Books in Progress, v. 2008.2

305 Responses to Books in Progress, v. 2008.2

1. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

   June 17, 2008 at 3:13 pm

   Apparently we have not been forgotten.
   I’m currently juggling three books. Hopefully I’ll be able to focus on a single one soon.

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2. Beatlesrockr(10piepoints)&Hiejayko says:

   June 17, 2008 at 3:20 pm

   I am writing a book, but I don’t have an excerpt, oh wait I do, I thought I left the notebook at school, but I just remembered I brought it home because school is out, one moment…

   (first post?)

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3. iŹ√Ҳ! (11 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

   June 17, 2008 at 3:25 pm

   ((first post?))

   I know I’ve posted this a million times before, but…

   Light of the moon shone down on two creatures. They were both heavily cloaked, an owl hooted eerily off in the distance. Crickets and other creatures of the night were silent though, knowing that great evil was a prowl in their wood, even the trees made no noise as they swayed in a chill breeze. The two cloaked ones stood facing each other, whispering.
   “Why, I would ask you, has the castle not fallen already? I would answer myself, laziness, you fool of a Cooligan, I could kill you, here and now, for you know the power of Husky Whakker.” The voice was cold, the kind of voice that the dark things in the shadowy recesses of nightmares have. Then, a second voice answered, quivering with fear. “Mightiness, I have done everything possible to ensure that our assassin will succeed.” The first voice spoke only one word: “Liar!”
   “No, Mightiness, I have ensured that the castle will fall within the season, I am sure it will. But do not underestimate the cats.”
   The Cooligan had said the wrong thing. “You think that I would underestimate anything? I, Husky Whacker, the most feared warlord of all time? I do not make mistakes; those mistakes are made by you, my supposedly trusted servant. If the castle is not mine by the end of this spring, I will know why: so put your efforts into it or your master will remind you that he is feared beyond all others for a reason.”
   “Y-yes master.” The second voice was now positively chattering with fear. “You need not worry, Mightiness; your adviser will take care of it all.”
   The first voice answered; “You’d better. Now go!” the Cooligan scurried from the scene, causing no sound as he vanished between two trees.
   Husky Whakker threw back his head and laughed:
   “Hahahahahahahahahahahah!”

   Chapter 1
   Fishing

   Yoko was an energetic young cat; stretching luxuriously in the warm summer sun, he looked up at his beloved castle, its turrets and towers and formidable walls looked so powerful to him. Lying on the large lawns dotted with gardens and fountains, he was able to see all across this side of the castle, its walls made of a brown-colored brick, the window sills were hung with ferns and all other manner of lush vegetation.
   Yoko watched with considerably more interest as a robin flew overhead, it seemed to be reveling in the new season as it zipped onward, its clear call piercing the sunlight: chirrup chirrup chirrup. Yoko continued watching for a moment, and then he heaved himself up and padded off toward the castle, lunchtime.
   Yoko walked across the lawns slowly, enjoying the warmth on his back. The huge walls that protected the outer flank of the castle shown a reddish-brown color that reminded him of afternoons spent out fishing, boating on the creek that ran not far from the castle, in fact, the creek was just a quarter mile from where the fortress lay.
   Pushing open the huge oaken doors, Yoko entered, immediately (predictably)
   He was toppled over backward, stampeded by a huge crew of young kittens.
   Squealing with delight, the kittens pummeled him fiercely, leaving Yoko to yowl,
   “Gettoff you little fiends!” Yoko bellowed. “Dugger, you’re the ringleader, you little devilish infants—” but his reply was cut off by a homely catwife, (who was incidentally Dugger’s mother).
   “Why, what are you doing? Stop tormenting young Yoko there, you included, Rimples!” she said, swiftly waylaying a young one who was attempting to escape up a lofty flight of stairs. Yoko spoke out on the behalf of the apprehended young cats. “Oh, their fine, they were only having some fun. To tell you the truth, I actually enjoy it.”
   With a clamor, the young kittens cheered, happy that they had not been punished
   For their open disrespect for their “elder” though Yoko was really only the cat equivalent of a teenager. “Go out and play, before you get up to any more mischief,” Yoko tried hard not to laugh as the little ones cavorted out the door.
   “Thanks, Imbleberry,” said Yoko. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there to help me, well, actually, I’d probably get pummeled to death by the kittens.”
   “Think nothing of it dear,” Imbleberry fussed with her apron strings, “I must be getting off to work on lunch, we’re having a fish pie tonight, your favorite I think?”
   “Indeed it is, thanks again Imbleberry,” with that Yoko trotted off towards his bedchamber, Maybe sitting down would do me some good, thought Yoko, as he made his way up the stairs, Nah, too nice a day for that he admonished himself, but continued up the stairs.

   Entering, Yoko saw that his room had been tidied up in his absence. The curtains were thrown open and the bed was neatly made, coupled with the fact that the ashes in his fireplace had been cleaned out and his armchair was devoid of its usual three or four cloaks that often hung over its back. Yoko yawned loudly, reaching under his desk; he pulled out a pair of sandals from underneath the table, pulling them onto his footpaws, he sprinted back down the stairs at top speed.
   “Hey! Whatchit!” Yoko sailed through the air ears over tail; looking wildly around to see what he had hit. His friend Crius the Aplomado Falcon was rubbing ruefully at an injured tail feather.
   “Ouch. That hurt.” Said Crius, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing these days Yoko.” He rubbed his tail again, and then continued with a will.
   “I’ve just been sent up to fetch you. Pouncer and Merlin want you to come and go fishing with them, they say they just bought new bait from Binkle’s Bait Shop, you know, the one that we used to go to and Binkle would give us free treats, boy, that ole cat could catch any fish that ever lived. And they also told me that if ye don’t get down there fast, they’ll go without you.” Crius left off rubbing his tail for a minute, and then fluttered his wings for a moment to make sure they were all in order.
   “Well, I guess I’d better get down there pretty fast. Nice to see you Crius,”
   Yoko resumed walking down the stairs, this time at a slower rate, the light shining through the stained glass windows danced upon the winding stairs, there long motes showing the dust in the air. When he reached the hall, he walked through it at a sedate pace, admiring the wonderful carved pillars, depicting the many heroes and patriarchs of catten history: Utara the Warrior, Edgar 1, Amar the Fighter…the list went on and on. Yoko reached the doors, still watching all around him, the words of his father came back to him in a flurry: more may be learned by hours of watching and waiting than ever could be seen by those who spend their time doing practices of our system of writing and numbers, true, thought Yoko, ah, but he was supposed to be down fishing, not staring blankly at long-dead heroes, but he reminded himself, though he never liked to, that he was a prince, and that once he would have to rule the throne. It was a grim fact, but one Yoko knew he would have to accept. His father, Edgar II, still held the castle though, so Yoko could still revel in the joys of being young and unburdened. Oh why did he let his mind run like this? Yoko chided himself, wondering at the way his just skipped from subject to subject, never staying in one realm. FISHING! The thought intruded on his head, and he started to lift the bolt—then realized that, there was no bolt. Odd, Yoko thought, since when did the doors not have bolts?
   Hmmmmm, well, I’ll tell Merlin and Pouncer about it as we boat down the creek.
   Yoko pushed open the doors, much the same as he had done just fifteen minutes earlier, and walked out on the lawns. The soothing perfume of roses and mint hit his nostrils as he padded past a pool surrounded by gardens, a young trout swam lazily underneath the cool surface, it all seemed so peaceful here. To Yoko, it looked like nothing could ever disturb the serene lawns of his castle. From his position he could see the treetops poking over the east walls, their leafy foliage casting patterns of light across the ground.
   “Yoko! Over here!” Pouncer and Merlin, Yoko’s two friends from the city were calling from the east corner, holding poles and their small drift boat. Merlin was a white cat with blackish-gray patches, wiry muscles showed under his lean coat.
   Pouncer was similarly built, but he was an orange tabby, and slightly smaller than Merlin, with the M of a typical tabby marked on his brow. Sharp claws protruded from both cats paws, gleaming in the light of the sun, their coats shone lustrously as Yoko approached.
   “Hi! Crius jus’ told me that you were waiting on me.” Yoko called.
   “Oh, we thought he might, we were just tellin’ Imbleberry about fishing, Crius never failed to hear, seeing as he was sitting in the tree above us. He thought we didn’t know he was there.” At this point, Pouncer snorted, “Well, we did, but he went off to tell you anyway.”
   “What? He told me you sent me a message!” Yoko was surprised.
   “Well, I guess it was the only fib he’s ever told,” Merlin answered, shaking his head. “But we’d best be off, I here Hugh will be out fishing, we’ll wanna get our twitchy little tails in the creek before he catches all the fish.” He shouldered the boat, carrying it over his head, seeing as they were smaller than Merlin, Yoko and Pouncer hefted the poles and a surprisingly heavy tackle box, given its small size.
   “Wow, what’s in this?” Yoko held up the tackle box. “Rocks, by the weight of—oof!” he crashed to the floor, overbalanced by the immensely heavy box.
   “Whoa there Yoko, can’t ye lift a tackle box? It’s full o’ Binkle’s newest style of bait, the best anywhere, but the problem with it is that the bait has to be soaked in water constantly, which means that it’s full with jars of water.” Merlin laughed his voice echoingly strangely from the inside of the boat, which he carried over his head.
   “There, tha’s better,” Yoko lifted the box, then set it down again, and opened it.
   “Hey, you’re right; it’s completely full with water jars.” Pouncer peered inside it, looking surprised. “Merlin, what were you thinking? There’s no way we can tote this all the way to the creek.”
   “Here, I’ll take it. You carry the boat, it’s lighter than you’d expect.”
   He set the coracle down with a grunt, lowering it carefully so as not to hurt his paws. Yoko and Pouncer lifted it with a flurry of labored breathing, their muscles groaning in protest at the weight.
   “You call this light?” Pouncer snorted derisively, shaking his head. “How did ye get that kinda strength, Merlin?” Merlin merely answered: “I was born with it.”
   And continued trudging towards the wall’s door. “You’d better hurry up. There’ll be no fish left if we don’ get goin’.” The others followed suit, balancing the boat on their shoulders, with much hard breathing, they lifted it.
   They made their way out through the main gate, which was wide enough for the boat to fit through without any problems, walking out onto the hard worn dirt track that wound through the ancient trees, many of which were much wider than ten boats put together. A thrush fluttered overhead, its wings slicing the air was the only sound that penetrated the dense foliage.
   “A lovely noontime to be out,” said Yoko, letting the sun shine down on his jet-black fur. “But we’d better hurry, that is, if we want to catch fish, ah, well, you two know what happens when Hugh goes fishin’.”
   Soon they came to a fork in the trail, one going towards the stream, the other, the flatlands; those were off beyond the wood, maybe four days good hiking to reach them. Merlin walked off down the left one, the one that went to the creek, Pouncer and Yoko followed him. Yoko stopped to look at the ground; he had never seen tracks like that before.
   “Merlin, Pouncer, c’mere, ye need to see this!” Yoko called; the prints were large, with huge depressions, apparently massive claws. “What do you think passed by here? In all the time I’ve studied tracks, I’ve never seen them like this, and the other thing is: there’s no bolts anymore.” Yoko sniffed the tracks; they smelled musty-sweet, with a fetor of rotting meat to them. “Sure don’t smell to good,” he said.
   “C’mon though, we should get goin’.” Pouncer said, and then started to lift the boat,
   “Yoko, the boat!” Yoko got up, his mind whirring, I don’t know what they are, but I’m going to find out if I can, he thought. He could begin to hear the stream rushing nearby, its waters swirling peacefully.

   ♦ ♦ ♦
   By noon, they reached the stream, its waters babbling on undisturbed: kingfishers flitted from tree to tree, dragonflies buzzed lazily across the water, Peaceful, thought Yoko, I could live here… the thought floated through his head like the damselfly that was now inspecting his nose: it started to buzz away.
   “Break out the fishin’ gear Yoko, are ye gonna sit there all day?” Pouncer’s voice sounded above the rushing of the creek, “time t’ fish, not dream.”
   Yoko picked up his rod, “We need some o’ that—’’ his claws sketched quotation marks around the word—“‘bait’ you bought, Merlin,”
   Merlin reached down at the phenomenally heavy tackle box, yanking open the lid, he peered inside, “Um…oops, some of the water spilled…but I think its okay…”
   Yoko moved in closer to observe: the box was filled with what looked like old canning jars, one of which was now releasing a trickle of water from where the lid was screwed on. “Hmmm…don’t look to good.” Pouncer observed, but what’s in the other jars?” Merlin picked a jar up from the bottom of the box, “This.”
   He held up the jar: it was filled with what looked rather like a…well a yellowish paste, which looked slightly orange when the sun shone on the jars.
   “Uh…Merlin, are you completely sure that it’s safe to use?” Yoko voiced the question that he felt was surely being echoed in Pouncer’s mind.
   “O’ course it’s safe, Binkle gave it to us.” His face turned to exasperation, “Oh, wot is it? Ye look like fried toads witnessing the roasting of two fat sausages.” Merlin could be surprisingly inventive when it came to descriptive terms.
   “Hmmm…nicely phrased Merlin, what do you think Pouncer? Do we actually look like—ah, Merlin what was that you said? Roasted toads eying fried sausages? Or was it—whatever.” Said Yoko, laughing: then he picked up the end of his line and rolled the paste into a ball, which it did surprisingly easily, then poked it onto the hook at the end of the thin, clear, cord.
   Raising the rod, Yoko whipped it back and cast, sending the hook, with its burden of paste, whizzing over the water, then reeled it back in fast. “Casts good,”
   He remarked, “Let’s get the boat on the water though.”
   Yoko, Merlin, and Pouncer heaved the small coracle down the muddied bank, and slowly pushed it into the water, the stream lapped gently at its sides.
   “All aboard!” Merlin leaped in, pulling the tackle box with him, “Last one in’s
   A fried toad!” Yoko and Pouncer swiftly hopped in, teasing Merlin. “Well, here’s the fried toads!”

   Chapter 2
   A suspicious sign

   Light of a blistering sun blazed down on the cloaked back of Husky Whakker.
   Thousands of evil beasts were arrayed in full armor before him, pikes, whips, knives, spears, banners, scimitars, and swords, all these gleamed and snapped in the painful temperature, the very symbol of Husky’s power, and all that he stood for.
   Husky was a dog, or at least, that was what he had originally been, before he had become a warlord, he was now the most feared creature that had ever walked under the sun, or the moon, for that matter. His muscled back was covered in shining silver plates, and his head was covered in a terrible mask, it too had silver metal on it, but the muzzle was black, with long curving spikes protruding downward from his jaw.
   The worst part of all of his armor was the black spiked crown worked onto the top of the helm.
   “Whom do you serve?” his voice was low, snarling, cold, but it could be heard across the entire ranks.
   “Husky Whacker, all powerful slayer of enemies!” weapons flashed in the sunlight as the Cooligans that served him roared the words out, knowing their lives depended on it, for Husky constantly made examples of mutinous servants.
   “And whom will you follow to the death?” Husky’s red eyes swept across the colossal army, daring them to challenge him.
   “Husky Whakker, warlord and ruler of all he sees!” once again the reply was en masse, blades waving in the air again.
   Husky prowled forward, his ominous presence making the Cooligans stand ever straighter, knowing what the punishment was if they so much as dropped a dagger.
   Husky walked straight up to a large, strong looking Cooligan, who immediately stepped forward at a flick of Husky’s paw.
   “Yes, Mightiness?” the Cooligan spoke to Husky, but kept his gaze on the ground.
   “Are they ready to march at a moments notice, captain?”
   “Yes, master.”
   “Good. Have them bring out the catapults, otherwise, if you fail me, Knifeye, then your screams will be heard to the ends of the earth!”
   Knifeye gulped visibly, “Your word is my command, highness!”
   Husky turned his back, still speaking, “Come to my tent after you’ve done that. We have a few of those plans of yours we need to discuss.” He walked away, back to where he had been standing before; then suddenly whirled back on the army: “Get ready. We march tomorrow!” the Cooligans swiftly turned and each went to their tents, going to gear up for war.
   Husky entered his tent: the interior was hung with all sorts of fascinating dried plants, shrunken skulls, fur, feathers, bones of all kinds, poisons, swords and daggers with curiously shaped blades, all were lit up with a bloody reddish glow, light of the sun shining through the canvas of the tent walls, adding to the fearsome atmosphere that always hung about his tent.
   Seating himself on a small, roughly made stool, he watched the tent walls: it was an old trick Husky had learned through long hours of command, a way that, when sun shone strongly, allowed Husky to see the shadows of Cooligans on the outside, therefore adding to his reputation of all-powerfulness, and, it let him keep on constant watch for subordination in the evil ranks that made up his army.
   “You there, get me some food. And drink.” Husky commanded of a Cooligan, who was guarding his tent, though Husky did not really need guards, for in affect, he was a single-beast army.
   The Cooligan answered swiftly; “Immediately, master,” he scurried off, blade flashing in his belt.
   Husky sat there, turning his thoughts over, his adviser had told him that the castle would soon fall, but he did not know exactly when, and who knows, maybe the cats had already noticed his infiltration, perhaps they had even killed his spy and his assassin, who knows. Husky thought that, in arriving early, possibly he would be able to mount a full-scale assault on the city, and if he did that, he would immediately have access to the innermost recesses of the castle.
   “I have come, Mightiness.” Knifeye knelt as he walked into the tent, careful not to disturb a huge cobra that was sleeping in a tank.
   “You came. Sit.” Husky rasped. “We need to have a little…discussion…about the plans you presented to me.” Knifeye gulped again, “I have them here, My Lord.”
   He spread out several pieces of paper, roughly made from the pulped bark of trees; it was covered in squiggling lines, and was dominated by a large drawing of the castle. “I have spoken to your spy, he thinks this is the fortresses’ weakest point, the small door in the north side, it could easily be blasted down: giving access to the castle faster than through a siege.” Knifeye sincerely hoped that he had not said the wrong thing, he knew the punishment if he had, but his worries were fruitless: Husky did not so much as glance toward him as he studied the wriggling lines that ran across the paper.
   “True…but, my way will work far better…” Husky’s steel claws ran over the parchment, making a scratching noise that made the hairs (though he didn’t have many) stand up on the back of Knifeye’s neck.
   “And…forgive my asking, lord, but what are yer plans?” Knifeye nervously fingered the dagger in his belt—his mouth dry with fear that he had said the wrong thing.
   “Aaaahh…well I see no reason why you shouldn’t know the rough parts of it…I will attack the castle with my entire army at night, they will not be expecting an attack. They will die swiftly, that way, I can burn the main door…what point of victory is there if one cannot gloat, or at least have some fun with his victims.”
   Husky’s fiery red slits of eyes lit up, so much that it appeared as if Knifeye were looking at the blistering sun outside.
   “Fun, Mightiness?” for the first time, Knifeye’s voice sounded almost…well non-fearful, all around the entire world, Cooligans were renowned for their lack of pity on their victims, those that fell into their grasp were often killed, if not killed, enslaved. This was why Husky had taken command of them: the fact that they were just as cruel and pitiless as their master—well, almost.
   “Yes, my servant, and treasure for my captains as well, yessss…very valuable treasure it is as well.” This time it was Knifeye’s eyes that lit up, but they were empty words, Husky always promised treasure and riches to his captains, so long as they were loyal to him, then, once the conquest was over, he usually killed them, sometimes directly, other times merely getting two Cooligans in a fight over something, then, either way it turned out, the intended Cooligan would always die,
   If they won the fight, then Husky would accuse them of killing a fellow member of the army, if they didn’t win, then…that was that.
   “Mightiness…?” Knifeye’s voice was tentative, wondering what his ruler had been thinking about, Husky whipped his head back up to face him and—
   Did nothing. Except turn towards the door and growl “Enter!”
   The cooligan Husky had sent to get food had returned, he was bearing a roast magpie, newly shot by cooligan archers, and a beaker of who-knows-what; the cooligan set it down on the dirt floor beside the stool which Husky occupied, careful not to spill anything, or, for that matter, look directly at Husky.
   “Lord,” the cooligan murmured as he put the food on the floor, rather nervously, knowing that Husky had never taken to those who spilled things in his tent.
   “You may go.” Husky rasped coldly, and casually, but with unerring aim, threw a pebble at an ant that was climbing the wall of the tent. It struck.
   The cooligan ducked out of the canvas, and resumed his vigil, guarding against any who could bear ill will to their ruler, Husky was often beset by mutinous Cooligans, all power hungry, but lacking the wits and skill to attack him directly.
   “Get ready Knifeye. I shall consider your…ah…idea.”
   Knifeye bowed respectfully and left, but Husky just sat there, thinking, he drew his sword, beginning to sharpen it; he stared down at its lethal blade, the blade that had taken thousands of lives.
   ♦ ♦ ♦

   “O, I caught a big fish
   An’ put him on a dish
   ’Cos that was my dearest wish!
   The life of a fish is often smooth an’ carefree,
   ’til he bit the lure, that little fishy mystery
   But now he’s been caught,
   (Fish like these never get bought)
   An’ livin’ in the stream, they never get hot
   But ask a fish a question, an’ he’ll question you,
   His only response is ‘wot?’”

   Yoko, Merlin and Pouncer finished the last line at top volume, carrying three splendid bass between them, they marched up the path singing lustily, and rehearsing the stories of all three catches, (adding a few fictional bits, as is customary after a good fishing trip).
   “So then you Merlin, you reached out with that net and jus’ brought that fish in, ’e was fightin’ like mad too!” said Yoko, proud of his fish, which he had landed with Merlin’s weird bait, which turned out to work quite well, catching fish effectively, three bass and one small trout that they released due to the strict rules in the castle about never taking any life that had not already matured and mated.
   “Yeah—did you see me get jerked over the side of the boat?” asked Pouncer, who had the biggest fish, the one that had fought so hard that Pouncer went over the side of the boat, but the thing about the cats of the city was that they did not fear water, they could even swim in it. Their coats were far sleeker and shorter than most other cats; it was often said though, that far away, in the Tallpeak Mountains, there was a breed of cats that were able to swim like an otter, fast and lithe.
   Merlin added his own contribution. “I had that one on the hook so hard that it almost broke the line, but I got it in fast, it should go down in catten history!”
   This caused a good-natured argument: “No, mine was more spectacular!” to which Yoko countered: “Your landing? Mine could beat yours anyday. Anyday!”
   “Nah, I beat ya both.” Merlin added.
   “What? Ye call that a landing? Might’ve passed for a lame duck!”
   “You’re a fine one to talk!”
   “Ha! Jus’ look at this fish!”
   “Okay, think we can shut down the verbal warfare here?”
   The argument continued, as afternoon light lanced through the foliage above them, the fish’s scales glittering as motes of sunlight hit them.
   “Why don’ we think about the tales that we need to comprise?” asked Yoko, turning to his argumentive companions with an exasperated look on his face.
   “Don’t ya think that some guard’s going to like as not ask us about the fish?”
   Merlin turned to Yoko as if explaining that two and two make four to a small kitten. “Yoko, the only way we’re ever goin’ to create a spectacular tale is if we debate it.”
   Yoko commented dryly. “Then keep the ‘debating’ down. Y’know, it’s rather peaceful right here, I think we might as well take a little coolin’ of our paws over by that big cedar, no, not that one, the one with the little knot on the trunk,”
   “That’s not a knot, pun intended, it’s a burl.” Said Merlin, pointing with his tail.
   “Knot, burl, what does it matter? The tree with the protrusion, shall we say?” said Yoko, “Anyway, break out the lunch packs. I’m hungry as…”
   “A howling pine marten dancing a jig on the top of a sandstone cliff.” Merlin supplied another one of his gems of descriptive language.
   “Or a cheese bass coming after bit of insubstantial goat fur.” Pouncer surprised them both, seeing as it was usually Merlin who was able to come up with extremely weird things to say; a quality that Yoko and Pouncer much admired.
   “Hmmm…you’re getting quite the ear for that sort of thing…” said Yoko grinning at him, his eyes dancing with a merry light.
   Merlin yawned audibly, and lay down on the ground beside the tree.
   Yoko picked up the lunch pack and opened it. “Wow,” he said. “Imbleberry did us proud: scones, apple butter, salted and spiced nuts, fresh bread, and a flask of cold, sweet, spicy tea!” he stretched, arching his back, then unzipped the efficiently packed little bag fully. “Aaaahh…here we are,” he took a swig from the tea. “Mmm…delicious, we need to ask Imbleberry how she makes it. I never succeeded in making anything other than—well let’s not go into that.”
   “No need to go to the trouble, we already know what it looks like,” Pouncer called lazily from behind him. Yoko whirled on him: “You ’orrible liddle beast! Everyone knows that you’re attempts at tea-making look more like a puddle of—of I don’t know.”
   “Greenish-yellow mud?” commented Merlin from behind.
   “Exactly! We all know that what you call tea is—what did ya say Merlin?”
   Merlin stretched out. “Grayish gangly bits of mint leaf? That’s close to what it actually looks like, Pouncer. I can say that I make tea quite well, in fact, superbly! I create tea magnifico.”
   Pouncer flicked the shell of a nut he had just finished cracking at Merlin. “Er…I really hate to break it to you, but you’ve never made tea,”
   Yoko started on a scone with apple butter. “Well, you know that’s true, Putchy.”
   “Putchy” was Merlin’s nickname, he often put on that he didn’t like it, but he really did.
   “Why, what did you call me that for?!” Merlin picked up a pinecone and tossed it at Yoko, who ducked and fired back with a second cone that was lying on the ground. Yoko lay out on the warm turf and thought about the wonders of baked bass. I could lay here forever… he thought, stretching in the warm afternoon sun, savoring the warmth of it seeping into his black fur. Suddenly he saw something carved into the bark of the cedar.
   He pushed himself up and walked over to look. It appeared it had been crudely etched into the tree with a sword or dagger. It read:

   א
   €
   Yoko peered closely at it: it looked like someone had carved a distorted C into the wood, but the rune above did not add up. Yes, it was the old sign for ‘Sword’ but that didn’t explain anything; he sniffed it: the smell! The same smell that he had scented earlier in the tracks they had found on the way to the creek.
   “Merlin, Pouncer, c’mere! Look at this!”
   Pouncer came over first. He looked at it, then at Yoko. “Hmmm…Sword and a C, Yoko, I reckon we need to get to the castle. Fast. My ole grandpa taught me that if I ever find the old rune for sword carved or scratched anywhere, come home immediately. He didn’t say why, but from ’is face I knew that it was important.”
   Merlin took a look at it. “I remember hearing the same thing. Mr. Hugh told me about it when I weren’t naught but a little white-furred orphan. Except he said it looked like a fancy N, only kinda curly, and he said to be especially worried if there was a C under it. I think we’ve come across exactly what he was talking about.”
   “Why, in the name of fur ’n feathers are you two freakin’ out about a piece of graffiti?” asked Yoko, looking in exasperation at his friends. “Apparently some weirdo decided they were gonna carve a dark sign into a tree. Probably some newcomer who don’t know our rule.” In the city and surrounding country, there was a rule—more of a law really—that said no creature, cat or otherwise, could harm a living tree.
   “We’re not ‘freaking out’ as you put it, Yoko,” Merlin sounded slightly irritable. “We’re jus’ repeating what we learned about signs like this. This is one of them. I’m sure of it. Mr. Hugh’s done some travelin’ in ’is time; seen a lot o’ things too. I’ll bet Pouncer’s grandpa was the same way: he prob’ly was the same way, traveled a lot in ’is younger days, then settled down to raise Pouncer when he was done roving across the country.”
   “Well if you say so.” Said Yoko, but inside he was burning with curiosity about the mark on the tree.
   “Once we get back, we’ll ask Mr. Hugh about it. He’ll know what to do.” Said Merlin, “But I think we need some fuel first. What’cha think, mates?”
   “Aw, sure. Where’d’ you get so wise, Merlin?” said Yoko and he lay down again, stretching his back and shoulders then made a halfhearted grab at a scone that was poking from the food pack. “Y’know what my sister’d say if she saw me doing that? ‘Why, I never saw such bad manners from you, O revered prince’ then she’d chase me up several flights of staircases, and whack me to death with her little kitchen mitts. You two are sooooo lucky not to be princes.” Yoko yawned loudly, twitched his tail irritably. “What are you laughin’ about? Ye look like…um…widdleshinned weasels doin’ a traditional song but falling asleep to the sound of…that’s it! A yelling trout who likes the sound of flutes.”
   “Hmmm…you’re learning fast, Yoko…” Merlin mused, unconcernedly scratching his nose. “But I think that something a little more to the point is called for—um—a cat that caught a bat.” He flicked his tail with an assertive air, then with lightning speed, shot out his paw and caught a leaf that had swirled their way from a nearby oak.
   Yoko sat up, “We should go: those bass won’t last all day in weather like this, can’t see how anyone could stand the heat at the castle, they’re prob’ly all sleepin’ in their beds. I really do hope those kittens found something to do—so long as it’s not too destructive—remember the time they got hold of Kéllo’s shield and escaped to the creek to take a sail on it?” Yoko laughed, wiping tears of mirth from his face.
   “Yes. I remember two very bad little cats who locked themselves in the kitchens and didn’t come out for two days…didn’t they also eat all the pastry that had been cooked for dinner—can you recall their names Yoko?”
   Yoko whirled on Pouncer. “How dare you! The right side of my tail’s never been the same agai—you didn’t hear that!” he turned to Merlin, only to find him feigning sleep; Yoko crept over, then suddenly pounced on him, tickling hard.
   “AAAAAAAARRRGGHHHHH!” Merlin rolled over, his rear swinging through air where it caught Yoko a colossal clout.
   “Ouch. That hurt, Merlin.” Yoko said weakly from the ground by the roots; he pulled a face, “Hmmm…you’re far more substantial than I am. How did ya get like that?” he asked Merlin, grinning. Yoko lay back on the needles that had fallen from the cedar, aaaahhh…he thought. It felt so good just to lay there with his friends, talking and reminiscing about the times they had when they were young ones.
   Why was he so worried about marks in the bark of a tree? Surely they were just marks, nothing all that meaningful, but they did have an air of…malevolence about them. As well as the fact Merlin and Pouncer thought they were some sort of evil symbol. What could it be? The thought coursed through Yoko’s head, threatening to overwhelm him with questions.
   “Ah, let’s get goin’.” He said, getting up. He walked over to the pack and picked it up, then turned to his companions. “Hey! Time to go!” he called, and turned in exasperation at his snoozing companions. They showed no sign of waking up, but did groan slightly, and roll over.
   “Ah, time to go already?” Merlin turned back to Yoko. “I was barely sleeping by that time, and we have to go get interrogated about that confounded sign in the tree bark. Why oh why?” he sat up, then looked piteous, and fell over to lie down again.
   “But Merlin, you’re forgetting something. Imbleberry told me she’d bake a fish pie if we got home soon enough, besides, that sign might be important.” Yoko turned pleadingly to his friends, then was seized by a better idea. He picked up two pinecones from the ground, and hurled them both at Merlin and Pouncer’s backs—hard.
   “Uuunnh!” Pouncer groaned as the cone hit him. Merlin had a likewise reaction.
   “Ouch. That felt like….oh, I dunno.” Merlin growled lightly, and continued. “You’re lucky I’m tired Yoko, or else I’d fire back.”
   Yoko winced from his last memory when Merlin “fired back” otherwise known as clouted Yoko with a snowball so hard that he was out cold for fifteen minutes.
   Yoko almost laughed out loud with the fond memory of when he was younger. But then he pushed himself up, and took one of the fish.
   “C’mon! We’re goin’.” He said; Merlin and Pouncer both got up and took their own respective fish, also picking up the pack, while Merlin carried the boat, and pore Yoko was left to wrestle with the tackle box.

   ♦ ♦ ♦

   An hour later, they reached the castle with no further discussions than that of the fish. As they padded forward, staggering under the weight of their belongings, a Mountain Bluebird rose joyfully into the air. Truly, an afternoon to be alive on.
   “Let’s see if we can find Terem when we go in,” said Yoko. “He should be on guard duty at this time.” Terem was another young friend of Yoko’s, being a few years older, he often volunteered for guard duty, but spent most of his time with Yoko, Pouncer, and Merlin.
   “You don’t know he’ll be there Yoko.” Pouncer pointed out. “He does it sometimes, not always.”
   “Yes,” answered Yoko. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t be there.”

   Chapter 3
   A question

   Dinner was by no means a short affair to the citizens of the cat society; every night there was pies to be baked, fish to be cooked, vegetable to be stir-fried…everything was perfect, ready to be eaten, prepared by the castle’s expert chefs.
   Terem the guard stood by the gates, leaning on his staff. Though he was very young, and therefore had no need for it, the staff was part of the cat-guard outfit, not to mention it allowed some relief on the legs; seeing as guards spent all their time on their feet as they did their duty.
   At that moment, Yoko, Merlin and Pouncer came through the gate, still staggering under the weight of their burdens.
   “Ah, it appears you had a good trip,” said Terem, laughing. “The great cat himself couldn’t lift those things.” The “great cat” was a generic term that was used to indicate power, meaning: Cougar, Leopard, Jaguar, Lion, ect.
   “Yes. Undoubtedly we’ll have to tell the whole grand story to the CSLE; you know how the captain is about fishing.” Said Pouncer. CSLE (pronounced Sssle) stood for the following number of lightly boring initials: Catten Squad of Law Enforcement. Yoko never could tell why they liked to talk with him about virtually anything he did, from sleeping to washing the laundry, maybe it was because their job was rather boring, unless some lawsuit against someone coughing too loudly. Then it was just pointless.
   “Well, yes I do know what they’re like but…” said Yoko. “They just are so bored with their jobs that they like to talk to other cats…”
   “Shall I escort you inside? You know you can’t go in without an eligible adul—’’
   Terem leaped to the side to avoid a flying blow that Yoko launched into his side, which was not overly hard, but something to avoid nevertheless.
   “Oh, sure, so long as you can stay silent and invisible, and oh, what do you think we should throw in there?” Yoko appealed to Pouncer and Merlin. “OK, you make intelligent conversation, no remarks about our adolescence, and you aren’t on guard duty when you’re with us, remember, you’re the cat from the docks, and—’’
   He broke off, massaging his shoulder. “Did you really have to do that?” he said irritably to Terem, who suddenly slowed down to walk behind Pouncer.
   “You just tried to do it to me.” Replied Terem. “I did it for your own benefit.”
   “Yes but—’’
   “You two stop bickering!” Merlin cut the argument off with an exasperated look. “If you can’t talk civilly then don’t talk at all.” Yoko could tell he was annoyed. He quickened his pace.
   They reached the castle doors. Yoko walked forward and pushed them open, as it was customary for him to do, being prince, he could access any door in the castle, and everyone in the city would gladly let him in.
   As they stepped inside, two more guards grinned at him. “Nice catch,” said one, Déro, whom Yoko knew, winked at him.
   “We’ll have plenty of tales to tell. Some short, some…er…”
   “Tall,” finished Déro.
   “Exactly, we’re going to ask Mr. Hugh about some marks we saw in a tree. I think you know the ones, sir.” Pouncer cut in, “You remember the ones that you taught to me when I wasn’t but a little kitten, full of mischief.”
   “Aye, I remember.” Déro leaned on his staff. “Was it the Sword and C mark young ’uns? If it was, run to Hugh and tell him as soon as ye can!”
   “It was.” Yoko said before hurrying off across the lawn.

   ♦ ♦ ♦

   Despite his great age, Hugh Whiskers was by no means a frail cat. The tall, imposing, patriarch currently padded swiftly to the dinner table in the Dining Hall for the city of cats. Beside him, his wife Winifred walked discreetly, knowing that when the king of the city summoned them in such a hurried manner, it was not good news. Yoko and his two friends sat at the high table, eating their own portions of the fish. It had been grilled with butter and lemon, and then spiced with cayenne pepper and rosemary. A delicious combination, for which the three got many complements about.
   Edgar stood up. “Ah, Hugh, I’m glad you could come, we were counting on you. Now, my son and his two young friends have reported something particularly dangerous. Possibly lethal.” He paused to take a sip of water. “The mark has been seen in the forest. If they come, we shall perish.”
   Hugh sat down and folded his paws. “The sign?” he inquired.
   Edgar nodded. “You tell him, son.” He said to Yoko.
   “As you know, we were fishing this afternoon.” He stopped to gather his thoughts. “We stopped to eat lunch and relax under a cedar. I noticed a mark in the bark. I knew it must be wrong, as hurting a tree is forbidden and strictly obeyed by all cats.”
   “And if I am correct, it looked like this.” Hugh pushed a shred of paper across to Yoko. It had been sketched on, and read:

   א
   €
   *Catten law says that no creature is permitted to hurt a tree.

   And so it was written. Hugh peered across the rims of his spectacles at Yoko. “I take it I am correct?”
   “Yes, you are, sir.” Said Yoko, peering at the marks on the paper; “Though I don’t know what to make of it, sir.” He tapped the parchment. “But that’s the exact one that I saw in the forest.”
   Hugh leaned back in his chair. “Then I would say that mark was made by a cooligan!” he rumbled. “The treacherous murderers, you would have thought…”
   He saw Yoko looking in askance at him. “I can see a question biting your tongue Yoko, what is it?”
   Yoko folded his paws on the table. “I was wondering, sir, what is a cooligan? I’ve heard things about them in bedtime stories before, but I always thought they were just a tale, not to be given scientific credit.”
   Hugh looked Yoko in the eyes. “A cooligan,” he said. “Is…what is a good way to put it? A cooligan,” he began again, “Is nature’s joke. They are a hideous breed of beast that delights in evil…and they are led by an evil master.” He turned his head to look at the low-hanging candle chandelier.
   “A cooligan, Yoko,” Edgar broke in. “Is an evil beast. It feeds off cruelty, and slay anyone at their master’s bidding.” He munched a piece of excellent leek-and-onion pastie from his plate.
   “They are the kind of creature that could bring all life here to the brink. I think you are plenty old enough to grasp the amount of damage they could cause, Yoko. You are nearly an adult, and therefore need to be educated about this. If they are abroad, then we must take all caution. And we must keep the knowledge from the little ones until the necessary time. We do not want to frighten them overmuch.”
   “I don’t think we should hold it from them too long,” Merlin added to the conversation. “It could cost them their lives.”
   “Oh, we won’t for very long, Merlin.” Said Edgar. “But we don’t want to cause pandemonium just because there’s a lone cooligan out there, probably a deserter. If the army arrives, then we’ll have much bigger problems, but I don’t think we need to worry about anything until we’ve finished eating. Excellent bass, by the way, my son.” He added.
   “I’m glad you like it, father.” Said Yoko, grinning. “I hope you’ve noticed what you have on your lap.”
   Edgar looked down, just managing to snatch the young cat Dugger by the tail as he made of with Edgar’s piece of fish. “Why…a bandit! Stealing my fish, we can’t have that, can we, Yoko?” he winked. “What shall we do with him?”
   “Oh, I don’t know father, we could feed him to a fish…I saw some trout just begging for a young cat.”
   “No! I not get eaten by big frouts!” Dugger protested. “Me only a baby, you can’t hurt me!” he vainly tried to spring away with the fish, but Edgar snatched him up and said: “You’ll get a song if you eat the fish right now, it’ll make you big and strong!”
   “Big ’n strong?” said Dugger hopefully. “An’ a song after dinner? Wheee!”
   He swung of Edgar’s arm and bounced on the chandelier before dashing towards the other young ones and causing general consternation.
   “Cooligans,” Edgar continued more quietly. “Could destroy everything that we have worked to create. Obliterate it.”
   “Father, if it’s not just a renegade cooligan, then we have major problems. We should organize a watch on the walls, and keep all picnics and such on hold. If there is a large band of cooligans out in the woods, think of the damage they could cause.”
   “The thing is, Yoko, is that ‘a large band’ is not what they are. They are a massive army.”
   “Hmmm…potentially horrible…Father, you must have some sort of experience with it, it has always been said that you’ve fought in wars before.”
   “I have, Yoko. They are no sight to rejoice in.”
   At this point, Dugger caused a slight diversion by falling headfirst into a plum pudding. Anxious parents rushed to pull him out, but Dugger was having fun trying to eat his way out and they pulled the pudding instead of the cat.
   The other young ones clamored for an encore, so Dugger, still unrecognizable do to excessive pastry, took a bow and dived again, only to be seized by several sympathetic cooks and unceremoniously pulled out of the second pudding by his tail. He squealed loudly, but the cooks were not put off.
   Yoko grinned at Dugger. “Time for a bath, you ferocious young—ouch!” he yelped as Dugger’s pastry-laden tail flailed and it Yoko on the nose.
   Hugh padded up behind him. “Yoko, come back up here. Are you going to let him whack you on the nose again?”
   “No,” said Yoko ruefully. “I’m not.” He walked back to the dining table with Hugh. “Well, it’s time for us to retire for the night. At least before we get killed by pudding-jumping young cats over there.” He stood up, stretched, yawned a few times and began making his way up to bed.

   As Yoko was climbing the stairs, he pondered the question that had been nagging the corners of his mind; if—if the cooligans and their evil master did attack, what could he do? What duties would fall on him? And what would happen to the peaceful community? Would they become nothing more than two armies fighting over a city?
   Surprising himself, he found he was already on the landing, a floor below his tower bedroom. He shook himself. There was no point in wasting his mind about renegade cooligans; they’d dealt with them before, sending them away from the woods. Armies the size his father had described simply did not exist. They couldn’t.
   He leapt up the stairs to his bedroom, springing nimbly three at a time. When he entered, Crius was waiting for him.
   “Well,” his falcon friend interrogated him without preamble. “What did you find out?”
   Yoko gulped slightly, and then said: “I found out what I needed to, Crius. You should know what my father thinks is in the forest.”
   “I’d already deduced that. So Edgar thinks there’s cooligans in the forest. Well, we’re just going to have to deal with it.”
   Yoko looked at Crius, lightly perturbed by his indifference to the fact. “But Crius, everyone’s convinced that there are cooligans—’’
   “You remember my entire clan was murdered by cooligans, I expect?” hissed Crius. “I don’t over or underestimate them.” He flexed his talons.
   “I haven’t forgotten.”
   “Then you know what they’re like.” Crius’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t have them around here for the innocent’s sake, but it looks like they’re here and…” there was no need for him to finish the sentence; the meaning was implied so clearly.
   “You meant to say; ‘the cooligans have no pity on anything, we may have to evacuate all of our young and old’” said Yoko, frowning. “But if we do that, wouldn’t they be safer here, hidden?”
   “No, the cooligans have seen all that before.”
   “Are you saying we’re doomed?”
   “No.”
   “Then for heaven’s sake give me a straight answer, Crius!”
   “Okay. The fact is, the cooligans will appear at night, and fight at night, for that’s the time when they operate best. Backstabbers!” added Crius in a rasping tone. “And so, when they come, they will do a direct charge, burn the doors, or detonate a few explosives to knock them down. Then they’ll swarm in, hack the guards down, take out a few trees, blast the door down, and take over the castle.”
   “That’s encouraging.”

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4. iŹ√Ҳ! (11 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

   June 17, 2008 at 3:26 pm

   dangit! I didn’t get 1st post.

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5. NerdAndProudOf It says:

   June 17, 2008 at 3:34 pm

   I wanted to write a book about a guy who wrote a will, and people kept chasing after it, and what really happened was the guy turned into a peacock (he didnt die!) and then watched the people. He was cursed so that if they acted mature about the will, he would turn back into a human, reveal that he is alive, and then leave them his property when he DID die, but if they didnt (which is what happened) he would stay a peacock. however, he would have a chance to write a letter to them about what was going on, and then in the end they have a discussion, something along the lines of “what have we done?”, and it’s all sad. moral of story-no gold for immature people. Shopuld I get writing or is it all just a load of posh?

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6. Crazy Titan Nerd says:

   June 17, 2008 at 4:39 pm

   5- It’s interesting.

   I’m posting my wonderous Titanite essay, for the editor musebloggers…

   Titan
   Titan is the largest of Saturn’s 52 named moons and its few newly discovered moons. As the second largest moon in the solar system, only after Jupiter’s moon, Ganymede, it has a diameter of 5150 kilometers and is even larger than the planet Mercury. Ganymede has a diameter of 5262 kilometers, which is only 162 kilometers larger than Titan. Before 1980, Titan was thought to be larger than Ganymede since it has a hazy orange atmosphere that caused overestimation, but that changed after the Voyager 1 spacecraft visited Titan in the 1980s.
   Titan is the 20th moon to Saturn among all of Saturn’s currently known moons. It is stationed 1,221,850 kilometers from Saturn. It orbits on the same orbit as Hyperion, another of Saturn’s moon. Titan makes a full orbit around Saturn every 15 days and 22 hours, and it rotation period is identical to its orbital period.
   Discovered on March 25th, 1655 by Dutch astronomer Christiaan Huygens with the help of his telescope and some luck, Titan was named simply “Saturni Luna” at that time. “Saturni Luna” is Latin for “Saturn’s moon”, since it was Saturn’s first discovered moon. During the discovery of four other moons of Saturn’s between 1673 and 1686, confusion was caused in the numbering of the moons, as the newly discovered moons: Tethys, Rhea, Dione, and Iapetus, were always messing up the order of the moons to Saturn. At that time, Titan was named Saturn II, Saturn IV, and Saturn VI. Titan was also referred to as “Saturn’s ordinary satellite”. In 1789, Titan’s name was Saturn VI, and it was frozen that way to reduce confusion. In 1847, John Herschel suggested the name “Titan” in his publication Results of Astronomical Observations Made at the Cape of Good Hope. Herschel got this idea from the Titans in Greek mythology, who was the brother and sisters of the god Cronus, who is known as Saturn in Roman mythology. That name stuck.
   Titan is an area of interest for present day astrologists. In 1981, when the Voyager 1 spacecraft flew by Titan, the pictures it sent back to Earth disappointed astrologists. The camera showed only an orange ball, as Titan’s opaque atmosphere was so thick it was extremely difficult to see through and that Voyager 1’s camera wasn’t designed to penetrate the haze. That incident irked the scientists. Scientists had known that Titan has an atmosphere of methane since Gerard P. Kuiper discovered it in 1944 with a spectroscopic technique , but now, they wanted to find out even more. What was hiding beneath the orange haze?
   Engineers at JPL joined together. They designed and built the most complex and high tech spacecraft ever: the Cassini orbiter. Cassini was named after Italian-French astronomer Giovanni Cassini, discoverer of four of Saturn’s moons: Tethys, Rhea, Dione, and Iapetus. At 6.7 meters high and 4 meters wide, Cassini weighed 2,125 kilograms unfueled. The spacecraft has four optical remote sensing instruments, six instruments to study fields, particles, and waves, and two microwave remote sensing instruments, adding up to 12 instruments altogether. These powerful instruments are designed to collect data about Saturn and its moons, including Titan. The spacecraft has three antennas, one high gain and two low gain, and they are designed for communication with Earth. Three Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generators provide power for the orbiter. Cassini’s camera was designed to penetrate Titan’s hazy atmosphere and map Titan’s surface using radar imaging. Cassini was designed to orbit around Saturn and its large number of moons, and it will fly by Titan 45 times.
   Other than the Cassini orbiter, the engineers at ESA also constructed a probe named Huygens. Huygens was named after Christiaan Huygens, discoverer of Titan. Huygens was 2.7 meters in diameter and weighed 320 kilograms. Huygens’ mission was to descend to Titan’s surface. The probe was equipped with six scientific instruments designed to study Titan’s atmosphere and collect data and images of Titan’s surface. The five batteries on Huygens were sized for a mission 153 minutes long, with 2.5 hours of descent data and about half an hour of data collecting on Titan’s surface. If the probe succeeded on landing on Titan, it would be the first ever landing of a probe somewhere in the outer solar system. In all, there were about 5,000 people involved somehow with the construction of Cassini-Huygens.
   . On October 15th, 1997, at 4:43 AM, Cassini-Huygens blasted off into space, launched by Titan IVB/ Centaur from the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station on Florida. People from all over the world cheered. The successful launch was a relief to everyone.
   The spacecraft, though, was not sent directly towards Saturn. The spacecraft got the energy it needed to reach Saturn from its passing by the planets, and then reached Saturn. This was called gravity assist by scientists. Gravity assist is based on the gravitational pull between a planet and a spacecraft. The planet pulls on the spacecraft and the spacecraft pulls on the planet, which permits an energy exchange.
   Cassini looped around the Sun twice, flying by Venus two times, once on April 26, 1998, and once on June 24, 1999. The spacecraft also flew by Earth on August 18, 1999. That would provide enough energy for Cassini-Huygens to reach the outer solar system. On December 30, 2000, Cassini-Huygens got its last energy boost from its passing by Jupiter and went all the way to Saturn. It took seven years for Cassini-Huygens to reach Saturn. The spacecraft traveled some 3.5 billion kilometers to reach its destiny, which is about 1.2 billion kilometers from Earth without the gravity assist.
   In 2004, seven years after Cassini-Huygens blasted off from Earth, the spacecraft finally reached Saturn, starting to use radar imaging to map Titan’s surface. At 02:00 on December 25th, 2005, Cassini released the Huygens probe at the speed of 30 centimeters per second and seven revolutions per minute to ensure stability during the descent. No systems aboard Huygens were active except for its wake up timer. The scientists on Earth did not know whether Huygens will land on solid or liquid. At about 150 kilometers altitude, the probe started collecting data.
   While descending, the probe collected 2 hours, 27 minutes, and 13 seconds of data. The probe found that Titan’s atmosphere consists of 95% nitrogen and about 5% methane, ethane, and other gases. The large amount of nitrogen in Titan’s atmosphere is similar to the amount of nitrogen in Earth’s atmosphere, as Earth’s atmosphere contains 78.1% nitrogen. That is one similarity between Earth and Titan.
   Early in1981, in the pictures the Voyager 1 spacecraft’s observation of Titan, the pictures show nothing but a hazy shade of orange. The haze consists of hydrocarbon aerosols, giving Titan its orange color. Methane and ethane are both hydrocarbons, so they are probably part of the orange haze. The hydrocarbon aerosols are included in the 5% of Titan’s atmosphere.
   The descent to Titan’s surface would take Huygens 21 days. Why does it take the probe that long just to descend? Titan, the only moon in the solar system known to have a developed atmosphere, has an extremely thick atmosphere reaching about 600 kilometers into space. That’s about 10 times as far as what Earth’s atmosphere reaches, as Earth’s atmosphere only reaches 60 kilometers into space!
   Titan’s atmosphere is denser than the atmospheres of Earth, Mars, and Mercury. Titan’s atmosphere is about 1.5 times denser than Earth’s atmosphere, with a density of 1.9. If you compare that to the atmosphere of Venus, which is about 100 times as dense as Earth’s atmosphere, and the atmosphere of Mars, which is about 100 times less dense than the atmosphere of Earth, you could say that Titan’s atmosphere is more similar to the atmosphere of Earth than any of Earth’s sister planet’s atmosphere!
   When Huygens detected the outer fringes of Titan’s atmosphere, it set off a sequence of events that led to its perfect descent. Huygens opened its 8.3 meter diameter main parachute, and following was the release of the front shield and the opening of the inlets of the Gas Chromatograph Mass Spectrometer and the Aerosol Collector and Pyrolyser 30 seconds later. Huygens collected a large amount of data during its descent, including information on Titan’s atmosphere’s composition and more than 750 pictures of Titan’s surface. The descent took about two and a half hours.
   At 11:04 on January 14, 2006, the probe finally landed safely on Titan’s surface. What the probe observed was amazing. Huygens saw a complex network of narrow channels on the surface. Though they are dry right now, they may have been filled long ago. These channels are like the river systems on Earth. They run into lakebeds with “islands” and “shoals” similar to those found on Earth. Alluvial fans were also found. “The surface is eroded in a way suggesting that the methane condenses into rain causing rivers to flow into lakes.” Mr. Terry L.Grant, a NASA engineer, noted.
   Huygens discovered cryovolcanoes that spew out liquid coming from below Titan’s surface, too. Since the temperature is probably high in hot beds, it may be hot enough for the existence of liquid water, so there could be water in liquid form beneath the surface of Titan. Scientists think the cryovolcanoes spew out liquid water mixed with ammonia. Data from the Gas Chromatograph, Mass Spectrometer, and the Surface Science Package provides strong evidence of liquids on Titan.
   The liquid on Titan’s surface, however, can not be water. As Titan’s surface temperature is -178 degrees Celsius, water would be certainly frozen. The liquid on Titan could probably be liquid methane. The liquid methane could have carved the channels on Titan’s surface. “We now have the key to understanding what shapes Titan’s landscape,” said Dr Martin Tomasko, Principal Investigator for the Descent Imager-Spectral Radiometer , “Geological evidence for precipitation, erosion, mechanical abrasion and other fluvial activity says that the physical processes shaping Titan are much the same as those shaping Earth.”
   Another main role of methane on Titan is as clouds. Heat generated by Huygens warmed the soil underneath the probe and bursts of methane gas was found boiled out of surface material, reinforcing methane’s forming clouds and precipitating to erode the surface of Titan. Cassini’s radar also found methane clouds near the south pole.
   Titan’s frozen surface is made of hydrocarbon particles, different from Earth’s soil. Though there are many differences, the ‘soil” on Titan also form large sand dunes similar to those on Earth. those domes, likely formed by wind, could reach 330 meters high! That is further proof of Titan’s weather’s influence on the surface. Cassini-Huygens have found geological processes similar to Earth’s, and have also found similar terrestrial features. that is very exciting.
   Huygens lasted 1 hour, 12 minutes, and 9 seconds on Titan’s surface, far more than it was ever expected to. Every bit of data from the probe was successfully captured by Cassini at the rate of eight kilobits per second, and then sent to Earth (except Chain C, the tiny signal which was captured directly from Titan by people on Earth using the radio telescopes at Green Banks an Parles). “This is only the beginning,” says Jean-Pierre Lebreton, ESA’s Huygens Mission manager. “These data will live for many years to come and they will keep the scientists very very busy.”
   The Cassini orbiter instruments also observed Titan’s surface, peering through the atmosphere using radar imaging. So far, the orbiter has only found a few impact craters, suggesting the surface of Titan is very young. The small number of craters on Titan suggests that older craters must have been destroyed in recently active geological processes such as volcanism, tectonism, and erosion.
   One of the most exciting thing Cassini discovered were black spots on Titan, thought to be lakes by scientists. These lakes vary in size, ranging from about the size of Lake Superior to the one square kilometer. But on the other hand, might these lakes be illusions created by clustered methane clouds? No one knows.
   Scientists think Titan is like early Earth, from the nitrogen-rich atmosphere to the liquid-eroded surface. Scientists think Titan has rocky core with a diameter of 3400 kilometers layered by an icy mantle composed of ice, and there might be life hiding underneath Titan’s surface! As a liquid ammonia ocean might exist under the surface of Titan, no one can actually be sure. Cassini has found evidence of an ocean by finding extremely low frequency waves in Titan’s atmosphere. Because Titan’s surface is likely not a good reflector of extremely low frequency waves, the waves may be reflected from the surface of an ocean beneath the surface. Life forms might be able to survive in these extreme conditions, but who knows?
   Titan, with its channels, domes, and “lakes”, is very similar to early Earth, according to some astrologists, but does life exist on Titan’s surface or below the surface? No one knows. But I certainly believe that one day in the future, astrologists will find life on Titan. After all, the Cassini orbiter is still orbiting Saturn and its family. Who knows what it will find during its next Titan flyby? As for now, no one can be sure. Just like what Mr. Grant says, “Titan has weather and a dense atmosphere, rivers, and lakes, but no oxygen, or water. We only have one sample of life (on Earth), and don’t really know what the minimum requirements are. That’s one reason Titan is so interesting. It has a complex, changing chemical environment and we’d like to know if it can support life.”

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7. The Bookworm & Lurline (10 piepoints and two B-Day Points!) says:

   June 17, 2008 at 5:53 pm

   I can post my story! Keep in mind, however, it is A) Very Grim, B) Unfinished, C) Unedited, and D) Hard to Understand!

   Glossary of The Worlds #1
   By Bookworm

   Parallel Universe: This entire set of stories is set in a parallel universe. A parallel universe is a universe like this one, but different. It could be that technology has never developed, or magic exists, or gravity is less. The “Tree Theory” of parallel universes, believes that whenever an important choice is made, a parallel universe is created in which the choice happened the other way! The “Infinite Tree Theory” thinks that there are an infinite number of parallel universes created with any choice. NB: It isn’t a parallel universe if it’s a world covered with lava where green lava-swimming pigs rule over puny humans. A true parallel universe is feasible…

   Stone Circles: Stone Circles are the teleporters of this parallel universe. Every planet has at least one stone circle. The circles may be activated to teleport people to another stone circle. Every circle can send people to any other stone circle. Activating them is hard.

   Felines: Felines are a species, which are a cross between cats and humans. They are different than were-cats, humans who turn into cats on a crescent moon, because felines are always partially cat and partially human. A feline would have a:
   • Cat Head (Human Sized)
   • Human Body (Wears Clothes)
   • Cat Claws (Human Sized, Only on Hands)
   Felines names are always 4 letters, the first one being X. They always walk upright. Felines have a famous rivalry with lupines.

   Lupines: Lupines are a species, which are a cross between wolves and humans. They are different than werewolves, humans who turn into wolves on a full moon, because lupines are always partially wolf and partially human. A lupine would have a:
   • Wolf Head (Human Sized)
   • Human Body (Wears Clothes)
   • Wolf Paws (Human Sized, Hands and Feet)
   Feline first names are always 5 letters, and their last names are always their parent’s first name with “Son or Dat” added. Felines, when upset, move down to all paws position. Lupines have a famous rivalry with felines.

   Lithes: Lithes are a species, which may change between human and squirrel at will. They are different than were-squirrels, which only change on a no-moon. They often have kleptomania. They are not named until they are worthy, and until then they are referred to by their features. They cannot speak, and instead flash, which is telepathically passing messages or pictures. NB: Lithing is when lithes change from human to squirrel. When lithes flash, it might be depicted as talking for the purpose of dialogue.

   Lecroas: Lecroas are a species of oracular beings. They always speak with a hiss. Lecroa names are always palindromes. Lecroas have:
   • Tentacles (Instead of a Face)
   • Eyes in their Hands
   • A Human Body
   Lecroas are rare. Lecroas must prophesize to someone.

   Demi-Gods: Demi-Gods are half-mortal being (i.e. Human, Feline, Lupine, Lithe, Lecroa), and half-immortal, (i.e. Circle Spirit, Elemental, God). They typically look like their mortal half, but do seem abnormal for their species, and inclined to be seen with other species. They usually have powers, and a certain amount of “unluck”, the substance which is the opposite of “luck”. NB: Demi-Gods don’t usually know they’re Demi-Gods.

   Teaching To Kill!
   By Bookworm

   It is the beginning of the school year. It is the sort of time of year
   when everyone wants more summer and knows they can’t get it. No one wants to start school but everyone has to. At the UA, or Union of Assassins, Training Center, school is about to begin.
   This school is a boarding school. It is rather large with 8 dorms and
   several classrooms and a courtyard. There is a stone circle near the school. At 9:00 President (a.k.a. Principal) Melinda Caplana walks outside of her school. She is a tall, young looking woman with light grey hair and very striking grey eyes. She is missing one of her pinkie fingers. She is dressed in her best loose robes with knives on them and knife earrings. She also has a small mirror on a chain around her neck. She, at least appears to be, human.
   At 9:15 the parents and students begin to appear in the stone circle.
   Some are humans and some are not. President Melinda walks up and greets all the students. Some are sisters, brothers, and twins. They are of many different species including felines, lupines, humans, and things with many tentacles. 1 student slips past her, however, and enters the school. He is of a lithe build and very inconspicuous. Only one noticed him enter the school and she was too shy to speak of it.
   Meanwhile, President Melinda is still examining the students and
   speaking to the parents. “Hmm”, she thinks, “Felines make good assassins but they have the rivalry with lupines and as there is a hybrid this should be enhanced and very difficult to control. Humans are easy, but puny. However, they should hopefully do well. And as for tentacled things, well, they are hard to judge. We can make assassins out of all of them (if they don’t kill each other first)!”
   At 10:00 the parents are all gone. All of the students feel very
   melancholy about this, yet very few cry, not wishing to stain their reputation in front of the people they will live with for 3 years, at the least. President Melinda silences the students and begins to speak. “You are here to learn to be assassins! You will learn basic skills as well. One rule: NO ASSASSINATING EACH OTHER!!! You may make more rules with each other. Any questions?” One of the felines yells out “May we murder each other?” President Melinda smiles and says “Correction: NO DYING!!! is the rule. Yes, the catalysts of death are punished too. Any More Questions?” No one speaks. “Well then,” says the President, “Without any further ado I present, your many Teachers!”
   The first teacher who came out was human. He was tall and skinny
   and had a fierce stare. “I am Mr. Arris.” He said, “I am your math teacher. I also teach prowling and staring.” He stares at a lupine who quakes and steps backwards into a feline. The feline whispers something ferociously into his ear and he stamps on her foot. “I am not a wolflingly!” he yells. “What a very fiery wolflingly you are too!” she goads, “We felines keep wolflinglies as pets!” Mr. Arris steps back into the building and only one notices him as all’s eyes are riveted on the feline and lupine battling. “Hmm,” President Melinda muses, “Xlee Clawful is a very goading feline. All the felines are very vain but she is exceedingly so. And as for this lupine, Craar Craarson, he seems to be very vain too and protective also. They seem to be fighting.”
   “Vainline!”
   “Wolfie!”
   “Slaughtarline!”
   “Thank you for the compliment, Littlwolf!”
   “I am not little you, you, you feline!”
   “Your next teacher,” interjected the President. The teacher is a male feline. “I am Xxul Poisoner.” He says, “I teach poisoning. Lupines are scum and so are females. Humans are inferior. Feline males are the only worthy ones.” He then retreated inside. Everyone is stunned by his comments. There is not a single feline male in the crowd. “And now, your penultimate teacher, Miss. Boh.”says the President. A lithe walks out of the building. She flashes several projectiles and pictures of people using them and then bows and lithes. “And your final teacher,”says President Melinda, “Is me!”
   “Your dorms are straight in. Dinner is at 6:30.”
   The students go straight to the dorms. Craar Craarson spits at Xlee Clawful a final time and glides to his dorm.

