(This is my first published story, so please be gentle with your comments. I wish to thank Penny Lane for all her encouragement and her editing of this story. Any remaining errors or omissions are all mine. Thanks, Iona.)

The Last Sleepover

At a sleepover with his childhood best friends, Elliot hears them making fun of a transgender celebrity. Elliot has always felt different and an outsider. He works to discover his true identity and when he does it's hard to accept. Elliot struggles between staying silent and standing up for himself. Will he reveal his secret or pretend to be someone he’s not?

“Beautiful,” I involuntarily whisper as I watch the image on my screen, grateful that my microphone is on mute and that none of the other teenagers — the other girls — on the call can hear me. And in fairness, the images I’m seeing ARE beautiful.

The 15-year-old girl looks effortlessly elegant as she glides across the floor in her pink tutu. Even her pink face mask doesn’t detract from the illusion that she is the perfect image of a ballerina — although the badge stuck to the tutu that says ’15 today’ does a little.

Chapter 14

There was a car outside and waiting for me at seven the next morning. Mum had come into my room and pulled my duvet off at six thirty, so I was up and breakfasted and about to reach for my phone when the doorbell rang.

I recognised him from the demonstration David and I had given – pang of hurt at the thought of David – but I didn’t remember a name or even if one had been offered.

“No Finn?” I asked more breezily than I felt.

“Er, commissioned officers don’t tend to pull driver duty, er, ma’am, er, miss. Sorry.”

In the shadowy halls of the grand temple dedicated to Bellatrice, the High Priest stood in front of an ornate altar, his expression twisted with frustration. The soft glow of candles flickered around him, casting long shadows dancing in sync with his growing anger. The assassin knelt before him, head bowed low in shame, trembling under the weight of the High Priest's piercing gaze.

CHAPTER 63
There was a place to leave the bike at Soapy Joe’s, just behind Kul’s car. I did the multiple lock thing, and slipped into the back seat behind Maz.

“No butts today, mate, even if they are cool. Did you mail head office?”

“Not yet. Wanted to make sure we can tie this one down before potentially looking stupid. Talk me through it again, please”

Hope's Light

Chapter 17

by Erisian

Book 6

Chapter Seventeen - Needles

Beliel’s Tears, the waters of Lethe. The stuff had many names and had spawned legends both in Hell and on Earth.

And had almost allowed a Chaos-infected jerk subsume and conquer the angelic princes of the damned.

Caelan grew up as an orphan in the shadow of Avaloria’s palace, scraping by on the streets and bound by the ruthless thieves’ guild that demanded his loyalty. He never felt right in his own skin, never found his purpose, only his friends kept him from despair: Eira, the beautiful thief he secretly loved and longed to be like; Thorne, the mercenary who pulled him out of crime; and Alric, a healer who gave hope to the hopeless.

When Caelan is wrongly accused of a crime and the palace guards begin hunting him and his friends, his world falls apart. With nowhere to turn, a mysterious stranger offers a way out; a dangerous mission to find the lost princess of Avaloria. With everything to gain and nothing left to lose, Caelan and his friends set off on a journey that will change them, and their kingdom, forever.

Author’s Note: This is a full-length novel of nearly 100,000 words. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it.

Blake Medical Recovery Center, Napa Valley, Northern California:
Cindy and Sara’s Office:
Dakota was sitting at a little table that Sara had bought for her to color and play on her tablet while she worked. Sara knew Dakota sometimes didn’t like being alone and felt better if she was nearby. She looked over towards Dakota and could tell she was happy.

Dido returned to John Proudfoot’s home after a week away. Right away, she noticed that he was frowning even more than usual.

“Last call everyone. You no have to go home, but you cannot stay!”

The bartender, Jakob Adamovich, bellowed. He was the sole worker, except for his wife and mother who worked in the back of house to deliver the best cheeseburger with a pretzel crust to ever grace the planet. I was able to try it once, three weeks prior when they had an extra one after someone mouthed off to the six-foot-three Jake who threw him out with absolutely no effort. Jake allowed me to sit at a table at the back of the bar so I could study as it was difficult to do homework by the dashboard light.