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Parable of the LanternThere were once two men seeking wisdom under the tutelage of an ancient master. He brought them into a dark room. In the center were two metal lamps, each containing a flickering flame.
"Grip your lamp by the base, endure the heat, and gaze into the flame," instructed the master. "If your faith wavers and you look away, or your strength fails and you let go, even for an instant, you will be lost. You will never be wise. But gaze at the flame and, if you prevail, you will know truth."
And the master left them.
The two men gripped their lamps, and gazed into the light. Soon the lamps grew hot from the fire within, and began to burn their hands.
One man let go and stood up. "Aha!" cried the faithful man, as he continued to grip his lantern. "You have shown yourself too weak to become wise."
"Who is wise, the one who holds fire, or the one who lets go?"
The faithless man's eyes adjusted to the dark, and he saw that
Soaked Stars [More Doomsday? Of course] The final day was partly cloudy with an 80% chance of rain.
The umbrella-clad crowd swarmed around me. People going about their melancholic lives.
I was the girl who wasn't holding anything. The girl who was out of place.
At first, I wondered- like any other person- why me? Why was I given these memories?
Somehow, I knew.
The crowd opened up their umbrellas in unison. People going about their uniform lives.
I was the girl who stood still. I was the girl who stood in the rain.
A girl who was once another in uniform. Just a black and white shape wandering the world.
Once the same- I'd lived. I'd loved.
That all changed. I was handed the truth. I died.
The crowd thinned. No one was there to watch as an eery smile spread across the girl's face.
Her hair, littered with human ideals, colored
Voyagers in the VoidI am a traveler. Just like you, except the places I go are the fictional worlds you make. I am the Partisan, without home but within hope.
You see, there are three "spheres" or "areas", of existence: there is the physical universe, from where I departed and from where so many of my fellow readers come. Then, there is the spiritual realm, home to all things mystical - from pantheons to psychic projectionists.
Finally, there is the fictional world. A multitude of fictional worlds thrown together, created from your world and which can only be visited by hearing of them and imagining them. I move between the various universes grouped together under this realm of fable and make-belief, exploring the worlds that prosper on their own and develop into something else.
I can spend centuries exploring worlds where all the author wrote was one word, but the characters change and advance into new things. They were and are created by an imagining human, a mind thinking, a heart tearing, and a soul f
Bubble BubbleAutumn, Year 754 of the New Age
Oakfern, The Warren
Falasnornia, Vawter (NPC)
“Vawter, give me those onion stalks."
As soon as the stag passed the pungent herbs her way, a sleek blade of water sliced them and they fell into the small bubbling crater in the floor. Their scent rose with the steam and Falasnornia wrinkled her nose as she turned to the patient receiving them.
Ah the joys of rut; making poultices for those insane enough to throw themselves at death's door for a doe's hind quarters. Fala suspected she would never understand a stag's mad desire for the fairer sex, though fair her gender was.
She checked the steaming concoction of melting honey and onion juices before gently lulling a glob of it toward the injured stag. His shoulder was sliced open, and although not at all deep; infection could set in quickly without a poultice and a wrapping to keep it clean. Infections sprung up from much less and in shorter time frames.
The Wrong Side of the RailingMy palms were sweating.
Funny, right? How I’d pondered for days and years over questions that were forming the world, yet, when it all came down to the very bottom of all things, my world was reduced to my sweating palms.
But it was like that, living this life, wasn’t it?
No matter if we searched for the existence of god or the all-solving raison d’être we humans wanted to know so badly, in the end, what kept us in this world was the need to scratch our arms or something equally dull.
And now, that I finally made my decision to end the life of this human that I was, my palms were sweating as I clutched the metal in my hands.
Standing on the wrong side of the railing, my mind was limiting itself to things that should be pointless.
I closed my eyes and let the wind ruin the hairstyle I’d spent hours on. It seemed trivial, I knew that very well, but was it too much to ask that I wanted to be pretty, at least on the last day I lived on this planet? I’d ev
A story of two friendsOnce upon a time, everyone was happy. They would all go around in there happy little lives, and do their happy little things and be happy. But one day, the happiness left. Everyone randomly decided to start being negative. Everything was bad, and negative and to be honest a bit shitty. What caused this sudden change. Why did everything turn sour. And all of these negative attitudes started to clash. People would start arguing about the pointless petty frivolities of life. And as time passed it only got worse. The skies darkened. The weather turned cold. All hope for a positive future or anything just left.
Then a miracle happened. Out of the blue came two close friends, who had a dream. A dream to bring back the happiness. And so they got to work. Starting with nothing they literally started talking, and making jokes. One of them created an impression of another person, and it stuck. And little by little these two friends became more famous. And as they became larger, and started doing
The Moon Comes CryingWinter, Year 757
Oakfern, The Warren
Falasnornia, NPCs Esmene and Ulula
"Stay away!" Falasnornia caterwauled over her shoulder, wild mane catching the light of the glowing moss as she raced through the tunnels. The echoes of her hoof beats chased her through the caves as a hollow plunking sound akin to rain drops. She occasionally sent up splashes when she crossed through puddles, covering a few unfortunate burrowing owls with water.
The small doe burst into sobs. She was too unhappy to care though- she needed the outlet after the day she had.
Coming to a split in the cavern, Falasnornia veered right, into the tunnel of teeth. Alternating in a braid-like pattern, the doe wove in and out of rows upon rows of stalagmites. When she was younger, she thought it amazing how many caves stood long abandoned by the Oakferns, as if they might not exist at all. It was so surreal, running through the watery blackness with only the glowing moss to light the way.
Societies PhilosophySocieties Philosophy
Short Story by: Michaela Seabrooke
We look at ourselves in the mirror, seeing nothing but a pretty face and empty eyes. Eyes that appear to have no passion in the walls of societies demands. Once we enter the real world we are filled with passion, and a yearning for creative freedom. She walks through the halls and does not make eye contact, because the moment she does people looks away because all they see is emptiness and the darker part of life they choose not to see. They hide behind fabrications and fictions of what they long to be in this world only to see that the world is not sugar coated, you cannot get everything handed to you. You cannot just stand by and wait for things to happen. You have to at least try. If you fail, then you fail simple as that. But, if you fail multiple times and begin to feel like you cannot do anything right. People tell you that you are stupid and do not have a passion in this world. Don't listen, just block them out the same way
Worth a Thousand TearsI didn't know him, I didn't know his name or what he looked like; he came off as kind of generic in that regard.
I only ever talked to him once and I never saw his face.
But I was still sitting here, doing the grieving thing...
..So he must have been important....
I looked up at the voice's owner, a boy with shaggy blond hair was looking at me funny.
I was in no mood to play with him...
“Nothing, go away!” I grumbled, back still pressed against the wall and eyes red from crying.
“Were you crying?”
“What if I was!?”
“Is it about that kid who died?” He was like a robot, processing information. “The one who committed suicide?”
“...go away, before I kill you...”
“You know, I'm glad that you're crying.”
I lunged at him, slammed him against the ground as I pulled back a fist.
“You shut the hell up you freak!!”
“I'm glad because it means he lived a life
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