![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A new start
Mar. 20th, 2005 06:15 pmOkay, I haven't done this in forever, but I was inspired to take it back up again by all the folks at PhoenixSong who use these to post snippets of what they write. This'll be stuff I hope to publish eventually. This is a busy time for both me and my faithful beta. But student teaching is over in a week, and the I get 3 week vacation to get all my ducks in order.
Anyway, onto bits and pieces from my writing closet. This piece is radically differant from what I normally write. If you're not familiar with what I normally write, pop in here: http://www.phoenixsong.net/symphony/story.php?cid=2045, and have a look. Please forgive typos/spelling mistakes. My fiance tried to get them all for me, but you never know. Anyway, here goes:
I don't own these characters, they belong to JKR, and the song belongs to Julie Roberts and her corperate keepers. I'm just playing around:
The Middle of Somewhere
(A terrible title, I know- BWC)
Mile marker 203, the gas gauge leanin' on the edge of "E",
An' I'll be dang'd if the rain ain't pourin' down.
There's somethin' smokin' underneath the hood,
It's a-bangin' and a-clangin' an' it can't be good,
An' it's another fifty miles to the nearest town.
Everythin' I own's in the back in a hefty bag;
I'm outta cigarettes an' I'm down to my last drag.
Ron pulled the car off the highway. He needed gas. The sign said, LEXINGTON, mile marker 191. Exiled in America. Voldemort running over Europe. His family in shambles, friends dead.
I'd sure hate to break down here,
Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.
Out in the middle of no-where, no-where.
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.
So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.
Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.
I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.
I'd sure hate to break down here.
He’d been taught to blend into the Muggle world, in hiding from Voldemort, hoping the resitance would gather and somehow, without Harry, they’d succeed. But it wasn’t all that that made him the most hollow.
Under fifty thousand miles ago,
Before the bad blood an' busted radio,
He said I was all he had ever needed.
But love is blind an' little did I know,
You were just another dead end road,
Made with pretty lies an' broken dreams.
Baby, leavin' you is easier than bein' gone.
I don't know what I'll do if one more thing goes wrong.
He didn’t know where she’d ended up. Security of course, and the last time he’s seen her, she’d been on a stretcher, borne away by Snape and Remus, while his father had handed him a portkey. He’d thought she was dead. But she hadn’t been, and she’d been spirited off as well. A target for the dark lord. Alone in America, somewhere. He wasn’t sure what he was doing in the beat up Ford Crown Vic. He’d driven a thousand miles in the last month. He finally realized, he was look for her. Bushy brown hair turned his head every car he past on the highway.
I'd sure hate to break down here,
Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.
Out in the middle of no-where, no-where.
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.
So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.
Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.
I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.
An' I'd sure hate to break down here.
Oh, no.
The car was falling apart, and held together with duct tape and magic. He caught his reflection in the car window. His red hair was gone, dyed black. A thin scar ran the length of his face from eye socket to chin, a souvenir from a fight with a troll. He opened his wallet. It was charmed to have cash in it at all times. Handy, since he couldn’t get a job. Not without proper documentation, or a job history. He walked in, staring at the scars on his knuckles.
“Twenty dollars on four,” he told the woman behind the counter.
“Right sir.” He froze, his hand holding the money across the counter. He closed his eyes. It was his imagination. His imagination. His BLOODY IMAGINATION. He tore his eyes up.
The brown hair was now blonde, but it was still bushy, and nothing could change the eyes.
“Have we met?” he asked softly. Recognition sparked in her eyes.
“I’m not sure,” she stammered. Where are you from?”
“England. Ottery St. Catchpole.”
“I might have been there once.” Her hand was at her side now. He realized she feared it was a trap.
“I’m looking for a place to stay tonight. Any good places around here?” He asked. Another person walked in.
“Hey, Heather, I’m here now, you can go study for your test.” The older man, wearing the store’s apron said.
“Thanks, Ted.” She smiled at him, exchanging wary glances at Ron. Ron turned to go.
“Sir, you forgot your change!” He turned around, and picked it up off the counter.
He began to stuff it in his wallet, when he found a slip of paper. He recognized it as a cell phone number. His heart was racing. He left the store, and drove down two doors to the next one. He dropped a coin iin the pay phone and dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Hermione?” His voice was a whisper.
“Ron?”
“It IS you.”
“It's me.”
“What are you doing here.”
“Driving. Around. Looking for you.”
“Ron, you aren’t supposed to be…”
“Do you think I care? I’ve lost everything. I had to find you.”
“Where are you?”
“The next store down. The blue crown vic in the parking lot.”
“Wait there.”
A moment later a small Honda pulled into the parking lot, and she got out. His mouth was dry, as she closed the distance between them. She reached up a hand to touch his face. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too.” He said, before enclosing her in a fierce embrace.
And the world, Voldemort, and everyone could go hang. Because he’d found her. And they cried.
I'd sure hate to break down here,
With nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.
