Writing
By special request of Queen Julietaini the Flamablamablous of Kiador
By special request of Queen Julietaini the Flamablamablous of Kiador
Date: September 27, 2005
Categories: Random craziness
Comments RSS TrackBack 189 comments
-
1
Queen Julietaini the Flamablamablous of Kiador
in September 29th, 2005 @ 17:55OK, now I feel special. Totally.
Here’s the thing: You know Nenriel of Nowhere in Particular? THE FANFICTION? Well, I’ve got about, oh, 25 sectors done, and I still have a plot that goes EVERYWHERE. I swear it.
I never seem to plan out my writing. I prefer just to write and see how it ends up. And I write with music, and sometimes when people are talking but I tend to record the conversation rather than actually writing so it doesn’t work too well. I like typing better though-it’s faster and you don’t have to worry about legibility when you just want to get things done.
Short stories never work for me. I always feel bad that the story is so short and want to make the plot line longer and the characters more intense and everything just-I don’t know, just longer. It seems to be nice for other people though, so I suppose that’s alright.
By the way, I made my name longer. I use my full title most of the time, but people call me by my nickname. Have you ever noticed that something like that happens to most people?
0
0
-
2
AJR
in September 30th, 2005 @ 07:28What about v. games? Can’t we do a thread on them?
0
0
-
3
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in September 30th, 2005 @ 08:10AJR,
Let’s wait a little while. If we launch too many new topics all at once, they tend to “crowd each other out” and don’t get as much traffic as they deserve. (That may be happening with this one.)
–Robert
0
0
-
4
Phoenix
in September 30th, 2005 @ 16:18She’s baaack!
My banshment is oficially ENDED! Actually, I thought it would be permanent, but all of my shortcomings have been forgiven, as long as I don’t go on here too often. Well, the melodrama of being banished has worn off what with it lasting a week instead of the expected eternity, but that’s fine with me…
And there was much rejoiceing.
Anyway, to make the story topic fit…
“Move it on there!”
Solaris winced as the guard’s shadow passed over her. She carefully made herself as small as possible, her grey prisinors’ garb blending in with the others, one amongst the multitude.
But still, even in a crowd, it was very hard to miss Solaris. Her glowing hair and skin made her stand out, even in thier dulled state–and in this case, notice was not somthing she wanted. Attracted by her aura’s light, the guard’s gaze fell on her. Moving swiftly foward, he grabbed her wrist, dragging her, terrified, foward. He lifted his arm high, forcing her to stand on tiptoe.
“Prisinors,” he said roughly, “must be quick on thier feet. Slow ones will not be tolerated.” He delivered a crushing blow to the side of her head. The others spotted the excitement and gathered round, adding thier own bruises to Solaris’ starvation-weakened body. The others looked self conciously away, unwilling to risk thier lives, which anyway hung by a mere thread, to save Solaris’. She expected no more from them. She lifted her tearstained face to the sun, felt it warm her. She felt it fill her, giving her a remnant of the strength she had long ago discovered and lost, from starvation, abuse and mistreatment. And she knew she could free herself it she chose, but once she had used her power for her own ends. She had broken the Law, and thousands of people had died, or, like herself, had been pressed into slave labor. She knew what she had to do. she just had to wait for her chance.
Suddenly, a particularly hard blow sent her frail form cartwheeling away from her persecuters. She lay on the wet, muddy ground, catching her breath. Dimly she could see the guards converging on her. She didn’t have much time.
Solaris lifted herself a few inches from the muck. Using the last reserves of strength she had, she lifted her hand, carved using fire in the likeness of the sun, to the bright sustaining light and warmth. For the first time in a year she felt the power of it enter her, filling her from head to foot in radience. Her dulled glow shone brighter than it had since her disgression of the Law. Shakily, she pushed her self up and stood, holding out both arms to it.
The guards had reached her by then. Just as the first one streched out his arm to grab her again. It was now or never. Still reaching out to the sky, Solaris released the Sun’s energy and spoke the Word.
It was as if the world itself had exploded. The guards, blided by the radience of Solaris’ power, were flung backwards like ragdolls in it’s force. the buildings, work stations, and gates vanished, melted. Even the slaves’ mancles dissapeared as if they had never existed, leaving the people untouched. The prisonors streamed out the shattered gates as if a floodgate had been released.
This had been the main army camp. Solaris had freed her people and fulfilled the punishment of the Law. She knew this, and rejoiced ans she swayed and fell, her light gone out forever.
0
0
-
5
ebeth
in October 1st, 2005 @ 12:23hey welcome back phoenix! wow ur a good writer! I can’t write unless i’m under serious pressure (as in 9 pm and a paper due tomarrow morning before study hall). I have no clue why, I just can’t make myself write more than half a page of my own stuff. I’m lazy like that. but yah once the deadlines come in I write like crazy. odd, cuz i like writing and all, but it’s just not fun w/o somebody yelling at you to get moving already you’ve had the whole weekend and ur doing it now what are you thinking.
0
0
-
6
Kate
in October 1st, 2005 @ 14:47Is anyone doing NaNoWriMo? (ebeth – it’s about deadlines)
You write a novel in a month. You’re supposed to not worry just write so that you actually do it.NaNoWriMo = national novel writing month = November
0
0
-
7
Phoebe
in October 1st, 2005 @ 23:57Yay, Phoenix, your back, I’m sorry I got you in trouble with your parents!
Good story. I myself enjoy writing. Mine is more like Gouglas Addams type stuff though, more humorous. Like the one I wrote about a telemarketer who wants to go to Araby and Barnaby the Magician. Unfortunately, It’s at school, so I can’t post it here.
Sure, I’ll do this NaNoWriMo thing. I just write a novel? I can do that.
Once upon a time there lived a Queen who disliked gouda cheese. Cheddar, too. In fact, she hated most cheeses unless you served them with mermaid meat, which she didn’t, because she was a vegetarian. So you can basically assume she didn’t eat cheese at all, even if her mother told her too. I imagine your thinking, she should have, because her mother told her! But she was the queen so she didn’t have to listen to her mother. Confused? Don’t worry. Everyone is at first.
Don’t assume that just because she was a vegetarian she was a nice person, because she wasn’t. Nice, I mean. Actually, she was a mean person who enjoyed eating fried turnips whilst the commoners trudged about the soot-swept grounds mining coal and trying their best to stay alive, even if it meant eating insects, which not many people enjoy. One day, after around 500 years of slave labour, the commoners decided they should overthrow the queen. (They were a bit slow on the uptake.) But it wasn’t as easy as all that, so they decided that somewhere there was a hero among them who would save them from the queen.
How was that for starters?
0
0
-
8
Phoenix
in October 2nd, 2005 @ 10:52ooo, is Araby a new Muse word?
and it wasn’t your fault, Pheebs, it was mine being so pigheaded as to ask my Dad to let me on a MUD.
0
0
-
9
Queen Julietaini the Flamablamablous of Kiador
in October 2nd, 2005 @ 17:24YAY!!!! WELCOME BACK PHOENIX!!!!!!
Le suilaid.I did like Phoenix’s, and Phoebe’s, but especially Phoebe’s because I didn’t know you wrote.
0
0
-
10
ebeth
in October 2nd, 2005 @ 18:01Araby was a word in the Princess Bride. somewhere. wait….*thinkthink*…oh it was buttercup, who said she’d go all the way to araby to bring back some wine for westley. or something like that.
what exactly do we do with this thread? post our random writings, or talk about our writing, or talk about other people’s writing, or all of the above?
if we’re talking about random non-school writings, all of mine used to be emails to people, cuz i can’t write for myself. I’ll just email somebody and start writing some crazy random thing and my friends will write back with, “what the heck is this??!! is this for school? why are you sending it to me??” Eventually i figured out not to hit the “send” button. then I forget to save them. *sigh* oh vell.
I think microsoft word is completely mind-blocking. You get on there and you’re like, “ok…um…what was i supposed to be writing?” but you come on new xanga posts, and these little comment boxes, and forum postings and emails and you think, “wow…why can’t I write that much on microsoft word?” Does that happen to anybody else? I think it’s really strange.
As for writing anything remotely serious, i need a lot of pressure. i think i said that before..hoom…*scrollscrollscroll* yah i did. Basically everything that’s not for school is monty python-type scripts or douglas adams-type long short stories. And my ideas come at all the wrong moments too. Like geometry class, or when I’m taking a history test, or the middle of the night ect.
wow this is loooooooooong again. i’ve been sitting here writing all this about writing. strangeity. ha! that’s a cool word. strangeity. whee! I’m gonna start making a list of cool words that don’t exist. Fun time-wasters! ok going now. I mean it. Really. This is my last sentence. I swear, i’m not kidding. I’m going. Hey! I’m getting off ok! this is it! This is the end! I’m getting off NOW! This is the last time I’m gonna say this! This is-OW! *gruntscrapescufflefight*
We regret to say that Ebeth is incapable of finishing this message, due to the fact that she is now gagged and handcuffed to a chair far, far away from the computer. This has come about from her complete lack of self-control in being able to get off the computer. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. (For instance, if you wanted to yell at her for writing such long and random messages) Have a good day!
0
0
-
11
Parmandiriel
in October 2nd, 2005 @ 21:41*waves* Hey, I heard something about Nanowrimo mentioned over here. And to answer your question, Kate, I’m doing it as well. Am terribly excited about it, really. . . . Have any of you guys attempted the 50K before? It’s a lot of fun–I tried it on a lark two years ago, then was really pumped up last year to do it again (I finished both times, but last year’s was considerably better). This year, I’ve been pseudo-planning my lengthy wordfest for a couple of months, but am trying not to *over*plan. . . . The brilliant thing about Nanowrimo is the spontanaeity (sp?) it brings about–having to pull 2,000 words a day out of thin air sometimes garners the strangest ideas. . .
But, yes. I’m not quite sure exactly how I should be adressing this forum/blog, so this has just been a bit of a lengthy ramble on my part (hey, it’s less than a month ’til Nano’s start date; I’m preparing!). Anyone else have plans to Nano this year?
See you around!
–Parmandiriel
0
0
-
12
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 2nd, 2005 @ 22:28For those of you who haven’t met her before, Parmandiriel is a most accomplished Muser, having written a 70,000-word fantasy novel in addition to her Nanowrimo efforts.
0
0
-
13
Kate
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 06:35wow, WOW
Someone else is doing this!
I’ve never tried to write anything that long before, not nearly.
Thanks for posting, Parmandiriel.*is inspired to start plot notes since not sleeping anyway*
-Kate
0
0
-
14
Phoenix
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 11:38cool, Parmandiriel! what site is this fantasy thingie again?
0
0
-
15
Phoenix
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 13:38There is no Goddess.
The drums–Ah, the drums! what so many would give–
but do they know what I know? there is no Goddess.
Now the dancers. they tilt my head back–it burns, ah, how it burns! clouds of sleep, and the dancers, and the drums… but there is no Goddess.
Now the knife. Blood, like the clearest gems. My blood. And the women–so many willing to be in my place. For the Goddess. But there is no Goddess.
My mind is clouded now. The priests of the Goddess–oh, I have wondered why, for the Goddess, there are priests, not priestesses. Now I know the deciet they have woven! There is no Goddess.
Now the flames. Oh, how they burn! And the blood that is mine and the silver knife… Anger in my heart. Do all in my place come to be here because they have discovered the secret? There is no Goddess.
The dancers sway. It is so smoky and choked. How could any woman want this? I feel myself smiling, I am led foward like a cow to slaughter. But in the world of the Goddess, that is what I am. I want to scream but I cannot– and there is no Goddess.
The flames engulf me. How many must die as I have? How many to perish for a Goddess that exists only in thier minds? for truly, the mind is a prison. Am I not smiling and laughing as I am destroyed? The priests–ah, the priests! The dancers, and the drums, and the blood as bright as gems, and the music, and the silver knife, and the smoke… Is that all not a prison? Is it not better to die? But now I know: and we must someday rise up… and my ashes, still laughing, are spread to the winds. And the priests bow. They know–and somday all will. The Goddess exists only in our minds. Perhaps there is One.. I know there is One… but the One is not the Goddess. There is no Goddess.
0
0
-
16
Phoenix
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 13:41Actually, I’m not this morbid in real life. I just write like that. By the way, the story is called The Seventh Nation.
0
0
-
17
parmandiriel
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 15:06*blushes* Aw, thanks! And, eh, I suppose I was accomplished until I started taking AP classes.
Now, it’s mostly short stories for me (plus nano). And, to start off on another writing tangent… short stories, anyone? I didn’t actually like that medium much until I took a class about it last year at school, but now I’ve really begun to play around with those more. (While completing a novel is nice, short stories also have a bit of instant gratification tied in there as well. :)) Any thoughts on the two forms? Anyone interested in novellas? (I’m leaning towards one of those for a writing contest later this year, but am a bit daunted by the concept of a reeeallly long short story or a reeaallly short novel. :D)
–Parmandiriel
0
0
-
18
Phoenix
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 16:07Following the Drinking Gourd
I guess the only reason why I stayed this long was because of Willie. I will never forget the day old Sarah came home with that little babe, wrapped in a blanket, tight in her arms. Mistress said we could keep him, ‘cause someday he’d grow up big an’ strong, and she’d have another man working for her without having to buy him. I loved that little baby boy, an’ when old Sarah said she would call him Willie, I guess I thought it was the most beautiful name I’d ever heard, anywhere. An’ when old Sarah got sick, I got to take care of him—carried him on a sling on my back all ‘round the fields, picking cotton.
Been a slave to Mistress all my life. Before Poppa got sold, he told me once he was a free man, living in Pennsylvania, but he got took by kidnappers who sold him to the Mistress.
Mistress says if I’m a good girl, and do what I’m told quiet like, when she dies I’ll get set free. So I’m a good girl all my life, an’ never thought I’d be doing what I’m doing now. Never thought I’d run to Freedom. But when Willie came, I was too little to run, and after Willie came, I just couldn’t. Who’d look after little Willie if I left? But then Willie caught the fever. Old Sarah said God took him away, but if God did it I think He was awful mean to.
So I run. I hear the old slave songs:
When the sun comes back
And the first quail calls
Follow the drinking gourd
For the old man is a—waiting
To carry you to Freedom
If you follow the drinking gourd…I took a sack of good bread from the storehouse, an’ I waited till dark. I run out of the slave cabin. Then I run across the field to the forest. Poppa showed me how to move over crackly leaves without making a sound. I run as fast in to the trees as I can, then I look up. Jus’ like the old song said, there’s the drinking gourd, sparkling up there, so I look for the end of that sparkly handle and follow the way it points. I run to that star, all the night. In the morning, I follow the song:
The riverbank makes a very good road
The dead trees will show you the way
Left foot, peg foot traveling on
Follow the drinking gourd…The riverbank is a good road, all right. I can just splash along by night so the hounds lose my smell, an’ hide in trees by day. I look to the dead trees too—carved with a left foot an’ a peg foot to mark the path. Old Sara said the peg foot sailor wrote the song to help the slaves escape. She said he helps all of the runaways. Said he’d help me. I’m going to Freedom in Pennsylvania!
I followed that ol’ river till it stopped. I would have been scared, but I remembered the song:
The river ends between two hills
Follow the drinking gourd
There’s another river on the other side
Follow the drinking gourd…I found that other river, an’ I followed it. I’m almost at the end of the song now. I ran away only thirteen days ago, but I already don’t remember slavery. Even little Willie dying seems so far away. At first I felt horrible ‘cause I already don’t feel sad that he left. But then I realized that God took him away so that he could be happy. Little Willie will never know slavery. And God took him away so that I could be happy, too. And I know he will always be in my soul, and locked up in my heart, ‘till I meet him again in Heaven.
I am up to the last line of the song. I found that old man, an’ I am almost in Pennsylvania. That peg legged sailor’s song made me free, and it made me happy. I am in his little boat now, an’ his peg leg clunking against the wooden boat seems to sing: Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!Where the great big river meets the little river
Follow the drinking gourd
For the old man is a—waiting to carry you to Freedom
If you follow the drinking gourd.
0
0
-
19
randomrohanfreak
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 18:52All right, people. I’m new to this site (and to blogging in general) so I need help. Very much help. Anways, I love writing and fanfic (my penname is also randomrohanfreak until I change it again. Soooo… help me, read my story, tell me if it’s awful, yadda yadda.
0
0
-
20
Pheebs
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 19:23My gosh, Phoenix – is that story about sacrificial offerings? Meep.
Yay, I know the drinking gourd song.
0
0
-
21
Pheebs
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 19:32Once upon a time there lived a Queen who disliked gouda cheese. Cheddar, too. In fact, she hated most cheeses unless you served them with mermaid meat, which she didn’t, because she was a vegetarian. So you can basically assume she didn’t eat cheese at all, even if her mother told her too. I imagine your thinking, she should have, because her mother told her! But she was the queen so she didn’t have to listen to her mother. Confused? Don’t worry. Everyone is at first.
