Listen hear
Hey, I'm still alive! What do you know. Had a terrible cold all of last week and I'm just getting better, so I didn't really get off to a running start in 2005. Now I've just got to get back into the groove of things after all that winter-breaking.
I've got several fic snippets and I think I'll start posting them here. It'll be a good way freshen them up for me. The one I'm posting today I wrote last week, while sick and it's a Harry Potter fic about Neville. It's short and unfinished, but not too bad.
His gran talked a lot. She talked to herself when she was alone and when others were in her company. She talked to people who weren’t there and about people who were. She spent all of her time talking to whichever audience suited her in that moment, and on occasion remembered to listen for replies.
He was aware that there were some people who spoke little and always meant a lot, and that there were other people that talked so much that they never really said anything at all. However, Neville wasn’t certain whether or not his gran ever actually said anything, for he had learned not to listen. He couldn’t really be missing much, he thought, for as he knew from experience, most of what Gran said he had heard several times before, and a lot of it he wished he’d never even heard once. So, it had somehow come to be that Gran would talk and Neville would nod dumbly from time to time, and the system seemed to suit them both.
However, there was a hole in the system.
When he was small, Gran had said, “Neville, you never remember anything. Next thing you’ll be forgetting your own name!” That was how Neville had learned that he was forgetful. This had scared him at first for he wondered at great length what would happen to him the day he forgot who he was. Perhaps he would forget where he lived also, and on that day he would leave school only to wander the streets of London and never find home again. But as time went by and that day never came to pass, Neville grew accustomed to forgetfulness being a less dramatic and simpler fact of his life.
The problem was that Neville had not only learned not to listen, he had forgotten how to listen.
Mmm, well, I'm tired so I think that's all I'll write today. It seems to me that getting better is more exhausting than getting sick. Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Year's.
I've got several fic snippets and I think I'll start posting them here. It'll be a good way freshen them up for me. The one I'm posting today I wrote last week, while sick and it's a Harry Potter fic about Neville. It's short and unfinished, but not too bad.
His gran talked a lot. She talked to herself when she was alone and when others were in her company. She talked to people who weren’t there and about people who were. She spent all of her time talking to whichever audience suited her in that moment, and on occasion remembered to listen for replies.
He was aware that there were some people who spoke little and always meant a lot, and that there were other people that talked so much that they never really said anything at all. However, Neville wasn’t certain whether or not his gran ever actually said anything, for he had learned not to listen. He couldn’t really be missing much, he thought, for as he knew from experience, most of what Gran said he had heard several times before, and a lot of it he wished he’d never even heard once. So, it had somehow come to be that Gran would talk and Neville would nod dumbly from time to time, and the system seemed to suit them both.
However, there was a hole in the system.
When he was small, Gran had said, “Neville, you never remember anything. Next thing you’ll be forgetting your own name!” That was how Neville had learned that he was forgetful. This had scared him at first for he wondered at great length what would happen to him the day he forgot who he was. Perhaps he would forget where he lived also, and on that day he would leave school only to wander the streets of London and never find home again. But as time went by and that day never came to pass, Neville grew accustomed to forgetfulness being a less dramatic and simpler fact of his life.
The problem was that Neville had not only learned not to listen, he had forgotten how to listen.
Mmm, well, I'm tired so I think that's all I'll write today. It seems to me that getting better is more exhausting than getting sick. Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Year's.