Some cookies are necessary to make this site and our content available to you. Other Cookies enable us to analyse and measure audience and traffic to the site. Cookies are also used by us, advertisers, ad-tech providers and others to develop and serve ads that are more relevant to your interests. To consent to the use of Cookies and proceed to the site, click Accept below. If you wish to withdraw consent later you will find a link in the footer Cookie Choices. For more information: Privacy Policy.
Storytelling Competition - (click for the map) | (printer friendly version)

If you have any questions about the competition then read our awesome FAQ!

Week 899
You are on Week 900
Week 901

Every week we will be starting a new Story Telling competition - with great prizes! The current prize is 2000 NP, plus a rare item!!! This is how it works...

We start a story and you have to write the next few paragraphs. We will select the best submissions every day and put it on the site, and then you have to write the next one, all the way until the story finishes. Got it? Well, submit your paragraphs below!

Story Nine Hundred Ends Friday, October 22

“Week 900...” the Storyteller Aisha softly said to herself as she glanced at her calendar. Her eagerness to get to the Art Centre in Neopia Central that Monday morning was palpable; her heart raced in anticipation of the forthcoming week. As the keeper of communal lore, nothing made her more excited than the introduction of a new story, its inevitable cliffhangers, twists and the ingenuity of Neopians working together to resolve the plot.

Of course, this week was a little closer to the Storyteller’s heart: every two years or so, the Storytelling Contest celebrated a centennial milestone. This time, the 900th story was certain to bring writers, authors and artists from the farthest reaches of Neopia to the honoured halls of the Art Centre. In fact, the Coffee Shop prepared gourmet treats for visitors and the Art Gallery and Poetry Contest had curated special exhibits for the occasion from other milestone contests.

As the Storyteller finished her morning coffee, an expected knock on the door brought a smile to her face. “On my way, Alstaf!” the Aisha announced.

“There you are, greatest Storyteller of them all! Shall we make our way down at the Art Centre’s call?” Alstaf the Poogle greeted with an air of whimsy in his voice.

“Of course, Alstaf— I just cannot wait for this week!” the Storyteller beamed.

As the Aisha and Poogle made their way from the suburbs of Neopia Central, the usual flow of morning foot traffic during grand events was notably absent.

“Does it seem... quieter than you expected, Alstaf?”

“If they're not here, then where? Perhaps they’re already there?” the Poogle replied.

The two distinguished laureates approached the entrance to the Art Centre and already knew something was amiss. A small crowd of murmuring Neopets were gathered at the locked doors of the Centre. The Neopets made way for the Storyteller and Alstaf to reach the front, where they finally saw a notice hurriedly tacked onto the doors that read...

Author: miraday
Date: Oct 4th

The Storyteller gasped and took a graceful step back from the parchment. Closed? On today? Of all days?

Her STC Week 900 daydream had quickly devolved into her worst nightmare.

Alstaf, meanwhile, feigned a melodramatic fainting spell. He laid on the ground, moaning and sobbing. "Oh precious catacombs, your praises I doth extol! Wherefore art thy coffee, biscuits, and words to sustain my soul?"

The Aisha scowled at him and his ill-timed couplet. "Get up you old coot, you're embarrassing yourself." She helped the Poogle to his feet.

The small gathered crowd turned to face the two literary elites.

"Hey, it's you guys!" excitedly greeted a young Blumaroo. "I'm a big fan. We all are! I'm Carl."

"Charmed to make your acquaintance," the Storyteller replied as she shook his paw and signed several shirts.

"Real bummer about today, though, huh?" Carl continued. "I was hoping to enter the contest this week -- and poof, there is no contest. No stories at all. Everything, erased from our collective existence..." he trailed off, pensively.

The Aisha furrowed her brow at his closing remarks. "Excuse me, might you repeat that?" She offered a sheepish grin. "Clearly you lot have much greater familiarity than myself about the worldbuilding here."

The Blumaroo frowned. "You... you haven't heard? Every story, every poem, every picture -- all tales and lore and fragments of our wildest imaginations -- inexplicably vanished this morning..."

Author: rielcz
Date: Oct 5th
Suddenly, the Storyteller felt lightheaded. There was a ringing in her ears, as if she was in a large tunnel and Carl was speaking from far away.

"P-pardon me, it ... what? Gone?" said the normally eloquent Aisha, swaying lightly on her feet. Absently, she noticed her ear stalks were quivering.

"Are you quite alright, friend?" Alstaf asked quietly, peering at her. In some part of her mind, the Storyteller realized she must have looked quite off - Alstaf was known for many things, but sensitivity towards others was not on the list. But the Aisha ignored him, focusing on Carl.

Carl nodded slowly, glancing between Alstaf and the Storyteller. "Gone," he confirmed.

"But - how?" she asked.

The Blumaroo shrugged. "We have no idea, Storyteller. It was as if it just never existed, except that clearly, we all remember the Contest. It has to have been real - we can't all remember it otherwise, right?"

Wildly, the Storyteller wondered if she were real; she was deeply tied to the Storytelling contest, after all. But then she shook herself.

"Yes, it is real, and we will find it," she said firmly.

