Thank you for 1000 days and many, many more

August

Our unmoving leader

567koala

Moving captain, Brahmin

Morgeta

Brahmin

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Now freed from jail!!!!

"King of the Eternal Dalits"

1ST PLACE:

Urchin, Pigeon's Abode

2ND PLACE:

Vini. Lily

3RD PLACE:

Gynx, Heyora Station

Honorable Mention:

flame, Royal Creamery

Honorable Mention:

Floyd, Aviators Homestead

Honorable Mention:

jellyjorts, Tower

1ST PLACE:

Hotfeet09

2ND PLACE:

Shocked

3RD PLACE:

demonicRiddle

Note: Sorry for the shitty screenshots

I couldnt find literally anything besides clips!!

1ST PLACE:

Bop

2ND PLACE:

Beet

3RD PLACE:

Bowie

The sea was rocky and uncomfortable, the skies filled with an eerie gray as rainless clouds loomed overhead. I kept to myself, tucking my knees and feet close to me with my arms to avoid the water that filled the bottom of the small wooden boat that was carrying me to my destination. How and why wasn’t really clear, but you just had to trust in it.

I felt the taste of salt water in my mouth and longed for something fresh to drink, collecting the spit in my mouth and expelling it to rid myself of that disgusting taste. Toa Zuku was wise, but he did not care for the mortal needs of my flesh; a flaw that had only become more apparent over the week I had been traveling to get to this ornery island out in the middle of nowhere. To distract myself, I thought, my mind thinking to itself.

Why had they chosen me? It was a foolish mistake - a Sleepwalker who cannot dream? Absolutely laughable and pitiful. The magnitude of that mistake caused my mouth to slip a small chuckle to myself, deafened by the atmosphere around me. My parents had gone on to fulfill the role of Sleepwalkers, and the rest of my Ancestors included. I was the only one who was dreamless. Imaginationless, too; struck by the curse of aphantasia that rendered my mind imageless. I felt like a fool; Jofasá was either laughing at me, or trying to teach me something. I sighed, trying to imagine something in the darkness of my mind and coming up with nothing.

The day dragged on as I laid on the wooden seats of the small boat, the white cloth sail flapping about in the wind above me. It would have been peaceful if not for the gloomy clouds threatening thunder all day and the rain that pelted my being, but regardless, the rocking of the boat led me to a dreamless sleep.

I would get no relief in sleep. Even though I could not conjure images, beyond the wildest fantasy, I could think to myself still. I dreaded coming to the island, feeling my hand tremble in reality. I was scared; scared of being a failure. My ancestors were looking upon me, and I was looking back, and I felt only fear. What would happen when I tried to enter Dreamsphere? When I entered the 12th House, would it accept me?

The data codes told to me by Adelaide did nothing to soothe my worries. I kept all of them in a letter in a small purse, locked away in a dry corner of the boat. She tried to help me imagine them, telling me images of their appearance. But I could only make connections, not actually know what they were like.

One was described as “the palest plains, atop the highest clouds, in the midst of the operations of Causer Corps..”, to which I saw nothing, but thought about how strange it had to be. Causer Corps was a concept that was completely alien to me - growing up, I had heard it mentioned in bits and patches, which also happened to be the source that made up the foundation of my knowledge of everything about the island I was travelling to. A pit grew in my soul, adding to my many anxieties.

I felt myself moving, strangely. Was I finally upon a shore? A jutting rock, perhaps, and not land. I willed myself to wake up; this was the one skill granted to me by my forebearer’s fact of relation. I brushed my hair back, getting up slowly. I was in fact here, now, at my destination. It was surrounded by rocks, but the island itself was simply just a small patch of grass with the familiar building of the 12th House on top of it. I had seen this place in images many times, and now I was finally here. Gingerly, I stepped off the boat, taking my supplies.

e.

There was a thought about the circumstances that had led me to this. Everything had, in the instant of a lifetime, made me here, taking upon the opportunity of protecting a great vastness of something that I could not comprehend. What would happen when I stepped foot into the 12th House, and attempted to dream? Would I be in a vast sea of darkness, stuck to myself and unable to wake up, known as the dreamwalker who simply was a walker of his own mind?

Shaking my head to soothe my worries a bit and trying to realign myself mentally, I stepped onto the rocky shore and began pulling my boat on shore. It took quite a while, not aided by the conditions around me, but eventually I made it. Fastening the vessel that had fostered me for so long to a thick rock by rope, the monumental weight of being here finally fell upon me.