   *************************************************************

   In the male dorm, the students are unpacking and talking. The two lupines, Craar and Lyare Craarson are plotting busily.
   “If I use my knife and you hold her…”says Craar.
   “I’m not so sure about your plan.” replies his brother, “Suppose you miss her and get me. And didn’t you hear that president lady, ‘NO DYING!!!’. Do we have to kill her?”
   “Are you crazy, brother? She has dishonored us!”
   “ What’s a little honor here, there. Is it worth a life?”
   Craar grips his brother and punches him.
   “You are crazy, brother! Honor is worth the lives of all our men in The Wars! Speak no more of it!”
   And with that Craar leaves his brother alone and walks over to the Feline-Lupine Hybrid, Xcar Brarlson.
   “Are you a lupine or a feline?” asks Craar.
   “I am neither.” says Xcar.
   “No, you are a lupine.” says Craar.
   “I am neither.” he replies.
   Craar punches Xcar.
   “You are a lupine.”
   “I am neither.”
   Craar punches Xcar. Blood flows out of Xcar.
   “You are a lupine!” says Craar, losing his temper.
   “No, I am-” Xcar begins, but is cut off by a lithe slipping in.
   He flashes to the effect of “Sorry. Don’t mind me.” Followed by “Oh. Unhand him. On Pain of Various Tortures.” And “That’s Better!” As Craar let’s go of Xcar. “I’m lithe of taking who will kill.”
   “Hello, lithe of taking who will kill. I’m Xcar. I am not a lupine or a feline.”
   Craar stomps off.
   Lithe of taking who will kill flashes, “Who’s he?”
   “A lupinist lupine. He’s very sensitive.” replies Xcar.
   “I see.”
   Lithe of taking who will kill walks away.

   A pair of human twins are unpacking at their beds.
   “My, these things are racist.” Says Peter Harris.
   “I do agree.” says his twin, Eric.
   “They are not human. They are beneath us.”
   “I think they are savages. After all, we have 30 planets and they have 1 each. We’ve been naturally selected.”
   Another human, and the final boy is also unpacking.
   Isaac Watson is practicing his singing as he unpacks.
   “What a sissy!” remarks Peter.
   “Oh, yes!” agrees Eric, “Shall we go put it out of it’s misery?”
   “Definitely!” says Peter.
   “Hello,” says Isaac, “I’m Isaac.”
   “It says its name is Isaac!” says Peter.
   “Hello, Yessac.” Says Eric. “I’m Eric and this is Peter. We are your new masters.”
   “Masters?” says Isaac.
   “That’s right!” says Peter.
   “I’m Isaac. I have no master.” Says Isaac.
   “You have no rights, sissy.” Says Eric and the twins slap Isaac.
   “Hey!” says Craar and he rushes over, “You don’t have the right to lord over him! That’s my right! I am the lead lupine here and lupines are the leaders!”
   “Watch it, inferior being!” says Peter.
   “Yeah, we’re humans!” says Eric.
   Craar lunges and bites Peter. Then, he spits the flesh out. “Yuck!” yells Craar. Eric punches Craar from behind as Peter yells out.
   Lithe of taking who will kill flashes to Xcar “Shall I assist?”
   Xcar shakes his head and lithe of taking who will kill walks out of the room.
   Meanwhile, Craar has bitten both of the twins and has sent both of them to their bed.
   “Now,” he says to Isaac, “I leave you owing me.” He walks away.

   *************************************************************

   Meanwhile, in the girl’s dorm room, things are happening in a similar fashion.
   Lurline Orta, a strikingly grey-eyed human and Xlee Clawful, the goading feline, are talking.
   “Explain,” says Lurline, “What is honor, exactly?”
   “Naturally, being an inferior human you would not understand the finesse of honor.” Says Xlee, as she sighs, “However, I will try to explain to you, Miss. Lurline. Honor is a debt we have to our family and community. It is a geas we are under which we cannot break.” She shakes as she speaks. “I, as the eldest, bear the geas. I must defend ourselves against lupines and other enemies. It is our responsibility to carry.”
   “I see,” says Lurline, “ I believe we are sleepy.”
   “Awaken me at dinner.” Yawns Xlee.
   Xlah Clawful, Xlee’s sister, walks away in the middle of Xlee’s speech.
   She looks very depressed. Arra Larral, the lone girl with tentacles walks over to Xlah.
   “I know you feel jealous of Lurline Orta. She is merely lonely. She has never been fulfilled. She doesn’t know of her mother. She should talk to the Presssident. And you are so shy… Yet you are “fiery” in your sssissster’s words. As for your sssissster, she just feels overworked and overtired. It’s good she’s asleep.” Arra says all of this through her tentacles.
   “She’s asleep? Good!” says Xlah.
   “The two of you are very curious. You both believe you take care of each other. ‘What?’ you think now. I know it’s a little disconcerting that I know what you’re thinking. But I really-”
   “Oh, she’s coming.” Interrupts Xlah and she walks away.
   “Wait!” Sssss’s Arra, “Hmmph!” she says and she turns to Lurline.
   Meanwhile, Xlah walks over to her bed and sits on it. She thought of the two lithes she’d seen today. One was the teacher but who was the other?
   It was so wyrd. Could it be a student? She glanced around the room. No lithes here. A boy? Perhaps. Who knows? She thought of what she knew of lithes. “Inferior!” is what Xlee would say, “Filthy scum, they are!” And no doubt that lupine boy would say the same. He seems violent… Yet Xlee is asking for trouble. But violence… Xlah stopped in her soliloquy of thought. She too felt drowsy. “Hmmm…” she thought as she fell asleep. The humans were not sleepy at all. There were many more of them in the universe and they were luckier to be here. Humans are lowest of the cosmic pecking order. There are so many of them and they are so uncivilized. They are the cosmic ants. Small, dirty, ugly, yucky things! The few here may get a career with no higher of a death toll than they would have as a laborer, and better pay. They were going to survive! The humans were chatting in their own group. Alice654, Alicia543, and Alexis432 Labora are all from one planet, and, in fact were from AL Sector. “I wonder what we do here.” Says Alice654, “I mean, everyone dies anyway.”
   “We just make rich people die faster.” Says the cynical Alicia543, “After all, the more money you have, the faster you die.”
   “I don’t care!” Says Alexis432, “I still want money!”
   “Why, Al432?” Says Alicia543.
   “Oh, don’t bug her, Ali543!” says Alice654, “You know about her parents!”
   “Oh fine.” Says Alicia543, “I won’t.”

   ********************6 Hours Later******************************

   “Awaken, Xlee.” Says Lurline, “It’s dinnertime!”
   “Wake up, Xlah!” Ssss’s Arra, “Sss’dinner.”
   Slowly the sisters awaken.
   “Uggggh.” Moans Xlee, “Is it really time?”
   “Yesss. Yess it isss.” Sssss’s Arra.
   The humans are already ready. Alicia543 is still grumpy.
   “Why are we here?” She muses out loud, “It isn’t as if dying doesn’t happen. It does. Get used to it! But to cause it… Well, it’s just speeding up the inevitable. Is it right? Maybe. Is it wrong? No.”
   “What are you saying, Alicia543?” Says Alice654, “What do you mean?”
   “I mean, Ali654, that I have philosophical musings too. I can think. I don’t just offer cynical comments, for your information. I also think! Wow!”
   “Okay.” Says Alice654 and she sidles away to dinner.
   “Temper, temper!” says Xlee, and she glides away, accompanied by Lurline, who simply nods sympathetically and follows Xlee.
   “Sssorry.” Sss’s Arra as she slides out.
   Alexis432 leaves without speaking, and grasping her wallet tightly.
   “The miser!” thinks Alicia543 as she notices she is alone with none but a sleeping Xlah, “They all left me! Only a sleeping feline left. Hmmph! I’ll show them! No I won’t.” Says her internal realist, “I will feel bad about this and eventually go to dinner, teary-eyed. Alice654 will comfort me and my reputation will be dirt. No way!” Fights back her obstinacy, “I will survive! I will show them! I will not let myself be taken! So there!” “You’re a laugh!” inserts the Pessimist inside her, “Lie down. You’re tired. Go to sleep.” And, tiredly she goes to sleep. There is no movement in the room.

   *************************************************************

   Meanwhile, at the table, dinner was underway. Lithe of taking who will kill walked up to Miss. Boh.
   “Aaah, a youngun!” she flashed eagerly, “We don’t get many of us around here! So, let us give you a name.”
   “A name,” lithe of taking who will kill flashed reverently, “Really?”
   “Yes! How about Kohl.”
   “No…”
   “Roohk?”
   “No…”
   Just then, Arra slithered up. “His name shall be Oh.” She intoned and promptly slithered away, leaving the lithes to meditate on the name.
   “You will never understand honor, Lurline! It is not for humans to know!”
   “Very well, Xlee. I shall go speak with the ‘inferior’ humans.”
   Lurline walked away from Xlee, leaving her alone with her guilt. Lurline walked over to Alice654 and Alexis432, who are in conversation.
   “I should go comfort her, shouldn’t I?” said Alice654.
   “No, no.” said Alexis432, “She’ll come around.”
   “You’re sure?”
   “Yes.”
   “What are you discussing?” interjected Lurline.
   “Just Alicia543.” Said Alice654.
   “Who is she?”
   “A bitter cynic!” grumped Alexis432.
   “No, Alexis432!” said Alice654, “She’s just grumpy, Alexis432 is.”
   “Very well.”
   “Let’s eat, it will make us more pleasant.” Said Alice654.
   “Agreed.” Alexis432 replied.
   “I hate that Xxul thing!” said Craar to his brother, “Can I kill it?”
   “No killing teachers.” Reproached his brother, “Vent on someone else!”
   “You?”
   “No! How about those humans?”
   “OK bro!” Craar sauntered over to Eric & Peter.
   “What are you doing over here, wolfy?”
   “Nothing but hurting you, my Little Reds!” he remarked casually as he slashed out at Peter.
   “Mister Craar, please quiet down over there, as some of us are trying to eat!” yelled Mr. Arris.
   Craar stopped slashing and sat.
   “Silly, aren’t they?” said Issac from the corner where he and his new friend were sitting.
   “Oh yes.” His friend said.
   “What shall I call you, friend?”
   “Call me Neither.”
   “Fine, but call me Singer.”
   Together, the two of them stalked off.

   *************************************************************

   In the President’s room, after dinner, President Melinda sits on her own.
   “Sometimes, I wish I was still on the road with Eggie and not stuck here. Still, all in all, becoming an assassin was a good career move, I guess. But… sometimes… I know! I’ll call Eggie!”
   The President took the Mirror Necklace off of her neck and tapped the Mirror. She said “Eggie.” The Mirror went white and soon displayed The Egg Chef’s face.
   “Hello Melinda.”
   “Hi Eggie! Where are you?”
   “I think I’m dead.”
   “Where?”
   “It’s either Erebus or Valhalla but I can’t tell which.”
   “Oh. That’s a drag.”
   “Why’d you call?”
   “I have a new batch.”
   “Still depressed?”
   “Yeah. What’s Death look like?”
   “It’s an island on a lake.”
   “Are you sure you’re dead?”
   “Yeah, Nurse shot me three times.”
   “Oh. That’s a drag.”
   “What’s the new batch like?”
   “A couple of felines, some humans, and lupines, a lithe, etc.”
   “Same old?”
   “Same old. One of the girls looks like me.”
   “Is she a Daughter of- ”
   “Shoot!” The President thought, “My mana’s out…”
   The President went to sleep.
   Yet, even as the President lay sleeping in her bed, others were still crawling…

   *************************************************************

   Indeed, crawling. That was exactly what Oh was doing. As he had insomnia, he was frequently up until the small hours. And now it was night, the quiet hours, and his favorite time. No one else was awake, or so he thought. However, he thought wrong…

   Xxul Poisoner lay awake also. Plenty of people had tried to murder him in his sleep, yet none had succeeded. However, he thought it wiser to stay awake. After all, he didn’t need any sleep…

   Oh decided to write a poem. Ridiculous that a poet, a praiser of life, could also become an assassin, a premature ender of life. Yet it was true that Oh was just that. It was a great honor to be selected to train for the Assassinry, yet, already, he wished he was back home, at his desk…

   Arra awakened, as she often did, during the night. Lecroas, her species, often awakened whenever they needed to prophesize. She crept out of her room to find someone to prophesize to…

   Those who were not awake at this late hour probably wished they were. Most of them were having awful nightmares. Alice654 dreamt that Alicia543 was holding a gun to her head. Alicia543 dreamt she was alone in a room that was shrinking and there was no way out… Alexis432 dreamt her money was gone. Craar dreamt of a battle, Lyare dreamt of his brother’s corpse, Xlah dreamt of Lurline and Xlee walking together while she was stuck in a stocks… And Lurline dreamt of a woman in full battle attire…

   Oh heard a sound at the door…

   He turned…

   He lithed…

   He charged…

   She thought, “It is now…”

   She fell…

   She prophesized…

   “I will be the first…
   More shall follow…
   Second will be Al…
   Xlah will be avenged…
   Lurline will find her destiny…
   Follow the Chef…
   Neither a borrower nor a lender be…
   Aaaah, sweet sleep…”

   Blackout.

   *************************************************************

   At 5:00am, Xxul found the bodies. He was very calm. At first, he checked the pulses. Arra was dead, but Oh was just sleeping. Xxul shook him awake.
   “Neither a borrower nor a lender be…” Oh said as he awakened, “Oh! Oh, no!”
   “Did you?” said Xxul.
   “I…I must have…” replied Oh. Then, he remembered something. He threw up his dinner. “Itwasanaccidentreallysiridiidntmeantoihaveinsomniasoiwasuphereandihearedanoiseand…”
   “Stop!” screamed Xxul, “I am taking you to the President.”
   “Am I…”
   “No!”
   They walked in silence to the President’s Office, Xxul carrying the corpse. After what seemed like an hour, they arrived. Xxul knocked.
   “Come in!” said President Melinda.
   They opened the door.
   “Oh.” Was all she said.
   “Yes?” Oh replied.
   She ignored him, “Already?”
   Xxul nodded his head.
   “Come in here, Oh.” President Melinda said gently, “Xxul, leave and notify the others.” Xxul left.
   “Now, why did you kill her?”
   “It was an accident.”
   “You will not be punished for telling the truth. Why did you kill her?”
   “It was an accident, I said!”
   “Tell us the truth!”
   “It was an accident!!”
   President Melinda had enough. She took out her athame and pointed it at Oh.
   “TELL US!” she hollered menacingly.
   “It was an accident.” He said humbly.
   President Melinda grew huge, and Oh shrunk.
   “I WILL CRUSH YOU LIKE THE INSECT YOU TRULY ARE!”
   She lifted her leg and crushed him.
   The rest is silence.

   *************************************************************

   Xxul awakened the boys and informed them that Arra was dead.
   “Who killed her?” inquired Craar.
   “Who isn’t here?” replied Xxul.
   Lyare was the quickest to respond.
   “It’s the lithe! The lithe did it!” cried Lyare.
   “Ding ding.” Admitted Xxul, “We know he did.”
   With that, Xxul left the room.
   “Bleedin’ squirrel!” muttered Craar, “We all now the first kill is the eldest lupine’s right, not the wee bittle squirrly’s!”
   “He’ll be expelled or killed, brother.” Muttered Lyare.
   “No, he’ll be applauded for killing early!”
   “She said ‘No killing’, Craar! Calm down.”
   “Fine!”
   “Savage beasts, Eric, eh?”
   “Oh, yes, Peter, they are.”
   The twins muttered to themselves pompously.
   “Humans never do this sort of thing!”
   The other boys knew already, yet they did not say anything.
   After all, they saw the corpse first…

   *************************************************************

   Xxul’s voice awakened the girls as it echoed through the room magically.
   “Attention, girls. There has been a slight accident. Arra is dead. Please do not panic. We have apprehended the killer. The President has dealt with him.”
   “Tell us who!” screamed Xlee, “Tell us who!”
   Xxul’s voice was gone.
   “Is that honor?” Lurline asked.
   “No!” screamed Xlee.
   “Very well.” Said Lurline quietly.
   Xlah was even quieter than Lurline. She had liked Arra. Sure, she was inferior but she was nice. Tentacles are odd, but in a strange way, kind of comforting. You know where you are with tentacles, not with feuds or honor and such…
   “First Death.” Said Alicia543 in a merry tone. “What a pleasant way to wake up in the morning.”
   “Don’t mock, Alicia543.” Said Alice654 sternly, “Death is not a laughing matter.”
   “Oh, lighten up, Alice654. ‘Life’s a laugh and death’s the joke. It’s true!’ as some would say. Look on the Bright Side of Life, Alice654.”
   “That’s sick, Alicia543.” Said Alexis432, “Death is not a joke, as you very well know, you ice-hearted cynic.”
   Alicia543 started to respond, but heard a warning tone in Alice654’s as she said, “You know about her tantrums…”

   *************************************************************

   “Attention!” barked Mr. Arris, “You are at my class, and you obey my rules. I am not the slightest bit pleased that one of you little bundles of potential has started killing. You will not kill for free! If you do that, you are a common murderer. You are assassins! Killing is your job, not your hobby!”
   Suddenly he quieted down.
   “I will teach you math.” He continued, “But I will teach you more too. And if you do something like this again, you will feel my wrath. Please turn to page 7. in your Assassins Edition Standard Student Math Journal. Please take the test from pages 7-10. You may begin.”
   Peter looked at his Assassins Edition Standard Student Math Journal. “Really great math book this is!” he thought to himself, “4 arms + 7 arms = ? arms. Wait, what’s this! Challenge: How many people died from the previous problem, if one person dies per 2 arms cut off. This is assuming all the arms in the last problem were cut off. This is math? I thought it was Psychological Assassin Prep.”
   Xlah was diligently working. She was on page 8, which seemed to be instructions for mixing a poison.
   “Take 1/4 of a teaspoon strongly distilled death cap mushroom poison, and mix it with a cup of red wine. If the target does not drink wine, mix it with grape juice. If the target drinks water, mix it with a mushroom soup.” It was followed by measuring cup questions.
   “Hilarious!” thought Alicia, “Math + Assassins + Word Problems = A Stupid Class. When I get enough money, I will retire and become a pacifist.” Math Class continued painfully slowly and silently until Mr. Arris finally yelled, “Class Dismissed!” and put them out of their misery.

   *************************************************************

   After a short break, the class proceeded to their next lesson, which was taught by Ms. Boh, the lithe teacher.
   “I’m so glad you are all here.” She flashed, “I know there has been a spot of bother regarding Oh and the tentaculed girl, but I’m sure it will be solved soon, and we can get back to normal!”
   “She’s dead!” said several people at once.
   “Oh…” flashed Ms. Boh, “Oops.”
   There was dead silence for a minute.
   “Oh well.” Flashed Ms. Boh, “No harm done.”
   “Yes harm done!” said Xlee, “She’s dead!”
   “Okay. So…”
   “So harm done!”
   “Oh.” Ms. Boh paused as she thought. “Okay, harm done. Now, let’s get to the lesson. Does anyone here know how to handle a projectile?”
   No one raised a hand.
   “Very well.” Ms. Boh said with a forced smile, “I’m sure you can learn. Let’s start now. Please pick up a projectile from the table, everyone.”
   There was a mad dash as everyone
   *************************************************************
   To Be Continued…

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8. Turquoise, who has nothing to say right here says:

   June 17, 2008 at 6:03 pm

   What lovely long excerpts! I don’t have much time right now, but I’ll come back and read them.
   Yours looks really good, ZVX.
   My book has problems, the main one being that it doesn’t yet exist. I just keep drawing maps of the island and procrastinating instead of writing. Drawing maps is fun though.
   When I actually get around to writing, I’ll put it on here.

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9. Cat's Meow and Aume says:

   June 17, 2008 at 6:06 pm

   I’ve kind of had an idea for a story forming in my head that is so odd it just might work. I’m going to try to save it for NaNo, though, which is utterly taunting me.

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10. Alice says:

    June 17, 2008 at 6:29 pm

    Oh my goodness! I haven’t time to read any of these yet, but I’m particularly interested in Bookworm’s because I keep spotting my name (albeit with number tacked on the end of it), which is muy muy intriguing.

    So a while ago in health class, we were learning about substance abuse and we got this sheet of “family roles” which seemed to have potential, and I think I could twist it around a bit to suit my purposes. More later.

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11. NerdAndProudOf It, who wishes she could eat cookies. says:

    June 17, 2008 at 7:20 pm

    post 5?

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12. The Bookworm & Lurline (10 piepoints and two B-Day Points!) says:

    June 17, 2008 at 7:40 pm

    Alice-The character isn’t based on you, but I hope you like the story anyway!

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13. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 17, 2008 at 7:49 pm

    5–I like it, except why a peacock? Just curious.

    Ok, I’ve written this one in bits and pieces, and now I’m going back and tying everything together. Here’s the Reader’s Digest of the book:
    There is a military coup in the US, and an bad guy known as Ahriman takes over. All those who worked for the old regime are killed by Ahriman henchmen; this includes government officials, police men, etc. A boy named Trystan Evander is about twelve at the time of the coup, and his father, who is a policeman, is killed, along with his mother. Trystan escapes and hides.
    Fast forward five years. Trystan is 17 and his been caught grafitiing anti-government slogans on freeways; he is sent to the Jefferson school for Juvenile Delinquents. However, because of a shortage in money for schools, children of wealthy Ahriman supporters (that’s the new regime, remember) are allowed to go to the school as well, because of its extra security. There’s lots of fighting between the delinquents and the Ahriman kids.
    An Ahriman supporter named Kyrra Nyx comes to the school. It turns out that only her father supports Ahriman, and that she is more like a delinquent in the sense that she hates the new regime. She and Trystan escape the school along with several other delinquents after being all illegal (aka burning down the school among other things). They form a rebel group over a period of about six months and Trystan, the leader, gains a reputation among anti-Ahriman people as being a rallying point against the Ahriman regime.
    More time passes and the group finds out that the Ahriman gov. is creating a super-weapon of some sort that they will use to take over the world (I know it’s cliche, but I’m still working on it). Trystan decides to go to the Capitol and destroy the weapon. He realizes that he will probably die, and it’s all very heroic and dramatic etc. etc. He destroys it but then disappears without a trace. Kyrra, who’s fallen in love with him by this time, is distraught. That’s where this excerpt comes in.
    Whew, I didn’t realize how complicated this thing is…
    PS I forgot, the rebel group that Trystan leads communicates in excerpts from poems and songs that no one knows about since books and literacy have fallen from popularity. The message is either communicated in the actual quote or in the name of the author who wrote it. In this excerpt, the author is Papa Roach (thanks to whoever told me where this quote comes from, it was someone on here), so it means “Go to Roach Alley to see me.”
    PPS the “he” at the beginning is Trystan Evander. It’s more obvious in the full story, but this excerpt doesn’t specify.
    Hokay, here we go.

    A note lay on the table, under the flame paperweight. Kyrra reached for it and read:

    One last kiss
    Before I go
    Dry your tears
    It is time to let me go

    She flew out the door.
    He was sitting stiffly against the grimy wall of the alley, feeding the pigeons like one of the old men in the park. As she approached, he looked up hopefully; she thrilled, as always, at the fact that he was happy to see her. But this time the feeling was tinged with fear—something lay behind his amber eyes, something hollow and hunted…
    “Hey,” he said, dropping the bird feed and getting to his feet with a hastiness that belied his casual greeting. She fell into his arms, and he held her tightly, pressing his face into her hair.
    “I’m afraid,” Kyrra whispered into his chest. “Something’s wrong.”
    “You can’t know that,” he replied quietly.
    “You left without saying goodbye. That was wrong, to start with.”
    His arms tightened convulsively around her. “I thought it would be less painful that way.”
    “Then why are you here now?”
    He didn’t answer. Kyrra found his silence, as always, to be more chilling than the things he said; now, it served to reinforce the fear that was growing in the pit of her stomach. She pressed harder against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, and thinking that its beats were numbered.
    Finally he sighed, and broke away, although his hands stayed on her shoulders. His eyes searched her face.
    “If you want to know, I need you to listen to me , and not—not cry, or get upset. I’m not trying to be cruel or cold…I just don’t think I can—handle it, not right now. Can you do that?”
    She nodded silently, her eyes wide with anticipation and fear.
    He pulled her to the ground, and she sat with her back to the wall, waiting. He remained in a half-kneeling position, so tense it seemed he might snap; his whole body was taut, and he jumped when an impatient movement from Kyrra sent the alley pigeons flapping into the gloomy sky above them. Trystan swallowed and spoke in a quiet, even voice, not looking at Kyrra.
    “I’ve been hit with a tracker dart. As soon as they get my signal, they’ll know where I am—anywhere, any time. They could just knock me out, and then take me away…or they could let me stay long enough to trap you. You and the rest. That’s why I left so suddenly; my very presence condemned you all.”
    Kyrra was frozen. “They—you—”
    “Please don’t be afraid for me. I’ve been threatened with death before.” He attempted a smile, but only looked pained.
    “Where…did they tag you?”
    “In the leg. I pulled it out as soon as I could,” he said quickly, answering her unasked question, “but it was too late. The tracking dye is in my blood now.”
    Kyrra couldn’t help it. She fought the moisture coming to her eyes, but a single drop overflowed her lid and trailed slowly down her cheek. “What will you do?” she choked.
    He stared up at the cloudy sky. “I’ll keep moving. I won’t let them get near you, or Damon, or anyone. I’d go to another country, to the moon if it would keep you safe…”
    “But…after they catch you?”
    He turned slowly towards her.
    She never forgot his face then, for as long as she lived. On the surface his features were a shallow attempt at cockiness; his smile was wide, white teeth flashing, and his cheeks were flushed as with fever. But underneath the arrogant mask a paleness lingered, some stronger emotion or sickness. And his eyes, his deep amber eyes: they were so hunted, such a swirl of anger and sadness and love that it pained Kyrra to look at them. And over all, like a shadow, a great, raw fear.
    The both reached for each other at the same time, holding on as if they would fall apart otherwise. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer; he was suddenly shaking, trembling like small child.
    “I don’t want to die,” he whispered helplessly into her hair. “Not this way, not so soon.” His arms gripped her tighter, so he would never have to let go…Kyrra closed her eyes, finally, and wept.
    And then it happened.
    All she felt was him pulling out of their embrace, and heard him fall, slump to the filthy ground. It took her a moment to understand; but when she did, it was like her heart had frozen in her chest.
    “No,” she heard herself choke. The tracker was taking control now, sending him to sleep. He was pale, pale as death, but his eyes were still open, two golden slivers of light. “Kyrra,” he said. He gripped her hand, and tears streamed silently down her face. It couldn’t be happening this soon, robbing her of even a proper goodbye—the ultimate cruelty. The thing they had been fighting had won; it was coming now to take away her only outlaw love, to carve away her heart…
    “Kyrra,” repeated Trystan hoarsely. She laid her hand on his face, and he turned his head to lean against it. “I have only one wish for you.” He was fighting hard, now, against the insidious darkness seeping through his blood. His eyes kept closing and opening again like blinds. “One wish. It is…for you…”—she had to lean close to hear him—
    “…to be happy.” He sighed, propelling his commandment into the cold hair. His hand squeezed hers gently, his eyes found hers, and the sound of footsteps suddenly began echoing down the alley.
    The darkness in his mind was almost complete. She leaned in and kissed him, and he sighed, a contented sound. “I love you,” he breathed. And then, with the footsteps growing louder: “Run.”
    She didn’t even remember leaving him. All she knew was that a rusty sun was shining an uneasy half-light down on her from a gap in the clouds, and she running, running through the streets, not caring that her lungs were burning or that she could barely see through the tears coursing down her face now. Her breath came in sobs; she tripped, fell, and tasted blood; but then she was on her feet, running blindly again. She ran and ran until she could run no more, and then she ran some more, her winged feet carrying her she didn’t care where…
    It was Damon who found her, in the Hollow, nearly twenty miles from the city. She was lying on the ground, stretched out in the mossy leaves.
    He approached her carefully and laid a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly; they were red and swollen. He picked her up without a word and carried her, and by the time they’d reached the house, she’d fallen into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

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14. Alice says:

    June 17, 2008 at 7:53 pm

    12- I didn’t think she was based on me, but I tend to notice my name anyway.

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15. KaiYves says:

    June 17, 2008 at 7:57 pm

    All of my COSMOS story so far:
    My journey to the stars began with absolute, mind-numbing boredom.
    It was the second week after the end of school, and everyone in my class was en route to somewhere exotic on vacation. Jake Hu was going to Paris. Christy Marsh was going to Mexico. And Alexa Day (that’s me) was going… to stay in South Point, New York. Where nothing ever happens.
    “Can we go to the beach today, mom?” I asked, tying my red hair back in a ponytail.
    “Not today, Alex. I’ve got to drive to the University in Grenvile to help balance the budget. You’re welcome to come along.” (Mom’s an accountant)
    I considered the options. Dad would be working at the hospital until five PM, and besides, Grenvile University had a lot of cool old buildings to explore. It was a no-brainer.
    “I want to go, mom.” I said
    The University library towered above us, its windows sparkling in the summer sun. It was a big, old Victorian building and one of my favorite spots on the campus, probably because I hadn’t fully explored it yet.
    Mom parked the car in the lot nearest the library and we stepped out.
    “Now Alex, I’m only going to be in that building across the courtyard.” She pointed to a small, red brick building.
    “’Kay.”
    “Promise me you’ll stay in the library until I come to get you?”
    “Sure thing, mom.” I didn’t plan on going anywhere else…
    “Right then. You can go inside now.” Mom said.
    I hurried down the sidewalk and through the doors, into the main reading room- pleasantly air conditioned. At the dark wooden tables, some people were reading, others were typing on laptop computers making a tap-tap-tap sound.
    Behind the check-in desk, a woman with blond hair was helping a man return his books.
    Near the desk, the magazine shelves showed colorful travel magazines, full of glossy pictures of places everybody else in my class was. I made a beeline towards them, so I could at least read about those far-away wonders.
    Walking by the check-in desk, I caught sight of a book that was on the check-in counter. The cover, somewhat faded, showed a space scene with many orange blobs of light.
    There isn’t anywhere more exotic than outer space… I thought
    I read the title of the book out loud.
    “Cosmos, by Carl Sah-gan.”
    The librarian turned and looked at me, laughing a bit.
    “It’s pronounced Say-gun.”
    “Nice name. Was he Japanese?” I asked
    “No, Japanese names end in vowels. Good book, by the way. Worth reading.”
    I picked the book up and looked at the author’s name again. S-a-g-a-n. It sure looked Japanese. Taking the book under my arm, I walked off, looking for a good place to read.
    Soon, I could no longer hear the tap-tap-tap of the people with laptops. I was at the far end of the main room, near large, glass windows with cushioned seats. (Which are awesome!)
    The shelves back here were a bit dusty, and the books were sun-faded. A mural of jungle animals was on the wall, over the windows.
    Nobody else was in this area, so all of the window-seats were wonderfully empty. I chose one with red cushions and sat down, then opened the book when I was comfortable.
    I turned to the Table of Contents. The first chapter, The Shores of the Cosmic Ocean, was on page 3. Flipping past an introduction, I came to the first page of Chapter One and began reading to myself.
    “The Cosmos is all that is, or ever was, or ever will be. Our contemplations of the Cosmos stir us. There is a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice. A faint sensation, as if a distant memory, of falling from a great height. We know we are approaching the grandest of mysteries.”
    Wow. I thought. You don’t find prose like that on the back of a cereal box!
    “Oh dear!” There was the sound of something crashing into a bookshelf. I looked up from the book, in time to catch a glimpse of something disappearing behind a shelf nearby.
    “Hello? Is anybody here?” I asked
    No response. Hesitantly, I approached the shelf. I reached out and touched the side, preparing to peek around the corner. Libraries in movies usually weren’t haunted, were they?
    What I saw next made me pinch myself.
    About halfway down the length of the bookshelf and about two feet up in the air, a metal sphere about one foot in diameter was floating. A complex system of openings and cracks covered its body, and there was a small screen displaying something like a simplified face.
    “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” I asked the robot. It spun around to look at me.
    “Oh, how kind of you to ask! I seem to have become separated from the spaceship- oh, the doctor will be worried sick!” It said, in a voice that reminded me of C-3PO’s, only without the trace of an English accent.
    Before, I had been afraid, but now, I was intrigued.
    “Spaceship? Doctor? Oh, by the way, I’m Alex Day.” I said, holding out my hand. The robot floated over, and extended something like a metallic hand from inside its spherical body. We shook hands.
    “TASTA. Time And Space Travel Assistant. Now, I must get back to the ship, the doctor must be-”
    This robot had a spaceship! And if I could go back to it with en… well, I wouldn’t be bored anymore, that’s for sure! There was no way I was letting this opportunity pass me by!
    “Wait! Can I come with you? I mean, I’ve seen too much, right?” I asked, hopefully.
    “Well, the doctor is fond of students… I suppose you could come.”
    “Yesssss!”
    TASTA extended another metal arm and turned towards empty air. There was a strange sound, and a circle of glowing energy appeared in front of us.
    “Let me guess, a star gate or something?”
    “My, you’re perceptive.” TASTA said, and floated into the portal. I followed, a bit afraid.
    The next thing I knew, my head was spinning, and I was in a big, off-white room with an arched ceiling. Looking around, I saw a desk with a chair behind it in front of me. A person wearing a tan coat sat at the desk.
    But what really caught my attention was the large window before us, through which I could see many, many blobs of light. Some were sort of spiral shaped, others kind of circular.
    “Galaxies.” I whispered, amazed. “Where are we, TASTA?” I asked, louder. The person in the chair heard me and turned around, swiveling in the chair.
    “Hello, TASTA. Who’s this you’ve brought with you?” He asked, in a voice that was deep and slow, stressing the consonants.

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16. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan says:

    June 17, 2008 at 8:16 pm

    Wow Bookworm…
    I didn’t hear the ending part in school, and it is really, really (if anyone knows how to make italics when not in a Word(trademark sign thingy) doc. please tell me) good.

    I think a thread where all we do is give book suggestions, and discuss books would be great… and go completely (see earlier parentheses) off topic and start talking about pie throwing, HPBs, and other randomer things.

    How is an Administrator contacted on this context?

    Oh, and by the way, who here has read any of Jasper Ffordes books?

    This is my first MuseBlog… ever.
    Unless I did in a paralell universe, like Bookworms.

    tttttttttttttttttttt e t eeeeeee
    h e h e
    h eeeeee e
    h e t eeeeee
    h e h e
    h e e eeeeee

    eeeeee n n dd
    e n n n d d
    eeeeee n n n d d
    e n n n d d
    eeeeee n n dd (this took a long time, and i hope it doesn’t get messed up in formatting)

    bye.

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17. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan says:

    June 17, 2008 at 8:21 pm

    oops, it did get messed up in formatting, but it was supposed to look like the words “the end” out of letters (i hope this makes some (see first parentheses in first MuseBlog) (albeit weird) sense)

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18. Purple Panda says:

    June 17, 2008 at 8:21 pm

    I’ve always had trouble with books. NaNo was hard enough (both years), and I didn’t finish the story either time…it was just one huge 50K introduction, basically. I think I’m just more of a short story kind of person, so I think I might write a collection of related stories that would go together in a book, but it wouldn’t be one big novel.

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19. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 17, 2008 at 8:40 pm

    To make italics:
    regular regular [i] italics [/i] regular regular
    Except with triangular brackets instead of square.

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20. iŹ√Ҳ! (11 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

    June 17, 2008 at 8:48 pm

    How's this, POSOC?

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21. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 17, 2008 at 9:03 pm

    20- No, that’s . If you can't see that, it's [code].

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22. NerdAndProudOf It, who wishes she could eat cookies. says:

    June 17, 2008 at 11:07 pm

    6-Oh gee…

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23. iŹ√Ҳ! (11 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

    June 17, 2008 at 11:54 pm

    <abbr title=”” testing...PWT PWNS!

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24. iŹ√Ҳ! (11 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

    June 17, 2008 at 11:55 pm

    that sucked. rocked.

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25. The Bookworm & Lurline (10 piepoints and two B-Day Points!) says:

    June 18, 2008 at 7:09 am

    Anybody care to read my story? (Post 7)

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26. Zinc the sorceress says:

    June 18, 2008 at 10:42 am

    I’m currently writing a story that is based off of Avatar and the Warriors series. I can tell you the plans. There are four kingdoms, the Fire kingdom, the Sky kingdom, the Earth kingdom, and the Water kingdom. Each kingdom has a leader, and they wear a gem that provides the power of the element to their kingdom, which is harnessing their element and talking to the other kingdoms. Gotta go;will finish later.

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27. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 18, 2008 at 12:29 pm

    7–An interesting premise–you’ve got a great imagination. I would try to make it a little less choppy, but for the most part it’s good. Write more, I want to see what happens next

    Can someone pleeeeease comment on mine (post 13)? I know it’s rawther long and maybe a little confusing, but I would appreciate any feedback you can give. Thanx mucho.

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28. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 18, 2008 at 2:46 pm

    27- Well, I read the “Reader’s Digest.” It seems like it could be quite thrilling. Who is this “Ahriman” guy, and why did he name himself after an evil Zoroastrian deity?

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29. The Man For Aeiou&Pete says:

    June 18, 2008 at 3:35 pm

    I need to work on my book.

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30. KaiYves says:

    June 18, 2008 at 3:40 pm

    More of the COSMOS story:.
    “This is Alex Day, doctor. She offered to help me when I ended up in her time and place. And she insisted on coming along.” TASTA said “Typical human child.” en added, in the robotic equivalent of a whisper.
    “Oh, is that so? I’m very grateful to you, then, Ms. Day- TASTA is a very useful friend to me on my explorations.” The doctor said, stepping into the light. He looked about 45 years old, with black hair in a 70’s-ish haircut. He had hazel eyes and thick eyebrows. Under the coat, he was wearing a white shirt and a tie.
    That was odd. Who ever heard of the commander of a spaceship dressed like a teacher? Weren’t spaceship commanders supposed to wear space suits or futuristic uniforms?
    Never mind that now. I’ve got to act cool, like I’m used to traveling through space. I thought
    “You’re welcome, doctor. “As your robot said, I’m Alex Day, of the planet Earth. I wanted to go exploring and your robot mentioned a spaceship, so I asked to come along.”
    Begged is more like it
    “Carl Sagan, also of the planet Earth.” The doctor said. He pronounced it as the librarian had, say-gun.
    “Pleased to meet you. By the way, very nice spaceship. Artificial gravity, I see- very cool.” I said.
    “Thank you. I call this the Starship Imagination. Unfettered by ordinary limits of speed and size, it can take us anywhere in space and time. Worlds of dreams and worlds of facts. My, um… collaborator and I modeled it after a dandelion seed.” He told me “If you want to explore, you’re in the right place.”
    “Out there, those are galaxies, aren’t they?” I asked, pointing out the window.
    “Oh, yes. We are far from the shores of Earth, in the uncharted reaches of the cosmic ocean. These tendrils of light are superclusters of galaxies, some containing hundreds of billions of suns. We are halfway to the edge of the known universe right now.” He said, looking out the window as we silently drifted among the galaxies.
    I’m so much farther out than any astronaut has ever been- except this guy, maybe- that it’s not even funny.
    “This is your first Cosmic voyage, I take it.” he added, seeing me glued to the window. I checked myself to see if I was drooling. No, thank goodness. Drooling is NOT cool.

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31. Turquoise, who is extending her name pointlessly says:

    June 18, 2008 at 3:51 pm

    26 – Elementsness…<3
    My story has a lot of that too, but no kingdoms or anything.
    And my island needs a name. It’s mostly forest, and there are all the various forest animals as well as fairies. Any ideas?

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32. ebeth says:

    June 18, 2008 at 5:29 pm

    i’ve started about three or four stories sitting around bored in health and driving class. should type them up and post them. not that i’ll ever continue, probably.

    also my friend jacob wrote a movie script, and he wants to film it and enter it at a couple different festivals. so i’m editing that for him. apparently i’m assistant director now…

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33. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 18, 2008 at 6:29 pm

    28–He didn’t name himself, I named him after an ancient Zoroastrian evil spirit He’s evil because…well, I don’t really go into that at all in the story. He just is. I think it’s because he came from a poor family, and he never had anything…so he turned to evil ways to accomplish what he wanted, and once he’d gotten everyone to agree with him, he just kept going…that sounds good. Yeah.

    I am SOOOO excited about it tho. Can’t wait to finish it. If it goes well, I’ll publish it as a novel. Thanks for reading the Reader’s Digest, at least.

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34. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 18, 2008 at 6:37 pm

    33- Well, in the story, either he named himself after an ancient Zoroastrian evil spirit or his parents named him after an ancient Zoroastrian evil spirit, so either his parents were kind of twisted or he was (probable.)

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35. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan says:

    June 18, 2008 at 6:42 pm

    25: yes.
    29: what will your book be about?

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36. Kiki the Great says:

    June 18, 2008 at 8:01 pm

    My NaNo last year was a complete ripoff of Twilight, even though I hadn’t heard of it then. Seriously, it’s not funny. Plus it was a stab and semi-realistic fiction, which I am FAIL at. So this year I’m going back to other planets, except sci fi instead of fantasy. I’m thinking space/time travel comedy.

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37. Eccentric the Afterthought says:

    June 18, 2008 at 9:50 pm

    36 – Agh, that’s so frustrating! My NaNo turned out the same way. I had never heard of the show “Reaper” when I wrote it – I don’t even think it was on tv yet at the time – but now that I’ve watched it I realize that my novel has a very similar storyline. I even put in a line about “you’re the devil? I thought you would look more like Ray Wise…” and now Ray Wise does play the devil on “Reaper”! Yikes.

    This year I’m thinking of writing a NaNo about Bunny Apocalypse. Maybe I’ll put in some wungs too. Wungs vs. bunnies? But then again, I’ve also been itching to write a B-movie style horror story. Either way I do plan to throw in plenty of Muse-related elements for fun.

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38. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 18, 2008 at 11:44 pm

    34–in that case, then I think he came up with the name as a pseudonym.
    37–oh please do, that’s bound to be good. Writing a B-movie book, you have license to be as dramatic and corny as you like, which is rather satisfying.

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39. KaiYves says:

    June 19, 2008 at 8:22 am

    Any comments on post 30?

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40. Alice says:

    June 19, 2008 at 12:15 pm

    3- Your grammar leaves something to be desired, I’m afraid. You put commas and semicolons in the wrong places and your paragraph breaks are threatening to drive me mad. Apart from that, the writing is not half bad, although eerily reminiscent of Redwall.
    *reads more* Oh, dear. The writing is pretty good, and could be very good with a bit of editing, but I don’t think anything could shake the Redwall similarity.

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41. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 19, 2008 at 1:21 pm

    30–I like it, and it’s getting better as it goes, which is a good sign. The idea is intreguing as well–I wish I was there

    The opening of my novel, as described in post 13.

    The boy’s lavatory of the School was not the most pleasant place to be. In fact, it could be more aptly described as completely unpleasant. The grimy floor was kept in a perpetual state of clamminess (due mostly to the poor plumbing system) so that mold and other organisms of various intelligences spawned between the grungy tiles. This damp sort of primordial muck tended to grow up the walls, but these were actually quite white and clean towards the top, all things considered. The only reason for this was the frequent and recurrent need to paint over the graffitis and other poetic writings of rebellious students, and also the fact that cleaning the walls was a common low-grade form of detention.
    The actual toilets, of course, were far worse than either the walls or the floor. Most were flooded, and all reeked like the hippo exhibit at a poorly-maintained zoo. You only went into the boy’s toilet if you really, really had to go.
    And yet on the gloomy, overcast day that this story begins (or at least, where we pick it up; it began quite a while ago), not one but two boys were in the lavatory. And, even more absurdly, they were crammed into the same filthy stall.
    Both boys were about the same age, seventeen or thereabouts. One of them, who had a shock of spiky black hair, was holding a length of thin plastic tubing. He was feeding it carefully to the other boy, this one with mousy brown hair, who in turn was pushing the tubing through a hole drilled high up in the bowl of the toilet.
    “’Kay,” he grunted when he’d finished. The black-haired boy moved to the toilet’s box, tying a thin piece of nearly-invisible fishing line from the flushing mechanism to the tubing. He depressed the handle experimentally, and the tube pointed downwards into the rushing water. As soon as the handle returned to its original position, the tube moved back to lie just beneath the rim of the seat.
    “Perfect,” grinned the brown-haired boy. He pulled a bag full of small gray pellets out of his pocket and held them up. “You want to do the honors?”
    The other boy took the bag from his friend and gently tipped the pellets into the tubing. He held his breath; if the end of the tube was a millimeter too low, the seemingly innocuous gray pills would go sliding into the water, and all hell would break loose. Which, actually, was the goal of this exercise; the boys just wanted it to break loose later, preferably when they were far, far away.
    The tube held.
    “All right,” said the boy. He stood, and the two students, apparently finished with their clandestine task, walked out of the abominable lavatory, into the halls of the Jefferson School for Juvenile Delinquents.

    Trystan Evander sat in English class, bored out of his skull. He entertained himself for a while by building a small pyramid out of his pencils; but after a while he lost interest in even this, and rested his head on his crossed arms. Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried very hard to fall asleep.
    Trystan was a Delinquent, or D-boy, at the Jefferson School. He was nearly seventeen but tall for his age, with jet black hair that stood up in spikes and broad shoulders. His swarthy-skinned face was unusually handsome, in spite of the razor-thin scar that ran across one amber-colored eye like a bolt of lightning. He had an air of mischief and daring about him; even the Teachers, brainwashed as they were, sensed something rebellious about him. They kept a close eye on him, guessing that he would bring them trouble one day.
    As it happened, they were right.

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42. The Bookworm & Lurline (10 piepoints and two B-Day Points!) says:

    June 19, 2008 at 1:38 pm

    3- Introduction: A little stereotypical, but good descriptions and plenty of potential for backstabbing!
    Chapter 1, Section 1: Cats are great! I like it being kind of normal at the start. The grammar could use editing, though!
    Chapter 1, Section 2: I like that Merlin isn’t magical!
    Chapter 1, Section 3: Fried Toads? Seems kind of ominous…
    Chapter 2, Section 1: I love the villians! They’re so much more intriguing than the heroes! Also, a spy and an assassin? What fun!
    Chapter 2, Section 2: It gets more ominous…
    Chapter 2, Section 3: Amid this happiness, evil must be about to strike… *Is Overly Dramatic*
    Chapter 3, Section 1: I feel like something needs to happen soon. It’s getting a little draggy.
    Chapter 3, Section 2: It’s getting better, I think. Will Dugger die?
    Chapter 3, Section 3: Who exactly is Crius? What are Cooligons? I love the line “That’s encouraging.”!

    5- I like the moral “No gold for immature people.” If wrote this story, I’d send it to all the immature people I knew, along with a fake plastic gold coin!

    8- Can you send in the maps?

    13- Reader’s Digest: Very Interesting! Have you written that in story form?
    Excerpt, Section 1: Is that a real song, or did you write it?
    Excerpt, Section 2: It’s great! I want more, please!

    15- COSMOS Story: I like it! Good beginning, and I’m very excited to see what happens next! Also, the library is a big bonus! When is it set?

    18- That’s what I’m doing! I have a Universe, and some stories and fragments!

    26- Is there “good and evil”, or just people of the four elements?

    27- Were any bits especially choppy, or just all of it? Thanks for the advice!

    30- COSMOS, Part 2: Does the Librarian, or anyone else on Earth, know about the spaceship? Who is the collabrator?

    36- Yes!!!

    37- “The Black Wung of Doom!”

    And… More stuff related to my Story:

    An Interview with The Egg Chef
    Bookworm

    Real Name: Agra Mitslov
    People Know You As: The Egg Chef, Egg Chef, Chef, Cook, Cookie, Eggie
    Date and Place Of Birth: I’m afraid you wouldn’t know of it, 1950*
    Address: Arsonists are attracted to me.
    Job: A chef of course!!! (You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer!) Oh, and a wizard.
    Who lives under the same roof as you? No roof! (Those arsonists!)
    Children: Well, maybe when I retire…
    Education: Homeschooled for K-1 i.e. How To Make A Shoe No 2-4 Remedial 5-6 Multiple 7-12 (I swear someone cursed those arsonists on me!) Wizard + Trade University (The wards protected it from arson.)
    Pets: 2 white mice
    Book you’d recommend to a friend: “The Great Wheel Spins… An Anthology of Fantasy, Mythology, and Religion”
    Favorite TV Show: No house, no TV, arsonists!!! (Ummm, What’s 1+1? I didn’t think you knew.)
    Favorite Singer: I prefer piano!
    What do you waste your money on? More houses!
    Guilty Pleasure: Egg theft!
    Life Changing Experience: Eating my first egg!
    Strangest Job You Ever Held: Working to curse McDonalds at the Anti Fast Food Firm
    Bumper Sticker Statement: “Don’t Drive”
    A Little Known Fact About You: I have met the little-known egg god Worshipmeortheyolksonyou. I worship!
    Dumbest Thing I Ever Did: Offended the FIRE GOD.
    What Really Sets You Off: Rotten Eggs. And ARSONISTS!
    Celebrity Encounters: Ronald McDonald and I cursed him out of the air.
    Favorite Website: omelet.net
    One Thing You Would Change About Yourself: Get my hair back!
    People who Knew You in High School Tho-ARSONISTS!!! I’m getting repetitive!
    Who Do You Most Admire: Melpomene, author of “The Great Wheel Spins…”
    Parting Shot: Be nice to fire gods!
    *He lives in an alternate reality. Don’t ask!
    No chickens or arsonists were harmed in the making of this column.
    -E.W.B.

    An Interview with President Melinda
    By Bookworm

    Real Name: Melinda Caplana
    People Know You As: The President, President Melinda, Melinda
    Date and Place Of Birth: I’m afraid you wouldn’t know of it, 1975*
    Address: The UATC, President’s Suite
    Job: Teacher and School President, Assassin
    Who lives under the same roof as you? No one.
    Children: None.
    Education: The Egg Chef taught me 3/4 of what I know, and the UATC taught me the rest!
    Pets: I know an owl who lives in the trees…
    Book you’d recommend to a friend: I am promoting Mr. Arris’ new bestsellers, “The Use of Staring and Growling in Big Business” and “That Pesky Killer: The Role of Assassins and the Assassinry in Society”.
    Favorite TV Show: INFORMATION CENSORED
    Favorite Singer: The Oh-oh-oh-oh-urks and their lead singer, Mr. Croak.
    What do you waste your money on? Knives!
    Guilty Pleasure: Really good sorbet!
    Life Changing Experience: Meeting The Egg Chef!
    Strangest Job You Ever Held: Fake Border Guard
    Bumper Sticker Statement: “Never question the one with the gun!” or in other words, “Don’t Ask!”
    A Little Known Fact About You: I have no parents.
    Dumbest Thing I Ever Did: Missed the Prime Minister with my gun. It cost me my pinkie finger on my right hand.
    What Really Sets You Off: Moralists!
    Celebrity Encounters: INFORMATION CENSORED
    Favorite Website: censoredfnord.com
    One Thing You Would Change About Yourself: Become sleepless.
    People Who Knew You in High School Thought You Were: I don’t know!
    Who Do You Most Admire: Eggie!
    Parting Shot: Fnord.
    *She lives in an alternate reality. Don’t ask!
    No censors were assassinated in the making of this column.
    -E.W.B.

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43. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 19, 2008 at 2:17 pm

    Since this shows signs of growing beyond a short story….
    Pantagruel’s Ring
    You all know of the sorcerer Marcus Dimwood, the man who is now accounted to be the greatest magician in all of Deepforest, Carabas and Wunsaponna. But he was not always so. Listen, while I tell a single chapter in the story of how a young boy ascended to become the one of the wisest and most powerful beings of all time…
    “WAKE UP, MARCUS, YOU MORON!”
    Marcus woke up. In fact, he shot out of bed, landing on the stone floor entangled in his sheet. A great horned owl was perched on his ornate, gargoyle-shaped bedpost, looking thoroughly exasperated.
    “Saraswati… ” he muttered.
    “Yes?” the owl said, clacking her beak.
    “It’s eleven P.M.”
    “I know. And you’ll be late for the Convention if you don’t get off your sorry rear.”
    “Convention? What convention?”
    Saraswati drummed her talons on the gargoyle’s cheek, waiting for the penny to drop.
    Marcus suddenly remembered. “The Convention! Oh, no! If you hadn’t woken me, I’d have missed it!” He ran from the bedroom, the midnight-black bed-sheet still wrapped around him like a toga.
    “You’re welcome,” Saraswati said to empty air, then fluttered after him.
    Five minutes later, Marcus appeared somewhat more respectable. A dyeing enchantment had turned his normally brown eyes and hair (not the sort of sinister appearance he wanted) to a deep black.
    His outfit was also properly menacing: a swirling black satin cloak, with black breeches and a black leather jerkin beneath it. A belt with an ornate silver buckle completed the ensemble.
    “That is so out of date,” Saraswati remarked as he emerged from the dressing room. “Seriously, black was in fashion back when Ahriman was still a mewling demonlet.”
    “If it was good enough for sorcerers back then, it’s good enough for me,” Marcus replied. “Besides, last time you gave me a fashion tip- ”
    “Oh yes. The Incident. I swear, it was nothing to do with me. Galen said they were the latest thing.”
    “Your screech owl friend Galen needs to figure out the difference between sorcerers and witches. People are still calling me Pinky.”
    ~~~
    Marcus strode onto the launching platform at the top of the tower, Saraswati following him. It was utterly spotless. It had to be: sorcerers his age usually left their masters and set up house in ominously brooding fortresses in the thickest part of Deepforest. Unfortunately, Marcus was a bit low on cash, and had to rent a small tower in a rather treeless and sunny clearing. It didn’t exactly brood, either. It was only five stories high, and somewhat crooked. But it was all he had, and he was determined to keep it in excellent condition.
    “Come on, Sara,” he said.
    “What, me? Aren’t you the one going to the Convention?”
    “Of course, but this is my first one!”
    “I know. You’re 13, so you’re old enough to go. That still doesn’t explain why I have to come.”
    “I need to make a good first impression.”
    “On who?” Saraswati winked at him.
    “Well- the senior Witches and Sorcerers, of course.”
    “Sure it’s not just Aleksandra you want to impress?” The owl nudged him playfully with one wing.
    Marcus’s face reddened. “Sara- shut up.”
    “C’mon! I’ve seen you staring at her-”
    “SHUT UP!” Marcus snapped his fingers, and his staff appeared in his hand. He leveled it at the owl and let off a small thunderbolt.
    “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” Saraswati said, rearranging her scorched feathers.
    “Just get up here,” Marcus grumbled. Saraswati obliged him, fluttering up and perching on his shoulder. “All right,” she said. “Now get out the magic carpet, and away we go.”
    “The carpet!” Marcus exclaimed, and a look of horror crossed his face. “I forgot! It’s in the shop!”
    “Well, now you remember. You have a broom?”
    “Of course not! I’d look like a sissy riding one of those! There’s only one option left. We’ll have to travel by weather.”
    “Whip up a Thunderstorm,” the owl suggested. “We’ll arrive in plenty of time.”
    “Sara, you know I can’t do a Thunderstorm yet. The only things I can manage are Whirlwind and Gale, and even those are going to be tricky in these conditions.”
    “Weren’t you working on Blizzard?”
    “I can’t get the hang of it. It always turns into Rainstorm, and you can’t travel in one of those. Not if you don’t want your cloak all soggy.”
    “Gale, then?”
    “With all these crosswinds, it’ll be slow and hard to manage. I’ll try Whirlwind.”
    With that, he slammed the tip of his staff into the exact center of the turret’s floor. “Enolcyc! Em yebo!” he cried.
    Nothing happened for a moment. Then the tip of the staff began smoldering and glowing. Three trails of smoke drifted up from it. But instead of dissipating, they began to swirl around him, thickening as they accelerated. A wild feeling of power rushed through Marcus’s limbs.
    “It’s supposed to be going widdershins, you know,” Saraswati added from his shoulder.
    “This is going to be hard enough without backseat driving,” Marcus replied through gritted teeth.
    The whirlwind lifted off, and Marcus’s ears popped. He settled into a cross-legged position (traditional when traveling by whirlwind) with his staff held at an angle, directing the wind currents.
    The first half of the trip passed without incident. Deepforest, the greatest and last haven of the Dark, flew by below him. The stars twinkled above him like gnome-silver dust scattered on a fate-woven cloak.
    Saraswati was the first to notice something wrong, though she couldn’t put her talon on it. It made her uneasy, and she shifted restlessly on Marcus’s shoulder.
    Then the young sorcerer noticed that his staff was trembling. He tried to quiet it, but the shaking only grew more violent. And as it did, the whirlwind began to slip out of control.
    “I told you it should be spinning widdershins!” Saraswati yelled, before jumping off his shoulder and extending her wings, hoping to ride out the ensuing storm.
    Five minutes later, the whirlwind had grown into a full-blown tornado. Marcus was hurled every which way, tree branches and fence posts striking him painfully. Saraswati fared better. Her wings allowed her to ride the gusts, and her head spun in the opposite direction to the cyclone to keep from getting dizzy.
    Marcus’s memory of the catastrophe was somewhat fuzzy. At some point, his cloak had ripped away, and then entangled his arms with his staff. A large hanging tree (thankfully, nobody was dangling from it at the moment) had been sucked up by the merciless winds, and the noose had cinched around his legs, leaving him unable to move independently.
    His next memory was of Saraswati screaming in his face. “How do you stop this thing?” He told her the correct incantation through flapping lips, and she recited it, gripping the staff so hard that her claws left marks.
    Then Marcus found himself suddenly still. He was vaguely aware that his dyeing spell had malfunctioned, and his hair was changing color. All the blood had inexplicably rushed to his head, and that combined with his recent gyrations produced a disagreeable effect.
    He threw up, and watched in amazement as his half-digested dinner rose above his head to land with a splatter on the stone ceiling.
    He slowly came to realize that he was upside down.
    Marcus was hanging outside a massive stone building that looked vaguely familiar, but the inverted view made it hard to place. The free end of the hangman’s noose had caught on the granite fang of a large gargoyle. His staff was wedged between his arms in a roughly horizontal position. Saraswati perched on one end, not a feather out of place.
    “The good news,” she said, “is that we’re at the Convention on time. The bad news… ”
    And then the frayed rope finally broke, and Marcus fell twelve feet straight down into an ornamental kelpie pond.
    ~~~
    “Did they get all the kelpies off?” Saraswati asked. “They’re tricky little blighters.”
    “Shut up, Sara,” Marcus said for the third time that day, as they took their seats in the Magicians’ Quarter.
    The Convention Hall, more formally known as the Mandala Court, was an amphitheater of black marble, divided into four sections. To the right of the Magicians’ Quarter was the Nearhumans’ Quarter, currently filled by a jostling mass of vampires, werewolves, giants, ogres, trolls, dwarves, and various other creatures that could have passed for human had they possessed less hair, or blunter teeth, or been three feet taller or shorter. Past them was the Demons’ Quarter, and beyond that, the Monsters’, noisiest and brightest of all, with chimeras, gryphons and firedrakes fighting over the far too little space.
    In the center of the amphitheater was a large black table. A moonstone sat on it, reflecting the light of the greater moon above.
    A sonorous bell rang through the Dark Mandala Court, and four figures began making their way toward the central table.
    Saraswati pointed out the names of the representatives to Marcus. “That’s Komondor the Blind, representative for the Monsters. He’s extremely famous- lived more than a dozen centuries so far, and still going strong. And let’s see, who’s that? I’m not sure,” she said, indicating the representative for the Nearhumans, a long-nosed, swarthy troll. “In any case, he’s probably presiding- it’s the Nearhumans’ turn this year. For the Demons- ooh, that’s Asmodea bin Efrit herself!” she gasped, referring to a darkly beautiful, yellow-eyed woman whose barbed black tail lashed languidly behind her. “And of course, for the Magicians… ”
    Marcus needed no prompting to figure out who the plump, steel-gazed woman making her way to the table in the company of an enormous black tomcat. “Hazel Marrowbone,” he whispered. “The greatest witch in the world.”
    The four representatives gathered at the conference table and sat down.
    No sooner had they taken their seats than the moonstone began glowing. If glowing was the right word. No, Marcus decided, it definitely wasn’t. It was darkening, sending an ambiance of gloom throughout the room.
    An awful voice resounded through every inch of the Mandala Court. “THE THREE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED SEVENTY-THIRD DARK MANDALA COURT WILL COME TO ORDER, NILS X. YMIRSSON PRESIDING.”
    The troll, presumably Ymirsson, stood up. Marcus tried to get a better look at him.
    He was dressed in the traditional fur garb of his race, his extravagant cloak decorated with cave-pearls and gnome-gold. His nose, the pride and joy of most trolls, was almost half his height of four feet. Marcus knew the extreme length indicated that he was a member of a highborn family, as if the name of Ymirsson wasn’t enough proof of that. He carried a large staff made from the wood of a bristlecone pine.
    “Good night, friends,” he said, his rich, syrupy voice easily audible. “I welcome you to the Mandala Court.”
    “We are grateful for the welcome,” said the other three representatives in unison, as tradition dictated.
    “Have you any statements to make before the Court commences?” Ymirsson continued.
    “Nay,” they all answered in succession.
    “In that case,” Ymirsson droned, “I declare the Court open.”
    Marcus grew bored with the proceedings and began attempting to return his hair to black, or at least its normal color, which would at least be better than the vivid puce it had been since his whirlwind malfunctioned.
    However, he had only succeeded in making it shade through the spectrum. Resigning himself to it, he hoped he could stop the spell at indigo, which would at least seem a bit more ominously respectable than puce.
    However, it was not to be. Saraswati poked him in the eye with her wing, breaking his concentration halfway through green. “Listen!”
    “To what?” Marcus snapped irritably, trying to revive his hair. “A fascinating discussion of the changing price of donkey cabbage and its possible cause and repercussions?”
    “No, something interesting. Shh. Ymirsson’s speaking.”
    Marcus made a mental note to turn his hair black again as soon as possible, then focused on the proceedings below.
    “Now,” Ymirsson said, “I should like to draw your attention to an issue that greatly threatens the reputation of the Dark. This story is only one example of a larger problem. How many of you know Jotun Brig?”
    Komondor and Asmodea shook their heads, but Hazel Marrowbone spoke up. “As I recall, he lent me a bushel of rampion once. An estimable troll. He keeps the third largest garden of magical plants in the known world.”
    Ymirsson nodded. “Good friend of mine. Another question. How many of you know the Gruff brothers?”
    Asmodea snarled, clouds of sulfur blasting out of her nostrils. “Those GOATS!! They’ve got criminal records as long and twisted as Bigg Gruff’s horns. I have a personal grudge against one of them.”
    “Exactly. Grand larceny, breaking and entering, racketeering- the list goes on and on. Most famous crime family in decades. A week ago, they attacked Brig, beat him within an inch of his life, and flung him off a bridge. Then they raided his garden and ate all they could hold, burning the rest.
    A family of dangerous criminals empowered by consuming magical vegetation would be bad enough, but it pales in comparison to this.”
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled weekend edition of the Wunsaponna Times.
    “This news story,” Ymirsson said, with indignation smoldering in his eyes, “paints the Gruffs as heroes who freed the land of Carabas from an evil troll who hoarded the only food in a time of famine. Needless to say, it’s an editorial. This is only one example of a larger problem. How many of you have known of beings who were unjustly treated by the Light and then portrayed as villains by the editor of the Wunsaponna Times, Hans Grimm?”

