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Post by RAVENEYE on Nov 2, 2020 12:50:18 GMT -6
Here is how you play:
* Choose an object, become that object, tell us about yourself without naming yourself.
* The next person tries to figure out what you are, then posts a description of a new object.
It not meant to be a riddle, but an exercise in describing the experience of the object. Just a few sentences will suffice.
Let's start with this:
"The juice from my sweet insides browns into a bruise at the slightest touch of a child's hand. As the teeth tear into my ripe flesh there is no pain, only the sense of purpose fulfilled."
(this game was originally posted on the old LF by xia_tragedy) |
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Post by Caulder Melhaire on Nov 2, 2020 19:55:12 GMT -6
Are you.... an apple?
Secrets, worlds, and images flow within me, divided from one another yet all a part of what makes me whole. I willingly give my knowledge to curious fingers, though it remains forever bound to my spine.
(I hope I did this right. It's so hard not to write a riddle)
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Post by RAVENEYE on Nov 3, 2020 11:55:16 GMT -6
You are a book!
I dream of being the sun as I feast, but I am very small, illuminating a few feet of earthbound night. I spit my essence into the dark, hoping, and at last, I catch hold of a stray wind-tossed leaf, and I am free, stretching out under the sun, devouring the earth that holds me captive.
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Brilyana
Smoke
Lost in Translation
Posts: 24
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Post by Brilyana on Nov 3, 2020 22:55:27 GMT -6
You're fire.  Nice imagery! When I was born, people clamored to get me and paid lots of money. At my height, though, I was cheaper so that more people could get me. Children laughed as they pressed my buttons and watched colorful images dance across the screen. Now, I'm considered old. "Retro," I guess the word is. Some still love me, but multiple generations of my successors have passed. |
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Post by RAVENEYE on Nov 9, 2020 12:51:08 GMT -6
You're an Atari? A Nintendo! LOL, maybe an old Zenith television without a remote control. Ah, memories.
Okay, here goes:
It's no fun being empty. The taste of stale air fills my belly, and I long to be filled. If I could only tell you how joyful I feel when you open the door, and your hand reaches into the dark, and you choose me. Me! Then at last comes the sweet cold liquid filling me up from the inside, the foam that fizzes and overflows, and the touch of your lips.
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Brilyana
Smoke
Lost in Translation
Posts: 24
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Post by Brilyana on Nov 20, 2020 0:51:48 GMT -6
I was thinking a SNES, but CLOSE ENOUGH! lol
I say a glass getting filled up with soda.
Your grandmother gave me life with her loving hands and her hook. It seemed to take her so long to finish, but now I'm here to keep you warm on those cold nights, wrapped in your granny's love.
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Post by RAVENEYE on Nov 20, 2020 8:54:54 GMT -6
Aw! You're a hand-knitted scarf! Or blanket! Or sweater!
It takes eons for me to think a thought, up here where the air runs thin. The claws of the wind and the bite of snow scar my ancient face. Eagles nest in the crevices of my skin. Determined little humans imagine they conquer me with their ropes and scrabbling feet, but I am the champion supreme: when their bones are dust, still will I stand, glowering over the plain and thinking my slow thoughts, answers to questions they never asked.
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Post by Caulder Melhaire on Mar 1, 2021 20:15:05 GMT -6
You are a mountain! I think.
Through the fabric I dive like a swimmer. Through and under beneath an unnatural gorge; through and over across a jagged rift. When I reach the far shore, I give my tail a mighty pull and seal the way shut.
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Post by RAVENEYE on Mar 4, 2021 10:54:05 GMT -6
You're a needle and thread!
Your attempts to harness me are a joke. You think you catch me, but you don't. I move without ceasing, even when I sleep, a gentle caress of breath on your cheek. There is no accounting for my tantrums when I am roused, but I do not stop raging until towns and trees are laid waste, then I settle with a sigh.
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Post by mermaid0913 on Aug 16, 2021 21:01:53 GMT -6
You're either a tornado or a hurricane. Sounds very close to either of them.
I am king of the forest. Lone wolf among the oaks. I prefer darkness over light. The moon, my only friend, keeps me company in the night. Silent and swift, no one thinks I exist. My call spooks in the autumn air in the twilight. I rest as the sun rises to only awaken when the stars brighten.
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Post by RAVENEYE on Aug 17, 2021 11:44:29 GMT -6
(LOL, tornado and hurricane definitely fall under the plain ol' wind umbrella.)
You're an owl! Yes? No?
When you choose me from among my siblings, I no longer feel identical but special. They will all burn after I do, but for now, I am yours. You hold me in your fingers, anoint me with fire, and your lips. I burn and you sigh. We exist for a moment, only the two of us in all the world, reveling in the breath that keeps me alive. It is short lived. All too soon I am used up, and you toss me into a ditch.
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What Am I?
Aug 20, 2021 10:06:12 GMT -6
via mobile
Post by pelwrath on Aug 20, 2021 10:06:12 GMT -6
You’re a match.
Rarely am I used as intended, except in a pinch. Not as odorous as my nick-name, I aid in your relaxation.
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Post by RAVENEYE on Aug 20, 2021 11:48:14 GMT -6
You’re a match. Rarely am I used as intended, except in a pinch. Not as odorous as my nick-name, I aid in your relaxation.  I had "cigarette" in mind. Oh, well. My bad. You're marijuana? (my brain appears to be high centered on inhaled drugs, this go around.) Next: I don't remember my time in the darkness of the earth, but I recall my first glimpse of sun, and my feverish desire to stretch higher, higher to reach it. So I kept growing, when everything around me died during decades of winters. Now that I am old, my children sprout at my feet and stretch to reach the sun. My heart is a home for squirrels and I am content. |
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What Am I?
Aug 20, 2021 11:54:48 GMT -6
via mobile
Post by pelwrath on Aug 20, 2021 11:54:48 GMT -6
OMG! not at all what I was thinking but that fits. Answer I was looking for is ottomen.
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labrat
Spark
Posts: 55
Preferred Pronouns: She/her
HARD: 450
EASY: 20
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Post by labrat on Aug 20, 2021 20:16:21 GMT -6
Raven - you're an oak tree! (or a walnut maybe? Something that squirrels like.)
I stretch, pulled over wiggling appendages encased sometimes in soft fabric, if I'm lucky. The smell is the worst part, but I endure it. An upbeat melody drifts from the corner of the room, joined by a countdown of numbers. A brush. A flap. If I'm lucky a buffalo. And my purpose is fulfilled.
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Nice imagery!
I had "cigarette" in mind. Oh, well. My bad.
