did the next best thing. Rising up on her toes, Grace looped an arm behind Sals neck and pulled him down. He froze. Her lips caught his, beckoning them to join the dance. His body relaxed against hers and he slid a hand into her hair, taking control of the kiss.. Tentative touches grew into hungry, demanding gropes. He wrenched her backpack off and dropped it at their feet. His pack followed. They broke from the kiss, panting. Their jackets topped the pile on the ground. Sals shirt lost a few buttons. I feel like a couple of kids sneaking out after curfew, Grace whispered. What if Walt and Cathy hear us? A chuckle answered. Sal knelt and rummaged through her pack. He pulled out the picnic blanket. Grinning, he laid it out on the floor and folded their jackets into makeshift pillows. School kids wouldnt have such a great place to have sex in. Weve got plenty of time before they miss us. Reassured that they wouldnt get caught, Grace joined him on the blanket. Automatically, her hands went to his shirt and finished unbuttoning it. The shirt landed on top of their packs. Another button rolled across the floor. She ran a hand over his chest. Fine hair tickled her palm. Ive been waiting a long time to see you like this. Sal caressed her bare stomach. His forearm caught her shirt, pulling it up until her bra showed. She shivered in anticipation. Then weve both been waiting for this moment, Sal said softly. His mouth lowered to tease the silk and lace covering her breasts. Grace moaned. She relaxed, gave him free reign of her body. A hand snaked behind her back and popped the hooks of her bra free. She wiggled out

of it while his tongue did evil things to her nipples. His teeth gently grazed over them and she forgot her name. Desperate to feel more, she hooked his belt loop and pulled. Greedy hands went to work on the fly of his pants. Above her Sal gave an all-too-male chuckle at her impatience. She wiped the smug look off his face the second her fingers wrapped around what she wanted. Slowly she stroked. Teased him with light brushes of her thumb over the sensitive spot under the head of his shaft. He caught her wrist and carefully extracted it from his pants. Sweetheart, if you keep doing that, I wont last long. Sal pushed her back to lie on the folded up jackets. With as much patience as she showed he unfastened her jeans and tugged them off. They too joined the ever-growing pile off to the side. He paused, staring at Grace sprawled out on the floor in the fading sunlight. Suddenly self-conscious, she covered herself. Having regrets? Never, Grace. A hand slid up her thigh, gently pushing her legs apart. Youre beautiful. A dream come true. A blush ran up her cheeks to her ears. Sal sucked a finger in his mouth and slid the slick digit between her thighs to find the sensitive knot at the top of her slit. Grace gasped. A hand latched on to his wrist as he stroked her in slow circles. Her hips rocked up, pushing against his fingers. Sal understood her silent plea for more. Those wicked fingers worked down to her entrance. A pair slid as deep as they could get. Fingertips brushed the sweet spot inside. His thumb stroked her as his fingers had. Gasping his name, she came undone. Sal licked his fingers clean. Eyes glittering with lust, she watched him yank down his pants and palm his erection. A hand slid down her stomach to stroke herself. He groaned. Not fair, Grace. Please, Sal. She hooked a foot behind his hips and drew him forward. Unable to deny her anything, he eased himself into her. The second their bodies joined, any attempts at control flew out the window. His hips

went on automatic, driving both of them closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Each time his name passed her kiss-swollen lips, he thrust harder.. Graces arms locked around his shoulders. Fingernails sunk into his skin as she came again. He couldnt hold back. One more hard thrust and he joined her in orgasmic bliss. They collapsed into a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs. The murky dark and quiet in the tower lulled them into the sleep of well-sated lovers. ***** Plagued by strange dreams for the second night in a row, Grace rolled over to get away from the phantoms haunting her. Cold wood under her bare leg jolted her from a dead sleep. Startled, she sat up and shook Sal. Oh my God. We fell asleep. Walt and Cathy are probably looking for us. A bitter coppery taste filled her mouth. He groaned and rolled over to face Grace just in time to get a shirt in the face. His jeans landed across his ribcage. Boots thumped down on the blanket beside him. In the silvery light filtering through the shuttered window he watched Grace dress. Sighing, he pulled on his clothes. They folded the blanket and shoved it in Graces backpack. She looked up and chuckled. You look like your head got caught in a tornado. A quick brush of fingers through his hair smoothed the wild strands. If you keep touching me like that, well never make it out of here. He grinned. Grace yelped. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled back. Sal frowned. Whats the matter, sweetheart? Stuttering, she tried to explain, but couldnt. Grace fumbled around the pockets of her coat and pulled out a small mirror. Taking a breath, she flipped it open. Okay, a reflection must be a good sign, right? She opened her mouth and shrieked. Vampires! Baffled, Sal stepped closer. Dainty fangs bit down on Graces bottom lip. Tears shimmered in her eyes. Heart breaking, she walked into his open arms. When he laid his cheek on the top of her head, something hard bumped her scalp.

