Entry tags:
Whisper of a Ghost, Scream of an Angel by Arsenic Jade (G)
Fandom: HIGHLANDER
Pairing: none
Author on LJ:
arsenicjade
Author Website: Every Rose Has A Thorn
Why this must be read: For the record: I can't stand Cassanda. That said, I'm recommending this anyway because it manages to makes me like Cassandra for the duration of the story, and for a while after that. Hell, this makes me sympathize with her, and feel sorry for her, and agree with her, and enjoy reading about her. All of which, to my mind, constitutes a minor miracle.
The author's summary is "Halloween at a witch's house." How could I resist reading that the first time? And once I'd read it, it lingered in the back of my mind, even years later. I hope you enjoy it, too.
It had started with the oak tree.
The tree, which had seen far more centuries than most humans and far fewer than she, had grown into the house. The roots curled around the foundation's structure and strangled the cement.
The house itself was old, at least for an American habitation. It was located on a quiet back street in a small Rhode Island neighborhood, blue and white with a porch and glass windows that had curved, twisting everything on either side. The wooden floors creaked and the upstairs was drafty. Fireplaces graced near to every room and there was only one bathroom. Cassandra had fallen in love with the tree. Neither the country where the house resided, the supposed discomforts nor the rather plain appearance of the house could change her mind once she had seen the leaves that dressed the roof and the "veins" that crawled out of the steps in the front.
It was only later that she remembered why she had avoided neighborhoods and apartment buildings for so long.
Whisper of a Ghost, Scream of an Angel
Pairing: none
Author on LJ:
Author Website: Every Rose Has A Thorn
Why this must be read: For the record: I can't stand Cassanda. That said, I'm recommending this anyway because it manages to makes me like Cassandra for the duration of the story, and for a while after that. Hell, this makes me sympathize with her, and feel sorry for her, and agree with her, and enjoy reading about her. All of which, to my mind, constitutes a minor miracle.
The author's summary is "Halloween at a witch's house." How could I resist reading that the first time? And once I'd read it, it lingered in the back of my mind, even years later. I hope you enjoy it, too.
It had started with the oak tree.
The tree, which had seen far more centuries than most humans and far fewer than she, had grown into the house. The roots curled around the foundation's structure and strangled the cement.
The house itself was old, at least for an American habitation. It was located on a quiet back street in a small Rhode Island neighborhood, blue and white with a porch and glass windows that had curved, twisting everything on either side. The wooden floors creaked and the upstairs was drafty. Fireplaces graced near to every room and there was only one bathroom. Cassandra had fallen in love with the tree. Neither the country where the house resided, the supposed discomforts nor the rather plain appearance of the house could change her mind once she had seen the leaves that dressed the roof and the "veins" that crawled out of the steps in the front.
It was only later that she remembered why she had avoided neighborhoods and apartment buildings for so long.
Whisper of a Ghost, Scream of an Angel

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Anyway, great stories, and thank you!
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