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Key
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 Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2005 9:43 pm Post subject: November Linear Story Contest |
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You will have about 3 weeks to write a short story, edit it, and post it for consideration. Submissions should be posted on or before December 6th, and polling will begin on December 8th.
Proof readers will take your story, break it down, make sure it fits the word limit, grammar, spelling, plot, character development, etc. are all present and correct. This is a voluntary effort and no one person's responsibility. Please make comments and criticisms of entries constructive.
You can make changes to your story all the way up to the final posting date. After that, the stories that have not passed the critique will be disqualified. Those that are left will be put up for a vote for anyone to vote on.
If you win, you get to brag for a whole month. You get a prize of 100 fables, the honor is listed on your profile, and your story is immortalized in the City Auditorium.
This will be run like a professional writing contest. Your story will be edited, picked apart, and thoroughly looked at. If you exceed more than ten spelling or grammar errors, your story will be given back to you to rewrite. So check your work.
If your work goes over the word limit it will be given back to shorten. If it remains the same length it will be disqualified.
If your story does not follow the topic and genre, it will be given back to you to rewrite.
Things that must be right vs. artistic freedom- There are things like plot, and flow that might be your intent. That is totally cool. A proof reader might suggest that you pick up the pace or add more detail here and there. That is your choice to do or not. If you feel the story can stand on its own without change that is fine. Spelling, grammar, genre, word count, etc. are expected to be correct, no exceptions.
If you are proofreading- Look for spelling and grammar mistakes first. Word count comes next. Then answer the following questions for the story.
Did it stay within the genre?
Did it follow the topic?
Did it have a beginning, middle, and an end?
After you have done this feel free to comment on the story as you see fit. Bear in mind that anything beyond what is listed above is pretty much considered opinion. This can be taken or left by the author.
The specs for this month:
Length: Up to 1500 words
Genre: Fantasy, science fiction, or myth.
Topic: The story must involve darkness, a guardian, and a gate. You may interpret that as literally or figuratively as you wish.
Good luck, and be creative!
Last edited by Key on Wed Dec 07, 2005 10:36 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sat Nov 19, 2005 12:22 am Post subject: |
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I found this one very difficult. 1499 words, not including the title.
Like Father, Like Son
By Shady Stoat
The boy walked through the forest, neither hurrying nor relenting. His bearing was upright, proud. Dark amber skin, young and unscarred, highlighted the whiteness of his hair. Sweat or tears had streaked his face, running down the angular cheekbones and the ridge of his jaw. Despair dulled the blue in his eyes, the deadness tempered by a single spark of determination.
He would see this to the end. No more backing away, no more indecision. He would see it through.
Sunlight oozed through the gaps in the treetops, dripping faint light on the root-strewn floor. It only added to the aura of gloom. Creatures rustled, unseen but for ripples in the undergrowth. Murk closed in like an almost physical force, pushing from every direction. Dark green tree trunks hollowed and twisted into grotesque shadows. It was as if demons were trapped inside them, longing to break free and wreak destruction on the world.
Perhaps they were, thought the boy. Maybe these were the guardian spirits that everyone talked about.
He journeyed on, perversely enjoying the scent of the forest. It always smelled like death to him. Leaves, twigs, corpses of the forest dwellers… they all left their rot. Layer upon layer of it, soaking into the ground, paving the way for the next generation of decay.
He wondered what it would be like to die. Would rebirth follow, as the others said it did? Was that just another of their happy little lies? Either way, he would find out when he got to the portal.
He ran a hand briefly across his face. Too thin, he thought, as his fingers ran the hollows of his cheeks. Too weak to fight, not smart enough to talk. Too much and too little of everything. The madness had left its mark upon him, just as it had his father. The fact that nobody else saw it yet was inconsequential.
The brambles tugged at his boots as he followed the trail. They scratched his bare legs, leaving spider-trails of blood down his amber skin. Fruit bloomed, juicy and ripe on the rambling vines. Sweetness and pain, bonded together as they often were. He plucked one and brought it to his mouth, tasting tartness on the front of his tongue.
The last blackberry he would ever taste. Unless he came back, of course. They said that the portal would renew a soul; that it was a place of second chances.