Out in the middle of no-where, no-where.
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.
So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.
Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.
I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.
An' I'd sure hate to break down,
It's too late to turn around.
I'd sure hate to break down here.
Anyway, onto bits and pieces from my writing closet. This piece is radically differant from what I normally write. If you're not familiar with what I normally write, pop in here: http://www.phoenixsong.net/symphony/story.php?cid=2045, and have a look. Please forgive typos/spelling mistakes. My fiance tried to get them all for me, but you never know. Anyway, here goes:
I don't own these characters, they belong to JKR, and the song belongs to Julie Roberts and her corperate keepers. I'm just playing around:
The Middle of Somewhere
(A terrible title, I know- BWC)
Mile marker 203, the gas gauge leanin' on the edge of "E",
An' I'll be dang'd if the rain ain't pourin' down.
There's somethin' smokin' underneath the hood,
It's a-bangin' and a-clangin' an' it can't be good,
An' it's another fifty miles to the nearest town.
Everythin' I own's in the back in a hefty bag;
I'm outta cigarettes an' I'm down to my last drag.
Ron pulled the car off the highway. He needed gas. The sign said, LEXINGTON, mile marker 191. Exiled in America. Voldemort running over Europe. His family in shambles, friends dead.
I'd sure hate to break down here,
Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.
Out in the middle of no-where, no-where.
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.
So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.
Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.
I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.
I'd sure hate to break down here.
He’d been taught to blend into the Muggle world, in hiding from Voldemort, hoping the resitance would gather and somehow, without Harry, they’d succeed. But it wasn’t all that that made him the most hollow.
Under fifty thousand miles ago,
Before the bad blood an' busted radio,
He said I was all he had ever needed.
But love is blind an' little did I know,
You were just another dead end road,
Made with pretty lies an' broken dreams.
Baby, leavin' you is easier than bein' gone.
I don't know what I'll do if one more thing goes wrong.
He didn’t know where she’d ended up. Security of course, and the last time he’s seen her, she’d been on a stretcher, borne away by Snape and Remus, while his father had handed him a portkey. He’d thought she was dead. But she hadn’t been, and she’d been spirited off as well. A target for the dark lord. Alone in America, somewhere. He wasn’t sure what he was doing in the beat up Ford Crown Vic. He’d driven a thousand miles in the last month. He finally realized, he was look for her. Bushy brown hair turned his head every car he past on the highway.
I'd sure hate to break down here,
Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.
Out in the middle of no-where, no-where.
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.
So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.
Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.
I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.
An' I'd sure hate to break down here.
Oh, no.
The car was falling apart, and held together with duct tape and magic. He caught his reflection in the car window. His red hair was gone, dyed black. A thin scar ran the length of his face from eye socket to chin, a souvenir from a fight with a troll. He opened his wallet. It was charmed to have cash in it at all times. Handy, since he couldn’t get a job. Not without proper documentation, or a job history. He walked in, staring at the scars on his knuckles.
“Twenty dollars on four,” he told the woman behind the counter.
“Right sir.” He froze, his hand holding the money across the counter. He closed his eyes. It was his imagination. His imagination. His BLOODY IMAGINATION. He tore his eyes up.
The brown hair was now blonde, but it was still bushy, and nothing could change the eyes.
“Have we met?” he asked softly. Recognition sparked in her eyes.
“I’m not sure,” she stammered. Where are you from?”
“England. Ottery St. Catchpole.”
“I might have been there once.” Her hand was at her side now. He realized she feared it was a trap.
“I’m looking for a place to stay tonight. Any good places around here?” He asked. Another person walked in.
“Hey, Heather, I’m here now, you can go study for your test.” The older man, wearing the store’s apron said.
“Thanks, Ted.” She smiled at him, exchanging wary glances at Ron. Ron turned to go.
“Sir, you forgot your change!” He turned around, and picked it up off the counter.
He began to stuff it in his wallet, when he found a slip of paper. He recognized it as a cell phone number. His heart was racing. He left the store, and drove down two doors to the next one. He dropped a coin iin the pay phone and dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Hermione?” His voice was a whisper.
“Ron?”
“It IS you.”
“It's me.”
“What are you doing here.”
“Driving. Around. Looking for you.”
“Ron, you aren’t supposed to be…”
“Do you think I care? I’ve lost everything. I had to find you.”
“Where are you?”
“The next store down. The blue crown vic in the parking lot.”
“Wait there.”
A moment later a small Honda pulled into the parking lot, and she got out. His mouth was dry, as she closed the distance between them. She reached up a hand to touch his face. “I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too.” He said, before enclosing her in a fierce embrace.
And the world, Voldemort, and everyone could go hang. Because he’d found her. And they cried.
I'd sure hate to break down here,
With nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror.
Out in the middle of no-where, no-where.
I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin'.
So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow.
Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now.
I made it this far without cryin' a single tear.
An' I'd sure hate to break down,
It's too late to turn around.
I'd sure hate to break down here.
