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Author	Topic: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - horror - Movie Title Challenge winner
JediNemesis Registered: Mar '03	Date Posted: 3/13/07 8:14am Subject: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - horror - Movie Title Challenge winner - Date Edited: 6/13/07 12:04pm (4 edits total) Edited By: JediNemesis
	Title The Serpent's Kiss Author: JediNemesis, c'est moi. Genre: Horror? Era: 7000+ years pre-TPM Characters: OCs Summary: A lone traveller stops at a mysterious castle . . . Notes: Written from the title The Serpent's Kiss for the Movie Title challenge ; to my utter amazement, I won. Enjoy DISCLAIMER: OCs are mine, universe is Lucas'. Marko was the only visitor at the Star Inn hostel that night, and came down for breakfast the following morning tired but cheerful. Sandre Malvier, the landlord’s wife, was laying the table as he arrived in the dining room, and the two small girls chasing one another around and underneath the chairs had to be her daughters. They were chanting some nursery rhyme as they raced round; Marko caught a few words as he went past. “Janny Melanny lives over the hill -” Mme Malvier shushed them, waved Marko to a chair and smiled tiredly. “Morning, sir.” “Oh, for stars’ sake. Marko, please.” Marko said with a grin. Sandre had to be ten years younger than her husband; it was easy to be friendly to her, as long as he remembered not to overdo it. “Hey, this smells wonderful.” “Thank you.” Sandre said over her shoulder. She reached the foot of the main stairs just as Gerart Malvier came down them, and the couple exchanged kisses. “Casse’s lost her chance cubes, Gerart.” “Under the stairs.” Gerart said shortly. He nodded to Marko; Marko nodded back, and started in on his breakfast. Casse and Mele Malvier stopped singing and adjourned to his table with alacrity on seeing that he was eating, and were only placated when Marko gave them each a piece of honeyed toast. They settled down on either side of him, munching contentedly, whilst Marko worked his way through the rest of the meal. When he’d finished, he pushed away the plate, picked up his travel bag and called across the room to Sandre “Excuse me?” She came a moment later, wiping her hands. “Yes?” “I’m heading through the pass to Languemède.” Marko explained. “Is there anywhere to stop on the way, or do I have to hitch a ride?” “Well -” Sandre began uncertainly. “You can stay at the Lady’s.” Gerart Malvier said from behind her. He looked at Marko critically and nodded. “She doesn’t come down to the valley much, but she’ll let you stay the night if you say we sent you on.” Marko raised a curious eyebrow. “The Lady?” Gerart and Sandre exchanged glances; it was Sandre who spoke. “She lives on her own. A big old place up by the waterfall. We don’t see her often.” Marko nodded, guessing that there was some obscure cultural reason behind their reticence. Médou had a frankly ridiculous assemblage of bizarre superstitions and taboos, and if, say, the local waterfall was deemed to be a haunt of evil spirits then that probably cursed anyone living near it as well. “What’s she like?” “Nice enough.” Gerart said gruffly. “Never had anyone come back to complain of her company, any road.” There was a hint in that sentence, surely, and a fairly broad one. Marko smiled in acknowledgement, and hoisted his bag onto his back. “The Lady’s it is, then.” He settled the bill and left, bidding Sandre Malvier and her husband a cheerful farewell, and missed the long look that passed between the couple as he set off up the Languemède road. * * * Marko reached the waterfall just as night was falling, and walked up a long drive lined with tall slender trees to reach the Lady’s house. There were glowcubes strung in the trees, and the sound of the falls added a pleasant counterpoint to the sleepy forest noises. The Lady’s house was less a house than it was a mansion, and Marko cast an appreciative eye over the huge edifice as he waited by the door. A minute or so after he had let go the huge metal doorknocker, the door creaked open. Behind it was a spindly service droid, hovering at eye height, which buzzed threateningly at him. Marko was about to say something when there was a shimmer of white behind the droid and it moved out of the way. Its place was taken by a woman who took Marko’s breath away. She was as tall as he was, dark-skinned for a Médouaise, and had a huge mass of dark hair tied up behind her head. She wore a long white dress that covered everything from neck to ankle, and even that made Marko stare. Somehow, whilst completely covered, she managed to be a million times more desirable than the barely-clothed streetwalkers who thronged the Coruscant subways. Marko remembered himself enough to say “The Malviers sent me.” She nodded, and smiled. Then, seeing his curious look, she touched her mouth with one hand and shook her head. “You’re