okay so welcome to my first time like entering the writing comp? i believe this was last edited july 24th, 2020? wow that's a long time- i'm just lowkey proud of how far i've come from then

tw: death

I walked into the sandy beach as I soaked my feet into the sand. My feet began to feel as if grains of sand were sprinkled onto my feet. The transparent water washed my foot clean again. I chuckled, as my foot felt funny. Whoosh. As the cool water pulled back and soaked my feet, goosebumps popped all over my body.
“Brrr,” I exclaimed out of nowhere.
“Ally, let’s build some sandcastles!” My brother Alex exclaimed.
“No. I want to enjoy the ocean,” I replied, with both of my arms crossed, while chattering my teeth.
After standing in the ocean for a while, the light was brighter. All I could see was a pale white light. My skin began to feel warm again.
I remembered I last stumbled upon this beach when I was five years old. Back then, it was my first time touching ocean water. I even cried because the water was so cold and salty. I chuckled at the memory. So far away, yet so close.
I walked further into the chilly waves. Then, I scooped some water onto my arms to cool down.
The sun shimmered on top of the water, reflecting the pink, blue, and orange colors that began to mix like pastels. It looked as if it was a dream, or a painting. Too perfect.
I took another step into the water. My vision line decreased. More parts of my legs began to sink into the water. Even my hips.
Whoosh. Swooping above me, the wave pulled me further into the ocean. It retreated,I laughed as I accidentally swallowed some salty water.
“This is so salty!” I complained as I spat out the salt.
“Ally, it’s time to go back to our hotel!” Mom called.
“Alright,” I replied as I walked back towards the foamy sand.
I let my feet get soaked one more time. Then, I walked back with mom.
Eek! I can’t wait until tomorrow to enjoy the ocean. I laid in bed, tossing and turning, tossing and turning. I just couldn’t sleep. Unfortunately, tomorrow was the last day. I stared up towards the ceiling, rocking my feet all around the soft mattress. My eyelids began to shut as everything turned black.

The next morning, I got up early in the morning. The sun had just risen and it had a dim glow. I suddenly shuddered as it was still early in the morning. Brr! So cold!
“I’m so bored.” I commented.
I strolled from our beach house to the beach.
“Aah, this feels amazing,” I gushed as I approached the beach, splashing my feet into the dark blue ocean.
“This feels so refreshing,” I continued to gush as the chilly waves slightly swooped over my feet.
I grinned as I stepped further into the waves.
“Ally! You have been out here for a while! You should have told mom. She was worried sick,” Nathan scolded as he shook his head.
“Humph, you’re younger than me!” I complained.
“Anyways, we are here so now we can enjoy the ocean too! Don’t run off again.” Nathan huffed.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I replied.
I walked back onto shore. The sand seeped between my toes as a wave approached.
“Ahh,” I muttered to myself. “So relaxing,”
“Hey Ally,” Mom called.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Remember what I told you before the trip. Don't go too far into the waves.” She reminded.
“Of course I wouldn't!” I obediently replied. I am not that irresponsible.
“That's good,” Mom said, but she shook her head.
I then sat down on the sand. It felt hard, wet, and cool.
“I don't like the sand as much as the water,” I commented.
“Oh, I like the sand much better,” Alex replied as he huffed and began to show off his building skills.
I got up as I tried to clean the sand off of my beach dress. I chilled for a little bit inside the waters. Then, I got back out of the water. I felt so refreshed. I grinned as I drifted towards mom.
“Make sure to enjoy this completely. Today will be your last day at the beach.” Mom advised.
Aww, I didn't want to go back home.
I sadly smiled, as I splashed some of the Ocean water.
I stepped in further, wanting to jump over some waves.
A knee-length wave approached me. I jumped over the wave. Then, I landed on the hard sand of the ocean. As soon as I landed, I fell backwards.
“Whoa!” I shouted as a wave, slightly smaller went above my head. Thankfully, I closed my eyes so that no salt could get in.
The wave pulled back.
I got up and headed to shore.
I spat out some salt.
“Mom, may I have some water?” I asked.
“Oh dear, sure,” Mom replied.
I coughed and spat out more salt.
“Make sure you don't trip again, okay?” Mom asked.
“Alright,” I replied.
“Thankfully, you didn't go too far, or else you wouldn't have made it onto shore,” Mom said in a relieved voice.
I nodded. I felt glad that I wasn't too out of my mind.
I sat down on the sand for a while. Then, I stared up into the air. The sun had a bright yellow glow. My skin felt even warmer.
We spent the whole day at the beach.
The sun had begun to set.
“Hey mom. Can I go play one last time?” I asked.
“Sure,” Mom replied.
I walked into the waves. My legs felt cold as I stood there. A breeze swept over my shoulder. I watched.
The sky seemed colorful. It was messy, yet so delicate and beautiful. Dark grey and pink clouds. Bright orange and hot pink skies. Such a masterpiece.
Without thinking, I took a step in. I felt attached to it, like a drug.
I couldn't control myself. I walked further and further. It was as if my feet had its own brain. My feet felt sunken into the ocean as the salty water rose up towards my nose. All I could see was a little bit of water ahead.
“All-” I hear a voice. Who was it? Was it calling for me?
Suddenly a huge wave trampled over me. Everything turned black.
Mom? Alex? Where are you? Dad?
I felt my body get rocked up and down as if I weighed nothing.
Mom? Dad? Where are you all? Where am I?
I kicked the water. Argh! Why am I not rising?
Oh no. Then it got to me.
I was drowning. I tried to open my mouth and scream as loud as I can. All that came out was a weak call. My breath was full of salt. I wish I could choke them out. I swallowed the salt.
No. This couldn't be true. I fought harder. It was no use.
Why? Why? Why didn't I listen to mom? What she said? Was I too careless? Why?
I could feel my skin getting hot as some tears dropped down to my cheek.
Why? Why couldn't I swim? WHY?
The waves hit me harder as I felt a sting on my chest.
I felt like giving-
My body suddenly got pulled down. Down. Down. I couldn't feel anything anymore. I felt like nothing was happening.
My final thoughts: Bye bye, Earth.

wow so uhm i think i had a dystopian phase <3 at that time i was kind of proud of it? idk what i think now, as i haven't really touched it

ok nevermind then, i didn't exactly, understand what flow and pacing was, per se or how not to be repetitive??

oh my god rereading and formatting is a pain

edit: how did i have the stamina to draft this then draft another fanfic this long? it’s amazing?

tw: death and violence

Everything turned black.
-
The lights suddenly turned on. I stare at my surroundings. There are heavy markings engraved on the wall and blood smeared all over. My legs are on a wooden chair and a blinding light shines directly below myself. The rest of the room is dark. It's dreadful. I jerk my arms. “Ugh, why won't this move!” I look back. My arms are on top of each other and my hands are tied with a heavy rope. So where is this?

Memories pour into my head. The investigation room. The chilling place where victims are tortured and questioned. Eventually, their throats are slit open, eyes boggled out until life slowly drowns away from them. Everything is all too familiar. The stench, the fear, the My stomach twists and hairs crawl up my back. Have I been caught?

Footsteps crawl into my ears. A voice pierces and stings my eardrums. “Hello, Howard.”

A man, wearing tall brown boots and a green military outfit stood right in front of me.

I clench my fist and I uncontrollably grit my teeth. Robert, you snake! No, I have to loosen my expression, or else he'd be suspicious. I would die! My family would die! Lilac would die! “Hello.”

Robert stares at me in an odd way. He smirked as he marched around me in circles. “So.. what did you find after spying?”

I can't say anything, or else I would harm my family! My teeth slide against each other, but my face appears to be loose. “No, I didn't see anything.”

Robert's eyes furrowed. He grabbed my chin. I felt as if he suddenly poured all of my oxygen out. “Don't lie, Howard. I know that you know something.” Robert is so close to me that I can smell the stench in his breath.

I stay quiet.

Robert shoots me a glare. “Fine, that won't convince you? I know that your mom is diseased and needs money for treatment.”

