|Come dance with the gypsies...
||Issue: 772 | 10th day of Running, Y19
|OzymandiasSomewhere, in that untouched dust, somewhere a pilgrim wandered in search of Coltzan’s Shrine or Qasala’s lost riches, or…something. Some treasure. Some beautiful treasure hidden in Neopia.|
|Bowl of SandwichesIt was a Monday. No customers. Nothing to restock. Nothing to do.
Kayla sat alone in her potion shop, waiting for some form of entertainment. There had been a drought of potion ingredients in Meridell all weekend, and Kayla was unprepared for business. “I should just go on a vacation.”|
|The King of QasalaHe looked out the window, and saw the sun rising over Qasala. Just as the dawn passed over his kingdom, a thought had dawned on him. He could learn light magic, the magic of the sun and goodness and life. If his father ever returned, he could defeat him using these powers, and prevent risking his return to corruption from needing to once again fight fire with fire.|
|RegretThe year was young, and two Skeiths sat at a round red oak table adjacent to each other. The older Skeith with a plumper belly and blue body wasted no time devouring his hash and potatoes, while the emerald Skeith hadn’t touched his silver embroidered Shenkuuware yet. Instead, he sat stiffly with his nose buried in a book.|
|Of Sisters and Queens Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack.
I followed the sound of what seemed to be a great clatter to where mine sister was repeatedly hitting her head against the wall. She did not look pleased.
“Aerlliin, what art thou doing?” I flinched as she continued the action. “Dost that not cause thee Pain?” |
|The Royal Coronation When the Defenders of Neopia announced that a branch was coming to Brightvale in the near future, nearly everyone was excited about the prospects as it meant new jobs being available, and there would be plenty of opportunities. |
|Dear Sally How do I even begin to write to her after all these years? What would she even think of me?|
|Anneslace Gets the Royal TreatmentMost of my crew don’t insist on turning their free time into professional development, but that’s why we love you, Anneslace.|
|We Are Made of ChoicesPerhaps not so much reading, as reminiscing. His paw pads traced the titles on the spines of the history books, reminding him that he actually remembered so much of what they called “history” these days. In Neopia, he thought, heroes never died—they just went away for a while.
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"Dear Sally" by parody_ham
The words dance across the parchment in the waning candlelight. I dip the quill in ink once again, letting it hover over the page before crumpling up the paper and tossing it into a waste bin.
I gnarl my hands into a fist, cursing under my breath. How do I even begin to write to her after all these years? What would she even think of me?
“Woooo,” murmurs the Darigan Weewoo perched upon a stand near my desk. Its head is tucked under its wing while its half-open eye gazes towards me in unfocused attention.
“Apologies, old friend,” I say. I graze the back of the feathered Petpet with my hand, lulling it back to sleep.
After a quick glance at the large piles of discarded parchment, I sigh. It had been a valiant attempt to write to her, but that is all that could be said of the act: an attempt.
Opportunities to write for pleasure became few and far between, and the few times they presented themselves were late at night, when only the eve’s guard could sanely claim alertness. The rest of my time had been filled with other, more pressing, matters.
|The Beast: Part Three|
Had “The Beast” had a door put in the side and changed his mind? What kind of “Beast” puts an easy entrance on the side of its evil lair? They hadn’t even vocalised any of these questions, but all of them had a lot of questions about the doorway.