Places to Chat
The Disorienting Express
Chatterbox: Pudding's Place
The Disorienting Express
The Disorienting Express – The Return of RMS Tiny
You drink the last dregs of your tea, and then hand the teacup back to the fortuneteller. Her head bobs, and her frizzy red hair shakes as she examines the tea leaves. Suddenly, she gasps, and the cup drops from her fingers and SMASH!, breaks against the floor. "My best antique teacup! No! This is a calamity!"
You look at her, confused. "What did you see in my future that was so shocking?"
Her lips shook. "An invitation. An exclusive invitation, to any Cber who happens to recieve it, from The Ominous, that strange, hoodied captain of the RMS Tiny and the RMS Humbug, whose past adventures with CBers were chronicled here: http://www.cricketmagkids.com/chatterbox/inkwell/node/145605 "
"What's so shocking about that?"
"Well, I've heard of the RMS Tiny, and the story I heard had THE END at the end of it, so I thought that was the end of it all. Not to mention that sequels are often never as good as the original, and the story ended with The Ominous trying to dig the RMS Tiny out of the middle of a desert! Now that's what I call writing yourself into a corner!"
"Hmm. Perhaps they had a sledgehammer on them, and they escaped through the fourth wall."
The fortuneteller frowns for a moment, and then nods. "I suppose that's possible. Do you want to hear what the invitation will be?"
"Yes please."
"The adventure of a lifetime! Boundless fun! An express ride to anti-polar regions, aboard a ship aboard a train, surrounded by the most colourful of characters! You are hereby invited to the first railway passage from the Sahara to a handy mountain range (the location of which we cannot divulge at this time), and you'll have lots of fun!"
* * *
You leave the fortuneteller's tent, and go home. On your doorstep is a large package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with red and white striped string with purple fuzzy bits. You rip open the paper, and a puff of dark brown powder explodes in your face, permeating the air with a chocolatey flavour. Your eyes sting with the bitterness of the pure cocoa.
We would like to take a moment to thank our sponsors, the makers of pure, high-octane cocoa, made from fresh nyad springs on the plains of Latteland. Their only purpose in life is to make your day better – wait, nevermind, sorry, actually their only purpose in life is to make some money. And find enlightenment.
By your feet there is now a pile of cocoa powder, and in the middle of it lies a letter. You pick up, open it, and read the letter:
Dear CBer, the ticket enclosed in this letter will grant you passage aboard the last 13 coaches of the Disorienting Express, the train that will carry my dear ship, the RMS Tiny, on my journey to repair her. It is my wish that you would come along with me, as I believe CBers like adventures, and adventure seems to follow me everywhere. I give you my word, as a slightly shady individual who likes to lurk in alleyways waiting for my morning coffee to be delivered by vampire bat, that I will not let any of you murder each other, and the most dubious and sinister people of my acquaintance are not invited. Should they arrive, I'm sure your abilities of deducton will be able to be well used in apprehending them, as doubtless they will leave clues to their actions. Of course, if you accuse someone who is innocent, the actual murderer will likely choose you as their next target.
Anyways, here's some more words to convince you to come, thanks to my advertising agents, the Fortunetellers of Aura Alley: The adventure of a lifetime! Boundless fun! An express ride to anti-polar regions, aboard a ship aboard a train, surrounded by the most colourful of characters! You are hereby invited to the first railway passage from the Sahara to a handy mountain range (the location of which we cannot divulge at this time), and you'll have lots of fun!
- The Ominous
A NOTE: This is a murder mystery inspired by T.O.N's Ski Lodge and its various spin-offs, and it's sort of a continuation of the story of The Ominous and RMS Tiny detailed in the link above. However, for this we've changed some things about how it works so it's a bit more game-like, inspired (of course) by Clue.
A roll of the Die of Doom will determine how many people are killed each day, and their names will be drawn from Pandora's Fedora. The first death will occur on the third day.
