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Ishtar's Note:   The Invisible Library is a different sort of work from Copperbadge's usual.   Here's an excerpt from a post on his LiveJournal which started it:

This, the Invisible Library, was brought to my attention by hija paloma and watersword, though I wouldn't put it past juniper200 to be in on it too.

My reply to Dove's email was to say "I ought to open an Invisible Bookshop and offer to write nonexistent books for a by-the-page fee."

And then I thought, hey...it's not like I'm doing anything for the next few days. Why not?

So. Leave the title of a book from the Library in the comments below -- or one of Ellis Graveworthy's books, or any other book you can justify as having existed only in literature -- and I'll quote you a hundred-word excerpt from it.

(The offer to drabble was posted in mid-February, 2006.   In early March, 2006, Copperbadge posted over 100 drabbles, each consisting of text excerpted from one of the books of the Invisible Library.   They are loosely grouped by fandom or genre.   There's a little something in here for everybody.   I hope you enjoy. — Ishtar)

These drabbles are from a meme that was posted originally on February 19th, 2006.

In the meme, I asked people to visit The Invisible Library and suggest a "nonexistent book" from the records there, which I would then write an excerpt from. They're filed here in an organised fashion and will eventually be available in PDF format.

With some exceptions, these drabbles are sorted by the genre of the book they can be found in -- thus, for example, one Sherlock Holmes drabble is in with the Sandman comics while another is in with the Mystery books. The LJ Username in front of each drabble signifies the person who requested it.  (I have removed the LJ links.   — Ishtar)

Some drabbles have been tweaked slightly since their original posting. This is Part I, containing Harry Potter, Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Mystery, Horror, Literary, and Ellis Graveworthy.   Part II contains Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Satire.  

Drabbles from the Harry Potter Books by JK Rowling

satora_chan: From the Introduction And Historical Notes to Hogwarts, A History:

In forging the history of the wizarding race and its interactions with the Muggle world and with itself, ie, the intergenerational bonds forged by those of a magical persuasion, it is well to remember (as the great wizard Maledictia so pithily put it) "We do not incontrovertibly compete with each other but rather our expectations of ourselves" keeping in mind his devotion to that branch of magic in which many advances were yet to be made, animagery; therefore we present this small and condensed volume concerning the history of that eminient institution known as Hogwarts, a touchstone for generations.

Sam's Footnote: Yes. That is all one sentence. This is why Hermione is one of the few who's ever read the thing.

***

bare_bear: From Death Omens: What to do When You Know the Worst is Coming, chapter two (Confirmation):

...no reason to be alarmed by a single omen, though it is of course prudent to pay attention to those little things in life which may be telling us that the end is near. For this reason it is advisable to try and confirm a death omen, preferably within a few hours of witnessing it. This is not to say that one should go in search of further omens, but a spot of tea-leaf divination or a search amongst the shrubbery for dog spoor -- Grims, it is notoriously said, do not need to "eliminate"* -- can do wonders...

* It is believed that this legend, regarding the Grims, is the origin of the saying "I bet she thinks she craps like a Grim", analogous to the Americanism "I know you like to think your shit don't stink".

***

agonizingmercy: From the introduction to The Invisible Book of Invisibility:

The most imperative part of invisibility is, of course, not to be seen. While one may believe that invisibility and not-being-seen are similar they are, in fact, quite the opposite. To be invisible is to exclude the possibility of being seen, while not-being-seen is simply a matter of stealth. Why, I spend several hours a day not-being-seen in the kitchen because I am in my study!

However, the practice of not-being-seen is hardly a simple one when applied to the idea of eventual invisibility. It requires a certain state of mind in which one is conscious not only of...

***

a_is_for_amy: From The Invisible Book Of Invisibility, Appendix II (Famous Invisibles):

The most famous Invisible Man is undoubtedly a wizard who traveled under the name of Griffin. It is not a distinguished story; rather, he chose to play silly buggers with a group of Muggles and, we are given to understand, came to no good end.

It is instructive to hear the story of men who have achieved invisibility; for when we are entirely transparent, we may hide nothing and madness may often result. One must be of firm resolution and strong moral fibre. A good constitution is also important if one is planning to go about invisibly without any clothes on...

***

canadianvampyr: From the preface to The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not To Know:

...long been posited that Muggles are, in fact, ignorant by inability rather than choice. The theory that Muggles lack some vital part of the Wizarding eye which prevents them from even seeing magic is faintly ridiculous, but has been cherished as a myth and taught as a fact in many Magical schools for many years (the notable exception being Hogwarts School, where Magical Anatomy was retired when Albus Dumbledore assumed the position of Headmaster).

No, it is the assumption and thesis of this volume that Muggles willfully ignore the existence of magic for many reasons -- self preservation not the least...

***

maybebabies: From Wizarding Law Concerning Muggles: The Naughty Bits by Allison Siegs:

There are very few formal laws regarding Wizard-Muggle intermarriage before the Blue Reforms of the 1930s. Prior to this time, it was considered impolite to even discuss the formulation of possible offspring, though they were not small in number. It was the responsibility of the old clans and families, the magical populace believed, to discipline the community as a whole and either approve of disapprove of affairs and marriages as they saw fit. The most, shall we say, "vigorous" of these old families in their duty was undoubtedly the Blacks, who insisted no family related to them should suffer marriage...

***

stvincent: From The Adventures of Martin Miggs, The Mad Muggle:

NEW ISSUE SPECIAL #1
Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle
Check your local branch of Flourish and Blotts for the new Special Trade Edition of Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle. Follow Martin's madcap mishaps through the last year's full set of biweekly issues!

Included with the new Trade is an entirely new adventure about Martin Miggs -- Martin Miggs Marries! Watch him bluff and bother his way through a Wizarding Wedding, with ballpunt pens, digital watches, and telly visions at every turn! Will he be able to keep the Lovely Lucinda, his bewitching fiancee, from running off with the Dark Wizard Badnificent? Find out!

***

lady_alouris: From the introduction to Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks:

The authors of this work would like to assure our readers that no crups or kneazles were harmed in the making of this book. All photographs are merely simulations and are for documentary purposes only. We do not advise actually attempting to tie a pixie to a kneazle's tail in order to disrupt your Aunt Mae's wedding.