We fell asleep . . . . The realization slapped him upside the head. The curse is real. What are we going to do, Sal? We cant go back to town A sob choked off her words. His eyes drifted around the tower room. I have a crazy idea. We could live here. Id have to run to town for a few things, but this room is in good enough shape to be our home. Grace stared in disbelief. Sal didnt lie, the idea was insane, but could work given the circumstances. Itd be a dream come true to live in the castle. Get some cleaning supplies, toiletries, a mattress for the bed and a few other things. Shed miss indoor plumbing, but they could do it. There was only one problem. What about Walt and Cathy? They wont leave without us and if we go down to tell them to go theyll know what we are. Theyd tell others. Shit. Sal rubbed his temples and winced. Grace thought for a long moment then gasped. I know what we can do. Lay it on me, baby. She teased the tips of her new fangs with her tongue. Well, I am a little hungry. Id hate to have to do it, but its us or them. Sals stomach rumbled. So did hers at the thought of hot blood pouring over her lips. He smiled down at Grace and kissed the top of her head. I love the way you think. Lets go take care of our unwanted guests.

About RC Murphy
R.C. Murphy spends nights writing urban fantasy novels and a slew of short stories for her blog, The Path of a Struggling Writer. By day she is a not so mild-mannered housewife wrangling vampires, demons, and various other nasty creatures. R.C. commands the Orange Brigade on the Zombie Survival Crew, where she writes reviews, as well as articles on important survival skills. You may also find out more about R.C. Murphy on her Twitter and Facebook.

Damn it all to hell! the driver snapped as she jerked on the gears of the big rig in an attempt to slow the beast down. Too fast, too soon, she muttered. Her preference would be to have her Peterbilt under her, but for this trip, she left her baby at home. So the piece of crap, old Freightliner it was. The twenty-something hitchhiker in the passenger seat glanced over at her, the pulse in the base of his throat jumping. Whats wrong? She didnt even glance at the kid shed picked up at the last rest stop. Teeth grinding, hands gripped on the

wheel, she focused on the road as the truck began to slide its way down the Smasher part of the highway that had claimed more lives than any other spot. Hey, lady, I think I can walk from here. She shook her head, exasperated. Shut up, kid. It was hard enough concentrating on the ice that was passing for pavement with silence, not to mention a yapping man-child. The Freightliner began to jackknife, the trailer sliding in what seemed to be a race to get to the front of her truck. If youre a praying man, nows the time, she said and did the only thing she could. She took her foot off the brake and hit the gas. What the hell are you doing? He screeched as they began to pick up speed. The trailer was jackknifing, she said. If the trailer caught us, wed roll. With a cliff on one side, and a sheer mountain face on the other, rolling isnt an option. I dont plan on dying that way. But youre speeding up! She glanced over at him, his face as white as the snow that continued to fall from the heavens, his brown eyes wide as any deer shed hit in her headlights. He reminded her of her last husband a little. Number four hadnt been all that bright, but hed been sweet in a stupid, dumb as a rock sort of way. Even she had to admit, though, that theyd all served their purposes, as would this one. Its the only way; speed is the key to this trip. Theres a corner! I know, she said. Its a hard corner; we would need to be going far slower if we wanted to make it. She gave him a wink. Shocked silence filled the cab and she hoped that he was done jabbering now.

She didnt normally pick up hitchhikers, but shed made an exception today. This wasnt a trip she wanted to make by herself. Selfish, but she knew there was always a price to pay for this kind of trip. Then, youve got to slow down! He yelled, unbuckling his seat, crossing the short distance between them. He grabbed her by one shoulder Do you want to die? She started to laugh. I asked you where you wanted to go when I picked you up, kid. What did you say? His silence was brief, and he dropped his hand. I said . . . Im going wherever youre going. She nodded and pushed him back toward his seat. He stumbled over the shift stick, cracking his head on the passenger window. Ahead, she could see the hard face of the corner coming up fast. It was time. Well kid, Im going to hell, so I guess youre coming with me. She gave him a wink, and hit the gas.

