Visions Poll: R E M

[Velox]

Visions Poll: REMVote here for your favorite Visions story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on May 30 at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the final round. It is currently being decided whether this round will be judged or polled.

• [*]Doubt 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. ------[*]Jungle Beauty 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. . . ." ------[*]Visions of the end of Zarian Parazan 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. -------[*]Between worlds A 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.” ------[*]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. -----[*]Between Cities “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.” -----[*]Returned 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. -----[*]Revenge 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.”

Edited May 28, 2012 by Velox

[Legolover-361]

Voted for myself.

[fishers64]

As did I.

[The Dark Chronicler]

Man, this one was a really tough choice.I really liked the style and story of entry two, but seven was really wonderful as well. Eventually I decided on two, but they were all well worth reading.

[Excelsior]

I went with 4, although I admit I wasn't quite sure where Misak and Talek were in the end. The Toa Empire? But I liked the story. It sounded like the beginning of something - not uncommon for flash fiction.There were a couple of other especially well written ones. 1 and 6 stood out to me for that, but I didn't vote for them, for reasons outlined below. (I'm afraid they're slightly subjective, but fiction judging may have to be.)1 raised the interesting question of just where visions do come from in the MU. However, I had a couple of problems with it. First, they talked too much about what Vakama's visions may have done for him personally, and not enough about the way they, well, kinda SAVED THE UNIVERSE. I'd call that proof they aren't just glitches.Also, I think it might have improved it if Vakama had been talking to Nokama or another Turaga Metru. Dume's always come across as kind of a pain to me, more than a wise elder.6 was just too vengeful for me. If the Turaga had tricked him to his death to help his own Matoran, that would've been different. But his death served no purpose but to give them revenge.Anyway, I chose 4. May the best story win!-Excelsior

Edited May 28, 2012 by Excelsior

[Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa]

This was a very tough decision. They were all excellent. I liked Doubt for its excellent style, and I liked the glimpse of Vakama's past lack of self-confidence in his Turaga days. I thought Between Cities was written very fluidically and seemed the least constricted, but I was annoyed by some of the human terms, such as "dude." I liked Returned for the story, queer as it was; and though I understand the necessity of the backstory, in my opinion it took up too much space and could have been layered in a little better. Revenge was clever but ultimately pointless and open-ended. And most of them took the theme too literally. Some utilized their visions in creative ways, and I especially liked Revenge for the fact that, in the end, there was truly no vision. In the end I voted for my own because it was the only story that used a unique interpretation of the word vision, and was little rushed; though there was no action to rush, and that's not necessarily a good thing.All around we have some great stories here. I wish luck to all entrants, and I look forward to seeing who goes on to the finals and, ultimately, the victory!

From the desk of Nuile: Lunatic Wordsmith

[Toa of Dancing]

Number five, unashamedly. Not going to say it was the best, but it feels wrong to vote for someone aside from myself. XD

[Maganar]

Number five, unashamedly. Not going to say it was the best, but it feels wrong to vote for someone aside from myself. XD

I've heard some people say that voting for something other than your own is a display of a lack in self-confidence - you should like it because you tailored the story to match your interest. Personally, I can see voting for something else if you feel totally outclassed, but in a contest with so many awesome entries, you ought to vote for yourself. Just throwing this out there, you came in as a close second to #7 after much deliberation on my part.

[Toa of Dancing]

Number five, unashamedly. Not going to say it was the best, but it feels wrong to vote for someone aside from myself. XD

I've heard some people say that voting for something other than your own is a display of a lack in self-confidence - you should like it because you tailored the story to match your interest. Personally, I can see voting for something else if you feel totally outclassed, but in a contest with so many awesome entries, you ought to vote for yourself. Just throwing this out there, you came in as a close second to #7 after much deliberation on my part.

Oh, I'm not lacking self-confidence, I'm just perfectly willing to admit that I am outclassed in the quality of my story. I had to trim it too much, therefore making it somewhat jarring in transitions where it should have been smoother, etc.And thanks. =3