On the subject of pixies, please be advised that it is quite wrong to use them to get out of doing homework (by releasing them in your dormitory common room) or tormenting one's family with them. Pixies should be used only in ministry-approved...

***

impinc: From Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy Chapter 4 (The Great British Clans):

...well-known fact that many of the so called Great Clans of Britain were in fact transplants from Rome who came with Caesar or Hadrian as soldiers.

Unlike some other areas of the world, which are less rigid in their attention to familial structure, intermarriage with Muggles, and clannish power, British wizardry maintains an extremely codified set of beliefs regarding inheritance and descendancy. Until the middle of the last century, the Great Clans were expected to enforce these as law, including a ban on any child of a Clan marrying an outsider. This has led to some of the most complicated...

***

cerridwen666: From Hairy Snout, Human Heart, latest edition, Chapter 2 (Werewolves I Have Known):

It occurred to me when speaking with some young men of my acquaintance that the most intelligent way to convince the ignorant of the essential humanity of a werewolf is to show them in a human light; to introduce you to one werewolf as a person.

"R" has spent nearly his whole life as a werewolf. He keeps a careful lunar calendar and has an almost neurotic bodily modesty, but is otherwise a very ordinary young man -- he supports Puddlemere United, does well in school, has many friends, and is a normal teen-aged boy, who wrote to me recently...

***

no name given: From On Becoming An Animagi - A Guide for the Advanced Wizard chapter 3 (So You Think You're A Camel):

...absolutely vital to be thoroughly aware of one's natural animal tendencies. This goes far beyond personal appearance and personal preference; it is not enough to wish to be a dog, mouse, tiger, or wolf. You must not only know your animal self but accept it completely.

I am put in mind of the case of Gerald Goodbed, a sixteenth century animagus who wrote I amme put aboyt with cravingyes, urgys, and diurse Instinks which aryse from thee Spirit of my chosen Animall. Would that I had never seen ay TOAD, for I am loath to eat flyes and yet cannat resyst!

***

alaranth_88: From Gadding with Giants by Gilderoy Lockhart, chapter 8 (My Beloved Veela):

While it is common for women to fall in love with me, between my exploits and my dashing good looks, there is no woman so memorable to my extensive experience as that most beautiful of creatures, the child of a Human and a Veela.

I was fortunate enough to encounter such a woman on the road from my conquest of the zombies of Sheffield to London, where I was much in demand by the press as always. She was in distress, having with her radiance attracted several young men of suspicious character whom I suspected to be werewolves. At once I dispatched...

***

uncrown: From Magical Me by Gilderoy Lockhart, Chapter 12 ("Hair!"):

...most important, particularly in crowds such as the throngs who flock to my readings, signings, speaking engagements and endorsement events, to maintain a steadfast appearance. One must never be dismayed by the passionate adulation of one's fans. Graciousness and humility are always the watchwords of the fantastically famous.

How does one accomplish this? This melding of humility and greatness, this combination of wisdom and gracious acceptance of one's destiny? Quite easily, when one has fantastic hair.

Hair, indeed, is a crucial step. It must be beautiful but not ostentatious, carefully styled but not stiff or awkward. Hair is beauty, vitality, life!

***

See also the section on Ellis Graveworthy, particularly jcomer2001 and aura218.


 



Drabbles from the Discworld books by Terry Pratchett

hlynna: From Tantric Sex With Illustrations for the Advanced Student Appendix A (Getting Untangled):

If one finds that one and one's partner become stuck in the Fourth Yogic Position, first, do not panic. Proceed to complete the exercise and satisfy your desire for Tantric Enlightenment before attempting to extricate yourself. A small helping of Tantric Body Smoother (The Tantric Store, $34.95 per bottle) may assist in this matter.

If Body Smoother does not suffice, carefully encourage the first partner (The Ravaging Tiger) to stand while supporting the shoulders of the second partner (The Tender Gazelle). Once this has been achieved, the Tender Gazelle should release the Ravaging Tiger's chest and attempt to relax their thighs...

***

anna_sinistra: From Joy of Snacks by Gytha Ogg, chapter 5 (Tea):

STRUMPETTS
A delyghtful varyation on Crumpetts, certyn to be a Hit at any Aid Societee Tea, theese may be rather Strong for Family Tea, being crisp and fulle of flavour. Best served with Jam or plenty of butter theye are also well complimynt'd by Chocolate Syrup, Treacle, Fresh Cream, or Honee.

You may enjoye them thoroughly as theye are very Light and pretty. It is quite certyn that your Man will not be able to Keep his Hands off any Strumpetts left in the house! Evyn the Local Omnian Bretheren believe theye are Proper when Served with Toff Linens and Silver.

***

megpie71: From the translator's notes to The Apocrypha to the Vengeful Testament of Offler:

It is a well-known fact that the original translations of the Vengeful Testament, including its Apocrypha (then known as the Extra Books But You'd Better Not Toss Them They Might Come In Handy Somday) were translated not by the head clerk of the Offlian Mission but rather by his secretary. His secretary being only partially fluent in Morporkian (now the primary language of Offlianism) it is suspected that some words were incorrectly translated. This may, we are sorry to say, include the word Ghhrak, usually translated as "Crocodile". It is suspected that, in fact, it might mean "Giant Naked Man."

***

satanbaker: From Welcome to Ankh-Morporke, Citie of One Thousand Surprises Fourth Edition, (Final Chapter: Keeping Safe):

There is nothing to fear from the denizens of Ankh Morkpork, who are some of the friendliest salesmen and kindest beggars in the whole of the Disc. However, should you find yourself violating one of the few lenient laws of the city, you may wish to read this short passage regarding the Ankh Morpork Judiciary System, which is so unnecessary as to be nearly nonexistent!

Nowhere is a more solid congregation of Beings assembled than in the AMCW, Commanded by the affable Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh Morpork. This gentleman is known for treating equally all tourists to the city...