Alstaf nodded. "Quite right! The catacombs may be but a figment, yet I promise thee; our truest history shall be preserved, for eternity!"

The Storyteller rolled her eyes. "Your meter's off, Alstaf - give it a rest! Carl, think hard please - did you see anything unusual?"

The Blumaroo stared at her pensively. "Well," he finally said, "There was one thing."

He held out his paw...

Author: agedbeauty
Date: Oct 6th
...and in his paw was a book. A thick, leather bound tome with a gilded cover and a pen tied to a fraying ribbon. The others gathered around, and the Storyteller had to squeeze past a Yurble and a Kougra to peer at it.

"Do you know this book? Why don't you take a look?" Alstaf asked.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," the Storyteller said as she took the book, grunting under the weight and managing to open it. "This is the book where I wrote all my stories. All the stories we created for the Storytelling Contest..." Her voice trailed off, and she gasped.

"What is it, Storyteller?" Alstaf scanned the words over her shoulder. "A clue? A hint? A letter?"

The Aisha hurriedly flipped through the pages. Her frown grew deeper, and gingerly she tried to show everyone else the pages in the book. Everyone gasped, and this time, Alstaf was at a loss for rhymes.

"But the pages! They're empty!"

"I was hoping we'd have one last shred of our stories in this book," Carl mumbled, his ears drooping. "I guess I was wrong."

The Storyteller stared hard at the blank pages. Not a single word of her impeccable script remained, but as she continued to gaze at what was left of her life's work, her frown changed. It became more resolute.

Immediately she flipped to the very first page of the book. Alstaf was slightly taken aback at how effortlessly she had turned the pages despite the sheer weight of the book; perhaps she had drawn from a secret store of determined strength. Then she took the pen in her hand.

"We'll just have to start the 900th Storytelling Competition right here," she declared. "We all remember the contest, and even if all the other stories have been erased, the storytellers are still here!"

At first, Alstaf looked confused. Then he drew himself up to full height and said, "Gather 'round, storytellers one and all! And heed the great Storyteller's call! Though the stories have faded to black, we can still draw them back! Put on your thinking caps, for we shall fill in the gaps!"

The Storyteller raised her eyebrows. "Actually, that was very good, Alstaf. Thank you." Then she began writing on the very first page of the book, reciting the words as she went. "The Art Centre has always been the heart of Neopian creativity and lore. But one day, its stores of art, poetry and prose were suddenly empty, and..."

She stopped mid-sentence. The ground beneath her had begun to rumble, and it took all her strength to keep the book from falling onto the stone floor - or worse, her foot.

"Storyteller, look!" Carl cried, pointing. "The Art Centre! It's..."

Author: precious_katuch14
Date: Oct 7th
"...shaking! An earthquake!"

Everyone ran for cover as the earthquake worsened. Thankfully, it didn't last very long. Once it had subsided, the group re-emerged. "Is everyone alright?" asked the Storyteller.

"Fine I am, so worry not, since perfect health is all I've got," answered Alstaf.

"I'm fine," replied Carl.

"Wow, look, this really will astound. There's quite the fissure in the ground," pointed out Alstaf.

The Storyteller and Carl turned around, and sure enough, the earthquake had created an enormous fissure. However, there was something especially unusual about it. "Look!" exclaimed Carl. "There's a shining red light coming from the fissure."

"...The glow of magma?" guessed the Storyteller. "The fissure couldn't be THAT deep!"

"Let's investigate," urged Carl.

"...How will we get back up?" asked the Storyteller.

"Don't worry!" replied Carl. "Blumaroos such as myself can jump much higher than other Neopets."

"Well, then, I guess we can take a look," responded the Storyteller. "It might help us find our stories. Stranger things have happened in the magical world we call Neopia."

"I'll help investigate, I will! It certainly is worth the thrill!" affirmed Alstaf.

Thus, the three plunged down into the fissure and landed on a slab of rock. Before them was the open entrance to a large cavern. "Let's go in," suggested the Storyteller.

"I hope it's not a dead end," commented Carl.

"We won't know until we try." Thus, the group entered the cave, and saw...

Author: _brainchild_
Date: Oct 8th
… much to their astonishment, glowing scribbles on the cave walls. The red light they had seen above seemed to be coming from the markings before them, which also illuminated another opening at the far end of the cavern.

“Whoa,” breathed Carl, as they slowly turned and attempted to take in what surrounded them.

The dark walls of the cavern were almost completely covered in mysterious compositions, all written in a surprisingly neat hand. No tools or other implements could be seen, leading to further confusion and amazement amongst the trio over the origins of these strange scrawls.

The Storyteller took a few steps closer to try to decipher the curious writing. “‘Kali whispered to Vahar,’” she muttered as she read. “ ‘…Jazz! We found …’”. She frowned as she took in more of the words before her, having a faint niggling in the back of her mind that she had read something like this before. “‘Foxglove isn’t a song.’” Why is this so familiar, she asked herself. Where had she come across these words…?

Suddenly, it all clicked.