All of you are innocent (at least as innocent as you can be, being yourselves), and you need to work together to discover which of the non-CBer characters aboard the Disorienting Express is the murderer.
Starting on the third day, there will be a few codes (think morse, first-letter codes, Sebald code, number codes) hidden (or not-so-hidden) in each day. The first person to find and decode each code will be granted, according to the Die of Doom, either immunity from death the next day or a clue in the form of a story snippet. Obviously, clues are given to everyone, while immunity is person-specific.
If you think you know who the murderer is, post your guess and tell us that it's an in-story accusation (we really want your input/interaction, so don't worry about us mistaking suspicious musings for in-story accusations, we'll double-check with you before making story-you accuse anyone). In the next day, the results of your confronting and accusing your suspect will occur. A Warning: Accusations of innocents will make the murder worry about your suspicions, and you will likely die (immunity will not necessarily help you here). However, accussations of innocents are still helpful because you now know the one you accused is innocent. Also, ghosts can totally help the other CBers guess and point out clues or codes they spot – and if they get immunity by spotting things, they can give it to someone who's alive.
The Disorienting Express starts its journey on January 20th. Sign up with a quote that you could be heard saying, and your packing list if you so wish. Any latecomers will be forced to walk.
Any complaints should be directed to The Ominous's editor and secretary, who will direct the complaints to John F.Q. and Pied Piper, along with all the other rubbish they send them.
* * *
You sneeze cocoa powder from your nose, and wonder if it's wise to trust this Ominous person. Will you accept the invitation? And if you do, how will you find this train? You wonder, and then a question mark falls on your head.
Then a comma hits the sidewalk, and you look up at the sudden rain of punctuation. A bracket and a quotation mark land in the cocoa powder, sending up a huge cloud of powder that seems tinted green in the sudden strange light. And then the King and Queen of punctuation, the interrobang & the ampersand arrive‽
Resplendent in their inky black armour and spiky crowns of accent marks, their presence announced by exclamation marks blaring trumpets, they walk towards you. The King waves, his infinity-sign moustache looking glorious. The Queen holds up her sceptre, mounted with a shining asterisk. They stop before you, and the King clears his throat.
A moment of silence.
The King coughs again, pointedly, and then two small tuxedo-wearing, upwards-pointing arrows run forward. The Shift keys. They carry a large suitcase that is a beautiful shining black - but not a boring black, this is the kind of black that galaxies are born in, the colour of a raven's feather, or of letterpress ink, holding all the possibilities of every written word. The King and Queen lift it from the hands of the Shift keys, which cling to it for a moment before dropping to the ground with small squeaks of dismay.
"Without hesitation, deprivation, aggravation, or mortification, we present you with this gift. Use it well." They pass the suitcase to you, and you stare at it for a moment. A hush falls over – or rather, into – the crowd (Aaaaah! THUMP! "sorry, sorry, shhh.")
With trembling hands, you lift the lid, and inside lies . . . your favourite pair of socks, folded perfectly. Beneath it a bunch of your other clothes are packed, and all sorts of travelling supplies.
"Oh yes – and I made you a nice warm drink." The King passes you a large thermos, and then blows his nose into his handkerchief. "We'll miss you, dear!"
The Queen pats your shoulder. "You're ready now, off you go. Goodbye, good luck, and have fun!"
submitted by The Ominous, age unknown, stranded in the desert
(January 6, 2018 - 6:28 pm)
(January 6, 2018 - 6:28 pm)
Top
(September 24, 2019 - 6:24 pm)
Top
(November 9, 2019 - 2:34 pm)
Top
(November 23, 2019 - 2:37 pm)
Top Top Top Top
(January 29, 2020 - 11:11 am)
Not forgotten.
Just hibernating.
While one half of the Ominous experiences the horrors of Higher Education and the other struggles with the horrors of operating skype, I shall top this.
Yes, it's going to be a while until this continues.
But it will.
TOP GOSH DARN IT.