Don’t assume that just because she was a vegetarian she was a nice person, because she wasn’t. Nice, I mean. Actually, she was a mean person who enjoyed eating fried turnips whilst the commoners trudged about the soot-swept grounds mining coal and trying their best to stay alive, even if it meant eating insects, which not many people enjoy. One day, after around 500 years of slave labour, the commoners decided they should overthrow the queen. (They were a bit slow on the uptake.) But it wasn’t as easy as all that, so they decided that somewhere there was a hero among them who would save them from the queen. This is how they went about it:
1. The main villagesperson would stand in the middle of the square.
2. The main villagesperson would point at the first healthy-looking youth he set his eyes on.
3. The main villagesperson would yell, “I say lad, what’s your name?”
4. The main villagesperson would yell, “What do you want to be when you grow up a bit more?”
6. The main villagesperson would yell, “What will you do at this job?”
5. The main villagesperson would yell, “Not good enough!” and repeat the process over again. Until… “I say lad, what’s your name?” “Botherby Dorking, sir.” “What do you do when you grow up a bit more?” “I’d like to be a cheesemonger, sir.” “What would you do at this job?” “Mong cheese, sir, I suppose.” Silence fell. “You’ll do, lad.”
0
0
-
22
ebeth
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 19:58wow pheebs i love the name!! Botherby botherby botherby botherby…
hello randomrohanfreak. using my incredible powers of deduction, i shall now guess that you are a random freak from rohan. FORTH EORLINGAS!!!!!!!
hey guys….i wrote a random star wars parody type thingy that i wanna post but i have to see the movie again because i probably got the chronological stuff waaaay off (it’s been ages since i saw sw) whee and fun.
“I’d like to be a cheesemonger, sir.” “What would you do at this job?” “Mong cheese, sir, I suppose.”
lol! sry loved that. very cool pheebs
phoenix, urs is great too! actually i’d probably ramble on for ages about it…except i’m still recovering from all the civil war type stuff from last year…but very cool anyway.
maybe i should just be the Official Praiser Of Other People’s Awesome Writing, seeing as I never finish any of my own stuff…
Hear ye, hear ye! the OPOOPAW has been busy in her works of Praising, and is now thinking that she is incapable of any short comments at all. (grr…i hate how i end up rambling on like this) The OPOOPAW is going now, and might actually possibly finish something of her own in the next couple months….*sigh* Unfortunately, she is very busy in her Praising and Procrastinating. Let it be generally known among the common folk that she is leaving now, at a summons from the QUEEN (aka mom) Yes, she admits it, her real job is a dishwasher. later!
0
0
-
23
Pheebs
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 21:29Once upon a time there lived a Queen who disliked gouda cheese. Cheddar, too. In fact, she hated most cheeses unless you served them with mermaid meat, which she didn’t, because she was a vegetarian. So you can basically assume she didn’t eat cheese at all, even if her mother told her too. I imagine your thinking, she should have, because her mother told her! But she was the queen so she didn’t have to listen to her mother. Confused? Don’t worry. Everyone is at first.
Don’t assume that just because she was a vegetarian she was a nice person, because she wasn’t. Nice, I mean. Actually, she was a mean person who enjoyed eating fried turnips whilst the commoners trudged about the soot-swept grounds mining coal and trying their best to stay alive, even if it meant eating insects, which not many people enjoy. One day, after around 500 years of slave labour, the commoners decided they should overthrow the queen. (They were a bit slow on the uptake.) But it wasn’t as easy as all that, so they decided that somewhere there was a hero among them who would save them from the queen. This is how they went about it:
1. The main villagesperson would stand in the middle of the square.
2. The main villagesperson would point at the first healthy-looking youth he set his eyes on.
3. The main villagesperson would yell, “I say lad, what’s your name?”
4. The main villagesperson would yell, “What do you want to be when you grow up a bit more?”
6. The main villagesperson would yell, “What will you do at this job?”
5. The main villagesperson would yell, “Not good enough!” and repeat the process over again. Until… “I say lad, what’s your name?” “Botherby Dorking, sir.” “What do you do when you grow up a bit more?” “I’d like to be a cheesemonger, sir.” “What would you do at this job?” “Mong cheese, sir, I suppose.” Silence fell. “You’ll do, lad.”So Botherby took his ass, not as in his bottom end, but as in his donkey, and hauled him home to the small hut where he and his enormous family lived, cheesemonging for a living. His father and his mother were sitting in chairs, as they didn’t want to sit on, say, the cat, or the stove. “Hlo’, Ma, Pa,” said Botherby. “I haven’t got any time,” barked his father, who was in the process of making the cheese that he was to mong the next day. “Ask your mother.” Botherby was not terribly smart, but he was obedient, so he asked his mother, “Ma, I have been hired to go on a quest,” even though her sanity had left her some years ago. “Ask you father, Percival,” mumbled his mother. Botherby obeyed. It went on like this for a few minutes until the words “hired” and “quest” sank in. His father lept up. “So, Per-I mean, Botherby, you’ve decided to abandon your fathers trade?!” “No,” said Botherby, “They seemed to want me because I was a cheesemonger, and there might be a reward.” At “reward,” Botherby’s father began to grin widely from ear to ear. “Well then,” he said, “I musn’t deny your destiny. Do have some dinner, dear.” He sat Botherby down at the table.
The next day, Botherby’s Mother and Father gave him a sack of cheese to eat, a sack to mong, and a sack just in case. He hitched the ass up to the wagon and set off towards the castle.
About half way up the road, Botherby spotted a gaudily coloured splotch on the road. He thought nothing of, it, and continued. A few minutes later, he pulled the wagon to a screeching halt to avoid running over a man who was sitting in the middle of the road. “Sir,” said the ever-polite Botherby, “Would you mind not sitting in the middle of the road?” “Of course,” said the man. he got up and walked stiffly to the side of the road. Botherby passed. the man walked right back to the original place he had been, and sat down again. “Out of curiosity,” said Botherby, out of curiosity, “Why are you sitting in the middle of the road?” “It’s awfully comfortable down here,” answered the man. “I suppose you’ve never sat in a road before?” “Never,” admitted Botherby. “Well than,” replied the man, “Now’ the time to try.” “Right,” said Botherby, “But only briefly. I have a country to save.” “Country to save,” said the man, “May I help?” “Absoloutely,” said Botherby. Both of them stood up and dusted off there clothes, than borded the wagon and set off.
“So,” asked Botherby, “who are you?” “Me?” asked the man, puffing up his chest, “Why, I am Biscotti the Great, Magician.” Botherby couldn’t help wondering why a magician would be named after a pastry that tastes particularly good with coffee, but he said nothing.
0
0
-
24
Elasse-Adael
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 22:16oh! oh! oh! Nano!! I have a MAJOR question! Can you sign up for Nano yet? I heard about it last year when November started and I want to sign up this year but I haven’t seen anything on their website about it yet…
0
0
-
25
Elasse-Adael
in October 3rd, 2005 @ 22:28Err… yeah Hi Parm(andiriel) and WELCOME BACK PHOENIX!!! You guys have inspired me…. I love to read and come up with outline-y things for storys in my head but I never write anything except things for school and my journal (paper one not online though I have an online one as well) every night. Maybe Nano will get me inspired… ^_^ And I like your guys’ writing though I haven’t fineshed some of it… I shall read it when I get a chance because I’m rather busy. because of my busy-ness I’m not expecting to finish 50K for Nano so I’ll just have fun and maybe inspire myself to write more…
0
0
-
26
randomrohanfreak
in October 4th, 2005 @ 15:38I love your story, Pheebs! Mong cheese… heehee…
I am way too fond of that three dot thingy. Does anybody know what it’s called, by chance? Anybody? Oh, well. I just like calling it the three dot thingy. So, am I correct in assuming that in this thread (yes! I finally figured out what a thread was! That’s pathetic, I know.) you’re supposed to post some of your writing? I’ll do that anyway. MWAHAHAHAHA!
0
0
-
27
randomrohanfreak
in October 4th, 2005 @ 15:59Soooooooo… here goes.
Her nostrils flared, exposing the fact that allergies were probably the bane of her existence. Meaning that there was a lot of snot in them. Her nostrils, that is.
She was the Underling of the Society of Trackers. This was actually a very prestigious position. It entailed all sorts of glorious work, like emptying chamber pots for the more high-up-on-the-social-ladder Trackers, taste-testing the oatmeal for poison, and being shoved down priest holes when she got too annoying.
Enitora loved her job.
There was something very thrilling about trying to wiggle her way out of the tiny priest hole where YONO THE CAPITALISED (no, I’m not British, I just spell tht way), SUPREME TRACKER AND ALL-AROUND BEST AT FINDING LOST KITTENS, had stuffed her this time. You couldn’t find adrenaline rushes like that when you were an editor and constantly ridiculed by flat black Muses with six spikes for hair.
The size of the priest holes had given Enni the unfortunate view that all priests were midgets, which was why she was sniffing the air so eagerly. She’d read in a book that non-midgets could become midget-like (and therefore escape holes sized to accomodate midget priests) if they detected a certain scent in the air.
However, the book had not specified which scent or what to do if you had allergies. This left Enni with her knee pressing on her trachea, no tissues, and a decidedly un-midgetlike body.
It was at times like this when Enni wished she had become an editor.
0
0
-
28
randomrohanfreak
in October 4th, 2005 @ 17:13I wanna do Nanowrimo, but am majorly scared. I need reassuring comments and chocolate. Oh yeah, and how did you all like my story?
0
0
-
29
Elasse-Adael
in October 4th, 2005 @ 17:29Here is some chocolate, randomrohanfreak! And Nutella. Nutella is always good. I don’t think my nanowrimo novel will be as long as it is supposed to by but I shall try and maybe surprise myself. you should just sign up (for Nanowrimo) and try it and have fun with it. Don’t worry about it, just do it! This is my first year too! I haven’t written anything before either.
0
0
-
30
randomrohanfreak
in October 4th, 2005 @ 17:34Signed up for NaNoWriMo! Yeah! Go me!
0
0
-
31
Pheebs
in October 4th, 2005 @ 19:06Yay, funny little blurb that was, RRF. Go Theoden and Eomer, and Hama!
0
0
-
32
Pheebs
in October 4th, 2005 @ 19:38testing testing one two three
testing testing one two three
0
0
-
33
Pheebs
in October 4th, 2005 @ 19:40Botherby the Cheesemonger
Once upon a time there lived a Queen who disliked gouda cheese. Cheddar, too. In fact, she hated most cheeses unless you served them with mermaid meat, which she didn’t, because she was a vegetarian. So you can basically assume she didn’t eat cheese at all, even if her mother told her too. I imagine your thinking, she should have, because her mother told her! But she was the queen so she didn’t have to listen to her mother. Confused? Don’t worry. Everyone is at first.Don’t assume that just because she was a vegetarian she was a nice person, because she wasn’t. Nice, I mean. Actually, she was a mean person who enjoyed eating fried turnips whilst the commoners trudged about the soot-swept grounds mining coal and trying their best to stay alive, even if it meant eating insects, which not many people enjoy. One day, after around 500 years of slave labour, the commoners decided they should overthrow the queen. (They were a bit slow on the uptake.) But it wasn’t as easy as all that, so they decided that somewhere there was a hero among them who would save them from the queen. This is how they went about it:
1. The main villagesperson would stand in the middle of the square.
2. The main villagesperson would point at the first healthy-looking youth he set his eyes on.
3. The main villagesperson would yell, “I say lad, what’s your name?”
4. The main villagesperson would yell, “What do you want to be when you grow up a bit more?”
6. The main villagesperson would yell, “What will you do at this job?”
5. The main villagesperson would yell, “Not good enough!” and repeat the process over again. Until… “I say lad, what’s your name?” “Botherby Dorking, sir.” “What do you do when you grow up a bit more?” “I’d like to be a cheesemonger, sir.” “What would you do at this job?” “Mong cheese, sir, I suppose.” Silence fell. “You’ll do, lad.”So Botherby took his ass, not as in his bottom end, but as in his donkey, and hauled him home to the small hut where he and his enormous family lived, cheesemonging for a living. His father and his mother were sitting in chairs, as they didn’t want to sit on, say, the cat, or the stove. “Hlo’, Ma, Pa,” said Botherby. “I haven’t got any time,” barked his father, who was in the process of making the cheese that he was to mong the next day. “Ask your mother.” Botherby was not terribly smart, but he was obedient, so he asked his mother, “Ma, I have been hired to go on a quest,” even though her sanity had left her some years ago. “Ask you father, Percival,” mumbled his mother. Botherby obeyed. It went on like this for a few minutes until the words “hired” and “quest” sank in. His father lept up. “So, Per-I mean, Botherby, you’ve decided to abandon your fathers trade?!” “No,” said Botherby, “They seemed to want me because I was a cheesemonger, and there might be a reward.” At “reward,” Botherby’s father began to grin widely from ear to ear. “Well then,” he said, “I musn’t deny your destiny. Do have some dinner, dear.” He sat Botherby down at the table.
The next day, Botherby’s Mother and Father gave him a sack of cheese to eat, a sack to mong, and a sack just in case. He hitched the ass up to the wagon and set off towards the castle.
About half way up the road, Botherby spotted a gaudily coloured splotch on the road. He thought nothing of, it, and continued. A few minutes later, he pulled the wagon to a screeching halt to avoid running over a man who was sitting in the middle of the road. “Sir,” said the ever-polite Botherby, “Would you mind not sitting in the middle of the road?” “Of course,” said the man. he got up and walked stiffly to the side of the road. Botherby passed. the man walked right back to the original place he had been, and sat down again. “Out of curiosity,” said Botherby, out of curiosity, “Why are you sitting in the middle of the road?” “It’s awfully comfortable down here,” answered the man. “I suppose you’ve never sat in a road before?” “Never,” admitted Botherby. “Well than,” replied the man, “Now’ the time to try.” “Right,” said Botherby, “But only briefly. I have a country to save.” “Country to save,” said the man, “May I help?” “Absoloutely,” said Botherby. Both of them stood up and dusted off there clothes, than borded the wagon and set off.
“So,” asked Botherby, “who are you?” “Me?” asked the man, puffing up his chest, “Why, I am Biscotti the Great, Magician.” Botherby couldn’t help wondering why a magician would be named after a pastry that tastes particularly good with coffee, but instead he stayed silent and instead examined the man’s clothing.
Biscotti’s clothing was quite something to see. He wore a blood red turban with gold trim, bright purple silk pantaloons, a neon yellow silk shirt and a hot pink vest over it. Upon his feet he wore orange socks with neon green polka dots and large black shoes with gold-plated curly ends. His skin was a lighter shade of brown, and he had a long beard and moustache all of which were carefully shaped with mousse, the beard into a long verticle point, and the moustache horizontal, straight out to the sides. His hair was concealed within the turban. When Botherby peered at Boscotti’s shoulder, he sa that a monkey, in a bright red vest and fez, was sitting on it with the same dignified expression his master had on. He had tossed a large, dark wood trunk into the back when he boarded the wagon, and Botherby assumed it was his Magician’s trunk of tricks. The boy wasn’t sure exactly what to make of him, which was not surprising, since no one usually did.
It was a good hour later when the traveling trio (Botherby, Biscotti, and the monkey, who’s name was El Fakir) arrived at the castle gate. By this point, Biscotti had become rather bored and had retreated to the back of the wagon. “Ahoy!†yelled the guard. “Who goes there?†“Here?†said Biscotti, rather dazed, pulling a random phrase he had heard somewhere before, “Nobody here but us chickens.†“Just chickens, boss,†said the guard, turning to the head guard. “Meh?†replied the head guard bemusedly. “What? No camels? Oh! Right. Let ‘em through.†And so Botherby, Biscotti and El Fakir tromped across the lowered drawbridge into the castle.
Once they got inside, Botherby remembered it was impolite to ride one’s wagon in the host’s house, so he and Biscotti dismounted and took only the bare essentials in, being a few tricks that Biscotti had hurriedly shoved up his sleeves, and all three of Botherby’s sacks of made but un-monged cheese. They continued down the hallway, until El Fakir seemed to think that jumping on the chandeliers was a good idea, and did so. Having no way to get him down and a time limit, Botherby and Biscotti were forced to leave their primate friend clinging to the crystal chandelier oblivious to their quest.
