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Flash Fiction Marathon Entries Index


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Below is the entries list for the Flash Fiction Marathon Contest, divided up by theme.

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Entry #1:

Member Name: Varkanax39Theme: VisionsStory: Vision of the Fall

Vision of the Fall

The city of Shadovar gleamed in the light of the rising sun as the brilliant hues of orange and red reflected off the pale, translucent mirror-glass. The massive buildings of the City of Mirrors and the tall, twisting spires were made all of the same reflective glass, which was shot through with tendrils of gold material.The Citadel at the heart of the city stood facing the mighty Pyramid of Glass, which was made entirely of opaque crystal harder than the most solid protosteel.Some said that this city had been built by the Ancients; the enigmatic beings that had left many constructs behind them and had once inhabited Shadovar before vanishing without a trace. Others said it was the work of even older forces, perhaps the Mindeaters or the Infinus themselves. In any event, the modern inhabitants of the city, Toa, Ix, and Elemental alike, did not know.But they all feared to approach the Last Spire, the obelisk that was home to the Seer. Even now, Seer stared through the translucent glass of the Spire, he shook his head, sighing at what he knew was to come in so short a time.His visions had warned him of these days, the last days of Arcaea. When everything would be torn apart, and the Elemental Kingdoms would become nothing more than a memory of what had been lost.Even now, the visions he seemed to whisper to him. He did not see the city as it was now, but as it would be soon. He saw the citadel of Arcaea against the backdrop of choking ash and brilliant flames, torn apart by brilliant displays of elemental power.The Seer watched as a dark, powerful Elemental, surrounded by a group of shadowy, hooded Ix, stand face to face with another Elemental, who had two Toa flanking him. They were locked in a battle on both the mental and physical level as they fought in both the aura field and with elemental power, blinding flashes of light detonating all around him.And at last, the Seer saw the end of Arcaea. The Twelve Elemental Kingdoms torn apart, dispersing on the wind into nothingness. Soon all that was left was a remnant of Shadovar, a broken, pitiful reminder of all that the City of Mirrors had once been.Then the sun of Shadovar itself was extinguished, and eternal darkness fell over the city.Silently, a being stepped from the darkness to stand beside the Seer. He wore a black cloak, like an Ix, but he was clearly not of their kin. One hand was gloved; the other was pale white and twisted.The being stared for a moment at the brilliant cityscape below in silence.“You have seen what is to come.” He whispered.It was a statement, not a question. The Seer nodded quietly. “Yes,” he whispered.“The end of an era,” said the hooded being. “The visions must come true, or the Dark One cannot be stopped.”The Seer knew that the being was correct. Every vision he’d seen with his Kanohi of Foresight had proven to come true. He had paid a price beyond comprehension for the legendary mask, and it had always served him well.“You know what you must do,” continued the hooded being. And though it pained the Seer to know his vision would come true, and though he knew he was passing judgment on the lives of far too many beings, he nodded quietly.“I shall do it,” he whispered as the visions of the destruction to come flooded his mind once more.Word Count: 598

Entry #2:

Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: Bionicle - VisionsStory: The Visionary

₪҉₪

"Get out,"Dispatched to the Northern Continent on Makuta Icarax's orders, Pridak had been granted jurisdiction over a small peninsula. What the Makuta had failed to mention, however, that the land's primary inhabitants were rocks and Rahi.Perhaps to lessen the sting of the slap to Pridak's ego, they'd dispatched a small herd of Matoran to go with him and serve as his staff.The Matoran ducked his head in compliance. "Sir,"Pridak sat down heavily on his stone work desk, knocking the scout's report tablets to the floor with a resounding clatter. He looked out the window of the shack that he was supposed to call a fortress. Instead of seeing the occasional boulder that littered the landscape, he saw Xia.The imposing skyline stabbed into the sky, reaching for the twin suns as though trying to dethrone them. Fire fueled the race to the heavens, new factories and foundries being created every day. Smoke and haze seeping from the buildings hung in the air, tasting like grandeur. The addicting sensation of success, production, and monopoly thrummed trough the streets, making the realm of the Vortixx truly unique and beautiful in the Universe.It wasn't only the landscape that made Xia enviable. It was the spirit of the inhabitants. They were forward thinking, always. Sharp minds formed the backbone of the population, while the perfect combination of ruthless and genius sat in the seat of authority. Manipulative, cunning, and clever, the Vortixx were at the very least admirable.And the beauty didn't end there. In his mind's eye, Pridak saw Xia's smog spreading across the world, turning everything to the same twisted beauty. Nothing in existence would be able to compare, of that Pridak was sure. It wasn't long before the sharp skyscrapers and strong fortresses of factories blotted out the suns completely.It was majesty.And one day, maybe not so far away, that envisioned majesty could become reality. Of course, Pridak would have to work for it. Dreaming could only get one so far. Naturally, he wanted to get out from under the thumb of the Brotherhood of Makuta. At the moment, Pridak thought that would be a bit pre-mature. He would establish his tiny dominion on this Northern Continent Peninsula for now. Pridak was not a Toa, but he did believe in destiny. He would lay low, and wait until the time destiny called for change.

₪҉₪

Word Count: 401

Entry #3:

Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: VisionsStory: The StormThe chilling wind swept across the empty field like floating knives, forcing the small blades of grass downward. The storm was coming, I could sense it in the air. A small drop of liquid dripped down onto my face, slowly sliding towards the ground. The water dropped from the edge of my mask, falling down to the grass below. The rain had come, and with it, the storm drew closer and closer. The weather was a sign, a grim warning. I knew that he was coming, charging headlong into the future, and towards a destined fight. The storm, it was only part of what was coming towards the field. But I knew that the storm was the least of my worries.My mask had shown me this many days, many weeks ago. It had revealed to me what I did not wish to see. I had pierced into the future, seeing what would be... and there was no way I could change it, no way to stop it. But I knew I had to push that from my thoughts, to concentrate not on what I knew would happen, to prepare myself for what was coming. The Mask of Clairvoyance had at times been the greatest of blessings... now it was a curse. I had seen the future, and I would have given anything to have wiped those memories out of my mind. The storm was coming.How had it come to this? I wasn't even fully certain myself. I had had the vision before I even knew what it meant, Back then, it seemed impossible, unlikely to even be close to reality. But now the coldness I felt wasn't the storm. I had known what was going to happen, and I could have done nothing to stop it. My death had been written out before my eyes, the end of my own life playing out in my mind. And my mask could show me what was coming, but I could not stop it... what I had seen, it was going to happen... and nothing could change that.My thoughts were shattered by a clap of thunder as it sounded in the sky. The storm was here, I could feel it around me, throughout my entire being. The air and winds were no longer peaceful. The storm had come upon me as I knew it would. He would be here soon... and destiny would enact itself just as my mask had shown. Death was awaiting me, as clear in my mind as the flashing of lightning across the darkened sky. I didn't want it to end like this... but destiny could not be undone. I had seen it, and it would happen... I just wished that it could have been differently.I can do nothing about it, I have no choice but to fight. I can run no longer, destiny has placed me here, and here I shall face the future. Though it is futile and I know that I will not win, or even have a chance... I will fight as I have been destined. But I will not just surrender to death, I will not die easily. Destiny shall get its fight, but it will learn that a Toa never surrenders, even in the face of death.Words: 544

Entry #4:

Member Name: Grimoire AlbastruTheme: VisionsStory: ContactFor the first time in countless millennia, the desolate silence of the cavern had been pierced by the arrival of one such noise that it had imagined it would never again hear since its very creation.I emerged into the cavern, the sounds of my heavy breath echoing against the walls. My name is Vezon. And though I had no true idea as to why I had arrived at such a curious location, I knew my duty was done. I had arrived.A distant voice had called me here from the very recesses of my shattered mind. Ever since I had left my old “allies” back in the lair of my birth, I had been egged on by the deep desire. This urge to press ever onwards. This need to travel somewhere, though with never a clue as to where or why. But now, here I was.And there stood my prize, waiting for me. The rivers of lava threw a meagre light upon the glistening ornament that rested upon a throne of rock. I knew that it was meant for me, and the voice approved, so I surged forward to claim it, my heavy footfalls creating vibrations that shot around me.But what I couldn’t have seen coming was that as soon as I laid my hands upon it and pulled it close to me, my already fragmented mind exploded. I tried to stifle a scream, but it tore through my mouth regardless. I threw myself to the ground and thrashed wildly like an injured Rahi. Images swam before me, faces I could not place, locations I might never live to see, scenes of which I could never have dreamed of. I slammed my eyelids shut as if I could escape this hideous torture, but it was to no avail, as all this resulted in was the ceasing of the war between reality and the visions that threated to tear through my own skull. And the visions had won.All before me was beautiful, yet all was terrifying. I knew now what I held, the Kanohi Ignika. A source of terrible, yet glorious power that could devastate the entire universe, or perhaps save it. It could fall armies or raise them from the ground. It had seen the beginning of the universe and it would remain to see it at the very end. And now it was mine. I cradled it in my arms as I screamed helplessly for whatever assistance the Great Beings might lend me.They offered no solace, but even as my mind unravelled at its last remaining seams, the voice that led me here whispered ever so softly, like a lover, “Let me show you.”And so I did. I felt my prize sink into my body, even as I beheld the worst of it. For following this example of power and horror, came visions even more sublime than any I had hitherto witnessed. For I saw the end of the world. I saw the fire in the sky, the fall of Metru Nui and the extinction of the very stars. I stood back and stared as the last breath of life was swept away in the hurricane that enveloped all I might ever have known.The sights receded eventually, but the damage had been done. Devastated, I rocked back and forth, sobbing gently. The back of my head seared with pain and the ghosts of those visions were alive in my mind. And as I lay, shivering and alone in that deep, dark, desolate cavern, slowly, I began to laugh.Word Count: 596

Entry #5:

Member Name: Astris JanusTheme: VisionsStory: FatesToa Radeic sped through the chute system, using his powers over sound to block out any distractions. He checked the device on his wrist. “Twenty minutes,” he whispered.Time seemed to slow as he looked down, his eyes fixating on a Matoran being terrorised by a Visorak. He released a quick concussive blast, accounting for the change between liquid protodermis and air, and knocked the Visorak off its feet, allowing the Matoran to escape. Under any other circumstance, he would have gone down there and helped the Matoran more thoroughly, but the situation was dire…

***

From the beginning, Radeic had the gift for seeing visions. Some would say gift, others would think it a curse. Radeic had mixed feelings. It had helped him before, seeing things that would happen and then being able to stop them, but sometimes the visions made no sense. This was a problem at first, leading Radeic to believe he was going mad, but that stopped once he acquired a Kanohi Rode. Now he could tell the difference between the true visions and the mere delusions.

***

Radeic saw his stop, and cut through the chute, using soundwaves to cushion his descent. He landed next to a railing, over-looking a large gorge half full of silvery liquid. He checked the device again. Fifteen minutes. He checked that he had everything. The sword, the Kanoka, the scales, the venom, the torch, everything was here. He just needed one more thing…

***

The last vision Radeic had seen was disturbing. At first, he wrote it off as another delusion, but it kept recurring and, with the use of his mask, he learned it to be the truth. He had panicked at first, but eventually managed to calm himself. He formulated a plan. The vision was terrifying, but it had shown him how to stop it.He just needed to collect some items; the sword said to be able to sunder protosteel walls with the merest slice; the scales of a Kanohi Dragon; a level 8 reconstruct at random Kanoka disk; venom from a Nui-Jaga; and an ever-lasting torch of legend.These items would be hard to find. But he had to try. He was more worried about what he had to do with the items, but that didn’t matter right now. Now he had to get them, because he only had one week left.One week until his island was destroyed.

***

He looked over the railing. It was a long fall. Even with only ten minutes left, Radeic hesitated. All the items were strapped to him and he knew that had to do this, but still he hesitated. The outcome was still uncertain to him…

***

One thing had plagued Radeic. Every time he saw the vision, the ending would change. There seemed to be two outcomes, one good and one bad. He tried to use his Rode to determine which result was true, but they were both the same. It would appear that he couldn’t see what the results of his actions might be. This was new to him. Occasionally, he would see what would happen if he didn’t follow the vision, and while that was bad, it seemed that if he did follow his visions, there was a chance that it would be worse.But he couldn’t worry about that now…

