Sweetcherrie

Oh what hell! How did I end up here? And why does my whole body hurt? Tickle turned around and looked at the enormous object that was almost falling on top of him, and thinking that that would be a perfectly horrible end of a perfectly horrible day. He looked hazily at the weirdly smelling rock above him, and reached out with a pincher to poke it a little. The thing turned out to be soft, and come to think of it, he was lying on something soft as well. With his antennae he poked around a bit, and waited till the world around him would stop turning, when suddenly the world rumbled. A large shiny thing came at him with rocket speed, and missed him by just an inch. Tickle was just about to sigh with relief when he felt the world around him move, and suddenly the piece of earth he was sitting on started rising into the sky. He blinked as the world ran past him like a film on fast-forward, and then he saw it….the Cave! There were the weirdest stalactites, and stalagmites he’s ever seen, all white, and square. The inside of the cave was rosy and dark, and whether Tickle wanted or not, the piece of the world he was sitting on was moving into the cave. Then the cave entranced closed, and his little piece of world fell apart. Tickle was shaken from left to right, and wondered what would happ-

Glad you're ok, we *do* want you around sor another 2000 posts. I think these sort of things would make anybody think, and realize that life's too short to quarel with those we love

The S in the title is a wink towards the seriousness of this piece... Thank you for the feedback This was actually meant as a one-time-only piece. I've tried to play with indeed the jaded feelings, and with a 'I don't care about the world, but wonder about it' approach I think. It's not meant as something to work out further, but more as something for myself to practice certain things on

March 4, 2006 Today I decided that I would keep a diary. I have no idea why I decided this, just because, I guess. It’s not even that I had a very brilliant day today, so there isn’t a specific reason that I went into that shop and bought me this little gem, I just did. Possibly because I think that by leaving my words behind for the next generation they might learn from me. The thing itself is beautiful btw. It has this nice black leather cover, and the pages have a golden layer over them so if you keep the book closed it’s just as if there’s only gold in between the leather cover. On the front it has golden lettering saying, “Diary”. I guess the people that designed it had in mind to create something very special. Of course I would’ve changed things slightly, the way they had put things together was very clumsy, and although they had a good overall package they lacked on the details. Together with the book (which I’m now starting to think wasn’t that good after all) I got myself a pen. The pen is I have to say one of the best inventions of men. Of course they should never have started out with feathers, and fool would’ve know that wood would have been much, much better. And I have to add, I am against using feathers. Those poor birds wouldn’t have known what the hell was happening to them. I mean, can you imagine? Here you are being a nice goose for example, and there comes along this human, who simply pulls out one of your tail feathers for the sole purpose of flicking ink on an animal skin. No, if I would’ve invented the pen, and I swear until this day that if that Hungarian journalist, Biro, hadn’t thought of using newspaper ink, I would’ve. Not that I’m that old, I’m just saying that I could’ve invented it myself. In fact, when I was smaller still I even did invent the pen almost. My parents were not surprised; I had always been a smart kid. I could walk when I was only 6 months old. And now I can hear you think, ‘Nobody walks when they are only 6 months old.” Well, I did. But back to how I invented the ball point pen. When I was about 2 years old I had seen enough of the reading world to have the idea to start writing myself. I mean, of course I could read for a few months already by then, but writing is a lot harder, and there it’s not the brains that hold you back, but your physical abilities; a child’s hand is simply not steady enough to write letters. And I can know, because I remember how my muscles pulled my hands all over the paper, and no matter what I told my brain, the hands simply didn’t want to listen. But when I was about 2 years old I figured that I had enough control over my muscles to make them do what I want. Now there was only one problem left, my parents always kept pens away from me, I guess they thought I would eat them, the silly people, but it did make it quite difficult to get into the top drawer if you’re simply not tall enough. So I thought about how I could invent my own style of pen. And when I saw my dad painting the fence on day I knew enough. I found a pvc tube, flicked one of my marbles in the end, and started filling it with the paint my dad was using. It was a rather bic, err….big pen, but with my limited control over my muscular system, and the fact that they didn’t allow me paper either, a pen this size was only easier to control when I would write my very first words on the wall (hey, I know what you’re thinking, but yes, I did it consciously, and yes, I knew that writing on the wall is not the best thing to do, but I found that I had to express myself). So there I went, and took my newly invented ball point pen back inside the house, trying not to drip my ink everywhere, and wrote my very first poetry on the wall of my parents’ living room. “To be, or not to be.” Yah yah yah, I know what you’re thinking, but I swear that guy stole it from me. Oh well, I guess I should better stop for the night, (I don’t want to overfeed your minds, after all we can't all be geniuses) and go to bed. Tomorrow I will tell you how it was I who invented the safety pin.