Botherby was bad at logic. So was Biscotti. El Fakir was not, but he was happily destroying the candelier a few rooms back, so they had no way to get to him. So Biscotti and Botherby had to use their logical skills for about a half hour before realizing that since the queen was queen, she’d probably be in the throne room. Fortunately, there were large maps all over the castle with big red dots that said “YOU ARE HERE†on them, so finding the Throne Room was a simple process. They entered and the queen was sitting on her throne. “What,†she said regally, “Do you want from me, filthy and unworthy peasants?†“Well,†said Botherby, who never lied, “Actually, we’re here to overthrow you.†The queen regally threw back her regal head and laughed regally. “How,†she regally snorted, “Do you propose to do that?†“With grade A, pure gouda unmonged cheese,†said Botherby, thrusting forwards one of the sacks. The queen recoiled regally. “Hmph,†she said regally, “It shall take more than that.†“More cheese?†said Botherby, “I have that too.†He took out his other two sacks. “Not enough!†screeched the queen regally. Biscotti removed tthree books – How To Conjure Cheddar, Charm Your Own Cheese, and Monge Your Moldy Magical Masterpeices – and opened them one at a time. “Cheddary chum, Munstery mum, Gouday glum!†he cried. Suddenly, the throne room was half full with cheeses of all sorts. the queen shrieked as regally was she could manage, whilst both Biscotti and Botherby were in their elements. (Magic and cheese.) “You’ll never defeat me!†squealed the regally shrinking queen, “nev-†and she was quite simply gone. El Fakir bounded into the room. “Well now, said the head guard and his cronies, coming into the room, “that’s an awful lot of cheese.†“Yup,†said Botherby. “Say!†cried the head guard, “Why don’t we have a banquet of cheeses!†“Yes!†cried Biscotti and Botherby. And they did.
The head guard became king and he ruled well for many years, and El Fakir and Biscotti became the kings magicians, while Botherby became the town celebrity. And they all lived happily ever after.
0
0
-
34
ChinTsu
in October 5th, 2005 @ 01:50I’ll send some of my writing, once i get my dad’s computer.
0
0
-
35
randomrohanfreak
in October 5th, 2005 @ 16:23I’m too lazy to be nice like Pheebs and include the whole story so far in the update. It’s comment #27 if you’re interested.
Enni inhaled until her lungs felt like they were going to burst. Literally. Any second now, they’d just go kapoom! and she’d be dead. She pushed her foot against the wall of the hole for leverage, and crushed her windpipe quite thoroughly in the process.
What was it that she’d done to annoy YONO, anyway? She couldn’t exactly remember. It was something like finding a lost kitten before him, even though he was SUPREME TRACKER AND ALL-AROUND BEST AT FINDING LOST KITTENS. AND HIS NAME WAS CAPITALISED TO BOOT. Enni wished that her name could be capitalised. ENITORA had a very nice ring to it.
Concentrating on the present, Enni (alas, not ENNI,) pushed on the wall with her foot until she heard it crack.
Really literally in this case.
She was seeing pretty shiny stars circling her head, which was odd, because she hadn’t hit it.
“Who the #=!! are you?” asked the lead star.
“ENITORA,” replied Enni. A little white lie never hurt anyone.
“Hello, ENITORA, you $!^(#. We are the most #^(%in’ foul-mouthed fairies you will ever meet in your whole )@^$ life.”
Enni was very impressed. This was some serious #^(%in’ foul-mouthedness.
“Take me to your larder,” she said. Her mother had read her a book about space aliens where the aliens had said something like that.
Enni sniffed. “And your tissues,” she added.
0
0
-
36
ebeth
in October 5th, 2005 @ 17:19haha!! lol! very funny.
0
0
-
37
Phoenix
in October 5th, 2005 @ 19:58nice stories, guys! sorry I’m a bit slow to the uptake, but look for my comment in the Oct. thread for an explanation. Anyway, yes, Pheebs, my story is about human sacrifice. Originally it was supposed to be about the worship of Moloch, but that was too sad, b/c it involved people sacrificing thier own children–horrible! so I just made up a worship.
0
0
-
38
Phoenix
in October 5th, 2005 @ 20:56riddle:
[
[
H(a)[ H(b)
[
[
okay. the [s represent an endless river. a ferryman has a boat on the river, and he is willing to transport various items across. He is dishonest, however, so unless the item is locked in a box he will steal it. Th boat is only big enough for the ferryman and 1 piece of cargo.
H(a) and H(b) are houses, belonging to a docter and an ordinary person. One day the person falls deathly ill, and the docter person has the only cure. If each person has a box, a padlock, and a key to thier padlock (and thier padlock ONLY), how does the doctor get the medicine across without it being stolen? (oh yeah–and stealing the boat is NOT an option. When I told my mom this riddle, she said, “well, the docter taked the box and hits the ferryman on the head, then stals his boat… this is NOT the right answer, people!)
0
0
-
39
Phoenix
in October 5th, 2005 @ 20:58oops. messed up. try this:
[
[____
H(a) [H(b)
____[
[
[
[I guess the river curves.
0
0
-
40
Phoenix
in October 5th, 2005 @ 21:28or, just this:
H(a)
____________H(b)
0
0
-
41
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 5th, 2005 @ 23:39Phoenix, can the ferryman take a person plus a piece of cargo all at once? or just one or the other?
0
0
-
42
MontgomeryGurl
in October 5th, 2005 @ 23:51Hey Rosanne, you stil there? I’m over here in museblog with no one to talk to *sniff* because everyone got off.
Anyway, guess what? I have home-school speech and debate tomorrow. Speech isn’t very fun, but I love debate! I get to argue with people, including one very good friend of mine. It totally rocks!
0
0
-
43
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 6th, 2005 @ 01:41Hi MontgomeryGurl.
I just logged on for a sec before calling it a day. I’m about to have a big bowl of strawberries and go to sleep.
Have fun debating! What’s the topic?
0
0
-
44
ChinTsu
in October 6th, 2005 @ 02:21Here’s a dumb riddle that everybody knows.
I am a monster from which you only can hide
In the hard earth or in the wide skies
I live all my life to eat and consume
but I fear to drink, for it holds my doom
0
0
-
45
MontgomeryGurl
in October 6th, 2005 @ 09:37Well Rosanne, I don’t want to get any debates started around Musers or anything, but we’re debating the resolution “The media’s right to protect confidential sources is more important than the public’s right to know.” I have to write cases for and against that, but I also get to argue with people in class, and I always win!
I don’t know Chin Tsu’s riddle. I haven’t thought that much about it, but it’s probably something very obvious that I would know if I went to school.
Come to think of it, I’m probably the only one on here right now! Whoo, I’m making myself Queen of Museblog for all time, and if no one protests in the next five seconds then the position will be solidofied!
0
0
-
46
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 6th, 2005 @ 09:45Hi, MG! You’re not alone here, I’m afraid. I’m on MuseBlog at the moment.
I’m not sure the question you’re debating really boils down to an either/or. You could argue that protecting confidential sources helps the public to know more, because many people won’t talk to reporters if they’re afraid their identities will become known. Just a thought.
–Robert
0
0
-
47
Queen MontgomeryGurl
in October 6th, 2005 @ 09:58Hey Robert, thanks for the idea! And it’s QMG from now on, you didn’t respond fast enough! Mwoohaahaahaa!!!! *sound of crazed, evil cackling* Whoo *does the I’m The Official Queen of Museblog From Now On happy dance*
0
0
-
48
Phoenix
in October 6th, 2005 @ 14:38to Mr. Administrator (I still don’t know why I call you that):
nope. Not allowed. Only one OBJECT, he dosn’t let people on the boat.
0
0
-
49
ebeth
in October 6th, 2005 @ 16:31wow if Queen MontgomeryGurl’s the QMG can I crown myself Supreme Dictator With The Big Army?
0
0
-
50
ebeth
in October 6th, 2005 @ 17:23omg i named myself Supreme Dictator With The Big Army on the 50th post. how cool its that?
sry just random observation…of random coolness, and…stuff…
btw isn’t this the writing thread? should we move this to the oct. thread or what? just a question…
i hafta write a creative project for school…it’s pretty cool…just a random story…the first bit got an A so I feel special. Wheeeee!!!! now the next bit’s due on my b-day. wow. life is pretty random. and cool. and stuff.
0
0
-
51
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 6th, 2005 @ 17:37thanks for the pie, SAD — GAPA
0
0
-
52
ebeth
in October 6th, 2005 @ 17:06ok nobody’s answering so I am now the Supreme Dictator With The Big Army (SDWTBA. or just Supreme Absolute Dictator for short-SAD)
my big army’s right here. It’s….um…invisible. yah. Invisible. So…erm…uh…yah. That’s basically it. I’ll give a speech if you want. hang on…
Hi! how ya doing today? Good! I am the Supreme Dictator With The Big Army, or just Supreme Absolute Dictator. I do nothing but sit here and gloat. And…um…do…useful things…like…sitting here…and….gloating…and…that’s about it. I can feel special. Wow I really hope this is posted cuz it just occured to me that if the Great And Powerful Admin doesn’t like it…well…sad day. hang on…
……*crinkle* …..psst! hey! GAPA! Come here…*flipping sound* yeah, chocolate and a Muse mag…just post this for me k? One tiny little post right?
GAPA: I don’t know…
…ok here look. Bribes don’t work huh? well then…really sorry about this…Ok koko!
Koko: *jumps out w/ a pie in hand*
…ok threats. I’m threatening you.
GAPA: But I like pie!
….exactly. If you don’t post this, we WON’T throw the pie at you.
GAPA: ….um….
wow that was long and random. plz post or i won’t be SAD! and that would be sad!
now I’m rambling…onandonandon…wow this is waaaaay to long going now…*fingers crossed* postpostpostpost…
0
0
-
53
Pheebs
in October 6th, 2005 @ 19:52If everyone else is gonna have crazy names (Queen Julietani, Queen Montgomery Girl, Supreme Ultimate Executive Chairman or whatever, Supreme Dictator) I hereby name myself Phoebe the Almighty Ruling Force From The Heavens And Therefore Doubtlessly Monarch Of All You People. Beat that, yo.
0
0
-
54
Phoenix
in October 6th, 2005 @ 21:34Hey hey guys, whats all this about? how is poor, succinct Phoenix gonna fit in? I have an idea: I’ll list all my nicknames! brace yourselves…
Phoenix, Solu, Solaris-Luna, Steel Dragonseye, Gray Hawk Girl, Raven, Kestri Salem, Lannet, Windrider, Dungeonmaster, Alanon, Darkwing, Air-Master, Dragonlady, Elenhiril, Gilrean Galathil, High Judge Llien of Gillieth, Kit, Luanon, Paintbrush, Paint, Easel, Blackhood, Poleana, Llama, Elk, Sphynx, Greenstone, Helix, ThreeStar, Silvalode, Onyx, First of Four, Urular, Tree Singing, Shadow, Shade.
Enough for you?
heheheee. I win. Yaaah.
0
0
-
55
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 7th, 2005 @ 02:13Phoenix, I’m still thinking about your riddle when I have a few moments in between other thoughts.
how about this:
The ordinary (but sick) person gives the ferryman her box to take to the doctor.
Then on another trip she gives the ferryman the padlock to take to the doctor.
So now the doctor has the ordinary person’s box and the padlock.
That means the doctor can put the medicine in the box and then padlock it closed and give it to the ferryman to take to the ordinary person.
The ordinary person unlocks it with her key and takes the medicine out.Did I solve it???
0
0
-
56
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 13:33Quetion: Why on earth would the ferryman want to steal some one’s medicine?!??! It makes zero sense to me!!!! How about this; the doctor gives the ferryman a long talk about honesty, and the greater good, and the ferryman breaks down in tears and promises to never, ever steal anything again, and he takes the medicine across for free.
0
0
-
57
Phoenix
in October 7th, 2005 @ 14:08Ms. Administrator:
sorry, no go. Unless the thing is locked in a box, it will be stolen.MontgomeryGurl:
Nice try, but that will only be the answer when I can put my real name on this thingie. Actually, I already have…look carefully…
0
0
-
58
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 7th, 2005 @ 14:23Hmmm. still thinking about the riddle.
does the doctor know how to swim? or can the doctor use a different boat? why bother giving stuff to that shady ferryman anyhow?
maybe the town should build a bridge?
0
0
-
59
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 14:47I agree with Rosanne. I think the whole riddle is a little bit freaky. Why does the normal person have to get the medicine from the doctor on the other side of the river, anyway? I think the normal person should find a doctor she can get to, rather than excepting medicine from some doctor with no name, who entrusts life saving medication to a ferryman who can’t be trusted with a padlock. Oh, and how come the ferryman wil steal anything, but he won’t steal the lock-box itself? I just think the whole thing is bizarre.
0
0
-
60
Phoenix
in October 7th, 2005 @ 15:40You guys! THIS IS JUST A RIDDLE! stop thinking this through so much. The sick guy is too sick to go find a docter, and they live on the Astral Planes so no one can get to him anyway. The river is filled with doctor-eating pirahnas. The boatman is that dude from Greek mythology that ferries people over, and he is stealing the stuff in the hopes that the sick guy will die and he will get another passenger, because he gets paid by the dozen dead people and he only has eleven and the god of the underworld won’t pay him, plus every zillionth passenger he gets ’employee of the month’, and that gint dog thing got it last time. He owns a monopoly and chases all other boatmen away. He has a pathological fear of locked boxes, so he wont steal any. He steals everything else to get the previously mentioned employee of the month award. So stom thinking this through so much, just SOLVE THE DUMB RIDDLE ALREADY!
0
0
-
61
The Lurker
in October 7th, 2005 @ 15:48who hired the ferryman anyway? aren’t there any other ferrymen with boats? I’m gonna go over there w/ a boat and be an honest ferryman-woman-thing. and everybody will go to me and the dishonest ferryman will be out of business and everybody will be happy again.
0
0
-
62
Phoenix
in October 7th, 2005 @ 17:31auuuuuUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
0
0
-
63
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 17:42Phoenix, you shouldn’t post riddles with so many loop-holes. As far as over thinking it goes, that’s just the kind of brain I have! I can’t help it!
0
0
-
64
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 7th, 2005 @ 17:43ok. i need to think about this riddle a little more. don’t tell us the answer yet!
0
0
-
65
The Lurker
in October 7th, 2005 @ 17:51sorry phoenix but i can’t solve riddles the normal way so i just make up whatever works.
0
0
-
66
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 18:10I just thought of some more problems with the riddle! (hee hee hee) If the ferryman gets paid for the dozen dead people, why would he take the medicine across? And if he has a pathological fear of lockboxes, why would he take them across? Why wouldn’t he just run screaming in terror when the doctor handed him the box? And how wide is this river? Because why can’t the doctor put the medicine in the lockbox with his padlock on it, and then throw the key across to the sick person?
0
0
-
67
Phoebe ARFFTHATDMOAYPSMPAGF
in October 7th, 2005 @ 18:19For NaNoWriMo signeth up I did. I did the one for 13 and up becuase I didn’t want to do some stupid young authors thing. I think the word count had to be, like, 500 words and they made a huge deal out of it.
0
0
-
68
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 7th, 2005 @ 18:46on the riddle again:
how about if the doctor pours the medicine all over the box and writes on the box: lick the box!
so when it gets to the sick person she’ll lick it and get all better.
0
0
-
69
Boxty
in October 7th, 2005 @ 18:53Are you telling th truth if you lie in bed?
What does Geronimo say when he jumps out of a plane?
What if the hokey pokey is really what it’s all about?
Whaen cows laugh, does milk come out of their noses?
0
0
-
70
Boxty
in October 7th, 2005 @ 18:54walk on the living, They don’t even mumble.
Walk on the dead,
And they mutter and grumble.
0
0
-
71
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 19:54I think Rosanne hit the nail on the head with the riddle! That’s the best answer I’ve heard yet! Sorry Phoenix, I can’t figure it out, so I’m going to try to save some shred of my honor by analyzing it to death. No, I will not stop it!
0
0
-
72
Phoebe
in October 7th, 2005 @ 19:56Nice Enni story, Ebeth. What’s it about?
0
0
-
73
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 7th, 2005 @ 21:07Thanks, MontgomeryGurl! But I have a feeling Phoenix has another answer. Wonder what she thinks…
0
0
-
74
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 22:34Are you still trying to find the right answer, Rosanne? I’m having so much fun picking it apart, I don’t even really care what the answer is! I think Phoenix posted an impossible riddle, just to be mean. The whole problem is that there is no way to get a key across the river, and if we can’t do that, how are we supposed to get it to where the normal person can open the box? It is so frustrating when I think about the actual riddle, I think I’ll keep on picking it apart!
0
0
-
75
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 7th, 2005 @ 23:30I’m still trying to figure it out, MontgomeryGurl. I really wonder what the answer is! But I don’t want Phoenix to tell us yet because it would be more fun to figure it out first.
I’m not thinking about it all the time — just every once in a while the riddle floats into my head.Hey, maybe by picking it apart you’ll come up with the answer.
0
0
-
76
MontgomeryGurl
in October 7th, 2005 @ 23:47Allright, we need it to end up either that the doctor gets the normal person’s lockbox and padlock somehow, puts the medicine in, and the normal person unlocks it with his key, or the normal person somehow gets the doctor’s key, so the doctor can put the medicine in his lockbox with his padlock and the normal person can unlock it. Any questions?
0
0
-
77
Lizzie
in October 8th, 2005 @ 09:57what if,
the sick person sends their padlock over. nothing else. open.
the doctor takes his/her box, puts the medicine in it, puts the sick person’s padlock on it, closes it (so it locks) and sends it over.
the sick person gets the box, opens it with their key, etc.or the doctor could just put it in a cardboard box, tape it shut, and send it by fedex/ups
0
0
-
78
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 8th, 2005 @ 11:25Lizzie (77),
That’s a good idea, but the ferryman would steal the padlock. The sick person would have to THROW the padlock across the river–and probably is too weak to do that.
If, on the other hand, the doctor were to throw an open padlock across the river…
Well, never mind. What happened to writing?
0
0
-
79
MontgomeryGurl
in October 8th, 2005 @ 11:42Writing went down the tubes untill we can figure out the riddle. It’s all Poenix’s fault! Why did she post the riddle under writing instead of October Surprise? If anyone wants to get back to writing, they should figure out the riddle!
0
0
-
80
Lizzie
in October 8th, 2005 @ 12:30talking about writing, how would you change the following thesis statement (italics) so that the thesis wasn’t a subordinate clause, and still have the transition from the previous statement which I’m not going to put here because I’m tired?:
I quickly realized that high school is more difficult than middle school.
of course, I’m not going to necessarily use the suggestions, but still.. help?
0
0
-
81
Boxty
in October 8th, 2005 @ 13:19It took me along time to write this story so I am going ot post it anyway. I am a really slow typer.
FredThere once was a desk. His name was Fred. He go sat on a lot. Sometimes, people’s bottoms were warm. Rarely, they were wet. Fred didn’t like that very much. It grossed him out a lot.
Now Fred was a good desk. He scrubbed his top with varnish and washed his feet every night. When he sees desks that have bad hygiene, he turns away in disgust. He was a very lean desk. Always. Except for one time…
Fred was in a very good mood. He had just figured out his favorite word: Flamablamablous. Such a word gave him more happiness than he’s ever had before. (Flam-a-blam-a-blous adj. To be extremely excited. Related to something that makes a big boom when it blows up. See flamablamable.) Unfortunately, his happiness was temporary.
It rained very hard during the night and it was still raining when school started. His person was sick today. The person behind him had muddy boots. He put the offending boots on Fred’s seat! How disgusting!
“This is not fantabulastic,†thought Fred. “Doesn’t anyone respect thy neighbor’s desk any more?â€
So when school ended he went to the janitor’s closet to get some 409. He really didn’t like using such heavy cleaners. They made him sneeze. Fred had some difficulty opening the door. He finally got it open. (I’m not quite sure how. I happened to look away right before he got it.) To his dismay, there was no 409! There were many cans of DEET instead. Fred suspected that the janitors’ sniffed them when no one was looking. How did he know? There was an unconscious one lying on the floor.
“Oh well. Somebody will find him when they realize the floor hasn’t been swept and they notice this stench,†thought Fred.
Little did Fred know, Mr. Skunk lived in that closet. Mr. Skunk had been taking a nap and Mr. Skunk doesn’t like to be disturbed. No, Mr. skunk doesn’t.
Mr. skunk was a bitter one. He had no family and he desperately wanted friends. For he had none. Mr. Skunk wished he did, but he didn’t. He wanted some really bad. Yes, Mr. Skunk did…want friends…if I haven’t made myself clear yet. Have I?
Mr. Skunk was angry at Fred. How dare he disturb the skunk during his official naptime? I mean, that’s about as rude as you can get. Of course, Fred was a desk. Mr. Skunk was very prejudice against desks. Especially ones that have a muddy seat and are about to get something unpleasant sprayed on him. Or her. Mr. Skunk couldn’t tell. Did desks even have genders? Mr. Skunk wasn’t sure. I’m not even sure Fred knew. Maybe it’s just some inborn thing to know. Okay, this is totally off subject.
Mr. Skunk got poor Fred right on the noggin. Now he smells. Was there anything that makes gross skunk liquid disappear? Fred didn’t think so. It was such a bummer.
“Great. Now I’ll have to find some tomatoes as well as 409,†he said very crossly. Fro Fred was cross. Don’t blame him though. You would be cross too if you were just sprayed by a skunk.
Then an annoying sister came up and started annoying him.
Go-away,†said Fred angrily. He was not in the mood to be annoyed. (Luckily, my sister went away after I wrote that.) She went away. Only after giving Fred skid marks on his well-varnished top.
“My goodness Fred. You are such a mess today. What did you do? Roll in skunk-infested mud? You should be more careful about stuff like that. By the way, one of them skunks live in that closet.â€
“So I noticed,†thought Fred. “Now go away, annoyingness is not a virtue I admire.â€
Fred was in a rather nasty mood. He felt very flamablamablous (the second def.). Then he heard a scritch-scratching behind him.
“Excuse me sir. I’m very sorry for what I did.†The skunk handed Fred some 409 and a bucket of tomato sauce. “I hope the smell comes off.â€
Fred was touched by this act of kindness.
“Hey, Mr. Skunk, wait! Do you want to come over and bake cookies with me? I find it hard to stir without any hands. Besides, I think you would make a great friend.â€
“Ohh.†Said Mr. Skunk,†I don’t want to be too sappy. Good bye.â€
Fred shrugged his shoulders and walked away. I blinked about fifty times and he finally made it around the corner.
0
0
-
82
Lizzie
in October 8th, 2005 @ 15:39good, only watch your verb tenses.. It also gets a bit confusing in the middle but other than that it’s fairly interesting..
0
0
-
83
Queen Julietaini of Kiador, or Queenie J
in October 8th, 2005 @ 16:17Penelope wondered for the tenth time in five minutes why dentists always had splotches on their ceiling. Were they trying to distract their clients? Did they believe in splotchology, or was it simply a matter of frustrated clientele flinging the tools at the ceiling and making dents? Dentists’ businesses were clouded in mystique. There were a few in every town, so why did everyone go to the one in the next? Why did the receptionists persist in wearing magenta suits? Penelope made a mental note to ask someone who would know.
Finally Mr. Fritcher was done. He grinned amiably, then pulled off his foul-tasting plastic gloves (they’d been in Penelope’s mouth for ten minutes, so she knew this) and tossed them in the wastebasket. Penelope got up, thanked him, and left in a hurry.
It was one of those autumn days that bit like a rabid chipmunk.
Penelope hugged her jacket closer and walked home thoughtfully. She bought a newspaper from a kiosk on the way home, then let herself in to her apartment and shut the door.She knew she should feel lethargic, curl up with a book, and drink hot cocoa until the next day, but somehow she didn’t feel like it. She felt like going out and doing something. Throwing the paper on the kitchen counter, she locked the door again, then stepped out again.
0
0
-
84
MontgomeryGurl
in October 8th, 2005 @ 16:45Here’s another question I have about dentists: Why do they insist on asking you questions and trying to have a conversation with you when they’re in your mouth? Every dentist I have ever been to did this to me, and it is really annoying! The conversations go something like this:
Dentist: So, what school do you go to?
Me: Ah hoe schahd
Dentist: Really! Do you like it?
Me: Ah gas sah
Dentist: What’s your favorite subject about it?
Me: Ah lak mah
Dentist: Really! Not many girls your age like math! What do you like about it?
Me: Ah dunah.
Dentist: you just do huh?
Me: Yah
Dentist: So, what else do you do?
Me: Ah lak tah red
Dentist: Really! What kind of books?
And so on, with the dentist asking questions, and me Giving opened mouthed, unintelligible-to-anyone-but-the-dentist answers that make me feel like a moron! Why do you suppose dentists do that?
0
0
-
85
The Lurker
in October 8th, 2005 @ 19:53yeah dentists can be talkative. except my new dentist didn’t try to get me to answer, she just gave me a load of facts about the bacteria in people’s teeth that i really didn’t want to hear. eeeeewww disgusting. actually it wouldn’t have been so bad as a muse article, read sitting at home w/almost no actual thoughts of your teeth in particular, but in a dentists office, during a cleaning….ick.
my old dentist did the whole conversation thing though. it was pretty annoying.
hang on, how did we get around to talking about dentists? this writing thread just goes all over!
hoom, scrollyscrolly…oooooooooh
haha! “bit like a rabid chipmunk” that’s good!
anyhoo, on to other threads. more ramblings await.
0
0
-
86
Phoenix
in October 8th, 2005 @ 20:07MontgomoryGurl! I am ashamed that one should question my riddle for not having a true answer! And my name is P-H-O-E-N-I-X, not poenix.
here is a clue so we can get back to writing: they are PADLOCKS. Think about the charecteristics of a padlock!
0
0
-
87
MontgomeryGurl
in October 8th, 2005 @ 20:30I ‘m sorry about the typo, P-H-O-E-N-I-X. and I have no idea what the charateristics of a padlock are. How should I? Maybe Rosanne should take over in this one…..
0
0
-
88
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 9th, 2005 @ 00:59OK. I’m thinking about padlocks.
padlocks. You need a key to unlock a padlock. You don’t need a key to lock one, though.
does that have anything to do with it?
0
0
-
89
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 9th, 2005 @ 11:10All,
Please move all future discussion of Phoenix’s riddle to the new “Jokes and Riddles” thread.
Thanks,
Robert
0
0
-
90
Phoebe
in October 9th, 2005 @ 13:36My dentist has loud conversations with people in the oher room whilst inspecting my teeth, and thereofr I occasionally get poked very hard in the gums. Um, ouch.
0
0
-
91
MontgomeryGurl
in October 9th, 2005 @ 14:58Okay, we should really go back to writing now! Great start, Julietaini! I really like it.
0
0
-
92
The Lurker
in October 9th, 2005 @ 16:00hey guys i’m writing more stuff on my creative project. it’s a creative project (*GASP* really?!
) where we get to write whatever we want, just a story. It’s pretty cool. my english class is actually generally pretty cool this year. mostly. some iffyness. wow i made a new word i feel special. anyhoo, that’s what i’m doing on the computer. Huzzah for english teachers that let you write whatever you want for once!
0
0
-
93
MontgomeryGurl
in October 9th, 2005 @ 18:36The day was pretty in that nippy, windy, sunshiny kind of way that Kayla liked so much. She watched the willow trees in her backyard wave at her with their long droppy branches that always made her think of a young widow, sobbing for her lost lover. She didn’t know why they reminded her of that, it must have something to do with her morbid/romantis streak.
Kayla always loved days like this, the wind wipping her hair, the sun keeping it warm enough to be pleasant on those days in fall. But today was somehow void of the appeal it should have held for her. She had tried to go outside and enjoy the weather that seemed made to order for her, but she couldn’t get into the spirt of it, and she was driven inside eventually by haunting thoughts of nothing in particular.
She hated those kind of thoughts. The ones that were elusive and she couldn’t get enough of a grasp on to dispell. They were always vaguely of lost romance, missed oppurtunities, and ghosts of children who grew up too fast. Why did they have to come to her, of all people? her friends never had them, their thoughts were of trivial, unimportant matters that were completely foreign to her very nature. Kayla never told them what she thought of. The thoughts were too secret, too elusive to express to someone who did not have them.
She realized with a start that she has gone into that dream like state, half waking and half sleeping, where the weirdest dreams always came to her. They hadn’t come this time, thank goodness, but it was still disconcerting.
Kayla looked out the window, and realized that a storm was blowing up. She loved that time when the sky darkened, the wind blew up and the very flowers seemed foreign and mysterious. She decided to go out, one time before it started to rain. Walking to the door, she prayed silently that she could enjoy this walk. She needed to clear her head, without the distraction of hauntingly romantic thoughts, seemingly from another generation. “Maybe I’ll be granted this one hour,” was her thought as she closed the door, and hugged her sweater around her tight, in preparation for the lonely wind she knew was blowing.
0
0
-
94
Queen Julietaini of Kiador, or Queenie J, Punctuation STICKLER
in October 10th, 2005 @ 09:55Penelope stepped out into the street with a will, only to be accosted by the man who lived under her. He was named Kirk, and was around 50. More importantly-and noisily-then this was the fact that he played a tuba in the Ynothna Ts. polka band. Ynothna Ts. was the name of Penelope’s city. It was originally meant to be called St. Anthony, but the name had gotten mixed up somewhere in the Reagan administration paperwork and the inhabitants were too busy explaining this to all the tourists to do anything about it. They were also very cross for this reason. Like Kirk; well, that’s an extreme example, really. Kirk was a large, fat, balding man with a temper and a suspiciously red complexion.
Despite this, and much to Penelope’s dismay, the Ynothna Ts. polka band was assembling in the driveway. Penelope could always hear them from her flat; from this she knew the practices were about five hours long. Kirk, however, cared nothing for Penelope’s reasons for venturing outside at this moment and thrust an accusing finger in Penelope’s face.
“Now, lady-”
“Penelope.”
Kirk rolled his eyes and stomped. The ground shook. “It don’t matter. Anyhow, don’t play any music until seven tomorrow. The band’s got a big tournament next Friday, and if you ruin this for us, I’ll grind you to little bloody bits and pound you into a pulp-”
Penelope had stopped listening. Her mind was whirring, trying to find a method of staying out all night and how long it would be until someone would call for her.She wasn’t yet making enough money as an independent computer ware designer to hire a secretary, but she certainly intended to. Anyway, people were calling, and she couldn’t stand to miss them.
Nodding to Kirk, she fled down a street without looking and found herself someplace else entirely.
0
0
-
95
Phoebe
in October 10th, 2005 @ 13:29My sister just gave me a lecture on how hard it is to write 50,000 words in a month. Way to discourage you sister. I wrote the Cheesemonger Story in two days, which was 1586 words.
Off the top of my head:
0
0
-
96
Phoebe
in October 10th, 2005 @ 13:30Never mind about the top of my head part.
0
0
-
97
MontgomeryGurl
in October 10th, 2005 @ 15:16Kayla stepped on to the porch step, and immediately felt as if all the world was sharing her troubles. the gray sky, rushing wind, even the lake that was the center-peice of the neighborhood she lived in all seemed like they would understand the thoughts that filled her head day-in, and day-out. That lake, quivering and shaking in a way that was partly menacing and partly afraid, would know what she meant by “vaguely romantic thoughts” and “ghosts of lost oppurtunity”. Kayla didn’t feel any better, in the sense that she still had irritating thoghts floating about her mind, and she still hated them, but now at least she was in sync with the world, and she didn’t feel quite so alone.
Walking down main road on the sidewalk, she wondered if any of the great minds of history had been plagued by this sort of thing. Did Shakespeare ever have things happen to him in his mind that made him want to scream? Things he couldn’t control, things seemingly separate from him? Did George Washington ever find himself thinking “It’s a nice day for a party, I wonder if Mamma will let me have a party? If she does, I shall invite Beth and Josie for sure, and maybe Gracie,” and so on, about people he had never heard of? She didn’t think so, becuse that sort of thing came out, and she had a feeling that if either of them had had this affliction, or curse, she would get tingles up her spine at the mere mention of their names. Kayla had no idea why she thought that, but somehow she knew it was true.
She glanced around, and noted the flowers bending all the way to the ground and looking as if they were about to snap off. Even they looked alien, and yet, somehow, right now they were her kin. She felt as if those flowers, at this very moment, were her sisters in soul. She shook her head. What a strange thing to think…..
0
0
-
98
Phoebe
in October 10th, 2005 @ 15:55HGTG FanFiction, anyone?
0
0
-
99
The Lurker
in October 10th, 2005 @ 17:09never read any but the book’s so funny i don’t really see how fanfic can match it…
again, can’t talk cuz i never read any…
hey peoples i’m feeling totally not cool cuz i never post any writing, so here’s a bit from my school creative project thingy (the first bit) if you don’t like it, too bad it got an a. (wheeee! i’m happy) oh yah and we’ve been doing mythology in school too so that’s why this is about gods (or gods-who-don’t-want-to-be-gods) i felt totally inspired. but not really. anyhoo here it is. kinda random and strange. actually it’s the most random and strange part in the whole story. yay for randomness! ok now i’m gonna shut up and let you read the story instead of my ramblings on it.
She had been sitting quietly in her seat, wondering like the rest of them why the Water-Lord had called a meeting so soon after their regular one. Soon the Water-Lord got up and stood at the front of the room calling for quiet. He said hello, and apologized for disturbing them, and said over and over how happy he was to see them and all the other random things people say at the beginning of speeches. Sometimes he spent days talking about the weather. He had gotten to the point quickly though, much more quickly than usual.
“Dear friends, I have called you here today for a special purpose, and I think you will all be interested in seeing what I have to show you today. This is an object of extreme power, that I have been working on for some time. I apologize that I did not tell you at the regular meeting, but I wanted to be able to show you the finished project. I am sure when you see it, you will forgive me, and be considerably pleased. I had this interesting idea quite a while ago, and as you can imagine, it took a lot of work to get it ready for the presentation today.â€
“Oh get on with it!†one of the Tree-Kings shouted out. The Water-Lord spent a few minutes being offended, and then resuming his speech (which was a lot shorter all of the sudden) he brought out a small blue stone.
“That’s it?†someone else asked. “That’s what you brought us here for? A rock?â€
“No wait,†another person in the audience said. “He might have something interesting here.â€
“Yes I do!†shouted the Water-Lord enthusiastically. “In this little rock is the Power of the Water!†There was a long pause, and then suddenly everyone was talking at once. This was amazing.
The group that had been brought together were all gods of some kind, although they never called themselves gods. They had at the beginning, and it was all very fun being a god, but after a couple thousand years it had gotten extremely boring. Now they were always trying to get out of doing their jobs, and for the last ten hundred years, none of them had actually been called a god. They had all sorts of names, like Water-Lord, and
Tree-Kings, and Master of the Sun, and many other things like that. Soon someone came up with the brilliant idea of calling them the People-That-Will-Be-Very-Angry-If-Some-Idiot-Calls-Them-Gods, or PTWBVAISIC for short. That isn’t really very easy to say, which meant that they were still called Lords and Kings and whatever else, but it was a new official title for the whole group. Anyway, the idea was that if nobody ever called them a god, they could eventually stop having to be gods and could go far away and live happy, peaceful lives.
Of course, they were still gods, even if they were never called that, and once they realized that it wasn’t a job that easy to get out of they started messing with transferring their power into objects. They figured that if their power was in a rock or some other long-lasting inanimate object, they could drop those things among the humans, and make one of them take over the power. The Water-Lord’s discovery gave hope to the PTWBVAISICTG, and most of them hoped to be living a happy peaceful life within ten years.
Loud voices began calling on the Water-Lord for explanations and instructions but equally loud voices soon called on them to shut up and just let the Water-Lord write it down, and they had been there long enough already. The Water-Lord made a compromise by promising to tell them everything the next day and get someone to write it all down for those who didn’t feel like coming. With that, the PTWBVAISICTG began to disperse, to go eat dinner and spend a tedious five minutes on Human Affairs, which they liked to call HA! They especially enjoyed it when something bad happened to a human in their five minutes (which was equal to a human year) where they could shout HA! in a loud voice and wake everyone up from their naps.
0
0
-
100
MontgomeryGurl
in October 10th, 2005 @ 18:44This thread is about to get really confusing, with Julietaini, ebeth,and me all writing stories on it. I can barely keep up with it, and I’m writing one of the stories!
About my story: Sorry if it gets really weird. I don’t know how it is going to end, but I have a feeling it is going to be kinda bizarre. I didn’t mean for it to, I just started writing and things kinda happened…. Also, I have never finished a story written for fun, so I might be pretty bad at ending it. And I have only started a few, so I don’t have much experince in that area, either. I always just start with a sentence, having no idea what’s going on, and things just develop from there, with a plot line and characters coming in as the story progresses. Just a disclaimer so you know I am not a professional writer or anything like one.
0
0
-
101
randomrohanfreak 'n' Jusenkyo
in October 10th, 2005 @ 21:37I LIVE! I ALSO HAVE NO STORY IDEAS! GO ME!
0
0
-
102
Boxty
in October 10th, 2005 @ 21:48I rather like limericks:
There once was a man from Sinclair
He liked to jump in the air.
When his hair caught on fire
He jumped higher and higher,
And now he’s stuck way up there!
0
0
-
103
Boxty
in October 10th, 2005 @ 21:49There once was a gal from downtown
She liked to dress as a clown.
She made up her face
And saw not a trace
Of her usual pestilent frown.*Go me*
0
0
-
104
Boxty
in October 10th, 2005 @ 21:51My first:
There was an old lady from Rye.
She had a big shoe from the sky.
She hated the hail
Assigned to the pail,
So she had some pie from a guy.
0
0
-
105
Phoenix
in October 10th, 2005 @ 21:51wow, ebeth! I LOOOOOVE your story so much! it made me laugh. You are a really good writer!
I just made up this totaly random story without a plot in math class, and I decided to post it here, so here it is:
The fae wolf crouched beside a boulder, the moonlight drifting across her ebon coat giving her a ghostly look. Her tassle waved slighlty in the hint of a breeze as she gazed down the slope to the scene below her, her glowing yellow eyes golden with fury at the scene below her.
A group of wolves were grouped where the steep hill gave way to flat plain. They were silent except for a few growels of communication and an occasional tiny whimper that was always quickly silenced. The fae stiffened with anger at the heartrending sound. These were Dark wolves–and the whimpers came from pups, kidnapped from Pure and Neutral packs. She was here to stop them.
Eventually, the wolves began to disperse. She would not be able to take the pups tonight. All she wished for was a straggler to follow, so she could locate the Dark pack’s territory. Now there was only one wolf left, a male. She shifted her weight involuntarily.
Suddenly, the brute wolf lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air. He then looked around and gave a lupine grin.
“All right, fae, you can come out now.”
The female stiffened and considered flight. However, running would not get her anywhere, and if she attacked the rest of the wolves would hear. Reluctantly, she rose from beside the boulder, a shadow among shadows, and began to descend the slope. She halted several feet away from the male… (to be continiued).
0
0
-
106
Boxty
in October 10th, 2005 @ 21:52There was an old man from Taiwan
He dreamed of swimming in a pond.
He jumped in the lake
And yelped with a quake,
“This lake is too cold for a fawn!”
0
0
-
107
The Lurker
in October 10th, 2005 @ 22:01hey we should play the story game thing too (besides posting our own stories) where somebody starts and then other people continue it and just keep going…those are fun. whee!!!
oh yah and montgomerygurl-all my beginnings and endings suck so don’t feel bad. the middle part’s more fun anyway.
hey peoples who knows anything about mythology and symbolism? i don’t know if this is really a writing thread thing, but it’s in english class. anyway, we had a big mythology test, and we had a paragraph where we had to find the symbolism, and i couldn’t think of anything so i made stuff up about life and death and choices and i was wondering if u guys knew anything about it? i already took the test, so i’m not cheating or anything.
ok a guy’s walking across a field and he sees a tiger coming so he runs but then he falls over a cliff, but he grabs a root on the way down. then he’s just hanging there and he sees another tiger come up at the bottom of the cliff. Then 2 mice start to chew on the rope he’s holding, and then he sees a strawberry vine and eats a strawberry. it was delicious.
?????? i was totally lost. what do you guys think??
0
0
-
108
MontgomeryGurl
in October 10th, 2005 @ 23:50I’ve heard that story before, but it was in an article about religion. I think it was Budhist or something, and it was about getting in touch with the universe, or not going to the wrong places, or stearing clear of the evil tigers in our lives,or cannibalism, or chocolate, no one really knows. Don’t feel bad, if I had that question on a test i probably wuld have passed out.
It’s really weird that you should mention doing a comunal story, because I was thinking about that just a little while ago! But I think we should wait untill some of the stories we’re writing right now to get finished.
Now Phoenix is posting a story, too!! I think I should go ahead and figure out what is going to happen in my story. Now my story is going to look even worse next to the hilarity of ebeth’s, and the incredible plot lines and development of Phoenix and Julietaini’s!!
0
0
-
109
MontgomeryGurl
in October 11th, 2005 @ 10:04Back on your story, ebeth. I think probably your teacher read it somewhere, and was just as lost as you were. Probably her/his exact words were “WHAT?!??!! He ATE the strawbery?!!??!!” He/she then decided to give it to you and the rest of the class, in the hope that one of you would come up with the answer! When it said, “what is the symbolism in this story,” it really meant, “what is the symbolism, because I sure as heck don’t know!!”
Actually, I think it has something to do with not fighting the destiny appointed for you (the tigers waiting at the top and bottom of the cliff) and getting what enjoyment you can out of your circumstances (enjoying the strawberry even though he was about to be devoured). As I said before, I read it in an article about different religion. It was Budhist, and the Budhists said that the story defined their religion, and Budhists have always been kinda go-with-the-flow, so I think it was about that.
0
0
-
110
The Lurker
in October 11th, 2005 @ 16:04nah u don’t know my teacher. she’s like obssessed. she does this stuff all the time. when we watched clash of the titans, she was stopping it like every 5 secs to tell us what this or that symbolized. but that’s ok, i would be very suprised if you actually knew that. I would rush over to wherever you are and lock u in a closet and start selling tickets. COME SEE THE PSYCHIC PERSON!!! WHEE!! ok now i’m being totally random.
i have writing to do. school stuff. i really don’t feel like it. but i have to do it anyway. maybe i’ll post it here. who knows…
0
0
-
111
Queen Julietaini of Kiador, or Queenie J, Stickler for Accuracy
in October 11th, 2005 @ 17:11Someone was playing one of the loudest records she had ever heard. Sequins, glitter and reflective surfaces made the entire scene, and the people dancing, drinking, and talking in it, bright enough to blind pedestrians and make Penelope’s eyes water.
Penelope stepped cautiously into the scene and was rushed upon by about thirty rabbits who jumped over her. Penelope blinked, then crouched. She was standing in a building made entirely out of glass. Suddenly she had an urge to throw a rock at somebody, but instead stood up, jammed her hands in her pockets in an attempt to look casual and smiled.
“Hello,” said a timid voice behind her. Penelope turned, hoping she looked effortlessly cool being here. It was Kirk’s sixteen year old stepdaughter, Melanie. Penelope smiled at her. It was hard being Melanie. Penelope knew this because she could hear the fights from her apartment.
“Hello,” she said. “How are you?”
“Ugh,” Melanie replied. “Kirk’s gotten me out of the house until tomorrow. Where are you staying over?”
“A friend’s house,” Penelope said, relaxing.
“Have you asked this friend?” Melanie wanted to know.
“No. I’m sure he’ll let me, though.” Penelope shrugged.
“He’d better. Kirk’s having a whole week of these. In a row.” Melanie said this as though she were passing on to Penelope her death sentence.
Penelope opened her mouth to swear violently, thought better of it, and then frowned extremely disapprovingly. “I hate not being able to sleep in my apartment.”
Melanie laughed hollowly. “I feel your pain. Where are we, anyway?”“St. Anthony’s harbor mouth,” said a voice behind them.
0
0
-
112
The Lurker
in October 11th, 2005 @ 17:39ooh cliffie! who does the voice belong to? tune in next week for…ok never mind.
cool story though!
oh yah how come the city’s named ynothna ts. but the harbor’ s St. Anthony’s? did the harbor-naming people…*gasp* get it right??!!
lol! i might post something today…i mean writing stuffins…cuz i have a thingy due tomarrow so i might put it up here. I’m writing it like right now. except not, because i’m commenting. but NOW i’m going back to writing. that is, when i finish the sentence. And move the mouse over to the submit button. And click it. Which would be now. Except that i have to spend time typing “now” which means that i’m not actually doing it then, I’m doing it now. ish. arrgh. I give up. i’m leaving peoples. time for some more lurking. *lurklurklurk*
0
0
-
113
Phoenix
in October 11th, 2005 @ 18:45ooh, I know what the straberry/tiger/mouse thing means…I thinks. I’m kinda good at sybolism.
anyway, the tigers are death. the mouse nibbling on the rope is Time. The strawberries are Life and Awareness. the point is that you cannot avoid death, b/c it will get you eventualy, but you should still make the most of what time you had. Or something like that.
I think turn stories are a great idea!
Robert (I have now decided to stop calling you Mr. Administrator), can you assign who is to continiue whose story? that is, if everyone agrees…
0
0
-
114
MontgomeryGurl
in October 11th, 2005 @ 19:07I agree, I agree!!! I don’t know how I am going to finish my story, and I was about to start freaking out because I kinda got stuck. To whoever gets mine: Kayla gets these weird messages from a different time period. They just float into her head, and she can’t control them. I thought you might want to know, so you aren’t totally lost about what to do….
0
0
-
115
The Lurker
in October 11th, 2005 @ 20:13I agree! I thought it was funny though how you called him Mr. Administrator…very cool.
but now you don’t call him that…*sigh* it’s ok, i just liked the Mr. Administrator thing…
oooh montgomerygurl that sounds interesting!! it sounds very history-geekish…my kinda thing. lol!
you know what we could also do, is we could have everybody write the next bit for a story, and see how they’re all different…like have the first part, then everybody writes the next part and posts it, and keeps going in different directions and then you end up with a bunch of totally different stories from the same beginning…
we better not start all that on this thread though, or this is gonna get confusing…
i’m writing right now…i need a couple more pages though. it’s for school and it’s due tomarrow. arrgh.
0
0
-
116
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 11th, 2005 @ 20:36Phoenix called Rosanne “Mr. Administrator,” too.
0
0
-
117
MontgomeryGurl
in October 11th, 2005 @ 20:44Ha ha!!! That’s funny!!!
0
0
-
118
Phoenix
in October 11th, 2005 @ 20:46ok, not wanting to break a tradition, I will still call him Mr. Administrator. And if we want to continiue the stories, we should do it on a dif. board, like ebeth said.
ya know, ebeth, you are lucky you have such an established legacy!
If I stopped being Phoenix, would everyone still call me Phoenix?
0
0
-
119
MontgomeryGurl
in October 11th, 2005 @ 20:53Yes, if you changed it to someting that totally didn’t fit you!! Go back to ebeth, Lurker, go back!!!!!! You ARE ebeth, not some abstract Lurker!! I don’t like it at all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
0
0
-
120
The Lurker
in October 11th, 2005 @ 20:59I would call you phoenix phoenix! maybe. i might call you by your new name, just cuz i always get u and phoebe mixed up…aah! beware the phoes! ha! that’s funny that sounds like foes! beware the foes…ok ok.
still writing my story…and having no ideas. *sigh* i went and had some oreos though so i’m hopeful (yes! sugar gives me ideas! and if you think that a couple oreos are bad, you should see how much diet coke my mom drinks when she writes!!! my brother and my dad don’t eat or drink when they write though.)
arrgh…the problem is, i already wrote all the backstory. now i have to think of a plot. grr. I like backstory. backstory is my friend.
i actually don’t even like to write with much of a plot, i like random craziness. but i need a plot or i get bad grade. grr. going off to write evil plots now.
0
0
-
121
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 11th, 2005 @ 21:08humph. well fine be that way! lol! jk!
i like being the lurker though. it’s something that people can wonder about in the middle of the night-“is the lurker lurking now?” mwahahahaha.
actually everybody still calls me ebeth which is pretty cool!
wow i’m using lotsa smileys today.Hear Ye Hear Ye! Let it be known among the general population of MuseBloggers that from this day forth i shall be Ebeth The Lurker! Just Because! arrrgh! Fear me! That’s right! Flee from my randomness!!! MWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
ok yes i had sugar. wheee!!!!
0
0
-
122
MontgomeryGurl
in October 11th, 2005 @ 23:39Hooray, back to Ebeth!! I keep on thinking about that old Muse Q&A column where someone said that sugar actually does not make you more hyper. That’s right Ebeth, now you have no excuse!! At least, if I’m right in thinking that that was in a column. Am I?
These stories should definetly be sorted out some how, especially if we start mixing up who writes what. I would like to do that, but four people are writing stories at once, and people are talking about some kind of joint story. I think everyone should start using copy+paste to get the previous installments of their stories down to the comment box, then we wouldn’t have to scroll through all the other posts to get to the one that tells us what happened before. I think that might help make it less confusing.
0
0
-
123
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 11th, 2005 @ 23:50About sorting out the stories: when you continue a story from a previous comment, why not just give the number of that comment? Then people can easily scroll back and see where it came from.
About Ebeth’s strawberry story (comment 107, was it?): I don’t think it’s symbolic in the sense that everything in it stands for something else and can be read like a code. I think it illustrates a way of thinking about life. What do you do if you know that you’re doomed? Time is running out, there’s no hope, the mice are gnawing through the rope, and you’ve got two seconds left to live. What do you do? Scream your lungs out and surrender to mindless panic? Probably, in reality. But in the story, the guy on the rope takes time out to eat one last strawberry–and enjoys it. The storyteller seems to think that’s a good idea.
Now suppose that instead of two seconds, you’ve got 50 or 60 or 80 years. That’s a lot more time–but it’s still a blink of an eye compared with the age of the universe, and you’re still doomed at the end of it, and you know that now. How should you spend those 50 or 60 or 80 years? Worrying about death and complaining that life is too short? Many people do. What would the storyteller advise?