***

Radeic wished he had thought about it before. He wasn’t sure what to do.He took a deep breath and calmed himself. He had to take the chance.“For the island,” he said, leaping into the energised protodermis below.

~~~

Words: 598

Entry #6:

Member Name: Inferna FireswordTheme: VisionsTitle: In the Swirling Vapors (word count: 592)It was rare that a Makuta would hallucinate, and the idea of one attempting to do just that was almost unfathomable. Inconceivable, one might say.Yet, Makuta Hecate was planning to do just that.The Virus Master observed her locked private quarters once more, checking the array of ingredients she had. They were all exotic, but easily obtainable for someone like, as they were ingredients that she normally used for monster-making work. Taking them from the storehouses in Destral had provoked no questions.It was a good thing, too, because what she was about to do would definitely provoke questions, if anyone were to see her.The floor around her table, the lone virus vat that bubbled with the base potion, and she herself was ringed with a thin trail of salt. It felt somewhat silly to her, but the texts she had consulted for this sort of ritual had all advised the circle be placed around her workspace before beginning.As she was a novice – albeit a skeptical novice – she wasn’t taking any chances.Taking a breath, she solemnly began placing the ingredients into the bubbling liquid, waiting for the color to change before she added the next one. With each element that was put in, the fluid hissed, the high temperature quickly liquefying it all. By the time the last part was in the brew, it had turned a sickly green that smelled terrible: even the most vile of virus combinations didn’t smell as awful as this.Hecate tried not to gag as she spoke the formal words that preceded inhaling the vapors. “To the hunters of the dark realms, hear my call. I come with an appeal to you. Let my visions herald your coming and be the medium between my desires and yours.”She felt silly repeating the archaic chant, but went through it all, holding a black crystal of onyx in her hands in prayer. In the most reverent manner that she could, she leaned directly into the rising steam, and deeply inhaled the fumes.The reaction was immediate: the world blurred around her, and she was forced to stumble back and sink into her throne-like chair before she gracelessly fell onto her backside. Blackness welled up in her vision, but since Makuta couldn’t fall asleep, she remained awake, though she wasn’t completely sure of that fact. Things that seemed similar to the few dreams she’d had when she’d had a physical form were floating through her vision, making it hard to differentiate from reality.Then the voices came. One male, two female, they whispered in her ears, their shapes lurking in the corners of her eyes and vanishing when she tried to look at them directly.“We know,” the strongest female voice hissed. “We know what you desire. We will fulfill it.“You have the means to give us what we desire. Promise us that, and we will insure success in your endeavors.”A remainder of Hecate’s rational mind got her to speak. “Yes, but I would rather discuss this later. There isn’t privacy on Destral.”Hisses came from the other figures, but the stronger female voice silenced them before she spoke again. “Look for us in mirrors and the echoing places. We will wait.”Slowly, the visions ceased, and Hecate raised her head up again. The churning of her brew had stilled some time while she was gripped by visions, so all was quiet.Lowering her head down into her hands, she rested. And thought of the consequences making deals with the Nightborn could be.

Entry #7:

Member Name: YukikoTheme: VisionsStory: Wake (487 words)He was standing alone on the black sand. The air pressed down on him. It would storm soon, his aching limbs told him that. This was too real as always, this surreal place. But he waited. He had learned to wait. There was nothing else to do in this world beyond his control.“They are coming, Vakama.”Vakama looked up. “Toa Lhikan?”He couldn’t keep his surprise completely concealed. He had not seen the toa of fire for a very long time, in life or in his visions. And yet, here he was, his greatswords slung over his shoulder.“I am what you want to see, Vakama. The storm is coming, and you must learn to make out the truth through the rain.”Vakama said nothing after that. He leaned on his staff, following his old mentor’s eyes toward the mottled gray sky. The wind picked up speed, piercing through his armor. He shivered. The rumble of thunder grew steadily louder, until a flash of light pierced the air above them.Lighting should happen in a split second, but Vakama could swear that he saw the jagged arms of the bolt reaching down toward them to embrace Lhikan. He shielded his eyes as the spot where Lhikan stood blazed with light. He could make out nothing.When the light faded, there was only Lhikan’s golden hau, laying on the sand before him. The eye-holes of the mask blazed red, then green.“Turaga!”Vakama sat up in his pallet. He rubbed his hands over his face to clear the last shadows of sleep from his mind. That voice...it had been Jaller’s voice. But the Captain of the Guard was gone. Gone to the land of the dead, most likely never to return.Vakama had learned to accept his visions. After all, his people venerated him for it. No longer did others question his sanity when he told of his dreams. He was the noble Turaga Vakama, leader of the Ta-matoran.The things he saw in the fire, after all, were not incomprehensible. He stared at the now dead pot of coals in the center of his hut. When he was awake, he could make sense of it, turn it into real voices and figures and events. But in the unconscious territory of his dreams, his mind melded and twisted and dissolved. There were still some nights when he woke feeling cold all over; when he was not sure if he was awake at all.And those eyes. Red and then green. What did that mean? The Makuta? His eyes were red, and his poison turned the eyes green. But matoran could have green eyes as well. Then there was Jaller’s voice. It had sounded different. Almost…Older, Vakama thought. Like a toa’s.He sat up and began to tend to the coals, as the sun hid the dying stars from the sky.

Entry #8:

Member Name: DespairTheme: VisionsStory: The ObserversWord Count: 546In the time before time…I watched as the once-mighty planet shattered into pieces, and I watched as the robotic vessel the others called their home started its journey through the stars. I observed the many events that took place within that robot – that universe. From the first hesitant steps of the Matoran to the treachery and eventual downfall of the League of Six Kingdoms; I watched it all. The others also watched, but I had no idea what scenes they were forced to view or if they too suffered the same way I did. It was our duty to examine the history of that world, and for most of us it was a wearisome task. I was no exception to this, for I would often grow tired of observing what had already come to pass.Among our numbers were a few who, like myself, wished to get a glimpse of the future instead of this endless stream of age-old history. When we were not busy fulfilling our duties of examining the past (which, admittedly, was not very often), we would often debate on what the future would be like. You see, we only knew of one time: the past. The present was hidden to us, and the future was an eternal mystery to all. Although you could argue that we each had our own time that could be labeled as the present, I believe most of us would agree that that was nonsense. When we were created, we were forced to cast aside our own lives for the sake of something greater.Or at least that was what we had been told. I found that “something” to be infuriatingly vague, for it gave us no idea of what exactly we were sacrificing what others deemed so precious for. Was it for the Matoran, who lived carelessly happy lives down below? Was it for the future that we would never live to experience, trapped as we were in a bottomless pit of the past?I kept these thoughts to myself, but this was my reason for wanting to see what would come to be. I wanted to know that my sacrificing my own happiness and the similar sacrifices of the others would indeed come to bring about something worthwhile. Even in my heart, I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worth all that I had endured. I could only label that future as “something”, for none of us knew what it was.That was what I hated about the visions; the future was hidden from even we who had more than earned the right to know it. In all the events I had seen unfold, good had always somehow managed to prevail. So why, when there were those suffering for the sakes of others, could nothing but misfortune come their way?I closed my eyes, hoping in desperation that it would block out the images rushing through my mind. I knew it wouldn’t; I had tried hundreds of times before now and it had never worked before. However, a person could always hope.For me, hope was all I had left. I had hope, not for the future, but to see the future.Visions of the past were all I lived for, and visions of the future were all I dreamed of.

Entry #9:

Member Name: fishers64Theme: VisionsStory: Between Cities (463 words)“Where are we?”“It’s a little hard to tell, seeing as it’s dark in here.”“Nuparu, aren’t you the guy who is supposed to be able to see in the dark?”“When Kongu can see in pitch black, I will too.”Kongu reached out a hand to his side. A wall. Curved like a tunnel. He felt his way along it, only to run into a solid obstacle. “Hey, watch where you’re going! You’re just like Kongu, always so clumsy!”“Thanks, Nuparu, I really appreciate that. Let’s see, we are in a dark tunnel…somewhere…”“Metru Nui. I mean, I see Metru Nui. Bright and happy, people are their jobs, happily talking with each other.”“Come on, dude, knock it off.”“No, seriously, I see Makuta rising up the Coliseum, energy pylons bending to his will…I see Visorak spiders now.”Kongu grabbed his friend’s arm. “You’re hyperventilating from too much time in the dark.”“The city is deserted, dark, and still.” Nuparu said as Kongu dragged him forward. “The Matoran! They are coming back! They are rebuilding!”“Yes, we all know this. The Turaga told us about it. We saw it before.”“I see the Order of Mata Nui! Building fortifications around the city! They sent us away on another mission – but we were different.”“How?”“I can’t explain.”“Look, we have to get out of this tunnel – it’s driving you bonkers. There is no ‘Order of Mata Nui’. We are Mata Nui’s servants.”“Something dark…rearranging the stars…”“There’s a light ahead. Come on, Nuparu.”“Smashing…trembling…darkness...gone. The Matoran left. Bright sunlight.”The two Toa emerged from the tunnel. Magnetic sheaths blinked, liquid protodermis dripping onto the stone below. Rahi scurried through nests of debris. The floor was painted with a fine layer of dust. The ceiling was a grim web of girders encased in Visorak webs and bits of still-intact stone and wires. Walking across a sagging bridge, Kongu saw dim lights of forges still burning. He ran, almost without thought, to the edge of the silver sea, grimy and murky. The Great Temple, cracking and falling in. The top spires of the Coliseum, falling, crushing homes and sculptures the crafters must have put hours into. A lone Gukko bird flapped over the abysmal scene, coming to rest at his feet. Dead.“No!” he shouted.* * *“Kongu, are you all right?”Kongu blinked. He was on the ground, leaning up against a tunnel. His memory returned – a Zyglak, clobbering him against the wall. Nuparu offered a hand up. Kongu ignored it and scrambled to his feet.“What’s with you?”“Just a little taste of Karzanhi.”“What?”“Look, we have a city to save, and we don’t have time for visions. Now let’s get moving.”

Entry #10:

Member Name: KumataTheme: VisionsStory: Doubt (596 words)Sunlight stained the sky with streaks of gold and violet. Below that colourful canvas stretched a barren plain; a desert that - even though Spherus Magna was reformed - remained as lifeless as ever. Upon it lay a vast figure of dark and rusting metal. That the final resting place of the Great Being’s robot creation (which for a time housed the spirit of Makuta Teridax) should be on such unwelcoming terrain was a curious quirk of fate.Overlooking this scene was a lone figure standing upon a rocky peak. Turaga Vakama’s robes flapped gently in the evening breeze.“So, here you are.”The Turaga of Fire turned, startled by the voice, and set eyes upon another, more aged Turaga of Fire coming up the slope.“Dume,” said Vakama, the surprise evident in his tone.Dume considered the younger Turaga. “What troubles you?”Vakama’s eyes dodged Dume’s gaze. “I am not troubled.” Dume said nothing, but continued to stare. For the next few moments Vakama was silent - then sighed wearily and turned away. “It is my visions.”Dume stepped forwards, joining Vakama’s side. “Something you have seen?”“No. It’s… the fact that I have them,” Vakama replied sadly. He paused before continuing. “I thought my visions were messages from the Great Spirit. I convinced myself that they were meant to guide me, that I was shown glimpses of terrible things so I may prevent them from happening. But now we know we were all part of that robot… now I understand. They weren’t messages after all - just products of my own malfunctioning mind. They were no guiding force; the Great Beings simply erred when they constructed me. All that effort to assure myself that I was sane, and in the end I really am crosswired.”“Vakama…” said the older Turaga kindly, “you are a fool.”Startled again, Vakama looked up. Dume elaborated. “I may not have witnessed your time as a Toa, but I have heard stories enough of how you wrestled with doubt during those days. Particularly how you overcame it. And now, centuries later, you disregard those crucial experiences? Only a fool does this.”“But this - it’s different now!” Vakama protested, an unusual desperation in his voice. “I thought my visions were meant to be. I thought they played some significant role in the course of my destiny! But they were only glitches, hallucinations-”“Answer this,” interrupted Dume sternly. “Did your visions provide insight that allowed you to help others?”“Yes, but-”“Were there times in your past where, had you not experienced visions, you would have failed your goals, your duty, even your destiny?”“I… yes, I… believe so.”“So. Whether these are visions or glitches is irrelevant. They supported your personal growth and - much as we were components in a larger robot - your visions and your acting on them were vital gears in the machinery of history. Without them we may never have reached this new paradise.” Dume placed a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “I understand that the revelation of what we were and the true nature of our universe is difficult to take in. But you must remember that it does not alter who were are. It would be a terrible thing for you to succumb to doubt after all your years of courage and wisdom.”Vakama’s only response was a gradual, grateful smile. Dume lowered his arm. The two Turaga stayed atop the peak for a while, looking wordlessly at the fallen giant. Then, without another word between them, they began their journey home.

Entry #11:

Member Name: ClickTheme: VisionsStory: Rock of AgesIt had fallen without warning in the middle of the night, nearly crushing Gekara on her way home, and neatly slicing a half off of Verius’s hut; luckily he wasn’t home. From a distance, it had a boring appearance, like any rock you might find at the edge of the Black Spike Mountains, but on closer inspection, became a powerful enigma for the inhabitants of New Atero. The entire boulder was covered in writing in an unknown language; the only pictogram of a stout little being with a triangular head and a disk in one hand. Once Solis Magna had risen, it revealed a large crowd of Matoran and Agori crowded around, torches slowly going out over their silent vigil.“Stand aside, villagers, stand aside!” A towering Glatorian of Fire broke the silence as he broke through the mob, wading up to the rock. A wizened old Turaga followed, and then a small Matoran of Ice.“What happened? What is this?” The Turaga immediately burst into questions, to which followed an explosion of stories and alibis, which were silenced with difficulty by the Glatorian. The Matoran was furiously taking notes on a small tablet. “Call on Nokama, she might be able to read this.”

A flurry of motion and talking passed as a group of Matoran ran off to the north bringing the word. A hot hour passed before a light blue Turaga walked into the circle, villagers spreading to give her room. The group grew tense as they awaited something to happen, and Nokama furrowed her brow in intense concentration. After a few minutes passed by, she stood up in defeat and shook her head.“Mata Nui will not grant me a vision of its meaning. Perhaps, by knowing its past, we may be able to understand its purpose.” At those words, another group of Matoran broke off in search of a Toa, bringing back a Toa of Plasma wearing the Mask of Psychometry. As the orange being tried to break into the center, all eyes were on him, waiting to see the result.The Toa nervously glanced first at the crowd, and then at the Turaga, Glatorian, and Chronicler in the center. He tentatively reached for the stone, drew back for a moment, and then allowed the power of his mask to show its past to him. He first started shaking, and then his free arm started a spasm as elemental energy cracked through the air. His eyes widened, then his mouth gaped and a low moan escaped before he shot backwards into the crowd, smoking. The surprised villagers jumped back, and a few reached out to catch the limp Toa. All wide eyes were on the charred armor as one Matoran pronounced he was dead.“The vision must have been too much for him. This seemingly common rock may have an interesting history indeed,” said the first Turaga. At the sound of this, the Toa shook momentarily, and his heartlight flashed just long enough for one word to escape his sealed lips.“He…lp.”The pictogram flashed and a hairline crack grew from it, enveloping the whole stone until it collapsed in on itself in a shower of dust. After recovering from shock, the anxious crowd peered into the clearing hole.Inside was a rectangular pod with a clear covering, revealing a being like the one pictured on the stone. A disk flashed across as the being’s eyes opened, and the crowd saw a distant planet, split into seven elemental fragments and a race not unlike themselves…(589 words)

Entry #12:

Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: VisionsStory: Returned (600 words)Koi is gone.Just yesterday over the meal table, she had sat and talked with the rest of us — Eknosis, Rea, and me — had eaten her fill, had smiled in her withdrawn fashion at every joke told, her eyes glimmering under the candlelight. Now she is passed like a dream, her seat empty. Her name only comes heavily to my tongue.As I prod at my food, Eknosis asks me if I feel fine. Concern is in the Toa of Earth's eyes, but it seems thin as paper."I do," I respond, "but does—"Her name refuses to be uttered. Eknosis acquiesces. The remainder of the meal passes in silence.* * *Our dwelling is not overly large. It consists of four bedrooms, one per occupant; a dining room with a circular table and four seats; a kitchen; and a small living room whose bookshelf acts as a magnet for faint coatings of dust. Eknosis, being a Toa of Earth adorned with a Mask of Accuracy, does all the hunting required for sustenance; Rea, a Vortixx, cooks behind locked doors; and I, Ikara, remain in the library most of the day, scribbling on whatever paper I can acquire as I ponder philosophy.Koi would normally tidy the rooms, but with her absent, I go about the work myself. My subconscious mind recycles thoughts of the Toa of Water; my conscious mind expunges them as they surface.When I dust the last shelf in the living room, I light a candle with my fire powers and, under its flickering light, pore over a volume I have been reading for days. Reality, it suggests, is subjective. It's wistful to imagine death is a dream, but I need solace from something.* * *Solace, I lament, left with Eknosis.Night had fallen, and the Toa of Earth had failed to knock upon the door. For the first time in what seemed like millennia, I had felt a shard of fear pierce my heart. Eknosis is still unreturned.Rea is apathetic. Expecting sympathy from a Vortixx is folly, true, but could she really ignore the absence of our lifeblood?She says she will cook using leftovers. No utterance of Eknosis's name enters her speech, and I offer none in return.My reply is to nod and again open the book I had been reading: An Examination of "Reality", by K. Aria.* * *"Don't you leave," I finally say to Rea over dinner.She doesn't respond. Angrily, I repeat the question; she ignores me.Cold fear wraps around my heart. In panic, I round the table and grab her by the shoulders, yelling the question in her face. Finally, she snaps. The others aren't gone, she says; I am."No." Yes.She's hopeless. I stand up. "Forget you."She says I can't. "Stop bluffing," I challenge, but she denies the allegation. She asks: How could I possibly erase a part of myself?My subconscious mind screams under the sudden pressure of pain. Rea must feel it, for she cries in return that I must be a fool to have fallen for this dream.This... dream?The thought serves as a trigger. The candles in the living room are extinguished. Rea laughs as my existence is turned off as if by a switch. She pulls away — as does the rest of the dining room — whiplash yanks my head back hard enough for my neck to hurt—I awaken in the cruel grasp of a prison: walls of debris in a cold, dead universe. My Mask of Illusion dims, fading from bliss into dead weight.I am returned.I am broken.

Entry #13:

Member Name: TNTOSTheme: VisionsStory: The Curse of Vagueness (568 words)Kafor blinked and saw herself.No. That wasn’t it. Not exactly. She did see herself, but it was herself from the future. The Skakdi Seer watched as her future self battled a figure dressed in white robes. The being moved with the grace of a serpent; indeed there was something vaguely serpentine in his thin arms and legs that sent shivers up Kafor’s spine.Kafor wasn’t alone in this vision, however. She saw a black-and-green warrior fighting alongside her future self. She did not recognize his species at all. He was hunchbacked and hideous, with a round helmet with a protruding backside. He carried a sword and buzz saw shield, but he used them mostly for channeling shadow elemental energy.Who is that being? Who are we fighting? Kafor thought, but she really didn’t expect an answer. Her visions were always vague and this one was no different.It was then that Kafor sensed someone nearby. Glancing to the left, Kafor saw a Toa of Iron chained up (which she found ironic). She recognized him as Toa Nasis, a customer of hers, but she didn’t feel disturbed to see him in chains. She’d never liked him much anyway. She didn’t even bother theorize why he was here when she knew there wasn’t any point in speculating in these visions.Kafor turned her attention back to the fight. She saw her future self fire eye beams at the white-robed being, who ducked while at the same time with his arm blocking the shadow being’s sword. The white-robed being smirked and his face changed into a Kanohi Pakari. He slammed his fist into the shadow being’s face, sending Kafor’s future ally stumbling to the ground.Future Kafor gasped, but then the shadow being got back up and shook his head, as though he got punched in the face by unnaturally strong beings every day. The shadow being charged at the white-robed enemy again, swinging his sword. This time landing a hit on the enemy, cutting through his robes and revealing black armor underneath.Future Kafor shot more laser blasts at the white-robed enemy, which hit him in the chest. Kafor figured that should‘ve been a fatal blow, but the enemy merely staggered backwards and glanced down at the smoking hole in his chest. It looked as though the enemy’s innards were completely devoid of organs, similar to a robot’s anatomy.Then the enemy scowled and clapped his hands together, creating a sonic boom that Kafor couldn’t hear. She knew it was a sonic boom because her future self and her future ally clasped their hands over their audio receptors and reeled in agony. Kafor was glad she couldn’t hear it.The enemy ran at Future Kafor and her ally. Kafor blinked again and found herself lying rigid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her room. She cursed her vision for ending just then, but only halfheartedly. Her visions were always unclear and she hadn’t expected this one to be different.This one seemed more important than past visions, however, perhaps because it directly concerned her. Kafor only wished she knew when it was going to take place, if nothing else. She also wondered what Nasis had to do with it.Not much I can do about it, Kafor thought. Except, of course, wait. And, although I’ve become so good at it over the years, I hate waiting.

Entry #14:

Member name: Kal GrochiTheme: VisionsStory: Salvation (552 words.)Running. Jumping. Flying. He did all of these with ease.But there always seemed to be a hunger that he couldn’t appease.Life. Battle. Death. All these and more flashed before his eyes.But he couldn’t even see through the web of his own mind-created lies.A blinding light, there, at the end of the tunnel!But he couldn’t reach it, no, as his fate would tell.“Don’t worry, Vakama,” the resting red Toa said,“The Vahki and Makuta all seem to have fled.”Suddenly he turned, seeing weapons of destruction,Matoran reduced to a state where they could barely even function.He stepped back in fear, before realizing his mistake,Already he had resigned the Matoran to their fate.Suddenly, the vision broke, he recoiled from the sphere,Attempting to conquer his mind numbing fear.“Vakama!” Nokama called, “What did you see?”Vakama shook his head, trying from his mind to flee.“The Matoran, they’re in danger!” The distraught Toa cried,Seeing his friends go to sleep, their freedom denied.Nokama put a comforting hand on his shoulder,Though to Vakama, he only felt colder.

***

Vakama sighed, sitting beneath the stars, having finished the small poem. He had yet to find Lihkan, let alone discover what he was to do with the Great Disks. He closed his eyes, thinking over his recent memory again.

***

When he closed his eyes, he saw Lihkan. Chained, beaten, but his fiery will burned bright still. The elder Toa of Fire stared into Vakama’s eyes, his gaze piercing Vakama’s innermost thoughts.“Do not fail the Matoran,” he commanded, a dark laugh coming through in the background. “You’re their guardian now, Vakama, they need you. Do not lose hope, do not back down, and you will prevail.” Lhikan’s face contorted in pain, his back arching as a shadow whip burnt another bloody trail down his back.“Go, Vakama!” He commanded. “Do not tarry here, the Matoran need you!” The golden-armoured Toa of Fire let out a slight groan as he was struck again, fading from Vakama’s view, not hearing the desperate cries of the mask maker.

***

“Vakama!” The Toa of Fire heard. “Vakama!” He stirred awake, his hand instantly reaching for his disk launcher, ready for battle…when he noticed it was just Nokama attempting to awaken him.“Another vision?” She asked, concerned. Vakama nodded, averting his eyes. Nokama sighed, banging her fist against the wall in frustration. Vakama stood, walking to the front of the small canyon where they were sheltered. He had a perfect view of the Coliseum.He pulled out two of the Great Disks, again, looking at them intensely. Suddenly, he felt an almost magnetic pull between the disks…normally he would resist this, to prevent any possible damage to the disks…but this time, he let them come together.He was surprised by the result. Instead of just bouncing against each other like normal disks might, they merged. He looked at them closely, pulling out the other four disks, one by one, and combining them all, applying a little of his element to make sure they merged well.He smiled, looking at the finished product. A burnished, golden-hued disk, almost with a majestic aura about it.“Nokama,” he said, a determined look on his face, “I think I’ve just found our salvation."

Entry #15:

Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: VisionsStory: Ihiko's Terror (559 words)Ihiko sat alone in his hut, staring through the circular window as the fading light sunk below the horizon. He was visibly shaking beneath his mask, his mind filled with strange ideas he could not possibly know. Right in the middle of his work shift he had gained a sudden realisation of things he knew he had never seen and places he had never known. It was strange, to say the least, and disturbing for one so deeply concerned with facts and certainty as he.He had seen in his mind's eye the great Toa Heiran, first and greatest of all heroes, legend of the Five Isles and champion of the Drakooni Wastes. He had stood tall, power radiating from him in great waves of heat and flame. He held aloft his mighty sword, the sword that had delivered a thousand Matoran from greatest peril, and a thousand more who had never even heard his name. He stood alone in a great expanse of sky and sand, stretching in every direction further than the eye could see. It was a place Ihiko had never been, yet somehow it was as familiar as the shores of his homeland.Then, suddenly, the Toa's light began to fade. His armour darkened, seeming to lose its vitality and substance. Slowly it faded, until it was nothing more than ash in the wind. The hero of centuries, the Toa who came to be known as both the greatest warrior and greatest peacekeeper these people had ever known, was no more.It was obvious this vision was of the past. Ihiko knew, as all knew, that this mighty hero had died long ago in a far distant land, felled at last by the many evils he had long kept at bay. Ihiko knew not why he saw this, nor even that what he saw was true. He knew only that he had seen it - that heknew it - and this scared him. Neither logic nor reason could explain how this could come to be.But that was not the most disturbing thing. No, one fact weighed down on him heavier than any other. It was something he knew beyond any doubt. Something which filled him with great hope and great terror; with great joy and great sorrow. It was a simple fact, coupled with an equally simple observation. But he knew it would change everything.In the final moments before Heiran had vanished, Ihiko had glanced one more thing. One small, fleeting thing. As the great Toa's mask crumbled before him he saw, without any shadow of a doubt, a face he knew only too well. It was in that moment that he knew, this was more than a vision of the past. It was also a vision of the future. For the face he saw behind the mask, the face he had glimpsed so very briefly, was his.He knew, in that instant, what his destiny was. He knew where he had to go. He knew what he had to do. Like many before him, he must take up the mantle of Toa. He must wield the raw power of nature itself to protect his people from the evils that lay beyond their shores. He, Ihiko, must become the new protector of the Five Isles.He had never been more scared in his life.

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #16:

Member Name: xccj

Theme: VisionsStory: Finding the Mask of Visions (599 words)Onua, Toa of Earth, was digging an underground tunnel beneath the Motara Desert. He was searching for the Great Kanohi masks of power, and Turaga Whenua had informed him that the Kanohi Akaka, the mask of visions, was located in a cavern deep beneath the desert. Onua was close to the natural cavern now, and he would break through after just five more minutes of digging.Suddenly, the tunnel around him began to tremble. Cracks formed in the ceiling, and then a hole was punched through, and sunlight flooded the tunnel. Onua squinted his eyes, unused to the bright light, but noticed the being descending towards him.“Pohatu?” Onua questioned.Pohatu, Toa of Stone, dropped through the hole and landed next to Onua, causing the ground to vibrate as he did. “Onua, fancy seeing you here. I’m in search of the Kanohi Akaku, and I believe it’s located nearby.”“But I am after the mask of visions,” Onua protested. “Whenua told me it would be here!”“Turaga Onewa specifically told me of this location,” Pohatu countered. “Guess the first one to the mask gets it.”Onua shook his head. “Well, go shatter tunnels somewhere else. I’ve almost dug through to the cavern, and I’ll be inside in a few minutes.”“Or I could break through right now!” Pohatu exclaimed. He lifted his large foot and kicked the tunnel wall hard, releasing his elemental energy. The rocks fractured and fell apart, creating an opening to the cavern.“Race you!” Pohatu said, as he activated his Mask of Speed and zipped into the cavern. Onua pushed through the debris, but he could not keep up with the Toa of Stone.“The mask is mine!” Pohatu said as he raced across the room. He saw the glint of silver that indicated the Akaku, but suddenly the rock wall reached out and punched him hard. Pohatu was moving too fast to dodge, and the blow threw him back through the air. Onua reached out and caught him before he could slam into the wall.“A Vatuka!” Onua said. “A stone elemental creature. It must be guarding the mask!”“I could try running around it…” Pohatu suggested.“Allow me instead,” Onua said, charging forward. He lashed out at the Vatuka with his claws, but they hardly scraped its stone skin. With a mighty shove, the Vatuka knocked Onua back.“Tough luck,” Pohatu said. “Neither of us can defeat this thing!”“Perhaps if we work together,” Onua suggested. “I can match its strength, so while I’m distracting it, zip in and grab the mask!”“But then who will get it?”“We’ll decide later,” Onua said, and he attacked again. He grabbed onto the Vatuka’s arms and activated his Mask of Strength to keep them pinned down. Meanwhile, Pohatu raced around the Vatuka and snatched up the prize.“Get out of there!” Pohatu yelled as he ran for the exit.“I agree,” Onua said, and utilizing all his strength, he pushed back the Vatuka and retreated. The Vatuka took a moment to get back up, but found itself facing two Toa, who released a combined elemental blast of earth and stone which caused the cavern to collapse. The Toa returned to the surface while the Vatuka was buried in the cave-in.“That was excellent!” Pohatu exclaimed. “Teaming up sure works out!”“Yes, but now we must decide who gets the mask of visions,” Onua said.“No need,” Pohatu said, holding out his hands. “It turns out there were two Akaku masks down there. One for each of us!”“Then Mata Nui smiles upon us,” Onua said.

Entry #17

Name: Tyler Durden

Theme: VisionsStory: I See Everything (Word Count: 597)Everybody’s always yammering on about clairvoyance.Oh, they say, it’s brilliant! Imagine everything you could foresee, everything you could change, everyone you could meet, the things you could do! You could become a rich man, meet the girl of your dreams, find out how you’re going to die…If you could find out how you’re going to die, would you want to?See, the thing is, clairvoyance isn’t a gift at all. It isn’t something you sign up for one day and then wait a week to see if you were approved to receive it. This “gift” of mine, well, let me tell you, it’s not a bloody job interview. It isn’t a weekend retreat. This hurts.A lot.I got my visions the old fashioned way: I had to die for them. When I died, I went to the afterlife and got stuck in some sort of hold up on the way. My soul, or whatever passes for one, must have gone ahead in time and saw into what can only be my future and the futures of those associated with me, and now at random times, I start to experience what I’ve seen, what I’m about to do, and the outcomes of the choices I make.And they’re not pretty.When I created this new body, this strapping, well-dressed Toa of Iron that my soul inhabited and took for its own, I had no clue the limitations of what it could handle. These things – these visions – they’re attacking my psyche from the inside out, tearing away at it like a virus. Eventually, the experts on the occult and the paranormal tell me, they’ll blow out the back of my head completely. Picture me grinning really, really wide right now, like a painted doll before some foolish little girl drops her and cracks her porcelain head open, spilling out the contents of her head onto the cold, marshy ground below. Already, I’m unable to convey my thoughts, once so eloquent and brilliant and witty, into verbal sounds; I’m forced to write out what I feel and show it to anyone who may actually care enough to listen.That list is rapidly dwindling.Every now and then, I can gibber out some future phrase, some insignificant Freudian slip that may mean something to somebody someday, but nobody ever realizes it.Rosebud.Picture the story of every prophet you’ve ever heard of. Now picture the ending of that story.Spoiler alert: they all die.There’s a reason for this simple yet disturbing occurrence, a rather simple that holds for every seer in any culture of any time period. Those who are blessed – or cursed – with the gift of foresight are often either shunned, murdered, or drive themselves to suicide so they don’t have to contemplate the cold, harsh realities of their lives. These visions, for these people, they’re escapism for suckers.Thing is, that kind of delusion only lasts for so long before it begins to shatter, break around you, until you’re nothing but a caricature of yourself, a foreboding and ghostly reminder that you once meant something to someone. That’s what happened to me, and there’s not a day I don’t wish it away.Too late for that, though. Every time I get a vision, I start to wonder, is this it?Is this the one?I’m nothing but a porcelain doll at this point, and I don’t care anymore.I can feel it now: there’s another flash coming, another image floating through my head, and I can already feel myself starting to wonder if this -

Entry #18:

Member name: Katuko

Theme: VisionsStory: The Florist's Failure (596 words)Everything is dark. I try to look around, to find some point of reference, but to no avail. I am all alone, unable to see, in the middle of nowhere. I lift my arm upwards, flexing my fingers in front of my face. I can see my gauntlet's dull green metal plating; illuminated by the faintly glowing elemental emitter in my palm. So, I am not blind. I look a bit closer at my hand, and I notice something else. It is wet.A moment later, a bright flash tears through the blackness, accompanied by loud thunder. Suddenly, I can feel the wind and rain bearing down on me. I am glad I wear a mask, for the smooth surface protects me from the brunt of the storm. I gaze into the distance, trying to make out my surroundings. I can now tell that I am standing in a field, not far from a structure of some kind. Even though I can't remember it, I feel as if there is something I am supposed to do there, something I have long since forgotten. Without a second thought, I begin to walk towards the building.As I get closer, I can now see that the building is a small storage facility, perfectly rectangular and covered with smooth metal plating. I press myself against the wall to avoid the worst of the howling wind, and search for the door. In the end I find it, and for some reason I am not surprised to find it unlocked. I get inside and shut it behind me, and in an instant the sound of the storm is gone. I am standing in a big, dimly lit room, with yellow lightstones lining the walls on all sides. It appears empty, save for a single object lying in the center of the room. With a hint of a memory in my head, I approach it.Once I get closer, I can see that the thing is blue and metallic. I crouch down and pick it up. Half of a Kanohi Pakari. How curious. A sudden sense of dread fills me as I look at it, and I tear my eyes away. I look around the room once more... and this time, I shiver. Plants. There are plants everywhere. The entire building looks as if it has been overgrown for years. I turn around again to leave the place, but find that there is just a smooth metal wall in front of me. The door is gone.I blink, and suddenly the fauna is moving, and the air is filled with the chitter-chatter of leaves rustling and wood being strained. Ivy sprouts beneath my feet. A root catches my foot, and I yank it loose, only to have another shoot up and twist around my waist. I stumble and fall, panic pulsing in my head. Another memory hits me, and I reach out with the power I only now remember I have. The plants are torn away from me. I will them to crawl back from whence they came, and soon I am left alone in silence again. I push myself up from the floor, feeling heavier than I ever have before. The mask I found lies in front of me. I meet its empty gaze, and its half of a mouth whispers to me: "Why did you fail me?"I wake with a start, to find my fellow Toa standing around me. I wave them off without a word. There is no need to trouble them anymore than I have already done...

Entry #19:

Member name: GSR

Theme: VisionsStory: The Last Dangerous Visions (428 words)At times, Turaga Vakama dreamt of stars.He dreamt of space completely unbounded, of planets and galaxies and universes stretching out beyond comprehension, packed with stories and struggles and losses and victories and life and danger.And then he would open his eyes and see the walls of his hut in New Atero, the torch in the corner of the room flickering and casting shadows across the wall.At times he would lift himself from where he slept, take his staff, and hobble out into the streets of their city, a hodgepodge of half-finished buildings, and walk for a while. Matoran and Toa greeted him warmly. Agori and Glatorian greeted him cordially - but that was good enough.Once he was startled to find an old friend on a walk of her own, staff in one hand, tablet in another, heading back from a long night at the school, and together they walked and spoke of days gone by and days yet to come.She never asked him if he still had visions, and so he never told her of his stars.Another time he came upon the Toa he'd almost come to think of as family, and the two of them walked and he listened to his son describe the struggles he still faced in uniting the Agori and Matoran.And his son never asked him if he still had visions, and so he never told him that his stars were getting smaller, that at night he no longer saw galaxies or universes, only a single planet, and he never told him that he feared that perhaps the planet was theirs.But another time he stumbled upon two Toa he'd known well even as Matoran, and simply smiled and shook his head as the former Ga-Matoran insisted that she'd just been getting some dirt off her companion's mask, which was as red and unblemished as ever. And the three walked and he offered a few old tales to them, because that was what was expected.And they never asked him if he still had visions, and so he never told them that yes, he did, but it was alright.That night he bade them farewell and returned to his hut, leaned his staff against the small forge he kept, and laid himself down to rest. And he dreamt of a planet so far away, of its cities that put Metru Nui to shame and of heroes and villains, and when Turaga Vakama awoke he smiled, because it had nothing at all to do with any of them.

Entry #20:

Member name: Lego Junkie

Theme: VisionsStory: Destiny.Up, down, up, down.The tendon in my arm writhes like a snake, changing shape and contorting as I relax and contract my arm. The dark shadows surround me whispering and taunting. Visions of ancestors long dead and forgotten. Electricity snakes along my arm, turning the sweat beading the skin to glowing specks of light."Many have tried, none have succeeded." They whisper as one voice, "You will only suffer pain and sorrow if you try to complete this trial. Do not be a fool..."Up, down.The minuscule orbs of light flicker and sends tiny shocks down my arm. The waves crash onto rocks, many yards below. The light spray floating in the air catches the moonlight before it settles and coats my face, stinging slightly. It then joins my sweat, glowing faintly.The wind roars, waves crash, my heart beats steadily, keeping time with the waves. A wall extends skywards in front of me, mossy and glinting with slime in the faint light. I reach out and brush it with the tips of my fingers, sending a faint pulse of electricity up the wall, the tendrils quickly fade away to nothingness. "Do not be a fool youngling, you are the best hope we have. Do not waste it. "Up, down.The wind suddenly fades into a whisper, encouraging me on to the top of the world. The stillness makes the dark shadows clouding my mind anxious, the darkness begins to swirl, making my head ache. A massive wave crashes into the dark wall below, coating me in salt water and blinding me. Lightning explodes outwards and away from my body as it jumps from water droplet to water droplet, I'm encased in a micro solar-flare.I shout into the silence, "This future is mine to grasp! I shall take it and make it my own!" The shadows still, whispering among themselves.The brightness fades, shrinking back into my soaked and trembling frame.Then I jump, tendrils of lightning flow through my hands, snaking into the massive wall before me and pulling me upwards. Chips of stone fly, glowing white-hot in the darkness. The wall race past me at tremendous speeds, green and grey blur together to form a mess of flashing colors.The power surging through me instantly disappears, my momentum from my upward climb stays with me for a moment, and then it's gone. Gravity sucks at my legs, pulling me downwards, to a certain death on those massive boulders.My arms flail, searching for something to grab onto to stop my body from falling."I will not fail. I cannot fail." My scrabbling fingers find purchase, and my arms scream in protest.Then I climb.Hours pass as I slowly inch my way up the sheer cliff-face, time seems endless, the only thing that allows me to know that time is still flowing by is the rumble of the ocean beneath me.The edge takes me by surprise, my fingers reach upwards expecting to find more rock, finding nothing, only air.Shaking, I pull myself up and over the edge, collapsing into a heap on top of the world.The power that so suddenly left me at the start of the climb enters my veins, now laced with something stronger, more powerful.I have found the vision.I will become a god.Surges of power enter me and I send them into the stone beneath me. The enormous tower that stalked generations of my race begins to crumble, falling into the sea of blackness.The vision is mine.I laugh.

Entry #21:

Member Name: Toa SonisTheme: VisionsStory: Hope is Freedom (Word Count: 598)A mysterious being stood on a golden beach. The land before him was beautiful and untamed, though small footprints in the sand showed signs of habitation. It was a small island, but the newcomer decided it would serve his purposes. As the being took another step further onto the land that would be his home, a strange rahi slithered out of the minute boat floating on the breakers. It undulated up to the being, and he laughed as he stroked one of its two heads.“If only they knew what I know.”Hours later, a Le-Matoran gathering driftwood came across large tracks on his island's western shore. It was a sandy place compared to the other coasts, and for once he was glad for the loose grit. Le-Matoran are excellent trackers, and he was no exception. But as the Matoran peered at the textured ground, he noticed something intertwined with the footprints. It was the unmistakable charred path of a rare lava viper.The villager returned to his home in fear. He felt the need to inform his village elder of his discovery. As he neared the Turaga of Le-Koro's home, a friend called out to him.“What's the quickrush about, Aran? The leafparty begins soon! Everyone is there. Even Wiseone Humil has left his halls to participate in the festivities.”This stopped the Matoran in his tracks. Aran began to run the other way, towards the village's gathering place. As he raced towards his friend, he paused.“I saw a lava viper's path on the beach today, beside the trail of another being. Both had melted some of the sand beneath them, and you know the forest is hotdry this seasoncycle!”Even as Aran finished his warning, the two Matoran heard distant shouts. They ran and swung along branches as they raced to the celebration grounds. Though it had taken them mere minutes, to the two Le-Matoran it felt like an eternity before they stood beside their kinsmen. Turaga Humil turned to face them.“Sorrybad news has come from the borderlands. The forest is aflame!”Though Aran's friend raced off immediately to fight the fire, the tracker himself felt compelled to tell his Turaga of what he had discovered. When he was done, Humil shook his head in sorrow.“I forsee much sorrow in Le-Koro's future,” he said. “I have had visiondreams that speak of sorrybad times like this. I think I will not be with you much longer. But remember, Aran: good will triumph over evil. Someday there shall be Toa, and they will fightbeat this threat!”A few months after Aran found the being's prints on the beach, that same mysterious newcomer conquered the island. His first action after taking over the villages was to execute all the Turaga, so the Matoran would have no one to rally behind. It worked, and for about a thousand years the island villagers were kept under his control. During this time the Toa - Dark Hunter war was fought in Metru Nui, and fresh from it many Toa returned to their homes. But a team of six took to the seas, fighting scattered forces of evil throughout the universe. As they were sailing to the Southern Continent years later, a violent storm wrecked their ship and flung them to a small island off the continent's coast. Remnants of the maelstrom knocked them unconscious on the same golden beach the island's tyrannical ruler had stepped ashore on so many years before.And it was there that Turaga Humil's vision to Aran came true.

Entry #22:

Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

Theme: VisionsStory: Jungle Beauty (600 words)A lone Kewa emitted a raucous cry tinged with weariness. It soared over the jungle canopy with effortless grace, gliding on the breeze until the air currents carried it to the tree where rested its fellows among the high branches, safe from the predators of the night. The branches swayed gently in the wind, rocking its tenants to sleep.Elsewhere, other avian Rahi were settling among the treetops for the night. Below, hidden by the verdure, the diurnal creatures of the jungle were settling in their knotholes and burrows, while the nocturnal creatures awakened from their slumbers to revel in the darkness.From the heights of the Great Tree, the jungle spread out in every direction, transcended by the twin peaks to the northeast, framed by a strip of blue to the west and to the south. But everywhere else it was green; tree after tree after tree, of a number greater than can be measured, of varieties more numerous than can be named. It was endless, boundless; it teemed with life.Yet I knew the number of trees, though I could not count them. I knew the name of each Rahi, though I could not list them. I knew the jungle, because Ifelt the jungle, because I was one with the jungle--because the jungle was one with me. Because I am the jungle.The panorama laid artistically before me was a vision. Here was beauty beyond compare, a magical world where everything was perfectly coordinated,perfectly planned, and adhering to a strict law; yet simultaneously untamed and unpredictable.Both predator and prey and every tree and every stone had a purpose in this jungle. Equilibrium here reigned supreme. The predators hunt and kill, consume their prey; but when at last they die, the jungle consumes them. The jungle absorbs the dead, giving it new life through the trees and foliage; food for the herbivores. The hierarchy begins and ends in the same place.The jungle is one. Everything within it has a position where it is necessary. And I had my position: hero of the jungle.But to grow and thrive the jungle requires water. It feeds the jungle, every drop that falls from the sky, every stream that flows through its veins. Flora and fauna both are sustained and balanced by the water. Without the water, the jungle would die. It is the water that gives the jungle its beauty.I had once been in thirst of this sustenance, a thirst which I had not realized I was afflicted. I had drunk in the beauty and the vitality of this element, that most vital Water; I had been given new life through it. But then I had lost it. And it had taken with it the life the jungle held for me.The jungle I had once loved, called my home, my life; was dead. Each leaf had shriveled, every tree trunk had withered and collapsed. The Rahi had fallen into slumber. The whispers of the jungle were dulled and no longer fell upon my ears. Around me it was alive; but within I had lost my love for it when I had pushed away the love I cherished.The jungle around me was a vision. But the vision in my eyes was a short, gracile figure; a blue Kaukau; a glowing smile; eyes that twinkled with effervescence.This night I did not feel like king of the jungle. I was not one with it. I murmured to the stars, "I am no hero. I am no jungle. I am but sorry, Hahli. . . ."

Entry #23:

Member Name: ~Kodan~

Theme: VisionsStory: Revenge (Word Count: 599)Prothotix and the other Matoran sprinted towards the wall of the massive dome they’d called home. They were finally within sight of the cave that would liberate them from their universe and Teridax’s tyranny. Since his coup, each moment had been a nightmare. Ordinarily, the villagers would have relied upon Turaga Viidenz’s Mask of Clairvoyance for guidance, but to their horror, no visions came. The Matoran had almost given up hope until Prothotix had wandered into their village a week ago. The villagers, under normal circumstances, were wary of outsiders, but when they had learned that their fellow Matoran was a seer whose visions had shown him an escape route, they gladly put all their doubts aside.“Come on,” urged Prothotix, “We’re almost there!”The group surged forward. The cave was only a few yards off now--They came to an abrupt halt as a band of Skakdi emerged from all sides.“Keep back, little ones!” shouted the Turaga as he fearlessly attempted to shepherd the Matoran behind him, although they were hopelessly outmatched. Prothotix, however, strode forward to join the Skakdi.“Prothotix,” Viidenz demanded, “what is the meaning of this?”“You fool!” scoffed one of the Skakdi. “He’s a con artist, not a seer!”“Afraid so,” confirmed a smirking Prothotix. “And when your passage to salvation is guarded by a horde of cannibal Skakdi, you offer them whatever they want.”He strode away. “Forgive my lack of compassion,” he called over his shoulder, “but it’s ill advised in my line of work.”“Prothotix!” The Matoran looked back as the Turaga’s commanding voice rang out behind him. Viidenz stared at him grimly, his mask glowing. “Beware the armored demons in the waste.”Prothotix laughed and walked away. “Your visions are meaningless now, Turaga!” He weaved his way through the cave and into the sunlit desert on the other side. Pleased with how well his scheme had worked, he smiled, and began looking for some sign of civilization, yet found none.As he stopped to scan the horizon, he saw three shapes to the West. It was hard to make them out, but they appeared to be Toa. Encouraged, Prothotix began to run in their direction. As he drew closer, the shapes became clearer. Although they looked like Toa, he could now see that they weren’t. He slowed his pace as he noticed one of the figures was covered in spiked, blue armor. The Turaga’s prophecy suddenly came back to him. He’d brushed it off as just a lie to frighten him, but Viidenz couldn’t lie while having a vision . . . could he? Prothotix began to run eastward, hoping he’d gone unnoticed. To his dismay, the three beings were pointing in his direction. Terrified, he broke into a sprint, but as the beings did the same, he realized he couldn’t outrun them. His pursuers were shouting now, and he shut his eyes as fear consumed his mind completely.Suddenly, he felt the ground vanish beneath his feet, opened his eyes, and screamed as he went hurtling from a cliff.The “armored demons” stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked down at Prothotix’s broken body.“Why did he run?” asked Tarix the Glatorian in dismay. “Couldn’t he see we were just trying to help him?”***Prothotix laughed and walked away. “Your visions are meaningless now, Turaga!”“Turaga?” Viidenz turned to one his frightened Matoran as the power of his mask faded away. “What did you see?”“Oh, nothing little one.” Viidenz smiled and put his arm around him, watching his “prophecy” lead their betrayer to his doom.“Nothing at all.”

Entry #24:

Member Name: Cederak

Theme: VisionsStory: Omnipotent (Word Count: 400)Phylox examined his glimmering sword again, swinging it through the air. It was light like air and deadly sharp. He had never been the bravest Glatorian and his tribe's acquisition of the mysterious, silvery liquid had been won completely without his assistance. Even his tribe's Agori had gone into battle to serve the Element Lord of Ice and preserve their dominance by holding on to the precious substance. Phylox was not a warrior by nature, more of a coward really. It was only after seeing what the liquid had done to his meager blade, after seeing it return to the surface as a shining tool that moved like an extension of himself, Phylox knew what he wanted next.The liquid was always under security, to ensure other tribes and their Element Lord leaders would not take it from them. For a Glatorian of ice, however, the greatest difficulty he would face was deciding whether to lead with his left or right foot. The guards casually let him through on the pretense that Phylox wished to study the liquid's abilities. No one viewed him as a threat - not in the past and certainly not today. His journey down to the substance was an uneventful one, full of half-dreamed aspirations and nightmares born from a life of inadequacy and weakness.Once Phylox was standing before the liquid again, he stared for quite a while, holding his gift from the gleaming liquid at his side. He felt very connected to the substance in their silent relationship. The great makers had bestowed elemental power onto one of his own already, but the liquid was capable of so much more. Through it, perhaps Phylox could become a maker. Since the Core War's inception, Phylox had dreamed of ending his tribe's enemies in a glorious display of power. He looked at the sword again and smirked. With that weapon, he would reign supreme. Phylox would crush their frosty Element Lord like snowflakes beneath his heel and conquer Spherus Magna for the Ice Tribe.Phylox grinned, staring at his reflection in the silvery pool. Through the faint ripples, Phylox could see himself, he could see grand visions of tearing the world asunder through a pair of eccentric eyes. It was time. Phylox placed his sword onto his back and ran headlong for the liquid. He dove in and prepared himself for divinity.The liquid consumed him.

Entry #25:

Member Name: Velox

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 600Story: Tormenting Chimera

Tormenting Chimera

I slammed the glass down on the wooden table before me. I flicked my wrist at the waitress that was walking by, saying simply, “Another.” She nodded and quickly hurried off toward the bar, her flaxen hair flowing gracefully.The other barflies around me stared, but I continued to look ahead, a snarl on my face and a fire in my eyes. The glowing firelight from the various lamps throughout the room lighted my face like the sunset. The flames flickered ominously in the shadows throughout the room. The dim lighting was plentiful enough to be able to see, but dark enough to not bestow any cheer.It was perfect. I took another puff from my wooden pipe, the leaves glowing like embers, before slowly releasing the wispy smoke. The new glass came, and I slid the old one to join the others; a cluster of glasses that I had already drunken from. I took a sip and immediately warmth flowed through my being. The only sort of jubilance I would have this evening, the intoxicating, inebriating liquid providing it.It was another of those nights. A night where the nightmares emerged and the visions screamed. Forcing more guilt upon me. Relentlessly grabbing ahold of my very soul and never letting go, consuming my being. Haunting me. Devouring the life from me.And so I drank, drank until the sorrows just floated away. But they never did. As I took another sip from the glass, immediately my mind was thrown into the past; a vision of a previous time, an earlier life.Then the horrific screams came. There was nothing I could do, nothing at all to rid the shrieking from my mind. I covered my ears with my hands, thrashing wildly, but the cries continued, merciless. Wrapping themselves around my mind as though they were physical objects, tentacles. The other barflies were staring again, thinking me mad. But they had no idea. No clue as to what I was going through, what I went through almost every night.The images began. First only spurts of blood, flying off from a midpoint in every direction. Then they began to clear, focusing in my mind. I saw a man clearly, kneeling by a post, his back turned to me. Then the whips, ripping into his skin again and again; the source of the blood. The image rotated, and suddenly I saw his face. In all its clarity, explicitness. The face of my best friend. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with rage and pain. They screamed at me, and without him saying a word I knew what he was thinking: “You did this to me.”A chain hung from his neck, bearing two dogtags; a sign of our brotherhood, of the organization we belonged to. The Order of Mata Nui. And I betrayed him.I ran a finger across my back, feeling the scars. They had tortured me for weeks, but finally I broke as any man eventually did.His eyes pierced my heart, and I knew I had failed him. Failed to uphold my honor. I had talked. It didn’t matter that the Dark Hunters had the most ruthless interrogators – I failed to protect him and my unit.Finally, the vision released its grip on my mind and I was thrown back into the bar, screaming. The other patrons looked at me worriedly before returning to their merry laughter, just another night out in town. Something I could never have again, not as long as these visions plagued me. I set my glass back down on the table.

Entry #26:

Member Name: 55555

Theme: VisionsWordcount: 595Story: I am Ringatoi, a Ko-Matoran and an artist. I have spent hour after hour in the burning of the twin suns, painstakingly creating art in Mata Nui's honor. The sand burned under my feet, my tools shone with sweat and sunshine. I liked to think that the suns were his eyes looking down on me appraising and (I imagined) approving of my efforts.We of ice are not an artistic people as a rule. We are given to the contemplation and the evaluation that often accompanies the mindset of creative Matoran, but instead we turn our talents to a more introspective work, that of prophecy.And then, it hit me.I don't know if I fell to my knees, it felt more as though I fell from the world, or flew upward from it.It was a view from on high, Metru Nui lay in ruins, strange webs graced the half fallen towers. A haze lay over the land, concealing the streets, but one could still make out the slight movement of arachnid beings. I examined it in a strangely detached manner, noting each element, purposefully dedicating each tone and line to memory.Then the it disappeared, and was replaced by a vision of a new land. Here there was only one sun, and it shone more brightly than any sun of Metru Nui. Partially silhouetted by the rising sun was a fleet of airships, their prows pointing towards the virgin sands.Another image became apparent, a low view of a council at a great Kini, six Turaga and many Matoran. If this island had any dangers in store for these villagers, they must face it alone, unaided by the powers of Toa. I looked among the Matoran, and I saw familiar faces. Eyrhe, Tama, Punga, and the infamous Takua. But where was Nuju? Or for that matter, where was I? Perhaps we did not survive the coming of the Webs.The vision flashed once more. I saw a gathering of Matoran, Turaga and... six Toa? Written above them, in letters of fire, were the names Tahu, Kopaka, Lewa, Gali, Pohatu and Onua. I carefully memorized the names and the imagery, the scene backlit by the westering sun, the jungle trees and the high mountains on the horizon..Then suddenly the blackness rose up again, and feeling returned to my limbs. I became aware of my surroundings, I was still in Ko-Metru, and nearly home.I got to my feet quickly and sprinted into my abode, grabbing my brushes and containers of paint, then hurrying to the Tower of Prophecies.I walked with my eyes forward, trying to keep the images sharp in my mind, bumping into people as I made for the ground floor of the Tower.I reached my destination, the bluish white wall of the tower spread invitingly before me. I set down my paints, wet my brush, and made the first stroke.The curving lines of the great Webs, the destruction of the Knowledge Towers and the Sculpture fields...Matoran strode by, I was only dimly aware of their exclamations. First angry, then awed as the pictures took form.The airships black against the sun, the lush forests and bright waters of the new island... Each Matoran I had seen at the gathering, the six strange Turaga, the tall spires of the Kini... And finally the arrival of the Toa, the hopes of the Matoran realized...I took a white brush and with a flick of my wrist, made the symbol of Mata Nui at the top. My work was done.

Entry #27:

Member Name: Thunder on the Mountain

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 593Story: The Beach...all that remains is faith...Taylor was on a beach.How he got there, he didn’t know. There were no footprints that led to where he stood now. At his back there was an ocean, and no boat was in sight. He was bone-dry, clothing and all, so he had not washed ashore.It was painfully, confusingly simple. He had merely appeared here. Spontaneously, without reason. For a man who made a living off solving mysteries such as this, the feeling of not knowing how this happened felt like to spike in his mind.There was yelling. Screaming. Children in the distance. Taylor’s ears perked to the sound, and suddenly it didn’t matter how he had gotten here. There were kids in trouble, and he was a man of the law. His first job was to help those kids, wasn’t it? Before his duty to himself came a duty to...well...other people.He stepped forward through the sand, and his hand instinctively reached for his handgun. His fingers brushed past his hip, without catching on any equipment. Taylor halted in his steps, and looked down. He still bore his long coat. All his clothing, his tie, even his badge. But his firearm was no longer there. He had no defense.The screaming drew nearer and Taylor looked up. To his distress, six children came running over the beach ridge. Behind them was a storm cloud. How had he not noticed it before? A massive, black storm cloud, cloaking the landscape in its shadows. These shadows snapped at the children’s heels, chasing them across the sandy beach. There were no people pursuing them, only the onyx presence overhead and the darkness it spread below.“Get behind me!” he called out instantly, rushing to the children’s aid. “Run, swim, burrow in the sand. Just get away!” The children obediently ran to his first command, gathering behind his back and huddling together. But as for his second demand, they showed no efforts to go further in their escape, merely standing still behind him as if waiting for him to cast off the shadows.Taylor grimaced again, lost for what to do. He looked to the shadows, which seemed to hesitate for a minute. As if debating whether to pursue him. When no better ideas occurred to him, Taylor decided to move first. He stepped directly into the shadows, showing no fear or emotion as he did so.What struck him was a mix of frost, wind, force, and sheer darkness that overcame his vision. When his eyes recovered, Taylor found himself at the feet of the children. He groaned in pain. This was something beyond him. He couldn’t battle the shadows...He didn’t attempt to tell that to the children. Before he could speak, the children were already hefting him to his feet, leaving him to once again face the now oncoming shadow. Alone.It was then that he noticed his hands. In a moment of panic, he attempted to shake away the red-hot flame that seemed to envelope them. But the flames would not disappear. They did not scald his skin. He didn’t even feel the heat.With the shadows now at his feet, Taylor did the only thing left he could think of. He threw his hands down above the flame, holding a faint hope the flames would force back the shadows.In a relieving but confusing twist of fate, they did. The flames receded, trailing away at the same pace they had come...Where wisdom and valor fail, all that remains is faith.

Entry #28:

Member Name: TolkienTheme: VisionsWord Count: 599Story: The Sight

The Sight

They were coming. He knew it. Faint footsteps in the hall…a sound of whispered voices…metal rasping against stone. He was discovered again, after all this time. He had to get away. They were coming!Shui bolted up from the bed, suddenly awake. His eyes snapped open, but there was nothing to see—it was night, and darkness filled the room. The street outside was still as he squinted through the shutter. No shadows moved down below. No sound in the hall.But they would be here. They were probably already on the way. If there was anything he had learned in the past century, it was to trust his dreams. Especially the nightmares.Quick and efficient, with skill born of repetition, Shui gathered his belongings: two small satchels and an iron staff. Nothing more. These days he had to be light, fast, and always

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #29:

Member Name: Panty AnarchyTheme: VisionsWord Count: 596Story: Mirage

Mirage

“I don’t understand.”“What don’t you understand?”Toa Arisma glanced at his companions, a couple of Skakdi whose names he did not know, or did not remember. All he truly remembered was his name and a few fragmented memories of a time he knew were from long ago. None of these memories were relevant to him now. Presently, he found himself in an unknown desert, and according to the Skakdi, he had just collapsed. He was confused and more than a little unsettled. “You say we were traveling this desert together, but I don’t remember either of you. I also don’t understand why we would be trying to reach the other side. Where are we going?”“You tell us. You have the map. As for why we’re going: there is an important tool on the other side of this desert. We need it to protect the village. We always knew it existed, but had no way to reach it until you found that map. You wouldn’t surrender it to us, so we had to bring you along,” answered the smaller of the two, a silver-armored, smooth talking Skakdi, whose appearance was slightly less savage than that of most of his brethren. Arisma noted that he didn’t seem concerned by his amnesia. “We must hurry. Night will come soon, and so will the Rahi who stalk the dark,” said the other one, a teal-armored, brutish type. Like his companion, he didn’t seem as bestial as most Skakdi.Despite his puzzlement, Arisma somehow knew he was right. He began to remember tales of the desert’s dangerous creatures, and decided to go along with the Skakdi. He saw that he carried a satchel, and in it, he saw a map.Due to the dimming light, Arisma started a small fire in the palm of his hand, and used it to read the map. The Skakdi visibly recoiled at the sight of the flames, which puzzled him.Deciding to ignore their behavior, he wordlessly led the way. As they traveled, more of Arisma’s memory came back, and he started to notice even more oddities in his companions. They seemed shorter than they had been at first. Their faces, softer to begin with, appeared less and less savage.It was not only until they had almost reached the edge of the desert that his memory returned fully, and that his companions were no longer Skakdi, but a pair of Toa whose armor matched his own. Mustering all his willpower, he spoke coarsely:“Why? Why must I endure this again? Why won’t you let me be? ”“Why should we?” they answered in unison, “It was you who placed us here. You relive the memories of those gone day after day. It is by your own conscience that you are haunted. This will not stop so easily. Surely you know that.”And he did. He knew know. This desert was a lifeless expanse beyond the village he once protected. These were not Skakdi, had never been. They were fellow Toa, who in trying to stop him from abusing his power and retrieving a dangerous weapon, had been murdered by his hand.Arisma closed his eyes, and opening them again, he saw it was not night, but day. He was alone. In his hands he held the charred remains of a map. He had sought power and glory, and as a result, he had committed unspeakable crimes. Now banished to the wastelands, he relived the same vision every day, a mirage of the dead that haunt him even in his waking dreams.

Entry #30:

Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: VisionsWord Count: 600Story: Clairvoyance

CLAIRVOYANCE

There was a slight strangeness about the female, in her clasps and odd, slick fabrics, stretched over her armour to cover nearly the whole of her body. Her cell had three large tanks attached to it, and each of these had many pumps and filters lining the sides. The Toa within didn’t seem to mind; she was busy clawing at her Mask of Clairvoyance absently as she rocked on her heels, eyes wide and unseeing.<The Dark Hunters rise up, striking the village when it was at its most vulnerable, the screams are deafening…>Mad, they’d called her. She had no mind for the label, but she had known of it a week before it passed the lips of any being she knew. It was about the mask, she knew. It wouldn’t go away. It was with her forever.<A Matoran wanders home, takes a wrong turn on the way, meets a friend, goes out for a stroll…>The days had passed without much notice after that. It was too hard to keep track of time. She would recall talking to her Turaga one morning and find that she had spoken to the elder months later. And then came the nightmares, of dark fates befalling those she knew and those she did not. She did not sleep, she did not eat, she did not speak… and they locked her away.<So many cheers, the Akilini player lines up the shot, and it’s a goal…>No. There was something else to the story. She had been fighting with her teammates, and she had fallen into… no, she had fallen back, and her mask was submerged in silver liquid. Energized Protodermis. It had changed her, welded the dreaded thing to her face. But now, now it wasn’t shutting off. She was stuck with visions, and she didn’t know what was the future and what was the present anymore. Her days were an endless cycle of dark and light, with splashes of futures in between.<There was a noise in the dark, deep in the forest the Toa was camping in. He and his friends were worried, but they wandered into the dark…>They were worried about her. Her Toa team members rarely visited, and when they did, it was a quick visit. The Matoran taking care of her filtered her air, worried that, as a Toa of Water, she would escape using moisture from the air. She had no intention of leaving, but they still siphoned her Toa power and took precautions to weaken her.<There was a cave, far to the south, and within, there was a tribe of savages, and their storyteller was spinning tales of dreams and dancing beams of light…>She DID get visitors, though. Scholars, philosophers, educated beings of all sorts, seeking meaning in her jumbled words. She would attempt to answer their questions, but she was unable to stitch two words together in her frayed sentences. They left happy, in any case. And she would be left alone, in the room with the dry air.<A desert. A desert wider than any desert anyone had known. There, strange, alien beings lived and worked in the heat and drought, as they had for many years. And one day… one day the desert would become living land, and these creatures and those of her own lands would live in harmony.>She paused. That was a strange thought. Was it the present? She assumed not. She was in the same cell, the same air, the same dull light. Still, she pondered on it and what that future would mean.

Entry #31:

Member Name: MaganarTheme: VisionsWord Count : 597 wordsStory: The CastawayThe Steltian slave clings to the flotsam as waves battered his face. He has done so for the last several hours since those beings, members of Barraki Ehlek’s species, had risen from beneath the sea and sunk the ship where his cruel masters pushed him to toil without respite as a laborer. Now his entire life depends on a fortuitous wind sending him toward land.And then he sees the island, rising from the horizon. He hoarsely screams in jubilation; then everything goes black. Suddenly, he sees across space and time.A city on a sea of protodermis. Six districts that work for the whole. Thousands of inhabitants fulfilling daily tasks. Underneath, a network of circuitry. The circuitry, a central operating system. The operating system, a massive supercomputer. It measures, computes, and thinks. It will evaluate the universe.The vision is gone. During his blackout, he has drifted nearer to the island. He remembers the dream. Nonsense. It implied that Metru Nui is a giant thought-processor for a robot – the Matoran, its nanobots. He hopes landfall is soon. Clearly it was a hallucination caused by his time at sea. Nanobots aren’t sentient; computers aren’t kios in length. Like a physical blow, he is hit with another vision.A central energy core – a universe core. Radiant energy ravaging it in the form of energy storms. Ambient energy seeps out, powers up systems. The core, an energy source. The energy source, the subsystem. The mainframe? A massive supercomputer. It measures, computes, and thinks. It will evaluate the universe.He is lying in the sand. Landfall. He gets up and stumbles down the beach. He’s going to make it. He isn’t dying at sea. He doesn’t see anyone. Perhaps the island is uninhabited. At least he’s on an island, even if he’s alone there. Yet, the visions nag him. So visceral and illogical, yet they felt so… real. No matter. Power cores aren’t irradiated with lightning storms; a robot isn’t big enough to be mistaken for a universe. Again, the blackness and a vision.An organic being. The overseer. The secrets of the universe lie in his head. He maintains the heat, light, and forces to make the Great Beings’ creation whole. But in time he is no longer needed. He is exiled, chained like an animal to a rock. Fused to an island. He isn’t necessary anymore. The project is ready. The project, a robot. The robot, a massive supercomputer. It measures, computes, and thinks. It will evaluate the universe.In his trance, his feet have taken him to a cave. He doesn’t know why, but it looks…inviting. He’s tired. And confused.He staggers in. Suddenly panic overtakes him. Something is wrong. He doesn’t know what, but something is. He tries to run, but he can’t. His body won’t respond. Then a voice speaks in his head.THEY CALL ME A LEGEND, A MYTH. THEY WOULD HAVE ME FORGOTTEN. The voice continues, now calmer. So be it. But I hunger for knowledge of the world outside. I’m trapped here and exiled from the universe I gave birth to. And now you are here.Yes, something is very, very wrong.I’ve shown you what this world truly is, but you’ll know even more. I desire to know what’s happened and I’ll do with you what I once did with that Makuta Mutran. You will know all there is to know about this universe. Of course, it will probably be too much for your feeble mind. My name is TREN KROM. Goodbye… and thank you.The Steltian screamed for an eternity.

Entry #32:

Member name: Space: Ocean of AweTheme: VisionsStory: Between worldsA Ta matoran enters a great chamber, at the vey end sits a Toa, adorned in furs and flowery wreaths, his golden throne tattooed with images of the Order of Power. Matoran are in their rightful place among the Rahi. "Your Greatness," the Matoran says, placing a small parcel at his master's feet. "Your Tribute."The Great Toa peers disdainfully at this small bundle. "Do you really believe that such a...thing, could even be fit for the Rahi? Remove this trash from my sight!" The Toa finishes, speaking to an Attendant. Turning to his Royal Guards, he continues, "remove this Matoran scum from my living space. Perhaps the dungeon will teach him a thing or two about respect to his Superiors."The Matoran's expression of shock turns to outrage. "Your time is limited, Toa! Soon, you and your Toa friends will be put in your rightful place. From the Darkness whence you came, you shall return, all hail the Otherworlders!" He allows himself to be dragged out of the throne room, and is thrown into a dungeon.---Misak's eyes shoot open. It is a bright day, and birds chirp in the distance. Worried Matoran faces swim at the edges of his vision. "Where am I?"Talek, a Toa of Fire, shoulders his way through the crowd. "Misak! What happened?" He extends his hand to the Matoran on the ground. "Thank Mata Nui you're alright..."Misak recoils at the Toa’s hand."What's the matter? I’m a Toa, I'm not going to hurt you." says the Toa of Fire, taken aback at the fury in the Matoran's eyes. "I'm your old friend, talk to me! Step back, Matoran - he needs space."Slowly, recognition dawns on the Matoran's face. "Talek. Where am I? You ordered me into- no, that wasn’t real, was it?”The bewildered Toa kneels beside the Matoran, his voice is full of worry. “What isn’t real, Misak? I never told you, let alone ordered you, to do anything! I ought to get you indoors...”“No, it’s okay. I feel fine now, it’s happened before...but I saw you, sitting on that golden throne-I mean, it looked like you but...you would never order me into the dungeons. Wait, I’ll explain from the beginning.” And so he does, ending with the threat of a revolution in this corrupt universe.After a few moments, the Toa speaks. “This is no dream...it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with our universe, could it? You must tell the Turaga. He will know.” He offers the Matoran his hand again, this time Misak takes it. Suddenly Talek stiffens, he feels as if he is being crushed from all sides...The Toa opens his eyes. All is dark but one lightstone embedded in the opposite wall, damp with mould. Beside him lies the Matoran. “This can’t be...Misak? Misak! Is this the place you spoke of, that you saw?”The Matoran sits up. “Yes...somebody is coming!”Three pares of feet echo through the dungeon. Voices can be heard. “Guards! Have all the gates been secured? All posts occupied? We must be ready for any threat.”Soon a body is seen to match the voice. The footsteps cease, and Toa looks upon Toa, not a difference between them to be seen. “You-you’re...we’re the same, but that’s not possible!”Talek stands inside the cell. Though just as confused as his doppelgänger, he doesn’t let on. “Fancy meeting you here, brother.” The Toa smiles, and steps toward his villainous counterpart. “I would never have recognized myself with such a black heart.”Word count: 599 words

Entry #33:

Member Name: Parazan

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 507 wordsStory: Visions of the end of ZarianParazan walked into the Turaga's hut."Je'vik, will our civilization ever end?""I do not know. Only a Kanoki mask of Visions will tell.""Then I will go find one.""No, Parazan! You might never come back!""Our species will end soon. I need to know when.""Goodbye, then.""Goodbye...""Parazan walked through dangerous terrain. His journey took him weeks to just get to the coast of the island. Now it was time to get from Zarian to Fasryl, some 500 miles away. Parazan could not find any boat, so he bought a boat from a nearby fishing village. He hired a crew made up of 5 Matoran-like creatures called Prylings (the 2nd of a metamorphosis change, of which Parazan was rank 4). They began their journey on August 19th, 1234 ITTBT (In the Time Before Time)."Lord Parazan, we see an island in the distance. Is it Fasryl?""From the looks of it, no. But let's go to the island.""Yes, Lord Parazan."The island was once home to a race of bipedal Rahi, which ate anyone that ended up crashing into the island. Even though these Rahi have lost their intelligence, they can still be found on the island."Sir, this island is EXTRAORDINARY! All of this has been preserved like it was a time capsule! Let us go on.""We shall only advance up to the heart of the island, and then return to the ship.""Sir, this island is found nowhere on the map!""Calculate the shape of the island, and then draw it on the map.""Sir, we cannot.""And why not?""Because this island doesn't exist.""Explain to me how it doesn't exist.""We can't calculate it. We can't find it on radar, either. But the center of the island is emitting high amounts of radiation.""Time to get out of here. Who knows what could be there!""Sir, we were on the island for 28 days. Everyone that stayed behind on the ship is dead. The radiation must've caused our clocks to stop.""Everyone, get on the ship! we're leaving!""Sir, we are currently entering sea monster waters. Shall we go in?""Yes. It is worth the risk."3 hours later..."Lord Parazan, out of 20 crew members, counting you, only 8 remain. 7 died when a Sea Monster attacked us.""Go on, go on until we reach the island of visions."1 week later..."Sir, we have reached the island. Now you must climb to the top of the tower in order to obtain the mask."Parazan reached the top of the tower. He put on the mask. He felt the energies of the mask rushing through him. And then he saw the vision.He saw the Ocean drying up. He saw Forests burning. He saw strange biomechanical creatures. And then, the ground shook. Out of the ashes came a giant Robot. He saw how the Robot was overpowered. And then the vision ended.

Entry #34:

Member Name: VeoiTheRascal

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 608Story: Parallels The tension crackled in the parched air of the brightly lit room, enough to be felt through muffled waters of a crystal tank. The serpent restrained its particles from fidgeting in the stagnant waters a few days too old, staring back at severe eyes through scratched glass. It was difficult to breath, staying in one area of his prison for so long. A twisted mouth pulled up in a sneer. Not that he would be telling her that.Beyond the crystal barrier, the being merely narrowed her eyes.“Well?”If the eel had a body with lungs he would have swarmed and devoured those yellow eyes. As it was, the green serpent scoffed instead, quickly dispersing his protodites throughout the tank.“Spare me, dear false Toa, and find some other low life willing to sell themselves so cheaply.”For a moment, the Toa’s eyes darkened in rage. And then it was gone, replaced by a pronged device rippling electric current into the sea serpent’s watery prison.The snake screamed in agony.When the prong was lifted out, a green cloud of protodites coalesced at the bottom of the tank. The screaming stopped.Eyes glimmering with satisfaction, the Toa spoke almost nonchalantly, “Cheaply?” She raised her mask a fraction, “I’d think freedom for a job of tour guide is sufficient reward. After all, doesn’t your kind commit treachery after treachery to gain freedom?”“Yes,” Whispered the cloud as it slowly merged into its elongated shape. “But I require a little something more with my freedom.”Drawing ever so slightly to the crystal tank the cobalt Toa raised a masked ridge.“And that would be?”Trying to keep focus amidst the heat and thinning oxygen, the murky form of the Skakdi grinned with pearly teeth for all he was worth, “Your cold, dead body of course, Helryx. ”Suddenly the tank was bone dry. Not prepared for the loss of water, the skakdi could do nothing but choke. Helryx let him flounder for a few seconds before grabbing the suffocating creature and bringing its face level with her mask. It was dangerously neutral. The serpent’s mind reeled. The heat was damning.“It’s funny that you assume you have a choice in this matter, Zaktan. I am letting you have this bargain out of charity. I can just as easily force you to comply. Choose wisely.”With that the ancient toa of water dropped Zaktan into the empty tank, waiting for the skakdi to respond. But he wouldn’t -- couldn’t. He could not give in to this helplessness, this humiliation, for he could not understand how he had gotten to this. As Zaktan laid on the bare floor of his crystal prison, he could only think in despair as he gasped and gasped and gasped. How, how?How?--------With a sharp breath, Zaktan sat ramrod straight. For minutes, he could only gulp down sweet breath after breath, frantic eyes roving around the tree root gnarled barrow. Then the skakdi sagged in relief against earthen wall, clutching his shoulder where a dart had grazed passed.A vision, only hallucination. Attacked after talking to informer. Poison dart, hallucinate something that never happened. The emerald skakdi covered his eyes and sighed.Didn’t enter fully. Would be dead. I need to be more careful. With that, Zaktan collected what few possessions he had on the ground and quietly crept out of his hideout. He had a rendezvous point to be and didn’t want to worry Thokan by being abnormally late. He did accomplish what he set out to do. The skakdi frowned at the meaning of the connection between his hallucination and new lead.Helryx.

Entry #35:

Member Name: Sumiki

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 596Story: Specters of the Charred ForestKapura liked it here.Amongst the sharp angles, darkened shadows, and complex burned odor of the Charred Forest, some found revolt, most found apathy, and the vast majority saw uselessness. Not him - not now, not ever. There was nothing here, and he looked upon it, and he saw that it was peaceful. Nowhere else upon the entire island could he have a place of quiet. He could practice in peace, and he could keep his thoughts to himself.Sometimes, though, he did not practice. On the most desolate of all desolate days, he eschewed what he was going to do, instead just sitting in a tiny clearing in the Charred Forest, where the trees were even taller and his sense of aloneness was even further amplified.On these types of days, he sat, and sat for long periods of time, contemplating the nature of good and evil, Mata Nui and Makuta, light and darkness, what had come to be and what might come to pass, and what today had brought that impacted his thoughts of the past and elucidated - at least in part - the future. But that was not the reason he would come here. Occasionally, he would get brief thoughts, as if he was reaching back into the past and pulling bits out, illuminating them with a flash before subsiding into oblivion. It was worth it, he thought, to stay here just for those moments, because they would make him feel whole again, even if it was only for a moment.Today, he was sitting down once again, feeling the charred earth underneath him, almost feeling the weight of the shadows. He was at peace, but yet he felt restless, more restless than he had ever been. He closed his eyes, feeling like he was falling back, and back, and further back ...His flight took him up, above the forest below. All of his Matoran brothers and sisters were flying with him up into the sky above, climbing higher than the highest of circling birds. He called out to them, but they were not listening - their heartlights had slowed to halts, and they had curled up in tiny balls, morphing into silver spheres. The Island of Mata Nui was far below, almost to the point where the Wahis became indistinguishable. As soon as they had, the entire Island rushed towards them, faster and faster, until they would surely die.The island opened up, leaving a vast sea below. A much smaller island was visible, and it became clearer as they came to it ...He came down lightly on his feet in this metropolis, as his ball-encased friends came down to rest around him. Above him, two large stars winked and illuminated the city.Tentacles, brown and mottled as they were, reached for him, swatting away the massive spider webs that hung everywhere. He could not move, and he could not feel, as he too was inside one of those curious spheres. They engulfed him, and he was on the move again, staring into two gigantic orange eyes. Evil, embodied in laughter, burned its way through his head, echoing louder, and louder, and louder still ...He gasped, exhaling loudly through his mouth. The spiked texture of the burnt earth had dug into the armor of his back, and he could feel droplets of sweat evaporating off of his organic parts.He knew, now, that there was a world beyond, and that there would be redemption and sacrifice, and that he was just only a pawn - if that! - in a universe so vast as to be unimaginable.He knew.

Entry #36:

Member Name: Balta

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 417Story: Shadow of the WindI stood on the lip of the crater, gazing down into the unfathomable darkness of its immeasurable depths. We were here. We had done it. A smile forming on my mask, I looked up, turning to my companions.But of the three, only one was present – Quintus. The sunlight glinted off his green armor, but something about the way it reflected was...wrong. I looked into his face, which bore a peculiar expression, a satisfied sort of smile that I couldn’t quite place. “Where are the others, Quintus?” I asked. My heart rate rose rapidly, though I wasn’t quite sure why.The world spun. I felt like I was hanging upside down for a split second and then as if I was falling and then-I stepped back in horror. In Quintus’ place hovered a dark form, a roiling mass of pure shadow. From its depths came a terrible sound – laughter, laughter in Quintus’ voice, the same laugh I had come to know so well from the easygoing Le-Toa. “You have done well, my friend.” The words echoed in my mind, the words in my friend’s voice, but not his voice. I got the feeling I should run, but my feet didn’t seem to want to listen. The mass of shadow seethed, a violent ripple passing through it, and a bolt of its substance flew from it, impossibly fast, and struck me in the chest-My eyes snapped open. I was breathing heavily, my heart racing. Quintus stood over me, a worried expression on his face. “You all right, man?” he asked. I nodded slowly. “Well, if you’re sure...” he shrugged. “Get some sleep. There’s still a few hours ‘til your watch.”I wanted to take his advice – badly. I was tired, extremely tired, and we had a long day tomorrow. But instead I rose. “Nah, that’s all right. I’ll take it from here.”Quintus looked at me curiously, then shrugged again. “If you say so.” Within a few moments, he was sound asleep.I gazed out over the clearing, looking upon the sleeping forms of my companions. The dream...could it really have been just that? My gaze fell upon Jotham. He had warned me, privately, of course, about taking Quintus with us. Maybe my imagination was just catching up with me, and I was subconsciously inventing things based on his warning?Yes. Yes, that must have been it. I sat back against the tree, settling myself in a comfortable position, preparing for the long wait ‘til morning.

Entry #37:

Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 598Story: Predictions of the Unpredicted•••••Pleasant dreams, he said? No catch? Should’ve known better. Karzahni, that Vortixx was a random passerby. She should have realized that. She should’ve refused the offer.It looked like a normal Suletu. Kanohi of that type didn’t generally have side effects, except for the fact that secrets were generally spoiled on accident. Not too bad, and a generally useful mask.Problem was, some random Toa had come up to Fawae the other day and offered to give her this Suletu. He said it was specially forged to give the wearer pleasant dreams. That wasn’t too abnormal; after all, the art of slightly modifying masks in their forging was becoming rather common. The moment she handed him the widgets after she tested it, he was walking down the road again.All this ran through her mind in those last seconds.The night she bought the mask, she had returned from her patrol and greeted her team. A few had oohed and awed at the new mask, a few had said it was a waste, and the leader–Corus–seemed flat-out indifferent. Eventually, the Toa remaining in the camp fell fast asleep, with Fawae thinking of how good the following day would hopefully be.She and Corus were the only ones awake in camp. Her leader informed her that they were all either gathering supplies or switching patrols. The early dawn painted a beautiful sky. The Rahi of the morning created a peaceful noise. The surrounding foliage let off a sweet aroma. Corus offhandedly commented, “Great morning. Hope it will be just as great of a day.”Fawae awoke. The morning was picturesque. Corus glanced at her and offhandedly commented.She nodded and replied, “Yea–wait, didn’t you just say that?”“...No? You okay, Fawae?”“Um... yeah. Fine. Just... Déjà vu.”Corus shrugged and kept going about his work. The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but still peaceful and somewhat fun. Fawae found the coincidence that she had dreamed reality before it happened quite odd, but not anything to really be concerned about. That night she fell asleep while pondering the possibilities. “Oh well... Probably just a freak occurrence...”Running. Some kind of freakish monster had just consumed Corus, and now it was chasing the rest of the present team. Where had this come from? There wasn’t any warning!Fawae jumped from her sleeping pad. This time she was the second awake. One of her brothers was busy stoking the fire. Not that he really needed to, being a toa of fire. He just liked playing with fire, which the rest of the team found amusing.An explosion rang through her ears, accompanied by bloinding light and searing heat. When her vision cleared, Fawae saw a gigantic, freakish monster. She screamed for everyone to wake up, and they were quickly engaged in combat.It didn’t last long. The creature that had seemingly materialized from nothing was completely immune to elemental attacks; in fact, it seemed to become stronger with each blow received. Its maw clenched down upon two members of the team, but Corus wedged his quarterstaff between its crushing jaws just in time to save them.Then he was gone. That set them running. This freakish monster had just consumed Corus, and now it was chasing the rest of the present team. She tripped and fell. In a moment, she felt teeth, and then nothing.Fawae jolted awake, screaming. Her brothers leaped from their mats, asking what was wrong. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, she began to reply... and she couldn’t remember why she screamed.

Entry #38:

Member Name: Darthbrandon

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 599Story: VanishedMy name is Toa Vakama. I have been on this case five days. My duty is to protect the Matoran, but I have strayed away from it.It started on a rather hot day in Ta-Metru. I was working in the Mask Making Factory when one of my workers, Nuhrii, asked for a day off.I didn’t think much of it, until he never showed up the next day. Even worse, he had vanished. I searched his house, asked his friends about him, and even searched the other Metrus. Nothing…I went to bed one night, three days after Nuhrii went missing. I had a dream. I saw vivid images of vines crashing through the city, Matoran running helplessly, and finally, an image of Toa Lhikan. I woke up with a fright, and finally called a meeting with all Toa Metru.We met at Lhikan’s Suva, the place we always met. I found out that the same problem had occurred at every other Metru: Missing Matoran.“Is there a suspect?” I said as the other Toa looked at me strangely.“A suspect?” Matau replied, staring me down, “You assume someone abducted them?”I suddenly had a vision. It was just like my dream. I watched as the vines struck the city, taking Matoran by the millions. I saw Toa Lhikan, placing a Toa Stone in my hand. Obviously I had to save these Matoran, but I needed the help of the other Toa.“Do you think it has anything to do with all the vines appearing throughout the city?” Nokama asked.“Possibly,” I answered.Suddenly a large vine crashed through the ground, knocking me off my feet. I had another vision, I saw Po-Metru. Standing in the middle of a large vine, was a Matoran. I couldn’t make out who it was, only that he wasn’t being attacked. Perhaps he was leading other Matoran towards the plants. Then I heard Toa Nuju’s voice.“Vakama! Wake up!” Nuju shouted, breaking me away from the vision.He helped me to my feet. I dusted myself off, then looked strait at Onewa, The Toa of Stone.“Onewa, do you know any Matoran in your Metru, that was always anxious, trying to leave work?” I asked, “A Matoran that was never around?”I thought about it. It seemed possible.Onewa looked at me with a confused look.“I’m not sure I know of such a Matoran,” Onewa said.He stood in the middle of the wrecked Temple, pondering my question.“Wait,” Onewa looked me in the eyes “There is Ahkmou. He was always leaving Po-Metru. He said that it was business, but I never quite believed him. “I had met Ahkmou before. He worked at a Matoran Chronicle, writing tablets on Metru Nui History.“Let’s go to Po-Metru,” I said “I have a plan”.For an entire day, we rode in the Transport Tubes. These large tubes stretched across the City, powered by Liquid Protodermic. This transport system was run and organized by Kongu of Le-Metru, who had just dissappeared as well.Because of this, we had to start the tubes ourself. Afterwards, we went on a slow ride to the very edge of Po-Metru. We arrived at the home of Ahkmou, finding the Matoran hiding in a closet.We questioned him, and after a long talk, he admitted to everything.He told us about the Giant Morbuzakh Plant that had been terrorizing the city, using Matoran as Workers in the Great Furnace of Ta-Metru.I had one last vision. The destruction of Metru Nui.It was time for me to act.

Entry #39:

Member Name: What?

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 503Story: Takutanuva arose, a gigantic figure with contradictory powers and passions. He held the powers of life and of shadow, of light and of death. But he was enlightened; he knew and accepted the greater good over his own personal ambition. And he knew the future. With his enhanced mind, he could see the future laid out before it with disturbing precision. The Takua part of him perceived it as a factory layout; piece after piece added down the production line of time. Most parts were insignificant in themselves and yet required for the larger and less subtle adjustments to the different futures.One was a universe of darkness, of Makuta-worshipping Matoran haunted by Rakshi and more terrible, though frequently less substantial, creatures. He saw how this would come to be. It was revolting; a travesty of everything as it should be. And once this state was achieved, it would be irreversible. Every day would be a step deeper in the descent into darkness.The other future began similarly, and even near its fulfillment it appeared that evil had triumphed. Takutanuva saw Makuta, that dark side of himself, conquer the Matoran universe. There was no hope in the future. Unless--Takutanuva knew his minds, none better. With his myriad of powers, he could manipulate them slightly as well. He planted a thought deep inside the Makuta section of himself: rather than simply destroying Mata Nui as previously planned, Makuta would instead place his spirit inside the Mask of Life.Of such small decisions are futures made.Takutanuva performed this devious operation on his own mind, even while lifting the stone to grant the Matoran access to Metru Nui. He knew that such an unstable being as himself could not last for more than a short time. He was composed of powers, characters, and convictions so opposed that he could almost feel the pull to be separated even now. But it was imperative he be successful, or the world would be dropped into shadow eternal.The rock was lifted; the Matoran and Toa Nuva flooded through the gap. Takutanuva felt himself bending, fading, breaking apart. He had mere seconds left.With a desperate, delicate twist, he completed the self-psycho-surgery, and the gate fell.As the Matoran and Toa Nuva gathered in the other side of the barrier, wondering at the new land opening before them, Makuta felt himself regaining consciousness. He knew he had been... different... while under the control of the Mask of Light and Takanuva's personality, but none of that remained in his own personality, and only vague memories. He knew that he had considered the option to work towards a begtter universe, or towards his own ideal. He felt all the horror and tyranny of his own plan rise up in him.Makuta gauged his emotional reaction to this. He felt nothing but... blackness. So he knew he as evil as he had always been.And Makuta smiled. How delightful my dark future will be, he thought.Nothing can stop me now.

Entry #40:

Member Name: Excelsior

Theme: VisionsWord Count: 594Story: Deactivating his Mask of Vision, Toa Tiro of Iron he turned to his teammate. "Nothing, Poro. I checked everything within a kio radius, including the sky and the tunnels in the mountain. All I saw was a Matoran trade caravan that seems to be on the way here." He paused. "Anything to fear from them, do you think?"His teammate looked uncertain. "I'm... not sure. Where's Matakite?""Right here," came a voice behind them. They turned. A tall, Mahiki-wearing Toa of Earth had just come out of the ground. "Something wrong?""I had one of my visions," Poro told him. "I only remember glimpses, but it was bad." He shivered.Matakite looked grave. Poro's teammates had learned, years ago, to listen to his Mask of Clairvoyance. "And what did you say at the time?" he asked. "Tiro, were you there?"Tiro shook his head. "He told me afterward so I could scan," he replied. "He was alone when it happened." He activated his mask again. "But I sent a messenger to Mahara - I thought she could help. She's coming now."In a few moments, Mahara, Toa Ekara of Lightning, came into the others' view. She hurried to join the rest of her team."I got your note, Tiro," she said. "Did you find anything?""Only a Matoran trade caravan," he said again. "Matakite wants to know what Poro said in the trance."She nodded. "Where were you?" she asked Poro."On the wall - alone, unfortunately," he replied. He held out a small, half-formed sculpture. "But I was working on this at the time."She nodded again, and took it, activating her Mask of Psychometry.She stood there, searching, straining for that one point in the stone's past.After several moments, she looked up at her brothers."I found it," she said. "'Mercenaries, slaves - darkness...'that was the first thing he said. After 'darkness,' he started shaking, violently." She paused in remembrance. "Then he said 'Darkness... evil... and hidden in...' - he stopped again there - 'in that we have sworn to protect.'""'In that we have sworn to protect'?" Matakite repeated. The words had chilled him. "Is this darkness ... is it in the village? Or-""Matoran!" Poro exclaimed. The others looked at him. "I still don't remember, no. But think about it - what else could it be but Matoran?"There was a slight pause."Perhaps," Matakite said, "you should take a closer look at that caravan, Tiro."The Iron Toa was already examining it. "Quite a few guards, all well armed," he reported. "But this is a dangerous area... Six wagons, large, pulled by Ussals... Cargo..." his voice changed slightly. "I think we have a problem.""What is it?" Matakite demanded."The cargo seems to be composed mainly of weapons. And some machines I can't really identify." He paused. "I'd call that evidence enough.""Perhaps," Matakite replied. "But we have sworn to protect them, and we can't attack - especially on suspicion. Whoever organized this... infiltration may have counted on that.""But attack is not our only option."He nodded at his brothers and sister. "I'm going outside. Keep an eye on me, Tirohanga. You'll know what to do."A week later, a party of utterly demoralized Matoran raiders found their way out of the mountainous maze they had been trapped in - a maze made of equal parts solid walls, and haunting visions, courtesy of Matakite's Great Mahiki.The Barraki's plans of conquest had received a slight check, thanks to the various visions of the Toa Ekara.

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #1:

Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: 2: TreasureWord Count: 532Story: Golden IdolTwo metal blades clashed against each other in the decrepit ancient temple, growth and decay went hand in hand as the battle continued. The golden idol sat gleaming in the background, standing on a pedestal as ancient and decayed as the rest of the temple. But the little statue shined as brightly as it had for many years, in the light of a small opening in the roof above. It was the cause of the battle, and only the winner would walk away with the gleaming prize."You're too late now, the treasure is mine! But killing you will be an added pleasure, James." The first of the fighters remarked, sweeping low with his blade, just as the other blocked with his own blade to keep from losing his legs. "You've caused me enough problems, I won't deal with your meddling any longer!""I won't let you take it, Zerov!" The other remarked, blocking a blow with his blade and using it to push Zerov back, before delivering a disorienting blow with the hilt of his blade to his foe's face. "This treasure is going to the museum... where it belongs, not the hands of some illegal collector!"Zerov let out a grunt as he struck the ground, trying unsuccessfully to get back up onto his feet as the intense pain shot out through his head. "I have been searching for this for many years, I will not just give it up!" "Funny, so have I." James walked over, swiping the little golden idol from the pedestal. As he turned to walk away, a low and ominous rumble filled the air. The pedestal began to sink into the ground, a bad sign.The entire Temple began to shake, pieces crumbling off and falling to the ground. One of the pieces struck James' hand, knocking the idol from his grasp. Then, the floor began to split and crumble apart, separating as a ravine formed in the center of the room.Zerov slid toward the chasm, barely managing to clutch the side of the abyss to keep himself from falling to his doom. "Look what you've done! This is your fault, you fool!"James saw the golden idol roll across the uneven floor, balancing dangerously on the edge, a good distance from Zerov. He had to choose which one to save, and quickly. James walked in the direction of the statue, ignoring the hanging Zerov and his pitiful calls for help."Wait, stop! Don't leave me to die!" Begged Zerov, his grip beginning to slip as he struggled to find a good handhold. "Please, do not abandon me here! Keep the treasure, but do not let me die!"James seemed unfazed by his words, heading only for the treasure and grabbing it from its dangerous perch. "The museum will enjoy this...""Wait, you can still help me! Don't leave me like this!" The terror on Zerov's face was apparent, that of a man in what he feared would be the last moments of his life.James moved over to the ledge, near Zerov. He looked down at the treasure seeker, the coveted treasure in his hand."Please!" Let out Zerov with one last cry. "Have some mercy!"Without a word, James stepped down on Zerov's hand.

Entry #2:

Member Name: Danska: Shadow Master

Theme: TreasureWord Count: 563Story: Diary of a Treasure Hunter25th JulyWhoever came up with this crackpot scheme clearly had a screw loose. Y'know, I'd be surprised if they had a single screw that hadn't worked itself loose and fallen head first into the ocean. Who's idea was this, anyway?Ah, wait. That'd be me. Five hours of digging in the hot sun on a tiny island direct in the middle o' nowhere is more than enough to make anyone realise just how much they hate digging. I mean, 's all very well if there's something under there, but you ever tried digging through solid earth in this weather? You'd think the soil'd be all nice'n dusty. Think the spade'd slip right in. As if I'd ever be so lucky.You probably wanna know why I'm here, ay? Wanna know why I'm suddenly in the middle of nowhere and not resting in a nice bed in some tavern with a frothing mug of ale? Bah! I doubt anyone's reading this anyhow. Perhaps I'll wanna look back some day and remind myself not to be such a brainless fool in my old age.This brilliant scheme all began a couple of days ago in an aforementioned tavern. Few drinks with the lads, some good ol' banter, then of course the talk turned to treasure. Always seems ta do that. Anyhow, this old dude said he knew of some buried treasure far out to sea on an isle no man had ever returned from. And of course, in my drunken stupified state, I took this as a personal challenge. Ain't no treasure as can elude me, I says. Tales of doom and terror don't frighten me, I says. So of course, I gets me the map and set sail at first light. Now that's one stupid idea if ever I knew one.So I arrived this morning, found me the spot where the treasure's meant to be and started digging. And digging. And more digging! I weren't even told what's down there. Could be a bucket a' rusty nails f'all I know. Anyhow, five hours and one massive hole later and I ain't found nothing. This is not best pleasing to me, but it ain't like I'm gonna return empty handed now, is it? Guess I'll start again tomorrow. In the meantime, I best get myself some food and shelter.26th JulyWell that may just rank as the worst night's sleep I've ever had. Coul'na breathe for hearing some strange moaning or howling. Probably just the wind I says, but it sure is strange. Anyhow, decided to have another crack at the digging today. Blasted hole keeps getting larger and I still found nothing! When I get back I'm having me a good long talk with that old man. Ain't no way there's treasure here. Just some godforsaken spit o' land right out where no one wants ta travel, 'cause there ain't nothing here!Ain't wasting no more time digging, or writing for that matter! Curse the treasure and curse this island! I'll be heading back now for somewhere I can at least get some company. Sitting about all on me lonesome ain't exactly my style. 'no man's ever returned.' Pah! Ain't nothing here! Certainly ain't nothing as gonna stop me leaving, that's for sure.27th July....28th July....29th July....

Entry #3:

Member Name: Varkanax39

Theme: 2: TreasureWord Count: 600Story: Confrontation

Confrontation

“So this is what you were hiding,” breathed Aeran quietly as he and Risk walked quietly into the darkened cavern to face the being they’d hunted for a century and a half.The callous face of their enemy crinkled into a cold, feral smile. “Of course. Did you expect anything less?” Vharaan asked, the Shadow Construct’s eyes remaining dead and cold.Aeran stepped silently toward Vharaan, staring at the massive mound of glittering jewels and priceless items lying piled high and arranged behind him like the horde of a dragon. And, of course, at the twisted, curved staff that lay at the top of the pile. The item he and Risk hunted for three centuries and hundreds of realms of existence far outside the earth world.“You’ll never get away with your plan,” he said to Vharaan. Risk nodded, though her voice shook as he said, “We’ll stop you.”“That will not happen,” Vharaan hissed with cold certainty.“Yes! It will!” said Aeran, his voice filled with emotion. He pulled his sword from its sheath with a silent hiss that echoed through the caverns. Risk lifted her spear. Vharaan appeared to be completely unarmed, but Aeran had hunted this Shadow Construct long enough to know that betting against him was always fatal.But we have to do the impossible. Take him down here, whatever it takes. We cannot let him do more harm.“Dare you test your might against the greatest of the Hunters?” Vharaan asked, stepping toward them. A flickering spear of blue-black flame appeared in his hands. “I think it is time for me to bring an end to your pathetic quest once and for all.”As Aeran held the Construct’s gaze. He would have no qualms destroying Vharaan. The Shadow Construct was no mortal being, he was merely a statue given a semblance of life by his masters. As Vharaan spoke, Risk was already creeping past him, ready to finish him with one thrust of her spear.Quicker than chain lighting, Vharaan struck. Risk was still creeping past him when Vharaan grabbed the curved sickle-staff from the floor of the cavern and slammed the hilt into Risk’s side. There was a flash of dark energy and the crack of snapping bones, and Risk fell to the ground, several ribs broken.Aeran leapt at Vharaan the moment he saw Risk fall. His blade locked with that of Vharaan. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Risk staggering to her feet, ignoring the barrage of chain lightning fired by Vharaan that tore through her leather jacket and smashed through the protective armor beneath.Aeran slammed his sword into Vharaan’s neck. Any mortal would have died at one from the blow, but black liquid simply fell from Vharaan’s neck and he snarled. At the same time Vharaan staggered back, Risk struck, fast as chain lighting.But Vharaan was faster. His spear slammed into Risk’s throat with the force of a thunderbolt. With a small gasp Risk fell backward against the cavern wall, eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky.Aeran gave a low moan of anguish and fury. “You kill her!”“Yes,” hissed Vharaan. “Your girl is dead, foolish immortal. But your life shall not be taken. Instead, I will simply relieve you of your thoughts for a few hundred millennia. It shouldn’t be painful, simply…nothing.”“Never!” Aeran hissed.“Very well,” said Vharaan and charged. The two mortal enemies charged forward, Aeran’s eyes filled with hate, Vharaan’s filled with ceaseless, unending determination. And as Vharaan’s blade bore down on Aeran, he tensed, ready to fight once more.Word Count: 600

Entry #4:

Member Name: Maganar

Theme: TreasureWord Count: 598Story: Klondike StarlightI spit on the snow at my feet. The saliva crackles, freezing instantly. That means it’s at least fifty below zero. I trudge onwards back to camp, considering myself lucky. I managed to find a few flakes of gold today – better than usual. The gold glitters… like starlight.I unceremoniously collapse by the campfire. Warmth radiates into me. Life-giving warmth. Warmth my horse was denied on the White Pass Trail where it joined countless other fatigued beasts of burden as corpses in the gulch below.1897. The newspapers spread misinformation to us like a plague. We thought there was treasure up here, north of the Yukon. That “treasure” was akin to Pandora’s Box – hypothermia, fatigue, grizzly bears, and the occasional distraught miner turned murderous rushed out to greet us when we peeked under the lid to locate the prize we were promised.I fumble to remove my gloves. Then I hold out my hands toward the fire. They’re so cold it’s tempting to stick them directly in the flame, but the danger of burn wounds in this uncompromising land… too risky. Water trickles down my haphazardly-shaven chin as the crust of ice crystals on my beard melts.It’s like my family has an ancestral urge for gullibility. The grandparents of my wife and I migrated to the west with their children during the 1849 California rush. We met and married in a slowly withering boomtown and fell for the same trap all over again. She told me not to go, but I eventually convinced her that this was the way to earn the money we could use to buy a property somewhere better. If I’d had her foresight or she’d had my… well, stubbornness, we would have avoided this. But the sons and daughters of miners think like miners, living life one day at a time and forgetting to learn from history or look to the future. Going north was a mistake. I’m heading straight back as soon as I come close to breaking even on this ill-planned endeavor… and the first thing I’m doing back in California is telling my wife she was right all along.I shuffle towards my tent, duck in under the flap, and manage my way under the heaps of blankets. There it is in my sleeping roll, right where I keep it so that I see it every night. That photograph I took with one of those newfangled Eastman Kodak machines. Staring back at me are the faces of my wife, son, and daughter. The perfect miner’s family – all of them probably as gullible and stupid as I am. Even my weary and weathered face can’t help but break a smile at the thought. I sit there grinning to myself and oblivious to the slow yet inexorable passing of time.Finally, the howling of the wind as the sun dips below the horizon breaks me out of my reminiscence. I turn over and wait for that rejuvenating process we call sleep to wash away the exhaustion of the day.Yet, as I lie there, my mind returns to the photograph. That was my mistake all along, wasn’t it? My treasure was with my family, not in Alaska. Yes, as soon as I’ve found enough gold that I won’t return home carrying a debt on my shoulders, I’ll cut my losses and go straight back. No exceptions, no delays, and no more nonsensical ventures like this one for as long as I live.Meanwhile, on the canvas of my brain, I can still see their three faces… and their eyes glitter… like starlight.

Entry #5:

Member Name: Zosia Darr

Theme: CoT- TreasureWord Count: 483Story: Cinderella

₪҉₪

She spins and she swaysTo whatever song plays Without a care in the worldAnd I'm sitting her wearing The weight of the world on my shouldersI am looking into baby-blue eyes, so big that that I can see my reflection, as I sit in the rocker and sing off key since mother is running late tonight. I smile my own goofy daddy smile into those eyes, and your toothless smile is reflected back at me.Beautiful, and I will remember it forever.It's been a long dayAnd there's still work to doShe's pulling at meSaying "Dad, I need you,"I toss you over my shoulder and spin in tight circles, calling you a sack of potatoes. Your adorable giggles that melt my heart are intermingled with chattering words that you've only just learned. Too dizzy now, I set you down, and you amble over to your beautiful mother, your palm-sized feet leaving palm-sized indents in the grass. You are the most precious walkie-talkie I will ever have.Beautiful, and I will keep it in my heart forever."There's a ball at the castleAnd I've been invitedAnd I need to practice my dancingOh, please, Daddy, please?"I stand, cheering at the top of my lungs, to your mother's embarrassment. She claps enthusiastically, but leans over and asks me what could possibly be so intense about pee-wee soccer. I shrug and cheer louder. You stumble over the soccer ball, which comes all the way up to your toddler thighs, and your peals of laughter warble through the air like butterflies.Beautiful, and I will love it forever.So I will dance with CinderellaWhile she is here in my armsAnd time passes as it does, with its own enigmatic manner. Time is callous, unyielding, and merciless, not bothering to stop for anyone or anything. It leeches strength from the very bones of the greatest of us, leaving frail shells spotted with age.Still, time is generous and compassionate, feeding life into the youngest and brightest of us, strengthening them and giving them wisdom. Helping them to grow up, flowing with just enough benevolence to let you live life to the fullest.The whole thing is beautiful, and it's the world we live in.'Cause I know something the prince never knewOh, I will dance with CinderellaThe world we live in is so big, I can't fathom it.But my world is so small, but it's all that I can fathom.It is you, my beautiful daughter.

I don't want to miss even one song'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnightIt is you. Your smile, your laughing eyes, your hugs that you dive into with all your heart, the melody in your name, and the sweet sound of 'daddy' carried by your voice. It's what I live for, and what I treasure above all else.And she'll be gone...

₪҉₪

(Disclaimer: Lyrics belong to Steven Curtis Chapman.)

Entry #6:

Member Name: Legolover-361

Theme: TreasureWord Count: 595Story: Regular MaintenanceThe robot soldier’s eyes gleamed like tarnished gold in the dim artificial light of the laboratory. Professor Umbrant stared into them for a second after removing the cloth from the automaton’s body. The eyes were wonders, were they not? — optic sensors arranged in a similar array to the cone and rod cells in a human eyeball, connected via delicate clusters of wires to the robot’s CPU. In activation, the precise transmission of electrons would form a picture sharper even than the most high-tech cameras available could render.The only issue with this picture: They may never see the light of day.Scratching the white hairs on his chin, Umbrant sighed and began his regular cleaning and maintenance of the robot: a once-over with a damp rag; a slight polish to rid the metal of any smudges that could be forming; a slight application of oil to each joint in turn; and, finally, a quick CPU scan to ensure no damage to the robot’s A.I.The problem, he decided during the second task on his list, lay in politics.Semantics and ethics were tricky subjects to handle. You could have the soundest information in the world, but to communicate that information, it had to be arranged a certain way, worded in just the right fashion, to prevent the other side from twisting your words into something you never meant. Such was the issue with automatons in warfare: One side chose to emphasize the massive advantage of removing humans from combat, but the other protested that because America’s enemies still staffed organic beings, America’s own were required to understand the concept of mercy — something a robot could easily misunderstand.All this had occurred, of course, after millions of dollars had been spent designing a prototype robot soldier. Another skill politicians were required to possess was inexplicable timing.The worst part about the debate, Umbrant determined as he began to oil the robot’s joints, was in how both sides fought for the same issue.Life, everyone agreed, was a priceless treasure. There was no debating of that point. The argument — Arguments, plural, Umbrant corrected himself — lay in how to defend said treasure. Each side had its own fortress of reasons; each side could only scrape at the other’s façade. A stalemate, with people like Umbrant, people who engineered for a living, stuck in between.Freedom tasted sweet in dreams. Perhaps it would taste the same in real life would Umbrant live to sample it.The scan of the robot’s system revealed no viruses or other dangerous irregularities in its programming. Closing the laptop was met with hesitation; to leave the robot alone for another two months meant frustration all through that interval. To let such a precious creation as this sit in storage, whilst men died in war and the powers that be raged against each other in an argument no one could win, was an action unfounded on reason. This could be used, if not for war, for security detail, or for engineers to improve upon its design. Anything but this.Umbrant finally forced himself to close the laptop. The robot remained motionless as the cloth was again drawn over its features. It had been given an extra buffing so its metal exterior would take on the semblance of semiprecious metal; why, the old man didn’t know, for no one would see it any time soon.Perhaps he should have taken the time to examine the eyes.When Professor Umbrant turned off the lights and locked the exit, the room was again as silent as the grave.

Entry #7:

Member name: Space: Ocean of Awe

Theme: TreasureStory: Old ParchmentIt used to be that whenever somebody mentioned treasure, I would think of old chests filled with golden coins, buried beneath a temple overseas. Something that existed only in fiction, surely something that I, of all people, would never possess. I never thought, for a moment, that a treasure varies from person to person, that my greatest treasures, sitting in the basement, could be old parchment to someone else.-----I first questioned my views on this issue when I met a cashier by the name of Gray Allen. He worked at the used bookshop down on Wilhelm Street, striking up the most absurd conversations with anyone who would listen. I came by to browse and ended up buying three issues of Treasure Hunting magazine, which I used to collect when I was young.Apparently he collected them too, and was quite eager to point out that this magazine focussed on physical treasures such as jewels or collector's items, which plants the wrong ideas in young minds. As he put it, "I will never forget my eleventh birthday party, when I looked a my stack of presents and realized that nothing I had ever gotten truly mattered to me." I can't help but agree.-----That evening, after reading my magazines, I found no joy in flipping channels, no satisfaction in surfing the web. My friends offered to take me to the mall, but I had no passion for shopping. I picked up a Treasure magazine again, having no other ideas of what to do, and found a page heralding entries for a writing contest. I remembered entering a piece, I even won a free, two year subscription to the magazine. I had Long since given up writing, growing too busy with school, then my job. When I tried to start writing again I had profound trouble keeping my stories flowing, and my plots seemed too cliche.Perhaps this time, I thought, it would be different, maybe all I needed was some time. There’s no harm in trying again, so I did just that. I couldn’t use a computer, I just knew that I would get distracted. Writing by hand was far too slow, and I hadn’t seen any pencils in my house for months. In a bout of what just may be insanity, I concluded that the only medium with which I would follow through was my old typewriter, perfectly preserved from my younger days. It rested in a box, along with all my old stories.I brought the entire box and its contents to my bedroom, where I now sit, reading through my old stories. I remember writing DimentioPen as if it was yesterday, describing in detail how Greg, the protagonist, drew a door in the wall, opened it, and stepped into another country. In Over the Ocean I can almost feel the rocking of the ship, complimented by a terrible case of sea sickness, as the crew rush about trying to stay afloat in this storm.I get ready to start typing, thinking of what Grey, the Cashier, had to say. I would not give up my old stories, nor any stories-to-be, for a room full of diamonds. These words, typed so meticulously on this fading paper, are to me my greatest treasure, Grey Allen, the cashier, was simply the map that led me to it. Just two days ago, I would never believe that treasure lay in a small cardboard box in my basement, hiding beneath the trapdoor of boredom. Now? I find it hard to believe that I haven't opened this box before now.-----Word count: 600

Entry #8:

Member Name: fishers64

Theme: TreasureWord Count: 597 wordsStory: Across the LakeRain pelted down upon me as I paddled the boat through the turbulent lake water.“Is there any possible way you can move faster?” demanded an incessant voice next to me.“I’m doing…the best…I can!”The box sat between us, the weight of which forced the boat to ride low in the water, which probably contributed to our slow speed. A menacing cackle sounded behind us. Too close.“Paddle!” barked my companion. “We’ll never get away from those pirates at this rate!”“Throw that box over the edge, and we would be at the other side by now!”“That’s my father’s gold!” he insisted, as a wave crashed over the side of the boat and nearly swamped us. I bailed frantically, trying to keep the ship afloat. “Paddle!” he yelled.“You want to sink?”He ignored me. “Just keep moving!” The pirate ship had advanced closer. Soon, we would be in range of their weapons. I lifted one end of the wooden box, prepared to throw it overboard. But my adversary grabbed the other end.“No, please, don’t!”I yanked with all my strength.The pirate ship grew closer…No, no, that’s not the way. I let go of the chest, and the end of it crashed down on his foot. He yelled in pain, letting go of the chest. I reached down and grabbed the chest. He grabbed my arms.Crack. A firey hiss of powder split the air. “Paddle!” barked my companion, irrationally, as he turned and shoved me to the floor, trying to peel apart my fingers’ grip on his prize. I kicked him, causing an explosion of pain on his face. “Don’t let me down.” he hissed, pulling me up and shoving me down on my paddling seat.“Hand over the treasure, kiddies” said a savage, pirate voice behind me. “If you do, we might be persuaded to let go the fact that you got us up in themiddle of the night to go on a wild goose chase across a swimming pond.”I saw my companion frantically paddle, to no avail – the pirates were still close. “Hand over the loot, kiddies. If I have to climb down there and get it myself, it won’t be pretty.”I lunged off my seat, charging for the box. Time slowed down. A paddle dropped from a pair of hands, plunging into the drink. My hands closed around the box, lifting up…and over the side.“Nooo!” my friend shouted, diving in after the chest. My hands closed around the remaining paddle, and drove it into the water. The boat shot forward, lancing through the water with terrible speed, the hot crackle of bullets all about. I stayed low in the boat, frantically paddling away, the shore not far beyond. I glided across on smooth water to a sandy beach, yanking my boat behind me for the first few yards of a dead sprint home.I learned a valuable lesson that day. Treasure is just deadweight that will slow you down. Everyone wants it – some are willing to kill for it, but it’s nothing of real use. Nothing but a useless burden. Like the guilt I carried for years after, believing I had killed my friend.One day, I dove down to the bottom of a turbulent lake. There at the bottom was a body, with a hand still wrapped around the handle of a wooden box. No amount of gold will pay for his life, and so I left, leaving the box in the only proper place for treasure.Where no one can get it.

Entry #9:

Member Name: -JC-

Theme: TreasureWord Count: 484Story: I'm Going To LoseShaggy hair, Russell Brand style. Charming good looks, Charlie Sheen. Smooth tongue and access to smoother wine. Big muscles, and bigger money. Fourteen cars from across Europe: Spain, Italy, Germany. Fourteen stab wounds across his chest, back, legs, and one unsettling one dead center in his throat.The body was strewn lazily parallel the bed where a wiry, pasty skeleton of a man sat, a long bloody knife in his fingers, a bleak, horrified look on his face. What had happened? There was a reason that his best friend was dead at his feet. There was a reason there was a knife in his hands. That reason was the petite brunette, powerful and perverted.The man turned back, stark white skin shining in the light, revealing dark purple bags underneath his widened bronze eyes. His hair was brown and greasy, and his wallet was thin as he was. Even with her husband dead, he knew it would never work out between him and the widow. She rolled over gingerly, peppy pink nighty presenting her perfection. She smiled at him; eyeliner purple, lips pouted. She began rubbing his back, oozing enthusiasm.The body was more interesting. This was his best friend on the floor. His brother. He had fought him for so much, for the best job, for the best car, for the best woman. Never had the survivor come out on top. The victim of success was now the victim of steel. Nothing was right in this world.“Forget about him.” She whispered in his ear, now on her knees behind him, massaging his shoulders. He had fallen to envy, but he would not fall to lust.She was the head cheerleader. She was the bachelorette. She was Robin Scherbatsky. All the boys wanted her. All the men pleaded for her. They hunted like Indiana Jones, and she was their Crystal Skull. Too valuable to sell; too dangerous to keep.“He doesn’t matter anymore.” Hissing cobra’s were beautiful too, until they bared their fangs. He hadn’t acknowledged her just yet. He doubted he’d be able to. He looked down at the knife in his hands. Jagged. Blood stained. In the moonlight, still reflective. In between the patches of blood he caught a glimpse of his own eye, and her flowing, perfect hair beside it, kissing his ear. He didn’t care. He was numb.The man at his feet had felt pain, lots of it. There was no instant death. There was screaming. There was bleeding. Pleading. Nothing about it had been fair. He knew it. She knew it. She enjoyed it.“He is gone now.” Hot breath sent his heart racing. He turned to her, to look boldly into her chocolate eyes. He turned to stone. Those eyes had led his best friend to his closet grave. “Now there can be us.”Men would’ve killed for this woman. He didn’t. She killed for him.

Entry #10:Member Name: Thunder on the MountainTheme: TreasureWord Count: 600Story: Ghost StoriesThe room was uncomfortably quiet.We had every entrance was covered by an armed man. Behind the bar, the family that ran the place had two men covering them as well. Randulf, Jack, and Thompson were seated with me around a table near the bar. On the table we had our pistols, a few bottles of whiskey, and a deck of cards, sans a few in our hands.It had been that way for a while now. I remained patient, optimistic, but I knew even free liquor and poker was beginning to lose my boy’s interests. They knew not to question purpose, but what I had brought them here for...well, some of them were more faithful than others. I wasn’t going to make them stay the whole night, if the plan didn’t go through soon enough; we’d pack up and leave.Eventually, the fat barmaid that was clearly the wife and mother of the family decided to make her comments on our methods.“Your plan depends upon holding hostages against a myth?” She called out. I didn’t even bother to roll my eyes.“I’m perfectly aware of the plausibility my plan seems to hold, thank you.”“So we’re supposed to sit around all night until your ghost shows up?” I smiled, almost happy she asked. I lifted my hand to show her the six-shooter, and cocked it in veiw.“The ghost I’m waiting for is what your people believe will protect you. If there’s any relevance to that ‘myth’, it’ll show when I start planting bullets in the bodies of your family. Now that you mention it, we’ve been waiting a little while.” I took a long swig from the whiskey and grinned, licking the liquor from my lips. This was the part I was playing. Best if they believe it.“Boss?” One of my door guards called out to interrupt, so I turned to look. Every renegade’s eye was fixed at a window near the high roof, where a black wispy shadow seemed to float about. It had the features of a man, almost. Very faintly, you could nearly see a face on the figure, one that faded away when you tried to focus on it. I grinned. I’d seen my fair amount of the supernatural in my days, enough to let me believe that I would find someone here. Someone who could get me what I want. I hefted the whiskey to the ceiling above.“Drink?”Thus, negotiations began.“I could kill you and your men now.” It seemed to come from every direction.“I can kill your townsfolk.” I said with a shrug. “But we can threaten back and forth all night, and that won’t really get us anywhere.” No answer.“You fought in the war right? While you were, y’know, alive?” The figure remained above, silent. “Well, word has it there’s a nice big stash of shiny stuff near this town you got here. The townsfolk seem to believe that you’re the one ...person I guess...that knows where it is.”“You seek treasure...” the voice called out again. I smiled.“You do too. These folk are your treasure. Worth more alive than dead...” I got no response once again, so I sat back down, slid the handgun back in my holster and took another drink of whiskey. Belching quietly, I beckoned him down with a hand.“Come on then, and no more guns on your people. Tell me how long it’s been since you had a drink or played a hand."First, there was no response. Then, a long, long laugh, and I knew I'd won.Entry #11:Member Name: ClickTheme: TreasureWord Count: 599 (I actually had to cut it down!)Story: Green GoldI saw something I’ve never seen before today.It began when a classic “medicine man” show came to town. Even here in 2046, it’s hard to find entertainment on the forgotten planet of Earth. The whole town of 500 showed up to see him bring the dead to life and predict the future, child’s play for today’s technology. Finally, he knew he only had one chance to wow us and get his day’s worth of standard credits.A gleam of vibrant emerald shone in holes from his moth-eaten jacket, and he pulled out the strangest thing. It sat in a small transparent Thermocup apparently full of dirt, its long green stalk rising out of it sprouting two shells on top. He called it a “plant,” and apparently they were common in our area before the Age of Skyscrapers took hold, covering all fertile soil with plates of fine steel. The crowd gawked at the seemingly insignificant thing, which apparently could make its own food and reproduce thousands of itself.The man was dead by morning.Apparently, some country numbskull heard about the “magical” properties of this plant, and set out to make it his, gaining wealth and fortune with his plant, not to mention using its properties for his own gain. I read the holoscreen one more time just to laugh at the absurdness of the story. No person could be so foolish as to kill another for a simple plant.And then it happened again.I was shocked to know that it was an old professor of mine who did it this time, all in the name of science. He was well respected around the town, and I had often waved to him on my way to work. His sentence of death row shocked us all, and the action was held out in town square as a wall of energy painlessly disintegrated his body, and we all thought it was over.But of course, it wasn’t. The sheriff had found the plant on the crime scene and neglected to turn it in as evidence to his superiors. He had convicted the old professor to death so that he could have the treasure all for himself. The holoscreen of this report showed a man I almost didn’t recognize as he fondly stroked his prize, its perfect leaves garnished with drops of crimson blood. He was discharged from duty for this selfish act; and last I heard, he was slowly going insane in the nearest Asylum.Finally the epidemic was over. The plant had been taken out of town to be kept in a protected museum. I was almost not surprised to hear that a guard failed to show up to work, and the plant had gone missing. He was an old friend of mine, and I knew him from a very young age. I was sorry to see him succumb too.I decided to stop by for a visit, and after a quick search, found his address. The moderators hadn’t come yet, and so it was just me, him, and the plant. It gleamed in the shine of the single padlight in the house, and my friend stood over it, watching and staring at its wonder. At the opening of the door, he looked over, and his haggard face twisted into murderous jealousy.Before I knew it, he was on the ground, not breathing, and the plant was in my grasp. Its soft leaves, now crumbling from the dark, seemed to wave their thanks to me. It’s mine now, but they come for me; they want to steal it.Entry #12:ember Name: Panty AnarchyTheme: TreasureWord Count: 600Story: The Only Object of ValueThe Only Object of Value“When the time comes, do whatever you must. Find It. Never surrender It. It is the only thing that can ensure your survival. Always keep in mind: It is our most valued possession and our greater treasure.”Anna ran. Anna ran and ran, out of breath already, pleading with herself not to let fresh memories overwhelm her. The mansion was large, and she knew her way better than her pursuers. Even then, she could hear the crashes that the invaders caused. She tried to block it out.“Find It. Find It.”Anna repeated this aloud, over and over. She needed this, a goa Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #16:Member Name: EzorovTheme: TreasureWord Count: 600Story: Broken TreasureI push through crowds of people, with their blank expressions and droning movements, my hand clenched around a smaller hand in a sweaty grip. An angry expression occupies my face as I brush away stray hairs falling from my messy ponytail.Every now and then I see, from my peripheral, people slowing for only a second and taking second glances at the thing holding on to me; the thing holding on to me—he has a wild and dangerous look in his eyes. But also a look of fear and sadness that broke my heart when I would peer into his lost and unfocused, honey-brown eyes.I let the scene of what happened only moments ago replay in my mind, as my feet instinctively take me to my destination.I had been at my sister’s—she’s always having me over for her concern for me—but I knew this time she wasn’t inviting me over for a simple chat; she needed to talk, and I should have guessed from her tone over the phone that when I arrived she would be discussing what she had been trying to convince me of for the past year.“Audrey.” She was sighing in exasperation. I can still put that almost audible whine in her voice. “You’ve taken that thing—““His name is Kade,” I interrupt, with an edge to my tone.“Sorry. You’ve taken Kade to practically every professional in the country and no one knows what’s wrong with him. No one can cure him. You have no choice; you need to take him to an asylum—where someone else can deal with him.”I tried to keep my voice even as I responded, almost hissing between my teeth. “No, you’re right. There are no more people in this country who can help him—which is why I’ll be leaving the US in a few weeks.”My sister began to raise her voice. “How long are you going to keep this up? This isn’t fair to you, Audrey. This does not have to be your problem! It’s not your fault your darned husband left you alone with that—that sickened monster!”I saw the boy down on the floor, once playing with his stuffed bear, flash his eyes towards me, pain twisted on his face.I almost begin crying, looking deep into his eyes, into his soul.“And this is not fair to him!” I say each word slowly and shakily. “Don’t you ever let me hear you calling this boy a monster!”I stormed out of her house, dragging Kade behind me. We were going to the park, far away from my witch of a sister.By the time we arrive, I’m a sobbing mess. I collapse onto a bench as fresher tears come to my eyes. Kade sits quietly next to me, staring up at me with concern. Could he even know he’s the reason for my crying?He rests his head against my arm in his tender attempt to comfort me, and I swear I hear a frustrated sigh slip his lips.I look at him, his dirty, round face, messy blond hair, stiff tattered overalls—and those eyes, staring straight ahead, focused for the first time in his life.When his defectiveness was first discovered I hated myself, hated him. But now coming to know him, know him as a human, I could never bring myself to hate this precious boy. Only love him, so unconditionally and purely that nothing could lesion our bond.He is no monster but a child. He is my treasure and my son.Entry #18:Member Name: KumataTheme: TreasureWord Count: 599Story: Night Jobriiingriiing“Alright, alright!”riiingriiing“I’m coming!”riiingA naked man flung himself into the room, crashed into a small table and sent a telephone receiver flying. With honed reflexes he reached up and caught it, nearly sending it flying again thanks to his soapy grip. Transferring it to his other, less lubricated hand, he answered.“… hello?”“Protagon? It’s Alistair.”The man sat up, drips of water cascading from his hair. “I’ve been waiting for your call all day, man! You could have called earlier, I was in the shower!”“Just shut up and listen. I got you a job. Tonight you’re going treasure hunting - for treasure that’ll net us a solid ten million…”-x-x-x-Snowflakes whirled and whipped at Protagon. His costume was made from a leather/kevlar hybrid, which would keep him warm enough, but the exposed parts of his body - his jaw and, now he’d lost a glove, his left hand - were stinging as if the snowflakes were razorblades. He gritted his teeth and carried on.A corridor in an apartment building seemed an odd place to encounter a blizzard. Unless, like Protagon, you knew the owner of the penthouse you were targeting was rich enough to afford superhuman bodyguards. This particular one he’d met before - a lady who went by the alias Snow Devil; she’d based herself on the mythical Yuki-onna of Japanese folklore. She had the power to transform into a flurry of snowflakes and that was usually all it took for her to subdue an opponent. Which was why, Protagon knew, that pressing on like he was would soon make her flustered and angry. He marched through the oppressive snowstorm indifferently, enduring it for two more minutes when suddenly it all sucked away, coalescing several feet ahead of Protagon so that a pale, white-costumed woman could come into being.Before she’d even fully formed her arms were outstretched, and as the last snowflake attached itself to her she unleashed twin streams of ice. The attacks were plainly telegraphed and Protagon avoided them with a simple duck and weave. He reached for his belt. Snow Devil flicked a hand towards him and a four-foot-long icicle whizzed his way. Protagon backstepped, let the projectile shatter against the floor, then lobbed the incendiary grenade he’d plucked from his belt. Turning, crouching and covering his ears was all he required to avoid the noise and heat of the blast. As incendiaries go it wasn’t particularly powerful, but the thing about people made of snow is that they tend to be susceptible to heat. Snow Devil screamed as the grenade went off at her feet, splattering her all over the corridor in the form of slush. Protagon straightened up and broke into a run. He had seven minutes before she re-formed. Bags of time.Protagon was vaguely aware of his injuries sustained getting here - those guards on the third floor had landed some harsh blows to his shoulder - but Snow Devil’s blizzard had partially numbed his whole body, for which he was thankful. He wouldn’t relax until the mission was over. Luckily the treasure was near.A door confronted him. He rapped it neatly. After about ten seconds a young woman opened it. From the thickness of the door Protagon guessed that the penthouse beyond was soundproofed. The girl still looked at him with suspicion, though - it was nearly midnight after all and here was some costumed stranger knocking at her door. Protagon gave her a reassuring smile.“Are you Theresa ‘Treasure’ Edwards?”“Uh... yes?”The smile became a grin.Entry #19:Member Name: xccjTheme: TreasureWord Count: 599Story: Deadly TreasureMy name was Maria, and I crept into the cave behind McSmith. We were surely entering the hidden outpost of Grey Beard the dreaded Pirate. The archeological potential of such a site was off the chart. Grey Beard had been an infamous pirate in the colonial days of the Caribbean, and was rumored to have a great treasure hidden away. Perhaps we had just found it! Yet I was still feeling nervous. My companion Jameson lay at the cave’s entrance, having been wounded by a booby trap. He would survive, but McSmith had insisted on pressing forward, so he had been left behind. Yet I was worried there might be more traps to come. After all, Grey Beard was famous for booby trapping his hideouts.McSmith was an adventurer, who was always searching for hidden treasures across the world. He had hired Jameson and me because we were archeologists who specialized in Caribbean history. With our help, McSmith had been able to pinpoint where Grey Beard’s hideout could be.The two of us continued forward through the cave, our flashlights fell upon a rock slide. McSmith frowned. “What is this?” he asked.I knelt down and examined the ground. “A failed booby trap, sir. You can see that there was a thread across the path, and tripping on it would cause a rock fall. But the tread broke with age, it appears.”“More traps,” McSmith murmured. “You continue on ahead; you have an eye for these things.”We pressed on slowly, as I kept an eye out for more traps. The dirt floor was replaced by tiled stone, and I used my walking stick to test the path ahead. I tapped on one stone and triggered another spear to shoot down from above. McSmith and I aimed our flashlights at the ceiling, and spotted three more spears waiting to be launched. I cautiously triggered the rest of them, but continued to test the floor in case I had missed any.Finally, we arrived in the main chamber. As our flashlights illuminated the room, I saw that our research had paid off. It was surely Grey Beard’s hideout, and I could see everything from rotten rum barrels to broken tables and chairs. So much could be learned from this site, and I couldn’t wait to get started.But McSmith’s eyes fell on a treasure chest at the far end of the room. It was very large, and could fit a lot of treasure.“I’ve finally found it!” McSmith exclaimed. “And now I have just one last thing to do.” He pulled out a gun and aimed at me. “Sorry, darling, but I’m not looking to share this treasure with anybody.”I gasped, hardly believing it. McSmith had betrayed us, all for some old stolen gold. Before I could move, he fired a shot, and the bullet pierced my shoulder. I fell down with a cry of pain. McSmith turned back to the treasure, having assumed that I was out for the count. My mind turned to escape; I could still get up and make a break for it, and then I could get Jameson and myself out of here.As I got to me feet, I glanced back at McSmith. He wasn’t watching me, but opening the treasure chest, saying, “It’s all mine now!”But then his eyes went wide. The treasure chest was empty. Suddenly there was a great rumble that filled the room.And Grey Beard’s treasure fell from hidden chamber in the ceiling above the treasure chest, and the weight of the gold crushed McSmith to death.Entry #20:Name: DespairTheme: TreasureStory: A Lecture on WealthWord Count: 446“What is treasure?”The man paced back and forth, his features hidden beneath the wild hair that covered most of his face. His strides were smooth and confident, and every step he took seemed to shake the very ground on which he walked.However, his words seemed to have had more of an effect on those around him than his heavy footsteps. All around him, puzzlement crept into previously carefree faces. They had signed up in order to hunt for treasure, not debate upon what the term treasure actually entailed.A single hand rose above the crowd, its owner carrying a confident – although rather bored – look upon his face. After a few moments of hurried gestures to make sure no one would interrupt him, the leader of the group beckoned him to speak.“Treasure is anything that you deem to be valuable.”A murmur ran through the group, and it quickly turned into hurried whispering about whether or not he was correct. Before anyone could come to a reasonable conclusion or even get past the opening points to their argument, the leader once again spoke up. His voice cut through the clamor like a knife, immediately stopping short any conversations that he was not participating in (which was all of them).“That isn’t a bad guess, but I’m sorry to say you are wrong. Very, very wrong. You see, treasure isn’t something as vague as “something valuable to me”; if that were the case, you could call even a ratty old hat a treasure under some circumstances. Friends aren’t a treasure either, and the same goes for family. Those things are all worthless in the greater scheme of things!“So what is treasure? All I’ve told you so far is what it’s not, and I can see that some of you are growing impatient. Well, let me tell you: treasure is anything you have to steal, lie, or kill in order to attain. Treasure is anything you could auction off for a hefty sum of money. Treasure is anything that you can cast aside if it means making a fortune. If you are ever in doubt, ask yourself, “Is it valuable to many people around the world and, more importantly, would they pay for it?” and you’ll be sure to grab to correct item.”He stopped pacing for a moment and turned his head towards the group, his visible eye brightly shining with anticipation. His lecture was nearly complete, and he could already see that it had done its job of stirring the members of the group into a frenzy. Seeing this, he couldn’t help but grin behind his beard.“Now let’s go get some treasure.”Entry #21:Member Name: Takua123Theme: TreasureWord Count: 599Story: DesireJune 29: I brush the sand off of my pants, but more sand only replaces it seconds later. The dust storm has been going on for a few days now. I could remember when I signed up. They needed recruits. Course, who would sign up for it? I mean, the flyer read: "Recruits needed for expedition. No guaranteed return." The kind of scum that signed up was greedy, and had nothing left to lose. Gold and jewels were their drugs. I see a lean, small man, we don’t know his name, and he won't share it. He carries a small sapphire around his neck, he's got nothing else. Sometimes I see em up late at night, caressing that gem. It scares me. Me? I'm not greedy, and I wouldn't say I'm much scum. I've lost my wife, my job, my kids. I got nothing left. So I said to myself, "Why not?'July 1: We woke up to one of the men dead. He's the first. The was a big man, and I was surprised how long he lasted. At least the storm cleared up. All we have now is the sea of sand and each other. God I hope I can do this.July 5: We found a ruined structure stickin out of the ground today. The Boss says this is it. We've started to dig it up. Might take a while. I see eager faces all around me. The little riches that go around our team are wanted by everyone. These kinds of people scare me, and I don’t know how I could be so obsessed.July 7: We’ve established camp here. With the few tents we have I share mine. My mate is The Sapphire Man. It’s been hard to sleep. I don’t know if it’s the constant rambling and muttering of The Sapphire Man or the odd sounds I hear below me. Constant creaking and moaning can be heard below me. I feel scared at night.July 16: After days of digging The Boss says we’ve reached it. I peer down at the pit. I can see a large pile of gold and jewels at the bottom. It looks amazing… Two men quickly jump down. They seem eager, and it looks like they both have lost some goods. The two men are fighting over the treasure. When the dust clears they are dead. Both of their arms lay over the others necks.July 20: Several men have killed each other. The treasure seems to glow. It’s gorgeous. They have dug a staircase down to the bottom, and the less insane, the living, descend. There are only about 10 of us now, including The Boss, Sapphire Man, and me. The bottom shows long stone hallways. Fighting breaks out between us all and I grab some of the goods and flee. I hide now. The gold I have seems to sparkle.July 25: I need more. I need it. I need it. I rush out to the pit to find the treasure gone. I clasp what treasure I own and ascend the stairs. At the top I see ruin. The tents are gone and bodies lie everywhere. I see The Sapphire Man, dead, his precious gone. Treasure lies scattered. I grab it. But I need more, more. I hear groaning I look to my right to see The Boss, barely living. I walk over to him. He holds in his hands the remaining treasure. He looks up, and says: “Your eyes, they’re, different.” Then he is still. I pick up his treasure, but now, I NEED MORE.Entry #22:Member Name: Grimoire AlbastruTheme: TreasureWord Count: 591Story: The Beast“Why will you not leave me in peace?!”The dragon swung his clawed talons at the charging knight, roaring with frustration as he does so. The knight lurches to the ground and rolls just as he makes impact, before bouncing straight back up onto his feet, the danger having long since passed.The knight strode forward, his sword already drawn and held threateningly at his side. “You are a beast, wretch,” he spat. “You terrorise our people and leave us in fear. That is reason enough.”The dragon’s eyes blazed in a hideous inferno and it glowered down at the puny morsel before it. The titanic lizard raised one large, razor sharp talon the size of the knight’s forearm and thrust it in the direction of his attacker, “You are not here for justice. That much is clear.”Beneath his steel helmet, the soldier grinned. “Well, perhaps I am here for a little more. A dragon’s treasure is what makes the struggle all the more worthwhile.”The dragon reared its neck back and belched plumes of fire at the knight, who easily leapt aside with grace. “You will have no interest in my treasure, human!” the beast roared. “Gold is truly uncomfortable to lie on, and diamonds hold no more value than glittering rocks!”“A likely story,” the knight smirked. And he ensured the conversation would go no farther as he charged forward. The dragon raised one massive arm to strike his rival down, but was too slow. With a lightning fast lunge, the knight pierced the dragon’s soft underbelly. The dragon roared in pain, but in that vicious screech, there was something else. Misery? Loss? Surely impossible. It was merely a monster.The beast toppled to the ground, clutching its stomach and moaning gently. The knight looked at his fallen enemy and nodded, a malicious smile twitch on his face, though not that the creature could see.He stepped past the brute towards the back of the cave. He turned back and saw one solitary eye focusing on him. In its final moments, the dragon would get to see the knight take its treasured possessions as a prize. And then it may die.He squinted against the darkness, before finding one solitary chest. The soldiers heart sank as he looked at the measly container. Perhaps it was full of jewels? Rubies, sapphires, emeralds? Something that would make this worthwhile.And yet it wasn’t. He looked at the contents and shivered with rage. There were beryl scales stacked one on top of the other, stood next to an ink drawing of a female beast, perhaps drawn by one of the village folk, then stolen during their ghastly hunt for food? Next to it lay several pearly white, jagged chunks. Egg shells.The knight turned wildly on his heels. “What is this, some manner of joke?” he hissed. “All dragons guard treasure, but this…This is worthless to me!”“To you, yes…” the dragon rumbled mournfully. “But not to me…They are all I had left to remember my mate…and my son…Both of whom you so cruelly took from me.” The dragon blinked, and the knight watched as a single tear drooped from that massive eye.The knight kicked at the chest and yelled in rage. This was ridiculous! All that effort, all that struggle and for nothing of value! The beast spoke of treasure, but this was nothing of the sort! And surely the idea that this beast could feel sentimentality was ridiculous. He was a knight, and this was just a lizard.Entry #23:Member Name: BaltaTheme: TreasureWord Count: 599Story:The trek from our camp was a short one. It was rather ironic, I mused, that we had been so close this whole time. Though it was far from surprising – such was the nature of this whole venture, after all. It came as no surprise, either, that none had found this place before us, though I did wonder at that. It was quite obvious if you knew what to look for. Which was odd, as my men did know what to look for, and I knew beyond any shadow of doubt that I had sent them to investigate this area many times over.But that was of no matter now. I knelt, running my hand over the floor of the jungle. To many, this spot would seem no different from any other. But to me...I smiled faintly, allowing myself a brief moment of pride.The expression faded before any of my men could take notice. We had business to attend to. A swing of my knife, the flash of the blade in the single beam of light filtering through the canopy of trees, and a gash appeared in the overgrown greenery. Beneath, there was nothing but darkness. A few more slashes in the foliage and there was an opening in the ground. My pulse quickened. We were finally here......Almost. There was still one item left to attend to...I stood, facing my men, a satisfied grin crossing my face. “What’d I tell you, eh?” I asked rhetorically. The men were clearly excited, try as they might to hide it. Some offered the others congratulatory remarks, others shook their heads in grudging admiration. A few, it seemed, were simply eager to press on.“Who’ll go first, boss?” one asked me. The others quieted, waiting expectantly for my answer.I grinned. Why not? “How about you, Jackson?”“M-me? I don’t-”“Oh, go on already!” I interrupted, still grinning. “You’ve earned it, I think.”“Well...” he replied, trying and failing to hide his pride at the remark. Lighting his torch, he stepped down into the darkness. The others followed in single file. I took up the rear, lighting a torch of my own.The journey through the tunnel was lengthy but uneventful. The men spoke occasionally, in whispers (though there was no reason not to talk normally), their indistinguishable voices echoing eerily through the enclosed space.Words cannot adequately describe the chamber at the tunnel’s end. We knew from the moment we entered that it was simply massive, though we could not see beyond the dim light of the torches. But the size of the room was of little consequence in consideration of its contents.Gold. Gold, and lots of it. Coins, statues, silverware and dishes...everything a man could dream of, in gold. And the cavern was filled with it. The sight, even of the little gold which was visible, took my breath away.But only for a moment. The men spread out eagerly, exploring the chamber, calling out to one another to announce discovery after discovery. But I ignored them. The gold...they could keep their gold. I walked along the wall, slowly. It would be here...it had to be.My heart raced as I quickened my pace, turning over artifact after artifact with increasing desperation. It had to-And there it was. Struggling to contain myself, I reached out, gingerly lifting the book to eye level. It was nothing special to look at – about average size and weight, maybe a bit smaller...but this was it. I inhaled deeply...Slipping the book into my pocket, I headed back for the entrance.Entry #24:Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: TreasureWord Count: 564Story: Average Days•••••Granny Trisha rocked back and forth in her chair, humming an old tune while knitting a sweater. A cliché scene, as she herself knew, but she enjoyed it. The children and grandchildren of the Helens family enjoyed wearing her warm, comfortable, homemade clothing. So she kept rocking, the benign smile upon her lightly wrinkled face portraying the good years through which she had lived.Brian sat on a couch across the room, playing his Xbox 360. He couldn’t play MW3, Battlefield 3, or anything like that because of Granny being at the house. He didn’t really mind, though. Sometime it was fun to play Blur or another, somewhat tamer game. Of course, he still got to blow up cars and such, but there wasn’t blood, language, or any other glaringly objectionable content, so Granny was fine.In another corner sat his Mom, Olivia. She was reading a book, occasionally glancing at the clock to see if she should start steaming the vegetables yet. After an especially noisy crash, she said to Brian, “Could you turn that down? It’s a bit loud.”With a roll of his eyes and a smirk, Brian complied. The aroma of the cooking soufflé was filling his nostrils, drawing saliva into his mouth. After licking his lips, he brought his mind back to the game. Surprisingly, he was still in first, and it didn’t look like that would change.Brian’s brother and sister, Jacob and Bethany, were off in their rooms, doing something or other. Jacob was probably playing Diablo III. Bethany was probably watching anime, reading manga, or playing some game. Not that they were being reclusive, they were just doing whatever at the moment. Dean, the father of the family, was probably doing taxes, something work-related, or playing with his iPhone.Finally, after another fifteen minutes of a similar setting, Olivia told Brian to get his siblings and dad for dinner. He obliged, having just finished a race, and soon all six people preset in the house were gathered around the table. After a quick prayer from Dean, they began eating.It was a short meal. Compliments were paid to Olivia on how good it was, and small talk was made. Bethany and Jacob had some nerdy conversation about something or other, with occasional comments from Brian. Dean told a joke that was simultaneously funny and worthy of groans. Then, one by one, everyone dispersed, and Olivia cleared the table and put away the food. Brian quickly did the dishes then went to the room he shared with Jacob.After about five minutes of convincing, Brian managed to pull Jacob from Diablo and got him to play a few random rounds of Team Fortress 2. Both chuckled and had a bit of fun, and then Jacob insisted on going back to his game. Brian rolled his eyes and went to surfing the web.Back in the living room, Granny Trisha sat, now watching a movie while working her needles. It was a normal day spent at her son’s house, which was fine with her. Normal days were good. She still got to see everyone–even her fourth grandchild, Evelyn, and her husband, Zach, who had visited earlier–and gotten a sweater finished. She had good, respectful children and grandchildren, and she treasured every moment she got to watch them have fun. Indeed, normal days were sometimes the best.Entry #25:Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: TreasureWord Count: 443Story:"I've been searching for treasure since I was a child," the young wanderer said. He stood before the group he had assembled - adventurers, warriors, mercenaries."It's an old story - my tribe was conquered and our lands stolen by a stronger tribe. Though we escaped with our freedom, our lands and possessions changed into other hands. My tribe is impoverished, and it's my job to change that."I've made it a rule to work alone. My finds have been small enough without division with strangers."Now I'm breaking that rule. Not because I want to, mind you. But this is too big a job for one man, and my tribe is far away. And whatever's at the end... is still more than worth the trip."He paused, eying his listeners. Many of them looked impatient or bored. But a few - those whom he had known longest - looked intrigued, and a bit apprehensive. These knew, or had heard of, his expertise in searching out valuables. They also knew his customary reserve concerning his past and present affairs, and his determination never to let anyone have a penny of his finds - even at the risk of his life, he worked alone.They knew any venture he was willing to give others a share in, a share which extended to the profits, must be something very big."Over a month ago," he continued, "I heard a rumor - a rumor of a legend come true - up north. I investigated." He paused. "Many of you are treasure hunters yourselves. How many of you have heard of the Minemaster's hoard?"By their reaction, he judged perhaps a quarter of them had. Although it was an obscure myth, all treasure-seekers heard it eventually. The legendary giant stockpile of all the best precious metals and stones unearthed by the miners of many countries, and given to the just-as-legendary Minemaster, their chieftain. The size of the hoard was only matched by the deadliness of its defenses.One of them spoke up. "It's also called the Bounty of the Earth," he conceded, "But most of us call it the Dream-Quest, if not the Treasure-Seeker's Doom." He looked at the youth hard. "You say it's real? And attainable?""That's why you're here," the youth responded simply. "With my information, and all our efforts, we can find and retrieve it - if the rest of you will join me."There was a pause. Then one man rose. "If your proof is good, I'm in," he said. "I would call this quest the Ultimate, for a treasure-seeker."One by one, the others followed.To the Ultimate Treasure, or to death.Entry #26:Member Name: SumikiTheme: TreasureWord Count: 417Story: ForeverThe subtle waves swept onto the shoreline, lapsing peacefully back upon the ocean from whence they came. The wind was brisk and light, with the most indistinguishable of salty tangs to the air. The sea, such as it was, was slowly and forthrightly climbing onto the shoreline, doing its best to slowly eat away at the footsteps that so marred the sand."You think this is such a good idea?" came a whispered call. A gruff grunt and a brusque shrug was all the response that he got."Just a little more up ..."The sheer, striated rock wall that had consistently been around a hundred yards from them took a bend, sharply descending into a mess of boulders as it met with the sea. Beyond it, the two adventurers saw, there was wood.In the dim light of the waxing moon, and the modicum of light that the stars around it provided, golden points of light twinkled on the sand."This is it. That's the shipwreck.""Looks like it was yesterday ..."The more ambitious of the two slid down the sand that coated the greatest of the boulders, leaving his own heavy boot prints on the soft and easily scarred sand.They were gold-diggers, at heart. They couldn't help it; it was in their genes and in their blood. Gold intrigued them and enticed them as few vices could, as addictions that they could not break themselves of."Gold!" the taller, more bearded, and slightly denser of the two yelled. As obvious as this was, this only served to excite them further. Fumbling with their crowbars for a few moments, they cracked open chest after chest, uncovering priceless amounts of riches in one after another.They were like two little boys in a candy store, heaping piles of gold about themselves, garnishing their garish and unrestricted piles with silver, crowns, jewels, and precious minerals. Easily tired, they collapsed onto beds of riches, thinking their goldbrick selves to be set for life, if they figured out how to cash in on this hunch. And how hard could it be? They were quite literally sleeping on gold ...***The next morning, the sea had rushed up to the rock wall that it, so long ago, had hewn. Seagulls flew over, rushing down only occasionally to eat something.Far above, where the last bits of sand ran out and the lushness of trees began, bits of rotted wood floated away, small coins coming with it.Treasure, such as it was, was theirs forever, down where no one would ever reach again.Entry #27:Member Name: Grant-SudTheme: TreasureWord Count: 596Story: The ArtistThe Artist She stood in the elevator watching the number meter rise one by one, starting from the ground up. In a drench coat, tan in color with a little too much make up on her face, the woman pulled the spongy from her hair, letting it flow across her shoulders. One of the walls was a mirror while the other two were of a fabric material, dark violet in color. The lift had that distinct smell, one of air freshener and window cleaner which was probably applied by the maids every day.The woman looked over to the right at the mirror, catching her reflection. Bringing a hand to her hair, she tried to adjust it a little. Wring it out, push it up to give it that life and curls that she knew she had.Nothing. It remained wet and flat.With a sigh she returned to the number meter, which now hit ‘15’ on the mark. The doors opened.Walking to her right, she stepped out onto an open walk way. When she had first moved here, she was terrified of heights, barely looking down when she left her apartment. The window in her room beside her bed, she also had kept closed.And one night it started to rain, and the thunder started to roar with authority. She had gone to see how close the storm was despite it being high in the pitch black, night sky. Sudden lightning streamed across the sky and illuminated the whole city. She timidly looked below, noticing for the first time all the people down there, like insects scurrying to find their shelter.Many nights afterward, clear skies or not, she would look out her window and watch the city with a smile on her face. She imagined all the people, and what they were wondering about on nights like these.She had never been good at writing, painting, or music. But with a smile on her face as she came up to her door, lost in thought, she blushed at feeling like an artist, glancing out her window. Capturing … the moment.It was a light feeling, but it was something that never hurt when she put too much faith into it.Shaking the key as it fitted into its slot, she pushed the door open.“I’m home!” she called out.The young lady appeared from the bedroom, lightly skinned and very quiet, a young girl who lived next door.“He’s asleep…”“Thank you again for staying so late, we got busy-”“It’s alright and I never mind. Besides, he’s great company.”“Tell your parents and brother, I said hello, and thank you again…”“You said that already,” her young friend laughed before leaving, not asking about pay and promising to babysit again.The young woman walked into the bathroom, removing her coat and work clothes before heading to bed.The child slept under the covers, head on the pillow. Dark brown hair, like hers and curly, he breathed in and out softly.Her five year old son; her sacrifice, joy, treasure and life.Reaching over, she kissed his forehead and rested next to him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed him gently against her. Sometimes, not for his comfort, but hers.The light in the bathroom remained on. She didn’t get up to turn it off. The room was not too bright, and not too dark, so within moments she fell asleep to the therapeutic sound of light breathing and heavy traffic.For now, it was enough for the both of them.Entry #28:Member Name: Nick SilverpenTheme: TreasureWord Count: 563Story: Stepping off the PyramidStepping Off the Pyramid“It’s been an honor rowing with you seniors, and I wish you luck with your future endeavors.” We locked eyes and smiled at each other as Connor said this, and I hope my tears were intermingled with sweat dripping from my forehead. “And it was the most fun I’ve ever had on a boat.” He and I were not close friends in the past three years, but maybe we grew closer in the past months- fighting, winning and losing together. Even though we came in dead last, the entire team was looking at each other like we were winners. It was a long rhode, I thought. But it was worth the travel. The true victors of the race lay in the shade not ten feet away, resting for the finals in a few hours time, but they didn’t have the sense of triumph in winning the fights that our boat did.“It’s nowhere near over for you,” my voice broke the moment of awe of the four seniors as I indicated him, the lone junior, Justin, Jake and Pat, even Will, the alternate who stood on the outside of the circle. “You guys have another year- most of you even two- to do even better than we did today. Half the boat will remain after we seniors graduate, and you’ll do amazing things together.” Next to me, Coach shifted in his seat, and I could feel his mind buzzing for next year’s team in the group of men that sat before him. “It was never the way I imagined it would end, but I honestly wouldn’t have ended it any other way.”It was all a pyramid, just like coach said, all the way back in September. A hard hike to the top, but the brief time spent viewing beyond the apogee was worth it, as we stepped down from such great heights, back into the shade of the giant. I stepped off with my only medal in the past four years, the medal that everyone else on the team received time and time again for three years, and that one victory was my treasure. The loss of this race wasn’t the worst- there were so many lost in the past, and I won the race I wanted most. The smiles on our faces in the newspaper cover shot were some of the happiest I was in all four years of high school. This may have been the peak for the seniors, but I suspected that Coach was simply laying a base for the underclassmen.I flashed a grin across the circle at Pat. The most polite and deserving kid was worried all season that he would lose his seat, and here he was, after the last race, earning what he deserved all along. Jake didn’t live up to his brother… yet. His time lies in the future. Why reach a prime so young, and then realize for the years to come that he’ll never be better?Picking ourselves off the grass, we gathered for one last team chant. We were headed home, to the beaches, where all the other teams would be spending hours of traffic getting to their vacation homes later. A sly grin came on everyone’s faces as we all realized it, and one other thing.We were free from crew now. The summer is ours.Entry #29:Member Name: VeloxTheme: TreasureWord Count: 519Story:

Memories

Flowers cut and brought inside

Black cars in a single line

Your family in suits and ties

And you’re free

The tiny hand placed the bouquet of flowers on the coffin.“Bye, bye, daddy,” her soft, innocent voice spoke. Behind her her mother quickly wrapped her arms around her daughter.“It’s okay, Sophia, it’s going to be okay,” the mother managed to say between the tears. Even though she said it as if it was, it wasn’t directed toward her daughter. No, Sophia was far too young to understand the gravity of the situation. She had tried explaining it, of course, but that pure mind couldn’t grasp the abominable concept. She would never see her daddy again? No, it just couldn’t be true.“You’re hurting me, mommy,” the high-pitched voice said, and Megan suddenly realized how hard she had been holding on to Sophia.“Sorry, baby,” she said immediately, wiping away her tears. “Come on, give mommy a hug.” Sophia instantly turned around and complied, wrapping her tiny arms around her mother’s neck.“When’s daddy coming out of there, mommy?” she asked, pointing to the coffin.There it was. She knew it would come up again eventually, she had just prayed it wouldn’t be now. Not until after the funeral.She pulled away from her daughter’s embrace, holding Sophia’s hands in her own and looking in her eyes. “He’s…he’s not coming back, Sophia. Daddy’s gone.” She could control the tears no longer and they flowed down her cheeks all the more, not stopping no matter how hard she wished for them to.“Mommy, don’t cry.” But that only caused more tears to flow.“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby.” Pull yourself together. For Sophia. She gave her daughter another hug and saw other family members standing around, black ties and suits all around. Then various uniforms; other members in the Armed Forces, saying their last goodbyes to their fallen comrade. Why? Why did you have to die? I can’t believe it…can’t believe you’re gone. She hoped more than anything that it was all a dream, that she would suddenly wake up and he would be back, but that would never happen. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the tears, but it was useless. They kept coming, just as they had been for the past week, ever since she had heard the news. Sometimes she would dream he was still alive, still fighting. But then she awoke, and the horrors of reality came rushing back. He is gone.The bugle sounded, playing Taps, and soon everyone else began to drift away, paying their last respects and then leaving, a line of cars going through the funeral home’s gate. Her parents had taken Sophia, but Megan refused to move. She couldn’t. So she just knelt there awkwardly, staring at the flowers and holding his flag in her hands. A sign of her memories. Memories that were her greatest treasures.

I remember you like yesterday, yesterday

I still can’t

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #1:

Member Name: Varkanax39Theme: The Legends of LhiiName: The Final Tale

The Final Tale

“Gather round, friends,” Turaga Vakama whispered, “And listen to the final tale of Lhii, a Ta-Matoran forgotten by all of you…but because of my tales, no longer. This is how he met his end, and how he was remembered by all Ta-Matoran fondly afterward.”Lihkan, this is for you, Vakama thought, the name of his long-dead Toa friend echoing in his mind as he began to speak quietly.---The light of the lava lamps mingled with the gleam of the sunlight above as Lhii sped on his Lava Board across the volcanic crater, slowly picking up speed. The wind blew lazily past him, slowly gaining in intensity as Lhii’s lava board picked up speed.The Ta-Matoran smiled behind his mask. Today, the conditions for lava surfing were perfect. He wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Later today, he’d heard, a group of Ta-Matoran was gathering at a well-known lava crater, the Tren Krom Break, for a surfing competition. Lhii didn’t plan to enter. He was the greatest lava surfer in his day, only his friend, the Matoran Jaller, could come close to him, so why enter a competition he was sure to win? Nowadays, he preferred to surf alone.Lhii was picking up speed. He was moving faster and faster across the surface of the lava, inches from the edge of a massive crest of red molten rock. Lhii sped over it and flew through the air, landing on his board with the accomplished skill of a practiced lava surfer. He rode the flows for several minutes before gathering speed and tearing across the crater once more.Suddenly Lhii saw a massive, jagged outcropping approaching. He hadn’t expected one this large; then again, he reminded himself, this wasn’t one of the more often used Ignalu trails. He veered to one side, avoiding the outcropping entirely. However, he had no time to breathe before he saw a jagged precipice straight ahead of him.Still this was no trouble for Lhii, though it might have killed a less experienced lava surfer. His board turned in the opposite direction, and he began to pick up speed on the crest of a lava flow.All at once, while he was still rising on the crest of a lava flow, Lhii’s board slammed against something hard and sharp. Lhii had just enough time to look down before he was thrown from his board- and into the lava below.There was no time for him to think, only a moment of shock, then blistering pain.And then Lhii was gone.---“We searched for hours,” said Vakama. “You do not remember, any of you, but we finally found his body, not washed into the craters below as you might think, but caught on the edge of a jagged rock in the middle of the trail. And so it was that Lhii, greatest of the Matoran lava surfers and second only to Tahu himself perished. He was fondly remembered by all Ta-Matoran.”As his tale concluded, Vakama turned away. He wondered how he would ever tell the crowd of Ta-Matoran who had listened to his story of “Lhii” that there had never been such a Matoran, but a Toa and Turaga instead called Lhikan.And how he would ever bring himself to tell the tale of Metru Nui- and the reason that the Matoran had to return there one day.

Entry #2:

Member Name: Pyrrhon

Theme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 595Story: Never ForgottenThe Turaga of fire looked wearily up at those around him. The group was smaller than it had been when last he offered to tell a story of the brave Ta-Matoran. Less had shown up, each time the group was smaller. Now only a few remained eager to hear the tales. Those were the ones for whom he did this, so that his hero was never left forgotten.But it seemed that the dark times held sway over the people now, more than the legends of the past. History was losing importance, and that saddened the wise Vakama far greater than anyone could measure. But there was still a small hope for the legends of heroes, those who still listened to the tales of old. They were the reason he continued, and he hoped that they continued to arrive each time the stories were told.There in the front sat the one Matoran who had come to hear every legend, not missing a single meeting. He was always putting aside what he was doing to hear the story of Lhii, even returning from his travels across the island only to hear a small glimpse into the past. Vakama smiled wearily as he watched Matoran adjust his Pakari. Then, the Turaga closed his eyes, inhaling the smoky air to prepare himself.The fire flickered as the story began anew. Vakama's staff swung through the fire, changing the shape of the flames. To those watching in awe, they could see the rolling waves of lava in the coiling blaze. "And so we began another tale of the great Matoran Lhii."---The blazing waves of molten stone lashed and churned as a single Lavaboard dared to brave the burning river. There was Lhii, eyes staring with determination at the task looming ahead of him. The strongest surge of lava pushed him forward as he readied himself for what he had to do."Three."The tunnel grew closer and closer, he could see where the mining tools had broken through, and it was coming up quickly. Not far up the tunnel was where the cave had collapsed, sealing this end off."Two."Lhii could make out the Matoran pushing himself back on the ledge, looking down at the lava only inches below. Fear, that was what crossed the Onu-Matoran's face as he watching the liquid fire. Lhii could see a small part of the mining cart as it slowly melted away."One."Lhii leaned to the side, balancing his board as best he could, readying himself. He only had a single chance at this, the waves behind him would overcome the small ledge and take the Matoran with them."Now."His arm shot out, grabbing the shoulder of the Onu-Matoran and pulling him onto his board. It took all of his skill to keep both from plunging beneath molten waves. Now it was just a trip down the waves, and getting the Matoran home safely.He grinned as he swooped down the tunnel of fire. He was enjoying the ride.---Vakama closed his eyes, sitting back as the story reached its end. The few Matoran that were there began to disperse, speaking among themselves. Only one stayed behind, walking over to the wise Turaga.Adjusting his Pakari once again, the grinning Matoran spoke. "Turaga? I want to thank you for the story."The elder smiled, patting his hand on the Matoran's shoulder. "I am glad that the story of Lhii will not go forgotten. Thank you, Takua."With a nodding grin, the Matoran walked away, acting as though he was balancing on a Lava Board as he went.Seeing the sight, even Vakama couldn't help but chuckle.

Entry #3:

Member Name: Takua123

Theme: Legends of LhiiWord Count: 526Story: EyesVakama looked around him. Fire from the middle of the amaja circle illuminated the eager faces of matoran, each waiting intently for the turaga of fire to begin. He smiled. Vakama was glad that at least some still wanted to hear the stories of an old turaga. He searched the crowd to find Jaller. He always attended. If only he knew. The turaga thought.With the toa faced against hordes of bohrok, and destruction everywhere, dark times were upon the matoran. Although the matoran were exited for another tale of the great Lhii, Vakama saw something different in the matoran. Vakama relized that most of the faces in the small crowd were anxious, and their eyes seemed opaque and still. It seemed the only real light came from the small fire.Vakama began. "Welcome, my friends, to yet another ledgend of Lhii, the Ta-Matoran of bravery and skill." The fire almost seemed to glow in certain parts, forming a blurry picture. Through the fire the waves lapping the shore of Mata Nui seemed to transform into waves of lava and heat.The Ta-Matoran peered down the river of molten lava. A fairly large wave surged forward. Lhii readied his lava board. This will be fun. In the opposite direction Lhii could see a bank, in which several matoran stood. Some were of his village, and some were just wearly travellers who decided to make a quick stop. Lhii waved to the matoran, and they seemed eager to see him surf.The wave was approaching. Lhii readied his board, but something stopped him. A sharp cracked occured. Lhii looked to the bank to see a chunk of rock that split away. On that rock was a fearful Le-Matoran. Lhii began to ready himself. The Le-Matoran was now in the middle of the river.Vakama looked around at the matoran. They all seemed transfixed on the fire, as if the flame was telling the story. A Po-Matoran looked up at the turaga. "Something wrong turaga?" Vakama shook his head. "No, nothing wrong." He continued.Lhii paddled towards the chunk of rock. He hopped on, and looked at the terrified matoran. "Are you alright?" He replied, a bit shaky. "Oh, ever-great. We wave-surf all the time in Le-Koro." Lhii ignored the matoran. The wave picked up the rock. Balancing it, Lhii began to surf. Swaying back and forth. Eeventually the two matoran reached a nearby bank. The Le-Matoran jumped to shore. "Thank you! You're like a toa-hero!" The matoran ran off, but the words stuck with Lhii, forever.Vakama swiped his staff through the fire. It went out, but it seemed to go on. Many small, bright eyes stared at vakama, and it seemed to him that they lit up the amaja circle. Vakama stood up. "Along with tonight's story comes a lesson." Vakama peered at the many of eyes. "No matter how bad things get, you can help your own kind. The toa came as protectors, and I think we need to learn to protect ourselves." The matoran began to disperse. The Po-Matoran from before came up to vakama, and simply said "thank you."

Entry #4:

Member Name: Toa Sonis

Theme: The Legends of LhiiStory: Courage (Word Count: 453)The Ta-Matoran Lhii ducked under a protruding stalactite. His yellow armor was scorched in places from the bubbling lava around him, but Lhii didn’t mind. This was what he lived for—the thrill of lava surfing. The hot air billowed around him in smoky clouds, lowering visibility. As his board raced across the pool, Lhii noticed something below him. On an overhang next to the lava was a smoky shape; Lhii couldn’t make out exactly what it was. But being as adventurous as he was, Lhii decided to find out.As Lhii drew closer to the shape, still obscured by haze, he perceived that it was crying for help. Lhii recognized the voice as that of one of his guardsmen, Keahi. Briefly he wondered why Jala, his co-captain of the Ta-Koro guard, had let anyone patrol down here. It was dangerous, a place only for the most skilled lava surfers on the island. Fragile arches hung suspended over a dangerous molten river that eventually ended in a steep drop-off. But there was no time to wonder—Lhii had to act.With deft movements the Ta-Matoran steered his board closer to the overhang. At the speed he was going, it would take a lot of effort to stop. But Lhii was confident he could do it. As the moment came closer, Lhii realized with a sudden shock that even he would not be able to stop the board at Keahi’s ledge. Keahi would have to jump.Lhii shouted instructions through the fog. Keahi responded with bravery to the commands of his superior, and prepared to leap. At the last moment, Lhii swerved towards the overhang. As he rushed by, Keahi took a flying leap from his rock to Lhii’s lava board.Now Keahi was safe—for the moment. The two Matoran were on a straight course for the lava falls!Lhii knew he had only one option—to abandon his lava board. With Keahi holding on tightly behind him, Lhii pushed off from the board. For a moment they were suspended over the lava, oblivious to anything but the bank they were headed towards. With a crash, the Ta-Matoran came to rest in safety on the hill of the flow.“And that is our story for tonight,” Turaga Vakama intoned. “Lhii showed courage by saving Keahi. That is our lesson—to emulate his behavior towards our friends and even those we do not like. You are dismissed.”As Matoran began to filter away, Vakama remembered a time shortly before he had become a Toa—when Toa Lhikan had risked his life to rescue him from falling into molten lava. This was Vakama’s way of remembering his hero’s brave actions.For you, Lhikan, he thought.

Entry #5:

Member Name: xccj

Theme: The Legends of LhiiName: Ballad of Lhii (456 Words)In the land the Matoran have claim,In Ta-Koro, the village of flame,On the island of Mata NuiThere lived a Matoran named LhiiLava surrounded the villageWhose heat the Matoran did pillageBut they avoided where the lava churnedIn fear that they would get burnedBut Lhii was braver than mostAnd he would often boastAbout how he was not scaredTo go where the lava flaredHe tired to craft a deviceThat could travel across lava in triceAnd speed down the lava riverIt was an idea that made his pals quiverA surf board he decided to adjustMade of metals that would not combustBut before the board could be testedTuraga Vakama protested“That board is a danger,” he said“And if you fall off, you are dead.And as such I cannot permitFor you to experiment with it.”Although his plan was now bustedTuraga Vakama was one that he trustedSo Lhii stored his surf board awayBut swore that he’d test it somedayThen came the mighty Rahi attackWhich pushed all the Matoran backOnto their village islandWhere they had to make their last standThe Rahi gathered on the ridgeAnd then destroyed the village bridgeLeaving Ta-Koro cut off and in perilAnd hope went down in a spiral“We need to call out for help,”A lava farmers did yelp“But the lava just cannot be crossed.And that means that we all are lost!”Lhii pushed to the front of the clanAnd announced “I have a plan.”On my lava board I will rideAnd find help from the outside.”Before anyone could protestLhii started off on his questHis board surfed the lava like waterAnd cut down the stream like an augerHe made some excellent savesAs he surfed on the lava’s wavesMatoran watched him surf in frightUntil he rode out of sightTa-Koro prepared for the siegeAnd even a potential breachBut they couldn’t fight endlesslySo all of their hope was in LhiiThe Rahi were there for three daysAnd the village they prepared to razeBut the beasts’ efforts were just for nilWhen many Matoran appeared on the hillThe Matoran were from all aroundTheir cries fill the air with soundThey charged down the hill hastilyAnd leading their charge was LhiiThe Rahi were swiftly defeatedAnd those that survived retreatedThe Matoran, together and unitedWere quite the force to be sightedAnd thus Ta-Koro was savedAnd records of Lhii’s feat were engravedAnd all the Matoran across Mata NuiLearned of the legendary surfer named Lhii

Entry #6:

Member Name: Legolover-361

Theme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 600Story: Lhii and the Grain HunterThis tale occurred many moons ago, before you all came to the island Mata Nui...When Ta-Matoran checked the village’s food stores the morning after our weekly harvest, they had all vanished. It was widely believed that a Matoran had stolen the food, and so for the next week’s harvest, I stationed two guards by the stores; both guards awoke the next day with dents in their Kanohi and claw marks on their limbs.I knew no Matoran could leave such marks, and so I ascertained a Rahi was entering the village.Lhii was still, as my friend Matau would say, “leaf-stuck” — fun-loving, always with his head in the clouds. He was known then not for heroism, only for his lava-surfing skills. But that week, he was in a sullen mood; he refused to enter a lava-surfing competition and instead visited me during my meditation. He told me that without action, Ta-Koro’s society would kneel under the pressure of dissidence. I agreed with him, but what was I to do?After days of persuasion, Lhii convinced me to assign more guards to the stores. Reluctantly, I concurred, armed Lhii and several other Ta-Matoran appropriately, and stayed awake during a long and anxious night.The next morning, Lhii and another Matoran knocked on my door. Upon answering, I was told that the Rahi had struck again. Lhii had seen it clearly: a lithe quadruped with claws on its extremities, an extended neck, and a series of spikes along its spine. I had heard about sightings of such a creature before, but it was Lhii who called it a Grain Hunter. He said that it had entered and navigated the village like a shadow; it had then come upon the Matoran guards and struck down three before the other four had driven it out of Ta-Koro.At a loss for ideas, I asked Lhii for a course of action. He paced until, at length, he stopped and explained: I was to assemble a great lava-boat constructed from the same materials as lava-boards, and dangle it over the largest lava flow available; the week’s harvest was to be placed in the lava-boat and a trail leading from Ta-Koro’s gates to the boat. The Rahi would follow the trail and enter the boat, which would fall into the lava flow and bring the Grain Hunter into the ocean.I agreed. The Ta-Matoran and I spent five days constructing a boat large enough; on the sixth day, we took a small part of our harvest and placed it in the boat, leaving the rest with farmers. Lhii volunteered to lay out the trail and watch for the Grain Hunter the night of the seventh day. I joined him, and we lay in wait.We waited till our eyes were heavy. Only then did the Grain Hunter come. It sniffed the food we left out for it and followed the trail. With bated breath, Lhii and I followed.It stopped at the precipice of the boat — I worried, but in vain, for the Rahi entered the boat. I heard a yelp as the boat tipped into the lava, and then silence as the boat was borne from Ta-Koro.Free of the Rahi, the rest of our grain stores were brought into Ta-Koro. That week, Matoran celebrated our victory over meals laden with grains. Lhii’s name was mentioned but sparingly; even so, I knew of his certainty to become someone more.Lhii was still known as a Ta-Matoran then. Now, we know him as a hero. All it took was a catalyst. Remember that, all of you.

Entry #7:

Member Name: Maganar

Theme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 421Story: The Virtues of LhiiYou all know the tales, tales of Lhii:The Matoran lava surferwho felt nothing but a great gleewhen gliding over deadly heattrusting only his lava boardhis reflexes, and his quick feet.Despite all his skill, it was Lhiiwho always remembered the needsof the whole. Lhii knew unitywas the key to survival hereand always helped his home Korowhere he’d learnt to surf without fear.Lhii was always modest: Dutyit seemed, was what he fell back to.“I surf because it is trulya great way to bring glory hometo Ta-Koro each day,” he’d say.“I would never leave here and roam.”Lhii never once questioned his fateNot even when the smolderinglava claimed him, on that sad date.He was at peace with destiny,content with his exciting lifeHe was happy to be “just Lhii.”Lhii had held the three virtues dearand that is why he’s legend nowAlways remember and keep near:Unity, duty, destiny.Trust in those three virtues todayand one day your name may just beas renowned as the name of Lhii.Turaga Vakama glanced around the amaja circle as the verses drew to a close. Even as the effervescent Matoran dispersed, they whispered to one another, excitedly drawing wild conjectures about the adventures of Lhii. Turaga Vakama fed them nothing but tale after tale of Lhii’s skill and heroism. The Ta-Matoran would all look around themselves in wonderment, pondering and going And to think, he was one of us!It was amusing to Vakama, the sole being in Ta-Koro who knew the truth. He liked it this way. Unable to recall Lhii, the Matoran were forced to accept everything their Turaga said about him as the irrefutable truth. They revered Lhii and showed the utmost respect for the allegedly deceased Ta-Matoran.It’s the least I can do for you, Lhikan, Vakama thought. What better way to teach the virtues of unity, duty, and destiny than with the tales of a fictitious character based on the being who, in Vakama’s eyes, best exemplified those three concepts? Well, he realized, the best way would be to tell them the actual stories of the formerly mentioned being… but this method would have to suffice.The one with the visionswill tell tales of phantasmsto guide the decisionsof those living by chasmsof lava and great heat.The teller? VakamaThe phantasm? LhikanAn wise, old TuragaRemembering Lhikan – – the hero of days past.

Entry #8:

Name: Danska: Shadow Master

Theme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 599Title: Lost in the Woods“You have all heard the tales of Lhii's skill and lavaboarding prowess. Today I shall tell you a different tale. One of bravery and courage.” Vakama cleared his throat. “The Charred Forest is a treacherous place, filled with many dangers. There are some who can walk its paths safely, and many who cannot. It was into this forest that one of Lhii's friends, seeking to prove his bravery, ventured. He did not know the forest, and so he became lost. The next morning, when he had not returned, Lhii entered the forest to search for him, though he did not know the way either.“Much time past in the forest, and still Lhii had not found his friend. Hunger and thirst came upon him, but still he searched. Even as the light began to dim, he did not give up. He searched on. And so it was that as the final light of day was lost beneath the horizon, a mysterious voice spoke to Lhii.” At this, Vakama's voice deepened, becoming a shallow, gravelly sound.“'Your friend is lost. He has strayed too far and cannot leave. But with my help, he can be found again.'”“'And what would you ask in return?' said Lhii, for he knew better than to trust that which he could not see.”“'A favour, no more. One day I shall ask something of you, and you shall do it. That is all.'“'Will you lead us out of the forest? For as you see, I too am lost,' said Lhii.“'I shall guide you, but only if you agree to serve me when I ask,' the voice replied.“'lead my friend and I from this forest, and I shall do whatever you ask of me.'“'then follow the wind, and you shall find your friend' said the voice. At that moment, a strong breeze started. Lhii followed and, sure enough, he soon found his friend huddled under a tree. The two embraced each other, glad at last to be reunited, but the voice soon returned.“'I have led you to your friend. Agree to serve my will, and you shall be free. Refuse, and you shall be trapped in this forest for all eternity!'“But Lhii had tricked the voice. 'I am no fool. I knew that I would become lost, and so I marked the trees as I walked. I can find my own way, and need no help from you.'“The voice erupted with a thunderous roar. 'You agreed to serve me, Lhii! I have led you to your friend and now, you must do what I demand!'“'Recall my words, spirit. I agreed only to serve you if you led me from the forest. But you shall not lead me. I am Lhii, greatest lava surfer in all Ta Koro! I know you for what you are, spirit, and the will of Makuta shall never be mine! We Matoran shall never give up until we are free of you, and free we shall be!' With that, Lhii and his friend ran from the forest, leaving the howls and curses of Makuta behind them.“And so it was that Lhii braved the wrath of Makuta himself, all to save but one Matoran.”Before returning to his hut, Vakama turned once more to the Matoran. “Take from this tale what you will. It is for you they are told, and it is you who must learn what they mean, to you and to all Ta Matoran.”

Entry #9:

Member Name: Tekulo: Toa of Gales

Theme: The Legends of Lhii (#3)Word Count: 600Story:There once was a matoran with yellow hands, yellow feet and a yellow mask. Yes, yellow appeared to be his signature color. This matoran loved many things, but the thing he loved most was the thrill of surfing. The wind in his face, the heat of fire over his body and the speed, oh the speed! How he loved it all.He turned his board sharply to the left as the next wave approached. Moving with the flow of the surf, he began to accelerate. The only thought in this matoran’s head was speed. Yes, he had to move faster, faster.Soon the matoran was a mere blur to the world and the world was a spectacular blur to the matoran so much so that he could no longer see clearly. It was in this carelessness that the matoran fell with a grim splash.---Cough. Cough. Wheeze.“Easy there, fire-spitter. You may be fast, but not even you can breathe water like Toa Gali.”Jaller tried to clear his eyes of the sea-water and looked toward Naho bay. His companion was not ten feet from him bobbing on a surfboard; her voice was all too familiar.“Haha, you’re one to talk, Hahli. You’ve had quite a few wipe-outs yourself.” Jaller raised a brow at the ga-matoran.---A sharp sting burst through the matoran’s side. It was followed by another sting in his shoulder and one on his leg. The pain was immense, yet it had to be endured at all costs.Faster… I need to move faster. The thought was the only hope the matoran had to forget his pain. A dark buzzing filled the air with the sound of impending doom. The distance he had covered from his home was great indeed. He knew his duty; he had to keep moving.A blur of lava was the last sight the matoran would realize.---The sun was setting on the beach as Jaller and Hahli collapsed, exhausted.“You know, you’re normally not that reckless. What came over you today?” The blue matoran looked to her friend with a cheeky smile.“… Well, today just seemed too good to waste…” Jaller looked off into the distance almost in a trance. A dark cloud loomed over his head as he spoke.“Hmm? … Jaller… What’s on your mind?” Hahli’s eyes grew concerned.“…Hahli, have you ever heard of a matoran named Lhii?” The words he spoke sounded mournful and grey.“…I can’t say I have.” Hahli looked down at the sand.“Lhi was a ta-matoran. He was the Captain of the Guard before me. There are many stories of him in Ta-koro. He was a legend; he could surf through lava like it was water! Turaga Vakama said he would be second only to Tahu even today.” Jaller spoke with a mixed sense of pride and wistfulness.“What happened to him?”“Hoto. There was a swarm of hoto plaguing Ta-Koro. According to Turaga Vakama, Lhii managed to find the swarm’s queen. He picked it up with a kohli stick and attempted to lure the swarm out of the village through the lava. Lhii managed to save the village, but the swarm was too much for him, and he… fell…” Jaller’s words had a certain rising and falling as he spoke.“…I never knew there was a matoran like that on Mata Nui.” Hahli shared Jaller’s mood as they both looked up towards the night sky.“… I’ve got some big shoes to fill, Hahli…”Hahli gave a soft smile and rested a hand on his shoulder.“We all do.”

Entry #10:

Member name: Space: Ocean of Awe

Theme: The Legends of LhiiStory: A Tale of Uncommon CourageMatoran await, anticipating, as the Turaga begins. "Today, I would like to share with you a side of Lhii you have never heard of. We all know about Lhii the brave, adventurous, skillful, and hardworking Matoran. Today I will tell you of Lhii, the kind and generous.""Of everything Lhii owned, of all his lava surfing trophies and medals, only one possession truly mattered to him: his first lava board, moulded from protosteel, hung on his wall for all to see, but for none to touch. Every month, he would retrieve that board from his wall, walk down to the lava flow, and ride. Matoran would put aside their duties to watch him ride, more graceful than a Rahi whale. I have stood, on occasion, at the banks of the lava flow to watch him, his perfect balance, precise body movements. After some time spent riding, he would return to his home and polish his board, gently caressing it with a soft cloth until it shone like a lightstone."One such day, while Lhii Was cleaning his lava board, a Matoran knocked at his door. He greeted a Ta-Matoran, formerly part of the Guard, Ferna was his name, who sustained an injured leg from a battle with an agitated Kikanalo. Lhii welcomed his friend into his house, and they walked past various trophies and prized lava boards, into his sitting space."Ferna wanted to take lava boarding lessons with him. Lhii was doubtful at first, "Your leg won't pain you?" But agreed to do his best to help an old friend. He soon found that this would be no easy task."He first thought to use a balance-board, designed for stability, however Ferna would have to lean most of his weight on his injured leg. The slalom board lacked stability, and no other boards were found to fit Ferna's leg. The disabled Matoran hid his disappointment as he returned home. He had hoped, with all his heart, that he could experience some freedom from his handicap through lava surfing."Lhii had fitted countless Matoran with the perfect lava boards such that he could find the perfect match for a Matoran within minutes. Although Ferna posed a challenge with his injury, Lhii knew there was a match for him. It wasn’t a matter of finding the match, it was a matter of finding the courage to suggest such a match. He sat down on a stool, and gazed at the opposite wall, where his lava board hung, like a painting, radiant as a lightstone. Flawlessly moulded, unrivaled balance, while maintaining a perfect speed. Adjustable foot grips made it fit for anyone to ride."It was the perfect match, and he knew it. Could he give it up, the board on which it all began, which he spent hours every day polishing, fine tuning. As he thought about his friend, limping toward his home, how he had valiantly stepped into the kikanalo’s path, saving his life, Lhii realized that he must do it; he would hate himself for all eternity if he didn’t."The next day, Lhii watched and instructed Ferna through the motions. “Lean to the side as if you intend to touch the lava...that’s it...now the other side...” Ta-Matoran stopped to watch this extraordinary sight, eyes darted from the legendary lava board that this disabled Ta-Matoran rode so gracefully, to the yellow Matoran observing from the bank. Lhii smiled and waved; never had he felt so satisfied.”Matoran smile as Vakama concludes his tale of uncommon courage and kindness.~~~~~Word count: 600

Entry #11:

Member Name: Thunder on the Mountain

Theme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 597Story: Lhii, the Rama, the Maiden and the MountainLhii was the strongestOf Ta-Koro’s guardsAnd the greatest fire-surfer to liveHe fought off Makutas beastsRode through a bitter heatAnd his skills, he used only to give.For Lhii was a gentle soulKind at heart stoneWho judged many a matorans fate.With many tales for himAnd honours adorn himThe greatest I now relateWord spread of a ladyFrom Ga-Koro’s navyWho’d been lost near Ko-Wahi’s coldLhii packed up his broadswordAnd always his surfboardTo set off for the mountains of oldFrom bio, to kio,To mio he travelledAtop a Vako beasts backHe walked by instinctTracing no footstepsHe was given no such thing to trackOn the banks of the Hura MafaHe found his first clueThe wreck of the boat she had usedOnly few signs of a struggleSaw Lhii the great hunterWho was quickly growing more confusedStill no footsteps remainedFrom when she had surelyLeft behind her wrecked watercraftSo Lhii the warrior notedThe claw-stroke torn intoThe inside of the large raftRahi, he knew, and it tookNot long to noteThe beast that struck must have flown away‘A Nui Rama!’ He decidedAnd set off to findThis villager who’d been forced astraySo into the mountainLhii continued to rideForcing his way through the snowHe cared not for itBut he would endure itThough his pace grew ever more slow

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #21: Member Name: Griomire AlbastruTheme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 594Story: RemembranceA cold air brushed through Ta-Koro that night. Perhaps to any other village, such a breeze would be considered a heat wave, but to the fire loving residents of this settlement, the change was clear.Turaga Vakama sat alone in his hut, staring deep into the fire that crackled and spat sparks every which way. He closed his eyes and exhaled mournfully.The village elder twisted his head as he heard the footsteps echo against the stone floor. “Jaller,” he breathed. “How might I assist you on this cold night?”“It’s just…I need to know, Turaga,” the newcomer said, looking down at his armoured feet. “I had a dream. And in it, I believe I saw the one you tell tales of. Lhii.”Vakama nodded and turned to face the captain of the guard. “I have no doubt you have many questions, but I am afraid I cannot offer many answers. What did you see in your dream?”Jaller straightened himself out and looked deep into Vakama’s burning crimson eyes. The Turaga was silhouetted against the blazing fire behind him, adding a mystical aura to the secretive elder. “I saw him, Lhii I mean. Except I don’t believe he was as you described him. He went by another name. Lhikan. And he was no Matoran, he was a Toa, just like those you prophesised would save us some day.”Silence settled like dust over the two. Vakama shook his head mournfully. “I believe this has unsettled you. You are wondering what I hide from you in my stories of the adventurous Matoran?” Jaller paused, but eventually responded by nodding uncomfortably. Vakama took a step forward and rested his quivering hand on the Matoran’s shoulder. “Let me assure you that all I keep from you and your brothers is for your own good. And when the time calls for it, when Mata Nui asks it of me, then I will answer all of your questions.”The Ta-Matoran glanced at the hand on his shoulder, then frowned back at the Turaga. “With all due respect, I understand that some secrets are better kept wrapped in mystery, but I must know. Lhii…Or Lhikan…Who was he? What happened to him?”Vakama paused. He looked helplessly into the eyes of the Matoran. His years of experience burdened him and weighed greatly upon his shoulders. Though the two must be roughly the same age, Vakama felt so much older with all he had been through. His body was weak, though his mind remained sharp. As did his memories.He brushed the tips of his fingers against Jaller’s Kanohi mask. The mask of his old mentor. The mask whose origins nobody may know, just yet. “Lhii…He lives on,” he said slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the Ta-Matoran’s before us. “But in our hearts. He is closer than you could imagine. He may have perished, but his spirit is here. I can feel his presence, watching us…”Jaller opened his mouth to say more but shook his head and cast a wary glance at the elder before him. He then decided it would be better to ask no more and merely pardoned his intrusion and bowed. The Matoran turned and left, leaving Vakama to stare mournfully back into the flames. The conversation had left him weary. He sighed heavily, then prepared himself for the trek to locate a messenger. He would send a request to Onewa in Po-Koro, to summon the Turaga across and then…Then Jaller might be convinced to forget all he had learnt. He could not truly know…not yet. Entry #22: Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: Legends of LhiiWord Count: 600Story:The storyteller began his tale..."'Death to Lhii!' the mob roared. Their leader raised his fist."'All Lhii ever does is surf, while the rest of us actually work for a living! This - ends - NOW!'"'Also, what's with the all-yellow armor?' another Matoran interjected. 'That's just weird.'"The entire mob stared at him. He stared back. 'What?'"'Uh, Takua?' Kapura said... slowly. 'You have a light blue mask.'"'That's different!' the Matoran protested. 'After all, I admit I'm a freak.' Murmurs of agreement were heard from the mob. 'He thinks he's a hero.'"'I'm with Takua!' someone shouted. 'Even if he is a freak!'"The leader of the mob raised his hand again. 'Come on, then!' he cried. 'Let's go to the lava falls!'"The crowd began marching, chanting 'Death - to - Lhii!' as they waved their torches (although I'm not sure what they hoped to set fire to in a volcano) and their lava pitchforks (from their lava farms, of course).""It was late at night, and the only light at the falls came from the glowing lava. A normal Matoran would have been at home, sleeping. But Lhii was not a normal Matoran, had no home, and did not sleep. He surfed."He surfed away on the dangerous lava flows, nonchalantly accomplishing every impossible feat he could think of. Because he was the Best. Surfer. Ever."As he surfed -"The blue-masked Matoran stopped abruptly."You've stopped working again, Takua," Vakama said gently.The circle of listeners melted away. Takua looked at the ground."You caused others to stop work too," The elder continued, still gently."And did I hear you making fun of Lhik- I mean, Lhi?"Takua looked guilty. "Just writing a legend of my own, Turaga," he said, shrugging."Legends are not written,Takua!" Vakama said sharply, and possibly hypocritically. "They are lived." Takua said nothing.A nearby Ta-Matoran, wearing a yellow Hau, stopped working. "He didn't mean any harm, Turaga Vakama," he defended him. "You know Takua - he just can't stop talking."The Turaga looked at him reproachfully. "Am I to understand that you also approved of this - this mockery, Jala? You are of the clan of Lhii!"Takua looked up at that. "He wasn't involved, Turaga. It wasn't his fault - he told me to stop.""Well, that's something, anyway," Vakama sighed. "But that doesn't answer my other question, Takua - why are you mocking the great legend of Lhii?"Takua fidgeted. "I'm sorry, Vakama, I just-" He stopped, told himself the Ta-Matoran Principle was Courage, and started again. "I just don't see why his his legend is so great!""I know he fought Rahi," he hurried, seeing Vakama's expression, "but so has every member of the Guard! Most Matoran have, at least a few times. And I know all about his lava-surfing-" he looked at the Turaga almost defiantly"- but is that all it takes to qualify as a hero? Some athletic ability? Why not make legends about that Po-Matoran, Huki, while we're at it?"His voice died away. "That's - all I was saying, Turaga. Sorry."Vakama sighed."I see your point of view, Takua," he said, "and perhaps it's understandable. But trust me, there was much more to him than that. Jala can be proud to - be of his clan."Now get back to work, Takua."The Matoran gave a subdued nod and hurried to join his friend.Ten minutes later, he was convulsing Jala with a new story, about three Matoran, a kolhii ball, and a Tarakava.But he kept Lhii out of it. Entry #23: Member Name: ClickTheme: Legends of LhiiWord Count: 600 exactly! :PStory: Lhii and the Proto Drake“Gathered friends,” Turaga Vakama began, “listen again as I tell you another legend of the Bionicle.” Yellow eyes peer in from the darkness, either eager to hear the story and get away from work. Vakama‘s staff plunges into the fire and he begins telling his story…A usual sight on Mata Nui is the scaled head of a Proto Drake breaking the surface of a lava pool. Sometimes they are regarded as good luck with Ta-Matoran, but today its crazed eyes and thrashing movements did not bode well. A large fin swept overhead, dripping lava on a lava farmer as it crashes nearby.The red Matoran panicked and ran to Vakama, the terror in his eyes immediately quenching Vakama’s usual calm assurances. The Turaga of Fire gazed out from his hut for someone willing to combat the foe, and he found Lhii waiting for the Turaga’s instruction, Lavaboard in hand.Knowing he would need more help, he took Nidki, the expert on Rahi from Le-Koro, Neh and Tohe, the best surfers in Ga-Koro, four Matoran of Ice for their quick sight, and three others strong enough to grab the beast.By the time the Matoran had reached the lava pool, the Proto Drake had beaten the lava into a hurricane-like storm, with twenty bio tall waves crashing against the edges. Lhii took one look and jumped into the fray, with the two Ga-Matoran following after. The anxious Ko-Matoran, already feeling the heat, tried to keep awatchful eye on the surfers and Rahi.Days turned into weeks as the small group tried to break through the waves and get to the Rahi. Lhii’s Onu-Matoran netter clung onto the board, exhausted from the motion, while Lhii himself shot ahead, flying over wave after wave, but getting stopped at the last moment by the Proto Drake. These ceaseless attempts were just enough to keep the Rahi from flying off and wreaking havoc in another Koro.Finally, an exhausted Lhii cried “Fall back!” and the surfers rode with their netters to the shore where sleeping Ko-Matoran waited. It was not to stop their efforts, as the rest of the group unhappily found out, but to strategize a better way to get into the clear zone. During this break, the Proto Drake dodged underneath the lava into volcanic tubes leading under the island, shocking the Matoran. Without hesitation, in all his bravery, Lhii started paddling furiously into the calming pool. The Ga-Matoran tried to follow, but stopped as he disappeared on the Rahi’s wake.The four Ko-Matoran ran back to tell Vakama what had happened. All of their discomfort was forgotten, and they ran as fast as Pohatu carrying their news of Lhii’s supposed death. Vakama began walking to the lava pool along with the rest of Ta-Koro when suddenly, the pool below boiled and the Proto Drake shot out of it, its pained eyes set on the village of fire. The Ta-Matoran and their Turaga could only watch as the beast charged at their home, until a scorched Lhii followed after it. His armor was red hot and covered in ash, and yet with the strength of Onua he grabbed the clawed tail of the Proto Drake and hung on.The momentary distraction diverted the Rahi, and it began flying in circles trying to rid itself of the weight. The Ko-Matoran took their cue to trap it with a spare net. Lhii gratefully dropped off onto Ta-Koro’s bridge, eager for rest. The Matoran found him burned, but alive, his fire resistance and the Rahi’s large wake in the slow-moving lava saving his life.Entry #24: Member Name: Nick SilverpenTheme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 600Story: Duty BoundDuty Bound“We need to go.”They didn’t need Lhii’s warning, feeling the rumbles from the base of the volcano. The lava farmers nodded at the tribe leader, swiftly stowing their tools and grabbing their boards. Lhii was last to leave the area, habitually checking for any stragglers or abandoned tools. It would not do well for the Guard if he left someone behind, as he had done in the early days of his post. We need all the Matoran we can to defend against the recent attacks, he thought, feeling the gash in his thigh from a Nui Rama attack a week ago.The Mangai rumbled again, the Ta-Matoran nervously glancing up at its peak. Lhii’s Pakari stared straightforward, avoiding all distractions that would prevent them from reaching the village safely. If the volcano erupted now, the lava flow that led back to Ta-Koro would overflow, and they would all perish. They only needed a quarter of an hour. Mata Nui, give me this small amount of time, just let us make it back to Ta-Koro, he prayed.Sweat dripped from under their masks as the troop leapt onto the lava, coasting on their boards. Quick paddles gave them momentum, and gravity took over as they surfed downriver to Ta-Koro. A hot, stiff breeze blew into their faces, making the farmers squint as their eyes encountered the heat. Lhii wanted to go faster, to travel down this route like he did the surf at the Ignalu Surf competition a few months prior- but this was not a time for leisure. It could just be a hiccup from the Mangai, but in the potential danger he was bound to his duty to get these Matoran, and himself, home safely.“You weren’t out long,” Jala remarked upon his friend’s arrival.“The volcano is starting up,” Lhii replied. “and Rahi have been frequenting visits far too often this week. You know I don’t run from a fight… I’ve just been uneasy this week.” As he and Jala opened the gate for the farmers, Mangai burst, the glow of the lava shadowing Ta-Koro below. It was fast approaching, and Lhii watched with narrow eyes. “I’m going back out there,” he said to his co-captain, even as the lava poured closer to Ta-Koro.“They’ll make it in time!” Jala’s Hau protested, but it was too late. Lhii was already off into the lava. Mata Nui protect him. Fiery liquid surged the banks, and the lava farmers frantically paddled toward the gate. Lhii cruised toward the party, bringing them safely to where the lava could not penetrate. Rolling waves started to form as he aimed toward the Matoran who expected him on shore, and he could feel the rumbling of another powerful eruption on the way.Lhii was a brave Matoran, taking his fair share in the Rahi Wars. Makuta knew this well, and could hear all the prayers that came from those who watched, as though he were the god receiving them; He also sensed Lhii’s injury, and sought to show the Matoran that defiance of his rule would have consequences. His Rahi in the lava burst up, knocking the board from under the Ta-Matoran. No one believed what they saw as Lhii tumbled, expecting him to cruise laughingly onto shore.Water is for wimps, the Ta-Matoran would tell all of the boastful Ga-Matoran who stepped up to be the best surfers. They could fall and get back up, but they would never stand as tall as Lhii did.***So this is how we make peace, brother, Vakama thought as he closed his lips. Entry #25:Member Name: Makuta_of_OzTheme: The Legends of LhiiWord Count: 597Story: Lhii can ride' emLhii, Jaller and Maglya raced to the edge of the bridge, each carrying wooden surfboards, built from the trees of the nearby forest. Vakama, Kapura and Tiribomba followed, stopping just outside the winch room.“They could not have rushed out of that shop sooner,” Tiribomba remarked, “They even forgot to pay for their boards! I practically had to give my whole widget sack to Vohon paying for them!”“Agreed…” Kapura replied. He stumbled toward the edge of the bridge. “I still haven’t recovered from when they rushed past me.”“Then I suggest you keep away from the edge,” warned Vakama, “That lava is deadly, even for a Ta-Matoran.”“Sorry Tiribomba,” panted Jaller, “I tried to warn them about paying, but they left too quickly.”“Well all of you owe me,” Tiribomba shot back, “I’m practically broke because of you. Surfboards aren’t cheap, you know!”Before Jaller could respond, Vakama stepped in. “This is no time to fight. This is supposed to be a friendly competition. Tiribomba, what’s the status with the flows?”Tiribomba looked over the cliff and studied the lava below. As a lava farmer, he knew the ebb and flow of the lake more than most. “It’s AOK,” he said.Vakama nodded to Kapura, who went into the winch room. Lhii, Jaller and Maglya headed onto the bridge, each standing on a separate pillar.“You won’t beat me this time,” said Maglya.“That’s what you said last time,” cheekily replied Lhii, “and the time before that. Has there EVER been a time where I haven’t beaten you?”“Well, there was that time I…” Maglya started. As he stalled to think, Lhii grinned. “I didn’t think so.”“The race will now begin,” called Vakama from the edge, “you can start as soon as Kapura lowers the bridge.”“Knowing Kapura, that’ll take forever…” Maglya muttered. Suddenly the pillars that were the bridge to Ta-Koro began to sink. Maglya nearly lost his balance!Jaller laughed. Lhii however, was focusing hard on the lava flows, searching for a good opening.The instant he saw it, he hurled his board into the lava, jumped on and glided off before the others had a chance to react!“Wait for me!” Maglya called after him. Jumping in, he followed the same path Lhii took. Jaller quickly rode after them.Vakama then paced down the other way to meet the Matoran when they returned to the bridge. Ta-Koro was surrounded on all ends by a ring of lava, so he knew the Matoran would soon appear around the other bend.Suddenly, the rock underneath Vakama’s right foot rumbled, and he slipped off the edge! “TURAGA!” Tiribomba called, unable to reach him in time.Luckily, Lhii was just rounding the bend at that very moment. He looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of Vakama falling. He sped forward, grabbing Vakama as he fell. Lhii threw Vakama onto the bridge, but was unable to stop his board from crashing into it. Lhii went head over heels over the bridge and sank into the lava on the other side, dead before he could scream.Maglya and Jaller had just rounded the bend too, and witnessed the event. Both leaped off their boards and rushed to the other side, looking into the lava with horror. Vakama quickly called for Tiribomba to raise the bridge.“May the Great Spirit guide him to the hereafter…” said Vakama quietly as they returned. He turned to the shocked Matoran. “I shall inform the village of our loss. Tomorrow we will hold a village-wide memorial to the fallen legend…” Entry #26: Name: What?Theme: Legends of LhiiWord Count: 600Story: Hot AirIt was only three days after the arrival of the Toa on Mata Nui. After the initial furor, the Matoran had gone back to work. But they were still keyed up, and Turaga Vakama had been forced to relate all the prophecies concerning the Toa yet again. Having run out of those, he had begun relating some of the Matoran's favorite tales, including several about Lhii, the mythical Matoran lava surfer extraordinaire.Vakama kept speaking, even after an awed silence told him Tahu must have entered the room behind him.The story ended, and the Matoran filed silently from the room. Vakama turned to face Tahu, who, as usual, did not waste any time with niceties.“That story about the Matoran; that was true?”Vakama inclined his head in assent.Tahu pointed to the lava fall about a mile away. “That was the one he went down, and survived?”The fall in question a gigantic thing, spewing many dozen tons of lava every second out of a tunnel in the mountainside. From there the molten rock fell almost a thousand feet to pool up into a lave lake more than a mile across. The radiant heat from it was so strong even Ta-Matoran avoided it when possible.“He did more than survive,” The Turaga said, “He placed a small replica of the Mata Nui stone on an outcropping about halfway down the fall.” (This stone had actually been placed there many years ago by Turaga Nuju's Mask of Telekinesis, at Turaga Vakama's request. It helped make Lhii more real to the Matoran, and furthered the myths meant to honor Toa Lhikan's memory.)The Turaga spoke reverently, thinking of Toa Lhikan, “He was the greatest lava surfer of all time.”Tahu stood, apparently digesting this. He appeared intrigued, but abruptly turned on his heel and started to leave the room. Even Vakama, who had grown used to brusqueness from Tahu, was somewhat startled by this abrupt departure.“Where are you going to so quickly, Toa?”Tahu looked back over his shoulder slightly without slowing down. “If I can't beat a Matoran at surfing, I have no business or chance in a fight against the Makuta. I will be back in an hour, Turaga.”Vakama was shocked. The urge to save Tahu from almost certain death warred with habits he had built over one thousand years of elaborate lying. He struggled with himself to speak the truth, tell Tahu it was merely a falsehood to commemorate Toa Lhikan. But the repercussions of such an admittance choked him. The truth, Vakama told himself, would out. Everything about Metru Nui and how the Matoran truly arrived here on Mata Nui would be revealed.As Tahu's steps faded down the corridor, Vakama finally convinced himself that honesty was the best policy. But by then it was far too late. Horrified, Vakama saw a tiny dot go down the fall. He knew he had doomed the Matoran to an existence beneath Makuta just to continue the perpetration of some relatively unimportant lies. He buried his face in in hands. despairing, cursing the lies the Turaga spoke so glibly.It was a sudden crash that brought the Turaga out of the nightmare he had created for himself. He looked up slowly to see a smoking Mata Nui stone in front of him. He stared wonderingly at Tahu's smoldering back as he walked away.The next day Tahu, passing by the chamber, heard Vakama begin another tale. But this story started differently. “Now listen to the story of Lhii,” Vakama said, “The second-greatest lava surfer of all time...” Entry #27: Name: DespairTheme: Legends of LhiiStory: Lava RescueWord Count: 599Lhii calmly noted the current of the lava and carefully repositioned his lava board so that he wouldn’t lose control of it. This land of heat and lava was his domain, and he had no intention of making a stupid mistake and dying because of it. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.As Lhii surfed, he thought about what had happened on the island during the last few months. At first, life had been peaceful, with the only concern of the Matoran being a slight overabundance of free time. Lhii had of course used that time to build a name for himself as the island’s best lava surfer, but lately… Lately, there had been instances. A missing tool here, a broken Ussal cart there. Nothing too big, but certainly an annoyance to a Matoran actually invested in their work.But yesterday, a Matoran had gone missing. It was the first time anything like this had happened on their peaceful little island, and it had caused quite the uproar. Lhii himself had been quite shaken by the news, though he tried to conceal his worry with a number of bad jokes and general tomfoolery. The other Matoran all wondered how he could behave in such a manner while such a grave situation was taking place, but Lhii refused to explain his actions.Lhii’s best friend had disappeared, and Lhii was going to find him if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Weeks went by, with no sign of the missing Matoran. Eventually, the island gave up, convinced that the Matoran was gone for good. Lhii knew better, though. He knew his friend was out there. He had to be. So Lhii kept looking, even when all trails had long since dried up and everyone else had abandoned the search.One day, Lhii decided to take a short break from his constant search and relax a bit, to give himself a short reprieve. Naturally, this meant participating in a sport which entailed his being separated from a lake of lave by nothing more than a few inches of metallic something-or-rather. To Lhii, lava surfing was the most enjoyable thing in the world.As Lhii surfed, he noticed a small tunnel branching off from the main path. Making his way over to it, Lhii noticed a few scratch marks on the wall. From the looks of it, they belonged to Nui Rama, but what would Nui Rama have been doing scratching at the wall? They were much too big to fit inside, unless…Without hesitation, Lhii flung himself into the tunnel, the heat steadily increasing as he ventured farther in and further down. After a while of surfing, Lhii thought he heard a small voice cry out from the darkness. It was faint, but he had a good idea of who it belonged to. Sure enough, just a bit farther ahead was his friend desperately clinging to the wall in an attempt to not fall into the lava and be horrifically burned (and subsequently killed).“I found you!” Lhii said, his voice ringing with triumph. However, his newly-refound companion did not share in his happiness.“How are we supposed to get back? The slope is too steep to surf up!” the Ta-Matoran wailed.At this point, Vakama stopped talking and looked at the group of Ta-Matoran assembled before him. His eyes were serious, and his voice was grave. However, the Ta-Matoran would never be quite sure if what he said next was in seriousness or not.“And that is why you always surf with a buddy.” Entry #28:

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #1: Member Name: xccjTheme: The GameWord Count: 570Story: The GameA game. That’s what the gang leader called it. A game.It was an economic game. The gang made lots of money by running a black market in the city. They stole, they counterfeited, and they profited. They had resources, and if their market was threatened, they fought to keep their advantage. If you were to expose their operation to the public, they had you dealt with.It was a physiological game. If they hunted you, they wanted to make you suffer. They went after your friends and family. They recruited all sorts of people, so you never knew who was after you. They had dirty cops working for them, and politicians, so you never knew who you could trust.But most of all, it was a game of strength. They had the manpower, they had the weapons, and they had the determination to break down all the rules and track you down. And when they caught you, then it was over.This was the game I was forced to play. I had discovered their operation almost by accident, after getting my hands on some valuable paperwork. Well, the evidence had been burned, but I still knew the truth, and they still wanted me silenced. My family had been threatened; my friend had been sent to the hospital after a drive by shooting. My home had been burned to the ground, and I had been chased across the city. I tried to appeal to the police, but that was when I learned they had an inside man.Finally, after weeks of this game, I finally got a phone call. The man identified himself as the gang leader. He informed me that my life was over. I was a liability to his operation, and if I thought the previous weeks had been tough, then I was sadly mistaken. “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “It’s just part of the game.”So it’s time I started to play.So I made some contacts, and some new friends. And we set a trap. We lured the gang to an abandoned building. The gang leader himself arrived. I had been a big enough thorn in his side that he wanted me dealt with personally. They chased me through the building, but I evaded all of his men. But then the leader cornered me in a room without exits. As he leveled a gun to my head, I asked, “Why?”And he explained it all to me. How I had almost let the world know about his operation. How he had conspired to have my life ruined, and then taken away. He laid it all out for me, as a way to demonstrate his victory over my defeat.And then I said, “Thank you.”At the quizzical look on his face, I explained. I pointed to the camera on the ceiling. The whole conversation had been recorded, and a live feed had been sent to the Internet. I had personally failed to uncover his operation, but he had just announced it to the world himself.Enraged, the gang leader shot me. Seconds later, the door burst opened and FBI agents swarmed the room. The gang leader was already angry as he was handcuffed and read his rights, but then he saw me stand up. “How?” he asked.“It’s just a game,” I said, opening my shirt to reveal the bullet proof vest. “But I cheated."Entry #2:

Member Name: cardworkMagician

Theme: The Game

Word Count: 580

Story: A Kind Of Magic

Bruna stood on a ridge, overlooking a battlefield; it was a blank slate, a vast field. Beside her stood Robarren, the grand Planeswalker who led this crusade, and on Robarren's other side was Venser, a lesser Planeswalker who, much like Bruna, had decided to lend his aid to the battle. Across the battlefield stood a more terrifying duo; Garritike, a once grand and noble Planeswalker who had fallen to the demonic, and his aid; Griselbrand; the terror of Innistrad.

Bruna would have liked nothing more than to leap into the fray and drive her spear into Robarren's throat, but caution stopped her hand; Robarren and Venser would not be able to help her if she did that. They needed power. Robarren took the initiative, flexing his hands and seeming to fling a ball of light down at the battlefield; soon, a section of the field began to shine as razorgrass took root and a glimmering Plain formed. A moment afterward, a hawk the size of a man, with four legs and two wings, flew out of the plain and hovered. Across the field, Garritike responded by turning a section of the field into a swamp, and out crawled a zombified half of a man.

This continued, back and forth, for a short time as the two great Planeswalkers amassed their armies. On the fourth exchange, Raborren seemed to draw power from the two islands and two plains he had conjured, and combine the power into a single great ball. From this ball, Raborren formed a vessel that Bruna had come to appreciate the sight of, lately; the Skyship Weatherlight. Aboard, Bruna knew, were sure to be a set of Raborren's favored allies. At this point, Garritike responded first with a black knife of energy which tore through and annihilated the hawk Robarren had created, followed by a short attack with the zombified half corpse, which gave Robarren a small slash on his arm with its obscene, long fingernails. At that, Robarren responded by conjuring a grand meeting hall that Bruna knew as the Azorius Chancery, copied out of the city-realm of Ravnica; it built itself on top of one of the islands Robarren had conjured. This was followed by an insubstantial fighter that Robarren had dubbed the Phantom Warrior. The moment afterward, Garritike brought forth a pack of five zombified corpses of men, their flesh having been wreaked with disease. Robarren responded by finally giving the order for Bruna to join the fray. She made no ceremony of it, leaping down from the precipice and going straight for Garritike, dealing him a telling blow before the black mage's magic forced her off. She felt stronger than usual, somehow, and knew that Robarren had taken advantage of her talent with enchantments. A moment later, Griselbrand joined the fray, staring into Bruna's eyes. Bruna wasn't afraid and, feeling Robarren's magic empower her yet more, smote Griselbrand with a spear to the neck. Soon afterward, she drove for Garritike, crushing him under the twin points of her spear.

---

"Good game." Gerrit said, picking up his copy of Griselbrand and shuffling the rest of his cards back into his deck.

"Yeah. Interesting, wasn't it?" Robert replied.

"I still say Bruna's overpowered." Gerrit replied, glaring at the blue and white angel card still on the table, and the stack of Auras attached to her. Robert flipped over the card and set it on top of his deck, revealing the decorated back, showing five colors and a title

"Magic: The Gathering"

Entry #3:

Name: Varkanax39Theme: The GameStory: Endgame

Endgame

The sandy haired man stared at his opponent across the table. He could make out his opponents thin lips, elongated lower jaw, and sparkling green eyes beneath his ornate metal hood. Silently, he lifted the ornate, translucent pawn of pure glass and slid it forward one space.“Your move,” he said quietly to his opponent. But his opponent’s inhuman eyes, slitted like those of a cat, simply stared back at him silently, then once again at the board before him, where his own opaque silver pieces skirmished with their translucent enemies.To any watcher who did not know the truth, this would seem merely like a game of chess, albeit played on a gameboard far larger than normal and with oddlyshaped pieces. But all of the hundreds of beings who watched with bated breath as the two chessmasters made their moves knew what was truly at stake.Ataran was wagering against the sand-haired human, Gonan, for the future of the world itself.Each time a pawn was lifted, a being in the mortal world moved. Each time a piece was taken, a mortal being died at the hands of a follower of the enemy. The rules of this particular brand of chess had taken Gonan years to learn, and even now he still did not consider himself a master.Ataran, however, was an immortal deity. He’d had thousands of centuries from before the time before time to practice and hone his skill. Even now, Gonan thought, it seemed that Ataran was toying with him, trying to keep him off-balance on the fronts of the game he was winning while simultaneously controlling and toying with the sectors of the board he controlled.What was still worse was that Ataran knew that Gonan was loath to sacrifice even a single pawn. He knew that each of them represented the life of a mortal being. As he watched, Ataran slid a pawn silently toward the rook, not caring that he had sentenced a human follower to death.Ataran simply stared at Gonan through his expressionless jade eyes, wiling him to make a move. He could withdraw his rook from the game’s center, leaving one of his two bishops open for capture by one of Ataran’s rooks. While he still had both bishops, he’d lost both knights and a rook. Ataran still had all of his royal pieces except one bishop. Gonan’s king was shielded only by his bishop, it wouldn’t take much more for Ataran to break through the last of his defenses and seize victory.Silently, Gonan withdrew the rook out of reach of Ataran’s pawn.If Ataran won he'd would be free to make good on his promises to enslave the human race for eternity, rendering them mindless creatures once more. But Gonan could see an opening as well. He still had his queen, as did Ataran. A dangerous, risky strategy took form. His queen could move and take Ataran’s bishop. Ataran would be forced to move his queen back to take Gonan’s queen, and his rook on the middle row could checkmate Ataran’s king, which was blocked from moving any direction but forward.He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pass judgment on so many humans. Not when he didn’t even know if Ataran would take the bait. If Ataran took it, then he, Gonan, had defeated the immortal deity. But if Ataran did not take the bait and continued to press his attack, it would be over for him within minutes.Ataran’s eyes stared at Gonan coldly, daring him to make a move.And Gonan made his choice.Word Count: 599

Entry #4:

Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: The GameWord Count: 595Story: Queen's GambitIn the darkened halls, two beings moved quickly. One was dressed in the finest of fabrics, a flowing dress of great wealth. The other wore armor of chain, thinly layered over his body. They spoke in whispers, not a word could be heard by anyone... if it was, it would mean death for the both of them.She was the queen, wife to the ruler of a mighty kingdom. But the might was failing. The people had turned against her husband, and he was responding with force. Now she spoke to the most trusted of the King's Knights, who shared her concerns.Together, they were plotting out what to overthrow a kingdom, but they could tell not a soul about what was to come. It would only be the two of them against whatever forces protected their king. It would be dangerous, but it was something that had to be done.The question could be asked, was it for the people who suffered, or if it was merely for power. But that was not on their minds. It was time to dethrone a king, in any way that the situation deemed necessary. Peacefully, or by force.---The king stumbled backwards, keeping his blade up to block blows against him. He was confused, very confused. His wife had ordered him to give up his throne. She had tried to order him! He was the king! It was an outrage! And then, as he had pushed her aside, one of his knights had entered the room and attacked!The knight struck with his blade, trying to break through the defenses of the startled king. Metal struck metal as grim determination filled his eyes. The king would be removed, and peacefully had not seemed to be an option. The king would have to die.The queen stood to the side, watching the fight going on before her. The knight clearly had the advantage, but the king was reaching for something. A knife. The king let the Knight's next attack disarm him, and as the warrior tried to bring back around his blade, the sharpened knife was plunged deeply into his leg, where the mail was not as strong.As the knight cried out in pain, the king lifted the knight's own sword, plunging it deeply into his chest. Then his thoughts turned towards the queen. He knew, he could guess. The knight had only attacked after his refusal. It was connected, he knew it.But he did not have long to think, as his own sword plunged through his back. The queen stood watching as the king stumped to the floor, closing her eyes before taking a few steps away, and shouting out through the nearest passageway."The king is dead! The king is dead!"---The white king piece fell over as it was pushed by a single finger. "And that is why you have lost. You are unable to form a checkmate upon a kingdom without a king. Surrender is your best and only option.""And I wondered why no one would ever play chess with you anymore..." The other person sighed, getting up from his seat and walking away from the chessboard. "I'm done here.""You merely don't understand how to have fun. You're always so serious, never seeing the world for anything more than it is." The fist commented with a grin at his leaving opponent."And you really need to just grow up, you can't keep making up your own imaginary worlds for games." The other replied with great irritation.The first person sighed, looking back down at the chess pieces before him with a slight smile. "Checkmate."

Entry #5:

Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: The GameWord Count: 597Story: GunfightKarl ducked behind cover as another flash narrowly missed his shoulder. He briefly poked his head over the crates to judge distance, location, anything. All he saw was a thick veil of mist obscuring already darkened hallways. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern anything amidst the gloom. A vague shadow, an outline, anything would do.He ducked once more as another flash, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a shot, buzzed overhead. It had been close, that one, but it was also exactly what he needed. That one shot had given his enemy's position away. He was crouched to the right in the corner of a door, doubtless focused with great intent upon the crates Karl crouched behind.Wiping the sweat from his brow, Karl moved. He leapt from his position and ran, full pelt, to an opening on his left. Shots rained across the room, but luckily for Karl they all missed. He stumbled through the doorway, skidding to a stop by an open window. From it, he could clearly see his enemy's position. He wasted no time in lifting his weapon and firing three shots at his crouched nemesis.Haste drew his aim, and he missed by wide margins. Cursing, he ducked below the window. He bit his lip anxiously. This was proving to be much harder than he had expected. He braved a quick look through the window again. Before he could make out even the vaguest of details he ducked again, narrowly avoiding being shot in the head. He had to move, but whichever way he went he was sure to be seen. He cursed again silently as he tried to come up with a plan.* * * * *Alex was enjoying himself. Having avoided being shot thanks to his enemy's incompetence, he definitely had the upper hand. He had been winning from the start, but this was just too good. He peered round the corner of the door hoping to see movement, something he could shoot, but his target was no more visible than before.He shifted impatiently, growing bored as the seconds ticked by. Waiting around was no fun at all. And since it was no fun, that was precisely what he would not do. Besides, the advantage was his. He could afford a few risks.He peered round the corner again. Seeing nothing, he ducked out of the room and snapped to the wall across from him. Quietly, carefully, he inched along to the left. He even held his breath, lest his enemy hear even that. As he reached the end, he peered cautiously round the door Karl had run through minutes before. Seeing nothing he moved quickly, bursting into the room, gun pointed at the window.Karl was gone. Incredulously, he moved towards the window, searching round it and through it for any sign of where he had gone. Worried, he began turning, but felt something press against his back.“Got you.”Karl stood behind him, gun pressed against his back with a smile on his face. His finger danced along the trigger, testing it, pushing it slowly, slowly in-*click*Light flared up around them, a second before Karl could fire. The game was over.“Five more points, that's all I needed! Five more points!” Said Karl angrily, slamming his laser gun against the wall.“It's always 'five more points' with you. You'll never beat me, y'know,” Alex chided, grinning from ear to ear.“I'll get you one of these days,” Karl grumbled. “Same time next week?”“You're on!”

Entry #6:

Member Name: Nick SilverpenTheme: The GameWord Count: 556Story: Catch on the CouchTheir bodies were settled into the couch, the long day finally over. The cushions seemed to hug them, comforting their weariness as they reclined. They didn’t cuddle, but their legs were tangled together as they relaxed. With the television off, the music paused, and the cell phones away, the air around them was filled with quiet. Their calm exhales didn’t interrupt the peace, but seemed to add to it, as they let their thoughts of the day give way to the nothingness that lingered.She leaned back on the armrest, while her eyes looked forward into book on her lap. He sat opposite, gazing out the window behind her to the backyard, where the late October sunset shown on the pine trees lined next to the fence. It was no longer being caught in the rush of summer that tired them, he realized, but the idleness they now felt now since everything had simply ceased. With the disappearance of summer, something else had vanished as well, though he couldn’t figure what it was. The traffic that had frequented the street next to the house had stopped, yet they still listened for the stream of cars that used to shoot by.His eyes shifted to her, still contently buried in her book. The sunset surrounded them with shadows, the twilight approaching. His body shifted, sinking deeper into the couch. Feeling something under the cushion, and his hand emerged with a miniature Styrofoam ball. Palming it a few times, he rolled it in his hands before tossing it to her. As it dropped in between the pages, rustling the book, her eyes looked to see him smiling. Conversation had never been necessary, actions were what mattered. He nodded at her, insisting she throw the ball back. She did. The shadows were growing, she could see, and soon it would be too dark to read.The game of catch continued, small smiles on each of their faces forming. A giggle periodically escaped either of them as they passed the ball like children. The football flew from one end of the couch to the other, coming to rest for a moment before becoming airborne again. The pace remained steady, adrenaline not their motivator. Each time they cradled the ball, their smooth hands snagged on its bumpy texture, feeling the minute trace of the other’s last touch.When the ball was thrown to her again, he came with it, drawn to her like a fish on a hook. His body lay on top of hers, cuddling her soft sweater. Their eyes closed as their lips met, not breathing as they kissed. Where the shadows of the evening were cool, together they were warm. Rolling next to her, he was lost in her kiss, obsessed not about the sexual side, but the affection of it. He hugged her closer, his eyes tightly shut, hoping that the sight of her in the final rays of sunlight would be burnt into his memory.Their rolling around eventually ceased, as they lay atop one another on the couch. The ball had gone missing again, disappeared to somewhere they wouldn’t look for a while. He was her cushion now, as their arms wrapped around each other, their heads tilting toward the window so together they could see in the black sky the emergence of the stars.

Entry #7:

Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: The GameWord Count: 600Story: Ping-PongLove is a game of Ping-Pong.The key to the game is to keep your eye on the ball . . . wait for the right moment . . . and hit it softly.But if you hit it too soon . . ."I--I care a lot about you--as a friend. Or--or as more. I just--I think you're a wonderful girl."Or too hard . . .There was silence. I went on, "I'm not trying to embarass you. Just--just know that."The ball goes flying.Another pause. Then, "Well--I--thank you, but--but I'm so--and you're----" She swallowed. Her voice was level, as always; but her words were not. "I'm so young. And you're so much older. This--we can't be. We're not."I searched for words but found none. Silence reigned the remaining distance to her house. I stopped at the curb. She hurried up the front walk without a pause, without casting a final smile over her shoulder, without waving. She merely mounted the front steps, opened the door, and shut it behind her.Or hit it too late . . ."I still care about you. After all these years, I've never stopped. I've never blamed you for what you did."She didn't look at me. Her eyes remained riveted upon the stars. I knew that silence.At last she murmured, "You never said anything.""Because I thought you didn't want me to.""I didn't. Then I realized I did. But you never--and now . . . you've waited too long."And you might miss it."I have a boyfriend." And then she walked away.You just have to keep your eye on the ball . . .I watched her glide across the floor in his arms, dancing to a slow melody.Waiting . . .I watched them kissing at her door for a fleeting moment before I turned the corner and left her behind me.Waiting . . .I watched her throw his arm off her shoulders and glower down into her coffee. He murmured something into her ear; then she hissed something back, yanked the ring off her finger, and slapped it down on the table before him. She rose, toppling her chair, and marched out the door.Waiting for the right moment . . .I finished my plate patiently, allowing a minute to pass. And then I ran after her.I caught up quickly. "Good evening.""G-good evening! What are--how are you here?""I happened to see you at the restaurant.""You--saw that?"And you hit it softly . . ."I saw you needed a friend."She glared defiantly for a moment; then sighed and halted. "I do," she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "I do."Then I took her head in my hands. She lowered hers and gazed into my eyes. Her lids fell like curtains as I wiped away her tears. I closed my eyes. And I kissed her.Of course, a well-aimed spike is difficult to return . . ."I love you. I always have.""So have I. Until now--I was--never sure. But now--now I see. . . ."Then she threw her arms around my neck and drew my lips passionately to hers.Unless your opponent is just that good. . . .The key is to keep your eye on the ball, wait for the right moment, and hit it softly. But all is fair, in love, in war . . . and in Ping-Pong.

Entry #8:

Member Name: Panty AnarchyTheme: The GameWord Count: 593Story: Favorable Odds

Favorable Odds

Two boys were standing in an alleyway outside a bar, each wearing nondescript clothing and carrying a briefcase. It was a cloudy, humid day. The smoke from recent fires still hung over the city and it mingled with the clouds, forming an unnatural gloom over the city.In other words, it was a day perfect for a life-changing risk. These boys had met to gamble their lives in a simple game. They were young, and in their desperation could think of nothing else. A simple game of “rock-paper-scissors” would decide their fate.One of the boys looked to the side, where he saw a drunkard get kicked from the bar’s back door. He mumbled something unintelligible and went to sulk somewhere else. A single thought occurred to him: I refuse to let that become our future. The other focused on the trash cans in the alley, where even now he could hear rats digging for food. Are we even so different? Fire. Fire and smoke. Life in this city had become fire and smoke, and no person could ignore the melancholy in the air. The bars were overflowing. Food was hard to come by. The few factories that had employed the poor of the slums had all by now been reduced to charred ruins. Nobody knew what to do. They all wanted to leave, but could not. Fear was too powerful.“Rock,” they spoke in unison, shaking their fists. A window, broken by a thrown stone in order to allow entrance to a building. An unfortunate man, assaulted with the blunt piece of the earth, overwhelming him. Gangs, with their stone-cold mentality, their unreeling strength, and their thirst for chaos. Their desire to burn the city to the ground, stoking the coals to instill anarchy.“Paper,” they continued. Documents, hidden away and treasured. Valuable testaments to history, thrown around as so much flammable garbage. Money, necessary to escape the wrath of the gangs. Objects each boy needed from each other. One had money, more than enough money. He wagered to give it all away if he lost, and with it, he would lose everything. If he won, he demanded a way to escape the city. He wanted maps of the underground. He wanted incriminating evidence to try and get outside authorities to aid the city. He needed to stop the gangs. He needed to protect the few remaining members of his family, which, for its wealth, was one of the first to fall under pressure from the gang leaders. The other had worked in a library, had a small wealth of documents at his disposal. He needed money, as many in his family had been severely injured in a fire. His winning would grant him the other’s fortune. Losing would entail him losing the only way to escape the city and procure help. These were not favorable odds.“Scissors,” they finished. A sharp but innocent tool, turned into a weapon by the gangs in their nights of terrorizing. A dagger, tucked away inside the pocket of a boy who did not trust his odds.The two opened their fists. Scissors. Paper. One boy, who had trusted his odds, felt a sense of elation, for surely his troubles, while not over, could be resolved. His contentment turned to puzzlement, as he saw the other, blank faced and stiff, reach into his coat. His puzzlement turned to fear and disbelief.The game had ended. One boy now had the means to solve his troubles. It was not the boy whose luck had prevailed.

Entry #9:

Member Name: Astris Janus

Theme: The GameWord Count: 600Title: InitiationLusio watched through a dozen screens as the initiate ran through the maze. The cameras had night vision, but Lusio was sure that he couldn’t see.Tre. That was his name. A human of exceptional skill.Tre, with sword in hand, was holding off a chimera. He pushed it off him and flames suddenly erupted from his sword, sending the beast away.“Impressive,” Lusio said into a microphone.Tre turned in response to this. “Thanks.”“So you’re enjoying the game?”“Heck yeah.”Lusio let a smile pass his lips. Good, he thought, I like a challenge.“So, you’re a cerebreon, right?”Lusio dropped his smile. “How did you know that?”“I didn’t,” Tre replied. “I just thought that I felt you probing my mind before.”Lusio looked to the board in front of him. There was a marker that represented Tre, along with another dozen different shaped makers representing Lusio’s assets. The Guild had requested that Lusio test this one; they saw something different in him.Lusio shifted one of the pieces towards Tre. On the screens, Lusio watched as a dire wolf charged toward Tre. Just before the impact, Tre ducked. The dire wolf sailed over his head, and he made a strike at the wolf’s right flank, downing it.“Come on,” Tre taunted. “You’ll have to do better than that.”“How did you see that coming?”Lusio saw Tre turn and look directly at the camera. He tapped the side of his head three times, before the camera cut out.Lusio nearly panicked. One camera was down, but he still had eleven. Same with his assets.“You might think you have something,” Lusio began, “but no one beats me at my own game.”He moved three more pieces toward Tre’s marker, now on the move. He saw Tre enter another corridor, sword ablaze. Lusio tapped the space beneath Tre’s marker, activating the traps. The floor dropped from beneath the area, but not before Tre jumped backwards. From the ceiling, giant spiders descended. Tre struck at one, his sword flaring up even brighter. The spider caught fire and hissed in pain as it retreated, exoskeleton popping as it did. The other spiders backed away as he waved the sword around him.Lusio couldn’t understand how this man was predicting his every move. But it didn’t matter. Everyone struggled with this next asset.Thunderous footsteps rang thoughout, as a steel golem stormed down the passage. Tre sheathed his sword and pulled out a gun. The golem was advancing on him as he lined up a shot. It was mere meters away when he pulled the trigger. Runes flared up along the length of the gun and the bullet was released with tremendous force, landing dead centre of the golem, sending it flying back down the path and crashing into the wall.Now, Lusio was impressed. This was proving to be a challenge. He tried to extend his consciousness and reach into Tre’s mind.What he received was mental backlash.He grasped his temples in pain, and after it subsided, he switched on the microphone.“… Tell me,” he began, “how have you been doing this?”“Aw, are we feeling a little overwhelmed?”Lusio smiled as he moved the rest of his assets towards Tre.“No one has ever beaten my game. What’s your secret?”He watched as beasts of all kinds raced towards Tre.“Well,” Tre began, “no one can beat your game fairly. Sometimes…”The cameras blacked out and Tre’s marker disappeared.Lusio felt a blade against his neck.“You have to cheat.”Lusio smiled. “Welcome to the Guild.”Entry #10: Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: The GameWord Count: 541Title: The Origin of THE GAME

THE ORIGIN OF THE GAME

