Kaga

I just had a dream...

Not long ago I dreamt that there was a magic locker in my high school. It didn't really lock, but there'd be something different inside each time depending on what combination you entered before opening it. I don't remember what was in it the first couple of times, but I know I entered 4-1-3 just for funsies. It was filled with Homestuck merchandise. I was so happy. :D

And then I took a bus to Japan. Even in my dream I didn't understand how that was possible.

Dear Princess celestia

You already posted this exact same thread not that long ago.

Age of the Draconides

Thundercat said
I've got a bit of writers block as well as a significant amount of homework :P I'll try to get something up tomorrow.

No rush. ^^"

WOTM #2: Short Story Voting

Congratulations Voltin!

Winning Entry

A typical Thursday afternoon, that was all it was. Rain petered down the window panes of the bedroom, refracting the little rays of sun that were there into some distorted, misshapen image of what they formerly were, and all the more hidden by the peach drapes that hung there. The temperature was balmy -- simply temperate -- as was normal for the area in the spring (despite the rain), and as much was reflected in her very room. The rare car drove lazily up or down the already sparse street, creating a buzz that cut into the noise that was the gently playing radio. A typical Thursday afternoon, that was all.

Except, it wasn’t, at least not for her. She sat in her room, illuminated in the peach haze, breathing. She was simply breathing. The girl’s mother leaned in her doorway, watching with worried features as her daughter rocked herself back and forth on her bed, cradling the teddy bear she had been given at birth.
“Honey,” the girl’s mother had tried to start again. “I’m trying to understand what you’re going through, but you’re not making it easy for me.”
The girl refused to look up, refused to meet her mother’s caring visage, and instead buried her face deeper within the scruff of her bear’s neck. She hadn’t been to school for the entire week. She had just turned eighteen.
“Mother, please,” she finally croaked. “I- I just don’t see the point; it just isn’t something I want to deal with anymore…”
“But your education-”
“-is all you really seem to care about, isn’t it?!” The girl’s voice was intense, even if she still hid her face. “School this! School that! Why should an education matter more than what I want to do with my life?”
Her mother wavered; the education system had been so engraved into their culture that she had never thought of questioning it. “Well then,” she started, choosing her words carefully, “what is it that would want to do, sweetie?”
That question had been it. She didn’t know what exactly it was that she wanted to do with the rest of life peeking out at her; she had never been presented with any viable option besides getting through high school before eventually hitting college. But she knew that that life wasn’t for her. She was smart on her own -- smart enough to begin questioning her role in this life -- why should she put herself through something that she hated? Something that made her stressed and unhappy in life? Who was to tell her that this predetermined path was for her? That the eventual material gain was worth her precious time she could be spending happy. The girl wasn’t happy now, not with all the materials that her upper-middle class family provided, and her mother couldn’t understand why this was. What could be more important than a comfortable life, her mother had always thought.
“...I don’t know,” she had finally said, the tears beginning again.
“Then why do you refuse to go to school!?” Her mother was exasperated from her daughter’s antics, and it was starting to show. “If you don’t know, then why don’t you at least give it a chance?!”
“But I have!” she shouted at her mother, throwing the keepsake that had been in her lap at the woman. “For the last twelve years of my life I have put an effort in giving school a chance, and in return I’ve learned how to find the angles of a triangle and how to balance a chemical equation, but for what? How are those things going to help me in life when all they have done is cause me stress; anxiety which has me biting my nails and pulling my hair out!? Huh!? Would you please explain this, explain why I should give two shits other than that it has become a societal norm?”
The girl’s breath was ragged from her screaming, and her mother had since taken to the ground, crying in desperation. “I just want to help…” her mother wept, “I just want you to have the best life possible, sweetie.”
Her daughter sat on her heels, the rage that blew in her sails simply sapped away with her mother’s words. She was confused, she recognized as much, and the result had been making the woman who had taken care of her for the past eighteen years of her life cry. “Mom I-” the girl was crying again, these tears being of grief and not of the previous frustration. “I’m sorry.” She cupped her face in her hands as the sobbing took control. She had lost herself -- she was already lost -- and she lacked the insight to know what she should do next. So instead she wept in her room with her mother, the two never embracing like in the television dramas, but instead letting their emotions simmer until all they could feel was the twinge that was sorrow. Eventually, the mother left the room without word to her daughter and her ever conflicting thoughts.

An average Thursday afternoon, that was all it was. The sun’s rays flitted through the girl’s drapes, highlighting every speck of dust that drifted without cause through the air; the sun’s rays highlighted the gleam in her eye. The temperature was cool, collected, despite it being the middle of summer, and as much was reflected in the atmosphere in the room. Cars drifted up and down the street, bustling with the movement of people and boxes in and out the back of a U-Haul, the buzz of the commotion not being nearly enough to drown out the blaring, upbeat music that came from the radio. It was an average Thursday afternoon, but not really.