About Shannon Mayer:

Shannon Mayer began writing at a very young age, and discovered early on that she loved stories built in fantasy worlds. She fell in love with the epic fantasies of Robert Jordan, Piers Anthony, and Melanie Rawn. In her teen years, an affinity for both Anne Rice and Harlequin Historical novels inspired her not only to read but to write darker fantasy with a bent toward romance. Connect with Shannon on her blog Wringing Out Words, Twitter, and Facebook, and be sure to pick up copies of her Nevermore Trilogy!

VOLUME II, ISSUE II

Nocturne
Desperate dreams twist in the nuclear wind Dangling skeletal from gallows Flaunting fatal tendencies Clawed grasping the noxious air Poison breeze becomes release Hope curls fetal incomplete Fragile birth prematurely purged from the womb Sanctuary Bleeding out in tombs futile Frail marks in dust The spasmodic flutter of wings Transient resonance echoes fleeting

hard ground beneath me hard you above me the feel of your touch tracing gently down my neck as you pull me tighter and thrust your tongue into my mouth hunger rises in me banked fires flare burned by your heat and consumed by your need im turned to ashes in your hands
2012 Lisa JS Lockridge

Like damp lashes on translucent cheeks The tentative first kiss fades to ache Love is a jackal Cracking the marrow From the dry bones of broken dreams Shattered remnants of a ragged existence Tenuous tendons cling Furrowed lines in my fractured skull Shallow fallow culling floor Long after thoughts are gone In a life time of possibilities I am the horrific consequence Sex and secrets and sin Covered in scars and skin 2006 TL Boehm

About Lisa JS Lockridge

Lisa can be found on Twitter and Facebook if youd like to subscribe to her updates. She also blogs at www.talkingwalkingdead.com if you're into zombies and character development for the show The Walking Dead.

FOREVER NOCTURNE

2012 Running Ink Press

More than a century of autumn leaves and other debris, blown in through the empty frames that had once held glass doors, muted the crunch of ancient shards of glass beneath their booted feet. The intense heat of high summer held the air in a thick, heavy cloud; even the dust particles disturbed by their passage seemed torpid and reluctant to float. Sweat trickled into Mackenzies eyes, and she wiped it away with a careless elbow, not taking her eyes from the path illuminated by the wide swath of her flashlight. Its been more than a hundred years since the Upheaval. If, by some miracle, hes still alive, what makes you think hes going to help us? Wouldnt he already have if he was so inclined? Always the pessimist, Mac, replied her companion easily. His own flashlight cut a narrower beam than hers, but a brighter one. Legend has it he stopped killing as soon as he realized the impact and went into seclusion. In the old college building where he used to work? Mac scoffed. Where he killed all of his colleagues? For whatsentimental reasons? Bon was not put off by her sarcasm in the slightest. Legend says he returned. Legend said a lot of things, but Mackenzie wasnt about to believe much of it, especially about Ren Leonard. He was long gone from this earth, safe from the devastation his infectious rampage across

August 7, 2134

this campus had brought down on the entire earth. Theyd grown up in the darkness of the aftermath of the Upheaval, where light was powered by solar devices scavenged from hidden, previously undiscovered caches. When they were lucky, a solar power cell still held a charge. When they were not, they used oil lamps, starlight, or moonlight. Oil was becoming a precious commodity, however. The neighboring towns had been scavenged of both supplies and people, both brought back to increase the communitys resources, but overnight travel was too dangerous to attempt. Gasoline was more precious than gold, and no one wanted to use it for travel outside their zone, especially with the risk of the travelers not returning. Shouldnt we check to be certain there are no Revenants here before we go any deeper inside? Mackenzie asked. She tripped over a rusted metal bar, a remnant from a destroyed desk. The wood had, no doubt, been carted off to be burned against the chill of a long-forgotten winter. Her headlong flight to the floor was checked by a solid block in front of her. Her impact caused a dull clang inside it. Will you be quiet? What does it matter? If there are any Revenants inside, they already know were here. They can smell us. What the hell is this? She shone her flashlight at the box in front of her. Metal sides, streaked with dust and dirt; open front that might once have held glass; widely-spaced rusted metal coils, five to a row, eight rows total. Bon trekked back to her. We dont have time for this, Mac. The lights will only last so long. We have to get back to the Stronghold before dark. He looked at the metal box illuminated in her beam. I think thats what they called a vending machine. I heard one of the elders talking about them. What were they for? She reached inside and twanged one of the coils. It thunked dully, and a

