I want to write bad things. I have this story, it's been brewing in my head for quite a while. It's dark, darker than I'm inclined to read. I have it outlined, three chapters, probably 3k words per chapter. Too many unfinished stories. I'm not sure if I want to distract myself.

In other news: the next chapter of HotRS is in cue for editing. Couple other stories have gotten attention too.

Scootaloo trudged through the lunch line: she was starving. Her first day in the orphanage had been an emotionally brutal one so far. All the foals here were so dower, and it seemed that the main requirement to be employed here, was that they had at least two poorly set bones and had ran head first through barbed wire at some point. Not to mention all the adults here were just huge. She wasn’t that small, but she barely came to the knees of most of them.

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The warm nothingness bled from my body, replaced with bitter cold and cutting wind. Getting knocked out isn’t that bad, it’s coming-to that bites. It’s not like waking up from sleep. No, when you come-to, your senses don’t come back all at once.

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Thanks to a random question by ObeyBunny, I had a story running around my head that had to be put to paper. Heat of the Summer's Sun is a one shot, that I don't intend on expanding. Unless I add a Luna chapter, but I don't have any Ideas for that. Hope you get a laugh out of it.

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Some ideas never make it out of the first 500 words. I have probably a dozen of stories that have fallen to this fate. As a random whim, here is one of those stories. It started with me finding a 1979 sears & roebuck catalog. Those old sears & roebuck catalogs are fascinating to look thru, and I wanted to pony that experience. For what ever reason the story just didn't grab me, and I never got further than this.

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The festival burned into the dark hours of the night. It was a celebration to the moon goddess Luna and the longest night. The sweet nectar of long pent up emotions had drawn Circe out of the darkness and into the celebration's light. Wine and food, mares and stallions; everything was so civilized. The cloths, the manners, the decorations, even the very courtyard that held the event. Shackles and walls around true pleasure.

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The emaciated form of Want walked atop the fence row with feline grace. Fallow fields rolled as far as the eye could see. Two earth ponies labored with a plow and seed bag near her. They could not see the god, even as she breath in the dust-heavy wind like perfume. The two were gaunt, hungry, and desperate; she could think of nothing better. Their hunger fed her, gave her power.

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Ch5 is in cue for final edit. As soon as my editors fix my horrible grammar, I'll post it.

Ch6 is mostly done, and I have a good feel for ch7. I think there's going to be an intermission chapter between 6 and 7 though. But I'll post that as soon as it done, instead of holding it back like I do the regular chapters.

“Who are you?” the voice rumbled from the darkness. Luna spun to face it, but even her eyes could not pierce that blackness. Pacing within the circle of light, she dared not trespass into the shadow.

“Who are you!” the voice demanded this time.

“I am Luna!”

“No. That is your name,” the voice said in ether disappointment or boredom; Luna couldn’t tell.

“Who are you?” it asked again.

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