Short Stories
 | Supply and Demand I had no idea rocks were so expensive and was near crushed (pun intended) to find out.
by vanillafilth |  | Recruitment Day My father always had high hopes for me. From the day I was born, from the day he gave me my name, I was entrusted with tremendous expectations. And Father always tells me, “I’m just trying to give you all of the things my parents could never give to me.” He was Zachary Wentworth, the smiling face on the logo of Wentworth Plushies Inc. And so, I've never felt like my identity was mine to choose.
by the_pie_love |  | A Trip to the WoodsLightwater Forest was true to its name: light and airy with widely spaced trees that had tall straight trunks and a sparkling stream that wound its way through the forest. It was unusually warm for a late autumn day, with a brisk breeze rushing through the canopy, occasionally sending a shower of red and gold leaves spiraling to the ground. It was one of the most beautiful places in Neopia. At least, Gracy certainly thought so.
by 77thbigby |  | Tis The Season Heather was a frustrated writer. She was shot down twelve times by the Neopian Times, each with saying they had to many good stories this week, or her story wasn't quite what they were looking for. She smiled bitterly down at three pages with messy scrawl. Why couldn't they just tell her the truth? She was an awful writer.
by indigo_sky_22 |
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"Supply and Demand" by vanillafilth
There was a time when they fell, when they were avalanches waiting to happen, nightmares of the claustrophobic. Around every cave and stream, in every nook and cranny, they were there. Since the world took its first breath they have scattered across every land in Neopia, as far down as the depths of Maraqua.
Rocks.
Rocks have been a constant for all of eternity, unassuming little things of great variety. Flat ones, round ones, strong ones, brittle ones, dark ones, light ones, and many other distinguishing qualities. No two are exactly the same. They’re fascinating in that regard, and it should certainly provide some comfort when you ask for a Weewoo and your mother insists on a pet rock instead.
What your mother clearly doesn’t take into consideration is supply and demand. As established rocks are abundant, sure, but do mothers ever stop to think about the fact that every mother and their mother is telling their kid to get a rock? Evidently not.
There was a time when the youth ran about with their Warfs and curled up on the couch with their Meowclopses, but those days are slipping away. Parents these days have become disillusioned- having had their fun with a furry companion as a youngster, they don’t feel the same void that their children do, and insist that a rock is a perfectly sufficient pet.
Such is the case with little Berdamont the Korbat on one sunny afternoon in the bloom of spring.
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“I don't like this plan,” Aisheena said, watching over the monitor as the guards entered the cell. “I've read her file; she was a real psychopath. We have one Nefarious trained villain running around; this could so easily blow up in our faces.”“Yes, it very well could,” Loraine acceded. “However, we're no closer to finding Iniquitous as it is, and we're out of options.”
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