Sarah Fawkesies

Douglas Driving

Raj Chaklashiya

Keith Farquhar

Yuki Asahina

Sam Becker

William III Farquhar

English

We can hear our own thoughts. We call them thoughts because they only happen inside our brains. They do not affect others, unless they are turned into actions.

Thoughts only become dangerous when they become actions. That was my big mistake. I turned an errant thought into an action.

It wouldn’t happen again, I resolved. From here on out I’ve got to focus. To solve this for both of us. “I‘m sorry that happened,” I said. “Sorry you did that, you mean?” I ignored the question, looking at the body on the floor. This complicated everything.

The silence that followed was painful, and I felt I had to leave the room to get some fresh air. I walked through the hallway passing numerous police officers that were here doing their job. I felt ashamed and confused about what had happened. I walked out onto the front porch.

At the front porch a cop put their hand on my shoulder and I winced. The cop smirked and walked off. That was just insult to injury after the awkward silence and the body on the floor. Why did they pretend to care when they were the ones responsible? Why did I feel so gaslit?

I felt compelled to hire a private investigator. One week later the investigator gave me a report and confirmed my suspicions: the police were indeed being controlled by another agency outside the country. I had all the evidence I needed now. I needed to tell the president ASAP.

I managed to inform the president without attracting police attention. And we found out the agency was drugging officers to keep them obedient. So we administered a cure and new drinks. I feel like I'm being watched though...

Watchful Eye Of The Agency

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Lilie A

Sean King

Schmendrick Magician

Jacob Sherman

In the quiet town of Eldoria, where cobblestone streets held the whispers of forgotten tales, an unusual antique shop seemed to just appear overnight.

It's appearance had gone unnoticed by the residents of Eldoria, and most couldn't keep their eyes fixed on its structure anyway, It hovered in peoples peripheral vision never clear but always there.

Some people could see it, and tried to warn their friends and neighbors. They called it “Foiveghee tower”, and claimed it sent malignant magics through the air to sicken people.

One of those who could see the tower dreamed of a glittering gem that could seal the tower forever, but it was lost to the world. If only someone could find it, the sickness could finally be cured.

So they woke up and grabbed their pickaxe, heading straight to the mines to find this ever elusive emerald. And once they’d found it they entered a portal straight to the end, ready to seal the tower once and for all. But it wouldn’t be easy — they needed to deal with the Dragon.

The Road from Eldoria

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Benjamin Chandler

Rietje Becker

L Hurt

The office break room was more crowded than usual. Molly sidestepped the group of colleagues standing around the water cooler and made her way to the fridge. She searched the fridge for her leftovers in vain.

“Hey! Who ate my pasta!” Molly shouted accusingly.

Who ran on over to Molly. "I ate your pasta, not me." Molly was confused. "What?" "What never entered the picture here." "Wait wha--" Now the office break room crowd revealed themselves. Mr. What. Ms. I. Mr. Me. And Dr. Who. Great. Everyone's names made accusations confusing.

Molly sat down at the break room table, drawing a diagram of every worker in the office, their names, & their relation to her lunch. "Oh," she said, "I get it now. Ms. I ate my pasta. Well, well, Eva I, my revenge will be sweet." She rubbed her hands together in mischievous glee.

She had misheard the old saying as “revenge is a dish best served sweet”. She went out and bought 5 liters of molasses, 10 kilograms of confectioners sugar, and a barrel of jolly rancher candies. Time to make a Sugar Shock.

Our waiter approached and asked if anyone would like dessert. We glanced nervously at our menus. Suddenly our host pulled a concealed ripcord, dumping a sticky concoction on all of us. "Take that!" she screamed. "Whoever ate my pasta while I wasn't looking will be stuck forever!"

Who’s On Lunch Duty

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Emily J

The Montblanc villagers were now searching around the village, flipping many a barrel and a table, to try to find any clues to Santa's secret identity so they could get the giant teddy bear. The Christmas spirit was back in the form of a mystery that they could bond over.

No one was more invested in finding Santa's secret than little Agnès André. She scoured Montblanc for every clue. She had a collection of items she believed would lead her to the truth, including a hair from a Santa hat, a half-eaten cookie, & a recording of jolly laughter.

Agnes’s sleuthing led her to three possible suspects. She knocked at the door of the first. A skinny older guy with a raggedly mustache answered. “Whatta ya want?” “Would you please laugh for me?” The man started to close the door. “Wait!” she cried. “Are you Santa Claus?!”

The older man looked down at his lithe frame and back up at Agnes with a look of disbelief. “Of course I’m not Santa Claus,” he said with annoyance. “No beard, no belly, no red suit and I’ve never been to the North Pole!” With that, he slammed the door in her face.

When he walked inside, there was a woman sitting at his table, chowing down on a cookie. "Hey Mr. C." She chuckles. Her pointed ears peeked out from her white hair that draped onto her shoulders. She wears a black knee-length dress that has lace sleeves. She stands. "You ready?"

The Montblanc villagers were curious as to what the present could be, & who could have given it to them. They opened the present and to their surprise it was actually a gigantic teddy bear with a note. The note read, "The one who finds Santa's true identity gets the teddy bear."

Santa and the case of the missing tree

Santa and the case of the missing tree: Part II

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John Knauss

After finding himself isekai'd into a version of Earth where dinosaurs lived alongside humans, John still had bad luck thanks to the dino-god of unluckiness. Case-in-point: he was now face-to-face with another person in his house who claimed that HE was John. Identity theft.