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44. Crazy Titan Nerd says:

    June 19, 2008 at 3:01 pm

    Everyone writes such creative stories while I blabber on and on about Titan…

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45. Life is Purple says:

    June 19, 2008 at 3:03 pm

    can people please, please rate my peacock story plot?

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46. Crazy Titan Nerd says:

    June 19, 2008 at 3:37 pm

    45- It is interesting. Start writing. I actually usually write tragic stories with a horrible end… sad…

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47. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 19, 2008 at 4:13 pm

    42–The song is by Papa Roach.
    Also: Ha ha! I should do interviews like that for my characters.
    Funny.

    43–Ooh, very good. Well-written and witty. Keep writing.

    44–Hey, without non-fiction writers, fiction writers would have nowhere to do research.

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48. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 19, 2008 at 5:10 pm

    For those who liked it (particularly Alice), I’m reviving Pantagruel’s Ring.
    Hazel Marrowbone spoke up. “A cousin once removed. Margery Accetta. Totally harmless, could hardly perform the simplest witchcraft, but the sweetest old soul you could wish to meet. Her life’s work was a mansion made from gingerbread and candy out in the woods. She spent over ten years improving it.
    Then this gang of teenage roughnecks showed up, kicked her out of the house, and ate it all. According to the Times, she was a wicked hag who lured helpless children with sweets and cooked them in her oven.” On the last word, her eyes flared green. The floor trembled.
    “Our intermediaries have brought slander charges against him in the Light Mandala Court,” Asmodea put in, “but they’ve gotten nowhere. Grim has all the Wunsaponna nobility wrapped around his little finger. Even the speaking animals of Carabas are beginning to listen to him.”
    That brought a startled gasp. “But Carabas has always been neutral!” a vampire in the audience exclaimed. Saraswati shifted uncomfortably. “Some of them go to the Light, others to the Dark as familiars, but they’ve never taken sides as a whole.”
    “Allegiances are shifting,” Ymirsson intoned. “We don’t know who we can trust.”

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49. Alice says:

    June 19, 2008 at 5:24 pm

    48- Yay! Thank you! *reads eagerly*

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50. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 19, 2008 at 6:17 pm

    “Exactly,” Asmodea said. “I remember a friend of mine, Mr. Wrinkanaderm. A soft-hearted imp, never could resist a pitiful face. He took pity on this absolutely horrible, gluttonous girl who had been locked up by the Duke of Sval and told to spin straw into gold, as punishment for stealing food. He helped her out, and the Duke married her, more out of greed than for any sort of love. Of course, Wrink realized eventually what a bad lot they both were, and tried to get their child away to some parents who would care for him- but they used his true name to banish him Beyond the End.” Her eyes flamed. The wood of the table started to smoke and blacken.
    Marcus could not suppress a shudder. He’d heard whispered rumors about Beyond the End, none concrete, all horrible. A paper-white, endlessly flat landscape, freezing cold, utterly dry, populated by monstrosities that made the fiercest chimera look like a kitten. The Justwunmor, the terrible Thenwathapp’n’d… the stories about there were too numerous and too terrifying to recount. The few magical creatures who’d escaped reappeared centuries later, either with amnesia or completely insane.

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51. KaiYves says:

    June 19, 2008 at 6:39 pm

    42- Alex is from 2008, but the portal took her back to 1980. Nobody knows about the Spaceship except TASTA and Sagan. The collaborator’s identity must remain a mystery for the present.

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52. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 19, 2008 at 6:53 pm

    The monsters are named after children’s typical responses to the end of a bedtime story: “Then what happened?” and “Just one more?”

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53. Alice says:

    June 19, 2008 at 7:03 pm

    52- I noticed. Oh, the horror!

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54. KaiYves says:

    June 19, 2008 at 7:05 pm

    Edit of above post- Well, Alex knows now, too.

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55. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 19, 2008 at 8:41 pm

    40- I really like that excerpt! Can’t wait to see what happens when someone flushes…

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56. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 19, 2008 at 8:56 pm

    “It is an outrage,” Komondor rumbled, fire jetting from his nostrils. His large, sensitive ears quivered. “You are all aware, I’m sure, of the Exchange Program?”
    A sizable portion of voices, mostly from the Nearhumans’ quarter, called out “No.”
    “Very well. It is a timeless tradition of the Dragons which fosters understanding between Light and Dark. Children of noble human families from Wunsaponna travel to spend a few years with a dragon family, and vice versa. However, in recent months it has gained a bad reputation. We are portrayed as merciless kidnappers who carry off defenseless princesses. This is exactly the sort of bigotry that the Program is supposed to prevent!” He reared up on his hind legs, his scaly head nearly touching the domed ceiling, and dropped back down, making the floor shake. “It has become a fad among well-intentioned, badly-informed knights and princes to “rescue” participants. This has already resulted in the deaths of several honest, upstanding members of the Monster community. I think I need not tell you who has been encouraging these young fellows to murder us… ” His voice had steadily been gaining volume throughout the speech: now it expanded into a full-throated roar that echoed back and forth in the Court for several minutes.

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57. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 19, 2008 at 9:12 pm

    POSOC, your story is so good! I love all the references to Fairy Tales, from the other point of view. Reminds me a little of Gail Carson Levine’s stories. Keep it up, I want to read more.

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58. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 19, 2008 at 9:52 pm

    POSOC, I really like your story! Especially all the references to Fairy Tales, from the other point of view, of course. Reminds me of Gail Carson Levine’s books. Keep writing, I want to read more!

    Ok, more of the opening of my book. This is a continuation of post 41.

    As it happened, they were right.
    Just as the English teacher, Mrs. Nudny, was reaching the climax of her monologue on Chaucer, a strange sound was heard echoing across the grounds. It was a sort of whooshing, followed by a yelp and a crash. Mrs. Nudny broke off mid-sentence; the entire class was silent, listening. But nothing further happened for a few minutes, and the teacher resumed her lecture. The class fell back into its customary stupor.
    A few minutes later, the noise came again, this time accompanied by a deeper sort of bellow—a different person. The sound of running feet was heard, and then more whooshings and yells, interspersed with colorful oaths signaling that the janitor was in on it now. Trystan yawned and opened his eyes.
    Mrs. Nudny bit her lip nervously and cleared her throat. “Erm—listen, now—” she said. But by now the class was out the door to the boy’s lavatory, from which the strange sounds were issuing. Trystan went with them; his friend, Damon, a brown-haired boy of muscular build, followed silently.
    By the time they’d reached the boy’s toilet, quite a crowd had gathered. Trystan and Damon managed to elbow their way to the front, and stood quietly, leaning against a vacant stall.
    A strange scene greeted their eyes. The floor around the second toilet was under a full three inches of water, and it was in this mess that a boy was wallowing, bellowing like a wounded bull. The janitor was standing over him, looking like he was going to have a stroke, and over all, like an ornamental fountain, a jet of water was spouting from the now continuously flushing toilet.
    As Trystan and Damon watched, stony-faced, the janitor braved the fetid stream and tried helplessly to hit the flusher with his fist. A howl signaled his failure to have any effect whatsoever.
    “Somebody call—blfffg—the headmaster!” he hollered, getting a mouthful of water. None of the students moved; they were not anxious to bring authority into this confused scene. But even as the janitor was taking a breath to wail his request again, a sound was heard over the rushing water: the heavy, disciplined tread of Headmaster Vladislav.
    Trystan flashed a glance at Damon, and the two boys melted back into the mob of students. By the time the headmaster arrived, they were merely faces in the crowd.

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59. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 19, 2008 at 11:54 pm

    Woop sorry for the double post, there. Like the story, POSOC, but not enough for two posts worth of praise. I think my computer stutters.

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60. KaiYves says:

    June 20, 2008 at 11:21 am

    Part 3 of the COSMOS story:
    “Um, where are we going, doctor?” I asked, regaining my composure.
    “Our current quest will eventually take us to a distant and exotic world. But from where we are now, we cannot even see the cluster of galaxies it lies within.”
    All of a sudden, I realized something.
    “Is it just me or are the galaxies closer together now?” I asked
    “It’s not your imagination. We’re in the Hercules Cluster- the individual galaxies here are about 300 thousand light-years apart- much closer than in open space. A light-year being six trillion miles.” The doctor told me.
    “Still a bit too far away to stop in and say hello.” I remarked. “Say, we’re not in any danger here, are we?”
    “Not here. Galaxies do collide sometimes-there’s an interesting remnant of such a collision in Pegasus that looks a bit like a splash in a pond- but these galaxies are fairly safe.”
    I felt somewhat reassured, but it’s hard to feel calm when you’re flying through space with somebody you met ten minutes ago!
    “Local Group dead ahead.” TASTA reported, pointing out the window.
    “Yes, that’s it, all twenty galaxies. To keep with the ocean metaphor, it’s a sparse and rather typical chain of islands. Now we are only 2 million light-years from home.”
    “ONLY?”
    “Distance is relative.” TASTA said.
    The doctor pressed a few buttons on his desk, and the floor seemed to open up, showing what was beneath us- a glowing spiral galaxy.
    “Holy Mackerel!” I shouted, jumping into the air.
    “Nothing to fear, it’s a bit like a glass-bottomed boat.” The doctor reassured me.
    “So, I can’t fall?” I asked, still shaking.
    “You cannot fall. Humans! You have to tell them everything twice…” TASTA muttered.
    “On the maps of space, this galaxy is called M31- Andromeda. It’s a great storm of stars and gas and dust.” The doctor said.
    He was absolutely right, as the spiral shape reminded me of hurricanes. Andromeda, however, looked peaceful and beautiful, even the bright center where I knew there was a black hole.
    “Isn’t Andromeda the closest galaxy to Earth?” I asked
    “That is correct. These point of light surrounding it are globular star clusters caught by its gravity. We’re headed for one right now.”
    I watched the cluster loom larger and larger in the window, excited.
    You wanted exotic? Well, you sure got it!

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61. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 20, 2008 at 2:38 pm

    When the thunder had died down, Ymirsson tapped his staff on the floor. “We must decide on a course of action. This cannot continue for long. The balance is already tipping in favor of the Light.”
    Asmodea lashed her tail. “We must fight! We’ll give them a war more terrible than the Umbromachy at the First Telling!”

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62. KaiYves says:

    June 20, 2008 at 3:46 pm

    Oh, and here’s an interview with Alex, using Bookworm’s format:.

    Real Name: Alexa Samantha Day
    People Know You As: Alex
    Date and Place Of Birth: South Point, New York, October 4, 1993
    Address: 258 Jubilation Street, South Point, NY, US, Earth, etc…
    Job: Student/ explorer
    Who lives under the same roof as you? My mom, my dad and two tropical fish.
    Children: Never, but clones would be cool.
    Education: Just graduated ninth grade
    Pets: None, but my mom has two tropical fish
    Book you’d recommend to a friend: X-Men: The Ultimate Guide
    Favorite TV Show: Spider-Man
    Favorite Singer: None, but John Williams is my favorite musician
    What do you waste your money on? Comic books!
    Guilty Pleasure: Exploring every room in a new building
    Life Changing Experience: Seeing The Phantom Menace!
    Strangest Job You Ever Held: Space explorer
    Bumper Sticker Statement: “Wookiees need love, too”
    A Little Known Fact About You: I can eat with chopsticks.
    Dumbest Thing I Ever Did: Trying to use a Jedi Mind Trick on the school bully
    What Really Sets You Off: Not getting to go away on vacation
    Celebrity Encounters: I guess the doctor is famous, apparently he had a TV show back in the day…
    Favorite Website: starwars.com
    One Thing You Would Change About Yourself: I’d like to be braver…
    People who Knew You in High School Thought: What a weirdo.
    Who Do You Most Admire: Gail Simone, role-model to all women who love comics
    Parting Shot: I’m just a simple girl trying to make my way in the Universe.

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63. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 20, 2008 at 4:17 pm

    Who am I to contradict a meme?
    Real Name: Marcus Dimwood
    People Know You As: Marcus
    Date and Place of Birth: October 13, 234 FT; Grizelda Yaga Memorial Hospital, Little Forsake, Deepforest
    Job: Sorcerer
    Who lives under the same roof as you? Saraswati, my familiar- she’s a Great Horned Owl
    Books you’d recommend to a friend: The Simpleton’s Grimoire, Alchymie by Farragut
    Favorite TV Show: What’s “TV?”
    Favorite sin and messily, just to of courseger: Sprodz the Terrible
    What do you waste your money on? Fresh Squirrel-Marmot Medley: Saraswati has expensive tastes
    Guilty Pleasure: Sleeping late
    Life Changing Experience: Receiving my first staff
    Strangest Job you Ever Held: Don’t tell anyone, but I was a magic carpet cleaner for a couple weeks… just to earn enough money to rent the tower, you know…
    Bumper Sticker Statement: What’s a “bumper sticker?”
    A Little Known Fact about You: I like hamsters- Saraswati makes a point of eating them loudly and messily, just to get on my nerves
    Dumbest Thing You Ever Did: Listen to Saraswati’s fashion advice
    What Really Sets You Off: Saraswati
    Celebrity Encounters: Hazel Marrowbone nodded to me once- does that count?
    Favorite Website: That’s an odd way of putting it, but I like the Tarantula Ballroom up north- there are always great webs there.
    One Thing You Would Change About Yourself: I’d like to be better at sorcery
    People Who Knew You In High School Thought: I don’t know- I’m not up to Mind-Reading yet.
    Who Do You Most Admire? Hazel Marrowbone
    Parting Shot: Apparently a fellow in the Tellerworld is chronicling my exploits on some sort of spiderweb. So far, they seem accurate, unlike most of the stories, which appear to follow Hans Grim’s version too much. Read it!

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64. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 20, 2008 at 4:19 pm

    What the cake? “Favorite sin and messily, just to ofcourseger” should be shortened to “Favorite Singer.”

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65. The Man For Aeiou&Pete says:

    June 20, 2008 at 4:56 pm

    This is the book I’m working on, Animal Kingdoms:
    Introduction

    Humans, as a whole, have under estimated the rest of the animal kingdom. Some, of course, have said that animals are smart, and may be equal to, or smarter then, Humans. But most people refuse to believe in these, because, of course, we only human.

    But the animals are smart. Very smart. So smart that the main reason humans don’t believe in smart animals is that they don’t have there own governments. Well…

    They do.

    There is no way to know from looking at animals. There is no way to know from walking into the jungles and searching. The animals are very cleaver in this regard.

    The only way to find out is by them telling you.

    Or reading this book.

    This book is a compilation of the year 2006 in the animal kingdoms.

    Thats right. Kingdoms. More then one. Four, in fact. Bird, Pet, Fish, and Primate. The kingdoms, altho sometimes it feels like it, are not separate. They cause ripples into the rest of the kingdoms. And then something happens. No kingdom is on it’s own.

    So now, Let the animals tell us there story.

    CHAPTER 1

    KINGDOM OF THE BIRDS

    “Immigration service, Migration Department, How may I help you?” ask the Large Toucan. He was a typical with a rainbow beck and a black body. He held the phone to his beck clumsily, as he was still use to the older, more popular Bird to Bird Tella or BBT. It was a clunky system of wires, extending from root to root of the trees. The main problem with the system was the fact that if you were located outside of the Main jungle, it was very hard to talk to some one in the system.
    The process worked (And, indeed, works) like this: a bird, calling from, say, New York City (And we all know what that bird would be!), would use the Phone to contact the Tella/Phone switch, located in the Communication service of the the Government. The Birds working here would connect the Phone line to the Tella line. This gave a lack of clarity, and, most often, the birds would be hooked up to the wrong bird. This caused problems, particular in October and November when the birds were planing migrations. If the birds were hooked up to the wrong tella number, a whole flock could miss there Reservations in the nesting trees. This was big. If the birds missed there reservations, the flock had to find a unoccupied tree in the jungle outside of the Main jungle. This was more dangerous then flying solo, or even going into a human sellment. Because of the hunters. But Getting back to the Phone/Tella operations:
    After one to many times having Trouble with the switch, the Birds got rid of the party that had be in power for over twelve years, and voted in the Reform party, who’s main issue was the tella/phone switch. They put phones into the main offices that are needed by non-jungle birds:
    The Immigration service.
    The Flockless service.
    The Food service.
    And this is how the toucan came to be answering a phone.
    It was a plain phone, with the odd mouth piece that claps to the beck, making it hard to talk. This may seem odd, but the phone works by reading beck movements, and translating them into birdsong. The tella work more conventionally, with a place to talk into, but this also limited it to a short range device. So the phone was here to stay, at least in the Immigration service. The flockless and food services’ phones were taken out soon after they were put in, because there was really no need for them. The flockless birds mostly moved down to the main jungle year round, and the food service was closed soon after the phones were put in. But immigration, well, that was big. It was a odd service, as almost all birds lived in the kingdom of the birds, so it’s main job was to help with migration, and, a little bit, help with a change of classification from pet to bird. The toucan was the secretary of migration’s chief. He was in charge of righting the flight paths.
    He was slightly upset about a pay cut he had gotten that day, and so He was getting cranky about every thing. As the bird on the Phone Told him the flock number, Tom, For that was his name, started to Get antzy.
    “Number 994! Bah! Get away!”

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66. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 20, 2008 at 5:12 pm

    65- Bird, Fish, Pet and Primate? That seems rather limiting. I would do something like Land, Subterranean, Water, and Air.

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67. The Man For Aeiou&Pete says:

    June 20, 2008 at 5:25 pm

    66- but this made sense…. some how…

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68. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 20, 2008 at 5:42 pm

    67- It doesn’t seem right to leave out the animals who don’t fit in those categories. You could change the Bird Kingdom to Air, and your first excerpt would require only minimal editing.

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69. The Man For Aeiou&Pete says:

    June 20, 2008 at 5:49 pm

    68- true. Thanks!

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70. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 20, 2008 at 7:37 pm

    Oh I like this. Here’s the interviews for my two top characters:

    Real Name: Trystan Apollyon Evander
    People Know You As: Trystan
    Date and Place of Birth: May 5th, 2089, Greater New York Maternity Center, New York City, New York, USA
    Job: Student/Rebel Leader
    Who lives under the same roof as you? About 30 people.
    Books you’d recommend to a friend: Bartlett’s Quotations, 30th edition.
    Favorite TV Show: I don’t watch TV. My source for news is far more accurate than The Daily Show.
    Favorite Band: The Chaos Machine. They actually use real instruments.
    What do you waste your money on? People less fortunate than me. And it’s not a waste, they need it.
    Guilty Pleasure: Pranking government officials
    Life-changing Experience: The Ahriman coup
    Bumper Sticker Statement: “It is dangerous to be right when the government is wrong.”
    A Little Known Fact about You: I really have a thing for Kyrra. But don’t tell her, she’d never believe it.
    Dumbest Thing You Ever Did: Get caught
    What Really Sets You Off: Wealthy Ahriman supporters who steal from innocent people.
    Celebrity Encounters: The Ahriman. As I was destroying his secret weapon for taking over the world.
    Favorite Website: HomemadeAnarchy.web
    One Thing You Would Change About Yourself: Be less afraid for the ones I love. I know they can take care of themselves, but you never know…
    People Who Knew You In High School Thought: Pretty much what people think of me now. Handsome, daring, charismatic…you know.
    Who Do You Most Admire? My father. Or maybe Kyrra.
    Parting Shot: There is danger from all men. The only maxim of a free government ought to be to trust no man living with power to endanger the public liberty.

    Real Name: Kyrra Nthanda Nyx
    People know you as: Kyrra
    Date and Place of Birth: August 27, 2089, Albany State Hospital, New York, USA
    Job: Student/Spy
    Who lives under the same roof as you? My father, Aldric Cronus Nyx II.
    Books you’d recommend to a friend: “A Second Retelling of the Legend of Robin Hood”
    Favorite TV Show: Avenging Angels. It’s about a bunch of vigilantes who go after bad guys…very ancient western.
    Favorite Singer: JJ BlackJack. His stuff is sort of half tech, half vocal. Awesome beats.
    What do you waste your money on? Movie chips. I can’t get enough films.
    Guilty Pleasure: Chocolate. REAL chocolate, mind you. That and watching ancient action movies.
    Life-changing experience: the death of my mother.
    Bumper Sticker Statement: “I’m definitely smarter than your Honor student.”
    Little-known fact about you: I kind of have a thing for Trystan. But don’t tell him, he’d never believe it. Oh, and I’m a spy for him. Only about five people know that.
    Dumbest thing you ever did: subscribe to Teen World magazine. I swear, I lost half my brain cells.
    What Really Sets You Off: When Trystan gets all gung-ho and forgets himself trying to protect others. He’s going to mess up some day and get himself killed.
    Celebrity Encounters: Royce Tamarro, lead of the show Avenging Angels. He’s even hotter in real life, if that’s possible.
    Favorite Website: IMDB.web, the Internet Movie Database
    One thing you would change about yourself: Be less of a know-it-all. I tend to have this need to prove myself…sometimes it gets a little annoying. To other people.
    People who knew you in High School thought: Beautiful and aloof. A wealthy Ahriman supporter.
    Who do you most admire? Trystan, even with all his faults.
    Parting shot: Looks are deceiving.

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71. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

    June 20, 2008 at 8:05 pm

    Note: “Umbromachy” is Latin/Greek for “shadow war,” the first war between Light and Dark.
    Another note: They’re fundamentally different, but neither Light or Dark is “evil” or “good-” a view that Hans Grim is trying to change.
    ~~~
    “Asmodea is right,” bellowed Komondor. “We cannot allow this to continue.”
    “No!” Hazel shouted, springing up from her chair. Her eyes were turning an icy green, like sunlight filtering through a frozen lake. “That will only give them an excuse to attack us! We’ll be confirming Grim’s libel!”
    “So be it!” snapped Asmodea. Her eyes flared up again, great streamers of yellow fire trailing in the wake of her movement, setting her hair alight. Komondor rose to his feet, his spiked tail breaking the sound barrier with every lash. Even so, Marcus could hear the two females as clearly as if they’d been alone in the room. “When his city is trampled into ash and rubble, he’ll be begging to apologize- if we leave him alive!”
    “We’ll be destroyed!” Ymirsson rumbled. “Have you seen the censuses? The Light’s creatures outnumber us more than two to one! Deepforest will be burned to the ground!”

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72. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan says:

    June 21, 2008 at 6:47 am

    While this book is not unfinished, I would like to add to it, maybe more dialogue… or an extra scene.
    Here it is…

    
    “Beeeeeeep, hard drive destroyed.”

    “What??” I said, surprised at what happened to my new Mac.

    For the past few weeks, my apple had been acting pretty strangely. First, two hours after I opened an email from a medical school (it didn’t specify which), the computer started making sharp, barking noises, almost like a cough, but more mechanical. When it was not doing that, it made noises like a slow intake of air, and then a fast, loud, expelling of it. It also, when off, made groaning noises. Okay, I thought back then, probably a problem with the fan, I’ll fix it tomorrow or the next day.

    A week went by.

    Later, its screen was covered with reddish dots that the mouse seemed to be attracted to and vibrated whenever it touched it, like it was scratching a bug bite (in its case, a bug ‘byte’, ha-ha, get it, B-Y-T-E). The computer seemed to get very overheated. In fact, it left burns on my wood desk, and fused to my pencil.

    That got me a little alarmed.

    3 minutes before the crash, something really weird happened, the sign on the back, you know the half-eaten apple, became red and shattered. So I called Del, one of my friends.
    “Dude, something is seriously wrong with your comp’, dude.”
    I said back “you don’t know the half of it. Any problems with your Dell, Del?”
    “Sorta, Mac, my Dell is making weird coughing noises, dude,” he said, in his surfer accent.
    Right that moment, the beep of someone on the other line sounded- almost in an urgent way. I checked caller ID… Mike.
    “Hey, Mike”
    “Hello, Mac. There seems to be a problem with my program on my computer”
    “What is it?” I asked, knowing what it was.
    “It is covered with red freckles with a 4 mm circumference.” He said, proving my worst fears correct.
    “Before that, was it making coughing noises and sneezing?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
    “Yes.”
    “Oh.”

    “What?!?”

    Right then the keys on my computer started blowing off the keyboard- like they were being shot out of from a gun. Since they were so overheated, when they hit the ceiling, they melted to it and splattered, like a bug hitting a windshield.

    HA-HA YOUR COMPUTER HAS THE BLACK PLAGUE VIRUS- IT IS PAST CURING- NOT THAT I WANT TO… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA “SHUT UP!” I sai-HAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…
    HEE-HEE BYE-BYE HAVE FUN GETTING A NEW COMPUTER MAC-N.-TISH@COMPUTERWORLD.COM
    “He interrupted my speech designator! No-one interrupts my speech designator!” I said angriAND ANOTHER THING, EVERY COMPUTER WILL BE DOWN IN 13 DAYS FROM NOW… EVERY SINGLE ONE IN EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY
    JUST TRY AND STOP ME.

    Beeeeeeeep hard drive destroyed
    “What???”
    (Hmm déjà vu- biblio-style… the uncanny feeling you have written this before.)

    So I called Del and told him the new information
    “DUDE!!!” he said astonished at the new facts
    “Hey” I said “how come it went for me before you?”
    “I dunno but it started last week when I did my monthly email check.”
    “Wait… monthly?”
    “Yeah, you got a problem with that, dude?”
    “No” I said “I just figured out why, I opened it before you”
    “But mike opens his mail every 4 hours, dude, so why didn’t he get it first?”
    “He was dealing with 7 viruses that were stopping him from email, Word, PowerPoint, printing, Photoshop, Internet, and printing again.”
    “Okay dude, that makes sense”
    “Hey, can I come over to your house and try to get some information out of your computer?”
    “Sure, dude”

    So I went over and looked at it, but the funny thing was, there were no program problems, no hardware havoc, and no software snags, nothing…
    except a little opaque, pale yellow, slightly vibrating goop we found in the wires.

    “DUDE!!” Del said, when it oozed onto his hands.

    Wondering what it was, we went to the nearest scientist, Sy Entis-Clische. When we entered, we heard 3 small explosions, and the unmistakable noise of a laser going off: Fzzzzt!!! After, we heard a small groan and we heard a small “I’m ok”, followed by a scared, “master, are you sure?”

    We opened the door to see a steaming (angry as well as literally !) madman professor and a hunchbacked, unhygienic, man with a singed off eyebrow and warted nose.

    “Honestly, if you weren’t my half brother, rogI Hinchmin- Clische, I would have incinerated you years ago!”

    “My apologies master, I was a fool to get you a titanium barrier for protection from the explosion, instead of gamma ray enhanced septonium pidroxide”, the small, hunchbacked cliché said.

    “I will live, you, on the other hand will not, you have crossed the lin- oh! Hello, what are you doing over here?”

    “We have a scientific question for you.” I said mildly terrified of this charred, old man.
    “Uh… yeah, dude, what he said” I could sense the fear coming from his voice.

    “Hee-haw asks away!” He said in a maniacal voice, and then dropped to an ominous whisper. rogI, it seems that you will live to see another day, I will require your menial assistance once again.”
    “Thank you lord! Thank you so much!” he bowed down so low his face touched the floor.

    “Well, what is the problem?” the madman asked.
    We told him.

    “I see,” he said. “Do you have a sample of this plasma?”
    The person I entrusted to hold the goo was staring at the floor (so he would not offend the scientist) and thus did not know he was being spoken to. Five seconds of staring later…

    “Oh, uh right, dude, sorry, I spaced out for a second.”
    Del handed Sy the Ziploc.
    The professor looked at the goo under light, got a microscope image, wrote down some scarily hard math, took out a milligram with tweezers and told rogI to taste it. rogI did and was reduced to a heap of:
    101001010100100101001011101010101111111000000011101010010110011001001000100101011010101010011001111001010010100101001010010101010100010101010000
    Except it was in a flash of green light, and quickly the binary dissolved and a whitish mist appeared in the air and started floating over to the computer. When it hit, there was a flash of neon green light and the binary was on the computer. It dissolved into the background, and was replaced by rogI.

    We all talked franticly for several minutes and blamed each other, tried to understand what happened, but it really boiled to one big “HUH?”
    After about 7 minutes, we heard “Um master Sy, I exist, would you mind saving me?”

    In the confusion, we had forgotten why we were confused, and left rogI to the lion screen-savers.

    “I do not care about you; but if these numbskulls want to try to save you, they may, do either of you want to?”

    Del found a profound interest with the floor after those words were said.
    Sensing no one else was going to offer, I did, and urged Del to too. Myself alone with only a very creepy old man whom I did not trust I did not want.

    “Okay, dude, but only if you promise nothing bad will happen… at all”

    I didn’t promise, but he came anyways, preferring coming to being alone with ‘Sy the Psycho’

    When we tasted the goo, it tasted like something metallic, but fresher. Then the taste spread all over our tongues and became very bitter, then painful. We tried to scream for help, but found our tongues to be sharp, cold, 1s and 0s, maybe 50 of them. One of them touched a tooth, which also transformed, then another, and another. Soon, our mouths were entirely filled with these two numbers…
    And then I made the mistake of swallowing one. Due to this event, I avoid saying long words to this day. The swallowed 1 fell, and hit my esophagus, which dissolved and landed in my stomach. Now everyone knows this, but I will remind you that digestion is caused by heavily diluted hydrochloric acid…

    Heavily diluted hydrochloric acid
    Esophagus
    Stomach bacteria
    Half digested rutabagas

    Long, long words.
    Letters flew everywhere, hitting my ribs, my kidneys, and my heart, even my appendix.

    Then my skin.
    I was just off- white numbers. No part of me was left, not one blood cell, not one neuron.

    Nothing.

    Then I was a mist, floating towards a computer.

    On contact, I heard a quiet, evil voice.

    “Hello. Mac. Del, welcome to my realm, or as they say here, 10100011101001001010100101010101001000101101001101001011010010100101100101010”

    “Who are you?”

    “I am an experiment of that old fool ‘Clische’ he was trying to make a version of those old ‘word helper things’ that weren’t annoying. But instead, he made me, someone who is determined to rule the world.

    “Do you have a plan, or are you just free styling?” I asked, wanting to know his plan.

    “Of course I have a plan! Here, I’ll tell you it.”
    He told a ten-minute speech, but the main bits were this, he sent weird goo to every computer on earth. This goo transports things to the computer, so, since he had control of all computers on earth, he made it so the computers would send out the goo in a vapor, the computers coughing, and everything, he did just for fun, and to make holes in the compute, so the goo would fly out, easier. And since he controlled the computer that would not be damaged, he controlled the world if it entered the computer.

    “And thus concludes my plan.”

    Then I had a plan. I got it when I looked at my hand, and typed on it were the words ‘1 gigabyte.’

    I said, “Can I go now?”

    “Fine, fine. You may, nothing can change my plan.”

    When we all left that 20-year-old giant, weak, computer, I took a nap, and read a good book.

    3 ours later I heard a loud scream of annoyance from the computer.

    I smiled.

    You know why I am glad?

    Read the next page to find out…

    The computer was an 80-gigabyte computer.
    I person is worth 1 gigabyte. 

    He only enough memory to hold a maximum of 80 people, but he didn’t even manage that. He only managed to solve the world’s trash problem and get a good amount of greenhouse gases.

    And 2 McDonalds.

    Right now, I have just 1 word to say to him.

    “Thanks!”

    Del has too.

    “Uh… umm… oh, right! Yeah, thanks, dude.”

    (Okay, maybe, 7)

     A gigabyte is a unit of storing information, it holds a ton of stuff, and an average computer has 90. The virus thing (its actual name is Lloyd) exhausted the computers memory before he captured the whole world.
    Oh, and no damage was done when all the computers blew up, they were all obsolete.
    People just all got Mac OS X Panthers” and the new one:
    Mac OS X “Feline” Thingy From Bookworm’s Book”

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73. The Man For Aeiou&Pete says:

    June 21, 2008 at 7:31 pm

    72- Macs don’t get viruses.
    And your still on Panther?
    Upgrade to Leopard!
    What? most computers have a lot more then 90 GB. 250 is more like it.
    Thats not a book.

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74. The Man For Aeiou&Pete says:

    June 22, 2008 at 12:59 pm

    What, no new posts?

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75. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 22, 2008 at 3:29 pm

    New post HERE
    Hee hee
    I have another story I’m working on. I think I’ll post it. It’s called Michaelangelo for now, although at this point in the story Michaelangelo has not shown up (per se).

    I sauntered casually down Rodeo Drive, feigning interest in the haut couture shops, but really using the windows as mirrors to scrutinize the crowds behind me. Most were tourists—dressed in t-shirts and baggy shorts, snapping pictures of gaudy signs and landmarks—but a few native LA’ers wandered through the crowd, looking disgustedly at the doughy white legs of the tourists. No one utterly suspicious; maybe he’d given up, finally, put off by the number of people…
    But no…there! A shadowy man leaned casually against a wall on the far side of the street, watching me. My stomach clenched when I saw him—I was scared, afraid of his confidence, that he would be following me in broad daylight. He yawned; I took advantage of the moment to surreptitiously slide my cell phone from my pocket, pressing the speed dial number for my mom’s house. I touched the speaker phone button so I wouldn’t have to later, if he approached me.
    The phone seemed to ring for an eternity. I stole a glance at my stalker; he seemed bored now, glancing away frequently to the tourists. I bit my lip nevertheless, and drummed my fingers on the phone’s case.
    “Hello?”
    “Mom?” My voice sounded slightly higher than usual; I struggled to sound normal so she wouldn’t be afraid.
    “Hi, honey. What’s wrong?” She heard my fear anyways.
    I used the phrase she’d taught me when I was a little girl: “Dad says for you to come get me right now.”
    There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Where are you?” she said, her voice tense.
    “On Rodeo. In front of Chanel.”
    “I’ll meet you at the Via Rodeo Garage.” There was a beat. “Honey—”
    “Mom, please just come! I’ll explain later.”
    “Okay, see you in ten. Stay right where you are.”
    I closed the phone. The mysterious man was watching me again, but with only a mildly irritated expression, not one of anger or—I gulped—perversion. Living in LA, it was the latter I was most worried about.
    The idea made me wonder, for a moment, just why he had chosen me to stalk, and not someone else. I was pretty but not exceptionally so, and there were plenty of girls—ones far prettier and more willing than me—for him to prey on. Certainly these girls were not on short demand here in the heart of Hollywood. And yet he had pursued me with a single-minded focus for nearly two hours now.
    Funny—he didn’t look like a stalker, or at least like the seedy, stereotypical ones of the movies. He was tall, nearly six foot, with longish black hair and a pale face—a young one, I realized, perhaps only in its mid-twenties. He was dressed strangely as well, wearing a dark military-style jacket that emphasized his broad shoulders, and baggy Turkish-style pants gathered into black leather boots. Definitely a creeper, I decided in my mind.
    I turned and walked purposefully down the street to the parking garage. The man stretched and followed me at a distance, from the other side of the street. Glancing in shop windows, I noted that his walk was strangely graceful; for a moment a lion’s padding gate came to mind. I shook my head—this man was just as dangerous as a lion. How could I admire anything about him?
    The parking garage loomed in front of me, and as I approached it I grew more and more nervous. Surely he would stop me, force me to go with him, keep me from escaping…I increased my pace until I was nearly jogging.
    There were no windows here, so I turned around quickly to see if he was closer—I could not see him through the crowds of tourists hurrying to their cars before their one-hour limit was up. But what if he was ahead, waiting to spring? Perhaps I should…
    A sleek black BMW came screeching around the corner, nearly running over a middle-aged tourist and his corpulent wife. I ran to it, relieved, and jumped into its black leather interior. My mom, with a slightly manic look on her face, rammed the car into gear and sped out of the garage.
    I did not see the man amongst the faces that blurred past us.
    Once we were out of the lot my mom turned to me, her eyes wide. “What happened?” she demanded.
    “Watch where you’re going, Mom!” She jerked her eyes back to the road, but didn’t seem to be concentrating on it. I sighed and answered her in a calm voice.
    “There was a creepy guy following me. I just felt uncomfortable. It was nothing.”
    “It didn’t sound like nothing on the phone.”
    I bit my lip. I had been scared. But my mom had a tendency to freak out whenever anything remotely dangerous—or that could be construed as remotely dangerous—came near me.
    My mom was a high-powered celebrity lawyer, a very good one, as it happened. She was cool and calculating in court, but at home…I guess after losing my dad, she was super-afraid of losing me, too. I could understand that. But it didn’t make her overprotectiveness any more bearable.
    “I was freaked out. But there were lots of people around, mom, it was fine,” I explained. My mom, whose mouth was set in a hard, thin line, didn’t look convinced. But we drove home silently, without further discussion.
    We lived in the hills above LA, in a modestly well-off neighborhood called Forest Grove. I laughed every time I saw the sign at the entrance of our street; the closest thing to a forest here was a field of scrub brush. Our house was towards the top of the track, on a cul-de-sac known as Wildflower Court.
    As we pulled into the driveway, a flash of black in the corner of my eye nearly gave me a heart attack—was it possible that the stalking man had followed me here?—but then I heard a low croak, and realized it was just a crow lifting off from our lawn. I sighed and shook my head; there was no way that a person could follow a speeding car. I was safe here.
    I followed my mom inside. We were in the process of redecorating, and Mandy, the interior decorator, was there, putting some fake roses in the entrance way. “Hey, girls!” she said as we entered. I couldn’t help but grin. Mandy was an old family friend, with more energy than a Chihuahua on Monster. My mom and I loved her dearly.
    “I know we said no flowers, Monica, but I saw these and just had to buy them for you,” she said, patting them affectionately. “They match the molding so perfectly!”
    “Well…” My mom didn’t like flowers—the only time she saw them was when we visited Dad’s grave. But while she was an exceptional lawyer, my mom was definitely not an artist. She was helpless when it came to decorating.
    “All right, Mandy, if you think they match. But no more, okay?” She jumped as her cell phone rang, and rushed out of the room to answer it.
    I patted Mandy on the back. “They’re lovely. Don’t worry about my mom.”
    “Thanks, Kyrra, you’re a doll. Hey, do you think I should use the Spanish lace or the black netting on the couch?”
    “The lace, it matches the curtains.” I, unlike my mom, had some sense of aesthetics. Mandy smiled in agreement and went back to work.
    I wandered into the kitchen to find some food. I’d been leaving school, on my way to work before noticing my stalker; consequently I hadn’t eaten since lunch.
    I pulled some corn flakes from the cupboard and made a bowl of cereal, humming along with my MP3 player and thinking about my day. School had been pretty good; I’d gotten an A on my English test, and my current crush had gone out of his way to talk to me. Small things, but ones that made me happy.
    A noise behind me made me whip around. Blake Gaitz, Mandy’s intern decorator, was standing directly behind me, leaning against the wall and watching me eat. I glared and took a step backwards; he was an unpleasant sort of person, near enough to my own age to be annoying, but old enough to treat me like a little kid. Not that he was really outwardly mean or vindictive; there was just something about him, something I couldn’t ever put my finger on, that made me squirm uncomfortably when he walked into the room.
    He was short and compact, like wrestler, with dark hair and a face that might have been described as handsome but for the impish expression it usually wore, and his glittering, shifting eyes. His personality matched his appearance: at first meeting, he was pleasant, even submissive; but after a while, you began to feel that every word he spoke had a double meaning, and that his obsequiousness was really sarcasm. I avoided him as much as possible.
    “Hi, Kyrra. Have a good day at school?”
    I went back to my cereal. “Sure.”
    “Heard you wandered off. Was something wrong?”
    I twisted around for a second time. “How do you know about that?”
    His eyes glittered, but his expression was innocent as he shrugged. “Heard your mom talking to Mandy. So who’s this new boyfriend who’s following you? Anyone I know?” He grinned in a way that made me grind my teeth.
    “Whatever, Blake.” I turned up my MP3 player, but I still heard his laugh as he walked out of the room. That boy, I thought. I want to catch him some day and make him feel inferior, just once…
    Luckily, Mandy and Blake left soon after that, and my mom and I were alone in the house. Over dinner, my mom informed me that she would be going on a business trip.
    “I’m sorry, honey, it’s just that this guy’s in a real fix. Embezzled money from his studio or something. It’s only up to Monterey for a few days.”
    “It’s fine, Mom.” I actually kind of liked staying home alone, when I could do whatever I wanted.
    She smiled tiredly at me and cleared away the dishes, planting a kiss on my head as she passed. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”she said. I nodded, and she laughed as she walked to her study—presumably for her usual late-night computer work that was the reason behind her perpetual weariness. I sighed and went up to bed.

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76. Crazy Titan Nerd---Titanite says:

    June 22, 2008 at 3:45 pm

    47- Rather a good point!!!!!
    74- I have a new post here!!!!!

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77. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan says:

    June 22, 2008 at 3:58 pm

    73:
    1. True, but in a fictional world they do receive Homicidal Art. Int. viruses created by deranged mad scientists.
    2. This was set awhile ago.
    3. Sorry. Typo.
    4. Correct, it is a short story.
    Thanks for the comments.

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78. KaiYves says:

    June 22, 2008 at 7:43 pm

    Comments on post 30?

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79. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 23, 2008 at 5:36 pm

    78 (30)–I like it, especially the last line (“Drooling is NOT cool.) Ha ha! I take it it is not supposed to be in italics, tho?

    I know it’s long, but comments on post 75?

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80. KaiYves says:

    June 23, 2008 at 7:36 pm

    79- Yes, I’m having a bit of trouble with writing in italics.

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81. Alice says:

    June 24, 2008 at 12:50 pm

    Ack, I can’t keep up.

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82. Cassie says:

    June 24, 2008 at 9:23 pm

    I’m a major bookworm, and I estimate I read about 50,000 hours per month. School is such a bore because It’s astoundingly easy. Does n e one else have this problem?

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83. Alice says:

    June 24, 2008 at 9:38 pm

    82- YES. No me gusta las clases.

    But this is the wrong thread.

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84. Otzi says:

    June 24, 2008 at 10:18 pm

    82:ME! ME! ME! The only subject I have trouble in is math, and that’s a psychological problem, completely unrelated to ability. I start crying whenever I have to do math. It’s wierd.

    ANYWAY, books,

    I was planning to participate in NaNoWriMo last year, but with Boarding and my lack of a computer, it wasn’t very feasible. This year it might happen, but I’m taking lots of advanced courses and I’m participating in two sports (maybe). So I doubt there will be time to write a novel on the side…

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85. KaiYves says:

    June 25, 2008 at 9:27 am

    COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 4:
    “Sensors indicate that this cluster contains about one million separate stars, doctor.” TASTA said.
    “Thank you, TASTA. It reminds me somehow of a swarm of bees. And every bee is a sun.”
    Wouldn’t want to get stung by one of those bees
    I thought.
    The doctor walked towards a sort of table with a black top that was near the back of the room we were in. Pressing some buttons revealed the course we had taken in small, glowing pictures on the surface of the “table”.
    “Uh huh…hmmm… two hundred million… okay… We’re making excellent time, Alex. In fact, right now-”
    The table suddenly displayed one large image of a spiral galaxy.
    “Yes, that’s it now…” The doctor said, walking back to his desk. “This is our own Milky Way, seen from the outside. The home galaxy of the human species. And there, in the backwaters of that spiral arm, is our destination, Alex. A planet called Earth.” He pointed, out the window.
    I couldn’t speak, I was too amazed. The Milky Way didn’t look too different from Andromeda, but just knowing that within this storm of stardust was everything I’d ever known blew my mind.
    “Every point of light you see is one of our galaxy’s four billion suns. I’ll just bring us into the galactic plane…”
    We now saw the galaxy nearly edge on, like a CD, as we plunged into one of the spiral arms. Mexico and Paris had nothing on this!
    “Have you guys, um… run into anybody, er… else on your explorations? Any, um… Others, I mean?”
    “Not yet, but we are still searching.” TASTA said
    What looked like a wisp of cloud now filled the window.
    “A supernova remnant, Alex.”
    “You mean the remains of a star that blew up?”
    “Yes, it’s the outer layers of a recently exploded star. Its starstuff is being returned to space.”
    A bright white light suddenly began to pulse through the cabin.
    “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

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86. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 25, 2008 at 3:33 pm

    82–YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS bleah I hate school. Especially when there’s some really good book I want to read and I can’t because I have to do CALCULUS or some other horrible subject like that. I get around it by either taking AP classes or just writing stories or drawing in my notebook so it looks like I’m taking notes. Heh heh sneeeeeeaky.
    End of mini-rant. I’m rawther hyper today if you couldn’t tell.

    85–What happened what happened what happened? IS something wrong? Write more pleeeeeaze

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87. PÖßÖC Ön Ä German KEYBÖÄRD says:

    June 25, 2008 at 3:41 pm

    “We need to investigate Grim,” Hazel opined. “These editorials have only been going on for about half a year. His paper was typically very fair-minded before that. Something unusual took place and we need to find out what it was.”
    “We need,” Ymirsson intoned, “a Quest.”

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88. The Bookworm & Lurline (10 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

    June 25, 2008 at 4:32 pm

    41-Section 1: Oooh! This is like an Introduction! Who are they?
    Section 2: Introducing… *Drumroll* The Main Character!
    In Post 58, Section 3: *Laughs* I think I like this even more than the part from the middle!
    In Post 70, Two Interviews: Really great! It helps to have more background…

    43-Section 1: Hillarious Already! I can tell something grand will unfold!
    Section 2: Even better! Reminds me of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles…
    Section 3: This is brilliant!
    In 48, Section 4: I have no questions, except: Will there be more?
    In 50, Section 5: Such puns!
    In 56, Section 6: The characters are also great!
    In 61, Section 7: Will we ever meet Light?
    In 63, Marcus’ Interview: *Laughs*
    In 71, Section 8: It’s getting more exciting…
    In 87, Section 9: “Opined?” A Quest! *Dramatic Music*

    60-COSMOS Story, Part 3: “You wanted a great story? While, you sure got it!” I don’t read much Sci-Fi, so this is a great change!
    In 62, Alex’s Interview: I feel like I now know Alex much better!
    In 85, COSMOS Story, Part 4: This is getting exciting! Will some more characters show up, though, or are there only three?

    65-Animal Kingdoms, Introduction: Seems kind of Hitchhiker’s Guide-esque…
    Chapter 1, Section 1: Kind of a letdown…. I like the intro a tad more…

    72-The Virus, Draft 1: I read it, as you know!
    73-I think it is a “Book”. Nobody ever said “Novels in Progress”…

    75-Michelangelo, Part 1: Exciting! Just One Question: Are all your heroines named Kyrra?

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89. PÖßÖC Ön Ä German KEYBÖÄRD says:

    June 25, 2008 at 4:56 pm

    88, re 61, section 7: Most of the bad guys are technically “Light,” and there is a heroine who joins Marcus on his Quest, so we will meet a few of the Light characters.
    88 again, re 87, section 9: Opined=expressed an opinion.
    “A Quest?” Komondor exclaimed. “We haven’t had a Quest in decades!”
    “This is probably the root of our problems,” Hazel Marrowbone stated. “Besides, it’s been a long time since one of our Sorcerer novices earned a staff. That could be the reason for the embarassing decline in competence among my species.” She glared up at the Magicians’ quarter. “We’ve gotten soft.”
    “There is another thing to consider,” Ymirsson put in. “Is a simple investigative mission… dangerous enough to qualify?”
    “I have a feeling that this will go far beyond asking an editor a few questions,” she replied. “My intuition has never yet been wrong. Whoever gets the Quest will be subjected to his fair share of trials and tribulations, you can be sure of that.”
    “We must put it to a vote,” Asmodea declared. “All in favor of a Quest to determine what Grim is up to?”
    Two gnarled hands- Marrowbone’s, followed after a moment’s hesitation by Ymirsson’s- rose into the air.
    “Split,” Komondor rumbled. “We all know the rules. The collective will of the Convention must act as tiebreaker.”

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90. KaiYves says:

    June 25, 2008 at 5:02 pm

    88- There will be one more major character introduced, but not for a while.

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91. Nthanda the Laugher says:

    June 25, 2008 at 11:33 pm

    88 (Re post 75)–for now. Whichever book gets published first gets the heroine named Kyrra. I really like the name–it comes from a combination of “Kara” which means friend in Gaelic, and “Kyra” which comes from the word for dark in Gaelic.
    By the by, thanks for taking the time to answer everyone’s stories. I loooove getting feedback and I’m sure everyone else does too.

    87–Oh I like that last line. “Intoned”–brilliant. And I like how you split that line of dialogue in two, it makes it more dramatic.

    Mkay I’m going to be difficult and post two continuations of two stories. Have fun ;P

    This is a continuation of Trystan Evander (synopsis and sample in 13, actual first chapter 41, continuation 58, interviews w/2 top characters 70). This is the next chapter; it picks up a different storyline, so you didn’t miss anything, if you were wondering what happened to the atomic toilet.

    Aldric Cronus Nyx II strode across the factory floor of Vulcan Industries, Inc., with the company CEO trailing behind him. All around the two men fire swirled, as metalsmiths and their machine counterparts coaxed liquid metal into useful shapes, pounding and cutting and twisting. The ringing of hammers and saws was deafening—even the CEO had to put his hands to his ears occasionally.
    Nyx, however, seemed oblivious to the din. With his hands behind his back, he surveyed the work of one particular smith, who was shaping a piece of metal into a sheet. The man’s hands seemed almost to caress the hot alloy, bending and twisting it with long loving sweeps of his arms, until a shape began to emerge, an anachronism in this day and age: the breastplate to a suit of armor.
    As Nyx watched, the man grasped a pair of tongs and drew a flask filled with white-hot liquid metal out of the fire. He seized the new breastplate and poured the fluid metal over it, so that as it cooled, a hard shell began to form over the original plate. He then thrust the entire mass back into the furnace.
    “Ah, this is Plamen, one of our finest smiths,” said the CEO, Brenton. “He’s the one who developed this particular metal.”
    Nyx did not answer; he merely watched as Plamen drew the metal from the fire again and allowed a robot to drill holes around the edges of the sheet. Plamen then took up a hammer and, with a tremendous blow, cracked the outer shell of the metal, so that the original alloy was revealed once again. He knocked the rest of the shell off and held the breastplate up critically; it shone brightly in the light of the fire.
    Nyx stepped forwards and extended a hand. “If I may?” Plamen handed the piece to him wordlessly.
    The metal’s surface was completely smooth, soft as satin and cool in spite of the tremendous heat it had just endured. Nyx pressed it experimentally and found that he could not even coax a few degrees of flex out of it.
    He handed it back to the smith. “And what is it that makes this metal so special?”
    Plamen put the breastplate down carefully before answering. “This metal is nearly inert, sir; it will not react to any acid or strong element that you could name, and it will never rust. It’s also nonvolatile—it heats very slowly and cools to room temperature quickly.”
    “And it is impenetrable?”
    “Completely. A man wearing this would be safe from the schrapnel of a bomb going off at his feet.”
    Nyx nodded. “Carry on, then.”

    And this one is a continuation of “Michaelangelo”, post 75.

    My dreams that night were dark and troubled. The stalker and Blake Gaitz flitted in and out of the shadows like bats; sometimes one was an enemy, sometimes the other. There was conflict, I could see; they seemed to hate each other, and always they were fighting over—me, for some reason. When I woke to bright sunlight in the morning, the dreams flitted to the back of my mind, and I locked them away without a further thought.
    School went by slowly, as usual. I found myself wishing I were home—preferably tonight, when I’d be alone—so I could relax without worrying about homework or chores. Finally the bell rang, and I rushed to my locker.
    My mom, still frightened by my stalker episode yesterday, had agreed to pick me up herself, instead of letting me walk home as usual. I rolled my eyes at the thought, but obediantly headed to the front of the school anyways. If I wanted to stay home alone this weekend, I would have to play by the rules—for now.
    As I walked to the front gates, a voice called my name, and I turned to see my crush, Damon, hurrying to catch up with me. My heart flip-flopped, but my expression remained politely happy to see him—a rare feat for me. His long blonde hair flipped as he weaved through the rush of students, and his warm brown eyes were happy to see me.
    “Hey,” he said when he’d caught up. He took my stack of books—the old-fashioned gesture made me smile—and asked me if I needed a ride home.
    I wished. “No, my mom’s coming. Thanks, though,” I said reluctantly. It cheered me to see disappointment in his eyes, and I continued. “She’s going out of town this weekend—so I’ll be home alone,” I said slyly.
    He caught the hint. “Maybe I’ll drop by later, then.”
    “Sure.” My racing pulse belied my casualness. Why did I have to get so infatuated with the boys I liked?
    We reached the front, and made our way through the throng of students. At the curb he handed me my books—rather reluctantly, I thought—and said that he had to be home by three–I definitely heard regret in his voice there.
    “But look for me later, okay? Like—seven?”
    “’Sounds great. See you later.”
    “Bye.”
    I watched him walk away until he’d disappeared into the student parking lot. Sighing contentedly, I allowed my eyes to roam over the thinning crowd. It was a beautiful day; the row of trees across the street were a perfect green, especially beautiful against the stunningly blue sky. My eyes fell among the deep shadows at their base. There was a lump along the trunk of one of the sequoias; was it a person? I strained to see who it was.
    The blood froze in my veins.
    For across the street, lounging in the dark shadow of the trees, was my stalker. He looked exactly the same as yesterday—except that today his expression was highly irritated, perhaps because I was proving so hard to catch…
    His face flicked towards mine suddenly, and we locked eyes. A shiver ran up and down my spine; even from across the street, I could tell that his eyes were an icy, chilling blue. Something about them made a thrill of fear explode in my stomach; the adrenaline pounded in my veins like a drug.
    The crowd of students was thinning; where was my mom? I felt relieved that she was coming after all, that I wouldn’t have to walk home to an empty house, alone.
    But even as this thought entered my mind, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I opened it to read my mom’s cell number on the screen, and felt a sense of foreboding.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, honey, I’m really sorry, but my meeting is running late. Can you get a ride with someone else?”
    “S-sure.”
    In her rush, she didn’t notice my fright. “Thanks, Kyrra. Hey—if I pick up some ice cream on the way home, what flavor do you want?”
    “Uh—mint chip, I guess.” It didn’t matter; I’d be dead before I got home.
    “All right. Remember to be careful. See you at home.”
    “Yeah.” If I made it that far.
    She hung up, and I closed my phone silently. I was dead meat. The front lot was nearly empty; no one I knew was nearby. I would have to walk home, or…
    Suddenly a thought struck me. There was a Circle K gas station down the street; kids liked to hang out there after school. Surely I’d be able to meet someone, even just to walk with me home. Safety in numbers, the oldest maxim in the self-defense book.
    As if sensing my intent, the stalker rose to his feet, looking my way. I would have to make a run for it. I stood as well, and we locked eyes for a second time—the chills raced along my spine again. But the fear in the pit of my stomach had turned to a firm resolve: I would see this through.
    I began to walk.

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92. The Bookworm & Lurline (10 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

    June 26, 2008 at 11:06 am

    89-Section 10: Exciting!

    91-Thank you! I love to read all the stories!
    Trystan Evander, Section 4: So that’s Kyrra’s father! I like multiple plotlines going at once, especially if they all tie together!
    Michælangelo, Part 2: Even more exciting! Will Michælangelo ever be part of it?

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93. Alice, Secretary of the International Wung Appreciation Society says:

    June 27, 2008 at 2:43 pm

    7 (Bookworm)- Whoa. That’s weird. I’m so terribly confused I can hardly give constructive criticism. But I like the conversation between Melinda and Eggie.
    The story switches between present and past tense. It’s very hard to understand.
    That math class rules.

    8 (Turquoise)- I love drawing maps.

    13 (Nthanda)- O.O Must…read…more…Does Trystan actually die? You know, like, permanently?

    18 (Pan)- Me too, but I don’t like short stories. They’re too short.

    30 (Kai)- That’s funny.

    36,37- I hate that. Like naming my wizard Gideon and then picking up a book where the wizard’s name is Gideon. Totally ruined that piece of the story for me.

    72 (Brendan)- I don’t know about you, but if my hard drive was destroyed, my reaction would be less like “What??” than “OHMYGODNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!”
    The calm demeanor with which your characters handle the fact that their computers are coming to pieces entertains me.
    Del’s vocabulary is seriously limited (dude).
    This story confuses me.

    75 (Nthanda)- *…lion’s padding gait… not gate.
    Good story, though. Except the girl’s name is Kyrra again. Don’t you find it hard to use the same name for different people?
    I like the way you jump into the action, and then take a few steps back and give us a glimpse of Kyrra’s life. But even that glimpse makes the reader uncomfortable, as if she’s still being stalked.

    85 (Kai)- O.O Oh no! What happened?

    89 (PraCan)- Oooooooh.

    91 (Nthanda)-
    RE: Kyrra: Oh, OK.
    RE: Trystan Evander story: What’sitforwhat’sitforwhat’sitfor?
    RE: Michaelangelo: Wait…Another Damon, too? Is there another Trystan? I like the name Trystan/Tristan. A lot.
    Oh my. I’m scared for her.

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94. muselover says:

    June 27, 2008 at 3:36 pm

    I made a book when I was about seven called “Gilbador”. I had just read Eragon and liked it, so I made my own book that was sorta like that. I only made about three chapters, though. This is chapter one. (Please don’t cringe.)

    Chapter 1: Mr. Penworth

    Far away, in the forest of Gilbador, an egg was hatching. The creature inside stirred, then slowly opened its eyes. It blinked. After it got used to its surroundings, it stood up. Even though it was only a foot tall standing height, it had an extraordinary feeling of power when it awakened. Its scales shimmered in the moonlight. It was not until much later that the creature discovered its wings, though they were not of much use at this age. When it had conjured up the strength, it lumbered off to explore.
    • • •
    Loren reclined on the mat. He stared up at the ceiling and sighed. Ever since Father had lost his job, nothing had been the same for him. Once they had been the richest family in Sindora, and now they were poor, working at a mill, with wages of only twenty garna a month. But he couldn’t just lie there worrying; there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, at ten years old, he should be mature enough to face this.
    He got up and walked to the door. He went to the room beside him, which was the only other room in the enclosure. Their house was a small hut about a five minute walk from the mill. Crabs occasionally got in, which was a big problem because if they were not driven away immediately, they could cause the ceiling to collapse with their claws. This had happened once before, and it had taken much time and effort to get the roof back on. Loren opened the door a crack, and slipped into the room. “Father?” he called.
    “Yes, Loren?” said a voice from the bed. Father was sitting there, with Loren’s sister Mona. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s milling time,” Loren said. “Can I come too?” Mona asked. Loren sighed. At eight, Mona thought that she was mature enough for everything Loren was. “No, Mona,” he said. “Sorry.” “I hope I won’t get stuck with old Mr. Penworth again,” Mona exclaimed. “Remember last time, Loren?” Loren nodded. Yes, he did remember last time. Mr. Penworth had taken Mona out for a walk and her foot got stuck in a prairie dog hole. Being a very crazy man, Mr. Penworth went wild and called three men to pull her out. It would have easily taken one man to pull her, and Mona was hurt badly.

    “I’m afraid you will,” Father admitted. “But don’t worry. He said he was sorry last time and that it wouldn’t happen again.” he added quickly, seeing the disgusted look on Mona’s face. Knowing Mr. Penworth, Loren thought, the word sorry loses its meaning. Just then there was a knock on the door. “That must be him right now!” Father exclaimed, jumping out of bed. He opened the door, and standing there was Mr. Penworth.

    At this time, I didn’t even know Loren was a girl’s name…

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95. PÖßÖC Ön Ä German KEYBÖÄRD says:

    June 27, 2008 at 3:52 pm

    *cringes* Sorry, I had to. At least you admitted that it was a ripoff of Eragon. And you were young, so I forgive you. My first attempt at a book was about twenty sentences long, entitled “Flash the Stowaway.” It embarasses me now. I was five at the time.