Only someone with nothing more to lose would go to the portal glade. The spirits of the forest guarded the sanctuary well – and if you entered, your soul may return, but your body never would.
That was what they said. Not that he believed them. Truth to tell, he had never really believed in anyone or anything. The simple faiths of his people had always left him empty. Oh, he had nodded his head and smiled and joined in the worship, the rituals. All the while, though, some part of him had waited aloof from it all, whispering dark thoughts and capering in the shadows.
The madness. A creeping insanity that festered in its own silence. He recalled his father, like the memory of a memory. Images came, but they raised no sense of emotion when he tried to taste them.
In his mind’s eye, he could see an amber-skinned man with hair of pale rose. Eyes of meadowflower blue appeared normal at first glance, yet somehow seemed to turn in on themselves. A quiet man, who rarely asked questions and never answered them. A man who took encouragement and rebuke with the same blank smile, uttering no complaint. Until the day he disappeared toward the forest and never came back.
The boy would do it too. He would enter the portal, as was the way of his people. Better to give himself a second chance. If their faith was wrong and there were no second chances, better to simply die.
Now he was getting close. His eyes strained in the gloom, looking for the path seldom used. Little more than an animal track, it wound between ancient trees; the monarchs of the forest. There was no bird-song, no rustling in the undergrowth. No creature ventured near the portal accidentally.
He felt cold. Maybe it was the air growing frigid in this chill sanctuary. Or maybe it was his own fear, trying to send him a message. His feet slowed but did not falter. He could not go back now – and if he did, what was he returning to?
After the rebirth, things would be different. When he saw his people again, he would be able to feel their warmth. He would be able to live with them, not merely among them.
It was not his imagination. Frost rimed the leaves, the air felt like ice and he began to hear a thousand whispers inside his head. Each was insistent and unrelenting, yet distinguishing a single voice from the others was impossible. His mind became a roaring wave of confusion as he fought to find the voice that was himself.
Holding his head, he pushed back mentally, staggering forward as he tried to force the voices away. He roared his anguish into the silence of the forest.
They were gone, so suddenly that he reeled. His hand caught a tree branch for balance and he looked around.
He had arrived.
A curtain of faint blue mist coated the forest floor. Where it touched the boy’s legs, it burned and froze them simultaneously. He barely noticed. His eyes were wide as he stared at the heavy stone pedestal in the middle of the clearing.
Hewn from dark basalt, it looked as though it had stood there for all time. The surface was pitted and pocked, cut into roughly the shape of an enormous yet shallow chalice. Though the clearing was lit with unnatural blue light, the great bowl of igneous stone loomed forth in its own circle of darkness. It beckoned and repelled him simultaneously.
Behind lay the voices of the guardians. Before him was the portal. He walked forward on legs that felt like lumps of ice. Even in the midst of his awe, he heard the voice of the madness, mocking at what it did not understand; heaping scorn on his people for coming here to die. Hating them for their faith, and hating himself for hating them.
The thought froze dead in his mind as he came to stand over the basin. His hands clutched convulsively and the breath gasped from his body in a stunned whoosh.
In the basin, glowing brilliantly, was a molten pool of lava. It swirled slowly, like a cauldron of recently stirred stew. Bright orange and yellow, it seared his eyes as he gazed into its depths. Fantasically, though, there was no heat. Despite his face being inches from the lava, he was still shivering with the cold.
So the portal, at least, did exist. He nodded, almost thoughtfully. It was time to see what other truths lay within. In a single movement, he dipped his face into the cold fire.
For a moment, there was agony too great to be defined. Then, nothing. For an endless time, nothing.
Finally, a voice in the darkness.
“Why do you come here?”
A voice full of love and kindness. Feminine yet strong. A mother’s voice, augmented a thousand times.
He had no body. His mind was a tattered rag. Nevertheless, he found a voice with which to answer.
“I want rebirth.”
“It is not your time.”
“That is my choice. I have chosen to die.”
Her voice was soft, amused. “He cannot die who has yet to live.”
He felt himself growing angry. “I have the madness!”
“I do not understand.”
“Then see it!”
He opened his mind to her. She drifted through it, like a soft breeze on a summer’s day.
Her voice had the suggestion of a smile when she next spoke.
