Hey, Round Robin

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Hey, Round Robin

Hey, Round Robin Time!!!!! Here we go, beginning a new story:

 

The candlelight snaked past, each flame wavering in the grip of the frail Holy Ones. Somewhere down the hill, a seagull called out in the blackness of night, the waves crashsing against the shore. As the procession silently proceeded, the stone huts of the Monastery cast dramatic shadows across the silent landscape. Areala shrank back, watching the shifting white tunics dance before her eyes, the corners of her vision blurring. Unable to think straight. A dream. But so real. The same dream each night. The white robed figures. The muted candlelight. The cliff above the sea. 

From the shadows, one of the Holy Ones began to sing, his voice wavering slightly, then gaining confidence. The words were not in English, nor were they even words at all. Just a tune...an unknown, mystical tune. Eerie yet beautiful, it echoed off the rocks and trees. Areala felt a presence nearing her. And, like all the times before, in all the dreams, a Holy One stepped forth, their face covered by a white veil. From inside the cloth, the slightest whisper. "You are us, and we are you..." 

Areala bolted up from her bed, her ragged gasps punctuated by the thunderous sound of the rain pounding on the shingles above. The dream was so real, and yet so unreal. She rotated her head to the sketchbook lying on her desk, the picture she had drawn of the dream the first night she seen it. She flicked on the overhead, and staggered around piles of clothing strewn across the floor to where the sketchbook lay. There-the faceless figure. The snaking line of Holy Ones, clutching the bluish flames, and all around, the shifting shadows. But the faceless figure. Heart still racing, Areala raised her head to the window, and for just a moment, silhouetted against the darkness of the pouring rain, a white robed figure gazed back.

submitted by Kit Kat
(April 5, 2009 - 4:10 pm)

Good! Good! The slightest of suggestions into a few minds, and everyone around the girl was wearing white. Now for the next step...

The unseen one slipped through the hallway to the girl's bedroom and slowly, carefully picked up her sketchbook and opened it to the page with the sketch of his brethren. Now to prop it against the pillow. And something else... Ah, yes. A thin white scarf was draped over the arm of a chair, and in a moment it was hanging in front of the window, which was unlocked and pulled back an inch or two. The invisible watcher stepped back to survey his handiwork. Yes, yes, this was working very nicely indeed. 

He turned back to the door, slinking down the hallway. On the couch he could see the girl and her mother. Pitiful humans, thinking that this was something that could be solved! No, in a few more days they would learn what it meant to...

But he was getting ahead of himself. The girl was pouring out her fears to her mother, and in a few moments the woman would play the role of the comforting mother. That must not be! For the girl to be soothed by croons of "It's all right, sweetie, just a dream, it's not real, you don't need to be afraid of it. It's just a dream..." That could cause great damage to his cause. In an instant he was in the kitchen, summoning the cat with his mind and sweeping a large glass bowl of fruit salad onto the floor. The cat came streaking in, placing itself neatly on the scene as the culprit. In a moment a crash sounded and the woman rushed in.

 

Areala followed and stopped for a moment at the door, confused. Stormy never did anything like that. He had hurt his foot months ago and couldn't even jump to a countertop. Her mother wasn't convinced of that, though...

There it was again! The unrealistic! The impossible! Stormy couldn't have done it! What...

 

The girl's face whitened. Good! She rushed for the back door and in a few moments was pelting down the street as fast as she could go. The woman sighed and shooed the cat after her, turning back to clean up the mess. This was going nicely, very nicely indeed.... 

 

submitted by Emily H., age 13, Sparks, NV
(April 14, 2009 - 6:36 pm)

Hey, what happened to this RR? Did I do something way wrong in my last post? I want to know how it will end! Please come back!

 

-EH

submitted by Emily H. :), age 13, Sparks, NV
(April 28, 2009 - 3:46 pm)

At your beck and call, my liege.

 

The Faceless One slid out the open window, dissipating into the gray skies of the city. He could feel himself flying...gliding over the tall towers, the suffering of human pain below. As the skies let go of their rain, he pulled the robe back from over his hands. And raised his palm to the sky.

A pale scar, throbbing with white fire, identical to the one of the girl, was exposed to the raw, polluted air. He knew it was identical. The Faceless One himself had traced it painstakingly onto the girl's hand. It was the Beginning. She was the Marked Girl.

