It's night. You'r

Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

It's night. You'r

It's night. You're sitting in your bed, staring out the window, searching for something lost. But you can't remember what it is, or was. All you know is that it's out's important...and it was once yours.

Perhaps you never used it, perhaps you did--once, maybe twice. Or more. But for some strange reason, you can't remember if you did or didn't. Or what effect it had on you. Or...where it is now.

As you awoke from a particularly bland and boring dream, the memory that you were missing this...thing slid into your head. As you sat in a haze between asleep and awake, you stared outside, scouring the landscape that, for one fleeting moment, was no longer the familiar world you saw every day.

So here you are, staring outside, searching.

And then you finish waking up.

And here you are, trying to remember what you were just doing.

Hm, you think, smacking your dry lips. The covers rustle as you reach for your water glass, which sits by your lamp on your nightstand like it does every night. That's really wierd...I can't remember my dream. It seemed important--almost real. Your hand meets cold glass and you close your fingers around it. You bring it to your lips for a satisfying sip, but you realize that it's empty.

"Darn," you whisper. You'll have to get out of bed to fill it up--but it's really cold, and you don't have socks on.

Eh, it's no big deal. You'll fill it up.

Throwing the covers to the side, you haul yourself out of bed. With every footstep towards the kitchen all memory of strange dreams and searches leaves you, and by the time you return to your comfy nest of blankets with your full cup of water, the night seems almost normal. That is, until you glance outside the window.

Something moves across the front of the moon, which is full and shines right through the middle of your window, lighting up your comforter. What could it have been? It seemed familiar...And perhaps it's the fact that you're still half asleep, half awake that you can sense it, but a powerful force beats from it. Calling you. Presenting opportunities that you absolutely cannot miss.

Without any hesitation you get back out of bed, but before you can even leave your bedroom you notice a puddle of water near your nightstand.

So that's where all my water went, you realize. I must've knocked it over. Upon closer inspection you realize that there's writing on the carpet, glowing faintly yellow from under the patch of wetness.

The writing is so interesting you don't even realize how strange it is that the puddle isn't soaking into the carpet, or wonder how the words got there. In fact, the words don't even seem scary to you, despite their suspicious nature.

Hello, person! You are one of the lucky few CBers to be chosen to go on a nice, relaxing, beautiful vacation over Lake Lelillo! (Lay-LIH-loh) If you do indeed come, and we absolutely hope you do decide to, you will be given a free getaway from work, school, and empty water glasses! Here at Lake Lelillo, you will have all-day access to the lake itself, the fun attractions, the ice cream stands, the hot dog stands, the hamburger stands, the steak stands, the spagghetti stands, and any other stand marked with a silver star. (Which is all of them, so please don't forget!) Your rooms will be huge and most of them will even overlook the lake! They will of course be inside our one and only Luxury Lake House, which you will live in until your stay comes to a close. Remember this is all completely free, free free! Please pack your things, bring an AE and/or CAPTCHA if you'd like, and wait with them by the nearest stream at sunrise tomorrow morning. As we always say: All inlets lead to Lelillo!

~Your Soon-to-be Chaperones, 

Cassy and Lily of Lake Lelillo 

How you read all that small print was beyond you. Will you go? It certainly seems relaxing enough. The choice is yours to make.


I'll tell you all when the spots are closed, so join while you still can!

Please note that this is my second ski lodge, and it's kind of linked to my first. In a sense, it's the next part. I don't know if I should call it a part two, or what, but some things might reference the first ski lodge. Don't worry--I'm not going to make things super confusing. I'll explain things as I go--and I really need new CBers to join in. But I also need some CBers from my previous ski lodge to come. ('Course, they don't have to join if they don't want to; I'll understand.)

Here's another clue (if you didn't catch the others...) for the CBers who were in my first ski lodge, or read it, and wanted to be in this one:

What do you get when you cross a scorpion and a sloth?

Hehe, my alias isn't going to last the day. :D

submitted by Your Chaperones, Cassy and Lily
(January 1, 2017 - 11:51 am)

Ooh, sounds intriguing!! Yeah, go ahead--it's fine by me! That would actually be really cool.

submitted by Micearenice
(December 26, 2018 - 9:12 am)

No worries! Enjoy your holidays, don't feel obligated to update over break! 

submitted by hotairballoon
(December 23, 2018 - 9:47 pm)

Oh wow, I forgot I joined this ski lodge! I’m posting this without having read I died lol

submitted by Owlgirl, age 15
(December 23, 2018 - 10:35 pm)

Ah, I've been missing your theories and observations! Welcome back aboard, Owlgirl!

submitted by Micearenice
(December 26, 2018 - 9:10 am)

Wow, only three parts to a day?! This has to be the shortest day in the entire ski lodge.