“That which you call madness is called life, little one.”
“No!”
“It is a gift. You have only to reach out and take it.”
“NO! I wish to follow my father. I have made my choice!”
The voice in the portal sighed. “As your father before you, I shall give you what you desire. Perhaps, in time, you will take your second chance, as has he.”
There was the soft warmth of a mother’s caress, and then he was pushed forth. He emerged from the portal bodiless and voiceless. His voice joined a thousand others, pushing and crowding and trying to be heard.
From the depths of his perception, he saw the boy’s body – his body – rise from the blue ground-fog. The lips stretched into a blissful smile. The lungs took, and released, a deep breath. It turned and smiled at an empty patch of air, where a soundless voice was clamouring.
“Goodbye, my son,” it said. “And good luck.”
With that, it turned and walked in the opposite direction, out of the portal clearing.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Sat Nov 19, 2005 4:19 am Post subject: |
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Very moody! Cool!
I have been a bit busy lately, but I will shake my brain jars and try and come up with an entry good enough to come second. 
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| Posted: Mon Nov 28, 2005 5:47 am Post subject: |
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Bloody hell. I am loathe to let Shady win this without a fight, but I have thunked and thunked and I am just drawing a total blank on this one!
Anyone want to give me an idea?  
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| Posted: Mon Nov 28, 2005 2:05 pm Post subject: |
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1280 words, not including the title
The Tunnel Light
by Suneila
The guardian sat lazily in a wooden chair in the darkness, his arms crossed upon his chest, his eyelids drooping. Boredom was beginning to overtake him. An incessant beeping lulled him into sleep. Barely catching himself as he slid out of the chair, he shook himself awake, and looked out of the tunnel into a hospital room.
A middle-aged man appeared next to him in the darkness with a shocked look.
The tempo of the beeping had decreased, and people in lab coats and scrubs scurried around the room. Reaching over to a panel on the stone wall, the guardian turned a knob, increasing the volume of the people. They were shouting at each other, something about 100 cc’s of adrenaline. The guardian chuckled to himself. Stupid people, he thought, It’s too late for this one.
The man beside him stared out of the tunnel as the noisy scene in the room calmed. The beeps had faded into one long tone. The doctors and nurses slowly left the room, feeling like failures. The last orderly unplugged the heart monitor and also slid quietly out of the room.
The man turned to the guardian. “Am I dead?” he asked.
“It would appear so, wouldn’t it?” came the reply, dry and mocking.
“Is this the tunnel? The one with the white light?” The man was growing nervous.
“Usually, yes, but I didn’t feel like turning the light on today. I have a dreadful headache, you see.” The guardian turned to walk down the tunnel.
The man stared at him, unmoving. “I would really feel better if you’d turn the light on. I’m, well, I’m…”
“You’re dead. You don’t have to be embarrassed that you’re afraid of the dark. That’s the least of your problems. C’mon, let’s go.” He continued down the tunnel. This time, the man followed.
“What do you mean, ‘the least of my problems’?” The man was afraid, now. “Am I going to…hell?” he whispered.
“How should I know?” the guardian asked, “I’m just a tunnel guardian, not the Judge. My only job is to get you from earth to the end of this tunnel.”
“Oh. I see. Could you give me more information about the Judge? I mean, is he the Christian God, or Allah, or one of the Hindu gods, or Buddha, or what?”
“You’ll find out when you get there.”
They walked in silence for quite a while. Right before the man stepped out the tunnel into the other side, he stopped. Beyond the end, there was nothing distinguishable. No silhouetted objects, or distant lights, there was nothing but blackness.
He turned towards the guardian. “You won’t tell me anything, then?” he whispered.
He was incredibly frightened. As they walked down the tunnel, he had remembered his mother’s many lectures on living a good life, doing good things, and going to church. He didn’t want to go to hell, but he had never been completely sure that those things his mother told him would get him into heaven, or if heaven really existed. Now, he was even more doubtful, and fear gnawed at his insides. He hung in mid step, too frightened to step into the other side.
“Well, come on,” the guardian said impatiently, ignoring the man’s question, “I haven’t got all of eternity. I haven’t got all of today, for that matter.” He chuckled.
“I’m… I’m afraid,” The man said.
