Re: FD #13

Postby Taybri » Tue Feb 18, 2014 9:35 am

Accidentally posted twice, ignore this
Last edited by Taybri on Tue Feb 18, 2014 11:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: FD #13

Postby Marballo » Tue Feb 18, 2014 10:19 am

U s e r n a m e :

*Blue_River*

N a m e :

This boy's name is Omari, pronounced Oh-mahr-ee, which is an Egyptian name meaning high born.
"People with this name tend to be idealistic, highly immaginative, intuitive, and spiritual. They seek
after spiritual truth and often find it. They tend to be visionary and may inspire others. If they fail
to develop their potential, they may become dreamers, or misuse power." His close friends call him
Mari (Mahr-ee) though.

G e n d e r :

Omari is a male, and prefers to be called such.

E x t r a :

WIP
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Re: FD #13

Postby Taybri » Tue Feb 18, 2014 11:08 am

- -

Image


"ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ"

____________________



username ~ tangle.
name ~ kai or kal
meaning ~ shortened version
of kalahari, a large, african desert

gender ~ male


____________________


"ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ"


________________________________________________________________________________


ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ.


________________________________________


I live alone
But I've never been lonely.

I rarely talk
Yet I speak constantly.

A wanderer by nature
I have yet to find myself lost.

A messenger.
When I was little, my mother had been an important healer, the only one my tribe had. Being a healer
required focus and remaining within the village all day. I rarely stayed to help my mother sort out herbs or mix poultices.
Instead, I spent most of my time running in the nearby desert. We lived in a prosperous town, which is rare upon the
open desert, but with the arrival of several foreigners came a plague, a plague that all but wiped out our village within
its first year. People I'd known all my life would come down with the sickness and would be declared dead only several
days later. My father had been one of them. For the first time in my life, I was scared, useless. My mother was so busy
taking care of the sick that she rarely got any sleep. I needed her, so I began to help her out, learning the ways of a
healer if only to be in her presence throughout the long days and nights. I knew immediately when she'd come down
with the disease. She never told me, but I saw the haunted look in her eyes and was kept up every night by her sickly
hacking. Pretty soon, she was too weak to work, and I became the village's sole healer. I hated the task, but I took it on
without questions. I payed special attention to my mother, who had been falling in and out of consciousness. I had been
taking care of her one day when she insisted she wanted to go on a walk, get out of the tent that smelled of her own
sickness. I helped her out, giving her a shoulder to lean on. We didn't say a word, instead walking over to the edge of
camp. I heard her sigh besides me, the light of the sunset bathing her face in its golden colors. There were tears
streaming down her face.

I don't know how long we stood there, but I had felt the life leave her long before I finally decided to return to the
village.

Half a year later, nearly every villager had died of the plague. I was one of the last left, and the youngest by far.
During the last days of the final tribe elder, I was given a task: to take a message to one of the nearby towns, asking
them for help. As I stared into the dying elder's eyes, I knew it was meaningless. We'd sent messages before, but the
neighbouring towns had never bothered to respond. He was doing it to save my life.

That day, I ran from everything I ever knew, any compassion I'd ever received. The only familiar thing was the sand,
which never seems to change no matter where you go. I felt like curling in on myself, there was hardly a point to it
all anymore, but I didn't stop. I just kept running and running and running.


The desert is my home
With its endless ocean of shifting sands and heat that blankets anyone in its vicinity. Never the same
twice, but each time I greet the sands as an old friend. The desert never stops moving, and neither do I. I’ve seen a
lot, but also very little. I’m a guide, a traveller, but most see me as a wanderer. A lost wanderer. I tread on unfamiliar
soils, but have done so my entire life that it no longer feels strange. I rarely see the same soul twice, but when I do,
they become my everlasting kin, my closest of friends, whoever they may be.


Some say I'm strange, others say I'm mad.
Call me what you will, I will never change, I'll just go on watching the world through open eyes.


________________________________________


. .
Last edited by Taybri on Sat Feb 22, 2014 11:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: FD #13

Postby ~ dawn ~ » Thu Feb 20, 2014 9:47 am


Everything has its beauty
but not everyone sees it.

