Harmonious_Echos

Nonsense: the sense that there is nothing... unsense...

*Muse thinks this plot sounds strangely like Agatha Christie's "Ten little Indians", but will attempt to participate anyway* A soft fog fills the room, and a sweet, musky smell. Eyes watering, I look aorund the dimly lit room. Scarlet covers drape heavily over everything, as if somone were planning to paint the ceilings with blood. Jet-black curtains on the walls hang to the carpeted floor, interspersed with intricate tapestries of hunting scenes. A chandelier overhead appears to be hung with blood-red crystals, giving the only light in the room. I rush to the single large window and struggle to open it, feeling a shock when it slides up heavily but easily to let in a blustering breeze--and then a wave of disappointment when I try to put my head out and discover the nearly-invisible but sturdy screen, and silver bars cris-crossing the window, cutting me off from the outside...

The green package on the table shudders, shuffles, then hops down & quietly follows the drunken Brute, balance-'walking' on its corners.

Muse pops through the oven wall & sticks a ghostly finger in the batter, yells "Ouch!" and then licks her finger, yells "Yuck!" and pops out again. Harmony wanders in to sniff appreciatively at a distance, & drop off a large, green prism-paper-wrapped box on the table before wandering out again.

Muse pops in to squeal, "Peredhil you are adorable!!!!!"

And random Cheeses stacked in a Victorian-era Springhouse

Bourne Identity!

Cool, althought I've never thought of the desert as 'winsome'--or a fading smile, either--but I suppose there can be other ways to interpret the word 'winsome'...anyway, nice job.

Muse whirls faster & faster into a tight ball of smoke & glasses, squeaking with excitement. A new Harmony steps suddenly from the air below the ball of smoke, her golden hair cut in a sylish new pixie cut & wearing, strangely, glasses (and an old-fashioned pink plaid pantsuit). She produces a notebook & pen, taps her ultra-glossy lips with her pen, smiles--also strange for Harmony--and says in a hiccupy voice, "How's this?" ~~~~~~~"Someone" AKA your character, observes strange happenings in an orphanage for girls (also of your choice), during which SOME of the things that happen are; 1. some of the girls in said orphanage are observed creating & acting out strange rituals of an unknown & sinister nature 2. these same girls undergo strange changes and experience unnatural/aka un-human 'things' 3. some of the girls can't or don't find a way to escape or deal with said 'things', and as a result come to a very sticky end--presumably caught by adults & punished, however the ACTUAL ending is also of your choice! 4. some of the girls DO find a way to cope or escape, and, according to the observer, live on unharmed, with the observer and themselves/themself as the only witness... The whirling ball dissolves with a chuckle, and Harmony/Muse smooths down her pantsuit, clicks her (bare) heels together and waltzes out--through the far wall of the room.

Muse floats in, sees Jechum floating also & stares, first shocked, then annoyed, & hisses "Copycat! Copycat!". Harmony sits vacant-eyed in a corner, mumbling to herself & twirling her hair which appears to be crumbling into a shower of gold dust.

Muse, breaking from her usual attutude of indifference, pops back into the forum to ask "Who would write the original story/plotline? Would we write from different characters or the same character with a different personality?" Harmony declines to comment.

The Avinarrinan calandar is made up of eight seasonal months, with the beginning of the new year during high summer, and traditionally celebrated at night. The New Year celebration consists of the systematic washing and treating with holy herbs each person attending the festival. This requires the full complement of Priests of Inarre, for the renewing baptising of the people. It is considered an extremely good omen if it rains (not to mention it makes the festivities much more comfortable temperature-wise). It is also customary for people to construct the sheerest, smallest, and most highly decorated clothing physically possible to wear during the event. This is partially to show (and hopefully carry over) the wealth of the family into the new year, but personally I think the main reason for such clothing is to have the least-possible bodily covering during the stifling heat in the packed streets. The most wealthy of the commonwealth pay the Priests ahead of time to get first placement in the lains of people. The King, Royal family and higher-ranking court members take the final position in the festival, meaning that they spend the heat of the day indoors, and emerge after dusk in the relative privacy and evening cool, to take their clensing ritual. The only thing the King does during this festival is to show up at sunrise to stand next to the High Priest of Inarre, read the ritual Blessing, and look good posing in Royal crown & cloth-of-gold undergarment. The Queen generally refuses to attend this ceremony, and children under the age of 16 are banned by law. A rash of births tend to occur two seasons after the New Year festival, just in time for the traditional Frost of Inarre celebration... However, the week before the festival is traditionally when the census records are updated. Thus the week the New Year is the busiest time for the Historians, who are among the few who do not attend festivities, taking their ritual in the cool evening, just after the Royal family. I have been one of those, since the age of 19.