mute?” Marko asked gently. She nodded, and then beckoned for him to follow her across the huge, echoing entrance hall. She seemed to glide rather than walk, and her footsteps made no noise. Her long skirt billowed like a sail drifting along the flagstones, and pooled around her feet when she came to a stop. She had to stoop a little to press her hand to an ornate panel on the door she had come to, and the skirt swirled at the movement like a living thing. The door slid open with a faint hiss as she took her hand away, and she resumed her curious gliding walk. Beyond the door was a long corridor, panelled in some wood that looked to have been middle-gold before smoke and time darkened it. Marko ran his hand along the near wall as he went, marvelling at the waxy smoothness of the grain. Like everything in the huge building, it was of matchless quality. Strange that a lady with such an evident fortune should live alone, even if she was a mute. He only became aware that he had slowed when the impatient swirl of her white skirt caught his eye up ahead. She was beckoning to him, and nodded towards the open door she stood by. A light that looked like firelight spilled from it, warm and welcoming. Marko gave her an apologetic smile and followed her through. Inside was another panelled room, with an old-fashioned fireplace set into one wall. A fire burnt in the hearth, lending a cosily archaic feel to the space, and a more modern glowlamp stood discreetly on a side table. Marko sank gratefully into the nearest hovering chair, and closed his eyes as he sat back. The fire was wonderfully warm, and his hostess . . . looked as if she welcomed the company. From the way the old couple at the Star had talked about her, it seemed like one of those mad superstitions - maybe there was some old thing in Médou culture that banned you from talking to those who couldn’t talk back. That had to be the reason she lived on her own. Point of fact, it was a little bit surprising that nobody had thrown culture to the winds and married the woman; for stars’ sakes, she was stunning. Still - Marko stretched happily - he wasn’t a native, and didn’t have to conform to any half-baked local taboos. At that he allowed himself an anticipatory smile. Poor lass, she’d be absolutely starved - He opened his eyes at a feather-light touch on his shoulder, and looked up into the Lady’s face. Marko smiled at her in what he judged to be a gracious manner, and stood up. There was a small table in a corner of the room that was now lit, laid for two, and his hoverchair scooted past him to take up station at the near side. The Lady smiled shyly back, and went around the other side of the table to sit down. When they were both seated, she closed her eyes and sat with hands folded demurely in her lap for a few moments. Marko hastily mimicked her, murmuring a few vaguely pious-sounding words under his breath. When she opened her eyes, she smiled again, this time a dazzling and pleased smile that took his breath away. She was already eating busily by the time he remembered there was food on the table, and he hastened to catch up. There were slices of some meat that was probably a local bird, and various unidentifiable vegetables; they tasted good, and once he had established this, Marko ate with eyes for his hostess rather than his plate. She ate daintily, and somehow avoided getting sauce on the long drapes of sleeve that came down over her hands. Marko finished first, and sat back. She paused, and tapped the table enquiringly; a moment later a spindly hovering server droid buzzed out from beneath the table and proffered Marko a glass of wine. He took it eagerly, downed half the glass in one go, and then had to stop to cough. It wasn’t wine. She made an apologetic face, and tapped the table again. The droid swooped back underneath it and re-emerged clutching a bottle, which Marko took from it. The label was in Médouais, which he had trouble reading, but the main part had been translated into Basic. “Metheglin?” Marko spluttered aloud. “Medoway brain-rot? Sweet Force.” He picked up his glass in his free hand and looked at the liquid suspiciously. “Gods, I could’ve died.” He put down bottle and glass more abruptly than he had intended, and looked up to see the Lady looking flustered and not a little upset. There was red in her cheeks, Marko noticed, and it made her look much younger and definitely in need of protection. “Sorry . . .” he apologised awkwardly. “I’m not used to it. I’m not from here -” At that the flustered look vanished, replaced for a moment by incredulous joy and then by a slightly embarrassed smile. Marko felt like punching the air. He’d guessed right! It was some boneheaded superstition, and she, poor girl, had had no idea he didn’t subscribe to it as well. She tapped the table absently, and the server droid reappeared and began to clear away. Marko followed her back across the room, and went to sit down