(February 3, 2020 - 9:04 pm)
Omigosh I can't beliiiiiiiieeeeevvvve it, this is going to continue? It's been so longggg! And hi, Chinchilla! *Tackle hugs* BTW I used to go by Leafpool but I switched to Leafy a while ago. In case you were confused.
(February 4, 2020 - 10:34 am)
Greetings to those of you that have survived thus far!
This is a message from RMS Co. & The Higgledyly Piggledy Board Of Directors, whose chairman in indisposed at the moment. It's the company's duty to update readership as to the fate of our ex-employee by the name of The Ominous.
The Ominous is not dead from the Bubonic Plague, nor in the belly of a hippo without readily accessible bluetooth, nor even in a time travelling predicament with the 4th Legion. Simply put, the Ominous has been writing as they can, though the individuals known as Pied Piper & John F.Q have made it difficult, what with Pied Piper away in higher education, swamped with an array of good books but tiresome essays. This causes considerable difficulty insofar as comunication with John F.Q, who likewise was busy with a film focus program. We've been told it involved John F.Q dealing with actors who rebelled at the concept of an organized film schedule...
Unfortunately both John F.Q and Pied Piper have survived all that, while, due to quarantine, I'm left with a downgraded staff, closed departments, and a few bedraggled balloon animals. I don't know how they got here.
Anyway, John F.Q and Pied Piper are now finally within thinking distance of each other, and also uncomfortably near that entity known as The Artful Mongoose (a.k.a Chinchilla).
Because of this, our ex-employee will post Day 4 very soon and without excuses (of which this author would like to remind you he isn't a part of; so see The Complaints Department if you have any problems)!
With this update for The Ridiculous Managment Of Seagoers please remember,
"We're all professionals here."
Yours untruly ~Acting Chairman
(April 12, 2020 - 6:10 pm)
Hello, we're back. Day 4, which will be the final day, has been written and will be posted in 5 parts over the next week or so. We're sorry to not finish it with the conclusion of any sort of plot, but it's taken so long to write this last day that if we tried to continue we might be writing for seven more years and a day, and both of us are getting older and busier with life. The Chatterbox was a wonderful part of our childhoods. We hope the ending of Day 4 is, if not informative enough that you could guess the murderer, at least somewhat satisfactory.
Thank you so much to those of you who stuck with us over the last year or so of inactivity, and to anyone just reading this now for the first time, please enjoy. We offer you this premium bottle of 12-year old mayonnaise as a token of our everlasting gratitude. Treasure it, for it has great historical value, random though it may be. This bottle of mayonnaise kept us going when times were hard, and we hope it will do the same for you.
All jokes aside, this was tons of fun to write, and it's been immensely rewarding to know that people wanted to read our ramblings. Thank you, CBers, thank you.
The Ominous (Pied Piper and John FQ)
(April 13, 2020 - 9:05 pm)
*implodes* *explodes* *falls over* *cries* *dies* *resurrects*
I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE BACK OH MY GOSH THANK YOUUUU
I can't wait for Day 4. Now I need to go reread some of the other parts to refresh my memory on what was happening in the story XD
*solemnly* Thank you for coming back and continuing this, even if it's only partly. I've really enjoyed it. And let me just say: I understand the mayonnaise reference <333
(April 14, 2020 - 8:55 am)
Thank you so much for your enthusiasm! It's made our day many times since we began this story, and knowing that someone wants to read our writing is what's kept us going this far. On another note, would you prefer to be known as Leafy or Leafpool in this final day?
*equally solemnly* We are glad you understand, for there are some things we say that even we ourselves don't fully understand, for mayonnaise is the sort of mysterious substance that truly boggles the mind...
(April 14, 2020 - 7:29 pm)
Leafpool is fine if you want to keep it consistent with the rest of the story, or you can use Leafy if you want.
All hail the mayonnaise....
(April 15, 2020 - 9:36 am)
Oh my goodness, it's back!!! Ommy!! I just reread this entire thing in one sitting, and I am so excited for Day 4!! (I know I'm dead, but I'll be here anyway) On a more serious note, it's good to see you again, I hope life's been treating you well over the last few years. Yay!!!!
