Unoalexi's cookie jar-New stuff added Dec. 15th

[Unoalexi]

Hello, and welcome to my cookie jar! This is where I post my stories that are too small for their own thread. I'll try to write one a day, but I can't guarantee anything.

 

 

 

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Previous cookies

 

[hide=Fox Hunt]It was the dawn of what was soon to be the clearest day in November, and cold had settled upon the land. The air was crisp, and the ground was covered in a thick, downy layer of frost. Leaves swirled through the branches; an idyllic fall day. A fox stood still in the center of a meadow, a statue in a gentleman's garden. Gray hairs clustered around it's muzzle. He had seen many other seasons past. He slowly lifted his nose to the oncoming breeze, sniffing. There was something wrong,but he couldn't quite place the oh-too-familiar scent in his mind. Then. he froze in fear or perhaps shock. A loud chorus of howls filled his ears. The fox knew what coming.

 

 

 

The fox was just leaving the clearing when a pack of noisy hounds crashed through the tree line and ran into the meadow. The hounds brayed as they diligently searched for the fox's scent. The fox tried to hurry away as fast and yet as silently as he could, lest he alert the hounds to his presence. But alas, it was too late, for the leader of the pack had caught his scent. He darted between tree and bush with the hounds hot on his heels. And so, onward ran hunter and hunted, commanded to do battle by man but really fate. For this was the last autumn the fox would ever see. He was a smart, cunning fox-able to evade even the most clever of hounds with tricks and feats of dexterous agility. But even so, he was an old fox, and age was finally catching up to him. No longer could he run for hours without tiring. No longer could he keep up the dance under such constant stress. Though he had succeeded in surviving many a fox hunt in his youth, today he would fail.

 

 

 

The fox, however, refused to accept this. Why should he have to endure the pain and agony of what was sure to be a most violent and bloody death? Thus, he kept on running. He lead the ravenous pack through the thickets and over hills, desperately trying to outrun them. But the hounds, and their masters following closely behind them on horseback, never grew weary and never lost the trail. Thus, the fox knew simple strength alone would not work;he had to be clever. He used every trick he had learned over the years in playing this most dangerous game. He lead the hounds through a river so that the rushing, ice cold water would make them lose his scent. He maneuvered underneath thick bushes, and hid in burrows. He even rolled in dust, attempting to cover his scent. But every time, the hounds would only find his trail again.

 

 

 

After many an hour, the fox was exhausted. He realized now that this would be his final day of life. Why me? he asked the heavens. Wasn't I a good fox? Why must I die today, in such a vicious way? Why couldn't I have died of old age, among friends and family But he couldn't stop to ponder these questions, for still the hounds relentlessly pursued him. To his dismay, he found that they were gaining ground, and their mindless barking rang throughout his eardrums. He saw his life flash before his eyes,or maybe that was simply the gorgeous English countryside. Did it matter?

 

 

 

Lost in his thoughts, the fox finally made a mistake. He tripped over a sharp rock, and his slender forelimb broke with a loud snap. He yelped in pain and surprise. This was the end, the end of it all he thought. He turned to me the advancing dog pack, having no other choice. The hounds howled in victory, for they had won at last. They always knew they would win, in the end. The Alpha Male eyed the fox with a hungry, senseless, rabid gleam in it's sightless eyes. Then, it pounced, braying in triumph as it's fellows joined in on the fun. Then, they promply tore the body of the fox to bits.[/hide]

 

[hide=Havenshire, the happiest place on Earth!]Long ago, in the realm of Kursurth, there was a peaceful hamlet called Havenshire. This little town was nestled among soft hill tops covered with downy grass and maple trees that swayed gently in the summer breeze. Yes, it was a peaceful little town, and everyone in the realm of Kursurth wanted to live there. There was no crime, and it was the winner of the "Kursurth's Healthiest Hamelt" award five times in a row. In fact, there was only one problem-dragons. Havenshire was notorious for its dragon problems, for it seems that the qualities that make an area desirable to humans are also the ones for dragons. There was always a dragon living in the big den a little ways from the outskirts of town, and when the townsfolk summoned a knight to slay the vicious monster, a new one would always take it's place in a year or two. A few people were gathered in Havenshire's town square, watching the smoke arise from the hills and wondering when another knight would come to save them.

 

 

 

"Oh dearie. There seems to be another one of them dragons living up in them hills." Burt Brussels said to Madame Morridle, pointing out the long trail of steam that darkened the sky. He had originally hoped that it was only a forest fire but he knew now that it could only be a dragon. The smoke was too regular, too thin, and had been there for four days now. Dressed in his usual apron (he was the chef at the Good Ship Purity pub), he had been the one to send a messenger pigeon to hire a knight.

 

 

 

"Another one?? NOT AGAIN! Oh whatever shall we do! Why won't the nasty, vicious monsters leave us alone! All we ever wanted was a good life for our families!! Besides, we can't win Kursurth's Safest Shire award with a dragon in town!" Madame Morridle commented, panicking. She was a widow with three children, and was deeply concerned for the safety of what remained of her family.

