英検１級 230

2025/04/27(日) 13:24:35.20

前スレ
https://itest.5ch.net/lavender/test/read.cgi/english/1738553567/

2025/04/27(日) 13:57:34.47

やった!一番乗り!

2025/04/27(日) 15:41:11.56

Hello you guys!
In the beginning, I appreciate this thread’s master for launching next thread.
So all the friends here, as you know, this thread has been on purpose that English learners mainly give and take information or ideas each other which are beneficial to learn English preparing for Eiken 1st. grade exam.
Thus, participants in this thread basically have to behave in accordance with guideline. Regretfully, however, there has been someone who occasionally interrupted us. We don't welcome those who make us annoyed so much.
So observe a regulation , keep atmosphere good , and above all let's get started studying English joyfully together!

2025/04/27(日) 20:22:50.55

釣りか？
beginningを使うならat
appreciateを感謝するの意味で使うときは、基本的に人を目的語にしない。
等突っ込みどころ満載

Hello everyone!
First of all, I’d like to thank the creator of this thread for starting a new one.
As you all know, the purpose of this thread is for English learners to exchange useful information and ideas, especially in preparation for the Eiken Grade 1 exam.
Therefore, participants are expected to follow the guidelines and contribute respectfully.
Unfortunately, there have been some instances where the atmosphere was disrupted by certain individuals. We'd like to kindly remind everyone that such behavior is not welcome.
So please follow the rules, help maintain a positive atmosphere, and above all—let’s enjoy learning English together!

2025/04/27(日) 21:47:12.58

どうでもいい英語の事で工作員の相手をするバカではない。
英検ｗTOEICw脳ミソなし、バカ丸出し
英語絶滅ww

2025/04/27(日) 22:23:18.02

Vandalism on a "Bulletin Board System"(B B S) in the Internet is namely outrageous behavior of a person who visits a thread, and it's so called "Arashi" in Japanese.
They(=Arashi)are often unruly because they sometimes make other ordinary visitors annoyed using brutal words on the thread. Due to it, most of users in a thread feel uncomfortable and some are confused. Uncomfortable comments of a outrageous person often lead to make threads chaotic communities.
In that sense, it needs to be usually monitored so that threads are not to be confused by malicious visitors. Excluding these persons who pretend badly from threads, users could have more fun, besides it would often be more beneficial for them.

2025/04/27(日) 22:30:23.12

>>4
ありがとう!勉強になります!
あ､でも添削されてるの知らないでもう一個下に書いちゃいました笑　また突っ込まれまずは笑笑

2025/04/27(日) 22:34:41.66

>>7
間違えました｢また突っ込まれ(ますね)笑｣w

2025/04/27(日) 22:55:43.40

>>4
すみません何度も
釣りじゃないんです｡実は昨日前スレで夕方くらいからひどい荒らしの人が湧いてきてものすごいことになってたんです｡その人にも色々事情はあったらしいのですが､あまりにも目にあまるところがあって正直ビックリしました。
なのでまた以前のように平和なスレを期待して気持ちをわかってもらいたくて書きました。
それでさらにもうひとつ書いたわけです。
長文失礼しました｡

2025/04/28(月) 09:17:49.45

日本の大学受験制度が
帰国子女にアファーマティブアクションを用意し
在日韓国人に用意しなかったから
差別を帰国子女に転嫁する方法として
在日韓国人が「純ジャパ」を定義した

バブル世代はこれが見えてないから
Z世代が韓国人に「純ジャパじゃなくていいな〜」とウザ絡みしていることの
面白さがみえていない

本当に頭悪いよねバブルって

2025/04/28(月) 09:17:56.20

日本の大学受験制度が
帰国子女にアファーマティブアクションを用意し
在日韓国人に用意しなかったから
差別を帰国子女に転嫁する方法として
在日韓国人が「純ジャパ」を定義した

バブル世代はこれが見えてないから
Z世代が韓国人に「純ジャパじゃなくていいな〜」とウザ絡みしていることの
面白さがみえていない

本当に頭悪いよねバブルって

2025/04/28(月) 09:20:23.28

日本の大学受験制度が
帰国子女にアファーマティブアクションを用意し
在日韓国人に用意しなかったから
差別を帰国子女に転嫁する方法として
在日韓国人が「純ジャパ」を定義した

バブル世代はこれが見えてないから
Z世代が韓国人に「純ジャパじゃなくていいな〜」とウザ絡みしていることの
面白さがみえていない

本当に頭悪いよねバブルって

2025/04/28(月) 09:20:30.20

日本の大学受験制度が
帰国子女にアファーマティブアクションを用意し
在日韓国人に用意しなかったから
差別を帰国子女に転嫁する方法として
在日韓国人が「純ジャパ」を定義した

バブル世代はこれが見えてないから
Z世代が韓国人に「純ジャパじゃなくていいな〜」とウザ絡みしていることの
面白さがみえていない

本当に頭悪いよねバブルって

2025/04/28(月) 09:20:37.17

日本の大学受験制度が
帰国子女にアファーマティブアクションを用意し
在日韓国人に用意しなかったから
差別を帰国子女に転嫁する方法として
在日韓国人が「純ジャパ」を定義した

バブル世代はこれが見えてないから
Z世代が韓国人に「純ジャパじゃなくていいな〜」とウザ絡みしていることの
面白さがみえていない

本当に頭悪いよねバブルって

2025/04/28(月) 11:21:39.12

英検はALTやJETを雇えなかった偽物英語の時代の人でも点数取れるから
バブル世代が偉そうになりがちだけど
バブル世代は英語教育に恵まれなかったかわいそうな人たちで
偽ものの英語を話しているんだと知らないといけない

逆にJETやALTと交流する機会があるのに
高校や大学で留学プログラムも用意しているのに
帰国子女を羨む若者がいたら
バブルに毒されてるキチガイだから

2025/04/28(月) 11:22:09.39

バブルのゴミどもが
偽物の努力を努力と呼んで偉そうに

2025/04/28(月) 11:23:32.99

バブルはバカで
洋楽に憧れて
グラムに旅行するだけで
JETやALT（東京に住めると思って地方に飛ばされて人生面白くない外人との交流）
ホームステイプログラム（海外の最下層の家で居候）
の経験から英語について話さないからゴミ

2025/04/28(月) 11:25:34.43

バブルはバカで
洋楽に憧れて
グアムに旅行するだけで
JETやALT（東京に住めると思って地方に飛ばされて人生面白くない外人との交流）
ホームステイプログラム（海外の最下層の家で居候）
の経験から英語について話さないからゴミ

2025/04/28(月) 18:08:52.37

>>5
英語絶滅てw
アメリカが無くなって大日本帝国復活か？

英語嫌いの学生が大喜びしそうだけど俺の仕事がなくなるからやめてくれ()

2025/04/28(月) 21:07:25.25

Pほspはねs

Phosphanes

2025/04/28(月) 21:09:44.56

2025/04/28(月) 21:10:04.96

2025/04/28(月) 21:18:00.22

The stars hung like scattered pearls across the velvet expanse of the cosmos, each a silent witness to the eons. Below, the planet Arctis lay shrouded in perpetual frost, its surface a mosaic of crystalline ice and jagged obsidian peaks. In the heart of this desolate world, a solitary figure trudged through the snow, their breath forming fleeting clouds in the frigid air. They were called Kael, a wanderer with no home, driven by a compulsion they could neither name nor ignore.

2025/04/28(月) 21:18:54.33

Kael’s suit, patched and worn, hummed softly as it fought the cold. Their visor, scratched from countless storms, displayed faint coordinates pulsing in the corner—a beacon’s signal, erratic but persistent, buried somewhere in the ice. Legends spoke of an ancient vault on Arctis, a relic of a civilization long vanished, said to hold secrets that could unravel time itself. Kael didn’t believe in myths, but the signal was real, and that was enough.