Anyway, here's the next installment, finally!

Day Twelve, Part Three~

“ came from the Mystery. But why are you here?” Puck wanted to know.

Lily clasped her palms together and stretched her arms. She appeared to have acquired the jitters. “Oh. Well, um, it was a bit of an impromptu decision, but we thought we oughta, you know, come and see how the Mystery’s doing. Like a check-up. We were compelled to,” she added.

“By what?”

Lily made up her mind that telling the truth was not a good method of operation anymore. “...Ourselves.”

“Are you even alive?” asked Briar abruptly.

Lily, considerably taken aback, replied with the short answer. “Uh, yes; yes I am.”

“Are you real?” Briar then wanted to know.

“Briar. If she’s alive then she’s real,” Nighthawk scolded. With a question of her own she wondered, “How did you...uhh, how did you come to be?”

“Yeah...what about all those home movies?” Brooklyn Newsie added on. “Were they fake?”

“What about Pierre??” Elvina put in.

Lily pursed her lips, amused. “Oh, long story. Long story short, though, Cassy and I just formed along with ski lodges. Very simple. As for Pierre, he’s not part of any of this, uh…” Lily paused, trying to think of the right descriptive word. Coming up with nothing, she waved her hands around in a vague gesture. “...this whole Mystery thing. Pierre is representative of the side characters...and he, uh, doesn’t know it.”

“Fitting,” Elvina commented.

There was a lull in the already mellow conversation. Cinderpelt broke the spell of silence, wanting to know if Lily was upset with them.

Lily shook her head in response. “No, I’m not, and I don’t want you to think that. You were going to find out anyway. I didn’t want it to happen, but it’s not fully your fault.”

Dragonrider sighed discontentedly.

“Well,” Booksy Owly wondered quietly, “now that the cat’s out of the bag, and we’re all up to speed, what do we do?”

“I think we should go for a hike,” Autumn Leaves murmured. “Walk off the stress and process the information.” There were still many people who remained confused. Deep down, they knew Lily’s confession made perfect sense, but the whole idea of it was just...astonishing.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Lily said. “I’ll come too.”


The Chatterboxers headed outside into the harsh, hot sunlight. They began their walk around the lake, talking with Lily and each other as they went. The conversation started hushed, but gradually grew into a lively discussion.

The Chatterboxers who hadn’t previously known about the Mystery were swift to attack their friends for knowledge. The more they heard, the more they realized how perfectly it fit with all their questions.

The questions which they directed towards Lily were only supplementary. In their astonishment at what the other Chatterboxers had discovered, the CBers failed to view Lily as the spout of all this knowledge. Combined with their reservations to bother her and the slight guilt bubbling within, the Chatterboxers did not realize that there was still part of the story which Lily was withholding.

They never thought to ask about how the Mystery was making Lily tired. They never considered questioning Lily or Cassy’s powers and abilities. The Chatterboxers didn’t wonder HOW Lily and Cassy had gotten to Lake Lelillo, and it never crossed their minds to delve deeper into the implications that the existence of the Mystery held.

No; for what it was worth, the Chatterboxers didn’t learn anything new that day. They took the knowledge they’d been given and passed it around so many times that it became commonplace, or so they convinced themselves it was. Each Chatterboxer snatched up the knowledge and fitted it into their own mental puzzles, and where a piece wouldn’t fit, they would force it to, because it just had to go there. This was the solution to the mystery. It was everything they’d wanted to know.

And on that walk, Lily strolled in isolation. Bittersweet, she could perceive the subtle barrier that had risen between she and her charges. Though it seemed to the CBers that they were now on the same level as their chaperones--equals--Lily knew that they had only grown farther apart.

She was no longer a casual observer. She wasn’t even a chaperone anymore, really. Lily had become a locked box, the fierce protector of what little secret remnants she still contained. Although at the beginning of the ski lodge she had kept the truth to herself, she had felt worlds closer to the CBers then than she did now. She had been herself without revealing any truth about herself at all.

And now that the CBers knew who she was, Lily had to take a more serious position in the story if the Mystery was to survive.

Lily sighed, blinking slowly, uneasy from the heat of the smoldering sun and the ongoing chatter around her. She really didn’t know what was causing the Mystery to break: That much was true. And she was more than a little confused as to whether or not this ski lodge was a window to the Mystery’s plight...or if it was, in truth, the heart of the destruction.

~ ~ ~

It is necessary now to skip ahead many hours, through the afternoon and well into the night. The Chatterboxers stayed up very late discussing what Lily had told them, and what the other Chatterboxers had gone through to get their own information.