My body freezes. How did he find out? Mom's disease was kept secret! Robert, you snake! I glare at him, eyes filled with worry. “S-so?” I weakly mumble.

Robert's maniacal laughter fills the room.“Ha! Got a reaction from you. If you don't tell me what you found, you, your family, and your girlfriend will end up like the people who have entered this room.”

I begin to open my mouth. Anyone can die! Just not one of these people! I then stare down in shame. Is it really okay to betray the town? I feel the rope tighten against my hands as I squeeze them.

“I'll give you time to think. I will also give you money and power so that your mom will be cured. Your family can live happy lives.”

No, I'm not betraying the town. I will help the town once I am in power. I take a deep breath. “Fine, but don't you think it would be easier for me to, ouch, tell you once I get the ropes off my hands?”

Robert smirks, circling around me. He unties the ropes. “I never knew you were so cooperative.”

I gulp, glaring at Robert. “Fine, I'll tell you the names of the people.”

Robert pulls out his notepad. “There. Tell me the names right now.”

I tremble. Is this really the right decision, Howard, is it? I rub my chin. If I don't, I and the people I love most will die! That can't happen! I just won't include myself and Lilac. I take a deep breath, but my arms are tense. I tell Robert all of the names, not hesitating at all.

Robert smiled as he rubbed my head. Not the kind of pure smile, but the smile filled with greed and peril. He narrows his eyes, smirking. Robert's hand crawls into my hair like bugs biting my hair. Itchy. I swallow hard, trying to erase emotions on my face.

“Thank you, Howard. You have done a great deal of work for Ulven. You may be excused. Tomorrow, I will execute them.”

I sulk out of the room and grab the side of my pants. Was this the right choice?

-

I stare out the window. Clouds are heavy with dust. Smoke circles the air like a cyclone.

I close my curtains. “I really picked the day, did I?”

I hear Mom's yelps. Her coughs echo across the room.

Mom, this is the only hope to treat you. I walk over to Mom, touching her white hair. It's full of white dirty stuff that plagued her hair.

I smile at her. “Mom, I will find you a treatment option.”

Mom's voice cracks. “Y-you haven't gone with that Robert Stwert, have you…”

I quickly shake my head. “What matters is that you get treated. After today, I will get the money, and we will live happy lives.”

Mom scrunches her face, eyebrows slanting down. “Are you really-” Mom bends down and coughs heavily. She points at me, frowning. “Are you really going to believe what that Robert Stwert told you? Son, I'm so disappointed in you. Get out of my room.”

I frown. But Mom, if we follow what he does, we will get the money for you. I reluctantly turn my back and gently shut the door. I hear Mom's cough again. It's as if Mom suddenly plugged her voice into a loudspeaker, except we couldn't even afford one.

I stared forward, squeezing my hands. I must attend the town meeting. I can't hold back.
-

We set up the center, placing the brown wooden board and we grabbed a rope to tie over the victim's neck. My fingers jitter as I run the thin white rope against my hands. Someone's going to die because of me, right? I emptily stare at the rope. I don't have a soul anymore, do I?

“Good work, Howard.” Robert beams. My eyes fall to the floor, hiding the fire burning in my eyes. Robert, you snake! I'll get you one day! I will! I pull tighter on the rope.

Robert's voice tickled my ear. “Lucky for you, we only will lynch one person today.”

My eyes beam and I stare at him. “Who is it?”

Robert patted his hand against my back. “Oh, you'll find out soon.” He guffawed.

Why is Robert so hyper? It's only one person, right?

“Open the door, guards. The civilians may enter now.”

The other two men, wearing the exact same outfit as Robert gave him a salute.

Hundreds of children, women, and men scattered into the room. Ragged clothes, disheveled hair bleached with diseases, and their flat dull eyes staring at Robert. It's as if a plague was let into the town.

I reflect upon myself. Clean and tidy pants, straight hair, not a single hair out of place, and clean hair. I have actual accessories hanging on myself. I have a big home, enough for the comfort of my own family. What have I become?

“Silence.” Robert waved his hand. “Let's load the body.”

My heart throbs and I feel sweat trotting. Will I be the one to finish a life? The cruel one who will kill an innocent person?

Two soldiers bring up a young girl, prominent bones, disheveled hair, and a worried expression.

I can't find any words. Why a young girl, of all the choices? My hands fidget as I stand in front of Robert.

“R-robert. I think this is a mistake. How could a little kid be affiliated with the Vigilantes?”

Robert frowned, giving me the are you stupid look. He rolled his eyes. “She may seem innocent, but this cursed child is the daughter of the leader.”

I gulp and my body is tense. So I'm going to end a young girl's life, an innocent young girl. No no no no no, what have I done! What have I done! I look at Robert with pleading eyes. My heartbeats cast a loudspeaker. “Pl-please, this young girl is innocent!”

Robert chuckled maniacally. He spat unhearable words into my ear. This is no better than prison. No better than death.

They tie her arms to a large wooden board, intact with nails. The little girl, she's silent, yet her lips are shaking.

I stare at the little girl, her eyes drooping, her fidgeting. Her expression is unstable. It's fear. It's regret. It's remorse.

This is bad, this is bad. My hands rub together and my body squeezes together. I can't move. Why do I even care about this girl dying? She's nothing to me. Nothing. I don't even know her.

Robert marched into the open, smirking.

I try to keep my expression as neutral as possible, yet one piece of my mask falls off, exposing my frown. Robert…. it doesn't give him the right to go on a killing spree! My fist is tight and I want to use it to hit him, but as much as the flame in me desires, it's blown away by fear.

The little girl's sniffles filled the air. I don't need to turn around to see her face. She's crying.

Do I really feel bad for her?

Robert laughed, drawing closer to the girl. “I like it when you're afraid, even though you're just a kid.”

The little kid's hands quivered.

“H-hey, Robert. She's just a kid. Remember that. She's no use to us.”

Robert ignores me, continuing to intimidate the kid. “Place the rope on her neck.”

The little kid's tears fell uncontrolably. Her cries carried across the hall. “N-no… I'm sorry sir. I'm sorry that I did something wrong.. I'm sor-”

Robert snickered, and then he frowned in disgust. “Nothing can help your sanity, cursed child.”

The girl shivered, weakly kicking the board. “I'm sorry-”

Robert's eyes flared in anger. “Shut your little mouth, you little moron. You're disgusting you know that? You're physically a dirty *. I'm going to burn you soon, and get your entire family's throat slit and end your bloodline.”

The little girl quietly whimpered. “I'll be a better person in my next life.”

I shake my head. Why does she think it's her fault? She can't change her bloodline.

Two soldiers place a rope over her throat and hang it on a large tree. The shadow of the tree covers the little girl's body. I stare up the sky. It's grey and gloomy. I hear ravens coo and caw. The two soldiers slowly take the thick rope off her arms. These soldiers, they probably don't want to do this too. Robert, you snake. I won't forgive you!

My hands can't controll themselves and they move everywhere. This is the worst day ever. I'm so disgusting.

Robert taps his boots and places his hands over his hips. “Now, there is one person I want to thank for ratting out these dirty, awful, diseased vigilantes.”

No, no, no, this is the worst. This is the worst! Robert gestures to me.

I don't move. My eyes are wide in disbelief. What have I become? A part of this totalitorian rule?

Mutters whoosh across the crowd. I don't see any of the crowd members, but I can see the fear hidden in them. The disgust, the sorrow and the pain.

I quickly shake my head, hoping someone out there will see my plead.

The crowd's expressions stay the same.

They must think I'm the worst person in the world. I shake my head. I'm so horrible.

Robert chuckles, seeing my broken expression. “May the hanging begin.”

Lumps form in my throat. To save or not to save? My cheeks are invaded with warmth and my stomach takes 500 summersalts, which makes me want to puke.

Robert walks toward the little girl. Her arms hang down. She knows she's hopeless. Nobody is brave enough to save her. Nobody is kind enough to save her.

“5,”

My arms fidgit and my heart pounds out of my ears. What am I going to do about this girl?

