|A Strange Necessity Nothing remarkable, or noteworthy. She could—and did—live with that. It was fulfilling, and the kindness she received in turn made it worth all her while. Which made the golden ticket in her paws all the more strange.|
|All in the CardsMoltara City was the same bustling subterranean metropolis it had always been, thought Stealth, a brown Grundo. It was just another day for him. He woke up, panicked at his once-again-missed alarm, ran out of his apartment screaming, and while his arms flailed and his roommate covered his ears, he managed to get to the obsidian quarry on time against all odds.|
|Shortfall“We’re doomed!” Sulvi wailed. The baby Aisha rocked back and forth in the darkest corner of the lounge, unable to meet her brother’s apprehensive gaze. “Doomed is a pretty strong word,” Zypea the pea Chia observed her distress calmly from his position on the sofa. “We’re just in a bit of a pickle. A spot of bother, if you will. A temporary setback.”|
|Beyond 750A medieval darkness shrouded the fields of Meridell. In the cottage, two eyes blinked open, followed by two more. The twin heads of Pystry, a Mutant Hissi, blinked at one another, shaking off sleep. Pystry smiled. It was going to be a good day. Today marked the fruition of countless hours of training. |
|750 Reasons For The Neopian Times The room buzzed with activity as students in Ms. Robin's third grade class were getting ready to start their day at Brightvale school. A tiny little blue Korbat sat down in the corner, her nose buried in a comic book. She was reading up on the latest adventures of handsome Hanso and Bri, when a paw reached in front of her and snatched it away.|
|750 DaysMost people would say that it took the usurper Kass roughly two years to start and lose a war between the Darigan Citadel and Meridell. Lady Evelyn would be more exact; she would say it took her cousin 750 days to do so--750 slow days to observe a ruler slowly crackle until his realm collapsed.|
|Samrin and BalthazarSuch an innocent question that one of the younger neopets in my village asked me yesterday. I told her I had no idea why Balthazar keeps pestering me. It was a lie, I know very well why he is so keen on eating my petpets but it’s not something I like to think about.|
|Friday: Therapy Session III“If you continue to waste these therapy sessions, there’s no use in having them.” The Psychologist said while looking at the grandfather clock situated next his office desk. Shifting his client’s files that lay atop of his thighs, he continued on to say, “We are halfway through your therapy block and we have not made any gains.”|
|True ColourGerard lay back, content at last, as the final word of his latest story dried on the paper. Complete at last. Already his head stormed with new ideas and fresh enthusiasm. No matter how many novels, or how many short stories, each began like first steps - brimming with new life and possibility.|
|A Memory On the Wind"Faerieland, huh? That sounds like a lovely place to live." Ruestilla mused to herself as she was flying clumsily through the air. "If only I had some time to get used to flying before I had to move... This new form is lovely, but it's a far cry from anything I'm used to." she chuckled.|
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"A Strange Necessity" by drifbilim
It was altogether a rather strange experience.
Addie couldn’t have foreseen it. Nobody could’ve. She was altogether very average, very plain, easily missed. She volunteered for the Soup Faerie, she donated her unused belongings to the Money Tree, and was sure to thank anyone for their kindness. Nothing remarkable, or noteworthy. She could—and did—live with that. It was fulfilling, and the kindness she received in turn made it worth all her while.
Which made the golden ticket in her paws all the more strange.
Addie stared. A ticket to the Annual Chocolate Ball, her full name written in a neat cursive script. The enclosed ticket came separate from her regular mail, someone presumably had knocked on her door and left the ticket waiting on her doorstep to find late on Sunday evening.
It was something right out of a faerie tale, something she might’ve been inclined to read to her long gone brother Enzi, back when he still lived with her. Addie would’ve said he moved on to greener pastures, but his recent Neomail suggested that he was in the Lost Desert for some reason or another. She had already sent him a baffled Neomail with a picture of the ticket as an attachment, but it would be a few hours yet before he got back to her.
In the meantime she wasn’t sure what to make of the invite. It was most definitely a prank, although she wasn’t sure who would bother to prank her as only a pawful of people knew where she lived and had her full name, and all of those people knew her only on a strictly professional level. And she certainly could not see any of them—the Soup Faerie for one—going through the effort of writing up a fancy looking ticket when there was so much to be done, like feeding the starving hordes of Neopets lined up outside her door, for example.
The ticket proclaimed that the event was a week today, and that it would be held in none other but the Chocolate Factory. It had no dress code, but it would be foolish to go in anything but her Sunday best. It was one of the most anticipated events of the year, despite how few were actually invited. She was to RSVP at her earliest convenience, which Addie knew to mean as soon as possible.
|Weewoos: The Legend Behind The Myth|
At dusk, when the last of Krawk Island's pirate inhabitants make their final rounds at the docks of Neopia's largest port, their song begins. The constant cry of the onomatopoeically named Weewoo fills the cool night air with a gentle but eerie sound. The melody can be heard all the way into the great waters as if bidding farewell to the late night travellers leaving their shores.
|50 Reasons To Write For The Times|
What is the true motivation for Neopians to consistently write year round? Well, my friends, I am here to rattle off fifty – yes, FIFTY – reasons as to why writing for the Neopian Times is a brilliant idea. Let the rambling *claps* begin!
|The Spirit of Black Keep: Part Eight|
This was the longest Pharazon could ever recall walking. His feet hurt. He’d tried flying until his wings hurt, but his feet hadn’t stopped hurting by then, and walking took less energy anyway. The hunger didn’t help. Their breakfast that morning, while kind of Kass to retrieve for them, had not been satiating, and Pharazon’s stomach began to complain loudly, as did Celice’s.
|KATIPO I: Restart: Part Four|
The place you’re supposed to meet Rhi is far too loud and cramped for your tastes. It’s a seedy little joint in the middle of the Fairgrounds, small and suffocating between a gym and a Spooky Foods shop. It used to be a fabric store, if you remember correctly, and it seems to have shrunk since then. It smells like coconut milk outside — probably from the shy stand that’s not too far away, but, well... who really knows with this place...