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I have only been out of the house once since January 27th, the date of winter storm Juno, aka. The Boston Blizzard. I made three trips to various stores and groceries the day before in order to stock up on supplies so that I could tuck-in and wait things out. Things went well, my supplies lasted quite a long time. My first journey out was to the grocery again, fresh produce was my target, and in that goal I was successful. The journey allowed me to marvel at the mountains of snow at intersections, easily ten to twelve feet tall, and the fact that the main street (Massachusetts Avenue) that runs through my neighborhood, the South End, was so full of snow that parking spaces will not be found until sometime in late spring. Sidewalks were navigable by the space of the barest width of a shovel and the only way to let oncoming pedestrians pass by was to either climb onto a car height (or higher) mound of snow, hop onto someone's half-assed shoveled steps or get real cozy. No passing. Fun stuff. Keep in mind that before the date of the big winter storm Boston had previously had only dustings, and then one storm that left about an inch on the ground when the storm began. I watched the snow fall through my oriel window in my living room and from the warm safety of my condo. It fell into and onto my below street level backyard garden and slowly covered everything. About twenty-seven inches of cover, or there about. A few days later, another eighteen or twenty inches (one is never really sure), and then some more, and some more again. We now have, in inches of snow, the high level of seventy-three point six. A record. More is on the way. Part of my condo exists as part of an 'ell', and by way of description these are extended additions (one to four stories tall) added on to the backs of townhouses all over the city and at some point in history (vague, I know). If one were to look at a townhouse from the side, you can imagine the 'L' shape at the back, hence the name. My building dates to 1857 but I have no idea when the two-story addition was added. But what this all means is that the roof over my living room is in the ell, and the roof is flat. As opposed to the roof of the main townhouse portion, which is peaked. A few years ago, neighbors put a deck on part of it, as was their right. But when snow gets to the levels that we have reached, the snow needs to be shoveled off of the flat part—roof and/or deck. That happened two days ago. My newish, upstairs neighbor (now newish deck owner) hired someone (who I know) to shovel the snow into the back garden. Fine so far. I saw said shoveler head up the fire-escape as it was getting dark. I usually pull my curtains (big, heavy, velvet curtains) closed around that time, and I did. What I didn't see until the next morning was that all of that snow had been shoveled to the sides. Whatever can be the problem you might ask? There were two mountains of snow set against the brick wall sides of my home and garden, with peaks in the range of nine or ten feet tall. So? Well, mountains have bases, and the base of mountains left and right, blocked each of my fire exits. One being my bedroom window and the other a steel door egress into the garden level from a second bedroom—with pretentions of being an office. What am I to do? Funny you should ask. Since my garden is completely snowed in and I didn't see this as a problem originally, why shovel? It means I could not get into it from its street level gate (reached by a set of stairs, also snowed in) and so I asked my next-door neighbors if they would pretty please open their back gate and let me in. I can access my garden by way of their ell addition and my buildings fire-escape (simplified version). Which I did by walking around the block and entering from the rear. So far, so good. Now, a funny thing happened on the way to the Emporium. Accessing the fire-escape was just a few pushes of snow and a completely unnecessary, though fun, break to smash a gigantic icicle hanging from the back of my neighbor's townhouse ell. If you've stuck with me, here is the really fun part. I make a treacherous step across open air onto the ice-laced wrought iron steps of the fire-escape, and again so far, so good. I tossed my two shovels (kept the straw broom) over the handrail and into the snow—they didn't sink very deep. Hmm. The next step was into the garden and was questionable. What to do, what to do? I went for it, and rather than walk to the bottom and wade through the snow, I straddled the handrail near the bottom and stepped. I sunk mid-thigh into the snow; my left leg did not follow. So there I am straddling the handrail, one leg stuck in the snow, the other trapped under a step on the fire-escape and holding a straw broom over my head for balance. Get the picture? Don't panic, Ron! It's below freezing (a high of 22°F today), I am below street level, and there is no one who can see me. Will I freeze to death? Will they find my desiccated, freeze-dried body come spring? It's amazing how fast thoughts of not-so-real possibility and craziness can flash through the mind. I had a broom, right? If you don't panic you can find a way. I was able to unseat my foot from under the step and let my left leg join its partner mid-thigh into the snow. Is this what it's going to be like? From there it was a definite slog, each leg sinking into the depths, until I was able to reach my back door entry. A journey of about twenty-four feet through perilous territory—all under foot and under snow—of planters, patio pavers upturned by cherry tree roots and a pile of pruned tree branches which didn't make it to the curb for recycling last fall. SUCCESS! Well, partial success, anyway. I did free my back door from the clutches of the mountain of ice and snow—it took an hour. But I saved my bedroom window for tomorrow's adventure.

I don't wanna seem too pretentious but I figured I'd start a thread for my story "A Frigid Grasp" since I'm continuing the series. [sharedmedia=stories:stories:4876] A Frigid Grasp covers the story of Arden as he lives out his life in the city-state of Bosefestung as a traveling healer aimed for public service. Because of his advocacy, he ends up tangled in the politics and drama of the city, something he wished to avoid. I'd appreciate it if you guys could tell me your thoughts and speculations and whatever you think of the story. I'm really aiming to complete this thing along with a few others.

