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Chinaren
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 Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 5:14 pm Post subject: SoaP 5! Closed! |
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Chinaren's Nearly Famous: STORY OF A PICTURE 5 competition!
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I now declare SoaP5 closed!
The best Author winner is our very own Dragon assassin, K-Rai! Well done Kallana. You win a Fables prize, a Chinaren Hall cup, and the chance to choose the picture for SoaP6.
As usual, ~sighs~ Smee took the guesses prize.  At least I don't have to draw another trophy!
The authors were:
Lep - Rai
Cobblers - Random (No one guessed this. Good work Random!)
Art - D-Lotus
A Fine Day - Jez (Your font/colour gave you away here Jez!)
(untitled) - Who else? Our very own Masterweaver. Hehe.
Thanks for playing everyone!
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Let Judgment commence! Five entrants await your thoughts!
PM me your guesses for who wrote EACH story. Entry is a very reasonable 10Fables for the first go, 20Fables each go after that. The winner will collect the pot!
The second part is the vote below, which is free of course. Simply vote for the best story.
I await your PMs.
[/color]
Current top three:
16 points - Smee
10 points - D-Lotus.
9 points - Smee.
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Entry 1 - Lep.
Entry 2 - A Cobbler's Knowledge
Entry 3 - The Power of Art
Entry 4 - A Fine Day
Entry 5 - Untitled
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Roll up roll up! Take part in the competition they have all been talking about! Write! Read! Vote! Pay Chinaren money! Win! Win! Win!!!!
Rules and all that jazz. Please read carefully:
There are several parts to this competition:
1. Look, write, submit.
Below this entry a picture will be posted.
Look at the picture and write a short story (max 2005 words) which, at some point, the picture is a part of.
For example. If the picture is of a man jumping through a window, then you can write a story where a man, at some point in the tale, jumps through a window.
In the story you must describe the picture and it must match the picture pretty much exactly.
When you have written the story DO NOT POST IT HERE!!!
PM it, or e-mail it, to me!! Do not tell anyone you have written the story!! I will donate the Fables I get for posting entrants' stories back to the author*
The story will be posted exactly as it is PMd to me, with no corrections or additions.
The entry fee is a very reasonable 50Fables per story.
You may enter as many times as you like!
2. Judgment.
There are two parts to 'The Judgment'.
a. Best story:
The first is a straight vote on which story you like the best.
The prize to the winning author will be 300Fables, a trophy in Chinaren Hall, and the opportunity to submit the picture for the next SoaP!
b. Guess who wrote them!
For this section you must guess who wrote each story. Each set of guesses costs 10Fables (first entry) and 20Fables (each subsiquent entry).
You will Score:
One point (1) for guessing an author, but not putting the right name to the right story. EG:If JezSharp writes story number 10, but you guess Jez wrote story 5, then you get 1 point.
If someone guesses an author twice, for an author who wrote one story, only one guess will count for points. (The highest).
EG:If Lordy wrote story 3, and Smee guesses Lordy wrote story 1 and 3, Smee would get the four points for the correct guess, but none for the other Lordy guess.
4 points for guessing correctly eg: JezSharp number 10.
1 point for 'guessing' your own entry, as it isn't fair to give three, but it isn't fair to not reward you either.
Of course, this part requires the authors to play along here and not give away what they wrote. Any breach of this rule and the author will forfeit the prize, (should they win) and be barred from entering the next competition.
The person who guesses correctly first, or if no one guesses by the close date, the person who guesses most wins a trophy in Chinaren Hall and a Fables prize, which will be dependant upon how many people paid to guess**.
*Minus a very small handling fee**.
**Hey, I'm not a charity you know!
-----------------------------------
The picture will be posted below, chosen by Key as winner of SoaP 4.
Entrance is open until I get enough stories or until a date that I decide it is closed, depends on the response really.
Remember: If you write a story PM it to me! Don't post it here!!
Happy SoaPing!
Winners of Previous SoaPs were:
SoaP1
Shady Stoat - Best story
E_Fauna & Smee (tied) - Most correct guesses.
SoaP2 - Jan 2006
Smee - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses.
SoaP3 - Feb 2006
Chinaren - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses. (Again!!)
SoaP4 - Apr 2006
Key - Best story
Smee - Most correct guesses. (as usual!)