With a gasp, she turned to the Poogle, discovering that he was similarly investigating the handwriting himself on the opposite wall. “Alstaf,” she called to him, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Do you think these – ”

“By Fyora, it can’t be! ‘Tis a line from story three!” He exclaimed, knowing all the Neopian stories just as she did. He was pointing to the words ‘Queen Tizara and King Clamour’ as the Storyteller rushed over.

“That’s what I’ve discovered, too,” the Storyteller said, as she and Alstaf looked at each other. “The walls over there had pieces of other stories as well. How could this be? What could it mean? And what of the disappearing poems and the art?”

Alstaf could only shake his head. “For truth, I haven’t a clue, nor do I know what to do.”

They both turned as Carl let out a loud squawk as he stumbled in climbing up a small rock. The Blumaroo had evidently decided to get an even closer to the story fragments on the wall. Steadying himself, he reached out his paw to touch a glowing word…

Author: rock_star_megs
Date: Oct 11th
A bright light flashed across the room as the word jumped from the wall and onto the Blumaroo’s hand. He let out a yelp before stumbling back, nearly knocking the book out of the Storyteller’s hands in the process.

The sound echoed as if the fissure they had travelled into had now become a spacious cave. No longer could they hear the distant, worried shouts of the townspeople above. For one reason or another, they were separated, isolated from the outside world.

Alstaf steadied Carl as the Blumaroo struggled to maintain his composure, but the young fellow was breathing heavily, transfixed on the glowing brand that seemed to be travelling up his arm.

Sarah, it said. But why this name of all things? And why was this name nagging at the back of her mind?

“Are you okay?” gasped the Aisha as she pushed her questions back, trying to instead offer Carl a comforting hand. He recoiled away, as if in fear.

“I… I think so,” Carl managed, “but why did… what did…?”

“I think we have found that magic abounds.” Alstaf manoeuvred about carefully so as not to accidentally bump into any of the nearby words. “The spell that has stolen our words, it confounds.”

The Storyteller breathed a sigh of relief when the word’s glowing text seemed to stop in place. “Maybe not the best time for a rhyme, Alstaf.”

“Maybe not…” The Poogle hung his head. “Apologies, dear boy.”

Carl forced a grin despite being thoroughly shaken. “No need to apologize. If this helps us figure things out, that’s what matters, right?”

“Right…” the Storyteller walked towards the neatly penned writing despite the vocal trepidation of her travelling partners. As she approached the wall, there came this strong wave of nostalgia, of stories long since told and storytellers long gone. Curious, she held the book up towards the glowing words and watched as it too began to alight. Fragments of words began to form on the open pages before fading away again. “One thing’s for sure,” she continued, “we know this magic has pieces of our stories locked inside. Now, we just need to know what—or who—wants to use them… and for what ends.”

“Maybe it’s Sarah?” mused Carl, turning the now darkened word in front of his eyes. “Why else would her name do this to me?”

“Sarah…” the name sounded oddly familiar. The Storyteller wracked her brain through her vast, encyclopedic knowledge. Drawing a blank, she flicked her gaze back to the wall where the words, “It was just another rainy Saturday…” dangled as if held by invisible wire. And by some force of magic—perhaps it was, she realized—the origin of this story fizzled briefly in her mind.

It was from the very first line of the first storytelling contest. A most joyous occasion when hundreds of creatives from around the land gathered to make something new. A collaborative tale of adventure and thrills, of daring escape and of new friends made. This story set the precedent for what would become a time-honoured tradition in Neopia for the past 21 years.

A single tear trickled down her face.

“Did you figure anything out?” asked Alstaf, worry written upon his face. He seemed genuinely concerned, a rarity for the often-melodramatic poet.

After wiping away the tear away with a sleeve as the book weighed down her hands, she nodded; her expression was resolute…

Author: parody_ham
Date: Oct 12th
"it's all behind us now." said the Storyteller with a sigh. "At the end of the story the protagonist Sarah said "it's all behind us now, let's look to the future." The Aisha waved her paw at the myriad assortment of words scrawled all over the cave walls." What we have here - all around us - is what I would call "The Ago". Almost 900 stories spanning 21 years." she gazed at her companions.

"When a story is written it starts as a creation born of a writer's imagination, but with the passage of time it becomes something more. It takes on a life of it's own. Eventually we forget the names of the writers themselves, but the tales remain forevermore. Each story becomes a part of the fabric of our existence."

Alstaf nodded sagely. " A tale is woven, a fibrous thread, drawn from each creator's head. Spun together history is made, and covers the ground where canon is laid" He bowed to the assemblage, several of whom were scratching their heads in confusion. After a few moments Carl stepped forward.

"I think what you're saying" he mused haltingly, "Is that all these stories are now part of our history? That maybe they started out as nothing more than stories - but now they are part of what make us who and what we are?"

The Storyteller and Alstaf glanced at each other, then the Storyteller nodded very slightly.

"In order to get back we need to remember from whence we originated." She spoke, not only to the Neopets who stood in front of her but seemingly to a host of others unseen. She held up the leather tome, it's pages still blank. "What is missing is the story we have yet to write. Together we will create something that binds together our past and future. Perhaps then we can find our way home again." She turned to Carl and placed the book gently in his hands.

"Begin the tale," she said ...

