Sweetcherrie

Feelings, a lot of feelings in this poem. I wish there was no need to write things out the way like this, but I can imagine that it helps in a way. *hugs* Technically I have to agree with Wyvern, that second stanza could be better

What was the assignment? Lots of repetition in here which I quite like The only one that stands out to me is 5th stanza second line, 'live' doesn't really rhyme with the others...then again, you probably did that on purpose. Quite a different subject than what you normally see in poetry as well. All in all nice poem

hmmm *checks* *reads* *thinks* I guess you can still write a bit more...or more, please do I liked the second one better than the first, but that's more personal taste than anything else I think

In silence they listened to what Inbi had to say, but inside Sweetcherrie got more and more angry. This was our guild! And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let a couple of trolls take over the place they had just inherited! What would people think if the guild and the confessional would already be in ruins so short after Gryph and her had taken up the task to run it? No way was she going to let that happen! Inbi had finished talking, but all Sweetcherrie was thinking that they would show those trolls what they were made off. If only the rest of their friends was there as well. The desire of storming in with all the adventurers became so strong that she had already taken a couple of steps towards the entrance when Gryphon held her back. “Erm…Sweetcherrie? Where are you going?” But Sweetcherrie had reacted on her anger and she had stormed in without thinking what the possible results would be. Behind her Mynx cursed, and urged Gryphon to follow. In her head Sweetcherrie could hear Inbi saying something, but a red veil had covered reason, and she just stormed into the troll-filled tavern. **Daryl, Knight, and Gyrfalcon The ogre that had been about to attack was flickering, and suddenly our three adventurers were pulled away; the next moment Daryl, Knight, and Gyrfalcon were standing face to face with a different beast. The troll looked stupidly surprised to have three people land onto his beer, but the surprise only lasted shortly. **Mira The barmaid bent over. Her lips were coming closer and closer. Anytime now she would kiss him. She smelled sweet and Mira moved forward slightly to speed up the process. But when her lips touched his he could only think that she should definitely brush her teeth. Sjikes! What a smell had this woman come out of her mouth! He opened his eyes, and jumped backwards; he had landed next to a surly troll barmaid, and she giggled because he had kissed her. **Appy, Patham, Valdar, and Bubble Appy blinked. “Oooh, poofing trees! Goodie, let me play!” The girl bounced over to the next tree and stuck her finger in it. The tree evaporated and surrounded Valdar, Appy, Patham, and even Bubble in thick fog. As the fog disappeared Appy and Patham were gone. The planewalker turned around, but the only one left was Bubble. Appy and Patham heard music play, but it sounded horrible, it was surely a troll that was playing that piano. **Anna She wiped the tears away, and tried to see her surroundings through her blurry eyes. The world had become vague and the slayer had already started thinking that she really needed to stop crying, when all of a sudden a horrible visage looked at her through the fog. The most horrible troll of all was looking at Anna as is she was candy after diner. **Tzimfemme and Vincent All had happened fast; Mynx disappearing through a jump into a self-created portal, Tanny and Stephen had somehow zapped out, and now there was only here and Vincent Silver. And on top of that, this stupid mist had come drifting in. The naked mage muttered all sorts of different things under her breath. And then suddenly Vincent was standing on top of a toilet, and as his foot slipped in he blinked. “What the?!” Next to the naked mage something growled, and Tzimfemme turned her head calmly to look where the sound had come from, only to find herself staring in the eyes of a very, very ugly troll. Come to think of it, was that a pokerchip she felt under her bum? **Vlad Lying on his back, staring at the blue sky Vlad decided that this world wasn’t so bad after all. Even the mist was tolerable…wait a minute! Mist? The world had only just cleaned up, so where did this mist come from? The ground under him felt soft, and as the fog cleared Vlad could see that this was definitely not outside anymore even though there were still tree branches handing over him. Under him he heard various surprised screams, and growls. He tried to ignore the disturbance of his peace and quiet, but then turned around with an annoyed sigh, and nearly fell of the rafters he had landed on. **In the Pen Keep tavern Gryphon and Mynx almost knocked over Patham who had landed closest to the entrance, and Sweetcherrie was screaming with surprise as Appy landed almost on top of her. The moment of happiness to see her friends again only lasted a split-second. The next moment the trolls had come into action and started attacking our brave group of adventurers.

