February Snippetings!

Writing recently has been very very difficult and tedious and confusing for me of late. Partly because I still haven't figured out what to do with my Microsoft Word program and have been making shift with Google Drive to do any and all of my writing, partly because there are... 4 books I have ideas for and have worked at a bit, and hardly a one of them is rearing it's head and demanding I write it yet. Usually my books have a preference. My MO has been (and I assume will be) to work at the several ideas till one takes the reigns and runs off, pulling me in with it. That being said, none of the stories have done that yet, so if this blog has been a little silent, a little vague for some time, it's only because I am in several pickles at once and the brine is rather cloudy.

But I have been wanting to do a Snippets post all the same, so I hope you won't terribly mind knowing hardly anything about most of these stories. Explanation will come along in a bit after I have decided who and what I'm working with.

***

       Baron sighed--at least Callum thought he did. He made no sound but his arms rose and fell with his chest. "Callum pup, I've told you not to think about that yet. There is time."
       Callum felt the familiar anger rising in his breast. It hurt to breathe. "There is not time."
      "There is--"
        "No, Baron. Listen to me: I am fourteen years old."
       Baron's left eyebrow jerked upward at one corner, and Callum saw he shared the fear. "So old."

-Grey Goose Downs

        Baron slammed a fist on the table and Callum's cider sloshed over his bannock. "Your body is crippled, but your soul is keen and straight. Keep it burnished. Bronzed. In fighting trim. And the people will follow you."
       "Like eagles following a dying dove. I see. Well of course that's a marvelous plan, isn't it? I'll strike terror into the heart of the Northlings with my peckish beak and my little wings. They'll cower, naturally."

-Grey Goose Downs

        Callum picked up a stone or two and hurled them toward the path, following the trail of tallow-soaked torches the men had carried, still visible like star-fire in the rise of the hollow just beyond the village. As if the mock the paltry effort of throwing stones at his lot in life, the missiles landed harmlessly a few steps away. Callum buried his head in his arms, the weak curve of his spine providing a shell in which to hide his humiliation.

-Grey Goose Downs

       Callum felt the world wheeling and wondered if the stars had struck the moon and caused the upheaval.

-Grey Goose Downs

      His gaze wandered over to her hands. She gripped her chest-strap, and her eyes were fixed on the road with horror. A glance at the speedometer showed hew as going eighty-five, give or take ten miles. He applied pressure the brakes and watched her relax and increment as if she had been trying her hardest not to indulge in a squeal of terror. 

-No Mere Mortals

    "First of all, about the kid...I know this is going to sound awkward, but is she yours?"

    "You mean to say--coming on the smoking heels of the extensive Wikipedia article you have doubtless scoured--you know I am unmarried and wish to see if I've been dabbling in the fine art of womanizing. To answer your question quite bluntly, Miss Langley, I received Winnie as an inheritance from an old friend of mine."

     She was silent. He wished she'd say something. Anything.

     "Is that legal?" Quiet, clipped question.

      Well, that was a start.

-No Mere Mortals

     Gregory hit hit number one speed-dial and Anders answered.

      "Hello, Mr. Gregory. Do you have her?"

      "I do, Anders."

      "And?"

      He leaned as close as he could to the driver's window, hoping Aura wasn't paying attention. "She's perfectly ordinary as far as looks and intelligence go," he whispered.

     "Why are you whispering?" Anders asked.

     "Gosh, man! She's in the blinking car with me and can blinking hear every word you're saying."

-No Mere Mortals

      In Richmond's book it began, of course, where all things begin. At that precise moment when one has just got accustomed to the idea of doing whatever-it-is one has been doing for the rest of the year and forever an' ever amen. Richmond, in his case, was sitting with his legs slung over the back of the blue sofa, and his eyes fastened on the ceiling, wishing he hadn't dropped that book because now it meant getting up and finding his place again."

 -Gloamingswood

      "Let's think about it logically," Richmond said a half-hour later when the sponge cake had been reduced to a few sticky, jam-spread crumbs on the fork tines. He flipped to a blank sheet in his writing tablet and wrote the words "Finding Baby" across the top. Then, not knowing what else to write, he traced the words, bearing down hard with his pencil."

-Gloamingswood

    "Do you think this is safe?" he asked.

     Jamsie wondered if he could be serious. Was it possible? Richmond--asking such a question? She put her hand against his forehead to check for altered temperature--nothing. "It's not dangerous, if that's what you mean," she said at last.

    "But if it really is a kidnapper..."

     "Then we'll probably join his collection." Jamsie laughed, pleased with her own joke but, upon catching sight of Richmond's grimace, stopped. "Are you really worried?"

      Richmond stopped fully and turned around, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's a person who took a baby, Jamsie. It's not a joke. People don't do this sort of thing for larks."

    "It probably fell down a rabbit-hole like Alice. Now stop being a sad sack and hurry. The bobbies will have the case wrapped up if we wait any longer."

    -Gloamingswood