A nice and sweet short. Shorts like this have a cozy feel to them.

That was beautiful. Thank you.

Bittersweet, yet so heartwarming...

>>1961
Sorry, mate, but no dice. I was provoked into writing the first short, and goaded into the second one, and while I do provoke easily, that's as far as this line goes. There are other things waiting my time and pen. Keyboard. Whichever. And they've waited long.
My only regret is this flowered affection for dullahans under willows. Who's going to name Benben their favourite DDC now?
>>1960
>subtlety
That's funny. Always fancied myself more of an "on the nose" sort of wordsmith.

That was good.

Cant really offer much else.

>>1965
It's fine. I'm just glad people are appreciating the Banki. Cheers, bossu.

I don't care that I'm too late for a Christmas story, that was really good!

The underrated characters really are the best. Shame no Mystia though, but I can appreciate the best umbrella youkai around.

>>1944
<3

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

The flat of my tongue licks the roof of my mouth. The meat didn't actually melt under my teeth back then, but I now had a craving for dragon that probably wouldn't be fulfilled. My method of cooking that kind of meat leaves it chewy. But it's still tender enough that it doesn't make your mouth sore. Mudo also had a way with seasonings that leaves the spice lingering in your mouth. It wasn't a hot spice, but a herbal spice that rises into your nose.

The dreams are becoming more vivid.

“So,” Lady Patchouli peers over her book at me across her table, “these are the books that might interest you the most.”

“Thank you, Lady Patchouli.” I take the book from Koakuma, who closes her eyes and smiles as she hands me several books. The pile isn't heavy, though there are easily over five hundred pages together.

“Seven hundred thirty three pages.” Lady Patchouli turns a page. “Of which, twenty eight are most relevant to your condition. If you'd like, I can have Koakuma show you.”

“Who is showing something here?”

I turn my head behind me as much as I can. “Milady Remilia! Excuse me for using the library in my spare time.” The words come as naturally as breathing.

“It's fine.” Lady Remilia sits to the left of Lady Patchouli. “The library is a place where everyone comes to learn. What they learn is their own business,” She eyes the books in my arms, “so as I'm a good mistress, I don't meddle in personal affairs.”

Magnificent. A really well written, bittersweet story, thank you for writing this.

That's okay... I just wanted to wash my eyes from the inside anyway...

That was great.

I didn't laugh that hard in a long time.

Absolutely amazing.
I demand more.

------------

The evening sun is beginning to set as two figures are walking into the forest. Near the edge of the trees, one looks back to the castle as a faint roar of frustration echoes about the grounds. "…Did you hear that?"

"I'm sure that one of the Merman are mad that their prize dabberblimps were lost." The blonde turns back and smiles at Harry as he follows after her. "They are rather aggrieved when they wander off to lay in the sun, after all. They have to let their sacks to dry out. If they're too soggy, they won't be able to float."

"…I'm sure that is all that it is." Harry shakes his head. "I'm rather sure it came from the castle."

"The merman is quite the ventriloquist."

"I'll take your word for it." Harry shakes his head and speeds up, catching back up to the girl. "So, where exactly are we taking your little friend, Luna?"

"Back home, of course. She did wander quite a long way."

"But how did you even find her in the first place?"

The round object in her lap turns up and shoots a glare at Luna. "I told you ten times already! My name is SEKI!"

"Such a sweet girl, isn't she?" Luna pats the disembodied head. "But as it was, I could hardly leave her here. Nearly Headless Nick was disappointed at the sight, saying that he was rather jealous."

"What a freak… You think that a ghost would be able to take care of that trivial thing!"

"…Aren't you just a disembodied head?"

"I'm a Rokurokubi, not some human. I'm a vicious man-eating monster!"

"Aww, don't say such things." Luna rubs the back of the head's head, right near the bow. "You're such a doll, so don't say things like that. You might give Harry a bad impression."

"I think she's already succeeding…" The head closes its eyes a bit as it gets rubbed, but the moment that Harry speaks it snaps them back open and glares at him. "So, erm… she lives in the forest? Is it wise to be going here at this time of day?"

"Well, not until we get lost. Once we don't know where we are, we'll be fine." Luna just smiles. "Besides, the Forbidden Forest does have a nice atmosphere. It helps the thestral's and their lovely coats."

After reading this, I'm not sure if I should drink more or less.

Good job.

Fighting scenes are one of the hardest things to translate to text, but it seems like you did a good work. I like it.

Descriptions are key and you have enough-but empty dialog lines are a pet peeve of mine. I'd say that they should be integrated to the story; at least with a short sentence explaining the tone and feelings that those words are trying to convey.

