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This Week's Writing Challenge: Though you may try your hardest, success is never assured.

Put the prompt description at the beginning of your story.

At least 1000 words, don't worry if you go over.

Tag all prompts with: WritingGroupChallenge.

Jake wasn't happy, or rather Jake was never happy, nor was today was an exception. It began when some cop had thought to do a random stop & search, and now Jake was in jail again. Jake wasn't particularly concerned, it was inconvenient, he probably had enough money to get out on bail, and then things would go back to normal. It's not like he had a job to get to or anything.

Jake had difficulties off and on ever since: well, everything, his whole life, went south. And you see, that was part of the problem, but it always worked out in the end, sorta. That was what he hated about his life; it always sorta worked, almost worked out, in the end.

He was just a kid when it happened. Happy-go-lucky kid, wandering about in the fields of tall grasses of wheat and oats, just enjoying the warm sun, frolicking a bit, enjoying the day. Three weeks before his sixteenth birthday,...

Then he saw someone he didn't know, noshing on some grass. Down on all fours, like a beast, eating grass like a beast, but looking like an Adonis. There was the most beautiful guy Jake had ever seen; a beautiful rack of antlers, fur without a hair out of place, well muscled, curvy, and just glowing with health and without a stitch of clothes on. And then that was when everything broke.

He had approached in a friendly manner, but the stag had ignored him. He reached into the sack at his waist for some wheatberries, he had more than enough for lunch, enough to share, and when he spoke the deer startled and just glared at him - lowered his head - and glared at him from under lowered brows.

"Uh, hey, uh, hello, I'm Jake,.... Capriano, Jake Capriano, I've got some wheatberries, ya want some?" Antlers and hooves, he was handsome!

The stag didn't answer, but did sniff the air, as if the grain might be a tasty idea. Jake stepped forward into the area cleared of taller grass and into the shorter grass where the deer had been feeding. That's when he stepped on something, slipped and fell, causing the grain to fly everywhere and the deer to startle and snort. The last thing of that day Jake saw, was that there was a big ring of mushrooms and toadstools in an almost perfect circle around the cleared area and he had put his foot down on one, slipped on it, then he hit the ground, and blacked out.

He came to, cold, damp, at the edge of a field, very alone in the middle of the night. His head hurt, and it took him a very long time to find his way home in the dark. Since that day, everything that might go wrong, Did. Only stopping just short of being totally awful. Every doe and ewe he asked to the dances said she'd go, would then change her mind, and at the last minute he'd get a date with the girl nobody else wanted to ask. He got a grant to go to college, but then there was a problem and it went to someone else.

He rapidly saw the pattern. He'd try to do something and it would look like it was going well. Then there would be a tiny little hitch, then it would slowly start to fall apart -- or just go to hell totally at once, and just as it got to look hopeless it would get just a little bit better. Some mugger would rob him, and he'd have no money, and just before he passed out from starvation, he'd find a twenty - just laying there on the ground. Or his shack would burn down.

Or, he'd apply for a job, and he'd get it. And then before his two weeks' pay day was coming up, someone would steal something and it would look like he did it. Even if he wasn't there that day, they'd fire him, and someone would give him a handout - just enough to keep him from starving, keep him hydrated, or be enough to buy a used tent. Or a cardboard box.

His life totally sucked.

That was how it worked. Try for something, and see it start to come together, then look better, then some little thing would be off, then another, then it would all collapse. And then he wouldn't starve, or freeze to death. Year after year, Summer, or Winter, fortune would hand him something, only to snatch it away again, and give him the door prize, not even a boobie prize. Ugh, he hated that.

The cops had finger printed him, and having nothing to charge him with, had warned him offer staying around, threatening him with "vagrancy." The days blurred, a week went by, then another.