Author: bankingdude
Date: Oct 13th
Carl backed away, shaking his head rapidly.

"I'm no storyteller!" he protested. "I'm an artist! The only reason I was near the catacombs was that I had just entered a piece to the Art Gallery! Why don't you write it? You and Alstaf are much better writers than I am."

"You do not understand, young pet. For you alone hold the secret," Alstaf began, but the Storyteller rolled her eyes.

"We'll be here forever if you try and explain it in verse," she said, ignoring the Poogle's affronted look.

"You are an artist, and every artist tells a story with their work, even if they don't use words," said the Storyteller. Carl frowned, and she continued.

"But more importantly, you alone of the three of us are a Neopet." Carl opened his mouth to contest this, but she went on speaking.

"I don't mean physically. All of us are Neopets species. But Alstaf and I long ago dedicated our lives to the catacombs. He gave up his old life to write and curate poetry. I sacrificed mine to tell stories." She paused.

"And none of them were my own," she went on with a sigh.

"Sometimes I regret that. Still, I have always counted the joy of sharing good stories worth not being able to go write my own, out there in Neopia. In any case, you are the only one here who has a story not told to him by others. That, and these are stories, not poems. So Alstaf is out." The Poogle huffed and rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

"Maybe this is your chance to write your own story?" Carl suggested.

"Your story is as important as the rest of ours. Mine isn't that interesting, really. And your story starts before the very first story told in the contest. It would make an excellent beginning."

"It also ends before the first story," said the Storyteller, but Carl frowned.

"You're still alive, aren't you? Your story hasn't ended. You're still in the middle of it. Just as Neopia is still in the middle of its story. What each Neopian does now will affect how the story continues." He gasped, and his eyes lit up.

"Why not tell the story of how the catacombs came to be? Then we can include the stories through the years!" he exclaimed. The Storyteller blinked, and then a grin split her face.

"That's excellent! And you, Carl, will still be a part of it, albeit closer to the end," she enthused. "And Alstaf here could help. He too has a story to tell." The Poogle smiled enigmatically.

"Or perhaps a poem to write, to help set this matter right," he said. His eyes twinkled.

"Okay, give me the book, then," the Storyteller said. Carl held the book out to her, and she began to speak...

Author: t0tor0
Date: Oct 14th
"Neopia Central and its glorious Art Centre were not always here. Indeed, they are symbols of modern Neopia - the Neopia that began from the Year 0. But of course Neopia has existed long before that, and its Neopets too. This is the story of the deep catacombs that lay underground, beneath the very spot the Art Centre came to be, and where I believe we are standing right now."

The Storyteller took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. It seemed incredible to her that she - of all Neopets, she! - was finally telling a story of her own. The years that had flown by with her listening to tales from Neopets all across Neopia, and never had she put pen to page with one herself.

The leather tome became weightless in her paws, able to be balanced in one whilst her left hand wrote delicately in the old pages.

"But how did these catacombs come to be in the first place?" she continued. "For long ago this was a great expanse of space, very sparse, with only farming fields and small communities. It was one of these communities - a family of intrepid explorers and creative minds, that built them."

Around them, the words engraved on the caves began to shine brighter and sparkle. It was as if the cave was coming to life. Gentle rumblings could also be heard, but nothing like the scale of the earthquake before.

"It's working!" Alstaf cried. "This indeed is the story we were meant to tell, my old friend. Continue!"

The Storyteller nodded, eager to carry on. The words were flowing easily now, the ink setting in place. "It had been, as it often was in great story beginnings, a perfectly normal day. But a great storm was brewing, one that promised winds like never before. The people needed shelter."

Far in the distance, a light started shining in the tunnel up ahead. Distant at first, and then growing stronger.

"My goodness," Alstaf said, all rhymes forgotten for a moment. "Is this cave now showing us a way forward?"

"Do you think we should follow it?" Carl asked.

"I believe so, dear boy," Alstaf said. He turned to the Storyteller. "But you must continue your tale as we walk. Is it -" He was lost for words all of a sudden, a rarity in him indeed.

The Storyteller, just like him, was overcome with emotion. "It is, Alstaf," she whispered. "It's our story."

"Then you must tell it, and tell it bravely," Alstaf said. "And we shall walk towards this new entrance that has opened up for us."

And so they walked towards the shining light, a beacon of hope in this dark and enchanting cave.

And the Storyteller continued her tale.

"The storm hit with as much force as feared," she wrote. "But one Neopet had been working hard, burying deep underground, and creating these catacombs. But they never expected to find..."

Author: dudeiloled
Date: Oct 15th
“…a purple Poogle marching through a particularly wide tunnel of the gaping cavern, who seemed to be measuring out a spot for something in its rocky floor.”

Alstaf cut in with an abrupt clearing of his throat, almost causing the Storyteller to trip as she completed writing her sentence. “Yes, Alstaf?”

“This story is getting exciting! Might I take a turn at writing?” His face beamed, ecstatic at the prospect of participating in this historic moment.

“Of course, and I believe this part of the story is more suited for you to tell, anyway,” the Storyteller concluded, handing the massive tome over to Alstaf.

