Translations: Part 4
Woh ymna spffu ni a hebrat fo wndi?" – "How many puffs in a breath of wind?"
Egt tou fo ym airbylr!" – "Get out of my library!"
Uoy tlils cnaotn rntsnaddeu tshi?" – "You still cannot understand this?"
Eonc uyo rae fiihsend with the conundrum book, move on to the stack of sperpa txen ot eth lnaecd." – "Once you are finished with the conundrum book, move on to the stack of papers next to the candle."
Fi ont ttsihgar, tnha samdelbrc'? Rlylea, own, atth's tusj bantatl." – "'If not straight, than scrambled'? Really, now, that's just blatant."
I ma tno nhswoig ffo, Asrja Obro- m'I nhngiitk ni aagamsnr." – "I am not showing off, Jasar Broo- I'm thinking in anagrams."
Aelve. Nwo."- "Leave. Now."
st'I nwgnsoi," – "It's snowing,"
They say that snowflakes are merely drops of water, frozen to the point of taking on a different shape, btu wnhe osed the cdol gorneucea gnaehc? Cold slows, cold kills. And yet, rof dcol to litsl eb leba ot eetcra a ghtni of utabey… there is truly no sense in science." – "They say that snowflakes are merely drops of water, frozen to the point of taking on a different shape, but when does the cold encourage change? Cold slows, cold kills. And yet, for cold to still be able to create a thing of beauty… there is truly no sense in science."
ubt ehrte's a edne to tge slrceo…" – "but there's a need to get closer…"
lsayuobtel tno. I don't want to hear anything about that, do you understand?" – "Absolutely not. I don't want to hear anything about that, do you understand?"
Translations: Part 5
Annelia? Ypa tetntonia, Ann- oh." – "Annelia? Pay attention, Ann- oh."
Texn," – "Next,"
Ahwt fi rehet nts'i an wsraen?" – "What if there isn't an answer?"
But if there is an answer? If I merely haven't found it yet… I ntc'a eivg pu. Otn ety. Tno hwne hreet's tilsl epoh." – "But if there is an answer? If I merely haven't found it yet… I can't give up. Not yet. Not when there's still hope."
Hmm. Ehre's a zlpuez-" – "Hmm. Here's a puzzle-"
Annelia, uyo- tawh idd uoy do?" – "Annelia, you- what did you do?"
Ihst stn'i na niraoryd zzlepu okob oameyrn," – "This isn't an ordinary puzzle book anymore,"
Stih si, ti's a- a ogmrreii. The Grimoire of Thade." – "This is, it's a- a grimoire. The Grimoire of Thade."
Annelia, owh ddi oyu od hsti?" – "Annelia, how did you do this?"
St'i enno of oruy sbseusin," – "It's none of your business,"
I'ev dmae it ryve alrce nyma stmie htat I ndo't nwta ouy ni rhee, os tge uto
!" – "I've made it very clear many times that I don't want you in here, so get out
Ywh otn?" – "Why not?"
Hse's rettbe at ngovils zezsupl nhta yuo
era." – "She's better at solving puzzles than you
Grandly Clichéd Adventure
Okay, Sarah. I understand." Alfred shook his head wearily. "Alright then, how are we going to get out of here?"
Sarah tapped a finger on her chin for a second, then grinned. Without a word she gently dropped Sluggo onto the pile of items next to her and dove at the bag. Alfred, who was under the bag, loudly protested this action.
Found it," shouted Sarah happily as she pulled a large book out of the bottom of the bag.