puff of rusty dust drifted lazily to the floor of the box. Snacks, Elder Louis said. You could get snacks from them. Treats. You know, like cookies and crackers and things. They used to be made by factories and sold in big marketplaces. Mac marveled at this for a moment before allowing Bon to lead her away. They had a marketplace in the Stronghold, where all scavenged items were turned in and distributed as needed. She and Bon were Gatherers, whose job it was to keep the Mar-

begin rebuilding the industries that had made life easier, more comfortableand longer. Medical care was, perhaps, the most desperately needed industry, and it had been one of the first to fall. The infected, taken to the hospitals with severe influenza-like symptoms, had ravaged through medical personnel like starving people suddenly presented with a buffet. The medical centers began turning away the infected after the first few months, but the damage had been done. Trained staff had been decimated, and more fell to the Revenants outside the safety of the fortified hospitals. Likewise, the National Guard had been among the first to swell the number of Revenants. Sent in to contain the spread of the virus, they at first cut a wide swath through the infected. Within a year, only a tenth of the troops remained nationwide, and within a short time they had dispersed, either into the ranks of the survivors or the ranks of the infected. To maximize the light, Bon aimed his beam at the wall so it reflected in the wide hallway. A gloomy cavern ahead signaled an intersecting hallway. He tucked Mac behind him; she didnt protest. Hallway intersections were perilous, and Bon was better trained in

ketplace full of food, clothes, solar-powered devices, blankets even livestock, when any could be found or caught. The Stronghold had a farm section a decent distance from the living quarters, wellstocked with chickens, geese, goats, and a sheep or two. It was a dangerous job; the Gatherers had to venture into dark buildings where any number of Revenants could be hiding. She had only been scavenging for three months, assigned to Bon for training. The only job more treacherous was that of the Hunters, who actively sought the Revenants to dispatch them and decrease their numbers. If the Revenant population could be controlled or eradicated, the survivors of the Upheaval would be able to

combat. They approached cautiously, in combat formation: Bon against the wall and slightly ahead, Mac a few paces behind and a couple of steps from the wall. If Bon fell in battle, she was the next line of defense. The technique had served them well over the last weeks; often a Revenant would charge, and Bon would be forced to take evasive action or become a friend-munching cannibal. Dispatching the infected then fell to Mac, who did so with calm efficiency with her black machete, which she had named Black Jack. She drew Black Jack now, holding it at the ready. In the beam of her own light, she saw Bon start the

countdown: three fingers held down near his thigh. Then two. Then one. He stabbed his flashlight around the corner into the dark hallway and withdrew quickly. Silence.

it growled. They had found Ren Leonard.

About Sharon Gerlach:

Mac opened her mouth to breathe so she wouldnt miss any furtive sounds of a Revenant because of the whistling in her stuffy nose. She was just getting over a cold, though why it was called a cold she had no clue; she hadnt felt cold, just stuffy, tired, miserable, and angry that she had been taken off gathering duty because of her incessant sneezing. Bon repeated the action: thrusting his flashlight into the hallway and jerking it back. Still nothing. Mac relaxed a little. The light bothered the Revenants, made their skin blotch and burn and flooded their permanently dilated eyes with so much light they were literally blinded. Spearing a Revenant with a flashlight beam in a dark place was guaranteed to make it charge in a snapping, snarling frenzy. I think its safe, Bon whispered over his shoulder. Mac closed the gap between them as he stepped into the dark intersection and swung his beam down the hallway to see if there might be anything worth scavenging. A white face loomed out of the darkness. Dark blotches scuttled under the skins surface like storm clouds. Black eyes swam on a sea of bloodshot white, rimmed with an incongruous sky blue circle. Bon let out a startled yell and scuttled backward, reaching behind him for the machete strapped to his back. There wasnt time to raise hers; in the split second they had to react, the Revenant was upon them, moving with exceptional speed. A hand at each of their throats, it drove them backward into the wall, bloodless lips snarling back from yellowed teeth. Give me one good reason why I shouldnt eat you, A financial aid advisor at a two-year college by day, Sharon Gerlach writes paranormal fiction and romance in her free time. Co-editor and co-founder of both Forever Nocturne E-zine and Running Ink Press, LLC, she is dedicated to promoting indie authors and publishers. She is the author of Malakh, Office Politics, and The Secret Dreams of Sarah-Jane Quinn, as well as her paranormal romances The Wyckham House and Condemned. Connect with Sharon on her blog, Writer Unleashed, her Facebook Fan Page, or Twitter. And be sure to pick up copies of her books at Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, or All Romance eBooks!