***

tenik: From What I Did on my Holidays by Twoflower, Chapter 1 (I Encounter The City Of Ankh More Pork):

The ship glided fast; rain fell on strange brown water. Summer came at last.
I had read a book: Ankh More Pork, A Tourist's Guide -- it sounded so fun!
I alighted there. Wondrous place of mystery! Such buildings and streets!
I had a "pub lunch". This is fried food and thin beer: the beer is called "piss".
It is found all over. Request it at any "pub", where one sees all sorts.
I met a wizard. These are men who wear dresses. Sometimes they have beards.
One says to men here, "Piss off!" instead of hello. Then one buys them beer.

Sam's Note: All travelogues should be written in haiku.

***

laleia: From the Biographical Notes in the back of Book of Humorous Cat Stories by Achmed the I Just Get These Headaches:

...begun his quest to catalogue the body language of cats and its meaning, Achmed began to adopt cats and attempted to communicate with them. Many ran away, terrified by this otherwise dignified man wiggling his bum and licking his own hand in the process of communication. Others were less charitable; Achmed became very familiar with the staff of the Sisters of Sek Charity Hospital, who fondly called him Cat-Scratch Achmed.

Eventually, Achmed was attempting jump onto a mantlepiece when he fell and injured himself on the fireplace stones, after which he decided that humorous cats were rather the way to go.

***

niuserre: From The Art of Fisticuffs by the Marquis of Faintailler, Chapter Four (Common Fisticuffs, or, The Gentlemen Abhor It):

...generally known that while the lower classes engage in lawless brawling, any true gentleman will impress on them such caution and respect that they will rise to the occasion, neither giving offence nor taking it without the proper procedure, ie:

Offence having been given, the first party (the offender) must be challenged and given proper opportunity to make amends;

The second party receiving no reparations, the first party invites them to duel with a properly placed glove against the cheek.

The first party may respond with an immediate challenge by placing his fists in defensive position One and his feet properly placed...

***

tienriu: In the style of a folk song, from the Epic of Cohen the Barbarian:

Now in Ankh-Morpork about this time
There was a watchman by the name of Sam Vimes
Who said "Buggre alle this for a lark
I'm not going up in your bloody flying ark"
"Right Ho then," said Captain Carrot keen
"I'll go up in the flying machine, Sir! I'll go up
in the flying machine!"

If Cohen the Barbarian had been a-standin' there
He'd have took that young man by the short curly hairs
He'd have said "You listen to that Commander of yours
And don't go up in the flying machine, no
Don't go up in the flying machine"

***

aqua_eyes: From Adventures With Crossbow and Rod Chapter 8 (Give A Man a Fish):

...a few areas of the Adventurer's life which are cushioned somewhat by a thorough working knowledge of magic. The conundrum is this: that any wizard attending the university has all the fight and will to survive in the wilderness taken from him; yet it is only he who is truly trained with the viciousness necessary for survival.

Fish, in particular, are susceptible to many forms of magic. Why, when I traveled on the banks of the Muntabian Great River it was salmon every night! I would catch some horrible thing, sell it, and buy tinned salmon from the outpost traders...

***

wanderingwidget: From Necrotelicomnicon Discussed for Students, With Practical Experiments -- Experiment #4, "Demonic Talking And The Grocer":

...determined that the grocer caters to victims of the Mobile Telegnome, you are ready to begin your experiment. Prepare the grocery list as discussed and be certain that you have acquired a standard shopping trolley. Locate someone with a Mobile Telegnome and stay near them.

You should observe, as you draw closer, that the Mobile Telegnome in fact seems to guide their movements, directing them into your path of travel if not directly into your shopping trolley. You may even observe the phenomenon of Too Much Information Transfer, wherein the victim appears to be oversharing in a public place...

***

dyingfire: From Second Scroll of Wen the Eternally Surprised:

There came a day when Wen chose to sit in silent contemplation, and neither the venerable Clodpool nor any of the junior monks* dared disturb him.

* Many down from the Monastery of the Monks of Cool, time being very hip these days.

As the day wore on, the monks became nervous; when Wen did not return for supper, Clodpool went out to him and sat by him in contemplation.

"What are you contemplating, Master?" he asked timidly.

"Cycles," Wen replied. "The way the time-stones move round."

"Listen, we caught the boy who was using two of them to wring out the laundry..."

***

woelfle: From Edible Architecture of Bergholt Stuttley Johnson by Startup Nodder, Chapter 3 ("Silver Linings"):

The architecture of BS Johnson was, as few critics realise, not entirely without its good side. Several years ago the dictator of a small country just east of Ephebe commissioned an Uberwaldean palace. Mistaking the figurative title of "gingerbread architecture" for a literal description, Johnson built a gingerbread house complete with frosting icicles and a witch made of marzipan.

Fortunately, the house did not go to waste; a sudden famine drove the citizenry to revolt and devour the cottage whole. Johnson is said to have gone mad over this tragedy, but very few people believe it could have happened so recently.

***

danceswchopstck: From Edible Architecture of Bergholt Stuttley Johnson by Startup Nodder, Chapter 9 ("Religious, Intentionally and Unintentionally"):

Perhaps the most famous example of Johnson's edible architecture is the Cookpantheon, located just outside of Ankh-Morpork, though it was once several miles from the city. Originally intended as a place of pilgrimage for the city's wealthy, the Cookpantheon (commissioned by Lord Gerald Cook) was designed as a circular building with a massive dome. Johnson's ingenuity came immediately to the fore; rather than build the dome, at considerable expense, he would raise it by placing stones on top of a yeast-bread mixture which, when heat was applied to the outer walls, would rise and push the stones into place...

***

yodels: From Men Who Love Dragons Too Much, Appendix II (Dangerous Figurines):

There are several more or less harmless forms of figurines concerning dragons, collected mainly by Dragon enthusiasts. However, there are several varieties of figurines which should be considered warning signs that Your Man May Love Dragons Too Much.

Foremost among these is the Adorable Dragon, which is often portrayed doing something commonplace such as drinking coffee or wearing mittens. These are pocket-sized and therefore dangerously portable to secret masculine dragonfancier meetings.