Last edited by Chinaren on Wed Dec 20, 2006 4:28 am; edited 28 times in total
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 5:18 pm Post subject: |
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Here is the picture for S5, as chosen by Key. 
Last edited by Chinaren on Mon Oct 09, 2006 8:11 pm; edited 1 time in total
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 7:29 pm Post subject: |
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That would be Judgment. I would have missed it, except that my english teacher pointed it out as a common mistake today.
| Quote: | | Hey, I'm not a charity you know! |
Now that you're past 40 thousand fables, I find it funny that you say that.
_________________
 Chapter 5: The Rendezvous 
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 8:13 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks to your English teacher D. Corrected.
The picture is up! Entries now being accepted! Gogogogogo! 
_________________
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My Amazon page.
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Smee
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| Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 10:54 pm Post subject: |
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Mwahahaahaha - none of these new people will stand any more chance at beating me at the guessing game than the oldies  *
Great to see Soap back again 
* I hope
_________________
The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 11:58 pm Post subject: Entry 1 - Lep |
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Lep
My name is Lep. I'm not named for a family member, or out of some big book of cute names expectant mothers ooh and ahh over. I'm named for the disease that's slowly eating the skin off my body. No pictures of me exist and none likely will. The only evidence of my ever walking this earth is right here for you to consider.
I had another name once but I've forgotten it. And the nurses call me something else entirely. Some jumble of numbers I've never been able to remember. Even after all these years. Maybe it's eating my brain too. My memories don't seem right any more. That's why I'm writing this down when they're not looking. I'm not supposed to have pencils. They're sharp. And paper is for the 'good' people. I'm not 'good' to them.
I've never seen my mother or my father but I do have a picture of them. It's rather odd though. When people asked me about my family, and the others did, I showed it to them and they frowned. They thought I was playing tricks on them but I wasn't. The sad truth is when I asked my parents for something to remember them by; they sent a portrait with both their faces covered by white cloths.
I couldn't stop crying for a week when I got it. They hated me. They didn't want me. Not now. Not ever again. I see some of the others who are here with me in the Home. They have family visit them although they never touch and are constantly holding cloths to their faces in hopes to ward off that which makes us so repulsive. I can't help but envy them. Sometimes I get mad, so mad I smash something.
Afterwards I'm always very sorry. Not just because they strap me down and stick me with needles to make me 'behave'. I really do regret doing such horrible things. But nobody lives with this pain like I do. The others don't. They've got each other to talk to and share stories with. I've got the walls of my room and the doctor who comes once a week to talk to me.
He always wants to know why I'm so angery, why I'm not nice like the others. I try to explain but my words are muffled under my wrappings. When I try to take them off he gets alarmed and goes away. Then the nurses come back and the burly men in white and they strap me down again. I want to know what I've done so wrong.
It wasn't like this before. I used to be normal and my parents called me their beautiful boy. My father would ruffle my hair and call me a 'striking young lad' and my mother her 'little ray of sunshine'. But they stopped calling me that when they found out I was...unclean. When they found out what the spots on me were, why I was getting sick.
Then I watched as their bright smiles and warm hugs vanished. Instead revulsion and repulsion took their place. Only a week after we found out I came here. The Home. There are all sorts of people here and they're all like me. Some are old but none were quite as young. Now there are a few younger than me but I've been here many years now.
I have only one bright light in my life. Jillian is one of the nurses here. She's not like the others. She gave me the pencil and paper. She helps me hide the note. She's going to give it to my parents and tell them what a good boy I've been. She's going to tell them how I've been treated. Maybe then they'll come save me. I don't think so. But it would be so nice to be somebody's 'ray of sunshine' or 'striking young lad' again.
Mother. Father. If you get this please...
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Jillian looked at the home again and then at the paper in her hand. It was the right house sure enough. Walking up to the door Jillian steeled herself and knocked three times. Nobody answered so she rapped harder. After the third set of knocks the door swung open to reveal a shriveled old woman leaning on her cane. "Sorry deary but these old bones of mine don't move quite as fast as they used to. What can I help you with?"
Jillian swollowed before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crisp white envalope. "Mrs. Cartwright. I'm Jillian Garter from the Cool Springs home." Instantly Mrs. Cartwright's attitude changed and she started to shuffle back into the house. "Wait Mrs. Cartwright! This is a letter from your son! He hasn't seen you in nearly fourty years, he misses you desperately. He wanted me to bring this to you."
