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[personal profile] charlie_cochrane
Keeping up the recent historical theme with a bit of Promises Made Under Fire. This was the first bit I ever drafted of the story and it remained exactly the same all the way to publication!

First light. A distant sound of something heavy being moved. A thin curtain of rain—the sort of misty, drizzly rain that soaked us through to the skin. Prospect of something for breakfast that might just pretend to be bacon and bread.
Good morning, France. An identical morning to yesterday and bound to be the same tomorrow. Tomorrow and tomorrow, world without end, amen.
I looked up and down the trench. The small world I’d become bound in was now starting to rouse, stretching and facing a grey dawn. The men were stirring, so I had to get out my best stiff upper lip. If I showed how forlorn I felt, then what chance had I of inspiring them?
“Morning, sir.” Bentham, nominally my officer’s servant but in reality a cross between a nursemaid and a housemaster, popped up, smiling. “Breakfast won’t be that long. You and Lieutenant Foden need something solid in your stomachs on a day like this.”
“Aye.” I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else until I’d got my head on straight.
“Tea’s ready, though.” He thrust a steaming mug into my hands. Add telepathist to the list of his qualities. Maybe when I’d got some hot tea into me then the world might seem a slightly better place. “Quiet, last night.”
“It was.” I was going to have to enter into conversation whether I wanted to or not. “I don’t like it when they’re quiet. Always feel that Jerry’s plotting something.”

More excerpts at the Rainbow Snippet Group.

25 Multifandom Icons

Sep. 24th, 2017 04:29 pm
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Rest here @ [personal profile] magical_sid

Includes:
High School Musical (12)
Elementary (10)
Heroes (3)

Poem #24: Ode to Autumn

Sep. 24th, 2017 08:28 am
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[personal profile] alexcat
You can see, smell and even feel the season in this poem.

~~

Ode To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,---
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.


by John Keats
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Silmarillion40 Banner

Melkor stirs strife among the Noldor by Nixie Genesis. Melkor weaves his lies, especially between the sons of Finwë. (Artwork)

A king unkinged (for the love he bore Feanor) by Himring. Finwe arrives in Formenos. (Short Story)




Just joining us? The Silmarillion40 is a collection of fan-created fiction, art, and poetry in honor of the 40th anniversary of the publication of The Silmarillion. For forty days, we will feature at least one fanwork, following the chronology of The Silmarillion. Find the full Silmarillion40 collection here.

Poem #23: September

Sep. 23rd, 2017 10:35 am
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[personal profile] alexcat
This one is, unfortunately, still pertinent.

~~

September, 1918

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.


~~Amy Lowell
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Silmarillion40 Banner

The Dwarves come into Beleriand by Robinka. The dwarves arrive in Beleriand

The fates of our kin by LadyBrooke. It is an ill omen when a Prince of Doriath appears in the tent of a Dwarf without any weapons and lowers himself to sit beneath her while they speak of important matters. (Short Story)




Just joining us? The Silmarillion40 is a collection of fan-created fiction, art, and poetry in honor of the 40th anniversary of the publication of The Silmarillion. For forty days, we will feature at least one fanwork, following the chronology of The Silmarillion. Find the full Silmarillion40 collection here.

Star Trek Novel Icons

Sep. 22nd, 2017 06:17 pm
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20 Star Trek: Rihannsu icons and 55 other Star Trek TOS book cover icons over here.

Thriller roundtable - starts Monday

Sep. 22nd, 2017 07:47 pm
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[personal profile] charlie_cochrane
If you're interested in "Comedy and Humor in the thriller genre: Is it difficult to write comedy or humor into thriller novels? Is it necessary, desired, or just a tool to release the tension in some needed spots?" I'll be one of those discussing it from September 25th at the ITW roundtable. See you Monday for initial thoughts and looking forward to answering your questions.

 

Poem #22: Septmeber 1815

Sep. 22nd, 2017 11:20 am
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[personal profile] alexcat
September 1815

WHILE not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,
With ripening harvest prodigally fair,
In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air,
Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields
His icy scimitar, a foretaste yields
Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware;
And whispers to the silent birds, 'Prepare
Against the threatening foe your trustiest shields.'
For me, who under kindlier laws belong
To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry
Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky,
Announce a season potent to renew,
'Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song,
And nobler cares than listless summer knew.


~~ William Wordsworth
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Fëanor Makes The Silmarils by Alikuu. Fëanor experiments with the light-retaining properties of Silima in the privacy of his forge. (Artwork)

The Creation of the Silmarils by Amyfortuna. Fëanor's creation of the Silmarils, in the form of a sestina. (Poetry)




Just joining us? The Silmarillion40 is a collection of fan-created fiction, art, and poetry in honor of the 40th anniversary of the publication of The Silmarillion. For forty days, we will feature at least one fanwork, following the chronology of The Silmarillion. Find the full Silmarillion40 collection here.

Poem #21: September Midnight

Sep. 21st, 2017 12:25 pm
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[personal profile] alexcat
September Midnight

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.


~~ Sara Teasdale
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Bewildered by Dawn Felagund. Not all of the Eldar believed Valinor would be superior to Middle-earth. Having followed the man she loves from the land she loved also, Miriel struggles to cope with a strange life in a strange new land. (Short Story)




Just joining us? The Silmarillion40 is a collection of fan-created fiction, art, and poetry in honor of the 40th anniversary of the publication of The Silmarillion. For forty days, we will feature at least one fanwork, following the chronology of The Silmarillion. Find the full Silmarillion40 collection here.

Shell Shocked - free story

Sep. 20th, 2017 04:45 pm
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[personal profile] charlie_cochrane
"Shell Shocked" - a shifter story with a twist - is available to download free and gratis from my free stories page.

The lights, the recording equipment, the lairy looking rozzer.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before, never been in trouble with the police. Honest Billy, that’s me, always kept my nose clean; I even declare every one of my tips on my tax form. So, what’s Mrs. Zanderson’s best boy doing being formally interviewed under caution?
Doing his best to explain just how he’d got into this mess in the first place, only I can’t tell them the whole truth, for reasons that will become apparent.
“How and when did you meet Jonny Telfer?”
“A couple of months ago, in a bar. The Happy Return.”
“Had you gone there to pick up a fare?”
“No. It was pleasure, not business.”
And what a pleasure it had turned out to be, at least at first...

Read more

Poem #20: Sonnet 73

Sep. 20th, 2017 06:59 am
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[personal profile] alexcat
Another autumn poem and another love poem. You can never go wrong with a Shakespeare sonnet.

~~

Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.


~~ William Shakespeare
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Paths to Good Intentions by just_jenni. Melian is bored and travels to Arda to see the Quendi. She meets Elwe. His people wonder where he is.




Just joining us? The Silmarillion40 is a collection of fan-created fiction, art, and poetry in honor of the 40th anniversary of the publication of The Silmarillion. For forty days, we will feature at least one fanwork, following the chronology of The Silmarillion. Find the full Silmarillion40 collection here.

Poem #19: Autumn

Sep. 19th, 2017 12:16 pm
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[personal profile] alexcat
Autumn Song

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?

Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?


~~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Lost

Sep. 19th, 2017 04:05 pm
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20 Icons

Preview



the rest here @ [personal profile] larmay


Dragons

Sep. 19th, 2017 08:30 am

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