“Good for you. Now step through. I have another appointment.”
The man closed his eyes and slowly reached his foot through the end of the tunnel. Feeling hard ground on the other side, he pushed through the rest of the way.
Alone once again, the guardian moved back to the beginning of the tunnel, muttering to himself about the stupid humans who were always so afraid to die. Every one of his appointments was like the last. First they were unsure if they were dead or not, then they were unsure if they should walk through the tunnel. There was always the fear, and always the questions. The questions were what the guardian hated the most. He wasn’t authorized to give the humans answers, but they always asked the questions. The guardian was tired of the monotony.
He pulled up his chair, grabbed a sandwich and watched his next appointment; already decided that he would have some fun with this one.
It was morning. Another middle-aged man was hugging his three young children good-bye. They waved to him out the window as his car rolled out of the driveway. The guardian watched all day as the man went to work, went out for lunch with a colleague, stopped to pick up milk on his way home, and helped his wife set the table for dinner.
After dinner, the man curled up on the couch with his children and wife to watch a movie. It was Disney’s A Bugs Life. The guardian watched the movie with them, turning the knob on the wall panel to increase the volume.
. “Don’t look at the light!”
. “I can’t help it… It’s sooo beautiful…”
. Zap! “Aieeee!”
The guardian laughed. “Now,” he said aloud. As the children laughed at the little bug, their father grabbed his chest in pain.
The guardian ran down the tunnel and switched on the light.
The father appeared in the beginning of the tunnel, squinting and trying to shade his eyes. He started to make his way down the tunnel, not realizing that he could turn back and watch his family, or maybe not caring. As his walk grew in confidence, the guardian dimmed the light. It winked out.
The father faltered, unsure, so the guardian turned the light back on. The father continued his walk down the tunnel, until the guardian turned the light off again. Again the father faltered. The guardian did this three or four more times. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in, and laughed out loud.
The father looked around quickly, trying in vain to find the source of the voice. “Who are you?” he asked. His voice was confident and strong, not shaking and fearful like the last man.
“I’ve been waiting for you all day.” The guardian spoke in a sinister voice.
“Tell me who you are.” The father was still confidant.
“Step right up!” the guardian said in his most game-show-host-like voice, “You’re a contestant on ‘The Death is Yours’!”
“I’ll say it again. Tell me who you are.” Most humans were scared into wetting their pants by now, but this man was still confidant.
Feeling that the game wasn’t nearly as much fun when the human didn’t play along, the guardian gave up, and stepped out of the corner. “I’m just a tunnel guardian,” he said, resignation in his voice. “Step through the end of the tunnel into the other side, where the Judge awaits you,” he recited.
“Okay,” the man said, and moved closer to the end of the tunnel.
“What? No questions? No begging or crying? Don’t you want to live? Don’t you want to know what’s on the other side before you go? Aren’t you afraid?” the guardian asked.
“I already know what’s on the other side,” the father said, moving still closer to the end of the tunnel.
“It’s different than you ever imagined,” the guardian offered, trying to appeal to the man’s curiosity.
“That’s alright,” the man said, “I’m prepared.” He stepped through into the other side, without a moment’s hesitation.
I’ll never understand humans, the guardian thought, They’re all so similar, and then one comes along that just doesn’t fit with everyone else. Hmph. He sat down to watch the last day in the life of his next appointment.
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Mon Nov 28, 2005 2:56 pm Post subject: |
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I love your guardian, Sunny. He reminds me of a school caretaker I used to know. You got that petty-minded nastiness just right. 
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Nov 28, 2005 4:25 pm Post subject: |
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Nicely done Sunbellina!
And, after a good nights rest I have finally come up with an idea for this one, so I will get it in today, hopefully.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon Nov 28, 2005 5:37 pm Post subject: A rescue! |
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Right then, freshly pounded out, here is my offering. 1055 words, all newly minted. It doesn't concentrate on the gate, guardian and darkness I admit, but hey, whatever. Enjoy! 
--
Sir James and Sir Harry moved through the plains determinedly. They were weary from travel, but their destination was sure and their hearts were true. Both knights were bold and fearless and meant to see the mission out, no matter what the cost.