before he realised that she was not doing likewise. Instead she was standing by the door, one hand on the edge, her head tilted in mute questioning. Marko disengaged himself from the chair and followed eagerly as they left the firelit dining-room and went back along the same corridor they had come by. In the echoing entrance hall all was dark until the Lady clapped her hands peremptorily. The sound made Marko start, and he blinked as another spindly droid flew out of the shadows clutching a glow-cube. The droid accompanied them up the wide flight of stairs, bobbing ahead of them in the gloom like a will-o’-the-wisp. The Lady went slowly, holding onto the stair rail, with her skirt dragging behind her; Marko followed, marvelling at her ability to maintain that stepless, gliding walk even whilst climbing stairs. At the top of the flight was a gallery the mirror of the corridor he had walked along downstairs, identical down to the smoke-stained look of the wall panelling. She stopped halfway along it, placed her hand to the unlocking panel on one of the doors, and dipped Marko a shy half-curtsy before beckoning him through. The bedroom she ushered him into was small but well-furnished, its centrepiece a four-poster bed in the Naboo style. Marko shed his travelling bag onto a hovering chair and made a beeline for the bed, inspecting it with something bordering on awe. It was a work of real craftsmanship. And if the guest bedroom had this quality of decoration, what would the master chamber look like? He turned back to her and said honestly “Thank you.” She smiled, put her hands together in the Médou farewell gesture, and turned to leave for her own bedroom. Marko took a step forward but did not detain her, contenting himself with standing in the doorway and seeing which of the other doors she went to. When her slender white-clad form had disappeared through the door at the far end of the corridor Marko withdrew back into his allocated room, found the small old-fashioned ‘fresher chamber cunningly concealed behind a tapestry, and made haste to clean himself up and find a wearable sleep-tunic. Once he had got rid of the worst of the day’s stains and brushed his hair, he sat on the bed and thought through his plan of attack. She understood Basic, so no problems there. She hadn’t locked his door or her own. And, stars, she was so . . . wonderful. Marko groaned quietly and stood up, stretching. He padded out into the corridor, leaving the door half-open behind him, and sighted down the long gallery to the somewhat more ornate door at its far end. It was open a crack, and warm yellow light spilled down towards him. How much more open an invitation could you get? Marko smiled to himself as he headed quietly towards the sliver of light. The door moved silently on its hinges when he pulled it, and made barely a sound clicking back into place behind him. The Lady was standing at a wide mirror directly opposite the door, brushing the long skein of dark hair that now hung loose almost to her waist. Off to her right stood a huge old bed carved from dark wood, every bit as ornate as Marko had imagined it. The coverlid was half turned back, and the sheets were white. She caught sight of him in the mirror just as he looked back towards her, and abruptly lowered the brush. She smiled at him in the glass, a quiet inward smile as if she knew some secret he did not, and turned around with open arms. He was scarcely aware of taking the two steps it took to reach her. But they had definitely happened, because now she was in his arms, and he was kissing her and running a hand down her side - And into empty air. Marko started back - The Lady looked at him with that same curious smile playing around her lips, and her fingers meshed delicately in front of her. Then she put her right hand to her left shoulder, and as if brushing some stain off her dress moved her fingers out and downward. The white fabric melted away underneath them, seeming to boil and dissolve under her hand like smoke. She was wearing some kind of black long-sleeved garment that looked almost as if it were armour. It glinted metallic here and there, but in a fashion that made Marko’s eyes start to water uncontrollably, as if the glitter did not quite match the lights casting it. She lowered her hand and repeated the manoeuvre from left hip to right knee, the white skirt melting into nothingness - Marko stumbled backward again, a hand clasped over his mouth. He could taste the bile rising in his throat as the shreds of whiteness dissipated from around the Lady’s waist, making it transparently clear that there was nothing below it. Her black-clad torso ended in a smooth dark band, like a surgical sleeve, that came to a slight triangle as if to follow her pelvis. Below that was only empty air, and the last wispy tendrils of white dissolving away. She came towards him, moving as surely as if she walked, but with the odd gliding smoothness