Image

Username:
~ Dawn ~
Name:
Lavuna
Gender:
female
Extra:

I was told as a child, that if you wished to keep a memory for all of time, you write it down. So that is what I do now regarding the events that have happened to me. I was raised in one of the nomadic tribes of the dessert, brought up learning the ways of our people I was one the few children who were taught the language and writing of those anchored to one place. Our chief's mate was herself one of the anchored before joining us, it was her who taught me the knowledge I use now.

It was during the season when the sun was the hottest, just after the sun passed its midpoint in the journey across the sky when they attacked. To this day, I do not know why they attacked, I just know that it was brutal and that those horrible moments will be seared in my mind until I no longer walk the ground. I had just come back from delivering some dried herbs to our healer when one of the scouts came running into camp saying that the Pacumai were coming, a large group of them. At first there was little concern for there was peace between us and no reason to think they were coming in something other than peace. Our leader was still uneasy about this news and had the scout go out again for more information. His concern started to bleed to the rest of us; many times someone would pause during their work and look to the east, looking for the scout. The scout never did return. Our only warning was the reflection of light off of metal. The chief yelled out a quick command and the men gathered what weapons we had. In a matter of seconds our camp was overrun by the Pacumai. The camp was filled with screams as those in the way tried to get away, only to be cut down cruelly by the Pacumia. I could see everything in amazing detail yet I could not move, frozen in fear. Who knows how long I would have stayed like that if it wasn't for Rittika,the healer. She shook me rather roughly until I snapped out of my frozen state and turned my gaze from the killing to her. No words were passed between us as she handed me a bag and her scarf. Deep down I knew this was the last time I would see the woman who had become like a second mother to me. Like me, she did not waste words on idle chatter, on repeating what is already known, so she had no need to tell me how she loved me like a daughter or that she wished me safety; one look into her eyes and a gentle pat on my head conveyed thousands of more words then we could ever say to each other. I took off after that, resisting the urge to go check on my family, if they had survived we would meet up at one of our other camping sites, going back would bring nothing but trouble as much as it pained me to do otherwise. I was almost out of the camp when an arrow pierced my back leg. The surprise is what threw me off balance and caused me to tumble to the ground. The Pacumia would have finished me right there if it wasn't for Verac, the warrior and my crush. He quickly killed the enemy before running off, only a nod and a small smile for goodbye, leaving me to escape once again.

We had a saying among us, "To look back is to say goodbye forever." for to look back is to say it is final, that we will see it no more. So as I ran from my home, my family, my love, I did not look back. I did not want to see what had become of my people, at that time all I wanted to do was hope. Hope that my family would live, that Verac would survive, hope that I would see them again. For hope has a way of pushing you soul on when nothing else will.

Second chances doesn't always mean a happy ending.
Sometimes, it's just another shot to end things right.


I don't know how far or long I had run by the time I came to a stop. By now my back leg was throbbing painfully from the arrow wound. I decided to search the bag for anything I could use as a bandage. I could always use the scarf I had gotten from Rittika as a bandage but I did not want to rip it anyway. I felt like doing so would be a bad omen for me and the others of our tribe. I could have cried in joy when I found a small roll bandages in the bag, I quickly used it to wrap my injury, a small amount of blood seeped through but I wasn't about to rip the scarf to cover a little bit of blood. With that taken care of, I decided to look at what I had with me. In the small satchel Rittika gave me i had a small flask of water and a few herbs to deal with different types of poisons. The bag itself would be good for holding anything i gather but one of the most valuable items i had, not counting the water, was her scarf. Besides the sentimental value, it would be good protection during sandstorms as well as help keep me cool in the sun. I drank most of the water and poured the rest on the scarf before wrapping it around my head and my neck. The wet scarf would help keep my body temperature from going to high due to the sun. A common myth among the Pacumia was to try to save the water as long as possible, a fact we discovered when we found their bodies in the dessert with water still in their flasks. I was now ready to continue on my journey to our old camp. I left knowing not what was ahead. I had no fear when it came to surviving, for the desert was, is, and forever be my home. It is not easy to survive here, but those that know its secrets can make it to the end.