As they approached the Dark Forest another figure could be seen resting by the faint path they were traveling along. As they drew close they spied a fellow knight, who stood and waved as they arrived.
“Hail good fellows!” said the Knight. “Wither dost thou venture so far from thine abode?”
“We hail forth on a perilous mission good Sir Edgar.” Replied Sir Harry. “Sir James’ young sister is held in a grim citadel against her will, and we have been sent by the queen to return her to her rightful place back in the royal castle at all speed.”
“Verily! A quest worthy of such champions as thyselves!” Sir Edgar, being a true knight, paused only a moment. “In such a just and righteous cause I findeth I must pledge my aid. Wilt thou acceptest my humble service in thy quest good Sir James?”
Sir James nodded his head in accent, “Ay. Thou art welcome to join us good Knight.”
Whereupon the three set forth at once, for they were nearing their destination. Venturing around the Dark Forest they spied the monstrous monument in the distance. Before they could close though, Sir Harry spied a creature lurking near a rocky outcrop.
He raised his hand, “Hold! I spy the infamous Ogre, Gerard the Giant! A beast feared throughout the realm.”
Sir James raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “He blockest our path, we must deal with this foul creature ere we canst proceed. Yet time groweth short!”
Sir Harry waved his hand. “I shalt deal with the beast. May I suggest thee good knights retire to yonder cover, and once I lurest the Ogre away thou should maketh best speed to the Citadel, and the fair Princess Alice.”
The other knights agreed to his plan, and took cover whilst the brave Sir Harry went forth toward the grim and hulking Gerard Giant. “Ho! Foul beast! Look hither! I have plenty of gold upon my person, yet thou shalt never hold it!”
Thus goaded Gerard, who was large of bulk but small of intellect, growled and raised his mancrushing club. “I will have it I troth!” he uttered in coarse language, and lumbered after the nimble Sir Harry who retreated past the other knights and back up the path.
Once Gerard was past, the other knights made haste towards the citadel, wishing Sir Harry good luck under their breath.
The giant and grim building loomed large.
“Look!” whispered Sir Edgar. “There standeth the portal. The gate to this unforgiving place.”
“Verily, but hisst! Cast thine eyes yonder! Pacing back and forth is the guardian! The mighty Demon! How shalt we get past him! He must stand twice as tall as oursleves, and weareth a grim visage. I hear he hath mighty powers.”
“I must makest the sacrifice for the young princess.” Responded Edgar bravely. “Go quietly around and into the portal, whilst I draw the guardian away.”
Sir James nodded and after wishing Sir Edgar the best of luck, moved around whilst Edgar fished out his sling and loaded it with a suitable missile. Once James was in place near the dread portal, Edgar stood and, whirling the sling with a certain flamboyant style, loosed it at the guardian.
It hit, yet the guardian still stood! The guardian, seeing Edgar roared with anger, its giant face turning red and ran with frightening speed towards the knight. Sir Edgar was no fool though and retreated with haste.
James, taking full advantage rushed in. Pushing at the giant gate he stepped beyond, into total darkness. Feeling his way along he realized he was in a long dark corridor.
“Alice!” he called. “Alice! Can thou hear me? ‘Tis I, James, thy brother!”
There was a glimmer of light in the distance. Was that a response? He moved forward in hope through the darkness.
Yes! Another doorway! He moved as fast as he dared, and soon stood in a vast chamber. Sunlight streamed in from windows set high in the strong walls.
Sat on a giant chair, legs dangling over the edge was Alice! Seeing him she smiled a big smile and jumped to the floor and ran to him.
“James! Thou camest! I knew thou wouldst fetch me from here!” She frowned though. “But why so long? I hath been rotting here forever it seems!”
“My deepest apologies sister, I had to cross many an obstacle to reach thee. But I am here now, and we must maketh all haste to return! Time is running short!”
Taking Alice by the hand he led her through the dark corridor, and cautiously peered out of the gate. The guardian was still no-where to be seen, so they ran at best speed away from the horrid building.
“We art late!” gasped James. “We must taketh a shortcut through the Dark Forest!”
“No! Not there! It is a scary place, full of ghosts and what-not.” Responded Alice.
“We hath no choice my dear sister.” And James led Alice into the Dark woods.