“Alstaf, are you the Poogle in the story?” Carl asked as he stared Alstaf up and down, confirming he was indeed a purple Poogle.

“Old as I may look, from what you can see, this is actually an ancestor who inspired me.” The subtle comment about his age had not seemed to dampen Alstaf’s exhilaration. Taking the tome in hand, he cleared his throat again and set pen to paper, as they continued toward the light at the end of the cave.

“The Neopet primarily responsible for the creation of the Catacombs, a gruff Grarrl, stared at the Poogle, bemused. ‘Excuse me, sir, what are you doing? Any minute we need to start hurrying Neopians in here to take cover! Don’t you hear the rumblings of the storm?’

“The Poogle turned toward the Grarrl, a grin across his face. ‘Yes, I heard the rain seem to roar; it sounds like a torrential downpour!’ Then the Poogle returned to his task, continuing to stake out an area of the cavern.”

‘Sir? Sir, we need to hurry! This is an urgent matter and I think anything you’re doing right now can wait until later!’

“Thunder clapped loudly in the distance, and the purple Poogle turned around again, still smiling. ‘I know this situation seems quite dire, but please settle down, it’s clear you’re tired. Please allow me to explain,’ the Poogle said, gesturing to the spot he had been examining. ‘This will be a place to entertain. In this time of peril it’s what we require; a creative place to express, read, and inquire. Prizes will be given for poetry at its best; all interested Neopets can enter a contest!’

“Thunder cracked again, and the torrential rain could be heard beating down against the rough, rocky ceiling of the cavern. At that moment everything seemed to be shak-“

And then everything was shaking.

A small pebble fell from above and hit Carl on the head. “Ouch! I think we need to hurry this story along, I don’t like what’s happening…”

The light in the cave grew brighter still, as the trio moved forward and Alstaf continued the tale…

Author: milkshakes004
Date: Oct 18th
“‘Sir, if you’re not going to help the others arrive, then at least make space for them.’ The Grarrl turned brusquely away from the Poogle. ‘I must prepare for their arrival.’ The Poogle, for his sake, continued to measure the floor, ignoring the oncoming tremors.”

The earth rumbled again, as if to underscore Alstaf’s narration.

“But the Grarrl moved quickly, and the community of farmers was soon brought into the catacombs. They were safe in the cave’s shelter, but they were still soggy and frightened of the tremors, huddling around hasty campfires and torches. And moreover, they were bored — they had no way to pass the time.”

“I bet they were glad to have entertainment then,” commented the Storyteller.

Alstaf nodded. “That Poogle, my ancestor, quickly rounded up a group of them and convinced them to start sharing poetry. Another Neopet, a Scorchio, discovered a series of pools where the water trickled in from the storm. She mixed the rainwater with some pigment, and started to paint a mural on the cave wall, with others quickly joining her. They put their torches together, creating an enormous, roaring bonfire. It became an animated sight; the Neopians knew they would be alright,” he said, slipping into rhyme.

“At the peak of the tempest outside, they gathered around their bonfire, and an Eyrie — boisterous and passionate, with a flair for the dramatic — began to narrate a story. The Scorchio and her band of artists illustrated his words directly on the wall, and the poets joined in. Everyone watched the scene unfold in rapt attention. In spite of the raging weather, it felt like a festival.”

Carl put a hand on Alstaf’s shoulder. “This history is incredible,” he interrupted, “but how does it connect to the vanishing stories? Why are they written on the walls here, and not in the Storyteller’s book? Why was the Art Centre closed this morning?”

The Aisha turned to face the Blumaroo. “The answers to all your questions,” she replied, “lie here, at the heart of these catacombs.”

Ahead of her, the tunnel opened up into an enormous cavern. Brilliant light shone from its entrance. Carl and Alstaff looked over her shoulder, and took in the sight before them…

Author: icon109
Date: Oct 19th
A fire, which receded as if doused with a bucket of water upon their entrance. It dwindled to smouldering embers within two blinks of an eye, leaving smoke and shadows in place of the bright, promising light.

In those shadows were...Neopets....all of whom seemed familiar.

A Cybunny, an Eyrie, a Uni who was ghostly, but turned corporeal on Halloween, the Storyteller knew, as she knew them all...

“Safra,” she murmured, stepping towards the Uni. “And are you in this time and universe too?” the Storyteller asked the Eyrie.

But Alstaf noticed the Cybunny first. “ were in our heads and hearts...though from the tale, you'd not depart.”

“Exactly,” said the Cybunny, as the group gathered around the pathetic fire. “Neopets like you have written us into existence, and remembered some of us.”

The Uni shrugged with her wings, seeming flattered at this.

“But others have been forgotten. The judges before you. The Neopians who authored us. The places we've been. And when we're forgotten...”

As if on cue, Safra shut her eyes in acceptance, her smoky being dissolving into the air.

“How do we bring it all back?” the Storyteller cried, her eyes stinging at Safra's disappearance.

“Why, isn't it obvious?” Jurgis said, his smouldering image flickering. He, too, dissipated into the air, but not before he uttered a single piece of advice.

“Try to remember..."