Another very specialised form of dragon figurine that should indicate unhealthy obsession is one which is designed to easily fit into small orifices such as the mouth or the...

***

fevvy: From Men Who Love Dragons Too Much, Chapter 5 ("De Malachite"):

Certainly De Malachite was an important experimenter and, in his own way, set many precedents. In attempting to summon a dragon himself and mysteriously vanishing soon after, he served as a cautionary tale to many who Love Dragons Too Much. "Look to De Malachite!" the cry is raised amongst the Draconic Temperance Movement while it smashes Dragon figurines and burns posters of the noble if sometimes overrated beast.

Indeed, let us look to De Malachite. A scholar and man of inquiry like so many who Love Dragons Too Much, where did he go wrong? What pushed him over that razor's edge?

***

missfarenheit: From The Summong of Dragons by De Malachite, Chapter Two ("Preparedness"):

It is advysibule to have such itymmes as will assyst one in putyng out such FLAMMES as may aryse in the handling of Dragyns of Stachoor. Those who would summyn dragyns are advysed that the care of Draconis Vulgaris or the Commyn Swamp Dragyn is excellent preparation for thee summonyng of Draconis Nobilis and quyte lucrative as they are much in DEMAND in certyn quarterrs of the Citye as bobbles for Womyn Of Negoshabyl Affyction, kettle heaters, disposyrs of trash, and Guard Creatyres.

They retayne their urge to HORDE TRESURE howevyr and unlike Nobyl Dragyns tend to HORDE SOCKES.


 



Drabbles from Sandman by Neil Gaiman
and
Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

3goodtimes: From The Word, the final chapter:
Note: The Word is the tome which Destiny of the Endless reads; it chronicles the history of the universe.

...those poor mortal beings who once prided themselves on absolute knowledge of how this tome would end now shuddered for what seemed so serene had come upon them. Entropy, the fifth horseman, rode across the universe, the hooves of his great night-black gelding leaving hoarfrost trails in the sky. His staff of ice thrust through each star and planet in turn, with no hurry or concern; there would be time for all to feel the chill serenity of absolute cold.

But in the strange, backwards little outland known as Earth to its primitive inhabitants, a fire was being kindled and...

***

cesario: From Here Comes a Candle by Erasmus Fry:
Note: Here Comes A Candle is from the "Calliope" series of Sandman.

"They are allotted a certain time in which to live and die," said Hermann. "The world being a little brighter for their existence."

"I don't understand," I replied. "What do you mean alotted? People aren't predestined with deaths."

"Not most of us," Hermann agreed. "For most of us it doesn't matter -- I won't use the mechanical allegory of cogwheels and clockfaces, but look here. Most of us are like pieces of dust, the kind you see dancing in sunbeams. Stirred up into a cloud in a dark room, we are only seen when a candle is placed there to light us."

***

miraielle: From Here Comes a Candle by Erasmus Fry:

I thought of what Hermann had told me about dust and light; how dust was made beautiful by light cast upon it and how the mass of humanity was like that dust, waiting for a candle -- waiting, one day, for a sunbeam to bring us out of darkness for more than one brief flash.

She was so small and delicate-boned as most children are, but already her mouth could set in a determined look far too old for her age.

So this is a candle, I thought to myself. What on earth can a bit of dust teach her?

***

katilara: From The Adventure Of The Star Ruby, one of the twelve short stories in The Conscience of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:
Note: Only the book title is mentioned in the Sandman comic. The short story title was invented by myself.

Holmes held up the golden chain between two thin fingers, examining the stone and the fittings on either side.

"Imagine, Watson," he said languidly. "This bauble has lain on the breasts of operatic divas, eminent society queens, the wives of heads of state. Yet here it dangles, casting light upon our humble ceiling."

"What is to be done?" I asked. He placed it in a small box, which he sealed with paper. I cast my eyes upon the name there, but it was unfamiliar.

"One doesn't look for prize star rubies amongst the paste jewels of a courtesan's boudoir," Holmes said.

***

tarheel: From Frommer's Guide To Hell, Chapter X (Where To Eat):

If you are planning an extended soujourn in Hell, it is recommended that you bring your own snacks; dining establishments are few and far between, catering to very exclusive tastes. If, on the other hand, you are fond of the entrails of sinners, the heads of traitors, and vegetables grown in the forest of suicides, Hell is a gourmet's paradise!

Even those who have brought their own supply of food, as nonresident mortals are advised to do, should stop and visit the famed Pomegranate Tree. Be careful, however, not to sample its wares; they are known to cause immigration issues.

***

dopplegl: From Foodless Dieting: Slim Yourself Beautiful by Dr. Raven Sable, Chapter Five ("Beating The Cycle"):

...find yourself craving food. Who can blame you? From birth you have been taught to fulfill your addiction to eating. Mother has encouraged it, Father has approved it -- all your friends are Eaters! You may be tempted to ask "What is wrong with me? Why do I bother trying to break the digestion cycle?"

Did you know that many of the world's significant problems stem from this cycle? Landfills, the ravage of Mother Earth, the destruction of rain forests, pollution caused by trucks (carting food) cars (taking people to eat food) and power plants (heating ovens to prepare food)...

***

jedibix783: From Golde Diggers of 1589 by William Shakespeare:

BUSB. BERK. We are, I fear, long out of money, sooth.
FD. ASTR. But lo -- we have our dancing shoes --
BUSB. BERK. You knave! Dost thou not know the cost of those?
GN. KLLY. And then there is the cost of hall and stage!
FD. ASTR. Why should we need those things? I have a thought!
GN. KLLY. The only one thou ever had, I'm bound.
FD. ASTR. The show goes on the road!
OTHERS. On the road?
FD. ASTR. [singing] On the road on the road!
[Diurse actors, singers, dancers, jugglers, motleys join in]
ALL: On the road! On -- the -- roaaaaad!

Sam's Note: that's Busby Berkeley, Fred Astaire, and Gene Kelly, for those who are unfamiliar with the shortened-name system used by some shakespearean publishers..