Boom! The sound of thunder resonates through the hospice room as I slowly open up my eye. Rain hitting the roof of the building with small thuds. Sitting in a chair not too far from my bed is the girl from earlier, Aya was it? It’s hard to tell from the rain but it appears to be nighttime outside and I don’t even know what day it...Is that a calendar? I squint my good eye to try and see through the darkness to the other side of the room where there appears to be a paper calendar situated to the left of the window. Bah! I can’t even tell what those symbols mean, I must be running low on spirit reserves. Sending a mental ping to check my power reserves they are indeed low probably spent making sure I didn't die, barely functioning in fact, however that isn’t the only reason.

A small gap in my spirit energies tells me one of them is made manifest around here. It's strange that one of them would manifest themselves outside of combat situations so this must have been important for them.

A small whimpering comes from the left of the bed. I shift slightly to get a closer look, and peer over the edge. Leaning against the bed huddling in a small ball is my dear Siara, my spirit of water, crying.

This girl is my manifestation of the water spirit, these spirits come in many different forms, depending on the relation between the elementalist and the spirit. For me, Siara is a small girl of eastern origin. She has long black hair that reaches down to her waist, and stands roughly a meter tall. She has eyes the color of crystal clear water, and wears an all blue dress with wave patterns riddled across its surface. You could say I treat her like a daughter. She is a real cry baby but I can’t bring myself to be hard on her compared to the other spirits because of it.

She continues to stifle small tears as I gently whisper to her and ask what's wrong?

She jumps a bit, as if not expecting me to even be conscious right now. Collecting herself she stands up, her head barely able to look over the bed and turns to look at me. "Well umm... The other spirits and myself were worried about your conditions. You seem to be taken care of rather well but we haven&

Post to another board

New thread is here; >>/others/62265

Today is not a good day.

...

I made it home.

It took me a long time to recover enough to pick up a pen.

Minutes, maybe hours passed while I just sat there and tried to breathe.

My heart felt like it would explode if I lost concentration for just one second.

My heartbeat felt too fast, more like a continuous stream rather than individual beats.

But, here I am now.

The first time I encountered the snow maiden, I had just turned ten years old.

I had run away from home. In the excitement of my younger brother being born, and the anger of my older brother being caught stealing, my parents had forgotten about my own birthday. I had been replaced, I thought, and this time I decided to run away for real. Not just to the shed out back, or to the school where I played hide and seek with our friends. I packed myself two meals, a change of clothes, and I left my home. I walked until the village gates, and then walked some more. I walked past the farms, and away from the trails to the shrine or mountains. I walked far away from the safety of the village. I walked into what I knew was the domain of youkai, but I didn't care. I just wanted to run away, as far as I could go.
By the time the sun began to set, I was already hopelessly lost. I had no idea where I was. I didn't know of any landmarks or features I could use to get my bearings. All I saw around me was short grass, tall trees, and great mountains. I sat down to eat the food I had brought, and as the sun set and the winter night began to replace it, I grew cold. The clothes I was wearing were too light. I took out the spare clothes I had brought and wrapped them around myself to keep warm. It was then that I started to panic. With the night came darkness, and with the darkness came fear of what lied beyond the pale moonlight. My imagination ran wild with tales of youkai, and the horrific fates of those who encountered them. I began frantically running, searching for anything that I might be able to use as shelter before the last glimmer of light faded. To me, in that moment, a hollowed tree trunk looked like the inviting arms of my mother. I regretted running away as I holed up inside it, and slept through the night unharmed.

The next morning, it began to snow. The cold winter didn't care that I was out here. As the snow began to blanket the ground, I was no longer able to even tell what way I had come to get here, and my mad dash the previous night cost me all sense of direction. I finished the last of the food I had brought, and left the comforting shelter that the tree hollow provided. A

She hefted me to my feet, and I'd be a liar if I said that lying there on the ground was good for me. But standing was worse.

“You're not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?” She brushes the broken glass off my shirt, and I groan. I'd jumped through the window after breaking it with a convenient rock, tripped, and landed on the broken glass face-first. And thankfully I missed the broken glass with my face.

“So. Sit down and let's do something about that glass in your arms. Then you will explain things to me.” I'm frogmarched to a chair by a surprisingly strong girl with rabbit ears, and she sits me down.

While she plucks out the glass from my arm and applies (probably-deliberately) overly-stinging peroxide to the cuts, she prompts me to explain what made me break into her pharmacy. During the middle of the day. When she was just in the back for something.

“I, I, got a problem.”

“No shit,” she replies.

“I needed my fix.”

“Fix of what? Aspirin? Sulfa drugs? You get high off beta blockers, kid?”