that had piqued his curiosity earlier. Marko backed away, blindly, his eyes refusing to see the defiance of nature taking place in front of them. Finally his back met the door, and he sagged against its unyielding surface. The Lady waved a hand derisively, and a shudder went through the door as the bolt on the outer surface slid ponderously into its socket. Marko cringed, trying to flatten himself further against the wood. Then she placed her hands on her hips, as though totally unconscious that there was nothing below them, and tilted her head to survey him critically. Searching for something remotely normal to focus on, Marko found himself looking her in the eye. Only her head remained the same; the ravishing face with its dark skin and tumbling black hair had not changed a whit. She narrowed her eyes, and said consideringly “You certainly have conventional taste in castles.” Marko could not, would not, bring himself to contemplate the ghastly emptiness beneath her poised hands, and instead blurted out “You’re not mute?” “Now that,” she said dispassionately, “is less than conventional. No, the muteness was your idea. All this -” she waved a hand “- came straight from your mind, little traveller.” She smiled, and Marko flinched away. It looked too much like a predator’s smile. “You came to a lonely mansion high up in the Médou mountains. I ensured that you saw what you expected to see. And heard what you expected to hear.” There was a steel in her voice that made Marko flinch again. “I dare say you don’t like your women to talk back.” She clapped her hands, and the room dissolved. Marko had shut his eyes in terror as soon as she moved, but he could feel it happening; it felt like a draining, a coldness, and the growing, inescapable certainty that what he would see when he opened his eyes would not be the room he had shut them on. “Open your eyes.” the Lady commanded icily. They opened. Marko stared, too terrified now even to flinch, at a spartan room with cold walls of bare stone and two stuttering glowcubes hanging from chains. As his eyes became used to the grey light, other things came into focus. Bones. There were bones littered along the base of the far wall - The Lady snapped her fingers and the bones were gone, the lights were brighter and the shadows less threatening. Marko felt a chill as if a cold hand had taken hold of his spine. She drummed her fingers on her hips and said after a moment “I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” She did not give Marko time to reply before answering her own question. “Yes. Of course. In that case, Marko Nievalan -” - the shadows grew behind her, and she was wearing a flickering halo of lightning, a glowing crown of thorns laid over hair that streamed in a high wind, and below her waist grew an indistinct green mass that slithered into solidity and became a writhing, thrashing snake’s tail - “- welcome!” Her voice was a triumphant, echoing shout, multiplied into infinity and amplified into thunder. “Welcome to the home of the Djanimilane, Dark Lady of the Sith.” Djanimilane . . . Marko’s hindbrain respelt the nasal Médouais into something resembling Basic, and presented the result to his shivering consciousness. Janny Melanny - “The children.” Marko whispered stupidly. “The children - at the hostel -” The thunder and lightning vanished as abruptly as they had come, and Djanimilane lowered her arms to her sides. “Were they singing about me? Oh, how nice.” She laughed, showing her teeth. “Funny, isn’t it, how children retell the horrors? But that song will live when I am gone and forgotten.” She was no longer looking at him, but staring into space. “And as long as they sing it, I will never die . . .” Marko looked through her, lost in a morass of terror. Terror of the woman in front of him, of the monstrous impossibility of her existence, and of the nagging certainty that he understood not an iota of why she did what she was doing - She looked back at him as he had that thought, head turning with whiplash speed, and said quietly “Acharis Lang cut me in half.” Lang was a common surname, but wasn’t there a Jedi family - Djanimilane hissed contemptuously and snapped her fingers again. The wall to Marko’s right became a window onto a rainswept vista, through which cut the bright figure of a young woman in Jedi robes, her blue lightsaber poised. In this room of horrors she looked like an angel, and Marko reached out numbly towards her. The Dark Lady obliterated the illusion as quickly as she had made it, and with another contemptuous gesture of her fingers sent Marko reeling back against the door. “My Master cast me out.” She cupped her hands underneath her levitating torso, disgust written on her face. “My skill with minds, my illusions - never mind that I can summon a phantom that would make him quail back in fear - counted for nothing. No Sith, he said, should suffer such an injury . . . He will take me back if