“4,”

I breathe, and my breath shakes I take a small step forward. Watch your step, Howard. One wrong move and you could destroy this whole framework.

“3,” I draw closer to the girl. My legs jitter and I feel they may break down soon. The soldiers tighten their grasp on the rope, and the little girl stares down at her unorderly nails and the dirty streets.

“2,”

The soldiers begin to tug the rope. Robert's eyes flare in the darkness, flaunting that desire to rip out this poor little girl's soul. I creep closer. Cramps are all over my body. If this girl dies, then it's my fault.

“1,”

“No!” I scream. “Stop the hanging!” Whoosh. My arm drops. No. No. No. This is the worst.

The soldiers let go of the rope. A breath of silence occurs.

“Citizens, you may go mind your own business.” Robert declares.

The crowd quickly scatter away.

Robert stomps his foot on the ground. “Why in the heavens of the Earth would you support this dirty child?” His face scrunched up as if even the most beautiful and tidy masterpiece was a piece of garbage.

His eyes narrow. “Unless you are a vigilante.” He spat. I don't feel the fear of being hung anymore. Everything I wanted to do, it's all out, nothing I've held back. “But why would you give me their info if you were a real vigilante?”

I swollow and I stare straight at the tree, where the body was hung. Robert, kill me if you want. I don't care anymore. I spat more flames of my anger into Robert's face. “Vigilante or not, it wasn't right for you to kill an innocent child. Who knows? She could have been the perfect tool for your next monarchy.”

“Hmph, like a girl like her would be good enough. You're the worst pawn I've ever collected.”

Pawn. I quietly chuckle. I knew I wasn't anything to you. I knew I was just a tool.

Robert stomps out, pushing me out of his path with his shoulders. He steps on my feet hard. I'm not sure if that was intentional or unintentional, I don't know.

My hands touch the little girl's face. It's soft. No signs of aging, a person that could have grown rich and happy as a princess. Had a happy fairy tale ending. Her sunlit brown hair is the exact shade as mine. The girl's hands hang down, her face hanging down, staring down at the ground, at the imprints of our faults. I grab her arms to feel her pulse.

There's nothing.

She's dead.

I don't know what to think, sadness, remorse, regret? All of them. None of them. It's emptiness. It's not knowing whether I was human or not. Was I?

I tug her hand for a few seconds. Her hand fits just perfectly into my palm. Something taps my hand.

I carefully roll up her dark blue sleeves. Scars are printed all over her arm. On her wrist, there was a small bracelet on her wrist with a name.

Elinor Hale.

I slowly take the bracelet off her left arm. I feel her bones sticking out, as a reminder of their subpar lives. I reveal a bright red mark, imprinted deep into her skin, and a bit of dried blood.

My eyes droop. She must have worn this bracelet for a long time and must have been hurt. I carefully slide the bracelet back. “If this is what's going to stay with you, keep it.”

I stare at her shut eyelids. Elinor, at least you're in a better place now. Someday, I'll catch the snake. May peace be with you.

wow so this session i actually decided to enter a fanfic! hOw ImPreSsIVe! of course, i kind of forgot about this and well a lot of things are supposed to be italicized but laziness

but this is based on ‘the war that saved my life!’

tw: again, death

I heard a knock on the door. Susan rushed to get it.

A middle-aged woman, dark brown bun stuck up and dressed in a simple dress.

My stomach dropped. It's Mam.

Her eyes narrowed, and her face was scrunched up. Her teeth slid against eachother, and she stared straight into my eyes, to the depths of my soul.

“Just who do you think you are, Ada!” she scowled.

My eyes darted around. Jamie was standing right next to Mam, tightly holding onto her hand.

“Acting like a princess, riding on ponies all day and wearing expensive clothing, huh?”

I fiddled with my fingers. “N-no ma'am, it's just one of my hobbies. I ride sidesaddle so that my leg-”

Mam's eyes narrowed even further as she pulled out a letter. “And what is the meaning of this, eh?”

I read the print. The envelope was printed in Susan's handwriting.

“So you're telling me that you want to get a wheelchair?”

I slightly nodded as my heart raced. “It would make walking easier for me and you'll-”

“Nonsense!” Mam screamed, pointing her finger straight at me. “There's nothing in the world that will save your devilish leg. You should be grateful I bought you a Prosthetic leg! It cost me 1,500 shillings!”

I gulped, as I stared down in shame. Maybe Mam's right,

Mam turned her glare to Susan. “And you. The government is charging me 20 shillings a week just for taking away my kids-”

“You don't need to-”

“And you're just sitting around, dressing up in fancy clothes, riding in ponies, telling me what to do with my kids-”

I shake my head.

“And acting like you're better than me!” She tugged on Jamie's hand. “Come on now, you're coming home with me.”

Susan shook her head. Her eyes widened in concern. “You can't-”

“And you think you can boss me, a little * like you?” Mam refuted.

I give Susan a look. Don't mess with Mam. Things can get messy.

Mam pulled on my hand hard. I wobbled out of balance and fell to the floor.

“Oww..” I mutter. Mam kicks on my legs, as if to shoo me away. “How pathetic.”

Jamie gives me full and round eyes, as if to say sorry. I give him a small nod as I try to push myself off the ground.

“Wait!” Susan called. “Ada, Jamie. You can both stay with me. I can fix your leg and give you a wheelchair, Ada.”

Mam squeezed Jimmy's hand even tighter. “Think my kids are going to stay with a lazy woman like you? You haven't been much help to them, only making them think they're more worthwhile than they actually are.” She spat.

“A-are you sure? I can make things work out.”

Jamie squeezed his hand with Mam's. “I want to go home,”

“Ada..” Susan begins.

I give Susan a stare. Sadness fills my eyes. Susan, I'm sorry, but I have to stay with Jamie.

I turn my back against Susan, and my feet drag as I limp to the train station.

“Hurry up, weakling,” Mam muttered.

-

We walk in the streets of my neighborhood. The sensation of home instantly comes back to me. The years I've been trapped in my room, desperate to go and see the outside world. All the years of curses and beatings; they come to me at once.

Mam fixates her eyes on my crutches. “What exactly do you have there?”

“These help me walk-”

Mam slap the crutches out of my hand. I slip and fall to the ground. The pain seeps into my leg and all of the sudden, the memories are alive and real. “You don't need to walk, you useless cripple.”

Cripple. The word echoed in my ear. I'm sick of it. Sick of being called useless. The fire inside me can only quietly burn and eventually wiped away by fear.

I swollow hard, words stuck at the back of my throat. “I'm not a usless cripple. I can walk.”

Mam snorted. “I don't know who gave you the idea that your crippled self was good enough to appear in public.”

I gulped. This is the worst.

“Ada isn't useless,” Jamie stared at Mam with pleading eyes. “Ada, tell Mam you caught a spy!”

“Of course, Jamie.” She smiles.

My stomach flopped and my cheeks turned pink. Maybe if I wasn't born with half a leg, Mam would have loved me as much as Jamie.

Mam gives me a glare and crosses her arms. “Let's hear your story, then.”

I shake my head, trying to get up from the ground.

“Hmph! I knew that a cripple like you wouldn't be capable.”

Cripple? Is that all I am to you? Are we just your tools, your masks?

Jamie helps me up. His eyes are filled with worry and remorse. I shake my head.

“Jamie, none of this is your fault.”

Jamie grabs my crutches. I take them and we walk home.

-

We walk into a room.

“Here is your room. Only come down for food.”

Mam slams the door. “I'll give you a bucket to use. I don't need everyone to shame me just because you're useless.”

I search for the exact words. My voice falters. “Th-thank y-you.”

Mam shuts the door on me. I gasp, gulping buckets of air. Thank god I don't have a beating.

I scan the room. No cabinet to stuff me in. One small window hangs on the side. I coughed. The air was full of dust that I couldn't breathe in.

I stare outside at the window. The sky was dark and shadowed. There's no moon tonight. The room is hot and humid. I flop onto my small, foul-smelling mattress and I stare up at the ceiling.