* Snypiuer lifts his eyes from the paper he is scribbling on, and realizes with a sudden shock that he is not alone...Harmony is perching quietly on the top of the bookshelf, azure eyes glittering through her veil of long golden hair. Muse drifts in & out of the wall like nerd-shaped smoke, chuckling sneakily. Harmony stands and leaps down from the bookshelf. She coughs politely in an attempt to hide the hissing whispers that emanate from her throat whenever she opens her mouth, then focuses, and selects one voice to speak. Her eyes roll back in her head as a child's voice with a distinct british accent whispers "I think we should all write short stories with multiple-personality characters. Perhaps that could be fun?". Muse shakes her head in disgust, produces a red balloon and a 4-inch silver needle from somewhere, and exits the room with a bang, leaving behind a cloud of fartgas. Harmony's eyes flick back into place, and her mouth snaps shut on the tail end of the word 'fun', cutting off the voice with near-mechanical precision. She gags once as she stalks from the room, leaving a trail of glittering golden strands on the floor.

*Harmony reads, yawns, and ignores Snypiuer as she trails out of the room, long blonde hair flowing behind. Muse waves & winks impudently, and tears after Harmony screeching "Black Pen Sucks! Black Pen Sucks!" and laughing raucusly...

ACK!! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif "Ummmmm. . . that WAS a critique of the poem" Lol actually I think it deserves that. I've written so much better!

Thanks, weenie...lol...but really it's OK, I just wanted a critique on the poem!

House Fire funeral of a thousand things memories on a pyre; countless priceless treasured stuff vanished in an hour. notebooks, songbooks, children's stories, clothing, worn, and clothing, new dishes from another era paintings from a year or two; stacks of pictures, things in limbo sacred scraps of remembered time; all erased in a moment's passing, by the ever-ruthless flames. now the dust returns to dust, only ash remains, and the people stand and weep at life's quick cruelty.

Longitudes of Avinarr To all who are reading my pennings, please to recognise: my name is Bet-Maie Liis Carronous of Avinarr, I am a Caretaker of Histories. according to the records of my birth, I was born illegitimately to uncaring parents and placed in an orphanage in the year of 3266, and spent the majority of my young life in the care of the Librarie Nursuries. I studied under the current Master of Histories, Falrel Haatous, from the year 3257 to the year 3289, during my Lord Jeoffrey Aine the 2nd's reign. I was promoted into the ranks of Librarian at the age of 14, and was recommended to the ranks of Caretakers at the age of 19. During this time I learned such things as husbandry and ettiquate, scribing and Historical repairs, Artisic representation, and basic spellworking. I was then set at the task which is the duty of all the Caretakers: to serve the King in recording the history of this world--the countries of Avinarr, and also its sister countries to the south and northeast, Weinarr and Falinarr. The outer islands are not considered worth mentioning in most accounts, and if other continents exist on this world, we know it not. My Lord Jeoffrey the 2nd began his benevolent reign in Avinarr at the tender age of 30 years, but such was his wisdom--and the wisdom of his cabinet of advisors--that he held the throne with his stern but gentle hand until the year 3289, when he was 94 years old. Then my Lord Jeoffrey the 2nd fell ill, of a strange withering sickness, and wisely passed the responsibilities of the kindom on to the Cabinet, and, less wisely, to Lord Jeoffrey the 3rd, his firstborn son and heir. On the day of his death, in the month of Red Wheat, the year of 3289, the entire kingdom took to the streets to mourn his passing. The people of Avinarr, and also many in Falinarr and Weinarr, created their own way of remembering the Gentle King, by staying home from work, or, if they needed to go about, walking always with eyes lowered to the earth (in which he had been laid) and never speaking aloud. We called it, the Birthday of Sadness. Upon the death of our King, rule of the kingdom was passed on, as was the custom, to the Heir. Our Heir, however, was Jeoffrey the third, known to the peasent folk and common peoples as Jeoffrey the Blunt--or Jeoffrey the Turd, to those who did not care if they had a price on thier heads and arrows aimed at their backs. I, being 22 and in the service of the king for many years, had grown up attending to and playing with Prince Jeoffrey and his younger brother and sister, Gregort and Mibriel, who were twins. I became a close personal advisor and teacher to the twins, and sat in cabinet with the Nine advisors during the reign of Jeoffrey the second; I knew everything there was to know about the Royal family, thir customs, traditions and personality quirks. I could not hanve been closer had I been a princess myself. But I was never permitted to act as a part of the royal family; I was only a poor orphan, well taught by the rods of the royal Librarians, but living as I was, only by the grace of the King. I was never allowed to forget this. If you were to trust the words of a poor Librarian scholar, I would tell you that as far as the royal children went, either Prince Gregort or Princess Mibriel would have been far more suited to rule than Crown-Prince Jeoffrey; but, you should not trust me. And now, I will tell you why...

There is a child in me, as well...And, in my case, full of mischeif and prone to causing bizarre wanderings of the mind and soul! I love the visuals, though, especially the celestial references... Harmony & Muse

very nice imagery....just a suggestion, would the word "await" work better instead of the word 'wait' for the beginning line of the last verse? anyway it seems like it would help the flow a bit.

buxom...

Hysterical....

Fear is intensity, alert focus on the unknown; Confidence is pride in one's self, and a relaxation of one's ultimately necessary guard...Fear is Yin, Confidence is Yan. (And an equally balanced measure of BOTH are necessary, in order to control the input of nine voices of Chaos!)

Just pointing out that I totally love the Samurai and the Ninja series. Nice work!