I survive ten years without him. Then and only then!” She spat. “But it was exile or death, and any exile is better than that.” Marko did not hear her. The age-old war between the Jedi and the Sith raged in the background of galactic life, only intruding on reality when the balance of power shifted dramatically. And the dark Order stayed in the shadows. This had to be a nightmare, brought on by tiredness and embarrassment and an unfamiliar bed - “Oh, no.” Djanimilane’s silky voice cut in on his thoughts. She smiled the same feral smile again, and stretched like a cat. “It’s not a nightmare, little traveller. I’m afraid you won’t be waking up from this one.” * * * Down in the valley, Gerart Malvier drew the outer door of the Star Inn closed, shot the bolt, and put the chain across. On the other side of the main room, his wife was closing the curtains and straightening chairs. They met at the foot of the stairs, and Sandre looked towards the locked door, and then at her husband. “Gerart . . .” “It’s out of our hands.” Gerart said brusquely. Sandre wrung a fold of her dress between her hands and whispered “Gerart, that poor boy.” Her husband grunted. “D’you see how his eyes lit up when I mentioned the Lady living on her own?” He started upstairs. “Deserves everything he gets.” “No!” Sandre caught at the hem of his tunic. “Nobody deserves that.” Gerart came back downstairs and sat down on the step, pulling Sandre into his arms. “That’s as may be. But if we hadn’t sent him, she would have come for the children. You know what we promised. We send loners up to her, and she stays away from us -” “It’s not right.” Sandre said wretchedly. “It’s not right.” “The girls know.” Gerart said after a long while. “I’m sure of it.” Sandre closed her eyes. “Yes -” There was a creak of a floorboard above them, and both parents glanced up. From the floor above a dim light was shining through a crack, and two girlish voices were chanting sleepily. “. . . Janny Melanny's a witch in disguise . . .” Sandre pulled free of her husband’s grip and climbed the stairs, stony-eyed. A moment later Gerart followed her, and watched helplessly from the upper door as Sandre put their two daughters summarily back in bed. Later, though, after he had looked in on Casse and Mele and found them both fast asleep, he would have sworn that someone was still singing, their voice high as high and as faint as the keening of the wind. * * * O Janny Melanny lives over the hill - She lives on her own and she never comes out; And nobody knows if she everly will; Keep to the path if you're ever about - She lives in the castle way up by the fall, With graves in the garden and bones on the wall! O Janny Melanny’s a witch in disguise - She lives on her own and she never comes out; She's got hair like black stormclouds and glowing green eyes; Keep to the path if you're ever about - But after the sunset when no-one's awake, Janny Melanny turns into a snake! O Janny Melanny will ask you to stop - She lives on her own and she never comes out; For during the day she's a woman on top; (Keep to the path if you're ever about) But see that white dress like a big flappy sail? She wears the long skirt so's you can't see the tail! If Janny Melanny gets into your head - (She lives on her own and she never comes out) You'll pine till you're crazy - and then till you're dead! - (So keep to the path if you're ever about) If she asks you "Come in!" then say thank you and go - If she offers a drink then say thank you but no! For if Janny Melanny's laid lips to your cup, You'll go off to sleep and you'll never wake up! Feedback much appreciated Nem -----signature----- <- Fic in bio <- Before the Saga Best Author 2008! Thanks so much guys! BeTS Best Romance 2008: Spindrift - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b1/28478326 NEW Somewhere To Fly - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b1/28898463 + GM & Judge in the Mythology Draft +
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UnderCoverJedi Registered: Jul '06	Date Posted: 3/13/07 9:05am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	This was my favorite. I'm in awe of your talent. -----signature----- Not e-married, e-engaged, or e-attached. I prefer to do those things in person. In His Master's Wake http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/28185973/p1/?0 Never http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/25789579
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VaderLVR64 Title: Fan Fic Manager Digging out from Fay Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 3/13/07 9:12am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	I read this while the contest was going on and was absolutely BLOWN away! But that happens a lot when I read your work. Another masterpiece! -----signature----- If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories. They call me NANA Vader. At least she doesn't lack confidence...
