Messages

You were correct about the Grenfell Tower fire, Sinitrena. (+10) Go to the top of the class.  The pupil running amok was a reference to a terrorist attack,
on Westminster Bridge, though not very obvious.

Baron certainly set us a task with his allegory topic. It is very difficult to try to explain a scenario, in a different setting, without revealing too much or not enough.

Anyway, I will now allot the points:

EjectedStar = 5 points  (I really felt that I was riding in the cart, with the girls, sharing their experiences and emotions. Liked the second spoiler idea, though this didn't influence points.) 

Sinitrena = 3 points  ( Your story was well written, as usual, but didn't really capture my imagination.  I think the novice would have been banished from the order, by his Master, long
                                  before he reached old age, for defacing a precious statue. The Godess would have been pissed, as well.  )

Mandle = 2 points  (Your story was decidedly weird!  You do seem to have a knack for this sort of thing. I'm still not sure what the point of it was. A spoiler would have been nice.)

Voting ends at midnight tonight. Please don't do what Ponch did, last month, and vote after the deadline. Naughty Ponch. 

DECISIONS

In the heart of London, at Westgrove Co-ed School, a new term had begun. The teaching staff, who had arrived early, were hunkered down
in their designated classrooms, busily preparing lessons. Most were slightly apprehensive at the prospect of teenagers, fueled by rising levels
of oestrogen and testosterone, being unleashed upon them. No doubt, they would be a force to be reckoned with. It would be a case of brace
yourself, exude authority and hope for a favourable outcome.

Tilda Martin, immaculately dressed as usual, entered her office, acknowledged her secretary and settled down at her desk, painfully aware
that her days as Headmistress were numbered. She was temporarily fulfilling her duty, by remaining at the helm, until a suitable candidate
was elected to replace her. The position was inherited when the previous Headmaster, Dylan Croft, had unexpectedly resigned. Negotiations
with an overseas counterpart had broken down, leaving him with no other way out.

Saint Julienne Academy had been paired with Westgrove since 2006 and the schools had shared an amicable association. Highly successful
was the student exchange programme, as was a monetary agreement making funds available wherever needed the most. However, the
relationship soured, ten years later, when Saint Julienne began to make unreasonable requests, were dictatorial towards Westgrove and
demanded more money. Dylan Croft had argued, strongly, to continue dialogue with the academy, but following a vote involving pupils,
governors, parents and Uncle Tom Cobley and all, it was decided that all ties with Saint Juliennes would be severed. Unfortunately, the
Academy refused to go, without a fight. Mr. Croft resigned. Some might say very sensibly, others that he had let everybody down.

In her two years as Headmistress, Tilda had been sorely tested. Firstly, she had the unenviable task of continuing the battle to gain
independance for the school. No agreement was ever reached, because Mrs Martin, quite often seen with her Husband in tow, didn't seem
to possess the persuasive powers required for such a task. She often appeared to be awkward and uncomfortable in certain situations. As
if this weren't bad enough, she also had to deal with a pupil running amok, brandishing a lethal looking dagger, later discovered to be
plastic, muttering incoherent gibberish. Also, on her watch, there was a blazing inferno caused by faulty electrics. The east wing was
reduced to ashes. 'Oh, happy days' she thought to herself. 'I can't wait for it to be over.'  So, who would be her replacement?

This subject would be discussed with the pupils at morning assembly, in a few minutes time. The most popular choice, in her view, would be
Brian Jarvis, a former Westgrovian. This young man had a shock of unruly blonde hair, had bucket loads of charisma and was a favourite
with the girls. If anybody could sort things out it would be him. An uneasy feeling suddenly swept over her. Brian would face a far greater
challenge, than she had ever known. Life changing in the extreme. Tilda wished him the best of luck.

Spoiler

Brexit. UKs struggle to leave Europe. Dylan Croft=David Cameron. Tilda Martin=Theresa May. Brian Jarvis=Boris Johnson

[close]

Alright, Baron, how about this.....

We all have belly buttons, of that there is no doubt.
Some of them are depressed, while some are sticking out.

Some have gems inserted, or other shiny stuff.
Which serves no other purpose, than keeping out the fluff.

The reason for it being there, though, surely, you will scoff.
Is down to our maker's finger, to show we were finished off.

I don't know where I heard it, but I,m sure that I've been told,
That Mandel's, novel, navel is a sight you should behold.

Hope this is taken as just a bit of fun.

I can't promise, Sinitrena, but I will see what I can do. 

