A/N-This is not my normal writing style. This was the demon that possessed
me one afternoon's idea completely. It also somehow manages to satisfy the
conditions of challenges placed both by an odd friend of mine, and Dragon
(although I can't remember what the full penname was.)
It Was Not My Normal Style
The Author was asleep, dreaming. It was a happy, pleasant, sweet, innocent, Harry-and-Ginny's-first-date type of fan fiction dream. Everything was right with the world. The Author's face was developing imprints from the keyboard while on the monitor a link to The Author's most recent and most promising fan fiction endeavor flickered, hopefully waiting among the thousands of other stories. The story within was perfect, happy, pleasant, sweet, and innocent, just like all the other stories The Author wrote, similar to but of a higher caliber than those stories The Author read online. All the main characters were in Gryffindor, Draco was a bad guy, Harry saved the day, and absolutely no one was homosexual. Everything was right with the world.
But then The Author's inner-slasher awoke. Its name was Goat, as in Horny Goat, and it was a bit taken aback when it first took sight of the situation. The Author herself was not precisely awake yet, or she would surely have squandered Goat and put him back in his place, hidden deep within the very back of The Author's mind. Goat, for his part, was very glad to be free. His first thought, naturally, was of food (as would yours be if you'd just been released by a lifetime of persecution and starvation by your other half.) With glee, Goat espied the bowl of whipped cream sitting by The Author's elbow. It was barely touched, as The Author had been so wrapped up in posting her latest happy, sweet, and innocent story to finish her snack. Goat giddily leapt into the bowl (he was, after all, very small after so long without food) and proceeded to nourish himself. Moments later, a whipped cream-covered, sugar high, inner slasher named Goat was prancing around the computer, when he came to a sudden halt. Goat, being part of The Author, was compelled beyond stopping to write. To write magnificently slashy stories featuring.featuring. Harry and Draco!
Goat grabbed The Author's blow up doll of Draco she used for target practice with crumpled wads of paper, gave him the seat of honor atop the computer, and began to write. He wrote furiously, quickly, and rather absurdly. The Author's outward happy, sweet innocence, named Mary, kept most of The Author's tact and style. Yet, Goat had revolutionary ideas. Goat was not writing to attract happy reviews; Goat was not writing to become a better writer; Goat was not writing to expand on canon; Goat was writing to change the world!
It was a seventh-year love triangle. Secretly, Harry loved Draco, and Draco loved Harry, but both thought the other was dating Hermione. Hermione was really dating Ron, and had been since fifth year. They didn't want Harry to know, though, because neither wanted him to be jealous. Practically the whole school was secretly pining away for someone, and the only public couple was Crabbe and Goyle, which rapidly grew tiring to gossip about. Being two such blockheads, they lacked the creativity to do anything interesting for the school to talk about, and couldn't even muster the imagination to argue about something more interesting than whose grades were lower.
Finally, Hermione had had quite enough. For Christmas, she gave Ron a pair of pink thongs. They were really quite remarkable sandals, for whenever he donned them and began to walk, his steps would take him directly to Hermione. Naturally, the couple exercised a good amount of caution in using them. She would search out a nicely deserted broom closet and wait.
One day, the inevitable occurred, and Harry, in a rush to get out of the door on his way to quidditch practice, borrowed Ron's pink shoes without asking. He figured Ron wouldn't be wanting them any time soon as they were bright pink. It just so happened that those shoes took him directly to Hermione, caught up in Ron's arms. With a whoop of joy, Harry realized the significance of the shoes and ran off to the Slytherin dungeons. It was a rather foolhardy move, as he could have had no idea at the time if Draco would reciprocate his sentiments, but it really worked out in the long run.
Goat grew more and more pleased with his work as he wrote. He was just about to write the grand finale, wherein Draco and Harry professed their undying love for each other and kissed before the entire school, when The Author began to stir. Goat, still wearing little save whipped cream, gave a cry of exasperation and hurriedly saved the file as "Read After Your Enlightenment" before dashing back into hiding in his deep hole within The Author's psyche. Moments later, The Author woke from her dream, which had rapidly changed from something which could only be happy, pleasant, sweet, and innocent into something a little more.unusual.
"Purple monkeys-aaaaaaawn!-stole my underwear," The Author mumbled, still not entirely conscious. She rubbed her eyes and looked expectantly at the monitor, hoping to see her innocent story accompanied by many happy reviews. Instead, she saw the glory her inner slasher had accomplished without her knowing. Her eyes grew wide with fright, then in awe and appreciation. If she could write like that, well, she'd had no idea! But the story, it lacked an ending, and then she would post it, and oh! the reviews this story would take in! Filled with a new sense of self- confidence, The Author sat down to write once more, but this time in a whole new way.