Mrs. Cartwright turned and glared at her. "You should have left well enough alone and not encouraged the damned freak!" Jillian stared at her in open shock but the old woman raged on. "He was my little boy, my darling little boy. And then he started rotting away! The scandal we endured, it put poor Wilfred in the grave!" She was openly crying now. "My little boy killed him. Killed HIM!"
Jillian shook her head, mutely extending the letter. Wiping her now streaming eyes Mrs. Cartwright took the letter with trembling hands before slamming the door. With a sigh and a small smile Jillian turned. She could go tell Lep that his mother had gotten his note. He would be so happy.
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Mrs. Cartwright waited until Jillian was out of sight before shuffling into the living room. She carefully settled herself into her rocking chair, taking care to ensure her knitting was close at hand and the cat's tail out of the way. She stared at the envalope for a moment before flinging it into the fire in the fireplace before her. Striking it with a poker she watched as the flames curled it to ashes before settling back and taking up her knitting again.
Last edited by Chinaren on Fri Oct 13, 2006 2:22 pm; edited 1 time in total
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Wed Oct 11, 2006 7:49 pm Post subject: |
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Just a question- when do we PM our guesses? When all stories have been written, or as they come out one by one?
_________________
Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Chinaren
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Mother Goose
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| Posted: Thu Oct 12, 2006 11:13 am Post subject: |
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Judgment/judgement - maybe this is one of those differences between American and British. My dictionary (American Heritage) gives "judgment" first but allows the other.
When I started this the one with the e looked funny to me; now they both do.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Thu Oct 12, 2006 3:13 pm Post subject: |
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| Mother Goose wrote: | Judgment/judgement - maybe this is one of those differences between American and British. My dictionary (American Heritage) gives "judgment" first but allows the other.
When I started this the one with the e looked funny to me; now they both do. |
Ah. I think this is just me spelling it wrong, as I always do. Mind you, if your dictionary says it is okay... Wooo!
Still open for entries people!
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Thu Oct 12, 2006 3:19 pm Post subject: |
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Yay SoaP! *drumms claws on table in applause*
_________________
"It's not just about living forever...the trick is living with yourself forever..."
"Music makes you braver."
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| Posted: Fri Oct 13, 2006 2:17 pm Post subject: Entry 2 - (No title) |
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Have you ever lived a moment that seemed to suspend time? What should be a flashing blip in the grand scheme becomes a novel in a single heartbeat. I don’t hold the answers to why this happens, although I understand scientists have told us it has something to do with chemicals in the body. It sounds plausible but I’m a cobbler and know very little about how the human body works.
The train to wherever finally begins to slow. I do not know if this is a good thing. The last time we stopped they simply stuffed more people into our car. Conditions here are horrible. A while ago a lady died but no one noticed for there was no room for her to fall over. We have not been fed in what feels like days, and the car stinks of urine and sweat.
At least we can see the countryside through the slats in the walls. Green fields rush by us, occasionally we pass a house or a herd of cattle but for the most part, it is the simple beauty of God’s lands that keep our interest. There are a few clouds, not unusual for this time of year, but in the breaks there is the bluest of skies. A reminder that beyond everything lies something worth finding.
I straighten the tie of my brown suit and look to my side. My wife, my Hilda, she is still so very beautiful. Her dress was a red but it has since dirtied, giving it a more of a brownish red hue then true red. But please her soul, she keeps straightening her beautiful hair, so black it almost shines blue when the sun hits it. She feels me looking and turns her loving brown eyes upon me. I reach for her and she takes my hand. I miss her smile.
The train finally stops and in short order our door is opened. The throng of people turns expectantly towards the door. The uniformed man shouts at us to exit the train. Hilda and I get into line and make the jump to the ground. I look again at where we are. This is no train station. There is nothing near by for as far as the eye can see.
Gentle but steep hills mark this countryside, the green of the leaves and the grass making spring’s demand to be noticed. The train has stopped on a bridge over a valley leaving us very little room to shuffle to where the uniformed man is pointing us. I look back and notice none of the other carts have been opened but think little of it. This has happened before where we have been shuffled from one train to another.
