guess who

[Gwaihir]

For the rest of the month, I am inviting submissions PMd to me of writing involving travelling. People will later be invited to guess who wrote what so if one wants to stretch one's horizons or just be tricky you can make a piece that isn't written the way you usually do.

 

On June first or so I will post each piece of writing anonymously and anyone can give three guesses. For the next week all pennites are invited to guess but no clues will be posted.

 

One week later I will post the names of each writer but in a mixed up order. Guesses after this point will be less difficult but will be worth slightly less geld.

 

Writers get twenty-five geld and are encouraged to guess too as long as they can do so without spoilng. For instance if there are only two writers and you're one of them then don't guess who the other writer is

Before any names of participants are given, a correct first guess will recieve twenty geld, a correct second guess will recieve fifteen and correct third guess will recieve ten.

 

Once names are posted anyone gets fifteen geld for a correct first guess, ten for a second guess and five for a third.

[Gwaihir]

I have recieved some good questions so I'll answer them here too.

 

Stories, poems and RP are all welcome (though RP might be harder to do?)

 

I encourage pieces that are more closely related to travelling but I want to encourage submissions so as long as it involves travelling in some way I'll be happy.

 

 

Also to be noted, anyone is welcome to write and submit more than one piece if they want. If there are two pieces by one writer I will note that since the comparison might be interesting.

Edited May 19, 2006 by Gwaihir

[Ayshela]

has this one closed out for submission? ("bumping" even though pinned since there's no public response so it's likely to have been missed by people in finals...)

[Gwaihir]

Thank you, Ayshela.

Yes, sorry, I went away to get married and life got a bit hectic. I got a couple wonderful submissions that I will post in a few moments. However, I got some other PMs from people who wanted to participate but haven't yet. Last chance for any of those is now.

 

One week from today I will post the names of those who submitted pieces. However, from now on anyone is invited to post (or PM if you prefer, but it might be funny to see the differences in opinion) guesses about who wrote this piece. See the guidelines above for geld amounts per guess. I will PM you whyether your guess was right or wrong. Also, feel free to guess more than three times. One geld per correct guess after three attempts have been made.

[Gwaihir]

Submission #1

 

Who. That is the question.

 

Mynxzaniel?

 

When she traveled to that convention, the frogs were croaking in triple time. I could identify that striped suit of fur anywhere... or was it a polka dotted mane? Not written here, but that long tongue beside her is etched in my memory like a flashing neon taste-test. Or was it a lethargic drag? Or a crawl to avoid...

 

Gnarleech?

 

The axe-juggling entertainer in front of the convention. His hands travelled through the air in swift spurts... too swift, perhaps. The connection to convention security leads me to believe that he was a distant relative who happened to be paying his brother a visit. A SUSPICIOUS visit. Possible relation to Vlad. Indifferent towards carrots. A prime suspect? Or simply a scapegoat for...

 

The Juicer Painting?

 

Primary opponent to oranges worldwide. Tangerines as well? The sicko. Bribery suspected on his part - the Judge continues to hang him on his wall. Meanwhile, a perfectly innocent (albeit questionably sketched) portrait and his genious assistant travelled straight to the depths of prison on account of his cunning. Or was this all just a diversion for...

 

Red Envelope?

 

The possibility of him traveling to deliver me bad news about my professional demeanor leaves my throat parched and my head chilled...

 

Though my head always seems to feel chilled, these days.

[Gwaihir]

Submission #2

 

When she stared up at the moon, she still thought of home. Home... it's where her family no longer waited for her, where her husband no longer searched for her, its where they no longer mourned her. Time had done much to soften their scars.

 

hers had remained.

 

she couldn't blame them for moving on. her death had been convincing, it was supposed to be. how could anyone have survived that flame. and they had even refused to admit her death at first, despite the overwhelming evidence. they said the evidence was suspicous, and who could blame them, it was fabricated. but time had convinced them and they had forgotten her.

 

but she had not forgotten them, and when she saw the moon she was reminded. it was under the moon that she had accepted his foolish offer of marriage, two months after his first foolish mistake. it was under the moon that she had given birth to her son, apart from the parents that no longer claimed her. and it was in the moonlight that she had set her house ablaze and escaped in the cover of darkness. it had been a difficult choice.

