Estantia

Ok then, thanks for clearing that up (Sorry cody and wilde) Is fixing typos allowed?

Which is definitely a good thing, don't you think?

Hearing the message that we're not alone on friday would have been nice (then I tried to insert a poor joke on timing). And I do know that we're not alone and try to give the message out, however that's the hard part

Now that would have been lovely to hear on fri, you're only a few days late but I know we're not alone, it's getting the message out that's hard.

I was hoping to make an impression with my own, that particular rant is one I've wanted to write for a while.

You can only get SO good...

There's no way I'm going to win this time, but my last month's one I really liked. Congrats you two! and good luck!

Mine finally came out of these fingers, though I seriously doubt I could do anything as good as shattered windows again...

Cara held a white piece of cloth loosely in her hand as she faced a sea of faces that all looked the same to her, identical clothes, who would have thought that assignment would have been useful in a psychology class at the Starfleet Academy? Who would have thought that plastic society would still be reflected here? Cara felt her throat tighten suddenly as she opened her mouth, then quietly shut it again, feeling a wash of embarrassment as the amusement rippled through the crowd, a wash of yellow-orange, benevolent though... but how easily could that change... She realised she was standing in front of the crowd silently for a few moments and looked back at the speech from all those years ago, a week after she had lost her control utterly, all the masks she possessed. All she had to do to speak was to become the performer, they never cared about the audience, or what they were about to do, just let themselves get lost in the music. She started to speak, her voice merging in her mind with that of her memory saying the exact same words... “Hello, my name is Cara Maria, formerly Cara Maria-Mil. I am a Betazoid-Terran hybrid, half and half. Why am I introducing myself you may ask? I am known to all of you, I don’t need to give my name, or I shouldn’t do.” She looked at the crowd, “I told you my name because none of you know me, you may think you know me, but how much do you really know? How much do you know about anyone sitting here? Look around you,” she said, watching the crowd turn, just as they had all those years ago. “What do you know about them? Their name? Their favourite drink? What they study?” Cara nodded, “I’d think pretty poorly of you if you didn’t, but let’s take that further, Why are they sitting here? I am willing to bet very few of you know that, and do you know why?” The black haired woman paused, “because people prefer to retain privacy as much as possible, they don’t like to tell other people things that are beyond what everyone sees, and quite rightly, it is best if we do not know all the bad things of those around us, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to sleep.” “But the level of this secrecy changes. On Betazed the level of privacy is reasonably low, everyone trusts each other because they can see each others minds, but here? On earth being honest is telling someone if a t-shirt looks bad on them,” Cara pointed out with a hint of a smile on her lips as she remembered the guilty way most of her former class were shuffling as some did now. “It’s amazing really how the standards differ from place to place, in Zaragoza I’ve seen a society that is the opposite extreme of the Betazoid openness. This type of society has too many names to count... Plastic, Barbie, Sheep, Clones, Pretenders, Popular... but they refer to themselves by none of these names, I couldn’t imagine why.” The younger Cara pretended to ignore the whispers and stares circulating the class before a deadly hush, she had their attention now. Good. “The names suit them incredibly well, I have never known anyone who belongs whole-heartedly to these anything but cold and heartless in public, every single one the same with a sneer to any who are not the same, part of their exclusive group of friends.” Cara’s friends looked at her, horrified but proud as the colour drained from the cheeks of everyone in the classroom. Cara looked out at the rapt faces in the lecture theatre, a lot of them pale, In them she saw a variety of emotions, fear, hatred, shock. “I see that you all know what I mean,” Cara commented, “ But I can tell you something you also already knew. These people are not who they seem. These people are locked behind masks, an unwritten code of conduct that they must follow in order not to be chucked out of