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jedi_of_ennth Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 3/13/07 9:50am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	Loved this. The set-up, the creepy atmosphere, the way everything came together in the end ... absolutely chilling. The win was definitely deserved. -----signature----- "I'm your friend. I love you." -- Zekk to Jaina, LotF: Fury
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Persephone_Kore Registered: Jan '06	Date Posted: 3/13/07 11:13am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	I was so impressed by this one. I wasn't at all surprised when you won. I'm also a total sucker for fics with good use of children's rhymes. Janny Melanny, indeed. -----signature----- Behind a Waterfall, Before the Pyre: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/27572863 Look Out Toward Space: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/27553828 Gnarltree: http://boards.theforce.net/f/b1/25694713 Rescreatu: http://www.rescreatu.com?refer=6559
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Lola64 Registered: Mar '05	Date Posted: 3/13/07 5:35pm Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	I'm glad to see this entry won. It was amazingly eerie. I loved it. Gerart said gruffly. “Never had anyone come back to complain of her company, any road.” I knew then that Marko was in for trouble if he went to the Lady's, just by the title of this fic. However, that did not keep me off the edge of my seat as she began her transformation right before his eyes. OMG! I was totally unnerved. (in a good way, well if there is a good way ) And she was Jenny Melanny. Those children sing that song all the time and their parents have to sacrifice strangers so the witch doesn't come for them. Again, this was awesome. Now I'll have to go read your other work. -----signature----- Kyp/Nurse Lola: the new ship I stalk people. It's a Lola thing. Senator & Dozen 11 of the KDFC
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BrentusofGath Registered: Aug '05	Date Posted: 3/13/07 5:41pm Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	A ghastly tale of the macabre. I loved it! I liked it a lot when I first read it, and it's sinister tendrils have wormed their rotting, festering tentacles into my heart. And congrats again for winning! -----signature----- In time or so I'm told, I'm just another soul for sale, oh well Feel it in my bones when you break my back, break it just to watch me bend Why'd you have to go and Let it Die? -Foo Fighters
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Layren Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 3/13/07 5:55pm Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	WOW! That was utterly amazing! You truly blew me away with that! Very creepy and gave me the cold chills even with a heating pad on my shoulder. Wow....just freaky. Well done!! Congratulations on your well deserved win! -----signature----- Proud Master to Ara-gon The Triad Chronicles http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/25934993/p1/?177 (OC's) Into Another Day http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27926050/p1/?0 2008 Dear Diary Challenge I am Jinngerbread.
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Healer_Leona Registered: Jul '00	Date Posted: 3/14/07 3:38am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	Love this to death!! -----signature----- I want to swim away but don't know how Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean
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Darth Muis Registered: Mar '00	Date Posted: 3/15/07 11:13am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	Excellent story and a very deserved victory. It really send chills down my spine. Wonderful idea about the nursery rhyme and the slight French elements, if I'm not mistaken. Reads like an old time ghost story or some macabre fairy tale. -----signature----- Talon Intelligence Squadron: Book Three! http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28952461 Tales from the Intelligence Gala! (TIS spin-off!) http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28600431 "Once a Talon, always a Talon."
