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How are we getting on, gang?

@mkennedy might be onto something, but I've got another angle.

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The brain.

It contains food for thought.
But there are no doors

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I think I've got it.

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The sea!

It's full of edible fish, but there are no doors in and out of the sea.

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Here's an old one.

A house full of food
with no door.

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Nuthouse

Nuts are a kind of food, and there are no doors in the sense that they're not allowed out.

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Well done to @OneDollar for an emphatic win. I'll be in touch about coming up with a new theme for June.

And thanks for all the votes, everyone. 18 is a recent record. I can't remember the last time we had that many votes.

I had no idea it was still going. I had an account at one point but rarely used it. I was all about MSN Messenger.

I really love the style.

I do think the text looks a bit hard to read against the backgrounds, but other than that it looks great.

Here are my promised comments about the stories. I liked all of them, and really enjoyed this round.

Rootbound

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I liked this a lot. It's a well-told tale, full of gorgeous visual treats. I'm not 100% sure what (if anything) it's supposed mean. Was it an allegory of the main character's decent into depression, or their reluctant acceptance of the need to conform, or something else?

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Wham

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This is a really good idea and I love the image of Jan and his three reflections all interacting with each other. To me, though, it felt like the opening chapter to something longer. The story ended just when things were about to start happening. I can only imagine all the hijinks that our Jans get up to in order to achieve their goals. Such a set-up could make for a great puzzley adventure game.

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Baron

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This has a real spooky creepypasta/urban legend vibe to it, which I love. And it ends on a creepy note, which is as much a cliffhanger to a first chapter or a prologue as it is the ending to a short story. You've built such a strong world with Hannah and her particular traits and her awkward relationship with the other girls, that it's hard not to expect more action and drama beyond what we get in this short snippet.

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Mandle

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Despite being the longest of the bunch, this one kept me hooked. A lot of great ideas, some nice little twists and an intresting character.
If anything, there's just a little bit too much to think about. But I only see that as potential, rather than a problem. This could easily be turned into a novel (I was getting low-key 'House of Leaves' vibes from it) and given space to breathe. After reading this, my mind was racing with all the possibilities.

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Thanks for everyone's comments and feedback about my story.

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It seems that not everyone cottoned onto the fact that the stranger in the laundrette was actually her reflection. It was never meant to be a big Shyamalanian "twist" as such, but neither was it meant to be ambiguous, hence the pointed reference to the one door at the beginning and the two doors at the end.

My first draft had the character 'Neva' walking away at the end feeling uplifted that the girl in the laundrette had made her feel beautiful again (Neva, being the mirror version of Aven), and that was to be the big on-the-nose 'ta-da', but I dropped it for a more subtle approach.

I did, however, learn in my research of mirror names, that Lana is Anal backwards.

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imagination?

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Confidence?

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I've read the stories and am still putting together some feedback. But I wanted to get my votes in while I have a chance.

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Mandle (The Halt) 2 pts.
Rootbound (Can you see into my stomach?) 1 pt.

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I'm interested to know how everyone got on with today's (1062).

Wordle 1,062 X/6*
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[Just Look at You]

Just Look at You

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Aven nudged open the door of the dimly-lit laundrette and poked her head in. Empty. Good. She didn't like to come at night, but it was the only way to avoid other people. She pushed her Ikea bag full of laundry through the establishment's only entrance and, ensuring her scarf was properly fastened over the bottom half of her face, she made her way to the middle machine, equal distance between the large plate-glass window at the front of the shop and the horizontal mirror that ran partially along the back wall.

She lived in the apartment block across the street, which had its own laundry room for residents. But it was far too bright in there, and had three huge mirrors. At least here, it was dim enough that even if she caught an accidental glimpse of herself in the mirror, or the window, or a warped reflection in one of the machine doors, at least it wouldn't be so easy to see her own repulsive physiognomy glaring back at her.

"Hi there," a woman's voice called from near the back and scared the living shit out of Aven, to the extent that the woman also jumped.

"Sorry," said Aven, "I thought I was alone."

"Well, we are, aren't we? In this city. We're all alone."

"I suppose so..." Aven didn't feel much like talking and turned to open the washing machine door. She hated that she came across as rude, but the instinct to shield her face outweighed the need for pleasantries.

"What brought you to the city?" said the woman.

Aven continued piling her clothes and linen into the machine. "How do you know I wasn't born here?"