I can't sleep. I keep thinking about Susan. How different she was from Mam. She's unashamed of me, unlike Mam. Mam would beat me all day long.

Maybe because she wanted me to be a cripple. To stay as a cripple.

I bite my lip. Could this be? I unscrew my Prosthetic leg, carefully placing it on the side of the room.

It takes me a few seconds before I can process this thought.

Mam, it's not my fault that I'm a cripple. You set me up for it.

I place my crutches on the opposite side of the room, near the door.

Susan loved me and gave me the love I never would have had.

-

It's morning. I stare around. My door is opened and my Proesthetic leg, it's still there, but my crutches, they're gone!

I flip out of bed, and suddenly I fly over, forgetting I took off my prosthetic leg.

Ouch, these falls are worse than Mam's beatings. I slowly crawl with my whole leg on the ground, and my half leg scraping on the surface and I screw on my Prosethetic leg.

I crawl up to the surface. Mam is wearing a snarky expression. She grins. “Where did your crutches go?”

I bite my tounge. “Why didn't you get me crutches or a wheelchair?”

She laughed, snickering. “I didn't the world to shame on me-”

“Well I could have gotten used to-”

“Shut it!” Mam hits me at my shoulders. I leap forward, face crashing right on the ground.

This hurts, this hurts!

“Remember,” Her vowels oozed like a burn. “This is my house. Disobey me, rebel against me, I don't care. You'll be sorry, young lady.” She grabs me at the back of the ear. “You hear that, you hear that? Any more trouble and I will hurt Jamie.”;

I gulp. Mam would never hurt Jamie. She adored him and bought him sweets, let him see his friends, wear good clothes.

Mam walks away. “I don't need a lowly person like you to ruin my life.”

My face scrunches, a small flame of anger spreading all over my face. Just shut up!

Jamie gives me a hand and pulls me up.

“Thanks, Jamie.” I whisper.

Jamie shakes his head. “I'm really sorry about how Mam has been treating you.”

I slightly chuckle. Jamie is so sweet. I pat his golden brown hair. “I'm so lucky to have you.”

Jamie stays quiet. He must still pity me.

Mam cooks some food. The scent carried up into my nose. I limp, to grab some china plates, and grab some metal forks.

Mam brought the food to the table. There was lots of meat layered with vegetables.

Mam stared at me, flaunting her eyelids. “Only Jamie and I can have the meat. You only get the vegetables.”

I gulped, and slowly took my fork and grabbed the vegetables. They were wet, soggy and stinky.

What was I supposed to say? Thank you for these vegetables? Or I love these?

Jamie shook his head and grabbed some of the scrawny vegetables. He held his breath and gulped them down.

Mam looks at Jamie. She puts her hand on his cheek. “You have something in the corner of your mouth. Do you want to eat the meat, it's good.”

Jamie shakes his head. “No thank you, Mam. Please don't be angry.”

Jamie glances at me and I mouth thank you. Mam snarles. “Was it Ada who made you do this?”

Jamie quickly spins his head. “N-no! I just want to eat more veggies today because I haven't been eating healthy lately.” He points to a part of his arm. “See, Mam? It's here.”

Jamie doesn't need to do this for me. He never needed to make his life worse just because of pity.

Mam smiles. “Yeah, Jamie. I'm glad you're so self sufficient.”

Mam creeps up to me. My skin sticks up and my skin is tense. Mam whispers in my ear. “You little cripple. You better not ruin my son's life.”

My fist squeesed harder. My cheeks turned red. I wanted to spit out what's on my mind. I never ruined anything. Nothing's my fault.

My heart spins in my chest. Is this really what you want to do?

I gulp down a vegetable. A second passes.

“Mam.” I pronounce slowly.

Mam gives me an agitated look. “Yes yes, what would you like to say?”

“You never wanted me here.” I pant. “You never wanted me here.”

Mam chuckled. “Yeah, so?”

My fist grew tighter. “You don't need me.”

Mam nodded, without any shame or regret. “Yeah, I suppose I don't need you, why do you ask?”

I chewed my lips. Mam felt really confident about that, why? “Then I suppose you could get us out of here.”

“Oh, don't drag my dear Jamie into this.” Mam spits. “I'd be so joyful to finally get rid of you. You're the worst pain in my life.”

That felt sour. My eyes began to turn red. “D-do you really think you can call a person like you a mother?”

“Yes, I treat Jamie well. Jamie doesn't cause me as much trouble as you. Jamie doesn't take up much money. The only reason I brought you back was because you were expensive.”

ENOUGH! “You just like Jamie better because he doesn't waste as money as me, don't you, Mam?” I shrug off all the respect I previously had for this woman. “You won't have to spend money on me anymore.”

Mam snickered, snapping her fingers. “How will I do that?”

So all along, you've thought of me as a disposable object. “Yes. Send. Me. Over. To. Susan.”

“Ada, no…” Jamie moans, eyes filled close to a firm of tears. “Please, don't just leave on a whim.”

I sighed. It's complicated. At the same time, I don't want to leave Jamie. But I hate staying under this boiling teapot, eventually to destroy myself. I pound my fist on the table. Words struggle to come out of my mouth. “J-jamie. I'm sorry. I will find some time to meet with you.”

Those were my last words in the Smith household.

-

Every Saturday, Susan and I take the train to London to see Jamie. Susan got me new crutches. She says she will give me a wheelchair later. When we arrive, we would say hi to him, wave, and share some laughs.

Even though we would never reach the comfort we recieved in the old days with Susan, warmth still surrounded us. We still had fun under the sunny days.

One day we visited Jamie. He wasn't there.

Only a few days later would be find out. On June 19, Jamie and Mam's supermarket was bombed, the store shredding into pieces.

-

We visit Jamie's gravestone. The sky was blue shining with a bright sun. The grass was a shade of pure green, and the wind softly blew across the graveyard.

We carefully open the gates.

On this large piece of rock, the words Jamie Smith are carved onto the rock, and next to it, there's a small black lid on the surface, with no flowers.

I carefully place my flowers onto his grave. Ada does too.

We reserve a moment of peace for Jamie. I hear the birds sing in the background. The wind flusters and the sun enters in my eyes.

Jamie, I love you.

Susan places her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to stand here with your brother?” Her hand almost tickles my dark brown braid.

I nod, staring right onto the gravestone. “Jamie.”

I swing my arms and shake his imaginary hand. “Jamie.”

“If you're here, just know,” I tap his hair and grin.

“No matter how apart we are,”

“We will always be together.”

ok so i had an essay phase- because i don't think i've improved on my essays, this doesn't look as painful, though to more experienced essay writers, it will seem like uHhh

i was also really inspired by nights because she's an amazing essay writer

As I stroll through the shop, something catches my eye. There are large toy houses, with large windows, wooden walls, and textured roofs, just like my home. Inside, many toys are packed.

For some dollhouses, the wallpaper is filled with textures, and others are monochromatic.

As I open each dollhouse, there reveals a stack of objects organized in different rooms; tableware, accessories, trains, dolls, almost anything. As time passes, more and more objects pile in the dollhouse.

By the end of a lifetime, the house will be full of memories. Some abandoned, others full.

However, I have never seen two identical dollhouses, and there never will be.

As a teen, dollhouses and certain dolls have always caught my attention. Even though they’re supposedly made for young children. (I don’t even own Barbie dolls. Alright- maybe one or two. But nowadays, I simply admire toys.)

I’m especially interested in the ones that appear old and classic, like the wooden dollhouses, filled with smooth, realistic doll figurines. Even the smallest details are crafted perfectly. The outfits are the best; a plain long-sleeved shirt, fancy dresses, smooth suits, and especially dresses decorated in flowers. Those are my favorite.

The objects inside the dollhouse will always be different. Each dollhouse has its own story to tell, and the dollhouse has so many details, that it’s impossible for them to be pinned down by a general idea.

Ironically, even though supposedly, only young children collect toys, this is a hobby of many adults.

In fact, many celebrities like Leonardo di Caprio, Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and even Johnny Depp openly admit to collecting toys. Celebrities aren’t the only ones collecting toys. Many other adults have enormous toy collections.

