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.
Stories (211/0)
- Top Story - May 2023
Phoenix and Obsidian Part 1Top Story - May 2023
Gerala knelt underneath the hollow shell of a sevanda tree, under the baking sun. Here in the desert, at mid day, there was nothing to see - except the shadow of two hopeful vultures circling high above. Well, they can wait a while more, she thought. I can do this.....
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
Desert Visions
When life seems to close up around me, I like to hop on my motorcycle and head for the desert. You can't hear the call properly in the urban jungle, and with solstice getting close, I knew it was time to take a few days off work and get out.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Keyboard Sloshed at Midnight
For a decade, I worked as a jeweler's apprentice. But if you asked the jeweler, he'd most likely say that I was more like a glorified secretary. Jill-of-all-trades, if you will. Whether he wanted to teach me the trade or not, I learned a lot about it, interacting with gem traders and wacky rock hounds and even wackier customers. Whom to trust, whom to ignore, and whom to watch your back with.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Journal
Melody of a Life
Some time in nineteen seventy: I was born! Whether or not this was the beginning of a new decade or the end of an era depends on whom you're talking to. I was a rather cranky baby, and prone to being sick. I can't sugarcoat this; I read my mom's diary. Mom had to stay in the hospital for three days, where the night nurse would forget that Mom was still nursing me, and we'd both fall asleep in exhaustion. When Mom got back home (her brother drove us), Dad swooped me up, plopped in the rocking chair, and said she had dishes to do. Little paternal bleeper didn't do his dishes the whole time she was gone!! He has less than zero excuse; he was an Army cook! So Mom went from birth, to post partum with infection and recovery, to being driven home, to doing dishes. While Dad got a chance to cuddle me. He evolved, I swear.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Beat
The Fortune Tellers
At least she could make good bread. Marya made herself useful to the family that saved her and her brother. It took many days and thousands of questions to reach their village well away from the border, and the little house they called home. It did not take long to have then help her set up an oven, and she quickly gained a reputation as the best village baker.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fortune Tellers
Marya was having a Very Bad Morning. Nothing was going right. Her brother fought and kicked and hit when she tried to dress and feed him. She tripped and fell twice while getting ready for work, and had to waste precious water scrubbing her hands clean. The politz and their Dogs were rather sharp and thick on the streets today, and a few seemed to swing around and sniff the air after she passed by.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
The Fortune Tellers
She shuffled the cards nervously. Technically, she wasn't supposed to. Only the questioner should touch them. She knew that; she'd been telling fortunes for a very long time. She'd been told she had more than a touch of gift, whatever that was supposed to mean. Her mother had some of it, her granny had it in double spades, ha ha. They'd always told her the object you use isn't important, just what you saw, and how you gave that information.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
Red as Blood, White as Snow
Skeletons were scattered in the courtyard, and throughout the castle. Even more hung impaled by lush rose branches. His carefully chosen armor was shredded; the wicked thorns were quite effective. He was bleeding, but he could finish what he started. He was already farther than most had ever achieved.
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction
Changeling
Being shut in the crystal cave was overwritten; I just needed an abrupt exit from Camelot. Time to start a new legend. When I met that woodcarver after leaving Wenceslaus, I got it! The funniest thing is so many don't see the correlation, even when both books are side by side. The hat shape, the beard length, the long flowing robes. Add magic? No problem, I'm Merlin!
By Meredith Harmonabout a year ago in Fiction