Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

she used it to cope with problems she faced over the course of her life. Her summers as a youth were spent perusing library shelves and reading some of the works that influence her writing today. In recent years, her biggest achievements have been finishing the Nanowrimo.org challenge to write a novel in a month (two years running), committing to writing something every single day, getting published in a few anthologies, and recently being featured for a day on her favorite blog, My Home Away from Home .
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PLAYING WITH SHADOWS
    by Sasha L. Miller

    Boy holding an apple, button-down shirt pushed off the shoulders, boxers showing above low-slung, belted, dark-colored jeans.

    Dear Author,
    He was told that everything happened for a reason, that there were things out there that watched your every move. He just never thought that the people telling him this were telling the truth. Until he happened to glimpse something out of the corner of his eye, something that he couldn't explain.
    And now there are things in the shadows, things that want him. And he's not sure if he can hold out any longer. If only he hadn't picked up that apple on that fateful day, then the ones in the shadows would not have noticed his presence .
    Sincerely,
    Tori

    genre: fantasy
    tags: adventure; sweet (no sex); magic users; priest/cleric; corrupted priests/clerics; potential sacrifice
    word count: 20,674
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    PLAYING WITH SHADOWS
    by Sasha L. Miller
    Eight months left. Corin turned to lie on his stomach, burying his face in the straw pillow. It smelled stale, exactly like it had when he'd first arrived at the monastery. The pallet he was trying to sleep on was thinner, letting the cold of the stone beneath it leach up through the thin layer of blanket and straw.
    It wasn't supposed to be pleasant, Corin reminded himself. The year's service was supposed to teach humility and respect for the priests, not be a pleasant vacation from home. The only things it had taught Corin so far were that he hated being cold and hated being hungry and he hated all of the priests.
    Well, most of the priests. He couldn't bring himself to hate Rafferty, even if Rafferty was the one who'd dragged him to the monastery. He'd hated Rafferty to begin with—and easily. Corin's village was usually skipped when the priests made their yearly rounds to check to make sure the villages surrounding the monastery were sending in their young men and women.
    It didn't matter that Corin's father was dead three years, leaving his mother and four sisters dependent on him working to survive. He didn't know how they were doing without him, and it made him angry all over again to think of it. He should have been there, not here. He should have been working for them, not for a bunch of stupid priests who thought they were god's gift to the world.
    Flipping again, Corin laid flat on his back, staring up into the dark of the tiny room. He could hear the two men he shared with; Alan was breathing even and steady, fast asleep, and Mavir was snorting quietly in his sleep. If he were home and unable to sleep, Corin would go for a walk until his mind shut off. Unfortunately, it was forbidden to walk the monastery after dark, so he was stuck here, listening to Alan and Mavir sleep and listening to his own thoughts until they drove him mad.
    Scowling, Corin tugged the thin blanket up over his shoulder, hoping to regain some of the warmth he'd lost in his tossing and turning. It was an exercise in futility; there was no getting warm, not unless he tried crawling in with Mavir or Alan, and he doubted they'd be happy with that. They never seemed cold, despite having the same thin pallet and blankets that Corin did.
    It didn't matter, Corin told himself, finally giving up. Sitting up, he pulled the blanket around his shoulders and shuffled back to lean against the wall behind him. The room was oppressively dark with absolutely no light to see by. They weren't allowed candles on the grounds it would encourage them to be up during the night. Add to that the lack of windows in their room—it was tucked inside the monastery, far from any exterior walls—and Corin couldn't see anything at all.
    A shiver crept down his spine, and Corin shifted uneasily. It was only the cold, Corin told himself, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The room seemed warmer, but that