So why do we believe only young children collect toys?

Stereotypes, my friend. Stereotypes. As much as I hate to admit, I do stereotype, and it’s hard for me to accept that everyone stereotypes.

In fact, it’s harder for me to accept that fact that stereotypes are entirely negative is, in fact, a stereotype. Stereotypes are just another strategy we used to navigate the world. It’s just like a double-edged sword.

Use it correctly, and you’ve become a nice human; use it negatively, and you’ve become a ‘Stereotyper’.

Stereotypes are totally harmless- at least some people think they are. But as inaccurate stereotypes grow, they lead to underlying prejudice, and underlying prejudice leads to hate. We must attempt to consciously correct our unconscious biases, but unfortunately, this is easier said than done.

As the pandemic continually progresses, more and more harmful stereotypes have arisen about one particular group: Asian Americans. Here are some of them you may know: being the ‘model minority’, spreading the virus, eating the wild animals.

Even though we treat Asian American hate as a new political issue, it’s not new at all. Racial prejudices rallied when Asians traveled to America.

At that time, many citizens of the American public believed people lacked morals and engaged in dirty acts. They were named the ‘yellow peril’, as if they were a virus in itself.

Unfortunately, these stereotypes provoked congress into creating the Chinese Exclusion Act, banning Chinese Americans from migrating to the United States.

During World War 2, because of the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese Americans were seen as traitors. Many of them had no involvement in the attacks, and even served our country.

Outrage could only continue. Eventually, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which forced the Japanese Americans to be imprisoned in Internment Camps.

Forced to live under inhumane conditions, they had left behind all their progress.

Our society has largely improved since then. We welcome more minority groups, which is a good thing. My community is very diverse, and I’ve seen no one project racist remarks at school.

Unfortunately, the problem is far from being washed away. Asian Americans and other minority groups are still suffering from racial prejudices. The lockdown obviously doesn’t contribute to the solution.

In a study published in 2020 conducted by Ohio State researchers, racial prejudices were the top reason people blame Asian Americans for the pandemic. That’s not all. Reports of Asian American harassment have risen by 2.5 times.

It’s simply depressing that a person’s appearance places them in a position to experience injustice.

These instances only drag us further apart. Stereotypes aren’t exclusive to majorities either- in fact, we all suffer from stereotypes.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can recognize our differences and appreciate them.

Sure, stereotypes are hard to correct; just like changing our perceptions about dollhouses being a child’s toy is difficult.

After all, you probably think the dollhouse stereotype is useless and harmless. Why should you respect dollhouses? Dollhouses are simply inanimate objects.

But really, in the aspect that no two dollhouses are exact, they’re no different than us humans. Just like humans, dollhouses are unique.

Both of us don’t fit into the stereotypes assigned.

Both of us offer juicy secrets.

Both of us have a road ahead.

Don’t get me wrong, dollhouses aren’t humans. But we share more in common than you think.

Both of us, we hold our special objects, filled with memories, emotions and achievements from the past.

Just like a dollhouse, you and I can’t be replicated. Be the person you desire to be, and accept who you truly are.

yay swc fanfics! i love them oddly this didn't take me that long to write because i loved the storyline so much- the writing is average but i like the plot and the drama :sparkles: have fun reading!

edit: what is this formatting omg

tw: arson and death

The fire cackled, snaking above the burning logs. Forty rebels, two generals, and one leader gathered by the fire as they conspired together. They shivered in unison, as their heart sped.
“Today's the revolution.” Birdi leaned forward, tossing another branch into the fire pit.
The fire shimmered, dancing against the night. Unlike the previous meetings, it produced a glow brighter than the sun.
They tensed their knuckles in unison- in fact, they all knew. Today is the revolution. Not just any revolution, but a rebellion against the Mystery Casino.
Vienna quickly threw a thin into the fire.
Pop! The fire swallowed the stick, then shrinking rapidly. Mira fidgeted, gently tossing in a small stick.
“Everyone follow,” Birdi chanted.
“Everyone follow!”
Birdi marched forward, displaying her arm above the roaring fire. She fiddled in her pocket, grabbing a small dagger.
She took a deep breath and hesitated.
SCRATCH!
Drip. Drip.
A heavy cut pierced her arm. Gritting her teeth, Birdi tensed her muscles, as if that would ease the pain.
“Today, we offer a sample of our blood to proclaim our loyalty.” Their leader declared, as her jade-coloured hair whipped.
One by one, the rebels took a sample of their blood. The fire crackled louder, louder than a volcano.
“Today, my rebels,” Vienna rose, smirking. “We will ambush the mystery casino with our plan!”
“Yes!” Mira cried. “After all of this, there will be peace.”
The alliances we've made will help us for sure. After all, we’re prepared, more than prepared.
–
The rebels crept through the forest, each carrying a torch. Their footsteps were lighter than air.
“Summer has infiltrated the casino by pouring gasoline all over,” Birdi said.
The laughter from the mystery casino bellowed.
“But their arrogance will be their downfall.”
The rebels studied the casino. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a simple black building that blended into its surroundings.
And this was the Mystery Casino.
Birdi leaned closer. The mystery casino was scraped in burn marks. Creeping closer, the rebel spaced out five meters apart. They crouched against the dark bushes.
Holding their walkie-talkies tight, the rebels slowed their movements, carefully listening to each word.
Birdi’s heartbeat echoed. Her skin tightened and her eyes widened, taking in every little detail in the present.
“When I say fire,” Birdi pulsated. “We'll-we'll burn the casino.”
“Yes, leader!” They whispered, making sure the gamblers didn’t eavesdrop.
“And-and don't do anything until I say so.”
“Yes, leader!”
The lights from the window danced and the faint silhouettes shifted. The gamblers shared light-hearted chuckles, carelessly gambling their chips over.
And little did they know, they were gambling their life over.
Only three people patrolled the casino: Yuna, Sana, and Alyelle.
Birdi froze, as she observed their respective locations. Summer, Poem, and Milkia clustered by the top floor. Their silhouettes were different from the gamblers, mainly in the hat shape. Of course, unlike the rebels, the chess masters’ body language was relaxed, and they roamed freely. In fact, the chess masters and the gamblers were healthy rivals, cheering each other on, until now.
Birdi advanced her torch, calculating the locations of each mystery camper. The building suffered many scrapes and uneven sides. The gamblers turned their heads away from the window, chattering about. Birdi sighed, tightening her grip.
A complete silhouette stood directly in Birdi's view.
She froze, swiping her torch over her shoulders. After a few seconds, the camper turned its head, sprinting down the stairwell.
Shoot, that Mystery Camper, they saw me, they saw me for sure!
Her hand wobbled, and as she fiddled through her pockets, Birdi pressed the nearest button.
Her heart thumped. Don’t worry, I’m the one under control.
“Hello, rebels,”
“Birdi?”
“Ad-advance thirty units forward.”
“Thirty units?”
Thump. A hesitation.
“Thirty units. W-we need to get closer to the building. Press the button on your walkie talkie when you're done.”
Nothing was going to go wrong. Nothing.
One after another, the signals from the walkie-talkie arrived.
Yet from one, the walkie talkie remained dead silent.
“Vienna, are you there?”
“Yes,”
“Have you received any distress signals from group Eleven, from Hatt and Scarlett?”
The chattering wind swept across the bush, howling at the rebels.
“No.” Vienna reported.
A sound brushed Birdi's ears, and she tightly grasped the walkie talkie.
ERROR. NO SIGNAL FROM GROUP ELEVEN. ERROR. NO SIGNAL FROM GROUP ELEVEN.
A scream.
Thump.
That same scream from horror cabin.
No, Hatt and Scarlett. They've been captured-
And the silhouettes shifted, advancing toward the door. Her hands fidgeted. They felt emptier than ghosts.
After a brief rebuttal, she grabbed a pale lighter box.
Was I going to fire?
Grabbing her flimsy pack of matches, Birdi took out one. Small, simply enough to fit in her hand.
Yet just a small thing could cause a large disaster.
She pressed the ignition button. A small teardrop danced against the night. Small, yet all the fire from the match shone brightest.
There's no choice.
She pressed the last button.
“Listen, everyone. Advance ten more units, and when I say fire, fire.”
The signals were unanimous.
“And if our connection is intercepted by horror's haven or fantasy's kingdom, or the mystery casino, then fire.”
Thump. Thump.
Adrenaline rushed through Birdi's blood. Her flinching fingers were solidified.
This is the right choice.
Thump. Thump.
By this point, Mystery sure knows. Yet what's the point of holding back?
Without hesitation, Birdi pressed the last button. With a smirk all over her face, she ushered those last words. “Fire.”
And soon, a layer of gasoline overshadowed the mystery casino.
Each rebel stepped forward. Their clanking filled the air.
It happened so quickly.
The spark sizzled, swelling as it absorbed the energy. Slithering quicker and quicker against the concrete, the fire only grew and grew, absorbing the entirety.
And Birdi froze, as the red energy ate away each particle, washed away each of the gambler's smiles, until the laughter had drowned.
“That was surprisingly deliberate,” Birdi whispered.
What could she do, laugh it off?
Only few mystery gamblers crept out, standing with Alyelle, Yuna and Sana.
But the rest of the gamblers will turn into dust. And the fire had continued its purge, spreading like a virus.
Milkia, Poem, and Summer swivelled from the corner.
“Come on! Birdi, your rebels have to run! The fire's spreading. If you don't, all of them will burn into dust!”
Birdi rapidly pressed those buttons as her hand shook. The text was so blurry and faint, that she could only make out basic shapes.
“H-hello, rebels….”Birdi muttered.
Her footsteps dragged through the grass, and she limped.
Deafening silence.
N-no… signal.
“No..” she muttered. They lost signal, they lost signal, they lost signal…
So what have I done?
“Birdi, run! The rebels, they will know to run! You must run, you must run!”
And without a single thought, she sprinted, flapping her feet high.
Crunch.
What if my rebels aren't safe?
Crunch.
What if they're in the fire?
Crunch.
What if… they're all dead?
Birdi stopped abruptly, as a tight grip pushed her shoulder. She huffed, as cold sweat trickled down her forehead.
“Birdi, we won't let you go after you what you did to our ally. You're coming with us.” Pi frowned.
Her surroundings blurred. Only brief shades crashed together.
“Please tell me they're safe… please tell me they're safe….” she huffed.
“Your rebels?” Cara smirked. “Of course they're fine. They're with us.”
Cara turned Birdi toward the monstrous fire. “But look what you've done, Birdi. Look at what you're rebels done.”
Birdi stared down and a dizziness struck her forehead. The colors were simply blurs.
It’s not their fault. Not mystery’s fault. Not Cara or Pi’s fault. Not Vienna or Mira’s fault.
“This is all my fault,” she muttered.
Alba sighed, stepping between them. She bit her lip, stretching her dandelion shirt. “I didn't expect the simple rivalry to turn like this, and to be fair, this was all revenge.”
“But we need to get out- fast. SWC can't end from this. I'll evacuate everyone.”
A pause. Birdi’s eyes skimmed the floor. She slumped, and her jaws sagged loose.
“And run, run as fast as you can, away from this fire.”
And Birdi ran- ran as fast as she could, skipping through the clinking branches.
Crunch.
Maybe the corpses will burn to dust.
Crunch.
Maybe the people, they'll turn to fragile skulls.
Crunch.
Maybe we'll all burn tonight.
Crunch.
But, NEVER LOOK BACK!
CRUNCH.
Her footsteps hammered like beats to a thunderstorm. The trees, branches, bushes, all swiped past before her eyes.
Huff.
Keep moving, Birdi, keep moving.
Huff.
You've already done it.
Huff.
The steps halted, as the crunches faded.
So what's stopping you, stopping you from moving?
Birdi's boots scraped the dirt. Heavy smoke clouds replaced the forest fire. Together, Alba, Icy, Sini, Li, carried fainted bodies. Blood smeared all over the gamblers’ faces. Distorted features, lead colored hair, spiritless faces, they're simply unrecognizable .
The hosts rushed toward the hills, as all leaders watched the destruction of the building unfold. No one knew how a simple rivalry would turn out. No one.
Yet deep down, Birdi knew the casino would turn thinner than sand grains. Their corpses will decompose, maybe their bones will break and she knew all along she would have caused the forest fire.
She knew.
Birdi stood there, swaying from side to side.
Funerals will be paid, corpses will be buried.
We’ll savor the victory, yet victory will be bland.
Pay as much as you want but no price can undo.
Hide in the facade.
Revenge may seem sweet, but the aftertaste will be bitter.