the group.” “But when they look in the mirror when they’re alone... they can see the mask, they can see the makeup and dyed hair, the sarcastic words, the sniping comments and they hate themselves. Imagine how you’d feel knowing you were making other lives miserable.” Her head lowered sadly. “So they pretend nothing’s wrong, nothing matters and that everything in shining and happy because that’s the only way they can go on and not hate themselves. So they get sucked into the cycle. They pretend, they lie, they tell themselves that they like their lives, and their friends, so they pretend more, and they take their anger at themselves out in the only way they can, because beautiful people don’t get angry, they never get angry, they never hate their wonderful lives,” the woman’s bitter sarcasm escaped no-one in the room. “They capture themselves, they can’t stop it, and others copy them, the ones they snap at convert to the group in order not to be picked on and become like them slowly, all the time saying they can always leave. How many of them are strong enough not to do that when isolated by a seething pack of wolves?” No-one could escape the words of the girl they had called crazy, misfit, teacher’s pet who seemed to be speaking directly to the dark parts of their mind and making them squirm. “But of course none of you would ever do that, of course not, you’re decent, respectable people in society.” Cara’s eyes searched the room, noting to herself how her meaning varied, last time she had been sarcastic, they knew she was talking to them. This time she was questioning the people in front of her. “Face it, be honest to yourself, we all pretend!” Cara said hotly, a rare flash of temper from the mild woman, “the relationship between everyone is a give and take, an elaborate dance where no-one knows who the other people are but everyone knows the steps, so it’s all ok,” the woman was talking at her normal volume again, “The popular people pretend it’s ok, but so do their victims, everyone acts like everything is alright and yet nothing is, in my opinion it’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen. Everyone in masks and no-one there...” Her voice trailed off as memories crowded her mind, as no doubt they did everyone’s who’d been in that situation. “So sneer all you want at the stalemate, but everyone is guilty, not that we have a choice.” Cara’s past self trailed off into silence, the class staring at her before she bowed and left the front, leaving them to wrestle with themselves. She was left on her won to say the last part and looked around, “Sad as it is... isn’t it training? Isn’t that situation what makes us ourselves? How many of you could do what you’re doing if you hadn’t been through that? How many of you?!” Her slightly raised voice challenged them to admit it. When she received no answer her hand slid her hair tie off, sending the black locks tumbling over her shoulders. “The fact is that this bullying has to happen, we have to learn to pretend, to lock ourselves up, to hide behind masks.” No-one could meet the gaze that was silently offering them their pasts. “If you knew everything going through your commander’s head would you trust them? If they were afraid? Or unsure? Would you?” A pregnant pause, “so we keep up the mask, give others someone strong to look to, and that faith can make or break a person. They rise to fulfil it or they crumble under the pressure.” Cara held out her hands to show them what she'd been hiding. A simple white half-mask with silver edging like the beautiful moth-like Venezuelan dancers who emerged at midnight. “So no matter how much you think you do not have barriers between you and the world, you do, because it protects you.” Cara slowly started to raise her hands, “It protects the scared child inside hiding from the bullies and the fears.” Cara halted, the mask a few centimetres from her face as she spoke softly. “So when you walk out of here... remember that you’re all wearing a mask, and please...” Cara’s fingers slipped the material over her skin, and released her hair to lie over the tie. “Remember the small scared child, don’t shut them away and forget they existed, because that’s your strength.” Her fingers moved away from her face as she walked down the steps to the main aisle. All eyes on her as she slowly walked past, looking to neither side as she approached the doors, then paused, her hand on the handle. Her hair shifted slightly as the masked woman looked over her shoulder, eyes glittering behind white material before turning away. The beautiful mask walked out, letting the wooden panels swing softly shut behind her.

