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 Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2009 4:46 pm
Looking for an activity for both owners and non-owners alike? Well you've stumbled into a promising thread here you have. This here thread is all about story telling, so as long as you've got a great imagination (or you're good at changing names...) then you should come participate in this adventure. There's a prize for both owners and non-owners alike, so don't you two think you have to compete against each other. Spend that worry on the competition in your own group!
So what kind of story do you have to write? Well, I'm sure you could guess it, what with it being the holidays and us celebrating a special event in Midori. Christmas and birthdays!! I want you to tell me either a real or fake story about either Christmas in Midori (don't forget to feature Saint Nikolas de Fabra!) or you can tell me all about a fun birthday celebration! Your story can be as long as you'd like, but make sure it's at least 500 words to begin with!
Submissions will begin on November 28th @ 10 AM EST, and run until December 21st @ 11:59 PM EST, at which time judging will begin.
The fantastic prize for Owners for this competition is 2 Free Playdates off your growth requirements!
The fantastic prize for Non-Owners for this competition is 100k!
_______Entrants
None yet, naturally!
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Posted: Sun Dec 20, 2009 6:24 am
Vanyel shifted from foot to foot, shifting onto her tip-toes from time to time in hopes of peering over the heads and shoulders of the other people shuffled into line to wait and witness the entrance of Saint Nikolas de Fabra himself. The citrus teen, for all her silly “maturity” and book worm obsessing, had a true love for the Christmas holidays, and went especially weak in the knees when she thought about Saint Nik. Kitten used to tease her that it was some kind of silly crush, but Kitten was no longer there, and that quick thought dampened Vanyel’s spirits considerably for a moment.
Anaztasia took that moment to talk, and what a bad moment it was too. “There are too many people here Vanyel. I think we will miss Miss Olivia’s party that you were previously so intent on attending.” Vanyel sulked just a bit more than she had been but moments previously. “Well, Olivia hosts a party at least twice a year from what I remember, and the last one I went to, well, I don’t fancy experiencing it again. Saint Nik only comes once a year, and Kitten would have known how much it means to me to see him.” The teen shot Ana a dangerous look. The two of them had come to some sort of sick, half-hearted agreement in order to continue living together under Kitten’s dying wishes.
The girl turned her attention back to the curtain which was finally being pulled back to reveal the jolly old man himself. Van clapped her hands ever so lightly in front of her, a real Christmas spirit glow growing across her cheeks as those orange eyes widened expectantly. They weren’t too very far from the front, but there were plenty more people behind her, and they began shuffling forward to catch a better view. Ana did not like to be shuffled. A grumble of a growl made her lips curl up and she narrowed her eyes in that murderous way Vanyel recognized from their first meeting. Fingers curled along the rim of one of her many hidden daggers, a pro at the quick slice and dice technique that would thin out this crowd in no time.
Van noticed of course, and she gave the woman a strong shove in the arm with her shoulder to knock the hand away from the dagger. “Saint Nik doesn’t give presents to bad girls,” the teen said, knowing full well that Ana wouldn’t be getting any presents anyway, but the citrus girl wasn’t willing to risk her chances on not getting presents just because she was associated with some psychopath. “Put them away!” Ana glared at Van for a moment before folding her arms in a stubborn way, though Van recognized it as a way for the woman to keep from inching towards those cutting weapons again.
Thankfully, Ana behaved herself until Vanyel finally managed to bound forward and sweet her arms about Saint Nik, bouncing from foot to foot once more. Sometimes there’s things you’re just never too old for. The man smiled at her and did the classic pat upon the head, before he pulled a small book from his pocket and passed it on to the citrus scent with a crinkled grin that spread to his eyes. “I know you’ll do good with her,” he said with a nod to Ana, who didn’t bother to look pleased she was still wasting her time here, “You both have good things to offer one another.”
Vanyel was beginning to think so too.
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Posted: Sun Dec 20, 2009 11:38 am
He was invisible.
People passed by, crowds and hoards of them all lazily floating past. But not one of them every met his eyes, none of them saw him. He was a ghost, a ghost on his own birthday. Foot connected with a stone and the rock went flying – shooting off higher than the sea of heads, higher, higher, higher… and landing somewhere in a thicket of oblivion. Shoulder slumped, and the boy slid lower against the walls, falling to his knees. It wasn’t fair.
They all sauntered down the streets, all those stupid rich folks with their money and class and gifts. Some held presents, huge ones, ones with wrapping that sparkled and bows that flooded over the boxes – boxes large enough to carry his head. Boxes and gifts for some of the other children who had a birthday on this day, boxes for children who would get presents today, boxes for children who had parents who could afford presents, boxes that weren’t for him.
He kicked at another stone. It skidded against the cobbled ground lazily, spinning in tiny circles. It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that he was the only kid who wouldn’t get a present on his birthday. It wasn’t fair that no one ever gave him anything this day of the year. It wasn’t fair that – he instantly felt a pang of guilt. His parents tried and there were families worse off than him, but he couldn’t help but be angry. He was invisible on his birthday; no one had the time for him or cared about him. No one.