Goat, the ever-present inner slasher, smirked at Mary and demanded his five dollars. Grudgingly, the previously-outward innocence of The Author conceded defeat.
It Was Not My Normal Style
The Author was asleep, dreaming. It was a happy, pleasant, sweet, innocent, Harry-and-Ginny's-first-date type of fan fiction dream. Everything was right with the world. The Author's face was developing imprints from the keyboard while on the monitor a link to The Author's most recent and most promising fan fiction endeavor flickered, hopefully waiting among the thousands of other stories. The story within was perfect, happy, pleasant, sweet, and innocent, just like all the other stories The Author wrote, similar to but of a higher caliber than those stories The Author read online. All the main characters were in Gryffindor, Draco was a bad guy, Harry saved the day, and absolutely no one was homosexual. Everything was right with the world.
But then The Author's inner-slasher awoke. Its name was Goat, as in Horny Goat, and it was a bit taken aback when it first took sight of the situation. The Author herself was not precisely awake yet, or she would surely have squandered Goat and put him back in his place, hidden deep within the very back of The Author's mind. Goat, for his part, was very glad to be free. His first thought, naturally, was of food (as would yours be if you'd just been released by a lifetime of persecution and starvation by your other half.) With glee, Goat espied the bowl of whipped cream sitting by The Author's elbow. It was barely touched, as The Author had been so wrapped up in posting her latest happy, sweet, and innocent story to finish her snack. Goat giddily leapt into the bowl (he was, after all, very small after so long without food) and proceeded to nourish himself. Moments later, a whipped cream-covered, sugar high, inner slasher named Goat was prancing around the computer, when he came to a sudden halt. Goat, being part of The Author, was compelled beyond stopping to write. To write magnificently slashy stories featuring.featuring. Harry and Draco!
Goat grabbed The Author's blow up doll of Draco she used for target practice with crumpled wads of paper, gave him the seat of honor atop the computer, and began to write. He wrote furiously, quickly, and rather absurdly. The Author's outward happy, sweet innocence, named Mary, kept most of The Author's tact and style. Yet, Goat had revolutionary ideas. Goat was not writing to attract happy reviews; Goat was not writing to become a better writer; Goat was not writing to expand on canon; Goat was writing to change the world!
It was a seventh-year love triangle. Secretly, Harry loved Draco, and Draco loved Harry, but both thought the other was dating Hermione. Hermione was really dating Ron, and had been since fifth year. They didn't want Harry to know, though, because neither wanted him to be jealous. Practically the whole school was secretly pining away for someone, and the only public couple was Crabbe and Goyle, which rapidly grew tiring to gossip about. Being two such blockheads, they lacked the creativity to do anything interesting for the school to talk about, and couldn't even muster the imagination to argue about something more interesting than whose grades were lower.
Finally, Hermione had had quite enough. For Christmas, she gave Ron a pair of pink thongs. They were really quite remarkable sandals, for whenever he donned them and began to walk, his steps would take him directly to Hermione. Naturally, the couple exercised a good amount of caution in using them. She would search out a nicely deserted broom closet and wait.
One day, the inevitable occurred, and Harry, in a rush to get out of the door on his way to quidditch practice, borrowed Ron's pink shoes without asking. He figured Ron wouldn't be wanting them any time soon as they were bright pink. It just so happened that those shoes took him directly to Hermione, caught up in Ron's arms. With a whoop of joy, Harry realized the significance of the shoes and ran off to the Slytherin dungeons. It was a rather foolhardy move, as he could have had no idea at the time if Draco would reciprocate his sentiments, but it really worked out in the long run.
Goat grew more and more pleased with his work as he wrote. He was just about to write the grand finale, wherein Draco and Harry professed their undying love for each other and kissed before the entire school, when The Author began to stir. Goat, still wearing little save whipped cream, gave a cry of exasperation and hurriedly saved the file as "Read After Your Enlightenment" before dashing back into hiding in his deep hole within The Author's psyche. Moments later, The Author woke from her dream, which had rapidly changed from something which could only be happy, pleasant, sweet, and innocent into something a little more.unusual.
"Purple monkeys-aaaaaaawn!-stole my underwear," The Author mumbled, still not entirely conscious. She rubbed her eyes and looked expectantly at the monitor, hoping to see her innocent story accompanied by many happy reviews. Instead, she saw the glory her inner slasher had accomplished without her knowing. Her eyes grew wide with fright, then in awe and appreciation. If she could write like that, well, she'd had no idea! But the story, it lacked an ending, and then she would post it, and oh! the reviews this story would take in! Filled with a new sense of self- confidence, The Author sat down to write once more, but this time in a whole new way.
Goat, the ever-present inner slasher, smirked at Mary and demanded his five dollars. Grudgingly, the previously-outward innocence of The Author conceded defeat.