Puffs of steamy white mist billowed through the black steed's nostrils as he and his rider walked through the blanketed dormant forest. Snowcapped mountains surrounded them as Cael searched for that small glimmer of color that deserted the land around them, with exception to the sky, and even it was a dismal grey, the color drained out of most of it when the dark days fell upon them. He searched for the warmth he knew hid deep within the layers of this white palace, a place where he would be welcome. A gust of ice-chilled wind whipped through the trees, releasing snow from their twisted black branches to reveal a hidden treasure. A tattered piece of once-red cloth hung, tied to a branch long ago, and he smiled beneath the wrap that protected his face from winter's kiss. It was a marker, which meant he was close. They continued along the path and he found another hidden treasure within the branches of a bush. He pushed his black steed along the path. Soon, he found a carving in one of the trees. A little farther down, the horse flared its nostrils and bobbed his head up and down. The rider pulled down the protective cloth and inhaled deeply. He smiled and patted the steed on the neck. "Good boy." He repositioned the cloth and they moved toward the enticing scent, warmth, and men of his nature. He passed by the lagoon, its waterfall frozen in solitude, water trickling underneath the layers of ice. He recalled meeting his first love therea powerful woman whose unequaled beauty ran deep in-

to her soul. He wondered where she'd gone, for she disappeared one evening without a word. Not long after, his chosen profession turned into an obsession, driving him to learn everything there was to know about his art. The scent grew stronger as they made their way around the ice pond and through the heavily lined trees that formed the gateway into this hidden world. The glow of firelight came from within the

small tavern. To its right stood a large barn, where he sheltered his horse before making his way through the deep snow to the tavern's front door. Upon entering, he shook himself off. Behind him, ominous silence filled the air as the tavern's patrons ceased conversation and filling their bellies with mead and stew. All eyes stared at the strange man who dared to enter their domain. He unwrapped the cloth protecting his face, and at his revealed identity, one man stood from his table

near the hearth. "Cael!" His boisterous chuckle accompanied hands held out before him in welcome. The large man with darkened skin towered over Cael any day. His hair, as black as Cael's horse, twisted down his neck and over his shoulders in braids that hadn't seen a good bath since his birth. His deep voice reminded Cael of a shade's, and if it wasn't for the scar stretching from the top of his left ear to the edge of his jaw at his chin, one would think him immortal. Cael continued to remove his coat of pelts. "Titus," he acknowledged the aptly named giant. "What brings you here?" Titus asked when Cael moved toward him. "Warmth," Cael replied, and the others returned to their conversations and clamor filled the tavern once again. "Come, sit with me then," Titus offered. Cael obliged, and he stepped next to the hearth and warmed his hands before sitting down. "Thank you." Titus took a drink of his mead as a woman brought Cael a bowl of stew and a mug of the finest mead in these parts. Cael threw a gold piece on the table and picked up the bowl. "There's a rather large bounty on your head," Titus mentioned as softly as his deep voice would allow, and it caught the attention of those nearby. Cael shifted his eyes to meet Titus' round deep brown eyes. "I don't doubt it," he replied and continued to eat. Titus laughed, deep and hearty. "You know of this, then." Cael nodded. "Pray tell, what have you done?" "Upset our would-be king, it would seem." "May I ask what prompted the bastard's disapproval?" Cael finished the stew and set the bowl on the table. He lifted his mug and smiled. "He paid me to rid of Queen Niamh." "And yet she still lives," Titus said. "I changed my mind," Cael answered and took a drink of his mead. "And tried to take him instead?" Titus asked. Cael nodded again, not surprised by the giant's knowledge, but he stopped mid-nod as his eyebrows rose into his forehead. "Tried?" "He still lives," Titus said. Cael lowered his head and shook it slowly. "Damn." "You didn't realize you hadn't killed the man?" "No, everything happened too fast. It was a trap." Titus nodded. "You would expect anything less from that bastard?" Cael sighed and shook his head. "I should have been more careful." "You should have killed him when you had the chance," Titus replied. Cael cocked an eyebrow. "How many people survive a star in the head and a dagger in the side?" Titus reached up and parted the hair on the left side of his head to show Cael a scar about two fingers in width. "How many indeed?" A smirk formed on his lips. "So, that explains you."