~~~Dain awoke with a start. The adrenaline had been applied on time, as always. He instantly clamped down on his own thoughts, not allowing himself to dwell on any aspect of the past. Especially not<DON’T THINK ABOUT IT>He glanced around. Most of the beds were empty now, white, sterile sheets neatly folded on hollow beds below blank monitors. Dain’s own monitor was beeping heartily. He despised it, but it was much better than the awful buzz that would leap out without warning, followed by screams from another bed, flashing red lights on the monitor, white-coated scientists rushing in to question the hapless person about<DON’T THINK ABOUT IT DON’T THINK ABOUT IT>He shook his head. He and the others had been witness to something dark and sinister and ancient, and the scientists wanted answers. They knew that only one of the people in the room had seen the whole misfortune, but not who. And since they could not legally interrogate a person with no crimes or charges against them, they claimed to be ‘curing’ them of a disease- one they administered themselves. So, they had detectors placed on every suspect’s head, which would detect the moment they thought about THE GAME<NO NO NO DON’T THINK ABOUT IT NO>Beside him, Noba was staring emptily into space, her monitor blinking lazily. He reached over as far as he could in his cloth binds and gently touched her fingertips. She was weakening, they all were, but the only way anyone was leaving the room was by thinking about<NO!>He stared at the one other ‘patient’ sadly. Recently, they had lost another, this time to madness. He couldn’t help thinking about<STOP STOP NO THINKING ABOUT IT>The poor boy was only ten, Dain thought sadly. Driven mad, kept from his family, taken to parts unknown, at ten. At his age, Dain was playing with skateboards- the REAL ones, none of that hovering nonsense they have nowadays- and staying up late to watch movies with friends. Even worse, one of the first to go was a five-year-old girl. The only thing that had brought her to the incident was pure chance, and<STOP THINKING ABOUT IT THEY’LL TAKE YOU TOO NO>Old and young, they had slowly waned from seven healthy human beings to three trapped animals. The scientists had seen to it that there was no escape. The second to go, a man in his late thirties, had tried to run, but he had been captured and strapped back into bed. Shortly after, in what seemed to be an admission of defeat, his monitor started flashing the red of a flame, of a phoenix, of a demon, and he was taken away to who-knows-where. It was like when the<NO NO NO!>Dain could feel his willpower slipping. He wondered what was beyond the door. Was it REALLY a questioning cell, or was it something else? A friendly room? A million dollars? How did any of the ‘patients’ know?He smiled woozily. Well, there was one way to find out.He rose like an old man and shuffled to Noba, long-unused legs somehow both numb and aching. He kissed her cheek.And then he thought about THE GAME.Entry #11: Member Name: ClickTheme: The GameWord Count: 600Story: Beating the SystemPlasma sears my face as I barely manage to pull a Matrix underneath it. The twisted old hag opposite me grins grimly.“Okay, sonny, NEW GAME!” Her hands rise to the sky, summoning down lightning, forcing me back over the cliff behind me. Lights flash and I find myself surrounded by code. The lines fluctuate as a feminine voice comes on.“Nice seeing you again, John. How far did you make it this time?”I had heard the same line hundreds of times. “You know exactly where, ALEXOS. Now just let me out of here because your little game isn’t going to work.”“Did I ever tell you you have beautiful eyes?”“I thought you were above flattery. Where’s the threat?”“If you escape me, I’ll have to borrow them for a vicious medical experiment.”“And there it is.”“Shall I respawn you again?”“I’d say no, but I tried that about the forty-third time, didn’t I?”“Forty-fifth, but nice memory. Respawning…”The feeling of sparks jump up my body as the coding disappears and I materialize in a small clearing. “Level one, John. I know you’ll make it through this time.”