Thanks to Appy, Patrick, and Wyvern for congratulating me with my promotion edit: and to Gwai of course

This clown statue keeps reminding me of the film "The Game"...

New and Improved (and just as gruesome!) Dreamlogs 6 The queen was having problems believing that he had denied her once again what she wanted. The king had opened the treasure chamber, had told her to look at all the nice treasures he had gathered over the years, and had then said that she wouldn’t get any. People weren’t allowed to deny her anything, and she wasn’t used to it either. So, while she carried herself with dignity as long as she was in the presence of the high ruler, she threw a major fit as soon as he had disappeared from sight; her face turned sour, and her poor chambermaid got a full layer of cursing and screaming. I had seen it happen from a distance. I had seen her go in, happy as a spoiled little brad, and I had seen her come out, looking as a beaten down puppy. I had seen her, but I didn’t care too much. What bugged me the most was the fact that we would now have to listen to her moan a lot more than she normally already did. I have to admit that I wasn’t entirely fair. The queen was my best friend, but I was simply sick of the mood she had been in lately, and I didn’t want to hear her moan for another two days that he was so unfair to her. Her faithful chambermaid did everything she could to cheer the queen up, but it didn’t work this time. The poor girl even pulled on some clothes that would have looked better in a tale of Arabian nights than in the dessert palace we were in. She had put her black hair up in two silly ponytails, and was dancing and bouncing like a jack in a box, but the queen didn’t even smile. Two days after the treasure chamber episode, we were just hanging out with the three of us, feeling bored, in the courtyard. Now you have to know, that our courtyard looked more like a Mexican villa court, including cactuses and men with sombreros, than like a courtyard that went with a palace. When we saw the bus. The bus drove by every Saturday evening around this time to pick up tourists, but with the queen pouting and all we hadn’t even noticed that it was Saturday. When the queen saw the bus her eyes lit up like Christmas decoration. “I will escape!” She proclaimed, and poked the air with a finger. I tried to talk some sense into her, after all, if she would escape then what would I be? Best friend of a chambermaid? But she was determined, and even her royal chambermaid thought it was a good idea. So we watched the bus approach. The queen with Christmas lights in her eyes, the chambermaid bouncing with black-haired ponytails, and me with a sour feeling in my stomach. The bus came closer and closer, and then it made a half-turn on our courtyard and was about to leave again. The thought crossed my mind that we never saw it pick up any real tourists, and why it even came to our Mexican palace. Then again it had felt that until then the bus had been more of a stage prop than something that was really used. When it was already driving away again, doors open, the queen jumped on the bus. Through the back window we could still see her, she was waving and smiling at us as the bus drove off. The chambermaid and I stood there for a while to look at the departing bus, until it was only a cloud of smoke. Then she started crying. I tried to comfort her, and tell her that the bus would be back next week. But she wanted her queen back apparently, not the bus. I knew that would never happen; it was my dream after all. I walked towards the fields next to the palace to be released of moaning people for a bit, and suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my right ankle. I bent over to grab it and see what had bitten me, and then HE was there. The man of my dreams, the man I felt comfortable with, the man who’s arms I wanted to feel around me, but never would. He was as unattainable as the water of a mountain stream (hey, I’m in the dessert remember?) and his sight was as refreshing to my eyes. “Are you ok?” I nodded speechlessly. “Let me have a look at that.” His hands touched the skin of my ankle, and I wanted to sing with joy, and pain. He had pressed his fingers around the bite, and a drop of blood appeared. “Damn. Skythee.” I had no idea what that meant, but if it would mean that he would be there a little longer, then it was all fine with me. “You have to knock for them to come out, and then