Excuse for not having done your homework..... Canis meus id comedit - My dog ate it

Wayward Willy Wonka wobbled willingly with wobbly winter warts.

Werewolf Game Rules The above link might actually help with more questions Also, I think you can submit your char now, and to see how the voting works....you could have a quick look at one of the previous games. I think that might be the easiest way to explain it Will be good to have a new player

Happy birthday Annael and you deserve it possibly even more than others that do have a normal one every year

Nice, very nice The emotions are well described, and you're improving greatly on your descriptions of things. You've added lots of nice 'flavours' to this story by the little things. for example: Two parts of the story, but they give nice and warm images, and you even put the memory of the brow hair back in later. Very nice

Thanks Evangeline And yeah, sorry this is indeed something that's like passing a torch on, and you will be getting a dare from other people But! Katzaniel has a really nice thing going in the Cabaret room, called Circles. And she has just started her second round of that, so that might definitely be an idea Or there is the werewolf game that will be started soon run by Mynx And then you don't even have to wait until there is an activity, but you can always choose to start one yourself The what I finally wanted to say in this post...... This was more meant as a friendly teasing nudge than anything else, I've never meant to hurt or insult people with it. If I did so, my apologies for this.

It wasn't the first time I’d ever seen a dead body. The sun shining on his deceased face made him look even more ill then he already did, and I strangely noted that all dead people looked waxy. This guy certainly did, but then again he had of course suffered from cancer for two years, and it was easily visible that the illness had eaten him from inside out. Not knowing exactly why I had come to this funeral again, I just stood there and stared at the man in the coffin, vaguely remembering that he was a friend of a friend of a second cousin, or something. It’s not as if it was the first time that I went to a funeral without really having known the person. Last year alone I had visited forty three funerals of different people, varying from a close friend that had died in a gruesome accident to a complete stranger that had died in his sleep at the age of eighty-six. Somehow the funerals made me feel, and then I don’t mean that I like rolling around in sadness or something, no I mean feel that I was still alive. I normally don’t feel too much of that you see. It’s one of those things that I didn’t even know existed until the first time I had a funeral. I remember that one well. It was when I had just turned seventeen. I had expected rain and storm, but instead the sun was shining, and I remember that I found this the weirdest thing. It was my granddad who had passed away, and since I hardly knew him I didn’t feel too much about him either. He had also died of cancer now I was thinking of it, and somehow they were always yellow when they died. I read somewhere that this was all due to liver failure, and I wondered if I would turn yellow after I’d died. Probably, but looking at the face of my granddad, yellow and tainted with cancer spots, I felt alive. It was nice to feel alive, and I guess the need to feel alive came forth from the fact that it was pretty certain that I would look yellow I died. I smoked more than a pack of cigarettes a day, and if that wouldn’t make me turn yellow, the 8 bottles of whiskey I drank per week probably would. Funny enough I used these drugs to stop feeling the pain from life again. Standing at this coffin suddenly felt preposterous. Maybe I was only here to remind myself of my own mortality, to remember that I too would die, and probably soon if I kept going the way I had been for the past couple of years. Maybe I was simply here to pay my honors to a guy I hadn’t known, and who had never known me. Maybe I was here to remind myself to enjoy life more often. To enjoy the simple things that were given each day; the sunshine, the sky, the warm smile a stranger could give you if you could give the directions he had been looking for, for forever. Forever. Funny word. Possibly I was only here to see what forever looked like. To see what death looked like, to see how others saw death, and to see what it would be like to have gone to ‘forever’. To hear what people said. “What a shame, he was so young.” Or maybe, “I wish he had listened to the doctors.” Or even, “I didn’t know him too well, but he was always kind to me.” That last was most likely. Hah! in the end the only one who would be standing at my coffin would probably be my mother. And when seeing how yellowy-orange I would be she would probably say something like, “I don’t understand it, Jeffrey didn’t even like carrots.”