They ventured onwards, skulking in the shadows to avoid any creatures, but they were lucky. Only once did they have to hide behind a giant tree to avoid a dark Hellhound, its fiery eyes gleaming red in the gloom.
After a long journey they finally burst free of the forest, out into the open again, but time was drawing short. Making all haste they made their way back to the Royal Castle, two refugees from the many perils of the wide world.
When they got home, mum berated James for taking so long to pick his sister up from school. James responded that it was a long way, and he was delayed by the school bully, Gerard, and Mr. Damon who always guarded the school gate to tell off late-comers.
Their mum nodded finally, they were just in time for dinner after all. “Now go and wash your hands! The table is laid and the potatoes are getting cold!”
Sir James and Princess Alice, hungry from their adventures, nodded and rushed away to the feast…
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Last edited by Chinaren on Wed Nov 30, 2005 5:33 pm; edited 3 times in total
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Mon Nov 28, 2005 11:28 pm Post subject: |
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Sweet! I didn't see that one coming 
I think you've got a couple of 'thys' mixed up with 'thous', but I'm not 100% sure. I was never very good at that sort of thing myself.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2005 4:55 am Post subject: |
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Heheh, good stories everyone. If I can come up with something I shalt posteth it.
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| Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2005 12:36 pm Post subject: |
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very good, chinaren. 'Thou' means 'you' and 'Thy' means 'your'. You also lost the est/eth at the end of verbs somewhere in the middle. And you called Sir Edgar 'Sir Gerard' once. Granted, they have most of the same letters, but...
I found it very amusing (the story not the mistakes)
~suny
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| Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 11:54 am Post subject: |
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It's much better. But I can help. This is kinda/sorta one of my specialities (I'm an English major), so I'm going to PM you with the proper speech patterns. You did very well, though.
~sunny
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Smee
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| Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 12:45 pm Post subject: |
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Great stories guys.
Chinaren I spotted this...
| Quote: | | journey they finally they burst free of the forest |
Maybe I'll be inspired and enter at the last minute.
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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: Wed Nov 30, 2005 5:34 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks Smee, and thanks to Sunbellina who helped me correct my Olde English. Hopefully I have now ironed out all the mistakes!
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Key
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| Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 10:33 pm Post subject: |
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OK everybody, thanks to all the entrants. We have three submissions this month:
Like Father, Like Son, by Shady Stoat
The Tunnel Light, by Suniela
A Rescue, by chinaren
Voting has begun and will run for one week. Good luck to all!
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Smee
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| Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 11:51 pm Post subject: |
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I voted for Sunny - a great story, with some funny, and well written dialogue.
Well done Sunny.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Key
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| Posted: Fri Dec 16, 2005 10:09 pm Post subject: |
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Voting is complete! chinaren has edged out Suniela (with Shady Stoat a close third) to claim the November 2005 Linear Story crown!
Congratulations, chinaren. You get a site honor  , 100 fables to throw on your pile  , and, last but not least, bragging rights for a month :mrgreen:.
With these great rewards comes awesome responsibility, of course, namely coming up with the genre, topic, and rules for the December Linear Story Competition.  Better get to it!
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Fri Dec 16, 2005 10:29 pm Post subject: |
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Holy monkey juice! I forgot about this because I thought it ended at the end of December for some reason.
Well. <clear throat as he accepts the award from Key> I would just like to thank my manager*, my coach*, my accountant* and of course, mostly the people who voted for me!
I will cherish this gold <accidentally breaks off a part> er, gold colored plastic award for the whole month.
Thank you all! Yeah! Woooo! <Blows kisses and play a recording of cheering>
Oh, forgot: Bragging rights! Yeah! In your face! Wooo! I won I won!
*Me.
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Smee
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| Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2005 2:18 am Post subject: |
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Well done Chinaren.
A good story well told.
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2005 2:57 am Post subject: |
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*is awed by Chinaren's humility*
Congratulations, mate. Well done!
*wonders if China has noticed that, despite handing over an impressive piece of tin, Key has mysteriously managed to hang onto the original Linear Story Belt...*
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Ingrothechundyer
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| Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2005 8:05 am Post subject: |
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Congrats chinaren. That looks like an extreamly close poll there 
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