found old drabble with potential
Gee, it's been quite awhile since I updated my lj. I have had these seven different writing projects coming due at once. I had to make a list to keep track of them. Head may explode. I checked off two from my list today! Yeah! (Not that they might not find a way to sneak back on my list - writing is that way.) Was told today that another job is coming my way. No rest for the wicked...
I don't have a web page for my Highlander fiction. Always wanted one, so I created another lj to archive the abandoned ones. I have to give Tessa credit, I have spent many hours over at her place enjoying her old fics, and observing how she did it. Mine isn't as pretty, but maybe that will come later. Anyhow, I've put up two old stories from 2003 and '04 so far. Will share when confidence is up. While I was going through old fic disks (try saying that a few times fast) I found this bit that I decided isn't really abandoned yet, and I should contemplate it for the time when I can get back to fun writing.
Almost as Bad
His feet were damp when he returned from his early morning stroll. A beautiful day, he thought. But as had happened so many times over his fifty centuries, he was wrong. Just as he fastened his gate latch he felt the unwelcome buzz warning him that he had company of the immortal kind. He blinked three times, but the vision remained there on his doorstep. Joe Dawson and Duncan MacLeod. Damn. He thought he’d managed a clean disappearance.
“Where have you been?” MacLeod demanded as he walk toward them.
The ancient immortal halted in front of them, blinked again, but they remained there like tax collectors on his doorstep. “In my garden.”
“No. Where have you been while the world goes to hell in a hand basket?” Joe inquired with a bit of a growl.
“What?” No matter how many blinks, they remained
“It’s started.”
Oh gods. “The gathering?”
“No. But almost as bad. We’ve been outed to mortals.”
“What! If this is a joke it’s not funny.”
“Do you see us laughin’ buddy?”
Methos stumbled inside his small cabin, friends in his wake. A few steps took him to his bed, where he threw himself down, bounced twice, then sat back up and wrapped his arms around his knees; lost in a plan. A moment later he was on his feet pacing. Joe and Mac both frowned, but remained silent. Suddenly Methos grabbed up a duffel bag in which he threw jeans and a shirt, then searched for and rapidly located a passport.
“Where you going?”
Instead of answering Methos asked them, “Do you know where Cassandra is?”
“Scotland.” Joe supplied the answer; his frown so tight it must have hurt.
“Where do you think yew’re going?” MacLeod demanded again.
“Plan B: Save the World. Plan A is better, but requires planning, and seeing as how I wasn’t paying attention - man tries to get away for a season, raise a garden, contemplate his navel and what happens? The world goes to rot without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“Methos!”
“What!”
“Where are you going?” MacLeod demanded for the third time.
“Why, into the lions den with you, Daniel.”
MacLeod stared at the ancient enigma, head tilted to one side, as if he were measuring Methos for a straight jacket.
“We need Cassandra. Does every one know?” The crazy in question inquired.
“Oh yeah.” Joe supplied some details, “Gina and Robert were at this fancy charity event. A wacko with his own agenda came in shooting. Both immortals ended up reviving in front of television cameras. The de Valicourts are doing their best to put on a diplomatic front, but the riff raff are appearing on the scene. And the seamier side of the game is being whispered about.”
“Soon to be a roar heard around the world,” Methos predicted as he finished packing his bag.
I don't have a web page for my Highlander fiction. Always wanted one, so I created another lj to archive the abandoned ones. I have to give Tessa credit, I have spent many hours over at her place enjoying her old fics, and observing how she did it. Mine isn't as pretty, but maybe that will come later. Anyhow, I've put up two old stories from 2003 and '04 so far. Will share when confidence is up. While I was going through old fic disks (try saying that a few times fast) I found this bit that I decided isn't really abandoned yet, and I should contemplate it for the time when I can get back to fun writing.
Almost as Bad
His feet were damp when he returned from his early morning stroll. A beautiful day, he thought. But as had happened so many times over his fifty centuries, he was wrong. Just as he fastened his gate latch he felt the unwelcome buzz warning him that he had company of the immortal kind. He blinked three times, but the vision remained there on his doorstep. Joe Dawson and Duncan MacLeod. Damn. He thought he’d managed a clean disappearance.
“Where have you been?” MacLeod demanded as he walk toward them.
The ancient immortal halted in front of them, blinked again, but they remained there like tax collectors on his doorstep. “In my garden.”
“No. Where have you been while the world goes to hell in a hand basket?” Joe inquired with a bit of a growl.
“What?” No matter how many blinks, they remained
“It’s started.”
Oh gods. “The gathering?”
“No. But almost as bad. We’ve been outed to mortals.”
“What! If this is a joke it’s not funny.”
“Do you see us laughin’ buddy?”
Methos stumbled inside his small cabin, friends in his wake. A few steps took him to his bed, where he threw himself down, bounced twice, then sat back up and wrapped his arms around his knees; lost in a plan. A moment later he was on his feet pacing. Joe and Mac both frowned, but remained silent. Suddenly Methos grabbed up a duffel bag in which he threw jeans and a shirt, then searched for and rapidly located a passport.
“Where you going?”
Instead of answering Methos asked them, “Do you know where Cassandra is?”
“Scotland.” Joe supplied the answer; his frown so tight it must have hurt.
“Where do you think yew’re going?” MacLeod demanded again.
“Plan B: Save the World. Plan A is better, but requires planning, and seeing as how I wasn’t paying attention - man tries to get away for a season, raise a garden, contemplate his navel and what happens? The world goes to rot without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“Methos!”
“What!”
“Where are you going?” MacLeod demanded for the third time.
“Why, into the lions den with you, Daniel.”
MacLeod stared at the ancient enigma, head tilted to one side, as if he were measuring Methos for a straight jacket.
“We need Cassandra. Does every one know?” The crazy in question inquired.
“Oh yeah.” Joe supplied some details, “Gina and Robert were at this fancy charity event. A wacko with his own agenda came in shooting. Both immortals ended up reviving in front of television cameras. The de Valicourts are doing their best to put on a diplomatic front, but the riff raff are appearing on the scene. And the seamier side of the game is being whispered about.”
“Soon to be a roar heard around the world,” Methos predicted as he finished packing his bag.