Hello, people of the FFML!

I apologize ahead of time for the spam.  But I wanted to make a brief
announcement, give a status report on my 'fic writing, and add on a little
teaser-type bit.

First off, I must warn anyone who will be E-mailing me that my Internet
account may be shut down.  I have known it would happen eventually, and
may even have mentioned it in some of my posts, but this may be the actual
closure.  Rest assured, I will acquire a new account if this should occur,
and soon become a happy member of the FFML.  If any messages to me should
bounce, do not worry; I will post a story soon enough from my new address.
Sorry about this.


As to my various writing efforts?

I am *still* working on the monolithic second chapter of It's A Kind of
Magic: Dark Powers Saga.  Sorry again for the delay, but it is hard to
write!

I am also writing Part 7d of Night Sabers, which is fairly involved, and
slow going.  But I am still working on it.

And lastly, yes, due to reader request, I will be continuing Resurrected
Memories.  I make no promises on how far I will go with this, but I will
continue.  Fragment Two is nearing completion (pre-readers, anyone?) and
should be sent out with my next post (whether from this address, or a new
net add.)


And to give some worth to this post, here is a section from Fragment Two 
of Resurrected Memories (the only section I could find that had little
plot points ;)  It's not much, but enjoy! (More to come!)


Thank you for your time,

Curtiss Nelson


Resurrected Memories
Fragment Two (Teaser Section)
By Curtiss Nelson (aka Me)


	Ranma sat, weeping, his vision of the surrounding blackness 
obscured by the curtain of tears that clouded his eyes.  For he knew 
what was around him.
	Around him, like accumulations cumulus, precipations of blood 
floated, drifting lazily in a fog of crimson mist.  They drifted from the 
scores of ravaged bodies that lay about Ranma, indistinct for all the 
gaping wounds they suffered.  The blood, more gaseous than liquid, 
floated about in a rough circle, like the eye of a hurricane.  The blood 
would not approach, shying away from the center.
	From the gleaming blade still gripped tightly in Ranma's hand, 
unsoiled by the contents of the people it had hewn in twain.
	Ranma had his knees drawn up to his chin, arms wrapped 
about his legs.
	He hadn't wanted to!  He had fought it, every step.
	It was like he was a passenger in his own form.
	The blade had rose, only to fall.
	With a dull thud, the meaty thwack of flesh being struck.
	And the screams!  The screams!  They still echoed in the still 
air.
	Rose and fell.
	Again, and again.
	He had fought!  Clutching his head, using all his willpower and 
effort!  He had tried!
	He had tried....
	But it was no use.
	No use at all.
	No use....
	"Hey, you," came a voice from somewhere.
	Ranma, realizing it wasn't his own thoughts, raised his head.
	The bodies were gone, though the blood still swirled about.  
Even that stopped, as something; no, someone, penetrated the 
sanguine barrier about Ranma.  Ranma wiped his eyes, and started to 
stand up.
	"Yeah, you," the voice said again, as a figure walked toward 
Ranma.
	The blood had become stationary clouds, unmoving.  Through 
them walked the figure, a man by appearances, with red hair, purple 
jumpsuit, and a shovel; no, a sword strapped to his back.
	Ranma, a martial artist despite his mental trauma, raised his 
sword.
	The man stepped out of the cloud, and Ranma could see the 
man was in fact blond, with a blue jumpsuit, and steady green eyes.
	It was the man from his earlier dream!
	The man looked about, at the blood, and the shadowy outlines 
of where the bodies had been, before turning back to Ranma, eyebrow 
raised, voice heavy with contempt.
	"You going to be a puppet again?"


***Scene: Ranma awakes, Nodoka and Ranma tal