Titus chuckled. "It's only one of many things." He leaned forward. "So, Cael, my friend, what do you intend to do about your problem?" Cael took another swig of mead and set the mug on the table as he leaned forward. "Find Niamh." Titus arched a brow. "Why?" Cael looked at him long and hard before responding. "Because she paid me to kill Zachariah." "And the son of a whore paid you to kill her," Titus replied. "You have broken one of your own rules, Cael." "I know, but it's a job I never should have taken." He searched his friend's face. "Have you ever met her?" Titus shook his head. "She is beauty and strength beyond words." "You've fallen for your mark," Titus said. "It's always a bad sign when a beautiful woman is the mark." Cael agreed. "What of Saoirse?" "What about her?" Cael asked. "I thought the two of you would raise little assassin children together." Cael snorted. "I guess she had other plans." "You still haven't found her?" "I haven't looked for her," he replied. "And why should I? She's the one who left in the middle of the night." "Perhaps it's because you forced the issue," Titus said. Cael scowled. "Why are we discussing this?" "Because you're a stubborn man," Titus replied. "Well, it's not up for discussion," Cael said. "By the gods, man, you sound like a woman." Titus laughed. "So do you, my friend." Cael crossed his arms on the table. "So, how many know of the price on my head?" "Every last one of us." "Then why am I still sitting here?" "Simply because you are our brother, and you

didn't actually kill our queen." Titus leaned closer to him. "And I don't believe anyone wishes to test their abilities against you." He chuckled softly. "Not that I blame them. I, for one, have no desire to test you. You're my friend, and you're a legend among us. Stories are already told of your deeds." Cael dismissed the sentiment with a wave of his hand. "Deeds of death-for-hire make no legends." "They do when the deeds involve you. You're the only one of us who hires out for the death of people worse than you or me. So don't consider the queen lightly. You took the job for a reason, and I've heard stories about her." "Rumors fly from twisted mouths," Cael said and sighed. "Don't believe everything you hear, Titus. The woman doesn't breathe fire." "And perhaps you should be more careful with your eyes," Titus said. "I'm curious. Did she show you fear when you went to kill her?" Cael shook his head. "A woman who shows no fear is not to be trusted." "Saoirse knew no fear," Cael said. "Funny, I would take her running off in the middle of the night as a sign of fear." "Perhaps," he replied. "Or just pure hatred of me." He twisted his mug in a circle upon the table as he thought as Titus laughed. "So, if Zachariah isn't dead, then Niamh must be in the castle." "Do you want help?" Titus asked. "We'd never get in now," he said. "He's more than likely tripled his guard." "When has that ever stopped you?" Titus asked with a smirk. Cael chuckled. "Never, but I wouldn't be going in for a kill this time. I'd be going in to find Niamh, and that may be too risky." "And he would be expecting you," Titus said. "Too bad. It sounds like an entertaining prospect." "Do we still have any friends in the castle?" Titus scratched his head, and Cael could only