Alfred glanced at the cover of the book and then groaned, resting his head in his hands. "Oh no, Sarah, you didn't-"
The Grand Usul Adventure will have the answer!" Sarah flicked open the book and flipped through the pages, stopping near the middle. "Here we are. Page 583- 'Thus Frederico, having found himself unable to continue on his Most Glorious Quest, mostly due to the unseemly number of troubles and pitfalls that had come in the way during his relatively peaceful walk through the Forests of Despair, decided that, for his quest to continue, he would have to follow the various trails and paths of nature, and do as the wild creatures did, and watch for where the Wiltadendhrons grew on the sides of the dark, forbidding trees, and in assumed other ways find a method in which he might continue his Most Glorious Quest for the Wonderfully Fantastic Orb-Like Goblet of Utter Perfection before the night fell and Neopia lost the one hero who could still save them, the one bravely nobly dashing Usul who now flourished his sword and continued on his quest."
For exactly two minutes, the entire forest was silent. Somewhere on the other side of Neopia, a Weewoo fainted.
WHAT?" Sarah finally exploded. "This is classic literature, written by one of the best authors of our time! The writer was at the top of his form, and-"
Alfred snorted in laughter. "Please. The Spiffily Awesome Orbolic Cup of Something?"
Sarah shook her head. "No, you've got it wrong. It's the Wonderfully Fantastic Orb-Like Goblet of Utter Perfection."
The Fantastically Wonderful-"
Fine, fine. Wonderfully Fantastic Cup-Thing-"
You know, this is rather pointless."
Sarah growled and slammed the book shut. "That- that doesn't matter! What matters is, we must do what Frederico does."
What, be bravely nobly dashing? And ramble?"
Side of the Story: Fyora
Sloth," the faerie spat angrily, stamping up to him, "I might have guessed. Now, tell me what your ridiculous plan is this time, or I'll have to…" she slowed down as she stared first at his outstretched hand, then at his appearance as a whole. He carefully kept the smugness off his face as he watched her figure out what seemed wrong.
This sounds very strange, even in my head," Fyora said with a sigh, "but… why
are you wearing pants?"
Pleased to make your acquaintance as well," Frank said benevolently. He lowered his hand, as she didn't seem to want to shake. "I'm afraid explanations will take a while, so you might want to take a seat."
Fyora was now staring at him as if he had grown not one, but two
extra heads. "Since when are you polite? And why haven't you tried to monologue yet?" She frowned. "Is this some kind of trap?"
Not at all." He gestured towards one of the chairs fastened around the control panel, and waited until Fyora had slowly and suspiciously sat down before sitting in his own rolling chair. "My name is Dr. Frank Sloth, as I'm sure you've already learned in the past from my associate who likes to visit your planet. I'm a traveling scientist and researcher."
Do you realize that you aren't making any sense?"
Perhaps I should start from the beginning, then," he continued genially. "I came upon your planet after receiving radio signals…"
but Ordinary: HeroesHello again, Ms. Rune,
Ah, Jelly World correspondence. More illogical spam I have never seen. Yet I must say, shouldn't you be rather used to that sort of nonsense? After all, (though I feel awkward for only bringing it up now), you do run the Help Center. I've submitted questions to your inbox there in the past, and have gotten your automated replies about how questions on Jelly World, rule-breaking, and earning Neopoints will
not be answered, which would lead one to the conclusion that they are often asked.
(I must put in at this point that the Weewoo who delivers your automated replies is quite irritable. I can't imagine why.)
Back to the original topic; I have never been one to study biology, but I do know that there is little we are sure of in that topic. How do Kikos float in the air? How do Unis support themselves while flying, with wings so disproportionate? If we can't understand these concepts, how can we hope to even begin with mutations? I have to admit, this doesn't seem like a question we can answer. As for the Quiggle, I had not heard about that event. Stranger things have happened, yet I doubt it is a coincidence.
Your statements have set me thinking as to whether the general population would be keen to accept such an unusual turn of circumstances. Given the current overall opinions, opportunities seem bleak.
Stop, thief!" the Gnorbu yelled, leaning over his stall's counter and snatching at the air fruitlessly as he watched his last sandwich run away.
The little gray Blumaroo ducked away from the shopkeeper's outstretched arms and ran straight into a nearby crowd, elbowing others aside to make his way through. He clutched the wrapped object close to his chest, right where his heart was hammering out a frantic beat. Expressions dashed past him- some indignant, some surprised, but most glazed, not noticing him at all.