you can grab them.” He knocked on my ankle and, what looked like a little worm to me, but apparently was a tiny snake, stuck its head out; as if his door had been knocked upon, and the snake came to open. He grabbed it and pressed his shoe down on it. “There,” he said with his lovely warm voice, “you’re safe.” I nodded, and continued walking towards the field. I still have no idea why I did that, but it felt like the right thing to do. Silently we walked next to each other, and when we found a good spot we sat down. We said nothing, and in my head I was thinking about what had happened with the little snake. It had simply eaten its way into my leg, and I suddenly remembered that I had once before felt a sharp sting like that, but then in my other ankle. Back then I thought it had been a mosquito bite, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore. I glanced next to me, and when I saw that he was looking elsewhere I knocked on my other ankle. A little head came twirling out and I knocked harder. This snake was as big as a large rain worm, and the sight of it made me sick. I grabbed it, pulled it out from my skin, and threw it behind me in the grass. It was then that the chambermaid came running into the fields. She flopped down not too far from us, and started howling loudly. I couldn’t distinguish her words, but knew that she was still morning her queen. I didn’t care. I had other things to worry about. Like skythee. I looked closely and saw that the skythee had left a hole in my ankle. Inside the hole I could see more snakes crawling and slivering around. Their black bodies tumbling over one another, and they were inside of me. I knocked again. An even larger snake stuck his slick head out of my dead flesh, and I grabbed it firmly to pull it out. More and more snakes appeared, and I kept grabbing. Feelings of despair rolled over me, and I felt that I would have no ankle left if it kept going this way. I grabbed, and I grabbed. Their slick bodies leaving a slimy trail on my fingers, but I knew I would have to get them all out. They would eventually eat my whole body away. And even though I knew they burned all the veins shut as they ate past them, I still didn’t want to be eaten from the inside out by shiny black snakes in various sizes. The chambermaid had stopped crying, and finally, all the snakes were out. With a shudder I looked at the pile of crawling snakes next to me that had come out of my ankle. I looked at what had once been my foot, and in between the ankle and the soles of my feet, I saw nothing but the bones; the skythee had eaten all the flesh away. I gagged. There was no more foot left, only air. I could see straight through. I had no foot! This was the moment that he chose to look back at me. I tried to hide it, but was too late. He had seen my fleshless foot. I wanted to cry, and so I did. “Don’t worry, you can still walk.” “But I have no foot, how will I ever be able to live?” I cried warm tears, and then, I have no idea how, I was in his arms. It felt good, and surprising for a moment I forgot about my foot, but then I realized that he would never be able to love someone with only one foot, and this feeling despaired me even more. Now I would have no foot, and no love. I wormed myself out of his arms, and took some distance. “We should get you to a hospital.” Even in my dreams I realized how ridiculous this suggestion was. We were in the middle of the dessert and the one-time weekly bus had just been two days ago. We would not get to a hospital. “Hey, don’t worry. I have the same thing.” He shoved his trousers up, and showed me that he could take out the bottom part of his own foot. It was clear that he had indeed had the same thing as me, and that he had decided to wear a fake foot instead. This, I decided, was the right moment to wake up. I woke up shuddering with a disgusting feeling still in my body. After rubbing my left foot past my right to check it was still there in one piece, I looked at the time. It was six thirty; I still had another hour before I would have to get up. I burned the images of the dream into my head so I could write them down later, and turned around to try and sleep some more. “You do have to be careful though, There might be an even larger snake in your body.” His voice was there, he was there. Had it been a dream at all? Did I have snakes in my body? And would I be able to live with the fact that he had only half a foot…..like me?