The girl smiled in reminiscence of the “calamity” which had taken place only a few months ago. She hadn’t graduated, but she planned on working toward her GED. Work, she thought, work was what lie ahead for her, for a long time to come, and she was fine with that. A place in the world where she can make the right decisions, her own decisions, that was what she craved, what she had desired all this time. Working as a hostess, a waitress, or even just washing dishes, it all seemed okay for her to do until she came up with some grand goal for her to achieve; she saw no reason to shackle herself to a career she would be miserable in like the rest of society; she was finding her own way. She was finding her own happiness, despite what society was telling her was impossible otherwise without that great, important diploma gathering dust on the wall. A single bird’s chirping grew louder than the rest. She smiled.
“You coming dear?” It was her mother at her familiar station of the door-frame. She had been hesitant about her daughter’s decisions, but tried to support her the best she could, as that’s all her daughter wanted: emotional support; encouragement.
“Yeah, I’m coming mom… Just give me a moment, ‘kay?”
“Alright; your father and I will be in the truck waiting then.” Leaving her daughter alone, she felt almost assured of her little girl’s well-being; sad that she was leaving the nest in what she viewed to be an unconventional way, but assured none the less.
The girl had one last thing to do. The drapes. She wanted them, not to serve in their intended use, but to serve as her banner. A banner showing that her turmoil was what partially shaped her, made her who she was today, and she wanted to display that proudly. Teenage rebellion? Maybe, but she had found her way, and was hoping that the troubled youths like her of the world found a resolution similar to hers.

The voting for this month’s WOTM – and the Short Story category in particular – may have been off to a slow start, but that didn’t stop Voltin’s Thursdays from earning more than a respectable number of votes with its simple yet relatable story. The voters have agreed unanimously; Thursday is miles away from Mondays and perhaps even better than Fridays! So congrats to Voltin on such a tremendous win!

I now encourage all writers who participated this month to use the next couple days to reveal themselves and respond to comments/critique given.

Writer of the Month #2: Flash Fiction Voting

Congratulations MissAddler!

Winning Entry

I could feel my white hands curling into tight fists beneath the desk. My teeth were gritting in a manner that would cause my dentist to wince and it felt as if every muscle in my body had tensed simultaneously, in desperate anticipation. An eternity passed, each agonizing second like individual slaps in the face and I had to bear it all in silence, gagged by social etiquette. And just when I felt I couldn't bear it any longer, it happened.
Internet explorer finished loading.
My heart pounded in giddy relief, my clumsy fingers fumbling with the mouse as I navigated the tiny white arrow across the screen. Selecting the search bar, I began to type.
R-O-
But then I managed to destroy it all in less than a second as a distant exclamation dragged me from my internal ponderings. Distracted, my hand sought out the 'n' key automatically and I cried out, realising my mistake. But it was too late. The fatal enter key had been slammed down by my ruthless fingers - now helpless - without a sliver of mercy.
My head collapsed miserably into my hands as, years later, I was greeted by Ron Weasley's mocking, red-headed, goofy grin.

A nearly unanimously-voted win in WOTM is rare. But when it happens, it’s something to celebrate! In this case, MissAddler’s World Wide Web Woes won with the story of what happens whenever we use the world’s worst web browser from the makers of Windows. The entry may have been short, but made the voters laugh in its simplicity. So congrats to MissAddler on her WOTM win!

I now encourage all writers who participated this month to use the next couple days to reveal themselves and respond to comments/critique given.

Age of the Draconides

Maya felt a bit disappointed at the notion of keeping it all a secret. This sort of thing didn't happen every day; how could she not tell the rest of the village?! She did grow a bit curious, however, as to what Uorin's little "gift" was. Though she couldn’t even ask, however, before Auri leapt into the conversation. “H-hey! I thought you didn’t want to get involved!” she yelled at the strange man. Ordinarily she wasn’t one to get into fights, but being denied her gift before even knowing what it was did rub her the wrong way. “Let’s at least see what it is first…”

---

“You, too.” Dominique nodded, shaking Francis’ hand once again. “See you again sometime.” The prince called as they parted ways, having a feeling their paths would cross again before long.

Welcome Back to the Guild

GM blinked, looking down at Rose as she awoke. Impressively enough, she didn’t seem to fear him anymore. While it was a bit of a shame his power of intimidation might not’ve been quite as strong, he was at least glad these players showed they had a chance at survival; the experiment seemed to be going over well. “Good morning to you, too.” He snarked at Rose.

His attention then turned to Euclid as he made his presence known, cowering behind a pillow. With a wave of his hand and a roll of his eyes, the pillow vanished, allowing GM to better see Euclid’s face. “Ohhhh so that’s why that name sounded so familiar.” He cooed, remembering his last encounter with the boy. “Don’t worry though, I’m still supposed to keep you alive for now.” He told Euclid. “In which case, I suppose I should probably go back to my work – say! You two,” he turned towards Leon and Rose. “How exactly did you kill Rin?” he asked, wanting to make sure he covered her weaknesses when he re-designed her.

---

As Muse felt Nautilus draw in closer to them, he finally became aware of what had been going on around them that whole time. “Wait,” he spoke up, spinning around. He saw Nautilus and Ebil. And no one else. “Where did everyone go?” he asked, back arched and arms out as if he were preparing to attack something. “I mean, I know we lost track of Orber on our way in here, but there was also that quiet girl, Jacklyn – and one other kid, a boy, the one who made himself that dragon – god I can’t even remember his name…” he ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “How did they all vanish right out from under our noses?”

WOTM #2: Short Story Voting

Last day for votes!

Writer of the Month #2: Flash Fiction Voting

Last day for votes!

Welcome Back to the Guild

booksmusicanime said
Name: booksmusicanime (books)Age: 13Personality/History: Books is an ordinary small town girl with big dreams. She loves to act, sing, read, and create and can be found with either her computer, Ipad, sketchbook, a plain book or a script in her hands. She's very rebelious and loves to change things up in her life. She loves her friends and is very protective of them. She has anger management issues but is a very kind person.Roleplaying Preferences: Fantasy, Fan-base, realistic, and some futuristicOther:

Looks good to me.

I'll contact you later to figure out how exactly we'll work your character into the plot, etc.