If you would like to read a nostalgic poem I wrote for Christmas, last year, go to General Discussions, page 3. The thread is entitled 'CHRISTMAS PAST.'
You may, of course, already have seen it.  oddly enough the thread started by Mandle, about the FWC, is four down from my post and is headed
'PLEASE HELP SAVE A LONG RUNNING AGS TRADITION.'

Once again, thanks for your kind words. 

Phew! Well done, Sinitrena. Thanks for taking on the responsibility. That must be the longest fortnight, ever 

I think that will be my first, and last, entry in the competition. You're too good for me. Now over to Baron....

Thank you, heltenjon, you are quite right. I did, wrongly, assume that Mandle was the regular host for the competition.

I remember reading a post by Mandle, a few months ago, asking people not to give up on the competition. I suppose I should have researched the
origins, before reaching the wrong conclusion.

If I offended anybody, I am sorry. This was not my intention.

So...as Mandle rides off into the sunset to establish himself as a writer of best sellers, I am wondering where that leaves the competition.

Is it all over?  A bit of an anti climax I must say.

I would like to thank Sinitrena and Baron for their kind remarks about my short but sweet entry.

It was a difficult decision to choose between Sinitrina and Baron and I would have liked to give one vote each, but I was over ruled.

Anyway, I think the Fortnightly Writing Competition is on it's last legs and, if not, might it be kinder to put it out of its misery 

Glad you are still with us, Mandle. So, I have to make a decision. Ugh!

Having read the entries, again, I have finally decided that Baron's story, being an amusing take on a  psychiatric couch situation, ending in what could be dire consequences, is my preference.

Therefore: Baron = 1 vote

Thanks for stepping up, Sinitrena. I do hope Mandle is okay and will grace us with his presence, soon.

I see your point about my entry being more concept or summary, but this was the first time I had entered the competition, so wasn't
sure if readers would have the staying power for anything too lengthy.

When Mandle suggested the title of STAGE FRIGHT and said it need not be a stage in the literal sense, it gave me an idea. What about a
Stage Coach in the starring role?  What I then wrote just fell into place. The fight for independence, the relocating, the learning of lines etc.
is designed to give a false impression, as I am sure you are aware. The Stage Coach arriving in town, carrying John Gresham, is the real
reason for her STAGE FRIGHT.

I enjoyed your story which was very well written. It really captured my imagination.

I read the story, written by Baron , to my son, and he guessed the ending. Personally, I had no idea. Clever concept, though.

I can't decide between these entries so can I cop out and give one point each 

Like the idea of the fifteenth word, Mandle. It's a good a way as any 
Having to judge entries, for a competition, must be very difficult. I wouldn't like the responsibility.

Thank you, Mandle.

I do hope there will be more entries, or it won't be much of a competition 

Molly stood by the thick, red, curtain twiddling a stray lock of auburn hair.  She knew her part well, exactly what she had to say, but she was understandably nervous.
There was still time to kill , before she would be required to deliver her lines, so she made her way through the assembled patrons, to the solace of her room. Pouring a
glass of whiskey, Molly snuggled into a comfy armchair by an open window. Sipping the golden liquid, she began to reflect on the circumstances that had led to her present
situation.

Back East life was boring for a fun loving eighteen year old girl, who longed for adventure. Dressing in satin and lace, attending tea parties, and pretending to be interested
in the advances of potential suitors, filled her with loathing. The part she played, however, just to keep the peace, was that of an obedient daughter, willing to comply with
her parents wishes. Therefore, it came as no surprise when her Mother announced, rather matter of factly, over breakfast one morning, that she would be betrothed to John
Gresham, the son of a prominent banker. He was twenty years older than Molly and had the charisma of a wet fish, so this unexpected news did not fill her with enthusiasm.
An engagement party was duly arranged. Local gentry arrived in droves to partake in the merriment and bear witness to this special occasion. The only person not celebrating
was Molly.

In the amount of time it had taken for John's pudgy, sweaty hand, to force the ill fitting diamond ring on her finger, she had packed her case and swiftly departed for pastures
anew. To be precise the wild west. She travelled with a kindly family, by wagon train. The hazardous journey took six months, red indian attacks were frequent, but when she
arrived at her destination she knew it had all been worthwhile. The dirt streets, the overwhelming smell of manure, and a cacophany of sounds, totally alien to a pampered
big city dweller, appealed to her senses. This was what she had always dreamed of.

The next few months were a whirl as Molly cast off the shackles of her previous existance. She rented a room at the Silver dollar Saloon, found employment and swapped
velvet and lace in favour of denim and leather.  The ring was dumped unceremoniously into a trinket tray on her dresser.