List of works: This list is far from complete, seeing that I have more scattered out over the pen, poems that I replied with, or stories written for the carnival. In time I will try to add those as well. Genres: - Stories and Prose - The One-Time-Only Pen Gazette or my QQ - Poetry Other Post I thought were important enough to mention here - My room at the Mighty Pen Keep - Dark Times – Co Written - Flickering flame ignites the wooden staff written for 'First Lines' - Hordes of emotions attacking the soul written for 'First Lines' - In response to Tanny’s ‘Foolish Hope’ - Sweetcherrie finds Troy - In response to Beautiful Nightmare’s ‘Do you know how it feels?’ - Parade – Carnival Activity - Culture Day – Carnival Activity - The Headliner - Wyvern taking Sweetcherrie on a date…well..date… - Flight - Co Written - Poetry Forms - Ritual and Snow written in response to ‘Random Words’ an activity from Tanuchan - Descriptions Game - Where the winds blow - Disgusting Challenge - Entry for T-shirt Contest - Time Machine – A more daring RP - Disgusting Challenge - Sleeping Paradise - A date for Gyrfalcon - About leather, cuffs, and parties… - A Date for Patrick - Collected Drawings

Me I've always been a dreamer...hoping that the world would treat me kindly, and so far I guess I've been pretty lucky. I have amazing parents, my little brother is finally coming out of puberty and has managed to find a girlfriend who makes a wonderful addition to our family. At the moment of writing this I'm close to graduating, and already have a job as housemanager in Brussels, Belgium, but when I was younger I always dreamed of being an artist one day. Growing up I realized that artists generally have difficulties finding jobs, unless you're very, very good. So I decided that studying business would probably be more sensible. The longing to be an artist stayed, and this is why I write and draw in my free time. I guess my dream is still there, and maybe one day I'll be able to earn some money with what I love doing most...one day...

Happy birthday

Congratulations all

As Troy launched for her, Dana glared at him, and he stopped dead in his tracks. “We are at the land of the Pen Keep…but I haven’t arrived so long-“ Dana had caught sight of the second energy she had felt. At the edge of the field the figure moved with the utmost care. She followed it with her senses and eyes, and resumed talking to Robby. “I’ve not been here too long myself, but the people are welcoming enough, and there is enough mana to work with.” Robby followed her line of sight, and caught what she was looking at. “You know her?” Without taking her eyes off the moving figure in the distance she answered the question. “I don’t know her energy, but her energy is not hostile, maybe we should go and meet her…would save her the trouble of sneaking around like she is now.” The last words had come on a very dry tone, and they made Robby chuckle. Troy peeked up with the happy sound, but when Dana looked at him he sort of hmpfed and took flight before teleporting away.

it inspired someone, I mean really inspired someone.....just what I was hoping for

Ok, you said in IRC that it was not too late to join....so I guess I will do so Nazih Eadburga This Arabic woman has it all; money looks, and she’s even charming and generally loved by all her employees (yes employees, cause she actually pays them!). She’s been looking for a good and honest man to marry and share her throne with, but her advisors (main advisor is named Abdul Rashid, and absolute *peep*) have been disapproving of each potential husband so far. She shape shifts (and quite adequately) into a Furfur demon (probably the reason that she really wants to marry, and also that her advisors won’t let her). I think I’ll keep the rest of her for in thread…don’t want to give it all away

Nice Welcome to the Pen, and I'm sure that our overgrown lizard, Wyvern, is hanging around somewhere and will be around soon to give this a couple of looks

methinks I should react to this.....well, should've reacted to this before... Amazing poem....even better read out loud

Her senses were sending signals out from all sides now, and the second person was barely noticeable in the distance, but still she had picked up the unfamiliar energy. However, Robby’s mana was heavily disturbing her internal radar, and with Troy still trying to tell her how much he liked the ‘kid’ she had no idea how to respond. His reactions weren’t hostile in any way, and this place somehow seemed to attract either the strange or the weird, so she slowly lowered her knife and stuck it back in her belt. “You’re a mage.” It wasn’t a question. It was merely stating an assumed fact, and it gave her something to say. She walked over to Troy and scratched him on his head; the phoenix nudged her and uttered a sound that sounded more as if he was a big purring cat instead of a flaming bird.

