Clair closed the

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Clair closed the

Clair closed the computer and flicked off her lamp. The clock read 20 minutes until 11:00 PM. Sighing, she pulled the powder-blue coverlit up to her shoulders and focused on taking deep breaths. It had been a tough week. A tough month, actually. Clair had been relying on fast-paced and action-packed Marvel cartoons just to giver her something to look forward to at the end of each long day. Moonlight penetrated her filmy blue curtains. Somehow, it seemed brighter than usual. Slowly, Clair sank into sleep. Tired and worn, she wasn't sure if she could bear another night of awful nightmares, each one replaying another real-life tragedy. One tragedy in particular that she—no, she wouldn't think about that now. Clair's eyes closed. She pushed her pillow up against the wall as she relaxed into the mattress and fell asleep. On the other side of Clair's pine-nut brown wall, Clair's sister Samantha tossed and turned. Samantha could pretend to be strong during the day. She could put up a false wall of confidence while the sun was in the sky. But at night, she was vulnerable and weak. The nightmare always started out the same way. The snow shone brightly under a crystalized sky and everything seemed frozen and beautiful and wonderous. There was her dad, grinning, snow ball in hand, his silly black cap with the yarn pom-pom on top sticking out from behind the mounds of snow he and Clair had just built. Samantha sat on the front step, watching. Clair hefted a snowball. Dad ran out into the road, waving and yelling to his daughters. He loved the snow. Here the dream always changed. Sometimes it was the white truck slipping on the patch of ice; other times it was something more surreal, like a giant wherewolf. But it always ended the same way. No. Although she was asleep, Samantha could feel the tears dripping from her eyes and soaking her long lashes. No. No. Nooooo!

Samantha sat up, breathing heavily. She frantically wiped at her wet face with her long pajama sleeve. Reaching for her pillow to turn it around to the dry side, Samantha made several heart-stopping discoveries. The first being that her pillow was not there. Then she felt cold. it was much colder than the cold at night before the heat kicks in. No, this type of cold was the same snow-day cold she had felt on that day with Dad and Clair. Frantically, Samantha waved her hands around. Snow. She was surrounded by thick drifts of the cold, powdery stuff. A chill worked its way through to her heart. Her nightmares were coming to life. The next thing Samantha noticed was that there was moonlight. Bright, unnatural moonlight that dimly illuminated the world of shadows and snow around her. Samantha began to hyperventilate. This was no dream. This was real. Suddenly, she heard a shuffling sound behind her. Panicked, she leaped to her feet and whirled around.

"Sam?"

"Clair!" Samantha exclaimed. She had only once been so glad to see her little sister's brown eyes and dark curly hair. The two sisters were only 11 months apart and looked almost exactly alike, except that Samantha was taller. 

"Where are we? How did we get here?" Samantha questioned, looking around at the barren, snow-covered land.

"I have no idea, but it sure is amazing," replied Clair, her eyes wide with wonder. That's Clair, Samantha thought, prepared to adapt and have adventure. Too many Fantastic Four episodes. Meanwhile, Clair was thinking; that's Sam; perfect and composed. I'll never be like her. Neither sister truly new the "girl behind the mask," and hadn't since they were very young, but they were about to find out on an adventure that would bring them back together. 

~

Welcome to the land of Decepmyth; a land of illusions and surreality. This strange world is full of history and adventure, and words. For, of course, we few inhabitants of Decepmyth whisper the words of insperation into the ears of the only listeners: writers. Long ago, an adventure took place here that changed many people's lives forever. But sadly, there is only one account of this awe-inspiring tale, and the ending half of it has been lost forever. However, the beginning was kept safe over the years: http://www.cricketmagkids.com/chatterbox/inkwell/node/173234. Only a hand-full of people can ever complete the story of Decepmyth and the evil heir of Queen Magenta. That includes Samantha and Clair, and you. Yes, you have been chosen. You must find the end of this story and even rewrite history if necessary, and in the end, you must bring Decepmyth out of the dark and gloomy age it has entered into. The full details of your adventures will be made known to you, one at a time...

submitted by The Illusionist , Decepmyth
(December 9, 2016 - 9:32 pm)

back to the Inkwell

I promise that not all days will be as long as day 1, guys! Soooo, I came up with a game. I'm including lots of references to TV shows, movies, books, music, and other things in my days. The first Chatterboxer to name all the references in the most recent day and where they are from, they get a "get out of death free card." This means that when I draw your name from the pile to me eliminated, I will put it back down for later if you have a card. So you last longer if you can guess the references. We'll start out easy in this one. There are 4 references (not counting the phrase from the Snow White fairy tale). Two are connected. Those plus another one are related. 