He turned into a side street, his feet scrambling to find a grip on the rough earthen ground, and immediately ducked behind a broken-down stall. After a few seconds had passed, he carefully peered out, angling his ears back so that they wouldn't give him away.
There was no one there. He hadn't been followed.
The little Blumaroo heaved a relieved sigh as he tore the paper off of the sandwich and stuffed the corner into his mouth. The explosion of pungent flavor nearly made him spit the food back out again- he hated
clawmotoes, he really did. Grimacing, he forced himself to chew and swallow the food anyway. It wasn't like he had another option.
Temporarily satiated, he glanced around the street again, wondering why he hadn't seen anyone pass by. The answer was immediately obvious- the street was a dead end. A few doors led into buildings on either side of the path, but the ground further on was hardly trampled at all, and quickly disappeared into the rich undergrowth that separated civilization from the Woods. The Blumaroo winced at this revelation. Like any sane Neovian resident, he didn't like the Woods. There were only bad things to be found out there.
He stuffed the rest of the sandwich down the front of his dirty white shirt, tucking the frayed bottom hem into his shorts, and scampered out of the side street, back into the dim light. On the main street, he could tuck his paws into his holey pockets and saunter along, looking like nothing more than an ordinary child.
I paid attention, since the subject was interesting, but sometimes zoned out for a moment or two to sketch an image that had popped into my head on the side of my notes. Soon, the edges were full of ancient Kougras- some mid-leap, claws extended, some prowling around the lines. One, sitting still and staring straight out of the paper, almost looked like he could waggle a paw, if he so chose.
When the bell rang, I started to pack up my books, leaving the paper on my desk for last. Before I could put it away, a soft voice spoke up behind me.
Those are really well done! Did you just draw them now?"
I looked over my shoulder, stunned. Dia- by then, I had heard her name from the lips of the popular kids- was peering down at my pictures, a faint smile traced on her beak. Her friends were standing nearby, just as shocked as I was that she was actually speaking to me. I quickly looked back at my desk.
It took me a moment, then, to regain my voice. "Uh, yes," I muttered then, slowly picking up the paper to slide it into my backpack as well. "They're not much, really," I added defensively. Because they weren't- I did much better work when I wasn't distracted.
Oh, don't be modest." I froze up. "You're a really good artist. You shouldn't hide it."
I didn't know what to say to that, but I definitely was not
happy when one of the popular kids interrupted. "Dia," the Faerie Zafara said in a high-pitched voice, "we're going to be late to Chem!"
Sorry!" Dia called after them, the shout sounding odd in her soft voice. She raced past my desk, then, but turned briefly to smile at me as she left. I forgot to smile in return until it was too late.
I was almost disappointed when I figured out that I didn't have any other classes with her that day.
Then she comes. Red comes. You call her Red, because she's different from the bugs who come skittering in like they own the world, so she needs a word, words hold power, and that word is Red.
And she's young.
And she reminds you of… she reminds you of…
She's so young.
She looks all about her, looks for spirits
, looks for ghosts
, and she's holding fire in a glass and it's been so long since you saw such a bright, burning flame. You lean towards it, needing it, but your mind has always ruled your body and you can, you can, resist.
She doesn't see you. She looks Right. And Left. And even Down, which most pets miss.
But she doesn't look Up.
You have a theory about this. Down is equivalent to Bad; Up is equivalent to Good. Pets like going Up in the world, pretending that they're good inside, deep where it all matters.
But deepest, where lies the truth, all are Bad. All look Down. They look to see what they've passed, where they've been. They miss it, sometimes.
And no one looks Up, where you hang from the rafters, arms curled tightly around the splintery wooden bar and tail moving back and forth, ever…so…slowly, as you Watch her.
For you do love the Watching. It teaches you so many things.