My try Fatigue Tired From all day long Working with them people That talk and talk, and talk some more Sleep now

Cinquain The traditional cinquain is based on a syllable count. Most cinquain poems consist of a single, 22 syllable stanza, but they can be combined into longer works. A cinquain consists of five lines. The first line has two syllables, the second line has four syllables, the third line has six syllables and the fourth line has eight syllables, the final line has two syllables: line 1 - 2 syllables line 2 - 4 syllables line 3 - 6 syllables line 4 - 8 syllables line 5 - 2 syllables The modern cinquain is based on a word count of words of a certain type. line 1 - one word (noun) a title or name of the subject line 2 - two words (adjectives) describing the title line 3 - three words (verbs) describing an action related to the title line 4 - four words describing a feeling about the titlem, a complete sentence line 5 - one word referring back to the title of the poem The line length is the only firm rule, but there are other guidelines that people have tried to impose from time to time. Cinquain Guidelines • Write in iambs (Two syllable groupings in which the first syllable is unstressed and the second syllable stressed. For Example: i DRANK she SMILED we TALKED i THOUGHT) For the last line of the cinquain, however, both syllables should be stressed, NICE BAR. • Write about a noun. Cinquains generally fail if you try to make them about emotions, philosophies or other complex subjects. They should be about something concrete. • Don’t try to make each line complete or express a single thought. Each line should flow into the next or the poem will sound static. • Cinquains work best if you avoid adjectives and adverbs. This doesn’t mean you can’t have any, but focus on the nouns and the verbs. This almost always works best in a cinquain. • The poem should build toward a climax. The last line should serve as some sort of conclusion to the earlier thoughts. Often, the conclusion has some sort of surprise built into it. One possible, but not required, format is as follows: Line 1: Title Noun Line 2: Description Line 3: Action Line 4: Feeling or Effect Line 5: Synonym of the initial noun. examples Tucson Rain The smell Everyone moves To the window to look Work stops and people start talking Rain came Opening Game Game time Season looked good National champions We told ourselves as we sat down Not now New Bar Across The street I went To drink at the new bar I drank she smiled we talked I thought Nice bar Source

Thank you to all that have helped with this, couldn't have done it without you

With everybody around the table Sweetcherrie gathered the last stories together and placed them in the outline. She looked around the table and took in the familiar faces of each person sitting there. All of them were dear friends, and she wondered how she would ever be able to repay them. She cleared her throat and started speaking. “There’s not much left to say for me….I…” She felt her head turning red, “I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart that you have come to my aid when this was so needed.” Smiling faces looked back at her, and she found it hard to continue. “This project has become a success and I think you can be proud of what you have done all together.” Sweetcherrie swallowed away the lump that had appeared in her throat; it had been hard, but when she looked at the end result in her hands she was glad that she had done it. She continued on a more business-like tone of voice seeing that it was the only tone of voice she could keep steady. “Now, if nobody has any questions anymore??….Good!! I think it’s about time we get this printed!” (The thread with the stories can be found here)

Hey, you're still a winner for trying

I'm never to good with words as soon as it comes to these sort of things (how bad for someone who likes calling herself a writer), but if ever you need someone to shout at about the unfairness of these sort of things....

Looking on her watch Sweetcherrie sat down and nervously drummed with her fingers on the table. The lay-out looked good enough, and she was certain that the stories would be liked. For what seemed like the thousandth time she went through Lucy’s pictures, and nodded contently. They were simply amazing. She tossed the order around and changed it back again. And then Christopher came in. On Sweetcherrie’s lips were lying the words, that he couldn’t smoke during the meeting when she noticed with surprise that he didn’t have a cigarette in his mouth, nor in his hands. “Hey..nicely on time. The rest should be here any minute now. Help yourself to some coffee.” With a gesture she pointed out the butler tray with tea, coffee and even a dish with biscuits, and then continued to drum her fingers on the table.

yay, you posted it Nice, definitely nice