Author: flufflepuff
Date: Oct 20th
Those words echoed in her heart as she racked her brain for anything she could have forgotten. But all the stories were still there, her memory intact.

She shook her head, "What am I missing?"

"Others are to blame, as to what became." Alstaf placed a paw on her shoulder.

"This isn't a responsibility that I bear alone, I know this. And yet I, as The Storyteller, should have some power that allows me to restore the stories taken from us." She explained, holding her hands as if the answer were on the tip of her fingers.

"Well, I have an idea," Carl hopped over, fiddling with his paws. "Can I ask why you are so passionate about storytelling?"

"That's... An odd question Carl. That's like asking why you breathe," She chuckled. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just..." Carl scratched the back of his neck. "If you remember all the stories, then you must have to remember something else?"

"Like the reason I write..." The Storyteller's voice trailed off, looking down at her leather-bound tome.

"Like my ancestor before me, when the skies were stormy," Alstaf nodded to his friend with a confident expression.

"The source of my passion..." She took the tome from Alstaf's paws, slowly turning its pages.

She took out her pen. "Yes," She declared, "I believe it is finally time to tell my story."

The Storyteller placed her pen to the blank page and began to write...

How will this story end?

Author: the_hoshi_pixi
Date: Oct 21st
...a story of a young aisha in Neopia Central, long before it was ever called Neopia Central. No one had ever seen a vandagyre, back then. Why, no one had ever even seen a lutari, back then.

She was much younger, back then, and she wasn't called The Storyteller. Not yet. Back then, her friends knew her by a different name. Her face was unlined by age, and her fur had not yet begun to grey around the edges. Even her well-loved wire-rim glasses wouldn't be prescribed for many years yet.

She was the daughter of farmers, in a village near where Pizzaroo would eventually be built. Every morning she would get up to tend the fields, and every evening she would wonder if there was more to life than watching clouds roll over the hills. She was happy, safe, and content, but she craved more. Without any real means or courage to leave home, she wanted adventure. She didn't dare even dream of more... she wouldn't have known where to begin.

When the storm came, her family trundled into the catacomb along with the other villagers. She saw the sky go dark behind her, seconds after ducking into the cavern. They had just planted the fields. They'd need to replant, but she wasn't troubled by this concern for long, because there was someone speaking from deep within the catacombs.

On a makeshift stage in Alstaf's grandfather's clearing, an elderly kacheek was telling a story. The kacheek was an old neighbour, always lost in his thoughts. None of the villagers ever paid him much thought, until now. Waiting out the storm, his tales of old were suddenly the perfect way to pass the time.

"And they call ME The Storyteller," she muses, pausing for a second in her writing. "I only ever began because of him."

The elderly kacheek had been to Faerieland once. A magical, floating city, among the clouds. Faerieland had, of course, still been in the sky back then. The young aisha had never even seen a faerie, but she could picture them. Like chias, she imagined, but perhaps slightly taller. She'd later learn she was completely wrong, but it didn't matter then She was a child travelling to Faerieland through the immortal power of the shared story.

The young aisha's best friend listened along, declaring intent to someday go visit Faerieland. But the young aisha's dreams of travel were fully quenched. Instead, she now wanted to hear more of the kacheek's ramblings. She could travel all of Neopia from right where she was, if only someone would say the words. She hounded her neighbour for more details, and he branched into a story about pirates!

The pirate story was even better than the faerie story, and the aisha tried to remember every detail to share. She knew she would never tell it exactly the same way he had, but somehow, she knew that was okay. She would add her own flair to it.

After the kacheek told his pirate story, another neighbour stepped up to speak of the time he sold turnips to King Skarrl. Another neighbour jumped in with a story about the time her warf dug a hole halfway to Mystery Island. And as they shared, it became clear that there was some sort of magic in the cavern. The pirates moved through the cavern, incorporeal yet undeniably spoken into existence. The faeries danced through the cavern's peripherals, not as they really were, but as the aisha imagined them.

Really, the storyteller thought, aren't ALL stories real, for as long as you believe in them?

The storm cleared up. Of course it did. But the villagers stayed down in those caverns for hours afterwards, talking and trading tales. They all went back up to their farms, but the aisha knew that the catacombs would always draw her back, as long as they held the magic. As long as she could keep that magic alive.

Carl suddenly looked up, startling the Storyteller from her thoughts. "Look- the stories are going back!" The words on the walls peeled from stone and floated up out of the cavern. There was no way to know for sure, yet the Storyteller was somehow certain they were returning to their rightful places.

"That day in the cavern, I promised to myself that I would dedicate my life to sharing and creating stories. I've been sharing other Neopians' stories all this time, but the magic must have decided it was time for me to tell my own."

The stories would return to Neopia. The Art Centre could proudly reopen. And the Storyteller could begin the 900th Story with pride.

Alstaf nodded in agreement. "There's nothing like some words on rock, to overcome your writer's block!"