(April 16, 2020 - 4:10 pm)
Day 4 – Mystery, Madness, and Mayhem
The problem with secret organizations is that sometimes they’re so secret that you don’t really know who you’re working for or what you’re doing. Then again, no one really knows what they’re doing half the time anyways.
- The Ominous
“Here are the waffles!”
elementgirl had a sudden flashback: Jemima's crazed grin as she yelled, “We're staying! And I'm making waffles!”
Margaret had frowned at that, saying, “Are you ok, Jemima? You don't even know how to make waffles!”
“Oh, I’m sure it can’t be that hard! All you gotta do is mix the ingredients together, put them in the bowl, and then chuck it all out the window and make something nicer, like glazed prunes and apricot sauce!”
elementgirl blinked, and came back to the present. Mary had taken over the waffle making, so the ones being served up on the dining room counter looked like actual waffles instead of an attempt at sculpting a topographical map of Atlantis out of waffle batter, in that it was less of a puddle and more of an edible-looking substance, and didn’t have bits of spatula sticking out of it.
The CBers sat sullenly at stools at the counter, sipping orange juice, in the manner of people who have just lost a dear friend to a mysterious and creeping evil and are now preoccupied with the thought that they might be next.
Crypto was the first to speak. “Shall we stand idly by when two of our own have just been ripped from us by unknown NPCs? I say NO!”
“What do you suggest we do?” asked Leeli.
“Destroy everything within a ten-mile radius, starting with the Ominous!”
Just then, one of the Larries ran into the room, gibbering madly, his eyes red and veined. He held a slim volume in one hand. “AaAaAah, it’s terrible, horrifying, such pure cosmic horror runs through my veins in dread, no words can express the evil I have just seen, and I know that for sure ‘cause I checked the dictionary twice!”
St. Owl asked, “Did you just find out that [redacted, spoilers, sweetie!] died in Harry Potter?”
“Not at all! Wait, are you talking about the book about Harry potter, or the one written by him?”
“Harry Potter wrote a book!?” asked xp.
“Don’t be silly, he’s a fictional character, he can’t write a book!” said Somebody.
The Larry looked at her. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure that Harry Potter is a real character, I’ve had correspondence with him! Although most of his letters involve his nightmares, and long-winded descriptions of horrors from beyond the mists of time!”
Another Larry rushed in from the other direction, screaming. “AAAAAAAAAH!” He held the day’s copy of the Daily Punctuation in one hand, and waved it at them while blubbering unintelligibly.
“What's going on?” shouted SopranoTwo.
“I tell you, they're always one step ahead of us! Or else they're behind us but speedwalking so as to catch up to us and then pass us within the next few moments! How could they possibly already know about last night's events? And with photographs pending, it says right here! We're on a train speeding through a desert, and they have access to photographs? Do they have drones? Are their bicyclists skilled at sand dunes as well as stairs?” He paused for breath, his dark blue eyes wide.
The CBers stared at him, and blinked in unison.
Tux yawned. “It's too early in the morning for this kind of thing. Can you come back at lunchtime?”
Notes frowned at Tux. “It's never too early in the morning to write 24/7 notes and then match those notes to the security footage aboard the train-”
T.S. looked up sharply. “Wait, what? I'm being filmed!”
“Of course! Why do you think I brought so many censor bleeps?” said xp.
Notes continued, “- and correlate those on a corkboard to all the interlacing probabilities of who the murderer might be, and then look at the mail and rush into the kitchen to exclaim over the impossibilties of modern reporting, and then sip some sour orange juice!”
Larry gave Notes a suspicious look, but before he could say anything, Leafpool raised her hands and shook her head and said, “Wait wait wait! Can we back up a moment? Harry Potter writes cosmic horror?”
The first Larry, who the CBers now recognized as the Weather Larry, said, “Yeah! H.P.'s got some crazy stories, although I have to say I disagree with a bunch of his ideas.”