 

 

 

"Don't ye fret me lady. I summoned a knight to come rid us of this horror. He should be coming around here sooner or later." Burt said, confident of his abilities. Morridle felt comforted-she rather liked Burt.

 

 

 

Burt was right, for just then a knight rode into town perched on a beautiful white stallion. His silver armor gleamed in the sun, and everyone was dazzled. He ran a hand through his golden-auburn hair and asked, "What seems to be the trouble, citizens?"

 

 

 

"Oh good sir, we humble townsfolk beg your pardon." said Morridle, batting her eyes. She had forgotten all about Burt.

 

 

 

"Yessir. We seems to have a dragon problem. One of them beasties is up in them hills, and we fear for our lives. Just a couple of winters ago, a beastie flew in and burnt down dear Madame Morridle's house." Burt said, a little perturbed.

 

 

 

"Yes. One of those dreadful, nasty creatures destroyed my property and killed my ...husband. I ask you good knight, won't you go and slay the foul thing before it does any more damage? And... avenge my good husband's death?" Morridle pleaded flirtatiously.

 

 

 

The knight surveyed the citizens with his ice blue eyes, seeming to consider his options. "Will there be any reward?" His horse fidgeted restlessly, eager to be on the road running again.

 

 

 

"Sorry sir. All We poor farmers can offer is our eternal gratitude."

 

 

 

"Very well then. Never fear, citizens! For it is I, Sir Ralph Raffles, who will rid ye of this grand pestilence! You need not worry, for I happen to be an experienced dragon hunter! Now, of I go. Wish me good luck and fortune!" As he said this, his great horse whinnied and reared up at exactly the right moment. Then, without any further ado, he rode off into the sunset.

 

 

 

---Later that day---

 

Sir Raffles arrived at the cave at sundown, and dismounted among the maples. He tied his noble steed to a tree, and muttered, "Wish me luck, White Lightning of the Fleet Footed Majestic Stallions IV© son of White Lightning III© who was bred by the Fleet Footed and Majestic Stallion Company© (breeding quality knight-horses since 840 A.D!©)" The stallion whinnied with pleasure at the sound of his incredibly long and hard to remember name. Sir Raffles crept to the caves ominously gaping mouth, and he could see the thick cloud of smoke pouring from the opening. He stood at its entrance, more than a little frightened. You see, he lied to the townsfolk about being an experienced dragon hunter. He hadn't killed a single dragon in his life. The knight who usually was sent annually to Havenshire had died in some forgettable war in a place with an equally forgettable name. Thus, the king had forgotten about him and Havenshire, and a young penniless squire had intercepted the message. Finally, his chance at fame and glory had come! Sure, the townsfolk hadn't offered him any rewards, but the king would! If only he could slay that blasted dragon...

 

 

 

Upon achieving Knighthood, Raffles body had changed in a few extraordinary ways. His hair, once a drab mouse-brown, had colored to a radiant golden-auburn hue. His eyes, once a drab gray, now shone with an icy blue brilliance. He had grown taller as well as more muscular whilst still keeping his former leaness. But all this wasn't going to help him at the mouth of the dragon's den. He knew he had to be brave

 

-he was a knight, goddammit!

 

So he swallowed his fears and sneaked onward silently, despite being clothed in a suit of heavy, cumbersome armor. He walked deeper and deeper, and the cave grew hotter, and hotter-so hot that his armor felt like a furnace in the heat. He began to sweat, and sweat ran over his hairy, muscular arms and lean chest. When he finally reached the final chamber, what he saw through the thick veil of smoke frightened him half to death.

 

 

 

There was a massive, red dragon curled up on the floor, and it's bulk filled the room. It was snoring softly, and smoke billowed out of it's big nostrils, running over it's curly horns and collecting below the room's ceiling. Raffles stepped back a bit in terror, for he was face to face with the dragon's massive head. That tiny moment resonated in the beast's keen ears, and it woke up. Raffles froze, for the dragon had him fixated in it's yellow gaze and was growling softly.

 

 

 

Who dares enter my lair? The dragon thought-spoke, which makes sense because after all, dragons don't have human vocal chords.

 

"Umm... umm... I Sir Raffles have come to slay you and liberate the countryside." Raffles said in a barely audible voice.

 

YOU??? YOU!?!?! They sent you to slay me??? The dragon dragon-laughed, which sounded something like a cross between a purr and a roar. PATHETIC!!! After a week of searching, I finally find a good place to sleep, somewhere supposedly free of wretched knights. But no, no rest and relaxation for Toochinachey! They send one of their knights to slay me just when I manage to doze off! Blasted insomnia problems...

 

"Well your a terror to the countryside!"

 

Ha! Me? Do you honesty think dragons just go around burning things for pleasure? Well maybe the pyromaniacs, but that's beside the point.

 

"Well, yes...