MuseBlog is a forum for Musers; we Adminstrators are just here to nudge things along once in a while. But for what it’s worth, that’s how the strawberry story looks to me.
–Robert
0
0
-
124
MontgomeryGurl
in October 11th, 2005 @ 23:58We could do that, but we could also just copy the story and then paste it in the comment box before we write the rest, or would that get too long? Just wondering.
And was there a Q & A column about sugar making kids more hyper? I think there was, but I could be wrong. I guess I could always just go check my stash of Muses, but I’m lazy and this seems easier.
0
0
-
125
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in October 12th, 2005 @ 00:10Yep, there was a Q&A column on whether sugar makes kids more hyper. It ran back in January 2004. You can read it here: https://musefanpage.com/NewFiles/q%26a_04.html#sugar
0
0
-
126
Queen Julietaini of Kiador, or Queenie J, Stickler for Accuracy
in October 12th, 2005 @ 09:07The city is Ynothna Ts., but everyone else corrected their names.
I think the whole strawberry fiasco means that there are light spots in dark places. I thought the story-field, goes into cliff, (?) didn’t make sense at ALL. ALL, I TELL YOU!
cont. from 111-
Penelope and Melanie spun around. Behind them was a middle aged man in a business suit. He was short, a little plump, and had a very depressed look on his face-normal. “It’s St. Anthony’s harbor mouth,” he said. “A ship has just come in. It happens-oh, every two months. Anyway, we throw a party. Awful business. You spend all the money you earn buying people drinks.”
0
0
-
127
MontgomeryGurl
in October 12th, 2005 @ 10:44I think the strawberry/ tiger story was just a dumb story, and it doesn’t really matter what it means! I mean, come on, the guy ATE the strawberry!?!? How dumb is that? It was totally non-reality, and I don’t think people should use such idiotic storys to illustrate a point, but that’s just my opinion.
Wheee!! I’m so glad to here that there was a culumn about sugar making kids more hyperactive, because I have been quoting it to parent who say “he’s just had too much sugar,” to avoid dealling with their kid’s bratty behavior, and it accured to me that I wasn’t really sure if that WAS an article, so you have relieved my fear that I was a fraud. Thank you.
0
0
-
128
Phoenix
in October 12th, 2005 @ 13:59continiued from #105:
…She halted several feet away from the male, waiting for a response. She did not have to test her patience, because before long he spoke.
“‘Ello, fae, what’s a femme doing in this dark place? Do you have a name?”
The female paused, and then she said, “I have many names. I am here for many reasons.” She smiled, a toothy wolfish grin. “I am here to bring death. And to restore life.”
The male growled suddenly, his good humor gone. The she-wolf stepped back even further. “I cannot allow you to bring ill tidings to my pack, fae, for I am Guardian. Tell me your name and buisness, or you shall come no further.”
Once again the ebon wolf considered before she spoke. “Very well, Guardian. I shall reveal my name–but my buisness is my own. You would do well not to force it from me.” She bared her fangs in warning, and then continiued. “I am called Vengance. One of your pack knows me as another, but that is between me and him. I request that you take me to your Alpha.”
“Do you seek entrace to our pack? You don’t look dark.”
Vengance flicked back her auds in yet another warning. “that is between me and your Alpha.”
Guardian bowed his head in aqiecsance, and then turned. “very well, Vengance. Follow me.” he walked into the gloom, and the she-wolf followed.
0
0
-
129
Phoenix
in October 12th, 2005 @ 14:10please, guys, I REALLY want to do a round-about! I promise I’ll do a more lighthearted story! promise! Here is a sum-up of this story, so if we start one I can do a less dark one: Vengance is a loner, and the alpha of the pack, Kiro, is her father. Her mother, Orchid, was a Pure wolf, but she was a war captive, and before she died she had 3 pups: Vengance, Killara, and Snow. Anyway, at age 2 she died and Vengance escaped, but didn’t manage to take her siblings with her. Now Vengance is four, and she came back to rescue Snow and Killara, who are now adults, at 3. Her father named her Dark Moon Rising, and she is tecnically Kirosir, but she dumped her father’s name when she ran away. So her father recognizes her and wants to ill her, but she says she wants to be in his pack, so he lets her in, and she rescues Killara, but Snow dosn’t want to leave because he is the Beta and future alpha, and when she tries to escape with Killara he tries to kill her. Nice family relationship, huh? Well, finally, Kiro falls to his death, and Snow becomes Alpha, but he leaves them alone because he is too busy trying to get everyone to listen to him. Vengance and Killara go to a Pure pack and join, and I havn’t worked out what will come next yet. Okay, now can we start a round-about? please, pretty please Mr. Administrator?
0
0
-
130
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 12th, 2005 @ 14:51
0
0
-
131
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 12th, 2005 @ 17:27very deep GAPA, very deep. I spend my short little life in random insanity.
WHEEE!!!
yay for round writing! fun stuffins.
good stories peoples! yay this is fun reading.
0
0
-
132
Boxty
in October 14th, 2005 @ 17:22Balloon
Floating.
Flying.
Little kids crying.
Nasty kids trying,
To pop the poor balloon.
Flying over ocean mist,
Trying to see stuff in the dist,
But only seeing fog.
Going up to see the stars,
Only to be popped on Mars,
And wasting away forgotten.
Thinking of the girls and boys,
Balloon had once been their toys.
All grown up and no one knew,
That the red balloon was thinking of you.
Sighing with despair,
Breathing in the air,
That wasn’t really there.
Hearing the joyous sounds of kids,
Going towards the bid
That the sound was really fake.
Tasting the sorrow,
That will come tomorrow,
And always stay with
Balloon.
0
0
-
133
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 15th, 2005 @ 19:11aww poor balloon! that’s sad.
*ebeth goes off to cry. people see her crying and ask why. she says she’s crying over a balloon. they say, “aren’t you a little old for balloons?” ebeth goes insane and starts beating them up shouting “YOU’RE NEVER TOO OLD FOR BALLOONS!!!!!!!!! ebeth then sits down to cry some more.*
ebeth thinks that that was an awesome poem. yay boxty!
0
0
-
134
KitKat
in October 15th, 2005 @ 23:05The Man and the Dove
Once upon a time in a small forest, that shone with golden light, and the light shone upon cedar trees, there was a dove. The dove was young and gentle, with a heart of gold and silver mingled together to create a ultimate pleasure. Then one day, a man who wore fur bots and a fur coat and a matching cap came trudging into the forest.Well, I’m getting sleepy.
0
0
-
135
KitKat
in October 16th, 2005 @ 12:56Alright. Now that it’s not 11:05 pm at night, I shalll finish my story up.
The man was never fond of anything but grey skys, and dark lands. So he came across the dove who tried to perch on his shoulder. He shook the dove off. And the dove fell to the ground, not understanding hate or rejection. Sadly, the dove flew off. And the man walked on. As he ventured deeper into the forest, he began to grow hungry and thirsty, but the only thing there were dark thorns, stained red from the previous visitors. He still ventured on. Soon, his hunger and thirst was unbearable. He yearned for the slightest satisfaction, and he let out a cry like a wounded dog. Soon, the gentle dove came back bearing berries, and a leaf filled with water. The man took them eagerly, and new friendship bloomed. The dove forgived the man and befriended him, until one day his wing broke when he was flying through the forest. The man was nowhere to be found. Tweetering helplessly, it sat there waiting for fate to take hold of it. Then, the man appeared, the mud sticking to his boots from his long search looking for the dove. Gently, he placed it in his hand, and went back to nurse it back to help. Now there was a meadow in this forest, with dark black soil and light, tanned seeds. These seads were flower seeds that had never sprouted or bloomed, no matter how much rain, sun or nutrients that they recieved. It seemed that they were waiting for the right moment.
Okay, you can choose now.
a) happy ending
B) the real ending which is unbearably sad.
a) and the dove made it back and lived on and played with the man and the watched care bears every morning and ate cereal and played on their x-boxes.
b) But the dove could not be healed. Burning tears formed on his eyes, and slowly the dove’s pain got the best of him. The man, thinking that maybe the seeds from the meadow may have healed his beloved dove, decided to take him to the unblooming meadow. There, he stayed with the dove who slowly died until the weather, starvation, and dehydration go the best of him. He died. And then, as if asked to, the flowers sprang up from their cursed bed, and from an aerial view, it read “Friendship.”
Okay. Now I want you to vote.
A) was better.
B) was better
C) I don’t like either of them.And also which smiley do you like better
a)
b)
C) =)
(Personally, c looks more like a smiley.
0
0
-
136
KitKat
in October 16th, 2005 @ 12:57What?! a was this
and b was this
and then of course there’s D which is this
0
0
-
137
KitKat
in October 16th, 2005 @ 13:25Oh, and Phoenix, you should really consider publishing Dragonseye. That’s the best “book” I’ve ever read!
0
0
-
138
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 16th, 2005 @ 18:34wait i thought the D didn’t work. ok experimentation time.:-D
0
0
-
139
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 16th, 2005 @ 18:34or maybe this
0
0
-
140
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 16th, 2005 @ 18:35oooh there we go then.
0
0
-
141
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 17th, 2005 @ 16:39hey kitkat about ur story what about D) I liked both of them?
It’s NOT THERE!!! AAAAARGH!!! HEELLLPP!!! THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END!!!!!!!
I just found out that i have to write a 20 minute speech. ouch. i don’t even know what it’s supposed to be about yet. she just told us early so we could spend our days worrying about it. *hiss* eeevil…
0
0
-
142
KitKat
in October 18th, 2005 @ 14:10
cool+cute
0
0
-
143
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 19th, 2005 @ 22:19why does nobody pooost heeeeere? I shall post now. becuase just because because just because i felt like it because.
i have more creative projects….i we do them through the whole year….arrgh!!! just kill me now, will you?!! stop dragging out the torture!!!
oh vell it’s better than a lot of projects you see…
hey i got my myth test back people! we went over the strawberry thing a bit…like you can’t escape death and all that…i actually liked the GAPAs idea better but it was all supposed to be mythology-related so yah…
um. well. so. whazzup? who’s doing…what type of….writing…thingy? come on peoples, don’t tell me nobody’s writing anything share your stooooorriiiieeees so we has something to post!!!
DON’T LET THE WRITING THREAD DIE!!!!!!!!!!!! it’s been…what? 32 hours? ok yah i’m sadly obssessed. so sue me. I CAN BE OBSSESSED IF I WANT TO OK?!!! JUST STOP BUGGING ME!!! leammealooooone *sulks*
sry people random fit of late-night teenagerness. i g2g now.
0
0
-
144
KitKat
in October 21st, 2005 @ 20:17Please!!!!
I’m having trouble writing this book that I’m planning on maybe getting edited and sent to a publisher. But guess what, in the middle of the book, when everything was going okay, I got.
WRITERS BLOCK!!!!
nnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!
Please! Alert! All good writers who have written books or plan to please give me advise. And how do you get writers to come to your school?
0
0
-
145
Robert Coontz (Administrator)
in October 21st, 2005 @ 23:26Writers usually have flexible schedules and love to get out of the house, so all you have to do is find a friendly one near your school. As an editor, I know a lot of writers. Which state do you live in? Maybe one of my friends is there.
As for writer’s block, one solution is just to keep writing. Write gibberish or baby talk if that’s all that comes out. Just the mechanical act of writing will sometimes break the block if you keep it up long enough.
0
0
-
146
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 22nd, 2005 @ 10:58writers block? two words-due dates. say it’s 9:30 kay? got a nice long paper due tomarrow? got writer’s block? too bad. you’re gonna have to write it anyway. so you do and it works. amazing. and CHOKLIT!!! YAAY! or sugar. my mom writes a lot and she drinks diet coke when she writes. lots of it.
editing rocks btw. i’m gonna be an editor. book editor. yay go me! or newspaper. maybe. ish. newspapers are cool. my dad works at the dispatch. huzzah!
I’m procrastinating. on writing. on writing….the rest of my history project. i didn’t turn it in on the extra credit day. oh deary me. i think i’ll do the title page today
or maybe the religious bit. that’ll be easy. it’s called separation of church+state. there. 20 pts. right there. rock on!
oh wati i gotta explain why? awww….
0
0
-
147
Ebeth The Lurker
in October 25th, 2005 @ 13:03IF YOU ARE READING THIS AT THE HOME PAGE CLICK ON THIS COMMENT AND GET TO THE WRITING THREAD WHERE ALL IS HUSH HUSH QUIET!
0
0
-
148
MontgomeryGurl
in October 25th, 2005 @ 19:00I guess I’ll post something, since no one else seems likely to.
I just finished writing my negative debate case. I wrote it once, but then the program decided to not respond, and I lost just about the whole thing!!!! I was so mad, I could have screamed. But I went back, and now it’s finished. Don’t ask me to tell you what I wrote, I don’t want to think about the reasons why the resolution is wrong anymore. It has a good flow, and makes at least a little sense. I hope.
0
0
-
149
Krissy also known as Kricket
in October 26th, 2005 @ 06:46hey!!!! where’d my post go!!!!
Fine I had Writer’s Block but now it’s gone!!!!!!!!
yeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can WRITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … but now it’s time to go to the bus!!!!! see ya later!!!!!! 
0
0
-
150
Axa
in October 26th, 2005 @ 11:11Mrph.I’m almost done with something I’d like to post, must finish…
0
0
-
151
Kricket (Krissy)
in October 29th, 2005 @ 21:23COME TO THE WRITER’S THREAD NOW!!!!
0
0
-
152
Phoenix
in October 29th, 2005 @ 21:46hi!
0
0
-
153
Kricket (Krissy)
in October 30th, 2005 @ 15:09hi!!!! now what… we should have a short stories thread… to the online book club thread!!!
0
0
-
154
Queen Julietaini of Kiador; Queenie J
in November 6th, 2005 @ 17:01Oh my gosh. 150+ posts, huh? Holy Zarquon singing fish!
Well, of course. I mean, Round Robin Biting-I mean ‘Riting-and suchlike have become very popular, it seemeth to me. Ach, well, I shall just have to mosey along. Things happen on this blog when you miss a week, you know. Can’t abstain from posting too long-there might be a zarking coup or something and you’d miss all the fun. I’ve got to go and see the other posts now, can’t miss ANYTHING.
0
0
-
155
Kricket
in November 12th, 2005 @ 11:57CLICK ON THE COMMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOW!!!!!!!
0
0
-
156
MontgomeryGurl
in November 12th, 2005 @ 16:46What am I supposed to do now that I’m here? I don’t have any stories, but if you want me to I could post my negative debate case. It’s mildly interesting, and I could give you a crash course in Lincoln-Douglas value debate if you wanted me to. If you like to be super analytical it’s really fun.
0
0
-
157
mousie
in November 12th, 2005 @ 19:22post it!!!!!!!
0
0
-
158
MontgomeryGurl
in November 12th, 2005 @ 20:00Okay. I’ll post it here and in the Anti-Chatroom. I’ll explain it there.
Imagine for a moment that you are in a boat, going down a river. You come to a fork in the river. You know that one way leads to where you want to go, and the other way goes down a waterfall. Your friend in the boat tells you that a man on the road said that the way to the left will take you where you want to go, however, he refuses to tell you who told him that. You have no idea who the man who told him was, if he was credible, or if he had some reason to lie.
Resolved: The media’s right to protect confidential sources is not more important than the public’s right to know.
For the sake of clarity, I offer the following definitions:
Media: newspapers, magazines, radio and television considered as a group. (Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary)
Right: Something that is due to a person or governmental body by law, tradition or nature (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language)
Protect: To keep from being damaged , attacked, stolen or injured. (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language)
Confidential: Done or communicated in confidence; secret. (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language)
Source: Someone or something that supplies information. (Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary)
Public: The community or the people as a whole. (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language.)
Democracy: The common people, considered as the primary source of political power. (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language)
Value: Democracy
Value Justification: Our society is built on democracy, and can not function as it does now without it. Without democracy, we would not have many of the other values we hold so dear.
Criterion: Truth
Criterion Justification: Because of the nature of democracy, we must be informed, as you will see in my first contention. We need whole truth to have a democracy.
CONTENTION ONE: An informed public is essential in a democracy.
It is impossible to have a form of government where the people rule thmeselves, a democracy, without a people capable of making decisions, for, in effect, the people are the government. Take for example the case of Stalinist Russia. The people did not know anything but what the government told them, so they therefore did not know of the attrocities Stalin had commited. Many people thought that Stalin represented their views, simply because they did not know what he stood for. The people couldn’t have a vice in a government they knew nothing about. Not only when choosing leaders and lawmakers, but all the time, the people of a democracy must have information, or the democracy ceases to function, for the people are the democracy, and they can not govern themselves without being informed.CONTENTION TWO: Confidential sources hamper an informed public.