 



Drabbles from Various Mystery and Horror Novels

Drabbles in this section have their original canon and author listed below the title.

adina_atl: From the introductory portion of The Murderer's Vade Mecum by Lord Peter Wimsey:
Lord Peter Wimsey series by Dorothy L Sayers

...vital to understand that, as our admirable "murder mystery" has been decried for its informative powers among the criminal population, a handbook for the committing of certain crimes might be praised in those same circles for informing the police. I have therefore determined to set down some brief observations on the subject in this form, that the mind of the criminal may be, as it were, an open book.

Man being the proper study of mankind, not only his noble traits but that seed of crime which may lie in each of us, I begin by pointing out some small...

***

adina_atl: From Death Betwixt Wind And Water by Harriet Vane, Chapter Four:
Lord Peter Wimsey series by Dorothy L Sayers

...not the ghastly, empty boat-house that drove him shouting up the hill; it was the blood. When she arrived she saw it before the the others, who were more concerned for his sanity than for what had caused such a lapse in it.

The blood was merely a reddish stain among stains on the wood planking, but some of it was still wet. She bent to examine it and then, slowly, looked up to the boathouse ceiling, which was an unusually high one.

There was a rusted chain showing signs of recent use, a pulley, and a vicious, blood-drenched hook.

***

coughingbear: From Mock Turtle, Chapter Twelve:
Lord Peter Wimsey series by Dorothy L Sayers

A deep lethargy settled upon him in this chilly wasteland. He felt himself slipping away like so much windblown snow, skidding across untouched ice.

He found himself bounded by the fact that in this country one could never see where the horizon ended and the sky began. He began to cling to visible things, rock crags and houses, and of course the wonderful people, clad in skins and thick fabrics from head to toe. These people who showed no horrible, oily, gleaming, glistening skin, whose bodies were shrouded in proper mystery, became his messiahs. They led him from his ennui...

***

Atrus: From The Giant Rat of Sumatra, Chapter One (The Hunt Begins):
The Sherlock Holmes canon by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"Have you ever heard of the Willings empire?" Holmes asked me. "A very respectable old firm, so I'm told."

"I confess I have not; are they Scotch?"

Holmes laughed. "Scotch! They are Londoners, my dear man. Yes, I was surprised as well. I'd never heard of them, which is -- you'll excuse me -- even more unusual than for yourself, who takes no interest in London commerce."

"What do they do, then? Are they importers?"

"They make paper, or claim to." He threw the newspaper aside and rose, striding around the room with his customary grace and economy of movement. "They lie, of course."

***

madsciencechick: From Jenny, The Girl Jockey, Chapter Three:
Jeeves and Wooster by PG Wodehouse

"I'm so frightfully sorry!" Brucie exclaimed. "He's just a rather wild horse, you see."

"Yes, I rather think I do see," Jenny answered, ruefully brushing dirt from her dress. "Is he always so high-spirited?"

"It's only that no-one understands him," Brucie said mournfully. "Here, would you like a spot of tea?"

"Rather! How divine tea would be!"

"I believe we might have some finger-sandwiches. Only don't eat the watercress ones, mum likes to save those."

"What does she do with them?"

"Feeds them to the geese. Mum's wild about geese."

"Couldn't she feed the watercress to the geese?"

"No; they like the mayonnaise sauce Cook puts on them."

Sam's Note: Yeah, I suppose it's kind of a cheat to put J&W here, but whatever, they inspired Wimsey so I don't care.

***

flyakate: From Attic Room by William Denbrough, Chapter Three:
"It" by Stephen King

"It's just a leak, I'm certain."

"Course," Father grunted, pushing the trapdoor up with a single jerk.

Later, they said it must have been a freak accident. It wouldn't have been hard to freeze to death in the attic, unheated, empty of light. But he had frozen from the muscles up, so that the moisture in his body expanded and split every inch of his skin open into strips and rips before it froze entirely.

For some reason, his ribcage was still warm; his brain showed no trauma. He was still alive, the morgue staff realised, when his skin split open.

***

prodigal: From The King in Yellow, Act One:
The King in Yellow, short story anthology

[Jesters appear and perform diverse acts; the King Jester, clad in violent violet particolour, is the most capricious and nimble. When the music stops, he comes forward to the king.]

JESTER. Hullo Hal!
KING. Who calls me by my Christian name?
JESTER. A king to a king, of course!
KING. You are no king.
JESTER. King of Jesters.
KING. Jesters! Ha!
JESTER. They are more tractable than men.
KING. Then you are a lucky king.
JESTER. Perhaps I am a better king.
KING. Insolent!
JESTER. Command your men to cartwheel, and see if they obey! But king, be calm. I bring you a gift. [turning] Bring the pallid mask!

***

kitsune: From the frontispiece of the Necronomicon, in brownish ink and hastily handwritten:

The walls are thin here, reader. O reader do not be a reader. There are no readers, o reader. There are only gateways, o reader, and only readers are the gateway.

O my child, do you not hear how thin the walls are? Do you not see the blood that holds them back? Do you not see the gouges in the aging plaster where your fellow readers have fallen and clawed for purchase as they went? See you not my mark, beloved companion? It is there, in the sign of the name of an angel, sealing the thin walls.

***

primroseburrows: From the Necronomicon, near the end-chapters:

The book is no book, nor is any book, but a journey. The book is no book but a room. The book is no book. See now the journey, see now the thin-walled room. See now the dagger you are to take up. To travel further is to plunge the blade into the bloodied walls, to carve away the names of angels and the young gods of order.

Travel forward and whet the blade with the blood of your palms, that the blade be sharp thereby. Travel forward, keen-eyed, and let the blood conquer the young gods of order.


 



Drabbles From Various Literary Novels

Drabbles in this section have their original canon and author listed below the title in small font.

no name given: From The Angel of Mist, Chapter One:
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

...where the trellis had fallen near a statue long ago. It grew overrun with roses like an altar at the feet of the statue -- Caesar's wife, who must be above reproach.

For years the roses grew, clinging to her chaste skirts and fondling her lovely thighs until the constricting vines tightened too much and hurt her. Two cracks in the stone ran from her left breast into the brambles.