It wasn’t like he wanted much either. Just, well he didn’t know, a cake or a toy sword or a real one even. Something that would wow his friends, something that he could show off and love, something that would make his fingers tingle whenever he held it, something special.
There was a smell.
It smelt of rain and mud. A smell he knew all too well – but what was such a smell doing here? Here where upper-class people flaunted their jasmine or lavender perfume. This smelt familiar… of home, of where he was supposed to be.
So he followed it – it wasn’t like he had anything better to do anyways. All these rich folks were making him sick anyways, sick and jealous and guilty. Rich people only bought bad, he concluded as he began to weave his way through the crowds. He slid through the gaps that they left, a small patch of filth in a sea of diamonds. It was fine, they subconsciously avoided him and he stayed away from them.
They probably couldn’t even smell this; they were too drunk on themselves. The boy couldn’t help but smile at that thought – it made him feel special, like this strange aroma was a secret just for him. Almost as if it were a present, not that he would know exactly what finding a present felt like. You were given gifts. You didn’t hunt them, right? A small shrug rolled off his shoulders, beggars couldn’t be chooser, he knew that much.
Slow steps echoed in the alleyway as he moved closer, the scent growing stronger and stronger the more steps he took – the further he delved into the darkness. And then he was there, he knew he was there because the scent seemed to cover him, fill him. There was only a boy and the thickness of mud and rainwater. It was a strange sensation. He liked it. Dropping to his knees, he clawed around for the source, there was the sound of glass hitting the ground and – Crap! Fingers felt the strange glass ornament, tipping it upright from its slumped state. He could feel some of the strange smelling liquid on the ground. Crap. Crap. Crap.
But there was some left in holder. This was better, good, great, grand. He sucked in a breath – who would’ve left this poor object here in the dark? It had probably been some snob who wanted the heavenly smell of clean clothes or something of that manner. That was just fine, the boy nodded at everything and nothing in the darkness, it was perfect for him, for today, for his birthday.
“Happy birthday to me,” he sang softly, then, the glass apparatus clutched to his chest he began to quickly weave his way home.
(Non-owner entry)
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Posted: Sun Dec 20, 2009 1:39 pm
Entry Type: Non-owner
Prompt: Birthday!
Excuse: He he... I have no excuse. But my muse was pretty much dead, and I'm incapable of writing a truly happy story it seems. But here's what I came up with xP
Entry:
The digital clock gleamed 11:00 PM. All was silent, everything dark. An unnatural stillness hung heavy like a tapestry over the dark silhouettes of machines unseen. The air was thick with brooding silence, a domineering force that could not be broken. Dark shadows danced in dark corners, their silent thoughts oppressing.
Of course, this should have been no surprising thing, considering that the lab had closed almost an hour ago. Employees with any sense would have left their experiments and gone home, leaving the cold, metallic rooms to their own devices.
Yet in some forgotten corner of the large, dark building a light could be seen shining feebly from a tiny crack underneath the door. So thin and feeble was it, that it had gone completely unnoticed when the lab was locked up. Yet it remained.
And inside this small, isolated room, a woman sat behind a small desk. Her long, brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, the occasional strand coming out and hanging by the side of her face. There was nothing too special about her, her face was pale, with full lips. A small nose dotted the centre of her features, hovering just underneath large, hazel eyes. Looking closely, one could see many shades of brown sparkling away within them, yet just on the rim of the iris a small ring of green could be seen. Glasses adorned her head, slightly obscuring the small bags under her eyes. A plain white lab coat, fairly clean save for one or two resilient stains that refused to come out, hung about her body neatly.
Her eyes watched the computer monitor blinking in front of her with excitement. Her features were lit up, the slight hint of a smile playing at the edge of her lips. Everything about her seemed to glow in that one instant. Her hair became more radiant as she clutched the table, furiously wishing for more from her computer screen. All of her seemed vibrant, radiant. She belonged here, in this small corner of the vast, dark lab. Here she was truly herself.
What was it that captured her interest so much? Naught but her latest experiment, of course. She’d been working on it for months in secret, wanting to test out her theories before she told anyone else, and now the fruit of her hard work was finally emerging. The back of her skull trilled with the excitement of a new discovery.
The digital clock gleamed 00:00 AM. It let out a low beep, traveling through the air at the speed of sound and reaching her ear in less than a millisecond. Sara, for that was her name, jumped and tore her eyes aware from the screen. It was now the 23rd of December, her birthday. Closing her eyes, she sighed. “You overworked yourself again, didn’t you, Sara?” Despite all this, she knew there was no place she’d rather be on this one day than with her precious experiments. “Happy Birthday.” She whispered, her eyes flickering back to the screen.
As she saw the last two lines of the analysis, she jumped. She’d done it. Her theories were proven. Hands shaking with excitement, the mouse hastily moved to the print button. Click. The printer set in motion, sending out dozens of sheets of paper with the results upon it. “Happy Birthday.” She whispered again, her eyes shining in a mad frenzy. She’d done it!
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