If we do not know who is giving us our information, how can we know if it is reliable? If we do not know if the information we have is valid, then we, in effect, know nothing. It is impossible to trust what we have been told of we can not go out and verify it for ourselves.
I know some people say that if we start revaling confidential sources then they won’t come forward and we will know less. However, I think it is more important to be sure
of the purity of the information we already have, before we start trying to get more. After all, as the saying goes, “quality is better than quantityâ€. How do we know anything if we can’t trust what is being told to us? Take what happened at CBS did September of 2004. the station ran a story maligning President Bush, then only eight weeks away from the 2004 election. The report used a confidential source, who it was later proved was not credible. If the documenst CBS used to verify their story had not been proved false, then voters would have been making in November based on flawed information, which could have lead to them picking someone who would not represent their views. We should be able to hold news outlets to a high standard, which we can not do if we can’t investigate their sources for ourselves. We shouldn’t have to just take the journalists word for it, we should be able to investigate their claims for ourselves.a
I hope I have effectively shown you why the media’s right to protect confidential sources is not more important than the public’s right to know. An informed public is essential in a democracy, and the public can not be informed if they aren’t sure who is givingthem their information.
Now let us examine my opponent’s case, and some of the claims he/she made in it….
0
0
-
159
Ebeth The Lurker
in November 12th, 2005 @ 23:20*clapclapclap*
woohoo! go montgomerygurl!! that was good!
i was almost in a debate club…we were gonna start one…never did happen though. at least not yet…
hey i’m gonna post my english hw tomorrow just so you can all sympathize with me and it’s suckiness. seriously i will have like 30 seconds to do it. and i g2g now later people!
0
0
-
160
mousie
in November 13th, 2005 @ 09:13I’m going to post my first few chapters of my story on here later. hey, we should have a debate club in museblog!!!!! how ’bout it, ebeth?
0
0
-
161
mousire
in November 13th, 2005 @ 09:14I think I’m going to change my name…. do you like mousire or mousie?
0
0
-
162
mousire
in November 13th, 2005 @ 09:15or mousire III? or what?
0
0
-
163
Phoenix
in November 13th, 2005 @ 13:55mousie is fine. But no debate clubs! I’m an ad-libber, I speak better with no preperation than with a prepared speech.
0
0
-
164
mousire
in November 13th, 2005 @ 17:16okay, how ’bout a freeform debate club where you just argue about everything that pos into your head?
0
0
-
165
Kricket
in November 13th, 2005 @ 17:20you’re writing a story mousire? wait… did you steal my story??? you evil little trog!!!!!!
anywoo who wants to hear the first few chapters of my story? well here they are! (actually it’s just the 1st and 2nd chapters)
Prologue
Silently, the old man stepped into the circle, and, lowering his eyes to the ground, started to mutter incantations. The trees suddenly sparkled with an unearthly light. The old man took no notice. The trees began swaying so much that they looked like they were dancing. In fact, they were dancing Faster and faster they spun around the old man yet still he took no notice. Suddenly a loud crack interrupted his mutterings. He looked up just as raindrops the size of your fist came pouring down onto his astonished face. He knew what was happening. Horrified, he instinctively took a step back.
“No,†he uttered. “NO!â€
Then he quickly turned and ran as fast as he could out of the circle. After a few steps, he looked behind him and was horrified to see a lighting bolt the size of Consket racing after him. He ran faster yet he knew there was no escape. Just before the bolt reached him he yelled, “Awaken Lady of the Woods, awaken!!!!†Then the bolt struck him dead.
* * *
Miles away in a forest almost identical to the one the old man died in, the trees sparkled. A weeping willow standing dead center in the middle of the forest swayed gently. Then it began to change. Branches melded into arms and legs while flowers and leaves molded into hair. What was once a weeping willow was now a beautiful lady with long brown hair and forest green eyes. She looked around and disappeared with a soft twang like the sound you hear when you shoot an arrow.
The Lady of the Woods was back.Chapter 1
Lana sighed unhappily as she loaded her luggage into the carriage. Ever since they had moved from Tinca she had been sulking for over a month. It figures that right when she had finally settled into their home in Tinca they had to move. Again. Consket was their next destination.
“Come on Lana! We got to go!!!†called Mom from inside the carriage.
“Coming!†Lana called as she began to walk briskly to the car. However, before she even got a few steps, a voice made her turn around.
“Lana, wait up! I got to give you something!!†huffed Rachel. Lana paused in her stride waiting for her friend to catch up to her, smiling a little at the sight of the plump girl come running over to the carriage.
“You could have told me when you were leaving,†puffed Rachel accusingly. “I thought I was an hour early!â€
“Sorry, Rachel. At least you made it.†Lana tried to keep from laughing a little.
“I got up extra early just so I could wrap this thing.†Rachel said slowly regaining her breath.
It was then Lana noticed the package in Rachel’s hand. “What is it?†Lana asked.
“Open it!†exclaimed Rachel.
Lana concentrated with her mind on the wrapping paper. Suddenly, the wrapping paper flew off the package and landed in a neat pile at Rachel’s feet.
“Hey, no witchy stuff!†pouted Rachel, but Lana wasn’t listening.
“No way! Two dragon scales!†breathed Lana with excitement. “How’d you get those? I hear they’re worth 500 gold coins each!â€
“I got them at the local flea market in Allagan for 20 silver coins for them each.†Rachel puffed out her chest. “Good deal, huh?â€
“You bet! Are these the communication ones?â€
“Of course! How else am I supposed to keep in touch with you?†Rachel asked teasingly.
“But why give me two?†Lana asked puzzled.
“Well the way I figure, when you make a new friend in wherever you’re moving to, give this to her and we can all talk together.â€
“I don’t know who I’m supposed to make friends with in Consket, though…â€
“You’re moving to Consket!! But that’s where all the magical creatures live!â€
“I know. I’ll be lucky to even meet a girl my age. Even one with powers.â€
“Well, at least we’ll be able to talk. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a girl your age there. Don’t worry1†said Rachel half-heartedly.
“Lana hurry up! We have to go! Your father’s getting angry,†called Mom.
“Well, I guess this is good-bye. I’ll miss you.†Lana said sadly.
“What do you mean? You haven’t forgotten about our dragon scales now have you? Rachel said feigning shock.
“It still won’t be the same.†Lana sniffed.
“LANA!!!!†yelled Dad.
“I got to go. See you later… or not.†Lana smiled sadly then ran off to the waiting carriage and a very impatient father and cabby.
“Finally! Now we can go,†Dad said signaling to Joe (the cabby) to go.
The journey was long and treacherous, and by the time they got to the halfway point night had fallen. They made camp and Lana, Joe, Mom, and Dad all took shifts to keep watch for the night.
Fortunately the night was quite uneventful and all except for Joe woke up quite refreshed and cognizant of the treacherous day ahead.
Unlike the night, the day was rather quite eventful. Joe fell asleep several times at the reins, and Lana, who had insisted to sit next to him, was just able to steer the horses back on track. Around mid-day they came to a bottomless (literally) trench. Joe stopped the horses just a few feet from the trench. Lana looked around and gave a shout of surprise. Scrambling down from the carriage she ran over to a sign a few feet away from them. Her mom cautiously poked it with a stick to make sure it wasn’t a trap. Nothing happened so they assumed it was safe and went over to read it. The sign read:Welcome to the city of Consket.
Normally we would welcome you in but times have changed.
To enter Consket you must have one magical person in your group.
This person must prove their abilities by moving a pile of rocks to the other side of this trench.
Good Luck!
You have 20 seconds.
Go.Lana glanced at her feet and was surprised to find a pile of rocks there that hadn’t been there before. Suddenly a voice rang out.
“20â€
“19â€
“18â€
“Lana use your powers!†cried Joe.
“17â€
Lana reached for the power deep in her mind.
“16â€
She felt it pulsing through her veins.
“15â€
“Come on,†she thought.
“14â€
Her teeth clenched; her muscles tightened.
“13â€
The magic was stronger now; she could feel it.
“12â€
“Come on,†she muttered under her breath.
“11â€
Her family waited anxiously for the magic to work.
“10â€
“Just a little more,†she growled.
“9â€
Then one by one the rocks began to move slowly across the trench.
“8â€
Lana’s eyes began to glow and her wispy white hair began to fan out.
“7â€
The rocks began moving faster across the trench.
“6â€
Lana began to rise a few inches above the ground, her hands now glowing a brilliant purple light equal to the one in her eyes.
“5â€
Suddenly the whole pile of rocks began to glow and picked themselves up and zoomed to the other side.
Lana sank back to the ground and struggled to her feet.
“Bravo, bravo!!†exclaimed a voice. Lana looked up in surprise.
Out of nowhere (as it seemed) stepped a little brown man wearing an enormous top hat on his tiny head.
“Who are you?†Lana sputtered.
“I should ask you the same question,†piped the little man looking at Lana’s family. “You’ve brought quite a party, now haven’t you?â€
“My name is Lana and this is Joe, my mom, and my dad.†Lana said gesturing to the speechless people behind her. “Now who are you?â€
“I’m Peddercongoga, your guide and guard to and from Consket,†announced Peddercongoga. “But you can call me Ped.â€
“Okay Ped. How do we get to Consket?†Lana wondered for her speechless family.
“Watch,†Ped said, then turned to face the other side and clapped his hands in a way that would take us years to learn. Suddenly a bridge that led to the other side appeared.
“Shall we go?†Ped asked politely. Lana’s family nodded. They crossed the bridge and on the other side Ped whistles and the bridge disappeared.
“But there’s nothing here!†Joe said speaking up for the first time since Ped arrived.
“Is there?†asked Ped mysteriously.
Lana puzzled over what he said for a moment then gaped in astonishment. For gold and silver light flowed over her milky white hair, naturally pale face, and pastel purple eyes. Where there had been nothing before, now stood the golden city of Consket.
End of Chapter 1The Lady of the Woods looked on as Lana moved the rocks with curiosity. In all her days (and there were a lot of them) the only people who had that power were moon people. This girl wasn’t a moon person, she could tell that from looking at her eyes. As Lana crossed the bridge over to Consket, the Lady of the Woods made up her mind. She would follow this girl and find out who she was. Having made her decision, she disappeared so quickly that it looked like the ground its self had swallowed her up. A soft twang filled the silence. The Lady of the Woods had entered the city of Consket.
Chapter 2
Lana could only stare as; Ped led her into the golden city of Consket. The city was beautiful! The houses and streets looked like they were made of gold and silver though when she asked Ped about them; he said that it was just an enchantment. Ped directed them to a large golden building that held all the housing information in it. As they walked down the street towards the building, Ped explained that this was where they could find out where they were to stay. On the way they passed a lone silver house where Ped said that moon people lived in.
“What do Moon People look like, Ped?†Lana asked buzzing with curiosity.
“Trust me,†Ped said. “You’ll know them when you see them. They sort of stand out, if you know what I mean.â€
Finally after a few minutes of walking, they reached the golden information building.
“Wait here while I go check whether you’re registered or not. I’ll be right back.†Ped walked into the building, tipping his hat to the guard troll.
A few minutes later he returned tipping his hat, once again, to the troll. Shaking his head, he walked up to them and announced, “You guys aren’t registered yet, I’m afraid,†he said resignedly. “While we’re waiting, how ‘bout I give you a tour of Consket?â€
“Sure, why not?†Lana said challenging anyone to say otherwise.
“All right, then just set your stuff here and park your horses over there,†Ped said waiting as his directions were carried out. “Now onto the tour!â€
There never was such a tour as the one Ped gave them that day. They went into shops, wandered around in museums, and once Lana swore she saw a centaur. One of the museums stood out in particular.
“Ped, what’s that?†asked Lana’s mom pointing to the museum.
“Why that’s the museum of magical items and creatures. Every magical creature and item is displayed inside. Oh, don’t worry,†he said noticing the look on Lana’s face. “They’re not alive; they’re just statues. Do you want to go in?â€
Lana just nodded. She wondered if she would see what the Moon People looked like as she walked through the doors. Then she looked up. Lana gasped. The museum wasn’t gold inside like she had imagined but scarlet like the shirt her mom had gotten her last week. A large sign indicated that all magical creatures ranging from A-M were in this section of the museum.
“Where are the Moon People?†Lana asked full to the brim with wonder and awe.
“When I said all the magical creatures, I didn’t mean the Moon People. They refused to have their statues on display ‘like an animal in a cage’ they say.â€
“Oh.†Lana said disappointed.
They wandered throughout the room and Lana recognized many of them such as a centaur, a dragon (she had the fortune to see one fly over Albitra one day), and a messenger owl (only for the witches and wizards ages 11-20, the others used ravens). Lana also saw many things that she didn’t recognize such as an equatolope (an animal so bizarre even a picture couldn’t describe it), a griacle (a sort of deer with eyes popping out of its body everywhere), and an indjellu (a shape-shifter that sheds ink out its jet black skin). She was just reading the description of an indjellu (no statue due to it has no original shape) when a cawing sound was heard. As she whipped around, she saw the doorman holding a large raven with a note tied on its leg by the beak.
“Found it in the hallway blabbing ‘bout some message to Ped & company,†said Ted (the doorman) gruffly. “Thought you might want it.â€
He threw the raven at Lana who barely managed to catch it before it fell and left the room. Lana quickly put the raven on the ground before it pecked her. Then the raven got up, straightened his ruffled feathers, and said, “Message for Ped & company!â€
“Right over here,†Ped said kneeling down to look the raven in the eye. “What’s the message?â€
“I don’t know,†said the raven crossly. “Do I look like someone who reads other peoples letters?â€
“Yes,†Ped & Lana said in unison.
“All right, so I do,†grumbled the raven. “It’s your house assignments.â€
“Oh goody, I was wondering when they would get here,†Ped said enthusiastically. “I’m sure we’re all excited about that, right?â€
“But Ped, I thought that we were to go to the records building to receive our housing placements,†Joe said confused.
“Well it looks like they came in early ‘cause they sent them with me,†replied the raven.
“Okay, Joe, Mom, and Dad’s assignment,†the raven announced. “Are they here?â€
“Yep, we’re here,†replied Lana’s dad.
“Okay, you guys are in house 301,†the raven said looking at his sheet. “Joe, you’re supposed to put the horses in the stable out by the house.â€
“Where am I?†asked Lana breathlessly.
“You’re Lana, right?†When Lana nodded he said,†Okay, you’re boarding with… oh my tail feathers.†The raven gasped. “You’re boarding with… Stella!â€
“She is?!?!†Ped gasped loudly. “Wow, Lana, they must think a lot of your power or you’d be boarding with someone else and not the most powerful Moon Person in Consket.â€
“I’m boarding with a Moon Person!!!†breathed Lana in astonishment. She took in a little gasp of excitement, then asked the raven, “ Thank you so very much…. Wait, what’s your name?â€
“My name? Call me Ray,†Ray answered apparently embarrassed.
“Well, thank you Ray. Here, I knew this mini scarf would come in handy one day,†Lana smiled as she pulled out a rainbow woolen scarf that was just the right size for Ray out of her pack.
“Oh, you don’t have to give me anything,†Ray said blushing (now that is a sight to see!).
“No, I insist! Take it!†Lana smiled at the blushing raven whose cheeks were the color of roses already.
“Well, all right. If you insist,†Ray said taking the scarf and wrapping it around his shoulder as he hopped towards the door. “If you ever need anything, I’m your raven!†The he was gone.
A long silence followed the raven as though he had taken all the sound with him when he left. Then, unexpectedly, Ped burped a loud roaring burp. Lana giggled. Then she burst forth into a roaring laugh, which of course set the whole group off. Even the doorman started to laugh. Without knowing it Lana had put the whole city into a boisterous mood from the grumpiest old codger to the saddest little baby. Still laughing, they exited the museum and set off, though they didn’t know it, towards destiny.
End of Chapter 2The Lady of the Woods looked on in wonder as the whole city erupted in good spirits. She watched as Lana came out of the museum laughing a deep roaring laugh. The Lady of the Woods smiled and laughed a girlish laugh. She remembered when she had been so young and carefree. Her name had been Kimika back then before she had become the Lady of the Woods. Dimples appeared in her cheek and she looked radiant as she watched the young girl laugh with her family and friends. In that moment she knew that the girl was special. Smiling even more, the Lady of the Woods disappeared from her vantage point with a soft twang.
did you like it???
0
0
-
166
Kricket
in November 13th, 2005 @ 17:22you like?
0
0
-
167
Phoenix
in November 13th, 2005 @ 18:17great! but, just post each chapter, don’t repeat everything, because it really messes up my scrollbar…
random blurb time! This charecter is my creation for when I couldn’t put in Ruby’s transformation scene *grumbles*
“Jessica! Jessica! wait!”
Jess didn’t wait. She ran, fast and hard, her head down so that her chin pushed hard on her chest with every step, her arms pumping hard. She ran on out of the schoolyard, out of the gates, and across the road. Jumping the ditch with one giant leap, she ignored the rocks and stones in her way, kicking them if they made contact. More than once she stubbed her toes painfully, but she kept on running. Dimly, she knew she was still being pursued, but she didn’t care.
A larger rock loomed in her path, and she jumped a second too late. Jess rolled as she fell, but she didn’t stay down. She spat gritty blood out of her mouth, felt it splatter down her shirt as she kept running, her ankle throbbing with the beat of her running. He was falling behind, she knew.
She kept on running, out of the city, past fields and houses and trees, and then into the wilderness. she dodged past the giant oaks and slender birches, clearing small streams. FInally, she felt the stone under her feet. Why did she have to be so differant? She wished she didn’t have the Shape. She could just stop Shifting, she knew. But she loved it. She loved it and hated it and could not stop.
Jess kept running along the stone. She still did not look where she was going– she never did. It didn’t matter anyway. All there was–the beat of her feet in thier beaten-up sneakers on the hard, bare, raw stone. And then the the stone dropped away, and Jess fell down- down- down- her arms spread wide, embracing the wind, and spread her wings.
_____________Jessica soared back up, over the cliff, over the treetops untill the the city and the countryside and the forest were spread out like a map beneath her. She could feel the muscles of her wings loosening and tightening methodically as she flew higher, her crimson scales turning gold with the setting sun. She loved to Shift, but if only… ah, if only…
Fire rained from the sky as Jessica dove back to earth.
0
0
-
168
Artemis Fowl II
in November 18th, 2005 @ 16:56Hello. I am new. Some people might know me from a few other muse blogs. Please call me BobTheSquid (even though I am female). I wrote a short story for English.
Please cover your eyes from the following weirdness:
“It came from the refrigerated sectionâ€
“With all the power of malice, evil, and high fructose corn syrup (based upon a 2,000 calorie diet), I shall rule the world.†Raptor dramatically stated as he shifted in his carton. Raptor was no ordinary grade-A chicken egg. He was bad. Raptor McLoafers-egg-evil-dictator-the-third was a force of nature, with fermenting, radioactive sludge, barely contained in a wafer-thin shell. Little did the reveling teenagers know: it was this very Halloween night that he would unleash his evil scheme. This scheme was one of the largest, most ingenious schemes, ever schemed by a scheming schemer. Unlike the other eleven of Raptor’s brethren, his strategist mind knew exactly what was about to happen.
A trick-or-treator, dressed in a freakishly short, inappropriate costume, suddenly grabbed the evil food item. “Look out below, old hag!†she shouted as she catapulted Raptor into nearby old Mrs. Roooogleeeson’s ancient, moldy house. With a disgusting squelching noise, Raptor exploded on the senior citizen’s electrical control box. Simultaneously, old Mrs. Roooogleeeson screeched am vulture-like scream as her dusty light-bulbs flickered out. “Egad! Call the army, call the navy, call the NFL! Evil creatures from the underworld are attacking!†Maniacal laughter began issuing from the open window, while greenish fog gushed from spaces in the grimy floorboards, like an unwelcome insurance salesperson. Her whole, extremely uninteresting life flashing before her very eyes, Mrs. Roooogleeeson desperately searched for her only hope of escape from this unknown threat.
Just before she could reach her cell phone, Raptor’s fetid sludge began eating through the rotting ceiling beams. The phantom poultry egg hovered menacingly above a fallen German to French dictionary, the pages strewn unceremoniously across the ground. “I shall now reveal to you evil information that only the wicked deserve to hear!†Raptor McLoafers-thing cruelly stated. Then, miraculously, right before the information was stated, she managed to grasp the phone in a bony talon-like hand. Mrs. Roooogleeeson called every number on her dying electronics’ memory, including: CBS news: 911; Ghost busters; and Giovanni’s Pizza House. Unfortunately, Raptor was not discouraged from his destructive plan. “Guess what?†he stated, and pure evil was the only word to describe it. “What?†the old crone fearfully replied in her screeching, almost annoying voice. Raptor continued, “The plural of index is indices, the ghost busters have a part-time job as unwelcome insurance salespeople, Giovanni’s Pizza House is owned by a Japanese person, and…†Mrs. Roooogleeeson gasped. “And?†she inquired. “And….†Raptor voiced. “I just saved money on car insurance by switching to Geico.â€
The old crone howled like the deranged vulture she is at heart. (Of course, few know that vultures can howl, because they are actually a quite secretive race). “For the love of store-bought Chicken pot pie, why in the name of my aunt Bob, did you tell my that terrible, disturbing ironyâ€. Raptor had no time to answer, for Mrs. Roooogleeeson had mere milliseconds to dive behind a glass cabinet of hideous, porcelain apple-core figurines, before a generous chunk of her parlor wall was torn from the structure. There, in the newly formed entrance, stood: a military tank: policemen; self-centered, plastic surgery- sculpted news reporters; a pizza delivery person,(carrying an large, medium –small pepperoni calzone); and a random person in a ham suit (carrying a plunger).
Raptor was immediately blasted into a form of green omelet, told to remain silent, and handcuffed by the plunger-bearing person. At last, Mrs. Roooogleeeson was finally saved. However, there was still hope for Raptor: for, deep within his 6.457th sense, he detected a disturbance. Somewhere, in an alternate reality, in an alternate dimension, an egg called Raptor McLoafers-egg-evil-dictator-the-fourth had just expired.
0
0
-
169
The AHHH!
in December 8th, 2005 @ 17:12I’m curious,
Would roleplaying (notice, not roleplay games, just roleplaying) be considered writing?
I mean, it does take a considerable amount of vocabulary and “literateness” to write them.
I just want to know how many of you out there are roleplayers.The end. =D
0
0
-
170
Axa
in December 10th, 2005 @ 20:00Oooh I be a roleplayer. Warriors RPGs. Which reminds me, I have this really nice post from EX ( someone tell me you know about Warriros: EX. C’mon.)
Tsukikage means moon shadow, so y’all know.
Right…here:
Moonbeams. All around him they swirled, clear, cold, silken. The light-intoxicating in it’s brilliance-could not penetrate his burnt gold eyes. Windows, one had said, to one’s soul, the curtains were most certainly pulled closed for this individual. Tsukikage did not speak with his eyes.
The water before him shimmered in the moon’s reflected glory, small ripples sliding across in a fluid motion, like the passing of silver fire over glass. No life stirred from beneath the waves ethereal, and the lake lay dormant, sleeping, waiting.
The moon shadow cat shook his head, eyes turning to take in the sky above. Crystal tear drops, frozen in time- the stars. Thoughts swirled.
He wondered, idly, what he should do. The rouges prowled here, did they not? Perhaps he would meet one- a lovely outing that would be. But this would ultimately solve nothing, and so he sat, still.
The round white light drifted through the sky, lazy in it’s descent. And still, he sat, his pelt like star dust.
As the moon slinked away, and the sun ascended, and idea whispered it’s existence to him softly.
Find some pack to join…but become not one of them…
Ah, yes. His eyes slid closed, and far away a star flickered and died.
0
0
-
171
Phoenix
in December 10th, 2005 @ 21:03OOO! I love to roleplay, and I love Warriors! No clue what Warriors: EX is, though. Don’t tell me you wrote that, Axa, literature of that quality from a fellow Muser will put me out of my pleasant illusions of being a good writer.
0
0
-
172
randomrohanfreak
in December 12th, 2005 @ 21:41I LIVE!! NYEH NYEH!!!
Read one Warriors book or something. It was okay, but not great. (Should this be on books & movies?)
I ♥ roleplaying.
0
0
-
173
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 15th, 2005 @ 17:37how’s this for a starter page people? c’mon, tell me if it’s good, i have to write at least 6 more pages so constructively criticize please! virtual choklit for the first person to say something about it!
Bill Jones was a normal boy, living in a normal house, with normal parents, normal friends, a normal life, and one abnormal sister. In the interest of normality, Bob and Mary Jones had given their children two very normal names, Bill and Jill. The Jones family liked normality, going all the way back to the 1800s they had always tried to be as normal as possible. It all started when Galrinia Flamablamablous married George Jones. Galrinia Flamablamablous was from a very abnormal family, but she was tired of all that and wanted to just live in peace, quiet, and absolute conformity for the rest of her days. George Jones came from a pretty normal family, though not normal to the extreme that it ended up as in the Jones family. Galrini Flamablamablous changed her name to Nancy Jones and set out to make her life as absolutely normal as possible, and taught her children to do the same.
So the Jones family was as normal as you could get, and Jill Jones hated it. She hated her name, and made her friends call her Dementiel, which is French for “insaneâ€. She also named herself, “Queen of Randomness†and enjoyed going up to people she didn’t know in the hallways and saying random things like, “Did you eat your Weetabix today?†(always in a british accent for that one), or “Be ye warned, for tenrecs may one day rule the earth!†Needless to say, her parents was very ashamed of her and tried to keep her inside as much as possible, where she couldn’t disgrace the absolutely normal name of Jones.
0
0
-
174
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 15th, 2005 @ 17:38oh and yes i totally stole the word flamablamablous to use as a name. it’ll confoose my teacher. mwahaha
0
0
-
175
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 15th, 2005 @ 18:08somebody tell me if it’s good plz???
GAPA? if nobody else is on you could tell me! You can talk to us you know…
pleeeease…see (or picture in your mind) this cute widdle puppy dog face…so saad…aaawwww…it just makes you want to cry, doesn’t it? It makes you want to make everything better…by telling Ebeth whether she would get an A on her creative project…(assuming the rest of it was like the first bit…)
0
0
-
176
Axa
in December 15th, 2005 @ 18:43Yesss I wrote it, but I’m delusional from a fever at the moment, so I can only say that roleplaying is fun, but being right in the head is better. :hackcough:
0
0
-
177
Rosanne Spector (Administrator)
in December 15th, 2005 @ 19:22Ebeth, what’s the assignment?
Is it to write a short story?
I like it so far. Funny!
If I try to think like a writing teacher, though, I’d say: Good, but enough background already. Something needs to happen! (That’s assuming the assignment is to write a short story.)
0
0
-
178
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 15th, 2005 @ 19:36sort of ish…it can be a long story too…the minimum is 7 or 8 pgs. but you can leave it at “to be continued (maybe)”
yeah i know…i do too much backstory. always.
shame.GAPA you ROCK!!! thanx! yay i have some constructive criticism now..happy days…
so now something will happen!…if i can think of something to have happen…
anyway..
*virtual choklit!*
0
0
-
179
Phoenix
in December 15th, 2005 @ 19:50I like it! No critisism, constructive or otherwise, from me.
0
0
-
180
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 15th, 2005 @ 20:02how about ideas then? bill’s parents died and now i have no clue what to do. Maybe I should un-kill them…
0
0
-
181
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 15th, 2005 @ 20:53ok here’s some more…still only up to the fourth page though. grr i picked a hard story…
yes i know
still more backstory at the beginning. i tries to stay away! Bill Jones wasn’t sure what to think of his sister. His parents had taught him to shun all things that weren’t normal, but he kind of liked his sister’s insanity once in a while. He always felt terribly ashamed when he laughed at something she said, some story she told, but he couldn’t help it. He made up for this by being absolutely normal except when with his sister alone.
Jill “Dementiel†Jones tried to change this. “Why do you always act just like everybody else?†she asked him one day.
“I don’t!†he replied, a bit surprised.
“Yes you do! You always act just how people think you’re supposed to act!†she accused.
“Is that a bad thing?†he asked.
“Well…it just seems so boring. Don’t you ever get bored?â€
At this point he just shrugged and quickly changed the subject. He thought about it later though. Why did he act like that? He was so confused. What is normal anyway? he thought to himself one night. I do what my parents tell me is normal…but is that really normal? Is it abnormal to want to be normal? I don’t think it’s normal to try so hard to be normal…but then I don’t even know what normal is anymore. I’m so tired…I’ll just go to sleep. My parents will tell me what to do. He yawned and started to fall asleep, taking comfort in the fact that his parents were always normal, so whatever they did must be right. He knew Jill disapproved, but then Jill was his sister, not his mother. She was only fourteen! What did she know anyway? In five minutes, he was asleep.Two years later, Dan and Sarah Jones died in a car crash. Bill didn’t know the rules about what happened to underage orphans in the country of Naran, and he didn’t want to find out. He decided to run away to the deserted island of Mooana.
The island of Mooana wasn’t really big enough to be called an island. It was a place where the Jones used to go on vacations (vacationing was very normal). Nobody lived there, hardly anybody knew it existed, and nobody but Bill and Jill actually cared. It was named Mooana by Bill when he was three, because of all the cows there.
Bill went to Jill to exlain his plan.
“Hello Bill,†Jill said as he walked in. “What’s the plan?â€
“Hi Jill. How did you know I had a plan?â€
“Dementiel,†Jill said stubbornly.
“What?†Bill looked at her confused.
“My name is Dementiel! You know that,†Jill said.
“Um…well ok then Dementiel. Bill said slowly. “How did you know I had a plan?â€
“Oh, you had your “plan†look on,†Dementiel said distantly.
“Well anyway, I’ve thought of where we can hide,â€
“Oh good. Is it Mooana?†Dementiel asked.
Bill felt incredibly foolish. “How’d you guess that?â€
“I have my ways.†Dementiel replied in a mysterious voice. Then in her usual voice she said, “Oh come on Bill, it’s so obvious.â€
“Is it really that obvious?†Bill asked, feeling worried. “Because if it is we probably shouldn’t go there…â€
Dementiel shook her head. “Bill, I meant it’s obvious to me. I know it’s the perfect choice. Nobody else does. We’ll be safe there.â€
“Oh good,†Bill said, relieved. “When can you be packed?â€
“I’m packed,†she said. “Are you?â€
“Erm…no. I’ll go pack then….†Bill answered.
“I’ll help.†Jill said, following him.mooana. yes mooana. be kind to me plz.
anyhoo, off they go to mooana. at mooana they’ll meet…somebody. living there, i mean. dunno who yet…
0
0
-
182
Phoebe
in December 15th, 2005 @ 21:59I am so morbid and sick minded… I just realised it… I’ve got this new idea for a story, I’ll post it up here when I write it properly, but it involoves trauma and raciness.
Hehehehehehe, Mooana.
Is it pronounced “MOO – Anuh”?
0
0
-
183
Ebeth the Lurker
in December 16th, 2005 @ 09:08yeah. be kind, i was tired.
YES!!!! Lamuth can torture my life no longer until after break, when i do my presentation with many disapproving glances…
Once upon a time, there was a girl who’s librarian was cool but wouldn’t let her on the museblog during study hall so she had to go on secretly. The end.
0
0
-
184
randomrohanfreak
in December 16th, 2005 @ 21:31POST THE MORBID SICKMINDED STORY!!!
Ahem.
Actually, I have half a novel (novella?) written on my computer, but it probably shouldn’t be posted on a site open to all you people under 13… Mwahaha. Even if you’re MATURE under-13s. (It contains language, graphic violence, and all that good stuff.)
0
0
-
185
Phoebe
in December 20th, 2005 @ 19:27Language and fairly graphic violence is probably ok… just the raciness level…
0
0
-
186
Sphinx
in December 22nd, 2005 @ 20:21I’m currently writing a book, tentatively titled Dreamcatcher. I’m still in the early stages, but here is the prologue. Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism welcome.
Prologue:
She was standing on a beach with pure white sand. Shells were littered across the shore. She could hear in the background the swishing of the sea, forever singing its peaceful harmonics. Gulls cawed overhead, searching for food to bring back to their nests. Turning, she looked towards the sea. A little sail boat sat out near the horizon, floating peacefully on the water. It was beautiful scene, every inch of it silently singing songs of peace and harmony. Carefully, the girl picked up a sandy brown shell. She brought it slowly to her ear-
And the girl named Jackie woke with start. Sitting up, she looked around. She was in her bed. The covers had fallen off some time while she slept and now lay in a mangled pile on the floor. Jackie picked them up, rolled over, and quickly fell back asleep. When she woke up the next morning, she remembered nothing of the dream.
0
0
-
187
Phoenix
in December 23rd, 2005 @ 05:57Yeah, that is great! Just the sentances are a little choppy. Use the comma, Luke. I love your description!
0
0
-
188
Em
in December 23rd, 2005 @ 11:43oh thats cool. i love books where dreams are important (im assuming they’re important based on your title.) tell us the rest!
0
0
-
189
Sphinx
in December 23rd, 2005 @ 13:50I did use commas!
I’m glad you liked it. It’s gonna be a fantasy.
0
0
