Ski Lodge;

Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

Ski Lodge;

Ski Lodge;

You are dreaming. You don’t quite know how you know that you are, but somehow you do.

The scene comes into focus slowly, like an adjusting camera lens. The first thing that you see is the rain. It dominates the space, great gray sheets of it slashing down, smashing into the ground you hover above- which you realize is also water. You are floating above the ocean and it’s pouring. All right, not the strangest dream you’ve ever had. If anything, it’s quite boring.

And then the island comes into view. At first it’s just a smoky outline in the distance, a fuzzy mass of land on the horizon, blinking strangely. But without a warning, you are suddenly much, much closer, now hovering just above the rocky shore. You see the terrain all laid out ahead of you, much of it obscured by the still falling rain. It’s stone and rock, mostly. Some vegetation here and there.

But what really catches your eye is the lighthouse. You know it’s a lighthouse because of the white and red candy-cane stripes and the shape of it; it looks ripped straight out of an old photograph. The give-away, though, is the single piercing beam of light cutting through the dark and mist and rain, sweeping in a wide circular motion over and over and over.

You blink, and when your eyes open, the scene around you has once again changed. While you can still hear the lashing rain and winds, they are more distant now, and you realize that you are standing inside the lighthouse, both feet planted firmly on the ground for once. It’s a neat and tidy space, and in the center of the circular room is the light, spinning around and around and around.

There is a young woman sitting there, next to the light. Her dark gray hair is pulled into a tight braid and her eye color is almost black. A splash of freckles across her nose. She would be wholly unremarkable if not for the fact that she is staring right at you.

She leans forwards and beckons you with one hand, and you drift forward, not really able to stop yourself.

You reach her seat, and the girl looks up at you and smiles a small haunted smile. A single strand of hair slips from its tie and falls across her face. She says, “Oh, hello there. Are you looking for a little adventure?”

You wake up.

There is a form for you, sitting innocently on your bedside table, and it looks like this:

Name:

Pronouns:

Age:

Appearance:

Personality:

Useful abilities (magic not allowed):

Biggest fear:

Luggage:

Are you scared of ghosts?:

Is the ocean forgiving?:

Other:

At the bottom, written in little loopy curves, are the words ‘Please come, dear friend, and join me at Wayfarer Island. Adventure awaits you and nine other lucky people. -Storm.’

You are holding a pen before you even finish reading it all. Something deep in your mind is telling you not to fill out the form, but you disregard it.

After all, how much damage could a little adventure do?

submitted by Storm, age Unknown, Wayfarer Island
(April 18, 2023 - 3:01 pm)

You are a great writer! Can't wait for more!!!!

submitted by Hawkstar
(May 3, 2023 - 8:19 am)

I loooove the first part! I was a little late because of a trip sadly, but I'm back now! 

submitted by ~Amarillis~, age 12 eons, Hills of Smog
(May 3, 2023 - 10:08 am)

RIP Reuby :( Here's a picrew for you to make up for it (also I've decided to post a picrew every time someone dies :)) Next part out tomm! 

IMG_7708.jpeg
submitted by Storm, aka Silver
(May 4, 2023 - 1:40 pm)

Awwww. Thanks. I can draw storm if you want. Just gimme her apearance and personality.

submitted by Reuby Moonnight
(May 4, 2023 - 4:34 pm)

Periwinkle woke up slowly, sunlight drifting in through the window sluggishly. She yawned, stretched and sat up, pushing her unruly hair from her face. She felt surprisingly well rested and genuinely excited for the day at the lighthouse that awaited her and the other guests.

“Hey, Reuby,” Periwinkle exclaimed, jumping out of the lower bunk and turning around to face the bed. “Are you ready for our first full day?” There was no response; Reuby was probably still asleep. “Helloooo, sleepyhead?”

Huh, that’s weird. Periwinkle could’ve sworn that the comforter on the top bunk was gray, but in the light of the morning it appeared a dark-ish red color. Strange…

“Hey, you alright?” Periwinkle asked, placing one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and pushing herself up to see the top bunk.

Everyone heard the scream. It reverberated around the lighthouse, sliding through the circular rooms in a way that made it echo like a dozen people’s voices. Some people were already awake and getting ready for the day, some were jolted violently from sleep. Storm, being at the very top of the lighthouse, and Reuby and Periwinkle’s room being at the bottom, heard it last. Her eyes snapped open, very wide, and did not close.