 

And human meat... Bleh! I'd rather eat burnt rubber.

 

"But your supposed to be a dragon!"

 

Well, I guess I could try eating humans, if that's what you really want.

 

"No, no you don't have to..." Sir Raffles said, backing away.

 

In fact, I really should Do you know how many times my family has been driven from these lands by your filthy brethen

 

"Not.. killed?"

 

No, driven! Do you really think a knight could slay me? No, we move away once one of their knights comes to bother us. Humans are truly really selfish, nasty, foul creatures-don't clean up after themselves. The villagers want me out just so they can win the "Kursurth's Safest Shire" award.

 

"But the townsfolk said..."

 

You didn't honestly believe them did you?[/hide]

 

 

 

[hide=On Love]What is love? Well, some would say its a powerful feeling, the opposite of indifference rather than hate. Others, the more practically-minded, would say it is nothing more than a series of chemical signals in the brain. Love is interesting because it is as indefinable as pain, for one is born knowing what pain is and what love is. Therefore, the definition isnt all that important. It is not the how so much as it is the why, for though most know what love is few people know why love happens. Why bother loving a person, if there is a chance of emotional hurt? Well, the need for love is as much a need as the need for food and water, or the needs for air or shelter. Without these, a person would die, and without love, a person would forever remain a barren shell of themselves. If you were to conduct an experiment involving a few lab rats, where the rats would be shocked every time they drank from a water bowl, theres a good chance that the rats would still try to drink the water even though they experience pain when doing so. Why is this? Well, the need for water is ingrained so deeply into the rats brains that, when they are thirsty, it overrides anything else. It is the same way with love, so that even when a person experiences deep emotional hurt, they, when desperate, will still try to love and be loved by other human beings.

 

 

 

Love is truly a strange thing, akin to a sweet and very addictive candy, a drug much in the same vein of heroin or cocaine. When one first tastes it, they are over come by such powerful feelings they can no longer focus on the tasks at hand. When one is denied it, they are willing to do anything, despite certain pain and agony, to obtain it. If one goes without it for a long period of time, they become nothing more than a barren shell of their former selves. Love can also have its consequences, its side effects. When one is in love, one is willing to do anything for their lover, no matter if it would harm them. Yet, the governments need not set up rehab clinics for lovers. Love is an essential ingredient to ones being, as necessary as air or water for ones survival. It is the opposite of indifference and not hate, though unlike hate it tends to foster order rather than chaos. It is more than a simple collection of chemical signals in the brain; it is life.[/hide]

 

 

 

Cookie of the day

 

-It's an excerpt from my Literary Expressions Midterm. Can't you tell? :roll:

 

 

 

On Perception

 

 

 

If one was to drive down a typical suburban street in the fifties, what would one see? Perhaps rows upon rows of neat little ranch houses colored in a limited range of pastels, and husbands kissing their wives goodbye as they set off for work. Humans are very much like ants; they perform according to a set plan laid out for them by prior generations, all completing said plan in the same fashion with little to no variation. Yet, the human mind is a curious one, and thus they hunger for stimulation beyond the ordinary. They seek to see the negative side of things; a view beyond the veil of idyllic normalcy. It is not the violence that disturbs people; it is the fact that the plan might be corrupted, and rendered unreadable. This is why the horror genre exists. It gives people the adrenaline pumping thrills they so desire for an hour or so, and the sudden relief that, upon the movies ending, such a thing couldnt possibly happen in real life. Not all horror movies are created equal, however. Some amount to nothing more than blood drenched gore-fests, feeding the publics healthy appetite for both violence and sex. Others, however, actually say something about the condition of humanity.

 

 

 

Humans are creatures of repetition. They live out their lives according to a master plan written by societys leaders, in the hopes that the world may be rendered in shades of black and white. However, they are horribly mistaken, for every shade of black there is a shade of gray to go beside it. Yet live goes on regardless and few take notice of others plights so long as their own life plan is not affected. That does not make humanity a dull sort, for they are curious creatures desperate for change, whether this is of a good sort or a bad sort. Most become seduced by the dark side, the drug dealers, assassins, and sociopaths among them. Yet, when considering these characters, they still think in terms of high adventure, so they fail to see whats really there and not their own minds reflection.

[Nom]

I started cracking up halfway through the second one, excellent :thumbup:

 

 

 

I want to say more, escpecially about the first one since it's more serious, but I don't have the time right now. But remember that "it's" = "it is" and "its" is possessive, I saw you make that mistake a few times.

[Unoalexi]

I started cracking up halfway through the second one, excellent :thumbup:

 

 

 

I want to say more, escpecially about the first one since it's more serious, but I don't have the time right now. But remember that "it's" = "it is" and "its" is possessive, I saw you make that mistake a few times.

 

 

 

Yay! I have proof that someone actually read my stuff!

 

 

 

..maybe I'll go comment on your guide now.

[Sam]

Great stuff, an enjoyable read :thumbup: