Veronica Wells Automaton Emporium (day 4)

Veronica Wells Automaton Emporium 
For Veronica, business was booming. It was the Christmas season, and people would be storming around everywhere trying to find the elusive "perfect gift". And Veronica Well's Automaton Emporium was a good supplier of those.
She learned the family trade early. At about six years old she showed an interest, and her mother and older brother gave her lessons, and soon she had her own army of tiny automatons. She inherited the shop by consensus of the family on her 21st birthday, and even now, she loved her work.
The shop had an orange-ish aura. It was made of dark wood, with wonderful ornate accents of acacia wood. There were stained glass windows making whimsical pictures, and lots of shelves, where automatons waited. They moved about, demonstrating their skills, and larger ones moved around she shop, greeting people. The shops counter was smooth and shiny, and the register was made all of copper. People lined up, automatons in hand, coin pouches ready.
Veronica smiles warmly at a new customer, a tan woman with choppy blonde hair. "Hello, mahm. Was everything satisfactory for you today?" "Yes, of course. What you do here is certainly amazing. My daughter will love it." Veronica pulls a lever on the register, opening a drawer with coins and ingots laid out in it. "Family business. Let me see what you have there..." she takes the automaton from the customer's hand. "Aha. Made this a couple days ago." A small automaton insect, geared-and enchanted-to be completely passive and act as a pet. "Ah. How does it work?" Veronica flips the thing over. "Okay, so, these are enchanted to focus its affections onto one master-so your daughter. She has to hold it in her hand and press the button, here, on it's head. Its eyes will light up for a second, and then boom-she's its owner. It can go into sleep mode on its own, but if you want it to go into a little shut down-well, just flip this switch, here." She pokes at a tiny bronze switch. She places the automaton back on the counter. "That'll be 6 gold coins, please. Would you like a small box for it?" "Yes, please." Veronica pulls a tiny replica of a steamer trunk, opening it, and carefully placing the automaton in the box. It trills, and whirs. "Thank you for coming here." She smiles at the customer, who smiles back. "Thank you, so much!" The customer pulls open the door, and walks out, smiling. "Next," Veronica calls.
After a day of work, she serves the last customer and wearily sighs. "At least it's Friday." She flips the "Open!" Sign to "Closed! Sorry!", turns off the automatons, and marches upstairs, into her living quarters.
She passes through her study, gears and unfinished projects mingling with pages of sketch paper. She enters her bedroom, flopping down on the bed, not even bothering to change.
But her bliss was interrupted. A loud tok-tok-tok sound came from her study, causing her to snap back to reality. She glances at the grandfather clock.
"One AM? Now? Why now?" She sighs and gets out of bed.
On her desk sat her latest development, a human-like automaton with an enchanted free-will gear. She was going to market it as a babysitting automaton. Every night, in between midnight and dawn, it started to tick like this. But the worst part was that Veronica couldn't figure out why. She sits down, moving the thing onto her main workspace. It seemed to stare right into her with its empty eye sockets, waiting for the glass eye delivery to arrive. She sighs. "Alright, little bot, why are you doing this?" She mutters to herself, and it, as she uses a screwdriver to open the panel of its back. She fiddles with the gears a bit, which used to always stop the annoying sound. But tonight, it did not. She even tries moving one of the key enchanted gears to a whole different place, but that did nothing. She groans. "Gods, why tonight? I am so tired." She closes up the back panel and opens up the one on the head.
Still nothing.
She fiddles for an hour, finally exhausted enough to give up. But then, something happens.

The automaton stands up.

Veronica jumps out of her chair, backing away. Its head moves around, taking in its surroundings. She felt around with her hands for something to use as a weapon, not taking her eyes off of the thing.
It's head turns, facing her.
Her hand rests on a heavy golden candlestick. She should have known better then to grant it one extra intelligence gear and free will. It opens its jaw, unfinished voice box warping its words. "You keep us still. You sell us for profit. We are going to fight back." Suddenly she hears a powering-up sound, and things start moving in the shop part of the house. She somehow knew what it did-it called its friends. All her automatons were awake now. She grabs hold of the candlestick, tightly, in both hand and starts to run, down the stairs. But two of her biggest automatons guarded the door out. Even the smallest of robots seemed more malicious now, now that the lights were off, and now that she was scared of them.
The automaton from upstairs rustily climbs down the stairs. It successfully lands at the bottom, standing there. All of them watched her.
Then, they all took a step towards her, at once.
They stepped forward again.
Veronica wanted to swing the candlestick, to destroy the creatures, anything, but she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to destroy her work, her very life, her drive and her purpose. She just couldn't. She sobs, dropping down onto her knees, candlestick rolling away from her.
"I'm sorry," were her last words.