Oh my http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif I hadn't noticed that things were this unclear here.... Ok some more info then, sorry for the confusion Basicly you receive a dare from someone by pm that has something to do with writing (just don't ask people to write a book for this). You write for your dare, and then hand a dare to the next person, and also send this person a pm with the dare you would like them to write. Usually these are little things like: "Write a poem that revolves around flowers" , or "write a story with so and so member as the main character". I hope this clears some things up, and thanks to Tanny for letting me know that things weren't clear in the first place

*bump* People that have received dares.... *thinks of what those people that didn't do their dares were used to call when she was little* oh yeah....chicken But seriously though....you are allowed to post them here ya know

Lovely, it reads like two heartbeats that are in sync. Just a question (and I might just have to read it a couple of times extra to see it), but why are the numbers there?

Ok, lets try this again.... Tina. 21, the most boring girl you've ever seen and heard. After about 10 words from her you'll fall asleep and everybody wonders why on earth the resort has taken her on as a ski instructor, because her skiing capabilities are more than suck as well. Looks....remember that dull person that always hangs around attempting to be invisible? No? well that's where you have Tina.

Gryph and I are working on getting you a task for membership of the AVV, so you'll have a chance to get your own badge soonly

*giggles and wonders if Wyvern has seen Brokeback mountain by any chance*

Ben Jenkins During the summer season he's a hermit, and during winter season he's still hermit, but one that needs money and can ski. This is also the only reason that he works each winter as a ski instructor, and the fact that he has to deal with people leaves him indifferent as long as he can fly over those white plains. He's somewhere around the age of 40, but the fact that he has a beard covering most of his face makes it hard to tell how old he is. He's friendly enough, but will never join in any apres-ski partying. The only reason the resort takes him on each year as a ski instructor is because he knows the mountains as his back pocket. Edit: Apprently this ski resort only takes on young guys as ski instructors, so unfortunately Ben will have to retire, will come with a different character later

:w00t:

*jiggies* I like this First time being a wolf, and it was great fun....guess I was lucky with having Tanny as my fellow killer Thanks guys

*giggles* I think it's pretty cool actually A bit lighter than what I normally read of you, but I can definitely appreciate sillyness like this. The only word that feels really out of place and stops me while reading is 'dreadful' Thanks

and if everybody would grant the person next to him that simple smile for free.....the world would be smiling

Fleur had not been able to shake the shivers she’d had earlier that day, and cautiously she kept an eye at the sand. She had noticed how Niab was glaring at her, but had decided to ignore it. After all, she had done nothing wrong, and he was probably just jealous of the bond between her and Chakyaka. Jammilla on the other hand, she still had to get that b***c back, and should have done that a lot earlier. Almost had she managed to get between Fleur and Chakyaka, and Fleur was not about to let that happen again. She wouldn’t let her get away with what she had done, and would surely do again if nobody would stop her. OOC: Vote for Jammilla

Wordless he stood there for a couple of seconds, and noticed how his own pants tightened around his hips. Then Dennis made a little jump and clicked his heels together, with a little ‘yeeha’ he landed again. A bit calmer he straightened his clothes, and looked in the mirror to see if his excitement wasn’t too visible on his face, and to admire the lips that were touched by the handsome jester. He smiled a broad smile, showing his pearly white teeth to himself, and turned around again to take another deep breath. He had a rendez-vous with Adrian! A real date! Oh my god, what should he wear? He had to look his absolute best for him, of course. Again he looked in the mirror, but while he was looking at his face, and trying some smiles, something dawned on him. He wasn’t exactly there to flirt with handsome men of course; he was there to find a princess. Darn, why did those stupid women always manage to get themselves lost. With a smirk Dennis concluded that he would have to give this priority, surely Adrian would understand, and possibly he would love him even more when he was chosen to be the hero of the day. He straightened his clothes, ignored the by now uncomfortable tight feeling in his pants, and wandered back into the dining room, hoping that he would be able to catch another glimpse of Adrian before they would be dismissed.

p.i.p. (post in progress) *tries some moves and finds one that would suit Dennis and starts writing*