submitted by Rose bud
(December 17, 2016 - 8:44 pm)
Decepmyth~
Day 1 
Samantha was walking. Walking through an endless plain of white snow. Walking through a nightmare come to life. It was all she could do to hold in the raging inferno inside that wanted to burst out and yell, “I hate snow! I hate walking! I hate being the older sister!” “Hate” seemed to be her favorite word now. Stealing a glance over at Clair, Samantha felt even worse. Her sister was an athlete and adventurer, not to mention an avid believer in comic-book action and surreality. 
“Yo Sam, is it my imagination, or is the snow turning…purple?” Blinking away her exhaustion, Samantha forced her eyes to focus. Sure enough, a dim, pale purple glow was hovering over the snow. 
“Wait a second,” Clair evaluated before Samantha could open her mouth, “it’s an aura!” 
“You’re kidding,” Samantha blurted. 
“No I’m not! It’s some time of magic trail! Look!” Exclaimed Clair as she pointed into the distance. Suddenly, she began to run. 
“Clair!” Samantha yelled, trying not to sound as miserable and frigid as she was. The last thing Samantha Bagley wanted to do at this point was charge across the snow after a “magical aura,” especially in the middle of the night. I’m the oldest. I have to be the strongest, Samantha reminded herself. Running after her sister, Samantha looked up…and saw what sent Clair running. Samantha had never seen the Northern Lights, but she had seen pictures and heard stories. What she was looking at now reminded her of the Northern Lights, except more solid and lower to the ground, and more purple. Samantha ran faster; her arms swung wildly and crazy cork-screw curls bobbed over her face. 
“Clair, no!” Clair put her hand against the vortex of waving purple lights. Both girls held their breath. Nothing happened. 
“Whoa,” murmured Clair.
“Don’t do that again! That…thing could be dangerous,” Samantha admonished. 
“Which is why it is overwhelmingly impenetrable to anyone without authorized access,” said a sudden voice behind them. Both girls whirled around. Standing before them was a woman with unnatural pale skin and deep black hair that flowed free around her shoulders. Looking at her, Samantha could not help thinking: skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, and lips as red as blood. Inwardly, she shuddered at the last bit. This was no Snow White. 
Clair silently concentrated. She had felt a connection with the glowing purple barrier. If she could only…there! Her hand had gone through! 
“Ha!” She said, quickly withdrawing her hand and making sure her fingers were intact, “more like whelmingly penetrable.” Samantha gave her a strange look, mouthing “whelm?” Clair shook her head, “later.” The black-haired woman frowned. 
“Clearly, you have authorization from Decepmyth. After all, this land makes its own rules, I’m just here to guard it.” This sentence made Clair study the “guardian” more closely. She was dressed all in the palest purple, and, although her face seemed young, something about her black eyes hinted a much older age. With a sudden sense of wonder, Clair noted that she was barefoot. About a hundred thoughts (most of them sarcastic or ridiculous) raced through her head at the sight of pale and slender feet on the cold, white snow. Okay, I’m seriously whelmed now. This is super cool! 
“I’m Samantha,” Sam offered quickly, “and this is Clair.” Leave it to Sam to know just the right, big-sisterly thing to say at the right time. 
“I am The Illusionist. Guardian of The Veil Between Surrealism and Realism,” said the woman, her voice strong and clear and bold. 
“So…I’m guessing this is the veil,” Clair ventured, gesturing to the glowing purple barrier.
“You are correct. This barrier surpasses time and space; logic and dimension,” The Illusionist answered. 
“Go on Sam,” Clair whispered, “touch it!” She wanted her sister to feel that amazing, empowered sensation she had felt when her hand passed through the veil. Look skeptical, Sam lifted her hand and put it against the barrier. Clair looked over her sister’s shoulder to study The Illusionist’s face. Her expression was nearly unreadable, but Clair picked up a sense of interest… maybe intrigue? 
“I-it won’t go through,” Sam said in a quiet, stunned voice. 
“Just concentrate—“ Clair began.
“No, Clair, it WON’T GO THROUGH!” Sam interupted. At a loss for words, Clair suddenly saw her sister with different eyes. When was the last time she lost her cool? Clair had difficulty recalling a single time. 
“Interesting,” commented The Illusionist as her eyes flickered over the two sisters, “but for now, we have more important matters,” she cleared her throat as if beginning a long speech, “in the past Decepmyth, this land, was ruled over by the evil Queen Magenta Pruys, She was…defeated but Magenta still managed to leave behind the key to her power for her future heir. Knowing of the key’s existence but not location, I was determined to counter her attack by finding the next ruler of Decepmyth. In the end, Decepmyth chose its own candidates. Among these children was Queen Magenta’s evil heir. Somehow she found the key to Magenta’s power and attempted to kill off the other children. I managed to save each of them from death at the last moment, but the heir was none the wiser. I hoped that the true ruler of Decepmyth would realize his or her power and defeat the evil queen’s heir. Everything was going just as I hoped before something went terribly wrong.” For the first time, The Illusionist lowered her gaze. 
“You must rewrite the story and save Decepmyth,” she ended. 
“Us?” Sam questioned. 
“Yes! Come on Sam, we can do it!” Clair exclaimed. This was just like everything she dreamed! Well, minus the superpowers. Sam sighed. Please, please say yes! Clair inwardly begged.
“Well,” Sam said slowly, “what are we saving Decepmyth from?” Oh, well duh. Should have asked that one already, Clair inwardly pummeled herself. The Illusionist’s eyes narrowed. 
“A growing threat. Now, you will not be alone in your endeavors. Not only will I be watching you every step of the way, but you will be accompanied by fellow adventurers from both the past and the present. Good way, children. May your words stay sharp.” 
“Wait, wha—“ began Clair. She stopped when she realized that The Illusionist was gone. The only thing which confirmed she had been standing there was a fading purple glow. 
“Uh…” Sam groaned, “what did we just get ourselves into?” Suddenly, Clair felt a tingling feeling in her head just like when she had placed her hand in the veil. Turning around, she saw several shapes pushing out of the wall of purple.
“I think we’re about to find out!” 
submitted by The Illusionist
(December 17, 2016 - 8:45 pm)

And this is the part where all the italics don't show up and I'm like noooooo why did I copy and paste! 

submitted by Rose bud
(December 17, 2016 - 10:17 pm)
submitted by Top
(December 18, 2016 - 8:22 pm)

Top

submitted by Top, age Top, Top
(December 19, 2016 - 3:12 pm)

Top

submitted by Top, age Top, Top
(December 21, 2016 - 3:19 pm)

This will be continued after the holidays. 

submitted by Rose bud
(December 24, 2016 - 2:59 pm)

Top

submitted by Top, age Top, Top
(December 24, 2016 - 6:36 pm)
submitted by Top
(December 24, 2016 - 8:57 pm)

Top

submitted by Top, age Top, Top
(December 26, 2016 - 5:35 pm)

Top

submitted by Top, age Top, Top
(December 27, 2016 - 3:57 pm)
Stave 2~
John F.Q. was pretty sure he was dead. Although his memories were all fuzzy, like someone had taken a cheap eraser to them, he did remember one thing: flashes of pure golden energy shooting out of control. Logic and maybe something else told him he shouldn’t be alive…and yet here he was. Except…where was he? Everything was purple. Okay, so his mom obviously had something to do with this. His eyes searched the great purple wilderness as he took stock of the situation. There was something else too…something tugging at his mind. Of course! As a Decepmythian, John could sense words. And this place was full of them, whether visible or not. Huh. So Dad must have something to do with this too. Deciding the best thing to do was to keep walking, he tried to focus on the invisible words he knew were in the air. There were so many of them! Shutting out all the other whispers of word and phrases, he caught a few sentences. 
“…ingenuative and fluent in French…” 
“…we hold these truths to be self-evident…”
“…’till the last syllable of recorded time…”
Of course! The inspiration of writers! He was caught in The Veil Between Surrealism and Realism, which meant he had to concentrate on his destination if he ever hoped to emerge. Decepmyth…Decepmyth…Decepmyth… words have power. Especially the name of the land where words originate. Soon, John could see the snowy banks of his home land through a thin film of purple. 
Booksy Owly was relieved. One second she was petrified as she stared into the eyes of a wild and no-doubt hungry beast, and then there had been a flash of purple light. Booksy remembered floating through space like a feather on a breath of air, and then landing in a void of pulsing purple nothingness. She was tired and bedraggled and overwhelmed, and all she really wanted to do was go home. Home… Booksy felt herself being pulled towards the familiar shingled roof and friendly lighted porch. Oh, how she longed to open the window she called her own and slip into her bed! The world seemed like melting caramel around her as she reached out to the mental image of her home. Suddenly, just when she felt like she could finally wake from this strange and terrifying dream, something stopped her. A deep bravery that Booksy didn’t realize she had rose from her heart and filled her with warmth. She didn’t pretend to understand the mystery of Decepmyth, but, dream or no dream, she had friends there. And friends didn’t abandon each other. Booksy pictured the snowy white glades of the Land of Illusion and focused her determination. Whatever was happening, she would go back, she would help her friends, she would she would! Suddenly Booksy was spit out onto the thick, familiar snow. She tried to clear her head, which was swimming with confused images and memories. 
“Booksy!” Someone exclaimed. Booksy Owly quickly sat up and rubbed the snow from her hair and eyelashes. She found herself staring straight up into the dancing green eyes of Rose bud. 
“Rose bud! You’re alive!” She gasped joyfully, “what about Indigo, Brookeira, and Somebody? Are they okay?” She questioned anxiously. Rose bud shook her head. 
“I don’t know. Nobody seems to remember what happened. You wouldn’t happen to recall who Evil Queen Magenta’s heir is?” Rose bud queried. Booksy Owly concentrated hard, but she couldn’t remember. All she recalled was the glowing yellow eyes of those wolves. She sighed. Rose bud sat down hard in a snow bank. 
“Me neither, but hey,” she continued, brightening, “we have new members to our Save the Mythical World team!” 
submitted by The Illusionist
(December 29, 2016 - 9:28 am)
submitted by Top
(December 30, 2016 - 5:48 am)

Top

submitted by Top, age Top, Top
(December 31, 2016 - 3:23 pm)

Stave 3~

 

Samantha was hiding something. She had heard something when she put her hand against the purple barrier; a hauntingly familiar tune that played through her head where only she could hear it. 

 

 

Samantha blinked away the tears so that Clair wouldn’t notice. The melody struck her right in the heart. Samantha focused her attention on what the woman who called herself The Illusionist was saying, but she couldn’t shake the awful heavy feeling that settled down over her. Suddenly Samantha understood why the song seemed familiar. She had heard it play downstairs in her mother’s room late at night several nights in a row, right after…

 

 

“Good way, my children, may your words stay sharp,” The Illusionist said with final sincerity before disappearing in a flash of purple. Samantha pushed all thoughts of her mother’s strange taste in music (she was an actress and Musical Theatre enthusiast after all) and focused on the present. she couldn’t help but groan her worries aloud to Clair, who responded with annoying optimism as she pointed towards The Veil. First two, than three, than more glowing shapes appeared in the glimmering purple light, quickly taking on human form. Instinctively, Samantha backed away as they began to climb out of the void. She took a deep breath and prepared for the quest ahead of them, but no matter how she tried, Samantha could not shake the questions whirling around inside her mind. Why wouldn’t the veil let her through? Why did it trigger a trivial memory of a song that her mother enjoyed? Why? Why? Why? 

 

 

 

 

 

The first thing to fly out of the veil was a raven. The second was a fedora. The third was a hand that made a snatch at the fedora but missed and grabbed the raven’s tail feathers. 

 

“Sorry about that, Poe,” said the boy who the hand belonged to. The raven squawked. Clair was startled to find that there was a word embedded in the noise. It sounded like: “nevermore.” 

 

“Okay, it won’t happen again,” the boy promised to the raven. Clair couldn’t help but stare as the raven flew to his shoulders. Sam was giving her a “Clair, now don’t be rude,” stare. Or really it was more of a glare. 

 

“Hey,” Clair said, and immediately thought she hadn’t. “Is…that your raven? And why does it talk?” The boy gave her an all-to-familiar “It’s-My-Secret-So-Why-Do-I-Have-To-Tell-You look before grudgingly saying: “Hello.” Sam stepped forward, probably preparing an: “I’m sorry for my sister’s rudeness” speech, but before she could continue, two more people fell out of The Veil. Clair gasped. One of the girls had wings. The two exchanged a few words before looking up to meet Clair’s gaze. Her heart beat wildly. Wings. Wow! Although she preferred something a little more scientific than magical, anything surreal was just awesome-tastic. 

 

“Hi!” Said the girl with wings, “I’m Booksy Owly—“

 

“Rose bud!” Squealed the other girl, “I mean, you can call me Rose bud.”  

 

“I’m Clair, that’s my big sis Sam—“

 

“Samantha, please,” Sam interjected. 

 

“Okay, whatever,” Clair said, doing her best to impress these magical people, “we’re from…Earth.” This was totally starting to sound sci-fi, which didn’t fit the surroundings. 

 

“So are we, well, not him” Rose bud said, looking at the boy with the raven, “we’ve just been in Decepmyth for…a long time, so it started to change us.” Clair turned to her sister to make sure she was getting this. Sam stood watching the chattering girls, her dark hair and shadowed eyes contrasting very starkly with the snow. Clair studied her sister, feeling a bunch of emotions at once; one of the being jealousy. She watched as Sam lifted her eyes to the sky as if praying, then took a deep, rather annoyed-sound breath. 

 

“Okay, let’s go save the world,” she said. Unable to contain her excitement, Clair leaped into the air shouting: “Whoohoo! Clair and Sam are coming to save the day!”

 

She didn’t see Sam roll her eyes and mutter, “that’s Samantha.” 

submitted by The Illusionist
(January 1, 2017 - 11:45 am)
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