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96. Alice, Secretary of the International Wung Appreciation Society says:

    June 27, 2008 at 4:09 pm

    I wrote my first book when I was seven. It seemed that there was a semblance of a plot around the time I moved, but I forgot all about it, and the last sentence is “She went to bed, never dreaming what would happen the next day.”
    Actually, I think there might have been an earlier one, but I will embarrass myself no further.

    After that I took up scriptwriting for a time, and wrote “The Peapod II.” There was no “The Peapod I,” because it simply didn’t sound as good.

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97. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan (7 Brain Points) says:

    June 27, 2008 at 4:18 pm

    93: how?

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98. POSOC says:

    June 27, 2008 at 4:19 pm

    96- We seem to have kicked off a discussion of our earliest books.

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99. Kokonilly, the sensible nillybuckbuck says:

    June 27, 2008 at 4:20 pm

    *pops up* Here’s a story I wrote when I was 5. With the same exact spelling and capitalization. Every single word was capitalized.

    THE SCARDY FISH
    One day a mommy fish gave birth to a scardy fish. That scardy fish was a long fish. The scardy fish found somethine one day. The thing was a sunken tresure. It was beutyful. There was a flood one day. And the scaredy fish lost the tresure. He was sad. The tresure was a four leaf clover. The scaredy fish ran away. His frends missed him. The fish was rainbow all the time. His name was Rainbow Fish. He came back. His frends stopped crying. It was a dream. Achuly it was a nightmare. Poor fish. It was horrible tearable. The fish had two dreams in one. He laghed Hee Hee Hee Ha Ha Ha when he woke up. He found a door. It was a funny door. It had no doorknob or lock. You could push through the door. The fish was safe back home. The end.

    Cute, huh?

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100. Midnight Fiddler (she of the 2 spdzk and 100 PiePoints) says:

     June 27, 2008 at 4:59 pm

     99~ Simply adorable.
     The other day I found a page from a story I must have started writing and then abandoned. A LONG time ago. It was, as many of my earlier writings were, about a girl who wanted a horse. Umm, original. :unsure: My problem is that I start writing something, and then I abandon it and rediscover it years later and wonder what I could possibly have been thinking.

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101. Kokonilly, the sensible nillybuckbuck says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:12 pm

     100 – I was thinking the same thing as I typed that story.

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102. muselover says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:19 pm

     95- Ripoff? What about Eragon/Star Wars? Or have you heard of that…

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103. Alice, Secretary of the International Wung Appreciation Society says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:22 pm

     99- Well, that makes a lot of sense.

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104. Kokonilly, the sensible nillybuckbuck says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:25 pm

     103 – Hey, I was five.

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105. POSOC says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:25 pm

     102- Yes, Eragon was also a ripoff.

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106. iŹ√Ҳ! (411 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:44 pm

     -94 no, Loren isn’t a girl’s name. Lauren is. I’m named Loren, and am male.

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107. Misis Mumford says:

     June 27, 2008 at 5:46 pm

     Wait. I messed up part of it. Apparently my handwriting was so illegile I messed up part of it, missed a couple of sentences, blah blah blah.

     REVISED VERSION:
     THE SCARDY FISH
     One day a mommy fish gave birth to a scardy fish. That scardy fish was a long fish. The scardy fish lived in a bowl. The scardy fish found somethine one day. The thing was a sunken tresure. It was beutyful. There was a flood one day. And the scaredy fish lost the tresure. He was sad. The tresure was a four leaf clover. The scaredy fish ran away. His frends missed him. The fish was rainbow all the time. His name was Rainbow Fish. He came back. His frends stopped crying. It was a dream. Achuly it was a nightmare. Poor fish. It was horrible tearable. The fish had two dreams in one. He laghed Hee Hee Hee Ha Ha Ha when he woke up. He found a door. It was a funny door. It had no doorknob or lock. You could push through the door. The fish was safe back home. The end.

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108. Raynpho says:

     June 27, 2008 at 6:41 pm

     106- I’ve met girls named Loren

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109. Turquoise, with 8 KAG points says:

     June 27, 2008 at 7:57 pm

     I got an awesome book idea today! And it is awesome! So I’m going to go write it!

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110. The Man For Aeiou says:

     June 28, 2008 at 10:50 am

     Earliest Book:
     KING WOOD DOK AND EDTYA
     cow poon wos a bis poon.mr,s topd swan had baby and mr. topd swan finished king .

     edtya and wood dok wr ran .wood dok fad the cow edtya tod on it.it was in tow .the end…
     5 or 6

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111. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     June 28, 2008 at 1:00 pm

     93-Thanks for the critique! I’ll try to fix the tenses!
     94-Ummm…
     99-Yeah!
     110-Ditto 94.

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112. muselover says:

     June 28, 2008 at 2:53 pm

     106- Whew.

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113. Alice, Secretary of the International Wung Appreciation Society says:

     June 28, 2008 at 7:13 pm

     110- *nods sagely* I understood every word. *claps hand over nose* Why no, it isn’t lengthening, why do you ask?

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114. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     June 29, 2008 at 1:40 am

     All four representatives turned, gazing at the moonstone at the center of the table. It was darkening through deep blue to indigo, leaching color and light out of the room.
     A sudden pulse of darkness shot out of it, trailing a wavefront of shadows and outlining the representatives with a tenebrous aura. A voice resounded through the Convention Hall. “IN FAVOR OF QUEST.”

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115. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     June 29, 2008 at 8:39 am

     114-Why?

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116. The Man For Aeiou says:

     June 29, 2008 at 10:51 am

     113- even I don’t know what that means. Please tell me.

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117. Alice, Secretary of the International Wung Appreciation Society says:

     June 29, 2008 at 11:10 am

     114- Yes!

     116- What? Sagely? Wisely.

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118. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     June 29, 2008 at 2:21 pm

     115- Why what?
     116- It’s a reference to Pinocchio. His nose lengthened every time he told a lie.

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119. iŹ√Ҳ! (411 piepoints, 47 brain points) says:

     June 29, 2008 at 2:31 pm

     -108 really? (that’s encouraging. )

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120. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan (7 Brain Points) says:

     June 29, 2008 at 5:39 pm

     93:
     it makes more sense with the format I wrote it in.

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121. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     June 30, 2008 at 10:08 am

     118-Why the moonstone? What does it do?

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122. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     June 30, 2008 at 12:44 pm

     121- Read the part where the Convention is just beginning. The moonstone embodies the will of the Mandala Court.

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123. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     June 30, 2008 at 2:21 pm

     122-Oh… I get it now! Will more come soon?

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124. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 1, 2008 at 1:06 pm

     I just got back from New York City, so it’s been a while since I’ve posted.
     92–Michaelangelo is already in the story. You just don’t know it yet.
     93–you’re right, it is gait. Whoops Also I totally forgot about the second Damon, I tend to recycle names I like a lot. Damon is a loyal friend in mythology, so he belongs more in the Trystan Evander story than in Michaelangelo. But I will definitely NOT recycle Trystan Evander, that name belongs completely to that character.
     95–Heck, I want to burn ALL of my old stories except the ones within like the last half a year. I’ve improved so much that the old ones are like three levels below what I write now.
     Heh maybe I’ll post one. I want to see people’s faces (metaphorically speaking) when they read it.

     I wrote my first real book in third grade; it was called “The Snail and the Sun.” I illustrated it myself It was about a snail that goes looking for the sun. He asks all his friends (ladybugs, worms, caterpillars, etc.) but none of them know where it is. The day ends and he still hasn’t found it–until a person comes with a flashlight. The snail thinks it’s the sun and is all happy THE END.
     It was terribly cute at the time.

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125. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 1, 2008 at 4:19 pm

     GAPAs, could we put this under “Don’t Forget These Threads”? Once a thread gets shifted to the second page, people tend to forget about it otherwise. Thanks mucho.

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126. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 1, 2008 at 4:21 pm

     I always read EVERYTHING on this Thread!

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127. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 2, 2008 at 12:45 pm

     Oh, I do to, this is my favorite thread. I was just trying to take precautions against a possible problem.

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128. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 3, 2008 at 8:03 am

     POSOC? Nthanda? Kai? Anyone?

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129. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 3, 2008 at 10:20 am

     GRAAAAARG where is everyone????!!!!!

     GAPAs? Sufficient evidence? Mebbe new version, on first page? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze?

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130. Alice says:

     July 3, 2008 at 10:34 am

     129- It’s not dead yet.

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131. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 3, 2008 at 11:11 am

     It’s not dead yet! *bonk* Thanks. Come back Thursday, will you?
     I may post some Pantagruel’s Ring today, though.

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132. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 3, 2008 at 12:23 pm

     Asmodea and Komondor sat down once more, still smoldering, but willing to respect the Court’s decision.
     Ymirsson smiled, making an ironic half-bow to Hazel. “Magician’s prerogative, my dear. Make your selection.”
     Hazel Marrowbone turned toward her own Quarter. “You all know the recent, and in my opinion shameful, history of our species. Most magicians sitting up there earned their staves or hats through quests that had been undertaken thousands of times before, quests of which every pitfall was charted, quests which were no more than rote recitations of past deeds.” The beginnings of an outraged murmur began to stir the crowd. “Once in a while, however, a new quest appears on the horizon, and those who undertake these rare novelties have almost invariably risen to greatness. Therefore, the proper selection for a Quest of this magnitude is someone who has an abundance of potential… but has not yet been able to unlock it.”
     “Magnitude?” a tall-hatted witch muttered. “It’s a fact-finding expedition, for the Telling’s sake.”
     “Marrowbone’s intuition has never failed her,” said a sorcerer next to her. “Hush.”
     “I have already considered many young magicians who have recently left training…” Hazel continued.
     “Figures,” the witch remarked. “She and Ymirsson planned this in advance.”
     “Hush!!”
     “…and my final decision is…”
     “She’s going to pick one of her favorites,” the witch groaned under her breath. “Aleksandra Romanov, maybe. Or Tayle Stuart… ”
     “Hush!!!”
     “…Marcus Dimwood.”
     From Marcus’s point of view, time stopped. The only sound was the blood roaring in his ears, followed a moment later by the tall-hatted witch exclaiming “Who!!??“

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133. Alice says:

     July 3, 2008 at 3:16 pm

     132- !!! I knew it!

     More!

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134. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 3, 2008 at 5:16 pm

     132-It’s Marcus!

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135. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 3, 2008 at 5:51 pm

     134- \o7 I salute the Master of the Obvious.
     More PR coming soon.

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136. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 3, 2008 at 5:56 pm

     135-20 Push-Ups, Mr. POSOC!

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137. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 3, 2008 at 6:23 pm

     136- THIS IS A PUSH-UP!
     SO IS THIS!
     SO IS THIS! etc.

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138. The Man For Aeiou says:

     July 3, 2008 at 7:41 pm

     116- I got that! I was sarcastic!

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139. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 3, 2008 at 10:57 pm

     Yaaaaay! Peoplz!
     132–Aw yay! Marcus is a cool character. How old is he, anyways (forgive me if you’ve mentioned that detail already)?

     ‘K, next installment of Trystan Evander. It’s a shortie, I’ve been gone this whole time, so I haven’t been writing much.

     Nyx nodded. “Excellent. Carry on.”
     He started off across the floor again, with Brenton trailing behind. The obsequious manager hurried to catch up.
     “Plamen is a revolutionary thinker. If you are pleased with his work, I will—”
     “I am not pleased yet.”
     “—give him a—you’re not? Sir?”
     Nyx stepped into an elevator. “The material does please me. But the design of the armor—even the design of that breastpiece—does not. It will leave too many weak spots once assembled. This suit must be utterly impenetrable, President Brenton; as it is not, I am not yet satisfied.”
     Brenton gaped. “But it is impenetrable—you heard what Plamen said. Surely that—”
     Nyx held up a hand, and the CEO broke off, looking even more astonished. “I said it is not good enough. The Ahriman demands perfection, so I must demand it as well.” The elevator moved upwards to the hundredth floor, and the two men exited into the CEO’s plush office.
     Nyx stood by the window and looked down on the city below. “Tell me this, Brenton: can you do better?”
     The CEO was silent.
     “I ask for your own well-being. If you can, I shall make an encouraging report to the Ahriman. But if this is your best work—your company would be replaced by a more competent one.”
     Brenton took a deep breath. “We can do better.”
     “Good.” Nyx turned and went to the elevator again. “I shall portray you favorably in my report—assuming your claim is true, of course.”
     The manager swallowed. “It is, sir.”
     The elevator doors began to slide shut. “For your sake—it had better be.”

     III
     Headmaster Vladislav was a tall, cruel-faced man with a shaven head and flashing eyes. He demanded discipline; usually, he got it. This was a rare exception. On a day like today, with Inspectors coming and a highly honored young student on the way, he could afford no lapses in control.
     He entered the crowded bathroom, and the students fell silent immediately. The only sound was the steady burbling of the toilet fountain, which had abated somewhat, and the splashings of the boy still lying in the water. Vladislav pushed him out of the way with his foot as he glanced into the toilet; the clear plastic tubing was visible now beneath the toilet rim, depressed and nearly emptied of its contents as it was. The Headmaster sniffed in distaste and moved back to the students; they parted like the Red Sea for him.
     Just before he got to the door, he paused and turned, a sudden spark in his eyes: “Walker—have you check for prints yet?”
     Hidden in the crowd, Trystan stiffened.
     The beleaguered janitor gave the Headmaster an incredulous look. “No, Sir. Haven’t had the chance, just yet.”
     “Well,” said Vladislav, “see that you check. I think our culprits were careless.”
     Careless, indeed, thought Trystan.

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140. Alice, Secretary of the International Wung Appreciation Society says:

     July 4, 2008 at 12:05 am

     139- NONONONONO! They can’t check for prints!

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141. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 4, 2008 at 3:50 pm

     Marcus was brought back to his senses by Sara’s talons digging into his shoulder. “Get up,” she hissed. “Turn right. Walk.” Marcus followed her instructions, staggering in a daze down the steps. “And take that slack-jawed look off your face, you’re embarrassing me.”

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142. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 4, 2008 at 8:31 pm

     139-The Headmaster is a nasty character! So is Nyx! (Cool, Name…)
     141-Yay!

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143. TNÖ says:

     July 5, 2008 at 10:36 am

     Ok, I need a bit of help with this story I started a while ago… All I’ve got is the prologue and I have no idea how to continue…

     She stood looking out the window, staring down at the dying city. “I’ve done so much,” she murmured. “I’ve given them so much, for so long…” Her palm smacked against the blackened wood of the window frame with a soft thud. “What more must I do? How far must I go to win?”
     “More importantly,” said the child from the couch, “how far are you willing to go?”
     She stared at the city below, and wondered.

     I have a vague idea that I want to cut backwards about 20 years or so and start the actual story there, working up to the prologue. Any ideas (p*ease)?

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144. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 5, 2008 at 2:29 pm

     143-Ummm… She’s the city’s benefactor. She’s invested her time, her strength, one of her legs, and her money into making it a great city. However, *somethingreallybad* happens to the city, and she’s left gazing, looking at the product of her life. She’s considering jumping… The child is a Mage of some sort, maybe just taking the guise of a child…

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145. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 5, 2008 at 5:12 pm

     143–The child is a wisdom figure, it seems, and it’s obviously not human. A very old soul trapped in a child’s body? A shapeshifter? An old man who can’t get any older?
     Also–sounds like it’s in the future, and the girl is a benefactor of the city, as Bookworm said. Is she a superhero? That would be SWEET especially if she had lots of fancy gadgets and stuff like that.
     The only suggestion I have is that if you want to do a flashback, change the last word from “wondered” to “remembered”. Either that or make this bit a prologue and then say the date (or some reference to it) at some point in the actual first chapter.

     Not to jump all over this. I just love writing so much, new ideas fascinate me.

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146. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 5, 2008 at 9:18 pm

     Sry for the double post, but I need some help.

     What is the WORST punishment you can think of? Either mentally or physically. Not anything gross or that would make me look sick and twisted if I put it in a book, but something really bad that might make the reader cringe a bit. I’m not going to be here this next week but keep posting even tho I won’t answer, I really need ideas!!!!! Thx mucho.

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147. Robert Coontz (Administrator) says:

     July 5, 2008 at 9:22 pm

     How about total sensory deprivation? No light, no sound, no one to talk with, no way to judge the passing of time.

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148. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 5, 2008 at 9:26 pm

     I would have said something, but I can’t think of anything worse than Robert’s.

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149. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 5, 2008 at 10:28 pm

     147–Ooh, that’s really good. I’ll use that.

     Mmkay since I’m going away I’ll leave the latest installment of Trystan Evander.

     Sure enough, when he arrived at class the next day, two security guards were waiting. They hand-cuffed him, then marched him to the front office, where he was joined by a grim-faced Damon.
     While they were waiting to go into the headmaster’s study, Damon leaned over to his friend. “Prints,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we forgot gloves.”
     “I know,” replied Trystan wryly. “We’ll remember next time.”
     “Seriously. I’m starting to get tired of this.” The secretary called Damon’s name, and he was shown into a disciplinarian’s office. The door shut and locked behind him.
     Soon after, Trystan’s name was called, but he was marched to a different door than his friend.The guard gave him a push, and Trystan stepped into Headmaster Vladislav’s study.
     Trystan’s first impression was that the room was built to make its owner seem more menacing and its visitor more helpless. The walls, constructed of a dark wood synthetic, formed a semi-circle behind the Headmaster’s enormous desk, forcing attention to its occupant. The single window was covered with heavy drapes, and the only chair in the room besides the Headmaster’s was a stiff, uncomfortable affair bolted to the floor. The guard walked Trystan to this chair, and handcuffed him to the arms so that he could not stand. Then the man left, leaving the Headmaster alone with his prey.

     Ok, I just have to say how crazy excited I am to be writing this thing, I can’t wait to write more. See ya’ll in a week!

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150. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 5, 2008 at 10:41 pm

     I’ll be going away for a week on Monday, without a computer (self-imposed), so I may not be updating PR for a while.

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151. TNÖ says:

     July 5, 2008 at 11:16 pm

     145- that was the prologue

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152. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 6, 2008 at 9:15 am

     149-Oh dear… Poor Trystan…

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153. TNÖ says:

     July 6, 2008 at 2:25 pm

     I’ve started my first chapter, and I suppose I shall post a bit of it here. It’s quite unrelated to the prologue, though

     Adela Kundera was in a foul mood. It was Easter, a nasty, wet day accompanied by a bitter wind that seemed to penetrate through every layer of clothing, no matter how thick. The forbidding gray clouds that rumbled had been relentlessly dousing the entire town of Pinesberry with a light drizzle since around four in the morning. Consequently the usual Easter celebrations had been called off; there would be no egg hunt in the park, no big picnic, no three legged race, which suited Adela perfectly.
     It was neither the vile weather nor the spoiled holiday that had Adela in a bad mood, for she was prone to long stretches of self-imposed isolation and had a general dislike for the crowds of people that inevitably came along with holiday celebrations. Adela was sulking and angry because the rain and the wind had failed to frighten away the garden imps, and she had just spent the last hour and a half clearing them out of her mother’s precious vegetables, an activity that had resulted in her getting very wet and being locked out of the house until she could somehow dry off in the steady rain.
     So she walked. Down the wet, narrow streets, without any idea of where she was going or when she would get back. Adela new Pinesberry better than almost anyone, despite being only fifteen and having moved to Pinesberry only two years before. Most people, of course, didn’t walk for miles every day.
     “Hey!” The voice was barely audible over the high keening of the wind and the patter of rain against the pavement. Adela turned, cautiously. Turning around suddenly in Pinesberry could mean getting a large quantity of mud in the face, thrown by some fiendish imp or another.
     The voice was not that of an imp, however, but one of the younger boys of the town. He had a soggy mop of blondish hair and big gray eyes. Adela remembered him, vaguely, from one or another elementary school function. There were a lot of them, since her eight-year-old brother was a member of just about every extracurricular activity it was possible to be involved in. The boy ran up to her. He panted like a dog, his mouth wide open.
     “Do I know you?” asked Adela, unable to fit a name to the face. The boy gave her an indignant stare.
     “Yeah,” he said. “I’m Willford Rolph Thomas Goldberg, remember?”
     “Oh,” said Adela, raising an eyebrow. “Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”
     Willford Rolph Thomas scowled. “Just call me Will.”
     “Alternatively, we could just go our separate ways.” Adela started to walk away. Will followed, his face set in a stubborn sort of grimace.
     “You’re good with imps, aren’t you?” he asked. Adela sighed, realizing that she wasn’t going to get rid of him so easily.
     “If by ‘good’ you mean I can get rid of them in a fairly short amount of time, then yes, I am ‘good’ with imps.” Adela shot the boy a suspicious frown. “Why?”
     Will reddened. “There’s a family of them in my closet.”
     Adela couldn’t help but laugh. “Your closet?” Will nodded. “And let me guess. You want me to get rid of them for you.” Will nodded again, his eyes pleading. Adela considered for a moment. “No.”
     “Why not?” asked Will, a whine entering into his speech.
     Adela hissed softly through her teeth. “You’ve got parents, haven’t you? Can’t they deal with it?”
     Will stuck out his chin. “Daddy tried, twice.”
     Adela was surprised. “And they still came back?” Will nodded, his already large eyes widening even more. “Stubborn imps.” Not unlike the owner of the closet they infested, she thought.

     TNÖ

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154. KaiYves says:

     July 6, 2008 at 8:08 pm

     I just got back from Space Camp, I’ll post more of COSMOS tomorrow. Sorry.

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155. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 6, 2008 at 8:21 pm

     153-Ooooh! I want to see how this links to the Prologue!
     154-Yay! More COSMOS!

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156. TNÖ says:

     July 6, 2008 at 11:42 pm

     155- So do I. Possibly Adela is the person looking out the window.
     BTW, the prologue takes place in January of 2029, and chapter 1 takes place in March of 2008.

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157. TNÖ says:

     July 7, 2008 at 12:15 am

     double post, sorry, but here’s more of chapter 1 –

     “So can you at least try? Please?”
     Adela sighed. “Fine. I can come over now, if you want.” Will grinned. “But we’ll have to stop at the grocery store first, unless you’ve got a ready supply of chicken bones at your place.”
     Will looked confused. “Chicken bones?”
     Adela nodded. “Imps can’t stand the smell of dry chicken bones, for some reason. You’ll have to keep them in your closet to keep them from coming back a third time.”
     Will made a face. “Will I smell them?”
     Adela shook her head. “No… Maybe a bit, at first, but you’ll get used to it. It’s not a bad smell, just sort of, you know, musty.”
     Adela turned a corner, Will following behind like a lovesick puppy.
     The Pinesberry grocery store was, in most respects, the same as every other American independently-owned grocery store, with one exception. The one thing that was in stock one hundred percent of the time in the Pinesberry store was dry chicken bones. They were situated in a big bin at the back of the store, surrounded by flashy manuals and brochures that apparently held directions for the proper banishment of imps of all kind. Adela had never found them to be very helpful. All she knew about imps she knew from her two years of experience with them.
     Will had started to chatter upon entering the brightly lit and semi-dry atmosphere of the store. “Have you read, like, everything about banishing imps? ‘Cause you’re like, supposed to be the best at it, and everything.”
     Adela rolled her eyes and started to scoop chicken bones into a small bag. “Those manuals are worthless,” she said. “The imps don’t care about iron, or salt, and everything else the books go on about. You just have to be firm with them, and they’ll leave. Except garden imps, they always come back, no matter what you try.”
     “Why?”
     Adela sighed. “I think they’re a bit like cats. They get attached to a certain area, and nothing you do will convince them to leave. And unlike most imps, they don’t give a whit about chicken bones.”
     “Why?”
     “No one knows.”
     “Oh.” Will looked somewhat deflated at not having an explanation and fell into silence. Adela relished the reprieve. She paid for the chicken bones and they exited the store into the rain.
     “Can they smell properly?” asked Will.
     “What?”
     “You know, the garden imps. Can they smell like other imps?”
     Adela considered that for a few seconds. “I’ve actually never thought about that. I don’t know. Maybe.” She made a note to find out.
     Will took the lead, since she didn’t know where his house was. Much to Adela’s annoyance, he continued to speak over his shoulder. “Mom and Daddy are away in Fort Sodbee for the weekend, so I’m staying with a friend, but we can go in to get rid of the imps anyway. Will it take very long?”
     “It shouldn’t,” Adela said absently. She wondered what Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg would be doing in Fort Sodbee for a whole weekend. It was, after all, the smallest town in the county.
     “Good,” said Will, oblivious to her disinterest. “Because I want to get back to the Thomson’s soon.
     “Of course you do,” said Adela dryly, annoyed with having a time limit, even a nonspecific one.
     The inside of the house was dark; no lights were on and the drizzle outside made for poor natural light. Will flicked a switch, but no lights flickered to life. “Stupid power,” he muttered. Adela fished in her pocket for a small flashlight that she carried at all times; power outages were common in Pinesberry.
     The small, white beam of light did little to illuminate the entryway. “My bedroom’s the last on the hall,” said Will, pointing. Then, “do I have to go in? I don’t like imps much.” Adela shrugged.
     “It makes no difference to me,” she said. Will smiled weakly with relief.
     “Ok. I’ll just wait here, then.”
     “Right.” Adela rolled her eyes as she headed down the hall.
     The door creaked as she pushed it open, reminding Adela of the incessant chirping of the birds in the spring. She shook her head in exasperation, wondering why none of the creaky hinges or floorboards in Pinesberry could sound more like bursts of laughter or birdsong than the traditional ominous sound. She was fairly certain that she would find Pinesberry less annoying if it would occasionally offer up a classical horror-story floorboard creak.
     Adela bounced the beam of the flashlight along the darkened walls until she found the door to what she could only assume was the infested closet. Quiet scuffling noises echoed from inside the small space.
     “Come on now,” she said, coaxingly. “You guys know it’d be easier for you to just move on.” The shuffling, as if in reply, grew more insistent. “I mean, it’s got to be a pain to have to keep sneaking back in here.”
     The door swung open and an ugly, wrinkled imp shoved its head out into the circle of white light. He looked a bit like an ugly pug, and Adela could help smirking. The imp chattered at her angrily.
     “You know I can make you leave if you don’t get out of here by yourself,” Adela said, shaking the bag of chicken bones. The imp growled with annoyance as the musty smell reached him. The ugly raisin of a head was pulled back into the shadowy closet. Adela gave them a moment to discuss their options.
     A little less than a minute later, a line of five imps of varying degrees of size and ugliness exited the closet and scramble out through the window, which slammed shut behind them. Adela scattered the chicken bones liberally throughout the room, marveling that the imp family had come back not once, but twice. They had seemed more than willing to leave once they knew that chicken bones were involved.
     Will started when she touched his shoulder. “What,” he asked, sounding shocked, “You’re done already?”
     “Well, yeah,” Adela answered. “The imps are gone and the chicken bones are everywhere, so what else is there to be done?”
     “It took Daddy, like, two hours to get rid of them the first time. Longer for the second.”
     “Oh?” Adela was surprised. She had never had too much trouble with imp infestations. Usually the imps knew some English, and they could pick up the gist of a sentence without too much trouble. Furthermore they were more sensible then most imps, which showed in their choice of an indoor dwelling place, and they could generally be reasoned with.
     They stepped out into the rain again. Will shifted from foot to foot. “Well, anyway, thanks. I’m gonna go now. Bye!” He ran off, splashing through puddles. Adela shook her head, and walked off in the other direction.

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158. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 7, 2008 at 1:07 am

     This will be the last installment of Pantagruel’s Ring until Saturday. Hope it’ll hold you all until then.
     ~
     “Thank you, Sara,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth as he descended the suddenly interminable steps. “You’re being very helpful, as always. I’m going to die!!”
     “No, you’re not. Keep walking.”
     “I thought I was just going to be assigned the standard get-the-Water-of-Life quest in a couple of years! This is insane!”
     “Yes, everyone knows you’re not supposed to use the golden dipper. This gives you a chance to break out of the mold!” Saraswati cut off further protest with a tight squeeze of her talons. Marcus numbly stumbled down the last few steps. Hazel Marrowbone seemed much taller from down here…
     “Marcus Dimwood,” she said, each word falling on Marcus’s ears like a stone dropped into a well. “Today you truly embark upon your career as a Sorcerer. The staff you hold is ensorcelled to respond to your will, but it is not truly yours. If all goes well, when you stand before us once again, you will have earned your staff. But do not abandon your Quest to seek it! Fate will place it in your path.”
     She seized Marcus’s staff, gripping it in a pudgy, grandmotherly hand. It turned gray, large chunks breaking off and crumbling into dust. Soon, there was only a small core of deep violet light writhing in her clenched fist. She opened her hand, and it faded.
     A dull, hollow ache began throbbing in Marcus’s chest. Saraswati gave a low, pained hoot.
     “Hesperus!” Marrowbone snapped. Her familiar bounded up on the table, leaped down, and began running around Marcus. His claws left gashes in the stone as he sped up. He ran until he became a dark blur, his gleaming eyes leaving yellow contrails in a ring around boy and owl. The ground began to tremble. The world began to shake-
     Marcus flipped over, hurtled sideways, snapped inside out and popped through a treacly membrane, sprawling on dusty cobblestones. He retched, but he’d already gotten rid of his dinner.
     “Vanishment,” Saraswati said in a tone of professional interest. “She is powerful. Not many witches can do that, let alone their familiars.” She shifted her wings. “Well, there’s no point starting a quest at one in the morning. Let’s find some accommodations, or failing that, a reasonably dry ditch.”
     Marcus got up, dusting off his cloak, and reached for his staff before he realized it didn’t exist anymore. The pain in his chest grew a little sharper for a moment. “Speaking of which, where are we?”
     The owl turned her head 360 degrees, emitting an impressed hoot. “We needn’t have worried. We’re in the Crossroads.”
     Even Marcus, with his limited knowledge of the world outside Deepforest, was aware of the Crossroads. It was the cultural center of the known world, on the border between Wunsaponna and Deepforest, where Light and Dark met and mingled. Although it was not the largest city in the world, it was certainly one of the busiest.
     Which gave the lie to the scene around him. He scanned the streets. “Where is everyone? It’s so empty…”
     “It is one AM.”
     “Still, I’d expect to see some Dark creatures out and about.”
     “Well, Crossroads is technically part of Wunsaponna, and public opinion has been rather anti-Dark recently.”
     Marcus shuddered. “Let’s find somewhere to stay.”
     “That inn looks promising,” Saraswati said, gesturing toward a tall, well-kept establishment by the name of the Blue Star.
     They crossed the road, and Marcus rapped tentatively on the door.
     The top half opened up, letting out a gust of golden light and inviting odors. A gnome poked his head over the sill. He must have been standing on a stepladder, or else had charmed boots, because the greatest recorded height for a gnome was three feet.
     It belatedly occurred to Marcus that he had not bothered to count his money, and that he might not have enough to pay for a room. But that quickly became a non-issue as the gnome snarled “We don’t want your kind here!” and slammed the door in his face.
     “What was that all about?” Marcus asked, nonplussed.
     A beer bottle smashed near his feet. “Go away, you little scab!”
     Marcus beat a hasty retreat to the center of the square, sheltering under the Statue of Fellowship. The image, done in gray marble, which showed a sorcerer and a wizard shaking hands, seemed a hollow mockery now.
     “In light of recent events,” Saraswati said thoughtfully, “the one across the square seems just as good.”
     It didn’t. It was small, dingy, and askew, but it looked cheap. Marcus fished through his pockets and came up with six lunes, a few pence and a bit of lint. The charge for a single night, including board, was five lunes- a price so low that it left Marcus in serious doubt about the quality of food and accommodations. But his finances took precedence over his preferences, and he made his way to the door of the Gibbous Moon, proprietors Tepes and Granite.
     “…und five vindows broken already zis veek,” a voice inside was saying. “Zis is intolerable! I may be forced to lodge a complaint wiz zer town council!”
     “Ya know they won’t listen to ya, Vlad,” a gruffer, deeper voice replied. “You’re a… hang on, there’s someone at the door!”

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159. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 7, 2008 at 5:44 pm

     157-Is this in an alternate reality?
     158-Noooo… We have to wait until Saturday… While, at least we’ll get to meet some more Light characters soon!

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160. TNÖ says:

     July 7, 2008 at 6:51 pm

     159- Yup.

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161. Agrrfishi says:

     July 9, 2008 at 5:29 pm

     In my lengthy period of time away from the blog, I have gotten halfway through a realistic fiction novel and have begun a new fiction novel. I would post them both, but the realistic is too long and the fiction is too short, so when I get working on the fiction I will post more.
     I’m really excited!

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162. Brendan The Science Whiz/Fforde Ffan (37 Brain Points) says:

     July 9, 2008 at 5:39 pm

     Maybe as an addition to Roberts, stuck down in a way so that they couldn’t move at all…
     not one muscle.

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163. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 9, 2008 at 7:03 pm

     161-Welcome back! *Pies* Can you post the realistic fiction? There’s no such thing as “too long”!
     162-What are you talking about, Brendan?

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164. TNÖ says:

     July 9, 2008 at 7:30 pm

     163- Posts 146 and 147, I assume.

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165. Miss Cellolini says:

     July 10, 2008 at 11:52 am

     163-Ohh, beleive me…It’s over a hundred pages by now. But I can give it a shot. First, I’ve got to edit some stuff so I’ll get back to you on it later. I’m just warning you, though…we might need a new thread after I post it.

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166. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 11, 2008 at 7:56 pm

     I’m back!!!

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167. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP says:

     July 11, 2008 at 11:11 pm

     There was a series of clunks, and the door swung open to reveal a dwarf. At least, Marcus assumed it was a dwarf, there being very little space between boots and beard, and most of that being occupied by various weapons.
     The apparition stuck out a hairy hand that looked a lot like a mossy tree root and wiped some of his copious facial hair out of his small, beady eyes. “Y’ll be wanting a room, then?”
     “Er, yes.” Marcus shook the hand (which felt like a sackful of pebbles), then held out his fee. The dwarf took the silver crescent coins and led Marcus through a short, poorly lit corridor.

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168. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 12, 2008 at 1:34 pm

     167-Yes!

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169. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 13, 2008 at 6:45 pm

     167–This story just keeps getting better and better!
     153/157–Ooh, well written and interesting. I take it that everyone knows that imps exist (in this story)?

     Hokay, more Trystan E.
     (By the by, I changed the Headmaster to a woman. A mean one.)

     Vladislav stood with her back to Trystan, peering down at the empty school through the heavy curtains. She was silent for the moment, probably hoping to intimidate her guest; Trystan sighed, waiting for her to get to the point.
     She turned. She would have been an attractive woman, were it not for the cruel expression she usually wore. Right now her perfectly painted mouth was twisted into a satisfied smirk, and her grey eyes were granite-hard.
     “Well, Mr. Evander,” she said, her voice carelessly amused. “It seems you’ve finally made a mistake.”
     Trystan didn’t say anything. He’d discovered that people found his silences more frustrating than the things he said.
     “When I saw the report, I could hardly believe it,” continued the Headmaster. “A seasoned troublemaker like you, forgetting gloves? How could you be so careless?”
     Trystan regarded her evenly with his amber eyes. “You may be sure I won’t be next time.”
     Vladislav leaned across her desk, a wolfish smile on her face. “Oh no, Mr. Evander, there won’t be a next time. Detention has cooked up a new punishment that will have rebellious students quaking in their boots. Even ones as hard-headed as yourself.” She walked to her computer and pulled a file up on the screen.
     “Tell me what you think, Trystan,” she said, her voice soft and venomous. “We could use the opinion of a future occupant.” She turned the screen so he could see.
     The display showed the technical drawings for a small room. Its dimensions were a claustrophobic’s nightmare: the floor measured 3 feet by 5 ½ feet, and the ceiling was barely six feet. The walls were stainless steel and concrete, and the door had a rubber seal on it.
     “Detention Block Prototype #1,” explained the Headmaster, the same poisonous smile on her face. “Or Little Ease, as I like to call it. Our latest weapon against wrongdoing. What do you think?”
     Trystan permitted himself to raise an eyebrow skeptically.
     “Not impressed? Let me tell you how it works, then. In fact, allow me to describe what will happen in a few minutes.” Vladislav stood and pressed a button on her desk, summoning a guard.
     “You will be escorted to the cell momentarily. After you are inside, the guard will hermetically seal the door. There is no light inside, no sound. No openings besides the sealed door.” Her smile widened. “You will remain inside for twelve hours.”
     Trystan couldn’t help but speak. “And how will I breathe during these twelve hours?”
     The Headmaster was grinning outright now, showing her canines. “Yes, it will get a little stuffy towards the end, won’t it? But you won’t die. We have oxygen canisters on hand should you succumb to your own carbon dioxide.” Her voice was amused.
     Suddenly the phone rang, interrupting Vladislav’s enjoyment. She sighed and sat down to answer it. “Headmaster Vladislav.”
     Her brow furrowed. “Already? She’s not due until tomorrow.” She punched a few buttons on her keyboard and turned the screen away from Trystan. “We’ve know her schedule since Friday, so that’s not an issue…no. Her father was very specific. We will welcome her as if nothing unusual has occurred.” A few more lights began to blink on her desk, but she ignored them. “I’ll be there momentarily.”
     At that moment the intercom crackled to life. “He’s in my office. Take him to the Detention Cell,” instructed the Headmaster, glancing at Trystan. “And then return to the front desk, we need all the security we have.”

     Do you think it’s a little dramatic/corny? Particlarly Vladislav’s lines? I want her to be evil, but not in a dramatic way, she should be semi-believable. Maybe more like The Warden in Holes.

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170. Alice says:

     July 13, 2008 at 7:11 pm

     169- Yeah, Vladislav’s lines are a little bit overused, I think. Well, not all of them, but a lot. And yet, I’m not sure how you would get around that.

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171. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 14, 2008 at 7:26 pm

     169-It feels kind of … good/corny, as opposed to stupid/corny…

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172. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 15, 2008 at 10:42 am

     Should I post my story?

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173. I-Man says:

     July 15, 2008 at 11:27 am

     Once I can upload my story, I’ll post it. Oh, it probably won’t make much sense unless you really like Golden Sun for GBA like me.

     FANFICTION ROCKS!!!

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174. KaiYves says:

     July 15, 2008 at 11:30 am

     “We are approaching the remains of the original star, a dense shrunken fragment called a pulsar, a natural lighthouse.” He stood up, and walked towards the window for a better view.
     The flashes were fast and regular, like a heartbeat. A giant heartbeat. I kind of liked the idea.
     “It spins twice each second. Pulsars keep such perfect time that the first one ever discovered was thought to be a sign of extraterrestrial intelligence- perhaps a navigational beacon, for ships traveling between the stars.” While he spoke, the doctor pressed some buttons on his desk, causing red and orange lights within to glow. “In fact, the designation for the first pulsars was LGM, short for ‘Little Green Men’! Of course, now we know otherwise…”
     “OMG, LGM.” I said, chuckling to myself.
     The doctor bit his lip as he looked out the window now, as if searching for one thing in particular.
     We emerged from the cloud surrounding the supernova remnant, to find ourselves in the middle of the spiral arm, flying past stars like one might swim among air bubbles underwater.
     “Wow. So many, so MANY…” I whispered.
     Now we saw the Milky Way edge on, dust clouds blocking out some of the bright center.
     “This ship is as cool as the Millenium Falcon!” I exclaimed.
     “Oh, so you like Star Wars, then?” the doctor asked
     “Do I ever!”
     “Are you going to see the new one that’s coming out… oh, right…” he trailed off, and checked a display on his desk.
     “Sorry about that. Tell me, is The Empire Strikes Back any good?”
     “Oh yes. Wait, are you telling me it hasn’t come out yet?” I asked
     “Not in this time, no. TASTA traveled through time as well as space when you found him. It is presently the year 1980.”
     “1980! But that’s over twenty years in the past!” I shouted. “Well, that explains your haircut.”
     It wasn’t enough that I’d met a talking, floating robot. It wasn’t enough that I was lightyears from home. No, I was also in another TIME! Today was absoultely the strangest day of my life…
     Still trying to overcome the shock, I looked out the window and saw us approaching a cluster of bright blue stars, surrounded by whisps of gas.
     “Hey, that’s the Seven Sisters, right?”

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175. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 15, 2008 at 1:44 pm

     172–YES

     170/171–Yeah, I can’t figure out how to fix it. I think I may just trash the scene, I have a better idea.

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176. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 15, 2008 at 3:21 pm

     All right. I’m going to post the first eight chapeters, and I’ll post more tomorrow. I just don’t want to clog up the system. Oh, and a previous warning to all-this might be more of a girl novel ,but guys feel free to read on. And don’t hesitate to make corrections. I’m ready for anything at this point.

     The Underclassman’s Guide To Survival
     by Agrrrfishi(yours truly)

     Prelude

     If there was ever a time to scream hysterically into the heavens, it would be now.
     I stood still, watching the steps ahead as the world swirled in a haze around my legs. Other people pushed me, like a stone in a river. I didn’t budge. I probably wasn’t capable of movement, and I certainly wasn’t concerned about what people thought of me, a blank-faced 15-year old girl, with the freezing rain of leaves beating a tattoo against her grey sweatshirt and jeans. I just wanted to go home. But then again, home was the place I hated most.
     This was all Gregory’s fault in the first place. He had been dating my mom for two months before he married her. And now, two weeks later, we were traveling into the city of the richest: New York, New York. The person who wrote a song after this place must have really had something to get off his chest. Let me tell you now: I thought it was going to be a completely dull place, where all the boys are either nerds or empty headed jocks, and the stylish, conceited girls would just as soon be your friend as rip the makeup clean off your face. At least I got one of those right, and I bet you can guess which one it was. I mean, does anything give a guy who you’ve only known for three months the right to sweep an innocent teenager away from her childhood memories and friends? I didn’t think so. I would miss Leo most of all, because even though I couldn’t see it, all my friends said that he had a crush on me. Now that would be a first.
     My little sister was only 6. She didn’t care one bit about the injustice of it all. Myna didn’t understand how we were never coming back. I, on the other hand, was so torn up about it that I threw a hissy fit. My mom wasn’t moved.
     “Kaitlin, I don’t believe you! An almost grown woman, acting like a baby! I can only dare to imagine what the neighbors must think of us!”
     “Well, seeing as it DOESN’T MATTER!”
     For that, I got an extra two hours packing the china in the dining room. I rubbed my hand across the dainty blue marble counter and the creamy paint on the walls, staring in mournful silence out the window. How many times had I been measured on this very wall? How many marks had my stubby fingers made against the molding? The swirling rush of the ocean outdoors calmed me, making me shut my eyes.
     Our house was on the coastline of the Pacific, the very edge of California. We had a private beach, surrounded by the willows and long cattail plants. I couldn’t believe I was leaving the spot of so many sand castles and countless swimming excursions.
     It took our car and two moving vans to ship us away from the house on the beach that my father had made with his own hands. It had been there that he spilled his sweat, and there where he was buried, in a cemetery near our sweet abode. If only my father hadn’t died! Then we would be enjoying dinner in our artistic dining room, under the full and beautiful moon. Now we sat on the plush seats of our minivan. I said my last goodbyes to the friends that I had known since the playpen, hugging everyone and letting a tear fall onto the bumpy road. Leslie, my best friend for life, gave me a tight hug that I returned. “Don’t forget me, okay?” I asked, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.
     “I promise, Kaits. I promise.” Her smile was masked by silent sadness. “Write me all the time, okay?”
     “I will.” I climbed into the van next to Myna and looked out the back window, my eyes wide as the gravity of the situation climbed through my chest. As the van pulled away from the only place I would ever call my own, my friends waved at my slowly, and Leo, being brave, saluted the blue Honda as we disappeared into the sunset. After they had left my vision, I curled up and cried.
     And now, as the wind swept around and a pack of girls with crimped hair surveyed me slyly, I felt that this would be the worst day of my existence. I took the first step. It was probably my last.

     Chapter One: Only The Lonely
     It was only after my mom had dropped me off that I realized what kind of trouble I was in for. Stepping out of a tacky minivan with your mom’s kiss all over your forehead is like a signal for the seniors to jump on you. At once I felt vulnerable. Why hadn’t I fixed my hair? Why hadn’t I chosen a better outfit? The I realized that it wouldn’t matter. When you come to a school after the year’s already started, people have already made friends and they’ll leave you off to the side to be by yourself. I figured it wasn’t as bad as being eaten alive, but I would still be happy just to make one friend out of all these people. I was pretty popular back in California where everyone had known each other since we were two, but our town was small all the same. We didn’t have a lot of importance because we weren’t a bustling suburb. The village made money off selling-you guessed it- bananas. Although it seems lame, we were actually pretty rich, and nobody had to worry about selling items and peddling stuff.
     I still hadn’t moved for five minutes, and people had begun giving me strange looks, like ‘Is this girl deranged?’ After I realized the empty stares were being directed at me, I shook myself back into reality and turned my head to read the bronze sign that proudly proclaimed, Lincoln High School Building and Facilities. At least I could walk into the school knowing the name of my new torture chamber. Being a sophomore, I’d have to get to know the place pretty well, so I hoped that I could remember all that. My mother had told me that when the teacher introduced me to the class, I’d say where I was from and how much of a pleasure it was to go to this school. We had been in such a rush that she hadn’t even bothered to tell me what ‘facility’ I would be attending.
     I took my new folder out of my backpack and looked at my schedule. On top was printed: Grayson, Kaitlin A. –Locker 427. I was pretty sure that the bell rang at 7:30, and, according to my watch, I had ten minutes to unpack my books and find my new classroom. So, taking a deep breath and hoping nobody cared, I climbed the concrete stairs to a set of wrought iron doors at the front of the building. Man, were these people crazy about security! I had to pull really hard just to get the doors to move at all. I was definitely doing some weight lifting when I got home.
     The main hallway was brighter than I had expected it to be. The lockers were a fresh cherry red, like somebody had taken a giant tube of clear lip gloss and smeared it all over every metal grating. I shuffled down the shiny tiled floor, and noticed that the colored tiles had a pattern on the ground, which alternatively went blue, blue, tan, orange. I ought to have just kept staring at my shoes the whole walk there, because when I looked up, everyone was quieter, whispering and giggling. And all of their eyes pointed straight at me.
     Have you ever looked at someone straight in the face and known that they were just talking about you? I have. By the looks of it, about a hundred times. My classmates’ stares trailed me like a hawk all the way to my locker. Once I twisted the lock for my combination and opened my locker, the steady buzz of conversations roared up again. As I opened my locker door, two guys standing by me sniggered and laughed at me. I was obviously not the kind of person they were used to in New York. Ignoring them as my heart pounded, I looked into my new space. In my locker were positioned five books, all for the basic subjects and one for Spanish class. On the books a sticky note read, Return to teachers at the end of the year-Faculty. I set my backpack and coat into the roomy black interior of the locker, and plucked out the books labeled English, Geometry and Botanical Sciences out of the bottom shelf. After I had placed my books into my tote and slung the bag over my shoulder, I noticed that the flow of students was diminishing.
     I looked up at the clock on the ceiling. It was 7:28, and I had two minutes to find my class! This floor was rooms 100-150, so I needed to go to the second floor for 151-200. With only a small amount of time, I sprinted through the emptying hallways and desperately searched for a floor map or staircase. For being a puny school on the outside, this place was like a maze on the interior! There was nothing like a map anywhere on the walls, so I turned corners crazily until I discovered a lone flight of stone stairs in a backwoods corridor. I dashed up, my eyes searching for room 177. As I saw the numbers on the doors go by, I realized that I was going the wrong way, but by that time, the bell had tolled its final ring of the morning. I was late on my first day at Lincoln. I spun around and started hurtling the other way. 167, 168, 169… They all blurred as I came into the 170’s hall. A teacher yelled as I ran by 175, but by then I had grasped the doorknob of Mrs. Phelps’ English class and flung the door open with a loud bang.
     Everybody was in their seats already, desks muddled with pens, paper and the occasional book. At the sound of my entrance, the whole room seemed to shudder, and although the teacher looked at me kindly, I could plainly see that I had interrupted. Great, a first impression. Things were going just peachy.
     “Oh, why you must be our new classmate! The others told me to expect you. Umm, class? Please turn your attention to the front!” She didn’t have to tell them, though. Everybody was already staring at me, some people giggling to their friends. I coughed to break the silence. “All right then, dear! Tell the class your name and where you come from!”
     I didn’t want to go into class as Kaitlin. Since I was forced to be new, I wanted to be a new person, someone cool and laid-back. I searched my mind for a nickname. What could you make out of a name like Kaitlin? Then, I remembered Leo’s special name for me. Since we met when we were only two, he could barely pronounce my name. So, he called me…
     “Kat. My name’s Kat. I come from Palms, California and I’m very pleased to be here at, um…” I cleared my throat,” Lincoln High School Building and Facilities.” I recited. The classroom seemed to be stretching with all the contained laughs. Some people couldn’t hold it down and let out gasps of air to help settle themselves. Mrs. Phelps herself seemed to be having an internal breakdown. Has I said something wrong? It must have been the name, I thought. Could I possible have done something wrong this early?
     “V-very nice, dear,” Mrs. Phelps stammered. ”J-just take a seat in the back there next to Mitch. I’ll key in on the lesson plan shortly.” Her voice shook with suppressed anger, or maybe even laughter. I followed where her finger pointed, and took my seat next to the kid named Mitch. He was tall and had dark, curly hair. His brown eyes matched his long sleeved shirt, and his skin was tan. He must go on a lot of cruises, I thought. His face was red from holding down his mirth, yet he seemed nice enough. When he finally regained control, he actually smiled at me. I grinned back, eager to make a friend. I took out my book and a pencil, listening half-heartedly to Mrs. Phelps’ lecture. I noticed that she said ‘Ok’ a lot.
     “Ok class, settle down ok? Ok, ok ,come on, let’s get back on topic. Ok, so about preposition reviews…” As I tapped my foot and took notes, I saw the Mitch kid out of the corner of my eye. He was signaling me under the desk, and I saw the note clenched in his fist. He threw it to me, and I caught it. Opening it slyly under my own desk, I read to myself. Nice speech. It was hilarious how you tried to annoy Mrs. Phelps. By the way, nice name. Did you really come from California? I slid the paper onto my desk and scribbled back. I wasn’t trying to annoy her, but I guess it worked! Yeah, I come from California, but it’s a really small town. I hope I make friends here… I threw the note surreptitiously back at him. He scanned with his eyes, and then wrote gently. His letter were squared, but still kind of graceful. He tossed me the paper and I read on. Well, don’t I count as a friend? Hey,do you want to sit at my table today? I can introduce you to some people! And don’t worry, they aren’t all guys. I grinned just to myself. My minimal charm seemed to be having a benign effect on this school. Sure! I wrote back. Thank you so much! I’ll meet you outside after class if you want. I tossed the note gleefully at Mitch. He read and then gave me a thumbs-up under the table.
     After Mrs. Phelps released the class, I practically sprinted to the hall outside, Mitch at my heels. He smiled. “So, what’s your third hour? I could meet you there if you want.”
     I had to think. I’m pretty sure that I’ve got botanical science. What about you?”
     “Same here! Do you have Mr. Peters?”
     “Yeah!” I was really happy to find a classmate who knew his way around school, and a friend too. I wondered what his table would be like. I imagined clones of Mitch smiling and waving as we entered the lunchroom.
     “So we can walk together then! You buying lunch?” I had a sack lunch, but my wallet had plenty of cash and I didn’t want to slow Mitch down. So I nodded. “Great!” He cried.” I’ll see you then, ok? “ I nodded again.
     “Thanks for all the help. You’re really nice.” I said, as I wandered down the hall to geometry.
     “Same to you”, he said.” I guess I’ll see you in two hours!”
     With that, I sauntered to a new beginning.

     Chapter 2: All Tongue-Tied and Nowhere to Go

     I’m not saying that just because I made one friend, my life was a ray of sunshine. That would definitely be the understatement of the century. As I was walking back to my locker, a girl from my first hour with crimped black hair and shooting eyes said,” Nice job in class, suck-up,” and laughed, prancing away with her friends. I watched their faces as they went, smirking as they passed a crowd of guys in jerseys. My face burned, and I hurried the other way. As long as I got around them, I would be fine getting to class.
     Mrs.Hemmering’s geometry class was placed conveniently near the greenhouses, so I wouldn’t have to walk far. I entered the room a minute before the bell, and took an empty seat next to a calm looking girl in a babydoll top and an aqua colored pearl choker. She seemed nice enough. At least she hadn’t told me that the seat was taken yet. In fact, she hadn’t made a sound at all. Her head was down, brown curls falling around her face, and I noticed that she was reading a book under the desk. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and she looked up with big blue eyes the exact color of her top.
     “Um, hi. I’m Kat, a new kid here, and I was…um…wondering what chapter we’re on.” She smiled.
     “Yeah, I heard we had someone new. We’re on Chapter 4, section 5. It’s page 76.” She stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Grace Penske. You said your name was Kat, right?”
     “Yeah, I’m not sure if it’s very common, but people get used to it I guess.” Although I didn’t mention it, I wanted my identity to seem a bit different and eccentric from the rest. After all, to most teens, everyone else is just a face in the crowd. I only wanted to be recognized, and not shunted away like an old pair of shoes that you get tired of looking at every day. I leaned back in my seat, trying to look cooler than I felt. At that moment, the bell rang and the classroom went dead silent. I peered over at Grace. She sat up straight and folded her hands on her desk. I thought that this was pretty weird until I noticed everybody doing the same thing. I folded my fingers just in time for the door of the room to fling open.
     Into the front of the class walked a severe-looking middle aged woman. Her hair was black and twisted into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her lips were pursed and coated with an ugly potato colored lipstick, and she had on a strict black dress. She could’ve been the reaper’s wife, but freakier. She strutted to the very front of the room and flipped open a worn down geometry book, slamming it on the bookshelf with an impending bang. I already didn’t like the way this was headed, but before I could duck down she had begun to screech.
     “ SOMEBODY DROPPED THEIR BOOK! IN.THE.FILTHY.HALLWAY!”
     The people in the row next to me covered their ears, but I was pretty sure that their eardrums wouldn’t work anymore after today.
     “Whose! Whose book has been mauled at the feet of dirty student’s shoes! This is a disgrace, a cruelty, and if you do not speak up, I am going to look into the cover and find out whom this book belongs to!” Nobody raised their hands. I frantically searched in my bag for my geometry book, and a wave of relief swept over me when my fingers felt the binding. Mrs. Hemmering sighed with exasperation. It was not a forgiving noise, but the tension in the room seemed to drop a couple notches, although all the students still waited straight-backed for orders.
     Mrs. Hemmering bared her teeth in a humanely menacing fashion, not like an animal, but not in any way that I myself would have considered to be normal.” All right, then. I’ll take your word for it because I’m too tired to argue. Now, if you’ll please turn to Chapter 4 Section 5, we will begin the lesson. Please prepare to take notes.”
     “Meet Mrs. Hemmering”, Grace whispered.
     I sighed. It was going to be a long second hour.

     As soon as Mitch and I were released from Botanical Science, with Mr. Saguarro waving from the hall, we set down the corridor to the lunchroom. We talked about our favorite bands. He liked bands like The Fray, while I preferred Panic At The Disco and Fall Out Boy. I think that rock is too captivating not to listen to.
     We reached the doors of the glass boxy room labeled ‘Cafeteria’, and pushed open the doors. As we walked in, the noise in the room died, like somebody pulled the plug on a giant stereo speaker. Every eye was on me, the glances shooting through me and making me burn with embarrassment. We looked down so we could avoid the avid glares of the others. Once we had reached the lunch table, the talking started up again, louder than before. I set my books on the surface of the wood and looked around at me. Everyone at the new table was looking at me, but their looks were friendly, not hostile. I hesitantly sat down. Mitch stood back up.
     “Everyone, this is Kat. She’s going to sit with us now, ok?” They nodded, and went back to talking. Their faces were new, all except one. Grace from Geometry sat across the table, talking with a girl that obviously knew her well. The girl was sandy-haired and wore a dress that was flowing to the knee and worn with a cute cropped jacket. In her hair was pinned a red flower. Next to then sat another girl with straight brown hair to her shoulders, texting on a phone concealed behind a stack of books. On the other side of Grace there were two long haired boys, one squat and the other pretty normal, both wearing hoodies and jeans. Mitch took a seat by them, and I moved over one to be by the brown haired girl. There was still one empty seat at the table.
     The texting girl looked up and smiled, waving a hand in a welcoming way. “ Hi! I’m Isabelle!” she said, and waved at me.” Like your sweatshirt. Do you surf?”
     I plucked at the Hurley sweatshirt I wore over a cami. “Yeah, I do, but I guess I can’t anymore.”
     “Where did you live?”
     “Coast of California, but I always wanted to live here!” I said, sarcasm salting my voice.
     She grinned. “Enthusiastic, aren’t we?”
     “The best it gets,” I jibed,” but believe me, it’s not like this all the time.” As we chatted, the dressy girl looked over at us. “ Hey guys. Whatcha talking about?”
     Grace looked over too. “Hi Kat! What’s up?” The girls stared at me, and I greeted them. Then Isabelle spoke up.
     “This is Katie and Grace Penske. They’re adopted sisters, but everyone says they were separated at birth.”
     “Yeah, I know Grace already. Nice to meet you, Katie. Who are these other people?” I asked. Grace smiled.
     “ Ok, so the shorter guy over there is Jay, and the taller one is Chris. You probably already know Mitch, but…well, I guess he’s not here yet.”
     “ He who?” I asked. “ Is he cute?”
     Isabelle shrugged. “Not really. He’s kind of scary, if you ask me.”
     Then, the boy named Jay piped up. “They say his dad’s in jail for homicide.”
     Chris joined in. “People think his mom’s a dealer.”
     I stared. This was getting interesting.
     Then Grace pointed to a door by the lunch line. “Look, there he is!”

     Chapter Three: It is the West, and Romeo is the Dark

     Over the loudspeakers, an old country song serenaded the lunchroom, made faint by the roar of student conversations. I could hardly make out the words as I stared intently ahead: “Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road; Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go…” Was time pulling me along to the peak of my uneventful life, the climax of my heart pounding in my ears? This must have been true. As I gazed forward upon the pinnacle of my summit, the words of the song were drowned and I heard no more.
     I’m not saying that I liked him. It was just that I had never seen a human so far into the oblivion in my life. He was like the outline of a shadow, a lost soul in the bright mist of sunshine flooding the crowded space. His clothes were black, his hair the feathery wisp of a raven’s wings. He moved with purpose, but what purpose nobody seemed to know. And I’m not trying to sound poetic. That’s just the only way it could be said in words.
     To my surprise, he veered toward our table. I saw him take the vacated seat by Mitch and flip his jacket hood down. His skin, though barely exposed to sun, was slightly tanned. He didn’t seem to fit, and yet everyone greeted him like an equal. Mitch got my gaze, and I pulled my mind to attention.
     “ Kat, this is Trey Daniels. Trey, meet Kat. She’s our new table member, ok?” I saw his face move in my direction, and then I saw his eyes They were bright green, like the first leaves on a sunny California palm after the rain, glistening and sparkling like dew which magnified the haze of the palm frond. I was stunned that such a dark creature could live with those sparkling eyes. He didn’t seem to notice me at all, just nodded and turned back the other way.
     Grace tapped my arm. Her fingers, so light and graceful, had an abrasive touch. ” Don’t take it personally. It’s the same way whenever we introduce newbies. Believe it or not, we get a lot of them around here.” I don’t know why, but I was glad that I wasn’t the only naïve newbie in the school. My eyes wandered back to Trey. He was now talking with Chris, who was obviously cracking a funny joke. Trey’s voice was deep and resonant-if you’ve ever heard a bass guitar, they share a resemblance. But when he laughed, his voice went higher and lighter, like weight lifting from his vocal cords.
     I ate the rest of my lunch in silence.

     He was in my choir class, too. It amazed me that anyone that far deep could sing some of the la- dee- dah songs that choir teachers give us. Once, when I was in second grade, our teacher gave us a song called “Dance of the Pretty Posies”. It was killing me not to crack up imagining what Trey would sound like singing about Susie Posie skipping across the meadow.
     I took a seat in the risers next to a girl with a black braid and a pretty face. She said nothing when I sat down, but looked a little miffed.
     “ Were you saving this seat?” I asked cautiously.
     “ No, we can’t save seats” she answered, but I heard a hint of annoyance in her tone. I scooted over a little, away from her. Trey sat a few rows from me. I looked over at him, talking to a boy with curly brown hair. At this moment, our teacher came in. Her hair was stiff and blonde, her figure thin, but she looked nice enough. We did a couple of scales, ranging high and low, and then she passed out song books labeled “September”. I didn’t recognize the music until she turned on an accompaniment CD and music started to blare on the loudspeakers. Then I knew the tune, and started singing right along to the music.
     “Do you remember, the twenty-first night in September?
     Love was changing the minds of pretenders, while chasing the clouds away…”
     I was swaying to the music, enjoying it, while everyone else sat stiff backed and strange against their chairs. I belted out the chorus, and at the same time I heard another nearby voice doing the same. Trey was singing grandly on the other end of the risers, and he wasn’t half bad. This was interesting. Maybe there was some daylight in him after all…
     “ Bah dee dah, say do you remember? Bah dee dah, dancing in September, Bah dee ya, never was a cloudy day…” The song faded away, while the music teacher applauded.
     “Beautiful, beautiful!” she exclaimed. ”Never was a cloudy day indeed! You’ll do fine at the ensemble festival!” Then, the bell sounded and everyone rushed simultaneously off the risers. But as I dashed for the door, my sneaker caught the metal edge of the last step and I tripped, spilling my books everywhere. Papers scattered across the tiles, and I groaned. I was going to be so late for fifth hour. As I tried to collect my scattered possessions, Trey swooped down and handed me my binder and pencil case. His hair fell loosely over his eyes as he helped, and then handed me my things. I hurriedly stuffed them into my tote, and then looked up.
     “Thanks…” I said, but he only grunted and walked out the door. I sighed. Would it be this hard to win over one person?