ok alba- i really apologize if you're getting so many arson fanfics / jokes i was inspired by alba's fanfic, the aftermath, which is AWESOME and just wowwow- so why not some arson swc fanfic and i applaud myself for this uneventful title- i promise i'll think of a better one for my non-fanfic entry and i hope you enjoy reading
also like, i added some lines from symphony, alba’s song, into this fanfic

tw: arson (i'm sorry, didn't you come for arson?) and death

Perhaps the time has come.

An eerie chill tickles my spine. Its contents are chilling, ringing a prophecy in my mind. The air whispers its true nature, enough to tear my dry lips. A white winter, harsh and bitter. My footprints faintly trace the piled snow. Despite being as traceless as they are, my conviction is certain.

I’ve never liked the cold. Ice, distant and fierce, slowly reveals its wrath as it torments its victims. Fire, on the other hand, passionate and warm, blesses its victims with quick, impermanent pain.

The match fiddles in my hands. Perhaps just like me, the match is silently waiting, waiting for its next opening.

-

The manor is constructed with rows of wood. On the outside, it’s decorated with a shiny white coating. With a closer look, some of the paint is chipping off. This property is slowly falling apart.

A layer of frost covers the glass windows. In one window lies a polished piano and the endless piles of scribbled manuscripts. Another window houses libraries full of ancient literature; the other window features collages of photographs of a young girl smiling with her friends.

The final window is placed in the top right corner. There lies a girl, still and unmoving. Her eyes focus on the task in front of her, yet her passion is empty. Her actions are mechanical, even robotic.

I take a step forward. Snow drizzles from the grey sky, forming a thin layer against the pavement. There’s no need to be faint, for the snow will eventually melt.

Is it polite to push the fence, my past self would ask. Of course it isn’t- me, an old friend of hers showing up to her place uninvited. She’s probably forgotten me- even better off without me! But what are these meaningless ideals? Politeness, respect, safety; words spat by elders who never fulfilled their promises.

My feet tread up the stairs- not by will, but by obligation. The doorbell emits a sharp ring, enough to startle my ears.

A man with shaggy orange pajamas answers the door. He narrows his eyes. It’s not me- maybe he’s not used to seeing visitors, there would be no way he could recognize my face, obscured by the heavy clothes.

“Who are you?” A question seemingly innocent, yet intriguing. Who am I, truly? I’m not the person I once was, pure and passionate. I’m not the Alba in their eyes or fitting to the word Alba. This, of course, is not the question. It’s my identity, which I must protect.

“I’m Laka.”

His face relaxes- a friendly gaze. How would he react if I said my name? “Well then, ma’am, welcome to Salem Territory. May I inquire why you are here?”

I recite my lengthy speech. “When I first moved here, Sini was my friend who I’ve spent most of my days with. She brings me the fondest memories… I can only reminisce about the past with her.”

The man in orange hesitates but is interrupted by another man wearing a dark shirt with a thick mustache. They exchange whispers and after a few moments, the man in orange leans towards me.

“I am not supposed to let anyone in, however, I will make an exception for you.”

The door scrapes itself shut, forming a sharp sound. Life can be so unpredictable at times, only presenting surprise when it seems fit. Just like when the guards of the Salem Territory tried to erase my existence. I still remember the chilling touch of the plastic white gloves; the same feeling returns as the man in orange scrapes my coat.