The End,

Author: alphachicky
Date: Oct 22nd

Quick Jump

Week 1Week 2Week 3Week 4Week 5Week 6
Week 7Week 8Week 9Week 10Week 11Week 12
Week 13Week 14Week 15Week 16Week 17Week 18
Week 19Week 20Week 21Week 22Week 23Week 24
Week 25Week 26Week 27Week 28Week 29Week 30
Week 31Week 32Week 33Week 34Week 35Week 36
Week 37Week 38Week 39Week 40Week 41Week 42
Week 43Week 44Week 45Week 46Week 47Week 48
Week 49Week 50Week 51Week 52Week 53Week 54
Week 55Week 56Week 57Week 58Week 59Week 60
Week 61Week 62Week 63Week 64Week 65Week 66
Week 67Week 68Week 69Week 70Week 71Week 72
Week 73Week 74Week 75Week 76Week 77Week 78
Week 79Week 80Week 81Week 82Week 83Week 84
Week 85Week 86Week 87Week 88Week 89Week 90
Week 91Week 92Week 93Week 94Week 95Week 96
Week 97Week 98Week 99Week 100Week 101Week 102
Week 103Week 104Week 105Week 106Week 107Week 108
Week 109Week 110Week 111Week 112Week 113Week 114
Week 115Week 116Week 117Week 118Week 119Week 120
Week 121Week 122Week 123Week 124Week 125Week 126
Week 127Week 128Week 129Week 130Week 131Week 132
Week 133Week 134Week 135Week 136Week 137Week 138
Week 139Week 140Week 141Week 142Week 143Week 144
Week 145Week 146Week 147Week 148Week 149Week 150
Week 151Week 152Week 153Week 154Week 155Week 156
Week 157Week 158Week 159Week 160Week 161Week 162
Week 163Week 164Week 165Week 166Week 167Week 168
Week 169Week 170Week 171Week 172Week 173Week 174
Week 175Week 176Week 177Week 178Week 179Week 180
Week 181Week 182Week 183Week 184Week 185Week 186
Week 187Week 188Week 189Week 190Week 191Week 192
Week 193Week 194Week 195Week 196Week 197Week 198
Week 199Week 200Week 201Week 202Week 203Week 204
Week 205Week 206Week 207Week 208Week 209Week 210
Week 211Week 212Week 213Week 214Week 215Week 216
Week 217Week 218Week 219Week 220Week 221Week 222
Week 223Week 224Week 225Week 226Week 227Week 228
Week 229Week 230Week 231Week 232Week 233Week 234
Week 235Week 236Week 237Week 238Week 239Week 240
Week 241Week 242Week 243Week 244Week 245Week 246
Week 247Week 248Week 249Week 250Week 251Week 252
Week 253Week 254Week 255Week 256Week 257Week 258
Week 259Week 260Week 261Week 262Week 263Week 264
Week 265Week 266Week 267Week 268Week 269Week 270
Week 271Week 272Week 273Week 274Week 275Week 276
Week 277Week 278Week 279Week 280Week 281Week 282
Week 283Week 284Week 285Week 286Week 287Week 288
Week 289Week 290Week 291Week 292Week 293Week 294
Week 295Week 296Week 297Week 298Week 299Week 300
Week 301Week 302Week 303Week 304Week 305Week 306
Week 307Week 308Week 309Week 310Week 311Week 312
Week 313Week 314Week 315Week 316Week 317Week 318
Week 319Week 320Week 321Week 322Week 323Week 324
Week 325Week 326Week 327Week 328Week 329Week 330
Week 331Week 332Week 333Week 334Week 335Week 336
Week 337Week 338Week 339Week 340Week 341Week 342
Week 343Week 344Week 345Week 346Week 347Week 348
Week 349Week 350Week 351Week 352Week 353Week 354
Week 355Week 356Week 357Week 358Week 359Week 360
Week 361Week 362Week 363Week 364Week 365Week 366
Week 367Week 368Week 369Week 370Week 371Week 372
Week 373Week 374Week 375Week 376Week 377Week 378
Week 379Week 380Week 381Week 382Week 383Week 384
Week 385Week 386Week 387Week 388Week 389Week 390
Week 391Week 392Week 393Week 394Week 395Week 396
Week 397Week 398Week 399Week 400Week 401Week 402
Week 403Week 404Week 405Week 406Week 407Week 408
Week 409Week 410Week 411Week 412Week 413Week 414
Week 415Week 416Week 417Week 418Week 419Week 420
Week 421Week 422Week 423Week 424Week 425Week 426
Week 427Week 428Week 429Week 430Week 431Week 432
Week 433Week 434Week 435Week 436Week 437Week 438
Week 439Week 440Week 441Week 442Week 443Week 444
Week 445Week 446Week 447Week 448Week 449Week 450
Week 451Week 452Week 453Week 454Week 455Week 456
Week 457Week 458Week 459Week 460Week 461Week 462
Week 463Week 464Week 465Week 466Week 467Week 468
Week 469Week 470Week 471Week 472Week 473Week 474
Week 475Week 476Week 477Week 478Week 479Week 480
Week 481Week 482Week 483Week 484Week 485Week 486
Week 487Week 488Week 489Week 490Week 491Week 492
Week 493Week 494Week 495Week 496Week 497Week 498
Week 499Week 500Week 501Week 502Week 503Week 504
Week 505Week 506Week 507Week 508Week 509Week 510
Week 511Week 512Week 513Week 514Week 515Week 516