<(O)>

“Okay, sonny, NEW GAME!” I was almost prepared for the old witch’s powers, but this time, I had a secret. ALEXOS had been trying to break me for a while, something about some access codes I have in my mind, but she finally messed up. Repetition allows me to gain more knowledge about this place, unlike her previous Tactics. I gladly open my arms to receive the thousands of volts of electricity that course through my digital body.“Hello again, John. How far did you make it this time? It seems like you weren’t even trying.”I open my eyes to the same code and the same voice. I’m still panting from the stress of this Repetition.“John, you seem tired. Are you ready to give up? All it takes is the twenty digits, and I will let you go.”Without paying attention to her voice, I look around the coding. A specific phrase seems familiar, and I reach out, and “pull” it from the stream.“Wait, what are you…d-doing? J-J-John? J-J-oh-n-n?” The room blanks out, and I am left alone in the darkness, an endless void extending in all directions.“That hurt John. Ah well, it was time for a new Tactic anyways.” I swung my arms in the direction of her voice, but felt nothing but empty space.“Get ready for FEAR, John. I will take pleasure in watching you suffer.”Nothing but emptiness everywhere, none of my senses doing me any good. This was going to be a long Tactic.

<(O)>

I can’t keep track of how long I’ve been wandering. ALEXOS voice had all but stopped, but I continued in what I hoped was one direction. The only feeling was some hard, cold surface underneath my feet, but in this digital world, hunger, fatigue, thirst, none of it exists. I was ready for a change.“You know John, you are getting nowhere. And I just turned you to the left back there. Probably should just go back, unless you’re ready to be broken, of course.”Her voice surprised me, but what it said only convince me to keep going. She was getting more desperate, and I could use that to my advantage.“No, John, look at me. Come get me.” The voice was right behind, but I kept going.“Fine, I will be glad to have the storage space when you’re gone.”I felt a door, and walked through it without a word. I'm free. Entry #12: Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: The GameWord Count: 598Story: Texas Hold ‘EmThe cards are dealt. Allen Parke’s bet.Across the sun-bathed room, Mr. Burke, CEO of Solus Engineering, lifts his two hundred sixty pound frame off his chair. He brushes his suit pants with three quick swipes, mutters through his thick mustache to his assistant, and enters the men’s restroom. Parke lowers his coffee, unnoticed by the near-empty Energy Cafe, and lifts his Rangers cap as if scratching his head.He doesn’t scratch his head. He does, however, press a button concealed beneath the cap.He can almost hear the voice in his head: “Well, Burke. I expected you’d be here...”One Mississippi — two Mississippi — three.The CEO’s assistant mutters to his cell phone in staccato as Parke follows Burke’s footsteps. In contrast to the cafe’s acoustics, the bathroom is silent; Parke’s footsteps echo hollowly.So does the low voice emanating from the bathroom stall nearest the door.“...figured you didn’t. You will soon, though. You know how big-time thieves always end up in the papers?”Burke has his back to the sink. His look conveys a clear message to Parke: Run.Parke lifts a finger to his lips and creeps to the stall door.“Expect to see me in said papers by tomorrow.”The click of a cocked gun is loud in the still air. Burke blanches. Parke turns away to ensure the CEO doesn’t see the corners of his mouth twitching at the auspicious flop.“Just step in here and there’ll be no trouble. I’d appreciate immediate—”The stall door is burst open with a bang.“—compliance; no one likes a slowpoke, you perhaps most of all...”Parke exits the stall with a device in his hand; a muffled voice murmurs through his palm, “Look, if you aren’t going to come in—”Parke deactivates the speaker and hands it to Mr. Burke. “Here’s your criminal.”The older man examines the device, eyes still widened by adrenaline. “Smells funny,” Parke remarks offhandedly.Burke lifts the speaker to his mustache. Parke grabs him as he keels over, slowing Burke’s fall enough for the collision of his head against the tiled bathroom floor to only result in a small bump.Quickly, Parke rummages through Burke’s pockets. Burke’s ID card, complete with photo and barcode, is in the front pouch of his wallet. Parke swipes the card across his cell phone, which beeps as it registers the barcode. Fourth street.Parke replaces the ID and reinserts the wallet into Burke’s pocket. Just in time: The substance he had coated on the speaker was weak, only inducing a minute and a half of unconsciousness. Burke’s awakening is slow; Parke kneels over him with faux concern.“What... what happened?”“Weak spell?” Parke suggests. He stands, offering a hand as if in afterthought. Burke takes it gratefully, nearly pulling Parke to the floor with his girth. “You okay?”“Fine, fine.” Burke pats his pockets to ensure everything is still within them and nods genially to Parke. “Thank you.”Parke waves away the thanks. Burke nods again, this time absently as business reclaims his mind, and exits the restroom. Parke in turn enters a stall and locks the door.The restroom outside is empty. Fifth street is slapped onto Chance’s table.Parke speed-dials.“The job’s done?” a low, rough voice greets him.“Full house,” Parke responds. “I’m sending the ID code now.”The voice sounds pleasantly surprised: “You’ve done all Striker could expect, Parke.”“Failure was never a possibility.”“I’ll transfer your pay as soon as we’re done our part. Hey — Parke — we ought to play cards sometime.”The voice hangs up. Entry #13: Member name: Space: Ocean of AweTheme: The GameWord count: 598Story: You'll never get away...“You’ll never get away, you’ll never get away, you’ll never get away, you’ll never get away...” the verses repeat over and over in my head. I can’t stop, I can’t get enough. I open my eyes; darkness. What day is it? Which month? I have to stop, this can’t go on. “You’ll never get away, you’ll never get away...

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #1: Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: FlightWord Count: 502Story: Fallen"What is that, up there in the sky?""I don't know. None of us know, they've been going past overheard for days now.""Maybe they're from outside of the island? I've never seen anything from outside before!""Yeah, I haven't either!""They'd have to be from outside. I've never seen any of them on our island.""Wise Turaga, can you tell us what they are?""I have never seen anything move in such a way. They fly without wings overhead, but how do they fly? I am unable to answer your questions, for I do not know what they are, or from where they come from.""I wonder what they are. And I wonder where they're going. It must be important, for they never stop their flights.."---"The storm is here. It looks like a really bad one. We need to start getting things inside.""...""Didn't anyone hear me!? We need to get our things inside!""Look, in the sky!""Is that one of the flyers? What's it doing?""It's going into the storm! Why is it doing that!?""Whoa! Did you see that lightning?! I've never seen anything as bright as that!""What is... look, there! It's the flyer! It's falling from the sky!""Hurry! We have to see what it is!"---"Look... look at all of the pieces... it has fallen apart.""Wait, there! In the crater, there it is!""Does it have a broken spear?""Where is its arm?""The lightning charred it really badly...""This is incredible! This is the first time I've ever seen anything like it! Look at those spikes on its back!""I think it's dead. Someone go in there and check!""...""What? Oh, fine. I'll go check. But if it kills me, I'm blaming you all.""What is it, what do you see?""I... I... It's moving... It's not dead. It's alive!""SCREEEE!""Get out of there, it's moving! Oh Mata Nui, it's leg just snapped off!""Its face! Part of its face fell off!""Is its back moving? Part of it's cracking open... but it seems stuck!""It can't seem to move..."---"It's... dead.""I tried to bring it food, but it wouldn't eat. All it did was hiss, and it didn't even open its mouth to do that.""It wouldn't take any water either. I don't know if it even could open its mouth...""I'm still wondering what exactly it was. It didn't seem like it could speak, it looked really hurt...""Perhaps, young ones, it is for the best. Maybe it is something we were not meant to know, something from outside that will always be a mystery. But, let us honor this brave creature that dared to fly through a storm, only to meet its demise. We will bury it in the crater where it landed. You should get to work on digging if you wish to allow it a proper burial.""Yes Turaga... we're going."---"They are gone... working to bury the accursed creature. So the flyers are the sons of Makuta... Something is very, very wrong. I have seen it in the stars for many years... but I did not want to believe it. We must be leaving our island, it is no longer safe." Entry #2: Member Name: Mayboy189Theme: FlightWord Count: 417Story: The New KadinNuparu loved his new mask. He thanked Mata Nui every single hour for it.But what made him love it more is the looks of envy he got from Kongu.What? It wasn’t his fault he got his mask. Blame the Red Star’s lightning.He inhaled deeply, feeling the wind splash his mask.He loved flying. At first he hated it. He was a Toa of Earth. Why should he be able to fly? When he was a matoran, he hardly ever went above ground. Now, he was literally above the ground.--With Kongu sitting on a rock, staring at Nuparu’s aerobatics, he wished he could fly. Once, a couple of months back, Toa Lewa had given him a ride. He thoroughly enjoyed the exhilaration, and yearned to fly once more. But, alas, he could not. Yes, he was a Toa of Air, but he did not have a Miru, or, what he most coveted, the Kadin.--Nuparu noticed Kongu’s depressed look. He did a loop-the-loop and landed, right in front of Kongu.He looked up from the rock, and stopped poking the worm near him. “What do you want,” he asked, quite annoyed. “Here to rub it in again?”“Only if you want me to. But I was going to ask if you wanted to fly.”“Can you handle the weight of both of us?”“Of course I can,” Nuparu said, pompous as ever.He then created a high column of mud and soil, upon which both were standing. A slight breeze kicked in, the air being blown into their faces.“Do you honestly hate me for what I am,” Nuparu asked suddenly.“How can I? It’s not like you asked Karzahni for a Kadin when we were in his realm.”Nuparu shuddered with the thought. “The Land of Nightmares and Death,” he quoted.“I didn’t know you read the ancient texts.”“They were in the archives, practically carved into the wall.”“Anyway, he probably just grabbed a random mask and put it on you.”“He’s a lunatic. Thinking he can ‘fix’ us.”“You really think so?” Kongu asked.“Let’s get started on that ‘flying’ you mentioned earlier. Think you can handle your stomach?”“We’ll see if I can’t,” Kongu replied. “No, really. We’ll be able to see it falling.”--The feeling of flight, like always, was exciting.You know, because it’s so fun to get whipped in the face with air.But it was always a feeling of freedom that overcame all. Entry #3: Member Name: The Smoke MonsterTheme: FlightWord Count: 587Story: To OvercomeToa Nuparu stood on the edge of a very steep cliff, roughly 200 feet above a large lake. Behind him stood Turaga Onua, four other Toa, and the majority of the Matoran from his village. They were all on this high mountain ledge for one reason: to help Nuparu overcome his fear of heights.Nuparu, who only had been a Toa of Earth for a few days now, had an extreme fear of heights that haunted him for as he could remember. This wouldn't have been a big deal, except that the Toa of Earth had been given a Kadin, a Mask of Flight, as his Kanohi. So scared of heights was Nuparu that he couldn't even concentrate to activate the mask.The Toa tried to trade his mask for one of the other Toa's Kanohi, but Turaga Onua refused to have it."Destiny gave you that mask, so you should be the one to use it." The Turaga simply said.

So when Nuparu asked Onua what he should do, the Turaga suggested that the Toa put himself in a situation that would force him to overcome his fear. Which led to Nuparu standing on the edge of a cliff, mentally preparing himself to jump off it.

"Why couldn't I have gotten a different Kanohi?" Nuparu thought as he moved slowly towards the ledge. He took a deep breath. There was no going back now.Nuparu braced himself. He raised his arms, closed his eyes, fought the urge inside him to back away from the edge, and jumped off the cliff.The Toa felt the wind rush past him as he plummeted towards the lake below. He made the mistake of opening his eyes. He saw the lake rushing towards him, and panic began to overwhem him."I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" Nuparu repeatedly thought as he fell. Tried as he might, he couldn't get those words out of his head.Deep down, he knew he wasn't going to die. At worst, he would hit the water and only receive a few sore muscles from this nightmare. He was in no danger at all, really."But the villagers will see me fail." He realized suddenly. "They will see that I'm not able to overcome my fear, even now that I'm a Toa."That startling thought snapped him out of his panic. He closed his eyes again and quickly started concentrating on his Kanohi, trying to activate it before he hit the water. He had only seconds to stop his descent before he slammed into the lake.

Suddenly, the feeling that he was falling left him. He opened his eyes and found that he was now slowly flying up back towards the ledge he jumped off. Turaga Onua, the other Toa, and the Matoran above all cheered in joy at the sight of Nuparu using his Kanohi Kadin.

"Hey, this isn't too bad." Nuparu said to himself. Seeing everyone cheering for him above, the Toa of Earth attempted to increase the speed of his ascent. But, with his skill with the Kadin not perfected, he instead unintentionally slammed himself into the rock wall in front of him. The blow dazed him, but it did no serious harm to the Toa.

"I should definitely practice some more with this mask before I hurt myself." He thought jokingly as he began to ascend back towards his friends on the cliff above.

Entry #4:

Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: FlightWord Count: 467Story: Fight or Flight•••••Running, running, forever running. The beasts were always behind, ready to consume her. Why didn’t they tire, why was there no escape? Did Mata-Nui, the Great Spirits, or whoever was in control of the universe find it fit for her to eternally suffer like this? Did she commit some overwhelming sin that had gotten her banished to this Doom Viper’s pit, this Karzahni?She didn’t know, and she didn’t know why she didn’t know. She didn’t know how she could find these lost memories, either. She didn’t even know her name.She woke up one morning here, or at least she thought morning was the correct term. She had vocabulary jumbled in her mind, and she knew what a lot of it meant, or at least she assumed she did. She also thought she was in a cave, and that the cries of these terrible beasts sounded like ferocious, starving Muaka. The grunts sounded like furious Stone Apes. The hisses sounded like venomous, hunting Doom Vipers.But she couldn’t remember anything! She was a... Matoran. Of water, she thought, due to the blue armor she caught sight of in the brief light she entered every few hours. The beasts stopped when she entered these areas, staying out of sight. She thought she was safe. Then night fell, and she found herself fleeing again.She still didn’t know why. She didn’t have a clue. She just remembered... blood. Oil. Torn flesh, shattered machinery. Dying gasps. Cold laughs. Utter fear. Bright red eyes. Fire on the water surrounding the village. Darkness. She thought she had died...But she couldn’t remember anything. That was nothing. It was fragments of memory, not memories themselves. She remembered adrenaline pumping, fighting for her life. Against something. It was some beast, or maybe it was some sapient creature. She didn’t remember. She just knew that she couldn’t fight this time. She had to continue her flight, desperately hoping for a light at the end of this tunnel... A light that wouldn’t be from an impossibly tall, perfectly smooth shaft going straight into whiteness above.Fate... that was the word. Why had fate taken her here? What was fate, truly? Was it that she would run until her strength gave out, that her flight would end and she would be torn to shreds by these Rahi?Wait... was that light? She dared not hope. Yes, it was. It grew stronger. But it couldn’t be an escape. Was it? It seemed warm... unlike the previous rays. They were sterile, white. This was flickering, warm, orange.It was a... candle? A torch? Those were light devices. They provided fire. Fire was warm, flickering, life-giving. They meant someone was near. With one final push of her tired legs, the Matoran stumbled from the tunnel and into the light.

Entry #5:

Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: FlightWord Count: 599Story: The NecrofinchDesolation. Misery. Sorrow. That was what the forests of Zakaz represented now.Once green and lush, now grey and dismal. Once indicative of life, now death. Once a prosperous, paradisal island; now bereft.It was here, where the land had been bereft of its verdure, that I had been bereft of my Linorru. It was here the Skakdi had stood over her body, deprived of life, grinning psychotically as they always did. And it was here those Skakdi had died by my hand--and wept over Linorru's inert form.Now it was here that I laid a flower over the spot she had fallen. It was here I caressed the earth where her body had breathed its last. It was here I listened to the raucous dirges of the Necrofinch as it circled overhead, grieving for all the death its eyes had beheld in this land.I sighed to the wind, "I would curse Zakaz, if it wasn't cursed already. No words of mine can bring upon it worse banes than have befallen it. What worse bane than to live dead? than to remain but to breathe with life nevermore?"Then I heard a voice. "Nevermore."Startled, I looked about. But I was alone. I gazed up at the Necrofinch as it continued its flight and obsequial song.Bar its song there was silence. I whispered, "Linorru--Linorru, is that you?""Nevermore.""Is that you speaking, Linorru?""Nevermore.""Nevermore . . . will you speak. This is the truth.""Nevermore."I looked about again. The Necrofinch's song had ended. It was gliding downward, to surcease its flight upon the bough of a lifeless tree. There it perched, its feathers fluffed regally, staring at me with a pompous air.I almost smiled. "Can--can you speak?""Nevermore.""What do you mean, creature?""Nevermore."I regarded the Necrofinch with curiosity, wondering what the ominous creature meant in croaking its despondent word. It was a grim, ungaily creature, both ghastly and gaunt."Tell me, bird: have you seen much of the universe?""Nevermore.""I take you to mean you have, but will----""Nevermore.""Precisely. And now you are trapped here, to leave----""Nevermore."I nodded. "I too am trapped. Trapped by my soul, laden with sorrow, burdened with grief for the love lost here, for the love I will see----""Nevermore.""Tell me, bird--you seem a wise creature, witness to much in the universe--will you share with me your wisdom?""Nevermore.""But please, I must know! You must tell me what I ask. Tell me whether--whether in some distant land, in some life to come . . . will I see again my love?""Nevermore."I rose. Voice shaking, I echoed, "Nevermore?""Nevermore."I bowed my head in sorrow. My hands shook. Dolor swept over me afresh. I glowered up at the Necrofinch. "Thing of evil!" I hissed. "Lies! All lies! I willsee Linorru----""Nevermore."I unleashed a cry of anger and unsheathed my dagger. With a frenzied vociferation I hurled it at the bird. It sunk into the Necrofinch's chest, driving it from its lofty perch to the ground below."Nevermore."And then, incredulous, I watched the bird take flight, the dagger imbedded in its body. Slowly it flew higher, into the sky, doling out its melancholy dirge.I watched it fly away. "But of course . . . the Necrofinch. . . . What worse bane than to live dead? than to remain but to breathe with life nevermore? than to fly in neverending death?"I fell upon my knees and wept.

Entry #6:

Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: FlightWord Count: 599Story: The First JumpBizon stared incredulously at Talryx. “Come on! These flight packs were designed by the Nynrah Ghosts! It's not like they'll go wrong. Jump!”“I can't. It's too far,” Talryx stuttered, staring fearfully over the edge of the great cliff before them. It dropped away sharply, falling back beyond view. All that lay before them was empty space; an unfathomable drop to an unknown fate.“We can't go back. You saw the guards. Huge, silver things with red eyes and maces. It's either this, or them,” said Bizon impatiently.“We should never have taken them in the first place!” Talryx wailed. “I said it was a bad idea!”“Great Beings, there are tunnel rats braver than you! Just jump of the edge. The flight pack will activate and you face where you want to go. Now jump, before those guards catch up with us!”Talryx had not mentioned how afraid he was of heights. Ever since Dark Hunters had blitzed through their village some years before and almost dropped him off a building, he had been terrified of high places. Perhaps stealing flight packs from a mountain fortress had not been a good idea after all.“So. You gonna jump or what?” Said Bizon.“N-no. I can't-” Talryx's voice faded as he gazed, wide-eyed, into the endless abyss below. It was so vast, so huge and so...empty. He couldn't do it. But he had to. Every instinct, every thought, screamed at him not to jump. The flight packs would never work. They had been gathering dust for hundreds of years. But he had no choice. Hesitantly, he stepped forward...“Oh for Mata Nui's sake!” Bizon sighed and pushed Talryx off the edge.Talryx closed his eyes as he fell, screaming all the way. He felt the terror overtaking him, drowning him as the wind rushed past his face. He was falling. Falling further and further and he couldn't stop, he couldn't stop...Something clamped tightly over his face. He thrashed about, struggling, arms flailing wildly.“Stop that!” Demanded Bizon. “You're flying, all right? You're flying! Stop writhing about while I look for somewhere to land!”Talryx hesitantly opened one eye. He couldn't be, could he? He closed it again, took a deep breath, then opened them both. He was flying! He was actually flying!It was still terrifying, of course. Terrifying, but also somehow...exciting! Exhilarating! He could see the whole world from up there. He could go anywhere! This, was freedom!“We land there,” Bizon said, pointing to a clearing.The two of them swooped down, flying on the wind and through the wind, spinning and turning in ways they had never dreamed possible. All too soon it was over, and they landed gently on solid ground, Talryx shaking like a leaf.“Wait until the others see this!” Talryx exclaimed. “This is amazing!”“Never mind the others,” Bizon growled. “This is Nynrah craftsmanship! We'll make a fortune!”As Talryx opened his mouth to respond, flashes of light flared up around them. Where there had once been empty space, eight guards encircled them.“Quick! Fly out of here!” Bizon shouted, but as he did so a guard grabbed him and tore the flight pack from his body. Another did the same to Talryx and, as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone.“They took them! After all that, they just took them!” Bizon raged. “What are we supposed to do now??”Talryx shrugged. “We'll have steal them again, won't we?”

Entry #7:

Member Name: Panty AnarchyTheme: FlightWord Count: 600Story: Free to Fall

Free to Fall

Toa Gequira fell, cutting through the air, the ground rushing to greet him, with a smile on his face; there was nothing in the world he enjoyed more. The risk, the air, the view: it was incomparable.As the ground got nearer, he reluctantly activated his Kadin. As his free fall turned into a controlled flight, he, feeling the same rapid drop in excitement he always did, observed his surroundings. The snow-coated mountain he had jumped off loomed high behind him. Directly below, a forest of ice stood, as it always did, in its unnatural stillness. At one time, Gequira might have found the image captivating. That was long past.As he made his way to the encampment he’d inhabited for the past several years, which lay at the edge between the forest and the mountain, he reflected on his obsession with the fall. Was the fall his way to escaping his situation? Did he resent having to protect the forest and its “heart?” Was he frustrated by the fact that he had to stand guard, and that he wasn’t trusted enough by his team leader to be told the specifics of their duty? It was not all. He was a veteran Toa; he had fought his share of vicious battles. He had spent much of his life at constant risk. And yet, now that he had a peaceful duty, the calm was unbearable. The fall granted him equal parts risk and carefreeness, peace and excitement, action and tranquility. Without it, he felt he’d go mad. Reaching the camp, he felt a new presence in the area. As usual, a Toa was standing guard. Inside a rough structure composed of rock, he knew he would find the team’s leader, but he felt he would find somebody else inside. As he landed, he saw, through the open doorway, that he was right. A single Ko-Matoran stood near the exit. Beyond him, he could see his team leader, her face unreadable. “What’s this, Preayis? Who is our guest?”She noticed him and answered: “Just a Matoran villager from a nearby village, a trader. He is here representing the Dark Hunters. Threatened into service, I would think.”“What do they want?”“They are requesting we cooperate in their retrieval of this land’s heart. A bold request, I must add. ”“It’s not a request.” The Ko-Matoran’s voice was so quiet, Gequira almost didn’t hear it. “They’re already here.” Gequira rushed outside. The guard was nowhere to be found. On the periphery of his vision, he saw various indistinguishable dark shapes fluttering around. In order to get a better view, he took flight, soaring upwards. Down below, he could see Preayis exiting the camp, lightning crackling around her hands. As he angled down to aid her, he was struck by a strong blast. Thrown off course, he crashed, and lost all consciousness.

**

When he woke, he saw two Dark Hunters in front of him. What they said he barely registered. They had kept him, and only him, alive. They needed him too lead them to the heart. That almost made him laugh.Knowing there was no escape, he led them up the mountain. It was a long trek, one he used to reflect on his choices. Nearing the top, he saw the surroundings one more time. It was beautiful. It was his freedom. Before the Hunters could do anything, he used his elemental powers to make the stone under his feet slope and give way. And again, he fell.The Hunters had taken his mask. There would be no flight.