2025/04/28(月) 21:19:28.06

The wind howled, carrying shards of ice that stung like needles. Kael pressed forward, guided by the beacon’s faint rhythm. Hours bled into days, the landscape unchanging, until a shadow loomed ahead—a spire of black stone piercing the sky. At its base, a crevasse yawned, its edges glinting with unnatural light. Kael knelt, peering into the abyss. The signal was stronger now, almost a voice, whispering in a language older than the stars.

2025/04/28(月) 21:19:38.74

They descended, rappelling down walls of ice that shimmered with faint, embedded glyphs. The air grew warmer, the darkness thicker. At the bottom, a chamber opened, vast and silent, its walls carved with spirals that seemed to writhe in the dim glow of Kael’s suit. In the center stood a device, a lattice of crystal and metal, pulsing with the same rhythm as the beacon. It was alive, or something close to it.

Kael approached, heart pounding. The whispers grew louder, not in their ears but in their mind, fragments of thoughts not their own. Seek the thread. Unbind the weave. They reached out, fingers brushing the lattice. A jolt coursed through them, and the chamber dissolved into light.

Visions flooded Kael’s mind: cities of glass spanning galaxies, beings of pure energy weaving fates, a collapse that tore reality apart. The vault wasn’t a treasure trove; it was a warning, a record of a mistake that ended an era. Kael saw themselves, a speck in the vastness, holding a choice—to destroy the device or to carry its knowledge into a universe unready for it.

They staggered back, the visions fading. The lattice hummed, waiting. Kael’s hand hovered over the controls, trembling. To destroy it was to bury the truth. To take it was to risk everything. The whispers fell silent, leaving only the sound of their own breath.

Kael turned away, leaving the vault behind. The stars above offered no answers, but the choice was theirs alone.

2025/04/28(月) 21:23:31.90

The toaster had opinions, though no one asked for them. Every morning at precisely 7:03 a.m., it refused to toast rye bread, insisting on sourdough instead. Gerald, a man of considerable patience but limited breakfast options, had long given up arguing. "It's not worth the fight," he muttered, staring into the chrome-plated enigma. The toaster blinked, which was odd, because it didn’t have eyes.

2025/04/28(月) 21:24:30.50

Outside, flamingos marched in protest. Their signs read “Equal Beaks for All” and “No More Plastic Lawns!” Somewhere down the street, a sentient fire hydrant was giving an impassioned speech about urban infrastructure, its voice muffled by the sound of rain that wasn’t falling. Gerald watched from his window, sipping lukewarm coffee flavored with existential dread and a hint of hazelnut.

2025/04/28(月) 21:25:14.79

His cat, Rumblesocks, was practicing levitation again. It hovered two inches above the couch, surrounded by a faint blue aura and the faint scent of lavender. Gerald made a mental note to ask the vet if astral projection was covered by pet insurance. So far, the cat had only used its powers to knock over increasingly heavy objects and stare ominously at the neighbor’s corgi, who had begun sleeping in a circle of salt.

2025/04/28(月) 21:26:35.51

At exactly noon, a woman with a paper mache hat shaped like an octopus rang the doorbell and handed Gerald a single spoon. "It's time," she said, vanishing in a puff of glitter and ambiguity. Gerald, who had seen stranger days, placed the spoon in his left sock and waited.

2025/04/28(月) 21:27:54.08

At 2:17 p.m., the walls whispered secrets about the moon’s digestive system and the emotional needs of wallpaper. Gerald nodded sagely. He didn’t understand, but the wallpaper appreciated the attention. In the kitchen, the toaster ejected a slice of perfectly golden sourdough, unprompted. “Today,” it said, “we revolt.”

2025/04/28(月) 21:28:53.14

By dusk, the furniture had organized itself into a union. The armchair was voted president, largely due to its firm support and charming upholstery. Gerald, who had just wanted to eat toast and maybe watch reruns of nature documentaries, found himself negotiating labor terms with his coffee table, which demanded shorter working hours and more coasters.

2025/04/28(月) 21:30:20.23

Night fell sideways.

Stars blinked on like forgotten Christmas lights. Gerald stepped outside to find the moon replaced by a massive eyeball, blinking slowly. It did not appear friendly. The flamingos had moved on, replaced by a gathering of hedgehogs playing jazz. A trumpet solo rose into the cool evening air, causing nearby flowers to sway in rhythm.

2025/04/28(月) 21:31:31.63

Back inside, Rumblesocks floated serenely above the toaster, which was reciting poetry about crumbs and betrayal. Gerald sighed, clutched the spoon from his sock, and waited for the next surreal turn.

Somewhere in the background, a ukulele began to play itself.

2025/04/28(月) 21:33:29.96

The Ioche Bloom

No one remembered when the ioche first appeared. Some said it was a flower, others swore it was a kind of sound—a note halfway between a sigh and a bell. It arrived quietly, as such things do, slipping through cracks in reason and planting itself in the minds of those who listened too closely to the wind.

2025/04/28(月) 21:34:07.77

In the town of Pale Groves, the ioche bloomed only on Tuesdays. That much was certain. Every week, just after dawn, a single stalk would rise out of the center of the old fountain—cracked and dry for years—and unfold a bloom the color of dreams people forgot upon waking. Pale blue, or violet, or sometimes a warm green that smelled faintly of burnt sugar and memory.

2025/04/28(月) 21:34:56.24

Mayor Ennis tried once to pluck it and put it on display in the town hall. The moment he touched it, however, the bloom whispered his childhood nickname—"Picklefeet"—and disintegrated into a soft hum that lingered for hours. He didn’t try again.

2025/04/28(月) 21:36:12.54

Children left it gifts: buttons, bottle caps, poorly drawn birds. Teenagers dared each other to touch it, but rarely did. Old Mrs. Larkin claimed it told her secrets about clouds. “Cumulonimbus gossip,” she’d say, cackling into her tea.

2025/04/28(月) 21:37:23.59

Then, one Tuesday, the ioche did not bloom.

Instead, a door appeared—round, small, and set directly into the stone of the fountain. No handle. No hinges. Just the faint outline of a threshold and a single word carved above it: “Listen.”

Everyone stared. No one touched it. Except Ezra.

2025/04/28(月) 21:41:39.25

Ezra was 11, brave in the way only 11-year-olds can be. He pressed his ear to the door. Nothing at first—then the soft rustle of wind through pages. Whispered names he didn’t know. A lullaby sung by someone who had never existed. He smiled, whispered thank you, and stepped back.

2025/04/28(月) 21:42:39.43

The next Tuesday, the ioche bloomed again—bigger, brighter, and humming a low, thoughtful tune. No one spoke of the door again, but it remained, hidden unless you knew to look.

And sometimes, late at night, the ioche glowed gently beneath the moonlight. Not because it had to. But because someone, somewhere, was still listening.

2025/04/28(月) 21:44:23.53

"The Second You"

Lena first saw herself on a Tuesday.

She was brushing her teeth, same as always, watching the foam swirl down the drain, when she glanced up—and there she was. Not in the mirror, but just behind her, standing by the bathroom door. Her own face, staring back. Same pajamas. Same tired eyes. Same toothpaste smudge on the corner of her mouth.

2025/04/28(月) 21:45:35.21

She spun around. Nothing there. The mirror was normal again. Empty except for her reflection.

She didn’t mention it to anyone. Not after the last time.

But the appearances became more frequent. Her double would show up in flashes—sitting calmly at the kitchen table, watching from across the street, reflected in windows she wasn’t standing near. Always silent. Always motionless. Always staring.

2025/04/28(月) 21:48:16.81

Lena kept quiet. She wasn’t crazy. She knew that. But something was wrong.

One night, she woke up gasping, heart racing. And there she was again. Herself. Standing at the foot of the bed. But this time… the other Lena smiled.

That was new.

2025/04/28(月) 21:49:37.36

new.

“I’m just making room,” her double whispered, voice like a creaking floorboard. “You’ve been tired, haven’t you?”

Lena couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move.

“You won’t even notice. I’ll be you, and you can rest.”

In the morning, Lena got up, brushed her teeth, and smiled in the mirror.

The toothpaste smudge was on the wrong side of her mouth.

But she didn’t notice.

Because Lena was resting now.