 

but not one she regretted. As the night grew colder, she pulled herself closer to the other rider of the horse and felt his warmth flow through her whole body and she smiled. She saw the moon and she remembered, but she didn't regret.

[Gwaihir]

Submission #3

There was so much to do. so many things. Everywhere, all over, i hate it, I can't stand it, they surround and compress me. The lifeblood ebbs nd flows from me, making me as one with the dead of the world. Only then can I forget, blissful nothingness, leave out the things that together make me their own. There, in the corner, i see it there it is. for nothing can take me like it can - the thing that envelops my Me. i cower, step back from it, know innately and perfectly for one infinite second the Other, and then it comes for me, races at speeds no earthly thing can match and There! i am but a facet of itself, a limb on the body of the things that consume me. I am no more.

[Gwaihir]

Submission #4

The ancient tome sits at the table, rife with the sweat and blood of many. It is a history, encompassing the toil of each man and woman who worked to change or preservere in the ways of their time, each tyrant, each revolutionary.

 

The artists who changed the world, one set of eyes at a time, one way of thinking to one brain.

The kings who accomplished their ideals, even while sweeping away the lives of thousands.

The scientists who saw the world in one way and worked to prove it to everyone else.

 

But not the workers, who spent every day of their lives in serving the others. Not the workers, who loved and cried, fought and healed, tended the land and built the fundamental tools of society as we know it.

 

No?

 

How not, when every book must embody the work of lumberjacks and herbalists, inventors, linguists, and farmers? Someone must cut the trees for the pages and make the ink for the words. Someone must sew the thread and set the glue that bind the paper. Someone must grow the food that feeds the others, must create the machines, and the very languages, that are used in the making of a thing like this.

 

Whether we see it or not, the workers are everywhere, their legacy carrying everyone - yes, themselves as well - on to bigger and better things.

[Gwaihir]

Submission #5

Mars. The red planet. I take a deep breath before making that decisive step. No man had ever stepped on Mars, not a single one. I inhale the oxygen rich air from my oxygen tank and gaze at the planet's red surface. It's not even really red, more like a dark shade of orange. It had been a longtime dream of mine to step onto its surface. Years of training, years of preparation and a rigorous selection program have led to this.

 

I feel tears welling in my eyes. I roll my wheelchair closer to the TV set. My son makes the wavering step and is the first man to touch the surface of Mars. I take another deep breath from my oxygen tank. Had it not been for the training accident, it could have been me making that step...

 

 

 

Submission #6

 

Five in the morning, the sun wasn’t even up, and I had to get bread already. I had decided that it wasn’t fair, but life isn’t fair, and I had to go anyway. The keys from the van were still in the fridge where Chris wanted them.

 

“It’s the last place they will look.” He always said.

 

With one hand around a mug of coffee and the other grasping for the keys on the egg-shelf, I tried to wake myself up enough for it to be safe to drive.

 

I put the coffee mug down, splashed half of the content over my hand, and walked over to the van. For a moment I thought I had gotten the wrong keys, but then I opened my eyes far enough to see that I was trying to poke the key in the wrong hole. I opened the van, and as always, woke up the moment the engine rumbled to life.

 

Slowly, as to not run into a tree (for the second time), I drove backwards out of the small lane, and onto the road. There were no other cars to be seen as I drove around the winding bends of the road and, as my head was now cleared of sleeping haze, I was actually enjoying the views.

 

This part of the country had always been my more favorite part. The green mountain slopes, and rivers down in the depths always gave me that feeling of smallness in this amazingly large and beautiful world. Before I realized it, I reached town and parked the van.

 

The bakery was only just opening its doors, and the smell of freshly baked bread was making my mouth water. I had read somewhere that this and the smell of fresh coffee were the two most loved smells in the world, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

 

The baker wished me a good morning, and I smiled at him. I knew my pronunciation of his language was not something to write home about, so my smile was my only answer. It seemed fine with him. The order was the same as every day, and he went to get the bread.

 

With my eyes closed, and my nose spread wide open to take in the delicious smells of the bakery, I waited patiently for him to return. I heard him chuckle, and with his arms full of bread he was grinning widely at me. I grinned back, paid for the bread and, after dumping the bread on the back seat, got back into the van.