imagine what creatures could be running from his fingers. "One or two," Titus replied. "Will you be in the area for a while?" "I could be." "Good," Titus said. "Now, have another mead to warm yourself. It's going to be a long, cold night." By nightfall, Cael procured a small band of men from the tavern. The task wasn't difficult since they all hated the would-be king of these frozen lands. He made no promises to them other than payment for their services. These men sought neither honor nor heroic deeds. Gallantry held no appeal to them. They helped themselves to whatever they wanted. As outcasts, they answered to no one but themselves, and between them, agreed on a slim set of rules. No king held their respect, and many of them, Cael included, had killed royalty from neighboring lands. The only royalty to have ever given them respect was their Fae queen and her long-gone father, and it was something they returned to only her. The turmoil and guilt in Cael's heart for taking the job twisted inside him. When he'd been called to meet with Zachariah, it was in another country, and while he was told the mark was a queen, he wasn't told which queen until his departure and after he'd accepted the job. A new rule had since made its way onto his list. The tavern had a small inn with a few rooms. Cael paid for one of the rooms, and after checking on Gohlyath, he bedded down alone. He held no desire for a woman's flesh, to which Titus teased him greatly, but while Niamh sat in a cold, dark dungeon awaiting or enduring who knew what tortures, he would sleep alone. But, sleep refused to come, as his skin remembered her touch, his lips the taste of her own. His jaws flexed when he thought of her in Zachariah's clutches. He wouldn't make a mistake the next time he saw the man. Zachariah would die. Morning came with a knock on his door from Titus, who told Cael the horses were ready. Cael answered as he gathered his things and they walked into the tavern together to eat before their journey. "Where are we going?" Titus asked as he bit off a large chunk of bread. The piece dangled from his mouth before he pulled it in with his tongue and chomped on it. Crumbs fell into his hair, but he bothered not to shake them out, leaving small remnants of his meal for as long as they could hang on. "Niamh's camp," Cael answered after the distraction of Titus' slobbering meal. "Didn't you just come from there?" "I want to see what's left," he said. "I didn't have a chance to get a good look around." "You tried to track them." Titus raised a brow. "In that storm? Are you mad?"

"I found this place, didn't I?" "This place has markers," Titus said. "I doubt her captors left signs." Cael agreed and continued with his meal. "Did you see them at all?" "Yes, in the distance," he replied. "The army was much larger than her own." "That's why you think the bastard may have tripled the guard," Titus said. "It's also the reason I think it impossible to penetrate the castle," Cael said. "You're going to speak with your friend, and meet us later?" "Yes," Titus replied with a nod as he ripped another chunk from the loaf in his hand and shoved it into his mouth. "We should go then." Cael stood and threw a gold piece on the table before looking at Titus. "I want to use the full day." Titus agreed and stood, but grabbed the bread to carry with him. They wrapped themselves in pelts before heading out the door. Gohlyath was nowhere in sight and Cael turned to Titus. Titus chuckled, deep and low. "That damned horse of yours wouldn't let anyone near him," he said. "He's a fine specimen." Cael trudged through the snow toward the barn. Upon entering, he saw Gohlyath standing alone. The horse threw his head up and snorted, his long mane moving softly against his neck as Cael walked up to him. "Good boy, Gohlyath," Cael said as he patted him on the shoulder. He ran his fingers over the bridge of his nose. "Good boy." He pulled an apple from his pocket and fed it to him. Then he stepped away to get his riding gear. "We have to go back to the camp," Cael said. "Do you think you can remember the way?" Gohlyath whinnied and

put a hoof to the ground. "Good," Cael replied. "I can always count on you." He walked Gohlyath out of the barn and climbed onto his back. Then he rode over to Titus, who was already on his horse. "Do you know the old temple in the Canistra Mountains?" Titus nodded. "Astrid's temple, yes." "That's where we're heading." "I'll meet you there before nightfall," Titus said, and he turned his horse and rode off. Cael sat on his horse, left with the rest of the men he'd gathered. He waved his hand and made his way along the trail leading out of the clandestine world known only to his kindassassins.

Go back to the beginning of Tir na nOg by clicking on the box below for a chapter 1 preview, or read previous issues of Forever Nocturne.

About NL Gervasio
N.L. "Jinxie" Gervasio was born on Friday the thirteenth. Her dad wanted to call her Jinx. Her mom said no. It took thirty-four years for her to discover the nickname, and shes grown quite attached to it. She lives in Tempe, AZ with Umi (her mother) and Moon (her Alaskan malamute). She enjoys riding her beach cruiser The Betty around downtown Tempe, loves a good pub crawl, and has had the pleasure and the heartache of experiencing a love far greater than she could have ever imagined. She is a destroyer and creator of worlds, a cocommander on the Zombie Survival Crew, heading up the Yellow Brigade with Sean Patrick Flannery and Addy Miller, and is a multi-talented woman with many opinions on multiple subjects. Jinxie has been a writer for several years and an editor for a few. Shes also the co-founder of Running Ink Press, LLC and Forever Nocturne e-zine, a member of various writing sites, and she requires entirely too much caffeine and nicotine to function throughout the night (shes nocturnal). Youll find her the most on Twitter or Facebook. Jinxie is the author of Nemesis, and has more books to follow soon. She also has a few places where you can check out her other works.