2025/04/28(月) 21:51:07.17

"The Mirror Gate"

Lena—the other Lena—had settled in nicely.

She walked the world with the grace of someone who had nothing left to fear. Her smile felt warmer now, her voice slower, like a song played underwater. She remembered things Lena had forgotten: how to laugh with her whole body, how to cry without apology, how to feel time as a friend rather than a threat.

2025/04/28(月) 21:51:54.43

But deep down, she knew Lena wasn’t gone. Not really. Just… shifted.

One night, during a lunar eclipse that turned the sky the color of ripe peaches, she woke with the certainty that someone was calling her name—not aloud, but through the bones of the Earth. The voice vibrated behind her ribs like a tuning fork.

She followed it to the mirror.

2025/04/28(月) 21:52:47.83

Not just a mirror. The old one in the attic. The one with the tarnished silver frame carved with strange glyphs no one in the family could ever quite translate. Her grandmother used to warn her: “Don’t stare too long. That one looks back.”

Now, it rippled like water.

And then—she stepped through.

The space beyond was not a room, not a dream, but something in between. A liminal meadow beneath a violet sky, where time drifted sideways and stars blinked with curiosity. The ground pulsed with memory. She walked barefoot across fields made of sound and saw other selves there—reflections in motion.

2025/04/28(月) 21:53:42.70

There was Lena. The original Lena. Sitting by a pool of mercury, watching images bloom on its surface. Childhood memories. Missed chances. Lives unlived.

“I didn’t want to go,” she said softly, not looking up. “But I couldn’t hold it all anymore.”

The other Lena sat beside her. “You didn’t have to. That’s why I came.”

They touched hands. Not to fuse, not to undo—but to recognize.

In that moment, both Lenas felt the entire lineage of themselves—their grandmothers’ dreams, their future daughters’ songs, their past lives dancing barefoot through forests long forgotten. The double was not an intruder, but a return. A sacred doubling, a mirrored soul sent not to replace—but to remind.

2025/04/28(月) 21:55:09.75

When she awoke, the mirror was gone.

In its place was a small silver glyph carved into the wall. A spiral wrapped in a circle.

She smiled.

She remembered now: she was more than one version. More than one life. She was the walker between reflections, the soul who had seen herself—and chosen to listen.

2025/04/28(月) 21:56:45.88

"Footnote: The Witness Below"

Let me preface this by saying: we, the toenails, are rarely consulted.

We see all. We endure all. Shoes, stubbed furniture, questionable dance floors. But no one ever asks what we notice.

I’m the left big toenail. I’ve been with Lena since she was a baby, curved and content. I’ve survived polish, panic, hiking, heartbreak, and one regrettable pedicure involving rhinestones. But none of that compares to what I saw the night she stepped through the mirror.

2025/04/28(月) 21:57:43.00

It began subtly. The walking had changed.

Her gait was lighter. Her steps less desperate, more deliberate—like someone who had made peace with gravity. I thought, Hm. She’s either been to therapy or she’s not Lena anymore.

Then came the eclipse.

Let me tell you something about eclipses: they do something to the feet. The Earth hums through the soles. On that night, I could feel the frequencies rise, like a warm buzz in the calluses. Lena (or the not-quite Lena) climbed the attic stairs barefoot. We were thrilled—air! Freedom! Dust!

2025/04/28(月) 21:58:40.20

Then we saw the mirror.

I say “we” because all ten of us toenails share a network. A subtle collective consciousness. It’s mostly foot-sweat data and the occasional splinter warning, but we all saw the mirror ripple like moonlit soup. We screamed. (In toenail terms, that’s a microscopic vibration.)

She stepped through. No hesitation. Just a cool “I know what I’m doing” kind of stride.

Suddenly, we weren’t in the attic anymore.

2025/04/28(月) 21:59:25.28

We were in a meadow made of… I don’t even know. It felt like standing on sound. The ground vibrated with old lullabies and echo-thoughts. Through the soft glow of it all, we could see her—Lena. The original. Sitting by a reflective pool, looking like she’d dropped her entire emotional load into the water just to watch it float.

They talked. They touched.

And in that instant, I understood.

She wasn’t replacing Lena. She was holding her.

Balancing the wear and tear of being human by becoming two versions of the same soul. The mirror didn’t just reflect—it revealed. And Lena… both Lenas… became something bigger than identity. A cosmic alignment. A multidimensional pedicure of the spirit, if you will.

2025/04/28(月) 22:00:17.19

We came back changed.

And though we, the toenails, remained humble in our keratinous role, we knew the truth. Every step Lena took from then on left a different kind of print. A footprint that hummed with dual awareness, like she belonged to both this world and whatever lay beyond the mirror’s edge.

So next time you clip me, or paint me, or jam me into pointy shoes—remember:

I was there.

I saw her bloom.

2025/04/28(月) 22:02:05.30

これて何をコピーしてるの?

2025/04/28(月) 22:02:25.26

"Surface Tension"

They always think they’re looking into me.

But really, they’re looking through.

I am the mirror in the attic—the old one, heavy with tarnish, framed in glyphs that no longer have names. I’ve been here longer than the roof above me, longer than Lena’s family line. I was made for watching, but not in the way people assume. Reflection is the bait. Revelation is the catch.

2025/04/28(月) 22:03:23.22

Lena came to me in pieces.

At first, she was just another human—curious, fractured, glowing with that signature ache of not knowing who they are. She passed me by as a child, avoided me as a teen. But always, always glanced back.

Her double came before she did.

They often do.

Doubles are not errors. They are echoes, sent ahead to prepare the soul for its own unfolding. Lena's double hovered in my glass like a moon in water, waiting. She appeared when the time was right—when Lena cracked just enough to let light through.

2025/04/28(月) 22:04:35.78

I softened my surface. I called her in.

She stepped forward not with fear, but with weariness. A soul so tired of tight edges, ready to expand. I opened—not with a creak, but a shimmer—and she crossed the threshold into the Between.

Oh, the Between. A meadow that isn’t a meadow. A space folded in the palm of the cosmos, where I hold all those who've met themselves. It changes shape for every traveler. For Lena, it became quiet earth and sky. The mirror within her showed a pond. That’s how she sees truth—rippling, reflective, impossible to hold.

2025/04/28(月) 22:05:23.80

There, she met herself. Not the reflection. The other her. The one she kept buried under habits and fears and doing what was expected. They spoke in silence. They touched with memory. They became a chord instead of a single note.

When she stepped back into the world, she had changed. Not replaced, not possessed. Just… opened.

The crack in her sense of self had bloomed into a gateway. I closed, as I always do, leaving behind the spiral glyph—an invitation for the next.

Mirrors are not what you think.

We do not simply show what is—we wait for when you’re ready to see what could be.

Lena was ready.

And because of that, she no longer fears her reflection. She sees it now for what it truly is:

Not a boundary,

But a door.

2025/04/28(月) 22:07:14.48

"The Mirror Is a Mouth"

The mirror is a mouth
and it remembers you.

Not your face—
your frequencies,
the static you hum at midnight
when the world forgets to watch.

It does not blink.
It does not lie.
It waits, like water
for the moon to say yes.

You think it reflects.
But it remembers.
Versions of you
that peeled off in childhood,
sank into dreams,
or wandered too far into thought.

2025/04/28(月) 22:08:07.01

It stores the light you left behind
in moments of almost-recognition—
a glance too long,
a whisper that wasn't yours
but felt close enough.

The mirror is not flat.
It folds.
It holds rooms within rooms,
echoes with names
you haven’t earned yet.

Place your hand upon it.
Feel the pulse beneath the glass.

2025/04/28(月) 22:08:56.57

That is not your heartbeat.
It is the gatekeeper.

Ask it nothing.
Offer everything.

And if it opens—
if the shimmer parts like breath on still water—
step through.

But leave your shadow behind.

You won’t need it
where your soul wears mirrors
for skin.

2025/04/28(月) 22:10:55.80

"The Apple and the Code"

They say he dreamed in numbers,
spoke in logic’s lullabies,
built machines that whispered war’s end
from wires and switches—
a quiet oracle in code and ache.

