12/17/2020

6/14/2024 5:42 AM

211

1

2 wins / 5 losses

Sage

The Razing of Nipthm

You live a small farming life on Nipthm, a planet of scrublands and grasslands. Trouble heads your way, and it's bringing a mortal danger you can't avoid. United Space doesn't bother trying to protect the outer worlds. You're on your own.

This is a story for Endmaster's Manifest Destiny contest. It was made in such a short period of time I wouldn't have normally been allowed to publish it (2 days). Hopefully it's entertaining, and I didn't make too many errors. Enjoy!

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unpublished

test

The homepage is slightly more useful, now. It shows the most recent 10 storygames and 5 recent posts.

In keeping with Mondays being poetry days, here's a poem that I had 10 minutes to write which had to be about "twilight masquerade", so I went for a simple format.

Seeded winds rife with cotton,
where do they go after they're forgotten?

Those little shadows that pulsate dark,
over waves of seeds in Twilight's spark

Perhaps not something so deeply shaded,
could form the shutters that keep sunlight bladed

And what else plays there, in that place
of night and day, and liminal space?

There's no reason to assume fair play
in the roil of twilight's masquerade

And rhythm relinquishes to the battle
between the forces that fight here

And rhyme is lost in the tumultuous drift
the same one that tumbles the grass in those winds

So once again, to the original query
where does the cotton go when the day grows eerie?

Thanks. There's a lot of context intended to be shown, but others agree it's pretty confused and hard to follow. I think I need to give a little more room between some of these concepts.

This is unfortunately one of those threads. I haven't done much prose or poetry in my life, and most of it the horrible rhyming type. I managed this one yesterday in a small group. Maybe someone will enjoy it. I'm happy to take critiques, being very new to this. This is based on a real story, hopefully the theme comes through:


The halls don't creak quite as loud as Covid's glaciers, heavy on the roof. But they echo perfectly.
My hearing isn't keen, but it carries well. Enough to find distractions. And it's cold in here.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so cold if not for the hooks dangling from the ice,
  through the ceiling down to my room
    shining, visceral hooks of silicon and light

My little baubles of affection. It's my social proxy. The internet, dancing in every color

Do you want to dance? Join me as we rocket away
  discarding stage one,
    then stage two

And three. Three are left dancing. Whose next to be left behind? But it's fine, it's fine. All systems online

I learn their names and their faces,
  the warmth of "I love you" each night
    coveted and new

I meet one in closer light.

But as distance shrinks from silicon to flesh, it slips further through the bones until all that's left is a ghost,
stinging   through the ceiling down to my room
    silence, sharp and ringing in the halls

He accuses me while holding the knife.

And now it's their faces again, the warmth of "I love you" as if it never happened, but I see the scored metal
What did I do to deserve it? Why was I blamed for it? But it's fine, it's fine. Maybe I missed a sign.

Now they come and go selectively, and meet without me. But it's all smiles.

And months later I see it, a crack in his mask,
  the scorn whispering from beneath
    and silence

A month of silence, louder until I can't take it, overthinking about signs, socials, what to say and what I did
I'm losing my friends. So in the night, I send a beacon in the real world

And they visit in pairs, all except for him,
  no secrets slipping between their teeth
    remote as the stars outside

My head against the wall, overthinking loud in my ears. I had BEEN there, SEEN them. I can't believe the betrayal
Months pass until I hear the beacon. I'm colder than the ice, now. It can't stop me.

It cracks. It breaks, rumbling now off the eeves like my disillusionment.
My hands warm, warm with friends, too warm for winter.

And so the hook falls from the rafters, crashing to the earth below,
  survivors watching
    nod in approval

Good show.
I walk away.

I was really hoping that wasn't the case...that could really use fixing sometime

It was unavoidable; they performed the ancient ritual of vaguely asking how to do their entire project instead of actually asking a specific question.

You can't (other people can, but not you)

Welcome to the site. You may quit Twine and start using our superior website, you're safe now.

If you're clicking somewhere that's outside the dropdown, it's normal behavior to close. The site doesn't do anything fancy like recreating the dropdown, we just use the native browser tags.

Howdy. I'm going to use this thread to test a recent change to the site. Picking on noob threads is a cherished pastime, after all. ~ posted 15 years ago from my iPhone