They finally retired to their beds, but only because they knew that if they didn’t, they’d be too tired to do anything the next day. Unfortunately for Lily’s hopes, the Chatterboxers did not intend to let the ski lodge continue normally. Tomorrow, they wanted to create a plan on how to deal with their newfound discoveries…It’s a miracle they could actually fall asleep, considering how excited they were.

Meanwhile, the murderer lay awake as it so often did, staring at the ceiling, mind racing a million miles an hour.

Everything was falling apart.

The murderer could deny the Mystery all it wanted now, but nothing would change. Actually, everything would change. The Chatterboxers would know something was amiss the minute it suggested abandoning the search of the Mystery. And try as it might, it could not come up with a valid reason not to talk about it--had the murderer been a normal CBer in this ski lodge, it knew it would be at the head of the investigation.

The murderer sighed and rolled over, realizing it was now helpless. For the first time, it felt out of control, as if the subtle balance of the story had been tipped. It knew that even Lily was no longer fully in control anymore--and this scared it.

Through the tumult, the murderer could sense that the Mystery, somehow, was working against them now.

But this was only the beginning. Alliances had been shuffled on day twelve, and when the dust finally cleared, things would adopt a new direction. A dangerous new secret was open to the Chatterboxers now...but ironically, they were as ignorant as ever. 


So what else is Lily hiding?

submitted by Lily and Cassy, Lake Lelillo
(December 26, 2018 - 9:24 am)

Day Thirteen - Part One:

Early that Morning: 

Booksy sat at the kitchen table, eyes raw from lack of sleep. The fluorescent lights glared down tastelessly, harsh and much too intense for the current mood.

Joan, Dragonrider, Moonfrost, Brooklyn Newsie, and Jayfeather sat around the table, staring at Booksy expectantly (and more than a little sleepily). She had been the one to rouse them so early. They were sure it was for good reason.

“I assume this is about the Mystery?” Dragonrider wondered, weary. To be honest, she was a bit exhausted from all the hype about it. All she wanted was a break.

Booksy nodded, a somber expression in her brown eyes. “I felt like we should, um, talk about it by ourselves away from the others.”

Brooklyn Newsie yawned, propped up on one elbow. “At four in the morning? Sure.”

Booksy looked around imploringly at the others. “Nobody’s wanted to address the one important thing. And I wanted to know your opinions.”

“On what?” Moonfrost wondered.

Booksy stared down at the table now. “What we should actually DO about the Mystery. Protect it? Or destroy it?”

Her words left a hollow silence in the room. The exhausted council mulled over Booksy’s questions deeply, and their tired brains began to awaken.

“Protect it, of course,” Dragonrider replied almost immediately.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Jayfeather yawned. “In all honesty.”

“Of course it matters,” Joan countered. “Protect it! Cassy and Lily told us to.”

“I think we should destroy it,” Moonfrost whispered quietly, and all heads turned to her. She glanced at Booksy and Brooklyn Newsie, hoping they would take her side.

“I think I agree with Moonfrost,” Brooklyn Newsie answered.

Booksy struggled for a response; she had wanted to be impartial in the discussion. However, she couldn’t help leaning towards the side of Brooklyn and Moonfrost...She had come to dislike the Mystery in recent days.

“Why would you want to destroy it?” Dragonrider proposed. “And more importantly, how would you destroy it?” She sat up a little straighter, preparing the arguments in her mind.

“Because it’s killing people,” Moonfrost stated.

Dragonrider swallowed. “But...not really.”

Moonfrost continued. “As for how I’d destroy it...That’s easy. I just break all the rules. Right?”

Dragonrider shifted in her seat. “But it’s more dangerous having it broken. We should be trying to protect it because, well, lots of reasons. If we destroy the Mystery, we destroy Lily and Cassy.”

That was enough to quiet the Chatterboxers. It was apparent they would come to no solid agreement this morning.

She’ll understand later, Moonfrost thought, glancing away from Dragonrider. This probably has to do with the farm or something.

Dragonrider sighed through her nose and drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop. After a minute of silence, she began to speak. “The whole reason I came here was to find out about the Mystery. After the catastrophe at the farm…”

Booksy, Joan, and Moonfrost felt their hearts skip a beat as they realized Dragonrider was about to talk about the one thing they never dared mention.

“I was the murderer there,” she explained to Brooklyn and Jayfeather before continuing. “But right at the end of the battle--when I didn’t kill Panda...I can’t explain it. I was a different person at that place. But then I woke up, and it was like coming out of a dream. And then I became the new Farmer’s Assistant…” Dragonrider realized she was making no sense. It was hard to confess a secret she’d felt the need to keep for so long.