By Patricia Briggs Published 2011 324 pages Summary (from book jacket) Coyote shifter Mercy Thompson knows that life with her mate, the Alpha werewolf Adam, will never be boring, but even their wedding doesn't go as planned. Nevertheless, a ten-day honeymoon camping on the banks of the Columbia River, alone, just the two of them, should make up for it. But the tripand the pimped-out trailer they're usingis courtesy of the fae. And nothing from the fae comes without strings attached Being a different breed of shapeshiftera walker Mercy can see ghosts, but the spirit of her long-gone father has never visited her. Until now. And evil is stirring in the depths of the Columbia Riverand innocent people are dying. As other walkers make their presence known to Mercy, she must reconnect with her heritage to exorcise the world of the legend known as the river devil The Review River Marked is the sixth installment of the Mercy Thompson urban fantasy series by Patricia Briggs, and it does not let fans down. I would certainly recommend reading this series from the beginning, in order, though Briggs writes beautifully and each book is its own. With this book, however, it really is best to know the prior story of Mercy's relationship with her father, or the lack thereof. Mercy is a walkernot a skinwalker; thats differentwho shifts into a coyote in a manner that is much easier than what the werewolves go through.

Part of The Prophecy series

She was raised by werewolves after her mother discovered a coyote cub in her crib, and has ever since been linked to them. Being a coyote isnt easy, either, because if you know anything about them, coyotes always get into trouble (study Native American folklore). Or really, trouble finds them. Trouble is Mercys middle name, and being a walker makes her immune to some types of magic, so there are some positives. First, I have to say that I have been so impressed by Patricia Briggs' use of Native American folklore and mixing such folklore with the fae folklore and all things paranormal throughout the Mercy Thompson series was pure genius. It has impressed me from the beginning, with Moon Called, the first book. And Stefan the vampire is back in this one! We all know he seemed to vanish from the last book. Actually, River Marked opens with Mercy paying Stefan a visit. It doesn't look good, but I won't spoil it for you. However, we pretty much find out why he wasn't in the last book, Silver Borne. Briggs starts out slow with this one, and that's okay. Mercy and Adamlocal hottie werewolf Alphafinally get married. It's when they head off on their honeymoon that things get crazy. Of course. Why would the fact that she's on her honeymoon stop Mercy from getting into trouble? She is a coyote, after all. We learn a lot about Mercy's heritage in this book; all those things that have been the missing pieces of the puzzle in the past. However, Briggs takes a different route to get to the action this time. We don't dive right into it. It doesn't make the story lag or boring, however, because we do get to see the wedding and Mercy's crazy mother again. The only thing that threw me in River Marked was that for the first time in the series, I actually saw a couple of typos. You laugh, but I'm serious. I have never found a typo in a Patricia Briggs noveluntil River Marked. I only mention it because it distracts me from the story when I see one.

A great addition to the Mercy Thompson series, River Marked brings all the beauty of Briggs' writing the myths, the legends, the fabulous beasts that live between worlds. You can find the other books in the Mercy Thompson series on Patricia Briggs website, as well as some of the other series she has written. I believe there's a printable list under the "books" link.

NL Gervasio writes book reviews here.

Shannon Mayer has an anthology available. Just click on the book cover.

VOLUME II, ISSUE II

Poets Corner

Stop

Like Stars
under the shadows by flickering night these rocking and rolling humans red from their desire laugh at the dark and create illumination along these city's streets like stars 2007 Jesse F Hayes

FOREVER NOCTURNE

2012 Running Ink Press

VOLUME II, ISSUE II

Poets Corner
Crossroads I stand Before two doors Looking back Upon the path Ive tread I see its worn through the years Full of potholes and cracks Heartache and pain But where the road shines It's filled with happy times Looking forward These two paths before me A decision to be made One leads to Dreams The other leads to Reality The Devil whispers In my ear Making promises Hell never keep For things I want But there's a price Reality tugs at my sleeve As I reach for my Dreams Holding me at a stalemate At the Crossroads Of Time I shrug off And step through that other door Where fantasy becomes Reality As my Dreams come to life I look back And tell the Devil: "You were wrong" 2012 NL "Jinxie" Gervasio

learning to fly Tripping through life stumbling, falling palms out, knees scraping on concrete i bleed underneath layers of words, skin, eyes peeling off, pouring out into my delicate hands christel grady

2012 Running Ink Press

FOREVER NOCTURNE