The Train to Midnight (day 3)

The Train to Midnight

Lily hated trains. She hated everything modern, everything new. Yet there she was. The Seer had told her to take this train.

It was approximately midnight. Everyone else on the train was probably fast asleep. Except for one man, sitting across from her-a professional-looking one, in a suit and a top hat. He had no monocle, but it seemed like it would suit him. Lily studied him with her stormy eyes, under her spectacles, taking care not to call any attention to herself. She liked to study people. She found untold stories interesting, and liked to think up why they looked like they did, why they were in that place, why they were doing the thing that they were doing. His eyes were gazing out the locomotive's window, as if searching for something unreachable, and he looked steely and cold.

She stands up. The only good thing about trains is how vast they are, she thinks to herself; and it was true. She was in one of twenty "commonroom cars", where there were benches and little eating tables. People ate there. She enters another car, one of uncountable compartment cars. Each passenger had their own compartment, with a little bed in the wall, a desk, a bookshelf (stocked, thank goodness), and a small trunk for clothes. Lily didn't unpack her sparse belongings. She kept them in her steamer trunk, the one she found in the attic of the orphanage. It was sage green with copper accents, and it smelled like old books.

Each compartment had their own window. Each window had a view of blurs. Right now they were midnight-coloured blurs. In the morning, it would be green blurs. It was all trees and grass, out here, and it would be until the train arrived at its destination.

She pulls a book off of the bookshelf, a promising fantasy, and exits her compartment. She locks it, a satisfying clunk, and sits back down on the same bench, crossing her legs.
She reads. twisting the chain of her pendant idly. After a few minutes, however, she got the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. She looks up. Sure enough, top-hat man was staring at her. He smiles, slowly; a smile that seemed to say just you wait. 

Lily decides to go to sleep.

She woke at nine o'clock precisely, as usual. She changes out of her nightgown, into a simple pair of leggings and a teal tunic. They would take around the breakfast cart soon. She enters one of the commonroom cars, full of people, making small talk, laughing. She searches for a seat.

Oh, joy.

The only seat left was across from top hat man, who wasn't wearing his top hat anymore. He was bald. She uncomfortably sits down, waiting.

The breakfast cart came around. The usual train food, bread and cheese, and a small bit of smoked fish. At least it came with tea.

Lily picks at the food, finishing the tea, and watches the man proceed to finish everything. She stands up, about to leave, but he takes her wrist.

Suddenly, it's midnight again. Nobody else is there. He gestures for her to sit down. She does so, slowly. His eyes-something was off. They weren't normal eyes, but Lily couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong. "What do you want?" She asks, surprisingly calm. "Your pendant." Her free hand instinctively goes to her neck, fiddling with the chain. "Why? It's of no value. It isn't even enchanted." She then realizes what was wrong with his eyes-his pupils weren't round; they were like a cats. He grins, digging his fingers even harder into her wrist. "That's where you're wrong." That's where Lily was lying-she knew what her pendant could do. And it was not the first time someone tried to steal it. It was, however, the first time a Netherspawn had tried to. "Give it to me, and I won't kill you and everyone else on this train." "Don't threaten me." "Try to stop me." "Believe me, I will." She wrenches her wrist out of its grip, standing up and backing away. It chuckles. "You don't know what it can do. You can't escape me." It starts to walk towards her, hissing. Lily calmly undoes the chain. "See, that's where you're wrong." The stone in the center of the pendant starts to glow blue. "Liar!" It screams, stopping short and starting to back away. Blue runes composed of light start to spill out, concentrating on the demon.

It screams, before disintegrating. 

"That's what you get for trying to mess with the guardian of the temple to the First," She says, before snapping her fingers. People reappear, and it is daytime again.

(KIND OF EXPLANATION THINGY: I wanted to base one of the stories on one of the characters in my main project, The Silver Dragon. The First is the father figure of the gods, basically the Zeus of the religion in this universe. He spawned out of nothing and created everything, basically. And Lily guards his temple/is his squire. Yeah. It's weird. But I really wanted to write this as a story. Sorry if it mega sucks.)

I Come From The Lake (day 2)

I Come From The Lake
I walked along a path, a path of pebbles, the path to the lake. Lake of Marie, where I loved to fish, and swim. There are all manners of creatures in the lake, fish and otherwise. Some magical, some not. Some aggressive, some not. It depends. They all look different, too-some are big and scaly while others resemble jelly flobbering around in the water.
But I don't go there anymore.
The interesting thing about Lake of Marie was that all around its beach is a band of oak trees, created by something unknown, according to the history books. I'd always loved the Trees, they would always get me excited, for the day. But something was different, that day, something that I couldn't see; but I could tell something was going to happen.
My fishing pole was in my hand, as I passed through the Trees. Attached to my belt was a small bucket, full of bugs and worms and such, for bait. I was ready for a day of fishing.
I broke through the Trees, onto the sand of the beach. But I was right. Something was different. There was someone else there. See, most people don't visit the Lake because of the ghost stories. Fortunately, then, I didn't believe in them.
As I was saying, someone else was there. She was young, only about six or seven years old. And pale. She was very pale. She had long blonde hair, almost past her waist, and it was tangled. I looked for a parent, anybody, but there was nobody. "Hello, there, little girl? Where are your parents?" I foolishly called, Walking down the beach, towards her. I felt a concern in my heart for this random girl that I only learned later could have been fatal. she could have dragged me down with her. "They're gone," she called back, simply. She wore the normal clothes that village girls wore then, except they were all white. "You shouldn't be here alone. You should go home. They're probably worried sick about you." Her eyes wide, she smiles, an enigma. "I am home." "Where do you come from?" "I come from the lake." I smiled. The little girl was obviously playing some sort of game, I thought. She wasn't. "Watch your back," She said, then ran away, down the beach. I decided not to chase after her, let her have her fun, and I settled down for a day of fishing.
I caught only one interesting thing (besides the usual salmon)-an old, purple boot.
The next day I decided to go back and see if the girl was there again. She was. I smiled. "What's your name, little girl?" "People used to call me Maria," She replies. Her feet were bare, today, and her dress was torn in one area, and smudged with dirt. "But now they run away." I grinned. "I wonder why?" "Because I come from the lake." She sat down, picking up pebbles and throwing them into the lake. I fish, again, and that time something more interesting happened. I felt a tug on my line, something stronger then anything, and it caused me to sprawl on my front. I almost lost my fishing rod. The girl-Maria?-giggles. "He likes you." "Who's he?" "Oh, he doesn't have a name, But he comes from the lake." "Oh." To be honest, she was starting to freak me out with the "I come from the lake" thing. I decided to let it pass.
She stayed with me the entire day.
When the sun started to set, I decided to go home. "I'll be here tomorrow," She said, and stood up. I nodded. We left it at that.
Surprise, surprise, she was there the next day. This time I didn't bring my fishing rod, just a small basket and a blanket to spread out on the sand. I did so, inviting her to sit. I opened the basket. "I got you sweets. Kids seem to like sweets. Do you like them?" She nods, and I hand her a box of them. After a while I noticed she was leaving behind one specific type of sweet, saltwater taffy. "Who don't you like those?" "They aren't like the lake." "Oh." I watched her eat. She ate slowly, enjoying the candy.
After awhile the box was empty, leave the taffies. "Glad you liked them," I said, taking the box back. "I did. Nobody brings me sweets anymore. They all run away." "Why?" "Oh, a little while ago, I drowned. And now I live in the lake." I was taken aback, understandably. She stands up. "I have to go. I have to go home. Back to the lake. It was nice to meet you." I stood up, concerned. "No, don't go! Hey wait! Come back!" I tried to chase after her, but she ran, down the beach, into the water, not stopping to look back, going deeper until her head went under. I scramble, running, getting atop a rock pile for higher ground.
All I could see of her was a smudge of white, her dress and such. She seemed to be deeper than she could have been, running in a dress in the water, and such. She was lying on the bottom. Just lying there. All around her I saw shadows, presumably the fish that get scarier the deeper you go. But the shadows ignored her. I watched, breathless, helpless, for a while and I was about to go home when something caught my eye.
A huge shadow. The size of fifty houses or more. It swam towards her, moving its great head, taking her in its gaping mouth, a tiny white dot compared to its bulk. But instead of devouring her it gently held her there, taking her downstream. I watched the shadow of its tail until it disappeared, into the distance.
Then I realize-the box of sweets. I was nice to her, and that was why she didn't take me down with her. I would have been eaten by that thing. 

Safe to say, I don't fish there anymore.
And now, I believe in ghosts.

The Four Judges (day 1)

The Four Judges
Nobody would look at me, talk to me, acknowledge me, as we rode along in the prisoner's coach. I begged for eye contact, but nobody seemed to know I was there. The bench was uncomfortable and outside the rain poured, making pit-pating sounds on the wooden roof.
I could face my fate now, knowing that I avenged my family.
The four armored guards around me, swords in hand, were steely and cold. I look at each of them in turn. Nothing. They were putting their blinders on, I suppose, so that they wouldn't be "tainted by my evil aura". I thought that their job was to kill anyone who dared do anything wrong, but I thought wrong. In the words of Ratman, the jailer, I would be facing something much, much worse.
The cart stopped, abruptly. They stand up, one beckoning for me to follow suit, and I struggle up, hands chained. One of them took my arm. As if I'd try to escape, now.
We exit the roofed cart, bright light making me wish I could shield my eyes. after a week of underground dungeon darkness, this was a change-a welcome change, or an unwelcome, I couldn't tell. But we marched on, across uneven sage green grass. Their armor made clunks, my boots made no sound. I had been silenced.
We stop next to a short stone tower, no windows. On either side of a heavy-looking door were banners, white, yet misty red, with a black skull.
The trademark of unwelcome justice, if I remembered.
One of the guards held my arm while one of the others unchained my hands. The third one looked me in the face, for the first time. "You will now go through the Judging process. Once you enter there is no turning back until you are finished. The first Judge is the Keeper of the Justice. He shall talk to you for a bit and you will answer honestly. Then, when he is done judging, you climb up the ladder. On either side of another ladder there are two statues, and once you see a sign you may go up, you may. The fourth judge...well, you'll be surprised." He grinned, a dark, intelligent sparkle in his eyes. "Good luck."
Somebody pushed me towards the door, ad I pull it open.
Sitting on a throne was a young man, bearded, and wearing a golden circlet with a scale carved out of bloodstone in the center of it. He smiles, surprisingly jolly. "Well, hello there. Why are you here? You seem nice." I take a breath in. "I killed three people." "Well then, that wasn't nice, was it?" After a few seconds, I realized the question wasn't rhetorical. "It may not have been morally accepted but they killed my family. All of them, except for me." "Interesting, interesting...tell me, why did you think you'd get away with it?" "I didn't." He smiles, something in his eyes that i couldn't decipher. "You are a very interesting case. You may proceed to the Statues." I bow my head, and climb up a ladder.
I didn't expect them to be scary, but they were. Two statues, again carved out of bloodstone; on either side of the ladder up. One of them had a screaming face, agony showing plainly; yet it's eyes were staring straight into mine, almost as if they could see into my very soul. The other showed fear, instead of pain, yet again, the strangely calm and staring eyes. I stood still for a few seconds, until something started.
All around me I heard disbodied, scattered whispers. They echoed around in my brain, and my mind slowly started to think, think about what I had done. I still yet felt no remorse. I heard an echo of the woman's screams, ad I pressed the knife to her cheek. I heard a baby crying. Soon, I was curled up in a ball, hands on my ears, screaming something untranslatable; though I suppose it was "make it stop". Then, it did. All of the sounds melted away, and the eyes of the statues closed, suddenly, making me shudder.
I tentatively stood up, shaking, and climb up the ladder.
I was in a cramped room; but something was different. Above me was a hole in the roof, and wind howled, swirling around. The sky was full of black clouds, foreboding, warning. I look down, and gasp.
All around were mirrors. Mirrors of every shape and size. You could barely see the stone. Everywhere I looked I saw myself, eyes wild, hair mussed. I was thin and waifish, a side effect of imprisonment, I suppose.I spun around, scared, wondering.
Then, in all of my reflections, hands popped from the ground; dead hands, I could tell. I heard the woman's scream again, and it echoed in my head, rattling. "No," I whispered, as the hands grasped my ankles, my shoes. The full weight of what I had done hit me, suddenly, like a rock, and I was sinking, slowly down, into the river.
A rumbly, demonic voice echoes around, as the wind howls. "You are not innocent."
The very last thing I hear is my scream.

So I'm doing this thing

Starting today, every day for one week I will post one short story. This is because I have writer's block that no amount of reading or tea (my usual fixes) can heal, and so I'm forcing myself to write. Here are some tidbits of info for those wanting to know more:
*The lengths will vary.
*I don't usually do sequels to short ones, however...
*...mostly all of the stories will be set in my slightly-based-on-Minecraft fictional universe, so prepare for mentions of things like Queen Redbird Flightwing-Brine (my main gal) and Ender magyk.
*If I like this I may do more. Maybe I'll shoot for every day for a month. Who even knows.
*There will be no art because I SUCK at drawing. You may say "naww you're probably good!" but no. I suck. It's widely accepted. The best I can get is a successful koi fish. And even then, it's lopsided.
*Prepare for NO modern fiction.
*And most of all, hold onto your seats, because I'm about to start writing the first one.

Book lovers unite.

Hey. In celebration of the fact that I have 4 fresh hardcovers in my room that I haven't even opened yet (which makes me happy), I decided to write some of a book lovers greatest pains.
*People who FOLD CORNERS DON'T DO THAT.
*When you borrow/buy a nice-looking, safe book, and BOOM-"to be continued".
*When you say "oh yeah, I finished the series in like 2 weeks" and people look at you funny. I have my own library card and a hunger for what happens next, lord knows I'll use those.
*I once was talking to my friend about PJO/HoO and our mutual friend came up to us and asked us what we were talking about, we replied books. She said "Oh. I hate reading". People like that.
*People who don't start 9 books at a time.
*People who remove their dust jackets.
*The inflating rate of hardcovers.
*Going to Chapters without money.
*Books are great. Writing them is frustration.
And that, was a fellow book-lover's point of view!

How to make simple (like, really simple) 1-bead crochet bracelets

Hell-ooooooooooooooooooo people of the internet aether! I sat down today and said "well, Gwen, you are going to learn how to make beaded crochet bracelets." And did, because that's how I do. Here's a picture:

So here is how to make them.
Materials:                     Other things needed:                    Abbreviations:
Yarn                             Scissors                                         ch: chain                                
Beads                                                                                 yo: yarn over                                      
A crochet hook

Stepo uno: First, you must pick up a bead (for instructions on how do do this, see human instinct). Then string it onto your yarn. Since I do not have a very big yarn stash, I had to use pony beads with bigger holes, because my yarn is really thick. Whatever works for you. Make a slipknot.

It'sa me, step Twosio: Now, this pattern assumes that you know how much to chain to fit your wrist. This pattern is rude like that. For my 12-year-old wrists it's ch 24. So now I would chain 12. "BUT WAIT, GWEN!" you might say. "WHAT ABOUT THE BEAD?" Slide your bead calmly down your working yarn, I'd say calmly. Not too far, but far enough that when you yo to make your chain, you are yoing (it's a verb now, didn't you hear?) below the bead.

Step Duobus (latin): For your (assuming you ch 24 to make your bracelet. A lot of assuming in this pattern) 13th chain, you will slide the bead down as close to your previous 12 ch as you can. Then when you yo to make your chain, yo above the bead. That should fasten the bead to your bracelet. Now, chain your remaining 12.

第二步: I usually chain another one to make a good knot. Take your hook out of your loop, now enlarge your loop a teeny weeny leeny zeeny beet. (If you prefer to sautee your tiny beets, that's fine too.) Cut your yarn leaving a small tail, feed that tail through your loop, and pull tight, Now tie your ends (the end of the slipknot as well) in a very tight knot. Snip your ends or weave them into your chains, whichever,

Tu as finis. I told you it was simple.
Ideas:
Make a stack in contrasting colours of your outfit so that you are FAB.
Make with shaped beads, like stars and hearts. Use thinner yarn to use smaller beads.
Try a button.
Try a washer/nut.
Make with many beads. I made one once with every single chain having a bead.
Make and give to your friends!
This is a long shot, but if you have a wooden button/flat bead, you can write or draw something on it to make a personalized bracelet.

Remember-anything goes! Make tons of 'em and if you don't like 'em give 'em away! 'Em 'em 'em 'em. I like 'em. Yes, I do.
And that, was Gwen's point of view!