“Let me start over. The Mystery was apparently breaking even back then. A chaperone died, and I snapped out of my murderer-y state. And so now I can remember being the murderer and being a normal Chatterboxer in the same time frame.” She couldn’t think of how to put this, so she gave up. “Okay, you won’t understand, but I’m telling you from experience--the Mystery is supposed to be here.”

The Chatterboxers couldn’t understand--that much was true. It was because Dragonrider was, by no accident, a special case, and was still involved in a plot far more complicated than anyone could ever imagine.

Suddenly--before anyone could reply to Dragonrider’s statement--the Chatterboxers in the kitchen heard someone clearing their throat in the doorway to the kitchen. Starting in surprise--and fearing that the murderer had discovered their meeting--the CBers whipped around to see who it was.

It was Hotairballoon, standing in his pajamas, hair sticking up from being in bed. He squinted against the bright kitchen lights. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something? Or is it later than I thought it was?” He yawned and glanced around for the oven clock.




“I’m just here for a midnight snack. Buuuut...if you’re busy I can go back to bed.” He spotted the clock and his eyebrows wrinkled. They sure were up early.

“No, it’s fine. We were, um, just about to get a snack ourselves,” Booksy declared, rising from her chair to open the fridge door. “Come join the table.”

Even the Chatterboxers that weren’t hungry still ate something to lower any suspicions that Hotairballoon might have. When they were finished, all seven Chatterboxers returned upstairs to their respective bedrooms.

Unfortunately, their meeting had been cut short, and none of them knew if the topic would be reopened. Should they bring it up with the other CBers? Moonfrost wanted to, while Joan and Dragonrider were quite certain that the topic should be left alone. Either way, it was certain that Booksy, Moonfrost, Brooklyn Newsie, Joan, and Dragonrider (Jayfeather could care less) would be ready to take control of any Mystery-related situation that might arise.

This time, they did actually manage to fall into a deep sleep, and that’s why no Chatterboxer noticed the murderer creep out of its bedroom some time later with someone else’s notebook in hand. In the privacy of the locked bathroom, it began to scribble out a note in smearproof pen…

It dipped the note in water and proceeded to lay it on the coffee table in the common area, where the note stuck like glue until morning...


What would you do? Protect the Mystery, or destroy it? 

submitted by Lily and Cassy, Lake Lelillo
(December 27, 2018 - 11:04 am)

Protect, an amazing job as always Mice! Can't believe this is nearing its 2nd anniversary. :)

submitted by Jwyn, age 13, The Realm Of Creativity
(December 27, 2018 - 5:52 pm)

I can't believe it either!! I'm both happy and...mad at myself for not hurrying up and finishing it already.

submitted by Micearenice
(December 29, 2018 - 8:30 pm)

Thanks! I'm excited. :D

Also, I swear this is just too good. I would protect it, mostly because I'm pretty sure everyone who has been killed would be, like, dead dead and everyone else would be stuck there forever. Not good.  

submitted by Soren Infinity, age 27 eons, BeaconTown
(December 29, 2018 - 6:17 pm)

OoOoOo, exciting! What did I "accidentally" walk in on?

For the question - It would only make sense to listen to someone who's been in this position before. And we don't really want Cassy and Lily dead, despite all they've... revealed. Protect the Mystery at all costs!  

submitted by hotairballoon
(December 29, 2018 - 8:38 pm)

Happy 2nd birthday, Lake Lelillo!

submitted by Micearenice, Lake Lelillo
(January 1, 2019 - 3:22 pm)

Top! and Happy Anniversary/Birthday LL!!!

submitted by Birthday Topping!!!!, Jwyn
(January 1, 2019 - 6:22 pm)

Behold, more chaos!

Day Thirteen - Part Two

Briar yawned and headed out of her bedroom quietly. It was unusual for her to awaken so early, but she’d had unsettling dreams, and for once it seemed safer out of bed.

She entered the living room area in her fluffy pink robe, drawing it tightly around her. Soft morning light drifted in through the window, casting a white glow upon the furniture. It was peaceful. Calming.

“Morning, Briar,” she heard a familiar voice say. Starting in surprise, Briar looked to the right and saw Ariel and Jayfeather sitting at a small side table against the wall, sipping coffee.

“Good morning,” reciprocated Jayfeather.

“Oh. Good morning,” Briar replied quietly. She’d hoped to have some alone time this morning--there just hadn’t been enough of that lately. She supposed she could just sit on the couch and pretend like the boys weren’t there.