Week 517Week 518Week 519Week 520Week 521Week 522
Week 523Week 524Week 525Week 526Week 527Week 528
Week 529Week 530Week 531Week 532Week 533Week 534
Week 535Week 536Week 537Week 538Week 539Week 540
Week 541Week 542Week 543Week 544Week 545Week 546
Week 547Week 548Week 549Week 550Week 551Week 552
Week 553Week 554Week 555Week 556Week 557Week 558
Week 559Week 560Week 561Week 562Week 563Week 564
Week 565Week 566Week 567Week 568Week 569Week 570
Week 571Week 572Week 573Week 574Week 575Week 576
Week 577Week 578Week 579Week 580Week 581Week 582
Week 583Week 584Week 585Week 586Week 587Week 588
Week 589Week 590Week 591Week 592Week 593Week 594
Week 595Week 596Week 597Week 598Week 599Week 600
Week 601Week 602Week 603Week 604Week 605Week 606
Week 607Week 608Week 609Week 610Week 611Week 612
Week 613Week 614Week 615Week 616Week 617Week 618
Week 619Week 620Week 621Week 622Week 623Week 624
Week 625Week 626Week 627Week 628Week 629Week 630
Week 631Week 632Week 633Week 634Week 635Week 636
Week 637Week 638Week 639Week 640Week 641Week 642
Week 643Week 644Week 645Week 646Week 647Week 648
Week 649Week 650Week 651Week 652Week 653Week 654
Week 655Week 656Week 657Week 658Week 659Week 660
Week 661Week 662Week 663Week 664Week 665Week 666
Week 667Week 668Week 669Week 670Week 671Week 672
Week 673Week 674Week 675Week 676Week 677Week 678
Week 679Week 680Week 681Week 682Week 683Week 684
Week 685Week 686Week 687Week 688Week 689Week 690
Week 691Week 692Week 693Week 694Week 695Week 696
Week 697Week 698Week 699Week 700Week 701Week 702
Week 703Week 704Week 705Week 706Week 707Week 708
Week 709Week 710Week 711Week 712Week 713Week 714
Week 715Week 716Week 717Week 718Week 719Week 720
Week 721Week 722Week 723Week 724Week 725Week 726
Week 727Week 728Week 729Week 730Week 731Week 732
Week 733Week 734Week 735Week 736Week 737Week 738
Week 739Week 740Week 741Week 742Week 743Week 744
Week 745Week 746Week 747Week 748Week 749Week 750
Week 751Week 752Week 753Week 754Week 755Week 756
Week 757Week 758Week 759Week 760Week 761Week 762
Week 763Week 764Week 765Week 766Week 767Week 768
Week 769Week 770Week 771Week 772Week 773Week 774
Week 775Week 776Week 777Week 778Week 779Week 780
Week 781Week 782Week 783Week 784Week 785Week 786
Week 787Week 788Week 789Week 790Week 791Week 792
Week 793Week 794Week 795Week 796Week 797Week 798
Week 799Week 800Week 801Week 802Week 803Week 804
Week 805Week 806Week 807Week 808Week 809Week 810
Week 811Week 812Week 813Week 814Week 815Week 816
Week 817Week 818Week 819Week 820Week 821Week 822
Week 823Week 824Week 825Week 826Week 827Week 828
Week 829Week 830Week 831Week 832Week 833Week 834
Week 835Week 836Week 837Week 838Week 839Week 840
Week 841Week 842Week 843Week 844Week 845Week 846
Week 847Week 848Week 849Week 850Week 851Week 852
Week 853Week 854Week 855Week 856Week 857Week 858
Week 859Week 860Week 861Week 862Week 863Week 864
Week 865Week 866Week 867Week 868Week 869Week 870
Week 871Week 872Week 873Week 874Week 875Week 876
Week 877Week 878Week 879Week 880Week 881Week 882
Week 883Week 884Week 885Week 886Week 887Week 888
Week 889Week 890Week 891Week 892Week 893Week 894
Week 895Week 896Week 897Week 898Week 899Week 900
Week 901Week 902Week 903Week 904Week 905Week 906
Week 907Week 908Week 909Week 910Week 911Week 912
Week 913Week 914Week 915Week 916Week 917Week 918
Week 919Week 920Week 921Week 922Week 923Week 924
Week 925Week 926Week 927Week 928Week 929Week 930
Week 931Week 932Week 933Week 934Week 935Week 936
Week 937Week 938Week 939Week 940Week 941Week 942
Week 943Week 944Week 945Week 946Week 947Week 948
Week 949Week 950Week 951Week 952Week 953Week 954
Week 955Week 956Week 957Week 958Week 959Week 960
Week 961Week 962Week 963Week 964Week 965Week 966
Week 967Week 968Week 969Week 970  

IMPORTANT - SUBMISSION POLICY! By uploading or otherwise submitting any materials to Neopets, you (and your parents) are automatically granting us permission to use those materials for free in any manner we can think of forever throughout the universe. These materials must be created ONLY by the person submitting them - you cannot submit someone else's work. Also, if you're under age 18, ALWAYS check with your parents before you submit anything to us!