 

The sun was starting to come up, and already the sky was turning pinkish. I drove the van around another edge, and then my mouth just dropped open. I parked the van on the lookout, and hopped out of the seat. Slowly, my jaw dropped further with awe as I gawked at the sky.

 

The sun seemed to hug the green mountain slopes, and set them on fire. I walked to the edge, and leaned against the railing. Slowly I sank down, and let my feet dangle over the ledge. Below them there was straight drop down for about three hundred feet, but I didn’t care. All I saw was that amazing sky.

 

Gold, purple, but mainly reds, pinks and purples were painted in with silvery blue clouds. Strikes of gold were being pulled along the edges of the silvery blue, and a flock of birds were set black against the fiery red.

 

Slowly the view changed, and it felt as if someone was slowly adding more gold and red into the mix. Birds were singing, and I smelled the trees and grass, covered in dew. Nature was making me feel small and weightless, unimportant in the grand scheme, but still part of it all. Interwoven with that fire in the sky, the fresh dew on the leaves, and the birds spreading their wings in flight. I was insignificant, but so powerful there and then.

 

At that very moment I felt as if I was granted a glimpse at the big plan behind things. The reason why we were all here, the reason why things were alive, the reason why I existed, and why I would also have to die. Like this sunrise was now slowly dying.

 

The intense red bleached out, and then the stark blue sky we’d had for weeks on started to fight its battle with the fire. The clouds glimpsed a deep purple in their last attempt to grip on to this color, but then they too turned back to their gentle white.

 

With the sunrise disappearing I felt as if slowly a part of me died away. The fire in the sky released its grip on the clouds and trees, and for a moment it left sadness behind. A lonely spot in my inner self, but than the spot got filled up with the realization of what had just happened.

 

I got up, and sauntered back to the van. As I got in the smell of freshly baked bread enveloped me, and with a smile I started the engine. The smile was still on my face as I arrived back. People looked at me questioningly, but how could I possible explain that I had understood it all for those few moments?

[Gwaihir]

Just in case it helps (or makes it harder ) I have now posted two entries by the same person. But don't presume it is the entry(ies) I just posted. I am that wily.

 

Thish is great fun everybody. Also, if it adds interest, we have had a correct guess for submission number one and another for submission number five PMd to me. Well, make that two correct for #5.

Edited June 7, 2006 by Gwaihir

[Ayshela]

nifty! and Gwai - congrats! =)

*huggles*

(though, I think that's more a case of congrats to the lucky other... heh)

[Savage Dragon]

do we have to PM our guesses? or can we post them here to discuss and vote

[Gwaihir]

*grins* Thanks Ayshela. Honestly I think we both feel pretty lucky .

 

Savage, you're quite welcome to discuss and share your guesses here. I will tell you whether you're right or wrong by PM.

[Savage Dragon]

well, it was just my guess that the first was probably written by Red Envelope because it includes his name, and that might be reason enough to suspect that it isnt him, excpt i suspected that he suspected for us to suspect that, so i suspect it IS him

 

he seems a likely suspect

[NightFae]

well, it was just my guess that the first was probably written by Red Envelope because it includes his name, and that might be reason enough to suspect that it isnt him, excpt i suspected that he suspected for us to suspect that, so i suspect it IS him

 

he seems a likely suspect

Hmm...Sounds like the Princess Bride.

Nice logic.

[Gwaihir]

EEEEEEEEP. Erm, I forgot this.

 

 

Well, the people w ho posted items were (in alphabetical order) Katzaniel Katzaniel Patrick Savage Dragon Sweetcherrie Inspector IM Clueless. Guess away!

 

(Apologies for suggesting the wrong character for this. Wyvern did not submit a piece but Inspector IM Clueless did.)

Edited June 20, 2006 by Gwaihir

[Gwaihir]

And we have a complete set of correct guesses NICE JOB(though let me note these were not her first tries.)

 

And another complete set of correct guesses. So do I hear a third?

[Gwaihir]

Well, correct answers were:

 

1 Inspector I.M Clueless

2 Savage Dragon

3 Katzaniel

4 Katzaniel

5 Patrick

6 Sweetcherrie

 

This is now closed. Thanks for all who participated.