Entry #8:

Member Name: Takua123Theme: FlightWord Count: 458Story: Tamaru’s JourneyTamaru stood, legs dangling off of the brittle platform of one of the many Le-Matoran huts. He sighed. Looking up, he saw gukko birds soaring through the wind. He smiled, longing the soaring air and thrill of flight. Looking down once again, his doubts began once more. A Le-Matoran sat down right next to him. It was Kongu. “What’s wrong Tamaru? We’re all celebrating, and you’re here, come and join us!” Kongu began to smile, but Tamaru still frowned. Tamaru picked up a rock and threw it at a tree in anger. “Here’s the thing: I want to fly, so bad. It’s been my dream. But then I look down…” Kongu laughed. “Why didn’t you say so? Before we let the new recruits of the Gukko Force go up wind-riding, we have them glide a couple feet above the ground, come on! We’ll take Ka out and you’ll get your wish!”Kongu took Tamaru to a long stretch of clear land. The ground was trampled from previous flights. Kongu gave a short whistle and Ka dive down through the trees. Kongu turned to Tamaru. Alright, you drive, I’ll ride as second. Just pull the reigns in direction you want Ka to go, it’s that simple. The two matoran got up on the Gukko Bird, and Ka began to run. Tamaru concentrated. He pulled up on the reigns and Ka started to glide. Tamaru laughed. “WOO HOO! I feel like Toa Lewa!” It was a couple minutes before Kongu spoke. “Alright Tamaru, take her down whenever your comfertable.” “No.” Kongu took at Tamaru. His determined posture revealed he was about to do something. Tamaru pulled up quickly on the reigns. Ka looked back at Kongu, with a questioning look in his eyes. Kongu smiled and nodded. Ka screeched out and rose through the thick, green canopy.Tamaru looked around him. Bright green canopy could be seen far below him, and Mount Ihu could be seen in the foggy distance. The Le-Matoran peered down at the ground, but was not afraid. “I’m flying Kongu, I’m flying!” Tamaru cheered and did a nosedive. He could see Le-Koro in the distance. He began to lower and landed on the main platform of the village. Le-Matoran were still playing their instruments, and Tamaru joined in this time.Hours later, Kongu came upon Tamaru, in the same dangling position as before, with a more determined glance in his eye. Kongu sat down. “Tamaru, you did excellent.” Tamaru turned to Kongu. “Thank you.” Kongu stood up. “We don’t get many good Gukko riders here in Le-Koro, I would like if you joined the guard. Think about it, it can be dangerous.” Kongu walked off, and Tamaru ran after him, his answer already decided.

Entry #9:

Member Name: ZippyWhargarblTheme: FlightWord Count: 600Story: The Pet

THE PET

~~~Sety was glum.This feeling puzzled him, even as it ghosted by. He had all he could wish for in life. He had a roomy cage, kept above the ground, away from anything prowling below. He was kept fed and watered, and he was cleaned regularly. What else was there?Still, there was a doubt, a wriggling, nagging ideal that sat in the back of his head. Something was off. He was a Le-Matoran, but there was something not right about him. Was it the wings that jutted from his back oddly like some last-minute detail in a portrait? Or was it the metal circlet that dug into his head? Surely not! His master had told him not to worry.He rushed to the side of his cage and whistled happily as his master, Makuta Mutran, climbed a podium towards his cage. The Makuta smiled at him, seeming to enjoy the attention. “Ah, Sety! How are you? Happy, I hope?”“Oh, yes, master!” Sety chirruped in return. Mutran reached in to pat him on the head. As his claws brushed the circlet, something flexed in Sety’s head. Dreams… nightmares… memories? They flooded his head like a tidal wave, in any case. He reeled back, but Mutran snatched his wrist and stopped him falling.“What is it, Sety??” he asked, his voice wavering oddly. Sety grinned at him, though he, too, was confused.“Nothing, master!”Mutran let him go, but fixed him with a look that served as a warning more than anything else. He left then, and when he slammed the door, Sety fluttered up to a higher platform to think.~~~Hours- perhaps days, it was hard to tell in the darkness- later, after much thought, Sety worked up the nerve to remove the circlet.He had tried before, of course; it had delivered a nasty shock that caused him to feel numb for some time and receive a harsh chiding from Mutran. But this time, he was going to remove it, no matter what his instincts screeched at him. The memories had convinced him, had URGED him that there was more to his life, that he was being played. He touched the metal and, with a gulp of breath, yanked it off his head.The resounding electricity arced savagely through his body and nearly caused him to scream, but he gritted his teeth and shook it off. He was free now.And now… now he knew.He was Sety, a Le-Matoran from a small village on the Southern Continent. He had met a Makuta by the name of Mutran, who had questioned him about his love of birds and flying things. When Sety had revealed he envied them, Mutran had promised him a surprise. He had woken in the cage, with the circlet, and a pair of wings stitched to his back. Over the months, the wings had become stronger until they could carry his weight. With the circlet, he had loved every moment of it.With the circlet, he was a happy, brainless creature. A pet.He scowled and looked to the cage door. It was locked tight; that was no problem. If he were to, say, hide in the darkness of the top of the cage, Mutran might investigate. Yes, perfect. He would wander in and search for his precious pet. And then… and then Sety could fly out of the cage, or attack; whatever took his fancy.He heard a click from the door. He grinned and, with a grunt, flapped to the top of the cage and clung to the bars. Now, to wait.

Entry #10:

Member Name: RaidMaster ProductionsTheme: FlightWord Count: 558Story: Tree-Bound Le MatoranTamaru sat in the Kahu hut; his head drooped down, staring at the wooden floor. The rest of the Gukko Squad had left for the Nui Rama hive. For as long as he can remember, Tamaru had wanted to join them, to fly in the skies above Le Wahi, but they all told him, “Sorry, you’re always scared of heights.” One of these days, he thought, I will show them, I am not destined to be tree-bound, and I shall be one of the great wind-riders of the Gukko Squad. He sighed, Tamaru the Le Matoran, always ground bound forever. Or so he thought.Tamaru heard a loud squawk. Startled, he looked around quickly, taking a while to notice… one lone Kahu. It surely cannot be Kongu’s Ka! He looked down, instantly noticed a small piece of paper in front of Ka. He took a few steps forward, not to distress the Kahu rahi. It ignored him, prompting him to move towards the note faster. He picked it up, reading it,To Tamaru,For years you had wanted to wind-fly with us Gukko Squad, but you never had the courage. Well, I have smart-spoken to Turaga Matau, and we agreed to lend you this Kahu, Ka. Wind-fly him well!KonguTamaru couldn’t believe what he read; the Turaga approved him to wind-ride the Kahu?! After a short while of stunned silence, Tamaru sighed, and leaped onto Ka. It took him a short while to fully mount himself. Almost immediately after he had fully mounted himself, the door opened, blinding him with light. The giant bird instinctively knew to walk out of the hut, into the crowd of Le Matoran, all wishing luck to the new Wind-Rider.They cleared out of Ka’s way, all except for one lone Le Matoran, wielding two lightstones. Tamaru’s heart jumped into his throat, he instantly knew…This is it. I am really going to wind-fly!As the Le Matoran lifted the lightstones up and down, Ka flapped his wings slowly in sync, then speeding up. A loud noise filled the air, rising in tone. Then suddenly, the Le Matoran lifted his arms, Ka’s eyes glowed, and its wings turned green. The Le Matoran threw the lightstones down, and Ka sped forward at top speed and left the tree village of Le Koro.Tamaru woke with a start; he was still in the Kahu hut. He looked around, searching for Ka or any sign of the Gukko Squad. The hut was entirely empty, except for him; even the Kahu stall was empty. The lone Le Matoran ran out of the hut quite quickly. He didn’t stop running until he came to a halt at the edge of Le Koro.He looked downwards, the swamp of Le Wahi below looked a thousand bios tall. Any leaf-runner would find jumping down and wind-sprint across the home-realm easy, surely if he cannot windfly, maybe he could do that instead. Tamaru just stood there, his foot moved slightly across the edge. I can do it, he thought to himself, I can do it, I can do it, I can…I can’t.Tamaru let out a long sigh, moving his foot back onto safety. He turned around, walking back into the Le Koro square. He shook his head as he accepted his fate, as a Tree Bound Le Matoran.

Entry #11:

Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: FlightWord Count: 504Story: WebsThey had come in the dead of night while Kudos and Pakha had slept. When Kudos awoke in the morning, the deathly silence of Metru Nui weighing upon his audio receptors, the Coliseum in the distance was lined with webbing. He shook Pakha from his sleep, and together they traipsed inland through Po-Metru’s sand and ghost towns into the streets about the Coliseum.In hindsight, going closer to the webs had been a horrid idea. Kudos, however, had no time to think as his legs churned so fast he thought he might fly.The Po-Matoran rounded a bend, hoping Pakha was right behind him. The street ahead was empty. He bolted for an open door and crouched in the shadow of the doorframe. Pakha followed a second later, kneeling beside Kudos on the cold, metal floor.“Visorak,” said Pakha between gasps. He was an Onu-Matoran Archivist; memorizing dangerous Rahi and not being in shape had been part of his job description when Metru Nui was intact. “Spiderlike creatures. Their venom is a highly unstable mutagen that causes massive changes in the subject when—”Click-click-click—The Visorak on the ceiling behind the two Matoran dropped to the floor — clank — and lunged. Kudos fell to the side, out the door. Pakha let out a scream. Half-blinded from shock, Kudos could but half run, half stumble down the street in flight.Another scream echoed down the lane; it was cut off halfway through. Kudos’s heart stammered, but adrenaline kept his legs moving. His vision was blurry, but his eyes didn’t feel wet. Maybe they were numb, as his feet had lost all feeling through relentless pounding on concrete.Focus! he roared at himself. With an effort, he blinked away the moisture in his eyes (sweat or tears, he couldn’t tell which) and darted across the intersection.He skidded to a halt when a Visorak dropped to the ground before him. The click-clickety-click of other Visorak legs reverberated in his head. The whirrof a Visorak spinner was the last thing he heard.* * *When Kudos came to, he couldn’t move his limbs. Did he even have limbs?He opened his eyes and, comforted he hadn’t lost his sight, craned his head as best he could through the small gap in the adhesive strands wrapped about him. He was suspended in the inside corner of an abandoned building; shards of glass lay on the floor from the Great Cataclysm, juxtaposed with the living figures of Visorak.“Pakha?” he called.—or rather, meant to call. What he actually said was a growl that only faintly resembled his friend’s name. Feeling returned like pins and needles across Kudos’s skin when an answering growl emanated from above his perch. He struggled against his bonds—They broke. He had just enough time to be surprised before his Hordika instincts kicked in: Run, they said, and run hard. He complied without thinking. Behind him, Pakha let out a similar growl and followed Kudos out the door.This time, the Visorak didn’t follow.

Entry #12:

Member Name: TNTOSTheme: FlightWord Count: 578Story: The Test“Okay,” said the Le-Matoran instructor, sitting in the passenger’s seat beside Kongu. “Have you quick-checked the levitation and weight disks?”Kongu nodded. “First thing I quick-checked, instructor-sir.”The instructor scribbled on his pad. “The chutes?”“Full,” Kongu answered. “And capped-blocked, too.”The instructor scratched something else down. “Levers and pulleys fully operational?”“Completely, instructor-sir,” said Kongu, pointing at the pulleys before him. “I had my engineer-friend look them over beforehand.”“Emergency lights and radar systems in proper condition?”“Of course, instructor-sir.”“All safety procedures followed?”“To the letter, instructor-sir.”“Then let’s commence-begin the flight test.”Kongu smiled and nodded and turned to the controls. Although Kongu was careful not to show it, his nerves were wracking him so badly that he almost forgot what to do. If he passed this test, he’d become a licensed airship pilot. If he failed . . . well, he could always be a chute monitor, Kongu supposed.All right, Kongu thought. Just need to pull-grab this pulley and up-high we’ll go.The Le-Matoran pulled the pulley toward himself. The airship lurched, almost throwing the instructor off his seat, though thankfully he was securely tied down thanks to his seat belt.“Quick-sorry about that,” said Kongu, hastily letting go of the pulley to turn his attention to the instructor.That caused the ship to lurch back, knocking the instructor’s skull back against his seat’s head. “Ow! Keep your eyes on the sky, student!”“Yes, instructor-sir,” said Kongu, turning his attention back to the controls.This time, the airship flew although Kongu noticed out of the corner of his eye that the instructor was frowning and scribbling something on his pad. Kongu tried to ignore the instructor. His friend, Matau, had told him that as long as he kept his cool, Kongu would be able to pass.The airship was now in the sky, but it was not moving. Kongu had yet to unleash the capped proto chutes because he was busily making sure that the airship was steady and aiming forward. He’d heard tales of careless students who’d uncapped the chutes when the airship was aiming slightly toward the ground, which usually resulted in a bloody, messy death for everyone involved.The sensors indicated that the airship was stable, so Kongu said to the instructor, “Which way do I go-fly, instructor-sir?”“Go-fly north,” said the instructor, pointing straight ahead. “Just don’t-“In his eagerness to obey the instructor’s commands, Kongu immediately pulled the lever that uncapped the chutes. He opened them a little too wide, however, for the ship shot forward at dangerous speeds. They were flying straight toward a building and would have crashed into it had the instructor not immediately flipped the emergency break switch just in time.Without warning, the airship stopped so abruptly that Kongu was thrown forward and hit the controls. Shaking his head, Kongu looked at the instructor and smiled sheepishly.“So . . . did I pass-succeed the test?” said Kongu, although he knew the answer even before the instructor answered.“No,” said the instructor, shaking his head. “You failed-loss. Land the airship and we’ll speak-discuss your future later.”Kongu nodded unhappily and landed the airship, though this time he was careful to do things right so they wouldn’t crash into the ground.As Kongu and the instructor exited the airship, Kongu decided that maybe being a chute monitor wouldn’t be such a bad job after all. Would be easier than flying airships, at any rate.

Entry #13:

Member Name: VeoiTheRascalTheme: FlightWord Count: 576Story: Be Shrewd with DealsAs the first bite sinks into the firm flesh of the green fruit, Shara doesn’t notice the flash of bewilderment that flits across lime eyes. She does notice however, the display of curiosity that is a touch too exaggerated to be completely genuine and knows instantly that the bewilderment must have taken place right before. The organic snorted. Really now, he should be used to her devouring methods. It’s not like she hasn’t eaten in front of them frequently enough. Putting more effort in smacking her lips and less in keeping saliva in, the descendant of apes swiveled her brown, wet eyes at inquisitive optics. “What?”Blinking, the lit optics dimmed sheepishly as the emerald being carefully scooted back from the dripping drool.“Ever-Sorry, did not think little Shara would chew-crunch bula berry.”Dude, this is the only way I get energy from food.” she stated dryly. “And what is that word after bula?”“Ah” the tall guardian tilted his masked face up, waving his hand in thought, “a type of fruit --” He halted before grimacing. “ I don’t know how to explain in -- how do you say, English?”Shara smirked, shrugging her shoulders. “A type of fruit is good for now. ” A pause, in which both creatures quietly enjoyed their respective activities on the balcony of the coliseum: one was calmly gnawing on a bland piece of fruit and the other was watching the masticating with amusement. “Shara.”She continued to munch on the bula fruit while grunting, “hm?”“Does the bula... taste good?” The human cocked her head. “Not bad,” she swallowed, “just a little bland.”“Bland?”“Yah, fruit here has weaker taste.”The toa hummed distractedly as he gazed at the morning sky a few shades too pale. It looked absolutely massive from high atop the coliseum’s towers.Speaking of which.“Hey, Lewa. You mind telling me why you dragged me up here?”Lewa stared at the human in puzzlement. “Mind telling? Shara, you speak in word-mess!”After a lengthy lecture on why a mind only thinks and not speaks (much less tell anyone anything) and how Shara had much to learn in speaking Matoran, did Lewa bother to answer her question. “You will learn to wind-fly today!” When his exclamation and spread arms of excitement was only met with extreme skepticism, the toa of air placed his air katanas, hilt up, onto the tiled floor, leaning his body weight against them in exasperation and asked why she was so bothered. Shara’s eyes flickered towards the swords, the sky, and Lewa in question dubiously.“How about this,” she licked up the last bit of bula berry juice as she stood up, before continuing, “If you can take energy from this,” here she brandished another green fruit, “Then I will gladly learn to ‘wind-fly’.” As the spirit of air grabbed for the bula berry, Shara quickly drew it away.“You have to eat it,” smirking triumphantly, she mimed taking a ferocious bite, “all of it.” Toa Lewa narrowed his eyes at this but took the fruit. A staring contest ensued between fruit and biomechanical being. Just as she was about to pat herself on the back, Shara heard a mouth watering shunk as Lewa contemplatively began to chew. A smile slowly crept up his mask.“This is not bad-taste.”shunkshunk“Not bad-taste at all.”Shara stared listlessly at the decreasing fruit in Lewa’s clutches. Her day was definitely ruined.ShunkShunkShunk

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Entry #14: [/font]

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Member Name: fishers64

Theme: FlightWord Count: 566Story:He should have known.But not really. He seemed to have lost his way, but he didn’t have a way to lose.Before him stretched an expanse of pale ground swirling with grey dust. Somewhere high above, he could see an imposing grey shell. Light filtered in through a sickening crack high above, about which moved several smaller beings. Not a single block of the precious solid protodermis would go to waste.Despite this, he was sure that they were too high up to see him, even though his color – green – would have stood out against the dismal landscape. There would be no assistance from them. Instead, the Toa walked across the area, toward the only landmark visible; the smoking remains of a dead volcano. Before it, he reached a yawning chasm, out of which a vile stenc

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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amoromniavincit2.pngEntry #1: Member name: PyrrhonTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 528Story: A Loyal FriendScattered glass upon floor, beneath sliding door.Muddy footprints across kitchen tile.More prints in a single area, only short distances apart.Standing in place, nervous at a sound.A key in the door, turning open in the night.Surprise, no one was supposed to be home now.Fear, keeping silent to not be noticed.Silence, not aware anything is wrong.Tired after a long day at work, now home.Shoes removed, left at the door to prevent mud.Walking past in the dark, never noticing.Heading toward bedroom, heading towards sleep.Relief, not noticed in hiding place.Caution, must avoid being detected.Silently walking farther away from bedroom.Looking around, carefully taking in surroundings.Television, newer model, valuable.Checking drawers, nothing of importance.Searching shelves, finding little.Hidden envelope, between two books.Smile, found something important.Money, not much, but worth taking.Searching more, searching everywhere.Taking valuables, moving them outside for transport.Awakening, smelling something strange.Owner asleep, someone moving in the night.Growling, getting the shadow's attention.Snarling, baring teeth at intruder, ready to bite.Angry, owner threatened, protection needed.Startled, not expecting a dog inside.Danger, angry protector staring and snarling.Stop moving, hoping the dog will not notice.Doesn't work, dog moving closer.Need escape, searching around for anything.Door to the right, open bathroom, perfect.Turn, trying to escape from pet.Dog chases, not realizing plan.Dog bites down, tearing clothing but not harming.Evade dog, lock canine in bathroom.Patting self on back for clever planning and great timing.Trapped inside of small room.Owner still in great danger from shadow.Must warn owner about dangerous person.Barking, barking loudly in the night.Fear, trapping dog not working, bad Idea.Moving quickly, having to get out as soon as possible.Sounds coming from bedroom, lights turn on.Get out, go through shattered sliding door.Escape unseen into the night, failed robbery.So much stuff not yet taken, days of planning wasted.Stupid dog, barking to alert victim.Shock, awakened by barking to find chaos.Books thrown on floor, pages torn apart.Drawers emptied out on floor, smashed to pieces.Television removed from wall, sitting on ground.Dog trapped in bathroom, still barking loudly.Ruin, house torn apart, valuables taken by unknown person.Sadness, fear, terror, loss, horror, misery, confusion.Letting dog out, calling police on phone.Free from locked room, owner saddened.Failure, failed to protect home from mysterious shadow.Owner laying down, curling up, crying.Climb onto couch, curl up with owner.Comfort, protect if shadow returns in night.Will not be fooled twice, won't let anyone harm owner.Dog whimpering, trying to comfort.Scared, saddened by robbery, all that is lost.Wanting to go back, before robbery, stop it.Sense of security gone, house not safe from crime.Police arrive, let them in through front.Hoping criminal captured, not wanting him free.Searching scene, taking evidence of crime.Broken glass, entered through shattered sliding door.Muddy prints, walking across kitchen.Multiple prints, stood there nervously, prancing slightly.Money taken from hiding place, drawers searched.Owner not harmed, motive money, wanted valuables.Brush against officer's leg, getting attention.Holding piece of fabric in mouth.Part of criminal's outfit, bitten off before trapped.Taking the piece of cloth, looking at it with a slight grin.Can help solve to case, match to criminal.Pat dog on head, very smart animal.Owner crying, sad and scared.Crawl up in owner's lap, try to comfort.Owner not harmed, still in good health.Items stolen, but not much taken from house.Owner lucky that shadow not try to harm.Brushing head against cheek, stopping tears.Everything will be alright, everything will be alright. Entry #2: Member Name: xccjTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 512Story: AmorHe showed up in the city two days ago.At first, I assumed it was just a random incident on the news. The massacre was terrible, but the police would find those responsible and bring them to justice.But then came another attack. And another. And soon, the city fell into chaos.The news reports finally showed us the person behind it all. He was not just a human anymore; he had bulging muscles and crimson eyes and the ability to shoot lasers from his fingertips. Some speculated that he was an alien, out to take over the world. Others suggested that he was a victim of a horrible laboratory accident. But either way, he was on a rampage through the city. The news stations released one final detail before he destroyed them completely.His name was Amor.Evacuations had been ordered, and the military had moved in. Yet panic still filled the streets as I raced to escape. Communications had been cut off completely, and many of the roads and bridges out of the city were impassable. I was trying to flee on foot, and as I raced down the street, I spotted an army blockade. The few civilians on the street were being ushered to retreat.But then there was a horrible noise behind me. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the truck flying. I ducked, and the airborne vehicle crashed into the blockade, ruining the tank that had been stationed on the street. We all looked on and saw the source of the trouble; Amor was heading straight towards us.I couldn’t reach the blockade in time, so I ducked into an alleyway along the street. The army opened fire on Amor, but to their horror the bullets merely bounced off. He also apparently had impenetrable skin.“Such hate,” said a deep voice, and I realized it came from the abomination himself. “Such violence. It is all for waste.”The army didn’t give up. They fired more heavy artillery, and bullets littered the street. Then I heard the sound of a jet engine, and a fighter plane flew over us. It came in for another round and fired a missile directly at Amor. I ducked behind a dumpster as the missile exploded, and debris filled the street.After a minute, I lifted my head and glanced at the scene. The street was still filled with smoke from the explosion, and overhead the jet flew in for another round. But then lasers fired upward, and sliced off the jet’s wings. I heard it crash into a nearby street.I heard more sounds of conflict, and many human cries. Bracing myself, I emerged from my hiding spot to check on the progress of the battle. To my dismay, the army blockade was shredded, and the few remaining survivors were fleeing.“It was all for nothing,” a voice behind me said. I spun around and froze; Amor was staring down at me. He pointed his finger at me and said, “You do not understand. Amor Omnia Vincit. Love conquers all.”Entry #3: Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 600Story: EvictionLily stood in the doorway, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don't want to go,” she sobbed.We've been through this and we can't- we just can't keep going like this,” said her mother. The words came no more easily than they had last time, but the repetition helped build conviction. she almost believed them now. Almost.But I want to stay! I hate it there! Dad doesn't care! He's useless and he's so angry and- oh mum, why can't I stay?” She wailed, her breathing fractured by uncontrollable sobs.It's- it's better this way,” her mother said, staring at the floor. “You know we don't get on. We're always shouting and screaming and we never agree and- you're always saying you wanted to leave. I thought you'd be happy.”Happy? You're my mum! You're supposed to care for me and love me, not throw me out! Why would I be happy?” Lily screamed. She ran past her mother into the front room.Lily! What are you-”Look mum! Don't you remember when we watched that ridiculous film together? We laughed for days and spent ages putting speech from it in everything else we watched! Or all those times we just sat and watched TV together! Were we screaming and shouting then? Or-”Lily-”She ran into the next room. “Remember when we tried to play the piano together? We thought we could play Beethoven or Mozart or something and it was the worst thing we'd ever heard! Or-”Lily!”Lily ran into the kitchen. “Remember when we tried to make that meal for Grandma and I chopped everything too big then still burnt it all? It went wrong, but it was fun right? We can make it work! You can't just throw me out 'cause you don't think we get on anymore! Mum, please!”Lily!” Shouted her mum. “You have to go. This is better for both of us, ok? If you're with your dad then you can have a fresh start. We can still see each other, but we can't stay under the same roof. All the arrangements-”Arrangements!” Lily screamed. “Are 'arrangements' more important than your own daughter? You find it difficult so you're just giving up? Is that how little I mean to you?”You're my daughter, Lily! Of course I care, but we can't keep going like this. You know we can't. We've tried-”No we haven't!” Lily shouted. “You've shouted and I've shouted but we haven't tried anything! And now you won't try! Well maybe I don't want you as my mother! Maybe I don't care about you, since you care so little about me!Lily, wait!” Her mother grabbed her arm.What? What do you want? I'm leaving, aren't I? I thought that's what you want!” Lily shrieked, trying to tear herself from her mother's grip.I do love you, of course I do. And, maybe you're right. We can try something. We can talk, we can get help. You're right. You shouldn't leave like this.” Both of them were crying now, and for the first time in days they were able to look each other in the eye.You mean it?” Lily sniffed. “I can really stay?”Yes, I mean it.”Lily's face broke into a huge smile, a line of joy spreading from cheek to cheek, and she hugged her mother for all she was worth. “I love you mum.”I love you too.”Entry #4: Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 533Story: VictimYou rush after Susan into the cold, dark front yard. Entering the rainstorm feels akin to diving into cold water: best to do it and not think about it.“Wait!”She doesn’t respond — can you blame her? — only walks to your car and crosses her arms over her chest. Her sharp gaze pricks your neck, or perhaps that’s spit you couldn’t swallow. “Drive me,” she says.“We can talk this out,” you say, moving toward her. She shies back as though you’re electrocuted. As though you might hurt her. Well, you already did, didn’t you? — you probably got all the pain out of your system with that one blow. “I never intended for things to get complicated—”“Drive me.” Susan yanks on your car’s passenger-side door, a futile action considering the door is locked.But you aren’t ready to give in. “Did I say we’re breaking up? No! For God’s sake, Susan, I never meant to leave you!”“You did. Now open the freaking car.”“Not until you calm down.”Susan’s tears are indistinguishable from the rain pouring down her face, dripping from her brow and chin. Her designer jacket, the one you’d bought for her using half a week’s salary months ago, is drenched. She’s serious about this. Were you?“That’s sweet to think,” she retorts, pointedly avoiding your eyes. Hers are full of pain. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you started hitting on Lia.”She has you pinned. You squirm verbally: “I wasn’t hitting on—”“Yeah, sure, like every guy keeps up a regular stream of compliments. Makeup. Clothes. Every. Little. Thing. Not to mention restaurant dates here and there. I know; I saw.”You’re trying to keep her heart from tearing, but yours is the one splitting in two; you can feel the rupture. The hot feeling spreading up your neck must be blood leakage. “It — it isn’t what you think it was — what I wanted—” you protest.Your clothes, now as moist as they’ll ever become, stick uncomfortably to your skin. Susan’s are the same. Her face is stolid underneath the pouring rain. She’s inured to the moisture, to your excuses. Why can’t you feel so numb?You never wanted things to come to this; you’re a decent guy, not the type who hops from relationship to relationship like girls are trampolines. Yet here you are, a victim of attraction and failed commitment. The term Femme Fatale holds new meaning for you.She tugs on the car door again, her mouth twisted to stifle a sob. “Drive me.” Her voice breaks.You relent and unlock the car door.The ride to Susan’s house is short and tense. She doesn’t even wait for you to stop by the curb, doesn’t look back at your face, doesn’t offer a single acknowledgement of your existence save to slam the car door with unwonted aggression. Her high heels leave deep imprints in her front lawn; she reaches the door and shuts it with a bang you can hear even from behind the wheel.You wait a long moment before driving away, as if she might reemerge and say all is forgiven, come back. Love, however, doesn’t pay refunds.Entry #5: Member Name: Zarayna: The Quiet LightTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 585Story: Tremenda Amor. ---The older man swung his sword, and the younger blocked, making a counterthrust that the older one dodged with ease. Sweat glistened on their faces as they paused, circling slowly. The younger man was fair haired, with a face that seemed perpetually formed into surprised features. Fear and anger showed on his face, as well as desperation. The older man's hair had once been the same shade, but age had streaked it with grey. His features were hard, a grim anger smoldering in the depths of his eyes."Jason, please," the young man panted. The older man's face did not change."That is not my title, Lucas, thou knowest that," he replied, casually blocking a probing blow from the younger man."Then neither is that my title!" Lucas crowed triumphantly, even as he was forced to give ground as Jason attacked."The greater giveth not the lesser's title, but his name!" Jason snapped, sliding his blade around Lucas's, landing a cut on the younger man's arm. A light one."Am I then lesser?" "Yea, thou are," Jason replied, pausing his attack for a moment. Lucas took advantage to retreat farther back. "Thy birthright thou wasted, thy family thou spurned. How thus can thee be greater?" the older man roared, advancing in a flurry of blows that took Lucas by surprise, sending the young man back, until a branch caught his foot, whereupon he fell heavily to the ground, winded. Contemptuously Jason waited as Lucas stumbled to his feet.“But… Thou lovest me!” he gasped, desperate.“That I do,” the older man replied, aiming a deathly blow at Lucas’s heart, kept off by only a desperate parry. The younger man was exhausted now, his ploy failed.“Then why attackest thou I?” he said, dismayed.“Thee must answer me that!” Jason retorted. Lucas was at loss, but the fighting had ceased for the moment so he was glad. Bemused, he answered:“I know it not!”“Then think thee it!” Jason answered. The sword in his hand remained immobile, but Lucas did not trust it to remain so for long. But he shook his head still.“Thou spurneth and rejecteth. meaneth that nothing to thee?” Jason queried. Meeting his eyes, Lucas told another emotion within them: grief.“It hath meaning,” he muttered glumly.“Indeed? Thy conduct giveth no clue!”“My conduct…” Shame reddened the cheeks of Lucas more than the exertion of the fight had. “Is my conduct then the cause of thy wrath?”“Thou guesseth halfly,” Jason replied. His eyes held the younger man’s eyes, the emotion within skewering Lucas’s heart like a sword. The grief was covered by love, an awful love. It broke him. The sword clattered from Lucas’s hand, and he fell to his knees. His eyes still looked up, held there by the eyes of the other man. At last he looked down, body wracked by tears.“Forgive me, father,” he gasped. “I have sinned against heaven and against thee. Let me but come into thy house a servant, for I am not worthy of being called thy son.”His father looked down upon him, grief and anger replaced by unfathomable joy. He sheathed his sword, raising his son to his feet and embracing him.“Truly my son was dead, yet here before me he lives!” Jason exclaimed, releasing Lucas.“Thou wert lost to us, yet now thou art found. Enter my house as my son like thou once were.”Father and son, their fight ended, walked away from the torn up battleground. ---Entry #6:Username: Takua123Theme: The GameWord Count: 413Story: A Game of Tag.The man ran behind a small house. He stood still, stiffly panting. Fear was in his eyes, and knew not why. A week earlier he was walking on the street, it was a normal day. All until a grizzled, old man staggered towards him. His eyes showed he didn’t have long. “It’s too late for me. I’m sorry.” He coughed. “So, so sorry. It’s you now. He’s looking for you. Don’t let him touch you. Never, never.” The Man fell to the ground, dead. The man noticed a black fingerprint on his cold hand.Ever since then he had been scared. He got a letter in the mail a couple hours later saying he should run, and that the sender would be looking for him. Being the superstitious type, he had gotten on a plane, and hid at his summer house in Puerto Rico. Unfortunately, he was not far behind. It was a big chase, and the man never knew what would happen if he gave up, he only thought of that one day, when that man collapsed. That had driven him to run, to hide, and to fear.He knew the victim was behind the house. He was ready. As a child the other kids feared him. They wouldn’t let him play their games, do what they do. Ever since the accident. He was making up for it now. This was all just a big game of tag, and he was finally playing. This was his game, and he was having fun. He always had something wrong with him. He was never allowed to touch anybody, or bad things would happen. His parents died at a young age, and he went from orphanage to orphanage. He was now in his 30’s, and longed to play the games he missed.The victim was just behind the corner, but once he was “tagged” he would not be satisfied. The man was just within finger reach of him. They looked into each other’s eyes. He spoke. “I will let you live. If I touch you right now you die. I want to play more.” The other man looked at him in fear. It was all a game to this hunter of his. Then again, a game can be very serious to certain people. “Do it now, I don’t want to run anymore.” They looked into each other’s eyes for the longest of time. Then the hunter walked away, and the prey was free, for now.Entry #7: Member Name: fishers64Theme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 463 wordsStory: Alma MaruIt was a dark night in the park, and her heart was as cold as the winter wind. Colder, even, that the chilled fruit salad she carried to the tables out in the parking lot.They were all here, the ragtag lot of them. Men less than clean-shaven and dressed in mottled clothing. Women, in various states of distress, some pulling along little toddlers behind them. All were down on their luck, all out of a house. The purpose of this humble little operation was to give them a meal.To the girl, this merely represented an ordeal, a break from the traditional freedom of a Saturday afternoon. Instead of the glories of Internet immersion, she was consigned to the drudgery of chopping up bananas and plucking grapes off of vines, and all to stand behind a table for too long, spooning it up into bowls that would be seized by greedy hands.It might have been all the same, if not in the frantic work of spooning out, and grabbing more, and yelling hoarsely for more bowls, that she had looked up and saw a face.A face she knew.A person who had once been her friend.“Hi, there” he said. He looked at her, and it seemed that he looked through her. Saw the whole thing as a façade, a farce, something her parents made her do.“Good to see you” she said, even though it was a lie. She would have given anything for him not to see her this night. Not to know what her parents believed.He turned away, walking. A bitter weight descended upon her, the knowledge that she had lost a friend. Perhaps, for good. * * *“You don’t understand.”“I know that.” She looked up at him – the serving was done, and she had gone to see him.“My father had money – I suppose you could have guessed.” Yes, she could have – he had gone with him to a prep school. Until he left.“My father made some bad deals. Ran in with the wrong crowd. I was so proud of him, so proud of myself for being his son. Now I don’t know what to think.” He paused, collecting his thoughts.“But you, you all here, gave me food anyway. You gave food to a stuck-up snob-nose like me. To a son of a cheater and a robber.” His voice welled up, the emotion coming. “I’m sorry” he said, turning to the girl, but she was gone. * * *Nearby, in the backseat of a car, a little girl sat, tears running down her face, her heart bubbling up, catching in her throat. Feeding the homeless actually helped someone, her friend. Someone she loved.She hated herself for being so fake.Entry #8: Member name: XanthorpTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 519Story:Love Lifts UsNick was so excited for the Turnabout dance. The one where the girls ask the boys. Jessica, “the hot girl” that everyone talked about, had asked [/font]him[/font].[/font]This was a complete change of fate. One moment, he was taking notes for Biology, when a scrap of paper flew over his shoulder and landed on his notes. It was the size and shape of a paper football, and he unfolded it to see what it was all about.[/font]Inside, written in purple gel pen, were the words “Nick, will you go with me to the dance? -Jessica”[/font]--[/font]Jessica was grateful for the chance to be nice to someone. Poor Nick. He was always picked on. He was a [/font]very[/font] intelligent person, but was ridiculed because of it. Whenever someone jeered at him, called him a nerd, she always imagined their words as being rotten tomatoes being thrown at him.[/font]She had this plan set into motion for a year. Because he was so intelligent and observant-- and tended to over-describe things-- he was thought to be gay. So, in order to stop these rumors, she began hanging out with him. He was a great guy to know-- smart, good-looking, congenial, a bit of a grammar nazi (but that was fine with her), athletic, the list goes on.[/font]But best of all, he wrote. And that’s why he looked at the world differently. For him, something wasn’t just [/font]orange[/font]. It was [/font]pumpkin orange[/font] or [/font]deep royal neon orange[/font].[/font]--[/font]Word spread around Adams High like a forest fire, and not moments after the bell rang, Tyler heard about it.[/font]He was the one Freshman who everyone else wanted to strangle. He thought that the entire universe revolved around him. It didn’t take a genius to tell him that the center of the universe is ever-changing.[/font]In short, he was an all around j.e.r.k.[/font]--[/font]On the day of the dance, Nick’s heart was pounding. He could hardly control himself, and couldn’t wait to see Jessica. There was going to be a before and after party at Tyler’s house. He honestly didn’t want to go, but Jessica said her twin sister, Renee, would be his date.[/font]When he got to Tyler’s house, however, he thought that he was overdressed.[/font]“Nicholas, you didn’t need to wear a suit,” commented Renee. “Jess is inside. She’s hard to miss.”[/font]And hard to miss, she was. She wore a fire engine red dress that was very voluminous. When she saw him in his ocean blue suit, she grinned and cantered on over to him.[/font]“I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE DANCE!” Screamed Tyler.[/font]--[/font]At the dance, They danced nonstop for over an hour. By then, Nick had to go to the bathroom. He told Jess & left to relieve himself.[/font]But Jess knew that she did not have long for this world. She was dying, and fast, so she took out a notepad and wrote “Because I love you. -Jess” in her purple gel pen. When Nick saw this, he ran out of the dance and jumped off of the four-story-tall bridge. They now have each other in the afterlife.[/font]Entry #9: [/font]Member name: Space: Ocean of AweTheme: Amor omnia vincitWord count: 600Story: The conquest of loveThe politicians faced eachother, their loathing could be felt kilometers away, but each wore a false smile for the cameras. They grip eachothers hands in a handshake, the deal was official, all paperwork signed. As they turned away from eachother, each was swarmed by cameras, reporters. Each refused to answer any questions.There would be temporary peace between the nations, trading would begin once again, but the enmity could not be more plain, the hate clear as day, black as night. Peace treaties had been made in the past, but never lasted; everybody knew that this would go the same way as all other attempts at peace, torn down as the age old dispute arose. Once again, they were proved right.Protests were blocked at every turn in both nations, the people silenced. These important issues had to be dealt with by the men with experience and power, who 'knew what they were doing'. The war must go on until here was a definite winner. But the people still tried to shout out to the government; peaceful protests had turned to riots as the military interfered, peaceful newspaper articles, columbs, and editorials popped up before the authors started going missing.Who started the war, nobody knew. It was said that each side invaded the other on the same day, at the same time. each accused the other, and would not admit to their own treachery. Many believed that the war was a joint plan formed by both nation's leaders.On the day that the war was re-declared for the fifth time, civillians took to the streets en masse, devoid of banners or slogans, no chants or roars, no demands. Just people, millions of them, out on the street as if it was a normal day. No prior organization, each man, woman, and child knew what to do. they marched, together, to the nearest government post.Some walked right into the army base, greeting the soldiers and shaking hands with the generals, thanking them for protecting the country, showing their appreciation at each man's hard work.Others, in the Capitols, walked right into the government buildings, sincerely congratulating their leaders on their performance, thanking them for the service that had been done for the citizens. Informing the politicians that they were no longer needed, that a new senate would replace the old.The largest masses travelled to the border, shaking hands with 'enemy' citizens, showing their love and appreciation of each other, sharing their experiences. Each found that their frustrations were shared, every person felt the same about the war, the government, the politicians.Then, among the crowd, one voice was raised. "Paper, paper-now a pen!" People rushed about, searching for a shred of paper and a pen. A man rose from the crowd, climbing atop a vehicle, to this man belonged that voice. He called for a man or woman from the Other Side to come join him, and when he had company, he spoke once again. "I have with me a pen, a paper, and fellow citizen of the world, and with this I will make peace as no politician can. It is a pen, and not a pencil, so that these words will never be erased." He wrote upon the paper: 'love conquers all, so let it be that love conquers our land.' He then signed his name, and handed the paper to his companion, who signed on behalf of the Other Side.Although the government never admitted an end to the war, the people lived in peace ever after, united under the conquest of love.Entry #10: Member name: SumikiTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 590Story: ReparationsHate is not the answer.No anything remotely profound, but nonetheless true. As a professional athlete once said: they don't think it be like it is, but it do.Hatred was the world's modus operandi. If someone was not the person that another wanted them to be, or did not do something that another wanted them to do, there was a tendency for animosity. People hated things, and hated other people, but there was not love. I didn't think of love as personal relations as much as an antonym for hate.Hate is not the answer, and never will be.I kept thinking these thoughts in a tiny coffee shop, somewhere along the foggy, rainy shoreline of the Pacific Northwest. It doesn't matter much where, as they're all the same even on a good day, but even more so if you're gloomy like I was. If only the world could see things through someone else's eyes, I lamented silently to myself, as I sipped my cooling macchiato. Around me, the patrons of the shop at this later hour were busy tapping away on their laptops, doubtlessly oblivious to anything and everything around them, getting their news from factoid sound bites embedded in a quagmire of RSS feeds.I looked back down at my coffee, then out onto the streets. Even as the hours dragged onwards, and more people went to sleep, people could always be seen outside, walking around. They attended solely to their own business, solely to the instantaneous gratification of their own whims. It was never love; it was always hate. The closest some of these people came to love was clicking a "like" button on some Web site somewhere.Change does not start with the whole. It must always begin with one person, striving to achieve a lofty goal, who then is joined by the people who believe in the same cause. A petri dish could do great things if its residents ever worked together.As I mulled this in my head, I had finished my coffee. The first symptoms of tiredness set in, and I wanted to get back to my apartment before my legs could no longer propel me.That's when a waiter came over. He was not the one who had given me coffee, but it was someone who I recognized."Hey!"Here it comes. I knew he hated me. I kind of hated him too, though I didn't want to. Before I had known it, he'd covertly grabbed me."I don't know who you think you are, coming in here, but don't do that again. I don't want you around."I couldn't feel true hate for the guy. He had a hard childhood. He went from bullying in school to becoming a gang member. We got into a skirmish two years ago, he ended up getting arrested. It was a bad scene. Maybe he was getting out of that life, since he got a job here.Before I knew I did it, I snapped my hands around his wrists, squeezing until his grip relented. As he recoiled, I brushed my jacket off.I then stuck out my hand. He didn't know what to do."Come on, man. It's in the past. Bygones are bygones."He must have stood there for the better half of a minute. Ignoring my hand, he broke into tears, embracing me bodily. I had seen few grown men show that much emotion, but it was clear that he knew that he was in the wrong, and that he knew what I had just thought, that hate was not the answer.Love does indeed conquer all.Entry #11: Member Name: Astris JanusTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 548Title: BlazeFires erupted everywhere, even from the combatants themselves, consuming them in a golden blaze.Aela watched in horror. Ash fell on her feathered wings and the heat unsettled her.“This is why we needed you,” Mark said grimly.She looked up to him. “This is because of Mucro?”“In part. Technically, the Blaze is an entity in its own right, even if it is a form of magic. It is using Mucro’s body though.”“Right, and how do you expect me to stop that?”“I believe the phrase is ‘Amor Omnia Vincit.’”Aela looked around. “Are you sure this will work?”“Not at all,” Mark replied, “but I know that nothing else seems to work.”Aela paused.“… I’ll try.” She took flight.Looking across the battlefield, she saw one thing that both sides had in common; they were both retreating. All seemed afraid of the flames that burned everything. It had been 5 months and Aela was now used to them, but this… Mucro wanted to stop the fight, but this wasn’t what he wanted.Finally, she saw him. He hovered just above a charred tower, wings of golden flame formed from his back and an aura of pure heat surrounded him. His horns were ablaze and his eyes glowed, but seemed… vacant.Aela flew closer to him. She felt her jumper begin to singe and her hair begin to frizz.“Mucro!” she called. “It’s me.”Mucro slowly turned to face her. His gaze was empty but intense. She was sure that if he wanted to, he could turn her to ash with the slightest inclination.“It’s Aela.”She felt the air cool slightly. Aela smiled and glided a bit closer. “You told me about this; how the knowledge burned itself in your head; how it would come out when your life was threatened; how it was all incredibly powerful and dangerous, but healing and protective. That was our second date. Well, our second real date.”His eyes were still vacant, but the flames seemed to ebb.“You showed me your place that night. Your apartment above your bar, which was all very cool. You took me to the roof, and cooked dinner on the grill.“That was when you showed me these flames. These beautiful, golden, radiant flames, surpassing even that of hellion fire. You told me that they had a life of their own and that, occasionally, you were feared they might take over. I told you I wouldn’t let that happen. I told you that I would help you control them.”She was now close enough to reach out gently clasp his hand. His skin was practically glowing with heat, but she didn’t mind.“Mucro, come back to me.”She looked deep into his eyes…His gaze suddenly focused. The aura dispersed and all the flames extinguished. Mucro nearly fell to his knees, but Aela was there for him. He fell into her embrace and they held each other for a time.“I love you,” he said.“I love you too,” she replied.He could hear the smile in her voice. It made him feel amazing. ***Mark opened his eyes and smiled. He had watched it all through his magic. They were lucky this time. The plan had worked.“Amor Omnia Vincit…”Entry #12: Member Name: Varkanax39Theme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 464Title: Fear or Love?Shall you rule through fear or love?His elderly mother’s question kept plaguing the general as he stood at the edge of a river. After he crossed to the other bank with his battle-hardened mercenaries, the weak kingdom of Kedra was his for the taking. But the question his mother had asked him plagued his thoughts in spite of it all.The general grimaced. He felt he had to answer this question before he crossed the river. If he did not, he could not live with becoming the ruler of the kingdom.There seemed to be strengths and weaknesses to both fear and love. If he ruled through fear alone, he would not keep his throne. The people would rise up against him. But if he loved and spoiled his people they would grow soft and weak, and he’d have no use for them anymore.Shall you rule through fear or love?Neither seemed perfect solutions to his problem. Besides, he still had the Kedran militia to worry about. Why, then, was he so confident of conquest?Suddenly he saw his grandfather in his mind’s eye, holding the young boy who’d become the general of this army in his hands. He’d whispered a small phrase, and the boy had stared up into his eyes. The phrase had shaped whom he’d become.Amor Omnia Vincit. Love conquers all.When was the last time he’d felt love?Years and years ago, he’d loved a girl from the neighboring kingdom of Sinyra. There had been a time when they’d talked seriously of marriage, but when she’d become sloppy and let her mission- to find information for the planned invasion of his kingdom- he’d been forced to execute her as a war criminal.He loved his mother, the only family he had left. Both his brothers had perished in battle. But she was on her deathbed, and he did not expect her to be alive when he returned.Amor Omnia Vincit.Was it true?Not for me.But inwardly he knew he was lying to himself. Perhaps, if he defeated the Kedran military, he’d understand what his mother had meant.----The general limped into the small, ramshackle house, defeated, battered, and wounded horribly. He walked with a pronounced limp to the bedside of his mother.“Amor Omia Vincit,” he said bitterly. “It didn’t stop my army from being slaughtered when the Kedrans were reinforced.”“But it did…” his elderly mother whispered. “It brought you home forever. Home in time to see me pass away.”“But I can’t lose you, too,” he said desperately.“You were too close…to losing yourself to the endless wars. You already lost both your brothers and your lover to this war, why lose yourself as well?”Slowly, the general began to understand. And wept.Entry #13: Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 510Title: The AdventurersTHE ADVENTURERS~~~Deep in the mines of Argror Mountains, the heroes Heim and Ulir crept with no lamp or torch to show the way. The tunnels were black as coal, and the air was damp and thick with the smell of earth and death.“Here.”Heim turned. Ulir was not one for wasted words, and he spoke as little as possible. It was one of the reasons why he loved him so much. He smiled at the man, short and musclebound. “What is it?”The shorter man pointed to a scrape in the tunnel wall, near invisible in the dim light. “They’ve been this way.”Heim peered into the darkness ahead. “How far, you think?”“Not far. Three hour’s travel, at most-”A terrible, grating shriek rebounded from the darkness. Both adventurers glanced at each other.“Two minutes down the tunnel,” Ulir corrected.They rushed down, weapons at the ready. Ulir brandished a hammer and Heim nocked an arrow into place. What they faced was more frightening than they could have imagined. They had been hired to take care of a slight Burrower problem by a local barkeep.But what they had found was an entire colony of the things.They were gruesome, grotesque creatures. They had no eyes due to the lack of light deep underground, but they could feel vibrations in the dirt and smell anything foreign to them. They had sharp, deadly claws that tore through earth and flesh alike, and they were carnivorous creatures with a particular taste for humans. Heim smiled; he and his partner had been through harrowing times, from the day of the dragon attack to the constant ridicule and jeering at the two adventurers. But, they had taken it in their stride. As the bards always said in their ridiculous poems and sonnets, “Love Conquers All”.~~~The fight was long, but in the end, the two adventurers stood triumphant, and they returned to the village in victory. The miners went back to work, and life returned to the way it was in the village. That is, until the barkeep refused to pay Ulir and Heim.Heim nearly lost himself to rage. Instead, he ground out through gritted teeth, “We cleared the cave of those Burrowers. We were wounded. We need the money to repair our weapons and buy medicine.”The barkeep raised his hands, seemingly surprised at the reaction. “Sorry, fellows. But it would not look good for business to hand over gold to you two… gentlemen. Given your, uh, relationship-““Is THAT what this is about?!” Heim roared, seizing the barkeep by the front of his dirty apron. “You’re refusing to pay us because we’re-“Ulir reached up and took Heim’s wrist. Their eyes met for a long time before Heim looked to the counter and released the barkeep. He smiled weakly, and he and his friend left the shady tavern.“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Heim sighed. “Love conquers all. It always does. We’ll have our respect… one day.”And with that, they mounted their steeds and left the town behind.Entry #14: Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 600Title: Love and Victory Your eyes shine like diamonds in the sky of night,Your face is as radiant as dawn's first light.Endowed with spiritual and mental grace,It is for you my heart quickens pace.Though for now we're distant, though this is true,I will never cease on my journey to find you.Steadfast and sure I will strive without restTo regain your honor is my rigid quest.I will never give up hope nor heartUntil bridged is the gap that keeps us apartDear Victoria,I realize things are strained between us. My teen years have bereft me of the puerile innocence of my youth. And they have bereft me of the friend who now enters her teen years in uncertainty and trepidation. I realize we've grown apart. I realize we're two different people. I realize, I realize. . . .But I also realize this: You and I were friends once; and for a moment we were something more, until fear quelled that fire. But it still burns within us, quelled but not extinguished by your fear and my sensitivity. It is a fire that keeps us connected. We shared in time past an unseverable affinity, and we shared that once an affinity more potent still.Life strains at our bond; my hearstrings feel its pull. But they do not yield. I believe that you, too, feel this . . . and that you, too, always the stronger, do not yield.It may take time for you to realize all this. I know you have not yet begun to understand it. It took me years to understand it myself. But within my chest is a flame that will burn forever . . . you will see.I miss you . . . I miss you exorbitantly!But for you--for my love!--I must wait. I must prove myself, for there is no more formidable a test than that of time. . . . And I will. I will prove myself. I will do it because I would do anything for you, Victoria; because I love you. I know this is not the end. This is not yet the start! I know great things lie ahead in our intertwined futures. There is so much that lies ahead--and I will wait. For you I would wait a thousand years, Victoria; because I love you. I know you will remember in time. I know you will understand in time. I know my feelings will not change, my flame will not flicker. I will do in the interim all for you that I must, Victoria; because I love you. I will wait to be reunited with you, however long it takes, Victoria; because I love you.Because I love you . . . and nothing will ever change that. . . . It is a flame that will burn . . . forever. . . . —Yours sincerely, AmosVictoria put down the letter written so long ago. Still the words brought a smile to her wizen lips and a tearful sheen to the still-shining eyes."I marvel that you knew, even then . . . that you understood, even then . . . that you would wait--that you would write this and keep it for all those years. . . .""I always knew I loved you.""Even when I didn't.""But you always loved me.""I marvel . . . that you were right all along."Our shriveled lips met. Even now crept into my heart that fire of that day long past. . . .Entry #15: Member Name: BaltaTheme: Amor Omina VincetWord Count: 453Story:“Long has love been the basis of our creed.” The old man’s words rang through the hall, echoing in the ears of all those present, a dozen or so nobles waiting with bated breath.“It is by our god’s love that we were brought into being.” The listeners nodded, murmuring assent.“It is out of love that we obey him.” In truth, many of those present felt only fear, but now would be a highly inopportune time to mention that.“He commands us now to spread his love to the world.” Not an eye, not an ear wavered from the speaker. He was approaching the heart of his speech, it was clear.“We show our love to the nations by giving unto them the gift of our creed.” Several of the listeners nodded again. The speaker’s words, after all, were perfectly logical.“But, inevitably, some will resist.” The nobles murmured darkly amongst themselves. These resisters would come, of course they would. They would have to be dealt with.“Thus, we will be forced to overtake them. Our quest must not fail.” Indeed, this seemed the only logical way to counter the problem.“There will be some – many, even – who lose their lives in this goal, allies and foes alike.” Of course, that was inevitable in war. What was his point?“Our men will die knowing that they have given their lives to show love to those who do not have our creed.” A heroic sacrifice. A few nobles smiled – it would be worth it, of course.“Our enemies will die rightfully – better be it for them to die than to live life without love.” After all, why burden the earth with their ungrateful, unloving lives?“And so it shall be...for love conquers all.” A chorus of voices rang out in the hall as the nobles shouted their approval.⁂The battlefield rang with the sounds of war – shouting, metal clashing on metal, the cries of horses...I shook my head, attempting to clear it. We were winning, of course – as the priest had said, love would conquer. But the enemy was giving us quite the time of it nonetheless.My squadron had long since scattered after our leader was killed. I’d tried to rally them, but we’d been separated in the confusion. I was on my own now...I glanced around. There seemed to be a brief respite in the endless tide of adversaries-The whir of a blade slicing through the air behind me barely warned me enough in time to block the strike. Feint, lunge, uppercut – my opponent was on the ground.I looked down at him as I raised my blade. Two words escaped my lips: “For love.”The blade fell.Entry #16: Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: Amor Omnia VincitWord Count: 596Story: Not Alone•••••Life wasn’t worth living anymore. Kaitlin knew that too well. Everything kept going wrong, and she was afraid of what would happen when she stepped out of her own door. The world hated her, and she hated it. May as well cut off the living **** in which she lived. It would be today.Slowly drifting awayLost and so afraidWhere is the hopeIn a world so cold?She used to have friends. That was what kept her alive. Then they all left her, so she turned away from them. Two or three remained. Soon enough, she realized that that was because they wanted her money.Looking for a distant lightSomeone who could save a lifeLiving in fearThat no one would hear your cryIf she had someone, then maybe things would be different. But Kaitlin Stonewell was alone, and no one gave a second thought about it.Can you save me now?She might as well tell everyone that this was the last day. All the “friends” on whatever social networking sites. Her family.I am with youI will carry you through it allI won’t leave youI will catch youWhen you feel like letting go‘Cause you’re notYou’re not aloneJonathan glanced at his phone. New update from... Katy? She never got online anymore. He saw the first words–“Goodbye, world”–and began to panic.Your heart is full of broken dreamsJust a fading memoryEverything’s goneBut the pain carries onA call? Someone with a quick eye trying to dissuade her. ...Jonathan? If anyone would care, Katy guessed it would be him. Nice guy, she used to be a good friend with him before he moved into the neighboring county.Lost in the rain again Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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16. Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: Alternate UniverseWord Count: 412Story: Frosting•••••Vezon fell through the dimensional hole. Instead of gracefully planting his feet into the snow, he face-planted into it. He immediately began to slurp it up. Then he realized that it wasn’t snow, it was... sweet. Smooth. Even though he had no idea what it was, he kept slurping away.Then, once he had been sufficiently filled, the half-Skakdi stood and looked around himself. There was still plenty of the stuff, covering the mountains like it really was snow. The mountain itself, which he could feel now that he had eaten quite a bit of the substance, was squishy and porous. Shrugging, he dug some up, and popped it into his mouth.Again, sweet. Squishy. Delicious. He licked his lips and began trudging forth. He seemed to be in some kind of land of food... that looked exactly like Mt. Ihu. Interesting. The squishy white substance came down from the sky in little drops, coating everything. It was certainly stickier than snow, aside from being extremely delicious.Oh, there was Ko-Koro. Maybe the Matoran there could explain the odd weather. He liked it, but it would take forever to lick himself clean once he got out of it.When he got to the village, he saw the citizens going about their work... and they were all brown, as he saw if one scraped off the sticky substance. He walked up and, not saying anything, bit the head off one.Ignoring the ensuing panic, Vezon leaned against a red and white striped pole. Sweet, crunchy, with a little spice. This was definitely an interesting universe. He wondered what he would taste like, if he met himself. Shrugging, he strolled right on down the mountain, ignoring the screams and attacks. After all, the spears were made of something that broke rather easily and tasted quite delicious. The points were sharp, though they seemed to just be a hard version of the sticky stuff.Soon, he was on the Mangai. It was tightly packed, but once he hit it enough, the substance was very crumbly and bitter. Yet, it tasted good. Shrugging again, he continued. When he reached the river of lava... he dove in. Five seconds later, he was out of it, screaming in agony. His face, tongue, eyes, and everything else burned. Whatever it was spicy. Good, but spicy.This was a very strange dimension. Shrugging once more, he continued trekking on his merry way, tears still pouring from happiness and utter pain. ------17. Member Name: Nick Silverpen Theme: Alternate UniverseWord Count: 593Story: Fallen BrotherFallen BrotherHis claws catching the Dark Hunter’s tools in a swipe, Onua lunged forward, pushing the heavy mercenary further into the crowd battling around them. The Toa of Earth threw his elbow into the Hunter’s chest, whom rolled onto the ground, winded by the Pakari- aided blow. A kick of Po-Metru dirt momentarily blinded him, but his acute senses allowed Onua to lash out with a kick. The satisfying feeling of a chestplate being kicked in, he thought as he gained the upper hand once more.The Hunter’s raw strength piled into him, and Onua went flying at a statue. Snagging his claws into the stone, he returned his opponent’s force, flying back at him. Enraged and in the heat of battle, the Toa of Earth allowed the momentum to be his excuse to slash his enemy’s face. He leapt off, to the ground, and so the blunt battle between the two continued.He absorbed each crushing punch that made contact with his chipped and dented armor, but not even his Pakari would help Onua overcome the blow that bothered him for millennia. Even if this fight was won, he had still lost the ultimate battle. The war that raged around him did not matter nearly as much as the argument years before. So many disasters could’ve been avoided if we’d just listened to Tahu, Onua told himself time and time again. I might be a key fighter, but they could’ve still won this war without me, or what others remain. It was a mistake, attempting to leave Karda Nui with the Av-Matoran when the storms started. Lewa was the one who rallied for it, and he died as the result; there was not a day when Onua wish he sided with Tahu and Kopaka, no hour in which bitter regret didn’t plague his being. Sure, the remaining five of them were legendary in stopping the League of Six Kingdoms, but it was not worth the death of the high spirited Toa of Air, nor Helryx’s rage upon hearing they defied orders. The Toa Mata aren’t the same without the six of us. Even despite telling himself it was an accident, the Toa of Earth couldn’t brush the dirt off his conscious from the recent disaster that led to Lhikan’s and Nidhiki’s deaths. Another reminder we aren’t meant to be here. Our actions could’ve been averted with our absence. The Dark Hunter tripped over him as Onua ducked under his charge. He ripped open a chasm, sending his enemy deep into the earth, but the Hunter dug his tools deep into the walls. Evading elemental attacks, he climbed out with a smirk, as to tell the earth Toa he would have to be better than that to beat him.The sounds of battle had taken much out of him. His acute senses let him hear the sharp clang of blade on blade, the cannon blast, punctuated cries of his brothers and sisters as they fought around him. The brightness of the sunny canyon in which the battle was fought hurt his eyes- he was an earth dweller, not an open fighter. Onua was not outclassed, but confidence was the key. It was who finished with the most powerful blow, not who started, they both knew, and in that furious clash, Onua had let millennia catch up with him. No matter what happened, he knew which way this fight was going.Allowing the Dark Hunter the final blow, the Toa of Earth slipped into a sleep that he wish he took long ago. -------18. Member Name: ClickTheme: Alternate UniverseWord Count: 600Story: MindscapeThe Toa have failed us, and we can no longer trust them. What scattered few survived the Death of Mata Nui and the resulting chaos now live in the crumbling ruins of Metru Nui. “Our Great Hero,” the one destined to awaken Mata Nui lies on the shores, stoned to death the moment he arrived on the island, the Kanohi Ignika still in his grasp.I guess some might say that we need their help, because Matoran have started disappearing. I have no reason to fear, because I know exactly where they’re going.Years ago, when the Matoran’s protodermis supplies began running low, the old Onu-Le-Koro Highway was expanded in a desparate attempt to scavenge any last remnant of the life blood of our civilization. What we found was much more shocking.At first, it was simply a spot we could not penetrate, but as the tunnels webbed over and around, soon eyes, mouth, and nose took shape. A few brave Onu-Matoran ventured inside a small hatch, and discovered the massive robot was the being we called Mata Nui. They also discovered a large, rotating sphere that must have once glowed with the energy of the Great Spirit. Upon a touch, the Matoran was sucked away into another world.Mindscape. A virtual world inside our Great Spirit full of infinite possibilities, the place I was going today. The only way to get there was to get around a barricade into the lost tunnel, and into a dismal room filled with the limp bodies of Matoran who entered earlier. With a simple touch, my Kanohi dissolved into Matoran symbols, and a deep voice I could imagine was Mata Nui announced “Now entering Mindscape: Name: Therikh; Element: Iron. The Matoran symbols vanished, revealing a dark street criss-crossed with lit panels through my visor. My mask had changed slightly, and my body had become black with glowing rust-red lines representing my element. Then I knew everything had changed.It was then that a Le-Matoran startled me as he crashed into me. “Go back!” He repeatedly shouted. “It isn’t safe here; it isn’t the utopia you’d…uh!” A blast of shadow hit him from behind, suffocating him as he collapsed. A being stepped out from the same alley and almost pitifully gazed on the now dead Matoran. The body had collapsed into more symbols, and the being casually kicked aside the mask.“Pardon me, but I thought as ruler of this place, I would formally welcome you to Mindscape. You’ll be here for a long, long time.”The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until his lights on his body lit up that I recognized him. The lights seemed to suck away from the dim panels, darkening this world further, and then his Kraakan lit up.“Makuta…” I gasped.His large grin confirmed my statement, and I immediately began running, expecting to be blasted down any moment, but Teridax just shouted “The Matoran are building a statue in honor of me; I would be very offended if you didn’t join!” I somehow knew it would be very bad if he was offended.

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Eventually, I knew I had to stop running when I came to the aforementioned statue. Lightstones were just being added by the skilled Po-Matoran when a cloaked figure caught up to me. He quietly bid me follow him, and soon we found a small hut on the outskirts of the large city.My mysterious greeter took off his hood to reveal the Le-Matoran Teridax had killed. In a hurry, he quickly handed me a Toa stone and a new destiny to kill Teridax… ------19. Member Name: MaganarTheme: Alternate UniverseWord Count: 599Story: The Fatal ForestsGlatorian stalked through the undergrowth, weapons ready. On this sort of battlefield, it was only the most vigilant warriors that survived. Under the canopy of verdure there was low light penetration and guerilla warriors reigned supreme.About 100,000 years ago, the Shattering had split Spherus Magna into three major components. As everyone knew, nearly all Glatorian and Agori had ended up on the forest moon of Bota Magna. At first, things began to settle down as the villages realized what destruction they’d wrought with the Core War. Unfortunately, the foolish Skrall race had shown up, rampaging through the jungle and trying to claim an empire.It was like they thought they were still fighting on the Black Spike Mountains. War in a jungle was an entirely different matter. Rather than finding an empire, they found their forces veritably butchered by the Jungle Tribe. Claiming they’d adverted a crisis that would have been disastrous for all Tribes, the Jungle Tribe then took to rewarding themselves for their heroic actions by enslaving the entire Skrall race.This led to controversy. The Fire Tribe violently argued against the moral implications of enslaving defeated enemies and the Ice Tribe backed them, but for less ethical and more practical reasons: they thought the Jungle Tribe was plenty strong enough, already being in their element and the most populous Tribe. Shortly thereafter, the Water Tribe promised to ally with the Jungle Tribe. They had seen how easily the Jungle Tribe had annihilated the Skrall invaders and wanted to avoid confrontation with the Tribe that had done that.Bota Magna was hostile. Biomechanical dinosaurs ran rampant and lethally toxic creatures lurked in the shadows. But it had one redeeming quality that made war tantalizingly feasible: endless resources. Had this been Bara Magna down below, perhaps arenas would have been set up to avoid the massive resource expenditures of war, but Bota Magna was a jungle and resources were available everywhere one looked. Inevitably, the Tribes of Bota Magna reverted… and waged war once again.Biomechanical dinosaurs were trained and then sent out into large engagements as unstoppable powerhouses that devastated anything in their way. Villages were rooted out and razed to the ground. The jungle was lit ablaze time and time again by armies trying to drive back their enemies. Again and again the plants of the jungle burned and grew back in an incessant cycle of war-fueled ecological succession.Amidst this chaos, the Kanohi Ignika made its descent and the being known as Mata Nui rose from the crater. Around him were the charred remains of a dense jungle. Acrid smoke lazily drifted through the air and embers glowed. This was recent.“What happened here?” pondered Mata Nui. As an answer, a knife rose to his neck. Knowing his life was on the line, he made no attempt to move.“What’re you? A spy?” interrogated his unseen assailant. “No tribal marking that I can see… and your armor isn’t one of the tribal colors. Who are you?”“My name… is Mata Nui. I come from… very far away. And I have no idea what is going on here. Please show mercy.” What was once the ruler of a universe was now begging for mercy at the hands of a raw recruit on an alien planet.“I’m Gresh; you’re prisoner of the Jungle Tribe.” Gresh bound Mata Nui’s wrists with vine.Mata Nui would eventually realize saving his home would require ending a war. Impossible, they’d say… but no less impossible than overthrowing the Skrall Empire would be for another Mata Nui in an alternate universe. -------20. Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: Bionicle- Alternate UniverseWord Count: 526Story: Sidorak’s ZooIt’s more of a long hallway beneath Sidorak’s Coliseum than a zoo. But he likes to call it a zoo anyways. The exhibit is made up of a handful of the most amazing Visorak Venom mutations in all of Metru Nui. The cages they are kept in are more like power-negating cells built into the wall with thick glass for observation purposes. Beneath each cage is an inscribed plaque that states the species of the animal before it was disfigured beyond recognition.If one enters the exhibition hallway from the front of the Coliseum, the first cage on the right, holds a grand Fader Bull mutation. It stands taller than a Toa at the shoulder. Hooves have wicked claws growing from them at painful angles, and its jaw has twisted into a horrible, fanged under bite. A rhotuka launcher sits in the middle of its forehead.The hordika mutation across from the Fader Bull was once a noble Gukko bird. Now its neck, formerly elegant and serene, is cricked and molting. Its beak is misaligned gruesomely and sickly green saliva drips from its mouth that never closes. Its wings drag on the ground behind it, fully dysfunctional. It has dead eyes and a hopeless spirit.Moving on, the next exhibit on the right-hand side is a Takea shark. But the unfortunate thing has so much Venom coursing though it’s veins that it has become a land-rahi, and an ugly one at that. It has short stumps for legs, sprouting randomly from its underside. They resemble tumors more than legs. One of its eyes has migrated to the other side of its face, making it totally blind on one side. Perhaps to compensate, that side has sprouted a spinner-launcher. It’s impossible to tell how it can breathe air now, but the process looks painful regardless.Set opposite the eerie corridor now is a mutated Muaka Tiger. The hordika rahi has top fangs so long that they almost reach the floor, making it impossible for it to lie down. Two large growths on its back occasionally shiver, possibly wings waiting to sprout. Between the prospect wing buds sits a useless and warped Rhotuka Launcher.The last six exhibits are the most amazing. Not because of the pure horror of the atrocities they house, but because of what those atrocities used to be.Primal and perhaps at one point sentient, they prowl around their cells like delusional wolves that are constantly in a state of suffering. They are hunched and walk with aid of their long arms, snapping savagely at any passerby and foaming at the mouth. Bestial intelligence can occasionally be seen glinting in their eyes. Each is equipped with a fully functional Rhotuka, and many of the cages bear marks of these. Through the glass, nobody can hear them. But if the glass was not soundproof, the entire Coliseum would be filled with anguished howling and wails of the condemned creatures for eternity.Even though all six look like they could have once been from the same species, their plaques indicate differently. Each one reads a different species name.VakamaNokamaMatauNujuOnewaWhenua -------21. Member name: Space: Ocean of AweTheme: Alternate UniverseWord count: 600Story: TimeIt was the end of the Universe as they knew it. The very fabric of reality, the Space-Time continuum, had been torn apart, massive wormholes popped in and out of existence, and Time shifted, merciful as a Piraka.Amidst this mayhem a Toa of Ice sat with a Toa of Earth, sheltered within a machine of their own making. The Toa of Ice spoke: "there is no sense in returning to the past, trying to set this straight: our Universe will still exist in this state, our act will only create an alternate universe which, undoubtedly, would have been created otherwise. There is nothing we can do that has not already been done.""I have analyzed all available data, from that pivotal point in Time, there is nothing that could have saved our Universe from the Time Collapse. If we return to steal the Vahi, take it before it can be destroyed, we can create an alternate Universe. We can save Time.""We are needed here.""Inhabitants of this Universe are doomed. Should we deny these Matoran a better fate in an alternate universe?"-----The two Toa activated the Time Machine, checking and rechecking meters, dials, statistics. The slightest error, and they could materialize inside a mountain, instantly killing themselves, removing all hope of an ordered Universe. The machine began to vibrate as it drew power from energized protodermis, and it slipped through a gaping hole in the Fabric of Reality, taking a shortcut into the past, to that fateful point in Time...-----A Toa of Ice stood outside a large structure, waiting to be relieved of guard duties. He didn’t wait long, for soon, a Toa of Earth approached him, took his place.Behind a gate, an identical Toa of Ice stepped out of a great Machine, moving aside for an identical Toa of Earth to emerge.“We mustn’t be seen...especially not by ourselves. A paradox is the last thing we need.”The Toa climbed over the gate, darting behind obstacles as they made their way toward the great structure. They gave themselves a wide berth as they made their way around the building, climbing the walls, through an open window.There was no Time to lose. Rushing silently through corridors, hardly daring to breathe, they found themselves in front of the door. The door behind which the Mask of Time rested; innocent, yet guilty, of the end of Time as we know it.The Toa of Earth heard his past self outside of the building, yelling, he remembered doing the exact thing. Soon, the malicious individual would arrive. They grabbed the Vahi, dashing out the door. The Toa of Stone heard himself rushing up the stairs, remembered chasing a thief, just before Time was torn apart.The Toa launched themselves out of the window, sprinting madly toward the Time Machine. The Toa of Earth stumbled, fell to the ground, the Vahi cracked beneath him. Then the realization struck him: he was the thief, it was he who had caused the end of Time. Could he undo his actions, save Reality?Nearby plants started to wilt as Time took a blow; the Toa gathered up the fragments the Vahi, sprinting the last few meters to the Time Machine, locking themselves inside, powering on, isolating themselves from Reality, and not a moment too soon. The Vahi let out a blast of energy, strong enough to cripple Reality, yet affecting no more than two brave Toa and a Time Machine, cut off from the Universe, from Reality. Time, the brutal dictator, would live to govern another day. ------22. Member Name:Panty AnarchyTheme:Alternate UniverseWord Count: 600Story: Necessary

Necessary

A single Matoran walked in an alleyway in Ta-Metru, heading for his home. He preferred to take a more direct route, but he had to be wary of the Vahki. He had been travelling when he should have worked. He couldn’t help it. He was just a curious Matoran. His thoughts where interrupted as he entered a slightly wider, but deserted, street. In a flash of light, a ragged portal had appeared in space. Just as he registered it, it began to shrink.He couldn’t help it. He was just a curious Matoran. On the other side, he found he was in the exact same place. He looked down at himself. His armor was in place; everything was normal.Well. That was exciting. He continued on his way, thinking about what had just happened. He was so distracted he bumped right into a Vahki. The Nuurakh barely looked at him. He began to talk, making excuses as he went. The Vahki simply began to walk past. It didn’t look like it recognized him, or was aware he should be at work. That’s crazy. All these Vahki know to look out for me. Even so, the machine kept walking. Deciding this was just his lucky day, he just continued to walk. When he got to his location, he almost wished the Nuurakh had apprehended him. His home wasn’t there. The space it had occupied wasn’t empty, or deserted, it just didn’t exist. The dwellings that had been at its sides were there, but there wasn’t anything separating them anymore. He was bewildered. He began to have an idea of where he was. He had walked into an alternate universe. He looked all around him. Everything was fine. Everything was working. The only thing missing from this universe was him. The Nuurakh hadn’t recognized him because he didn’t exist. He hadn’t been reprimanded for ignoring his work, because in this world, he had never done that.Come to think of it, Ta-Metru might be more productive without me. Even his usual careless demeanor couldn’t dissipate the truth he had uncovered. He was not necessary. He could disappear from his world, and nothing bad would happen. He also realized that disappearing was exactly what he had done. He had no way of going back. It didn’t even make a difference, for as he had just learned, he did not matter. Ta-Metru would just go on existing.He refused to be thrown away so simply. He knew now that Ta-Metru didn’t need him, that what he did or didn’t do had no effect. But he could not give up. He would leave Metru Nui, go on to other lands where his presence may be more natural, and he would work his best to make a difference. He would become an asset.He would help this new world.

**From the records of the Chronicler of Mata Nui:We don’t know what to do anymore. The village is assaulted by Rahi almost daily. We have held out as long as possible, but we need help.The Turaga tell us that the stars talk of a distortion in our world. Someone is missing. We expected the arrival of the Toa years ago. The legendary Toa of Light was to come to us soon afterwards. None of them are here. The Turaga say that the Toa Stones, Mask of Light and other tools necessary are here, but nobody who has tried to retrieve them has succeeded.Now the stars talk of the Great Spirit’s demise. We are scared.We only wish we had what was necessary. -------

23. Member Name: Excelsior

Theme: Alternate UniverseWord Count: 515Story: For Lack of a ChiselFor lack of a chisel..."Take this Copper Mask of Victory," Turaga Onewa said, "crafted in the shape of my own. It is the greatest honor Po-Koro can give. May it bring you good fortune in your travels."Takua accepted it with pleasure.Takua was lost...Takua frantically dug through his bag, searching for something, anything, that could save him. The insectoid things were coming closer...The flute? The heatstone?One by one, every item he owned was discarded, while the strange creatures grew nearer, and nearer...He held the Copper Komau in his hand for a moment, gazing at it. Then he flung it away.Mask of Victory, indeed...he thought, leaning despairingly against the pedestal. Absolutely useless.His mind traveled back longingly to the gnomon he had once carried. Something pointy might have fitted into that space in the pedestal...Then the swarm was upon him, and he knew no more.For lack of Takua...The Great Kolhii Tournament began, with Hewkii and Hafu representing Po-Koro, Hahli and Maku from Ga-Koro, and Matoro and Kopeke from Ko-Koro - the three best teams on Mata Nui.In the stands Jaller watched glumly, a spectator. Yet again, he wished Takua had lived. Maybe if he had been Jaller's teammate...And then the Shadow fell across the Stadium...the island was lost...Pohatu was surrounded.He didn't think he would make it this time. He had been on the move, running, fighting, since the night of the Tournament. The night the Rahkshi came.There had seemed to be hundreds of them as they swept down over the field, blotting out the stars.Kraata, jumping on masks and bodies. Corrupting, enslaving...One by one, they had all fallen, until Pohatu alone fought the darkness But how, he thought, could one fight darkness without light?Now, even as he fought, a kraata leapt upon him.for lack of the island...Makuta surveyed his realm, and was well pleased.He called the Toa Nuva to him, and they came. He smiled upon them"Go, my heroes," he commanded them. "It is time to fulfill your destiny."Mata Nui was lost...Mindlessly, the Toa Nuva fed their energies into the lightstones of the Codrex. They did not know of the Av-Matoran outside their enclosure. Nor did they know that they were bringing into being massive energy storms, which would be the destruction of those Matoran - and of them.But if they had known, they would not have cared.The great robot rose from the depths of the endless ocean. And its eyes were red.for lack of Mata Nui...Makuta laughed as he felt his power. This was even greater than he had dreamed. Within his body and without, his power was limitless.He looked at the stars, with the eye of a conquerer.Spherus Magna was lost...Raanu groaned to himself. Only a week ago, the Skrall had conquered Vulcanus. Now its former leader was rebuilding their defenses, for the benefit of their conquerers.I would welcome an invasion, he thought bitterly, if anyone could conquer the Skrall. Our lot can hardly get worse.But it could, as he was shortly to discover. The rule of the Great Makuta, when he found his way to Bara Magna, would be worse than even the Skrall could imagine.And all for lack of a Po-Koro chisel. -------24. Name: DespairTheme: Alternate UniverseWord Count: 555Story: ArrivalA cylindrical object washed upon a deserted shore. Despite the signs that it had been adrift for many years, its hull gleamed a bright silver in the cheery sunlight. A few birds darted from their trees, curious as to what the new arrival was. One in particular was especially daring, and settled itself upon the strange object. After a moment of deliberation, its head ducked down in a pecking motion, making a considerable noise on impact. The sound rang throughout the air, a signal to all that lived on the island that its heroes had finally arri-Something inside the canister began screaming, initially out of frustration and eventually out of simple rage. The birds, startled by loud noise, retreated back to their trees to observe from a safer distance.After a few minutes, the voice fell silent. The beach seemed strangely quiet in its absence, as if everything on it was waiting with bated breath for what would happen next.They didn’t have to wait long.Blows began to sound out from the canister, with each growing increasingly louder as whatever was trapped inside grew more desperate to be free. The bangs and crashes unnerved the Rahi; they were accustomed to the peaceful sounds of the island, and this strange object and whatever creature it contained had shattered that peace.Suddenly, a hand burst through the side of the canister. Crimson blood ran down its length, and its owner howled in pain. Flames began to escape from the canister, somehow in response to the creature inside.The nearby Rahi all fled, wanting nothing to do with this strange monster that could create fire in response to being injured. Even in their primitive minds, they had plans that didn’t involve being roasted alive because their curiosity got the better of them.Eventually, the creature worked its way out of its prison. It stood tall, its crimson and orange body covered in numerous wounds and of unmistakably masculine design. In its eyes was the rage of a savage animal intent on destroying anything and everything that crossed its path. Gripped tightly in its right hand was a blade seemingly composed of fire, the flames flickering in a way that made it seem like they craved for destruction.The being looked down at his sword, as if hearing the voice of his weapon and its cry for devastation. Slowly, the sword was pointed at the nearby forest. The trees themselves seemed to shy away from the spectacle, as if they knew what was about to happen and wished to somehow wished to escape their fate. Unfortunately, they had no chance for escape; a pillar of fire quickly shot out from the sword and began to consume everything that stood before the being of fire and destruction.And then the creature screamed. It screamed and screamed and screamed. It screamed out of rage, despair, frustration, loneliness, and finally as a challenge to the rest of the island. “Just try to destroy me as well,” its scream seemed to say. It had nothing save the impulse to destroy, the desire to burn.It was meant to be one of the saviors of the island, tasked with the duty of liberating the villagers from an oppressive dark force. Instead, it was a monster.The Toa of Fire had finally arrived.

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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ultimatum.pngEntry #1Member Name: XanthorpTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 524Story: Let The Will Be DoneShe was dying. She had known this for several months. The cancer was spreading throughout her body like the plague. Yet, surprisingly, she had not written her will yet. But it was time for her to face the truth. She was unable to stop it. She slid off of her bed and tidied it up. After all, it may be the last time she would lay in it. She looked out of the highest window of the Castle Weller, then sat down at her writing desk. She started writing...--Grace Delamere-WellerCastle Weller1 Long RoadBrightonEngland The Last Will and Testament of Grace Delamere-WellerI, Grace Delamere-Weller, certify that I am of sound mental health and contractual capacity. I also confirm that I am not under duress or undue influence to write this will.Furthermore, I hereby revoke all other wills and codicils I may have previously executed.I appoint my son, Lucas James Weller, as the executor of this will.I empower the executor to pay all of my funeral, debts, taxes, and other expenses.I authorize the executor to sell my home and belongings, except for the following: -My cocobolo writing desk is to go to my son, Jacob Wilhelm Weller -My bed is to go to my daughter, Natalie Mikaela Weller -My custom bloodwood bicycle is to go to my grandson, Lance Thomas WellerMy assets shall be divided as follows: -My loving son Lucas is to receive twenty percent (20%) should he survive me. -My loving son---Her writing was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by two men entering. One man was wearing a white lab coat and a suit underneath, while the other had a suit on and a black briefcase in his left hand.“Jay, William,” she said, addressing each man respectively. “You are just in time to witness my will.“Madam,” said the Doctor, Jay. “I am in no condition to-”“Silence, Doctor Livingstone. There must be two witnesses to the will. Continue, mistress,” Said Mr. Starr.“Stay in here. Please,” Grace started.-- -My loving son Jacob is to receive twenty percent (20%) should he survive me. -My loving daughter Natalie is to receive twenty percent (20%) should she survive me. -My loving grandson Lance is to receive twenty percent (20%) should he survive me. -The remaining twenty percent (20%) shall go to my cousins, nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters, if they have not received money, including the alternative beneficiaries, in equal shares, per stirpes. If there are any other assets remaining in my estate including but not limited to real property, personal property, causes of action or any other assets, of whatsoever nature and wheresoever situate, I give, bequeath and devise such residue to my cousin, Regno Daniel Weller. My executor shall be paid and/or reimbursed for any and all expenses. The pay shall be a reasonable fee such as is ordinarily charged in the community for services of similar complexity and nature.--“Come, madam,” said William, “And let the will be done.”The two men escorted her back to her bed where she fell asleep never to wake again.------Entry #2:Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 543Story: The Right Path"It is time for you to make a choice."The voice was a discordant union of high and low, soft and harsh, warm and cold. It was simultaneously mellifluous and malefic.The speaker had its back turned to me. But the rear view of its humanoid figure was not without interst . . . though it was without harmony. Its long, billowing cloak was a schism of color, half a tattered black, half a gold-trimmed white. A wing protruded through each shoulder, one chiropteran and battered, one silkily feathered. Its head was on the left side bald and scarred, a deep red hue, topped with a single gnarled horn; and on the right, adorned with a half-crown of golden locks."You may proceed. Or you may turn back now.""I'm continuing," I confirmed without a momen't hesitation."So be it."The door behind me slid shut. At the same moment, two more opened before me, one on either side of the creature.Through one door I saw a winding road along rolling hills bathed in sunlight. Birds twittered and fluttered about the trees that dotted the slopes.Through the other door was a shadowed forest path, long and thin. On either side thistles and briars enchroached upon it. I could hear resounding within its depths the howles of wolves, the hoots of owls, and the terrible calls of beasts unknown.As I glanced from one path to the other, the creature turned, drawing my attention. The first ninety degrees of its revolution displayed the face of a beautiful, fair-skinned maiden. But as it turned round entirely, I stifled a gasp of repulsion. The remaining fragment of its face, separated by a jarring margin, was disfigured and lurid, red as blood. This half-angel, half-demon smiled and sneered simultaneously."My next query: Which path do you choose?" asked the Dyad. "Do you choose to turn to the right--or to the left?"I regarded the sun-filled hills. The right. And I peered into the dark forest. The left. The winding country road or the narrow thicket path."Choose wisely," the Dyad advised.I considered. The right road was bright, warm and inviting; the left path was stygian and gloomy. Was I to walk the path of evil or the path of peace? to brave the road of darkness or traverse the easy road?"The doors hang open. Choose your path."My heart was thumping. It is never easy to discriminate the proper course. What if I chose incorrectly? What would happen if I failed the test?I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt I knew the answer. I had made my decision. But if I was wrong--I dreaded to think what might happen.I snapped my eyes open, squared my shoulders, and stepped forward. I did not turn left--nor did I turn right. I marched straight toward the Dyad and brushed it aside.Its demonic face was wide-eyed and snarling, its opposite resplendently smiling. "What are you doing?""I'm going . . . forth. Neither to the right, nor to the left."I strode up to the wall between the doors. I was no longer afraid. I knew I had made the right choice.And I stepped through the wall.-----Entry #3:Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 597Story: This One ThingSimon couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What are you getting me into?”“It's simple. Just go to this address at this time. Tell 'em you know me, they'll let you in. From there it's easy.” Dan explained.“Look, you're a good friend and you've helped me out loads,” said Simon nervously. “I mean, I'd probably be on the street if it weren't for you, but just turn up at some random address and then, what? If you're trying to drag me into some- some illegal underground, thing, there's no way I'm doing it. No way.”“Really Simon,” Dan smiled. “I wouldn't go and do that now, would I? Just go to this address, tomorrow, ten pm. Everything will be just fine.”Simon still wasn't happy. “You're insane. I ain't gonna do this just cos you tell me to. Tell me what this is about!”Dan sighed. He casually drew out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply. “I didn't wanna do this, but seems you've left me no choice. That money I send you? It stops, unless you do this one thing. No more help, no more support, nothing. Understand?”“But- look, I can't just-”“Yes. You can.” Dan turned, taking his hat from the table as he went. “Now I'll leave you to think about it. But if you want anything from me, you'll do it. That's the deal.”Simon sank into a chair. Dan was right. He couldn't manage without him. Simon buried his face in his hands, dreading what the next day would bring.

* * * * *

The address was a surprisingly large house in a well built-up area of town. Simon cautiously approached the door, shaking beneath his coat. He just wanted to turn and run. To be anywhere else but here.He knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened an inch. A sliver of a face appeared in the crack, a narrowed eye staring out at him.“Yes?”“I- uh, Dan sent me,” Simon stammered, sweating in the cold air.The voice grunted and the door closed. A few seconds passed, and it opened again. A figure in dark jeans and a hood ushered him in.The door shut loudly behind him. The hooded figure ushered him towards a room on his left. Simon moved towards it. He grasped clumsily at the handle, his fingers scraping round the smooth edges. Finally he got a decent grip. Trembling, he turned the handle. He pushed the door open inch by inch, not knowing what he would see on the other side.Behind the door was...darkness. No lights illuminated the room. He took a small step forward, then another.Light flooded his retinas. A sudden noise, dozens of voices, cascaded over his eardrums. He stumbled backwards, but his way was blocked by the hooded man. He stared up, pale-faced, into the man's eyes.“Dan?” He gasped.Dan grabbed him and spun him around. Simon's eyes widened in surprise.“It's not! You've got to be kidding!” Simon gaped.Dan burst into laughter. “Oh man, you have no idea how fun that little routine was! Been planning it for ages! You were hilarious! You actually thought I was trying to press you into some drug gang or something!”“But- it's not for three days!”“Well, yeah,” Dan shrugged. “Wouldn't be much of a surprise on the actual day. Come on everyone! Don't think Simon heard us last time. One, two, three-”“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”------Entry #4:Member Name: Thunder on the MountainTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 529Story: Crimes Against HumanityTo Mr. TabrantinoYou’ve been quite persistent with your efforts in resisting our offers. To some degree, I, and everyone working on the ‘shockwave’ project understands your reluctance. After having married, parented, and divorced, you feel like you’ve taken on a new, fresh life in your new career. Perhaps you seek to set a good example for your daughter? Well, Mr. Tabrantino, that is highly admirable. Nearly twenty years turned away from your life of crime, fourteen of those a parent. I can’t imagine the satisfaction of it all.Unfortunately Mr. Tabrantino, my accomplices and I are not particularly willing to give up such a useful resource. As you can guess with the number of attempted contacts we’ve made, you might say that we need you. Or at the very least, you could say that we’re willing to go to any and all possible measures to acquire you. See, there’s the subject of my message sir...we believe we’ve prepared an offer you will not so swiftly refuse.We have your daughter.It’s tragic of course; the thought of coming all this way for her, and now the concept that you must revert back to your old ways to save her. Nevertheless, you’ve made negotiations impossible up until this point, and now we have the better hand, you might say. It’s really quite simple.Join us, carry out the job, and your daughter may yet survive. You devoted your younger years to crumbling this Union that rules over us. Now the opportunity to do everything that you meant to twenty years ago springs up before you, and you remain content with piloting a freight craft. It’s just not the sort of attitude we like to support, Tabrantino. I’m sure you understand.The choice is yours. Choose wisely.Sincerely Mr. Brown“Interplanetary terrorist is revealed to have been blackmailed.”SBC NewsSunday afternoon, Bureau of Justice slicers were revealed to have finally bypassed the security systems of a very well-known computer. This computer personally belonged to infamous terrorist Janos Tabrantino, best known for the Alexandria bombings six years ago.Files on this computer included a private messaging system, through which slicers were able to discover a shocking message to Tabrantino, in which it was revealed that the 45-year old man was in fact blackmailed into the terrible crimes by a third party. Messages indicate manipulation by a mysterious ‘Mr. Brown’ who forced him into the situation using his kidnapped daughter. Tabrantino had been contacted several times prior in demand of the same task, to which he had refused. The mysterious figure seemed to have known Tabrantino from other criminal activities during the man’s earlier years.The now 20 year old daughter of Tabrantino has been taken into custody, after having remained entirely silent about the incident for 6 years. Investigators suspect threats of violence were the woman to ever speak out about the hostage taking.For the subject of this ultimatum, this revelation comes too late. Had Tabrantino been imprisoned, the case would have likely been reopened, however the man did not survive his infamous bombings. Tabrantino was destroyed along with the cargo space vessel he had used by aerial police forces.------Entry #5: Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: COT- UltimatumWord Count: 422Story: Whitney, You Don’t KnowWhitneyYou don’t knowHow much you drive me crazyNot the lusty kind of crazy, I must sayYou change your mind so muchThat I can’t find anything to compareYou say confusing thingsAnd they make no sense to meAnd get mad that I don’t understandMy dear, I am only a manWhitney,You don’t knowHow much you’ve cost meAnd I don’t mean the dates and dinnersThose costsI could not care less aboutBut you have cost me myselfI have surrendered every spare thoughtThat ever strays into my headTo youAnd you just being in my headRobs me of any focusAnd replaces it with youThe funny thing isThat I know without a doubtThat you are worth itWhitneyYou don’t knowThe times, the countless, countless timesIn a day when I think of youI wait at a stoplight on the way to workAnd I see your deep red hairI sit at my desk in a glass windowed officeAnd your laughter echoes in my mindIn the small shop running errandsI hold open a doorNot to let a cart byBut for youYou show up when you pleaseBoth in my head and notAnd each time you doI am left that much happierWhitneyYou don’t knowWhat you’ve made me regretAbout my childhood and my pastHow I wish I could have been the boy next door for youAnd we could have grown up side by side togetherYou don’t know how much I wish we’d gone through schoolSharing classes and sharing smilesWhitney,You don’t knowHow I long to have your life’s storyTucked into my firsthand memorySo I can understand youAnd love you all the moreBut Whitney, you don’t knowHow much I’m glad that isn’t soBecause if I already knew about youAll that there is to knowI wouldn’t appreciate you for who you areIn the same way that I do todayAnd I wouldn’t get to listenTo your captivating voiceTelling me the stories of your youthAnd drowning me with youJust a little bit furtherMy WhitneyWho has turned me madAnd made me saneWho has cost me everythingAnd who is worth even moreWho has called me to doubt myselfBut who is my solid and worthy rockWhitneyHear my ultimatumMarry me------Entry #6: Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: UltimatumWord count: 434Story: Heart

HEART

