...made in 2 minutes...

Anyways, here are the rules:
post ANYTHING in this thread (poems, stories, images, 3Dimages, movies, websites, ASCII art, anything.), only start the post with "entry" as in:

entry
This is a poem, a poem it is, it is made in a minute, but what does that matter, because this is just an example

I will then choose my favorite entry. The winner will get a trophy made in SPORE... because that is the 3Dimage program *cough* I am most skilled at using.

If your post is not an entry, simply do not put the word "entry" at the beginning of it.

Entry
A precious treasure shines
expressing incredible beauty
but then, so much more;
more than can be seen.

Hidden away from the world,
sheltered in a self-made cage;
of the finest mindweave
to protect, or to seal away?

Searched for fervently
by many a lost seeker
hoping for happiness
and finding... what?

So here I sit, waiting
on the sand
at a faraway beach
for my treasure.

But what is it that the treasure is?
Is it gold, silver, and gems? No.
She is but a single flower
of delicate and eloquet perfection.

Sweet petals with dewdrops
like tears, dripping
at her hidden fears
and broken aimlessness.

Why must she always flee
from anything that comes her way?
Her happiness may lie
in the hands of another.
But she does not want to be contained,
it is the breeze she rides upon.

Petals float by
lost to the wind
all to remind me
of what lies ahead.

And I wait.

entry

This is a poem
A poem it is
Don't know what's going on
But that's none of my biz

Entry

On an austere perch
A falcon is there, waiting
To locate its prey

Disregard this post

I see that poems are very popular...anyone want to post something else?

Entry

This is a short, simple story. Today, I ran part of a D&D campaign. In it, there was a very evil, very anarchaic mage who fired fireballs over and over, while yanking gnomes out of space and having them fire vollies of arrows. My PCs said they hated it over and over, but when they won, they felt very good about themselves. Most of them almost died.

Entry
This website.

What do I do because *cough* I lost my SPORE CD.

you don't have to have spore to view it. You can also just view the thumbnail of the creation online.

Just anything, made in minutes? I can probably write a story in a couple minutes, maybe not a website or anything though...

Entry: Death - a short story

"Lo, the earth, I fear, is quivering my boy."

But as the boy turned to face the echoes of these words, what figure had existed, had vanished from the mortal realm. The wind whistles and the candle wick winds. Here, the ancient novelas tell, is when column's rose begins its subtle death. The boy, Emil, shivered in the forest's tomb, yearning only for one wormy candle. But darkness enveloped his environs, and his hope began to shrivel. Perched above the makeshift bed Emil now pray, a purring owl pondered this boy's plight. Taking flight, his frosty feathers furling a majestic canopy, the lowly owl rises above the darkness of the trees. Here, she glides above the silver moon, silhouetting a far off tower.

The tower looms above the starry skies, its faithful arms, ticking time. From within its bosom rings the bells of some profligate campanologist's lure. 'Tis ten o'clock. Methinks some soul finds comfort in the hour's song, smiling for the onset of a somber slumber. But to our young distressed, the boy Emil finds only fear in the haunting melody of that hour's tune. Wallowing amidst the toads, the boy begins to hear the hoof beats of a horse. Off in the distance, a cloaked phantom speeds upon his stallion, his black robes sailing in his wake. Emil cowers in pallid fear, as the horrific phantom approaches. The dark chestnut stallion hooves thunder through the brush, the fiery beast snorting and snarling like some anachronistic dragon.

Meeting the boy Emil, the phantom calms his horse. Stepping from the beast, the frosty forest's dust steams with wicked ephemeral smiles. Emil, overcome with clenching cold and frothing fear, trembles in the phantom's shadow. The phantom speaks... words not audible to any mortal being, but through the passages of some etheric sense. Emil twitches as he hears these words, his eyes white and mouth foaming. But even in this fitful fate, Emil begins to stand. His legs lifting him, not from his own strength, but by the power of some clenching enemy. Reaching out a bony hand, the phantom grips the boy, sealing a prison of no escape. Mounting the sentinel steed, the two ride off, vanishing in the thick of forest.

A soft hoot marks the owl's return. She glides gracefully to her aforementioned perch, a single candle clutched in her claws. But peering from the gurgling glow of that one candle, she finds no boy, where once had stood.

I didn't make a website, just got a good url.

A REALLY good url. Thx.

<entry>









This space intentionally left blank



































</entry>

This failed.

Are you still doing this?

No, I lost the trophy. But I'll still congratulate the winner...

<entry>

The phenomenon of beating

</entry>

<entry>

So I spent many years claiming that 3rd/3.5 ed of DnD was awful, not because I had tried it but because I grew up with my family playing 2nd ed and telling me that 3rd/3.5 ed was awful. I believed them for years and, therefore, mocked my friends in high school who played 3rd/3.5 ed. After high school got out and I relized that I had no life anymore because I live in a hole of town I decided that I may as well actually try this 3rd/3.5 ed before I continue to mock its existence. So, a group of my friends gathered and began putting a group together. I rolled up a character, confused at first by the many intricacies of 3.5 ed, and started on my journey. I, with much excitement created a very short halfling who, thanks to her backstory, thinks she is a gnome. Always wanted to be a bard but was very awful at it so she was a rogue instead. Her campaign has been through 3 weeks of playing so far with half the party dead. One of the casters in our group (can't remember if he was a wizard or a sorcerer) turned the dean of students at the local mages college into a sheep. Our other caster bluffed his way as the first casters lawyer in the trial. They later nearly froze to death. Eventually they made it back into town, the second caster successfully impersonated the leader of the college, who the rest of us in the party had killed earlier, but the casters didn't know that because they were side-questing. Anyway, long story made short (too late), I've jumped headfirst into the world of 3.5 ed and I'm loving every step of this journey. Every campaign has it's own thing that is special to them; for example, in The Gamers 2: Dorkness Rising they went out for waffles after a gaming session. In our campaign we have our good luck cookies, which consist of boxes and boxes of oreos. Before each battle we each have at least one cookie. If we want to roll a saving throw or roll for a check, good luck cookie. We have great fun with our group. And that's my story of how I've switched to "the dark side" which turned out not to be as dark as I imagined it to be.

</entry>

Not sure if that was okay for an entry or not. I just, essentially, had to tell someone of how my opinions have shifted so wonderfully.

Entry:

(Pardon my bad coding habits.)

^ so a Cesar cipher of sorts?

No, replace2() is translate but it supports word replacement as well.

oh, derp...

entry
A minute after Christina had entered the room, she knew something was wrong. For the past 60 seconds, she had been walking around her bed and finishing the last chapter of a fan fiction she was writing. As she lay down and looked up at the ceiling, she noticed what seemed to be a small hole right above her head. As she stared at it, it seemed to grow larger and larger, stopping once it reached a diameter of 50cm. Our heroine walked upstairs to check the floor there, but upon entering the attic, she noticed that there was no floor at all, and that in its place was the now substantially larger black being. She spun around and attempted to flee, but to no avail. She had almost been completely engulfed by the void when the author of her story fell asleep. In his dreams, he felt that killing an innocent girl, even a fictional one, was not right by his moral standards, and upon waking up he grabbed his laptop and rewrote the last chapter of his story. Christina was surprised and relieved when she suddenly appeared seconds earlier in the doorway, with a vorpal sword in hand. With a single slash she defeated the monster and, the author's creativity having run dry, ended her existence with a peaceful THE END.

Entry
This picture.