Autumn was beginning to show up, leaves just starting to show spots of brighter colors. "Hunh, he thought, it'll be my birthday soon." He slept down on skid row behind the industrial area. Couple of other homeless guys were there, one of them shared some stew with Jake after hearing his stomach grumble... Jake shared some hard corn liquor with them, and they'd slept on empty pallets, inside a cardboard box or sandwiched between flattened cardboard for warmth, But the day dawned bright and sunny, hard on both his eyes and his headache. "Happy birthday, Jake," he said out loud. He looked around and saw that he was alone, the others had scampered. He rose, stretched with his eyes shut tight against the sunlight. Ugh, he staggered and swayed a bit. Clearly, too much to drink, and not enough water to dilute it. His mouth tasted like copper pipes and he swayed a bit trying to steady himself.

He heard a vehicle coming, grabbed his pack and hied toward the tall weeds and grasses, back behind and away from the buildings, heading off toward the woods. The grasses were bent - looking like the others had come this way, too. At least he was well away from the hired security, moving into the taller weeds and bushes. He didn't know for sure what day it was, not for sure, but it might be his birthday. He'd be thirty-two years old on this birthday, great. He moaned as his footing expected level ground but found the ground really was a few inches below that. He wheeled his arms around for balance and lost it, fell, and hit his head.

He came to, totally confused: he was blind, everything was black, he couldn't see! He was cold, his pants and shirt were dew wet where his jacket didn't cover him. Slowly it dawned on him, he wasn't blind - it was night time. He'd been running, that's right, he'd run, and tripped and fell. His head still hurt, and one side of his muzzle and nose were sunburned. And it was too dark to see the path. Standing in tip-toes he could see the lights from one of the industrial buildings. But what was,... here was a blue glow, not strong, not bright, but much closer than the buildings. Quite close actually. Enough light made it though the grasses that he could follow the path to it. As he neared its source, the brighter glow made it easier to walk the path, and turning in the path brought him to the soursce. Before him was a clearing in the grass, a large clear circle, with a handsome stag in the center.

Either a different stag, or the same stag looking much older, this time clothed in a loincloth, sitting in the center of a clearing in the grass. Some gravel made a sound under Jake's foot. Suddenly the deer turned and stared at him, startled. "You!" "You!" They accused each other.

Jake refused to come any closer. The handsome stag stood up. "You stole something of mine."

"Stole? Stole, what the hell? You cursed me."

" I did no such thing," The stag countered, stepping one step closer.

"Oh, oh no, no you don't. You don't get to curse me again," Jake said, and turned to run away.

"Stand! And be still!"

It was a command that Jake was powerless to oppose.

"Please, be calm. Let me explain. May I?" The stag continued, "I was working a magic spell, I had no idea you were there, or even near, then suddenly you were there, and I had you throwing a gift at me and my circle was broken, and the magic went out, out all over the place, you got hit with some of it, I think. I need that part back: my Luck. Would you...

Jake wasted no time waiting for the next part, he weighed in swinging his words like war hammers, "I don't think you gave me anything, you cursed me! Nothing has gone right for me since that night, it has been one long misery, an endless chain of sorrows, and disappointments, heartbreaks, and desperation. The worst luck, almost dying, almost drowning, almost getting roasted alive in a house fire, hungry half the time, almost nothing in my wallet! I ought to kill you for this!" Jake was going to continue his rant, but for the smile on the stag's muzzle.

"See?" the stag began, you DO have my luck, I knew you must have gotten it! Almost broke, but never penniless, right?"

"Well,..."

"In a fire, but not burned, right?"

"Well,...." And Jake stopped and thought for a moment, the deer was right. His wallet had never been totally empty, he had coughed up a lot of water, but he hadn't drowned. He had awoken in time to get out of the burning house, just coughing.... He'd lost his books and clothes, but he hadn't even a scratch from the fire....

Suddenly the deer was flailing his hooves about him, chanting and drawing flashing bolts of lights into himself.

And as suddenly, Jake was standing beside the circle, all alone. Horrible things had happened all around him, but as awful as it had been, he'd never broken a bone, lost a tooth, never needed last rites, ... he really felt much better about it all. Maybe his life was not great and successful, but neither was it horrible, either. He sad down on the dried grass in the circle to wait for the dawn.