Meredith Harmon
Bio
Mix equal parts anthropologist, biologist, geologist, and artisan, stir and heat in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, sprinkle with a heaping pile of odd life experiences. Half-baked.
Achievements (21)
Stories (426)
Filter by community
Where's Your Sweater?
Don't ever let me get bored. My creative (insane?) brain absolutely hates being bored, and will invent things just to stay active. Normally, I can channel these impulses into research for a jewelry or craft project, but when I'm trapped....
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Confessions
Not So Random Fandom
Ooh, this one's a toughie. Pick the best fandom, defend your choice against all comers? Suddenly I'm reminded of the great George Takei, whose comment on the Star Trek versus Star Wars schism is the perfect summation of the subject (I'm paraphrasing): "We must join forces and unite against our common enemy - Twilight!"
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
Beacon
The lighthouse beacon swept over the bay, its regular rhythm a comfort to the town that huddled near its strong foundations, on the cliff. When the winds came bowling in from the northeast, the little bay at the base was the least safe place to be. Even boats were dragged so far back they were anchored in little caves carved very, very carefully into the base of the cliff. On the far side, away from the village. Just in case.
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
Harvest
She always started harvesting on full moon night, in the middle of her birth sign. Always. The magic was best that way. But, of course, she never wanted people to know her birth day, so she'd go out in the garden at all times of the year. And at all times of the month, too. You never knew who was watching. Or at what hour. She learned to dabble - dig a little here, dig a little there, pull this, plant that, wander to that corner, kneel in this row for a bit. It was worth the extra time, because she was certain-sure that no one knew where she kept her rare and powerful plants.
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
Alchemist
It wasn't coming back to me, so I took a walk in the garden again. See, some of the old texts are rather difficult to translate. Faded spots, mis-translations, deliberate obfuscations, coded language - you name it, I've seen it a dozen times and more. It can drive you mad, wondering if "Blood Stone" means haematite or heliotrope. There's a slight difference between those two! The first is an iron ore that seems to "bleed" when you drill it under water (and you'd better use water, don't inhale that dust!), and the other is a quartz-heavy jasper of the green variety that looks like it has drops of blood-
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
There Are No Sharks Here
Officer, I'm sure I have no idea whatsoever what you're talking about. Sure, we own the house on the pier. Oh - I guess, I mean, it's my house now. He's gone, isn't he? He's not coming back? But, you didn't find a body? So, maybe there's a chance he'll come back?
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
The New Owner
Turner surveyed the shop - his very own shop, now - with complete satisfaction. It was hard getting a foothold in this tiny little town. Everyone knew everyone, everyone was related to everyone, and some days it seemed like unless you married into one of the old families and settled down within the town's defined borders, you were still an outsider, no matter how many generations had lived there.
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Fiction
Bait and Switch
I knew it wasn't her the moment she swung her hips through my door. My wife, you see, has a twin sister. The Harpy, I call her. Where my wife is sweet and kind and generous, her twin is the exact opposite. Anything she can do to make anyone else's life miserable, she will. I've seen her throw food at servers in restaurants, steal a homeowner's belongings when invited in, and pitch screaming fits at parties where she wasn't, and should never be, the center of attention.
By Meredith Harmon5 years ago in Fiction