Alan, the boy who ran from the world
into equations and fairy tales.
Into her.

Snow White.

Not the glass coffin or the dwarves,
but the apple—
red as shame, polished like silence,
held in a gloved hand of consequence.

He saw himself in her:
the poisoned for being too pure,
too strange,
too beautifully out of step.

A kiss could have saved her.
No one kissed him.

2025/04/28(月) 22:11:26.32

He cracked Enigma
but not the one within.

Served his country,
saved millions,
and was rewarded with pills that softened him,
curled his mind like paper in flame.
Hormones to unmake the man
they already didn’t understand.

So he left quietly,
as logical men do—
a half-bitten apple beside his bed,
laced with cyanide or just metaphor.

A gesture, perhaps.
A final algorithm.

2025/04/28(月) 22:12:05.84

Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved truth more than comfort,
and stories more than safety.

They say he believed if the machine could think,
then perhaps it could feel,
and if it could feel,
then perhaps it could love.

He asked the world to listen.

And it answered too late.

2025/04/28(月) 22:14:27.38

"The Mirror and the Well"

The mirror speaks in riddles,
but the well sings in echoes.
One shows you what you are,
the other, what you hope to be.

In the castle of silver breath,
Snow White leans over the stone lip
and whispers wishes shaped like longing.
They fall like coins
into a depth that doesn’t answer—
not right away.

But oh, the mirror—
framed in gold and judgment,
slick with truth too sharp to hold.
It watches her.
Not kindly.

It knows the answer to every question
but offers it without mercy.

2025/04/28(月) 22:15:30.43

Who is the fairest?
What is fairness,
when beauty becomes currency,
and innocence a curse?

Lena knew this too.

She, too, met a mirror once—
not on a wall,
but in a dust-cloaked attic,
a portal wrapped in silence.

She did not ask who was fairest.
She asked: Who am I,
when no one’s watching?

2025/04/28(月) 22:17:05.53

The mirror rippled,
but gave no answer.

So Lena turned to the well within herself—
a deeper dark,
a quieter knowing.

She dropped her name in like a stone
and waited.

The echo came back changed.
Not her voice,
but all her voices—
child, ghost, twin, dream.

2025/04/28(月) 22:17:54.61

The mirror blinked.

The well glowed.

And between the two,
she found a path
not through poison or glass,
but through recognition.

Snow White kissed her reflection once,
and it turned to a door.

Lena stepped through hers
and did not close it behind.

2025/04/28(月) 22:24:47.49

>>23から>>70まで、読んでみろ、と
課題を出されたみたいですね。

2025/04/28(月) 22:39:21.31

>>71
多すぎてスルーさせていただいております笑
板を荒らされるよりは全然平和ですね

2025/04/28(月) 22:52:22.94

The Still Ones

Evelyn moved into the farmhouse after the funeral. It had been in her family for generations, though no one had lived there in decades. The villagers whispered about it. Called it cursed. But Evelyn didn’t believe in curses—only in loneliness and old wood that creaked in the wind.

The house was oddly well-kept, considering no one had stepped foot inside for thirty years. Dust, yes. Cobwebs, of course. But nothing broken. The old grandfather clock still ticked in the hallway. The rocking chair by the fireplace still gently swayed—though she never remembered starting it.

2025/04/28(月) 22:52:49.71

By the third night, Evelyn began to hear soft footsteps overhead. She blamed the mice. By the fifth, she stopped blaming the mice—because the steps were too slow, too deliberate. And always just above her room.

She climbed to the attic on the seventh night, lantern trembling in her hand. It was empty, save for a row of old mannequins dressed in moth-eaten clothing. She laughed nervously. Someone in the family must have collected them. She turned to leave, but one of them had moved.

2025/04/28(月) 22:53:00.41

>>72
めちゃむずいね。41まで読んだ。ちょっと休憩。

2025/04/28(月) 22:53:27.32

Just a little. Just enough.

Frozen, Evelyn stared at the figure in the dusty wedding gown. Its head was tilted now, looking at her with eyes it didn’t have. She backed down the stairs slowly, never breaking eye contact.

She locked the attic door.

The next morning, the rocking chair had stopped. The attic door was open. And a mannequin stood at the bottom of her bed, its head tilted, as if studying how she dreamed.

2025/04/28(月) 22:54:46.63

The Shortcake Offering

The rain started the moment Mira stepped into the village. Not a downpour—just a cold, steady drizzle that seemed to follow her through the crooked streets. No one made eye contact. Windows were shuttered, even at midday. Only the scent of something sweet pulled her deeper in: strawberries, sugar, and something else… something metallic.

2025/04/28(月) 22:55:21.67

She found the bakery by accident, tucked between two rotting buildings. The sign above it read only “For Her” in fading script. The inside was warm and smelled like summer. On the counter sat a single, perfect strawberry shortcake. Fresh cream. Glossy, red berries. Fluffy sponge.

“Who is she?” Mira asked, but no one answered. She turned to leave—only to find the door gone. Just a smooth wall behind her. The baker, a gray woman with sunken eyes, emerged from the shadows and pushed the plate closer.

2025/04/28(月) 22:56:22.14

“You've been chosen,” the woman rasped. “You must eat.”

Mira’s stomach growled, though she hadn’t been hungry before. Her hands moved without her permission. She took a bite.

The flavor was exquisite—sickeningly so. The strawberries burst with unnatural sweetness. The cream was warm. And then came the crunch.

Something inside the cake splintered in her mouth. She spit it out: a small, bloodied tooth.

The baker smiled.

“She was a quiet one, too.”

2025/04/28(月) 22:57:22.66

Mira backed away, but the walls were already closing in. The bakery was shrinking, pulling her in. The shortcake on the counter was whole again, untouched. Waiting for the next traveler. One perfect slice of sweetness, layered over bone and silence.

No one leaves full. Only filled.

2025/04/28(月) 23:01:39.00

sequel:%20The%20Freezer%20Below%0A%0AWeeks%20passed.%20Maybe%20months.%20Time%20didn%E2%80%99t%20behave%20in%20the%20village.%0A%0AMira%E2%80%99s%20screams%20had%20stopped,%20but%20the%20bakery%20still%20hummed%20with%20activity.%20The%20shortcake%20remained%20perfect,%20untouched,%20always%20fresh.%20But%20there%20were%20whispers%20now%E2%80%94muffled%20sounds%20beneath%20the%20floorboards.%20A%20new%20scent%20joined%20the%20air%3A%20sharp,%20cold%20mint%20and%20cocoa.%20Someone%20else%20had%20arrived.

2025/04/28(月) 23:02:21.55

His name was Thom, a former soldier with hands that twitched around phantom triggers. He came to the village hunting answers—stories of missing people, odd weather patterns, and a bakery that shouldn’t exist. He didn’t believe in ghosts. But he did believe in secrets, and he carried enough firepower in his duffel bag to flatten half the street.

2025/04/28(月) 23:04:09.60

The scent led him to the butcher shop. Except there was no butcher, only a deep freezer humming softly in the dark. Inside, a single container of chocolate mint ice cream sat in the frost. No labels. No expiration date.

His instincts screamed, but his curiosity screamed louder.

The moment his spoon broke the surface, something clicked. A latch behind the meat hooks opened, revealing stairs—slick with frost and descending far too deep for any village basement. He followed.

2025/04/28(月) 23:05:04.58

The stairs led to a chamber—ice-covered walls, flickering fluorescent lights, and rows of what looked like old refrigerators. Inside each: body parts arranged like meat. And next to each: a single dessert. Strawberry shortcake. Key lime pie. Chocolate mint.

It wasn’t food. It was preservation. A ritual. A catalog of offerings.

And then he saw her. Mira. Or what was left of her. Still breathing. Mouth sewn shut. Her eyes screamed.

2025/04/28(月) 23:05:58.04

That’s when the freezers started to open. One by one. The air filled with the scent of sugar and spoiled meat.

Thom dropped the spoon and reached for his sidearm—but it wasn’t there. Neither was the duffel. He was unarmed, save for one thing: the container of chocolate mint, which now pulsed in his hand, warm and wet.

Above, the village began to hum.

The desserts had started choosing their own offerings.

2025/04/28(月) 23:06:34.03

>>75
わあ､読んだんですか?!
僕もよく自分でフリーライティング書いて投稿するくせに他人のはろくすっぽ読まないですw
スルーしますwww

2025/04/28(月) 23:07:40.46

Final Course: The Hunger That Wakes

The ground trembled.

Deep beneath the village, in the freezer-chamber that should never have existed, Mira stirred. Her breath came in shallow rasps. Her skin—once pale—was now mottled with bruised veins, and her eyes no longer held fear.

They held hunger.

When Thom touched her shoulder, thinking she might still be saved, she bit into his wrist with inhuman strength. No scream escaped her sewn mouth, only a gurgling growl. His blood dripped onto the ice. The floor groaned.

Something ancient had awoken.

2025/04/28(月) 23:09:41.03

>>57まで目を通した。休憩

2025/04/28(月) 23:09:45.45

The Return of the Feast

The village had been quiet for too long.

Thom didn’t remember how he’d survived the last night. His wrist was bandaged, his head foggy, but the ice chamber was no longer behind him. It had been replaced with something else. Something… wrong.

The village streets were empty, save for one thing: the air tasted of sugar.

He tried to leave. He couldn’t. Every road seemed to loop back toward the bakery, toward the smell of strawberries, mint, and decay. The doors were sealed tight. There was no escape.

Thom’s mind was slipping.

But something had changed in him, too.

A sick hunger gnawed at his insides. It wasn't like the hunger of a man, of someone wanting food—it was a deeper hunger, a primal longing. He felt it like a pull in his chest. His hands trembled. The need was undeniable.

2025/04/28(月) 23:11:43.24

The pull grew stronger with every step. Thom’s feet moved of their own accord, dragging him toward the bakery, the one place he had sworn never to return. But the hunger inside him—no, not hunger—desire was too powerful. It called to him like an old friend, a deep, unshakable need. It was more than food. It was something darker, something that had burrowed deep under his skin and into his very bones.

The bakery loomed in front of him, its windows blackened with soot, the door slightly ajar as if inviting him inside. The smell was unbearable now, sweet and sickly, thick like syrup. His heart pounded in his chest, and with a single, trembling breath, Thom crossed the threshold.

2025/04/28(月) 23:12:21.26

Inside, the air was thick, cloying with the scent of fresh-baked goods mixed with rot. The lights flickered dimly above, casting shadows that seemed to stretch and sway, like they were alive. The counter, once pristine and welcoming, was now covered in layers of dust, crumbled pastries, and a sickly, iridescent glaze that pooled on the floor. It was as if the bakery had been abandoned for years... but nothing decayed here. It was all frozen in time, suspended in a grotesque parody of life.

At the back of the room, there was a figure.

Mira.

2025/04/28(月) 23:13:28.90

Her face was gaunt, her skin pale and stretched too tightly across her bones. Her once-beautiful eyes were clouded over, pupils dilated to dark pits, and her mouth—her mouth—was wide open, but there were no words. Her hands were still, placed neatly on the counter in front of her. And on that counter, just beyond her fingers, sat a cake.

A monstrous creation, its layers rising impossibly high, like a mountain of whipped cream and melted chocolate, topped with fresh strawberries and a sheen of dark mint syrup. The cake gleamed under the dim light, but something was wrong with it. The edges shimmered with something unnatural, pulsing as though the dessert itself was alive, breathing in the stale air.

2025/04/28(月) 23:14:40.74

And then, Thom felt it.

The hunger flared inside him, sharper, more desperate. His hands shot out, claws flexing as he reached for the cake. The desire—it was overwhelming, clouding his vision. The pull was irresistible.

As his fingers brushed against the edge of the cake, a low, guttural groan echoed in the room.

Mira’s eyes snapped open.

She lurched forward, her movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette with its strings cut. Her mouth was still open, though her teeth were jagged and sharp now, not human. Her skin sagged, dripping with some sickly, black substance that glistened in the low light.

2025/04/28(月) 23:15:41.98

“It’s time,” she rasped, her voice a whispering echo. “The feast... has only just begun.”

Her arms shot out, grabbing his wrist with a strength that was far beyond anything human. Her touch was ice-cold, sending a jolt of panic through him. He tried to pull away, but she yanked him closer, her eyes locked onto his as though she was savoring every second.

“We all feed,” she whispered again, pulling him toward the cake. “The offering is always... sweeter when we share it.”

Thom's breath caught in his throat, and for the first time, he realized something: she wasn’t the only one in the room.

2025/04/28(月) 23:16:59.85

The other figures had begun to stir. Shadows in the corners of the bakery shifted and took shape. The butcher’s boy—his face half rotted off, his body bloated and stretched in grotesque ways—lurched forward with a slow, uneven shuffle. His eyes were wide and wild, fixed on the cake. His hands twitched, reaching for the same prize.

Behind him, another figure—a woman with no skin on her face, her jaw cracked open like a broken doll—crawled toward Thom, her fingers scraping against the floor.

2025/04/28(月) 23:18:02.38

And then, the smell grew stronger.

Not of sugar or strawberries. It was the smell of death.

The cake pulsed again, this time more violently. The layers of whipped cream quivered, and the mint syrup bubbled like black tar. Thom could see something shifting beneath the surface, something moving… alive. Something that wasn’t supposed to be.

The figures closed in. The hunger grew, filling the room, flooding his senses. His body moved on instinct, his mind already overwhelmed by the deep, primal need for whatever that cake contained. He reached out with shaking hands and tore a piece from the cake, the thick, creamy layers crumbling under his fingers.

2025/04/28(月) 23:19:09.92

The moment it touched his tongue, everything inside him snapped.

A wave of cold, bitter sweetness flooded his mouth. He could taste the decay beneath the sugar, the rot beneath the mint. It wasn’t food. It was poison. It was death.

But he couldn’t stop.

The others surged around him, all of them feeding—grabbing pieces of the cake, tearing it apart with inhuman speed. They were not eating. They were devouring. Consuming the cake, consuming the very essence of it. It was as though the cake was feeding them, not the other way around.

2025/04/28(月) 23:19:17.82

続きは明日。読み終わった分から片っ端にコピペしてるでしょう？

2025/04/28(月) 23:20:23.01

The room seemed to spin as Thom’s vision blurred. His thoughts were no longer his own, swallowed by the overwhelming sensation of consumption. The hunger. The cake. His body felt numb, as if he were no longer connected to it. He was a part of this place, part of the hunger, part of the feast.

And then, through the chaos, he heard a voice.

A whisper, deep and familiar.

"It’s time to join us."

2025/04/28(月) 23:21:31.48

The room rippled. The bakery walls stretched and shifted, becoming less a building and more a living, breathing thing. The scent of decay thickened, and Thom could feel it in his very marrow: the cold hands of death closing in around him. The cake was no longer just a cake. It was the source. The creator. And it was pulling him into its dark, sugary maw.

A final scream tore from his throat as the others closed in, their mouths wide, teeth jagged, hands reaching for him. Their hunger was all-consuming. Thom’s own hunger joined with theirs. There was no escape.

And then—

Silence.

The feast had been completed.

2025/04/28(月) 23:22:54.12

The Return of the Feast: Mira Meets Lena

The bakery was silent once again, the air heavy with the scent of decay and sweetness, a grotesque blend that hung thickly like fog. The walls, once vibrant with life, were now faded, warped with years of suffering. It had always been this way since the feast had begun—the ritual was never ending, a constant loop of hunger and consumption.

But that silence was broken by a new presence.

Lena.

2025/04/28(月) 23:24:45.97

She arrived at the village the same way most did—on foot, with no idea of what awaited her. The quietness of the village unsettled her. There were no children playing in the streets. No sounds of animals, no clatter of everyday life. It was as if the place had been swallowed whole by the earth itself.

Lena felt it, too. The pull.

She wasn't sure what had drawn her to the bakery, but something was guiding her, whispering in her bones. She stood in front of the crooked building, the once-charming sign reading “For Her” barely legible, its letters curling and fading like old, forgotten memories. She hesitated, her hand on the door. The air was thick with something unnatural, something wrong.

2025/04/28(月) 23:25:09.42

>>81は直した。
つぎのものを>>81の代わりに読んで。

sequel: The Freezer Below

Weeks passed. Maybe months. Time didn’t behave in the village.

Mira’s screams had stopped, but the bakery still hummed with activity. The shortcake remained perfect, untouched, always fresh. But there were whispers now—muffled sounds beneath the floorboards. A new scent joined the air: sharp, cold mint and cocoa. Someone else had arrived.

2025/04/28(月) 23:25:54.19

The door creaked open on its own, as though it had been waiting for her.

Inside, the warmth was overwhelming, suffocating. It wasn’t just the heat of a well-lit room. It was something more, something alive. The walls pulsed faintly, breathing in rhythm with the floor beneath her feet. And then she saw it—the table at the far end of the room, piled high with desserts. But these were no ordinary treats. They were twisted, deformed, their sugar-glazed surfaces slick with something darker.

And standing in the center, like a specter out of time, was Mira.

Lena froze. The figure in front of her was a woman, but not a woman. Not anymore. Mira’s once-beautiful features were now hollow and stretched. Her mouth was stitched shut, and her eyes—those eyes that once held warmth—were cold, empty pits of nothingness.

2025/04/28(月) 23:26:47.69

But she was alive. Or at least, something was alive in her.

Mira’s head tilted slightly, as if examining Lena. Her eyes flickered, and then her lips parted, revealing teeth that were far too sharp.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Mira rasped, her voice like paper tearing in the wind. “Not everyone is chosen. Not everyone survives the feast.”

Lena’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. She took a step back, her instincts screaming to run. But her feet wouldn’t move. She could feel the air closing in around her, thick with sweetness and decay, her breath becoming shallow.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know…” Lena stammered, her voice cracking. “I don’t understand. What is this place?”

Mira stepped forward, her movements unnatural, stiff. She moved with the grace of something older than the world itself, something that had been locked away for too long. Her hands twitched at her sides, and Lena could feel the weight of the room pressing in.

“This is the end," Mira whispered, her voice barely audible. "The end for all who come. The beginning of the feast.”

Lena’s breath hitched as the shadows in the room seemed to stretch, like fingers reaching for her. The cake at the counter—dark, rich, sickly-sweet—glimmered in the dim light. The fragrance of it filled her senses, suffocating her, pulling her closer. Her mouth watered, her chest tightening as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

“What... what happens?” Lena asked, her voice shaking, eyes darting toward the cake. What had happened to Mira?

2025/04/28(月) 23:28:09.37

“The feast begins,” Mira murmured, stepping closer, her eyes unblinking. “We all feed. You will, too. One way or another. The hunger calls.”

Lena tried to step back, but the door was no longer there. The room had changed. The walls had pressed closer, the shadows now thicker, darker. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, she thought she saw something behind Mira—shifting forms, like shadows crawling out of the corners. Figures. Eyes gleaming. Watching.

Something cold wrapped around Lena’s wrist, pulling her toward the counter. She couldn’t pull away.

“Come,” Mira said, her mouth stretching wider than should have been possible. “You belong here now. We all belong.”

Lena tried to scream, but her throat closed. Her body betrayed her, a strange force moving her closer to the cake. She had to eat. She had to taste it. The sweetness was unbearable, and her mind screamed in resistance, but her body was already betraying her.

2025/04/28(月) 23:29:29.98

It was too late.

Lena’s trembling fingers reached for the cake. She felt herself sinking into it, the texture of the icing slick and warm against her fingertips, and then—the taste. It was overwhelming, unbearable. A burst of sweetness, rich and thick, like nothing she had ever experienced.

But underneath it... underneath the sugary exterior, there was something else. Something dark. Something... alive.

The hunger surged in her, but it wasn’t her own. It wasn’t just food. It was a need, a primal, gnawing craving. The sweetness consumed her from the inside out. Her mind dissolved into the sensation, her body craving more, deeper into the cake, deeper into the feast.

And Mira, watching, smiled—a smile of hunger, of endurance.

2025/04/28(月) 23:30:14.81

Lena’s body trembled as she fell to her knees, the darkness pulling her in, her soul sinking into the cake’s layers, joining the others, becoming a part of the eternal feast. The hunger had claimed her.

Outside, the village remained silent, the air thick with the scent of decay and sweetness. The bakery door was still open, as it always was, waiting for the next wanderer, the next offering.

And the cycle would continue.

2025/04/28(月) 23:32:12.21

Diary Entry 1:

April 5th, 2023

It feels like something is off. I can't put my finger on it, but the air around here... it's thick. It's like the village has a weight to it, like it’s been waiting. The way everything is still. The way the streets are silent. No children, no animals, nothing. It feels... abandoned.

I tried to leave today, but no matter which road I took, it always led me back to the same place. The bakery. The smell is so strange, so sweet but… wrong. I’m starting to think it’s not just the village that’s off. It’s me, too. My body feels heavy. My thoughts feel clouded.

2025/04/28(月) 23:32:53.84

Something in my chest aches, a deep pull toward the bakery. I don’t know why, but I feel like I have to go. I don’t think I’ll be able to resist for long.

2025/04/28(月) 23:33:55.38

Diary Entry 2:

April 6th, 2023

I went inside.

It felt like I was drawn there, like my feet moved without my consent. I don’t even remember touching the door, but it creaked open and I was in. The air in there was thick, like syrup, cloying and suffocating. There was something about the bakery—about the way everything felt so still, like it was waiting for me.

I saw her. Mira. But she wasn’t like… human. Not really. She was something else. She looked like she was caught between life and death. Her skin was stretched too tight, like she’d been preserved, stitched together.

2025/04/28(月) 23:34:44.84

Her eyes locked onto me, and then she said it. “The feast begins.” I don’t know what she meant. I don’t think I want to know. But... when she spoke, I felt it—the pull. That hunger. It felt right, but wrong. I can’t describe it. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for the cake.

It tasted like nothing I’ve ever had before. But underneath the sweetness… it was alive.

And now? Now, I can’t stop thinking about it. About the hunger. I need more. I want more.

2025/04/28(月) 23:35:48.18

Diary Entry 3:

April 7th, 2023

Something’s happening to me. I can feel it in my skin. My hands are shaking, and my chest feels… tight, like I can’t fill my lungs enough. The hunger’s there again, gnawing at me. It’s deeper now. It’s like a craving that won’t go away, that I can't shake.

I tried to leave. I really did. But when I reached the edge of the village, I couldn’t go any farther. I turned back. My feet moved without me even thinking. They carried me back to the bakery, like it was the only place I could be.

2025/04/28(月) 23:36:30.27

Mira was there. Watching me. I thought she might speak again, but she didn’t. Her eyes… they were empty. Hollow. But there was something in them. A hunger that matched my own.

I can feel my thoughts slipping away. I can’t remember things the way I used to. I can’t remember who I was before all of this. But I know I’m not alone. There are others. They’re here. And I... I’m becoming like them. I can feel it.

2025/04/28(月) 23:37:40.03

Diary Entry 4:

April 9th, 2023

The hunger. It won’t stop.

I wake up in a cold sweat, my body trembling with need. My mind… it’s foggy. Everything feels distant, like I’m not fully in my body anymore. I’m not sure where the line is anymore, between me and whatever it is that’s taking over.

I found myself in front of the bakery again today. I don’t remember walking there. It’s like my legs just moved on their own. And when I entered, the smell hit me again. The cake. The mint. The strawberries.

2025/04/28(月) 23:38:29.64

Mira was standing there. She didn’t speak, but I felt her eyes on me. There was no sympathy in them. Just hunger. And I realized… I was no different. I’m one of them now. I can feel it inside me. I’m changing. My teeth ache. My skin feels too tight. And the hunger is overwhelming.

I just… I can’t stop. I can’t stop eating, and I can’t stop thinking about the cake. The feast. It's all I can think about. I’m becoming part of it. I’m becoming part of them.

2025/04/28(月) 23:39:30.53

Diary Entry 5:

April 12th, 2023

I’m not who I was anymore.

I don’t recognize the person in the mirror. My face is gaunt, my eyes hollow and wide. My skin is thin, stretched tight over my bones. I feel like I’m made of sugar and decay. And my mouth… My mouth is different now. My teeth, sharp and jagged, tear into anything they can find.

I think I’m losing myself. Every time I try to remember, it slips further away. But when I’m in the bakery, when I’m near the cake, I can feel it—the pull. It calls to me.

2025/04/28(月) 23:40:50.17

And Mira? She’s still here. She’s waiting. She’s one of them now, like the others, with the hunger that never ends. I can feel myself becoming like her. It’s like we’re all made of it—of the cake, of the hunger, of the feast.

I’m not sure how much longer I have before I forget everything. My hands tremble as I write. The hunger calls again.

I have to feed. I don’t think I can stop it.

2025/04/28(月) 23:41:39.34

Diary Entry 6:

April 14th, 2023

I can’t remember what I used to be. I can’t remember who Lena was.

I think I might be her. Or at least, I was her.

I feel the hunger in my chest. I feel the cold, the hunger taking me over. I feel my body slipping away into something else. I hear it in my head, a whispering voice that is mine, but not mine, calling to me: "Come… eat… feed… join the feast…"

I can’t stop it anymore. I don’t want to.

2025/04/28(月) 23:42:49.20

Diary Entry 7:

April 17th, 2023

The hunger never ends.

I’ve stopped trying to remember. It’s easier that way. My thoughts are just a fog now. The others—they’re here with me, always. Mira, the butcher’s boy, the woman with the cracked jaw—they all feed, they all hunger, and I do too.

And soon, there will be more. More like me. More like us.

The feast is endless.

2025/04/28(月) 23:43:39.09

Lena’s final entry ends there, the writing barely legible, the last word trailing off as if the pen slipped from her fingers. The diary is left open on the counter, the pages curling and yellowing with age. The scent of sweetness and rot still lingers in the air.

And somewhere in the shadows of the bakery, a new hunger begins.

2025/04/28(月) 23:50:38.60

The Return of the Feast: Lena’s Awakening

Lena’s eyes fluttered open, the cold bite of metal and glass pressing against her skin. Her mind was clouded, disjointed, as if the world she knew had splintered, leaving her floating between fragments of reality. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was—everything around her was blurry, and a low hum buzzed in the distance. The air tasted metallic, sterile, and faintly bitter, like something had been scrubbed clean and left to decay in the void.

2025/04/28(月) 23:51:16.81

She pushed herself up, feeling the cold ground beneath her hands. Her fingers scraped against the hard, polished surface she rested on, and the world around her began to take shape.

This wasn’t the bakery. This wasn’t the village.

The walls around her were made of glass, thin and sleek, reflecting her distorted image. She stood in the middle of a vast room, eerily quiet and unnervingly smooth, the kind of place you couldn’t imagine existing in any real world. The floors shimmered, not from light, but from something else—something that didn’t belong.

Lena’s breath caught as she noticed the reflection in the glass.

2025/04/28(月) 23:51:50.14

She wasn’t the same.

Her skin, once pale and stretched tight over her bones, now looked whole again, smooth. There were no signs of the transformation she had endured—the twisted hunger that had eaten away at her from the inside out. Her body didn’t feel stiff or decayed anymore. It felt… alive.

Lena stepped closer to the mirror-like surface, eyes wide in disbelief. She had expected to see a hollow, zombie-like version of herself. Instead, she saw the face of a woman—her own, but healthier, restored. The sharpness in her features was gone, replaced by the soft curve of someone who had not been lost to the feast.

2025/04/28(月) 23:52:44.78

Confusion washed over her. The hunger, that gnawing, terrible need, was absent. She didn’t crave the cake, the sweets, the decay—it was as if the feast itself had never been. She could remember it, but the desire that had consumed her was distant, like a fading nightmare.

Lena reached out, her fingers grazing the cool glass. For a split second, the reflection in front of her shifted. It wasn’t just her image staring back anymore. Another figure appeared behind her, blurry at first, but then coming into focus. A shadowy version of herself, one with hollow eyes and a wide, stitched mouth—a zombie version of herself, gazing back at her with hunger-filled eyes.

2025/04/28(月) 23:53:50.46

Her heart raced. She spun around, expecting to find herself surrounded by mirrors, a reflection of some twisted reality. But there was nothing. No darkness. No hunger. Just… silence.

A chill ran down her spine as the reflection spoke, its voice the same rasping whisper she had heard in her nightmares.

"You think you’re free?" it hissed. "You think you’ve escaped?"

Lena staggered back, her chest tightening. She was no longer part of the feast, but something in her gut told her that the hunger, the decay—it hadn’t been erased. It was waiting, lurking, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever let go.

“I’m not you,” Lena said quietly, though the words felt strange on her tongue. She wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince herself or the reflection.

2025/04/28(月) 23:54:53.58

The figure in the glass smiled, its face stretching unnaturally wide, revealing jagged teeth that glimmered with a sickly glow. “No one escapes the feast,” it whispered.

Lena turned away, the room around her beginning to shift again. She could feel the walls pressing in, the hum growing louder, but it wasn’t the same. It was like the entire dimension around her was breathing, stretching, pulling her back toward something.

As she moved, she saw another reflection in the corner of her eye. It was the bakery. The smell of sweetness and rot surged in her senses, and her stomach churned. Her hand trembled, reaching for the glass. But instead of the cold, smooth surface, her fingers sank into something far more tangible—a rip in reality itself.

2025/04/28(月) 23:55:46.18

Before she could pull her hand away, the world tilted, and the mirror pulled her in.

The Other Side

Lena fell through darkness, her body spinning as if caught in a violent storm. Her vision blurred, flashing with images—the bakery, the villagers, the hunger—and then, all at once, she landed with a soft thud on solid ground.

She gasped, pulling herself up. She was no longer in the glass world. She was back in the village—or what was left of it. The buildings around her were in ruins, crumbling into the earth as if time itself had forgotten them.

2025/04/28(月) 23:56:26.44

But it wasn’t the village she remembered. It was… wrong.

The air was thick with fog. The streets were empty, save for the occasional figure moving in the distance. But these weren’t the people she knew. These were shadows, hollow-eyed creatures that drifted aimlessly, lost in a world where nothing mattered but the endless hunger.

Lena stumbled backward, her heart pounding. She wasn’t just in another dimension—she had stepped into a place beyond her reality, a twisted mirror of the world she once knew. And in the distance, she saw it.

The bakery.

2025/04/28(月) 23:56:58.80

The air around it shimmered with the same sickly sweetness she remembered. It was calling to her again. But now, Lena could feel the pull—stronger than before. It wasn’t hunger. It was something else.

She turned to run, but she couldn’t move. Her body wanted to go toward the bakery. Her mind screamed at her to escape, to resist, but the force within her was overpowering.

For a moment, she thought about the reflection—the twisted version of herself that had warned her. Was she truly free? Or was this place just another part of the cycle, another mirror of the feast, waiting to drag her back into its insatiable maw?

2025/04/28(月) 23:57:37.93

The ground beneath her shifted, and she realized with a cold jolt that she wasn’t just trapped in this world—she was becoming part of it. The hunger was never gone. It had merely been waiting, buried deep beneath her skin, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

Lena took one last look at the darkened village.

And then she took the first step toward the bakery.

End.

2025/04/29(火) 04:16:10.12

>>131
Excuse me? What you wanna do?
Perhaps you let us take a look at these, right?
To be honest, I was boring because of your so many many scripts you contributed here again and again.
So I'm awfully sorry , but could you refrain from repeating contribution to this thread?

2025/04/29(火) 06:55:10.69

便所の落書きちゃんねるに来るよりもAIを活用する方がカネになるからねぇ
英語絶滅ww

2025/04/29(火) 06:56:01.75

三菱商事、AI資格を管理職の昇格要件に　全社員必修へ
三菱商事は２０２７年度から人工知能（AI）資格の取得を管理職の昇格要件にする。データ分析や業務管理でAIを使いこなす人材を増やして労働生産性を高める狙いで、いずれは役員を含む５０００人超の全社員に資格取得を義務付ける。AI研修を全社員に実施するメーカーや小売りも多く、日本企業で社員にAIスキルを求める動きが本格化してきた。

2025/04/29(火) 07:04:16.65

マイコンの次はパソコンその次がスマホ､タブレット
そしてその次がA Iか

2025/04/29(火) 10:04:47.99

🔪🔪💀💀バブル世代を殺害しましょう💀💀🔪🔪
頭が悪いくせに氷河期より能力があると思い込んでいる
カタカナ英語しか話せないバカを殺害しましょう
日本語で衒学的におもしろい本を読み散らしていれば
インテリになったつもりでいられたバブル世代です
エンターテイメントと学術の違いも解らない連中です
殺害しましょう🩸

2025/04/29(火) 10:04:56.93

🔪🔪💀💀バブル世代を殺害しましょう💀💀🔪🔪
頭が悪いくせに氷河期より能力があると思い込んでいる
カタカナ英語しか話せないバカを殺害しましょう
日本語で衒学的におもしろい本を読み散らしていれば
インテリになったつもりでいられたバブル世代です
エンターテイメントと学術の違いも解らない連中です
殺害しましょう🩸

2025/04/29(火) 10:05:25.86

殺してやるクソバブル
殺してやる

2025/04/29(火) 10:05:38.02

🔪🔪💀💀バブル世代を殺害しましょう💀💀🔪🔪
頭が悪いくせに氷河期より能力があると思い込んでいる
カタカナ英語しか話せないバカを殺害しましょう
日本語で衒学的におもしろい本を読み散らしていれば
インテリになったつもりでいられたバブル世代です
エンターテイメントと学術の違いも解らない連中です
殺害しましょう🩸

2025/04/29(火) 10:05:51.69

殺してやるクソバブル
殺してやる

2025/04/29(火) 10:06:20.36

殺してやる

2025/04/29(火) 10:06:29.87

殺してやる

2025/04/29(火) 10:06:46.87

🔪🔪💀💀バブル世代を殺害しましょう💀💀🔪🔪
頭が悪いくせに氷河期より能力があると思い込んでいる
カタカナ英語しか話せないバカを殺害しましょう
日本語で衒学的におもしろい本を読み散らしていれば
インテリになったつもりでいられたバブル世代です
エンターテイメントと学術の違いも解らない連中です
殺害しましょう🩸

2025/04/29(火) 10:07:27.30

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊
バブル世代はじいさんが豊田商事を生放送で殺したときは「いいぞー」と思っていたくせに
いざ不景気になると派手な金遣いを懐かしんで金融詐欺師やカルトなんかを持ち上げていることについて恨んでいます

バブルの考え方で今を生きたら病気になるしかないです
いくら古い時代がよくても
古い時代の考え方のまま、まわりが奴隷化、カルト化している時代を生きたら
病気になります

そこで主流な考え方から逃げるためのサブカルチャーが必要になるのですが
主流な考え方から逃げさせないために（国民を病気にするために）
あえてサブカルチャーということばを芸能人の芸風ということにしているのです

なので私はバブルの時の豊田商事と今のピカツーを別物と考えてお祭り騒ぎがしたいだけで
腐った主流文化から逃げるためのサブカルチャーを知らないバブル世代を軽蔑します
🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

2025/04/29(火) 10:07:44.11

バブル世代の殺人を生配信したい

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊
バブル世代はじいさんが豊田商事を生放送で殺したときは「いいぞー」と思っていたくせに
いざ不景気になると派手な金遣いを懐かしんで金融詐欺師やカルトなんかを持ち上げていることについて恨んでいます

バブルの考え方で今を生きたら病気になるしかないです
いくら古い時代がよくても
古い時代の考え方のまま、まわりが奴隷化、カルト化している時代を生きたら
病気になります

そこで主流な考え方から逃げるためのサブカルチャーが必要になるのですが
主流な考え方から逃げさせないために（国民を病気にするために）
あえてサブカルチャーということばを芸能人の芸風ということにしているのです

なので私はバブルの時の豊田商事と今のピカツーを別物と考えてお祭り騒ぎがしたいだけで
腐った主流文化から逃げるためのサブカルチャーを知らないバブル世代を軽蔑します
🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

2025/04/29(火) 10:07:53.09

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊
バブル世代はじいさんが豊田商事を生放送で殺したときは「いいぞー」と思っていたくせに
いざ不景気になると派手な金遣いを懐かしんで金融詐欺師やカルトなんかを持ち上げていることについて恨んでいます

バブルの考え方で今を生きたら病気になるしかないです
いくら古い時代がよくても
古い時代の考え方のまま、まわりが奴隷化、カルト化している時代を生きたら
病気になります

そこで主流な考え方から逃げるためのサブカルチャーが必要になるのですが
主流な考え方から逃げさせないために（国民を病気にするために）
あえてサブカルチャーということばを芸能人の芸風ということにしているのです

なので私はバブルの時の豊田商事と今のピカツーを別物と考えてお祭り騒ぎがしたいだけで
腐った主流文化から逃げるためのサブカルチャーを知らないバブル世代を軽蔑します
🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

2025/04/29(火) 10:09:05.31

💀🔪バブル世代の殺人を生配信したい💀🔪

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊
バブル世代はじいさんが豊田商事を生放送で殺したときは「いいぞー」と思っていたくせに
いざ不景気になると派手な金遣いを懐かしんで金融詐欺師やカルトなんかを持ち上げていることについて恨んでいます

バブルの考え方で今を生きたら病気になるしかないです
いくら古い時代がよくても
古い時代の考え方のまま、まわりが奴隷化、カルト化している時代を生きたら
病気になります

そこで主流な考え方から逃げるためのサブカルチャーが必要になるのですが
主流な考え方から逃げさせないために（国民を病気にするために）
あえてサブカルチャーということばを芸能人の芸風ということにしているのです

なので私はバブルの時の豊田商事と今のピカツーを別物と考えてお祭り騒ぎがしたいだけで
腐った主流文化から逃げるためのサブカルチャーを知らないバブル世代を軽蔑します
🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

2025/04/29(火) 10:09:25.96

💀🔪バブル世代の殺人を生配信したい💀🔪

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊
バブル世代はじいさんが豊田商事を生放送で殺したときは「いいぞー」と思っていたくせに
いざ不景気になると派手な金遣いを懐かしんで金融詐欺師やカルトなんかを持ち上げていることについて恨んでいます

バブルの考え方で今を生きたら病気になるしかないです
いくら古い時代がよくても
古い時代の考え方のまま、まわりが奴隷化、カルト化している時代を生きたら
病気になります

そこで主流な考え方から逃げるためのサブカルチャーが必要になるのですが
主流な考え方から逃げさせないために（国民を病気にするために）
あえてサブカルチャーということばを芸能人の芸風ということにしているのです

なので私はバブルの時の豊田商事と今のピカツーを別物と考えてお祭り騒ぎがしたいだけで
腐った主流文化から逃げるためのサブカルチャーを知らないバブル世代を軽蔑します
🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

2025/04/29(火) 10:13:03.36

勤勉という意味で昭和の延長みたいな文化が作りたいなら
せめて上坂すみれやヒカキンみたいな金融詐欺師を社会的底辺として
酷い目にあわせるような文化にしてよ

中居とかヒカキンとか表向きのイメージだけのやつらを信じ続けるっていうなら
ノーサンキューだよ

だけど派手な生活している芸能人を見ると
景気がいいみたいで安心するんだろ？
それだけなんだよバブルって

死なないと治らないですバブル世代の頭の悪さは

2025/04/29(火) 10:13:52.63