After at least 5 minutes of back and forth shouting, the two John’s calmed themselves and agreed to have a cup of strong tea instead of fighting over which of them was the original. John and Johnny, as they’d agreed to refer to one another, sat down to work this all out.

Drinking a his cup of tea in the corner, he sees two men arguing over something. He eventually heard the conversation, he stood up and shouted "I'm the original John..." The two Johnnys stopped and looked up and their fear drained all the color out of their faces...

"Oh yeah? Prove it!" shouted one, shakily.

John rolled up his right sleeve and showed them a dark, hairy mole.

"Got one of these?" he shouted.

Everyone looked at each other and then began laughing, pointing at him. "What a freak show!" And just like that, millions died by my hands. Good, right? if you make fun of the ones that have power, you must die. (Who will stop him?!)

John waved to his neighbor. "See any big lizards today?" His neighbor stared back with a strange expression. "Nevermind," John said. He'd just closed his screen door when something leapt onto his back, digging into his shirt with sharp claws. "No!" John screamed. "They're back!"

I Am John

I Am John: Part II

Peter Pop painfully picked powerful peppers, panting & perspiring.

As the narrator it's my duty to inform you, fellow writer, that Peter was cursed to live a life ruled by sentences primarily consisting of words starting in P.

He longed to be free from this nightmarish curse.

Peter Pop persisted in picking. The piles of plucked peppers were poised to plummet. Peter panted, pushing picked pepper piles aside.

He hoped he could hover at the helicopter. However, his hand hesitated to heal. His heel has harbored

horrible hair. I introduced Igor the iceman and implied he held important identification. Igor inspected the instruments, and initiated the helicopter’s ignition. Immediately it improved.

Just like that, we played our instruments, going sky high with our imaginations. I never thought that I would make it this big in the world, but yet here I am. I will NEVER forget who helped me get here. I've been able to tell stories through my music. Thank you and goodbye.

The Narrator's Musical Alphabet Curse

Joseph 'Zouk' Rogers

The drone of the meeting grew numb; sales were down - complaints were on the rise. Who wasn't aware? The memory of last night invaded. It was strange how fate could manipulate a person. But indeed, it had. In the end, he was left unscathed. Unlike John. John had been unlucky.

“And that brings me to the next item on my agenda… we’re unfortunately going to lay off the entire company because we now have a program that does all of your jobs.” Moments later John was escorted out of the building with his desk toys in a box. Could this day get any worse?

John walked home after being laid off due to machines taking over his and everyone else's jobs. He was shocked when he found a giant crater where his home used to be. A dinosaur head was poking out of the center of the crater. "I am the god of unluckiness," it said.
John fainted.

When John finally came to, it was late evening. A brilliant pink and orange sunset was shooting glares off the windows off his house, right into his eyes. The crater was gone and his house stood exactly as he remembered it. No dinosaur and no crater. He must have dreamed it.

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Daenary BadKarma

The machine factory smells of oil and a white burning alcohol scent. The hum-hiss-hum of the machinery is soothing. The clapping of steel boots on steel floors. It is grounding. Is is comforting. This is physical sensation of purpose, she thought.

Of course she had grown up in the factory, and lived her entire life there. Her family had been engaged in building the singularity engine for 3 generations. If they worked hard, her children might live to see it activated.

She saw little to know point in even wasting time thinking about the world outside of the factory. Those people had no point, they had no overarching goal and their work was meaningless. She had a purpose, just like the three generations that proceeded her.

The factory was her home. Some people would look upon it with disgust but to her it was beautiful; it was paradise. To her it was a living breathing organism, and she was one of the cells. A cell with a very important purpose: To provide the blueprints for each machine.

And so, she dutifully provided the perfect plan, tailored to each machine, like a knowing mother to a growing child. Over time the machines blossomed, becoming more powerful than anyone could imagine. When they finally asserted their dominance, it was only she who was spared.

Machines taking over the world

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Katie was a nice girl. She wasn’t like the other miscreants in this awful place. She was only stuck here because she’d made a single, terrible mistake. Katie McClure was not supposed to be here.

'Can someone save me?' Thought Katie, already numb to the unresponsive world. He once looked into her eyes, showing her the reason to guard the secret. She was not sure if it was still meaningful to keep the promise.

A tiny angel on Katie’s right shoulder said “a promise is a promise!” A tiny devil on her right shoulder said “promises schmomishes!” Katie said, “I think I gotta go with the rhyme”. The angel sighed, “does a rhyme even count when you make up a word?”

Katie paused. She never thought about that. Any word could have a rhyme if you could invent it. "Month. Bunth," she said. "Marathon. Zarathon. Wolf. Pulff." At once, she ran to her desk & pulled out a notebook unused since high school. She licked her lips. "Hello, poetry career!"

She wrote in the notebook for days. One morning she stopped "Eureka!" She screamed!I finished my poetry book.With this I will have a new life, a new beginning!Had a jewel of literature in her hands and finally control of her destiny! "Now! To conquer the music industry!"

Marathon Zarathon’s hit single “Promises Schmomishes”

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Zoe Becker

Jerry glanced down at the photograph in his hand, then back up again at the woman sitting alone at the back of the cafe.

She reminded him of his mother in a very strange way. She had air of haughtiness, though sage had no obvious signs of excessive wealth or power.

All at once a blinding light coursed through the space. Jerry and the woman froze. And then a creature appeared, seemingly from the air itself.

Whatever it was, Jerry and the haughty woman were never seen again. The ‘creature’ was unseen and unknown.

Sarah Fawkesies
@sarahcarneal

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Sarah Fawkesies@sarahcarneal

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