“H.P? Are you talking about H.P. Lovecraft?” asked Evergreen.
“Yeah! Harry Potter Lovecraft. That's obviously what his initials stand for! I mean, what else could it be?” xp replied.
Evergreen groaned, but before she could protest, Rose bud asked, “So what were you screaming about again?”
The Weather Larry trembled from the memory. “C-C-Cthulu! In the bathroom!” he fainted dead away.
The Host Larry jumped up to catch him, and then rephrased, his voice hollow and echoing with fear: “He meant that the eldritch horrors have arisen from the deepest darkest depths of the void – these terrible cosmic forces have somehow been summoned to appear in all their deadly glory in the physical plane, within a simple restroom aboard this train!” His voice returned to normal, and with his normal deadly-cheerful expression, he added, “Now this sounds like the story of a lifetime! I must get this scoop! Even if it shortens my lifetime!”
The Cbers looked at each other, unsure how to react. They didn’t need to, however, because suddenly Brookeira sat up and asked sharply, “Where did the AEs go?”
Everyone looked around. The AEs were nowhere to be seen. The only trace that they had ever been there was their empty orange juice glasses, one of which was slowly and dramatically spinning.
Danie groaned. “What now?”
Brookeira sighed. “We should probably go stop Crypto from blowing up the train.”
“Ok, but which way did they go?” asked orangelemon.
“Ah. Uh, hmmm. Maybe we should split up.” said Leafpool.
Danie reached out to grab Squeak, and then realized that Squeak had disappeared. She grabbed Leeli instead, said “Alright, you’re Watson 2.0 until we find Squeak!” and pulled her over to the door the Weather Larry had entered from. “We’ll go this way – who’s coming with me!”
Vyolette pulled out a huge book titled
The Complete Mysteries of Agatha Christie (annotated by Poirot)
and marched over to the door the Host Larry had entered from. “We shall use this tome as our reference for all our investigations, as Poirot and Miss Marple were the greatest detectives of all time.”
Danie pulled out The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (annotated by Watson (with help from Mrs. Hudson)), dramatically blew off a layer of dust on its cover, and said, “I respectfully disagree. Sherlock Holmes will be able to solve this case in no time!”
The Cbers split off, some going with Danie and some with Vyolette. Somebody stood still in the middle of the room. “Just a minute. I’m still processing... Harry Potter is a real person? I mean, I suppose it makes sense, there is that portrait of Gandal-” A voice yelled faintly from the next carriage over: “DUMBLEDORE!”
“Never mind that, we have to find the AES! Come on!” yelled Danie.
“Spit spot!” said Vyolette. “Let’s go!”
And so the Cbers, divided, hurried off to conquer. Or be conquered, for who knows what would happen next.
The kitchen was empty save for the baffled Mary and Jemima, and the two Larrys. Jemima blinked, and then bustled over and poured water onto the Weather Larry’s face. He regained consciousness, spluttering, and then the two Larrys sat down faintly at the counter, and absently sipped orange juice. After he had recovered his nerves, the Host Larry pronounced, “I propose that we start a joint investigation into these eldritch horrors, as well as who has leaked this information – after we finish these delicious waffles.”
Weather Larry nodded mutely, his eyes still red and scared, his mouth stuffed full of waffle.
END OF DAY 4 PART 1
(April 16, 2020 - 7:48 pm)
I am so confused, but in a good way
(April 17, 2020 - 12:26 pm)
Oh, this is a whole trip down memory lane . . .
I suppose that Harry Potter comment would've been very in character for me during my active CB days.
Just wanted to throw my hat into the ring of excitement. The Ominous and the Disorienting Express is legendary and I'd basically given up on this ever being completed, but no longer! I appreciate that we may not have as much of this story as we once would, but I'm still delighted that it's back and finishing up. Your writing never fails to bring a smile to my face.
(April 17, 2020 - 1:47 am)