     Chapter Four: Which Came First, The Music Or The Misery?

     As I skipped stones over the empty frame of my mind for the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop my thinking about Trey. It wasn’t enough that I had to be in New York, but why couldn’t I shake him from my mind? In World History, I imagined a conversation in my mind, between me and him:
     Me: I see you, can you see me?
     Him: Yes, you’re that girl I spit on as I walk by.
     Why was the world so cruel, to torment me, of all people? I had to move, I had to face a school of haters, and now I was having an internal battle with thoughts of someone I didn’t like! Did I? No, I didn’t, because my heart belonged to Leo, the never ending memory of Leo. Not only that, but Trey and I were at the opposite ends of the Styx, I was the passenger in the boat starting down the river, and he was lodged deep into the crook of the arm of Death.
     As I began on my history homework packet, I slipped my iPod out of my tote and tucked an ear bud under my hair, pushing the cord into my backpack. I silently scrolled to my favorite album from Fall Out Boy, ‘From Under The Cork Tree’. I went down the list until I saw one of the best songs in there and clicked on the ‘play’ circle in the middle of the rotary. The music surged through the wires into my brain and holding my soul in the folds of the music.
     “ I got my stitches stitched, I got my fixes fixed, and in my aching head I got my kisses slit…” Thoughts of the sound stroked my interest, and I left George Washington and the icy Delaware for daydreams of my own inventions.
     I still got mean glares as I walked down the hallway, but now that I had begun to fit in around the school, they lessened. I knew that they would eventually die away. I’d already learned lots about who to trust and who to stay away from. Madison Stedman and her group of girls (all almost exactly like her) were degrading and tried to cut you down as much as possible in front of the crowds of boys insulating the red lockers. I didn’t care much anyways. The boys here, who laughed at you if you were anything above or below the norm, weren’t worth crushing on. However, Isabelle was semi popular among the people, and her friends were pretty nice. Most of them were on the swim team, which I hoped to join. It didn’t start until the winter, though, and Grace had already begun trying to convince me to be in the school play.
     “ C’mon, Kat! It’ll be really fun! I’ve been in it before, too. Last year we did ‘Wicked’ and I was a Munchkin!” At this, I giggled. I could definitely see tiny little Grace as a little person in a country dress. But I had been in the play before, too, and I wasn’t much of an acting genius.
     “ I’ll think about it,” I replied, “but until I know what it is, I’m not going to sign my name up on the list.” On a wall by the gym entrance, there was a line of clipboards, all with names of after school activities on them. If you signed your name up under one, the school would tell you when and where the meetings were, to pick up packets and stuff. I didn’t want to go out for anything until I was comfortable here, though.
     After the 6th hour bell had rung, I started down the hall, waving goodbye to Grace and Katie and walking side by side with Isabelle. She and I apparently rode the same bus home, and lived a couple blocks away from one another. We boarded the tacky yellow bus that would take me…home? For some reason, the words were rejected by my brain before they reached my tongue, and seemed to flow out my ears, colliding with Isabelle’s words as they forced their way in.
     “ So, what do you think of Trey?” Ah, the words I had been dreading to hear. I answered as calmly as possible.
     “Um, he’s ok, I guess. Why do you ask?” I wanted to die. My tone was shaky and all too revealing. Would Isabelle think that I was weird? Would she still want to sit with me on the bus ride?
     She grinned. “Ooh, do you like him?” Her kindergarten-style tactics grated my ears, and I avoided her gaze as I tried to think of an excuse.
     “No way! I can’t believe you would, um, think that..” I trailed off, panicking on the inside. Time for Cover Plan #1!
     “ But that doesn’t mean that you’re totally guiltless. So, do you like anyone?” She immediately looked down at her shoes on the rough sidewalk, not showing any signs of laughter.
     “No, um, I… forget it. Nothing. Maybe later.” She tried to look down as much as possible on our trip to the circle drive. We boarded the bus in silence, and avoided talking about the encounters for the ride home.
     The hovel was small, dingy, and not what we had expected. Mom had wished for a beautiful home, and Myna didn’t care. She was just hungry for a bit of excitement. But I could never accept that we had left my favorite place in the world, and would never, ever call this place home. The house would never be quite a home for any of us, and I was pretty sure that we all knew it. But, like always, Mom looked on the optimistic side of the dismal situation. She had tried to make us forget about the move, but as the whole family stood in front of the steps, I could tell that she was not a happy person.
     The first reason of this was that Gregory, my new stepdad, had chosen the house almost totally and completely without her help. The only part of the purchase she had had a hand in was the description. Gregory showed her a brief interior summary of the house, excluding a picture and the worse aspects of the rooms inside. She had only needed to give a brief nod before he hopped on a plane to find the address and affix the mortgage.
     It was kind of a weird neighborhood. The people around us all shouted in alien languages like Persian and French, and it was impossible to separate any voices. The road was rocky, the houses sagging, and the whole effect was altogether poor. Mom looked about to cry as a man with a long walrus moustache came up and tapped her on the shoulder, babbling like a German creek. But Gregory took her by the hand and led her to the porch, and Myna and I had no choice but to follow.
     The inside of the house was just as cramped and filthy as the outside. Two corridors led off the main hall, and a staircase stood prominent in front of us. I could see the kitchen on the left, and an empty room, maybe a living room, on the right. I sighed heavily, aching for my old life back. But Gregory’s face was grinning at us like a nut out of the hard-core shell.
     “You see? Like? This is not scary, no? I told you, Amelia, that our house vood be beautiful. You not trust me, but I lived up to it,si?” Another thing that irritated me about Gregory was his accent, somewhere between Mariachi band and spiny eel. Poor Mom could only stand there, horrified, and nod her head slowly.
     “Kids, um…why don’t you go upstairs to choose your rooms?” Mom pleaded. I took Myna by the hand and led her up the dark staircase, knowing what kind of a storm brewed in Mom’s mind.
     I chose the room to the left, while Myna went straight to the right. As I set my suitcases on the dusty bedstead, I peered around. Small, mussed pink and with only one small closet, the room was definitely not my type. A little repainting, I thought, and it might live to be all right. Great, just look at me now. Thinking like an optimist, just like my mom.
     And speaking of my mom, there came a burble of angry argument flowing from the small vent in the south corner of my new room. I quietly went over to the wall and put my ear to the metal grating. Mom’s shrill voice pounded my eardrums.
     “I’m sorry, but this is not acceptable! We can’t have our children raised in a filthy place like this! I can’t believe you! Didn’t you even think about me and the kids when you made the decision to move us…here?!?” Yup, Mom was mad. What was going to happen to us now? It was much too early for a divorce, and surely Gregory would do something to calm her.
     “Now, dear. Vet’s not be hasty, please. I promise that we can make this a beautiful place to live…”
     But Mom didn’t want to hear it. “No, Gregory, I’m sorry, but I can’t raise Michael’s and my children like this. It’s not what…he would have wanted…” It was Mom’s turn to trail off, a choking noise coming from her as though her tears were about to burst out. There was an angry silence from the gentleman.
     “I don’t believe that this marriage is about your former spouse, Amelia. It is about you and I, and I vant that to be our only worry.” This was certainly the wrong thing to say.
     “What about the children, huh? Are we just going to dump them on the streets, Gregory? Poor Myna has lost her home and her father in too short a time! And Kaitlin… I’m just not sure about Kaitlin these days! I’m barely even in touch with my children anymore!” Mom began to sob. I imagined Gregory reaching out a helping hand.
     “Amelia…”
     But there was a slam of the bedroom door as Mom left, and his hand was to be left floating empty in the air.

     Chapter Five: In Which Reality is the Enemy

     Mom was in one of her moods again when I woke up from a night of restless tossing and turning upon the collapsing bedsprings. I had previously accomplished hanging posters over the dirty beige walls, in a fetid attempt to brighten up the place. All that I managed to do was to place a washed out effect on the room, like neon colored pastel makeup on a three-year old’s doll, worn from exhaustion and unsurprisingly more ugly than it had been to begin with. At least the space was mine, and I figured that with a new coat of paint and some actual carpet, I could make this corner of the hated house into a home.
     I pulled on a pair of tight jeans and a pink t-shirt that I had unscrupulously dragged from the closet in the night hours yesterday. I slid on a pair of faded black Converse All-Stars, ran a brush through my hair and quick splashes of eye shadow on the pale eyelids of my face, and trudged down the ever-squeaking stairs to the kitchen. A bowl of cereal sat waiting on the table. I could tell that it was not ours, because I knew our kitchen implements well. My father had made our cedar dining table, and this area held no polished wood or bronzy sweet smell around it. This table was filthy and chipped, and across it lay a sickly olive tablecloth that frayed heavily at the edges. I knew that I just had to suck in my breath and eat as fast as I could. Mom was still upstairs, trying in vain to wake Myna after her long night of crying and wailing that the room was to cold, the blankets too thin, and the familiar sounds of the waves outside her window were not there to calm her and cradle her to sleep.
     After I had unceremoniously cleaned my area and slung my coat and backpack on, I called up to Mom that the bus was there and that I would be going. She only shouted,” Love ya!” down the stairs, tossing it like a lazy pitcher into the soft glove of my ear. I figured that it was all she could manage when Myna held on to the bedposts and could not be pulled off by a pro-wrestler.
     I stepped onto the muddy steps of the bus, and all the occupants, even the driver, greeted me with such stares that I nearly ran to the back of the bus where Isabelle had saved me a seat. I tried not to look out into the aisleway, and Isabelle finally offered to switch places with me. I gladly accepted, and when we had settled back into the surprisingly cushiony seats, she asked,” Do you really live there, or are you just staying for a while?”
     I didn’t know what to say. “Yes, my family lives there. Is that a problem?”
     She shifted uncomfortable back and forth.” No, not a problem. It’s just, um… well, that’s not a very wealthy neighborhood…” Her face instantly turned three quick shades of red in a row, and her ponytail whipped as she turned to look the other way.
     I was immediately embarrassed. Of course the disgusting patch of houses was poor! No wonder everyone had stared at me. It wasn’t exactly Beverly Hills, in any sense of the words. I tried to get off the subject, and convince her to turn around. But I couldn’t think of anything to say except,” I like your hair.”
     “Thanks”, she mumbled, and then we were forced off the bus by a rush of students all wishing to depart the scene.
     Nothing much really happened at school that day. I managed to put up some locker magnets, pictures of California and my family(minus Gregory. I refused to put any of his pictures in any of my scrapbooks or my bulletin board), and a cutout from a magazine of Pete Wentz. Less and less people gave me weird looks in the hallway, and more and more people whom I didn’t even see in class said “Hi” to me in the hallways.
     In math, Grace helped me with factoring problems, and we talked about music and poetry. Grace was a writer, and a good one, too. I’d read some of her stories in her blue notebook during class, and she wrote descriptively so that it took you into a new dimension of thought.
     In choir class, our teacher Mrs.Saludine was absent, and the substitute gave us a free period in which we were allowed to do our homework and listen to music, while she went to a substitute teachers’ informational. The curly brown-haired boy whom I had seen with Trey the day before was also missing. I hoped the flu was going around so that people would forget about me for a little while. I was sitting on the risers reading a fiction novel with my iPod on full blast, continually attempting to drown the strains of excited students. Just as I was reaching the climax of the story, Trey reached across and tapped me on the shoulder. I put the chords of music on pause and looked up from the thinning pages.
     He hesitated for a moment, then said, ”Nice shirt.” I peered down at a band’s emblem stretched across my torso. I’d had a feeling that picking this particular outfit was going to do some good. Apparently, my psychic instincts had been right. I did a little half smile.
     “Thanks”, I replied amusedly. He didn’t stop talking, though.
     “Whatcha listening to?” I tipped the screen of the music player toward him. It flaunted the name of a Fall Out Boy song, gleaming under the artificial light.
     He grunted and smirked. ”Sissy band.”
     My mouth shut in a tight line and I firmly faced the other way. I was left in peace for a few minutes, and then he tapped me again. Man, he was desperate! For acting so rude yesterday, I didn’t think I should talk to him again. But I felt my body turning his way.
     “What?” I asked, annoyed. And yet my soul was nudging me on, positively begging me to listen.
     “I’m sorry, ok?” He looked at me as if some part of him meant it. I gave in.
     “It’s ok. I guess some people don’t understand musical genius when they see it.”
     He smiled, this being the first time I had ever seen him accomplish such a feat. He had some pretty nice teeth, white and pearly, the opposite of his conscience.” Don’t I know it. I’ve been trying to get someone to read my work for ages.”
     My heart stared a silent drumroll against my skin. I wondered if it went fast enough, it could beat a little pattern against my collarbone.” You write, too? What instrument do you play? I’m a guitarist.”
     “Same here. Been strumming the thing since I was seven.”
     I was about to reply, but the substitute came back into the room with a flourish and instructed us to pack up. Little did she know that she was swinging the door into the nose of Fate. I was careful not to trip again today on the last step.

     Chapter 6: When I Look At the Stars, I Find Myself

     As fall’s crisply twirling leaves which crunched under my feet were swallowed slowly by the bowels of winter, I noticed subtle changes in the school. And, having been settled in for only about four weeks, changes came as a disgruntling truth to me. Birds left the sycamore trees that strangled the sky on our block, smooth winds gave homage to rough storms, and snow gently curled the lashes of the dying grass. But most of the changes came straight to my door, whether at school or at home.
     The first difference in my scholarly life was that all of the winter activities were beginning. Boy’s basketball had taken a leap ahead, and continually through the evening, if you happened to walk past the gym from 4 to 6:30 in the afternoon, you would catch a glimpse of boys in shorts or Lakers’ jerseys. Packs of girls frequently stayed to watch games, squealing at the sight of sweaty guys, and laughed when they were asked out by them.
     Grace and I were walking to Spanish when she brought up the subject of being in the play again.” Come on, it’ll be fun!” she chided, and smiled up at me. “Katie’s going to be in it too, and we can hang out after school. Besides, all we ever do is mess around.”
     I was partial to the idea that Trey might forget something in choir class, come back to school and find me singing beautifully on the angelic risers. So I eventually gave in.”All, right, all right”, I said,” but only because you begged.”
     Her grin grew larger.” Oh, great!” she cried. ”This is going to be so much fun!”
     After a while, I learned that the play was going to be ‘Oklahoma!’ I had absolutely no idea what it was about, but Grace was extremely enthusiastic. Grace is so creative. I can’t believe how into the arts she is. She sings, acts, paints, does charcoal sketching, and plays the bass. I wonder how such a tiny person could hold up such a monstrous instrument.
     The second noticeable difference was my mother’s attitude toward not only me, but the whole family. When I informed her of my joining the play, she was all frown. I thought that for sure, she would be glad or interested, joyful that I was finally sticking out my neck a little bit. But instead, she was worried about the cost, and how much time she would have to contribute.
     “ I can’t pick you up every day, you know”, she said irritably.” Myna needs to get to oboe practice, and Gregory will be at work. You will need to get a ride home.” I reassured her that everything would be fine, and that I would ask Grace for carpool options. But she was still touchy and didn’t say one word for the rest of the day.
     Gregory seemed to be a negative influence on the way that life for our family used to be. Every moment that he and Mom spent together made me miss my father with an aching sore on my heart. They fought, then stiffly kissed and hugged, and the next day screamed with such force that the trees seemed to rustle blithely with every word. Myna would cry and hold onto my leg and ask me why Mommy and Gregory were fighting, and I would pat her head and console her.
     When she got home, we both sat on the couch and stared out the window. Beyond the scraggly bungalow rooftops, the sky was water colored with different shades of tinged cloud. The hues were that of pale blue, yellowish orange, and a soft pink swirled into a butterfly purple. It was amazing how each color of cloud had a divisiary barrier with each other, only momentarily molding at the edges before continuing onward across the north. Could my life be one of the cumulous masses, swirling into a new form before I evaporated into the sunset with the beautiful paints of nightfall? Soon, the amazing show of the sky ended into navy black, and was spangled with glistening diamond stars.
     Winter for my family had contained two holidays: Christmas and my birthday. We would never be able to spend either of them happily again, cursed to forget the evening church masses in the warm California heat, and dreams of wealthy gifts from my parents rushing within my dreams. I didn’t anticipate, did not even think slightly about these things anymore. The thoughts of how my father rushed me to the sunny beach for my parties where Leslie and all of my closest friends awaited me, and my father’s stubbly beard accented by a smile, were too much for me to bear with a stepfather breathing down my neck.
     I tried to imagine leaving Gregory with my mom and Myna, but it didn’t seem possible. He provided all of our money now, so it was either stick with him or be dirt poor. The prospect of deserting him pleased all of us, because Mom’s hastiness to fill the void of our dad’s soul would always be in vain. As I looked at the stars and made Gregory fall out of the Empire State Building in my mind, I couldn’t find the innermost depths of me if I had tried.

     Chapter 7: I’m Not Ok, I Promise

     Have you ever been convinced that everything was running smoothly for once, and then a jolt shocks you to the chest and wakes you up? If you haven’t, believe me. You aren’t missing anything.
     I woke up early in the morning, pulled on a bright blue t-shirt and skinny grey jeans, and tossed my hair into a ponytail. Then I quickly shoveled in breakfast and hopped onto the bus next to Isabelle. I didn’t care if I hadn’t said goodbye to Mom or Myna. I was happy to be free and out of the house. We talked the whole way down about the Paramore album signing at the mall and both agreed that we would try to go. When we got into school, we saw Grace sitting in a slump by her locker, face buried in her arms. When she looked up, her visage was was red and blotchy, and her blue eyes brimmed with tears.
     “What’s wrong?”, cried Isabelle, pulling Grace gently to her feet.
     Grace sniffed and rubbed her eyes on the back of her hand. “Nothing, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She quickly straightened up and calmed down. But Isabelle wouldn’t give up.
     “ Come on, what’s wrong? You can’t have been randomly crying on the disgusting floor by Pete Fetlock’s locker for nothing!” I could tell that there was some cheering up to be done, so I joined in the act. I took a firm grip on her limp face and grabbed the cheeks by her mouth. “Come on!” I joked, making her lips squish into a smile.” Aww, look at the happy face. Look at the happy face!”
     She pulled away, a frown replacing the clown smile I had slapped on.” Please stop, guys. I’m not in the mood.”
     Isabelle hung her hands at her side. ”Please tell me what’s wrong! I promise I can help.”
     “No, you can’t. It has to do with Madison Stedman.”
     Ah. I had had a feeling that something like this would pop up at one time or another, but I hadn’t expected it so soon.” What did she do, Grace?”, I asked.” Let it out.”
     “ She…she called me a freak and stole my sketchbook. All of my stuff is in there.”
     I knew now that I would have to make a decision. I could stay the new girl for the rest of my high school life, or I could show that I was Grace’s and Isabelle’s friend. I wouldn’t let Madison Stedman push me around, no matter how much she rubbed her money into everyone’s faces. This was my new life, and I was going to live it out.
     At this point in the story, you should probably know that my turning point began here. This is the place at which I left behind my Cali girl attitude and dropped it for a new life of solitary soul, of my own heart that wasn’t influenced by the thoughts of others. I marched to my classroom and slammed my books on my desk. Then, with Grace and Isabelle at my heels, we walked together down the stairs, a soaring V of strength coming together into the circle of girls and hot jocks where Madison and her friends flounced their flat-ironed hair and pursed their lips suggestively to one of the cutest of the four boys. I pushed him aside as I strutted into the group of mean faces.
     “ Hey, I think you have something of my friend’s. Would you mind handing it over?” I asked in a calm monotone.
     Madison and her friends laughed to one another. ”What do you think we are, stupid or something? We never stole anything from…that!” They squealed and behind me I could tell that Grace was turning red. The sounds of Madison’s sweetly sinister voice had attracted more and more people, Mitch, Jay and Trey among them.
     “Could’ve fooled me.” I scathingly snubbed up my nose and said, ”You better give that sketchbook back. You could go to jail, you know. It’s where you and them belong.” I pointed a finger at all of the groveling girls behind Madison and they giggled spontaneously.
     Madison laughed loudest of all. “You can go find that dirty little pad of junk in the sewer. And go fish out all the little pages with your confidence.” Then, to my surprise and anger, she laughed and stuck out her tongue like a first-grader on the playground.
     Unaware of anything that I was doing, I sprang to her face and my fist caught the edge of her haughty cheekbone. Warm red blood leaked onto her silk eyelet blouse, and her wails rang like an alarm bell through the echoing hallways of the school.
     ——————————————————————————————-
     “Just what do you think you were doing?” Principal Mahl’s voice struck my eardrums, but I barely heard her. I was in a daze, a trance. All I remembered was the feeling of my fist against Madison Stedman’s heavily makeuped face. I peered down at my hands. They were glistening with thick pink lip gloss.
     “I…I don’t know what happened!” I insisted. “I was only trying to get back something that belongs to my friend. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.” I didn’t either. I had always been a good child, always played by the rules and never stepped out of line to throw mud on the general’s bright, clean uniform. However, in light of the fact that the general was now in the clinic covered in blood, I figured that now was not the time to say so.
     “Well, I see no reason for concern. Miss Penske had received her notepad. It was found in a stall of the girl’s bathroom. However, Miss Stedman is in a serious condition. You may have broken her nose.”
     Despite the gravity of the situation, I was laughing inside. Little Miss Perfect would have a crooked nose! ” I’m really sorry for the trouble”, I insisted.” Please don’t call my mom down here. She has enough on her hands with my father’s death and my little sister.” Great, now I was pleading like and old, poor maid. But Principal Mahl’s face softened.
     “ Well, I suppose it won’t be necessary to alert your mother. It is your first offence at this school. But she will certainly be notified, if not by me, by you. I expect a phone call from her tonight.” The principal’s severe face straightened back into a conformed line. I nodded slowly, and stood up from my seat. Mrs. Mahl shook my hand. ”You are free to go, Miss Grayson, and welcome to Lincoln.”
     The minute I left my classroom, a sound greeted my ears. It wasn’t mean or spiteful in any way. It sounded happy and well-meant. It was the sound of clapping, and it came from three figures by the door.
     “Well done”, said Mitch, and he clapped me on the back.” I can’t believe that actually happened.” He laughed hard while Grace and Isabelle talked as fast as they could.
     “ That was amazing, I can’t believe you actually did that, thank you so much!” Grace was all smiles, clutching her somewhat wet sketchbook to her small chest. And now, even though Grace probably shouldn’t have been thanking me, I knew that I had done the right thing. I had true friends, and that was all I needed for now.

     Chapter 8: Roses and Violets

     After being released on parole, I was quickly given harsh stares by about 40 percent of the student body. I guess I should have expected it, what with most of them being on Madison’s side. New York people sure are harsh. But I had earned the acceptance of my new friends, and I only glowed in their kind words in the hall and laughs at the lunch table that day.
     As I was walking from the lunch line with my food, though, one of the girls from Madison’s table spilled a carton of milk purposefully on the clean tile. Without knowing it, I put a heel onto the puddle and slipped, my lunch flying into the air. But the trick was on the girl. Just like a repeat of High School Musical, my pizza flipped right into the crook of her V-neck shirt. She screamed as gooey red sauce slipped down her chest and onto her pants, soaking her white silk blouse.
     I fell into a heap on the ground and into the milk, but I had a jacket that I could put on over my t-shirt. I struggled to get up as people began to notice me and the bratty female figure above my head. Then, Trey came walking back to the table and spotted me lying on the floor. He leaned over and asked, ”Need help?”
     “Sure!” I reached up and looked for his helpful hand, but his arms were folded.
     “So do we all”, he replied, and turned away, retreating from the embarrassing scene.
     When I had returned to the table and pulled a black sweatshirt over my shoulders, Grace said,” Well, that looked fun.” She grinned, a slender finger pointing at the fiasco I had left behind.
     “Just thrilling”, I complied, ”but I don’t think I’ll have another go.” I peered over in Trey’s direction, but he was busy talking to Matt about the Geography quiz and what grades they had received. I blushed and turned away. To my surprise, Grace’s plaintive face was grinning at me slyly.
     “You like him, don’t you?”
     I practically shouted, “Of course not! Don’t be so…”
     She cut me off immediately.” Come on, Kat. I’m not that stupid. I want to be a matchmaker someday if I can’t write novels by then, and I know who belongs with whom. However, I’m not sure he’s such a role model.”
     Isabelle butted into the conversation with her face raised high, smiling widely.” I have a good reason why you shouldn’t like him, Kat. I found this in Grace’s notebook, so I can explain it in poetry. Hem, hem…” And before Grace could pull the notebook away, she continued:
     “ Her disposition is light and his conscience is dark,
     His dad’s name is Ripper, her dad is Dick Clark,
     She smells like strawberries, he smells like crack
     While she calls him nightly, he never calls back.”
     As Isabelle finished reading, Katie turned to put her two cents in.” Not to be mean or anything, this is just what I do when anyone announces that they have a crush: You love him, you love him ,ha-ha ha-ha hahaha!” She made a funny face and the girls giggled.
     My face reddened , but I didn’t take it to heart. Instead, I shot back,” In reply to you jousts, I say this:
     ‘Roses are red, violets are blue,
     If you mention love again, I’ll kill you.’”
     I smiled a wicked grin and we all cracked up again. Then I added,” Besides, I told you I don’t love him. I don’t even like him, not even as a friend.” I stuck out my tongue. ”Hah. So there. But it was an interesting poem, I’ll give you that.” Grace smiled extra wide.
     I got goo-goo eyes from all of the girls for the rest of the day, but none of them could bother me in choir. It was only me, Trey, and the boy with the curly hair. Grace had informed me that his name was Mark.
     We had a new girl in our class that day. She had thick brown hair that bobbed in tight pin-curls, and tight, fashionista-style clothes. Her high heels clickety-clacked as she strutted across the room. She took a graceful seat next to the black-haired girl who was my music partner(and who frequently gave me the cold shoulder). Mark’s eyes were trained on the new girl all the way to the risers.
     We sang a new song in class called ‘Windy Dance’, and Ruby, the new student, sang with a finely tuned airy city voice. It was pretty and rang like a bell, and Mrs.Saludine congratulated her as she was leaving the classroom.
     “Nice job!” she said, shaking Ruby’s hand. “We would be glad to have you in our school musical.” As I was leaving, she tapped my shoulder. ”That goes for you, too.”
     I smiled and waved as I stepped into the hallway, and I couldn’t help feeling a sense of belonging. Finally, I was beginning to feel at home, even if the eyes of Madison’s angry friends trailed me on my way to the buses.

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177. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 15, 2008 at 3:24 pm

     Here comes the second part-Chapters 9-21

     Chapter 9: Eye of the Beholder

     I made my way home with a heavy heart, knowing that Mom would be in a stressful mood and not al all happy to find that her daughter had become a felon in only her first month at a new school. But to my surprise, Mom was a sleepwalker when I tiptoed in the door. I swung the thing as quietly as possible, but it still squealed loudly on the rusty hinges. Her head looked up from over a dirty kitchen counter, and she set down a sponge, with which she had been scouring mold, to greet me.
     “ Hi, honey. Could you go get Myna at the bus stop for me, dear?” She seemed to be dazedly glad, and didn’t grouch at me as she had taken to doing lately. I figured it was as good a time as any to let my wrongdoings out.
     “Mom, before I go, there’s something that I need to talk to you about.” I told Mom all about punching Madison and being sent to the principal, and she listened with her eyes shut tight like miniature safes with blue eye shadow splattered on their tops. Surprisingly, her reaction was subtle.
     “May I ask why you felt the need to hit this girl?”
     “She stole something of my friend’s, and wouldn’t return it. She was rude and disrespectful.” Mom would listen if someone wasn’t respecting someone else. She was an honorary member of her own peace choir.
     “Well, dear, I don’t think it was right to be violent, but I guess it solved the problem anyways.” She rubbed her hand exhaustedly across her forehead. Man, she must have been really tired for not screaming her lungs out. I was appreciative of this.
     “I’ll go pick up Myna now.”
     “Thanks, sweetie. You’re such a helpful girl.”
     I went straight out the door to the bus stop at the end of the block and toted my sister home, her blue backpack swinging gaily off her shoulder, and words of a happy day at school coming from her mouth. When we reached the house, Mom was still cleaning and spritzing Clorox on each individual window pane on the door. I suppose it took her mind off her troubles, as if cleaning was her own little escape ship to an island in the sea.
     Gregory came home at around six, and we ate a reluctant family dinner by the large glass window I the kitchen. I was impaling a sliced carrot on my rusty fork when I noticed a movement of tan on the snowy back lawn. I looked out into our single acre of yard and saw a shaggy golden retriever, skinny and obviously freezing.
     “Mom, look! A dog!” I cried, and ,pulling on my boots, I ran outside in the swirls of white with no coat, and then got slow as I approached the lonely puppy. He wagged his tail as I came near, and when I stuck out my hand, he licked it profusely. Snuggling against me for warmth, he gave off a piney scent that made me feel calm.
     Myna, who was on my heels, threw her arms around the scrawny dog and cried,”Oh, Mommy, can we keep him?”
     Mom came walking across the back lawn and surveyed the animal. It wasn’t dirty, and didn’t seem to have any flea bites. There was no collar anywhere in sight.” Well, if you take care of him, I certainly have no problem. It’s only a matter of Gregory…” Her voice trailed off as she looked to the window beyond. Gregory’s head was over his food, gluttoning like a pig as he sat in the empty house. He didn’t look up, so I led the dog indoors as Mom and Myna came behind. The dog stayed close at my heels as we went towards the table.
     Gregory finally lifted his greasy nose and looked at the dog.” Vell, it seems dat ve have a new pet, eh? Vat a cute little poochie!” He stuck out his spindly fingers to the dog, but it snarled and drew away from him. I let a smirk appear on my face for a hot second, but it slid away when Gregory looked at me. Myna and I dashed up the stairs, the dog at our side.
     Once we had reached the safety of Myna’s room, we wanted to decide on a name. I knew how to tell girl and boy dogs apart, and I peered between the dog’s back legs.” It’s a girl”, I pronounced, and Myna clapped her hands.
     “Can I help name her? Please please please?”
     I laughed and nodded.” Sure, what do you think?”
     “How about Missy?”
     “No”, I shook my head. ”Too girly.”
     “Spats?”
     I laughed. “Now you’re just being silly.” Then , all at once, it came to me. I remembered the warm days on the beach when Dad would take me into the tropical places where the flowers grew. I remembered delicate blooms in blues and whites, but the one I had loved the most was the orange tiger lily. ”How about Lila?”
     Myna nodded and squealed with delight.” I like it, I like it! Little Lila!”
     I looked at our new family member. She was thin and her fur was plastered to her body with the wet snow, but even though she looked like a drowned rat, I thought she was a beautiful dog.
     “How about we dry her off and feed her?” ,I asked Myna, and without answering she ran to get a towel from the cupboard.

     Chapter 10: No Spring, Just Fling
     With a dog in the house, all of our lives seemed more real to us than they had been in the past month and a half. There was responsibility, and yet a spark of joy that we could never have ignited without a pet. I couldn’t believe how happy it had made my little sister alone. She hadn’t really made many friends since she had arrived, and my mom agreed that a companion was just what Myna needed after a long day.
     School was like a hybrid of a shark tank and a technical convention as the days of winter began to pass by. The classes themselves grew more and more boring every day, and even passing notes with my friends didn’t seem to turn the impending darkness around. Madison’s friends still gave me dirty looks, my homework load had doubled, and I was none the wiser to problems ahead.
     Madison herself, as I saw on Tuesday, was finally back from her all to long vacation as an official invalid brat. Evidently, her parents weren’t going to let her bury her disfigured head in the sand any longer, and they had forced her to come to school. I was surprised to see, however, that the only blemish on her face was a bland cotton bandage on the bridge of her nose. No swelling, no bruises, not even a stain on the supermodel profile. And all of her friends, guys and girls, crowded back around her and greeted her with little high-pitched squeals and shoulder hugs. Not one stiletto-heeled foot tried to lead its’ body away from the imperfect girl, and all eyes of the boys belonged to her. I wanted to smack her. Why wasn’t anyone flocking away from her? She wasn’t their strong old queen bee anymore! And then, the truth tapped on my back and hit me as I turned to meet it. They were all too afraid of her or entranced by her to leave well enough alone.
     As I walked past her group, their talking fell dead silent. No eyes followed me but one set, framed by thick lashes and a deadly promise. What the promise was, I didn’t know, but Madison’s smirk held it ready and waiting to fire. I sped on as fast as I could. This time, no friends followed me to return their silence. It wasn’t safe to stay and retaliate, so I chose not to take any chances.
     What was the point? With three tests and a chance to be eaten alive by evil cliques, I was in for much too much more than I needed right now. Thank goodness for my friends, especially Grace and Mitch. It was like being stuck in quicksand with tree limbs hanging over you to help you pull out of the disgusting muck around you.
     “You need to chill, Kitty. It’s enough that she isn’t scarred, but messing with her makes you a main target. You make her mad and you’re going down like Paris Hilton in the back of Limp Biskit’s tour bus.”
     I grinned at Grace, who sat aside me as we ate lunch in our usual spots.” That sounds like something I’d say. In fact, it sounds familiar. You heard that on TV, am I right?”
     “ Yuppers!” She made twin thumbs-up’s and laughed.” Ah, the beauty of public television.”
     I would have agreed, but the TV in our house didn’t have any signal, because Lila had made a jump with her long legs over the small bunny-eared television set and knocked the ears askew. Gregory had made his best effort to fix them, but so far nothing had worked. However, I felt a tiny sense of gratitude in the pit of my stomach, way down where all the guilt and conscience goes. I didn’t want to face the fact that I was beginning to like my new stepfather.
     Also, as snow was falling outside the windows of the cafeteria, I noticed a large, boldly emblazoned sign hanging on a nearby pillar. HOLIDAY DANCE!, it proudly proclaimed. FRIDAY THE 23rd, 7-9pm! I pointed it out to Grace and Katie.
     “ What do you think it’s going to be like?” Katie inquired.
     “ Well, at my old school, the dances were in the cafeteria and the school hired these cheap DJ’s to play”, I replied.
     “ At the last dance, the rapper poured Hawaiian Punch down my neck!” Isabelle cried. “It wasn’t very fun. My shirt was white, but at least only the back got stained.”
     I patted her shoulder. ”It’s okay, Izzy. Stains are nothing compared to see-through shirts.” We had taken to shortening each other’s names. Because my name has everything to do with felines, apparently, I was dubbed “Kitty”, which sounded cuter. Grace came up with it, spread the message, and everyone I knew was ‘Kitty’ this and ’Kitty’ that.
     “It’s not as though any guys actually come to the dances, so there’s really no point.” Katie looked glum, and Grace tried to cheer her up.
     “ It’s ok, Katie. Someone’s going to come”, Grace reassured her, and the sound of our conversation drew the attention of Trey, Jay, Chris and Mitch, who previously had been chatting about Jay’s new guitar, a Gibson model with silver accents.
     “ Whatcha chatting about?” , Mitch asked. “Winter dance, hm?” Out of the corner of his eye, I caught him sneaking peeks at Isabelle, who was evidently entranced by her ‘meat loaf’. I suspected that it was raw, but we choked it down to live.
     “I’ll go if you guys will!” Jay piped up and stuck his head into the circle like an ostrich. Grace giggled.
     “ I’m in!” said Chris.
     “So am I.” Mitch raised his hand, obviously enthusiastic. Then all eyes moved to Trey.
     “Well, I guess”, he sighed.” But only if it’s actually interesting.”
     “ It will be”, I said, and our eyes met for a brief moment. It was like a sharp light blinking me in the eyes, something so strong that I could hesitate for as long as the beam held. But he turned back to his music, and I turned back to my friends. ”So it’s settled”, I said, and we got back to talking about bunny ears and math tests.

     Chapter 11: To Show You the Light

     A caravan of yellow taxi cabs pulled in a solemn procession down the lonely side street where I was walking Lila that afternoon. It was six o’ clock and just beginning to darken. The trees made funny, twisted shadows that seemed to bow slightly in the afternoon wind, and I was almost ready to turn the corner and go home when I heard loud shouts and scuffling from a nearby house. I stopped slightly for a minute to listen. I couldn’t make out what the yells were saying, but I knew they were angry. Waiting and watching, one final slap emitted from the open window, hung rigid in the air and clung to the frost, then fell to the ground as the door flung open.
     I thought I was out of my mind when the figure angrily made his way down the walk, looking pointedly at his shoes. It was Trey. His hair was all messed up and I noted that his cheek was fiercely red. I stood up, but there was no need.
     “ Wait!” I cried, and began to walk after him. He stopped dead, and, seeing me with what I guessed was a pitiful look, he began to walk much faster. I wouldn’t let him go, though. I dashed up, Lila on my heels, and grabbed his arm, spinning him around.
     “What?!” he yelled, anger filling his eyes and embarrassment flushing his cheeks.
     “ I just wanted to say hi”, I said softly, and even though he still looked mad, something in his eyes dissipated. He kept walking, but slower now, so that I could keep up.
     “ So you wanted to say something?” he questioned.
     “ What…what was that about? Are you all right?” I felt myself reaching up to touch his check, but he turned away.
     “ I’m fine.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and didn’t look at me.
     I felt my face redden. Why had I reached up? Why didn’t I keep to myself? ” I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
     “ Oh, you had every right. I’m sure everyone can hear them.” He stretched his hand and swept it across the air, as though trying to wipe away memories of the fight that he had left behind.” They’re always at each other’s throats and when I try to settle them down, all I get is discipline, discipline, discipline.” He pointed a long finger at the splotch on his face, which was slowly beginning to turn back to its normal color of skin again.
     “ But, really, it was none of my business”, I reassured him. “I shouldn’t butt in. My mom and my stepdad are the same way. With me and my little sister, they’re always false and happy, but then they bite each other’s heads off when we sleep. I listen through my vent most of the time.” The snow crunched under my boots, and I felt more calm than I ever had when I walked alone. I wanted to bring up a new subject, so I used the one that was closest at hand.” So, how about that Holiday Dance? Who knows, maybe it will be fun.”
     Trey snorted, his breath making little puffs of steam in the winter air.” I don’t know. I don’t dance very well.”
     I nodded solemnly.” Neither do I. Tried before, but all I end up doing is making a fool out of myself.”
     For once, I got a grin out of the hulking teenager. He raised his finger, like he had had a brilliant idea.” Hey, maybe we can stand in the back together and mosh, if they play any good songs.”
     “ I’d like that.”
     We stopped together in the middle of the walkway. It had begun to snow, and the flakes fell softly around us, like in a Christmas card.
     “ So I’ll see you around?”, he asked.
     “ I hope so”, I replied, and smiled a bit myself.
     He knelt down to pet Lila, stroking her carefully.” Nice dog. I used to have one, but he ran away. Lucky thing. Wish I could, too.”
     He started to turn around down the path, waving once to me in a sort of mock salute. I watched him all the way down the block until he disappeared around the corner. I felt myself wishing I’d said something more than what I had, but at the same time I was accomplished. I had gotten through to him, and that was a start.

     Chapter Twelve: Emergency

     Ski Club began two days before the dance. Besides the spring musical, it was the only thing I had signed up for, because I knew how to ski and everything. Isabelle, Mitch and I had to change into our snow gear before loading onto the bus, but we sat across from one another. Isabelle and I took the seat on the right side of the aisle, and Mitch sat on the left. He said he was saving a seat for someone, but when I asked, he wouldn’t tell me who. I was jamming in my head to the music on my Ipod when I saw a large person ascend the steps of the bus. I stared up.
     It, predictably, was Trey, clad in all black. Black jacket, black snow pants, thick black boots, black hat… Even his gloves were a rustic black with silver accents. It made his skin look white as the ground around the circle drive. Mitch stood up, and Trey took the window seat. I felt a sense of disappointment, but it didn’t matter. He was in the same club as me, and we would be seeing each other every Wednesday after school from four to eight.
     Isabelle and I chatted animatedly as we made the half hour trip to Snow Springs, a training and ski-snowboard camp. The snow wasn’t real, but the atmosphere was, and there was a long stone lodge on top of one of the closer hills where hot chocolate and dinner were available to the snow-goers. It was all very scenic, nothing like the crowded ranges where my mom and dad had taken me on vacation when I was five. The hills were open, and scattered only minimally with people enjoying the winter weather.
     Mitch, Isabelle, Trey and I wandered to the back of the bus and took our skis out of the trunk. Predictably, mine were the plainest of the bunch, a dull white with thin blue stripes. Isabelle’s were a violently lime green, Mitch’s were standard red, and Trey’s (surprise, surprise) were a deep ebony. Although his parents seemed to argue a lot, these skis looked expensive. I caught myself wondering if he’d stolen them, but the thought was shoved to the corners of my mind. I didn’t suspect him of it anymore.
     Hastily showing our free entrance passes to a stern-looking man at the gates, we flung our skis over our shoulders and dashed down the path to the closest lift. The chair waiting for us was a quad, luckily, and we all squeezed on, Isabelle, then me, then Trey, then Mitch. It was a tight fit, seeing as Trey was so huge, and we tried to make room for one another, pressed tight to the shoulders of the people next to us. I didn’t quite know why my heart was pumping so hard, but I figured it had something to do with Trey being pressed into my collarbone.
     I had only been skiing a few times in my life, but I was fairly confident in myself. It seemed like everybody else could ski too, and Isabelle looked like a pro, carefully pulling on her goggles, the lenses crystal clear with not a single scratch. The hill was a blue, not as easy as a brown hill and not as hard as a black diamond or the double black diamond. I stared down, the snow on the hill like powder under the slippery strips of Plexiglas-coated plastic attached to my shoes.
     “ Everybody ready?”, Mitch asked, gripping his ski poles tightly and looking to the left and right of him. I was beginning to have second thoughts as I gazed into the valleys ahead of us. I saw multiple bouts of moguls facing out upturned skis and noses, and I just wanted to turn around, go back to the lodge, and get a hot chocolate. But just as I was about to turn around, Isabelle gave me a little push, and before I could stop myself I was plummeting down the slope, hands clutched to my poles for dear life, and speeding away like never before. It truly was an amazing course, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it, because while the others were whooping and racing each other, I was screaming, the noise muffled under my scarf.
     “ Help!” I cried, viewing my first turn up ahead of me. I quickly unweighted and pushed my weight to my left side, making sure that I kept myself on a straight curve with my poles. I was beginning to get behind the others, so I pushed hard with my legs and began to gain speed steadily when I noticed a series of ego bumps ahead of me. I saw Trey and Mitch speedily flipping over the mounds of snow one after another, and tried to get back my feet as I hit the first bump. I was like a stone, skipping and skimming over the surface of the snow, and all at once my stress lifted. I felt confident and prepared for anything this hill could throw at me.
     On the next large mogul I saw, I executed an indie grab, pulling my skis up to meet my gloved hand. For a brief second, I flew through the air, weightless, until I released myself onto the hill. The others were slowly losing pace to me, cheering at my leaps and tricks, until I reached an enormous lump of wet snow. I was flowing, one with the wind, the ground, and all at once I became one with the trees. My skis caught an edge in the sopping snow and I did a flip, headfirst, into a snow bank, flying completely off the course.
     Powder had run up my body and covered my eyes. I could barely see anything at all, stuck under feet of newly fallen snow. The precipitation had been so heavy that, along with the man-made snow, a dump had formed along the edge of the track, about five or six feet deep, and the force of my fall had lodged me stiffly into the massive mound. I heard the others stop quickly, but I couldn’t feel a thing now. My face and arms were slowly becoming numb, and I could no longer feel my body up to my waist. I wondered if they would be able to spot me. Did my legs stick out far?
     I felt two pairs of arms tugging at my snow pants, and then they were roughly shoved aside. With one swift pull, Trey lifted me out of the snow bank and set me gently onto the ground. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I could tell who it was because neither Isabelle nor Mitch had the strength to tug me out in a single try.
     “She’s really pale”, Trey said, his loud voice breaking the snow on my ears.
     “ We have to get her back to the lodge, now! Somebody get the liftie or something!”, Isabelle cried, her voice shrill.
     “ I…I’m all right…”, I said feebly. The sky was beginning to lighten around my goggles, which were torn away from my head so my eyes could be brushed out. I heard faint sirens, noises coming loudly from the hill, and then I didn’t quite remember anything at all. The sky got dark again, the noises dimmed, and the beckoning of rest inside me was too strong to resist.
     When I woke up, I was lying on a long green love seat in the peaceful, warm lodge. A man with a first aid kit stood beside me, and I saw Trey, Mitch and Isabelle not far away. I felt my head. There was a hot water bottle on my head, and fluffy blankets surrounded my soaking wet form.
     “Feeling better, then?”, the doctor asked. He stuck a thermometer in my gaping mouth, and I nearly choked trying to sit up. The man set an arm on my shoulder.” You need to rest”, he insisted, and I didn’t try to resist any longer. Isabelle rushed over to me and reassured,” We called our parents. My mom can drive you home when you feel up to it.”
     “ Why, what time is it?”, I asked. I peered nervously at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten at night.” Oh, no!” I cried, trying my hardest to kick away the mountain of blankets. I was wearing a jacket and jeans that didn’t belong to me, but I didn’t quite care at this point.” My mom’s going to kill me! I can’t be out this late!” Once again, I was forcibly suppressed, but this time by Trey.
     “You better rest, dude”, Trey said. “ That was a nasty spill, but then again, if you hadn’t been there to take it, the rest of us probably would have done the same.” He smiled. “In your own little way, you’re a lifesaver, Kat.”
     That made me grin.

     Chapter 13: Saving Grace

     When I woke up in the morning on Friday, I saw that a blizzard had left its mark on the streets below my window. The tree branches were splayed in a westward direction, ice freezing their spindly tips until the frost completely obscured them. The ground was covered in an immense blanket of snow, I approximated two feet deep, and the roads were being meticulously cleared with a tiny snow plow, obviously not big enough for the job. I groaned. Even though school was definitely cancelled, I had really been looking forward to the dance that night.
     The first thing I did when I crawled out of bed was to pick up my cell phone and dial Grace’s number. She picked up after the first few rings.
     “Hello?” Her voice sounded tired, and yet it still had the little perk to it like always.
     “Hi, Grace”, I said. “D’ you know if we still have the dance later?”
     “ They usually don’t cancel because of snow”, she said comfortingly.” I wouldn’t put this incident in the way. Judging by how fast the plows are working, I’d say that the roads will be clear by about two in the afternoon.”
     “ That’s a lifesaver”, I said. ”I’ve already picked out what I want to wear.”
     “ Same here!” she squealed, and I giggled. I had chosen what I wanted to wear when I got home last night, and it was laid across my chair right now. I had selected a smaller black dress and a gold cropped jacket. My shoes were shiny gold pumps, and black bangles were going to dangle from my arms. I assumed that we had to dress up, but I wanted to be safe, so I checked with Grace.
     “Whatcha going to wear?”
     Turns out I was right, Grace had chosen a pink dress. At least now I wouldn’t be alone. She said that the girls usually wore dresses, and the guys wore slacks and dress shirts. I felt self-conscious, because I hadn’t followed my hunch, but at the same time, I cracked up trying to imagine Trey in a dress shirt, much less something formal.
     “What’s so funny?” Grace asked.
     “ N-nothing, don’t even ask..” My voice trailed off and I settled down.” Look, Grace, I gotta go. I’ll se you later,ok?”
     “ Ok, talk to you soon.” The line on the other end clicked, and I shut my phone tight. I reached for my iHome and spun the dial until I found the right song. Then I woke up.
     …Last summer we took threes across the board ,but by fall, we were a cover story now in stores…
     I pulled my t-shirt over my head, my heart pumping and my mind reeling…
     …So long live the car crash hearts, cry on the couch all the poets come to life…
     My shoes slipped on easily, one after the other, a broken refrain of a strained routine…
     …I can take your problems away with a nod and a wave of my hand…
     Wishing the words were true, I sat on my bed and let my peace wane…
     …Crowds are won and lost and won again, but our hearts beat for the diehards…
     I imagined myself on a stage, the lights making my soul jump with spasms of disbelief. It was just me and my guitar, my singers, and my life ahead of me….
     …Long live the car crash hearts…
     The chords of the music faded into the depths of the speakers, and I was alone. All alone in my house of cards, a joker, a queen, a jack, and the nonexistent 13. In other words, the only sane teenager on the face of the planet.
     I stumbled down the stairs and grabbed the dog’s leash. Clipping Lila on, I made a quick walk for the front door. My mom caught me on my way.
     “Where are you-“ she began, but I cut her off.
     “Out.”
     “Don’t you want something to eat?”
     “Not really.”
     “When are you going to be back?”
     “Why so many questions, Mom?”
     She stopped dead, her face melting into a frown and tears popping into her eyes.” You’ve gotten so different since we moved, sweetie. I barely ever see you any more.”
     I kept going.” That’s Gregory’s fault.”
     I slammed the door behind me, and Lila whimpered as we descended the porch steps. I petted her on the head gently. “It’s going to be all right, pup. We’re going to be fine.”
     I walked with a purpose along the side street where Trey’s house was. The snow was thick under my boots, and I was thankful for a winter coat. It was just my luck on a cold day like today that Trey was out front, shoveling the walk. Lila and I stepped lightly, her paws padded in little dog booties that Myna had made for her out of thick waterproof fabric. They weren’t close to designer, but they kept her little puppy feet warm on days like today. I approached Trey carefully, hoping that I wouldn’t catch him off guard. I did. “ Hey, there. Working hard?”
     Trey almost dropped his shovel into the deep snow and spun around. “Hey, Grayson. You know, I usually don’t see people outside in this bad of weather, especially not in this part of town. Got any alibi?”
     I grinned.” Happened to be in the neighborhood and thought you might need some company.”
     “After your last snowy incident, I’d have though that you’d stay far away from the stuff.”
     “Well, I guess that’s another thing you’ve learned about me. I bounce back.”
     He leaned down and scratched Lila behind the ears. Her tongue lolled agreeably. “I see you’ve brought your friend again. What’s her name?”
     “That’s Lila. You seem to be more of an animal lover than a people person.”
     “I’m a people person most of the time. It just doesn’t stand out. It’s mostly the stereotypes that get in the way, like because I look like a criminal, I am. Don’t you just hate them?”
     I nodded my head. I did know what he was talking about. There were a lot of stereotypes that people gave Californians, because we lived with all the rich and famous. They thought that just because all of the famous people have beach houses in Cali, then we must all be stuck-up like them.
     “ D’you have time to walk?” I asked, hoping that his answer matched mine.
     It did. “Sure”, he said, tossing down the shovel onto the nearly clean driveway. ”The parents really don’t notice when I’m gone.” We trudged through the thick snow. Not many of his neighbors had even made the effort to get out the door, much less hovel their walks for the people passing by. It would have been a nice gesture, but I guess that most grumpy middle-aged men don’t leap to the door just to go shovel two feet of snow at their wife’s multiple requests.
     “Some day, eh?” I huffed, digging my boot meticulously out of a deep patch of precipitation.
     “No kidding”, he replied, dragging his legs and leaving long spindly trails of clean walk behind him, which quickly filled themselves in again with nothing to hold them up.” The plows are going to have to work really hard to get those roads clean before the dance.”
     “You still going?” I looked up at him, praying that the snow hadn’t made him change his mind.
     “I will if you will.”
     “I’m pretty sure I am, you’ve got a 99.9 percent chance. I’d say your odds are good.” I grinned, and he returned the favor.
     “You know what, Kat? You’re pretty cool.”
     We had reached my house. I couldn’t believe how fast we had crossed streets. I guess time really does fly. We stopped in front of my walk, and he patted Lila on the head one final time. ”Well, I guess I’d better be going”, he said.
     “ I would go further, but I think I’m going to need to lie down. Got to save up my energy.” I pretended to be winded, placing my hand across my forehead.
     “So I’ll see you later, then?”
     “Count on it.”
     His gloved fingers curled into a wave, and he began to trudge up the street. I swung open the gate as best I could and walked to the door.
     My mother was waiting for me as I took off my snow gear.” Where have you been? What took you so long? You better answer me right now!”
     I gave her a hug and twirled around She appeared to be momentarily shocked. “I love ya, Mom”, I cried, and began to run upstairs two at a time.
     “What’s up with you?”
     “Nothing!” I yelled, but I couldn’t hide the beaming smile that was tugging at the corners of my mouth.

     Chapter 14: An Iliad of Roses

     As I soon discovered, dances were a place to fit in and only to fit in, not a place to be yourself. It’s a sad, cold fact of life which, up until that point, I had never had to face or lift my eyes up to.
     My mother and Gregory had left for the night. They were going out to dinner and didn’t know when they would be back, so instead of walking through the freezing cold in two-inch heels, Grace’s mom offered me a ride, which I immediately accepted. I hired Myna a babysitter, our next door neighbor Mrs. Fudge, and was quickly out the door in a matter of minutes. When I climbed into the car, profusely thanking Mrs. Penske, I compared my outfit with Grace’s. Grace had neatly piled her hair into a swirling bun near the back of her neck, while I had curled mine with meticulous work and the help of the ever-amazing hair spray. Her dress was floaty, while mine was plain, but we both looked ready for a party.
     When we entered the normally putrid, foot-scented gymnasium, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There were streamers of glimmering fabric hung over the rafters in billows of icy blues and whites. Snowflake appliqués that shimmered when you turned your head clung to the walls, and hung from the ceiling. Blue chairs lined the walls, as well as a blue sofa and a set of squishy blue love seats. White streamers hung over the panes of the doorways, so that whenever someone walked in they appeared in a shower of glistening opal. The whole room had an airy, pine-fresh scent about it, and the stage revealed a fog machine every twenty minutes. They had even hired a DJ for us, who stood on a plinth near the far wall.
     Grace and I went to plop down in two of the seats. I scanned the room for any sign of our friends, but it was simply too crowded too see anything. We waited for what seemed like twenty minutes chatting and anxious for the activities to start. Then, we spotted Mitch, Jay, Isabelle and Chris speeding across the dance floor toward us.
     “HI!” Grace leapt up and bounced over to Isabelle. I saw Jay’s eyes trained on her, and he was smiling. He went over to talk to her as the first dance started.
     I felt betrayed and disappointed. I had believed with all my heart that Trey wouldn’t drop out, but apparently he wasn’t going to show. As it turns out, I was wrong.
     Through the door, in a shimmer of the white streamers, Trey came walking onto the dance floor, swift and serene. He wore a suit coat and pants, and shiny black shoes. In his lapel there was a single, blood red rose. He made his way over to his friends, chatted with them for a while, and then spotted me. I was sitting on the couch, trying to get him to look my way surreptitiously, and he came and sat beside me on the voluminous love seat.
     “Nice jacket”, I said, pointing at the ebony coat he wore over a matching black shirt and a red tie.
     “I was actually going to lose it, but I didn’t want to crush the rose. So here.” He removed the beautiful bloom from the pocket of the jacket and handed it to me. I sniffed it. It smelled like cologne and shoe polish.
     “Thanks a lot. It’s real beautiful. I’ll put it in my hair.” I did, and though it clashed with my ensemble it felt comforting over my open ear. Isabelle walked slyly past, and while Trey was looking away she gave me that ‘oooooooh’ kind of look. Then, to my surprise, Mitch strolled over to Trey and I.
     “Hey, guys”, he said, sounding rushed. ”Um, Trey, could I talk to Kat for a second? It’s kind of important.”
     Looking slightly miffed, Trey stood up and made room for Mitch beside me on the couch. Over the music, I could hear him muttering as he slouched away. This made my heart flutter, but Mitch pulled me abruptly back to consciousness with a jerk at my shoulder.
     “Look, I need your help with something, ok?” Mitch’s face looked strained.” I trust you to keep my secrets, and I’m in need of advice. See…” His voice trailed off as he looked toward Isabelle in the corner, who was chatting with some of her other friends an eyeing a boy named Jim Tyson with a romanticized glint in her eye. Mitch pulled his eyes away, and grabbed my elbow. I listened. ”Ok, you have to promise not to tell anyone, all right?”
     I nodded. “Pinky swear.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Trey, looking angrily at Mitch’s hand on my arm.
     “I trust you with this. Well, the thing is…I kind of like Isabelle.”
     My mouth dropped open in a wide-eyed smile.” Well, well. This is an interesting turn of events!”
     His finger came up to cover my mouth. ”Shut up! You can’t tell anyone, ok? Could you just please put in a good word for me?”
     Just then, Trey stalked over to the chair as a slow song began to play. ”Excuse me for interrupting”, he said,”but can I talk to you for a minute?” He grabbed my hand and dragged me out into the hall and we walked fast into a nearby corridor, the one that lead to the pool. Trey’s firm hands shoved on the door, and by some miracle, it opened. The room was dark, and the lights in the pool cast reverberated shadows through the water and onto the ceiling. The scent of chlorine filled my nostrils, but as Trey put a stopper in the door and dragged me to the pool edge, I forgot everything else.
     “What is this all about?” I asked, tugging my hand away from his. ”I was in the middle of something important!”
     “I need to talk to you, okay?” His face was a furious mask, but his tone was soft.
     “What is it?”
     “You…do you and Mitch…”
     “Do me and Mitch what?”
     He blurted out the words as if they were forced. ”Do you like him?”
     I was shocked. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Trey was jealous! He was actually jealous of something that I was doing! I put my hand on Trey’s shoulder, but he tossed it off and began to walk away, a quickened pace leading him to the stoppered door, and the creepy reflections of the pool shining onto his shirt.
     I grabbed his arm before he could escape and spun him around. ”No!” I cried, a laugh breaking the tension and my lips all at once. “We’re only friends, all right? I’m pretty sure we’re only friends!
     “Pretty sure?”
     “Totally sure!”
     A look of relief made Trey relax, but I saw that he wasn’t completely convinced. ”Look, I’m sorry if I was mean or rude or anything…”
     I placed my hand on his shoulder again, and this time he did not throw it off. ”You’re all right.”
     Now there was only inches of space between our outstretched faces. I could hardly believe myself. Was this what it felt like, to have a boy with you?
     “Trey? Kat? Where are you guys?” The voices of Isabelle and Grace cut in between us, a panel of our differences keeping us on other sides of the glass. Trey’s face turned a momentary red, which I could hardly see with the green glow that emitted from the flowing water rubbing into my eyes.
     “I should go”, he said, and made a dash for the door. This time I did not stop him, but followed him into the hallway, just as Grace and Isabelle turned the corner.
     “What were you two…” Grace began, but Isabelle dragged her away as I began to run after Trey, my high heels clicking a beat that chased us down the hall. My footsteps traced his all the way to the doors of the school.
     “Wait..!” I cried, stretching out a hand. Trey did not pause.
     “Leave me alone!” he yelled, making to push the doors open.
     “Don’t go!”
     “Why shouldn’t I?”
     “Because! What about what just happened?”
     He spun to face me, pain lining every ridge of his face. ”Nothing happened, ok? NOTHING! There was nothing for me to stay for then, and there’s nothing for me now!” I felt the tears running down my face as he swung the doors fiercely on their hinges and retreated into the safety of the night. I watched him with eyes that could no longer hold their water.
     Eventually, I returned to the hubbub of the dance. The majority of the people had arrived at the dance that were going to be there. Some people had already gotten too tired to go on and had left the floor to sit on the blue plastic chairs by the north and south walls. I wiped my eyes and hoped I didn’t look too splotchy. I guess I had just gotten a little too carried away. After all, it wasn’t exactly a situation that he had wanted to be in, and I was afraid that I had put him on the spot.
     I looked around for any signs of people that I knew. Mitch and Chris were playing a solitary game of girl watching, still occupying the couch, but Mitch’s eyes roamed from the haughty blonde group upon which Chris was fixated. Isabelle was nowhere in sight. I saw Grace and Jay, who were dancing out in the middle of the floor. This made me smile. But the grin was slapped off of my face when I heard an irritatingly familiar voice, accompanied by profuse giggling.
     “Hey, Trashy, why are you standing all alone? People might think that you have no friends. Of course, they’d be right!” Madison Stedman, flanked by about five girls, stood with their hands on their waists and lofty expressions on their pinched faces.
     “What do you want, Stedman?” I asked, my tone suggesting that she back away. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to take a hint. All of her cronies laughed and made stupid expressions at me.
     Madison didn’t try to back away. ”I just wanted to tell you what an ugly dress you’re wearing! Later, loser!” She and the girls made ‘L’ signs on their foreheads with their thumbs and forefingers, and then simpered away, their high heels making a perfect model-walk across the floor.
     I felt sick. ”Immature!” I yelled after them, but they paid no attention. A group of handsome boys was their new focus, and Madison was pointing a long nail in my direction, whispering and giggling to the people around her, or anyone who would lend an ear. I dashed out of the gym, tears welling in my eyes once again. I decided that I needed a bathroom break and went as fast as I could to the nearest facility.
     Slowly, because the heels had weakened my ankles, I walked into the bathroom. I didn’t exactly want to be in there with anybody objectionable, so I peered cautiously around the barrier into the small enclosed area of toilets, sinks, and a few broken mirrors. I was met with more of a surprise than I had bargained for.
     One of Madison Stedman’s right hand women was standing over the sink, her mascara running and her eyes streaming with tears. I figured that she couldn’t do anything to me while she was all alone, so I walked to the other sink and fixed my hair. The girl didn’t ignore me, though. She looked up, her black hair limp and her face puffy and red.
     “Hi”, I said cautiously, and the girl stared.” Are you okay?” I asked.
     “No, not really…”
     As I looked upon the girl’s face, there was something familiar about her.” Don’t you sit next to me in choir?” I remembered her icy stares, but not her kinder face, as it looked when people gave her compliments.
     “Y-yeah”, the girl sniffled.
     “So, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
     “I…never mind.”
     “You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
     She looked up at me, big brown eyes longing for a friend. I could tell that she was wavering on the decision to trust me, and evidently she decided she could. ”It’s that girl, Isabelle McHendrix. S-she stole my boyfriend.”
     Isabelle McHendrix? My friend Isabelle? I couldn’t believe my ears. ”You’re sure you have the right Isabelle?”
     “Y-yeah. I found them kissing in the science hall like t-two minutes ago.”
     I didn’t believe what I was hearing. Isabelle wouldn’t do that, would she? ”Who was your boyfriend?”
     “W-well, he wasn’t actually going out with m-me, but he kept hinting he like me and I thought he was g-going to ask me out…” She broke out in a fresh round of tears.
     “What’s his name?”
     “Jim Tyson…” the girl choked.
     I was nearly numb with shock. I patted the girl gently on the shoulder. ”It’s all right. There will be other guys.” She kept sobbing, but she looked like she felt a bit better. Meanwhile, my mind raged and thudded against my skull.
     Jim Tyson? Big Jim Tyson? I could see how she might like him, but why on earth would Isabelle want to go out with him, much less kiss him? And in the science hall! I think that all the chemical fumes would make me puke. What about Mitch? My heart ached for him. I could tell he liked her, and they seemed to go well together. But when he heard this, he would kill someone, and if I broke the news to him it would most likely be me.
     “I’m really sorry…” My voice trailed off, and I helped her to get up. ”If you want, I have some tissue.” I pulled a travel pack of tissues out of my shiny gold purse, and she gratefully took a soft piece of Kleenex.
     “Thanks”, she said.”You’re much nicer than Madison. I’m sorry that she was so mean, and I’m sorry I helped her.” She looked really sincere.
     “No problem. I take that kind of stuff every day.” I smiled as I said this.
     “My name’s Christie, by the way. I’m also sorry for being mean in choir. You’re a great seat buddy.”
     “Also, no problem to that.”
     “Well, I guess I’ll see you around. Thanks for the tissue, and for listening.” The girl retreated to the security of the gym, and I was left all alone to my thoughts.
     When I had finished cleaning myself up, I leisurely strolled back to the gym. Grace and Jay were still dancing. It was as though they had lost no strength at all, and they could go on for eternity. It was amazing how they were exactly the same height. Mitch and Chris still occupied the couch, and I went over to sit with them. I had nearly almost forgotten about Trey, which was better off for me. ’Nine in the Afternoon’ by Panic At The Disco started playing over the loudspeakers, and as I took a seat by Mitch, I noticed Grace’s and Jay’s hands shift, Jay’s flitted to Grace’s waist, and hers linked to his shoulders.
     “What’s up?” I asked Mitch. His expression did not change. “Hello?” I swung a hand in front of his face. ”WAKE UP!” I nearly screamed, shoving his shoulder. His eyes didn’t move, not even a blink came from them, and his neck snapped back. I turned to Chris. ”What’s wrong with him?”
     “Look over there…” Chris pointed to a couple on the dance floor, and I followed the line of his finger. There, among many other swaying couples, stood Isabelle and Jim, their eyes locked and their smiles wide. Across the room, I saw Christie doing the exact same thing as Mitch, only her cheeks were stained with furtive tears long dried.
     “Oh, Mitch, I’m so sorry…” I tried to touch his shoulder, but without warning he stood up and stalked out of the room as the singing stopped and the instrumental solos began. The last dance was over, and people were gathering their things and leaving. As Grace walked over to me, her eyes reluctant to leave Jay’s, I spotted something on the love seat: Trey’s jacket from the beginning of the dance. It looked lonely and out of place against the blue cushions. I thought of picking it up, but then a boy grabbed it and ran off. I assumed it was going to the lost and found, and I didn’t care any longer.
     All the way home, all Grace could talk about was Jay. My mind reeled at the events of the night as Grace babbled, her eyes alight and her face glowing. But all that filled my mind, my ears, my heart, and my entire self was the sight of Trey in a suit-coat.