"Because everyone who's actually born here leaves."

"I came here for work," was all she said, still not facing her interlocuter.

"I came here to start a modelling career," the woman said. Aven's ears pricked up.

"Actually, so did I," Aven admitted, she straightened, finally turning cautiously to face the stranger, who, it seemed in the low light, had face coverings of her own.
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It was true. Aven had moved from a small village in the Irish countryside. She was always such a pretty little thing, and was informed of this by well-meaning parents, teachers and friends on a daily basis since she could remember. Well, "obviously" she was going to "escape" the village and "make something" of herself. "Just look at you!"

And so, almost as soon as she'd turned 18, she moved to the city and got modelling jobs thrusted at her from all directions the minute she stepped off the train. She was spoilt for choice.

Less than a week later, on her way home from a photoshoot with a high-end make-up brand, she was mugged and stabbed in the face four times. The job offers dried up immediately. Nobody wanted those scars in any magazines or catalogues. She spent a few days in hospital, where only her parents visited, once, then returned to Ireland to recoup at the family home for a while. She'd only been away from the village for ten days, but suddenly it seemed everyone was too busy to meet her. One evening, she went to The Wheel, and when she walked in, a thick silence crumpled the air around her. To their credit, her friends Georgia and Nicki called her over and rescued her from total humiliation. But even then, there was a lot of "poor thing" and "did it hurt?" Of course, nobody called her pretty anymore. Those days were over.

The same night, she decided to remove the bandages, slightly earlier than the doctor had suggested. Facing the bathroom mirror, she slowly unwrapped the gauze, half expecting – hoping, even –  that she might be invisible beneath it. Instead, there were more plasters, which she peeled off, wincing as bolts of pain shot through her lower face. And then she opened her eyes, and screamed. A repugnant troll grinned back at her, its crusty mouth dripping from ear to ear.

Her parents found her curled up on the bathroom floor, still screaming.
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She moved back to the city, where nobody knew her, and took whatever work she could get that didn't involve having to show her face to anyone, least of all herself. She avoided her reflection at all costs, lest that hideous ogre be there staring back at her.

In the dimness of the laundrette, and with the dark scarf covering the stranger's face, Aven could barely see, but she felt the woman eyeing her with curiosity to match her own. "What happened to you?" Aven asked her.

The woman didn't reply. Instead, she took a step closer to Aven, who reciprocated the gesture. "Your eyes glow," she told Aven. "Can I see your face?"

Aven's heart pounded as she moved her hand up to her face. She was nervous. Who was this person? Aven was overcome with an urge to see the stranger's face, and to show her own face to the stranger. She didn't have to wait long. The woman gripped her scarf and lowered it below her chin, revealing four lumpy, grisly scars around her lower mouth.

"You are so beautiful," Aven said to the woman. She didn't know why but her eyes were welling up.

"So are you," the woman responded. Aven hadn't even realised she'd also removed her own coverings. A great sense of relief washed over her, and she wept.

The two women stared at each other for the duration of their laundry cycle, laughing, crying and showing each other their scars. When their laundry was ready, they composed themselves and folded their clothes in contented silence. They turned to one another one last time before leaving the laundrette, faces uncovered, through different exits.

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Mine is written, I just need to do another pass of editing before submitting.

Absolutely, @speksteen. It's great to see what people are woking on.

I've fixed the links. Thanks for reporting them.

Thanks cat.

Not sure how that happened, but I think it's somehow related to me doing the table in my iPhone's Notes app and pasting it from there.

Stupot, those links don't seem to work for me?

Thanks for the heads up. I'll sort it out in the morning. I think the forum butchered them when I ran them through the 'preview'.

[Barn Runner: Fashionably Late(MAGS Version)]

Time to vote.
Please use the poll above.

	Barn Runner: Fashionably Late (MAGS Version) by Ponch
	Steeplejack by GOC Games
	Sherwood by Radiant
	In Our Midst by OneDollar

As always, please let me know if I've missed anything.

No, that wasn't finished at all. Count me out of this one, I did find time to yank a new module and a little ags, but unfortunately couldn't fit a game, too many things happened outside of ags this month.

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setting up a nursery here.

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Thanks for letting me know.

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and congratulations

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There's a BBC game show called Only Connect (pretty sure my cousin's been on it. He's been on a few), which is essentially the same game.

Sometimes it's really hard, other times it's so easy you think it must be a trick.