It was so silent, even the heavens themselves seemed to quiet within the boundaries of the island once I was upon it. Thunder struck a tree nearby while I was walking to the house, but it did not light itself as if by some miracle. Perhaps it was Jofasá, protecting me in these final moments. I loved him, and I welcomed him, but I could not feel good in knowing my wasted potential.

I approached the house, taking in its simplicity. There were two rooms, and consequently also two floors - the first floor was an echo of a library I went to as a small child, books lining the walls in thick bindings upon shelves. The literature was nothing I had previously read, completely foreign to me. Yet, I felt a desire to pore over them. I wanted to know everything in them, if they were something that could help me in these dire times, if they contained some esoteric knowledge that would defy the possibilities of Dreamsphere.

Yet, I acknowledged this would do nothing to cure my condition. I walked in, ignoring what was around me, and climbed up the ladder to the second floor. The second floor was far more plain, to my own surprise. A bed with a red blanket and a white pillow on it was in the corner of the room, while a simple cabinet was next to it. Upon it, a lamp. I went to flick the switch on it, but nothing happened. It was nonfunctional, probably as a result of the isolation of the island.

Shrugging to nobody but myself, I opened the drawers. Nothing in there - which was prime for storing my necessities. I spilled open the contents of a leather square bag on my person, a flood of letters and objects filling the drawer. A blue letter took my curiosity, to which I picked it out of the mess and read over it again.

In the face of the unique challenge you face, my dear, know that no matter what occurs, you are loved, and will be loved, and have been loved.

There is nothing that would change this fact from being true at all times; no matter what you encounter or what you fail to realize. Sincerely, your mother.

Tears dotted the peripherals of my vision. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all; the impossible could be possible, after all, with the possibilities granted to me. Before I would sleep, though, I would take it upon myself to explore this section of land I had been granted and become comfortable with it.

I sat outside, looking at the sights of the sea and the island. It was serene in its own way, the rain and thunder creating a symphony that could be described as just beautiful. I thought of nothing then, taking the time to soak in the wonders of everything coming to be in this one small moment, experienced by only me and Jofasá. Possibly even not him, then, too - was it vain to want something to only yourself, such as this? I concluded it was neither; assigning a moral value to a thought such as little as that was a waste of my thinking time.

A while later, when the rain had worsened, I knew it was time. To take my first steps, like a pure babe just born into a world - into Dreamsphere, something I had never explored before. The doubts that had plagued me relentlessly in the weeks upon the boat were gone now, replaced with pure want to See. I only cared for the result now; to hesitate and delay myself was a foolish thing to be doing with a matter as important as this. I stepped inside. I fell onto the bed and Dreamt for the first time.

What's it mean to create a story? A new world, just distant from ours? A cautionary tale to all whom delve into it's speeches? A tool to simply spread the happiness in life, or to inspire? Omuno chews on her pen in a sort of anxious, yet relaxed manner, stuck in a train of thought that inches only so much further after a revolution not unlike a cycloid. The gazing of the night invited an air of wonder as to what lay beyond the borders of the darkness, what stood outside of her house, her home, town, even her country. But- she was getting distracted, wasn't she? She has to focus on finishing her writing, taking pen to paper upon a ragged and battered desk that has seen brighter mornings. Omuno envisioned herself within this story- this strange new world, beautiful but no utopia, imagination blind to even it's own creation building the paths she took through it's scenic lands as if she were dreaming it all.. It felt like a God granted gift of liberation from the benign and ever repeating labor of the real world, to explore a world filled with purpose enough that there was no need to worry about a lack of purpose in what you pursued. In such a regard, it seemed like paradise, wading through the fields of gold, the thickened forests filled with creatures unknown to the civilized mind, the ruins of foregone centuries - or the beginnings of new ones..

Even to be chased by the beasts cursed with demonic stature that she had born from her own hands felt thrilling, an unknown certainty in her fate. Weaving through the trees toppled and standing, ponds and rivers, in a nearly mystical struggle to survive that made a glorious spectacle of what would have been a calm, or reclusive landscape. Yes - it was simply too good to be true, and just like a dream, it was to end eventually - the ringing of her phone, that large and soulless brick that barely fit within her pocket, snapped her attention back to the dialeticalism of reality. It was with a sigh that she looked at whom was breaking up her moment of sudden inspiration.. nobody other than her best friend of course. There was little chance she could get annoyed at her, even if it was anything but what she desired at the moment. Giving some quiet responses to her messages, Omuno tried to return to that view of the fissure between reality and creation - or perhaps dream, but her composure had been tipped and broken through the moment broken itself. A bit annoying.