     Chapter 15: Dear Diary

     I came home later than I had expected. Grace’s mom had toted me to the corner of an intersection in the prestigious neighborhoods, about 22 blocks away from home. Although it was freezing and I was literally half-dead, I told her that I “lived a couple houses away”, and trucked myself home through the whirls of snow once the minivan had completely disappeared from my sights.
     When I had successfully placed the key in the lock of my door with trembling fingers and turned it, I pushed my way in. I suspected that my shoulder would leave an indent in the rotting wood, but I couldn’t see one so I moved into the faint warmth. My eyes could barely open, the cold having forced the liquid out, so the small bulbs of water from my tear ducts had frozen into crystals on my eyelashes. I took off my thin jacket and hung it on a coat hook on the wall. Then, removing my high heeled pumps with rough force, I dashed up the stairs.
     My mom and my stepfather were fast asleep in bed, huddled against one another for warmth. I snuck a furtive glance into my sister’s room, hoping to catch her awake, but no such luck. So I fell headlong onto my bedroom floor, my face turned at an angle and my arms sticking out on either side of my head. A melancholy darkness greeted me. The power had evidently been lost again.
     Then, in a box that had tipped long ago in the unpacking of my room, I saw a small glimmer. The moonlight caught a scintillation on a faux gem that I had pasted to a notebook when I was young. I remembered that my father had given my both the journal and the little stone for my fifth birthday, because I put a shimmer into his life. Another part of my childhood was brought to light, where my father and I would walk on the beach, my little hand in his, looking for sea glass washed upon the dawning shore. I was learning to walk, and I would stumble against his leg, giggling and stretching, and my father’s booming laughter as I found a pace along the sand.
     I crawled over to the notebook, my hands quavering as I grasped the leather binding of the book. I flipped open the pages, and, using my hand, thumbed through the ruled pages. They were all empty. I recalled how bad of a writer I had been in my early years, my tiny fingers barely able to hold a pencil. But now I took one off my desk. There was no place else to turn. I began to write.

     Friday, December 23rd-After Dance, Day before Winter Break
     I came home tonight with frozen eyes, an ugly dress that’s too small, and a heart that people enjoy tossing on broken glass.
     I feel like screaming. Even if I actually cared, I probably would anyway. Friends don’t make friends cry. Friends don’t make friends cry without looking them in the eye. In short, friends don’t come in Trey’s kind of package. Big, bulky boys with black souls and no sense of conscience don’t deserve my friendship…I think.
     I don’t think anyone else but you can help me now. I’m not a ‘Dear Diary’ kind of girl, but I guess I can address you like a person. So, do you know any decent psychiatrists?
     Today was a suckish day. Not only did I get mortally wounded, but Pete Wentz gave Ashlee Simpson a promise ring. Usually, when a guy gives a girl one of those, it mean’s he’s saving up for a real one, wedding ring and all that jazz. That would end my life completely. If Pete can’t wait for me, nobody can.
     At least other people I know feel happy. Myna’s probably all hunky-dory. She made friends with these girls at her school who wear Juicy clothes. They’re only seven! I didn’t even know that Juicy made stuff for kids their age. Maybe their mothers put the clothes in the wash for a really, really long time. I feel bad that Myna doesn’t have the same stuff as them, but she’s only my little sister. She’s a kid; she shouldn’t have to care about it for at least three years (just kidding!).
     Grace and Jay are kind of cute. They’re both short; they both like the same music. I could see them potentially as a couple. Isabelle and Jim, though…Ugh. Sorry Isabelle, but Jim would not be my first choice of man candy. (That sounded a bit too preppy diva back there, but it’s got to be said).
     So, getting back on the topic of mental help, I think I’m going to need to make a house call…

     “Kaitlin?”
     I slammed the journal shut and spun over off of my bed, hitting my skull with a loud thump on the sideboard as I did so. I saw Gregory, framed by the doorway. I only vaguely noticed that the power was back on.
     “It’s almost midnight, Greg. Why don’t you head on back to bed?” My tone was annoyed, my head ached, and all I wanted was to be alone.
     “I was on my way to the restroom, and I noticed some vague banging from this side of the hall. Sorry to disturb you, dear, I’ll be going now.”
     As he was walking away, something registered in my mind. I noticed something different about him. ”Did you lose your accent?”
     He stopped in the act of swinging open the bathroom door, and grinned. “Yep. I’ve been taking speech classes for free down at the rec center, and they have really worked. You can only just hear a but of that Russian in the echo.”
     I stared, contemplating this sacrifice. Had it been for us, me, Myna, and my mother?
     “You best get to sleep now. Tomorrow you can rest as long as you like. It’s winter break already, I can hardly believe it.” He waved at me.” ‘Night then, Kat.”
     “‘Night.” I reached over to shut off my lamp, stowing the journal only momentarily under my pillow, and before I could dress in my pajamas I was asleep. Only my dreams could bother me now.

     Chapter Sixteen: What Just Happened?

     I woke with a jolt as sunlight battered my eyelids in the early morning. The waking up before my family habit that suited me for school wasn’t going to be enjoyable during winter break. I sat up straight, stretched my fingers to the sky, and slid open my blinds. Wave upon wave of cool lemon light bursted joyously through the dirty glass. I saw that outside, the snow was beginning to melt away. Snowplows no longer were frantically pacing the roads, and small drops of graying slush fell in large splashed onto the mucky ground. It was not the way you expect winter to look.
     Reaching a weary hand to my bedside table, I groped for my alarm clock. Someone had shut it off last night, and although I had awoken anyways I still considered it a nice gesture. I read the fluorescent green digits on the face of the clock: 7:05, Dec. 24th. I was still wearing my party clothes, which were wrinkled and uncomfortable, so I undressed quickly into my real pajamas. I flipped open my phone with a lazy flick of my hand, and gasped mutedly at the face of the screen.
     I had twenty-seven missed calls. I scanned over them with a surprisingly heavy heart. Grace had called me ten times, Katie twice, Mitch three times, Isabelle seven times, Jay three times, the Pete Wentz Fan Club Headquarters once, and…My eyes bugged at the name nearest to the top of the screen. Trey had called me. Once, a single solitary time, but he had called. I was so mad and yet so hopeful that it was giving me a stomachache. I figured that I needed to calm myself down. I called my voicemail to check for missed messages.
     Grace had given me only one message in the ten times she had rung me up. ”Hey Kat! You’ll never guess what happened! Jay and I are going out now! I’m so happy I can’t contain it! Ok, yeah so call me back when you get this please, okay! You rock out loud! See ya later!”
     Isabelle had left me something of the same, only with the name ‘Jim’ in the place of ‘Jay’, and the former word had been repeated more frequently than the latter. I felt extremely left out, but then again I hated most of the guys I knew here. More than anything, I missed Leo. My heart gave crunching pains when I thought of him, and I wished I had stayed in Cali long enough for him to get a cell phone.
     I left my mail to its peace. I once again scrolled through my contacts until I found Trey’s name. I stared at it long and hard, my finger floating over the ‘Send’ button, but not daring to press it down. I stayed in this position for a good half-hour. There was something holding me back, something I didn’t want to know, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Was I really this afraid of one phone call? Without any more hesitation, my finger hardened against the small black square button.
     The phone rang hollowly three times. Then, there was an ominous click on the other line.
     “Yeah, what do you want?” Trey sounded extremely tired. I felt immediately guilty and hoped against hope that I hadn’t woken him up.
     “H-hey, Trey. It’s Kat. You…um…you called last night?”
     I noticed a complete change in his voice. It became softer and less harsh. “Oh, hey Kat! Sorry, I didn’t know who it was. Yeah, so, about yesterday…I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for walking out and leaving the way I did. There’s just something you’ve got to know, though.”
     “And what is that?”
     “See, my girlfriend and I have been having a fight, because she was seeing someone else besides me. I was late to the dance because we had just gotten done arguing. But when I was with you, I realized that I was betraying her the exact same way she had done to me. That’s why I had to go.”
     I felt sick. My stomach was doing somersaults against my skin. ” You must really like her then, huh?”
     “No, actually. We broke up yesterday. About ten minutes after I left you at the doors, I realized that she was nothing but a liar and a traitor anyways. But it was still wrong of me to put you in that place. If…if you want to be mad at me, you can.”
     “No, of course I’m not mad. To be honest, I would have done the exact same thing if it had been me”, I grinned.
     “So we’re cool, then?”
     “Yeah, we’re cool.”
     He laughed into the receiver. ”Hey, do you want to take a walk? I’m right around the block.”
     “Sorry, but I can’t. It’s an important day for our family, and I’d better stay inside right now. But thanks anyway.” I smiled, my heart leaping with joy.
     “No problem. Oh, and by the way, have you seen my suit coat jacket?”
     “I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere. Bye, Trey.”
     “Bye, then.”
     There was a reassuring clatter on the other end of the line, and I was left hugging the phone to myself. He was single! And furthermore, he had proven that he could care for someone other than himself! Then, something from the reality struck me. What the heck had just happened? Trey had a heart of steel, didn’t he? That was what everyone had ever told me to believe, and yet some part of me couldn’t understand their logic. It was impossible for me to grasp it. I vowed to myself that I would be at least a little bit wary of Trey from now on. Even so…

     Chapter 17: Surprise, Surprise

     It turns out that Mom really had planned something for us to do. In California, we had always filled our enormous beach house with people to celebrate Christmas Eve, to gather in the trussed up rooms, drink punch and play on the beach with. Instead, we were going to rent a movie at Blockbuster’s, mainly because we lived in a tiny house and we didn’t know anyone at all in this neighborhood. My mother was in an amazingly civil mood that morning. Maybe it was because the sun was finally giving us some relief from the blustery cold that we had known for the past weeks.
     Myna didn’t even need to be bundled up. We slid on out coats and shoes, Gregory locking the door swiftly behind us. We all got into the minivan, convenient for toting us to new and exotic places (although it never had), and began to drive smoothly the few blocks to the plaza in the middle of the city. On the outskirts of the crowded buildings there were small-business stores and retail, where we discovered a broken-looking video rental hub, forlorn but still fully functional. My stepfather had no desire to drive deep into the nicer parts of town during the severe rush of holiday traffic, and this was the best we had. As we parked the car and hastily made out way across the dirty street, a crackling song emitted from the base of the lampposts at the street corners, under which speakers had been tactfully placed. And what do you know? The song was “New York, New York”, the very same infernal music that had been coined to represent my new hometown.
     As we went swiftly to the back entrance of the movie store, I looked in the crook between two buildings, and my heart gave a jolt. Five or six girls from my school, who could easily be the next Madison Stedman clique, were chatting in hushed voices, their manicured hands cupped around their mouths and whispering fiercely when they saw someone that they knew. One of the girls, an abnormally skinny girl with scraggly brown hair and wearing nothing but a thin jacket and faded jeans, laughed loudly in my direction. It was a harsh, sharp noise that pierced the night air and prompted malicious giggles from the group flanking her. I felt my face burn red hot, and I rushed to catch up with Gregory, Mom and Myna, who had flung open the door to the video store.
     Myna immediately raced to a long line of shelves labeled ‘Children’, so I knew that we were going to be watching another princess movie. Nothing that would interest me, of course. I strolled among the racks of DVD’s and videotapes. The outside of the store had been misleading, for here on the inside it looked like a pristine place to purchase entertainment.
     “Kat!” A voice hissed suddenly from behind me, and I was pulled behind a bookshelf by my elbow.
     I was slammed unnecessarily into the large shelf, and my skull collided heavily with the line of cased tapes. Some fell from their perches with a clatter, but my guardians were too far away to hear. I said loudly,”Whoever you are, you better not try to abduct me! I’ve got pepper spray!” I pulled it menacingly from my jeans pocket, eager to prove I wasn’t lying, but…
     “Shut up, will ya? It’s me!”
     “Mitch, what are you doing here?” I grinned, and held my hand up for a high-five, but Mitch grabbed hold of both sides of my head and turned it to face a corner.
     “Oh, not again…” I groaned when I caught sight of the figures in the wake of the shelves. Isabelle and Jim were looking over movie titles with lighted eyes and giggling, periodically looking at one another with big round eyes. ”Why do you do this to yourself, Mitch?” I asked, looking at his pained expression. ”Don’t look to what you don’t want to know.”
     “Well, I guess that I just couldn’t help it!” Mitch said admonishingly. ”There’s a video gaming store right across the street, and while I was checking out the games I saw Isabelle and Jim go in and…” He sighed, hitting himself on the head.” I want to give up on her, but I just can’t, ya know?”
     I nodded, my mind reeling. ”I know, dude. I know.”
     He let out a long sigh. ”What do you think I should do?”
     I thought for a minute. ”Talk to Grace, she’s really good with this kind of stuff.”
     “I’ll do that. Thanks.”
     “So, you live nearby or something?”
     He shrugged. “Not really. My folks drop me off here whenever I want some alone time. Usually my friends come, but Chris is in Florida with his family and Jay’s busy. Oh, by the way, did you hear about Grace and Jay?”
     “Yeah”, I nodded. ”They’re so good together.”
     “No kidding. They’re like exact twins or something. It’s strange. Usually people who are exactly alike try to stay away from one another.”
     “Really? I didn’t have any idea.”
     A sudden yell came from nearby. ” Kaitlin, where are you?” My mother gave a shout that echoed through the store.
     “Wuh-oh…” I said, giving a furtive glance to the corner where Jim and Isabelle drew close together. Although Isabelle had looked around, Jim hadn’t, and pretty soon he drew her gaze back to him. I stood up quickly, waving my fingers at Mitch. “Good luck”, I whispered. “You’re going to need it.”
     “Thanks for the support”, he shot, sarcasm and humor heavy in his voice.
     Myna left the store first, clutching a battered DVD copy of ‘Hercules’ in her little hands. I followed, giving a shifty sidelong look towards the overhang where the girls had been standing minutes before. They were gone, but a solitary sent of smoke lingered after them. I didn’t know if it was good to pin things on them, but if I didn’t know any better…well, draw your own conclusions.
     The night was spent with a box of pizza, split between us as the family sat on a blanket on the living room floor. We watched the movie, the glow of the fluorescent lights on a fake Christmas tree that Mom had bought at a garage sale nearby lighting the area, and the noise of Walt Disney’s famous cartoon raging through the small space. Gregory had spent part of his first hefty paycheck on a DVD-VCR combination player, and although Myna and my mother thanked him profusely, it was my gratitude that seemed to make him the most proud. Go figure. What a strange, strange world we live in.

     Chapter 18: Happy Days are Here Again

     I was pounced on by Myna come morning. She shook me back and forth, all the while shattering my eardrums with cries of “Christmas! Pancakes! PRESENTS!” over and over again until I finally shoved the bedcovers off me and got hastily out of bed. The living room was flooded with early morning light, and when I drew open the window blinds, I saw that the ground had been coated with a fresh, fluffy layer of white. My first snowy Christmas. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
     I got nine presents in all. Myna got eleven, and my mother got three. Gregory himself got none, but he didn’t seem to care. For once, he took our joy as a present, sucking it in like a mocha latte on a freezing afternoon. He had made our holiday really special, and I appreciated it. I found myself liking my stepfather for the first time in my life.
     When I tore the wrapping off the first present in the stack, I cried out with delight. It was the new Panic at the Disco CD, ‘Pretty. Odd.’ which I had been saving for anyway but I didn’t voice this thought aloud to the room. I wanted to go up to my room and play it right away, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. “Open the rest of your gifts, dear”, she said, giving Gregory a fond look, and he returning it.
     Myna was all smiles and laughter. Soon the floor around her was littered with paper and her hair was plastered all over with a collage of colorful stick-on bows. ”Lookit what I got, Kat!” she cried, holding up a shiny new Barbie doll in my face. ”None of my friends even have this one yet! I can’t wait and show them!”
     Bes

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178. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 15, 2008 at 4:05 pm

     Whoopsie daisy. That didn’t all come through, sorry!

     Besides the CD, I received a band poster (one of the few I hadn’t already collected and plastered over the sickly brown wallpaper the former owner of my room had trussed it with), some cell phone stickers, three shiny new guitar picks (one in sparkly blue, one bright orange and one with a picture of a puppy on the front-how did they know?), a new shoulder strap to match the blue guitar pick, a sweatshirt, a fifty dollar gift certificate to the mall, and an enormous bar of Hershey’s dark chocolate, as well as the sweet candy contents of my stocking. Since we didn’t have a fireplace(at least, not one with a mantle), the stockings hung from the fake Christmas tree, each branch sagging with the weight of the embroidered sacks until they were hastily removed by our prying fingers.
     Gregory turned out to be an expert pancake-flipper. Like my dad, he artfully dripped the proper amount of batter in a swirling motion onto the griddle. Then, when the bubbles on the gooey surface were dying, he would toy with the pan and flick it, sending the cake flying high into the air and landing on the floppy side back on the steamy surface of the pan. The pancakes were so good that I almost forgot that it was not my father who had made them. My mother watched us with such happiness and tenderness in her eyes that I didn’t know whether she was going to laugh or cry. Gregory amused Myna by letting her flip the pan once, and when the pancake splattered on the floor and her eyes welled with tears, he told her that he would have that one and he would make her a new one. She beamed as my mother did the exact same, and when Gregory walked over to Mom she giggled and they hugged one another. Although my heart gave a slight jerk seeing them do this, it didn’t hurt as much now that my stepfather was nice.
     “Greg, it was so nice of you to do this for me and the kids”, my mom said with adoration in her words and eyes. ”You’ve really made the holiday special for us.”
     “Hey, we’re family!” he said, stretching out his arms. “What’s best for you is best for me, and I think that you deserve it.”
     At this, my mother flung her arms around Greg and we all shared a simultaneous smile. It was truly a turning point in my eyes.
     Mom broke in the blender Greg had given her by making us all ice cream milkshakes. Mom had this special way of knowing how much ice cream and milk you had to put in for the creamy drink to be exactly even, and today it tasted sweeter and more satisfying than it ever had to me before. Myna slurped hers down, sucking her cheeks in and making a fish face like none of us had ever seen before. I cracked up, and when Myna asked me in a slightly hurt voice what was so funny, I flapped my hands by my ears, sucked in my cheeks, and make a fish of myself as well. This made her giggle too, and we let it rest at that.
     I went upstairs for a moment, my stomach full to bursting. I flopped on my bed and pulled out my journal. In it, I wrote one simple sentence.

     December 25, Midday
     One of the happiest days of my life.

     Chapter 19: Daddy’s Girl

     Winter break passed like the twinkling of a shooting star. Greg became more and more like a father, and I, in turn, forgot more and more about hating him. But I found that as I let Greg into my life, I forgot memories about my real dad which I had tried so hard to cling to, while all the time they had been slipping through my fingers. Although this worried me, I stowed it away in the back of my mind. It was more like a twitch than a nagging thought, something to be acknowledged but not fretted over.
     My stepfather was really filling my dad’s shoes now. I don’t know what caused the sudden change in his attitude, but I knew it was something in his conscience. He must have really started to care for us all. My mother was no longer moody, Myna was able to live life without caring about the little things, and I… well, let’s just say that I was enjoying it. Gregory took us skiing the day before we got back to school. He and my mother made quick looping patterns in the snow, while Myna and I fought to keep up. My little sister struggled with her big skis, so I stayed behind with her and gave her some boosts when she needed them. It was a great time, and when we got back home we all made hot chocolate and played board games in front of the fire as the snow whirled outside the frosty windows. The comfort of being with a loving family enveloped me, and I hardly dwelled over the prospect of what awaited me at school the next day.
     So when I sat down in English class the next morning, it came as a silent shock to me when I saw the anguished expression on Mitch’s face.
     “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to sound gentle, and yet demanding an answer.
     He looked up, apparently not realizing that I had sat down beside him. “It’s nothing, really…”
     “Oh, it’s definitely something. This is not the typical Mitch-type expression.”
     “It’s personal, okay? I really don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later.”
     I sighed deeply. I had a feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that I knew exactly what Mitch was brooding over, and I voiced my opinion aloud. “Is this about Isabelle again?” He turned away sharply, and I knew that meant yes. “Look, if you feel this rotten, why don’t you just go talk to her?”
     “I can’t just go talk to her again, ok? That’s the problem!”
     “She’s your friend! You have every right to talk to her. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”
     “You must be crazy. Nobody just goes up to a girl who is ALREADY going out with someone and tells her how he feels!”
     “Wow, you really are smart”, I joked. He didn’t laugh. Then, I got an idea, just something to keep him at least a bit hopeful. “Why don’t I tell her for you then? You won’t have to say a word.
     His eyes bugged right out of his head. For a minute, I thought that he was considering smacking me. “Were you not just listening?! I do not want to tell her what I think of her because it won’t do a bit of good! Then she’ll probably never talk to me again! And, to top it all off, Jim will bug me for the rest of my life, even if and when they do break up! I don’t ever want that to happen, ok? Never!”
     “Wow” I said, shaking my head slowly. “For a guy, you sure have a lot of feelings.”
     He groaned heavily.
     I pulled out my journal on impulse and wrote quickly:
     January 3rd, Morning
     I don’t believe Mitch right now. Isabelle is his friend. Why can’t he just tell her how he feels? If I were Isabelle, I would want him to talk to me. Then again, though, maybe she’s really happy with Jim. How should I know? I’ve never had a real boyfriend before…
     I quickly shut the journal and stuffed it into my bag as Mrs. Phelps sauntered into the room, clad in a distasteful olive-colored feather boa and snakeskin heels. She gave Mitch a scathing look, thinking that the groan had been directed toward her ridiculous ensemble, and pursed her lips as she set down her sequined purse on her desk chair.
     “Ok, ok, class, settle down. As you surely know, the tryouts for the school musical are today, after school, ok? You don’t need a prepared piece, ok, but you will sing something that we will assign you, ok, so be ready. Now, please open your books to Chapter 3, ok?”
     The musical! I felt a leap in my chest that seemed to be both out of excitement and fear. I wanted to try out, but the humiliation of not making the cast was eminent, and I was glad to be out of the spotlight. I didn’t want any more attention, especially that which was negative. Deep in my heart, I knew that if I didn’t’ try out I would regret it, and Grace wanted me to go with her, so I decided then and there that I would risk the plunge. After all, it isn’t every day that you get to live life to the fullest, so I figured it would be a chance worth taking.
     The day dragged by slowly and without mercy. Third hour left me battered by a rare Texan cactus, which I had unwittingly tripped over and received multiple spikes to the leg as a reward for my clumsiness. It turns out that the spikes on the cactus were poisonous, and I spend the rest of the hour in the nurse’s office, bandaging the swollen spot on my thigh that was slowly turning purple and red all over. It was very unattractive, and I didn’t make it back to see Trey at lunch, much less any of my friends.
     Isabelle and Jim were not reassuring to me at all. Whenever I walked down the hallway, I could see them in plain view, cuddling at their lockers or giggling and playing around in the empty hallways between classes. And, on occasion, Mitch would be standing a bit away, watching and practically running himself through with the impaling sword of jealousy. It was terrible to watch, and yet I couldn’t understand how it could be true. Jim was a senior; he wouldn’t ever have time for a sophomore, much less a girlfriend who just happened to be a sophomore.
     I was beginning to fear for my friends. To see any of them get hurt would be beyond belief. They stood tall when they supported me, but when faced with problems, they crumbled like old wood. It was disappointing, but I knew I needed to return the favors that they had been so generous to grant to me. I was going to be the concrete of their base. I was going to raise them high. And most importantly, I was going to survive.
     The nurse’s office was not as comforting as I might have liked. The place had a sterile air about it, and there was a strange stain on the cream-colored paint that was shaped like a miniature of Indiana. Three cots lined the back of the space, and a couch sat parallel to them. On one wall hung a mirror, the glass pristine and immaculate, and opposite this was a painting of the ocean. I’m ashamed to say that I fell asleep after my unfortunate incident with the cactus, and however thin and worn they seemed to be, the cots in the clinic were actually comfortable. As I awoke and sat sentinel on my cot nearest to the door, a girl with teased and curled blonde hair and a smug, contemptuous look on her pale face flounced into the main office. Her expensive clothes did not seem to fit in with the dingy and plain office outside. I could watch her from my position without her spotting me.
     “Hello, my name is Sami Nienchester, the new student? Yeah, so I want my schedule, please.” The blonde girl flipped her masses of hair over her shoulder and examined her manicured fingernails with a bratty look on her face.
     The woman who on a chair behind the main information desk looked miffed. “What did you say you name was again, young lady?” Her voice was stiff as it contemplated the arrogant face that barely came over the desk. This girl was short, maybe even as short as Grace.
     “Hello? It’s Sami. Sami Nienchester, okay?”
     “And…um, how do you spell that?”
     The new girl let out a loud sigh, fully audible into the room and probably out in the halls, too. “N-i-e-n-c-h-e-s-t-e-r! My father says that our family name isn’t that hard to spell, and I agree! It’s so icky when people say it wrong!” The girl stamped her foot, giving me the full impression that she belonged in kindergarten and not in the real world, where she was obviously insecure. I sincerely hoped she turned her act around, because the nurse was giving her a stare of such bitter revulsion that I knew she was either going to be popular or eaten alive.
     However, I knew what it was like being the new kid around these parts, and who knew? Maybe she really was insecure. So when she came into the room to sign her name on the student registry, I gave her the friendliest smile that I could muster. “Hey”, I said. “New here?”
     She looked down at me with scorn, exactly the kind of look in the category of one that Madison would set aside just for me. “Uh, ya”, she said, staring down at me through thick grey eyes framed by heavily makeuped lashes. The obvious disdain that muddied her voice was that of hostile inferiority, so I didn’t say much else. Instead, I grabbed my books as hastily as possible and got out of there, gimping along on my wounded leg. As I passed the front desk, the secretary gave me a look halfway between ‘Where are you going?’ and ‘Take me with you!’, but I could answer to neither of these without revealing my slowly reddening face.
     I refused to look back at the frosted glass door as it shut with a bang behind me. Turning away from the window, I stalked quickly away from the office with embarrassment and pity making an unappetizing taste inside my mouth. Instead of going to my sixth hour class as I was supposed to do, I walked down a dark corridor where most of the overhead lights had burned out. The hallways of the school were completely and utterly empty. The doors acted like insulation to the walking space, huddled together and emitting an eerie glow caused by their lighted windows.
     I reached a fork at the end of the corridor. There was an option to either turn right or turn left. I chose neither. I was standing there, not recognizing my surroundings, when I heard heavy footsteps coming my way. Not wanting to be caught and sent back to class, I ducked into the nearest empty classroom and hid in the supply closet. There was a keyhole in the door, so I knelt down hurriedly to keep watch.
     I tried to see as far as possible with the little light given to me. Even though I didn’t hear anything, I suspected that I had been seen and wasn’t going to take any chances. It turns out that natural instinct was one of my most prized possessions at the time, because just as I was about to leave the closet, the door handle turned and someone walked into the room. What I saw nearly made me jump.

     Chapter 20: A Turn of Events

     If you have been paying any attention at all to the story up until this point, you may have mixed feelings about the way people are: the way they think, the way they talk, the way they act, the way they feel… Emotionally, it’s hard to keep up. But let me tell you now, there is no lenience with surprises. If you’re not one for them, hang on to your chair or just plain drop this book and get out of here.
     I saw a boy holding a guitar case He didn’t turn my way, didn’t bother to check if the room was empty. He did not turn on the lights, but pulled up a chair and snapped open the buckles on the sleek black carrier, and pulled out a shiny new instrument. It was tan, the wood was thick and there was a rich new smell around it that wafted through the door and into my nostrils. As the person turned around, the cloudy sunlight poking through the window illuminated a corner of his face.
     It wasn’t that hard to guess who it was. Trey stood before me, a guitar in his hand and a boldened air about him. I didn’t think that he could sense another human being breathing feet away from where he stood, secluded, in a corner of the deserted classroom. He turned around, pulled up a stool, and then walked to the door and slid the lock shut with an ominous click.
     There were a few skewed strains from the guitar as Trey’s long fingers twisted the knobs of the instrument and tuned it with a gentle hand. Then, there came a series of notes in a beautiful pattern. The song was not familiar to me, but I was listening through a muffled closet door.
     Good musicians are difficult to come by in this day and age. Some bands are appreciated only for their skill and not for the words they speak, not for talent or for the part of the world that they bring about. They can only be the shadows of the music they play, and yet it seems so powerful and wonderful at once that you forget that’s even the truth of it all. And as Trey sat there and played, I knew what he was-a good musician. However, through the chorus that he sang, there was the faint undertone of the bell ringing. Sixth hour was ended, and with a start Trey looked up and impulsively tipped the top of the case open with his foot and hastily stowed the guitar back in the case. He then stuffed it under a desk lying close to the floor and lining the wall. But for some reason, he did not take it with him. It sat there, lonely, and I could almost feel betrayal wafting from the thing itself. But Trey flung open the door of the room and walked swiftly out, his own footsteps mingling with the excited chatter of students in the halls outside.
     As soon as he had gone, I burst out of the stuffy closet and made a break for the door. People from the classrooms further down the hall engulfed me as I sprinted through the masses, trying to make my way back to my locker. I wasn’t paying much attention to the hall, and this caused me to have a head-on collision halfway to the east lobby.
     “OUCH!” someone yelped, and I felt a wavery pounding in my head. “Watch where you’re going, short stuff!” I looked up at the speaker to see that it was a guy not much taller than me.
     “Look who’s talking!” I retorted. If there was one thing I didn’t like, it was short jokes. However, this boy didn’t seem the type to mean anything he said. He was thin and pale, with sandy brown hair and eyes to match, and wore a rumpled sweatshirt. He looked like a joker or a comedian. “Who do you think you are, anyways?” I asked. This was definetly a freshman I was looking at, otherwise he would have smirked at me and continued on his way. However, this boy was just staring at me, with a mixture of annoyance and entertainment.
     “The name’s Scotch. Scotch Brady. Nice to meet you.”
     “I’d like to say the same, but seeing as you’ve just given me a migrane, I think apologies are in order.”
     “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.” He looked away with an awkward glance. “Well, nice meeting ya, but I’ve got to go. Don’t want to miss those play tryouts, you know.” He grinned.
     “You’re going to tryouts? So am I!” I smiled back.
     “Oh, ok then.” He looked a bit happy at this news. Judging by his jumpy attitude, I considered it safe to say that he didn’t have many friends.
     “I’m sorry, but can I follow you there? I don’t exactly know where I’m going still…”
     “Sure thing. Just let me get my backpack.” He picked it up off the floor by what must have been his locker, and we continued on our way. The halls were quickly clearing out. Kids went hastily out the double doors and hopped onto the buses in the circle drive, chatting with their friends and calling people on their cell phones.
     As we walked together, we talked. It was uncanny how similar we were. He was a music freak too, he loved to surf, and we both shared the taste for pistachio ice cream.
     “Exactly what kind of a name is Scotch, anyways?” I asked. This question had been bugging me for the entirety of the walk.
     “The kind of name you get when you drink ten shots of liquor thinking that they’re apple juice, and some kid tapes you to a bookshelf.”
     “Ah. That kind of a name”, I laughed. “So the title, uh…stuck?” I visualized a dizzy kid attached to a wall by adhesive office supplies.
     “Long story, don’t ask.” Scotch shuddered convulsively. “That was not one of my better days.”
     “I would think so, somehow. It’s not every day someone doesn’t recognize apple juice after the first sip.”
     “Believe it or not, I’ve actually never had apple juice before, so I didn’t know what to expect.”
     I stopped abruptly. “How could you never have had apple juice before?” This idea seemed ludicrous to me. How could someone never had apple juice? I practically lived on the stuff when I was little.
     “My mom doesn’t like it, and she didn’t think we would, so she never bothered giving it to us.”
     “Wow”, I said,” that’s strange. But good strange. I mean, strange in a good way.” I giggled, and he grinned.
     Scotch changed subjects abruptly. “So, what does your dad do? Mine’s an interior decorator. That’s what I want to be when I grow up.”
     A stiff pain shot through my chest. “My dad’s… he’s dead.” My nose started burning, and I tried hard not to cry. It was one of the first times I had faced the fact
     out loud, and I did not enjoy it.
     “Oh.” Scotch looked down quickly, his face suddenly shifting to a shade of pink. “I…I’m sorry.”
     “That’s all right. You didn’t know.” I rubbed my hand quickly under my nose, and let loose an involuntary sniffle. He patted my arm awkwardly.

     Chapter 21: Breaking A Leg

     We reached the multi-purpose room in time to see a crowd of people entering the room. People shoved through the tiny doors and filled a menagerie of various plastic chairs lining the interior of the space. The room itself was very plain, with only a small stage and a television set in a corner. I sincerely hoped that we wouldn’t have to perform for other people, especially when most of the people in the room were not at the peak of friendliness.
     I located Grace, Katie and two other girls sitting near them, and led Scotch behind me. We plopped into two uncomfortable plastic purple chairs next to Grace, and I received a few stares from the girls I didn’t know.
     “ Oh hi, Kat! Is your leg feeling better?” Grace asked, looking at the gauzy bandage still snaking its way up my outstretched leg.
     “Yeah, it’s okay now.” I rubbed it tentatively. “This is Scotch, by the way”, I said, pointed at him as he waved and gave a little half-smile. “Scotch, this is, Grace and Katie Penske, and…” I stared in the direction of the two other girls.
     “Oh, this is Rachel Anderson and Jennie Hart!” Grace pointed out cheerfully. The girl named Rachel was slim and had long black hair to her waist that was tied in a tasteful braid, and Jennie was squat and had hair cut in a modern bob. They both gave cautious looks towards Scotch and I, and Jennie smiled politely.
     “Nice to meet you”, I said to them. Rachel nodded shyly. Then, a loud clapping filled the tense air.
     “Children! Children! Please settle down!” The speaker was an emaciated man wearing a black turtleneck and carrying a clipboard. He seemed like a critic from a snobby paper, the kind of person to put you down and make you feel low. I shuddered. This was a bad idea.
     “All right then, guys. My name is Mr. Langloch, and I will be your director for the school musical this year. I’ve done hundreds of shows in my time, and I’m determined to make yours a success!” He beamed a teethy smile at the room, which nobody returned. “Tough crowd…” he mumbled. “Well, even if you aren’t as enthusiastic as I thought, we can still make this a great show!”
     “Hear, hear”, said Mrs. Phelps, sitting on a nearby table.
     “Here’s what you’re going to be required to do for us today”, Mr. Langloch continued, an annoyed expression on his face. He obviously did not enjoy being outshined, even if that wasn’t Mrs. Phelps’ goal. “First, you will need to read a few lines from the script. Then, I’m going to ask you to sing some bars from a song that we select for you. That’s all we ask. Rest assured, we will clear out the room for each performer, just so there’s no pressure, although I think you’re all capable of getting up in front of your peers. We’re all friends here, right?”
     A dead silence pierced the room. Over in a corner, somebody sniggered.
     “Well, I’m glad to see some agreement”, Mr. Langloch said sarcastically. “ All right, we’re going to call you in alphabetical order by last name. First, we call Ursula Abel to the stage.”
     A squat girl with a ponytail stepped nervously onto the stage, while the rest of us piled once again out of the double doors. Our group headed over to a space under the stair case where we could talk and do our homework, but when we reached the spot, we found that it was already occupied.
     “Um, excuse me, but what are you doing here?” Jennie asked. “We already had our things down right there.”
     A set of unnervingly familiar faces impeded on my vision. In the middle of them all sat none other than Madison Stedman and Sami Nienchester. I had had no doubt that the newest addition to the popular clique would be Sami, and my hunch was right on the money.
     “Um, excuse you, and this is where we chose to sit before you got here!” Sami said with a smirk. The other girls huddled in the circle flipped their hair in a synchronized motion and bent back over their Seventeen magazines and bottles of nail polish, as though the battle had already been won.
     “Yeah, why do you have to be so rude?” Madison asked, looking innocent. Two of the ponytailed girls cupped their hands over their mouths, whispered to one another and giggled meanly. I felt anger rising up inside me, but Grace grabbed my arm.
     “Come on, Kat”, she said quietly. “Let’s just go.” She and her two friends picked up their books, but I stood still, looking at the girls with what I hoped was a burning stare. It didn’t work. Nobody moved an inch. They acted simply like I wasn’t even there, like I was a part of the wall. Scotch looked nervously in my direction. He obviously wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.
     Without another word, I turned on my heel and stalked away from the stairwell. I was furious that Madison’s clique could do just about anything they wanted and get away with it. As I followed Grace, I breathed heavily through my nose, just so she would know that I wasn’t happy. Rachel glanced sidelong and gave me a funny look. I took the hint and shut up.
     When we found a quiet corner near the doors to the media center, all five of us plopped down onto the ground. There was an awkward silence between us as we pulled out our books and started some extensive math homework. Besides an occasional question about the problems, nobody made a sound for around ten or twenty minutes. Then I spoke before I knew what I was doing.
     “How come they can do that?!” I asked angrily.
     “Do what?” Grace looked up concernedly. She knew perfectly well what, but didn’t want me to say it.
     “What gives them the right to do anything they want?” I frowned at her. It was the truth and she knew it, deep down.
     “They…they’re popular, I mean… It’s not like its important or anything, it’s just a stairwell…”
     “It’s not only the stairwell. How come Madison and her friends can make everyone think that they’re great, when really they’re mean, deceiving liars?”
     A group of four girls walked past us. I recognized the one in the lead as the girl I had seen at the video store around Christmas Eve: skinny, with shaggy brown hair and wearing a similar scowl. I didn’t look at them for long, but Rachel waved, and the girls all waved back at her.
     “That’s Felicity and her friends!” Rachel whispered. “Oh, I hope that they are going to try out too!” For a minute she looked after them, as though she wanted to join them, but after they had completely gone she turned back to us. Grace gave Rachel a disapproving stare. It was evident that she didn’t like Felicity any more than I did.
     At that moment, Mr. Langloch poked his head out the door. “Finally, you five! I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Why weren’t you over by the other doors?” He continued without letting us answer. “Everyone else has already had their auditions, so it’s only you guys that still need to go. So…” He looked around at us. “I’ll take you first.” He pointed straight at me, and I gulped. I hated going first, even if it was out of only us five.
     Mr. Langloch led me to the stage, where he handed me part of a musical score and a clipping from what seemed to be the script. He and Mrs. Phelps were seated at a table facing me, so that they could view every move I made.
     “Now, you will read the excerpt from the script loudly and clearly so that we can hear you, then you will sing part of the piece that we have given you. I will cue you when it is time for you to sing.” Mr. Langloch nodded curtly, cuing me to read. I took a deep breath, my hand shaking, and spoke with conviction and force, masking every word count. I looked out at the rows of chairs behind Mrs. Phelps and Mr.Langloch, and pretended that I was in the show and that those seats were full. This act made me more nervous, and I read the script like I would read for the character.
     When I had gotten through with my script, I took in deep breaths of air. Mrs. Phelps applauded loudly, which I didn’t really appreciate as much as I should have. Mr. Langloch looked at her with obvious disdain. “Continue with the singing” he said flatly.
     I looked at the printed notes and words in front of my eyes and began to sing with a shaky breath.
     “I know a way to prove what they say is quite untrue
     Here is the gist,
     A practical list of “don’ts” fer you.
     Don’t throw bouquets at me
     Don’t please my folks to much
     Don’t laugh at my jokes too much.
     People will say we’re in love…”
     As I sang, becoming more confident with every bar, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. A figure had silently snuck in the open door. I felt sick. Was it Madison, come to laugh at me?
     It wasn’t. In fact it was exactly the opposite. I recognized Trey by the black book bag and long hair. I composed myself nervously, my heart fluttering, and tried to look angelic as I sung the last few lines.
     “Don’t sigh and gaze at me.
     Your sighs are so like mine.
     Your eyes mustn’t glow like mine
     People will say we’re in love!
     Don’t start collecting things
     Give me my rose and my glove.
     Sweetheart, they’re suspecting things
     People will say we’re in love!”
     I finished with a little sigh, and my hand that held the script flopped loosely to my side. As Mrs. Phelps flew into another round of rushed applause, I glanced sneakily sideways. Trey was slowly clapping so that he couldn’t be heard. He was smiling with a purposeful glint in his exposed green eye. I doubt that he saw me sneaking peeks at him, because he was half concealed behind a bookshelf. Blushing furiously, I turned back to the directors with a growing grin on my face.
     “Yes, bravo”, Mr. Langloch said, putting his hands together a few times and then folding them on the table. “Please give us your script and score as you exit. Well done.” I hopped off the stage and hurriedly gave Mrs. Phelps my script. Then, I turned to look at Trey once more.
     He was gone, like a figment of my imagination, in the movement of a passing cloud.

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179. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 15, 2008 at 5:10 pm

     o_O This could take a few days. But it looks good.

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180. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 16, 2008 at 6:36 am

     I’ll read this soon…

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181. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 16, 2008 at 7:40 am

     Thanks. Comment when yer done, plz.

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182. KaiYves says:

     July 16, 2008 at 8:38 am

     Any comments on post 174?

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183. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 16, 2008 at 7:09 pm

     I’m entering a contest for a 100-word story, and I need a little feedback. Can ya’ll comment on it really fast?

     “Ready?”
     “In a moment. I want one last look.”
     Morse’s wife looked, too. “One final glimpse of good old Earth. Wasn’t so good, towards the end.”
     “Think—to never see grass again.” He touched the window. “Or blue sky.”
     “Only stars, now.”
     “I’ve been counting down. Last month. Last week. Last day. Came to the last hour, and suddenly, it didn’t matter anymore.”
     “When you’re never coming back, does it matter where you’ve been?”
     He turned from the window. Pressed buttons, primed engines.
     “Last glimpse,” said Morse, as the ship leapt into space. “Last chance.”
     He didn’t look back.

     Heh heh right now it’s 99 words.

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184. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP: 23 wung points, embedded (bara brith, chorley cake) says:

     July 16, 2008 at 7:29 pm

     183- Good one.

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185. Alice says:

     July 16, 2008 at 8:05 pm

     183- I like that. It’s short and sweet, nicely tied up.

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186. KaiYves says:

     July 17, 2008 at 8:13 am

     183- Very well done.

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187. The Man For Aeiou says:

     July 18, 2008 at 9:51 am

     183-
     Beautiful.

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188. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 18, 2008 at 4:24 pm

     174-Is this building up?
     183-Yes…

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189. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP: 23 wung points, embedded (bara brith, chorley cake) says:

     July 18, 2008 at 5:02 pm

     The dwarf stopped at a door marked 328 and pulled it open. “Breakfast at 7 AM,” he said, and ushered Marcus into a room that was surprisingly well-kempt for its price. Saraswati immediately fluttered out the open window to hunt; Marcus flopped on the bed and fell asleep almost at once.
     ~
     A talon pierced his shoulder, none too gently. “Wakey-wakey. Don’t want to miss breakfast.”
     Marcus sat up and groaned. His nicest clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable. “Why couldn’t they have given me more warning? I could have packed a carpetbag… ”
     “Nope. ‘The clothes on your back.’ Article One, Sec. 4 of the Ancient Laws. Head on downstairs.” Saraswati yawned. “Good day,” she said, perched on his shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.
     Marcus wished, not for the first time, that he’d requested a familiar whose biorhythms were in sync with his own. “I should have signed up for a cat… ”
     Sara cracked open one huge yellow eye. “I heard that, buster! At least we just sleep during the day!!”

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190. KaiYves says:

     July 18, 2008 at 6:35 pm

     188- Depends on what you mean by building up. They ARE slowly approaching Earth…

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191. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 18, 2008 at 9:42 pm

     Thanks everyone for the comments! I’ve sent it in. *crosses fingers*

     Ok, I finished your story, Agrrrfishi! I like it a lot, you’re a good writer. The only thing I have to say is that you threw in a couple things but didn’t seem to have a reason for them. Like Mrs. Hemmering’s character, or Trey’s leaving his jacket at the dance but then having it get picked up by someone else. Granted, I know you’re not finished, so I guess I can’t really say anything yet, but when I’m writing, I usually go back through periodically and take out anything that seems unnecessary.
     Nice job, otherwise. I like your descriptions, they’re really accurate, I feel like I’m in the story. Finish it and post the rest, I want to know what happens!!!

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192. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 18, 2008 at 9:46 pm

     183-Beautiful. I like it.

     Has anybody read mine yet?

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193. Alice says:

     July 18, 2008 at 10:11 pm

     192- I read it. I liked it pretty well, which, considering how much I hate that genre, is impressive.

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194. Cat's Meow says:

     July 18, 2008 at 10:24 pm

     183 – I really like that. What 100-word story contest are you entering? That sounds like fun.

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195. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 18, 2008 at 10:31 pm

     193-Thanks a lot. I’ve been working on that one in particular for about two and a half months.

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196. Agrrrfishi says:

     July 18, 2008 at 10:52 pm

     This is supposed to be a spy novel. This part is only my first draft, but the rest is on a different laptop so I’ll post some later.

     Prologue

     Everywhere she turned, there was nothing but darkness. The room in which she was being held was empty, save for the chair to which she was tied, held prisoner at her team’s expense. Why hadn’t she even taken backup? There was no way to escape. They would be coming for her soon.
     Allison’s secret, which she had carried with her for her ten years on the force, was held silently within her, and beat in her chest like a second heart. It was no use trying to keep silent. There were ways to make her talk. All along, it had been someone so close to her, and she hadn’t even suspected it. And he was leading the way to her demise.
     One of her high-heeled black boots attempted to slip its’ way under the thick ropes, but this only ended up in more entanglement. There was simply no way to untangle the knots that bound her. After all the years of training, everything she had ever learned, she couldn’t even untie a few stupid knots, not even when her fingers could nearly grasp them. The blindfold cut sharply into her cheeks as she struggled to move.
     She heard heavy footsteps heading down the hall of the cargo hold. It was one of them, coming to interrogate her. She was severely weakened by the shot they had given her when they brought her in. It had made her limp, thin as a rag doll, and she didn’t have any of her stamina to even cry for help. It was no use, even through her efforts, she had let her team down.
     The room was plunged into filmy light as she was roughly jerked to attention and held tightly to the chair. Someone was untying her. She couldn’t keep the secret much longer. It was nearly daybreak. And now she was sure that in only a few hours, everyone would be asking the same question:
     Where was Allison Fox?

     A Day in the Life

     “Evelyn? Evelyn Johnson, are you chewing gum?”
     SNAP! Like an answer to the preceding question, Evelyn’s wad of sticky pink bubble gum burst all over her lips. She quickly sucked it in, but was sure that nobody could have missed the popping noise that echoed around the crowded classroom.
     “How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Evie!” she said without any conscious thought. And then, it registered to her the reality of the situation. Oh great, she thought silently. That’s me.
     Mrs. Crook, the tenth grade English teacher at Locklington High School walked slowly between the rows of desks to face yet another guilty teenager with big brown eyes and an innocent smile. Every day, it was the same thing. Discipline was ignored, rules were shattered, and one student after another followed the path of delinquency. It was all a game to them, but not to her. Never to Mrs. Crook was anything a game.
     “Well, well, Ms. Johnson. Gone off the deep end, have we?” The looming teacher slammed a bony hand down on Evie’s desk, surveying the brown-haired girl over the bridge of her crooked nose. Mrs.Crook was not a pretty sight, especially when she was about to hand you a detention slip. And on the last day of school, too. The thought of it made Evie almost sick with anticipation.
     Before she answered, however, Evie had to stop and consider this question. “No, Mrs. Crook. I don’t think that I’m crazy.”
     “If not, then I don’t see why you are chewing gum in my class after I have deliberately pointed out every day of this school year that it is strictly prohibited. That, madam, is an act of insanity in my book.” There was no denying that Mrs. Crook ran a straight classroom. The walls of the room were plastered with posters bearing mementos like ‘Order is the highest law’ and ‘Making excuses is inexcusable’. Even on the last day of school, Evie couldn’t pull off a stunt like chewing, especially not in Mrs. Crook’s class. And just when she thought that she was going to get away clean this year!
     The end of the year could never be as easy as free teens dashing down the steps of their former prison and escaping to three months of bikinis and self-tanner. It always had to be work, right down to the last minute. Fortunately, most people found a way to evade that: breaking all possible rules. It was like a spice to make the day more interesting. A dangerous spice, but it added excitement to every day nonetheless. It was pure sport in their high school class, nothing but entertainment and risks.
     Allison Linkletter and Evie Johnson were people who loved to take risks.
     “Excuse me, Mrs. Crook, but I didn’t see Evie chewing any gum.” From across the silent classroom, Allison’s waving hand caught the corner of Mrs. Crook’s eye.
     “Ah yes, the partner in crime. And I’m expected to believe you, Ms. Linkletter?”
     “You’ve got no reason not to.” Allison smiled a confident little grin, and snuck a wink in Evie’s general direction.
     While Allison valiantly tried to chat Mrs. Crook’s ear off, Evie quickly swallowed her large wad of gum, gagging a little as it went down, but as soon as the teacher turned towards her again, the lump was safely gone.
     “All right then, missy. Let’s see those pearly whites. And don’t stick your gum on the roof of your mouth. I know all your tricks, little girl.”
     Not all my tricks, Evie thought slyly, winking back at Allison as Mrs. Crook surveyed her empty jaws closely.
     “I… I don’t know how, Evelyn, but I was sure I saw you blow a bubble just now…” said Mrs. Crook, who by now looked quite perplexed and unhappy. “I ,er, apologize for the misunderstanding.” She stalked quickly up to the front of the room again and sat behind her desk, looking bewildered. Evie shot a glance around the room. Every face among the students wore a suppressed grin behind their thick textbooks. Evie and Allison leaned over the aisle and shared a pinkie-shake under their desks, their own sign of friendship that they had kept since kindergarden.
     Mrs. Crooks could never understand how Evie always managed to slip through her punishing fingers. It seemed impossible that she could get away with this much trouble and never be proven guilty. She just couldn’t face facts: Allison and Evie were the dream partners in crime. They were the only two who had gone the entire year in her class without being sent to the infamous office.
     At that moment, the last bell of the year trilled across the silent hallways of the high school, and all at once, everything burst into sound. Textbook went flying through the air like missiles, one after the other, all flinging in a haze past the head of Mrs. Crooks, who shrieked and hid under her desk.
     Evie and Allison sprinted like jackrabbits out of Mrs.Crook’s English class for good. It was the last day of school, finally, and they were ready to soak up the first day of summer. Walking down the sidewalk, they grinned at each other and burst into laughter.
     “Good work, partner!”, Evie said.
     “Same to you, partner!”, Allison replied.
     Little did they know how much those words were going to mean to them later that day. Little did they know what danger lay ahead of them on the shadows of evening.
     Little did they know what would befall them the minute they walked through their doors.

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197. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 19, 2008 at 9:16 pm

     I wrote this short story a long time ago (about a few years ago, I think) but I just remembered it and I thought ya’ll might think it was funny. It’s part of a series I wrote called “My Childhood”.

     Perhaps I ought to illustrate my early childhood with an episode that will forever stand in my mind as the single most horrifying and hilarious event of my young life. I was ten at the time.
     My family was large and rather vague, so that long-lost aunts and uncles often popped up at our house, claiming to be our great-aunt’s half-sister’s brother on our grandfather’s side, our something of that sort. I have come to suspect that half of these were families who lived on the streets and had heard of our legendary hospitality, and decided to take advantage of it. We’ll never know.
     Anyhow, during a summer of uncommon boredom, one of these families showed up at our door. They drove a patched, dirty, mud-colored Volkswagen Vanagon, into which they’d stuffed my Aunt Minnie and Uncle Jim Mayfield (neither of which were really an aunt or uncle, but insisted on being called one), three dogs of questionable lineage who were named Blue, Butch, and Billie (to this day, I still don’t know which was which), and my five cousins, whose names were Jack, Josh, Jason, Jerry, and Jim, Jr. This alliterative bunch was from Texas, and the family was apparently starting on a road trip with an end in Pittsburg, and so “were just stopping by”. I seriously doubted this story, as we lived in California, in the opposite direction of both Pittsburg and Texas.
     Minnie was a tall blonde and had a true-blue Texas accent which I sometimes had trouble understanding. Imagine a Texan Dolly Parton, except with more lipstick, and you’d have a pretty good picture of her. She introduced herself as Wilhelmina Louisa Mayfield, but I found out pretty quickly that she was called Minnie for a reason and don’t you forget it.
     My “Uncle” Jim was a giant. I mean that he was tall and not fat but well-padded around the middle, giving him the appearance of an enormous egg. He was loud and fond of cowboy hats and boots, which he wore with jeans and large belt buckles that, according to him, he’d won at “bronco-bustin’ ro-day-oh’s.” Given his stature, he’d probably only busted the poor horse’s back.
     My cousins were “a whole-nuther thang altuhgether” as my Aunt would have said. Jack was the oldest at eleven years of age at the time, a year older than me, and the natural leader of the pack. Josh and Jason were both nine, being twins, and had the interesting and exciting trait of serious faces but unsuspected, excellent senses of mischief. Jerry was eight, and loud, and Jim Jr., or J.J., as he preferred, was seven. All of them had tanned faces and glittering, impish eyes, and all but one had dark hair and freckles. Jerry was the odd one out, with white-blonde hair that was unaccounted for genetically and stood out like a beacon among the others boys when in a pack.
     As we soon found out, these boys had a knack for getting in trouble. Their first episode was on the very first afternoon of their visit. While the adults were visiting in the living room, I was in the kitchen eating a snack and when I happened to glance out the window.
     The five boys were absorbed in something down at the bottom of my property. I say bottom because our land is on a hill, with the house at the top and a trampoline and pool at the bottom. The boys were standing in a row of trees at the back of our lot. I reached into the fridge to get an apple, and when I turned around again, my cousins were gone.
     Vaguely interested and very bored, I wandered out to see what they were up to. I found them grouped around the trampoline. Jack was standing on it, and Jason was reaching into his pocket for something, which he handed to Josh, who set whatever it was down on the trampoline under clamped hands. Jack started jumping up and down, and once he’d gotten going, Josh let go of what was in his hands.
     There was a streak of brown, and I caught a glimpse of an enormous rat heading for the other side of the trampoline. It did one spectacular half-twist-jackknife-combo flip before landing on its feet and catapulting off the trampoline. My cousins dove, but the rodent was long gone.
     The boys were arguing, but soon agreed that it was nobody’s fault and that they should simply find a new victim—one that couldn’t run so fast. They quickly got an idea.
     Jack was the one who started it. As the other four boys were deliberating, his face split into an evil grin. He whispered to J.J., who whispered to the twins, whose faces sprouted identical mischievous expressions. Finally, they told Jerry, who I heard say, “Perfect.”
     Their five heads turned simultaneously to my next-door neighbors, the Wrights. In a flash I knew what they were thinking.
     Priscilla Wright’s pride and joy was her pet Chihuahua, Binky. She spoiled it rotten—it ate from a porcelain dish and had a small doggy mansion under her back porch awning. Because of this, Binky was rather fat. The boys quickly gave up on the idea of trying to lure it through the chainlink fence because of this. Then one of them had an idea and ran inside.
     He returned with a hot dog—one of my dad’s favorite beef ones—which they tied to a piece of string procured from Josh’s pocket. Then Jason was hoisted onto Jack’s shoulders.
     Dangling the string just out of Binky’s reach, Jason teased the yapping dog for a few minutes, then lowered the hot dog. Binky latched onto it with his teeth, growling, and Jason immediately began to gently lift the string, dog (both of them) and all.
     I stood, transfixed, as Binky was slowly levitated over the fence and into our own yard. The hot dog disappeared down his throat as Jack picked him up and carried him to the trampoline.
     This time, when Josh released their victim, it lost its footing. Binky the Chihuahua was bounced high in the air, snarling and drooling maniacally, while the boys howled with laughter. Jack fell over on the trampoline from laughing so hard, which turned out to be a big mistake.
     Binky, who had finally stopped bouncing, turned and bit his tormentor on the ear. The same thing happened as with the hot dog: he wouldn’t let go. Jack was yelling, pulling, and swearing. This spectacle, of course, only made the boys laugh harder.
     Most unfortunately, it was at this moment that Mom’s Garden Club came over. I’d forgotten that on Wednesday afternoons, this group of women met at our house to discuss flowers and to gossip over neighborhood business. They were a rather snobbish group, and my mother had a cleaning spree every Tuesday night.
     They were just coming out to see Mom’s new hibiscus plant, which was planted at the bottom of the yard, when Jack finally pulled Binky off his ear. It appeared that the pain had gone to his head, though, for he ran towards the women, and let Binky go.
     Several women screamed as Binky sped towards them, and, ironically, Binky’s owner, Mrs. Wright, screamed, “It’s a rat!” She stepped backwards and—
     I told Mom not to plant the hibiscus next to the pool.
     Mrs. Wright fell backwards, and, as she groped for a handhold, Binky took a spectacular leap towards her face. Of course, he landed on Mrs. Wright’s chest, and the two of them made a sensational splash in the water. The boys were laughing, Jack was still swearing up a blue streak, the women were screaming, and I was seeing at a disaster only fifteen minutes in the making.
     This was also about the time that Blue, Butch, and Billie decided to join the fun. The three dogs streaked into the backyard—they’d been in the Vanagon up till now—and leapt onto the remaining women, who were trying to fish the floundering Mrs. Wright out of the pool.
     It was in the midst of this chaos that my father entered. He had been entertaining Aunt Minnie and Uncle Jim while my mother was out with the Garden Club, and, hearing all the noise, had decided to step outside. He looked grim.
     I let out a giggle. I couldn’t help it—it just popped out. Dad looked my way. For one terrifying moment, I though that he was going to yell at me. But then, slowly, as he took in the situation, his expression changed, and he began to laugh, first just chuckling, then in great, booming peals. He was laughing the hardest I’d ever seen him laugh in my life. Then I let loose, and the two of us fell down, gasping for air, tears streaming down our faces.
     You can guess the aftermath of this event. Mrs. Wright was fished out of the pool, Binky was returned to Priscilla, and Jack got stitches in his ear. The Mayfields stayed with us for five more days, at the end of which we discovered that they were not, in fact, related to us in any way whatsoever. But it didn’t matter, by then, we were good friends—in spite of the fact that Garden Club meetings were held at Mrs. Wright’s house from that day forward.

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198. TNÖ says:

     July 20, 2008 at 12:46 pm

     197- that was awesome.

     Here’s the end of chapter 1 and the first part of chapter 2:

     “I’m sorry, master,” gasped the child.
     “You disappoint me, Mort.”
     “Just give me more time! Please!”
     “There is no more time, fool!” The dark shadow stirred furiously, drawing itself up to greater heights.
     The child called Mort shrank backwards in fear. “Please- A week! That’s all I need!”
     The shadow sank back into itself, considering. “A week. And if you have not succeeded in that time, Mort, I will destroy you. Now go.”
     Mort obeyed, scurrying out the door as fast as his developing legs could handle.

     Chapter 2

     Adela sat in the back of her math class, her chin resting on her forearms. She tried unsuccessfully to ignore the sunlight that was pouring through the window behind her, betraying the good weather to the class inside. Adela, like every other soul in the classroom, was desperate for the end of the school day, a mere twenty minutes away.
     A scuffling noise ensued in the ceiling above; the high school was home to an enormous colony of imps, nearly two hundred of them living in the darker corners of the closets and ceilings. Adela frowned, staring at a ceiling tile. There was an imp sitting on it, trying to shift it out of the way. For once, her sympathies lay with the imps.
     “Come on…” she muttered. The tile shifted. The imp above chattered excitedly. Adela heard his nails scratching along the side of the tile. No one else seemed to notice. “Bit farther…”
     The tile dropped completely, dumping the astounded green imp directly onto the podium in front of the teacher. The class was silent for a few seconds, every pair of eyes wide with shock and staring at the imp. Adela smiled, in spite of herself.
     And then all hell broke loose.
     The imp, upon finding itself in a room full of humans, decided that it would be fun to see how many ankles it could bite before someone caught it. He launched himself off of the podium at the feet of an unfortunate student, who screeched and leapt up onto her chair while kicking wildly at the imp, who had already moved on. Adela stood up hastily and stepped away from her desk.
     Within the space of thirty seconds, the imp had worked his way to the back of the room, leaving a trail of overturned desks and scattered pencils in his wake. He stopped, rocking back on his haunches, and peered curiously up at Adela. She stared cooly back.
     “Don’t even think about it,” she said, glaring. The imp glared back, but did nothing. Adela held eye contact, willing the imp to blink. The imp twitched his tail, as if hoping for the same thing.
     Adela sighed, realizing that the imp wasn’t going to break eye contact. “Fine,” she said. “Have it your way.” The imp wrinkled his nose, unsure of how to react. “Get out of here. Go back and tell your friends about the fun you had in math class.”
     The imp frowned, seeming to process the new development. Doubtless he had never dealt with a human with no violent intent before; the janitors were vicious people.
     “I’d hurry though,” said Adela. “Someone’s run off for the janitors, they’ll be back soon.”
     That did it. The imp crossed its violet eyes, then bounced from desk to desk. He scrambled up the podium, shot Adela one last, calculating look, and jumped up through the hole in the ceiling. Adela blinked. She hadn’t really expected the imp to respond so readily. He had certainly seemed more intelligent than most other imps.
     The janitors burst in, armed with nets. “Where’d ‘e go?” asked one.
     “Back up where he came from,” said Adela. “You just missed him.”
     “Ah, pity. I was lookin’ a bit forward to a good fight.”
     The other janitor shrugged dramatically. “We’ll just ‘ave to get ‘im next time, I s’pose.”
     “Right,” said Adela. The janitors left without even bothering to replace the ceiling tile. Adela sighed. “Real help, you guys, thanks.” She enlisted one of the taller students to replace the tile. It slid into place just as the final bell rang.
     The hallways were almost instantly packed with students; Adela wove her way through to her locker, and forced it open as best she could in the tight mob of bodies. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and fought her way out the front doors.
     â—Šâ—Šâ—Š
     She entered her bedroom and tossed the backpack lazily onto her bed.
     The backpack yelped.
     Adela yelped too, since her backpack was not normally given to yelping, or noise making of any kind. She unzipped it quickly, and yelped again. A small, leathery green head with violet eyes shoved itself through the hole.
     “What, you again?” The imp blinked at her, and grinned, showing his pearly teeth and blue forked tongue. Adela noticed that he was a good deal better looking than most imps, which were generally reddish brown and wrinkly. She sighed. “Just because I was nice to you today doesn’t mean you can take up residence in my pack, you know.”
     The imp bobbed his head up and down and extricated himself from the backpack completely. He was also smaller than most imps. The tip of his tail twitched.
     “You can’t live here, either.”
     The violet eyes widened, and the imp cocked hiss head to one side.
     “You see,” said Adela, feeling the need to justify herself, “if I were to let one imp stay, then all the rest of them would be more determined than ever. Also, mom would freak and I’d probably end up locked in my room for a month.”
     The imp opened his mouth and made a pitiful whining noise. Adela bit her lip. The imp stepped forward and grabbed her thumb.
     “Alright, fine!” Adela pulled her hand away. “You can stay, but only if you don’t make any noise, and you don’t make a mess of the place. Deal?”
     The imp nodded excessively, then curled up on her pillow. If he hadn’t been green an leathery, Adela might have mistaken he for a small cat. She sighed, and made a mental note not to let any more imps escape.
     “And you can’t let any of the other imps know you’re here, alright? I’m not running a bed-and-breakfast.”
     The imp nodded, looking up at her with those strange, violet eyes. Adela sighed once more. “You’re quiet, for an imp. I guess you’re just unusual all around, with your appearance, and your apparent intelligence level.”
     The imp twitched his tail again, then closed his eyes. Adela grabbed her backpack and deposited it in her desk chair.
     Downstairs, the door slammed. Adela peered out the window, joined half a second later by the imp. Her mother’s shabby and dented car was parked in front of the house.
     “Adela! Corbin! I’m home!” The imp scuttled over to the door.
     “Oh, no you don’t!” hissed Adela. She scooped up the imp, who squawked indignantly. “Do you have any idea what mom would do to you if she found out you were here?”
     The imp snorted and twitched his tail. Adela put him back on the bed, where he curled up on the pillow once more.
     “Adela? Are you up there?”
     “Yeah, mom. Just a sec…” Adela slipped out of her room, careful to shut the door behind her. She peered over the banister and smiled innocently. “Hi, mom.”
     Her mother smiled. “Hey, honey, how was your day?”
     Adela’s smile widened. “Oh, it was fine.”
     “Uneventful as usual?”
     Adela nodded hastily. “Yup. I’ve got homework though, so I’ve got to go.”
     “Right. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready, okay?”
     “Yeah, mom.” Adela raced silently back up the hall and into her bedroom. The imp looked up from his perch on the bookshelf. His small, agile fingers were clamped firmly around two books, which he had been about to pull off the shelf. The violet eyes widened guiltily. “What are you doing?” hissed Adela. The imp bounced off the bookshelf and ran over to where she stood. “You can’t just go through my bookshelf, okay?”
     The imp shook his head, seemingly annoyed. He tugged on the leg of her jeans and scampered over to the bookshelf. Adela followed; the small green creature pointed at the shelves and chattered softly. “What?” Adela asked. The imp raced up the side of the bookshelf and pointed at the books, still chattering. Adela peered closer, and started.
     The imp had apparently taken the brief time alone to reorganize Adela’s books, first by author and then by date of publication. Adela looked at the imp again. “Thanks,” she said, not sure what to think. The imp jumped lightly onto her shoulder. Adela wasn’t certain what she thought about that, either.
     â—Šâ—Šâ—Š
     Adela woke the next morning to find the little imp curled up by her feet. She groaned and nudged him with her foot. The green head rose and the violet eyes blinked at her balefully. “I told you last night, you can’t sleep on my bed!” The imp grumbled, but leapt to the floor, stretching like a cat on the tattered rug. Adela sat up and ran a hand through her hair. “And look, imp, you’re on your own for food. Don’t take it from our kitchen, alright? Otherwise mom’ll know something’s up.”
     The imp twitched his tail and nodded extensively. Adela sighed. “I wish I could call you something other than “imp”, as long as you’re going to be staying here.” The imp stared at her, the violet eyes half closed. Adela sighed again, and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
     As she was coming down the stairs, she felt a sudden rush of warm air around her. She stopped, startled.
     Morey, whispered a voice in her head. Adela saw a flash of violet and the warm breeze vanished. Shaking her head, she continued into the kitchen to fix herself breakfast. Corbin was already attacking a bowl of sugary cereal.
     “Hey, big sis,” said Corbin, flashing a fake salesman smile. “Mom’s left for work already, so it looks like we’re walking to school.”
     “Again,” said Adela, pulling a box of cereal from the cupboard.
     “Again,” agreed Corbin. Then, “You okay? You’re kinda… pale. Well, paler than usual, anyway.” He smirked.
     “I’m fine,” said Adela. Corbin looked unconvinced. “Really.”
     â—Šâ—Šâ—Š
     The rest of Adela’s day passed without notable incident, until she got back to her room at around 3:30. She stood in the doorway with slack-jawed amazement, staring at her room and trying to remember if it had ever looked so clean. The imp had made the bed, organized her desk and bedside table, taken out the trash, swept and mopped, dusted everything, cleaned the windows, and, judging from the twitching tip of a green tail that protruded from under the bed, he was currently cleaning out the junk down there.
     Adela finally pulled herself together, and walked into the room, closing the door behind her. The sound brought the imp out from under the bed. He made a strange chirping sound, and jumped up to settle on her shoulder. Adela picked him up and set him on the bed. She sighed, something she seemed to be doing rather a lot lately.
     “So…” she said. “This morning, on the stairs… Was that you?” The imp nodded slowly. “So you’re… Morey?”
     The imp – Morey – nodded again, his violet eyes wide.
     “That goes against everything they teach us in school, you know. Imps aren’t telepathic.”
     Morey shook his head and chattered.
     “Then how did you do that?” Adela demanded, completely confused.
     Morey jumped back on to her shoulder and shrugged. Adela sighed. “I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”
     Morey flicked his tongue out and shook his head.

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199. KaiYves says:

     July 20, 2008 at 7:52 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 6:
     “Yes, those are the young stars known as the Pleiades- youth being relative. They’re only about 50 million years old- the dinosaurs never saw them- and they still show some very nice nebulosity.” The doctor said.
     “What’s nebulosity?”
     “Cloudiness- the wisps of gas that are left over from the stellar nursery in which they formed, which was probably the remains of an older star like the remnant we saw before.”
     “So, if they all formed together, then they really ARE sisters, aren’t they?” I asked
     “You could say that.” The doctor said, pressing some buttons and adjusting our course, taking us back to open space.
     Something large and dark was right ahead. At first I thought that it was just empty space where there were no stars. But then I saw how it blocked out objects behind it. This darkness was a physical thing.
     My mind flashed back to dozens of scary TV shows and movies. Darkness with physical mass was always something scary and dangerous. In other worlds, something to avoid! Apparently, the doctor thought otherwise, because we were headed right for it! I felt a chilly wave of fear wash over me.
     “Why the heck are we headed towards that black thing?” I asked, my voice shaking.
     “Looks menacing, I know. But it’s just a cloud of fine, rocky dust, organic matter and some ice.” He said, calmly.
     Just as I was about to ask him where the organic matter came from, I noticed that the cloud filled the window now. We were already inside.
     I started shaking like a massage chair. I had been such a dumbbell to fly halfway across the Universe with a robot I’d only met half an hour before and a guy who was from decades in the past!
     “Inside the cloud, a few stars may begin to-”
     I don’t like it here. Something must be sneaking up on us, I just KNOW it!
     There was suddenly a flash of red light.
     Oh great, NOW we’re done for! I thought.
     “-turn on.”
     A big ball of gas was glowing a warm, orange color. What looked like comets surrounded it.
     “Nearby icy fragments are evaporating, creating these long, cometlike tails, driven back by the stellar winds.”
     We were passing beyond the area around the new star now, back into the rest of the scary black cloud.
     “These black clouds, light-years across, drift between the stars, filled with organic molecules, the building blocks of life. These molecules are everywhere, as they’re easily made. I wonder how many worlds these molecules have become something that we would call alive.”
     We were now out of the black cloud, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Open space looked even more wonderful and beautiful now.
     But I still jumped when a mechanical-sounding “beep” came from the doctor’s desk, accompanied by a light within.
     “Aha… we are now approaching a familiar yellow dwarf star that is orbited by a system of-”
     Now THIS one I knew!
     “Eight planets!” I cut in.
     “Well, maybe in your future, but right now, scientists recognize nine. Let me guess, Pluto?” The doctor said
     “Yup.”

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200. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 22, 2008 at 3:08 pm

     I have to read these! I will do it…

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201. POSOC with 5 BP and 60 IWP: 23 wung points, embedded (bara brith, chorley cake) says:

     July 22, 2008 at 3:40 pm

     Rubbing his eyes, Marcus navigated the confusing warren of passages, following the delicious smell of frying bacon.
     When he finally reached the dining room and sat down at one of the tables, it wasn’t what he expected. There were only two other customers: a ragged werewolf slumped over the bar and a half-grown dragon drowning his woes in a trough of fresh cow’s blood. Granted, the dragon took up most of the space, but it still seemed far less crowded than a cheap inn like this one should be.
     A tall, pale woman with dark hair was bustling around the strangely dim kitchen, filling up a plate with eggs, toast and bacon. She placed it in front of him, flashing him a strangely pointy smile. “Eat up,” she said. “You’re skin und bone, sorcerer.”
     Marcus tasted his breakfast. The toast and bacon were perfect, but the eggs seemed a little bland.
     “Excuse me,” he said. “Do you have any gar… MMF… ”
     Sara clamped a gnarly talon over his mouth. “Think!” she hissed.
     Seemingly unimportant details all over the room clicked into place in Marcus’s mind. The tightly drawn shades even though it was a sunny day, the cook’s odd accent, fashion sense, and dentistry…
     “Yes?” she said, emerging from the kitchen.
     “Um… Grapes! Yes, grapes. I like a little fresh fruit with my breakfast.”
     “Certainly. Vun moment.”
     “Can you say faux pas??!!” Saraswati snarled, and promptly fell asleep again.

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202. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 22, 2008 at 10:21 pm

     201–Ha ha! Good one. I love how you add all those little fairy tale cliches.

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203. KaiYves says:

     July 24, 2008 at 8:02 am

     Any comments on post 199?

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204. TNÖ says:

     July 25, 2008 at 11:55 pm

     203 – it was excellent. Write more.

     Here’s the last bit of chapter 2 and some of 3:

     Adela opened her eyes and sat up in bed. She glanced over at the digital clock on her bedside table and groaned; it was precisely midnight.
     Morey leapt up into her lap; chattering softly. “What?” she asked. Morey shuddered and bounded over to the window. He turned around and beckoned, chattering softly. Adela threw back the covers and crossed the room. “What?” she asked again. Morey pointed urgently out towards the street.
     Adela squinted, trying to see in the near-darkness. “I don’t see anything,” she whispered. Morey chattered and pointed frantically. Adela returned her attention to the street.
     Thick shrouds of fog drifted suddenly into view, obscuring all but the most abstract of shapes. A loud thump echoed in the darkness. The hairs on the back of Adela’s neck prickled, and Morey dug his small, sharp talons into her forearm.
     Two pinpricks of yellow light peered out of the gloom, seeming to approach the window. Morey shuddered, and raced up her arm to crouch on Adela’s shoulder. She backed away, snatching up her backpack from the chair. She slipped quietly out of her room and down the stairs. Morey gestured towards the back door; a thump from the direction of the front entryway only served to confirm his opinion.
     Adela raced downhill towards the river that ran through the center of Pinesberry. The fog flowed around her, persistently. Morey retreated into her backpack.
     They arrived at the bank of the river, murky gray and slow moving. Adela shuddered and glanced back. The yellow pinpricks had gotten larger; a dim, childlike form was visible through the mists. Panting, Adela sloshed into the river. She struggled through the cold water and scrambled out the other side, soaked from the waist down. The mist did not extend to where she sat.
     On the other side of the bank stood a small, slightly chubby silhouette with glowing yellow eyes.
     Adela shivered, and not from the cold.
     â—Šâ—Šâ—Š
     “Mort, Mort…” said the shadow silkily. “What am I going to do with you?”
     Mort trembled. “They crossed the river, master! There was nothing that I could have done to prevent it, I swear!”
     The shadow laughed, harshly. “You could have avoided it entirely if you had been more subtle so as not to alert the halfling.”
     “I’m sorry, master, please!”
     “You showed such promise,” said the shadow, sighing softly. “You could have been the greatest the world has ever seen…”
     “I can fix it, master! I can follow them and bring them to you in time!” Mort’s voice rose in pitch as his terror grew.
     The shadow considered, weighing his options. “Very well,” he said, at length. “Bring them to me, and perhaps you will be spared. Now go.”
     Mort hastened out of the room, chilled to the bone.

     Chapter 3
     “What is it, papa?”
     “Ssh, Xandra, you might wake it.”
     “But what is it?”
     There was a pause. “I think it might be… human. A girl, surely, but human.”
     “I thought the island was safe from them!”
     “Perhaps she means no harm. The river imps would let her pass if she were innocent.
     Adela opened her eyes. Two scaly, lithe and vaguely humanoid creatures jerked away from her face in surprise.
     “Papa!” cried the smaller of the two. “It’s alive!”
     Adela sat up, which only served to further distress the two creatures. The larger – Adela assumed that it was the father – scrunched his face into a ferocious expression and pointed his walking stick threateningly in her direction. It would have been comical under slightly different circumstances.
     “Why do you come here?” asked the creature, waving his walking stick in her face. Adela leaned back, not wanting to be poked in the eye.
     “Where exactly is here?” she asked. The creature squinted.
     “Perhaps, Xandra,” he said, “perhaps she is a witch who speaks in riddles.”
     Xandra clapped her hands delightedly. “Oh, a witch! I’ve always wanted to meet a witch!”
     “I’m not a witch,” said Adela cautiously. “I’m just… Very confused.”
     Morey chose that moment to crawl out from the depth of Adela’s backpack. The two strange creatures stood frozen, staring at the imp. Morey stared cooly back.
     “Papa she’s got a dragon!” shrieked Xandra, running to hide behind a tree.
     “It’s not a dragon, Xandra, it’s a wyvern.”
     Adela and Morey exchanged quick glances. “He’s an imp… Isn’t he?” said Adela.
     “That’s no imp,” said the creature. “That’s a wyvern! Although yes, it does have rather impish characteristics.” He frowned. “This is a very serious matter. We shall have to try you before the Council.”
     “What?”
     “Come.” The creature beckoned for her to follow, and walked off into the forest. Adela, shrugging, scooped up Morey and her backpack and trudged after him.
     â—Šâ—Šâ—Š
     Adela was led to a clearing in the middle of the forest. More of the strange, reptilian creatures stood, or perched in the trees. A few carried emerald green staffs.
     The two creatures who had found her pointed wordlessly at the middle of the clearing. Adela stood, awkwardly, looking down at the creatures, which only came up to her waist.
     One of the taller things pointed his staff at her and glared. “Sit,” he said. Adela sat, Morey perched on her shoulder.
     The creatures that carried the staffs stood in a straight line at the front of the clearing. The one who had addressed Adela cleared his throat. “Forest sprites of the Northern Realm, I call this emergency meeting of the Council to order. Scout leader Thomos and his daughter Xandra found these two alien beings on the edge of the river today.” He peered at Adela and Morey closely. “There are two questions being addressed this morning; one, what are these creatures, and two, what are they doing here?”
     Another of the staff-carriers spoke. “Perhaps, my lord, we should ask the aliens for an explanation?”
     The first creature nodded. “Creatures from Outside, what are you and why are you here?”
     “Um…” said Adela. “I’m a human. My name is Adela Kundera… This is Morey, the imp. He’s…” Adela trailed off, not entirely sure how to describe her connection to the green imp. “He’s a friend.”
     A murmur ran swiftly through the crowd. The creature who had spoken first raised a hand and the onlookers fell silent. “And why are you here in the Realm?” he asked.
     “Well…” said Adela. “We crossed the river to get away from this… Thing with yellow eyes. I’m not really sure what you mean by the ‘Realm,’ though.”
     The creature looked impatient. “The Realm is a hidden island that rests in the middle of the river, guarded from invasion by the water imps, who are friends of the forest sprites.”
     “They lie, my lord,” cried one of the creatures from the crowd. “She says that the thing on her shoulder is an imp called Morey when clearly it is a wyvern!” A murmur of assent whispered through the rest of the onlookers.
     “Humans are unobservant at best,” said the one who had been addressed as lord. “And wyverns avoid humans at all costs? This wyvern harbors impish characteristics – I would not be surprised if it were a halfling – and what would the human do but assume it was an oddly colored imp, a genetic anomaly in the last remaining imp population on earth?”
     Heads everywhere bobbed up and down in agreement.
     “Wait,” said Adela, now thoroughly confused. “What’s a wyvern?”
     “Lesser dragon,” said one of the creatures with the staffs. “Been known to breed with imps, too, so it’s possibly that your Morey is a halfling.”
     “Right,” said Adela faintly. Morey was nodding in affirmation. “And who – what – are you guys?”
     The creatures exchanged glances. At last one of them stepped forward and cleared his throat. “We are forest sprites, guardians of the Northern Realm. That’s where we are now.” He paused. “I suppose we are what you humans would call “elves”, although clearly we do not precisely fit the general description.”
     “No, not really,” agreed Adela, who had never heard of scaly elves before.
     “I am Iandor, one of the members of the Council. These are Onum, Arer, Eleck, Eudost, Ylen, and Aipogh,” he added, motioning to each of the creatures with the staffs. “Together we make up the Council of the Northern Realm.” He indicated the creature who stood in the middle of the Council members. “And this is Lord Roustoc, who rules over the Realm.”

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205. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 26, 2008 at 10:36 am

     This is a new one, thus far named Fairy Tale (I don’t tend to name these things all that imaginatively).

     His name was Jack. The rabbit, I mean.
     He was sleek and long-legged and had brown fur peppered with white and black specks. Quite an ordinary rabbit, I would have thought.
     Except that he was talking to me.
     “Reasonably priced!” he was saying. “And absolutely delicious. Delicacies, really. I’m practically giving them away!”
     He held up a bouquet of small, shriveled mushrooms. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.
     “Listen, rabbit—”
     “Jack.”
     “—Jack. I’m not looking for mushrooms. I detest them, as a matter of fact. And if I were looking for them, I’d just get them myself.”
     The rabbit’s already large eyes widened. “Oh no you wouldn’t. No one goes in the Deep. Not even ignorant little girls.”
     “Watch your mouth, bunny. I’m not little, and I’m certainly not afraid of the Deep.”
     We glared at each other for a moment. He twitched his nose. I narrowed my eyes.
     “Luckily for you, I don’t want any mushrooms.”
     “Yes, it’s a good thing—because if you did, I wouldn’t sell you any.”
     “Hmph.”
     “Huh.”
     “Goodbye.”
     “Sayanora.”
     He bounded off, and I went stalking back to the house. Impudent rodent.
     My mother was in the entryway. She was dressed—as always—in impeccably clean clothes, in spite of the dust floating about from her vigorous sweeping. Tonight was my coming-out party, a tradition in my family stretching back to the 1800s. Each girl, upon turning seventeen, would be formally introduced to family and friends—a ceremony I found unnecessary and embarrassing, to say the least. To top it all off, I was leaving for college soon; so at this party I was coming out and going away at the same time.
     “Maya, I was just looking for you,” said my mom as I approached the house. “I need you to run to the grocery for me—I forgot some things at the market. Here’s the list…” she pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. “The Corolla has a full tank, so take it instead of the van.”
     I groaned inwardly. I had been planning on going up to my room on the Widow’s Walk and reading a good book. But as usual, chores intervened.
     I backed out the Corolla and sped to the grocery. Cupcakes, soda, pretzels—the usual stuff. I could practically walk down the aisles without even looking at the list. I paid for the food and rushed outside.
     It was getting dusky as I drove home; I’d be walking in the door with the guests if I didn’t speed up. I turned a corner, and the Deep loomed ahead of me, dark and ominous in the dimming light.
     The Deep, properly known as the Deepwood, was the forest that bordered our town. Few had entered it since a few years ago, when a young boy had gone in and returned a corpse. It was enormous, stretching hundreds of miles in any given direction; no one had bothered—or dared—to map it. Even in this day and age, people were superstitious; stories of dark trees shifting without wind and shadows haunting the new houses on the outskirts of the Deep still frightened new homeowners.
     I made it to the house just as the first guests were arriving. I grabbed the groceries and rushed into the kitchen.
     My mom was in a predictably flustered state, even with help from a chef hired for the occasion. She pulled the grocery bags out of my grasp and began to rifle through them, setting things in piles and dumping the chips in bowls.
     “You’d better get dressed,” she said to me absent-mindedly, helping the chef to finish icing the cake. I was just nearing the top of the stairs when my mom yelled, “Where are the mushrooms?”
     I froze. Maybe I’d been a little flippant with my shopping, after all. I walked cautiously back down the stairs.
     “Maya, did you get mushrooms?”
     “I—I thought I did—”
     “I need them for the Bruschetta Mista! Honey, that means I’m down a side dish! I have to think of something else—“ She began to rummage around the shelves for a suitable substitute.
     And then I heard the words come out of my mouth: “I know where to get some mushrooms.”
     My mom stared. “Er—where?”
     The words came like someone else was speaking: “One of our neighbors sells them, I saw a sign in their window. I’ll just run down there…” I reached for my coat, and ran out the door before my mom could say anything else.
     As soon as I reached the forest, I realized I’d forgotten a flashlight. The moon was full, so the short footpath that wound through the trees was fairly bright; all the same, I wished the rabbit—Jack—would appear quickly, so I could get back before I got too scared of the shadows.

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206. Alice says:

     July 27, 2008 at 1:02 am

     I’ve been trying to write for so long, but nothing ever comes out right. My characters are flat, my plots are stale… In short, my stories are absolute junk. I still can’t write a decent story, but I don’t have to anymore, because something amazing and terrible has happened, and all I have to do is write down what I experience each day. If something dreadful happens (more dreadful than has already happened, that is), maybe this writing will serve as a warning to everyone else so they can stop him before it’s too late. And if all goes well, then I can publish it and become a bestselling author. I wouldn’t try to make anyone believe it was true, of course, because they’d never believe me, but then, I’ve never wanted to write memoirs anyway.
     At any rate, to go on with the story.

     I’m not sure how I should continue past that. I know I want to have a sort of epic, with thousands or millions or more lives at stake, maybe the fate of the world.
     I was going to have the book characters come alive by some strange fluke, and then my protagonist has to team up with her protagonist to stop the antagonist (from my protagonist’s book), but then I realized that Cornelia Funke’s already done it, which sucks, because I want to make interesting things happen between my protagonist and her characters. Can they think without her? Are they angry for making them go through whatever they went through? Maybe some of them just want her to give them their goals right away. Can she write away the antagonist, and if not, why not?
     Darn it, Cornelia Funke. It isn’t fair.

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207. The Bookworm & Lurline (410 piepoints and two B-Day Points and 42 KAG Points!) says:

     July 27, 2008 at 11:08 am

     206-I know. Other authors keep using my ideas, coincidentally.

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208. KaiYves says:

     July 27, 2008 at 12:34 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 7
     “There’s the planet Neptune, and we’re now only 4 light-hours from Earth.” TASTA said.
     Neptune was a large, blue gas planet, with a few clouds here and there that were darker or lighter than the rest. A large moon orbited it.
     “That’s Triton.” TASTA told me.
     “Even in the outer reaches of our own solar system, we humans-and robots- are just barely beginning our observations. Even a century ago, we were ignorant of the existence of the planet- or whatever it’s called in the future- Pluto. We didn’t even know about its moon, Charon (CAIR-on) until 1978.”
     A world that was a murky blue-green now appeared in the window. Its odd rings were vertical to the planet, not horizontal.
     “Hey, that’s Uranus! (URIN-iss, contrary to popular belief)!” I shouted
     “Yes, we didn’t even detect those rings until 1977! There are new worlds to chart, even this close to home, it seems.”
     The doctor pressed some buttons on his desk, making more red, orange and yellow lights within flash. A yellow crescent became visible in the window, as the ship turned.
     “Saturn is a magnificent gas world. The majestic rings are made out of trillions of snowballs and rocky debris.”
     We were now over the rings. They looked like all the pictures of them that I had ever seen in National Geographic, only so, so real! I could see a large, yellowish moon- Titan!
     “The ship is now only eighty light-minutes from home. A mere one and a half billion kilometers.”
     “Mere?”
     “Well, it’s certainly closer than those galaxies we saw before.”
     “Sir, we’re coming up on-” TASTA began
     “Jupiter.” I finished “The largest planet, thank you fifth-grade science class.”
     Jupiter’s orange crescent was visible, but more interesting were the odd flashes of light on the night side.
     “Superbolts of lightning, as first revealed by the Voyager spacecraft in 1979. We certainly don’t want to get too close to those.”
     We flew past a moon and saw the cloud-tops, a beautiful sight. Mostly orange, with swirly bands of red, cream and white, it looked like nature’s Modern Art. I looked for the storm known as the Great Red Spot, but it must have been on the other side of the planet. Almost too soon, I felt the ship turn.
     We passed a small piece of cratered rock- small compared to the planets, that is. But other than that, we seemed to be in empty space.
     “Aren’t there usually more asteroids in the movies? And aren’t they bigger?”
     “There are some pretty big ones, but all of the asteroids are very spread out. These reefs and shoals mark the edge of the realm of giant planets. We are now entering the shallows of our solar system. Here the worlds have thing atmosphere and solid surfaces- they are Earthlike, or Terrestrial, with landscapes crying out for careful observation.”
     Another crescent, this one small and reddish, was visible in the window.
     “Let me guess- Mars?”
     “Yes.”
     “I learned all about Mars in school. Our teacher showed us pictures from all the probes, like MRO, and Sojourner, and Spirit and Opportunity and Phoenix and-”
     “And Viking?”
     “Yeah, Viking, back in the 70s.”
     “Well, that’s good to hear. Prepare for atmospheric entry.” The doctor pressed some buttons, bringing us through the thin, reddish air.

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209. TNÖ says:

     July 27, 2008 at 1:22 pm

     208- good. Muy bueno.

     here’s a bit more of chapter 3:

     Lord Roustoc stepped forward and fixed Adela with a long, hard gaze. Iandor stepped back into the line of Council members.
     At last Lord Roustoc spoke. “Human Adela, you present me with a difficult problem. You see, humans are simply not allowed in the Realm, and the wyverns are our sworn enemies. However, the mists which chased you to this place still surround the island and I cannot, in good conscious, send you out to your certain death.”
     “Death?” asked Adela, startled. Morey chattered and nodded.
     “Death,” repeated Lord Roustoc. “The mists bear the signature of one of the followers of Is’ijes.”
     “Sorry, who?” asked Adela. Lord Roustoc stared at her.
     “The shadow lord. Is’ijes is not his name, of course – no one knows what he is truly called – but it is our language for the shadows.”
     “But who is he?”
     Lord Roustoc sighed. “Is’ijes is the master of shadows. He is, well, the living embodiment of darkness. At least, that’s what the scholars tell me.”
     Another sprite stepped forward. He cleared his throat. “I am Polisan, the scholar,” he said. “So far as my colleagues and I can surmise, Is’ijes was, at one point, human. But after a terrible accident of unknown nature about a century ago, he was driven mad and ended up semi-bodiless. So now he resides in the shadows, plotting and scheming a way to get physical form again.”
     “Why would he come to Pinesberry then?” asked Adela. “And why my house?”
     “If your Morey is a halfling, he could have been the target. They have special… properties… which can be used as gateways to posses other creatures. They themselves are almost useless for possession, being more intelligent than imps and less impulsive than wyverns.”

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210. Alice says:

     July 27, 2008 at 3:10 pm

     It was Tuesday night, and it was storming. It was not a dark and stormy night, because the full moon was shining brightly on the turbulence of the storm, and the lightning would flash and the whole world would be bright blue, and then fall back into a grey moonlit twilight.
     I was not the only person who couldn’t sleep. Although the clock read one, my entire family, including myself, was crowded onto the couch clutching mugs of tea or cocoa and trying not to act as frightened and upset as we were. The electricity was gone, and although we didn’t need them, my parents had lit candles and drawn the curtains to shut out the lightning.
     That night was a muddle of sharply clear thoughts and vague, blurred ones. I can’t remember what possessed me to rise from the couch and go stand in the doorway, staring out at the storm. I do remember, however, seeing a lone figure standing in the street, and I remember thinking, What are they doing here? and calling out to my mother that I was going to go see who it was.
     The lightning flashed as I stepped outside, and I was immediately as wet as if I had jumped into a lake. As I neared the figure, I recognized with a shock that it was Maurice.
     But of course, none of you know Maurice. He is–was–a schoolmate of mine. We were not great friends, but we were slightly more than acquaintances. And back to the story:
     It wasn’t that I was surprised to see Maurice standing in the middle of a raging storm, because it seemed like the sort of thing he might do, but I was very surprised to find him standing in the middle of a raging storm in my neighborhood, because Maurice lived on the other side of town.
     “Maurice?” I called hesitantly. He turned, and saw me, and smiled.
     “Hi, Grace!” he said.
     “What are you doing here?” I asked.
     “Oh, nothing.”
     I did not bother asking again. I was cold, and wet, and I wanted to get back to my hot cocoa and blankets. “Look, do you want to go inside?” I asked.
     He didn’t answer. I’ll never know if he meant to answer or not, because lightning flashed, and the world went blue-white for a fraction of a second. And then it was dark.
     I blinked several times. I couldn’t feel the rain beating down on my head and shoulders, and the moon seemed to have gone for good. At first I thought that maybe I had fainted, or fallen and gone unconscious, except that I was, without a doubt, fully conscious. “Maurice?” I said. Maybe the rain had stopped and the moon had gone behind a cloud. Maybe the lightning had blinded me.
     “Yeah?” said Maurice’s voice from the darkness.

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211. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     July 27, 2008 at 10:53 pm

     206–Totally been there. I hate how other people have the same ideas as me

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212. Alice says:

     July 27, 2008 at 10:58 pm

     I breathed a sigh of relief. It was too soon of course, but at that time I didn’t know it, and it was comforting to realize that despite the blackness I was not alone. “What happened?” I asked.
     He only laughed softly. “It worked.”
     “What worked?” It occurred to me that maybe I had my eyes closed and didn’t realize, so I struggled to open them and even went to so far as to poke myself in the eye before realizing that they were already open.
     While I was futilely trying to open my eyes, Maurice had been silent. “What worked?” I asked him again. Again he was silent.
     “MAURICE!”
     Silence.
     “Are you still there?”
     Again, there was nothing. “Maurice?” I said again, my voice trembling. “What happened?” I had a vague feeling that maybe it was an extremely vivid dream, and now that I’d realized it I could try to control what was happening.

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213. KaiYves says:

     July 29, 2008 at 8:24 am

     I tried to post part seven of COSMOS yesterday, but it’s not showing up.

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214. KaiYves says:

     July 30, 2008 at 8:17 am

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 7
     Beneath the tanish-pinkish sky, a large volcano loomed.
     “On Mars, we have volcanoes the size of Arizona that are three times taller than Everest.”
     “Olympus Mons.” I whispered, in awe.
     “This is a world of wonders. Mars is a planet with ancient valleys and violent sandstorms driven by winds at half the speed of sound.” The doctor said.
     Below us, I saw the humungous Valles Marineris canyon, big enough to stretch across the United States.
     “The Mariner spacecraft first saw that, hence the name. I’ve always loved Mars.” The doctor said. Then, he turned, and looked me in the eye.
     “Well now, Alex, you’re certainly done a lot in your first Cosmic voyage. We’ve begun a reconnaissance of Mars, as well as all those other planets and stars and galaxies. In later voyages, we can explore them more fully. But now…”
     He pressed a few more buttons.
     “…now, we’ll travel the few remaining light-minutes to a blue and cloudy world, third from the sun.”
     “Will we be able to see the space station?” I asked
     “No, Skylab fell down last year… oh, wait, you’re from the future…”
     My heart skipped a beat as the planet came into view.
     I could see the yellow-brown deserts of Australia and the lush, green jungles of Southeast Asia. The Pacific Ocean stretched away, a beautiful, brilliant blue. It was all SO wonderful.
     “Now THIS is geography!”
     “The end of our long journey is the world where we began. Our travels allow us to see the Earth anew, as if we came from somewhere else. There are a hundred billion galaxies, and a billion, trillion stars. Why should this modest planet be the only inhabited one? To me, it seems far more likely that the Cosmos is brimming over with life and intelligence. But so far, every living thing, every conscious being, every civilization we know anything about- lived there, on Earth.”
     I reminded myself to recycle more when I got back home. Whenever that might be.
     TASTA interrupted our staring and philosophizing by reaching in and manipulating the controls. We came lower and lower, down to the level of the clouds, flying as if in an ordinary airplane.
     “Beneath these clouds, the drama of the human species- and, very recently, the drama of robots- have been unfolding. We have, at last, come home.”
     The doctor stood out and pointed his watch toward empty air, then pressed a button on his watch, opening another portal like the one TASTA and I had come to the ship in.
     “Where are we going?” I asked
     “Why, down to the surface.” TASTA said.
     “But what about the ship?”
     “We’ll be able to come back later. Until then, it will be fine, I assure you.” The doctor said, stepping through. I followed, unsure of what would happen next.

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215. KaiYves says:

     July 30, 2008 at 7:15 pm

     Blast, messed up the italics again!

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216. KaiYves says:

     August 3, 2008 at 12:31 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 8:
     The next thing I saw was the landscape- green rolling hills surrounded us, and there were tall, shady trees reaching towards the blue sky. My head was spinning, but not as badly as when I had traveled onto the starship.
     “Welcome back to the planet Earth, with blue nitrogen skies, oceans of liquid water, cool forests, soft meddows- a world positively rippling with life!” The doctor said, walking in the shade of a tree that was budding.
     I could hear birds chirping and it sounded beautiful after the silence of space.
     “It’s great!” I shouted, embracing one of the trees. I giggled a bit.
     “And, in the Cosmic perspective, it is, for the moment, unique. The only place we know for certain that there is life and intelligence. There must be many worlds like that, scattered through space, but our search for them begins here, with all that our species knows so far. It hasn’t always been easy to gather this knowledge, but over a million years, we’ve learned a lot.”
     “You’re right. A million years ago, the cave dudes were going ‘Ooog! I make fire with stick. Ahh! Fire burn! Now I hunt mammoth.'”
     “Bravo, give the human an Oscar.” TASTA said, in a sarcastic tone.
     Ignoring our antics, the doctor used his watch to open another portal.
     “Next stop, Egypt.” he said, walking though.
     “I’ve always wanted to go there!” I exclaimed, but not to anybody in particular. I guess I was just happy about being back on Earth. With that thought, I ran into the portal.

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217. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie) ♫ says:

     August 5, 2008 at 5:08 pm

     Has anyone read my story or been reading it? If so, and you want to read more, I have some more chapters to post.
     Normally, I had chick novels, but since I consider mine to be a sort of chilled out, not centered around rich snobs, decent plot kind of story, I think I’m going to stick with for a while, or at least until I get another good idea.

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218. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 10, 2008 at 3:42 pm

     217–Yep, I’ve been reading it. Post more.

     Trystan Evander is kind of disintegrating. I want to write it so badly, but can’t seem to make it work…maybe I’ll write it as a screenplay instead, and then make a movie of it when I’m a famous director

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219. KaiYves says:

     August 10, 2008 at 6:44 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 9:
     I looked around at my new surroundings. It was sunrise, and we were at the top of a tall, stone tower. The stones looked very old. A cold wind blew, chilling my short-sleeved arms.
     “Brrr! I thought Egypt was supposed to be warm!” I said.
     “Not at this time of day, I’m afraid. The sun hasn’t had time to warm up the land yet.” the doctor said, motioning to TASTA. TASTA opened a compartment and removed two red sweaters.
     “Here you are, doctor and Alex.” En said.
     “Thank you, TASTA.” The doctor said, putting one of the sweaters on under his coat. I did the same, although mine was a bit large on me.
     “Now then- this tower is a relic of the days when our little planet seemed immense. The true size of the Earth was first calculated by a man who lived near here, in the 3rd century BC.” He continued
     “What is this tower for? Well, I guess I mean WAS, not IS… did people live here or what?” I asked
     “This tower may have been for communications- part of a network running along the North African coast where signal bonfires were used to communicate messages of state.” TASTA said
     “Not too shabby for ancient times. I mean, it’s not like they had telephones.”
     “It also could have been a lighthouse, to guide sailing ships there, in the Mediterranian Sea.” The doctor said, pointing at the blue sea behind us. “We’re now about 50 kilometers of what was once one of the great cities of the ancient world, Alexandria.”
     Cool. I knew from history class that Alexandria was where Cleopatra had her palace.
     “In Alexandria, at that time, there was a man named Eratostenes (arrow-thaths-ten-esse). He was an astronomer, historian, geographer, philosopher, poet, theater critic and mathematician-”
     “Talk about multi-tasking!”
     “He was also the cheif librarian of the great Library of Alexandria.”
     I remembered reading about the library in history class, too. The textbook had said that it had more books than any other library at the time.

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220. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 12, 2008 at 6:37 pm

     Hello? Anybody out there? POSOC? Alice? TNO? Anyone?

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221. TNÖ says:

     August 12, 2008 at 7:37 pm

     220- Hello!

     I haven’t written much, just this:

     “And what does that have to do with anything?”
     “Well,” said Polisan, “it seems that a certain level-headedness can provide an immunity, of sorts, against possession. For example, if I were in your head at this time, I would have to manipulate your emotions and thoughts carefully in order to force you to surrender control of your actions. The less likely you are to act on spur-of-the-moment impulses and emotions, the more difficult this task would be. Do you see?”
     “Er, yes…” said Adela, disturbed at the idea of the sprite being inside her head.
     “Furthermore, if you were intelligent enough to be aware of my presence in your mind, you would be better equipped to ignore my manipulations and the possession would be more likely to fail.”
     “So you can tell if someone is trying to possess you?” asked Adela, who was fascinated by the idea of controlling someone so absolutely.
     “Yes, although one must be quick-witted enough to realize when thoughts or feelings are not their own. Knowing who you are is key to counteracting possession.”
     “Great,” said Adela dryly. “Let’s hope nobody ever tries to possess me, then…”
     Lord Roustoc cleared his throat, a cue for Polisan to slip away through the trees. “The Council has decided,” he said. “The human and her halfling will remain in the Realm until the threat to their lives has gone.” A murmur ran through the crowd, giving Adela the distinct impression that the decision was not a popular run. “However,” continued Roustoc, “they will be kept under guard at Hidden Falls.”
     There was a general sigh of relief. “Who will stand guard?” called a voice from the crowd. Roustoc shrugged. “That is for the Captain to decide. Thomas?”
     The sprite who had found Adela and Morey looked up from his toes. “Yes, my lord?”
     Roustoc gestured at Adela. “Kindly show the outsiders to Hidden Falls.” Thomas bowed and beckoned for Adela and Morey to follow.

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222. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie) ♫ says:

     August 13, 2008 at 8:23 am

     218- Okay. Here it comes. Warning: This part gets a bit mushy.

     Chapter 22: Imagine

     The next school day, everything moved slowly. The clock seemed to have stopped working altogether by fourth period, so I used my phone to check the time from then on. All of the teachers gave very drawn out and boring lectures. It was definetly all I could do not to fall asleep on my desk. I tried talking to Mitch, but he seemed distracted all day by something, and I had only the faintest idea what it was.
     This very boring school day preceded a very exciting ski club in the afternoon following. It was a beautiful day for the sport. The sky was somewhat light outside as Trey, Mitch, Isabelle and I gathered our skis from the back of the charter bus and traipsed through the gates of Snow Springs. The colors of our jackets stood out boldly against the snow around us.
     As we put on our skis and headed towards the lift, I noticed that Mitch tended to glance toward Isabelle a lot. He would stare at her swift form for a minute, then quickly look back down at the ground in an awkward way. I wondered if he would ever be able to pluck up his courage and tell her how he really felt about her.
     All of the four-seater lifts were full. It was a very busy day at the range, because everyone wanted to take advantage of the nice weather, so almost immediately, Mitch led us off the charted path to a lesser-used hill. Nobody enjoyed skiing on it, because most of the area hadn’t been cleared of trees and the hill was very steep. In fact, I could see large patches of forest poking up from underneath the lift’s path. The lift itself was very old, considering how new the facility was, and I was a bit fidgety as we approached the loading base. There were no four-seater cars, so we had to go two by two. Isabelle sat down in the first car, and Mitch almost immediately sat down next to her. He started a chatty conversation with her as they started up the hill. Trey and I occupied the next car.
     “Hi”, I said quietly.
     “Um, hi”, he replied.
     We started to move slowly along the lift track to the top of the hill. I looked casually over the side of the car as Trey twiddled his thumbs. There didn’t seem to be many people at all coming to this hill.
     “So…how’s guitar playing going?” I asked after a long period of silence. Trey’s head perked up a bit.
     “It’s going well, actually. I’m starting to get noticed. Someone’s hired me to play at an auction. It’s like some sort of break or something”
     “Wow”, I said back, impressed. “Glad things are working out for you.”
     “It’s really great, because now I’ll be able to earn some of my own money.”
     “Interesting.”
     We sat still, hands in our laps. It was very silent for a very long time. And then, there was a strange grinding noise from above our heads. I looked up, and saw a few momentary sparks as the lift began to shudder . Then, in a violent motion accompanied by a terrible screech, the entire car stopped dead with a jolt and pitched forward. With nothing to hold onto, Trey and I fell straight out of the open car and down into the snow below. Luckily, the ground didn’t seem too far from us. But it was scattered with pine trees, and as I fell, they all looked like emerald daggers reaching out to impale us if we landed on them.
     By some miracle, we didn’t. I crashed into a pile of snow, sending flurries of with flakes everywhere. I heard Trey collapse somewhere close by, and I struggled to stand up on my skis. Eventually, I managed to hoist myself from the snow pile using my ski poles and searched frantically around for Trey. “Hello? Trey?” I called. Then, I spotted him a few feet from me, spread eagled on a blanket of artificial white.
     “Kat? I’m here! Over here!”, he said, words muffled by the frigid snow.
     “Are you all right? Can you stand up?” I asked.
     “I dunno. I think so.” He made a grunting noise, as if he was straining himself to stand. I mad my way over to him and grabbed under his armpits. With a great burst of our combined strength, we managed to get him off of the ground. But he seemed to have some sort of leg injury.
     “Do you need me to help you?” I asked concernedly.
     “N-no”, he said, trying to stand up straighter. “It’s not so bad. I think I can walk, or at least ski.”
     “That’s good”, I replied. “Now we need to find the group fast, or at least get back onto the main trail.” So we started to trudge through the snow, looking for some way out of the small patch of woods. There were no inclines, so we could only push ourselves along with our poles, weaving in and out of fallen branches and debris.
     “I wonder what went wrong with the lift…” Trey thought aloud. We both automatically looked above our heads, but the faraway lines of the lift were too small to make out. I guessed that we had fallen further than I thought. It really was lucky, I thought, that we weren’t both seriously injured.
     “I don’t know”, I replied. “I didn’t see anyone else fall off. Did you?”
     “Nope”, he said. ”Just us two.”
     “Do you think they could be looking for us?” I was worried, and I obviously sounded like it, because Trey looked at me sympathetically.
     “Don’t worry”, he said. “They’ll find us, or we’ll find them. We’re going to get out of here.”
     “But what if we get lost? What if we miss the bus? What if-“
     “Seriously, relax. I promise none of that stuff’s going to happen.” But even he himself didn’t look so sure.
     In my state of worry, I didn’t notice a large tree branch in front of my ski I tripped, my ski catching on the underside of the log. Trey saw me stumble and reached out quickly, catching me up in his arms so that I wouldn’t fall again. I looked up at him for a strained second, and stood up quickly on my wobbly feet. Without a word, we continued. After a few minutes of silence, the air was broken again by Trey’s voice.
     “So…you tried out for the play. I saw you do your piece, you sang really well.”
     “Thanks”, I said breathlessly, turning red yet again. “I try, I guess.”
     “Well, you’ll definitely get a spot. I’m sure of it. They’d have to be stupid not to put you in it, and the play’s tough to get into. Believe me, I know…” His voice trailed off unexpectedly.
     “Why, have you tried out before?” I was curious now. I had never thought of him as the type to get up onstage and potentially embarrass himself.
     “Um”, he said shortly. “Well yeah, I did, once…But it was just for fun, you know, I wasn’t, like serious about it.” But by his tone of voice, I could tell he was lying.
     “You don’t have to be embarrassed”, I said. “We are who we are. So you tried out. So what? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
     “Guys don’t try out for plays.”
     “Don’t worry”, I assured him. “I won’t tell anyone. But”, I hesitated, looking up at him,” if you really enjoy acting, then you shouldn’t be embarrassed to do it.”
     “I guess”, he mumbled. The stale air around us seemed to get thicker as we trudged our way up the slope. The entire area seemed impossibly empty, almost as though everyone on earth had disappeared and there was nobody left but us, two lone figures trying to find our way to another slope. I could already tell that it was getting close to nighttime, and I wasn’t anxious to be here when it was dark outside. It was a very tree-populated, dense area, and I didn’t exactly want to find out what kinds of animals inhabited the place.
     Then, I heard Trey let out a low whistle. “Wow”, he said quietly. “Would you look at that.”
     We were standing on a small outcropping ledge over another hill, which was moving slowly with not many people below. Over them, far into the distance, there was a beautiful sunset. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before, reds, pinks, oranges and blues all swirled together in a glowing sheet of light that trailed across the fading sky. It was just amazing. I had never seen anything like it, and probably never will again. They didn’t even have sunsets like that in California. Out here, where there was less smog and city noise, New York almost seemed peaceful. I felt more connected with my new home than ever, and just because of one simple act of nature.
     “Wow”, Trey said again, and this time, I turned to face him.
     “Yeah”, I said softly. “Wow.” In the strange light, he looked bold, and less stony and mean than I had ever seen him before. A soft, smooth breeze swept across the flat hilltop, brushing my hair and making it flow in the wind.
     “I think I see a trail over there”, he said suddenly, turning to face a different direction.
     “Good”, I said, disappointment striking my heart for some reason. “We…I guess we should head back now, right?”
     “I guess”, he replied. Then, as I was about to start heading off, he grabbed my arm.
     “You know, you’re a really great person, Kat.” He held me there and looked strongly into my eyes.
     “Um. Thanks.”
     “But you don’t always have to be so brave.”
     We were practically inches away from one another, and my heart was pounding like a bass drum on steroids.
     “I know”, I whispered. “And you don’t always have to be so quiet.”
     Then, there was no space left at all between our lips, and I was having my first kiss on top of a hill in a place I had once hated with a boy who I’d only known as a statue, a shadow of himself. And as the sunset lit the sky around us in a picturesque sort of way, and the noise of the world around us faded into the distance, all I could think about the whole time was that he had remembered my name.

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223. TNÖ says:

     August 13, 2008 at 8:00 pm

     *sigh* barely three chapters into this latest attempt, and I’m sick and tired of it. *shoves onto top of “waiting” pile.
     And now I am beginning a new story! *evil laughter* hopefully this one will last longer.

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224. TNÖ says:

     August 14, 2008 at 12:38 am

     222- Ok, I read that, then went back and read the first 21 chapters, which is impressive since I’m usually not big on romance/mushy-ness. Excellent job.

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225. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 14, 2008 at 7:29 am

     223–I do that every week! New idea, new story, and the old one goes down the tubes. I have no sense of perseverance.

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226. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie) ♫ says:

     August 14, 2008 at 9:24 am

     224- Thank you very much. I have another chapter now. Will post later.

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227. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie) ♫ says:

     August 14, 2008 at 9:24 am

     224- Thank you very much. I have another chapter now. Will post later.

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228. TNÖ says:

     August 14, 2008 at 1:18 pm

     226-7: How’d you get it to post two identical posts?

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229. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie) ♫ says:

     August 14, 2008 at 1:39 pm

     228-Wow, I don’t know. I didn’t notice that until just now. It must be a glitch or something.

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230. TNÖ says:

     August 14, 2008 at 9:03 pm

     229- must be.

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231. TNÖ says:

     August 17, 2008 at 4:05 pm

     HELLO? *listens to echoes*

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232. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie) ♫ says:

     August 17, 2008 at 5:25 pm

     Is there anyone aliiiiieve out there? Heh heh. Titanic humor.

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233. ☮iŹ√Ҳ!☮ (411 piepoints 47 brain points)☮ says:

     August 17, 2008 at 7:36 pm

     Beginning of a short story…

     Deep underground, a tunnel wound on through the subterranean depths of an old mining area. Slime glistened on the walls, giving everything an unpleasant sheen to it. It had once been the burrow of an extinct animal, then the miners had come…and found the place to be rich in gold and silver.
     In the tunnels, a small lantern bobbed along, being held in a vice like by a boy of about thirteen or so. He was tall, with bared, teeth shining in the light of the lantern, with long, shoulder length, matted lack hair hanging to his shoulders.
     Zek, as the boy was called smiled to himself. His master would be happy with the new catch. He patted the small, hard object that was showing in his dark cloaked pocket; and drew a long, nasty-looking dagger. This was the dangerous part of the tunnels–this was where his master had once lurked, before he had been nursed back to health by his deadly servant–Zek.
     Zek jumped slightly as a small noise sounded on the wall–quick as lightning, he dropped the lantern and pounced, stabbing with an expert flick of his knife. Nothing. He breathed again.
     Soon, he reached a pair of dark double doors.
     “nepo, Kez sdnammoc ouy.” He said. The doors vanished without a sound, and he walked into a dark chamber.
     “Ah, a good catch,” sneered a voice.

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234. TNÖ says:

     August 17, 2008 at 9:58 pm

     232-

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235. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 18, 2008 at 10:38 pm

     Yay! Beginning of a new story.

     Veronica was a blonde today.
     She flicked her honey-colored tresses out of the way impatiently, striding down 5th avenue with an expression to rival a hungry wolf’s. The smart people who turned to look at her stunning features kept right on turning.
     One man wasn’t so astute. Dressed in a brown UPS uniform, he fell into step with Veronica and tipped his hat.
     “Hi,” he said, flashing what he obviously thought was a roguish grin. Veronica ignored him, shielded behind mirrored Chanel sunglasses.
     He stepped directly in her path, so that she nearly walked into him. Her expression became a touch more acidic.
     “I don’t have time today, man in a brown suit,” she said. Her voice was nearly as enchanting as her looks, even when angry; the man didn’t budge.
     Veronica lowered her sunglasses. “Did you hear me, UPS? Move it.”
     The man regained his voice. “Listen, hon—”
     And suddenly he was facing a ferocious demon with pointed teeth and glowing red eyes. He let out a very unmanly shriek and skittered off as fast as his legs would carry him. No one else noticed, although a few turned to follow the UPS man’s undignified flight with disinterested looks.
     Veronica Chase resumed her walk. And Jason asks why I don’t date, she thought, and rolled her eyes.

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236. Alice says:

     August 22, 2008 at 3:23 pm

     OK, everyone, I’m now going to describe my Incredible Plot of Clichès and Cheesiness. I know it’s pretty overdone, but I figured it doesn’t really matter if the very core of it is ridiculous, as long as there are good details. Of course, I don’t think there are going to be any good details, but that doesn’t really matter as long as I’m writing, right?

     So, there’s this girl, right? Name of Grace. One dark and stormy night she sees this kid from school, Maurice, sneaking around and she’s like, “wow, he’s crazier than I thought. I’ll go follow him around to see if he gets struck by lightning ” So she follows him and then she ends up in this other world (sort of) and he’s like, “Yeah, I have a family here, the one you know is totally fake” and she’s like “Oh, OK” and he’s like, “but I also have this incredible magic talisman-thingy which enables me to go between the two places” and the villain’s like “wow I want it” and they’re all like “no way” and this totally random person comes and takes the talisman and all the defenses around Maurice and Grace start to crumble and they’re going to be stuck between the two worlds so they have to get the talisman back and meanwhile the totally random person (TRP) has used the talisman to go into this world where Maurice and Grace are missing and much confusion ensues and in the end everyone wins.

     Actually I just made that up spur-of-the-moment and it’s not too bad. But it needs tons and tons and tons of work.

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237. KaiYves says:

     August 22, 2008 at 5:32 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 10
     “One day, while Eratostenes was reading one of the library’s many books, he came upon a strange story.”
     “Strange how? Like scary strange?” I asked. I’m not too big a fan of scary stories.
     “Not really. But it was a very odd one- far to the south, the scroll said, at the frontier outpost of Syene, something notable could be seen on the longest day of the year. On June 21st, the shadoes of a temple collum or a vertical stick grew shorter as noon aproached. Eventually, the shadows would vanish entirely. And, as the hours crept towards midday, the sun’s rays slithered down the sides of a deep well that on all other days remained in shadow.”
     “That IS odd.” I said “Like a mystery.”
     The doctor smiled in a knowing way.
     “It WAS a mystery, and like a detective-or a scientist- Eratostenes investigated. Most people might have ignored such things as everyday matters- but he didn’t. His investigations changed the world. In a way, they MADE the world.”
     “So what did he do, then? The suspense is killing me!” I protested
     “He did an experiment to see if a stick back here in Alexandria cast a shadow near noon on June the 21. And, it turns out, sticks do. An overly skeptical person might have said that the report from Syene was in error. But it’s an absolutely straightforward observation-”
     “Yeah, what kind of doofus would lie about seeing a shadow?”
     “Eratostenes asked himself how it could be that at the same moment, in Syene a stick would cast no shadow, whereas in Alexandria, 800 kilometers to the north, another stick DID cast a shadow?” The doctor made a motion to TASTA, who offered him a map from a compartment. It showed Egypt, with two obelisks, one in the north, marked ‘Alexandria’ and one in the south, marked ‘Syene’.
     The doctor held the map perfectly vertical and showed it to me.
     “Now, if at a certain moment, both sticks cast no shadow at all-” he positioned the map so this was so.
     “-then that’s perfectly easy to understand, provided that the Earth is flat.”
     “But the Earth ISN’T flat! We just saw that it was round when we were up in space!” I cut in
     The doctor bent the map so that the shadows of the obelisks were different. Apparently, he hadn’t heard me.
     “Yet, how could it be, Eratostenes asked, that at the same time a stick in Syene cast no shadow, but a stick in Alexandria cast quite a substatial shadow? The only answer is that the surface of the Earth is curved. Not only that, but the more curved it is, the greater the difference in the length of the shadows. This helped Eratostenes calculate the circumference of the Earth.”
     “Huh? How?” I asked. Sure, the Earth is round, everybody knows that, but what did silly shadows have to do with it?
     “Well, if you can imagine these sticks extending all the way to the center of the Earth, they would intersect at an angle of about seven degrees. Well, seven degrees is something like a 50th of the circumference of the Earth- which, like any circle, is…”
     “360 degrees.”
     “Correct.” TASTA said.
     “Well, Eratostenes knew how far it was from Syene to Alexandria- 800 kilometers- so, he multiplied that by fifty to get 40,000 kilometers-”
     “So, that’s it? The distance around the Earth?”
     “Yes, that’s the right answer. And his only tools were sticks, eyes, feet and brains. Pretty good figuring for twenty-two hundred years ago.”
     Now, that was a cool thought. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff you take for granted, like the Earth being round, and you never stop and thank the ancient dudes who figured it out… thank you, Eratostenes.
     “Bah, humans, I could do that with my eyes closed.” TASTA bragged.
     “Yeah, but a human had to build you.” I said.
     TASTA abruptly stopped talking.

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238. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 22, 2008 at 6:36 pm

     236–Ooh, that sounds good. Go for it!

     *Sigh*…I’ve been having so much trouble with Trystan Evander. I want him to be epic, a hero that will last…so I’ve been studying heroes that I like and trying to decide what makes them so enduring. I’ve decided that it comes from not knowing them too completely–like an element of mystery makes the character more exceptional…I dunno. But anyways, I’ve trashed the idea of first person or third person omnipotent, and I’m trying to write it from Kyrra Nyx’s point of view. This way, we’ll get to know Kyrra really well, and still know Trystan but not too closely.
     *Whew* I never knew that writing was so complicated. Here’s what I’ve got so far, from Kyrra’s view:

     My first impression of the School, upon waking in the back seat of our armored car, was of an enormous, inescapable fortress, designed to keep in rather than to keep out. The fence surrounding it was taller than the height of two men; its posts were steel, with unforgiving lasers criss-crossing the spaces in between. We turned a corner, and an airbrushed-steel sign loomed above the gate, reading:

     The JEFFERSON SCHOOL for JUVENILE DELINQUENTS

     A guard met us at the gate. After verifying our identity, he waved us through with a bored gesture, and we entered the School, proper.
     The buildings of the School were as depressing as the outer wall, if not as foreboding. They were constructed out of gray concrete, and thus were low, squat buildings, impenetrable as bomb shelters and twice as macabre. Their windows were narrow and frosted, so that I couldn’t see the students inside; my mind briefly wondered what they were like, trapped in an environment such as this. Another fence surrounded the entire complex, this one merely reinforced steel bars set vertically to discourage climbing.
     We landed in front of the front office, and upon our touchdown, a man in a suit came down the walk to meet us. He was of average height and build, but pale, with piercing blue eyes and an oily smile. I wrinkled my nose, safe behind tinted windows.
     My chauffeur, Alden, opened the door, and the man was there to help me out of the car. His touch was cold and clammy; I gritted my teeth in an effort to not to withdraw my hand from his. Alden remained next to us, a respectful distance away, probably under orders from my father to see to my safe enrollment.
     “Welcome, Miss Nyx,” said the man. “We are honored by your attendance.” His voice was surprisingly pleasant, compared to his demeanor; I softened a bit towards him.
     “As I am honored by your attention, Mr.—”
     “Herrod. I am the Head Disciplinarian of the School.”
     Head Disciplinarian. The title told me two things: that this man was in charge of punishing wayward delinquents, and that meeting him was not the highest honor I could receive. Someone else waited to greet me, perhaps inside.
     As if reading my thoughts, Herrod said, “If you’ll follow me, the Headmaster would like to speak with you before your enrollment.” I nodded and allowed him to lead me towards the school, but not before I’d surreptitiously gestured for Alden to follow us. He fell into step a few feet behind me.
     The doors to the Front Office were glass and inscribed with the school crest: a red shield bearing a crown and crow, with axes and chains crossed behind it. The school motto was written above it: “Commodum ex iniuria sua nemo habrere debet.”
     Herrod held open the door, and I entered the front room of the main office. The centerpiece of the room was a large faux-wood desk, backed by a wall bearing a copy of the school crest and motto. A young male secretary sat behind the desk. I’d just taken in his bear-like build when a female voice came from my left.
     “Ah, Kyrra. You’ve arrived.”
     I turned. A woman was standing to the side of the room, as if she’d wanted me to see the crest and office before her. She was middle-aged but tall and strong-looking; clear gray eyes glinted from behind her wire-rimmed spectacles, and there was no hint of hesitation in her speech. Her air was one of someone who had complete confidence in their power.
     She came towards me and held out a hand. Contrary to Herrod, her grip was firm; I returned the greeting with one of equal strength. Her mouth turned up in a faint smile, as if she would welcome me, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes.
     “I am Dr. Vladislav, Headmaster of Jefferson,” she said. “In a few minutes you will be shown to your dormitory, but I would like to speak to you privately first.” She gestured to my right. “If you’ll follow me to my office?”
     We walked down a hallway to a dark-colored door. A keypad stood in place of a handle; she punched in a series of numbers, and the door opened of its own accord. We entered.
     Her study was impressive, and seemed to be built expressly to make its owner seem more powerful and its visitor more helpless. The walls, constructed of a dark wood synthetic, formed a half-circle behind the Headmaster’s enormous desk, and the only window was covered in heavy drapes. The only chair in the room was a stiff, uncomfortable affair covered in heavy green cloth; as I sat in it, I let my hand brush against the desk. It was real wood, an expensive luxury in such resource-depleted times.
     Vladislav sat in her own chair, and rested her forearms on the desk. “First let me welcome you properly, Kyrra. When we heard that you were considering enrolling at Jefferson, we were honored. Prepared, of course, but honored all the same.”
     I had no obligation to answer her hidden question–why I’d selected Jefferson, out of all the other private schools–truthfully, so I merely said, “I believe it was your high security that attracted my father to this school.”
     “Well, we are the best around—and we do house some of the more dangerous Delinquents. But there are plenty of other children such as yourself here—ones that are loyal.”
     With that word—loyal—I knew where the Headmaster’s allegiances lay, or at least where she wanted them to lie. She was an Ahriman supporter, one of the Red Guard—which meant that she probably knew my father, as well. My caution level inched upwards; I would have to be an infallible actress to seem compliant and obediant. Might as well start now.
     “I’m happy to hear that, Doctor,” I said, letting my voice inch towards a higher range. “I must confess I was a little nervous when my father selected Jefferson for me. Are the Delinquents very dangerous?”
     “On their own—perhaps. But here at the School, they adhere to the rules with the utmost rigidity. Punishment is swift and final. You met Mr. Herrod—he is in charge of seeing to the Delinquents’ behavior.”

     Can ya’ll comment on it? I like using Kyrra because her diction is a little more sophisticated, but I don’t want her to seem stiff. Any suggestions? Thanks!

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239. Beatlesrockr, John, and Hyjayko The Ingenious Swordsman says:

     August 22, 2008 at 6:52 pm

     238- Wow, that was great! Kyrra seems to be the kind of kid who can read people easily, very careful, sneaky. Love it.
     Ok, I have my notebook from school, it’s not very good, but it will do. Please excuse me for a moment…

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240. Beatlesrockr, John, and Hyjayko The Ingenious Swordsman says:

     August 22, 2008 at 7:32 pm

     Okay. An excerpt. I started it in 3rd grade. I’m just always finding mistakes in it, or something I don’t like. So i never finished it.
     We entered a large, fancy room. Most people would of thought I was way under dressed. But, I admit it, I didn’t feel under dressed at all . I was wearing white khakis, a navy blue shirt, and worn out gym shoes, while everyone else was wearing skirts, or black pants, ties, or necklaces, and high-heeled shoes, or black leather ones. My sisters, Kirin and Serena, stood up straight and tall, while I stood up, slumping, but a head taller than both.
     “Right this way, Mr. Sophronia a waitress told my dad. We were all led to a table near an open window, a cool breeze blowing.
     “Well there’s a fast way to cool our food down,” I mumble sarcastically. My mom shot me a fierce look as if to say, ‘If you do anything, we’re leaving, and you won’t get dinner.’
     A waiter came over and poured water into our glasses. I nod politely and say “Thankyou,”. He also passed out menus. I got an adult menu, which I happily took. He gave my older sister, Kirin, an adult menu, and my other sister a kids menu. Once the waiter left, she looked at me. “How come YOU get an adult menu and I don’t? I’m the same age as you!” I gave her my menu, and took hers. “Happy now?” I ask.
     “Thankyou!” she said smiling, “But, I still get to draw on it,” she took it back.
     “Can I at least draw on it a bit?”
     “Yeah, here, you get this spot,” she drew a small rectangle on the corner of the page, “And I get this spot!” She pointed to the rest of the page.
     “Can I at least have another box?”
     “Yeah,” she drew another small box opposite of the first one.
     “Can I draw now?” I ask her.
     “Mhm.” I take the paper from her, and a green crayon the waiter gave us. I think for a second, and than frantically start scribbling in very small print.
     “There!” I say, brushing some wax pieces off of the paper. Serena took a long, hard look at it, and started to read it,
     “Evaey hay I walk duwn to the rivee
     wheea we used to ait… I can’t read this at all! It’s just a bunch of scribbles!” I take the paper from her.
     “It’s supposed to be a song. It has a tune,” I start lightly tapping my foot, and began to sing, in what I thought was a very scratchy, rough voice, I wanted to make it quick.
     “Every day I walk down to the river
     where we used to sit
     but now I’m the only one
     you took a different path
     I’m standing there alone
     I hear birds chirping, watch a little bunny go by
     a fox with a mouse in it’s mouth
     oh my!”
     I slumped in my chair. “There, that’s it. Those are the words.” It took me a few seconds to realize that, the room that a few moments ago, was filled with chatter and laughing, was silent. Serena was staring at me like I had four eyes instead of two. “What? I know it was really bad,” she kept staring, “WHAT? Is my hair sticking up? Have I got a huge gash on my face?”

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241. Beatlesrockr, John, and Hyjayko The Ingenious Swordsman says:

     August 22, 2008 at 7:33 pm

     Oh, uh, sorry, I have to go. I’ll finish the excerpt later.

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242. Alice says:

     August 23, 2008 at 8:08 pm

     The TRP is no longer a TRP, but working for the Villain, and when en steals the object, en finds enself accidentally transported to Grace’s world.

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243. ♫ Agrrrfishi {Aggie} (14 piepoints, 22 sdpzk points)♫ says:

     August 23, 2008 at 11:17 pm

     It was about two-thirty seven in the afternoon when an event of considerable notice happened in the very heart of the city.

     Cassandra did not notice, nor did she have any reason to care that a man had been watching her all day long. She woke up in the morning (as always), she brushed her teeth and combed her long brown hair and put on her buisness clothes. There was nothing unusual about any of it at all. When she picked up her briefcase and said good-by to the doorman of the apartment building, he merely nodded and continued about his buisness of opening doors like a mechanical figure. He did not make a point to tell her that a man had left a package for her in the mailroom, which would have been the most convenient thing in the world for her to have noticed at that very moment. But, like every day of her life, she was busy and did not have time to check her mailbox, which was likely why it was overflowing and the neighbors were pestering her to clean it out, for heaven’s sake.
     Cassandra did not listen to her neighbors, nor did she much care for hem either. She had always been a one-woman show, and for all she cared it would be that way for the rest of her life. All that she knew was an office cubicle in an insurance agency, and that every Thursday someone in a grey suit came up to her and delivered a paycheck, which she spent on rare wines, paying her penthouse fee, and, of course, buying herself a new buisness outfit every month or whenever hers got a rip or had any blemish of any kind, because Cassandra needed to always look proper. Unlike many grown women, Cassandra did not care what people thought. She had no use for gossip, or namby-pamby whispering in the coffee room about how ‘her skirt is so strange’, and ‘he was left by his wife in the local bar-ugh!’. She also had no need for men. She did not go out of her way to wear makeup and high heels, and splash on perfume every time she went to a meeting where there was one or more handsome men involved.
     But there was one man whom was not expected in Cssandra’s life, and nor was he welcome. This man was going to alter Cassandra in a way that she did not welcome, but ultimately would end up getting her to where she was going to be in her otherwise meaningless existance. This man was different.
     This man was going to kill her.

     As like any other day, Cassandra arrived at work right on time. She sat at her desk exactly at nine o’clock in the morning. The woman in the cubicle next to her said nothing in her regard, as always. Cassandra slipped out of her work coat and began filing paperwork into separate bins. For a woman of her size, the cubicle was much too small for her tall, skinny figure. She could nearly see over the top of it, while the other squat employees sat absorbed in their work, hunched over computers and talking on sleek black cell phones to nameless company customers.
     Cssandra had no need to talk with anyone on the phone. She was another nameless worker, and had no friends in the building at all. I doubt that anyone was sure of her existance except for the man who was following her. He was there when she left the building for a coffee break at noon, standing outside by a potted plant wearing a black coat and leaning his bowler hat over his eyes, so he could not be identified. It was raining, and Cassandra drew her umbrella before stepping lightly out onto the pavement. This man did not carry an umbrella, nor anything of the sort. He was completely alone, and the many passers by on the street, who bunched around Cassandra as she tried to make her way to her convertible, did not crowd around this man as he stood like a shadow among the newspaper stands and the shop windows.
     Cssandra got into her car, and turned the key. The car made a satisfying low growl, and Cssandra sped out of the compant parking spot reserved for ’employees only’, which she arrived just in time to claim every day. She drove along the busy streets to a nearby diner, which was beginning to fill with people as the lunch rush came bustling in. The only person who spoke to her was the waitress, from whom she asked a black coffee as quickly as possible, if you please. The waitress hurried off, a scowl on her face. As she did not see much daily interaction, Cassandra was not the most friendly person in the city. As she drank her coffee, thinking about nothing in particular, the man appeared once again, from the river of faces covered by coat collars. He stood by the window right next to her booth, and yet she did not notice him at all when he gave a furtive glance her way after making sure she did not notice him.
     She dropped a few bills onto the table, got up, and stalked from the diner. The air in the room lightened considerably when she left, although nobody seemed to notice that she and her follower were departing. She climbed back into her convertible, and when she did so, the man in the hat took something from his pocket. He dialed a number on the black phone, and stood impatiently against a brick wall, under an awning, waiting for the person on the other end to pick up.
     You see, however, this is not just any man. This was not any phone call. This was the phone call that would make Cassandra different. This phone call would alter her life forever.

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244. TNÖ says:

     August 24, 2008 at 12:51 am

     243- Oooh. But what happened to your other story?

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245. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 24, 2008 at 12:24 pm

     243–Hey, that’s great. It reminds me of the way that Douglas Adams writes, a bit…not sure why. But that’s really well done.

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246. Alice says:

     August 24, 2008 at 3:23 pm

     A chill wind blew through the empty hall, coming from one of the numerous chinks in the crumbling walls. Erin sighed and put her chin in her fist. “Come on,” she said aloud to no one (for the hall was empty). “It’s held out for so long, against disagreement and abandonment and . . . and everything–you can’t give up on it now!”
     The wind whistled faintly outside, sneaking through the cracks in the enormous oak door. The fire in the hearth wavered, looking small and weak and giving no warmth. One there had been seven of them, sitting around the table, laughing, chatting. They had ate here, slept here, this was where they had held balls at midwinter and had spent so long besieged, years ago, centuries ago. But then . . .
     Erin let out a sob.

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247. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen the squishy says:

     August 24, 2008 at 5:24 pm

     A girl walked into a room, and turned off the lights. All of the lights immediately flickered off, except for a beam in the center of the room. The girl walked over to it, and stepped into the light. She had dark red hair and turquoise eyes, and was wearing black.

     “Roberta, I know you’re here.”

     Another girl stepped into the ray. She had long brown hair swinging around her waist and brown eyes. She too was wearing black.

     “Lily, how do you always know?”

     “I just do.”

     “What did you learn about… them?” The girl spat out the word like it was something vile in her mouth.

     “Nothing, actually. Has Elizabeth found Daniel?”

     “Yes.”

     “Where?”

     “In a dumpster. He’s dead.” Her voice broke on the last word.

     “Oh, god. Poor Elizabeth. They were such a nice couple.”

     “I know.” Roberta sniffed. She wiped her eyes, and she regained her serious composure. “Did you learn anything?”

     “Yes. They’ve taken Venice.” Lily said sadly.

     “Have the citizens suspected anything?”

     “Some did, but they ‘mysteriously disappeared’ before they could share their views.”

     “How many died?”

     “Five of us, two normal people.”

     “Five of us?”

     “Tia Heartman, Cara Mason, Emma Stills, Jenna Smythe, and Marissa Colbeam.”

     “Sad. I always liked Tia. On big massacre, or one by one?”

     “Massacre. The secret police are trying to root out more of us free- thinkers, pretending to be asking on information on their whereabouts.” Lily said this as if she was talking about something normal, like the weather, not the survival of the human race.

     “The irony. Gits.” Roberta said, clenching her teeth.

     “Agreed.” Lily said matter-of-factly.

     “I’ll see you sometime soon, hopefully.”

     “Good bye.”

     The girls exchanged a small hug, and left as if nothing had been said.

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248. Beatlesrockr, John, and Hyjayko The Ingenious Swordsman says:

     August 24, 2008 at 5:55 pm

     240 (cont.)
     I looked up, and also realized everyone was staring at me. Not just Serena. “Ok everyone, get back to your potatoes, soup, pasta, whatever your were eating.” Said a middle-aged man in the corner of the room, who seemed completely unaware of, well, whatever had happened. He looked, around 40. With dark brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, strong features, and slightly pointed ears.

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249. KaiYves says:

     August 24, 2008 at 7:08 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 11
     Not paying any attention to our witty remarks, the doctor had pulled out a pair of binoculars and was looking towards the sea.
     “What are you looking for?” I asked
     “I’m looking at the ships. In ancient times, some ships from this very port sailed into the unknown. 400 years before Eratostenes, Phonecian sailors may have circumnavigated Africa. Their boats were probably as small and frail as the ones out there now.” he handed me the binoculars.
     The ships were indeed small, and they only had one sail. To sail around Africa in a boat like that seemed crazy to me. Give me airplanes any day!
     “Did… did they make it back to Egypt?” I asked, bracing myself for a tragic tale.
     “Yes, they made it back. It took about three years. That’s about the time it takes a modern space probe to travel from Earth to Saturn.”
     “Now THAT’s progress!”
     “Imagine the stories those sailors must have brought back…”
     I bet nobody believed them. I thought. Heck, nobody will believe me if I tell them THIS story once I get home. I can hardly believe it myself. When exactly will I get home, anyway?
     “Not much of ancient Alexandria around today.” TASTA observed, bringing me out of my thoughts.
     “Yeah, it’s underwater because of an earthquake. I saw a thing about it on the Discovery Channel once.” I said.
     “You’re right. Alexander the Great build Alexandria-it’s named for him- and made it the capital of his great empire. Now, no more. Can you recapture a vanished epoch from what remains?” he asked, in a philosophical way, as he began pressing buttons on his watch, opening another portal.
     “I hope I don’t get dizzy this time!” I said.

     We stood in a sunny courtyard, beside a reflecting pool. Before us was a large stone building, with columns holding it up, painted in black and red.
     “That building is presently the brains and pride of the greatest empire on Earth. We are looking upon the Library of Alexandria.”

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250. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 24, 2008 at 11:38 pm

     249–Huh, I like the comparisons between how long it took a ship to go around Egypt to sending out a space probe. Really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?

     Does anyone else have comments on my most recent excerpt (post 238)? Here’s a bit more, what I’ve written in the last few days:

     “On their own—perhaps. But here at the School, they adhere to the rules with the utmost rigidity. Punishment is swift and effective. You met Mr. Herrod—he is in charge of seeing to the Delinquents’ behavior.”
     I shuddered inwardly, thinking what cruel punishments lurked behind that man’s pale blue eyes. Outwardly, though, I smiled placidly. “That’s reassuring.”
     Vladislav shuffled some papers on her desk. “Yes, well, what I wanted to tell you, Kyrra, is that as the daughter of Aldric Nyx, you may be singled out for special harassment by the delinquents. I don’t wish to frighten you,” she added, as she saw my eyes grow wide, “only to prepare you. And to say that anyone who you feel threatened by will be punished with the utmost severity. You have only to say the word.”
     I vowed never to utter a sound. I knew what punishment meant at this school.
     The Headmaster’s tone became more businesslike. “You don’t have to worry about all this quite yet, though; right now all students are in class, so you have a few hours until they’re let out. I’ll have someone escort you to your dormitory—” she pressed a button on her desk—“and you can get accustomed to your schedule and the plan of the School.”
     I thanked her as the secretary who’d been sitting at the front desk entered. “Liam,” said the Headmaster, “please escort Miss Nyx to her dormitory. She’s in the Plutarch house, room 827.” The man nodded and waited for me to stand. After a nod of thanks to Vladislav, I followed him out of the office and into the Jefferson School.
     Liam was talkative, to say the least, and judging by his frequent admiring glances, it wasn’t all idle conversation. I don’t pretend to be ugly; I knew the advantage I had over the males around me. But that didn’t stop me from ignoring most of them completely.

     Hm, looked like a lot less on Microsoft Word. Ah well. Comments welcome, if you don’t mind all the reading.

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251. Alice says:

     August 25, 2008 at 1:03 pm

     Cont. 246-

     She remembered when there had been hundreds of them, men and women like herself, though that memory was blurred by thousands of years. She remembered the first great battle, trooping back to the hall, the sadness of that first dinner. Perhaps half of them had gone, then, a third, a quarter, who knows, who remembers that? More battles had come and gone, alternating with peacetime, happy days and nights, feasts, revels, joy. And then had come the biggest battle of all, and they had defeated the enemy, but when they returned to their hall, there was only the seven left, and a long peacetime began.
     Now they were all gone, having tired of the drafty hall, grieving for their fellows, and only Erin was left.

     Now the question is, how do I meld this with Grace’s story? I think I need to do some serious world-building here…

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252. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 25, 2008 at 3:35 pm

     251–Sweet. Is Erin the one who randomly comes in to the whole limbo dimension deal and steals the talisman?

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253. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen the squishy says:

     August 25, 2008 at 4:34 pm

     ~*~@~*~

     Elizabeth sat in an armchair, weeping. Heather gave her a final pat on the back, and left her to have some peace and quiet. As soon as Heather left, Elizabeth stopped her masquerade. She sat smugly. “I’m glad I killed that bloody idiot.” she said to no one in particular. “He was such a bore.” Now she was free to pursue the love of Hectos, and lure him to her side. The dark one, as the others called it. The winners.

     Elizabeth grinned.

     ~*~@~*~

     Tia had done it again! She had put one of the secret police’s men under a spell to make him appear like her, and they killed their own man! She was safe here, holed up in San Amador, Spain.

     Tia walked past the street vendors, ignoring the calls of “La bufanda!” and “Baratijas!” She didn’t need any scarves or trinkets. “Cara had always liked collecting-“ she said. “No! I mustn’t think off the ones I left behind in Venice!” she said to herself. But it was true. She had left all the others to die in Venice. She could have saved them, but she didn’t. She sat down on a park bench, and started sobbing. But she hadn’t given up wearing black. It was her tribute to all of those in the society. She heard a boy’s voice say in Spanish, “Excuse me, miss, are you all right?” She was about to snap back and say, “I’m FINE!” when she caught sight of his face. He was perfect, like a sculptor’s dream. She could only sigh, “No, I’m… I’m fine…” Then she blushed, and hurried away.

     ~*~@~*~

     Sellene walked down a hallway with her twin brother, Hectos, discussing battle techniques. Keeping him distracted, she dove into his mind, using her powers as hypnotist to see what her brother was thinking about. She materialized in his Mindshape’s room, and without a sound, her mindshape crept toward him. He was oblivious to everything to everything around him, doodling in a notebook. She looked to see what he was drawing. Small portraits of Micaylla Elkshen were scattered around the page, accompanied by small heart with arrows through them, reading “Hectos + Micaylla” or “H + M.” She smiled, and came out of his mind. So, her lovely brother had a crush on Micaylla, their fellow free thinker! Next time she saw Micaylla, she would see if she felt the same way.

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254. KaiYves says:

     August 25, 2008 at 6:25 pm

     250-Yes, there were certain lines I came across while reading the actual book Cosmos that made me go “I absoultely MUST put this in the story.” That was one of them.

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255. Alice says:

     August 25, 2008 at 9:26 pm

     252- No…I don’t think so, because as far as I can tell Erin is on the “good” side, and I wanted some irritating minion of [antagonist] to steal the talisman. However, it might not be bad if Erin and TIM (The Irritating Minion–maybe I’ll name him Tim ) arrived on the scene at the same time and both suffered the same fate. So we’ve got Maurice, Grace, and their friends, who believe that [antagonist] has the talisman, trying to get it from himmer, while Grace and Maurice sort of fade out and flash between worlds, and then we have Erin and Tim, sworn enemies, fighting over the talisman and trying to figure out how to work it while struggling with all those annoying people whose customs are way different than theirs. Is it too complex already, or could I add a third, neutral party who want/s nothing but not to get killed in the mayhem? Maybe . . . for Erin and Tim there’s a little group of people who somehow got sucked in from their (Erin and Tim’s) world, and for Grace and Maurice, there are Erin’s six living friends who abandoned her.

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256. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 25, 2008 at 11:05 pm

     255–A group of tourists who don’t speak English would be awesome for the third party
     I like the idea of Erin’s six friends being with Grace and Maurice. Nice twist.

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257. Alice says:

     August 26, 2008 at 10:29 am

     256- That would be splendid, except for the sad fact that the only language I speak is English.

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258. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen, the real person says:

     August 26, 2008 at 10:34 am

     ~*~@~*~

     Roberta sneaked along the corridor, watching for any guards that might come. If any caught her here, she’d be killed. After her meeting with Lily, she had gone into the Shadow’s space station to look for a way to kill the leader, who was currently camped out here, according to Elizabeth.

     “Halt, trespasser!” a voice rang out. Roberta looked to her left. There was a whole big group of guards. They advanced toward her. She tried to run, but it was too late. She was swept up into a net, and she screamed and thrashed about, trying to get out. But it was all useless. She stopped struggling, and just went limp. She knew she was trapped. They reached the cell section, and they passed imploring faces, and some of her captured friends cried “Roberta!” “No!” “Let her go!” They shook the bars, and hurled abuse at the guards. She was taken to an empty cell, and thrown inside. She untangled herself from the net, and rushed to the door. The guards had already closed the door, and they were laughing as they strutted down the hallway, back to patrolling the corridors. She slumped in the corner, and started crying. “Psst!” a voice said. She wiped her eyes, and looked around. “Look at your left wall!” the voice said. She looked over at that wall, and saw a small hole. She went up to it and said, “Who’s there?”

     “My name’s Lark. I’m with the Free Thinkers Society! Who are you?”

     “I’m Roberta! I’m with the FTS too!”

     “Great!”

     “How did you get a hole in the steel wall?!”

     “I used my Swiss Army Knife!”

     “Why aren’t you using your bloody knife to get outta here?! The bars are steel too!”

     “Good idea!” Then Roberta heard a sawing noise, and a CLANK! She heard footsteps coming towards her jail door, and Lark came into view. She had wavy layered blondish hair with a bit of red in it going past her shoulders. Freckles were everywhere- on her arms, on her face, and on her legs. She had braces, and- were those fangs at the corners of her big grin? She was also wearing black. She frantically started sawing away at Roberta’s door, and caught the pieces of steel as they fell out of the hole that was big enough for Roberta to crawl through, and Roberta did. “Thanks!” she said breathlessly. “What about the other prisoners?”

     “I’m sorry, we just don’t have time! We need to get out of here, pronto!” They ran down the hall, and Roberta looked apologetically at the other prisoners. They kept silent, for they knew that if they yelled “TAKE ME WITH YOU!” those two would get thrown back into jail, and Lark would get her knife taken away, so there would be no chance of getting out of this madhouse.

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259. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen, the real person says:

     August 26, 2008 at 10:35 am

     257- You can look it up on the internet. Make it German! Or actually, I’ll look up “yikes!” and “don’t kill me!” for you, and copy and paste them here! *goes to research*

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260. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 26, 2008 at 1:38 pm

     257–Agreeing with Zinc, you could absolutely look it up. Although I would be inclined to use something more obscure…like Albanian or Greek or something awesome like that.

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261. Alice says:

     August 26, 2008 at 1:43 pm

     260- Greek!

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262. Taiwan Hippo Fan says:

     August 26, 2008 at 2:22 pm

     A while ago (I think I mentioned this at one point) I was going to start writing a story about these guys (I originally planned them to be from the future, but I’m starting to think that maybe present-day is the way to do it) who basically start Christianity off a sort of prank. I think I might still want to do that, but I don’t have many ideas on how to make it work. Here’s what I have:

     There are three guys: one of them is a computer genius/criminal mastermind of sorts, one of them is his dynamic partner in crime, and the third is their teenage criminal-in-training – basically, their apprentice. BEEP BEEP BEEP CLICHE WARNING BEEP BEEP BEEP They are on some sort of mission that requires them to enter a lab that tests very modern, breakthrough technology and science-y techniques and stuff. When in the lab, working on their mission, the teenager somehow, for some reason, splits off and explores on his own. He BEEP BEEEEEEEEP REINFORCING CLICHE WARNING BEEP BEEEEEEEEP finds a time machine, and accidentally (or deliberately, I haven’t decided that) transports himself to Jesus’ time. The only thing I’ve figured out other than that is that this guy will actually be Jesus. I don’t know if he will also somehow be an angel/God telling Mary about her son-to-be or anything like that, or what, but I do know that this teenage boy will be Jesus.

     And I also know that writing this will require a lot of research and a lot of verbal and writing skill that I do not possess, but I love the idea and I would love some suggestions on how to do this story.

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263. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 28, 2008 at 12:26 am

     262–Hmm..it would depend on whether you’re for or against (/not believing in) Christianity. I have ideas for one of those.

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264. KaiYves says:

     August 29, 2008 at 7:19 pm

     COSMOS, Episode 1, Part 12:
     I looked through an archway to the inside, and thought I saw a shadow move.
     Probably my head spining from that time-warp. I thought
     The doctor led us inside.
     “This is a place I have always wanted to visit- the Library of Alexandria at its height, 2,000 years ago.” he said
     It was impressive, to say the least. Supported by columns, there were balconies above us, and a large painting of a guy who looked like an Egyptian pharoah dominated one wall. Wooden shelves jammed with scrolls filled the other walls.
     “Hello…hello…ello…ello…lo…” I shouted, listening to the echo.
     “Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to yell in the library?” TASTA scolded me.
     “Here, one could say, began the intellectual adventure that has led us into space. All the knowledge in the ancient world lies within these marble walls.”
     Bit like an old-timey Internet, then. I thought.
     “That mural is Alexander the Great himself.” TASTA said, pointing at the wall.
     “This is the first true research institute in the history of the world. What did they study? Everything! The entire Cosmos! Cosmos is a Greek word for the order of the Universe. In a way, it’s the opposite of Chaos. It implies that all things are deeply connected.”
     Off in a corner, near the nearest flight of stairs, I was SURE that I saw something move.
     “In addition to Eratostenes, there were many other geniuses here- the astronomer Hipparchus, Euclid, the father of geometery…”
     “Ick, geometry.” I said, quietly.
     The doctor sat down on a bench.
     “The scholars here identified the parts of speech, named the brain and not the heart as the seat of thought, mapped the world- of course they made a few mistakes, as does everyone… but among these great men, there was also a woman named Hypatia, the last great genius of the library, who died with it, seven centuries after it was founded.”
     Now there was no mistaking it, something WAS moving off to the side, among the stacks of scrolls.
     I started walking to where I saw the movement, taking care not to have my sneakers squeek on the marble floor. (“Sneakers” is one of the most inacurate names ever, as it’s really hard to sneak in them. It ranks right up there with “comics”, because not all comics are funny.)
     Behind me, the doctor kept talking.
     “The Greek kings who ruled after Alexander held learning in high esteem, for centuries, they generously supported scholarship. Not many heads of state like that- then OR now.”
     I crouched behind the stairs, and looked at the cause of the movement. A person, dressed all in black, was pulling scrolls off the shelf. There were already about five under en’s arm.
     “Hey, do you have a card to take those books out?” I asked the person.
     He turned around, saw me, and took off running.
     I’m going to take that as a ‘Heck no, I’m stealing them.’ I thought, giving chase.
     I was no sprinter, but I nearly caught up to him and did a flying tackle, catching the man’s legs and sending the scrolls flying this way and that.
     The doctor and TASTA came running over, but before I knew it, the mysterious man had climbed to his feet and run out the door. I followed, but I didn’t see anything once I got outside. The man had vanished into thin air.
     TASTA joined me on the steps.
     “That guy almost got away with five of this library’s one million scrolls!” The doctor said, unrolling one. I looked over to see Greek writing on the papyrus. “Hmm…Aristarchus of Samos- first to theorize that the Earth orbits the sun- at least the theif had good taste.”
     “Who WAS he? Did you get a good look at him?” TASTA asked.
     “It sure wasn’t Carmen Sandiego. And those were modern clothes, he can’t have been an ancient Greek.” I said.
     “Could it be… no, that’s impossible…” I heard the doctor mutter. “Let’s put these back…” he said, louder, and walked to where the theif had been.
     “Hipparchus…Ptolemy… here were are, Aristarchus. In our time, these books are all gone, lost forever. Imagine what we could learn if we could read them all- pyramid building, the meanings of ancient languages, locations of lost cities… it’s no wonder the theif was after these.”

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265. Taiwan Hippo Fan says:

     August 29, 2008 at 7:43 pm

     263 – The book’s supposed to be neutral – just telling the story. I am not a Christian, if that’s what you mean.

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266. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     August 29, 2008 at 9:37 pm

     264–Ha ha…”It sure wasn’t Carmen Sandiego…” Good one.
     265–Well, I was just going to say that it would be cool if maybe he meets Mary, falls in love with her, and is with her through the whole Annunciation thing and goes with her to Bethlehem, etc. Basically, he would be Joseph, and the whole story of Jesus would be told through his eyes, so you would have room to interpret it the way you want, since not a whole lot is said about how Joseph felt about stuff. Just what I thought of when I heard your synopsis.

     Guess what! My 100-word story (post 183) won 2nd in the story contest in my local newspaper! Yaaaaaay

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267. KaiYves says:

     August 30, 2008 at 2:51 pm

     266- Rocking!

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268. POSOC (14 wung points embedded (bara brith), 9 wung points embedded (chorley cake), 5 wung points in transit (Ogbert's Siphon) says:

     August 30, 2008 at 9:51 pm

     Hey, Alice!! Can we write some more of the Rothschild/Warbler story?

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269. Alice says:

     August 30, 2008 at 10:05 pm

     268- Certainly! Actually I was thinking about it yesterday, when I downloaded Office and had to transfer everything in Appleworks to Word. Should I repost the story (again)?

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270. POSOC (14 wung points embedded (bara brith), 9 wung points embedded (chorley cake), 5 wung points in transit (Ogbert's Siphon) says:

     August 30, 2008 at 11:07 pm

     269- Please do. I believe we were on Patrick’s POV?

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271. Alice says:

     August 30, 2008 at 11:52 pm

     270- Indeed. I will post it, but then I must go back to As You Like It.

     The weather over the Rothschild house was unpredictable at best, even though its inhabitants were the some of the best qualified to predict it in other circumstances. Violent storms and hurricanes appeared and vanished in a matter of seconds. The sun changed color and brightness, and on several occasions had appeared to dance across the sky. Rain turned to hail, hail turned to snow. Snow sometimes turned to diamonds, or back to rain again. Clouds were shaped into embarrassing caricatures of brothers and sisters. The fragile sculptures had to be closely watched and guarded, as the affronted sibling would often disintegrate them by means of a fireball tossed from the highest tree in the backyard. Indeed, most of the Rothschild family had been performing magic before they could walk or speak, and loved every minute of it.
     On one particularly hot day in August, Elizabeth Rothschild was down in the cellar, sorting through bottled months. “Hmm. January ’98? No, no, too much sleet. February ’62? It’s probably stale by now… Ah! March ’95. Perfect.”
     She scorned gravity, molecular physics, and the cellar stairs, drifting gently off the floor and floating directly through the ceiling with a barely audible fizz. After passing through several feet of rock and earth, she emerged on the multicolored lawn and uncorked the frosted glass bottle.
     Cold winds swept the perimeter of the garden and house, progressing briskly counterclockwise and driving back the sweltering heat.
     For a moment Elizabeth sighed deeply, relishing the cool air, but then the wind came back at her full force, whipping into the bottle with a swooshing noise. The cork popped neatly into the top.
     “Sorry, Mom,” called a voice from the house, and a tousled blonde head stuck out of the window to accompany it, “but Alex and I are going swimming. Can’t have February weather putting ice on the pool, can we?”
     “It’s March,” sighed Elizabeth. “And you know how I hate it when you two turn the backyard into a pond. It gets so muddy afterwards and I have to clean it up.”
     “Sorry,” said the boy, not sounding a bit contrite, and he withdrew. Seconds later, the back door slammed.
     Elizabeth sighed and sank through the ground to the cellar again. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good March wind. Someone would want it tomorrow.
     Selene watched her mother vanish into the lawn, and sighed wistfully. “I’m never going to be able to do that,” she said, half to herself.
     “Hmf!” Donald Goldfinch snorted from his seat on a lower branch. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re good, there’s no denying it. You’ve got the best fine control I’ve ever seen.”
     A prematurely yellow leaf drifted down past Selene’s dangling shoes. She frowned, and it halted in midair. Fire started at its delicate base, crackling through the veins, forming a delicate tracery of ghostly flame. Selene blinked, and the miniature blaze was extinguished. The leaf turned to ice, then melted into gently rippling liquid, still holding its shape.
     “See what I mean?” he said.
     The leaf dropped onto the ground and burst, sprinkling Selene’s shoes with water. She frowned. “Sure, but . . . Yeah, well. I guess you’re right.” She frowned, still far from happy.
     Selene’s introspection was interrupted by a large goldfinch hurtling past her head. It landed next to Donald, hopped along the rough bark of the branch, and opened its beak.
     “Hey, Don. Y’d better get back home, or Mum’ll have your hide.”
     Donald shrugged and waved to Selene. “See you.” He dropped off the branch and jogged heavily around the house, the goldfinch fluttering in his wake.
     Selene watched him go. She could never figure out how he could be so at peace with his ineptitude. He came from a family of talented shape-shifters and sorcerers, but he couldn’t turn into a bird to save his life. He had plenty of power; his problem was control. If he tried to warm his feet, he started a wildfire fifty miles away.
     And she, of course, had more control than anyone she knew but next to no power. And she hated it.
     Now she leaned back against the tree and listened to her brothers laughing in the backyard. A water spout shot up above the house and fell back down. A girl shrieked, a door slammed.
     It wasn’t fair! Dad hadn’t been able to work magic till he was six, but Selene was two-and-a-half times that, and she still hadn’t enough power to shape a thunderhead.
     Another leaf plummeted prematurely from the upper branches, and Selene glared at it, then slid off her branch and walked off towards the marsh.

     The Old Holborn-Seawood express thundered down the tracks like a juggernaut. Patrick dozed in the cold leather seat, his head lolling back on his shoulders. He was dead tired, and the trip had hardly begun.
     First, there had been the incident with the rotten tomatoes. The lines between the industrial cities had been built as straight as possible, but there was one patch of steep hills between Old Holborn and Seawood which the trains wove slowly through on a series of switchbacks. On this particular day, a mob of magicians–at least fifty–had been waiting near the sharpest curve, where the train would slow down enough to provide an easy target.
     Fortunately, the magic-damping effect of the meteoric iron that plated the tracks and sheathed the locomotive and coaches prevented them from throwing anything too destructive, but it offered no protection from the putrid produce that had pummeled the reinforced windows for a solid minute. And it certainly didn’t stop the cries of “Smokestacks!” and “‘Dustries!” that filtered through the rubbish: some merely jeering, others hateful. One of the taunters had been just ten years old.
     And it hadn’t stopped at that. The furious storm that descended on them a few minutes after had certainly not been natural–the sky had gone from the clear blue one saw only outside the cities to a roiling purple-black within seconds, and the hailstones were of a frightening size. Again, the meteorite-iron had protected the train from damage, but the mood created by watching hailstones the size of your heads whiz past you mere feet away was not a pleasant one. By the time the storm had ended, Patrick was shaking all over, and he had gratefully fallen into slumber.

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272. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen, the real person says:

     August 31, 2008 at 10:11 am

     Hi. That was to make sure my sister doesn’t see this, as she’d kill if she knew I was posting her story. This is what could of happened at Malfoy Manor. Anyone up for a HP FanFic?

     Prologue

     Bellatrix Lestrange laughed madly as she strode down the corridor to contact the Dark Lord. They finally had them! After all these months of searching… Potter and his friends where finally in their grasp! The Dark Lord would reward her well, she knew.
     Bellatrix reached the large gilded mirror she had been heading for. Pulling back the sleeve of her robe, she pressed her Dark Mark against the glass. After a few moments, Voldemort’s snake-like face swam into view. His face was nowhere near as handsome as it had once been, another item to add to Potter’s list of crimes. But she knew as well as or better than most, the power that still was behind that face, more powerful than any witch or wizard.
     “Bellatrix…” he hissed, “What is the occasion?”
     “My Lord,” she breathed, “We have him! We have captured Potter at last!”
     “You have him adequately secured?”
     “Of course!” said Bellatrix eagerly, “We have his and his friends’ wands,” she held them up for him to see, “and they are under all manner of spells: anti-apperition jinxes, binding charms, nothing was left to chance.”
     A scream drifted up through the floorboards.
     “Ahh, I hope you don’t mind My Lord. The Carrows are taking a particular joy of torturing the Blood Traitor and the Mudblood in front of Potter’s eyes. We have not, of course, touched Potter, for we know he is yours. I believe that was the girl’s scream.”
     Voldemort’s mouth twitched slightly. “No, Ms. Lestrange, have your fun. Do whatever you please to the others. You may even play with Potter a bit. I shall be there momentarily. Lestrange Hold will have reason to celebrate tonight.”
     The mirror became cloudy, and then cleared again, showing only her reflection.
     Bellatrix practically ran down to the ground floor.
     “Oh baby Potty,” she said lightly, “The Dark Lord is on his way. Within a few minutes, you shall be meeting your parents again. Crucio!”
     His face was sweating and now it darkened in pain. He writhed on the floor in his rope bonds. Somehow, though, Potter was able to keep himself from screaming. This annoyed Bellatrix thoroughly. She wanted to hear him scream. “Crucio!” she said, putting more of her will behind it, “Crucio!”
     She lifted the curse again momentarily to build herself up for a stronger try. Potter was panting, and Bellatrix saw his eyes flick toward his friends. He looked like he was making a difficult decision. He started groping around his neck.
     Bellatrix knew he was up to something. However, that was nothing a little pain wouldn’t cure.
     “Crucio!” She yelled, giving it all the effort she possessed. She heard Potter shout something, which was instantly answered by one of his friends. Bellatrix saw him clutch at his scar, and he collapsed onto his knees. She knew this must mean the Dark Lord was almost here.
     Then she saw a set of black robes swirl in the doorway, and fell to the ground, bowing to her master. Bellatrix kept her eyes to the floor, but she could still see Potter clutching at his neck.
     “So Potter. No one is left to save you. Your survival so far has been solely based on luck, circumstances, and people laying down their lives for you.” Voldemort’s tone of voice reflected someone casually discussing weather or some other trivial matter, though his words were anything but, “Today, though, you shall not be so fortunate. There is no Lily Potter left to plead with me, to beg for me to kill her instead of your miserable self. Such a pity… I will miss you though. You were such a valuable tool.” Voldemort was looking at Potter strangely, like he was an intriguing antiquity he’d never heard of before, “I was regained my body and my servants through your mercy. You helped me kill Order of the Phoenix members by them protecting you. And if you were there, would Dumbledore have died?” He paused for dramatic effect. “So all in all, I must thank you, however much of a nuisance you were.” Voldemort laughed, and it sent chills up Bellatrix’s spine to hear the unnatural sound. “But pests such as yourself, oh greatest enemy, must be dealt with, as all pests such as cockroaches and Mudbloods are.”
     Potter muttered “Don’t use that word.”
     “Hah!” shouted Bellatrix as she leapt to her feet, a wild grin appearing on her face. “Dumbledore said that on his deathbed also! Do you really care that much? Mudbood!” she shouted, “Mudblood! Mudblood! Mudblood!”
     “Enough, Bellatrix,” Voldemort sighed, though there was only a very slight note of disapproval in his voice, so she knew she wouldn’t be punished later. “And now, Potter, this is the final last sentence of your story.” Bellatrix noticed he still had that expression of curiosity on his face, like he was wondering what would happen if he cursed the boy. With great delicacy, he pointed his wand at Potter. “Avada Kedavera!”
     Potter yelled, and a flash of light blinded her as the spell reached him. What…? A second later, all three were lying prone on the floor, dead as doornails. Flames rose up around all three bodies and consumed them.
     Finally, as quickly as they had come, the fires died, leaving blackened spots on the floor. Bellatrix knew all the Death Eaters were wondering the same thing: What had just happened? A slight look of surprise graced Voldemort’s face, and then, to everyone’s surprise, for they all knew he loathed the unexpected where Potter was concerned, as it usually heralded the brat escaping, he smiled.
     “And that, is what a prophesy means when it comes to truth. There is no fear that he has escaped. We have all watched him and his friends burn there on the floor. Harry Potter is dead. I have destroyed the only one who could ever oppose me.”
     Bellatrix started cheering, tears of joy leaking from her eyes, and was joined by the rest of the Death Eaters half a second later. The world was theirs. And she would rule all by her master’s side.

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273. TNÖ says:

     August 31, 2008 at 10:41 am

     272- Me loves, but it should be Mrs. Lestrange, should it not? she was married after all.

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274. Luna the Lovely says:

     August 31, 2008 at 11:12 am

     Erm, 272–why do I have the feelign that Potter and co. didn’t actually die? That whatever he was clutching around his neck, saved him?

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275. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen, the real person says:

     August 31, 2008 at 11:47 am

     274- You’ll see what happens when she types the third part.

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276. Beatlesrockr, John, and Hyjayko The Ingenious Swordsman says:

     August 31, 2008 at 1:08 pm

     The auditorium filled with excited chatter. Luri looked out at the crowd through the curtains, she didn’t know it, but it would be the last time she would, for a very, long time. She heard the announcer start the program. “Hello ladies and gentlemen! It is my pleasure to start off this wonderful evening. First off, as you all know, Her Majesty, Queen Slenea,” He bowed deeply, “is here. Her Majesty will also be a judge for tonight’s show.” This got a roar of approval from the crowd, and a deafening applause. “Our first act, is one many, have seen before. He has won 4 first place prizes here at the festival, and nobody ever gets tired of hearing, the one and only, Christopher Powell!” There was another applause, and the curtains were drawn, a handsome young man standing on the stage, with a long, delicate, blindingly beautiful, silver flute. “Thankyou Jonathan! You don’t know how pleased I am to preform in front of you, Your Majesty, it is something I have been dreaming of all my life!” He put the flute to his lips, and lightly blew into it. A wonderful, sweet sound filled the room. He started a song, something, that sounded, to tell the truth, inhuman. The sweetest, truest sound. And to top it all off, he started singing. A deep, noble voice, something you would think came from “The Sound of Music”. It was very calming. Someone could’ve fell asleep right there and then, but to miss a performance like that just to sleep, would be a crime. Soon, he finished. Much too soon, thought Luri, Going after an act like that, someone would look like an idiot compared to him. And I am last. She frowned at the thought. After him, were The Swans of Crystal Lake. They danced like dainty little faeries, swiftly, and elegantly. And after them, someone singing, and so on. There were so many acts, Luri didn’t pay attention to any of them. Finally, it came to the last act. Her act. She got up, brushed herself off, and plopped her cap on. “Our final act of the night, is one that has been at the festival, ever since it started. Always last, it wrapped up show, leaving the crowds wanting more, and questioning science, and life. It is my pleasure, to introduce, Luri The Illusionist of Greyre!” The crowd was quiet, she could here a small applause. She strode out onto the stage,with her staff in her left hand, and bowed her head.
     “A grand speech, Jonathan, for such a humble act!” somebody shouted, but whoever spoke, was soon quieted by another. Luri nodded in the direction of the speaker. “A very grand speech to start the end. A grand speech to remember before you forget.” she spoke with authority, even thought she was just a child, from the streets of the largest city in her country, Greyre.
     Luri produced a small apple from her pocket. She threw it right across the room towards the higher box seats. She concentrated on it while it flew. It stopped in midair, and flew right back to her. She made it fly up, to the very top of the auditorium. Luri waved her hand, and right before the crowds eyes, it turned into a bright red bird. It flew back to her. She let it go. She heard a couple gasps from the crowd. “I would like a volunteer from the audience,” a few tentative hands went up. “The young lady in the purple dress?” Luri called. The lady came up the stairs at the right of the stage. “I would like you to look at that mirror.” Luri said.
     “I beg your pardon youngling, but there is no mirror,”
     “Just look at it please.” The lady stared at the spot where Luri had pointed. There was a faint glimmer, and a blurry reflection of the lady and purple dress appeared, it got clearer and clearer. Finally, there stood a perfect replica of the woman. Luri placed a hand on the mirror, and color started to drain from it. A stage assistant had brought an art easel out onto the stage. Luri pointed to it, and the color, slowly formed a picture above it, and then sunk into it. “Wave to yourself in the mirror.” Luri instructed. The lady waved, and in the painting, the lady waved, at the same time. This got more gasps from the crowd. With a wave of Luri’s hand, the painting disappeared. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she nodded towards the woman in purple, and she left the stage, while the crowd was clapping enthusiastically. After she had taken her seat, Luri brought a small string out from her pocket. She pulled it, and it became larger and larger, longer and longer, thicker and thicker, until it was as long as a full grown man’s height. She threw one end of it into the air, and there, it stayed. It stood on one end, and the other was in the air, the string perfectly straight. She climbed up it. So high, the crowd couldn’t see her anymore. “Where’d she go?” she heard someone shout.
     “She’s over there!” another shouted. Luri appeared in the Queen’s box. She got down on her knees, while balancing on the balcony railing. “For you, Princess.” she held out a large, pure white egg. The girl had a puzzled look on her face. But, it started to get color, it had intricate designs, and colors no one had ever seen before, what one would describe as a blue orange, and a yellow purple, but how would that be possible? It became beautiful, sparkling like a diamond. The Princess had a look of happiness on her face. Luri let her take it from her hand. When the princess held it up to look at it, a small crack appeared. A small, furry nose appeared. The girl gave a squeal of delight. Soon, a small, furry creature had came all the way out. It was like a miniature Hippogriff , with feathered wings, but, the back half of it was a bunny, and the front half a Sparrow. Luri bowed her head deeply, and disappeared. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Luri The Illusionist Greyre!” The crowd clapped their hands and stamped their feet loudly.

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277. POSOC (14 wung points embedded (bara brith), 9 wung points embedded (chorley cake), 5 wung points in transit (Ogbert's Siphon) says:

     August 31, 2008 at 3:12 pm

     275- Y’know, it would be an interesting exercise to figure out what would have happened if Voldy had won.

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278. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen, the real person says:

     August 31, 2008 at 3:15 pm

     277- I agree, but currently I’m writing another story all by myself, and I need to concentrate solely on it if I ever want to finsh.

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279. POSOC (14 wung points embedded (bara brith), 9 wung points embedded (chorley cake), 5 wung points in transit (Ogbert's Siphon) says:

     August 31, 2008 at 3:30 pm

     278- I see.

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280. Zinc the sorceress/vampire and Leafygreen, the real person says:

     August 31, 2008 at 3:50 pm

     279- I have this problem that I get disintrested in a story after, like, three weeks, because I had another idea. So I’m not thinking another any other story lines right now.

     273- Ms. denotes married or unmarried.

     And in 258, Lark is based off of me. There’s also another character named Autumn based off of Leafygreen, but I haven’t typed that yet.

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281. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     September 1, 2008 at 9:34 am

     277–
     Potter lay dead on the floor.
     I’d known, all along, that I would vanquish the boy, but there had been doubts…now, it was certain.
     Lord Voldemort was victorious.

     Yikes. Can’t go any further.

     More TE (posts 238 & 250). Comments still VERY welcome.

     Liam was still in the doorway, leaning against the frame. I sighed inwardly. Ought to end this sooner than later.
     “Thank you for showing me to my room, Liam,” I said, trying to ignore the way he was eyeing me—like I was a particularly mouthwatering steak. There was a keypad on the wall, with a button labeled CLOSE on it; not caring much about civility, I punched it, and the door closed on the secretary’s face.
     I began to unpack my trunks, to air out my clothes and sooth my humming nerves. I was the daughter of Aldric Cronus Nyx II; many would be seeking my friendship, and it would be easy for me to be accepted, to become one of the Reds, the Ahriman supporters. But in spite of this reassurance, I was nervous for tomorrow’s meetings.
     After about fifteen minutes, I began to hear footsteps outside my room, as the students of the Plutarch dormitory began returning after class. There were many curious voices outside my door—no doubt the card outside now displayed my famous last name. I’d just finished unpacking when the first knock came on my door.
     I checked the camera and found myself staring at someone with bleached-blonde tresses. The girl’s face was familiar; I recognized her as Bianca Kent, the daughter of one of my father’s associates. We had once been friends—if you can call a person who describes her wardrobe for hours while you sit and listen a friend.
     Once I opened the door, it became apparent that Bianca had no doubts about our friendship. “Kyrra!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me. “I haven’t seen you in absolutely forever!”
     On the spot, I decided that returning Bianca’s enthusiasm would be advisable. “I know,” I shrieked, firmly pulling out of her strangling embrace to grip her by the shoulders. Her makeup was too perfect; it looked like Miss Kent had been spending her father’s fortune on a new face–although I doubted he knew it. Beneath Bianca’s dumb-blonde looks there lurked a canny and ruthless nature.
     With these thoughts in mind, I smiled brilliantly. “You look amazing,” I said, flattering her shamelessly. Bianca put a hand to her blushing cheek—no doubt it was plastic—and laughed lightly. “As do you, hon,” she said. Her eyes took on a greedy look. “Who’s your surgeon?” she asked in an undertone.
     I was briefly offended, but smoothed the emotion under another sickening smile. “I’ll give you his number.”
     A bell sounded somewhere, and Bianca lay a hand on her stomach. “Ugh, another meal. How am I supposed to lose all this weight when we’re fed so much?” She seemed to be addressing the crowd at large; several girls nearby leapt to compliment her figure and reassure her. Bianca waved them away, trying not to look too pleased. “Come on, Kyrra, let’s go down.”
     The dining hall was centrally located on campus, about a block away from the Plutarch dormitory, and Bianca took advantage of the short walk to give me an unintentional lesson in the Jefferson social hierarchy. By the time we reached the cafeteria, there was no doubt in my mind: Bianca Kent was Queen of the School.
     The level of incivility was astonishing. To one girl, Bianca waved and smiled; she then turned to me and proceeded to tell me every affair the little minx had been involved in. Another student was icily ignored, entirely because of an affront that had occurred three years ago, at another school. All of the good-looking boys were graced with an impish smile; heaven help those deemed average. I saw Bianca smile at a girl and sneer at her after she’d gone by, and laugh in another girl’s face because of her unusual hair. It was like living in a game of sudden death; one wrong move, and the loser was out of the court forever. Those who Bianca greeted went away with relieved faces; the rest appeared either dejected or resigned to their fate. I found myself wondering what would happen when it was my turn to be on trial.

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282. ladygaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 11:42 am

     OK I have noooo idea what’s going on here (I’m a neophyte), but I am writing a book. I’ve just got the general idea right now but I will write more in a minute and post it. If anyone’s here, tell me if it’s good (when I post of course)

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283. ladygaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 11:53 am

     Stella knew they were all laughing at her. She’d really made a fool of herself out there, but how on Earth was she supposed to know how to play soccer? It wasn’t like she’d played it before or anything. She just wasn’t a sports person. Unfortunately, nearly everyone at her new school was, and anyone like her was labeled a hopeless loser. She hadn’t even been able to talk to any of the losers- she was too busy avoiding the taunts and jeers.
     She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. If she had to stand here for one more minute, she would burst out crying. Instead, she started to run. She ran until she found the woods behind the school property…. Woods? There weren’t any woods there before. She knew that for a fact. She had definitely been here before, on orientation day. Then, the only thing behind the school property had been a vacant lot. This was only her first day here, but she was almost completely certain that those woods weren’t supposed to be there.

     How do you make italics? Or can you not do that? I read the hg2mb but I kinda forget most of it.

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284. ♫ Agrrrfishi {Aggie} (14 piepoints, 22 sdpzk points)♫ says:

     September 1, 2008 at 11:55 am

     282- Hi newbie! *pies* I would love to read your story. Please post it. Mine is posts 176 and 177.

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285. ladygaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 12:03 pm

     284-What do you think? It’s above yours. (just the 1st 2 paragraphs)

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286. Zinc the sorceress and Leafygreen, the kids who have problems says:

     September 1, 2008 at 12:12 pm

     283- Enclose an i in angle brackets, the little boogers- To end it, do this-

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287. Zinc the sorceress and Leafygreen, the kids who have problems says:

     September 1, 2008 at 12:13 pm

     Oh, poo. To end it, angle bracket- slash- i- angle bracket.

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288. ♫ Agrrrfishi {Aggie} (14 piepoints, 22 sdpzk points)♫ says:

     September 1, 2008 at 12:13 pm

     285- That’s a good start! I want to read what happens next. Do you have any more yet?

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289. ladygaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 12:20 pm

     288-Not yet. I have to eat lunch now so I will be back soon!!
     286/287- What do you mean by angle bracket???

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290. The Man For Aeiou says:

     September 1, 2008 at 12:31 pm

     O.k., So I’m not writing a book, But here’s the start of a script I’m working on:
     2100 (WORKING TITLE)
     Copyright 2008 by TMFA. All rights resvered.:
     Fade in:

     EXT. futuristic city – day

     A zoom over all of the city. Tall, Bright buildings are all over. A title comes on the screen: MGBH.

     Announcer

     Your watching MGBH, The Best VTV on the moon.

     INT. NEWS ROOM – DAY

     An Annoucer sits behind a large desk.

     ANNOUNCER

     Up next on MGBH is the Solar System permire of the John Burns film, The 21st century. The long awaited journey from The Election of 2000 to the treaty of Oahu in 2099, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

     start of movie scene

     Black. the words “A johns Burns Film” flicker onto the screen.

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291. ladygaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 1:42 pm

     I’m back!!!!! Will post more of story in a minute. BTW could someone explain a little more clearly how to make italics? (no offense Zinc/Leafygreen)

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292. Alice says:

     September 1, 2008 at 1:50 pm

     291- OK.
     Press shift and comma at the same time
     Press i
     Press shift and period at the same time
     Write whatever you want to be in italics
     To turn the italics off:
     Press shift and comma at the same time
     Press slash
     Press i
     Press shift and period at the same time

     Does that help?

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293. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     September 1, 2008 at 2:52 pm

     282–Hi ladygaladriel! *pies*

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294. ladygaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 4:01 pm

     italics

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295. LadyGaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 4:18 pm

     how do you underline??

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296. Taiwan Hippo Fan says:

     September 1, 2008 at 5:16 pm

     LadyG – Please take your html experiments and questions over to the “HTML Practice and Typographic Tricks” thread (https://musefanpage.com/blog/?p=1427). But, since you asked… okay fine, I don’t know. I think it’s (except omitting the spaces), but I’m not sure.

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297. LadyGaladriel says:

     September 1, 2008 at 7:02 pm

     Prologue

     Stella knew they were all laughing at her. She’d really made a fool of herself out there, but how on Earth was she supposed to know how to play soccer? It wasn’t like she’d played it before or anything. She just wasn’t a sports person. Unfortunately, nearly everyone at her new school was, and anyone like her was labeled a hopeless loser. She hadn’t even been able to talk to any of the losers- she was too busy avoiding the taunts and jeers.
     She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer. If she had to stand here for one more minute, she would burst out crying. Instead, she started to run. She ran until she found the woods behind the school property…. Woods? There weren’t any woods there before. She knew that for a fact. She had definitely been here before, on orientation day. Then, the only thing behind the school property had been a vacant lot. This was only her first day here, but she was almost completely certain that those woods weren’t supposed to be there.
     Cautiously, she stepped towards the chain-link fence, and on impulse straddled herself over it. Sure enough, she wasn’t in or even near any woods- instead, she was in the vacant lot she remembered from before. Something really weird was going on here.
     She jumped back over the fence, the soccer game completely forgotten, and began to search for something else- anything, anything that seemed as if it didn’t belong. At first she found nothing, but then she saw it- a hole in the fence. As she walked closer, she could see something glowing just outside the gap. It looked almost like—an open door! She stepped through, only to find that not only was she near the woods she had seen, she was inside them! Deep inside. She was just about to investigate more when a sudden lightheadedness came over her, and she began seeing stars. Her last thought: I’m going to faint, aren’t I? Boy, this feels wei-
     And everything went black.

     Chapter One

     She awoke to the sound of laughter. As she opened her eyes, she saw that she was lying by a stream in the middle of the strange woods. The laughing sounds were coming from the stream, but what she saw there was so impossible that at first she thought she was dreaming. But no, she was awake, and there were mermaids in the stream.
     There were three of them. One, who seemed to be the oldest, had long pink hair (pink?) and a pink tail (tail!!!). If she had legs, she would be tall. Her eyes were violet, and she was wearing a pink halter bikini top that looked just like one Stella’s older sister had. The others looked exactly alike, with blue hair and sea-blue eyes. Their tails were aqua, and they wore one-shoulder gauzy tops and dark blue sarongs. Stella figured they were twins.

     …. TBC

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298. TNÖ says:

     September 1, 2008 at 10:56 pm

     297- Mm, interesting.

     I will now post the prologue to a fairy-tale-esque story I started recently.

     Once upon a time, in a land far distanced from where you sit reading this, there were twin sisters.
     Once upon the same time, in the same land, there lived a talented musician, who made his living traveling from town to town and playing his flute in marketplaces and street corners by day and thieving from rich merchants by night.
     The time was not a happy time, nor was the land an especially happy land. There had been flooding one year, and drought the next, and the people who lived in the time and on the land were apt to complain and grumble loudly. The army was a half-starved wreak that was stretched thin in the west fighting an age-old war against a neighboring empire.
     Dragons took advantage of the under-defended garrisons and attacked from the south.
     Pirates marauded on the eastern coast, pillaging the port towns that lined the many bays and coves.
     An evil magician lived in the north, and made a habit of sending down bitter ice storms and legions of frozen warriors to harry the few villages that braved the frigid climate.
     It was a bleak time.
     This is a story about that time.

     Yesh, it’s cheesy. I hope to be less cheesy with the actual story, which will be written… soon… I hope.
     So… Feedback?

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299. KaiYves says:

     September 2, 2008 at 12:20 pm

     I tried to post part 13 of COSMOS, but the computer gave me a 500 error. What even IS a 500 error?

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300. ♫ Agrrrfishi (Aggie),of 40 brain points and 14 spdzk points and 14 piepoints♫ says:

     September 2, 2008 at 3:06 pm

     299- You have five hundred errors at once…(?) I have no idea. Try it again until it works.

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301. LadyGaladriel says:

     September 2, 2008 at 3:07 pm

     299-no idea
     OK I will now post chapter 1 (well in a minute)

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302. LadyGaladriel (100 Muszey points) says:

     September 3, 2008 at 5:39 pm

     What is happening to this thread????????

     GAPAs can we have a new one? This one is huge!!!

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303. gimanator says:

     September 4, 2008 at 7:29 pm

     I agree completely. I was thinking of posting some ideas, but this is HUGE.

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304. Nthanda the Laugher says:

     September 4, 2008 at 7:32 pm

     302–300 posts isn’t too big. H&H sometimes gets into the 400s. Although it would be nice to be on the front page of the blog again.
     299–A 500 error just means that your server encountered something unexpected, and couldn’t get through. Wait a little while and try again, or refresh your computer, and it should work just fine.
     297–Influenced by anime, are we? Tails are cool.
     298–It seems to jump around a bit. I can see the writing style you’re going for, and it’s good, but I think it came out a little too choppy to have the right effect. Not bad overall though.

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305. Rebecca Lasley (Administrator) says:

     September 4, 2008 at 7:35 pm

     (304) True, the number of posts isn’t that high, but many of them are quite lengthy compared to other types of threads, so there is now a new one.

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