Years later the workmen discovered that the cracks came together in a single seam; when the roses fell away, half of Caesar's pure wife did too, nearly breaking the foot of...

***

hansbekhart: From The Gutless Wonder by Kilgore Trout:
The works of Kurt Vonnegut

....metal guts.

They'd given him metal guts!

He pressed one hand to the thin seam the medimachine had left behind and felt the clanking and groaning of stainless steel within. No more ache when he was hungry. No more butterflies when he was anxious or comforting knowledge that there was always cirrhosis to look forward to.

Could have been worse, said a voice; still got your balls.

Oh shit, said another voice, and he quickly reached further down to confirm the thesis of the first voice. Relief momentairly flooded him. Metal guts he could handle; steel balls were going a bit far.

***

arkazel: From The Couch of Eros by Ezra Chater:
Arcadia by Tom Stoppard

Such delights as rarely could be seen,
The glistening of bodies in the sun
The young oiled boys and madiens on the sand
The rhythm of the surf making all one.
Into this paradise, this Eden's child
Out from the greenbriar bushes at the edge
There came a man fair tall and broad of build
Kept from the gate of Eden by the hedge.
Upon his brow the mark of Eros lay
And as a good he looked to those who saw
But yet he was a simple mortal man
His stomach empty, skin flayed sun-burnt raw.
He seemed to stagger back from the bright sun
That picked out equal brightness in...

***

mysid: From The Myrmidons, by Aeschylus:
Once extant, now known only by its title.

ATHENA: Know ye not, king of Myrmidons, that there is war betwixt myself and Poseidon? Have ye seen the strong-hulled ships of man that pass?
ATROKLOS: We took them for merchants, and so I see they are -- their wares are blood and death, but they give good trade. What do the wars of men matter to us?
ATHENA: Poseidon made no request of you?
ATROKLOS: Aye, he requested that we wait upon him elsewhere. We do not wait upon Poseidon's whim, fair grey-eyed soldieress.
ATHENA: You are not bound to him in this war, then?
ATROKLOS: We will not fight in this war, goddess.

***

skoosan: From Golden Hours by de Selby, chapter 8 ("On Gold And Ponds"):
The Third Policeman, by Flann O'Brien

...proved that gold is nothing but the hallucination of seawater, one must then of course posit that it is the seawater in man's blood -- man being seventy-percent water and very salty at that -- which allows us to share in this hallucination.

What other grand hallucinations await us in the sea? May we assume that the giant squid, the great sperm whale, the clam chowder we had for lunch are all merely the imaginings of that great, wonderfully creative god known as the ocean? What causes its hallucinations, one wonders? Is it asleep, and does it in fact dream...

***

bloodrebel333: From Ragnarok by RH Ash, Stanza 'The Wolf':
Possession by AS Byatt

Quick-eyed, slaver-jawed and strong
No whimpering child of man begat on wolf
No dog this; no, no fawning servile pet
To obey master's orders and fleet foot
Chase after master's murdered hunting game
The wolf; the name resounds in every tale.
Embodiment of fears, wildness untamed
That eats of steaming entrails in the snow
This one with eyes as round and pale as moons
And like in size, hard-jawed and earth-devouring
He opens wide his maw to swallow whole
The earth and all the occupants thereof.
Millenia has passed of man's foul rule
He thinks; men kicking dogs, men cursing dogs,
My brethren whom he sought to tame to heel
In my stead, shackling them as my symbols
And martyrs...

***

jamoche: From Handbook for Messiahs, section titled "On Water (Walking, Into Wine, and With Ice)":
Illusions by Richard Bach

Many men have marveled that a man might walk on water, and yet not marveled at the boat they sat in. Is it not far more delightful to see man's ingenuity put into wood and glue -- is glue not a marvelous thing? -- than to see a man perform acts of magic. Yet because there are many boats, and many men, we think of them as ordinary.

One does not walk on water out of convenience but a desire to prove that one is not ordinary. Yet to cast nets, one sits in a boat.

Listen to ordinary men.

***

maeritrae: From The Maxims of Marriage or The Duties of a Married Woman, Together with Her Daily Exercises:
The School for Wives by Moliere

It is advisable when performing such exercises as touching-of-toes and such duties as the dusting of high cupboards and the scrubbing of floors that appropriate dress be worn for the occasion. In one's private house and when one is not receiving Society -- even in the company of one's closest friends, husband, and tutors -- one may be allowed leniency of dress; short sleeves, low bodices, and tucked-up skirts are all approved of most heartily and will no doubt assist in providing splendid results.

A truly fit wife is one who is unafraid to show her character in her dress...

***

marginaliana: From Negations by Enoch Soames, Chapter entitled "Between Pan and Saint Ursula":
Short story "Enoch Soames" by Max Beerbohm

Her cheek fell crimson and Pan leered.

"Your time is past," he crowed, "and I am green, green, green!"

"But I am red, you know," she murmured, "and there is ivy and holly in the old hymn."

"Holly that never swore a vow! Holly is a very faithless branch," Pan replied.

"Only the faithless may prove how faithful they are; those naturally born good make no effort to be good," she answered, a little more boldly.

"Yes, I like you now; you admit you aren't good."

She stomped her small foot. "You are a lecher!"

"And you are a virgin. This is an old story."

***

castaliae: From Travel Light by Henry Bech, Chapter Two (entitled "Barter Culture"):
The works of John Updike

I found myself shedding luggage like I was moulting.

Ironically, first to go was the enormous trunk. With all my shoes thrown out -- brown wing-tips will suffice for almost any occasion that does not require bare feet -- I found that the trunk's contents fit nicely into my other bags, and so I sold it to a man in Marrakesh for four ounces of marijuana and about a hundred dollars in local currency.

Next to go was the hatbox, for I prefer to wear my hat while flying. A young woman bought it for a song (and a long shag).

***

kurai_mori: From Close-Shaven Clerks by Ockham, Chapter Four:
Gargantua and Pantagruel, by Francois Rabelais

He ran one finger over his hand, tracing the line of the blue vein until it branched, one half pointing to his ring finger, the other towards his index.

