| White Weewoos don't exist. *shifty eyes* |
Circulation: 195,488,198 |
Issue: 854 | 1st day of Awakening, Y21 |
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Short Stories
 | For Mystery Island and MiraKinae looked out the window. She couldn't remember the last time she saw the sky such an ominous green. Would she make it on time? Are they out there? Questions were spinning in her mind, but this time she felt different.
by chosha |  | The Art of Brewing TeaThe night was getting darker. Cheri, a white kacheek, was home alone. Her sister had, as usual, went outside in search for some adventure or whatever. Xynthi was out of the door almost every night, but today she hadn’t been home at all.
by miliane085 |
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"The Art of Brewing Tea" by miliane085
The night was getting darker.
Cheri, a white Kacheek, was home alone. Her sister had, as usual, went outside in search for some adventure or whatever. Xynthi was out of the door almost every night, but today she hadn’t been home at all. The pink Xweetok was a restless creature who had to see everything, experience everything, do everything. In truth, Cheri suspected, many nights she was simply bored and needed some exercise to get rid of excess energy. After all, it was taxing on her to sit still during the school hours. Xynthi had asked her to join her on more than one occasion, but sports and running had never really been Cheri’s thing and she usually declined the offer, almost without fail. Reading novels and writing her poems in the darkening twilight had always called to her more. Besides, wouldn’t it be fair if Xynthi would join her evening activities for a change? Even once?
At least the sisters shared a cup of tea every night, and talked about their day. Cheri hoped it was as important for Xynthi as it was for her.
It was 7.45 PM. Cheri finished cleaning the kitchen. The counters were spotless, all the dishes were done, and she sighed contently. It was time for her nightly ritual. A small smile crept on her face, and she filled her kettle that was waiting on the stove.She reached to the cupboards and took an airtight white box that had delicately painted blue flowers on it.
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The Haunted Woods were an unpleasant, unwelcoming place; its name preceded its reputation and upheld it. Very few – beyond the foolish, or the brave – ventured into its depths, even into the Deserted Fairground, which had become somewhat of a tourist attraction in recent years, particularly since the death of Hubrid Nox and the chance to visit his castle had become an option.
by dudeiloled |
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