Briar plopped down on the squashy sofa and snuggled up with a pillow, still drowsy. She tried to occupy her mind with harmless thoughts, but the fact that her foot was suddenly damp distracted her.

Briar looked down onto the rug. There was a dark spot right in front of the couch, near the coffee table, where it was apparent water had been spilled. Briar was about to berate the two Alter Egos for nearly ruining furniture that wasn’t theirs when her eyes caught on a white square upon the coffee table.

Briar’s train of thought flew off track as she spied the murderer’s note. She abandoned the pillow and leaned in to the paper, somehow instinctively knowing what was written on it.

The paper was still damp from being dipped in water, and the brown of the table was visible through it. Briar found the beginning of the note and read the entire thing, feeling cold spread from scalp to toetips.

She saved her whimpering scream for last, causing Jayfeather and Ariel to jump in surprise and splatter coffee all over themselves. She awoke the slumbering CBers all at once. (The only one who slept through her scream was Nighthawk, who was used to hearing it.)

The CBers hurried from their bedrooms, fearing the worst.

“Briar! What is it?!” Ariel exclaimed, rushing to see the trouble at the coffee table.

“It’s a note from the murderer,” she declared dramatically, thrusting her finger down at the offending paper. The CBers who’d just emerged halted in surprise, hesitated for a second, and crowded around the table.

Nighthawk woke up from the sound of everyone’s gasps and joined the gathering feeling slightly confused.

“What’s going on?” she wondered blearily.

“Bri found a note from the murderer,” Autumn Leaves declared breathlessly.

Nighthawk’s lingering sleepiness dissipated like the morning dew. “What?! Well what does it say?!”

“We don’t know,” said Poetic Panda. “Briar? Can you read it out to us?”

Briar took a deep breath, edging away from Panda. As she began to narrate, Booksy’s gaze sought out one CBer in the crowd...and she kept a subtle watch on Hotairballoon’s expression as the note was read aloud.

“Dear Chatterboxers: You are on a slippery slope. Stay on this path and you will meet your demise.”

Here, two seconds in, Briar paused and looked out into her audience. Something in her expression resembled that of one who is deeply shocked, or who has seen things too terrible to tell.

Briar’s next words were short and simple, but catastrophic, and almost too terrible to utter:

“The murderer signed the note,” she stated faintly.

An electric energy seized all the CBers in the group, and they felt a buzzing in their ears, almost as if many of them were going to pass out.

“What--does it say?” Autumn Leaves wondered through clenched teeth.

Even Brooklyn Newsie didn’t try to stop Briar.

“It--it says--

“You must protect the Mystery. Signed...

Booksy had been watching the wrong person. Hotairballoon whirled to his right in shock, and Booksy followed his startled gaze to the person closest to Briar: Poetic Panda. A strange sort of spasm went through Panda, for she had been reading along with Briar and had gotten ahead during the dramatic pause, and she whirled around to stare at Puck, who gaped right back at her in shock.

“They didn’t give the rest of their name?!” Autumn Leaves exclaimed, rushing to see the note for herself. “P. Why would they DO that? Why would they sign their initial?!”

“Why would they give themselves away?” Dragonrider echoed from the edge of the crowd. “That’s--not how the Mystery works…”

“Calm down everybody!” Elvina shouted. “Calm down, calm down!”

When everyone was silent, she continued. “We’ve only got two people here named ‘P’, and that’s Poetic Panda and Puck.”

“No, stop!” Panda exclaimed. “Isn’t it obvious? The murderer is trying to frame one of us!”

Puck stared suspiciously at Poetic Panda.

“No!” Cinderpelt called over the rising din. “No, they’re trying to split us up! I’m willing to bet that’s not their actual initial at all!”

“Why would you throw away a clue like that?!” Elvina wondered, aghast.

“We need to be reasonable,” Cinderpelt continued, and the volume of the room went down.

“You know, you’re wrong, Elvina,” Hotairballoon said, interrupting whatever Cinderpelt was about to say.

“Excuse me?”

“We have more people whose names start with P. Pierre, for instance.”

“You think Pierre’s the murderer?” Wordsy asked.

“That’s not how the Mystery works,” Booksy was quick to say.

“Hey,” Nighthawk interjected suddenly. “This is good and all, but largely useless. Who said the murderer wrote this to begin with?”

The room fell silent. And then, there was a knock. 

submitted by Lily and Cassy, Lake Lelillo
(January 4, 2019 - 9:21 am)
submitted by Top! Top! Top!
(January 4, 2019 - 9:22 am)
submitted by *tops thread*, *top top top*
(January 4, 2019 - 9:22 am)