Unfortunately, for Molly, things were about to change. The Pinkerton Detective Agency had been hired by the Gresham family to track her down. This they had done. A telegraph
was received informing her that John would be coming to take her home.

That time was now. The sound of galloping hooves, alerted Molly. Rising from her chair she descended the stairs, walked through the saloon and out into the street,  as a team of
horses skidded to a halt. A slightly crumpled John alighted from the transport, looking her up and down disapprovingly. Clearing his dust filled throat, he stated his case, demanding
that his wife to be, accompanied him on the return journey. Molly stood her ground. Word perfect she delivered her well rehearsed lines, telling him in no uncertain terms that there
was no chance of his hopes being realised. She was happy in her new life and had no intention of leaving. The final insult was to return the ring. Realising that his beseeches were
in vain, John climbed back into the coach, instructing the driver to turn around.

Quite a crowd had gathered, obviously enjoying proceedings. They clapped appreciatively on the outcome. Molly bowed. Composing herself, she heaved a sigh of relief.
"Now that really was stage fright," she quipped. Then she burst into fits of laughter. 

Hear! Hear! Wham.  It is so nice to see that video gaming has really taken off over the last year. Far from being the bad influence, once thought, encouraging the
populus to get up to every unspeakable attrocity, it is now being recognised as a great stress reliever and a way to ward off altzeimers. An accolade rightly deserved   

As an avid games player/tester and not a game producer, I can't begin to tell you what admiration I have for such talented people.

I have the pleasure of being good friends with one of these individuals and am fully aware of the hours spent, hunched over a keyboard,
churning out thousands of lines of programming and endless art work, to deliver a polished product. 

It must be soul destroying, after all the effort invested, to witness a complete lack of interest in work that may have taken years to complete.
Of course, the publisher will probably say ' Never mind, I did it because I enjoy working on a project, not for the recognition.'

It must be very difficult to gauge what is a universally accepted game. Even well known companies are constantly updating early access titles,
because of constant criticism from players. One likes this, one likes that, another doesn't like anything. In consequence a perfectly good game
is eventually ruined by constant changes.

One of the problems, nowadays, is that people can't be bothered with a game that takes too much time to complete, solving puzzles etc. They
want something short and simple. Fortunately, I do not come under this category, and enjoy a challenge.

I have played many excellent AGS games and hope to play many more in the future abw. So, please, do not give up on your ventures, keep
releasing games, and make me a happy woman. You will have my everlasting gratitude 
   

Hi, KyriakosCH.
Are you saying that you have difficulties with javascript on the AGS site?  When you click the download button for a game it
doesn't take you to a download location?  For 'The Decorcist' try these links:

The Gamejolt Link
https://gamejolt.com/games/td/54398

Itch.io Link
https://j-soft.itch.io/the-decorcist

Let me know if you are successful in downloading this pretty awesome, brilliant, fan..... You get the gist 

I would like to suggest 'The Decorcist', KyriakosCH. It doesn't exactly meet your criteria, but has plenty of monsters that we all know and love/hate.
Also, it is more than 3 years old. Give it a try, if you haven't already. I enjoyed your story in the writing competition, by the way 

Ali, trolling is trying to start quarrels or upset people by posting inflammatory or off topic messages. I am not guilty of either of these.

I have simply tried to make light of heated exchanges that have taken place between members of the community.  It is not my fault
that nobody on here has a sense of humour.

I remember Darth saying, a while back, that he was concerned that new members may be put off of joining the site because of
the biterness towards certain people. I can certainly see where he was coming from.

That's quite right, Cassiebsg. However, I don't seem to be getting any. Whatever I say is wrong.

Yes, Blondbraid, Anna Sewell did bring the plight of horses to public attention and good on her for doing so. Fiction, therefore, can affect the way we see the world, but
certain individuals would still ill treat animals, because it is in their make up. I know that, like myself, you are an animal lover. If you remember in the Trumpmageddon
thread we were both horrified at the ill treatment of a manatee.

Games, to me, have always been just that. As I have said before, I play games such as Thief, Assassins Creed, Far Cry etc. for the pure enjoyment and never find
myself analyzing the characters or writing. It's a make believe world which, in my view, is far preferable to the real world.

You have strong beliefs on womens rights, and I admire your passion on the subject, but you can't  expect total agreement from everybody. As my Nan used to say:
'It wouldn't do for us all to be alike.'  It would be pretty boring if we were.

Well said, TheFrighter, I couldn't agree more. They are pixelated, drawn, computer graphics. Not to be confused with real life.

Did you see my post, a few hundred pages back, where I quoted what Alison Bechdel said about the test. It  makes interesting reading.