Image
Every day is a journey,
and the journey itself is home.
Last edited by ~ dawn ~ on Wed Feb 26, 2014 4:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: FD #13

Postby Downn » Mon Feb 24, 2014 1:38 pm

      If you don't mind my asking, when exactly will this contest end? ^^ Thank you~
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Re: FD #13

Postby Firefly. » Mon Feb 24, 2014 1:40 pm

I think I'll be ending this tomorrow afternoon around this time.
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Re: FD #13

Postby bee » Mon Feb 24, 2014 3:15 pm

-
Last edited by bee on Mon Mar 03, 2014 1:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: FD #13

Postby Firefly. » Fri Feb 28, 2014 10:24 am

Sorry for the wait guys. I've been super busy. I'll end this on Friday or Saturday most likely.
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Re: FD #13

Postby ~ dawn ~ » Fri Mar 07, 2014 3:30 pm

friendly bump
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PM me with offers.
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Re: FD #13

Postby Firefly. » Fri Mar 07, 2014 3:36 pm

Tangle. wrote: - -

Image


"ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ"

____________________



username ~ tangle.
name ~ kai or kal
meaning ~ shortened version
of kalahari, a large, african desert

gender ~ male


____________________


"ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ"


________________________________________________________________________________


ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ.


________________________________________


I live alone
But I've never been lonely.

I rarely talk
Yet I speak constantly.

A wanderer by nature
I have yet to find myself lost.

A messenger.
When I was little, my mother had been an important healer, the only one my tribe had. Being a healer
required focus and remaining within the village all day. I rarely stayed to help my mother sort out herbs or mix poultices.
Instead, I spent most of my time running in the nearby desert. We lived in a prosperous town, which is rare upon the
open desert, but with the arrival of several foreigners came a plague, a plague that all but wiped out our village within
its first year. People I'd known all my life would come down with the sickness and would be declared dead only several
days later. My father had been one of them. For the first time in my life, I was scared, useless. My mother was so busy
taking care of the sick that she rarely got any sleep. I needed her, so I began to help her out, learning the ways of a
healer if only to be in her presence throughout the long days and nights. I knew immediately when she'd come down
with the disease. She never told me, but I saw the haunted look in her eyes and was kept up every night by her sickly
hacking. Pretty soon, she was too weak to work, and I became the village's sole healer. I hated the task, but I took it on
without questions. I payed special attention to my mother, who had been falling in and out of consciousness. I had been
taking care of her one day when she insisted she wanted to go on a walk, get out of the tent that smelled of her own
sickness. I helped her out, giving her a shoulder to lean on. We didn't say a word, instead walking over to the edge of
camp. I heard her sigh besides me, the light of the sunset bathing her face in its golden colors. There were tears
streaming down her face.

I don't know how long we stood there, but I had felt the life leave her long before I finally decided to return to the
village.

Half a year later, nearly every villager had died of the plague. I was one of the last left, and the youngest by far.
During the last days of the final tribe elder, I was given a task: to take a message to one of the nearby towns, asking
them for help. As I stared into the dying elder's eyes, I knew it was meaningless. We'd sent messages before, but the
neighbouring towns had never bothered to respond. He was doing it to save my life.

That day, I ran from everything I ever knew, any compassion I'd ever received. The only familiar thing was the sand,
which never seems to change no matter where you go. I felt like curling in on myself, there was hardly a point to it
all anymore, but I didn't stop. I just kept running and running and running.


The desert is my home
With its endless ocean of shifting sands and heat that blankets anyone in its vicinity. Never the same
twice, but each time I greet the sands as an old friend. The desert never stops moving, and neither do I. I’ve seen a
lot, but also very little. I’m a guide, a traveller, but most see me as a wanderer. A lost wanderer. I tread on unfamiliar
soils, but have done so my entire life that it no longer feels strange. I rarely see the same soul twice, but when I do,
they become my everlasting kin, my closest of friends, whoever they may be.


Some say I'm strange, others say I'm mad.
Call me what you will, I will never change, I'll just go on watching the world through open eyes.


________________________________________


. .



Congrats! I loved the story and enjoyed how you wrote it. It was concise and interesting. ^^

Thanks to everyone who entered! And I apologize it took forever for me to judge. I've been sick and I've been studying like a madman for a bunch of tests coming up.
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