Perhaps it was time to focus on the benign of life, now? She had still gotten a large amount of mileage, the corners of her own world dashing farther and farther away as it expanded by just her impossible presence. But she still felt unfulfilled. There was still so much more that could be explored so vividly, and not enough had been so to be done with such a thing... pondering on it made her all the more annoyed with that interruption. Perhaps there was somewhere better to start, but where would that be? Perhaps the deepest depths of her thought's world, or the highest clouds, touching the stars.. Omuno stared absentmindedly through the window that sat before her desk, at the glistening stars of the night sky.. there was a deep something that pulled her gaze towards them. Was it their beauty, or their mystery? All the more questions for a hungry mind.. Omuno glanced to her paper, having written not a thing, then to the stars, and beyond. They glistened like the shattered shards of a greater being, or perhaps the roof of a cave, filled with splendiferous crystals.. Maybe it would be better to spend some time exploring her own world before even making one for others to do the same. In the end, there was only so much that could be dancing so elegantly outside of the river of knowledge in fiction, yet so much, perhaps even an infinite amount of things that might be on the world outside of her flow of life, outside of the common, causal, and expected. And if whatever she could seek wasn't out there - well, then she could make it herself, truth or fiction.

Omuno set down her pen, her paper, took upon herself a coat and boots, and stepped outside below the night sky. Looking up, and brushing her hair out of her face, what stood above her was the heavens. An impalpable, unknowable world so close, yet so far from ours. For some reason, it made her feel a bit sad. How meaningful were her efforts, of cycling day and night when taken up against the stars, the cosmos, and the nothingness between them? What did it matter in the face of something that did not need to feel happiness, or defeat? ..What did it matter, either, of the troubles of mankind to the stars, or their insignificance, or their constant warring upon one another in body, mind and spirit? Omuno didn't need to be told to do the same, quickly coming to her senses. Omuno felt a small nudge at her leg, and peering down it seemed like her cat had taken the opportunity to follow her out, as she had forgotten to close the door. The ever so goofy face of them brightened her expression just a bit, partial pity and appreciation. Of course, just as she had been taking her time peering at the night, it had grown weary, as had Omuno.. it was time to sleep, let the unconscious take over. Hanging up her coat, stuffing her shoes beneath the bench so that they were not to be nibbled,

Omuno took the rest of her time to jot down the depth she had gleamed from her world, brush her teeth well, and then to a much needed rest. Drifting into rest, a tundra-white feline perched upon her shoulder beginning into slumber no less than her, it was that a light had began to envelop her, as she had severed connection with the real world through her dreams for just a moment. A bright and burning light, searing an unconscious body. Was it the nightmare? Or the light of the stars, or the hand of God? Omuno awoke from a deep, deep slumber into a greyed, dead world. She was not dressed in any garb of a hero, nor was she bequeathed a weapon, still even in her pajamas. This must all be a terrible, terrible dream, yet her cat still lay asleep, unharmed, only her bed showing signs of a terrifying scorching. With a sunken heart, she slid out from her torn and frayed blanket, feet stepping onto the cold grass of a colorless landscape. To herself, she murmered, tears beginning to fall just as her life had; "..If this is all a bad dream, then let me wake up, please."

It's all I've wanted.

All I've yearned for, all my life. A taste of her, anything of her. A taste of what it's like to be hers, what it's like to hold her.

Karma stared down at the woman beneath her, motionless yet breathing. She did not know if Piper was asleep, Karma would be surprised if she was.

I have only been but a scab to everyone I have visited in my lifetime.

Karma crawled from her wooden chair onto the cold, concrete floor. She gently brushed a strand of Piper's hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek with the back of her hand. She felt Piper stiffen, her face contorting into a pained expression.

If you do not accept me as yours, what am I? My life's purpose has been for you.

Karma drew her hand away from Piper. She felt angry, Piper’s rejection confused her.

All I've wanted, all my life...

All that Karma wanted was Piper. From the day she picked up one of Piper's books, reading it cover to cover, over and over. She checked out any book of hers that she could find. Karma believed that Piper was the best author out there, her work crafted so beautifully that made it impossible to replicate. Karma loved Piper, she researched day and night about her; where she grew up, her social media, her family, every single bit that she could find. Karma was never satisfied with only knowing what Piper was like.

Karma stalked her. She watched Piper from every blindspot she discovered. She followed her on errands and on outings with friends, following behind but never making herself clear. She cherished the moments she watched, putting a mental note on all her favorite smells and foods.

I will make you love me as much as I love you.

Karma felt her blood boil, her mind reeling, she could not stop her hands from flying to Piper's neck, squeezing it tight.

She wanted Piper to love her. She didn't understand why Piper did not love her. Karma did everything her parents taught her, she put every ounce of love in her heart into every hit, punch or stab.