The Lancer Fanfiction Archive

subglobal1 link | subglobal1 link | subglobal1 link | subglobal1 link | subglobal1 link | subglobal1 link | subglobal1 link
subglobal2 link | subglobal2 link | subglobal2 link | subglobal2 link | subglobal2 link | subglobal2 link | subglobal2 link
subglobal3 link | subglobal3 link | subglobal3 link | subglobal3 link | subglobal3 link | subglobal3 link | subglobal3 link
subglobal4 link | subglobal4 link | subglobal4 link | subglobal4 link | subglobal4 link | subglobal4 link | subglobal4 link
subglobal5 link | subglobal5 link | subglobal5 link | subglobal5 link | subglobal5 link | subglobal5 link | subglobal5 link
subglobal6 link | subglobal6 link | subglobal6 link | subglobal6 link | subglobal6 link | subglobal6 link | subglobal6 link
subglobal7 link | subglobal7 link | subglobal7 link | subglobal7 link | subglobal7 link | subglobal7 link | subglobal7 link
subglobal8 link | subglobal8 link | subglobal8 link | subglobal8 link | subglobal8 link | subglobal8 link | subglobal8 link

Rosalind

 

 

2007 Winter Drabble Collection

Just One of those Days.  

What a day!

A brother!  Of all the things he had expected or hoped to gain from this crazy adventure a brother had never been on the list. 

Neither had a range-war. But was that so much of a problem? Not exactly the Confederate army.  Just a passle of rough-necks with delusions of grandeur. 

And this impressive place, encompassed in that breath-taking view from the top of that ridge.

And then there was his equally impressive father.  The Murdoch Lancer of his childhood hopes and dreams personified.

What on earth was there left, for tomorrow?

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The Red Shirt Theory.

When the bullets stopped flying Johnny was still standing but….

'You were hit'!!!   

Scott moved protectively to Johnny’s side and saw that the red shirt had a darker, different, spreading stain just under his armpit.   

Was THIS,   Scott gasped in realisation, the real reason for Johnny’s penchant for the reds and dark pinks of his colourful shirts?

Because they disguised the sight of his own spilled blood? 

Just how often had Johnny taken a bullet in return for his own,  like this and yet walked away,  seemingly invincible………

but actually as vulnerable as any other mortal. 

 

 

Home Comforts
(A drabble for ‘Have a cup of coffee’ day) 

Lifting the ever simmering coffee pot from the stove, he poured himself a cupful.

About to drink, he had a second thought.  Smiling, he took down the jug of cream from the shelf, adding some and also a spoonful of sugar, to the bitter brown fluid.

This was how Scott drank it, when he was at home—and having once tasted it, Johnny thought it was delicious. 

He hadn’t let on however.  In company, he drank it just as it came.

Sugar!  Cream!  For Johnny Madrid? 

No way was he admitting to that.  To anyone.  Not even family.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Apparently, a strange light, like a very bright star, was seen in the skies over Arizona, during the Christmas week of 1871.  No-one knows exactly what it was, but I have borrowed it for this Christmas Drabble. 

Star of Wonder.

He didn’t really know this country, but he had always been very good at finding his way by the stars. 

But on this cold glittering night, there was more than the North Star to guide him. 

All he needed was the faith in his heart and to keep his eyes on that strange huge star that was striving to outshine every other star in the sky.

He didn’t know if there was any truth to that story in the Bible, but he did know the star up there was leading him. 

Was taking him home—

to Lancer.

 

 

An ‘After Christmas’ Drabble. 

Brawl! 

 ‘It must have been some fight!’

Murdoch scowled alarmingly at his son. 

There was the split lip, the black eye, the bruised cheek, and the cut above his eye that had seeped blood into his hair, from lying down all night on the jailhouse cot.  The knuckles of his right hand bore testimony to some good hard punching.  His shirt was ripped and dusty.

‘Can’t let him out alone can we’.  Johnny said, with a sly glance at his taller companion, who shrugged and shook his head resignedly.

 ‘Pay his fine Scott and let’s get the ole man home.’