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Circulation: 193,437,521 |
Issue: 690 | 17th day of Swimming, Y17 |
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Headlines "One Summer's Day" by orisasda "Hey look, it's Mystery Island! We're almost at Mystery Island!" Daizm, plushie Kacheek shouted excitedly from the front of the ferry she, her brother and her adopted cousins were on. She blinked as sea spray from the ferry powering through the waves, splashed her in face. She has halfway over the railing at the front of the ferry when someone grabbed her wrist.
Other Stories
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Difficulties: Adventures in Moving A Baby Usul, curled in a dark orange blanket stared out the window of her family’s Neohome in beautiful Faerieland. She was lying on her bed, with silent tears streaming from the fact she arrived home safely. Maybe change in life isn’t so bad, after all. Wait- that sounds like the end of the story doesn’t it?
by peridotsu |
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One Summer's Day "Hey look, it's Mystery Island! We're almost at Mystery Island!" Daizm, plushie Kacheek shouted excitedly from the front of the ferry she, her brother and her adopted cousins were on. She blinked as sea spray from the ferry powering through the waves, splashed her in face. She has halfway over the railing at the front of the ferry when someone grabbed her wrist.
by orisasda |
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Interview with the Swamp Ghoul Hi there! Miss April here with your next dose of hard hitting journalism based on the exotic lands of Neopia, this time our story brings us to the Haunted Woods. We all know it, we all love it, but are there creatures who could potentially harm you? We say yes. I'm writing about a creature known to many as the Swamp Ghoul.
by aprildewdrops |
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The Fire Within: Part Eight Yardly returned to the Font alone, though Marbelle and her soldiers were waiting, hidden, in the tunnels beyond. Waiting for Yardly's signal. Waiting to storm their birthplace. The plan was simple. Yardly would go in and eliminate Igneot. Then he would signal the others to follow. It was a ludicrously stupid plan, of course, and Yardly knew this.
by herdygerdy |
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The Door Closes: Part Seven A man breathes heavily across from me, audible even from beneath a mask of loose grey cloth. A swath of worn fabrics wrapped up and down his figure encloses him. He wears different patterns, colors and materials, but they are all faded and fraying, as though he has had nothing new to wear for the past hundred years and must make do with the pieces of an old wardrobe. Art by ellbot1998
by ellbot1998 |
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