“There, ma’am. Please make your visit quick, as we are not authorized to do this in any manner.”

I push open the door and the matches rest in my pockets.

A dark-haired girl in a blue sundress sits by the desk, scribbling words on the blank parchment paper. No, this girl is my dear friend. Was. Her arms are stiff and confined- it reminds me of the illusion of freedom presented here. We are never free to do what we please, despite the guards preaching openness of opinion.

“Sini.” Her eyes don’t move from the paper until the ink travels through each side of the paper.

“Who are you?” The question isn’t threatening by any means, yet it stings. I shouldn’t be so naive, hoping she’ll remember. She’s a different person now.

“My name is Laka.”

Silence. She twists her head in ninety-degree directions.

“Then, may I ask, how is this December afternoon?”

Her cheeks stiffen. “It’s September 26th, not December. I’ll be let out tomorrow, on my birthday.”

“You’re mistaken-” my eyes turn towards the run-down calendar placed on the wall. Holes form over the September 27th date, worn by the quill’s bleeding ink. The other dates are crossed out, leaving only the 26th date blank. This flimsy sheet is the only sheet left of the calendar.

The man with a thick mustache sends me a sympathetic glance.

“Hello, Chary.” Sini waves. Her cheeks struggle to lift- is it a smile that she’s making or a different expression?

“This is my friend, and one of your old friends. Her name is AK, remember this.”

So he knows.

“Sure.” The ink continues to spill over the sheets. She moves the same way she did by the window. All that is written is a date- September 27th. A date. An empty promise of tomorrow.

The man gently closes the door. “I’ll find a way to help her. She’ll be out tomorrow, for real.”

My lips tremble. In this sterile manor, humanity does not exist. Nor do the empty promises made by its captors. “Thanks for taking care of her,” I mutter.

“I’ll slip Sini one of your photos.”

“Sir, thanks, but I’m afraid it’s unnecessary.”

-

Burn. Let it burn.

There’s no hesitation nor fixation. Flames dance over its surface, sucking, swallowing, engulfing the core. It breaks into maniacal laughter, its own symphony. One that passionately destroys everything in its path, before gradually smearing.

My name is Alba, and I am an arsonist.

A bright red glow emits from the fire before the photographs sizzle into void-like puddles. A thin strip of smoke smears the burning embers. The journey has died down, and it must be born again, through relighting a match.

The snow has melted. Regardless, cool air lingers- no matter how much fire burns, it’ll never eradicate the cold.
But it’s all becoming warmer.

-

The moon is dawning and winter howls at the town. It’s ferocious, challenging humans to survive in its winds.

Despite the weather, excitement wraps itself around me like a warm blanket, giving life to the pulses in my veins. Fire, only fire can relieve me.

If the man with the thick mustache was right, Sini should exit the manor soon. I wait behind the fence, hoping for her safety.

Her faint figure appears. All features so familiar, whether the pale cheeks, thinned bones, or lifeless eyes; she is not the Sini she once was, curious and quick-witted. This Sini, she remains prey, helpless to the harsh winds.

She limps forward, treading across the thin layer of ice.

“Today’s September 27th, today’s September 27th.” The words spat out are insistent, a clutch to keep her alive.

“Sini,” my voice is even, though will this last?

“September 27th, September 27th.”

“Sini!”

A being, hunched over, warped by the harsh cold. Each step, her body loosens, slowly unscrewing itself. It’s too late to regret.

Her fingers, cold and numb. Her light breaths, each a deafening whisper. Her heartbeat, one about to extinguish.

Not even relighting the spark will bring Sini back.

“Do you remember me?”

Her eyes close. The consonants struggle- croaked sounds force out of her throat. “AK… It’s Alba, isn’t it? I remember you- every time, we’ve spent September 27th together.”

“Sini, I’ve missed you.” My hands interlace hers, the last moment we will.

Her voice falters, each breath growing heavier. “I-It has b-een a long t-time… w-will y-you be with me t-this September 27th?”

“Sini- it’s,” The words don’t come easily.

“P-please,” Her voice, silent and flat, slowly fading away.

“T-today is D-”

She collapses. No breaths, no pulse. Her face, harder than a solid block of ice, irises duller than the monochromatic skies. Once a human, forever a ghost.

This isn’t sudden- she’s been living like this for a while as an empty soul devoid of life.

I burst into laughter. My my, this was all meant to be. I was meant to have all I loved taken away, slowly and surely. Everything was always planned; nothing was a coincidence.

How beautiful this manor is, too bad it’ll crumble soon.

So they can burn. Burn their spirits. Burn their existence. Burn everything that was once precious to them.

Let them bow, bow down to their arsonist.

Vapor smoke stings my eyes and the soot slowly builds on my palms. There’s no room for regret.

A piercing chuckle escapes my lips.

Let the symphony begin.

WOWOWOW I LOVE THIS

making this a separate post because i don’t want the judges to raise their eyebrows when they see I’ve edited the original post past the deadline

wheeee so i didn’t write an author’s note because procrastination </3 so yeah- and for the title, uhm it’s better, probably
it’s funny how I didn’t procrastinate but still was scrambling last minute- danggg zura

thanks to all the people who helped: @theniqhtsfall, @sea-doodles, @scerulean, @caramelize, and @mydoggiedaisy <3 without you guys I wouldn’t have been able to do it aaaa

tw: death again.

The‌ ‌castle‌ ‌was‌ ‌empty‌ ‌and‌ ‌barren.‌ ‌Perched‌ ‌miles‌ atop ‌the‌ ‌hills,‌ ‌a‌ ‌petrified‌ ‌prince‌ ‌sat‌ ‌on‌ ‌his‌ ‌throne with gaping eyes.‌ ‌His‌ ‌figure‌ ‌loomed‌ ‌above‌ ‌the‌ ‌dead‌ ‌figures‌ ‌piled‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌‌ battlefield, a shadow darkening the west face of the hill. Yet‌ ‌sunlight‌ ‌beamed through the air ‌and‌ the ‌birds‌ ‌continued‌ ‌to‌ ‌sing their sweet melodies.‌ ‌The‌ figures ‌remained‌ ‌in‌ ‌their‌ positions-‌ ‌the‌ stone ‌prince‌ ‌in the west and‌ ‌the‌ ‌dead ‌soldiers in the east.‌ ‌ ‌
-‌ ‌ ‌

Two‌ ‌friends‌ ‌sat‌ ‌on‌ ‌a‌ ‌checkered‌ ‌blanket‌ ‌in‌ ‌an‌ ‌open‌ ‌field,‌ ‌positioned‌ ‌opposite‌ ‌from‌ ‌each‌ ‌
other.‌ ‌ ‌

JJ ‌slowly‌ ‌knocked‌ ‌over‌ ‌the‌ pieces ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌gameboard, in the exact formation as the prince and soldiers.‌ ‌The‌ ‌castle ‌remained‌ ‌unfazed,‌ ‌everything‌ ‌inside‌ ‌and‌ ‌out‌ ‌a‌ consistent shade of grey.‌ ‌ ‌

His‌ ‌friend‌ ‌pressed‌ ‌his‌ ‌eyebrows‌ ‌together.‌ ‌“Seriously,‌ ‌JJ?‌ ‌A‌ ‌prince‌ ‌petrified‌ ‌to‌ ‌death?‌ ‌And‌ ‌
people‌ ‌dying‌ ‌for no‌ ‌reason?”‌ ‌

JJ‌ sighed deeply, wiping his glasses once before folding them.‌ ‌“Well,‌ ‌Tommy,‌ ‌that's‌ ‌how‌ ‌the‌ ‌legend‌ goes.‌ ‌Prince‌ ‌Carus‌ ‌sat‌ ‌in‌ ‌his‌ ‌room‌ ‌staring‌ ‌out‌ ‌the‌ ‌window;‌ ‌a‌ ‌few‌ ‌moments‌ ‌later,‌ ‌his‌ ‌skin‌ ‌turned‌ ‌pale grey.”‌ ‌ ‌
-‌ ‌

Rumors‌ ‌began‌ ‌to‌ ‌spread‌ ‌and‌ ‌speculation‌ ‌filled‌ ‌the‌ ‌citizens'‌ ‌daily‌ ‌newsletters.‌ ‌The‌ ‌poets‌ ‌
romanticized‌ ‌the‌ ‌prince's‌ ‌aloof‌ ‌aura;‌ ‌artists‌ ‌portrayed‌ ‌him‌ ‌as‌ ‌a‌ ‌melancholic‌ ‌nihilist.‌ ‌The phenomenon, known as Medusa’s Curse, spread word‌ ‌after‌ ‌word,‌ ‌mouth‌ ‌after‌ ‌mouth,‌ ‌street‌ ‌after‌ ‌street.‌ Could it have been a spirit, disease, or superstition?
‌
Shivers of fear yet ‌excitement‌ ‌spread‌ ‌across‌ ‌the‌ ‌town. Anyone could have been petrified: them, their best friend, even their worst enemy; it wasn't any day someone they despised turned into stone, never to bother them again.