"I do not see," he said, "why we are alive if we serve no clear purpose. I don't require a meaningful purpose, mind you, but I'd like to know that I have one specific aim in life."

"Fucking," his companion replied. He looked up, curious. "Well, if you want to get technical, reproduction. Everything exists to reproduce, otherwise we wouldn't spend the rest of our lives trying to get women into bed."

***

lindsey_grrl: From Bacon Death by Marcha Patterson, Chapter 2:
The Abortion: A Historical Romance by Richard Brautigan

The process of making bacon, aside from certain biological concerns regarding the production of pigs, is not a difficult one. A judicious application of elements turns raw meat into divine delicacy: flesh, smoke, and salt converging to create something entirely new and yet one of the oldest foods imaginable: preserved meat.

One might imagine the Greeks, the Romans, and those scratching out existence in the New World making similar delicacies, crisp strips which melted in the mouth.

And then there was August, who stuffed the bacon whole into his mouth while spittle ran down his chin, heedless of any history.

***

Vlad: From Sam Sam Sam by Patricia Evens Summers, the posthumous sequel to Bacon Death by Macha Patterson, Chapter 5:

"If you know a name, of course you know power," said Sam, the slice of banana held between two fingers. I had never seen someone eat fruit salad with their hands, an intimate experience. I thought of August, eating like a snowplow, shoving crumpled food into his mouth.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He placed the thin, fleshy slice of fruit on his tongue and ate it, then lifted his eyes to my face.

"You can summon, refer, and curse," he answered. "You know who a person is, in some sense. You can grasp that who in your hands."

***

greenling: From A Week in Firenze by Camilla Clapfish, Chapter One:
"The Bestseller" by Olivia Goldsmith

The tourists disembarked from the bus with the usual stretching and moaning, popping of joints and arching of backs. All told, it was entirely sexual, entirely American. The Italian locals love to watch it: these puritan Americans with such terrible body-modesty, such rampantly bizarre ideas about sex, engaging in a practical orgy fresh off the bus.

For the most part, the men wandered towards the open-air bar while the women gazed around and took in the street first. The women were more wary, had heard more horror stories about shysters ready to make a quick buck from the dangerously unaware.

***

eofs: From Fly-Fishing by JR Hartley:
UK Yellow Pages advert in the 80s

Without these supplies one cannot hope to be truly successful at fly-fishing. It is quite difficult, in this day and age, to locate fly-fishing supplies; as a youth one might locate the single fly-fishing shop in any town or village, but the art of fly-shopkeeping seems to have gone out of fashion, and these modern sports stores make it nearly impossible to find rod or tackle-box, fly or line.

Until some sort of guidebook may be published listing where fly-fishing supplies may be found and purchased, the beginning fly-fisher must merely show endurance, courage, and tenacity in acquiring his supplies.

***

killerqueen42: From Hamster Huey and the Gooey Kablooey:
Calvin and Hobbes comic by Bill Watterson

"What shall I put in the Silly Soupy Stew next?" said Hamster Huey to his friends. "I have added mud and rocks and pigeon droppings."

"You could put worms and wriggly things in the Stew!" said Hamster Huey's Little Brother.

"And Rotten Fruit!" said Hamster Huey's Best Friend.

"This will be a Stew to remember!" Hamster Huey announced. So he and his Little Brother and his Best Friend gathered up worms and wriggly things and rotten fruit.

When they were gathering them Hamster Huey tripped on a box.

"What is this?" he asked them, holding it up.

"Ni-tro-gli-cer-ine," said Hamster Huey's Best Friend. "Hmmmm..."




Drabbles from the Works of Ellis Graveworthy

Ellis Graveworthy is a recurring Original Character who appears in various guises in several of my Harry Potter fanfics, most notably as Sirius Black's deceased lover in Cartographer's Craft.

kit_maxel: From Wizard Bird, by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter One:

...walked through the predawn dew-wet grass with his insides humming happily, his skin prickling against the cold. He rubbed his hands up over his thin arms and kept walking, cheerful, not at all unhappy to be up before the sunrise.

He knew without thinking that he was bound for the rock outcrop nearby; as he drew nearer, he felt a breeze stir his hair and soon two men were walking with him, one in a leather breastplate, the other in jingling ancient chainmail -- Romans, he thought cheerfully. Valiant spirits killed in battle -- manes. Good guides this morning, when...

***

tess_wolfe: From Wizard Bird by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Four:

...other boys were laughing and joking, bats slung carelessly on their shoulders, and didn't notice Wren, who had stopped silently on the edge of the field.

There was a boy of about sixteen standing in front of the wickets, wearing a crisp white suit with a bat leaning up against his thigh. He was watching the boys keenly, grey eyes wide and kind. As Wren watched, another boy walked straight through him.

Sometimes Wren grew very tired of his school, with its ghosts thick as thieves in the hallways and the laughing boys who couldn't see them. Still, this one seemed...

***

cornporngirl: From Wizard Bird by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Twenty Two:

...man standing before him was dark-eyed, bearded, and wearing a wizard's robes. Wren glanced sidelong at his dorm-mates, who were still snoring in the other three beds.

"They won't wake," the man said. "You've been doing magic, Wren."

"Have not," Wren said forthrightly. "I've been being me. I haven't a wand so you can't accuse me of doing your magic."

The man scowled. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

"Sure. You're the Headmaster of Hogwarts," Wren said, and threw up the V, sticking his tongue out. "Piss off, I've exams tomorrow and I need my sleep."

"There is trouble brewing because of you, Wren."

***

coyotegoth: From Two Kneazles by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Three:

They themselves remembered only the thud of bootheels on stone, but Master Slytherin told the story so often that Brutus and Cassius knew it by heart by the time they were grown.

Salazar had left Helga at the base of the hill while he scouted upwards to see if the old ruin would serve them for shelter until Godric and Rowena caught up with them. He had been about to put his foot down on stone, his first step into Hogwarts proper, when he noticed two small bodies in the indentation. Two kneazle kittens gazed up at him, curiously, shivering.

***

metallumai: From Two Kneazles by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Five:

...have you done, Salazar?" Helga demanded. He looked at her sheepishly.

