MetaFic

IT IS A TRUTH universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains. Never was this truth more plain than during the recent attacks at Netherfield Park, in which a household of eighteen was slaughtered and consumed by a horde of the living dead.

I've looked at this book on a number of occasions and never got around to buying it. Now that money is in short supply I've often rued the fact that I hadn't bought it. However, a few days ago I happened upon it in a news group and happily downloaded it.

Don't think I've every written a fight before.

They are hard, very hard. I'm not talking about HP fights, this is original fiction and it involves swords and shields. Anyone else have any success in this area? Any pointers you can give would be very useful.

Mrs Leslie McAllister,

Thank you for your kind words.  I'm sorry to hear about Finlay and his encounter with doxies, and I shall endeavor to remember your warning in my future explorations.

I'm sorry for taking so long to respond, but I will give Madam Pomfrey your hellos when I see her next.  I'm sure she will appreciate it as well.  The concern and support you show for my well-being is quite warm of you.  Should I need medical aid in the future, I'll remember your daughter Bonnie as one of the right people to ask for.

Yours,

“Harry,” Aoife said as they all shucked their coats and boots into the cupboard under the stairs, “Petunia said you’re to visit her starting Boxing Day.  It’ll just be five days this time before you’re back here with us.”

20 Dec 1991

Albus Dumbledore stood patiently, waiting around the corner and down the corridor.  Minerva had questioned his sanity, but she had dutifully agreed to his request and moved to intercept the five young Gryffindor students.  At this point in life, he knew that many people considered him to be slightly mad, but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things.  He was hopeful, and he was amazed at how well everything was coming together.

The Try-Wizard Tourney

 

“Here’s the fellow we need!”

Harry glanced up just in time to be accosted by two bulky redheads who promptly seized his arms and lifted him from the ground.  “Errr—” he managed before they had him in an empty classroom with the door closed.

The recession became personal today .... I lost my job. The payoff should last us until the end of January so hopefully I'll find something by then.

Perhaps, now I've got time on my hands, I'll get round to writing some fics.

x posted to Lj

I was listening to someone from the OED the other day talk about American English. She stated that a lot of the words we identify as American - gotten, quit, fall - are actually Elizabethan English. So whilst they had become obsolete over here by the 19th century they carried on in every day use in the US.

Of course I still struggle with the scarcity of prepositions (I'm going to write Harry) and the miserly use of the letter 'U' (color) and those lonely 'L's (cancel), but I think progress is being made.

Harry,
I hope you do not mind me calling you by your given name, my dear. You remind me so much of my own son that I feel as if you are one of my own.Indeed, Finlay was as brave and noble as you – he constantly got into all sorts of shenanigans, but he always did manage to get it right in the end. (Except for his last scrape, but who would have thought that sticking your hand into a doxy’s nest could result in such grievous – and fatal – bodily harm? We certainly didn’t.)

Anyone else not able to access it?