same, good luck all of *goes to read walker's*

should I mention I came up with two pieces that could have been entered

hey, at least you know I'm honest

I can't wait to read them all but there are really only so many things you can do with windows...

It depends on how you write the dialogue, and the best way to get better at it is to practice, if it helps then do thoughts first, they can flow more...

Mine's up, and as always one of the first

Shattered Windows "Now Miss. Mil," the voice floated comfortingly through her mind, a ordered set of sounds through the mess her mind was drifting through dreamily, "Are you paying attention to my voice?" "Yes sir," her voice reverberated through her mind like a breeze she followed, fascinated by it, a light transparent white-blue. His was more like warm water that ebbed and flowed gently. "I am going to perform a mind-meld, I will be walking with you among your memories, I need you to find the right place to start, can you do that?" "Yes sir." She didn't particularly try and find one, just knew that the right one would be found by instinct, she trusted her subconscious, it knew more about what was going on than she did. So she floated in her pretty oblivion of black with coloured shapes, unconcerned, as he spoke again, she barely even flinched at the contact on points of her physical head, though she had almost forgotten where her physical body was, it seemed far away. "My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts." The voice reverberated through the place where Cara floated in a series of transparent ripples until he appeared next to her. "This is somewhat strange," he commented on looking round. The 18-year-old sparkled as she laughed, "It's pretty." "Please concentrate Miss Mil, I need to see your memories. Which one do we need?" The Vulcan looked mildly perturbed by this place where she felt so at home. "I haven't decided anything, I don't know what to do, but it's coming of its own accord," she said, "Look, it's there, see?" A window of warm orange sunlight drifted towards and over them as the oblivion blurred. Cara shut the door quietly on the evening light attempting to slide in through the door and turned to face the rest of the flat, she was the first one home again as usual. The girl smiled and stood still, appreciating the silence and the golden light stealing across the room, off the large mirror there and through the open door to the corridor. Cara was silhouetted then lit for a moment as she slipped through the door and padded along to her room in the twilight, the light only being that reflected off the cream walls, a cool dusty light, a comforting one out of the direct glare. Cara's room faced east though, so the sun wasn't filtering directly into her room, just reflecting off the windows of the other sets of flats on the road from the gaps between buildings. On an impulse Cara put down her stuff and pushed the window open, hearing the rush of traffic and feeling the wind catch her hair as it sped past. Cara could see most of the way down the street from here, however it also meant she could hear and smell the street, car fumes mixed with geraniums from two floors below, a row from the next flat along and someone singing. The teenager sighed and pulled back, knowing she ought to do some work. As she moved backwards the sounds and smells cut off to be replaced by the still pressure of air inside a building. Cara sent a last longing glance towards the open window and sighed, deciding to let it remain open until the fluttering curtains distracted her too much with their play of light and shadow. Instead she bent to her work to the slight sounds of the distant city until the front door opened and shut quietly. That was her mother, which meant that in a little while... The door slammed shut and a fluent curse was growled. Cara's heart sank, her father was drunk, again. She hoped it wouldn't be too loud, she did need to write her formal evaluation of the High Windows poem. She remained quietly in he room until a melodious voice called that dinner was ready. Cara shut her books and stood and softly emerged into the main room and started to set the table, where Anton Mil was lazing in his chair. "So I do have a daughter after all, at the rate I see you I was starting to wonder," he said in a semi slur. "I have exams coming up father, I need to revise," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze and wishing that he would stop talking, and drinking. "Revision? Hah!" Her father's arm only waved slightly as he pointed at her, not that drunk then, "What you need is lessons in social intercourse! I'd like to see you revise them!" He brayed in laughter and Cara's eyes remained fixed on the table as she placed the last knife carefully and vanished towards the kitchen to collect the food. Maria Mil-Alenaas looked pityingly at her daughter in silence, eyes saying everything that needed to be said. Cara understood her perfectly and picked up the plates in silence, eyes flicking to the clock once, just once. "How come you're all so silent today?" he joked, "Come, you must have a story for your old dad to hear eh? Found someone you like?" his jovial voice countered the growing pool of silence in Cara's body language as she lowered her eyes in shame. "Reply to your old dad eh?" The voice was more menacing now, "Yes father," Her voice was at a normal pitch, she didn't need to look to see the air around her father morph from yellow to orange. "Yes father," he