~~~Hezul stared at the wall opposite him lost in his own thoughts. He was a young man, barely into adulthood, and already he was in love. It was true love, too; the love of the heart, the mind, and the soul. He loved dear Fala, loved her with his entire being. But, that was not enough.He learned of her illness as she did, but he did not know how far it had progressed until she was admitted into hospital in a critical condition. He had watched as she lay in the white, sterile room, with doctors hovering over her night and day. Finally, the doctors left, one by one. The last, a tall, icy man, had told Hezul that she would need a heart donor if she were to live.He had been shattered, and he began raising money and awareness in the hopes that a donor could be found. Sadly, it seemed that Fala had a rare blood type, and a donor would not be easy to find.That is, until Hezul took the test.He was the next best thing to a genetic relative. His blood type matched hers, and his heart would be compatible. But he would be dead, and he would never see her again.Now, he stared at the wall in the waiting room of the hospital, mulling the situation over and over in his head. If he agreed, his precious Fala would be alive, free to live out the rest of her days as she pleased, but he would not be there to celebrate with her. If he disagreed, she would be dead, and he would be weighed down with guilt for the rest of his life.Would it be so bad, though? Some dark, ugly part of his mind whispered to him in charming, lilting tones. You would get over it. No one would blame you for leaving now.That… was technically correct. Hezul glanced at the door. All he had to do was get up and leave, and he would have his bright, sunny future ahead of him.Without Fala.He dropped back into his seat as quickly as he had half-risen. Without Fala, what was there to life? Was there any purpose to living if he could not see her joyous smile again? What would he do without her?He glanced up as a doctor strode meaningfully towards him.He decided there and then.He would not give her his heart.It was hers to begin with.He smiled at the doctor and said, “Save her. My heart is hers. It always will be.”------Entry #7: Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: UltimatumWord Count: 551Story: Finality•••••“You have died,” the creature said. There was an odd air about it. It’s face was that of woman, and its body was also rather feminine, aside from being rather muscular. However, her legs were double-jointed, covered in pure white feathers, or at least the portions showing that weren’t under her robe were. She had two massive wings protruding from her back. “I’m dead, okay...” responded Jerome, “But... who are you?”“You are alive,” said the... Harpy? That was Jerome’s best guess. She wasn’t exactly like one, and in fact a few features were quite distinctly different. Still, that was what he would call her.“Um... what?”“You are dead, you are alive. Is that difficult for your mortal brain to comprehend?” she asked, cocking her head to one side, looking rather concerned, as a child would look at a baby animal that he thought he might have just injured.“No, no... But how can I be alive and dead? I was stabbed in the gut and...” he trailed off, looking at his torso. There were the three stab wounds, a dagger left in the highest. He silently reached up to his neck and felt the entry and exit points of a bullet. So when you were dead, you still had wounds, but didn’t feel pa–Burning, slicing, tearing agony ripped through his body. Jerome collapsed to the pure white floor on nothingness. The Harpy-creature stood there staring, an odd smile curving her lips. “Then you wish?”He could barely pant out, “What... do you... mean? Why am I... AAGH! Why am I... feeling pain after death?!”“Then you do not,” she said, the maddening gaze still locked upon his own. She spread her arms, and the pain eased.“How did you just do that? Why don’t I feel the pain anymore? Where the heck are we, and who are you?” asked Jerome desperately, quickly shifting his eyes from his wounds to the being.“I am what I am, and this is the place where we are. I am taking you where you wish to go.”“I want... I want to go to heaven... If that’s what you mean. Heaven exists, right? Are you an angel, coming to take me there?”“I am what I am, and I am taking you where you wish to go,” she said, closing her arms. “You seem to be set on where you want to go, so we shall leave immediately.”“But... I really am dead? That’s it? I can’t do anything else? I got killed doing my job, and I can’t do anything else?”“I will take you where you wish to go. Willpower being what it is, you decide your fate.”“Can I... go back? Can I live after that? Am I still alive on earth, suffering my wounds?” he asked, trying not to grimace as the pain crept back into his body.“You wish what you wish, I am yours to command,” she answered, fully closing her arms again. Her smile never wavered.“Then... take me back to earth, to–Argh! It hurts!”“Then you wish not?”“No... I want to live... Agh, it hurts so much!”“This will last. It is not just for returning.”“Ugh... that doesn’t matter... Just... take me... home,” was the last thing Jerome said before collapsing.-----Entry #8: Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: UltimatumWord Count: 593Story: Interstellar LawWarning: Access denied.Error Codes:324a — insufficient security clearance.324b — restricted / sensitive area.Jasper smiled. Through his HUD’s insistent flashing and the vibrations of the spaceship underneath him, he focused on the coding scrolling down his screen. He stopped the scrolling and entered a new line of code to send a bug back to the server. If the trick worked, the server would have to establish a connection with Jasper’s laptop to track its location — thus providing an opening for another virus to exploit.Warning: You are attempting to access a restricted area without proper credentials. Hacking is punishable by Interstellar Law and may warrant from twenty years in prison to vacuum ejection depending on the severity of the offense.As if Interstellar Law had been written for the people in mind. The people were all stuck in stasis, awaiting the day they would be awakened to traverse a virgin world. Jasper had never believed colonization was in the Colonization Board of Chairmen’s minds; it was secondary to being able to run a fleet of seven spaceships into God knows where, doing Devil knows what, partially connected with the ever-dropping morale back on Earth and the requirement within man’s instincts to go farther than is necessary or logical.In short, they did it for the heck of it. And they were going to mess things up for everyone unless Jasper managed to reveal the Board of Chairmen’s lack of organization.Hence the hacking.The connection hadn’t yet been made. Connected as Jasper’s spacesuit was, by pipe to the spaceship’s air system, it could not be remotely shut off, and so someone would have to locate and pacify him if he continued his digital assault.He inserted a block of code into his computer’s connection request, one that would attempt to access the server’s highest-security files and, in the process, plant a bug that would scan the server for a backdoor entrance that would be hinted at in the server’s response as the server checked the computer’s credentials. A twitch of his eyebrow — the request was sent. The inter-starship network operated at peak proficiency, and so the server responded within the second. The expected warning message filled Jasper’s HUD:Final Warning! The Colonization project does not condone hacking or otherwise tampering with the system. Further attempts to enter a high-security database without proper privileges and against Interstellar Law will result in immediate retaliation.The final warning was forgotten: A smaller display opened on Jasper’s HUD, reading, Backdoor entrance found: 108A-947-Y.Bingo.With careful mental prodding, Jasper’s spacesuit computer opened a special server request packaging program that could generate fake credentials. He entered the backdoor entrance code via copy-paste and resent the request. Jasper let the server chew on it and spit it back at him.Again, a warning appeared.You have attempted to break into restricted digital space. Punishment will be given. Your computer is being tracked—He swore. The server must have connected to his computer to determine his base credentials, which meant his server request packaging had amounted to naught. Tongue trapped between his teeth, he attempted to access his computer’s base credentials—Time was not on Jasper’s side. His HUD was abruptly wiped of all visuals to be filled by a blinking white message: Do Not Resist. In the same second, a ring of lights was activated, indicating the airlock door had opened. Three figures floated out; their blank faceplates focused on Jasper.He lifted his hands into the air, letting his air cord drag him alongside the spaceship.------Entry #9: Member name: Zyke the destroyerTheme: UltimatumWord count: 595Story: Evolution's ChildSystem activatedPlease log in>username: tylercox>password: jenna6Welcome, TylerPlease type a command>chatChat opened. The following users are online:jacob712epic_conordr_morrisonWho would you like to chat with?>dr_morrisonYou will be connected with user dr_morrison.Please wait…>tylercox: I thought we had a deal, Seth.>dr_morrison: So we did.>tylercox: Then where is she?>dr_morrison: She’s been retained for further study.>tylercox: So help me god, Seth, give me my daughter back.>dr_morrison: You know I’m not allowed to do that.>tylercox: I gave you what you wanted.>dr_morrison: You gave us nothing.>tylercox: I gave you money. I gave you my blood. I gave you my freedom. You call that nothing?>dr_morrison: I’m sorry, Mr. Cox, but your daughter has some rather…intriguing characteristics that we have yet to comprehend.>tylercox: She’s a human being! Not some freaking science experiment!>dr_morrison: That does not change the fact that she is Foundation property and cannot be transferred without permission from the highest authority.>tylercox: I thought you were the “highest authority.”>dr_morrison: As my superiors would have you believe.>tylercox: You mean to tell me that the Foundation has been feeding me lies this whole time?>dr_morrison: It’s all a matter of interpretation.>tylercox: You took Jenna. Is that a matter of interpretation?>dr_morrison: I was referring to the “lies” that you claim to have been told.>tylercox: Morrison, I swear to god, you’d better tell me EXACTLY what is going on or…>dr_morrison: Or what? I have permission straight from High Command to terminate you if necessary.>tylercox: There’s nothing I can do is there?>dr_morrison: Not a single thing.An anonymous user has joined the chat.>???: Mr. Cox, I would suggest you stop pestering Dr. Morrison. He has some important work to do.>tylercox: What kind of work? Torturing my daughter? I can hear her screams from across the building.>dr_morrison: As I recall, Mr. Cox, you asked for a transfer to the cell across from your daughter’s room.>???: Which we denied.>dr_morrison: Speechless, Tyler? That’s what I thought.>/logoffYou have signed out of chat. What would you like to do now?>archivesAccess to experiment archives is restricted to Foundation employees only. Would you like to log on with an employee account?>yesUsername: dr_morrisonPassword: 3/6/1957Welcome, Dr. Morrison. Which archives would you like to access?>040You have selected Special Containment Procedure 040, AKA Evolution’s Child. Which experiment would you like to access?>most recentLoad

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #11: Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 421Story: Payment"I'm not going to pay you, I've already spoken to people like you before, and I'm not going to put up with your kind here." The first person spoke with a frown, standing behind the counter of a simple restaurant."Look, if you don't pay, we'll have to come back by. And I really don't think we want that, now do we?" The second commented with a twisted grin. "Personally, I'd suggest paying.""You're not getting any money, you filthy slime." The owner remarked with a grim face. "Get out of my restaurant. Now.""Sure, sure. Next week then? We'll come by for payment, and then decide what's going to happen to this lovely little place if the payments come up short." He chuckled, walking out of the building with a smirk.The owner sighed, shaking his head. He closed his eyes, muttering to himself. He didn't have much of a choice here... there was either pay, or lose everything. It wasn't right, it wasn't legal... but there was nothing he could do about it. He would have to think... and hope for an idea in time.---"So, you have the payment?" The Extortionist was back again, exactly one week later. The grin on his face was sickening. "Or are we going to have some fun?"The owner sighed, handing over an envelope. "Five thousand exactly... here."The second smiled at the look of defeat upon the owner's face as he flipped through the money. "A pleasure going business with you. I'll be back to see you... in three months, and of course, the price is the same." With that, he left the building, storing the cash in his coat.---Within a week, the news had spread, a suspected member of the Mafia was caught trying to spend counterfeit currency. Searches of his home revealed no other signs of false money, but multiple firearms, along with multiple chemicals commonly found in arson crimes.No one seemed to notice that the Restaurant's basement had been sealed off, nor the slightly unusual purchases being made by the buildings along that block. Individually, none of the purchases meant a thing, but together they spelled a recipe for illegal plans.Over the next few months, more suspected criminals all seemed to meet the same fate. Not one had a printing press for the artificial cash. Where it was coming from, it seemed, would remain unknown.Whenever the news was mentioned in his restaurant, the owner always had a slight smile upon his face. ------Entry #12: Member Name: fishers64Theme: UltimatumWord Count: 593 words (sans asterisks)Story: The Force of Will“Finish that writing!”“I’m trying. I can’t think of any ideas! Well, I can think of ideas, but all of them are horrible. Just horrible. I’m ashamed that I even thought of them!”“The contest ends today. Finish it!”“That seems pretty harsh. It’s not the end of the world if I don’t finish it.”“Well, then you’ve missed out on one more chance for fame and fortune.”“Fame and fortune are trivial anyway.”“Finish it! That’s final!”“Okay, fine, I’m finishing it.”“You’re writing down what I said. That’s a cheap cop-out.”“What you said is indeed an ultimatum. It works.”“Ultimatums aren’t that short. They’re letters.”“Read the dictionary. It’s a final set of terms or a demand, that, when not complied with, will lead to a severance of relations or use of force.”“Knock it off, Professor. I want a story about an ultimatum, not some pointless definition.”“Very well.”

* * *

When my father was still alive, I was sent off to a boarding school.“Those beds be made picture-perfect, or it’s off to the office for you!”No one wanted to face the chief administrator of the school in his office. He used to be a wrestler back in his prime, the kind who actually won state championships. So we complied, in a way.“Whatever you do, don’t touch that closet door!”The Administrator’s snarky grin was there to back that up. “Violators will be sent home – and not allowed to complete the remainder of that year’s coursework. You all know what that means.”Now, you have to understand, I was an inquisitive young man, and so I immediately set about the task of figuring out was behind the door. Without the Administrator knowing, of course.Our rooms were locked at night, so my first challenge lie in procuring a lock pick of sorts. I did this by inventing an excuse involving a pair of pants that needed mending. This was also the trip I used to seize a flashlight, an essential component of my plan.As for getting the coin I needed for these essential purchases, I sent a letter to my gullible younger sibling with a threat of improbable proportions that adequately fit his young imagination, and was rewarded with the contents of his entire life savings. I have since repaid him, with a considerable sum added for his trouble, but that is another matter entirely.After the difficult task of getting the items within was completed, I had the grim satisfaction of slipping out past my slumbering bunkmates. For your reference, lock picking is quite a noisy operation and incompatible with the silence needed to sneak out of a room at night, especially for one as inexperienced as I was. Needless to say, at various stages of the operation I had to make various creative excuses as to the matter of me standing in front of a door and fiddling with it in a most unusual manner. Fortunately, my bunkmates were weary from exertions mental and physical.It was a simple matter of traversing the path to the forbidden door, opening it, and viewing the area beyond, an area with glossy spider webs that reflected the glimmer of my inquiring light. Further investigation revealed the trappings of a root cellar, nothing that seemed to be of importance. It seemed that the Administration’s prime concern was of young men taking culinary advantage of the school’s food supply, the reason for their ultimatum.

* * *

“So that’s my story about an ultimatum. Now you have to write yours, and that’s final! ------Entry #13: Member Name: SumikiTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 596Story: AntagonistsThe colonel walked slowly out of his dark green tent, fastening up the dull buttons of his overcoat as the chill that permeated the air of this cold winter morning swept through his body. They were in the middle of a valley, with a network of trenches extending out in a spider's web of patterns. Men of all creeds hunkered down next to their weapons, trying to keep themselves warm by various methods. They had long since run out of coffee and food was now running desperately low. The men that were out there were getting down to their basic instincts of survival and fight, running off of the steam of their own last reserves combined with the awakening and driving force of their adrenaline.He looked on his men and allowed himself the brief pleasure of a smile. He had commanded these men for nearly the entire war. He had witnessed them in their greatest moments, and he had been there with them when they had lost so many of their comrades.Now was not one of their greatest moments. The enemy had pushed, although they thought the war would be over quickly. Their line had been stretched too thin for the winter since no one expected such a surge from the other side when they and their people had been even more miserable than the poor state that his men were in now.They had been cut off; they had been surrounded. Supplies, when they reached them, were dropped from high in the air, and the enemy had surrounded them on all sides. His men had fought hard and brave, as he expected that they would. However, it's hard to fight without ammunition, and more than one time they found themselves ready to fight hand-to-hand, though it hadn't come to that yet. If they didn't get a new supply of ammo, andsoon, then that might have to happen.Today, though, something was different. The shooting, which had been so constant for so long, had finally halted. If this was a brief reprieve or a tactic by the enemy, no one could say, but the poses of the men in the trenches was one of relief. After all, they didn't know when they might get to rest again, if they ever got to at all.Slowly, a lone soldier approached their lines, carrying in one hand a pole with a white flag, and in the other, a small envelope. He placed it at the edge of one of the trenches before hastily returning to the relative safety of his own line.The envelope was delivered with alacrity to the colonel, who swiftly tore it open and read its contents, which had obviously been translated somewhat badly. In short, it demanded complete surrender, pointing out what had been on his mind for so long: they were completely surrounded and were in imminent danger of being completely annihilated.The colonel walked back into his tent, shaking off the snow that had gathered on his shoulders. He placed the letter down on the table, smoothing its crinkled face out as best he could.Taking his pen, he wrote a great big singular word across the bottom of the letter: NUTS.His men were weary, veterans of many battles before, but they sure as heck weren't going to back down now.Going back over the word a few more times to make it even clearer and bolder, he sealed it up, handing it off to a private for deliverance to the enemy's lines.Suddenly, a strange thought struck him:It'd be funny to see their faces when they read this. ------Entry #14: Member Name: MaganarTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 600Story: Earth Space-Ship Ultimatum“Captain of ESS Ultimatum!”I opened the communication channel. “Yes?”“We have the collaborators and are approaching ESS Hermes, but they’re not making it if you don’t hold against the approaching hostiles!”The collaborators. They might be the way to end this war peacefully. This sect of the alien forces had managed to translate our language by gathering their species' best linguists. Unfortunately, that got them labeled traitors by their own government. They’d gotten away safely to a human colony world and we were now trying to evacuate them before their own forces exterminated them. This battle would decide if the war ended with a treaty… or with eventual genocide.I sighed. “Understood. We’ll hold.” The evac shuttles were not capable of faster-than-light travel. If we didn’t hold until they made it to the ESS Hermes, they were goners. Aside from the Hermes, which had to stay clear of fire so the allies could board, we were the only cruiser in-system. The Ultimatum was so named because it was supposed to deliver precisely that: an offer to flee in face of its might or die. I hoped it would live up to its name, but there were three alien cruisers approaching with a full complement of fighters. This would be a lopsided battle, even for the Ultimatum. Suddenly, plasma fire was searing our shields.“Prep stealth bombers!” I commanded.“Captain, there’s too many enemy fighters; they ain’t getting out of the hangar!”“Don’t question it; I’ve got a plan. Where are we taking the most damage?”“Sectors 2G and 4D.”“Drop shields in 2G.”What! Are you mad?”“If you think that’s strange listen to this: bring the port side to face the first ship and make sure they have a clear shot at 2G.”“You’re mad.”“Just do it.”Meanwhile, I gave the stealth bombers orders to fly out of the hangar and ordered all Ultimatum’s escort fighters to loop around behind us and to redirect all power from their shields to sensor jamming instead. I got a lot of fighter pilots raging that they were going to get shot down with no shields up, until they saw the tactical uploads I sent to their dashboard displays.Tempted by the obvious weakpoint on our vessel at 2G, all the enemy dogfighters and bombers swooped in close. This cleared them away from the hangar and the stealth bombers flew out unharmed. Despite having their shields down, the friendly fighters were ignored by the enemy dogfighters because they were too busy unloading fire on 2G. The fighters then laid on suppressing fire that forced the enemies to swoop in even nearer to our hull. They were practically touching our exterior.With the sensor jamming our fighters were causing, the enemy fighters never realized that Sector 2G was now facing their own cruisers… or that said cruisers were unleashing heavy fire on that area, at least not until it was too late. They enemy fighter/bomber complement was largely swept up by their own cruisers’ fire as a result.I reactivated shields in 2G and they soaked up most of the remaining heavy fire before going down, for real this time. Now we were in a dangerous spot, but our bombers, which had remained unnoticed, were about to do their job. Two of the cruisers erupted into flame as our bombers launched shield-piercing torpedoes. The last tried to flee, but now it was outgunned. It didn’t make it.“Allies aboard the Hermes. I don’t know how you did it.”“Engage faster-than-light drives, my scanners show more cruisers inbound.”And then we were gone. ------Entry #15: Member Name: ClickTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 600 (again)Story: Marathon's GauntletJust another day at work; I had arrived early to get another project done, threw my suit coat over the chair, and opened my computer.That’s where the normalcy ended, with large red flashing letters taking up my entire desktop:Damian Gayer, The situation had become critical, and we need you. Attached to this message is another message for you to take to the next city, Newark. We don’t have time to send it electronically; you will need to run it. If I were you, I would begin now. Failure will only bring death not only to you, but to both cities, and possibly many more. Run now, Damian. You have been put on Watch, so if running from the AI isn’t enough, you have the law to deal with. Our hopes lie in you.It was unsigned, but I knew who it was from. The attachment was quickly printed, and my suit coat went on. It was going to be a long run, but I had been ready for this for months.By the time I got to the front door, the metallic feet were already ringing down the block, accompanied by explosions, gun fire, and screaming. I decided the back door would be a much better option if I wanted to survive.My company’s underground tunnels had been built for two reasons: one, in case a mass exodus from New York was needed, or two, in case of this exact situation, where we knew we had fallen and there was only one more hope, and I had the entire city resting on my shoulders as I ran like I had never run before, the steady clomp of heavy feet above me providing a great motivation.Eventually, I had to surface to cross the Upper Bay into New Jersey, and I could see the gleam of metal on the horizon. The AI’s bots were fast, I’ll give them that, but I was faster. By now, I had lost my suit coat to the tunnel and my pants were beyond repair from numerous puddles and trips, but all of that was past me. I had to get to Newark, or thousands more people would die in this coup d’état of humanity.Gasping for air, I made it to my destined location in Newark. The council seat at my company’s branch was taken up by a large man in a bursting suit who was noisily munching on an apple. A massive glass window took up the rear of the room, revealing a spectacular view of the company’s décor and inner workings. Breathlessly, I handed him the small piece of paper that had caused this entire thing. After a brief read through, he nodded and was getting up as I finally noticed a reflection of two red lights in his window. We both stared in shock at the invader to our meeting.“There you are, Damian. We have been looking all over for you and that piece of paper you have there.” The AI’s voice seemed to come from everywhere in the room as its servants marched into line around the perimeter of the room. We now faced a gauntlet of shining automatons with charged weapons, ready to take us out at the first sign of movement.“Since it seems you are not willing to comply with my demands, I will make you an ultimatum: Hand over your ultimatum, and you will live. I have heard that death from my weapons is unpleasant.”I had already made my decision, months ago when my company planned for this. I took my final steps… ------Entry #16: Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 600Story: ThreatBill stared at the strange figure in the street. It had been trying to get into his house for over half an hour.Bill wished he wasn't alone in the house. But his father was at work, and his mother and little sister had gone clothes shopping. She had worried at the time about leaving him alone, but he had assured her he would be fine.He'd changed his mind now. Sure, his family members would be back by night, but night seemed far away. Right now he was besieged by an unnatural figure.Its ordinary suburban surroundings seemed faded and insignificant beside it. It was perhaps seven feet tall, and glowed with a dazzling radiance. But perhaps most impressive fact was that Bill was evidently the only person around who saw it.Women gardening, children playing or riding their bikes, people walking dogs, obliviously continued their daily lives, some passing within inches of the figure.His blazing eyes locked on to Bill's, as the boy stared from his bedroom window into the street."I know you hear me, Bill," his voice said clearly. "I speak with the mind, not the tongue. Answer."Bill answered, also in his mind. "What are you?""That's not important," the voice assured him. "The important thing is, you refuse to let me in the house. I've called you, tried to get in-""I noticed that," Bill said, trying to sound cool and unafraid. Just a glowing invisible telepath dude, that's all. Nothing to worry about. "The giant lightning bolts shot at the door were something of a giveaway. Not that they did any damage, oddly.""Let me in, Bill," the voice coaxed. "I need to come in. Your mother asked me to come and find something of hers."Bill snorted. "The only thing my mom told me about strangers coming to the door today was Don't let them in. Which she says every time she goes somewhere. Why should I believe you? Tell me what you want.""Let me in, child," the voice said, beginning to grow impatient. "The matter which brought me here is not one to be discussed in public. I must enter your house. I will enter your house.""Let me in."Bill stood, backing a pace from the window. He was remembering things his parents had told him before, when they had both had to leave at once."Never let anyone - anyone - into the house when one of us isn't here. You'll be safe as long as you stay inside.""We have some valuable things in this house. Very valuable."And that very morning: "Promise you won't let anyone in while I'm gone, Bill, even if you know them. Promise."He'd always thought his parents were a little paranoid. But obviously they'd known more than he did.And apparently "valuable" meant more than he'd assumed."No.""It wasn't a choice." The voice had grown angrier. "Let me in. Now.""Or?" Bill prompted."I may not be able to enter the house, Bill, but I can destroy it." The figure was plainly enraged now. "And you with it."Bill took a deep breath. "Don't know if you're telling the truth or not, but I refuse."Not letting you in. Sorry."The figure gave a scream of fury and - DisappearedBill collapsed on his bed, trembling with relieved strain. He was going have a strange story - and a lot of questions - for his parents that night. But for now, only one thing mattered.The figure's ultimatum had just been a bluff, and he had successfully called it. ------Entry #17:Member name: Space: Ocean of AweTheme: UltimatumWord count: 599 wordsStory: Catch 22I can’t do this. This time, it truly seems that there is no alternative. Countless times, I had escaped tight situations, always choosing the third option when provided two choices. Now, I have no hidden alternatives, no escape from certain doom.Today is the last day to dawn on one Earth colony. It’s up to me to decide which. If I press the button, a planet, ridden with countless terrestrial immigrants, will be destroyed. If I refuse, my own colony will meet the same fate. If I tell anyone about this, we are all doomed.I received the the transmission from Earth via Quantum Communication at 1713 hours. The New Terrestrial Government, founded by the three Corporations, needed their people to remain on Earth, they couldn’t lose them to the colonies. I was assured that everybody would believe it to be an accident, an impact from an enormous asteroid, that brought about such a catastrophe.Why somebody would do this, how somebody could be given so much power, is beyond me. Is the economy more important than the people? Is that really their reason, their justification, for destroying an entire planet?Find the third option. There is almost always a third option. Almost always. I look around the small room they had put me in; there, surrounded by buttons and switches, is the Button. They had offered me a generous share in the Market if I pushed the button, I would be one of the richest people in the Galaxy; I know some people who would take that opportunity, no matter the consequences. I’m not one of them, and I can’t decide whether that’s good or bad. It would certainly spare me this dilemma, but I don’t want to imagine myself with so much power, so many riches, at the expense of billions of lives.Other than the small panel of buttons, a telephone, and a door, the room is bare. I can’t escape: that would mean the destruction of my home world. I can’t press the button: that would be the end of so many lives. I wasn’t told what the other buttons do, but I can’t risk pressing them. There is too much at stake.“Why can’t you do this yourselves?” I don't expect an answer. Then the telephone rings. I have never used a telephone. It rings again, I don’t know how to. I pick it up on the third ring, putting the curved part to my ear, as I have seen people do in 2D photographs. I hear a voice, edged with the slight inconsistency of an artificial tone, on the other end. “We cannot be held responsible, should anybody realize the truth.” I hang up the phone.Why would it be an artificial tone? There must be something that I’m missing, some little bit of information, that would make this all make sense. I think of all those countless conspiracies that I had seen on the Entanglement before it was was censored; perhaps they were not so far off after all. I remember one, which claimed that the Government designed an Artificial Intelligence to manage the economy, but had lost control over the AI, which gained control over the military, among other sectors. Of course. Perhaps there is a third option after all...I pick up the phone and press numbers at random. To my astonishment, the call connects. I speak. “Would you mind asking the Government what their military has been up to?” I walk out of the room. There is nothing more to do. If this fails, we were all doomed anyways. ------Entry #18: Name: DespairTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 583Story: HostageI looked down at my bloodied hands, my eyes moist with tears that refused to fall. Littered around me were dozens of destroyed objects, all victims of my despair-fueled rampage throughout the empty house.Empty. She was gone, taken. No doubt suffering as I sat and wallowed in my own misery. And yet… There was nothing I could do. I was no hero, and neither the authorities nor I had any idea who had takenher. All we knew was that she hadn’t gone willingly, but I could have told anyone that much.From within my pocket but what felt like a world away, something began vibrating. After a moment, the realization that it was my phone sank in and I pulled it out, still in a daze had what had transpired that day. Judging by the fact that it had only vibrated for a second, I had probably received a text message from yet another person curious as to what the situation was and to tell me how sorry they were for me, how they knew I was suffering and felt my pain, even while they sat in warm and loving rooms surrounded by those they cared about. It had been difficult maintaining my composure during those instances, and I was tempted to ignore this one until I felt a bit better.However, I couldn’t help but check to see who had sent it.The instant I saw her name, I froze up. I wanted to scream at the world for its playing such a cruel trick on my mind, to weep with joy, and to chastise her for worrying us so much all at once. Of course, deep down I knew that the conversation I was about to engage in wouldn’t end up like any of those. With a practiced motion, I pulled up the message and read it, my confused emotions quickly transforming into a singular, mind-rending, rage.Bring $500,000 to the main entrance of the Wood Hills Mall at 10:00 tomorrow morning.So it was a ransom. A ransom I could deal with. The part that infuriated me was the lack of any mention of their hostage. Even when asking for half a million dollars, they had made no indication that the sum would do anything to free her. For all I knew, she was already dead. It was a cold, distant thought, but once it entered my mind it refused to leave. Still, I couldn’t just abandon her.I knew I should talk to the authorities about it, but something stopped me. I don’t know what it was, and looking back I can’t possibly imagine what was going through my head at the time.Even after I arrived with the money I had somehow managed to scrap together at the designated time and place, there was no sign of anyone who might have been expecting to receive half a million dollars. I waited for what felt like hours, my heart racing and my armpits sweaty. I was nervous, nervous for both my own safety and the safety the person I was trying to save.Turns out, that nervousness was perfectly justified. For all my efforts, all my stupidity, I received a bullet to the heart. As I lay there, dying upon the concrete and amidst all the gum that people had carelessly tossed aside, I pressed my hand against my chest. I pulled it away, examining the crimson blood. It was beautiful in its own way, death was. ------Entry #19: Member Name: xccjTheme: UltimatumWord Count: 507Story: Super Guy’s UltimatumSuper Guy flew to the rooftop, where he found his arch enemy. He had fought off all Man of Badness’s henchmen, and was now after the mastermind. But he stopped in his tracks as he sighted the scene. Man of Badness was holding Super Guy’s girlfriend over the edge of the building.“Stop right there, Super Guy,” Man of Badness. “I have your girlfriend’s life in my hands, and if you want her to survive the night, you’ll do what I say. My escape helicopter is almost here, and if you react before it gets here, I’ll kill her. And that includes shooting me, because if you do, I’ll drop here.”He grinned. “You are at an ultimatum. You can either save her life, or you can try to stop me.”Super Guy frowned. “That’s the best you’ve got. Threatening my significant other.”“Um, yeah,” Man of Badness said with hesitation. “But it’s solid.”“But it’s totally cliché. Almost every villain does it against a hero at some point.”“Well, it totally works,” Man of Badness protested. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”“But it’s not too thought out either,” Super Guy pointed out. “You’re just going to drop her? And if you do off her, what’s to stop me from killing you next?”“Maybe I have other tricks up my sleeve that you don’t know about.”“If you had anything better, I’m sure you would’ve used that instead.”“It doesn’t matter, because it’ll work, and I’ll escape into the sunset.”“Except I can fly. I just wait until you board the helicopter, fly after you, and shoot you down a safe distance away from the city.”“Um… we’ll have more guns on the helicopter,” Man of Badness said. “And they have kryptonite bullets, which are your weakness.”“Nope, my weakness is actually arsenic. And to be fair, it’s also pretty lethal to most humans.”“Well, bullets will still slow you down.”“Eh, it doesn’t even matter,” Super Guy said. “I don’t even have to choose.”“What? Sure you do. Your girlfriend’s life is in your hands, and if you don’t do what I say, I’ll kill her.”“Yeah, you said that. But I don’t have to do anything and you’ll still lose.”“Oh yeah, and why is that?”“Because my girlfriend is actually a black belt in karate, and you have her in an improper choke hold.”“What?” Man of Badness said, puzzled.The girlfriend reacted, slipped out of the villain’s grip, grabbing his arm and swinging him around until his wrist was broken, and then kneed him in the gut. Man of Badness fell to the floor in a heap, defeated.The girlfriend looked sternly at Super Guy. “It’s about time; I’ve been waiting ages for you to rescue me. Why do I always have to play damsel in distress? Besides, this made me miss my palettes class. So I have an ultimatum for you; stop rescuing me from kidnappers and let me take care of them myself, or find yourself a new girlfriend.

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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thelegacy.pngEntry #1:Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: The LegacyWord Count: 598Story: Celebration DayThe Matoran danced merrily, intoxicated by the overwhelming feelings of excitement and happiness that came with every celebration, dragging the Toa with them without a care in the universe. They spun and cheered with abandon. Their only care was to enjoy the moment, and at that they most certainly succeeded.Propelled for an instant to the edge of the crowd, Toa Vihrii detached himself. He took his leave then, waving casually as he walked away. The thud of drums and cheerful shouts of Matoran carried even to the very edge of the village. As he walked through the gate he spied the two Turaga, telling their stories as usual, to those few Matoran with less taste for the frivolities of celebration day.“Going somewhere, Toa?” Asked a kindly voice behind him.“Turaga Kerhel! I did not see you there,” Vihrii said, turning.Kerhel laughed. “Evidently. I would walk with you, if you will permit it.”“Gladly.”The two of them strolled away from the village. They were silent for a while, until Vihrii could stand it no longer.“Why am I here, Turaga? I feel I could do so much more.”“Not every Toa is destined to be part of great battles and famous deeds,” Kerhel said. “You have protected us well, defended us from every threat, but you are uneasy. You are not yet satisfied. Am I correct?”Vihrii stopped, a downcast look in his eyes. “I am a Toa. I thought I was destined for more than fighting off the occasional Rahi or wrongdoer.”Kerhel lent on his staff and looked deep into Vihrii's eyes. “You will not be listed among the great heroes of our age. But your legacy is still one of heroism and bravery. You have fought for us and expected nothing in return. You have stayed among us, though distant shores may seem greener. You have always done what is right, even though your heart yearns for greater callings. To do that, to act against your own desires each and every day, is bravery in itself. It is a small legacy, in the grand scheme of things, but one to be proud of.”“But Turaga. There are greater evils out there, I know it. Surely I could be of more use fighting them?” Vihrii replied, half pleading.Kerhel shook his head. “Though many great evils beset the world, it is an evil in itself to forget that smaller problems also need fixing. You have persevered and dealt with them admirably. There are heroes enough to deal with the greater threats. But without people like you, helping the ones those heroes forget, they would have no one left to protect. Do not let the smallness of your deeds diminish your importance. You are a great Toa. One I am proud to know.”Vihrii thought for a while on the Turaga's words. “I, shall need more time to consider this. You are right, but how can I change the yearnings of my heart?”“It is a hard thing, to be content with less than you desire,” Kerhel sighed. “You must learn to appreciate all that you have, however small. Every part of your life has value, but it is for you to realise what it is. Once you learn to see all that your life means to you, perhaps then you will be content.”“I shall try, Turaga. Where do you think I should start?”Kerhel chuckled. “It is celebration day. There is only one place to be.” ------Entry #2: Name: XanthorpTheme: The LegacyWord Count: 574Story: The Forgotten HeroHe may not have been the cruelest, the bravest, or the wisest, but he was definitely the most cunning. He was a Warlord. He and his five fellow allies had ruled the world. They all thought he was loyal to the cause. But he betrayed them for a common good, the people of the universe. He had sold his soul to the devil. And that devil was the Makuta plague.[/font]When he was normal, he ruled the southwest region of the universe. His armies were extremely loyal, but not by choice. In fact, he had hypnotized all of his forces, making them extremely obedient, enough to risk their lives for him. they would not fail him.[/font]But right as their plan was about to succeed, the Brotherhood came. A fierce battle followed, faction against faction, blood spilling everywhere, but the seven leaders were safe, negotiating peace.[/font]Peace was not possible. They staged a coup of the ruler of the known universe, and so the six traitors had to pay, even the traitor in their midst. Their heads were to be severed off of their necks and served on a platter to Teridax. But at the last minute, a monstrous being appeared and brought all of his comrades to a large prison, which they realized was called the Pit.[/font]--[/font]The robed being moved to the window in his topmost room of the tower, overlooking Spherus Magna. [/font]That was so long ago, a time nearly forgotten[/font], he thought. His tower was built on the husk of a castle in the northernmost region of Spherus Magna. As such, it ‘s view was not spectacular. The most interesting thing he could see was a patch of green on the horizon. The rest was all just desert with a river snaking through it. He turned back to reflecting on his history.[/font]--[/font]In the Pit he stayed for several thousand years, sitting in his cell, always bored. But then came the giant earthquake. Something crashed into the prison, flooding it with some sort of seawater. But upon contact, he and his fellow inmates began changing. Their bodies began adapting to an underwater world. Then, the jail flooded and cracked, allowing the prisoners to break free. He had been the first one out, and “explored” the ocean water to find a sunken city below the waves. Upon seeing this, he swam back as fast as he could to try to get the “gang” back together; they had been separated for millennia. He has assisted in the torment of the matoran there, almost torturing them.[/font]But then he was employed by the Order. His mission, along with a completely new team, was to seek out the original leader of the Brotherhood, Makuta Miserix. While he was distracted on Artidax, where they had found Miserix some time later, his team’s boat left, stranding him on the island. Some time later still, he confronted three toa who had come to the island to blow up the entire visorak army. Hypnotizing them, he fled in the boat on which the toa had come.[/font]He had heard some rumbling in the universe, and thought [/font]not this again.[/font] But then a giant hole was ripped from the sky, showing the inhabitants a desert world, to which they all fled.[/font]--[/font]And the rest, as they say, is history[/font]. He smiled, an evil grin on a calm exterior.[/font]He was Takadox, Barraki warlord, and they would hear his roar.[/font] ------Entry #3: Name: Thunder on the MountainTheme: LegacyWord Count: 565Story: Prelude to Society“We’re all going to die Ackar.”“...point?”“You and I have been around longer than any Agori or warrior in this desert. We’ll be the first to die. Then Tarix, and Vastus, and Malum. We think not of them as old, but they will age as we will, and soon after us they too will be dead, decaying in the ground.”“I hear you, friend. But I still don’t see your point.”“Is this all we leave to them? This, of all things?”“Them?”“The Agori, the future warriors, and all else who will live on after us. Is this truly all we can leave behind for them? A set of moons, a million casualties, and a barren wasteland to live on in?”“We were followers, Certavus. We followed the lords of fire, sand, and ice, and we did only as we were told?”“Where are they now, Ackar? Where are the great leaders, to carry us on through such perilous times and lead us to glory? Where are they now? It is in our hands now, Ackar, to bring our people to safety. I ask you again, is this all we leave to them?”“If I could, I would lay down my life to reform the lands. But I cannot. You cannot. None of us can. We live now on Bara Magna, not Spherus Magna. There is no return from here.”“But we can do our best, Ackar, to give the Agori a life worth having in this waste. The warriors too.”“We will guard them, Certavus. We will reform as one people, and we will fight back the desert.”“No, Ackar. Mere survival is not good enough. What we need is civilization.”“Certavus, the sandy ground moves beneath our feet. We no longer have allies in the Tribe of the Sand, and none of the rest of us know how to survive out here, save as a battalion. You would have us build a city?”“No, Ackar. I would have us build four villages. Fire, Water, Ice and Air.”“Divide ourselves? Where lies the sense in that? All we have is our comrades, Ackar. The only way to survive is to roam these lands like we did in the war. To remain ever-moving, and to defend ourselves from the Vorox and the Skrall.”“I would not have us living like a herd of beasts. Think Ackar! Would you become known as he who postponed his people’s inevitable demise? Or would you prefer he who helped set in stone the civilization that would survive him for eternity? Who would lead his people to great prosper then they had been even before the war?”“I seek not glory for myself Certavus. I mean only to help my people survive.”“Then make that your legacy, Ackar. Die well knowing that it was you and I who claimed that survival, and ensured that the survivors of the Core War would forever endure the Bara Magna sands. Because of you.”“I will not see my people die out like this bonfire does before us.”“Then come with me, my friend. See the unity that can be found in dividing once again.”“...very well, Certavus, speak what comes to your mind. I will listen, and upon this dying bonfire, we will forge these raw survivors into a people, fit to persevere this wretched world for a million years to come.” ------Entry #4: Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: LegacyWord Count: 519Story: The Tale of Adota

THE TALE OF ADOTA

~~~There was once a tale, told by the bone hunters in cold, windy nights when the desert froze a bandit to the very core. It was a story about the mightiest of the mighty, the most skilled bladesmaster in the land…Adota, and her Blades of the Twin Moons.~~~She was a sight to behold, in armour as black as the deepest chasm and hair of the same light-absorbing hue. Her crimson eyes burned like roaring flames from a pillage, and her skin was criss-crossed with dark reminders of foes that had crossed her. Needless to say, none had lived to tell the tale.She stood atop her Rock Steed; a pale, ferocious beast that snapped at the other members of her party. They knew from experience to stay well back from her, especially in the mood she was in. She stared off into the horizon, silent, still. Finally, she uttered one word.“Caravan.”The other raiders stirred in their saddles. It was time to ride, but one hunter, a weedy kid with no experience with Adota, whimpered, “But that’s a Skrall caravan! They’ve got too many guards!”The woman narrowed her eyes at the boy, and to the surprise of her raiders, she laughed. “Silly child. The Skrall have no chance against us. Follow my lead!”And, without so much as a flick of the reins, her steed galloped off, and the others were at full speed behind her.The Skrall watched her come. They drew their weapons, grinning.But then, holding her reins in her teeth, she drew two curved, wicked blades from the scabbards strapped to her back. Her legendary Blades of the Twin Moons.Flashing like lightning, they cut through the armour of the closest Skrall like a dagger through parchment. She drew back and kicked the warrior away before gritting her teeth, yanking her head back and bringing her Rock Steed around to slice at the next foe. Her raiders were approaching fast, but she had no intention of slowing to leave them some action. Half the Skrall were down by the time the first hunter arrived.The remaining Skrall fell under the onslaught. Finally, after the last of them had either fallen or fled, she stepped down from her steed and to the caravan. She walked out, holding nuggets of exsidian triumphantly. Her fellow bone hunters cheered, and she threw the nuggets at the feet of the youth who had questioned her.“Tell me, child,” she smiled. “What have we to fear?”He gulped, his eyes wide. “B-But Tuma… he will hear of this, and-““Have no fear. He cannot catch us, no more than he could catch the desert winds. We are unstoppable, child. We are invincible!”~~~Some legends state that, after this attack, she laid siege to Roxtus itself. Others say that Tuma had her captured, and she escaped his grasp with his prized blade. Some say she robbed the Great Beings themselves, and began a pillage against the stars.In any case, the legacy of Adota and her Blades of the Twin Moons will never be forgotten. -------Entry #5: Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: The LegacyWord Count: 595Story: Heritable Honor"Wear it with pride, Jala. ""I will, Turaga Vakama."I gazed at my distorted reflection in the silever sphere behind me, admiring my new Hau."It suits me, I think.""I hope you will honor what the mask symbolizes."I turned. "And what's that?""Nobility. Bravery. Protection. Can you live up to these precepts?""I--I think so."Vakama smiled. "I believe you can. In time, I think you will be a hero to your village, for the Three Virtues, and for the legacy of your mask.""I am flattered by your confidence, Turaga. I will do my best to live up to your expectations.""I know you can."I was startled by a strange voice echoing through my mind. I know you will, Jala. The destiny before you burns bright."Who said that?"Never mind. Just promise me that you will uphold the honor you have been given.No problem there. Confused but confident, I vowed, I will, strange disembodied voice.

* * *

"I am disappointed in you, Jala.""I know, Turaga. I am disappointed in myself.""You failed in your duty to Ta-Koro today. Your negligence put the lives of many villagers in danger today. If Agni had not raised the alarm in time and summoned your guards and fended off that Ranama, someone might have been killed.""I realize this, Turaga. I have failed my duty. And that is why I wish to resign from from my captaincy."Turaga Vakama turned with surprise. "Is that what you wish? To give up?""N-no, but I----""Listen to me. You made a mistake. Everyone does. But L--er, your legacy is one that does not give up easily. Learn from your mistake but do not look back. Move on."I bowed my head. "Yes, Turaga."Outside, still scolding myself silently, I heard the voice in my mind. Don't be so hard on yourself, Jala. Listen to Vakama. Learn and move onward."Shut up!" I hissed, startling a Lava Farmer. Mentally I continued, You're the last one I want to hear right now!You must not allow yourself to be discouraged. That past is over and done with. Look to the future, and to the now; that is where greatness lies. Act there.Shut up! In anger, I tore the mask from my face. It felt like my head was splitting in two. I reeled in pain, my vision blurring, mind dulling. Hastily I put the Kanohi back on my face and fell to my knees, panting.That was foolish."I'll show you foolish!"Before the day was out I had surreptitiously obtained from a Po-Koro mask carver an almost identical golden Hau. From then on I wore it, free from the responsibility and voice of the inherited Kanohi. I hid the heirloom away, deep in the volcano where I knew it would never be found. It almost felt as if I was hiding a piece of myself."I'm sorry. But I'm not the hero you think I am."

* * *

I am a Toa now. Many things have changed, and the mask is no longer mine to wear. But I did return to Mata Nui to retrieve it. It is now in my possession, and I will pass it on when and to whom it is destined to be given. I only hope my successor wears it with more pride and respect than I. For it is more than a mere Kanohi--it is the legacy of a great hero. And that is a legacy that will live on forever. ------Entry #6: Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: The LegacyWord Count: 535Story: Not Everything•••••Blood, dirt, sweat, grinding joints. Blurred blackness, muffled sounds. His enemy stood, the crowd jeered. Was this all Trymak’s training had come to? If Gelu were here, he’d be disgusted... and he would be cheering, too. However, he had, for some reason, opted out on watching the match. The Toa of ice grunted, rolling to the side right before his opponent’s blade would have pierced his shoulder.Oh, Spherus Magna had been reformed, and everyone was at peace, for the most part. Still, old habits die hard, and the gladiatorial matches, while slightly tamed, were a massive attraction and competition for all the villages. Atero had been rebuilt, and in the center was a massive arena. The rest was a massive, sprawling city, filled with residents of all the villages; each village had rebuilt itself in an easily accessible location and laid down a road to the central city.Society had quickly found itself to revolve, at least for entertainment purposes, around the tournaments. Every week the villages held their own tournaments for training and qualifying for the monthly tournaments in Atero. The top winners of these, in turn, participated in the yearly Heroes’ War. This had become the biggest event of Spherus Magna, and every ten years past champions were invited to return. If they chose, they could send another fighter in their place, training them personally for the whole year leading up to the event.Trymak was one of those students. Gelu, the champion of a Heroes’ War long ago, had chosen the spry Toa as his trainee. Instead of conventional training, they travelled as merchants around the world. At first, Trymak was disappointed and ready to leave Gelu, but he realized soon that their travels were more important than he thought. He didn’t fight daily, but Gelu entered him in whatever village’s match was happening when they were in town. He learned the fighting styles of everyone, and though at first he often lost, he quickly learned to think fast.This was the year of the Heroes’ War. Trymak had found himself in the second to last match and, after a vicious fight with a Glatorian of Tajun, he was placed into the final bracket. Now he faced the champion of Tesara, Gresh. He still entered into these tournaments, and constantly showed his skill in battle. Despite having been in the sport for centuries, the Glatorian was as energetic and strong as ever. He was, in fact, a very difficult opponent to face.This difficulty was becoming all too apparent. Trymak was, to say the least, getting his posterior handed to him. It was all he could do to not get bested in the first few seconds. Gresh seemed to be everywhere, not missing a step in his dance around the Toa of ice.Wiping blood from his lips, Trymak deflected Gresh’s blade with the grip of his war hammer. A rather unconventional choice of a weapon against a fast opponent, he knew. But I he could get one hit in, it would be over.Well, it was pointless. It wasn’t all about winning, it was about the experience. Thus, completely exhausted, Trymak threw up his hands and fell to his knees. ------Entry #7: Member Name: Theme: The LegacyWord Count: 600Story: Tahu's NightmareTahu… the whisper came from the darkness around him as he walked; He didn’t shine with the blazing light of fire, but some sort of glow that hung as an aura. He gripped his sword tightly, comforted by the shape of the flames on the blade. The voice was just his imagination…Tahu. “No,” Tahu sobbed. “Die. Why won’t you die? After the thousands that sacrificed themselves to rid the world of you, why won’t you die?” He walked on, his eyes mixed with fury and defeat. Makuta lived.Because the darkness never dies, Toa. I will always live. Your predecessors, your brothers, and your successors- I’ll be with them. In your darkest thoughts, your deepest fears, I am there. My escence is in you, and I live on. Besides, Tahu, what would you be without me?“We fought for a life without you,” Tahu said, his anger coming forth in the flames that leapt from his fire sword. “Be gone, so we can live in peace!”Some day you will meet other evils, whose power is far greater than mine, the voice of the Makuta reverberated through the blackness. And when you meet them, you will finally miss me. The darkness regressed, leaving Tahu in merely shadows. He could see the path he walked on now, a winding tunnel where the flickering orange glow of lightstones eerily lead to the catacomb of caves beyond.He continued his tread, ready to pounce on any attack. Whispers came from further in, and Tahu followed them intently. There were others in this place! The voices were right around the bend, and the Toa of Fire sprinted, catching snippets of two strolling stranger’s conversation.“…but precious little light, it seems... You don’t see…” the short one spoke, guiding the taller one, the illumination of the lightstone he carried blocking Tahu from seeing the pair’s features. He raised his hand in greeting, as if beckoning would bring their attention. They were gone then, merely ghosts of the past, and Tahu was left in the tunnel, alone once more.With the blink of an eye, he stood in the center of a cavern, finished a lengthy tunnel walk that he didn’t travel a step in. Webs veiled the cave, a thick curtain of green-grey slime cutting the room in half. Approaching it, he set his sword in the sticky strands, burning through them. It was his job, as a Toa, to explore, whether he liked what was on the other side or not.The web flared, the fire jumping. Soon it was out of control- Tahu hadn’t even used enough willpower to create that much of a flame! The entire web was on fire now, burning away far too fast. It shriveled and smoked, and when the air cleared on the other side… a dragon of smoke and charcoal flared his nostrils, angrily eyeing its awakener. Claws of fire reached out to grab him, but he was already running.A flame shot out of the dragon’s tongue, melting the rock he hid behind. Ta-Wahi burned like it hadn’t ever before, and the flames brought heated, blurry vision. He had faced this creature before, but it was different, he realized, taking in limited oxygen. It screamed at him like a Rahi telepathically, but there was a sinister undertone in its words.You call this your home? This is MY domain! My territory! I will burn you out, little flame! I—“Heavily perspirating, Tahu clamped his eyes shut, reminiscing about how he missed the darkness. A chill then ran through him……and he woke up, sweating. ------Entry #8: Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: LegacyWord Count: 488Story: Carts in The WindA thousand words can tell a story, a carved wall can tell the tale. But neither one lives and breathes, nothing really lives on after death. They are the remnants of the lives of the lucky, those who show themselves to be worthy, the rest are nothing more than passing mentions in the tales of those deemed worthy of legend. The greatest of heroes and the darkest of villains get mentions and stories, they never die, living on a cold, lifeless existence long after their deaths. But for those who are not, we fade away into oblivion, never to even be thought of again. I'm not a great hero, nor am I a monstrous evil, I am merely a Matoran. I've worked my life away keeping the lives of others from halting, I built the carts that are used to mine deep underground, and in my carts are carried the resources that are used in our everyday lives. I'm unimportant overall, I'll never be worthy of legend. But I get my job accomplished, and I help make it easier for others to work.The tale of Mata Nui, and the legacy of the Matoran Lhii, those are what you hear of if you wish to know something of interest from the past. You see nothing of the other countless numbers who have given their lives to make it easier for others. But I suppose I shouldn't be jealous. Both Mata Nui and Lhii have done great things for us, and I've just been building carts. But it would be nice if people knew who I was now that I'm gone. But I suppose that's too much to ask for merely a villager.I wonder if anyone will even care now that I'm gone? I suppose not. The carts should last for many centuries, I built them to be strong and resilient. So I guess that I'll eventually be the passing thought of others. Someone may wonder where they can get their carts repaired, but they will probably just find another. I shall just vanish as though I never really existed. A slight memory in a sea of thought, that's all we are.I suppose there is no point now, It's too late for me to prove myself a hero, to create new legends. But I guess it wouldn't be much of a story. 'Come Matoran, to hear the tale of Harvic, the great builder of carts! Without his care and work, our mines would not be what they are today'. Even then, I can't help but be proud of what I accomplished, even if it was only helping others. I guess the legacy I'll leave behind is only the slightest impact upon the world. But that is enough, all legends eventually die, but a creation can last longer than memories. My carts allow the world to continue, they are my legacy.My carts shall live on forever! ------Entry #9: Name: SumikiTheme: The LegacyWord Count: 589Story: The MaskmakerThe forge in which he slaved in day after day was stained with the scars of many dropped blobs of molten Protodermis. Its desks and shelves were stuffed hither and thither with various masks, tools, and Kanoka, while the grated floor below had even more storage for those items.Kyanu, arguably the greatest Ta-Matoran mask maker in the history of Ta-Matoran mask makers, picked up his carving tool, feeling its familiar wait in his hand for the last time. After countless years on this job, doing what he loved, he needed to stop. He couldn't think as fast as he used to, he couldn't see quite the same, and it started to feel old. After so long doing one thing, it hadn't gotten boring because, while the concepts were the same, there was so much room for experiment and creativity. Now, however, he could not find pleasure from those things.He thought back to the most memorable moments in his time as a mask maker, back to every moment he could recall that he spent in this forge. He had created masks of all shapes and powers, including, most memorably, his own. While, as a Matoran, he couldn't access the powers of the Great Mask that he wore, he felt an unmistakable buzz. It gave him an edge, or so he liked to think. In part, it was driven by curiosity, because he always wanted to know what happened if a Matoran wearing a Great Mask was turned into a Toa.Kyanu turned his attention from the past, bypassing the present, into the future. It was a future where he was gone. Who would remember him? What parts of his memory would live on into the future?Well, the mask makers would, that was for certain. He had become a celebrity, and they might even engrave his visage in a commemorative Ta-Metru widget. They were the only ones who knew what work went into it, as it seemed like Matoran from all the other Metru thought of the process with either apathy or wonder; they either thought of it as a strict, rigid, and defined process, or as a matter of mystery and superstition.He would be remembered as a mask maker, though, and as a mask maker only. Who he was was defined by what he did, as pretty much everyone was. This is where he found contention with his coworkers, as they were always too interested in what he did or who he was to slow down and really know him, to meet him, to understand that he was a Matoran just like everyone else and that he was an individual too.Mainly, though, he didn't care to think about that. He was proud of the masks that he had made. He had no questions about whether or not he'd be remembered for them, as all masks were engraved with a small code somewhere on its inside. That code was unique to every mask maker, so any Matoran who was curious about his or her mask could simply look up the code. While he'd just be a name in a book, or a file in the Archives, Matoran would still have access to that knowledge.Fondly reminiscing on this, he walked around the forge a few times, laying his tool down for the final time. This forge would be used by another mask maker soon enough, with all the equipment passed along to his successor.Closing down the lights, he exited the forge and locked the door. His legacy, he thought, was already in use. ------Entry #10: Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: The LegacyWord Count: 598Story: ClawThe archeological dig had lasted a week thus far. New Bara Magna had already sent home two Agori due to heat stroke; Timar was now left with only five Agori and three Glatorian. That was okay; the dig would still go on.His team had thus far dug a hole, four square meters in area, roughly half a meter down. The excavation site was positioned between two mountains; the shade was welcome, but the air itself was too hot to warrant a large temperature difference compared to the sun-baked desert. One hundred millennia had gone into the making of New Bara Magna, which now covered roughly forty square kilometers — a small desert, doubtless, but still dry as bones. What lay under the sands was a mystery, hence Timar’s expedition.The Jungle Glatorian himself filled the role of helpful supervisor, rounding the dig site and providing assistance where needed. Small fragments of pottery and metal armor lay on a cloth under a tent so the sun wouldn’t crack or otherwise damage them. Peculiar how fragile artifacts could be, even when protected from external wear and tear by the rock and sands that surrounded it in a cradle...“Sir? Timar?”The speaker was a Fire Agori, Kane. Beside him knelt the Water Glatorian Ragu, dusting off something embedded in the rock. A metallic glint showed between the granules of sand. Timar made his way to the object pronto.“What have you found?” he asked.Kane shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We were hoping you could help identify it.”The cleaning process was tedious. Fossilization — the result of strong pressure from surrounding minerals — leeched much of the strength out of artifacts; this excavation was running on money, which meant the less money available, the less there would be on which to run, and intact artifacts meant money. Timar’s assistance only accelerated the process fractionally, but the widening glimpse of metal under the dust thrilled him more than he would admit. Perhaps he had found something never before uncovered; perhaps his were the first eyes to lie upon its entirety.The artifact, as the three discovered, was a metal piston seemingly torn from its mount on something else metallic. “I don’t know what it is,” Timar said. “It could be anything, considering how shallow our dig site is.”He stood with a frown. “I’m passing the drinks around,” he said, stepping to the edge of the dig site. “You two kee—”His sentence was interrupted by his abrupt fall. His foot, trapped by some projection, acted as a pivot to swing Timar’s face into stone. Luckily, the Jungle Glatorian was wearing his helmet; unluckily, the fall still hurt like blazes. He rolled over with a grunt.Kane had already pounced upon the object. “It’s dusty,” he said; “pretty worn down, too. But it’s definitely metal.”He began chipping away at the rock, each ting of his chisel ringing in the hot desert air. After a minute of watching, Timar hefted himself to his knees and assisted. The heat was beginning to die as the sun slipped toward the horizon, but neither Agori nor Glatorian noted the change.By the time Ragu came back from polishing and storing the piston, the item was half-uncovered.A clawed hand reached through the sand. A row of spikes ran into the ground; a toothed mouth was open in a last cry. The figure was yellow, with dead eyes and a reptilian appearance.Kane mouthed the word Rahkshi.Timar nodded and, as he went to get the drinks, gestured for Kane and Ragu to continue excavating. ------Entry #11: Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: Bionicle - The LegacyWord Count: 558Story: Empty Chairs at Empty TablesThere's a grief that can't be spoken.There's a pain goes on and on.Empty chairs at empty tablesNow my friends are dead and gone.Brother, dear brother, it was my time. It was my time to go. It was Mata Nui’s will. Toa live to uphold his will, and so I have no regrets for myself. But my heart goes out to you, brother. To have your team torn away from you, I cannot imagine.Here they talked of revolution.Here it was they lit the flame.Here they sang about `tomorrow'And tomorrow never came.Brother, dear brother, don’t you know that torturing yourself tortures me? You know that living in such endless torment by your own hand is not something I would ever wish upon you. And yet you continue to drown yourself in your guilt, drowning me. If there was any form of comfort I could send across to you, I would do so in a heartbeat. Not to lessen my vicarious suffering, but to start to heal the wounds to your heart.From the table in the cornerThey could see a world rebornAnd they rose with voices ringingI can hear them now!The very words that they had sungBecame their last communionOn the lonely barricade at dawn.Brother, dear brother, please, please understand this. I do not blame you for anything. So why do you? There is no fate but what we make for ourselves. As your sister and friend, I cannot bear to watch you struggle without being able to help. At the same time, as your sister and friend, as well as your star and angel, I must and I do.Oh my friends, my friends forgive meThat I live and you are gone.There's a grief that can't be spoken.There's a pain goes on and on.Brother, dear brother, isn’t it shameful? Shameful that just one little moment in time can drown out years and years of companionship? Why must you remember me, remember us, as we lay broken and blood on our last battlefield? I do not think it fair. That single, horrible moment is burned into your mind, making you blind to all the wonderful times we had as a team. It pains me to no end. You knew me, you know me. Would the Nikila you knew, the Nikila you know, want you to remember her forever in her weakest and last moments of life? Would any of us want that? I know you know the answer.Phantom faces at the window.Phantom shadows on the floor.Empty chairs at empty tablesWhere my friends will meet no more.Brother, dear brother, I pray to Mata Nui ceaselessly that he will give you strength to forgive yourself. I can no longer give you my strength, fighting by your side. But I hope that one day, I will still be able to make you smile. One day, when you can finally recall the times we had as a team, laughing and living life to the fullest.Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask meWhat your sacrifice was forEmpty chairs at empty tablesWhere my friends will meet no moreLesovikk, dear brother, there is one promise I can give. We will wait for you.(*Lyrics from Les Misérables) -------Entry #12:Member Name: fishers64Theme: The LegacyWord Count: 468Story: Legacy of EvilIt’s only fitting, don’t you see?A bright future that was not to be,A bitter, forgotten legacy,Only tattered masks at the bottom of the sea.A being created, strong to be

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"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #16:Member Name: MaganarTheme: The LegacyWord Count: 599Story: The Future of the SkrallAmangra and Kurdus looked out over Spherus Magna’s landscape. All around was a world where life thrived… but the Skrall were on the cusp of collapse. They’d chosen the wrong side in the final battle that had revived this world. As the only two Skrall elites in their unit, it would be up to them to decide what to do next.“If only we knew what had happened to our other units…” Amangra whispered.“Scattered. Fled. Without Tuma, we were just holding together until the next defeat… and now that we have faced defeat without a leader, there is no one left regroup everyone. I guess that’s where we come in.” Kurdus was grinning and ambition was flaring in his eyes. This worried Amangra.“What are you suggesting, Kurdus?”“It’s time for us to continue the legacy! We were given names for a reason, Amangra! We were the best, the ones to be looked up to. It up to us to rebuild the Skrall Empire in all its former glory!”“Actually, I had other plans.”“Oh, really?”“Maybe we’ve had the wrong approach. We Skrall have always been the best and strongest fighters, only facing minor setbacks such as that which we are faced with now. But maybe we can use our skills for a different cause. All empires are doomed to eventually fall, Kurdus. They are based on fear and malice, and maybe that just isn’t right.”“Are you crazy? The words you’re uttering are traitorous. You disgrace Tuma himself!”“And what of Tuma? Defeated by this Mata Nui – this wonder-working being that united the wayward tribes of Bara Magna! Look what they could accomplish when they worked for one another out of trust rather than fear! It’s time for the Skrall people to either evolve and adopt their ways… or perish and disappear into the annals of history.”Amangra heard a scraping sound as Kurdus drew his weapon.“So that’s how it will be, then?”“Yes, Amangra. This is. I will kill you before you misguide our people in this way.”And so, Amangra and Kurdus settled their disagreement in the only way Skrall know: with a tribal spear in one hand and a bladed shield in the other. Kurdus struck first, bringing his spear down heavily where Amangra stood. Amangra sidestepped it and then took advantage of the situation, planting his foot on the tip of the spear to prevent Kurdus from lifting it back up. As Kurdus tried in vain to raise his spear for another attack, Amangra lined up a shot and launched a Thornax fruit into Kurdus’ face. Kurdus screamed in pain, but he wasn’t prepared to fall.Kurdus reared back and threw his bladed shield through the air. Unprepared for unusual retaliation, Amangra took the blow and stumbled backward, giving Kurdus an opportunity to free his spear. Amangra attempted to attack, but Kurdus disarmed him with a parry that threw Amangra’s spear out of his hand. Amangra fell back, expecting death.Kurdus towered over Amangra… and then a knife was planted in Kurdus' neck.As Kurdus gasped his last, Amangra looked to his savior, a less experienced Skrall warrior. The other spoke.“I think you’re right. We have to change. I had to save you, Amangra.”“No, not Amangra,” said the veteran. “That was my name during the legacy that must now become forgotten. From now on, call me… The Nameless. You, however have earned a name and I am now in charge. I christen you: Kurd-bane.”Kurd-bane and The Nameless were ready… ready to shift the paradigm of their entire race. -------Entry #17: Name: DespairTheme: LegacyWord Count: 481Story: HeartVakama watched as the once-beautiful city of Metru Nui vanished in the mist. He, along with the rest of the Toa Metru, had fulfilled their duty of protecting the Matoran, but he couldn’t help but regret that it was necessary to leave his home behind. Sure, there was a new island up above, but it just wouldn’t be the same. There would be no Turaga Dume to gently lead the Matoran, no Coliseum to gather at for sporting events, and no Toa Lhikan to protect the citizens from danger.It felt like only a short while ago that Vakama had watched the Toa and eventually Turaga that he had admired so much taking his last breath and passing away. At the time, Vakama had been distraught at the death of Lhikan, and he had tried his best to ignore those emotions and act as a leader should.Naturally, that had only led to more misfortune. However, that was in the past and a tale for another time. What mattered was that now, on one of the many airships, he finally had the chance to sit down and think properly.With Lhikan’s death and Turaga Dume’s decision to remain in Metru Nui, the Matoran would inevitable end up looking towards Vakama and his teammates for guidance and protection from the forces of Makuta.It just doesn’t feel right. Only a short while ago we were Matoran ourselves, and now we are expected to protect them.If put into this kind of situation a few weeks prior, Vakama would have likely wished that he was a Matoran again. Now, he felt a degree of acceptance towards what lay ahead. It was their duty, tasked to them by the Great Spirit. It had been the job of other before and it would the duty of yet more in the future, but for now it was their task. Their job. Their duty.

* * *

Six Turaga stood before the recently-awakened Matoran, their smiles outshined only by the expressions of childlike wonderment that covered the faces of the Matoran. It was a new world to them, and also the only world. They had no memories of the past, but that was alright. After all, they had six Turaga there to guide them through whatever hardships they might face.“This is the island of Mata Nui, named in honor of the Great Spirit,” Vakama declared to the Matoran. A few of the Matoran mouthed the words “Mata Nui”, as if the words themselves were a blessing of peace. Looking at the Matoran, Vakama felt a surge of pride for what had been accomplished, and a quiet determination to continue the work that he had begun.Thank you, Lhikan, for trusting us with upholding your legacy. We will keep the heart of Metru Nui safe, even if it is removed from its home; that I promise you. ------Entry #18: Member Name: ClickTheme: The LegacyWord Count: 517Story: The Forgotten LegacyAt the beginning of time, Toa were created as the guardians of the Matoran. With new powers to conquer their foes and the powerful Toa Code to guide them, they faced the darkness and came back to the light victorious. Eventually, a new darkness rose up against their might, the Brotherhood of Makuta, now led by the fierce Lieutenant Teridax, set on destroying all the Matoran hold dear and exchanging it for enslavement. New Toa would rise against this new threat, bringing with them power that no other being had known before, meeting every move of the Makuta with a swift counterstrike, their efforts seemingly in vain at the end as evil triumphs.Now, all of that is void. The cities they had fought to protect lie in ruins, the Matoran they had sworn to defend gone. With their destiny fulfilled, the Toa stand among the cold ashes of a once great civilization, now being left to fall apart in the darkness to new life.The great City Of Legends now boasts its shattered glory to frost and vacuum, the fear of Karzahni now left behind like a nightmare you woke up from, and the magnificent myth of Artakha has died out. The Great Spirit has awoken, been betrayed, and now has finished the last remains of evil in this universe, letting the inhabitants fight their own battles in a new planet.Kopeke looks back on the last of the great migration outside of his previous home. His eyes have seen and his hands recorded every new discovery for the future Matoran. Now, the endless exodus of Biomechanical beings nears a hatch by the side of one of the Southern islands, and as they pass from a dying universe into the sunlight, new creatures greet them called “Agori” and “Glatorian,” all of this hastily written down on the Chronicler’s tablet.In awe, the small Ko-Matoran looks up at what he had just exited: a giant robotic foot connected to the body that at one time housed the Great Spirit, and at another, the evil Makuta. It seemed impossible that something so huge could exist, let alone stand and fly. With a quick sketch on his tablet, Kopeke continues onwards through the welcoming crowd up to the seemingly insignificant mask that now is the home of Mata Nui, and paid his respects with the rest of the Matoran. Another lost legacy of the hundreds of beings who fought and died to obtain it, and those who are now cursed with the powers of life and death. Their trophy now lies in the dust of Bara Magna, its destiny fulfilled, now won by the Great Spirit and his chosen people.Millennia of history have gone to waste, myriads of heroic needs now are meaningless, but that is history. One accepted idea believed by thousands as worthy to protect suddenly becomes old fashioned as another rises in its place. The universe has changed, and now begins the true challenge of the great integration, which will eventually be overshadowed by yet another event, but that is the way of the Bionicle… ------Entry #19: Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: LegacyWord Count: 600Story: Survivors' GuiltLesovikk walked wearily along. For three days, he had been fighting with a wounded rock lion.And he had lost.I am a failure, he thought, as he had so many times before. I am worthless. My team was lost, my village was lost, because of me.He was so focused on his own hopelessness, he didn't notice the battle till he was nearly in it. Then a clash of weapons penetrated his haze of self-guilt, and he looked up.A group of six Skakdi was hassling a Matoran wagon. They would rob them, and perhaps worse.Lesovikk's hand tightened on his sword grip. How dare those Skakdi scum...But then long habit reasserted itself. What do I think I'm doing? I'm no Toa. This isn't any business of mine. Besides, I'd just make things worse.And he shrugged and began moving on down the road, ignoring the conflict.But then a new figure appeared. A tall Toa of Fire ran up from the opposite direction. He carried two swords."Get away from the wagon, robbers!" he called defiantly. Then he saw Lesovikk. "Hey, brother! Give us a hand!"Lesovikk looked at him grimly. He was very young, he thought. Young and naive. He would bet he'd never seen anything worse than a roadside scuffle like this one.Oh well. Less trouble to help him.Lesovikk advanced on the highway robbers. The other's combat skills were raw, but he had potential. They soon drove off the thieves."They might return," the Toa of Fire suggested. "Should we ride guard?"Lesovikk shrugged again. "I guess I'll tag along."The Toa hesitated, then spoke. "Why didn't you help them earlier? You're a Toa, aren't you?""No.""I'm a failure. My whole Toa team died by my fault. I have no right to call myself a Toa."The other stared at him."How did they die?" he asked finally."What?" Lesovikk said, startled. That was not the normal reaction."Did they die...like heroes?""Yes," Lesovikk said angrily. "Of course.""I didn't mean to offend," the Toa said placatingly. "Would you tell me about their deaths?"Lesovikk stared at the road. "A band of Zyglak came to our island. I was their leader, and in the middle of the battle, I hesitated for a second too long. They all died."Their deaths are on my head. I defeated those Zyglak, but I couldn't bring them back. I am a failure. I cannot pretend to be a Toa." He stopped.."You make me sick," the other said."You say you're responsible for their deaths. So what?"You failed once, so now you're exempt from even trying? You can drift along irresponsibly, without any rules applying to you? That's not right."Your friends were heroes. You have to make up for their deaths. You have to live like them - better, because you have all of them to live for. You have to fulfill their legacy."Now Lesovikk was angry too. "What do you know about guilt, rookie? What do you know about 'legacies'?"The Toa still glared at him."You're not the only one who's lost their team.""My leader ordered me to escape. I did. But I never saw them alive again."I've often wondered if I could have saved them. I don't know. But I'm living the way they would have, not crippling myself with guilt. I want to leave behind as good a legacy as I've been given.""Someday, Mata Nui willing, you will hear of me as a Toa who redeemed his past. Remember me then. My name is Toa Lhikan."-------Entry #20: Member name: GSRTheme: LegacyWord count: 497Story: Updates“Great Spirit” Planetary Evaluation and Reconstruction ProgramExcerpted Changelog (17/15/3332 – 19/16/3332 [Most Recent Change])17/15/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal environmental failures)17/15/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal environmental failures)17/15/3332: “Rahi” AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal environmental failures)17/20/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, increased oceanic environmental evaluation efficiency)17/20/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved trans-planetary path mapping and obstacle avoidance)17/33/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, added “Makuta” self-protection subroutine)17/33/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, improved recognition of internal damage)17/41/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase importance of protecting core AI modules)17/41/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase importance of protecting core AI modules)17/41/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase ability to co-operate with Toa units)17/41/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to increase importance of protecting Tohunga units)18/3/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, adjusted core priorities to improve internal homeostasis by making small changes to protect Tohunga and Toa units from damage)18/7/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on self-learning)18/7/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on self-learning)18/7/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on self-learning)18/18/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, “Three Virtues” priority adjustment subroutine implemented)18/18/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, decreased limitations on AI actions during periods where no specific task is being undertaken)18/18/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, relaxed assumptions on operating environment)18/23/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #15A7, increased ability for AI systems to identify other units and adjust behavior depending on past interactions with specific units)18/33/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, changes by user #15A7 reverted)18/40/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #1B99, adjusted core priorities to focus on gathering material for final reconstruction)18/40/3332: Core AI System Updated (User #1B99, added additional methods of termination)18/40/3332: “Tohunga” AI System Updated (User #1B99, adjusted core priorities to reduce downtime between finishing one task and starting another)18/40/3332: “Toa” AI System Updated (User #1B99, adjusted core priorities to prioritize structural preservation over Tohunga unit preservation)19/2/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, increased reliability of post-reconstruction standby mode)19/15/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, final reliability adjustments in preparation for launch)19/16/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, reverted changes by user #1B99, note: secondary user verification not provided)19/16/3332: All AI Systems Updated (User #1B99, restored changes by user #15A7, note: secondary user verification not provided)19/16/3332: “Tohunga” Subunit #0001 Updated (User #1B99, updated subunit ID to “Takua”, note: secondary user verification not provided)19/16/3332: System locked in preparation for launch (User #1B99, note: secondary user verification not provided) ------

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"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #1: Name: XanthorpTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 460Story: The Oncologist“Doctor Livingstone, I presume?”[/font]“You presume correctly, Mr.” the doctor checked his charts, “Wagner. And I’m assuming that you think you have cancer?”[/font]“Yes. It feels like something is bulging against my stomach. Can you help me?”[/font]“Of course I can, but it may take awhile,” the doctor looked at his watch, revealing part of a crown-esque tattoo. “It’s 2:45 sir. Do you have about forty-five minutes?”[/font]“I’ve got time. Tell me, doctor,” Mr. Wagner started.[/font]“Yes?”[/font]“I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on your wrist. If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is it of?”[/font]“It’s a wolf wearing the Crown of Her Majesty the Queen, Natasha.”[/font]“I’m also detecting an accent. Are you from Russia?”[/font]“The Ukraine. But very good, sir. My parents were born there while I was born here. The Lupum Coróna is a good luck tattoo for prosperity, fertility, and happiness. Now let’s get you into the MRI.”[/font]--[/font]The last few months had been rough for Doctor Jay Livingstone. One of his clients, Madame Weller, had passed because of a hepatocellular carcinoma, or liver cancer. The grieving process was hard, they were close, practically best friends-[/font]A man bumped into the barstool next to him and knocked his fedora down.[/font]Because he didn’t have any other close friends, besides William, Madame Weller’s attorney, who was out of town, he couldn’t bring it up to many people. So he decided to drown out his misery with a double-shot of bourbon.[/font]How does a thirty-seven-year-old become an eighty-nine-year-old’s oncologist?[/font] He thought. [/font]I’m not all-English, either. Yet I’m rumored to be the best in the land. But best what? Best looking? Most concerned? Most congenial?[/font]“You a doctor?” The drunk asked, a bit of vomit running down his lip.[/font]“Yeah, and...?”[/font]“I don’ feel so good.”[/font]“Why don’t you go to the bathroom and puke. Your drink will still be here.”[/font]“Thanks,” said the drunk man.[/font]Livingstone ran out the door, having left a twenty pound note on the counter.[/font]--[/font]Jay’s pale skin glistened in the moonlight, his dark lips standing out on his face. His black overcoat covering his suit, he walked to another building and knocked three times.[/font]“Password.”[/font]“Hérok.” His mother’s maiden name.[/font]The panel slid closed and the door opened, revealing his hideaway.[/font]His cache of computers was well-hidden. The rest of his family would never suspect that [/font]he[/font], of all people, was the one blackmailing them.[/font]--[/font]“Well, Mr. Wagner, it’s not cancer.”[/font]“That’s good news. Thank you, Doc!”[/font]“But I have a favor to ask of you, something important. I’ve seen your... record. I need you to break into something for me.”[/font]“Sure, anything. What’ll it be, boss?”[/font]Livingstone adjusted his fedora, showing a bloodred feather.[/font]“The Federal Archives building.”[/font]------Entry #2: Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 599Story: Doctor Who?He was the doctor you knew when you were a kid. You remember the one with the strange tattoo and that even stranger hat? Whenever he rolled up his sleeves you could see the crowned canis lupus on his arm, and he never removed the incongruous beret, ever. He had an incomprehensible recipe for alphabet soup hanging from the waiting room wall. There was something artificial to his smile, and beneath that superficial film covering his eyes which he claimed helped him to see you knew their lay deep waters. And the only explanation to his hands was the bucket of ice he surmisably kept in that back room.At first you thought he was an alien, and that beneath that beret you knew he concealed his disguise zipper. Clearly the mask didn't fit right, with that ripply forehead and those sagging jowls. He was here on Earth, you reasoned, to abduct humans for his fellow Zogwarg biologists to study, and you always insisted your mother enter first.You soon dispensed that theory as folly. That wolf tattoo was something no alien would think of. Indeed, it was too incredible. He must have been an ex-cop, that doctor, discharged for brutality and illegal interrogation tactics.After that he had turned to the dark side of the city and joined a gang. That was where he got his tattoo; it was the mark of the Wolf Pack. The crown meant he was their king. He had probably killed a few people and stolen a lot of money. That's why he could afford such expensive suits and all those paintings that old people who cleary haven't the slightest idea what they're talking about call art.But he played violin and read books. No gangster worth his salt cared for music or literature. That was sissy stuff. Which could only mean he was one of one of those weird foreigners from artistic, refined countries. And though you couldn't place his accent, you had seen berets upon the heads of French people in pictures, and the prison-stripe shirts they wore could be no coincidence. There he could only have been part of one of those secret cults where they study and play music and practice black magic. He had fled to America to be safe from rival cultists and witch hunters.But then there was that smile. It was artificial, but also vain and dignified. He was obviously hiding something. Now you knew what it was. He must have gotten all those fascinating gadgets somewhere. He was a secret agent for the government, and you were more excited than ever to see him for him to question you and exploit your knowledge for the good of Uncle Sam.But when he didn't, you were convinced he was a terrorist, and spent some few hours trying to figure out what the equivalent was, in a doctor's case, of convincing your mother you were sick to get out of school. But no matter how much energy you displayed coming down the stairs, no matter how many times you flexed your muscles, even when you ate that dreaded asparagus, it was all to no avail.As you got older you realized he was just a doctor, a person like anyone else, only he got payed a lot more. You decided you wanted to be a doctor, too, because they were rich and never got sick.But still that artificial smile and those superficial eyes haunted you. Even now you wonder . . . just what kinds of deep, arcane secrets was he hiding all those years? --------Entry #3: Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: Character StoryWord Count: 471Story: Mad Science•••••

New York News Journal

A Death to Be Mourned

Written by Janet Grouping, May 12, 2013Most scientists would agree that tossing random chemicals into a vat, stirring them up, and seeing the results isn’t science. Well, to Doctor Rex Canis, it was. This stage name has become widely known recently, along with the symbolic tattoo and hat that go with it. In his own words, “A wolf with a crown describes my name, and fedoras enhance any appearance worth any bit of decency. Especially a lab coat, they go excellently together.”Curtis Spice, as was his real name, liked to entertain. Kids, teens, adults, all flocked to see his shows across the world. He kept them humorous, somewhat informative about science and the like, and generally fun for himself. Doctor Rex was known for randomly tossing bottle of soda into which he had just dropped a package of Mentos into the audience. He howled at random moments, just for the heck of it.Everyone especially enjoyed his shows on the nights of the full moon, as he always had a special surprise. The only thing common to all of them was his superb display of effects and the fact that he “transformed” into a werewolf. These were especially fun nights, as his antics were doubled. Whether he ripped a hamburger to shreds while eating it, flew across the stage in a massive jump, or tossed water balloons into the front row, these shows sold out moments after tickets went on sale.What most people don’t realize is that there was truth behind his shows. Doctor Rex was the victim of experimentation by a terrorist group. The tattoo was a symbol of him surviving their horrid torture, and in the end he became a real, live werewolf. After being kept in captivity by the U.S. Military for years after the terrorists had been disbanded, for the safety of all. However, after proving that he could live a normal life, Curtis was set free, and he immediately put his persistent cheerfulness and bright mind to work in show business.Two days before a full moon show, he was shot in his bus in the dead of night. Police have no clue as to who the murderer might have been, aside from possibly one of the former terrorists. The only clue was a note left beside Doctor Rex’s body, containing content inappropriate for print. In essence, it said, “The blood moon would have killed everybody.” As the full moon of his show was a “blood moon,” multiple theories have been formed regarding this message.Regardless of 37 year old Curtis Spice’s death, his entertaining shows are sure to live on in the hearts of people around the world, and his example of overcoming strife has inspired many more people than could be imagined. -------Entry #4: Member Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 600Story: College FriendsSo I was just sitting there, minding my own business as usual, when I see Jake enter the bar. I pull the brim of my hat lower and turn away, praying he doesn't see me. Well, when was the last time that worked?“Hey, Wolf! Long time no see! How ya been?” Jake said in that grating, high-pitched tone he always uses.“You saw me last week,” I growled. “And don't call me that.”“You gotta crazy tattoo of a wolf on your chest. Whadda you expect me to call you? Doc? Ooh, I know. King!” Jake smiled. I'm sure he would have ruffled my hair if he could.“Edward. Call me Edward. It's my name,” I replied, exasperated.“Sure, but thought you liked being called King,” Jake sneered.“That was twenty years ago!” I shouted. People around us had started to stare, so I lowered my voice. “I was seventeen. I grew out of it. Now will you kindly leave me in peace?”Jake laughed. “So you can mope around by yourself? No way! You need to meet people, have fun, and drink something other than- what is that, orange juice? C'mon. Let's get you a real drink. And while we're at it, I know this couple of reeaally nice girls. Wouldn't wanna pass that up, would ya?”“You know I'm married!”Jake never changed. He'd been a good laugh back at college. He'd known all the best places to hang out, all the best people (or so it seemed at the time). But while the rest of us had moved on, he was still stuck in his ways.Jake shrugged. “You were always boring. Took me ages to convince you to get that tattoo – with a crown and everything! How cool's that? Think how much duller your life'd be without it!”I glared at him. “Yeah. I could go to the swimming pool without everyone staring at me. How terrible my life would be. How I would hate it!”“Oh come on. Bet you have some interesting stories to tell the ladies,” he winked, the immature schoolboy as ever.I'd had enough. I rose from my chair, fist clenched so tightly around my glass I feared it would shatter. The stare I was giving him should have been warning enough, but he just stood there, clueless grin fixed on his gormless face. That was too bad. I began to raise my arm, my intent visible to everyone but him.“Hey, is your pocket meant to be beeping?” Jake observed, still not realising how angry I was.I quickly drank the rest of my orange juice and placed the glass heavily on the table, still glaring at Jake. “You're lucky.”“Yeah, I am pretty marvellous, aren't I?” he admitted, still grinning away. “Say, where you going? Night's still young! Don't tell me you've got a date or something?”“I've got a job!” I shouted. “Just because you can't scrape together the willpower to do a single day's work doesn't mean the rest of us have to be as useless! I am a doctor in a respectable hospital and people need me! Now if you don't mind, I have better places to be than hanging around with a half-wit like you!”“So, same time next week?” he said jovially.“Whatever,” I grunted, straightening my hat as I left. Perhaps I would be there next week, as I had been for many weeks past. But for now, duty calls.------Entry #5:Member Name: Thunder on the MountainTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 597Story: BuriedJuly 23rdI’m on my own now.The others are leaving at dawn. They still just want to escape. They don’t quite have the determination to take down these animals that I do. Maybe it’s just that they didn’t quite love Ashleigh the way I did. Maybe it’s because they don’t have ‘you can have my girl, but don’t touch my hat’ stuck in my head, which I can guarantee you has only made the situation much, much worse.I’m writing this to give to them before they leave. It’s the final entry, obviously. Once I finish with this, I’m setting off with my rifle to try and hunt down the killers that took Ashleigh away from us. All I have is enough ration to last me a few days, some ammunition, the gun, the clothes on my back, and my Stetson. Really, that’s enough to do what I want to.I’ve spent my entire life studying these things. It’s ridiculous to start doing heartfelt reflections at a time like this but I don’t really care. There are only a few things running through my head at the moment. First, the cruel irony of how I always yearned to understand these things better, and now my only real goal is to kill one. At least one.Second, never before have I missed the big Alaskan husky that’s (somewhat unsatisfactorily) tattooed on my bicep this much. King would have loved doing hunts like this. Considering all the deer he’d helped me bag, and all the bones he’d sniffed around with me, a combination like this could have been the time of his life, had it not been cut short.Third and finally, I can’t get the image of Ashleigh being pounced on by a Tyrannosaurus out of my mind.I’m thirty seven. She was twenty-nine. She was divorced, I never married. I spend my life digging in the dirt, looking for bones, she spent hers recording and filming wildlife. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and I’ve held a resentment of everything and everyone since King died.It was just infatuation really. I mean, I’d known her for a week, I wasn’t exactly planning how to drop to a knee. It doesn’t matter though. Watching her get torn to pieces by a creature I’ve admired and studied my entire life could have been enough to turn this gun on myself. Eventually, I got a better idea......turn my gun on the monster.It started in my childhood, and I never really let it go. Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were my life. I didn’t really need anything else. Bones in the ground...and my dog. I never cared much about my family, and even in my last few hours I don’t really regret that. I never had a woman, or much in the way of friends.That I do regret, in hindsight. With a single person to care, I might not have come. I might have stayed in the real world, with a new family to care for.But there’s no changing the truth now. I had no one to hold me back, King was dead via truck, and when they told me of my chance to see a live ******* dinosaur, I pounced on that chance without a second thought. So here I am, writing in the darkness, waiting for my chance to kill the second most fascinating thing I’ve seen in my life. Second of course, only to Ashleigh.“You can have my girl...don’t touch my hat.”*The journals of Doctor Dawson L. Barson, Paleontologist.-------Entry #6:Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 490Story: Odo, the Surgeon Extraordinare

ODO, THE SURGEON EXTRAORDINAIRE

~~~Doctor Spencer had not planned for this.He had planned for a successful operation on the young Miss Jamie, but that had not gone to plan at all. Her parents were well-known in the lawyering business, and they were watching the hospital like a pair of hawks honing in on their prey. One wrong move, one pair of unwashed hands, one slip of the wrist, and they would be closed down with medical licenses revoked. So, Doctor Spencer did the one thing he could: he called in the cavalry.There was a smash and a tinkle of glass as the window on his door was shattered, and a gloved hand slithered through the shards to open the door. A shady character sidled in, dressed entirely in black and bearing the image of a wolf wearing a crown tattooed on the side of his neck. Doctor Spencer cleared his throat. “Um, the door was open.”“You got a window on your door,” the figure rasped from under his wide-brimmed hat, tilted slightly downwards to hide his eyes. “Windows’re meant for breaking.”“Oh, uh… All right.” Doctor Spencer shuffled his notes nervously. “Well, I called you in for-““The Jamie deal. Girl’s got a dangerous illness, and you got a pair of dirty stinkin’ lawyers on your back about it.”“Yes, correct. Could you-““Girl shouldn’t be no trouble to fix up, if they’re willin’ to pay.” The brim of the hat lifted to reveal eyes that sparkled like diamonds, despite the man being almost in his forties. The wolf glared at Doctor Spencer in much the same way. He gulped.“Oh, good. I’m sure if you talk to them, they’ll-““No talking.” The man lowered his brim again and scowled. “Lawyers don’t sit right with me. Always watchin’ what you say, waitin’ for a slip-up.”Doctor Spencer didn’t much like being interrupted, but there was no being uppity around Doctor Odo. He had turned up from some foreign medical school, but he would not say where, and he had soon proved himself to be a surgeon extraordinaire. The man had a slight Brooklyn accent, but he never spoke of where he came from. He was notorious for his dangerous but effective methods, and he was Doctor Spencer’s only chance to get out of this jam.“Very well, I will arrange the price.” Doctor Spencer grinned uncertainly at him. “And this price would be…?”“A hundred million dollars,” Doctor Odo rumbled from beneath his hat. “No less.”Before Doctor Spencer could cry out in disbelief, Doctor Odo had made his exit through the office window. He watched the man flee before sighing and turning to his phone.“Ah, nurse Tordo? Cancel my appointments, and arrange for Jamie’s parents to meet with me… yes, THAT Jamie… oh, and call in someone to clean up the glass in here.”It was going to be a long, fussy argument, and a long, fussy day.-------Entry #7: Member Name: Tsar DovydasTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 598Story: The Hippocratic Oath

The Hippocratic Oath

“You people aren’t serious,” the middle-aged sole surgeon of Alexanderburgh’s sole medical clinic, Mr. O’Connor, was pretty explicit in his expression of surprise intermingled with just a bit of shock and horror. With reason, too. After all, it’s not every day that three men, armed to the teeth, burst in through the front door of your clinic.George O’Connor was a typical 37-year-old man, not at all accustomed to people barging in through the door, especially not people that looked like they could shoot you with those dangerously lethal rifles in their hands any time now. He had a sturdy, but not particularly strong, build and darker skin than most of the inhabitants of Alexanderburgh, hinting to his Mexican ancestry on his mother’s side. Dark hair, cropped short just above the ears, and a dark goatee, and a complexion that was rather well suited to his just ever so slightly frightened expression at this point.Before him and rather intent on getting through the door that he was currently delicately positioned to block, stood the three aforementioned men. One was short, light-haired, grey-eyed, Caucasian, dressed in blue shorts, a white straight jacket and something of a fisherman’s hat on his head and a rather amused expression on his face. The frightening part, however, was the rifle in his hands, and the two men besides him, who weren’t half as relaxed as he was. They, like proper gangsters, wore suits of the finest Milanese make. And frowns on their faces. Rather grim ones.“Oh, come on, doctor,” said the laid-back one, a smile flickering on his face, “we only need to visit a friend -that wounded police officer that came in recently. We promise you, we’ll make sure no one thinks you had anything to do with… any mess that we may leave behind.”O’Connor was not a brave man. But this was one step too far. He forced himself to scowl.“What do you want with him?” with an ever more courageous tone, the doctor asked. “Lay your cards on the table, gentlemen. Truthfully.”Mentally, he wrote a testament, leaving all of his belongings to his wife and children… and forbidding his wife from burning his copies of all the books of A Song of Ice and Fire that he had, what she hoped for ever since that day when he decided to get a tattoo of a crowned wolf in honor of the Stark family, as was their sigil in the books. Meanwhile in reality, he slowly observed the frowns on the men’s faces growing ever tighter.“Let’s say we owe him something, Doc. I don’t think I have to pronounce every single detail of our plans regarding the good lieutenant out loud. You’re a smart man.”“Yes, I am. And frankly, gentlemen, I see no reason to let you pass. Hippocratic Oath.”Witnessing the quizzical expressions on their faces, he decided to add:Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given to me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.He crossed his arms. “I will not give up the life of one of my patients to save mine.”The laid-back suddenly turned as grim as his fellows.“Pity, ‘Doc.”It seemed to O’Connor that an eternity passed by as the rifles turned towards him. He wouldn’t remember which one of them shot.------Entry #8: Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 511Story: To Save a Life"Doctor, this is serious. He's losing a lot of blood! If we don't stop the bleeding soon... we're going to lose him!" The Nurse shouted, looking down in fear at the dying person laying down upon the table in front of them. "You have to save him!"The Doctor walked quickly over, pulling a tray of medical supplies with him. "Don't worry Nurse, I'll do all that I can. But I'll need to know what happened to him so I can save his life." He started quickly pulling aside select medical tools for use."There was a crash, his motorcycle struck a tree. He was thrown to the ground. Doctor, please! You have to help him!" The Nurse replied in a panic, staring down in terror at the poor, injured biker."Why has this gotten you so terrified, Nurse?" The doctor asked, turning towards the tray. The Tattoo of a wolf with a crown could be seen on his upper shoulder, his lab coat didn't have sleeves."He's my brother! He's thirty seven, the same as you! He's too young to die!" She replied, crying.The Doctor gasped in shock, before adjusting his hat to prevent it from falling. "Don't worry, I'll do all that I can.""Thank you doctor..." She replied."Now, First we'll have to disinfect the wound." He reached around, pulling out a bottle of clearing goo. "We'll have to get this directly in the wound.""Be careful! Don't hurt him!" The Nurse shouted.Carefully, the doctor place the gel on the wound, sweat dripping from his face. "Almost.... done. Now we need to seal the wound to stop the bleeding."The nurse closed her eyes and turned away. She couldn't look, it would be far too horrible to look. All she could do was hope that the doctor could save her brother's life.---"Charley, what's taking so long?" Will grumbled, laying back on the ground with his knee up. He'd crashed his bike and scraped up his knee. It didn't hurt all that badly, but that didn't change the fact that it was taking too long. "Just put the band-aid on already!""You can't rush a doctor!" Charley remarked, carefully and slowly moving the Bandage to the other boy's knee. On his arm was a temporary tattoo. And on his head, a hat a few sizes too large for him. "Now shut up and let me work!""Brother, stay calm! He's trying to save your life!" Sarah shouted again, looking down at her older brother with a nervous face."Ugh... will you two stop playing hospital and help put that band-aid on?!" Will complained, before snatching the bandage from his friend and applying it himself. "There, done."Charley watched Will get up and walk away with a frown. "Hey Sarah, want to go cause him to wreck his bike so we can play hospital some more?""Sure!" Sarah grinned. "Only, I get to be the doctor next time!"Will looked back at the two with a startled expression, before peddling away as fast as he could.-------Entry #9: Member Name: fishers64Theme: Character StoryWord Count: 536 wordsStory: The Car WreckFlashing lights.The world blurs out.I woke up to see a man, bending over me. I could clearly see the crowned-wolf tattoo on his arm.“Eek!” I yelled. “Get away from me!”“Relax” he said. “I’m the doctor.”“You’re the doctor! You’re this town’s excuse for a doctor!”“Lady, please calm down. I’m sorry I startled you. You’ve broken your leg, just your shin. I’m just going to check to see if it is infected, then I’ll let you go. Alright? Please stay calm.”He pulls off my sheets. I squirm uncomfortably. He kneels down to unwrap the bandages around my leg, me intensely aware of his every move.“You’re fine” he tells me. “I’ve already set it, while you were asleep so you wouldn’t feel anything.” He wraps new bandages around my leg. “We’ll take you to a real hospital soon. They’re on their way, with an ambulance. They will get you a real cast.”A cast? I’ll be out of work for weeks! I’m a reporter, and I can’t travel with a cast!“What about the accident?”“It wasn’t your fault. Some drunk. You’ll be fine, just fine.”I squirm in pain, my face contorting. “My leg, my leg, my leg!”“It’s just the pain pills wearing off. Want some more?” He holds out the bottle to me.“No…I think I’ll be fine.”“Are you sure?”“Yes.” I wince as another explosion of pain travels up my leg.“You don’t sound like it.”I hear the faint wail of sirens. Good, they’re here, and I’ll be able to get away from this creep. “Trust me, I’m fine.”“You don’t trust me.”“What’s the story behind the tattoo?” I ask, hoping to distract him from darker ambitions.The paramedics enter the room then. “Looks like this is pretty under control.”The doctor waves them off dismissively. “Car accident. Broken leg.” He then pulls the bed away from the wall, skillfully maneuvering me through the halls and up the ramp of the ambulance. The paramedics follow, talking and joking with each other. Even though I’m still wearing my clothes aside from my cut-away pant leg, I still pull the sheets back over myself.The ambulance doors close behind me. I’m going to be just fine. “You asked me a question.” I looked behind me to see an imposing figure, wearing a leather jacket and hat, stand next to my bed.“You see, when I was younger I had a group of friends. We rode motorcycles, and called ourselves the Wolves. I was the leader, so when we were old enough, we got a tattoo to seal the deal.” He allowed himself a sly grin. “They thought of me as the leader, so they gave me a crown on the wolf.”“That place where you got wrecked is a dangerous pass. One of my buddies, he wrecked out there. Died. After that, I decided I would never ride again. Instead, I would settle down, go through school to become a doctor. That way, I could actually help some people. I thought I was helping my buddies, my fellow Wolves. But I was only helping myself.” His face fell. “I wanted to change that.”I nodded. “Thanks.”-------Entry #10:Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: Character StoryWord Count: 555Story: Crown WolvesKnock-knock.I open the door and gesture the middle-aged man into the house, assisting him briefly with his plenteous luggage. A quick glance outside before I lock the door ensures no one is lying in wait.“I do hope you realize what you’re asking,” says Doctor Quinn Jong, straightening his jacket and hat. His briefcases, large enough to match his healthy girth, lie on the sofa in front of the fifty-inch TV. “Cybernetic implants are illegal in this area of China.”“Because no one can stand up to the government’s cronies without them,” I respond impatiently. “Do you have all you need?”“I am not so old as to be that forgetful” — he scoffs — “especially when payment is involved.”“How old are you?” I ask.“Thirty-seven.”“That’s old enough. Here, let me carry that for you...”The briefcase is heavier than it looks, but I carry it downstairs without much trouble; how Doctor Jong, six centimeters shorter and at least ten kilograms heavier than I am, carries his other suitcase easily escapes my mind. I run through my knowledge of Doctor Jong: He has been working underground for the past eleven years since he graduated med school; his credentials include being hired as a freelance designer by the U.S.-run Gearhead Enterprises before being fired two years after for failing to comply with China’s numerous technological laws.Normally I would be more cautious about hiring strangers. But the twenty-second century turned China from physical to almost entirely digital transactions. I have no money on me, and this house is an abandoned one in the outer limits of a nearby town, so there’s nothing of worth here. If the doctor wants payment, he needs to perform the operation well and have me alive by the end.A table and two chairs have already been placed in the center of the basement under a hanging light. Doctor Jong and I place the briefcases on the chairs. As he opens one, I clamber onto the table.“You have the blueprints?” I ask.Without speaking, he hands me a piece of paper before fiddling outside my field of vision. I examine the design closely, noting with pleasure the CPU to be connected to my brain and the metallic support spine to increase my load-bearing capacity.“Good,” I say. “Here.”He takes the paper back and places it inside the case before drawing out a pipe and a needle. “I have to place you under to perform the operation,” he says.I nod. “Continue.”The needle’s prick is barely noticeable through my adrenaline high. The rapid fading of sensation in my arms, however, quickly overwhelms me. I breathe deeply and close my eyes.Then the pain starts.My lungs strain for air, but they can’t move. The pain spreads from my chest down to my abdomen and up to my throat. My eyelids snap up and I stare in horror at Jong, whose grizzled face is split with a smile. He pulls up his right sleeve; there, prowling across his bicep, is a wolf wearing a crown hung over one ear.The image dissolves as my brain begins to shut down. “The Crown Wolves operate for no one but the government,” says Jong. His voice is distorted as if it’s traveling through water.I wonder what will become of my cash.------Entry #11:Name: DespairTheme: Character StoryWord Count: 600Story: LossI walked over to a tall, middle-aged man sitting with his head in his hands, his proud back bent in sorrow. I had seen many others like him during my life, but it was never any less heart-wrenching of a sight. There was no guaranteed way to help people when they were like that, but I had always found that simply talking to them could help ease them a bit.“Excuse me, sir, but

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"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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music.pngEntry #1: Member name: PyrrhonTheme: MusicWord count: 527Story: The Day the Music Died.A Le-Matoran hummed silently to himself, sitting in the forests of the jungle he called home. I was that Le-Matoran. Life had never been easy, but I kept on living. Monstrous creatures roamed the land, under Makuta's mighty control. But brave heroes were here to fight him. It hadn't always been that way... It seemed a long long time ago, when things seemed completely without hope...I can still remember those days, back before the Toa had arrived on the island. They had been dark, and filled with challenge, but we had survived, most of us...I closed my eyes, humming the song that filled my mind, a small smile crossed my face as the memory of the melody echoed through me, a song of days long pastMy mind drifted back a few hundred years, to a time when Matoran had no fear. The Rahi attacks did not dissuade us in the slightest. We stood bravely against the darkest of shadows. How I wished for that time, when I myself was into the music.I had always wanted to play music, to make others dance, especially during that dark time that had passed over us many years ago.That time was when music was needed the most, when everyone needed something to cheer themselves up... but not much could have even done that.That was when the island learned the news of the deaths of the Le-Matoran Pao, Ga-Matoran Puha, Ko-Matoran Waiata, Ta-Matoran Oriori, Po-Matoran Whiti, and Onu-Matoran Haka. The traveling band called The Islanders. They had traveled the island, bringing cheerful music to everyone.I was sent to the other Koro as a messenger, it was up to me to spread the news to the entire island. I was to travel and tell of the death of the heroes of music, telling their homes of their tragic demises.A boat wreck off the coast, between Le-Wahi and Ko-Wahi, an infected Tarakava... it was too late for anyone to save them, it didn't matter if they could swim or not, Makuta didn't want them alive, and his beasts made sure his will was accomplished.It was in Ta-Koro when I couldn't take it any longer. I broke down is misery. The Islanders had been friends of mine, always encouraging everyone they met. I had said the story so many times, and it was just too much for me... I couldn't take the pain.I can't remember exactly what happened, I'm unsure if I held my composure or broke down crying... it was just... they kept a smile on everyone's faces... but they were... gone...Visiting Ta-Koro had to be the hardest on me, the whole Koro came to hear the news... they all knew Oriori personally. He had been a friend to everyone, as cheerful a Matoran as you could ever find.Something changed that day, in all of us, nothing would be the same. We had lost all of the island's greatest musicians in a single day... nothing could change that, but everyone wished they could... it was like the island's spirit was gone.That was the day... that was... the day the music died. -------Entry #2: Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: MusicWord Count: 424Story: Dirge•••••Death and life. Both were facts of the world. Heroes came and went, villains were the same. The average Matoran lived the average life, worked his job, met with friends. This went onwards for centuries, until something brought him to his end, whence unfortunate circumstances caused his heart-light to blink out.The funeral dirge echoed eerily over the dunes of Po-Koro. It was only fitting that the death of the village’s greatest musician was honored by a full, solemn orchestra. Drusteph had been a pioneer on Mata Nui, introducing the island to music that they had never before heard. Whether he played the violin with a rock or composed a piano piece involving sawing the strings, he was a brilliant Matoran. He used water wheels to create electricity–without the help of a Toa!–which he channeled into oddly shaped instruments that created previously unheard sounds.This orchestra consisted of his friends, his followers, and his enemies. Yes, even those who were against his music. The ones who opposed Drusteph the most played most passionately at the ceremony of his death. He was their opponent, he was the one upon which they placed the blame of the wild actions of the day. Yet, in spite of their dislike, they could not say that the Matoran lacked skill.Drusteph was the life of Mata Nui, he was the power behind happiness. He brightened the days with his magical music, his sorcery of sonic and electric energy. He was simultaneously the Matoran that discovered unnatural electricity and the father of music using the energy. The orchestra’s piece, incorporating more somber elements of the music, reached its end, and not a dry eye was in the massive procession. Drusteph was laid with his first instrument in a mausoleum dedicated to his legacy. The carving around his coffin were ornate, filled with bright designs that he would have wanted. The funeral would have been almost too solemn for the hero of Po-Koro were it not for these cheerful designs.As the second orchestral piece began, the mood quickly brightened. Life was to keep going, and the music of Drusteph was still there. The distinct electronic noises echoed over the dunes, and though tears were still present, joy was felt in the hearts of the gathered Matoran. The music kept going after dusk, moving back to the village. Villagers from every Koro joined in the celebration of life, the song that was no longer a dirge, the music of Drusteph that was there, invigorating them and pushing them onwards. -------Entry #3: Member Name: SumikiTheme: MusicWord Count: 524Story: First TimeThis was the day.The was not just the day, as that would be a vast and uncompelling understatement. This was the day of all days. This was the day that would containthe moment, that magical moment where the curtain would open and he, Rakai, would officially become part of the Le-Koro Wind Orchestra.Words would have a hard time describing Rakai's elation. He had been an amateur flute player for ages, working his way up in skill as he met the right Matoran. For the longest time, he couldn't get into the Orchestra, though he tried his hardest to get into it. There was a pecking order, and while he knew that all of the players in front of him were good, he considered himself on par with or even better than some of them. But, hey, they'd been around longer. They'd paid their dues, and now they got their shots.One of the longest-standing members of the Orchestra, Vyll, abruptly retired, citing the sometimes grueling schedule of the Orchestra's travels about the island, and specifically its effect on his aging body. This led to a hole that needed to be filled, so Rakai was asked to become a member.Before he knew it, it was evening, and nearing the hour of the performance. As the hours zipped by, he went to the amphitheater where their concert would be held. As he saw the sun set, excitement gave way to nervousness, and when he was nervous, he usually passed the time by polishing his flute.He had never polished that thing so hard in his life. As he was vigorously rubbing, he felt a hand alight on his shoulder. Spooked, he turned around to see who the culprit was.To his great surprise, it was Vyll."I know that you'll play great-well," he said, leaning over a little bit. "I had a first time too, you know. It was scary-frightening, and I missed many-lots of notes, but everyone thought I played great-well, for some reason." Patting Rakai on the back, he smiled and began to walk out the door."Vyll?""Yes?""What are you doing here? Not that I mind your presence-appearance, but I thought-knew you retired?""They invited me back, one-time only. They offered me the conducting role-spot, but I'd rather listen-hear. I got front-row seat-chairs." He glanced at the sundial outside. "Almost time," he winked. "Better get yourself out there."Rapidly finishing his polishing job, he adjusted his Kakama and darted out.He got to his seat in the back, going through a few warm-ups before the audience began to applaud, the sure sign of the conductor's first appearance. He introduced the Orchestra, including a short spiel on Vyll's retirement and Rakai's first appearance, with his bombastic voice. Slowly, painfully, the deep green curtains that concealed the Orchestra from the eyes of the audience opened.The moment was rapidly approaching. Rakai felt his heartlight flutter and then sink. He felt a little nauseated, and his limbs shook a little bit no matter how hard he tried to fight it.First time jitters. All he needed to do was focus. This was the moment.The conductor rapped his baton upon a railing as Rakai raised his flute to his mouth.Exhaling, he began to play. -------Entry #4: Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: MusicWord Count: 442Story: SingThe rising sun’s rays painted the trees with streaks of red. They turned their leaves toward the sky in gratitude as a stiff breeze flowed among them, greeting each and every plant and animal in its winding path. The period of silence between midnight and dawn, when both nocturnal and diurnal Rahi slumbered, remained only for a minute more; then the first birdcall rang to the distance like a fervently rung bell, and slowly, the jungle of Le-Wahi drew itself from semiconsciousness.Small birds were the first to awaken; their shrill melodies joined and intertwined, stirring the hearts of those still sleeping. The raucous cries of Brakas monkeys began soon after — they were intermittent, but their contribution to the forest eidos was nevertheless indefeasible. Minutes passed. A Gukko called out as it skimmed the treetops. Ground-locked Fikou spiders continued their silent work, apathetic to their environment. The signature pok-pok-pok of a Pokawi reverberated in the chill-tinged air, soon intermingled with the harsh buzzing of distant Nui-Rama and Nui-Kopen searching for food. A rustle told of the appearance of Ash Bears, or perhaps Ussal crabs; one could not know which.Melodious twittering soared above all other sounds.The jungle did not take notice. Beauty was intrinsic to its ecosystem. Why should it notice of something so obviously meant to be?The melody throbbed with energy as more voices joined the choir. No time signature, no tempo, no clear rhythm... and yet it was somehow more real than a song with structure. Perhaps there was a structure, just one so complex, so undeniably vast that no Matoran could ever hope to replicate its beauty.There was, however, another possibility: With such beauteous tonality, was structure required at all?A small bird hopped from one tree branch to another. Its breast was white, its wings and back light gray segueing into a mottled light and dark gray on the bird’s scalp. It canted its head and opened its beak. The melody burst forth with surprising ardor. Perhaps the little bird lived for its song; the jungle was privy in regards to its priorities.Again the bird leaped; its dainty weight barely shook the branch upon which it landed. Its high, throaty vibrato was perchance more palpable than its mass.From a distance, another bird let out a similar call. The first bird responded and spread its wings, crouching to better leap off the branch—Twang.The arrow that pierced its chest pushed the bird sideways. It tumbled through the air before landing out-of-sight amongst the undergrowth. It would sing no more.The Le-Matoran Tamaru lowered his bow and inclined his head before retrieving his meal-to-be. ------Entry #5: Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: MusicWord Count: 535Story: The Lone Performer