The scar throbbed with sudden strength, and a spiderweb of shimmering light draped like a net around the Faceless One. As it closed around him, he disappeared.

The darkness all around him held him tightly and warmly. He was speeding through time and space, milleniums and milleniums back. To that cliff on the sea, and the stone huts. The welcoming candlelight. So far back. An unimaginable distance.

submitted by Kit Kat
(April 29, 2009 - 6:44 pm)

At your beck and call, my liege.

 

The Faceless One slid out the open window, dissapatating into the gray skies of the city. He could feel himself flying...gliding over the tall towers, the suffering of human pain below. As the skies let go of their rain, he pulled the robe back from over his hands. And reaised his palm to the sky.

A pale scar, throbbing with white fire, identical to the one of the girl, was exposed to the raw, polluted air. He knew it was identical. The Faceless One himself had traced it painstakingly onto the girl's hand. It was the Beginning. She was the Marked Girl.

The scar throbbed with sudden strength, and a spiderweb of shimmering light draped like a net around the Faceless One. As it closed around him, he disappeared.

The darkness all around him held him tightly and warmly. He was speeding through time and space, milleniums and milleniums back. To that cliff on the sea, and the stone huts. The welcoming candlelight. So far back. An unimaginable distance.

submitted by Kit Kat
(April 29, 2009 - 6:44 pm)

((Yay, it's alive! Now, flashback time, to explain how Areala got a scar. This is just a flashback; it is not actually happening. I'll italicize it.))

The second-grade Areala was excited. Her first sleepover! Mona Yee was the vivacious, smart equivalent of popular in second grade, and Areala had been invited to her house for her birthday slumber-party! How fun!

Other girls were there too- Linny, Becka, Tessie, Rosie Lou, Randi, and a few others- and Areala had brought her sleeping bag and other things. She was ready for a night of fun and games.

 

                                                      ***********

 

Areala awakened at about two, her brow sweaty and her face flushed. A flashing light, a cackling laugh, and a sharp pain was all she remembered of what she knew was a terrible nightmare. Someone had shouted, "We must reopen the Mark, lest all be lost!" and Areala had felt that strange pain in her hand. Her musings were interrupted by the giggles of Mona, Linny, and Randi.

"And they were never heard from again," announced Randi, apparently the dramatic ending of a light night ghost story telling.

Areala rolled over and went back to slep, and in the morning she remembered almost nothing.

((Was that okay? *is anxious*))

submitted by Mary W., age 11.25, NJ
(April 30, 2009 - 3:02 pm)

((Hmmm... I'm not sure if that "At your beck and call, my liege" was part of the story, a joke, or the sarcasm of an exasperated Chatterboxer.... sorry if it was the last, Kit Kat.))

 

-EH

submitted by Emily H. :), age 13, Sparks, NV
(April 30, 2009 - 3:22 pm)

I am sorry for upsetting you so deeply, my liege.

submitted by Kit Kat
(May 1, 2009 - 5:40 pm)

Still not sure what it is... I'm starting to get the impression that you're mad at me, not joking. I'm sorry.

 

-EH

submitted by Emily H. :), age 13, Sparks, NV
(May 2, 2009 - 10:25 am)

Me, mad at you? not at all, my liege.

submitted by Kit Kat
(May 2, 2009 - 1:21 pm)

((I liked that. Immensely. Good idea, flashbacks. I don't use them very often and thus didn't think of it. Nice!))

submitted by Emily H. :), age 13, Sparks, NV
(April 30, 2009 - 8:02 pm)

Really? Thank you. Im glad, because I've heard people say that flashbacks in movies annoy them, so I'm happy that wasn't too irritating or confusing.

submitted by Mary W., age 11.25, NJ
(May 1, 2009 - 2:50 pm)

yeah, flashbacks are good! i do them in some of my stories...like in my 9/11 one. it's one thing my writing coach says is a good thing to do, along with: (i shall teach you the secrets!)

1. Repetition

2. Figurative language

3. Descriptive

4. If you're like me, fragmented sentences in the climax!!!!! by doing that, i've won two writing awards. I have taught you the way:)

submitted by Kit Kat
(May 2, 2009 - 10:41 am)

Thanks- helpful! :)

submitted by Mary W., age 11.25, NJ
(May 2, 2009 - 3:12 pm)