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JediNemesis Registered: Mar '03	Date Posted: 3/21/07 9:06am Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner
	Hello everybody! It's wonderful to see you all I saw Elijah Wood today . . . UnderCoverJedi This was my favorite. I'm honoured to have come out on top - I know how hard it was picking which entry to vote for. I'm in awe of your talent. I'm blushing, I know I am. Thanks! VaderLVR64 I read this while the contest was going on and was absolutely BLOWN away! But that happens a lot when I read your work. VL, you've got to stop saying this kind of thing. It embarrasses me But seriously, thanks so much Another masterpiece! Glad you think so jedi_of_ennth Loved this. The set-up, the creepy atmosphere, the way everything came together in the end ... absolutely chilling. I'm glad it worked - I know I had a ball writing it. The win was definitely deserved. Thanks Persephone_Kore I was so impressed by this one. I wasn't at all surprised when you won. Hell, I was. But thankyou I'm also a total sucker for fics with good use of children's rhymes. Janny Melanny, indeed. Agatha Christie did it a lot. If you're interested, the rhyme came first - then the story got written to fit in with it. Lola64 I'm glad to see this entry won. It was amazingly eerie. I loved it. I'm glad you liked it I knew then that Marko was in for trouble if he went to the Lady's, just by the title of this fic. However, that did not keep me off the edge of my seat as she began her transformation right before his eyes. OMG! I was totally unnerved. (in a good way, well if there is a good way) I think there most definitely is. The title was an absolute gift, though; no messing about - had to be horror or nothing And she was Jenny Melanny. Those children sing that song all the time and their parents have to sacrifice strangers so the witch doesn't come for them. Isn't it horrible? Again, this was awesome. Now I'll have to go read your other work. Whoa. I'd be so flattered if you did! BrentusofGath A ghastly tale of the macabre. I'd say that's a pretty accurate description, yup . . . I loved it! I liked it a lot when I first read it, and it's sinister tendrils have wormed their rotting, festering tentacles into my heart. That's got to be the best reply ever. Definitely in the spirit of the story Thanks! Layren WOW! That was utterly amazing! You truly blew me away with that! Aw, thank you Very creepy and gave me the cold chills even with a heating pad on my shoulder. Wow....just freaky. Well done!! Good, good. My work here is done. Hope your shoulder gets better soon Healer_Leona Love this to death!! I think that's quite an apt comment . . . Thank you Darth Muis Excellent story and a very deserved victory. Thank you. It's wonderful to see a new face now and then. Or an old one It really send chills down my spine. Wonderful idea about the nursery rhyme and the slight French elements, if I'm not mistaken. Nope, spot on. Djani's name came first and the rest of the naming elements I tried to fit into the same kind of language. Reads like an old time ghost story or some macabre fairy tale. The proper kind of fairy tales, with a moral - in this case "Do not spend the night with strange, mute ladies in mysterious empty houses" Thanks, everyone! Nem -----signature----- <- Fic in bio <- Before the Saga Best Author 2008! Thanks so much guys! BeTS Best Romance 2008: Spindrift - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b1/28478326 NEW Somewhere To Fly - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b1/28898463 + GM & Judge in the Mythology Draft +
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JediNemesis Registered: Mar '03	Date Posted: 6/13/07 12:04pm Subject: RE: The Serpent's Kiss - OCs - Movie Title Challenge winner - Replies Mar 21!
	Pardon me, Lord, for I have bumped. Up we go! -----signature----- <- Fic in bio <- Before the Saga Best Author 2008! Thanks so much guys! BeTS Best Romance 2008: Spindrift - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b1/28478326 NEW Somewhere To Fly - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b1/28898463 + GM & Judge in the Mythology Draft +
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