I recently posted the first two parts of a new three-part story, Dead Body Inside, to GA and haven’t gotten the interest that I had hoped for. One reason I expect is that I’m up against some pretty heavy competitors with large followings, which is my reason for promoting the story here. Another reason might be the story title, which I have to admit in hindsight isn’t too attractive for the light, humorous short story that I tried to produce. Can’t do anything about that now, though. Lesson learned. The story cover illustration should put the title in its proper perspective. The other reason is that I might have fallen into the dilemma of being associated with writing sexually explicit stories as my other three stories have been. This story is not like that, being light and humorous and only a mere reference to sex. It was written to attempt to disassociate me from exclusively writing in that genre. So if you are looking for a fun, light short story to read, consider Dead Body Inside. And be sure to leave a comment when you are finished. Thanks.

I have finished my next story, After The Past. It's in editing right now and I hope to start posting it mid-October. I hope you enjoy this short excerpt. From After the Past: The day things started to change for the worse began with Jae chopping wood. I sat out on the back porch prepping some green beans while I watched. His muscles moved under his sun darkened skin. It was warm and soon he was sweating freely. I didn’t mind, it was a nice view. He stopped and propped the axe against the old stump we chopped on. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he walked to me, grinning broadly. “Need some water.” I dipped the chipped mug into a bucket of water and held it up to him. Jae drank it all down then he bent down and kissed me. It started off as a peck but developed into something more, hotter and more intense. He moved the basket of beans onto the porch and pulled me up. Now his arms were around me, pulling me against his hard body and his tongue pressing against mine. We were both panting when we broke apart. He pulled me back though and nuzzled my neck. Soft as a breeze on a hot summer day I heard him whisper, “I love you, David.” I pulled away a little and looked at his sweet face. “Do you?” Grinning, he just nodded. How did I feel? We’d become so very close. I reached up and stroked his cheek. “I love you too.” Jae just grunted and smiled. He pushed me back down, picked up the green beans, handed them to me, and gave me a peck on the cheek. He walked back to the stump, picked up the axe and started to chop again. Huh. I finished the beans and had taken them into the kitchen when I heard voices. Not raised, just conversation, but it scared me—we rarely saw other people. I’d been stupid the last time we’d been out in the truck, and left the rifle there. Then I heard Jae swear, I quickly grabbed another axe that sat in the mud room, and went out into the yard. Jae was talking to a man who sat astride a large yellow-coloured horse. It was a pretty thing. The man looked at me and the axe, and Jae saw the concern on my face—he held up a calming hand to me and the stranger. “David, it’s okay. I just got stung by a bee. It’s okay. This is Jim, he’s passing through but wondered if he could share some water. He’s got some berries to trade.” Not taking my eyes from the man, I told Jae to go ahead. Jim dismounted and led his beast to water. The animal drank deeply, now and then raising its streaming muzzle from the trough. Jim left the horse to graze under a tree in the yard, returned to Jae and gave him a bag full of blueberries. Jae and the stranger walked toward me, and Jae said he’d make some coffee. The man didn’t seem to be more than what he was, so I invited him to sit on the porch. “Thank you. I’ve been in the saddle for a few days now. I’m heading north up to Canada.” “Why is that?” “I stopped for water but also I have news. There’s a large gang of men, burning and thieving, coming this way. I saw them and what they can do, and it wasn’t pretty. I’m tired of trouble mister, so I saddled Pedro there and started on my way. I saw your smoke and thought maybe you might share a little water and I’d share the news. Sorry it ain’t better.” Thanks for reading this little snippet! tim

Hi everyone, This is my urban adventure story - attempting to be something along the lines of a British Tales of the City (at least i'd like to think so). It's a bit of a comedy, mystery, political, love story. But urban adventure is probably how i'd describe it. Set in Manchester, UK, 2009. Would really love to know what you think of it, if you'd like to take a look! I'm about two thirds of the way through and aiming to complete by Christmas. https://www.gayauthors.org/story/stuyounger/lostinmanchester Stu x

I am part of a team of medics and support staff and volunteers working in North America and the EU in a counseling rôle in assisting teenage members of refugee and asylum-seeking families with lifestyle issues. My team is particularly focussed on issues surrounding non-traditional sexual orientation, but within the context of everything else of course: new country, language, political and legal system, children's rights, gender equality, social system and etiquette, religious and moral norms, ethics and cultural ethos; in short, the works! So, these 11-17 year-olds are dealing with the nightmare of their raging pubescent hormones whilst all the rest of their known world has also undergone a tectonic shift. As there are currently only eight of us working as team leaders in this specialty - three in the US, and one each in Canada, Germany, Sweden, Spain and the UK - we are seeing only a tiny fraction of those referred to us and those only twice monthly. As a consequence, my colleagues and I have found good, age-appropriate stories with a strong, supportive message to be one excellent resource we can call upon between our sessions with those we call our protégés. I need your help finding these. We begun a very amateurish blog a few weeks ago seeking help from writers and others because we simply do not have time to trawl the web to find the right stuff. I am probably breaking the code of etiquette of webism or whatever by doing this, but I'm desperate. If you have time, and have a care for LGBT Asylum-seeking teens, please read some of the posts on www.daktaris.WordPress.com and either reply to me there, or comment here or email me directly. We desperately need your input. We also need simple moral support, just to feel somebody among the community cares about these kids. At present we are beginning to think we are speaking into an uncaring black hole. Blessings. Doc.

Starting soon, my new, never before read story Tentacles. Dee is a saviour. Living in his cottage in the woods he is a member of the secret underground who rescue aliens from government facitlities or wherever they may be in trouble and do their best to help them find their way home. One day he finds a strange, but beautiful, reptilian boy, with an unpronounceable name unconscious in the snow. He brings him back to the cottage and, as he gets to know, and love him, the shocks start coming thick and fast.