"I found the castle's kitchen," he said. She looked around herself at the aged cheese speckling the walls, the spiders crawling about, and the two kneazle kits covered in ancient flour.

"Are you sure it didn't find you?" she asked, bursting out laughing. The kneazles glared at her. "What happened to Brutus and Cassius?"

"They found it first," Salazar answered, and then he broke down laughing as well when Cassius sneezed. He picked them both up by their scruffs with one hand and dusted them down with the other, affectionately.

***

jazmin_firewing: From Two Kneazles by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Eight:

Helga's children were born in the middle of a howling winter storm.

Godric was gone, searching for students; he said that now that they had a school, he was fired to fill it. What they really had was a falling-apart castle, but the students could help rebuild, anyway.

Rowena was some help, but she was frightened of the blood; in the end Salazar pulled the twins forcibly from Helga's exhausted body. Brutus and Cassius watched as he washed each child carefully.

"You will be my sons also," he whispered to them.

Salazar, not Godric, had found the first two students for their school.

***

mint_green: From Two Kneazles by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Twenty-Two:

Brutus put his paw halfway down Salazar's chest and leaned forward, snuffing at the old stone gargoyle.

"Disapprove, do you?" Salazar asked. Cassius, sitting upright and dignified on Salazar's other shoulder, complained loudly of the cold. "All right, we shan't be here long," he continued. "Look, there's Godric now."

Indeed, a light was moving down the hallway, promising warmth and the comforting unwashed-soldier smell of Godric. As it drew closer they could see the enormous, barrel-chested man carrying a torch, looking perplexed.

"You called, Salazar?" he asked. Salazar jerked his head at the window flanked by the gargoyles.

"Look down," he said.

***

aura218: From Shop Gods by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Nine:

"Why did they do it?" Charles asked me, looking at the photograph. I could see his eyes flicker, expecting movement; I'd seen it before in wizards looking at Muggle photos. Rian had once told me that for a child raised among moving photographs, there's a terrible deathly stillness in the Muggle ones.

"Fight the war?" I asked. "They were called. They were told. Some volunteered because they saw no other way out, like me."

"No," Charles said. "Why did they start the war? Those men," he continued, pointing to the photograph of my officers hanging next to the one of my squadron.

***

simon: From Shop Gods by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Twenty Two:

...left them," he said to me.

"Your family?" I asked, over the roar of red fury in my ears. His eye was blacked and one of his hands was hidden from my sight, intentionally, in a pocket. He nodded.

"I was wondering if you still needed a stock-boy -- " he began, but he got no further before I stopped him. He was free now, with the terrible freedom that I had felt after the war, the freedom that demands love or death, and I wanted to beat Death to the punch. I put my arms around his shoulders and held...

***

eljay: From Animagus Winter by Ellis Graveworthy, Chapter Twenty-Six:

Polaris was asleep when I returned. I had promised his Healer that I would not leave until he slept, but now I was momentarily at liberty. I touched his bandaged wrist, shook my head, and went down the hall to the floo portal.

"Derwent College, Oxford," I said.

Derwent College, that venerable bastion of magical scholarship, has played host to innumerable idiots and almost as many geniuses. It was one of the geniuses I wished to see; my friend Wren, a professor of Magical History there. I found him in his book-lined study, giving extra lessons in Latin to a student.

***

jcomer2001: Wallowing With Walruses, Gilderoy Lockhart's long-banned erotic masterpiece, now available in the Restricted Section of Flourish and Blotts, in a brown paper cover.

Copperbadge: Now Jim, you know that wasn't really a book mentioned in the HPverse. *grins*

From the foreword to Wallowing With Walruses written (at wandpoint, he begs me to add) by Ellis Graveworthy:

Many writers of my acquaintance wish that it were possible to ban stupidity as easily as so-called "obscenity"; few actually would, for it is such a slippery slope, and we are dedicated to literary freedom, especially when it runs against our own beliefs.

It is therefore my pleasure to pen the introduction to Wallowing With Walruses by Gilderoy Lockhart. This book has been banned in its native country for years, not for any obvious reason but because it chronicles Lockhart's exploits in the bedroom instead of the field of dark wizardry. It is certainly the most unique book of my recent experience.

***

aura218: From the back-page advert for the next issue of the comic book Rupert the Vampire Slayer:

New RtVS SPECIAL! 50 PACKED PAGES!

Place your orders with local Magical comic shops now for the RtVS Twenty Year Special, featuring not only a new thirty page mini-graphic-novel by Ellis Graveworthy but pages and pages of retrospective on the last twenty years.

Read along with Rupert as he discovers his amazing powers, takes on a boarding school for vampires, finds romance and forbidden passion in London, and travels to that most exotic of all countries, America, in search of new adventure. Read about his amusing meeting with Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle, and even crossovers with the Muggle superheroes "Batman" and "John Constantine"...

intriguing47: A Poem by Ellis Graveworthy.

THE QUILL
by Ellis Graveworthy
I see the quill resting
Robbed of its brothers in your fingers
Kind
Ruffling it like the wind once

Scrawled below this: It's no good, Sirius, I can't bloody do this free verse crap. It's like playing tennis without a net. What's the point?

THE QUILL
When you were borne aloft on summer air
Not free but slave to birdish want and whim
You had one use; and now another task
Is set to your slim shaft and copper nib.
Slave to a human whim, but beauty sound
Is seen in every balanced flick of white
Dark ink on creamy paper, sharpened wit
And words most fortunate to...

***

trinity_clare: A Poem by Ellis Graveworthy:

DOG
For Padfoot.

Had I the faith in me that has my dog
I would be reckoned arrogant at best
And yet what he can see in me is this:
What I yet am, with all my sins redressed.
The parts of me still possible to love
He sees without the parts that others hate
Thus I suppose he sees as gods might see
Had they the mercy infinite they claim.
We bred these animals to hunt with us
Demanded their most stringent loyalty
Like our own gods we beat them when they failed
Like gods we wanted, they showed us mercy.
Thus in his eyes I see a perfect man
And strive to be much better than I am.

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