Tenebrous and Sterling, the inhabitants of the room above the origin of the scream, raced down the stairs.

“What’s wrong!?”Sterling asked, worry evident in their voice.

“I-it’s Reuby,” Periwinkle stammered. “S-she’s dead.”

<><><>

The funeral was a somber affair all around, from the soft crying of several guests to the outright looks of despair and melancholy on others. Storm herself was uncharacteristically subdued, eyes wet with tears, hair pulled back in a braid even more tightly than usual. The guests were all in a loose semicircle on the rocky beach, facing the ocean. Peri looked up at the sky, bright and blue and suddenly cloud free, and thought it wasn’t fitting at all for the occasion. 

Reuby’s body was laying down in the small wooden boat that they had floated to the island in. Now that she was looking at it this way, Hawkstar couldn’t help but wonder how natural it looked as an open coffin. The body was on its back, eyes closed, hair spread around the head like a halo. Dried flowers were sprinkled on top, probably to add some color, but their shriveled and dead appearance only made it more depressing to look at.

Storm wiped her eyes and said, “I did not know Reuby long at all, but she seemed like such a wonderful and caring individual. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer she could have lived a bright life if I had not invited her here.” Her voice broke a little: “I’m so sorry.”

She gently placed two hands on the end of the boat and pushed it out to the ocean. The waves were slow and weak, and it took an excruciating few minutes for it to be pulled all the way out into the open water. The group watched in relative silence until the boat- and Reuby- was no more than a spot on the horizon.

Amarillis shivered. “What if the boat washes up back on shore at some point? With t-the body inside it still?”

Storm turned so she was facing away from the ocean, harsh morning sunlight illuminating a small, sad smile.

“That won’t happen,” she replied. “Don’t worry. Reuby is one with the ocean now. She will be at peace.”

At peace? Most of the guests believed the words enough (or wanted to, at least), but some couldn’t help but think: How could anyone be at peace with a murderer amongst them?

~~~

Dead: 1 (Reuby Moonnight)

Alive: 10 (Tenebrous, Darkvine, Periwinkle, Pangolin, Echo, Wildsong, Sterling, Hawkstar, Writing_in_the_dark, Amarillis)

~~~

Sorry the parts are a little short right now, I promise it picks up soon! 

submitted by Day 2, Part 1, Wayfarer Island
(May 5, 2023 - 7:57 am)

*reloads every three minutes until it appears* ah ha! there we are! :D

Oh, I feel so bad for Peri! I don't think she's the murderer because as the roommate she'd be the obvious suspect, but there's not enough evidence to entirely rule her out yet.

Re-reading the last part for clues, I've figured out that Reuby, Echo, and I are the only ones who brought daggers (Hawkstar's is a hunting knife). So, while it might be Reuby's dagger she was killed with (meaning the murderer could be pretty much anyone), Echo's is specifically a small dagger and the dagger Reuby was killed with was described as "short" so there's a strong possibility of it being Echo's.

I'm overthinking this, aren't I? Anyway, I loved the writing in this part -- so beautiful and poignant, and I can't wait to read more!

submitted by pangolin, age she | they, Outskirts of the Galaxy
(May 5, 2023 - 1:57 pm)

Awwww sorry Reuby! Good writing though :D

submitted by ~Amarillis~, age 12 eons, Hills of Smog
(May 5, 2023 - 3:34 pm)

Don't worry about the shorter parts, we don't mind them at all! The bits you've given us are incredibly good!

submitted by Tenebrous
(May 6, 2023 - 3:28 pm)

Aah this is so good! But yikes - I'm right out of bed and already finding bodies. I agree with pangolin, as Reuby's roomate I'd be an obvious suspect, so I doubt I killed her, but I could've. Hmm…

I think I've said this before, but your writing style is so descriptive and beautiful! I can't wait for the next part.

submitted by Periwinkle, age Pi, Somewhere in the stars
(May 7, 2023 - 5:52 am)

this is just amazing

submitted by Hawkstar
(May 5, 2023 - 2:35 pm)

oh my goodness it could be me--whoa, what in the name of waffles is this ski lodge?

epic. that's what it is. 

submitted by ~echo~
(May 6, 2023 - 10:08 pm)

Darkvine was sitting in her room, alone. Her roommates, Amarillis and Wildsong, were downstairs in the common room playing a game of Hearts with an old deck of cards that Pangolin found in one of the drawers. Everyone else was participating in the game, needing to be cheered up after the funeral, but Darkvine opted out. She felt as if she needed to be alone to process what had happened.