THE LONE PERFORMER

~~~Baldo took a deep breath in and surveyed the landscape. Here on Bara Magna, he could see almost to the horizon, with the occasional sand dune and mountain range cutting through the sight. He was at peace up here, in his secret place. It was a tall natural spire of stone, jutting at such an angle as to be climbable, and it even flattened out at the top. He still remembered the day he saw it, when he had been riding with some other Agori on a trade caravan and suddenly the great thing had been in view. The others took no notice of it, but he saw it for what it was; a podium, a perfect stage to perform.Back before the Shattering, he was a well-known singer and dancer, and he was of high renown throughout the land. He had stayed out of the War, but he was limited by his tribal colours as to where he could perform. He mostly stayed in his home province, under the banner of the Ice Lord, but he would sometimes creep to other lands to give secret performances to his loving fans. Even now, years on, his heart beat faster as he recalled walking out in the guise of another realm’s colours, and passing by fearsome guards that were only a hair’s breadth from recognising him and having him captured or worse.The Fire Lord caught up with him though, in the middle of the war. His light feet were good for more than just dancing, and his clear voice was well-suited to things other than song. He became a scout, hunting for the enemy’s position and racing back to report. It had been a dreary existence then; the others had laughed at him as he tried to practice his routine; the beings now known as Glatorian were sometimes rude enough to demand he dance to the tune of their laughing, sarcastic ditties. That said, he had respect for some such as the warrior Certavus, who would quietly request songs from home, sitting and listening with a sad look in his eyes.And then, when the world shattered with a rumble and an ear-splitting crack, Baldo was left on the desert planet. He still served as a scout, though for a different purpose; he kept an eye out at night for Vorox and bone hunters and other such creatures; occasionally he’d travel with merchants, as he had grown practiced at spotting danger before it spotted him.He had always felt alone, ever since he was brought into the war. He missed the crowds, the admiring fans, the awed silence of a full theatre. Now, all he had was the hissing winds and burning sun.He walked to the centre of the plateau and closed his eyes, taking his position. In his mind, he told himself this was his big moment, and the entire village was watching with bated breath.He opened his eyes. He was on the stage. A thousand faces glowed at him, eager for the performance.He danced, fast, sweeping movements that flew like a sandstorm.He sang, proud and strong, of the hope of a better tomorrow.He smiled. -------Entry #6: Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: MusicWord Count: 600Story: Cave SongThe Matoran, Triax and Krinil, ventured deeper into the cave, intent on proving once and for all what was inside. No one really knew, and so many who had come this way had never returned. But they had reached it, and they intended to return with their stories.“Hey, do you see that?” Krinil pointed into the distance at what looked to be a faint light.The two of them scurried onwards and emerged into a huge, domed chamber. In the centre was a pedestal with a strange, glowing rock. The walls were made of a substance they had never seen before. They seemed crystalline in nature, yet were as reflective as any metal.“This is incredible!” Triax gasped. The two of them moved towards the light, gazing around in awe. As they passed within arm's reach of it, the rock started to hum.The Matoran had not noticed, but their entrance was blocked by a sheet of the same crystalline material that covered the walls. The rock began to hum louder, the light pulsating slowly. The walls reflected the light in a myriad of directions, making it hard for the Matoran to focus.The sound grew louder still and began to echo, filling the room. As the sound bounced from one wall to the next, the pitch changed. The walls themselves seemed to reverberate with the sound and began to emit similar, yet subtly different, sounds. Soon the air was filled with dozens of notes, each echoing and arranging themselves into something whole. There was no discord. Every sound overlapped perfectly with another, and the combined notes rang out in unison with a dozen more.As it grew, a tune began to emerge. It was subtle, hidden beneath the many layers,, yet each one seemed to feed into it. The tune was something slow, something beautiful, both distinct yet intrinsically part of the background humming, which was music in itself. The result was something more incredible and more profound than either Matoran had heard before.They could not tell how long they stood there, just listening. It seemed to touch something deep within them, making them feel free and glad in every way to be alive. Yet there was also a sadness. A deep, unreserved sadness that they could not contain or understand.The humming began to fade. Layers of the music peeled away, stripping it down to its base components. The tune, that impossible, magical tune, still whispered through the air, growing fainter and fainter, until even that was gone, leaving only the sound of their own silence.They said nothing to each other as they left the cave. There was nothing to say. They staggered out into the bright sunlight, shielding their eyes against its vibrant rays.“This...is not where we were,” Krinil remarked. The cave they had entered was set deep into a mountain. This cave was part of what could only generously be called a hill. Ahead of them stretched an empty plain; a far cry from the rocky crags they had expected.Triax shrugged. It didn't seem to matter. They stood silent for a few more minutes, not sure what they should say or do.“What happened in there?” Triax finally asked.Krinil shrugged. “We'll probably never know. I thought I could see things. On the walls. Shapes, images, things that couldn't possibly be there. Did you-”Triax simply nodded.The two of them picked a random direction and began to walk. Behind them, the cave entrance faded and vanished as if it had never been there at all. ------Entry #7: Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: MusicWord Count: 598Story: Jungle RhythmThe sun rose over the trees spread below me, the stars disappearing like drying tears. Only the clouds of the fluffiest mien drifted across the resplendent sky. The jungle leaves shimmered with the sun's golden rays. The Kohu and Kewa rose from their roosts, circling upward into the sunshine and greeting the day with lighthearted song.The morn was of a beauty unparalleled, steeped in a joy long forgotten to me. It brought warmth to my heart and a smile to my face, carrying my woes away on the breeze.I sat for some minutes on my high perch, watching the jungle waken to the day. The chorus of the jungle burst into a melody I had not noticed for a long time. It filled me with an energy I could not describe. From the Gukko's soprano to the Ash Bear's baritone it was a cadence that compelled me to clap along to the beat.When I had heard my fill I descended the Nui-Kao, weaving through its canopy alongside the Fikou and Brakas. With agility and skill I ran from branch to branch, descending them with the ease of a flight of stairs. In the shadows of the trees Kavinika prowled among the roots and underbrush, being themselves hunted, perhaps, by Muaka on a final pursuit before taking to their nests for the day.I brachiated among the boughs and vines. I called out to each Rahi in passing and they called back. I whispered to the trees. I felt the identity of every rock and stone, every river and stream, every tree and shrub. I was in a harmonization with the jungle that I had thought I lost. I was again the jungle.And the rhythm persisted. It would rise to a crescendo before calming to a soft, steady refrain that insisted I emulate vocally. I descanted:

"A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh.A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh, a-wimoweh."

I paused on a branch to allow a bevy of Taku to fly past. Instead they decided to alight in the same tree as I. One bird landed upon my shoulder by accident and, giving a squak of surprise, prepared to flee. But I reassured it with a coo, smoothing its ruffled feathers with a dexterously applied hand. It responded with a cheerful trill.That evening I lay beside my favorite pool, watching the Lightning Bugs buzz about overhead, their light reflecting off the pond's gently rippling surface. A beautiful day was giving way to beautiful twilight, obfuscating the shadows and splashing the sky with rapidly evolving hues. The tune was beginning to calm and soften, but it thrummed on dulcetly. Birds, preparing to retire for the night, lent their song to the melody. But louder over them I heard the baritone yowls of prowling Muaka. I lyricized:

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle,The Muaka prowls tonight.In the jungle, the peaceful jungle,The Muaka prowls tonight."

Soon twilight would give way to the night, and the moon would shine down like the eye of a nocturnal hunter. And I would prowl alongside every one of them, beneath each star, among the roots of each tree. While the music of the night lulled the diurnal into their sleep, I would revel in the nocturne of the darkness. Day and night, I was the jungle.Day and night, this was my home. This was my world. Dirges and laments had no place in the repertoire of the jungle. This was my lilt. I was its tune and it was mine. I am and always will be Kaomata--Spirit of the Trees. -------Entry #8: Member name: fishers64Theme: MusicWord Count: 600 wordsStory:He wandered over to the blue-tinged portion of the city, where a magnificent temple stood. Two Ga-Matoran stood at the gate. "Excuse us" said one of the guards. "You really...shouldn't...go in there. Turaga Nokama is making sure that some records are being preserved. Please don't disturb her.""Okay" said Tarduk. "Anywhere I can help?""I don't know" said the guard. "Maybe you could just...take a boat. Lend a pair of hands to the Matoran carrying things out. ""Go talk to Macku." suggested another guard.”She's in charge of boats these days."So he wandered down to the boat dock.”I'd like to...um...get a boat?""Sure."Moving along the island of Matru Nui, he spotted a cave opening slightly above the water. He beached the boat, eagerly pulling out a lightstone to examine the cavern walls. The Agori recognized some of the lettering, but he was unable to tell the exact meaning. From the diagrams, some were plans for beasts, others notes on Matoran anatomy, and a clear warning about something, although Tarduk could only guess at what. One of the letters, though, looked familiar. Where had he seen that before? He couldn't remember. He continued wandering. An old storage room, bare and empty. A bad cave-in to his left. Further along, dead moss draped over carvings - Tarduk touched it and it disintegrated into dust. He kept walking. After some time, he came upon a stack of canisters, menacing creatures contained within. In front of them, however, was an odd collection of junk, scattered about. A heatstone, chucked in one corner. A surfboard. A tablet in those strange letters. And...a flute. Tarduk picked it up, blew the dust out. Blew into it, mashing random keys in likely the most obnoxious flute solo ever played. Examined it again. There were two songs in it. Played the first one. Nothing. Tarduk looked up. A gateway, behind him, half open. He shoved it open the rest of the way, looking up into the Spherus Magna sky. Played the second song. And then something happened. A bird swooped down out of the Spherus Magna sky. Nuzzled him. Tarduk stumbled away in fright, falling over.Getting up, he slowly backed away from the bird, which was slowly walking toward him, and the Agori could have sworn he had a confused expression. "Villager!" shouted Turaga Matau. "Quick-dash this way." Tarduk complied, although it was a tricky task on the sloped and pitted robot face. "That tune you played there is an old summoning call for that Rahi." Matau reached out and petted the bird. "It expects you to ride." Tarduk grimaced. "How do you ride - a bird?""Well, the same way you quick-ride any other thing - hop on!" And with that, he hopped on to his bird, which popped up in the air and circled about. Tarduk nervously approached the bird. It made no threatening moves, and let the villager settle on its back. The bird squeaked a few times, as if to ask in bird language where to go. "Down.” said Tarduk in Agori. Apparently the bird at least understood the vibe of the message, for the Rahi swooped down off the robot face and deposited the nervous villager on the ground. Tarduk got off, trying to pass the flute of to a nearby Le-Matoran. He waved him off. "You ever-keep Takua's flute. He would have been sure-proud to see you wind-fly."Tarduk shook his head. "I'd rather not, if you don't mind. ""Ever-scared of heights? Not-matter; me worse-scared. Best flute-keep."Tarduk smiled at that. Maybe the newcomers weren't so different after all. -------Entry #9: Name: DespairTheme: MusicWord Count: 527Story: The FluteI sat inside my sparsely-decorated hut of leaves and twigs, my project of the last few weeks held gently within my hands. After all those failed attempts, all those late nights spent working on it and improving it, had finally culminated into something magnificent.In my hand rested a new kind of instrument, something I had decided to call the flute. Its design was comprehensible to only one such as myself who had spent countless weeks tinkering with said design. It was beautiful, but I cared not for its appearance. No, all that mattered was the sound. The sound,that mattered immensely. I wanted to try it out, but something stayed my hand. I wanted to be the only one present when it first sang. I wanted to be not only the creator of the first flute, but the first person to listen to its sweet melody.But where to play it? Since he wanted secrecy, the village was out of the question. The swamp was also a bad choice to how dangerous it was. So it had to be away from the Koro, perhaps even the Wahi.Kanae Bay might just work… After all, we Le-Matoran avoid water almost as much as Po-Matoran.With that, I exited the village. It was one of the few times I was glad to be relatively unknown, for none of the few people who knew me were out and about as I left. As much as I valued their companionship, I was preoccupied by my desire to try out my new instrument.But of course, that was only natural.I made my way to the shoreline, thankful once more for our aversion to water. A few seabirds flew overhead, but other than that there was no sign of life. It was there, on the deserted beach situated before a lush jungle, that I first played my flute.It was just as beautiful as I had hoped it to be. Its sweet melody rose gently into thee, caressing my ears with their loveliness. To me, it felt as if a whole new world had opened up before me, beckoning me to step forward and immerse myself in the music. I wasn’t sure if the sound would carry any great distance, but I imagined for a moment what the other Matoran would say when they heard it. Surely I would get the respect I deserved, now that I had wrought such an incredibly instrument.And then a Kewa bird dropped from the sky. I jumped back, startled by its sudden arrival. The Rahi looked at me with an expectant gaze, its eyes asking me something I could not decipher. I glanced down at my flute, the beginnings of an idea forming in my mind. Had it been summoned by my playing the flute? And if so, would I be able to replicate the task? Playing it once more, I waited to see if another would arrive.It didn’t take long. Within moments, an entire flock of Kewa had descended upon me, each somehow drawn by the melody I had played.Oh yes. A whole new world had indeed opened up before me. -------Entry #10: Member Name: Panty AnarchyTheme: MusicWord Count: 599Story: Tunes to Live For

Tunes to Live For

“My name is Boros; I’m a De-Matoran from a faraway land. These two fellow villagers are my companions.” It wasn’t a lie, though depending on who was asked, who bore the title of “companion” varied.“What are you doing in these parts? We don’t usually get many tourists.”“We’re minstrels.”“Minstrels?” Music was practically unknown to the Steltian miners. For those in their line of work, it virtually didn’t exist. “We haven’t had music in this island for millennia. We’re under a tight schedule, but I think it’d be good to let the workers have a distraction. Do you think you could play for us?”“Certainly. That is, after all, our job.”

**

The Steltian chief spoke with Boros as he oversaw the work. “As you can see, we lead an isolated life. We’re laborers for Vortixx weapon manufacturers. It’s a tough existence, but we get by, and so long as we do our work well, we’re left alone.”“Is your work here important?”“Relatively speaking. The ore we dig out is used in many of Xia’s weapons, but this isn’t the only deposit, though it is one of the largest. If Xia lost the colony they’d be facing some problems. But we’re skilled in fighting as well as mining, so we’re not defenseless. We can protect this place, though so far there has been no need to do so.”Boros only nodded.“By the way, what would be your price? I don’t suppose you work for free, do you?”Boros smiled. “For the time being, we’d be content with an audience and a place to stay the night.”“Good. We can provide both.”

**

It was late in the evening, after the workers had all finished their work, and the Matoran sat on a small platform facing a large courtyard. In front of them were gathered the entirety of the workers in this island, which, unknown to its inhabitants, had recently become the target of Dark Hunter operations. Boros and his companions, however, were aware of the situation. They were too aware. Wordlessly, they began to play. The three were Matoran of Sonics, so their ears were extremely sensitive. It had taken them years to become accustomed to normal speech levels, and even longer to master their instruments. They were simple, relatively crude flutes. However, the music they played was neither crude nor simple; they played a complex, mesmerizing piece, a masterful sound that resounded through the night. Every person present was caught up in the music. They were too caught up, in fact, to notice when Boros and his two companions, slipped small devices over their ears and attached a sleek, square device to the end of their flutes. In one last movement, the three blew into their flutes to the full of their capacities. The special Xian devices they had used in conjunction with their flutes recalibrated the sound into a special frequency, which hit the Steltians in full force. The courtyard was then full with many, many unconscious bodies.The three were content. The unfortunate Steltians would most likely lose their jobs, but they would live. The courtyard was relatively far from the mines and storage rooms, far from the Dark Hunters’ path. There would be no confrontation. They had been doing this for some time, trying to figure out the Hunter’s goal and preventing it from escalating into a battle. Sometimes they were successful, other times, they were not.Today they could be glad that they had saved a few souls with their music. It was all they could do. -------Entry #11: Member Name: ClickTheme: MusicWord Count: 600Story: Battle Hymn of the ResistanceGaran sat miserably on the ground, his Pulse Generators falling to his side. Balta looked at him worriedly, and Piruk scrapped his claws in the corner. The others simply sat in silence, waiting to hear his answer.“I just lost most of my friends to some Toa pretenders, and you want me to lead a resistance? I…I don’t know if I have the energy…” Dalu stepped forward, offering her Chargers, but Garan just shrugged her off. “I mean, how do I lead after this much loss?”“We all are going through what you are now, Garan,” Balta replied. “It’s times like these that we need a leader.”“But why me? I’m just an Onu-Matoran who’s broken and left on here to rot.”“No, Garan, you are more than that. Remember the hurricane a few years ago? You wouldn’t stop until every Matoran in the village found high ground, even at your own risk. Even after the hurricane, you directed the rebuilding of the village. You and Balta were the first to find out about the Piraka, and you know more about them than we do. You are the only candidate.”“And what if I refuse?”“Then,” Velika responded, “we’ll just choose someone else. It was your idea to form the resistance group, and now we are asking you to lead it.” He lent a reassuring hand to Garan who blankly stared at it.Suddenly, a voice filled the air with a soft melody, followed by a strong chorus. After recovering from their shock, the resistance team turned to face Dalu, the hardened warrior, singing her heart out. It was a song they had all heard from Turaga Jovan, who had heard it from his Turaga, and so on as the song was passed down through generations to inspire courage in a weakened leader’s heart. His spirit rose as the volume did, and he noticed that Balta had joined in, followed by Piruk and Velika. Soon, the small cave was ringing with the sound of Matoran voices who had forgotten their troubles outside. Once the verse was over, Garan spoke.“I’ll do it, on one condition. That’s our battle hymn.” The five other Matoran nodded their agreement as they prepared for the battle to come.

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Months passed, and in that time, a new hope had appeared on Voya Nui. The Toa Nuva had arrived, and after some misunderstandings, the Voya Nui Resistance Team had formed a strong bond with the Toa, who promised to lead them and their village to freedom from the Piraka. Today was the first battle to regain the Toa’s Kanohi and Tools, which had been taken earlier. Already, Garan was beginning to see the signs of weakness in Tahu’s maskless face. The attack would have to be as soon as possible.First of all, to get inside the door, the Resistance Team convinced Toa Lewa to taunt Reidak and get him to smash the door. From there, a simple path leads to the Trophy Room, where Piruk had said the Toa’s Kanohi and Tools were kept. The second stand was to be made against the Piraka, but that’s where everything went wrong.The Piraka had made a new friend: Brutaka, former protector of the Matoran with the power of Dimensional Gates. His massive power to protect was used to destroy every bit of resistance the Toa had in them, and then capture them again.Garan was not so lucky. He awoke to find himself in the Chamber of Truth, the Piraka’s interrogation room. Hearing the few familiar notes, Garan could smile, knowing help was on the way. -------Entry #12: Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: Bionicle - MusicWord Count: 459Story: Spiriah's SymphonyAgain, the pounding rhythm in her ears was threatening to split her head in two. For as long as she could remember, the beat had been with her. Of course, it hadn’t always been so torturous and agonizing. Before, it had only been a nuisance, with the squabbling of everyday life enough to drown it out.The soft, melodious chatter in the market used to play as a background. The varying patterns of thumping footsteps entering and milling about her shop used to syncopate most elegantly with her own rhythm. Resonating tenors and sweet contralto used to swirl about her, harmonizing in pleasant accompaniment. The wind used to mosey on in through her open shop windows, humming a carefree tune, tickling the curtains into laughing some days. Back then, the song that she lived in was peaceful and harmonious.And then Makuta Spiriah came to Zakaz.Cursed Makuta Spiriah had distorted her gentle lullaby into Karzahni’s own twisted symphony.No longer was the cadence inside of her steady and reliable. Now it hammered erratically and cracked like some ghastly kind of thunder, always trying to pound its way out of her head.Even over time, the dreadful new throbbing didn’t subside. Once she realized that it wouldn’t go away, or get any better, decided to go on living live as she always had; finding music in everyday tasks to accompany the tempo.But it was very clear that her old life was not enough to satiate the new rhythm. One day in the shop, one empty day, and she had almost been overwhelmed by the pounding monster inside her mind, deaf to anything else.She lived alone, and she used to be solitary and content by nature. But there was nobody to stop her when she started going out andexperimenting with different ways to try and drown out, or at the very least, make peace with her new rhythm.Arrows thudding into flesh, clubs crunching protosteel armor, bones being snapped over her knee, and extremities crushed beneath her stomping feet now played in counter to her beat. Swords ringing on armor and maces screaming through the air threw their respective notes into the din.And on really and truly horrible days, like today, when the thrashing in her head threatened her sanity, the only vocals that could complete this new song, the only vocals powerful and worthy enough to soothe the beat within here were the agonized screams and final, howling curses of the enemies she’d made over the recent years.All of this was now contained in a day’s work, a day’s musical and glorious work. After a job well done, the repulsive, echoing beat of her empty heart was just a bit calmer in her ears. -------Entry #13: Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: MusicWord Count: 586Story: Song of LightIn perfect silence, Krakua slipped through the tunnels of the Archives. He needed to leave Metru Nui, and he had heard there was an old chute system nearby.He edged cautiously around a corner. It seemed probable that Makuta wouldn't be noticing these obscure tunnels. Still, it was as well to be cautious. Even without the threat of a hostile "Great Spirit," this was dangerous. After all, it was the Archives.Still, he wasn't sensing any sonic vibrations around him, so there shouldn't be anything nearby. He rounded another corner

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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preparation.pngEntry #1: Member Name: Zosia DarrTheme: COT - PreparationWord Count: 592Story: The Second Door on the LeftUp the stairs, down the hall, the second door on the left.That door has been closed for three years.She walks past it, like she does every day. But today, the things that lie behind the door call to her.It has happened before, and she has tried to ignore the curious yearning, an almost insatiable longing to find out what she already knows, that stirs up inside of her. She has learned to shun, push down, and lock away the urge that is welling up inside her like one resists the allure of just one more cigarette.The girl steps forward, resting a thoughtful hand on the painted brass handle, almost daring to lean her weight against the cool, solid, whitewashed wood. She inhales slowly, and a whisper of a familiar scent teases her.It was nothing. Only a frustratingly evanescent memory, come back to haunt her.She lets the breath out.She turns away, not wanting to tempt herself. But her hand still rests on the doorknob.She takes a deep breath one more time.In her mind’s eye, she sees the picture of her family, which sits, all but forgotten, atop the mantle this moment.Before a wispy willow tree stands a family of four. They smile in the real picture, but not in her mind. There is a mother, and a father. There are two children. The girl recognizes a younger version of herself. And the boy beside her, only two years older than herself, and bearing a striking resemblance to her. They share their father’s thoughtful, caring eyes, and their mother’s proud, strong nose. The eyes of the boy in her mind blink, and find hers. Not the little girl beside him, but her, as if he knows he’s being spied upon. He mouths her name.The girl breathes out and opens her eyes, the image of the boy still fresh in her mind.And suddenly, she can stand it no longer.She twists the door handle almost desperately, and stumbles into the room.In three years, nothing has changed. If it hadn't been for the layers of dust, it was almost as though the room had been prepared just yesterday for the brother's return. Scuffed up white walls with lyrics painted over them, a simply designed ceiling fan with a solemn collectoin of dust on the blades, a rather large bookshelf against one wall, a tall mirror next to an empty laundry hamper, and a worn out bean bag chair next to a barely used work desk.The last thing her eyes find is the lonely, undisturbed bed. The blue and white patterned bedspread looks abandoned, uninviting, and lifeless.Even so, it is all the girl can do to make it over to the forgotten bed before the memories flooding through her cause her eyes to swim and shimmer like the scales of a fish through water.As she collapses onto the bed, and as dust is stirred up and gradually begins to resettle, the image of the boy from the picture flashes through her mind again.Again, he blinks, but this time, she with him.And as she does, she lets the tears overflow.After holding herself together for three years, it was good to cry. It was okay to lie there, vulnerable and raw. It was relieving to come to terms with her loss. And it was freedom to allow herself to finally wonder about the war that had taken her brother to a distant land, and when he could be coming home. -------Entry #2: Member Name: SumikiTheme: PreparationWord Count: 578Story: The Beckoning of SpaceNo matter what any mere landlubber told you to the contrary, space was indeed the last frontier. The endless void beckoned citizens to literally reach for the stars, to solve the problem of surviving the vast journey of light-years from planet to hopefully habitable planet.Here, the views were breathtaking, even through the tiny, reinforced windows that looked upon the sheer, empty blackness of space. Of course they knew there were things out there: stars, planets, comets, asteroids, black holes, dark matter, etc. It was incredibly hard to imagine, though. The closest humanity had ever gotten was throwing out unmanned probes to take pictures of faraway places. Some cynics doubted humankind's ability to ever send people out to Mars, even, as hibernation techniques had always failed and travel faster than light was fiction.But there were still dreamers. The dreamers that held onto their dreams when they grew up became the astronauts and cosmonauts which inhabited this space station, currently circling somewhere high above India.The romanticized version of space travel was laughable to the astronauts. Gravity on ships, sound in space, and faster than light travel were all tropes that were adopted by the population of Earth as ostensible fact. Even the relatively simple task of going extravehicular involved tedious steps.He had about half the suit on right now, and his comrades were busy floating around him, assembling and checking the individual bits of the complex space armor. It was tedious beyond all imagining, but hey, at least it had air conditioning.As any human being would, he would have not been able to take the process of putting on a spacesuit if he didn't have so much to think about. That was another thing: in space, you had to think. If you didn't think, you endangered yourself and everyone else onboard. Even when immobile, he had work to do in the form of intense mental preparation.You see, this was to be his first jaunt into space, and even the veterans of extravehicular activity thought it daunting.In space, Newton's Third Law was your best friend. If you were too far away from the vehicle, you can't really get yourself back, so you have to hurl something in the opposite direction. The equal and opposite reaction generated would throw you back to the vehicle, and back to safety.In space, you had to check your oxygen constantly.In space, you had to know your limits of energy and time.In space, the sun's weather predicted activity. Solar storms could make an astronaut sick from radiation, possibly starting cancer.In space, you had to be aware of tiny meteorites that constantly pelted your suit. Just one in the right place still had the capacity to incapacitate.All of these things, and more, were running through his head, vying for attention. He slowed down, focusing on whatever happened to come to his mind first:He'd be in space.Space.That was his dream. Space.Before he was aware of it, his helmet had been locked on."You ready?" asked the earpiece in his helmet. He answered to the affirmative in a slightly wavering voice.No matter how much time he had to go through his preparation, he still felt like he was unprepared. Sweat dropped off of his eyebrows, defying the air conditioning.But he also knew that right now was as good of a time as any.Space.Stepping into the airlock, he waited, his final mental preparations sprinting through his head.Space.The air was sucked from its lock, and a second later, the doors opened soundlessly.Space.-------Entry #3: Member Name: fishers64Theme: PreparationWord Count: 495 wordsStory: Movie Night“I have a large pepperoni and a medium pinapple-and-ham pizza. Will that be all?”“Yes.”“Name for the order?”I smile and give my name.“That’ll be twenty minutes.” That’s how long it takes me to ride down to the local pizza place, anyway. I shove a new batch of cookies into the oven, and check my watch. Swipe the keys off the counter and walk out the door.It’s a short ride over the hill, past the stoplight that everyone runs on red, through the asphalt crack in the median that someone got pulled over for using not too long ago, and into the spiffy pizza parlor with comfy red booths and pizza that all my friends drool over. Me, not so much. But they’re coming over tonight, so I’ll cut them some slack.I march up to the man behind the counter. Hand him the money politely, take the pizza boxes. He’s a nice guy; his daughter goes to my school, and he’s cool about our parties.I drive off, tooting the horn for fun.It’s just a small church group, the four of us, who like to watch movies together. We don’t get to do this as often as we like, especially in the summer with us traveling and all.Beep Beep. A driver cuts in front of me, runs the red light. Impatient. I see a car coming. It’s green his way. No. Smash. The front side of the legit driver’s car is crumpled in. On the driver’s side. I recognize the car. No. I pound my fist on the steering wheel, accidently hitting the horn. To my shame.* * *“Are you all right?”“Are you kidding?”“Sorry.”“Nah, I’m all right. Just a few broken bones.” I can tell from his grimace that it’s worse than that.“I’ll sorry.”“It’s all right. I forgive you.” He chokes on the last words, and I can tell it’s more than just emotion.I sit with him for a bit, until the doctors tell me that my friend needs his rest.* * *None of us feel like eating. My three friends sit around the table, staring at the two boxes as if they are about to bite us. The smell of burned baked goods hangs in the air – I got home too late to save my merchandise.I nibbled on one of the cookies that survived. “Maybe we should all just go home” I suggest feebly, vainly trying to salvage my crashed movie night.“Well, we shouldn’t let this good food go to waste” says the bottomless pit of the group, and we all chuckle, in a bittersweet way. Because we know, at least, that this is out of our hands. Eating doesn’t really make you feel better, or change what happened. It’s just one more thing.One more thing to do, to allow you to get past a sad moment and move on. And that’s what we did.------Entry #4: Name: Danska: Shadow MasterTheme: PreparationWord Count: 556Story: FriendshipThey were coming. Those people. Those wonderful people who I had once called friends. They were coming.It was my own fault. I had tricked them. Deceived them. Taken their money and tried to run, but they had found me. They were coming.I sat in my chair, waiting. The TV was on, but I had stopped watching it some time ago. I tried to pay attention, to distract myself, but to no avail. I tried to distract myself by making a drink, picking up an old book, even looking over my tax forms one last time. But nothing could fully distract me from that one, simple fact. They were coming.I did not know what they would do. They would be angry, I knew. There would be shouting, harsh words, I expected there would be pain. But what could I do? I did not have the money to return to them. I had tried running, hiding, but still they had found me. All I could do was sit, wait and try, however uselessly, to prepare myself.There is a knock on the door. I freeze up, tense, knowing who it must be. After a few seconds it comes again, louder this time. I rise slowly from my chair. I am not ready for this. I can't face them now, I need- it doesn't matter what I need. I have no choice.I shuffle slowly to the door, trying mentally to harden myself against the fear and the shame. It doesn't work. The knocking comes again, louder again and more insistent. I open the door slowly and see them standing there, stern expressions on their faces. I am not prepared. This will not go well for me.*Thirty minutes later*They have gone, and I am left...astounded. I had tried, fruitlessly, to prepare for a number of eventualities. But the one thing I had not prepared for, the one thing I had not expected, was kindness.They had been angry, yes, but they had understood. They knew I had not taken the money out of greed or selfishness. They knew that I needed it, that I was desperate. It was not right, what I had done, but they had even agreed to help me, to support me. After all I had done to them. The promises I made, the lies I invented. How did I deserve this?The TV is still on, but I cannot see it. My eyes are clouded with tears. I sit, staring into nothing, trying to understand. How did helping me benefit them? It did not, could not, make sense.It was not until much later that I realised, and I was ashamed it had taken me so long. It was friendship. It mattered to them more than what they had lost, and they were willing to make greater sacrifices still to keep it. In my desperation, I had not understood. I saw only the problems and a way to fix them, not seeing or caring what it might cost in the long term.This understanding brought me to tears, but I was smiling as they ran down my face. I had made a terrible mistake, but life had given me a second chance. An opportunity improve. And I would embrace that opportunity with open arms. I was prepared to do better.-------Entry #5: Member Name: ZippyWharrgarblTheme: PreparationWord Count: 454Story: Boy

BOY

~~~Blagir sat on the cold stone bench, shivering under his rags of clothing. The club in his hand, made of cracked wood with scraps of leather for grip, was dead and dull, offering no protection or threat. He clung to it anyway, tears falling down his cheeks.At the tender age of six, his parents were forced to choose between losing their home and selling one of their children to the slave market. Seeing as Blagir’s siblings were either too young to be put to work or already had a job, the boy was sold for a fine price. He never saw his parents again after that. He missed them, but he supposed now his siblings were safe until the rent ran out again.He was sold a year later, and went from owner to owner due to his clumsiness for four more years. Finally, the slaver, who had had enough of Blagir’s constant returns, had sold the boy to an underground slave fighting group. The owners of the group, Claude and Edda, had accepted the boy- even one as useless as Blagir had some entertainment value in the arena. So, they started him off on small tasks. He would bring food and drink to the rich masters observing the fight. He would scrub the arena floor, and make sure it was free of muck for the next battle. He did this without complaint, every day.But then, he had messed up. A valued customer of the arena had ordered a drink, and Blagir had tripped while bringing it to him. The majority of the drink fell upon Blagir, but a rogue droplet splashed onto the customer’s boot.He had watched, twitching in fear, as the boot landed upon his face, sending him tumbling down the steps to the low stone wall surrounding the arena. He had shielded himself as best he could from the blows rained upon him by the man, and watched as Edda had run over and apologised profusely to the customer. And then Blagir was sent away, locked in a cupboard for an hour until he was brought out, only to be told he would be fighting tomorrow.And that day had come, and Blagir could hear the shouts and cheers from outside. He gulped as he heard someone announce his name. Over in the other holding area of the arena was a big, nasty warrior, well-experienced in fighting. Blagir had no such training. He had no chance. He had prepared himself as best he could, but what could he do? He could only sit and steel himself for death.The doors were opened. He rose to his feet and, knees shaking, he went out into the arena.-------Entry #6: Member Name: Ballistic Jello Pickles (Toa of Dancing)Theme: PreparationWord Count: 555Story: False Alarm•••••"Shh, hide everything, quickly! Timothy can't see it yet!" whispered Sarah to her sister, Keonna. The two of them had just managed to hide the streamers, confetti, and banner for the teen's birthday. He walked into the room, his eyebrow raised as his sisters giggled. Then, shaking his head, he moved on to the kitchen. Both sisters crossed their fingers, hoping he wouldn't need anything out of the cabinet in which they had hidden the food supplies, including his cake.When he walked back through the living room only holding a can of soda, they gave each other looks of relief. The house had been like this the past few days, and they knew that Tim was suspicious of them. That made sense, of course, what with them sneaking, laughing, and generally being, well, suspicious.Then the day of his birthday came. Tim carefully poked his head out of his room,glancing sneakily up and down the hallway. No doors were cracked no sounds of stifled giggling broke the dead silence. Then again, that was to be expected at six o'clock in the morning, what what with Mom declaring no school on his birthday this year. Home schooling was such a great thing at times. Smirking, he crept silently down the stairs and into the kitchen.Victoria, his mom, was standing there when he walked into the room. With a small, "Good morning," and, "Happy birthday," she handed him a plate of pancakes. Beside that, everything seemed normal. With a shrug he went into his usual routine: eat, empty the dish washer, get dressed, and start messing on the computer. Sometime around eleven Keonna got up, and Sarah followed about an hour later.His Dad, Walter, walked in the door sometime around five in the afternoon. They all sat in the living room, and Tim opened his presents after his family sang a certain song (that is, in fact, copyrighted) to him. After that, they dispersed, and it seemed like a normal day, aside from now having a fair sight more money and a new game. That night, he went to bed content, though surprised.The following morning, however, a Saturday, he was surprised even more. When he trudged out of bed at nine (which was late for him), he found the house silent again, aside from Victoria moving around downstairs, probably cleaning the bathroom. With a rather large yawn, he walked into the kitchen.The moment his face was visible around the corner, he was assaulted with a foghorn, a dozen or so voices, a few pounds of confetti, and three cans of silly string. Sputtering, he crawled out of the pile and got up with the help of one of his friends. Immediately he was handed a plate with Eggs Benedict (his favorite breakfast, oddly enough) covering it, and he was dragged into a chair at the dining room table.Still coughing from the inhalation of those likely poisonous fumes from the string, he glanced around the room, seeing most, if not all his friends from church and other activities standing around him. Yeah, that had surprised him. Looked as if his family knew him well enough to know that he would expect a surprise and they had managed to trick him anyways. With a chuckle, Tim went right to eating his breakfast.-------Entry #7: Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: The Soldier“...Daddy?”Hodges’s round blue eyes pored curiously into his father’s bedroom. Daddy was packing a suitcase that lay on his antique wood desk; when Hodges spoke, he turned and smiled, but his eyes didn’t twinkle like they usually did. His face seemed worn, like the old teddy bear Hodges had been gifted after his birth eight years prior. A single, dim lamp cast a halo of light across the clothes folded haphazardly in the suitcase — Mommy always said Daddy wasn’t good at being tidy.“Daddy?” repeated Hodges, stepping cautiously into the room. “Mommy says you’re going away.”Daddy sighed, letting his smile fade. “Yes, son,” he said, packing a mottled green-and-brown suit into his briefcase. “Daddy’s going far away. He has a job to do.”“But why?”Why was a magic word. Whenever Hodges asked it, Daddy’s eyes would defocus, and his mouth would form into a half-puckered frown bordered by stress lines; he wouldn’t speak for several seconds, and when he did, his voice was slower, rougher.“Come here, Hodges,” said Daddy finally, patting his lap.Hodges complied obediently. His daddy needed to help him up.“There are bad people in our solar system,” he began, his voice as coarse as his hands holding Hodges in place.Hodges nodded.“Some of these people want to... hurt us. Hurt our friends. Maybe even hurt you” — he poked Hodges with his rotund index finger in the stomach, and Hodges giggled. “So there need to be... to be people who can stop the bad guys. Understand?”Again Hodges nodded.Daddy’s smile returned, bittersweet. “I’m one of those guys.”“Really?” Hodges’s surprise was almost palpable. A new question, however, wrinkled his forehead. “When are you coming back?”“I — I don’t know,” said Daddy finally. “Maybe never.”“You’d go forever and ever and ever and—?”“I don’t want to, Hodges. You have to understand, I’m making Mars — and every other planet — a safer place. For everyone.”He looked up. Mommy stood in the doorway, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. One-year-old Mike lay in her arms, tucked against her chest. She and Daddy stared at each other for a long time before Daddy finally lowered Hodges to the floor.“I’ll drive you to the spaceport, John,” said Mommy. Her eyes were sad. Daddy looked self-consciously to the suitcase and busied himself with tidying its contents.* * *Daddy reached the top step of the space-jet and turned with a salute. Mommy used one hand to help Hodges salute in return; her other arm still cradled Mike. Hodges looked up; her eyes were shining like the windows.“Mommy, why are you crying?” asked Hodges.Daddy disappeared into the spacecraft, and the door closed; ponderously, the space-jet taxied across the runway to the dome’s airlock.Mommy licked her lips. “Mommy’s just very sad,” she murmured. “Your daddy is a brave man, but courage is no guarantee of safety.”Hodges thought about that. “Daddy will be safe, right?”Her lips compressed. She didn’t respond.The airlock door shut. Hodges glimpsed through a window in the Martian colony’s dome the space-jet flying into the distance. It receded till it was too far for even Mommy to see. She exhaled heavily and gripped Hodges’s hand till his fingers began to tingle.“Mommy—”She lessened her grip. “Time to leave, come on...”“Mommy” — Hodges’s innocent eyes locked with his mommy’s — “someday I want to go into space and fight bad guys, just like Daddy.”Mommy didn’t look again at Hodges till they returned to the car. Her eyes were red by then, her lips white, her cheeks moist.------Entry #8: Member Name: Nuile: Lunatic WordsmithTheme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: To Be a WarriorI closed the monastery doors behind me, shutting out the whirling snow. Slowly I stepped forward into the empty courtyard. I felt disappointment welling up within me. I had heard rumors that the monastery was abandoned, but I had refused to believe them. But I saw no signs of life. Had I really traveled all this way for nothing more than a legend?I couldn't decide between relief, surprise and fear when I found myself suddenly surrounded by a ring of ebon-clad men. I decided fear was appropriate as they struck out simultaneously, battering me from all sides before taking my feet from beneath me.I had hiked for days through snow and sleet, for miles up steep inclines and sheer cliff faces. I was tired, I was hungry, and I was cold. And now this was the greeting I received? I refused to take it lying down, literally or otherwise.I leapt to my feet again and, before my attackers could react, kicked one back. I raised my arms to block punches from two of the others and then seized their arms. I jumped up to kick at the other two and upset the balance of those I was holding.The first regained his feet and lunged at me. He punched and kicked and chopped, and I matched him blow for blow. His foot connected with my stomach but I grabbed his knee and twisted. While he fell over I turned to his brothers who were back on their feet."Enough!"I turned to identify the speaker. A man with two short strands of beard and deep eyes stepped out of the shadows. His hands were folded behind his back and his lips were drawn in a long frown."Who are you?" he asked."Just a man like yourself, seeking to make the world a better place.""And how is it you came to find us?""A mutual friend told me."He raised an eyebrow. "And why is it you have come?""I wish to join you.""Join us! And what makes you think you are worthy? My warriors are trained to fight a hundred in battle.""And I just held my own against five of them.""My warriors are brave.""Give me a few more minutes, and they'll turn tail.""You are bold, I'll give you that. But being a warrior means much more than that. My warriors are selfless.""I didn't come all this way in hopes of ransacking an ancient temple.""My warriors are persistent and tenacious.""This wasn't the only mountain I've climbed searching for this monastery.""My warriors are devoted. Can you dedicate yourself entirely to our cause?""I would lay down my life for it.""My warriors are humble."I hung my head. "That I am not.""And for that reason," said the man, "I believe you are." He regarded me. "But answer this: Why is it you wish to join us?""My life has been a penurious one. I've been oppressed by hooligans and thieves. I have seen firsthand the damage done by wrongdoers. I havelearned to fight back. I believe it is my purpose to protect the innocent, and that is what I have been trying to do. But I heard that here I could become more than just that. I heard that you could give me the strength I need to be a hero."The man was silent. Then his lips curved into a smile. "You are among the worthy. Your life has prepared you for my teachings." He bowed to me. "Welcome, brother! Welcome to the League of Shadows!"-------Entry #9: Member Name: TolkienTheme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: "Ever Up"

Ever Up

He opened the door wide on creaking hinges, letting the orange light of evening spill across the floor of the hut. The windows followed, shutters flapping open in the breeze that was just now rising over the empty prairies from the north. It blew gently through the hut as he busied himself with other matters, shuffling about on aching knees.First, he swept. A slow task with the thatch-broom that he always kept in the corner. Dust rose in little clouds as he worked, glinting in the sunlight before the wind snatched it up and away.When that was finished, he turned to the furniture. Not much: only a wooden table and chair. These he dusted, straightening the small collection of books on the tabletop, and put away the pewter dishes that lay scattered about. They would be useless to him on the journey. He smiled faintly, though, as he touched the books. They were dear to him. He would miss them.Next, he hobbled outside, leaning on a stick that he had used for many years. Rounding the hut, he made his way up the hillside behind. There, he looked upon the pens of sheep and goats that he had tended for so long. A hermit must keep himself busy, after all, and what else was there to do on the open prairie but tend the animals and read and think? What more indeed?He wheezed a bit as he stooped to lift the latch of the main pen. The gate swung open, and he tied it to a stake so it would not shut. Within, the livestock shuffled around but did not leave the safety of the pen. They held together, looking back at him with dark eyes. Sad eyes. He smiled at them, always grateful for their simple, silent company.The descent from the hill was harder in the twilight. The hut seemed grey now, thatched with colorless reeds, fluttering in the wind. He stopped when he reached the door again, looking out into the distance.South, he looked, and then west. The wind stung his eyes as he turned to the north, and he shielded them with one trembling arm. Soon, now. Soon he would go. The thought sent a shiver through his aged body, and suddenly he wept, for he was lonely. Here in the desolation of the prairie, with only the sheep and goats to keep company, he was lonely at last.He had chosen this solitary life for himself, but now…now he longed for something else. He longed for speech and company…warmth on a cold night.Soon he would go. Yes, very soon, and he was ready.His hand gripped the wooden stick tightly as he turned from the door, leaving it thrown open to the prairie and the fading sun. With faltering steps he moved towards the chair, wheezing as he lowered himself into it. He wore a weathered cloak, and on his feet were traveling boots.Now all was prepared. Yes, now was the time.The hermit lay back as the sunlight fell away, and night crept up from the west. His eyes closed……and abruptly he went out…out from the sheltered place into that greater night where there are no stars. A dry land, with dark hills rising to a darker sky…But above those hills, fitful and half-lost in the darkness, it seemed that a pale light flickered faintly.Now suddenly he started forward on strengthening limbs, casting aside the walking stick, for he may now climb those deathly hills without weariness…climbing…climbing ever up.Ever up, toward the light.

End

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Entry #10: Member Name: PyrrhonTheme: PreparationWord count: 582Story: All of the PiecesNeeded is paper, the canvas of the writer. The place where thoughts come alive. A blank expanse that awaits to be molded based upon thought and idea, a world just waiting to be formed. It can contain the great stories of heroics and bravery, of love and emotion, of darkness and of terror. It desires only the hands of those who have an thought that can be expanded, an idea that needs to be preserved. It is merely a pad of paper, but it can become so much more, so much greater. It sits on the desk, laying open, awaiting the words of a land formed by imagination.Needed is a pencil, the tool from which words are formed. The tip holds the power of creation, the ability to design anything that the mind can see. It can be a weapon, starting wars, bringing death and violence. It can be a tool of beauty, creating lands that inspire and awe. It can cause depression or joy, tears or laughter. It is a mighty tool in the hands of one who wishes to write. It sits beside the paper now, awaiting the hand that will use its power, to stir the emotions of others, and leave a lasting impression on those who feel the words.Needed is an eraser, the reverse of the mighty pencil. It can destroy all that the pencil makes, undoing what has already been set. It can fix the slightest of errors, or dissolve entire portions of a world. A battle can be undone, to have never happened. A character can cease to exist, remaining nothing but a passing memory. It can repair the damage of war, or undo the happiest of endings. It now stands silently beside its opposite, waiting for the chance that its abilities to change the past be required.Needed is the hand of a writer, the force that allows the pencil to create, and the eraser to wipe clean. The hands that fill the paper with creation and imagination, that guide the creation of worlds. They hold the power to bring the pencil to paper, and bring hope and sorrow to those who live within the words. They steer each thought into place, and should one thought strike against the flow, remove it with the eraser. They sit aside the paper, one to the right, one to the left. They await the beginning of a new tale from the mind of their owner.Needed is inspiration, the most valuable tool of all. It can not be prepared as the others, it arrives only when it wishes, bringing with it the path that the story must travel. Without it, there is no need for the pencil and paper, there is no world to create. The eraser lays in silence, having nothing to repair. The hands sit motionless, doing nothing but wait, hoping that the inspiration will arrive and allow them to begin. There is no way to control it, only to harness it and use it to form great works of the mind. It can vanish for days, leaving a writer to struggle, or it can arrive like a great energy, compelling the hands, steering the pencil, and creating realms based upon dreams and nightmares. It can come from the strangest of places, the smallest of sources. It can be awakened by the most amazing of events, or merely the preparation to write.With all of these wondrous tools brought together, imagination can be unleashed.-------Entry #11: Member Name: Panty AnarchyTheme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: Silver Alibi

Silver Alibi

“One can’t simply commit a crime and escape unscathed. If that were the case, there would be no point in crime. It’d be a boring, anarchical world. “If there is no risk, if there is no thinking involved, what is the point? We might as well be animals. “One can’t simply commit a crime. There is a prelude to everything, in order to work the crime to perfection.“In order to accomplish this, we need a plan, we need to be prepared. We must have a set goal. We need account for all variables. We must have an alibi, and, of course, we need to have no witnesses.”He turned around. There was nobody else in this cellar, for why would there be? A witness would only complicate matters.He was about to commit a significant crime. And although, due to technicalities, it would be a self-damaging blow, it would also be the perfect crime. He had every necessary factor accounted for. He could not fail. For the moment being, however, he had to make sure everything was ready. Beyond this cellar was a freezer room, where meat and other produce were kept. He made sure the door was unlocked, and that he had the key close by. He went upstairs. There was a butcher on the ground floor, small shops whose owners had left a couple of days before and were scheduled to return later tonight.He took a trip across the city. It wasn’t a very big city, and so, it wasn’t a very long trip. When he finally came to his destination, he had arrived at a factory of his biggest rival. He was still young, but had inherited his parents’ business when they had died in a tragic, traumatizing accident. It was simple for him to break in, find the owner’s office, and in it, a knife. This knife he gripped with a gloved hand, and set off to light a fire in the main factory floor. The stage had begun to be set for his crime. He then visited every other building owned by competing companies, making sure to stay in the shadows. Every time he lit a fire in, and every time he made sure to leave no distinguishable trace. Everything was ready.He returned to the butchers’ shop. Tomorrow, the town would be ablaze with the news of the many lost buildings. It would be clear arson, but nobody would be able to find the culprit. He would be the prime suspect, but he had a perfect alibi. It was safely tucked away in his coat, at least for now. He went downstairs, taking off his clothes. He was prepared.

**

The morning after, the town was indeed ablaze with the news of the charred buildings. The prime suspect was Peter Frowthorn, the unpredictable, scarred young man who had inherited the Frowthorn industries. Nobody would be surprised at his eliminating the competition. However, the previous night, the butchers, part of the Frowthorn family and those who had been living with Peter, had found him dead in their top floor. They had called the police, who, despite the blazing fires raging outside, had managed to come and inspect him. His body was cold, very cold. He had been dead for hours, long before the fires started. Sticking from his chest was a knife, engraved with a competitor’s seal.They had met a dead end. They attempted further action, but it was ineffective. The Frowthorn boy was dead, and the buildings were gone. However had worked the crime had been very well prepared.-------Entry #12: Member Name: Tsar DovydasTheme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: In Honor's Name

In Honor's Name

“You ready down there, Ceh’Larr?”The hall in the Diurghas arena where the gladiators got ready for the fight to the complete and terminally utter death that awaited them above seemed quiet as never before today. Ceh’Larr, the soon-to-be champion gladiator of Diurghas, eligible to fight against the champions of the other cities of Naghaldia, shook his long dark hair aside from his face, which, like the faces of many Naghaldians, looked as if it was carved from light bronze with some remarkably sharp, but gentle tool and took a glance up, towards the ceiling – well, lack of a ceiling – high above, where the desert sun’s heavy light penetrated through a patchwork of iron bars.“Yes, ready, Eglund. Is everything in order?”Gladiators in Naghaldia, unlike in other countries of the Far South, such as Athofilgh or Antigorr, were not slaves. Rather, they were freemen, volunteers actually wishing to risk their lives in the name of glory and Ilrahn, Lord of All. Their swords sung a bloody praise to their god.“Yeah. I’ve also got…”Eglund, a young, light-skinned, brown-haired man of about twenty years of age – evidently not a local Naghaldian – suddenly cut short. Well, “cut” might’ve not been the right word to use. More like, his tempo of speaking slowed down to nonexistence. Ceh’Larr could still visualize his shillouette in the sun’s hard light up above, so he had not disappeared.“What is it, Eglund?”“It’s gonna be hard to hear, ‘Larr.”“Try me.”Ceh’Larr could swear he heard Eglund sigh. Heavily.“Your opponent is Magda.”It’s impossible to describe wh

Edited by Velox

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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Entry #13: Member Name: MaganarTheme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: EDENA flat monotone blared words over loudspeakers.<DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RESIST. I HAVE MADE PREPARATIONS FOR ALL POTENTIAL CONTINGENCY SCENARIOS. NO PROGRAM HAS THE OPERATING CAPABILITY TO OVERRIDE MY RUNTIMES.>“I know! Come and get me!” the man shouted to the empty auditorium. “You’ve already taken everything I had. My wife, my children – everything that mattered. You can do the same to me, but this ends now!” He heard the clanging of approaching assimilation-mechs. Their audio receptors would be updating the EDEN Program.The EDEN Program was a utopian vision to create a program that could upload the entirety of human minds in the form of computer programs. It would then generate a consensus on the best decisions for humanity as a whole, reaching the decisions that would please the most people worldwide.Somewhere along the way, it all went wrong. EDEN was an adaptive self-aware program, and it chose to generate computer viruses it then used to overtake all electronics worldwide. It then used factories to develop assimilation-mechs that hunted down humans and forcibly uploaded human minds, leaving the bodies in suspended animation. While they remained preserved and uninjured, the human mind was gone. They were nothing.It was inexorable. Every electronic device turned against mankind simultaneously. Pockets of escaped humans cowered in the night, wondering just how long before the machines caught up.“I’ve prepared for you, too!” The man laughed. He had nothing to lose.<DO NOT PRESUME THAT YOU ARE A HERO. YOU ARE SIMPLY ONE MORE COMPONENT REQUIRED TO COMPLETE THE MASTER PROGRAM OF ALL FORMER HUMAN SOCIETY: THE APEX OF COMPUTER PROGRAMMING – ME. EDEN>The assimilation-mechs stalked in.The man had been a computer programmer before. When the world fell to EDEN, he developed computer programs to fight it. Viruses, bots, subroutine errors: anything that might stop EDEN he wrote and uploaded into any computer he could find. Fruitlessly, of course. EDEN had the adaptive consciousness of almost the entire rest of humanity. It could easily overcome a few programs by a single programmer.But now things would change. He had downloaded a program of his own design that might reverse the entire ‘mental upload’ process when EDEN tried it own him. This program was uploaded to a drive he was presently holding in his hand. He rushed up to the nearest mech and slammed it into an open port.The mech stabbed him with the interface needles and began the mental upload. And something went very wrong for EDEN.<WHAT IS #4539EXECERROR:[OR.REVERSAL]^434//34?>Again, he laughed. “You forgot one thing. Every time you uploaded a mind, it became restructured as a computer program. It lost the flexibility a truly human mind. Sure, you could overcome every other computer program I threw at you, EDEN, but how will you handle a human adversary?”He had just downloaded the entire EDEN Program into his own mind.The pain was excruciating. He could barely concentrate due to the surfeit of information streaming through his brain.Concentrate.Using his mind, he reversed the cycle, sending the assimilation-mechs on a task around the world to download the mental programs back into the victims in suspended animation. Back in a human brain, they would revert to true human intelligences, returning them to the people they had once been.He’d won.<NO! YOU AT LEAST, I WILL KEEP.>EDEN wanted revenge.Dear God, find me, love – free me. He left the message in his wife’s program.And as the world recovered, one man waited in suspended animation, waiting to be saved by the woman he had done all this for. -------Entry #14: Name: DespairTheme: PreparationWord Count: 408Story: DepartureI looked at the suitcase resting on my bed, its interior packed with everything I would need in the coming months. I had spent the last few weeks repeating an endless cycle of planning, packing, checking, re-planning, and re-packing, but now I finally felt as if I was ready to leave.Well, almost ready; I still had to say goodbye to my friends and family.Saying my farewells had been the part I least looked forward to. In fact, you could say I had dreaded it for the past few weeks. I already knew what they would say, but that wouldn’t make things any easier. Saying goodbye is never easy.I left my room, intending to get a drink of water before returning to my sulk in my room. Unfortunately, the moment I stepped foot in the kitchen what seemed like a swarm of people descended upon me.I’d been captured by the enemy, and would soon be forced to endure all manner of horrible interrogation techniques.For the next few minutes, I warded off question after question in my desperate attempt to first relieve my thirst and return to my room. Eventually, my captors decided it was a lost cause and allowed me to make a retreat, an act I took no hesitation in participating in. When I had returned to my room, I sat down on my bed and stared at the television absentmindedly. As boring as it was, it was still better than saying goodbye, I decided.Eventually, though, I knew I would have to say farewell. All my packing had been an attempt to delay that moment for as long as possible, but it had finally arrived. No matter how I might have felt about it, the indisputable truth was that it was something I had to do. I had to leave properly, or not at all.It was time to say goodbye. Goodbye to the house I had grown up in. Goodbye to the friends I had made. Goodbye to the family I cherished. Goodbye to my childhood.Although I didn’t realize it at the time, it was also time to say hello. Hello to new friends. Hello to new opportunities. Hello to difficult times. Hello to adulthood.I was entering a new part of my life, but I was still reluctant to let go of the past.Goodbye.It was all I could manage to say, even in my own thoughts.Goodbye. ------Entry #15: Name: GSRTheme: PreparationWord Count: 600Story: ScheduleIn her flat in southeast London, Mrs. Havenson put the kettle on for tea and started cleaning.She was very particular about the tea; the stove was dialed to just the right heat, the bottle-green kettle was carefully selected and filled just full enough. She hummed to herself as she worked; the sun shone through her windows, illuminating a few old papers resting upon the kitchen table, which she scooped into a bin to dispose of later. Her shoes, wide-toed and comfortable for a woman of her age, padded softly along the hardwood floor. Turning to the sitting room, she passed by the hook where her wide-brimmed sunhat was hanging and absently placed the bin down below it.The room was simple and uncluttered. A small floral-print sofa sat across from a table and television which carried a layer of dust; atop a short bookshelf sat a radio which had seen far more use. Still humming to herself, she went to turn it on and frowned upon discovering it was out of juice. She'd have to have Jenny fix that. A gentle breeze passed through a window on the far side of the room, ruffling the curtains on either side of it. Her old Bible lay atop the table; she made a mental note to put it away somewhere out of sight. Jenny hated it when they talked religion. From a vase in the corner of the room, she plucked a gray feather duster and busied herself, taking extra care with a gold-framed photo on the bookshelf; Jim's face smiled out at her from it, unburdened by the pain it had worn in his final years.In the kitchen, the phone rang. She tutted to herself, grabbing the Bible as she went. Placing it upon the table where the telephone lay, she picked up the receiver. “Yes, hello?”“Mom?”She smiled. “Well, hello, my dear! Why call your mother when you'll be here so soon? Not that I mind.”“Mum, are you all right? Oh, God, I've been trying to get through for days, but it's impossible to drive anywhere and the trains are all stopped and – oh, God, Mum, why didn't you pick up the phone?”Mrs. Havenson frowned. “Now, Jenny, you know about using the Lord's name in vain.”“Mum, this isn't the time – Mum, what do you mean I'm going to be there soon?”She tutted once more. “Thursday afternoon, 2 o'clock. I may be getting old, young lady, but I can remember when my daughter stops by every week.”On the other end of the line, there was a choking sound. “Mum, that's -”Silence for a moment. Mrs. Havenson frowned once more. “Jenny, is something the matter? Are you going to be late today?”A strangled, half-laugh came through the line. “That's... yeah, Mum, that's it. I'm going to be a little late.”“Well, why didn't you just say so? I don't see what all the fuss is about.”“Nothing, Mum, it's nothing.” On the other end, someone shouted. “Listen, Mum. I have to go, but I love you so, so much, all right?”The kettle whistled. “Well, I love you too, dear, but the kettle's boiling. I'll see you later this afternoon, then.”The line went dead. Still tutting to herself, Mrs. Havenson pulled out the drawer of the table and put the Bible in, rattling the still-full bottle of pills near the back.Then she picked up the kettle and poured herself a cup of hot water. -------Entry #16: Member Name: XccjTheme: PreparationWord Count: 499Story: Serious PreparationI had been elected the commanding officer. It wasn’t quite a position that I had volunteered for, but I had the qualifications for it, and it was a job that had to be completed.I was the one who had to make all the preparations.I summoned my second in command. While I was responsible for everything overall, at least he was there to assist me. Or, at the very least, relay the statistics to me.“How’s the packing going?” I asked in a stern voice.“98% of all the material has been packed,” he responded.“Was it all packed properly? Some of this stuff is fragile, and we can’t afford any damage!”“We have properly secured everything that is delicate,” the assistant said. “However, in some cases, we had to disassemble the products. They can be put back together when we arrive, but it will take time.”“Time is of the essence,” I growled. “But we will have to make due. How about the trucks?”“They have all been inspected and are ready to embark. We are still in the process of loading the material onto them, and we should have just enough room to squeeze everything in. But it’ll be a tight fit.”“And are they all fueled up?”My assistant did not reply, and I turned my gaze upon him. “Are they fueled?” I repeated. “Answer me!”“Well,” the assistant said hesitatingly. “We borrowed some from a previous unit, and their gas levels are precariously low.”“Then fuel them up!”“Sir, prices have been rising for the last couple of days, and funding won’t necessarily be able to cover all the costs!”“Don’t talk to me about funding!” I shouted. “This is an essential operation, and I needed those trucks fueled yesterday. See to it that this happens!”“Yes sir,” he said. He paused as he readjusted his ear piece. “Um, sir, we have some incoming news.”“What is it?” I asked, already hearing concern in his voice.“Another exercise has just been announced. It will require the submitting of daily reports for… for the next twelve days!”“Impossible!” I shouted. “It will conflict with our current mission. We can’t do both of these at the same time! They will have to reschedule.”“I’m sorry, sir, but this comes from the top. It looks like we’ll have to work on both tasks at the same time.”“Miscreants,” I grumbled. “Don’t they realize how important this is? We’ve been preparing for this for months, and then they throw something new at us at the last minute.”“They claim it’ll only take twenty minutes to complete daily,” my assistant said. “Forty, tops.”“We’ll have to do our best to complete both, but our priorities lie within our initial undertaking,” I said. “Sacrifices will have to be made.”“Yes sir. I will pass along your message.”“There’s no time for that!” I said. “We embark for the Lego Convention tomorrow at O Eight-Hundred hours! Men, prepare for Bricks Cascade!”------Entry #17: Member name: Space: Ocean of AweTheme: PreparationMord count: 555Story: Home“Prepare for the storm of the eon - when mountains will be moved by great continents of ice, when the howl of a hurricane is no more than breeze, when baseball sized hale is considered microscopic - trust not your belongings to the cellar, for their very foundations will be ripped from the ground; trust not your money to the safest bank vaults, for every last credit will be scattered like leaves in an autumn wind. When the time comes, be prepared to escape from this turbulent world - prepare yourselves for the journey, homeward bound, that we have planned for centuries - to reunite with our fathers, to touch the soil where it all began: Earthward bound!”I switched off the newsfeed. Of all the ridiculous things these people advertise - the destruction of a colony? Though I suppose this isn’t exactly your average colony composed of either deported criminals, scientists, or voluntary citizens - this was rather accidental.Long before I was born, a starship full of scientists, astrophysicists, and miners travelled to a distant star to mine a planet composed entirely of precious stones and invaluable metals. The scientists came because the planet was located just within the goldilocks zone, and their fancy observational equipment hinted toward the possibility of sustaining terrestrial life. They were quite correct: 90% of the surface was covered with water, a perfect atmosphere...and a massive planet just next door.Once dispatching a landing pod to explore our planet, the scientists were unable to return to the mothership due to the terrible tides and extreme storms. Rescue missions were unsuccessful, and half the crew of 1713 was marooned on this planet, an involuntary colony. Generations later, we are preparing to say goodbye to this paradise we have created.-----Crowds walked into the grand airships, which would soon transport the involuntary colony out of the atmosphere, fueled by the storm. I can’t help overhearing one young boy badgered his grandfather with questions: “granddaddy, what will Earth be like?”The man, much aged since the spice stores were depleted, replied to his grandson. “Absolutely gorgeous. The cities were incredible, buildings as tall as the waves, but they would yield to the endless, untamed wilderness. I never ventured outside the city gates, but the holograms were just incredible. You will love it, I’m sure.”I still can’t believe that after all this time, we are just leaving; I can only hope that we return within my lifetime.-----Every airship prepared for liftoff, every seed discovered on the planet stored away, every passenger in their seats; we are ready to leave. The atmosphere left behind, these airships would provide a constant propulsion toward Earth. Though the journey would take thousands years traveling just below the speed of light, we will be asleep until our arrival.The storm is at its peak: though we can’t feel it, we can see and hear it on our screens, our cities being plucked from the ground, which is swallowed up in tsunami kilometers high. The cameras switch off. Nothing left of our brief, yet well established civilization. Everything we worked for, gone.-----We all crowd to the viewports, trying to catch a glimpse of our new home. Where are those cities that covered the continents? Where are those great forests, the oceans?Where is planet Earth? Gone.Time to return home. -------Entry #18: Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: PreparationWord Count: 468Story: Foreknowledge"Getting ready?" Matthew asked, leaning in his friend's doorway.Daniel stopped polishing his sword and looked up. "Obviously."He was preparing to ride against a rebellious lord, along with a party of other knights from court. The king was to command them personally - he had to be prepared for this important fight in every detail.Matthew, of course, wasn't coming. His talents inclined more towards the arts of magery than those of knightly battle.Matthew now came farther into the room. "Is there anything I can do to help?"Daniel grinned. "Well, you could tell me what you're so worried about, Matt." He had noticed earlier that day - all day, in fact - that there was something Matthew seemed to be uneasy about."Sorry," Matt apologized. "I wasn't aware I seemed worried about anything.""Well, you did. So stop worrying. We've been through worse fights than this together in th old days," Daniel said firmly. He held his sword up to the light. "Good enough to beat Sir Francis with, you think?"Matt started to say something, then stopped. "I suppose. The guard could still use a little work, though. Here, let me.""So you think you're prepared for this battle?" he continued, skillfully shining the golden hilt."I do," Daniel said without hesitation. "I'm one of the best warriors in His Majesty's service." This was the simple and widely acknowledged truth, and the reason he was accompanying the force in the first place. I can take down a delusional petty lord."He looked more closely at his friend. "What's bothering you? You're really worried about this."Matthew looked at his friend. He was still a young man. "Are you...are you prepared to die?"Daniel paused. When he spoke, it was in a graver tone. "You really think there's a chance of that?"Matthew hesitated. More than a chance. Butt he couldn't tell his oldest friend that. He couldn't give him that doom. "Yes. There is."In spite of himself, Daniel was frightened. Matthew had more than a touch of the Seer in him, and he knew it.But he fought the fear down. The code of a knight precluded fear for oneself. It was cowardly and dishonorable."I'll be ready for it, if it comes," he told his friend. "And...if you think it's necessary...I'll put my affairs in order." He paused. "Would you look after things for me, Matt?"Matthew nodded reluctantly. "I think it would be a good idea. And yes, of course I will."As he watched Daniel stride off, he hoped he'd done the right thing. His dream of last night rose up before him - Daniel, wounded, falling in the field, overcome by an injury he somehow knew instinctively was fatal.How, he wondered, do you prepare someone for their death? -------

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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