Hey guys! I'll post my story that I already have on NinSheetMusic! You can read the whole thing there, but on PokeCharms I'll post one chapter a day. Or try, anyway. You all need to comment, even if it's to tell me my writing sucks. Anyway, here is The Will to Go On, my story chronicling Will from Johto as a teenager. Prologue Will woke with a start. Glancing around frantically, he leapt out of bed and ran as fast as he could down the hall, stumbling as he went. He paused outside his parents’ bedroom, panting heavily. Without hesitating, he knocked on their door and threw it open. He ran inside and shook his heavily snoring father. “Dad!” he whimpered. “Daddy…wake up…” His father’s eyelids fluttered slightly. “W-Will?” he said sleepily. He looked at his bedside clock. “It’s three o’clock in the morning,” he yawned. Will’s father turned on the light and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Daddy,” whispered six-year-old Will, “I had a nightmare again.” “Again?” said his father wearily. Will nodded shakily. “All right,” said his father resignedly. “Tell me about it.” Will recounted the dream. “…and then the phone rang… it was the hospital… and they said that Mommy had…Mommy had…died.” His father sat up quickly. “WHAT?” his father shouted, causing poor Will to jump horribly. “They said… she had…? Are you ABSOLUTELY SURE that’s what they said, Will?” Will simply stood there, his lip trembling. “ARE YOU SURE THAT YOU DIDN’T MISHEAR?” roared his father, almost angrily. Will began sobbing, softly at first, then giving off violent, shuddering wails, tears simply pouring down his face. “Y-YES!” howled Will, then buried his face in his hands, still crying miserably. Will’s father felt a lump form in his throat. His eyes welled up. Within a moment they were both weeping, but Will’s father silently. After a while, Will’s father lifted his son onto the bed and hugged him. He wiped his eyes before speaking. “I apologize, Will,” said his father gently. “I know it’s – it’s not your fault.” Will hiccupped and gradually stopped bawling. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” whispered Will miserably. “Don’t be,” insisted his father comfortingly. “It’s really not your fault.” His son flashed a brief, weak, watery smile. They sat there side by side for some time, Will’s father looking at the ceiling, Will himself huddled up, hugging his knees. Just as the clock struck seven-thirty, the telephone rang. Tearing up again, Will’s father took a deep breath and picked up the phone. Chapter one will also be posted today, since that was pretty short.