Hilda again grasps my hand and together we make our way into the flow of people, all moving inexorably towards where we do not know. We are stopped again by another of the uniformed men, this one waving a gun at us. Why would he need a gun? No one has said a word of protest about the treatment. We have not argued against being taken from our homes. We have caused no trouble. But this man yells obscenities at us and carries in his blue eyes a dangerous wild look of power.
From the opposite side of the train come another group of men, all uniformed in the same gray outfit. They look to belong to some army but I cannot begin to fathom who would attack our peaceful lands. I have a harder time understanding why a cobbler and his wife would be considered dangerous enough to warrant these men waving their guns and screaming at us. I find it hard to follow their words when they shout. They speak as if they do not care if we understand or not.
The snap of a pistol makes everyone jump. I turn to see one of the uniformed men lowering his gun as a man falls off the bridge and into the deep chasm that waits patiently to catch him. A lady who was next to him screams and covers her face in her hands. The man with the gun matches her volume with his own string of gibberish but she does not relent in the face of his mounting tirade. I look away as he cracks the butt of his pistol against her head, knocking her backwards and again off the bridge. I cannot close my ears to her scream as she falls. The chasm in the rolling hills beautifully captures even the sharp ending of her dying wail.
We are quiet in our shock, many of us mumbling prayers, others simply staring into the chasm, hoping we will see this is all some cruel joke. There is some shifting in the line as people try to shuffle away from the deranged uniformed man with the gun, who dares anyone to make another sound. Hilda presses close to me and I understand.
I do not know who these men are or what any of us have done to deserve this treatment. But I understand in my Hilda’s movements that we have been brought here to die. Is this what my God intended for me then? To live an impoverished, simple life only to be killed in a mass of flesh for something I do not understand? I am only a cobbler. I do not question my God’s ways. If I am to go and meet him, so be it. But I cannot help but miss my Hilda already. So badly she wanted children. I could not give them to her but she stayed with me anyway. Telling me over the years it was the love, not the product of our love that bound us.
Now I understand. I would ask God why He made me a simple cobbler, incapable of understanding such important things. But I realize it is a useless question. For God led me to Hilda, and Hilda will always be my shining light.
The uniformed are moving among us now, taking great care to keep away from the edge of the bridge. They are tying white cloths around our heads. Hilda looks up at me and I kiss her. She does not act surprised or embarrassed by such a public display. She probably had it all figured out long ago.
The uniformed man allows us a moment, a shock of tenderness, before he applies the white cloth to my Hilda. Her face may be buried but I remember ever curve. The uniformed man moves to me next and my world goes white. Strange, there is no wind. Or perhaps the train blocks it? I am a cobbler. What do I know of the way wind works?
I can sense Hilda pushing against my left shoulder. I turn my head towards her and catch the faint scent of roses. Inside I laugh! Only my Hilda could ride a train for how many days and still smell as sweet! I lean towards her, our cheeks touching. The dampness of her cloth soaks into mine. She is crying.
I sense someone standing before us but see nothing. I inhale deeply Hilda’s roses and hear the loud snap of a gun just in front of me. God grants me one final moment that stretches into oblivion. My mind works impossibly fast, memories well and bad assail me. Meeting Hilda, marrying her, yearly visits to our parents, opening my own shop.
Then I wonder what would I have dreamed about when I was ninety?
Hilda’s hand squeezes mine for an instant, and there is a sharp pressure on the side of my head. Is this death then? Would I know it? There is a familiar quality here, something comforting. Hilda probably knows. I am a simple cobbler though. What do I know of death?
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| Posted: Fri Oct 13, 2006 10:10 pm Post subject: Entry 3 - The Power of Art |
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The Power of Art
There exists no plausible manner in which an artist can paint something beautiful modeling his art work on unsightliness. The artist must conceive an illusory world, in which the most repulsive must be transfixed into an angelic splendor, and then, include his work subject into the imagined realm. The subject, transformed into a new entity, is expected to comprise the natural pose, physical features and spiritual insight that it contained previously. To achieve his purpose, the artist must return from his fantastic plane of thought, so as to be able to concentrate on the realistic aspect of his work. And so, the unfortunate painter is enforced and strained to travel between two juxtaposed worlds in which no similarities can be found between the exquisite and the revolting.
It is my misfortune that I don’t dispose of sufficient capital, that I can freely chose my subject. To be modest is to be pained by anyone having money.