mocked, " So formal! You're talking to your dad, but you never call me that, it's always father isn't it little echo? With about as much spine as a piece of glass, about as much personality as a mirror! What do you say to that?" Cara swallowed and felt words rise like a bubble up her throat and onto her tongue, quiet as a mouse, and knowing she couldn't say anything else. "Yes... father..." She felt a swell of heat before another voice interrupted, "Anton please stop, can't you see she's uncomfortable, she doesn't like being quest... Anton!" she shouted quietly Cara's eyes shot up as something flew across the room, missing her mother by a very small distance indeed to smash into the mirror, cracks spreading like spider-webs across its surface as the light shattered. The 15-year-old watched the impact, saw the shards of glass break off and spread out twinkling in the evening sunlight, moving slowly as if they were flying through water, eyes focussed in and watching a cameraman's masterpiece as glass fell away to reveal the plain backboard beneath it. "That's what she'll do! Spineless wimp! She'll shatter you hear me? She'll shatter just like that mirror unless she faces up to the world! Mark my words she'll be as broken as that mirror!" her father roared before he left the room, stomping hard on the floor, "I'm going out, I can't stand the sight of her! How could I father such a coward!" The door slammed as Cara found herself buried in her mother's arms, more for her mother's feelings than Cara's. At that moment Cara didn't feel anything, empty as the mirror's frame. She kept seeing the incident over and over again as the window itself remained whole, sun streaming through it as if nothing had happened while the mirror's window lay shattered, dull and lifeless with only a hint of sunshine to remind of what it had been. "Go to bed sweetheart," her mother said comfortingly, "I'll clean this up, you go and rest, you need to recover from the shock." Cara nodded unthinkingly and returned to her room and shut the window carefully, hesitant and shaking as if it would also shatter in her hands. The curtains were shut with infinite care, protecting one from the other before she slid into bed and closed her eyes. The image came to a gentle stop as the Vulcan counsellor with her moved forwards. "Interesting," he said, "Why have you chosen this instant?" "I don't know," she replied, "I didn't choose anything, it chose." "Of course, I forgot." The Vulcan didn't question the logic of this statement and sounded ever so slightly sarcastic as he spoke before he held up his hand, "Back please." The memory rewound to the mirror shattering, held in mid flight. "Yes, that's it." Cara said, certain, "That's what it wanted us to see." "I think you also know why," he replied, "It shattered." "Yes, it did." Cara drifted forwards and knelt in front of it. "It's the window isn't it?" She didn't get a reply, she didn't need one. "They say the eyes are the windows to the soul," The Vulcan was silent and let her work it through, "Illusion and reality, the window's the crossing point. No, I didn't mean that, I meant... I meant... inside and outside, but reality has something to do with it." She thought aloud, "The window inside the mirror shattered, the one outside remained whole. That's what happened isn't it? When... that... happened? My everyday me was fine but the inside me shattered." She paled, "I can't believe it... He was right..." She shook herself slightly and continued steadily, "Then I shut the window and closed the curtains... I sealed myself off and protected the window from me... and me from the window. How simple, it let me ride through chaos." Cara's oddly clear eyes regarded the mirror. "I need to put myself back together." She was greeted by silence. "This may take some time. Some of the pieces are lost in the carpet, I can't possibly pick up all of them." "Then big up the big ones," the counsellor finally said, voice as neutral as a conscience, "The mirror will heal over the smaller holes if the main pieces are together." "Only I can do this can't I?" She paused, "You don't need to answer that. How long have I got?" "All the time in the world that's left to you." There was a longer pause. "This is going to hurt isn't it?" "Yes." Cara plucked a piece out of the air and put back in the mirror's frame, then lifted another piece, feeling the edges bite into her as she watched non-existent blood trickle down her hands. She ignored it and placed the piece before she picked up another. The window still isn't complete.

Yes! I was wondering how many poisoned apple references you would get, I loved littering it with them... notice how the monster's bait got the monster too as well as being drugged. as Sisko said, "Too much fun," I think I agree with that one.

*winces in horror* ok, I really hope it wasn't what I thought it was... and I'm doing a bit of Cara's early life instead.

How many windows do you get in a wilderness? I may have to lay off Tia and co for this one... though there is a way I could do it.

Good luck!

that is true, whose time too?

Erm, forgot that minor point about winning, ok, character café on standby then, though I doubt I'll need that, that latest one was excellent...

I've enjoyed reading the entries for thisc ompetition as usual, and my fingers are itching for the next one already..

i know that quite a few people have got something in the pipeline...

oh i like that idea! right, now where can i get some apple seeds...