She wondered how people were so quick to accept the death of Reuby, and even more so considering that it was clearly murder. One of the people laughing and playing downstairs had stabbed Reuby to death, and everyone was perfectly fine with that. Or, they wanted to pretend like it wouldn’t happen again. But Darkvine wasn’t too sure.

She was standing at the window; her room was the highest, and the view was quite pretty. It was late afternoon, so the sunlight was thickening into a honey-like consistency and casting a golden filter over the water. 

Darkvine sighed, resting her elbow on the windowsill and her head in her hand. In the corner of her eye, there was a flickering sort of movement reflected in the glass of the window. As if someone was behind her. She whirled around, fists up, ready to fight off whoever it was.

The person who was standing behind her wasn’t any of the remaining guests; it was a somewhat transparent figure, blue-tinged, floating a few inches above the ground. As the person clarified more, a head of messy black hair and a pair of golden eyes came into focus. There was a sad, tortured look twisted across her face.

“Wh-what?” Darkvine asked, shock lacing her voice. “How…?”

This couldn’t be real, right? There’s no way that the… thing in front of her was really the ghost of Reuby. Unless…

One of Reuby’s fuzzy, undefined hands shot up to her throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

“A-are you trying to tell me something?” Darkvine took a small step forward, reaching out a shaking hand.

Reuby nodded quickly, trying once again to speak. After a few more seconds, she gave up and began to mime, pretending to hold an object and bringing it to her torso over and over again.

“Oh- when you were stabbed?” Darkvine guessed. “The person who stabbed you?”

Another frantic nod.

“You’re trying to tell me who killed you, right?” Reuby pointed at Darkvine with a triumphant look on her face, bouncing up and down excitedly. 

“Who?” Darkvine rushed forward, no longer afraid. Reuby was Darkvine’s friend, and if she was able to reveal who the murderer is, then no one else would have to die. “Who was it?”

In one second, the somewhat happy, excited look on Reuby’s face vanished, replaced by one of abject horror. Her entire form flickered like a glitch on a screen. Her gaze fixed on a point right behind Darkvine’s shoulder.

“Can you tell me who it was?” Darkvine asked, suddenly very cold. 

Very slowly, the faint figure of Reuby, which was growing less defined by the second, raised one trembling finger to point to the same spot where she had been staring at before. 

Darkvine whirled around, and abruptly became face-to-face with someone, this time someone very real and solid, who had a coil of rope in one hand and an out-of-place grin on their face. 

Just like Reuby, Darkvine also did not have a chance to scream.

When it was over, the murderer stood up and twisted around to the ghost of Reuby, who watched the whole thing with an overwhelmingly sad look on her face. At this point, her form was so faint that it was basically just a shadow. They stalked close to the ghost, the unnatural looking smile still present but much more strained. 

“You,” the murderer said, voice coming out like a hiss. “Need to stay dead.”

With that, they waved a hand through Reuby, who dissipated completely. The murderer shook themself off, and slipped out of the room.

~~~

Dead: 2 (Reuby Moonnight, Darkvine)

Alive: 9 (Tenebrous, Periwinkle, Pangolin, Echo, Wildsong, Sterling, Hawkstar, Writing_in_the_dark, Amarillis)

submitted by Day 2, Part 2, Wayfarer Island
(May 7, 2023 - 7:00 am)

OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH

This part was literally so good :O

Ghosts is such a cool concept in ski lodges, and I'm really excited to see where you go with it! 

I'm always amazed at your ability to capture emotions in your writing -- Darkvine's responses/thoughts seemed really natural and realistic, and the whole part was a perfect balance of sadness and mystery.

This ski lodge is so awesome; you're an incredible writer.

submitted by pangolin, age she | they, Outskirts of the Galaxy
(May 7, 2023 - 12:18 pm)

Whaaat there's ghosts now

That's so coool! 

But also yikes, rest in peace, Darkvine. I wonder who will find the body this time - probably Wildsong or Amarillis since they're her roommates. Hmm…

submitted by Periwinkle, age Pi, Somewhere in the stars
(May 7, 2023 - 12:30 pm)

Dangit...I died...but I'm a ghost. Hopefully I (and Darkvine) will come back as Ghosts a few more times!

Also, is it ok if I post art of this ski lodge? 

submitted by Reuby Moonnight
(May 7, 2023 - 1:37 pm)