After many years, I had finally begun to be appreciated for my brushwork, and I felt that my discipline was at last bearing fruit. It was then, in that moment of my rise, that I met Eugene Carter and his wife, and was offered a rich reward for a portrait. Carter was an important figure at the time, a banker of prestige but without much discernment for modernism, classicism, conceptualism, cubism, surrealism, pointillism, impressionism and expressionism, or any kind of art which contained the fateful ending -ism. Had I realized the difficulty of my task, I would not have accepted it.
When I saw his wife, I nearly balked. He was no handsome personage, but she! I cannot describe her, for to write of it would be as unpleasant as painting it, and I cannot bear it. Her evil cheeks resisted any attempt to be sketched, and the bleakness of her eyes were unordinary but boring and cold. I often wonder how a nose could attain such quantities and horrendous wondrousness. Her pouting lips and indrawn yellow teeth made my brush hand tremble as I beheld. Had her eyebrows marred her features slightly less, I could have been able to draw her jutting forehead, and the rest of her ugly structure might have bumpily followed.
But it was beyond me! The impossibility of such a feat as drawing the vile creature, I could not accomplish. As they sat modeling beneath a backdrop of a gently lit and lightly clouded sky, the cool and shady trees and hills called for me to stop the atrocity and set down my pencil. The air blew around me to disturb my sinister intrusion, and that first day, assailed by the elements, I could not draw one line. Carter bid me contemplate upon my progress, but I gently denied him the favor- insisting upon the artist’s right of privacy over unfinished work.
I resolved to have further sessions indoors, and I drew the scenery beforehand, ready to add the characters in later. But nor did the seclusion from an outside environment aid me in my quest. The purity of the blank paper was such, that I could not bear to defile it. Day after day, I stood, pretending to paint while scrutinizing the image of the frowning, twisted Mona Lisa besides her husband. I analyzed, studied and considered every possible formula and variation. I investigated, I questioned, I probed and dissected her face; piece by piece as methodically as I could. I held her ears apart, and I premeditated upon her chin before attempting to gaze towards the strands of her stringy hair.
What horror, what trouble! I tried to stall. To fake my progress, I substituted my pencil for the brush, and then the varnish, until I could find no more tools. I pretended to add the final touches upon this painting I had not the strength to begin. The days flew by, and Carter began to pester me with more consistency, until his impatience was almost tangible in the room as he waited besides his wife for me to finish. He demanded his portrait in a week’s time.
I despaired, for I had tried and failed. I cared no longer what the world’s opinion of me was. My critics scoffed at the long interval between my new works. That week, I did not leave my house, and I painted during what seemed an eternity of suffering. I decided that if I could not reveal their faces, I would cover them with a white veil, and the Devil be gone with it!
And so I labored, and by the end of the week, I was ready to expose the portrait. Carter seethed and his wife watched me in terror, as I finally detected an emotion on the nasty and appalling face. Carter left without paying me, and I gladly escorted them out. He did not shout more than the necessary, and I am thankful to him for that.
As a jest, I decided to send the nameless portrait to one of my critics. What was my surprise when he invited me to an exhibition were my painting hung as the main attraction! It touched everyone’s fancy, and miraculously went down into the annals of history. I afterwards named it A portrait of incurable beauty. May I never be forced to contemplate that inconformity of nature again.
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| Posted: Sun Oct 15, 2006 2:01 pm Post subject: Entry 4 - A fine day |
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A Fine Day
Andrew stood with his arm wrapped around his wife Jeanette as both stood in the light cool breeze. Dirty light weakly flooded his eyes through the white cotton sheet wrapped about his head as he continued to listen to the General's voice cutting into his mind,
"...so that concludes the briefing. Remember this project doesn't exist and you are not to divulge or even try to find the location of this area after you leave." Then the sheets were removed from their heads to reveal a middle aged smiling man in military garb. "Welcome Andrew and Jeanette," he said jovially, "sorry we had to go through that, security precautions - you never know these days who might try and infiltrate our base so we have to ensure all who come here don't know where here is."
Behind him half of a huge white globe like structure rose out of the ground in a clearing at the edge of a wood. Behind them endless fields and forests stretched away into the distance. Andrew smiled and nodded at the General's words, he and his wife were the latest to convert to the General's way of thinking, however there were many who would see his cause as sinister or evil. Words like 'racial cleansing’ had been banded about as though they were a slur - honestly all they were doing was ensuring the safety of the human race.
Slowly the doors ahead slid open noiselessly and all three entered the sleek white building and entered a glass elevator on the far side of the room, scanned for all forms of weaponry. As they descended he and the General talked over the schemes whilst his wife listened in quietly in the background.
"So how near completion are we?" Andrew asked.
"Well," replied the General as they stepped out down a sparkling corridor, "we only need your expertise for Operation Human Rehabilitation to take place and then hopefully within a few months work we can have the first of the Alien vaccines Itna Fle followed by Itna Rautnec soon afterwards. I'll need another's expertise to solve the problems relating to those though as there are additional problems."
"Excellent," Andrew replied, "then let us begin without further delay." Of course this sort of stuff is bound to make anyone feel uncomfortable he thought, but it must be done for us to survive and progress as a race - sentimentality doesn't enter the equation, it's only a matter of time before our friends turn to enemies, our allies to foes, and when that happens we must be ready.
* * *
A week later Andrew and Jeanette finally finished work on Operation Human Rehabilitation, Jeanette's role as assistant to Andrew's highly complicated genetic work. Jeanette's been quieter than usual this week and that's saying something, Andrew considered, I hope she's not ill. Jeanette had been a quiet devoted wife ever since they married, her brown haired, brown eyed and slim frame keeping the house running efficiently. When Andrew had broken the news about what he had been offered and asked for her advice about taking it up she had agreed quite readily.
He had become more and more engrossed by the General's arguments and persuasion over the weeks leading up to this placement until he came to believe all that he was told. Now the General sauntered into the lounge room happily smiling, as he did Jeanette stumbled slightly whilst holding a pair of scissors and cut the Generals hand. Apologizing profusely she mobbed the blood up with a handkerchief, bandaged his hand and offered to make him a cup of tea.
The General was so overwhelmed with her sorrow at causing the accident that he took no offense and was soon smiling again. Jeanette left the room to make the tea whilst the General slowly sat down opposite Andrew.
"Lovely wife you have their, very considerate," he said happily, "so how are the tests?"
"Fine, we have everything in place, soon the human race will be cleansed Sir."
"Excellent, yes there are too many weak and pathetic excuses for humans breeding out there, we need good quality stock, brain wise and physically wise...this should target the weak and thick and speed up natural selection. We need a stronger race, one that is above all the others permanently." The General laughed pleasantly as he considered the effects. "It's just a...thank you dear," he said as Jeanette handed him a cup of tea, "shame we won't see the full benefits of the virus occur. Just to think that it's totally untraceable, tasteless, and efficient - what an amazing cure...how ironic that a virus should come to be our cure...We can introduce it into the water, the food, and no - one will be much the wiser. Just another worldwide epidemic they'll say, super bug out of control...Hah." He took a large sip of tea before continuing as his eyes narrowed to pin points, "then we'll release the other ones across the galaxy, when the Itna range comes to completion...then who'll stop us!" Then he withdrew a revolver from his jacket pocket, "anyway as I have no use for you now Andrew and I prefer not to take chances when the human race is at stake...It was such a nice charade, with the sheeted masks and the swearing of oaths to convince you that I'd let you liv...liv..l..."
He collapsed upon the seat as though asleep, his lies draining from the room. Suddenly Andrew could see clearly again, could see the horror of what he was doing, that he'd been seduced by an idea that should never have been entertained. As he slumped with relief he instinctively knew who he had to thank for his survival and that of many millions…no trillions of beings. He watched as Jeanette drifted into the room with some slight faked surprise at what she saw.
"Oh dear, it looks like the General's gone to sleep..."
"Perhaps he has merely been infected with his own virus tailored exactly to his genetic code?" Andrew suggested with a gleam of happiness in his eyes.
"Perhaps," she replied with a sparkle in her eyes, "but it seems that unfortunately there's no way of proving such an unfounded statement." He rose and embraced her...then they set about destroying the research from the building. Then they walked clear of the semi circular dome into the peaceful woodland beyond. Above the Sun shone down, it was a fine day to be alive.
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| Posted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 2:15 am Post subject: |
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oops. Forgot about this! I will leave this until after the weekend, to see if there are any more entries, then commence The Judgment! 
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| Posted: Thu Nov 23, 2006 3:14 pm Post subject: Entry 5 - Untitled |
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"Wind. Wind, like rain, falls from the sky. And snow. And light."
Grand vizier Thomas looked out amongst the people, all fifty of them.
"And this...this was the ancient's attempt to traverse, to capture, the wind, the light, and the rain and snow." He waved toward the object behind him, a massive but now derelict skeleton of a tower.
"Let us pray that those who escaped will return. Let us pray to Isea, as he took them up."
"Isea, commence shuttle launch," murmered the multitude.
"Isea, the suits are undamaged," intoned the vizier.
"Isea, transmit coordinates..."
------------
Joshua sighed, breathing in the air. He wore a red suit, but his face remained covered, so he could see in the land without sky.
A land without sky. A land without life. Unthinkible, yet glorious.
Standing apart, watching him, was Jennifer, in a blue dress, and her face was covered. She slowly approached him, pausing to glance through the veil nervously at the woods.
"Jennifer, confirm identity."
"Confirmed. To whom do I speak?"
"Joshua." Thus went every greeting, as stated in the law.
"Joshua, when will we be allowed into a chamber?"
"When one is availible."
"And when will that be?"
Joshua observed the grass. He did not know when on pair would finish. There were only five chambers, and they had all been occupied for eight months and three weeks.
Jennifer sensed somthing wrong. "We do have enough credits, don't we?"
Joshua observed the grass.
---------------
"In the land without life, there is no gravity, no link to the ground."
Vizier Thomas waited for this to sink in.
"No bonds to the ground, none. We can touch the sky whenever we want."
A silent pondering swept through the crowd. Thomas nodded in satisfaction.
"Let us pray to Isea."
"Isea, commence shuttle launch..."
-----------------
Joshua walked into therealm of the vielmakers. Or rather, veilmaker, single. Only one remained, and she looked up, surprised at this visit.
"Confirm identity."
"Joshua confirmed. To whom do I speak?"
"Sarah. Why ar you here?"
"I need credits."
"I have all the silk I wil need for the new ones."
"Then I will make a veil."
Joshua did not expect to say that, and apparently, niether did Sarah. "Have you ever made one before?"
"No..."
"Then what makes you think I will let you make one?"
"I am willing to learn."
A pause. Sarah bored her gaze at the veil of Joshua.
"How many credits do you need?"
-----------------------
"To cause a hole in one's veil is to let the air out."
Vizier Thomas glanced up.
"Never let anything touch your veil."
The crowd was again entranced,
"Let us pray that those escaped will return."
"Isea, comence shuttle launch..."
--------------------------
Three. Three veils were made. Each perfect.
Sarah glanced up at Joshua, as Jennifer leaned on his shoulder.
"Five credits."
"Each?"
"Total."
Jennifer sagged, saddened. Joshua gestured to the table.
"Pefect craftmanship. No rips, no seams. What more do you want?"
Sarah smiled. "Your house."
Joshua started. Jeniffer exclaimed, "A solitary house is rare!"
Sarah turned away.
"Here."
To Jeniffer's disbelief, an ownership lease was produced. Sarah snatched it up. "And here are your hundred credits. Keep the veils. You're gonna need them."
-----------------
The day had come. A babe had finally been born. The happy couple exited the chamber, as a veil was placed over the child's face. Vizier Thomas stood.
"And now, who shall have the chamber next?"
"I have a hundred credits!" cried Joshua.
Without warning, an orange bolt of muscle lept ot of the forest and bit and clawed whatever was in front of it. Joshua, all thoughts of safty aside, threw down the credits and ran to defend the inoccent. The jawas snapped an ripped the veil. He continued to fight on. Jennifer scrambled into the fray, and her vil was torn. It was then a large boom resounded, and the orange thing fell dead.
Vizier Thomas lowered the shotgun.
"Joshua, Jennifer, you have torn your veils. You must go into the forest."
"But-"
Thomas glared at Sarah, and she fell into silence.
"Go. Now."
Slowly rising, still uncomprehending, Joshua made his way to the forest. Weeping, Jennifer followed.
----------------------
"We had a pact."
The raptor glared at the angry human. "And did you hold up your end of the contract?"
"I would have, if that loaf of yours hadn't interupted the proceedings!"
The orange tail flicked. "He was not of my clan. He was an escaped prisoner."
"An escaped-?! You should keep better control of your war games!"
The raptor slowly rose. "As you have sent two and not merely one into our realms, I shall overlook that insubordination. Good hunting, Vizier."
Thomas sighed. "May Isea follow you."
The raptor quietly stalked off into the night. Thomas watched as the tail flicked into the forest.
"May Isea follow you, creature. May Isea strike you dead, monster."
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| Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 7:55 pm Post subject: |
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When does the judgment begin? I'm looking forward to putting my guesswork theories into work!
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 12:32 am Post subject: |
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hmmm.... time to get on with this then. Might take me a day or two.
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 3:48 pm Post subject: |
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Chin made the first entry!
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 4:56 pm Post subject: |
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| Masterweaver wrote: | | Chin made the first entry! |
You mean the Judgment? Now if I made the first entry, don't you think I would have won already? I know who wrote them all. I currently don't put who has scored what. However, if people don't mind, then I will...
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 5:14 pm Post subject: |
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Smee made the third!
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 5:42 pm Post subject: |
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| Masterweaver wrote: | | Smee made the third! |
Weavo. You have to PM me your guess for ALL of the stories.
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 5:49 pm Post subject: |
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Oh. Sorry!
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 7:40 pm Post subject: |
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TWO lep poll buttons?
Ouch.
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| Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 10:38 pm Post subject: |
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Yes, it goes funny like that sometimes. It just duplicates the vote. I can eliminate the 'extra' so it won't affect the results.
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| Posted: Wed Nov 29, 2006 1:15 am Post subject: |
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I've just read all 5 stories, and I'm very impressed. Excellent, and often thought provoking themes, well worked from the picture.
Lep. as a starting story this was straight in there with a hard-hitting, emotional theme. I was impressed with how the picture was incorporated as a picture of his parents, too ashamed to let even their son see their faces.
A Cobblers Knowledge. This one I really liked. The "I'm a cobbler, what do I know of.." lines were used perfectly. Not too much, just at the right moments for emphasis. Another sad one though, once again the picture was woven in nicely.
The Power of Art. My favourite, and the one to get my vote. Loved this one, a wonderful use of language, particularly in the opening paragraph...
"...And so, the unfortunate painter is enforced and strained to travel between two juxtaposed worlds in which no similarities can be found between the exquisite and the revolting."
I also like it because the picture was the central theme, the product, the focus of the story throughout. A deserving winner, and truly a 'SoaP'.
A Fine Day. Enjoyed this one too, although it's a tie for second place with the Cobbler. Interesting, and unexpected theme, and a nice twist at the end. A very cunning, and ...scary... wife who could kill so easily.
Untitled A good effort, with some clever dialogue, but rather confusing for my taste. Seemed to be aiming so hard for mysterious that it lost me instead of intriguing me. Whilst there was much mention of the 'veils' I don't see it matching the picture quite so well as the others either. The picture clearly shows a more opaque cloth that wouldn't offer anything in the way of visibility through it. Personal opinion only though.
Now I just need to work out who wrote them, and with so many new authors on site, I think I'm going to struggle. 
Happy Writing
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| Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 6:24 am Post subject: |
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Mwahahahahaha, it may have taken 4 guesses, but I've got 4 authors nailed.
Just one more to go... who is that mystery last author
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| Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 11:47 am Post subject: |
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Hmmm...so this is how you win every time. Darn, I thought I might beat you...but if you've got four, you've got more than me... 
Which story are you still looking for, mr. evil guesser? 
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| Posted: Sat Dec 02, 2006 12:32 am Post subject: |
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That would be telling
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| Posted: Fri Dec 08, 2006 11:30 pm Post subject: |
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Who will break the tie? It seems to have come to a standstill.
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| Posted: Sat Dec 09, 2006 2:46 am Post subject: |
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Yes please, I will close this by Tuesday (China time), so would appreciate a tie-breaker!
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| Posted: Wed Dec 20, 2006 4:08 am Post subject: Winners! |
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I had forgotten about this! Sorry!
The poll is now closed, as is this latest SoaP!
I will update the results in the top thread.
Thanks to all who participated, and congrats to the winners!
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| Posted: Wed Dec 20, 2006 5:39 am Post subject: |
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Random... you wily weasel... talk about staying off the radar. 
Congratulations to Kalanna
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