Blind
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| Zine | |
|---|---|
| Title: | Blind |
| Publisher: | KnightWriter Press |
| Editor: | |
| Author(s): | Linda Knights |
| Cover Artist(s): | |
| Illustrator(s): | |
| Date(s): | |
| Medium: | print zine, fanfic |
| Size: | |
| Genre: | gen |
| Fandom: | Blake’s 7 |
| Language: | English |
| External Links: | |
| Click here for related articles on Fanlore. | |
Blind is a 23-page gen Blake's 7 novel by Linda Knights.
Series
This zine is part of a series of mini-zines, each with a story that has been published previously in another zine. Each mini-zine has a full-color photo cover.
- Bad Blood by Peggy Hartsook
- Blind by Linda Knights
- Close Calls by Linda Knights
- Crucible's Flame by Linda Knights
- Endgame by Peggy Hartsook
- Fate's Final Act by Linda Knights
- Prelude to an Interview by Linda Knights
- Returned Favors by Linda Knights
- Surprises by Linda Knights
- Waves Upon a Mirrored Surface by Linda Knights
- Yesterday: Memories of Tomorrow by Linda Knights (1997)==Excerpt==
"Avon!"He ran toward the sound of his name and the sheer panic in the voice that had called it. It was an action that he would, had he been given time to think about it, not have done. Running into the unknown, in this situation, was almost surely the same as running into danger. But that degree of panic did not lend itself to considered thought.
Rounding the corner of the building, he instinctively ducked away from the danger that had to have inspired the scream, finding only Blake, not an enemy, waiting for him there. With a holt he came to a stop. He actually froze; an action he'd always thought physically impossible -- a writer's artificial device. It wasn't. In reality it was possible to just stand in one place without thought, without action, without emotion.
"Avon?"
Roj Blake wasn't a man who should either beg or bessech, Avon had decided that long ago. Yet, now, he was doing just that. "I'm here," Avon said calmly, a great deal calmer than he felt. "What happened?"
Blake was wedged tightly back into a corner, hands up, clutching at his eyes, weapon laying forgotten, discarded, at his feet. Blake's fingers were pressed tightly into eyes that, from Avon's point of view, were undamaged. Tears crept from beneath the tightly-closed lids, though, grainy tears. Pain transformed the man's features, aging him, weakening him. "Laser flashback, I think."