Three‌ ‌hundred‌ ‌miles‌ ‌away, a young ‌girl‌’s body was found, ‌collapsed‌ ‌in‌ ‌an‌ ‌empty‌ ‌
alleyway. ‌Her‌ ‌skin‌ ‌flushed‌ ‌a‌ ‌deep,‌ ‌hardened‌ ‌grey. Her thin cheekbones and her youthful gaze were preserved, yet she was not human — all that remained in her body was limestone, the same material found in the prince’s body.

Yet‌ ‌sunlight‌ ‌beamed through the air ‌and‌ ‌birds‌ ‌continued‌ ‌to‌ ‌sing their sweet melodies.‌
‌
-‌ ‌

The‌ ‌pieces‌ ‌on‌ ‌the‌ ‌gameboard‌ ‌are rearranged. The young girl’s piece is positioned west, collapsed over.‌ ‌Only‌ ‌this‌ ‌and‌ ‌nothing‌ ‌more.‌ She is a pawn, a rigid piece of stone. How funny figurines are, no longer human once they become still.‌
‌
The blanket’s shadow extends behind Tommy’s back, darkening the west face of the open field. Each second, the shadow stretches and grows fainter.
He shook his head. “I know you’re more of a history nerd than me, but I’ve never heard of this battle. If it was real, we would have found it in our history textbooks.” ‌

Tommy cleared his throat before he continued. “Three‌ ‌hundred‌ ‌miles‌ ‌away,‌ ‌huh?‌ ‌Sounds‌ ‌like‌ ‌some‌ epic Greek‌ myth. All of this seems too fake.”‌
‌ ‌
JJ narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Suit yourself. Let’s just say, they thought so too.”

-

A year later, the townspeople learned of the king’s affair. Gossip spread over the kingdom over his new partner’s identity. Most insisted on a childhood friend, some speculated a lowly servant, and others suggested a king from a foreign kingdom. A few groups discussed who would become heir to the throne- King Julius’ son, Albus, or his most trusted military advisor, Augustus.

Discussion of Medusa’s Curse diminished and the word ‘petrified’ never appeared again. For all the citizens cared, people who theorized about the curse were crazy, unintelligent beings . The phenomenon quickly disappeared, never to be found again.

-

“See, JJ, I was right!” He places the pawns into their respective locations. “Now, let’s play a round of chess.”

“Not yet, Tommy,” JJ’s gaze sharpened.

For a second, Tommy froze. Without thinking, he dropped the chess piece and his armreturned to his side. “Fine, what do you have to tell me?”

“In a small town, Medusa’s Curse survives. While the world carries on, in this town, this tradition of murder lives on, passing from generation to generation.”

Tommy chuckled. “So? We can play our game of chess. What a great fairy tale you’ve told me, JJ.”

“Sorry, I don’t think we’ll be playing chess today.” JJ pointed his finger at Tommy’s set of eyes. “You don’t exist.”

A second later, Tommy collapsed in his shadow, color slowly fading from his cheeks. After a minute his body turned completely into limestone.

All that made him human was his wide eyes, once alive and animated.

Yet‌ ‌sunlight‌ ‌beamed through the air ‌and‌ the ‌birds‌ ‌continued‌ ‌to‌ ‌sing their sweet melodies.‌

-

Pastel pinks blended with the warm orange clouds until the entire open field was darkened by night. No sun to radiate its warmth, nor birds to sing their melodies.

“Luv, don’t you think the sunset is beautiful?” An enby grabbed their girlfriend’s arm, which hung stiff and heavy.

“I agree.” She replied, as together they reached the open field.

A cold breeze whipped around the couple, bringing shivers down their necks.

On a blanket, two statues sat directly across from each other, both pointing their fingers at the other person’s pair of eyes.

All that made them human were their wide eyes and open mouths, which chanted a unanimous curse.

edit: so wow i got best mood yay! there's a ramble you may anticipate but there are some prose pieces i see editing potential for

wheee so, i’m decently proud of this, considering it shows improvement! i still have a long way to go, but i’ve come so far wow, and just like this story, we undergo vast journeys. i like this concept and hope you enjoy! i also played 声色 by aimer on repeat, and this is the song that got me through ^^

thank you so much starr for helping me with the title as well as critiquing, and my friends for your support (yk who you are), couldn’t have done it without y’all <3

tw: death as a subject matter

A breath of air tears through my lungs. In the vague shadow that lingers above the corroded rubble lies a silent hiss- one about to reveal its nature. The summer heat beats against my dry skin, burning the cracked corners of my mouth.

I accept the laws of gravity, not the human limits on the concept of time.

A day is twenty-four hours. Those twenty-four hours contain one thousand four hundred forty-four minutes. Within those one thousand four hundred forty minutes are eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds, each second slipping further from my reach.

In twenty-four hours, all the color will rush out of my face, and I will be decorated by a thin layer of marble, hardening from inside out.

Blurred colors zoom and fade. A ripple of heat transmits over the landscape; despite the passing hour, the sky remains a saturated blue.

I stop to catch my breath. Flying sands tunnel under my ragged clothing, weaving larger holes in the fabric. The ache persists in my calf. Systems of knots tangle in my stomach, a painful reminder of my neverending list of regrets.

There is still time. There is, and always will be a way to bypass human constraints of time.

Though a transaction is never free.

Tightening the grip on my cloak, I step forward. No time to relax, they’re watching.

-

Light peaks itself through the dust clouds. Despite the darkening sky, sweat sockets my skin, sliding down my fingertips.

Sunset. Periods I had memorized and breathed, outside the measurements to quantify time. I wonder what they’d say, watching their dear princess boundlessly wander.

A click sounds through the tent. I’m here.

The manilla flap ripples in the wind. To a passerby, this is an abandoned settlement, a pitiful reminder of our transience. To those who enter, it’s our escape from the restless echoes of death.

Pain twists and turns. I nudge open the tent, dragging my leg over.

The first thing is the fragrant scent reeking from the smoke-perfumed room. The second is her wrinkled skin.

“Ah, if it wasn’t for the Yue.” She stares at my empty palms, tightening her lips.

The woman’s left eye is covered by a crumpled piece of cloth. She is one without a name, remembered only by her perceived status. In the end, names do not matter.

“You’ve…” I pause, examining her face. “Gotten older.”

And when was the last time I came? I cannot remember- each memory of the transaction becomes duller than the last.

She pushes grey strands behind her pointed ears. “That’s for another moment. What do you have in exchange?”

I bite my lip. Exchange is a funny word. It preys on our desire, snatching our needs and tearing the things we once had.

The woman inspects me, a streak of disappointment across her face. “Nothing, Yue?”

“How much for-” my breath cuts short. Empty beating fills up my chest; the objects become a nauseating blur.

Her hand- it’s ice cold, but enough to calm my rapid breaths.

“There’s one thing I’ll take. Your name.”

I grimace. My name is my only tie to Mother.

“It’s a beautiful name,” she remarks. “The moon, a tide moving the days and months forward. Time is such a beautiful thing, right?”

Don’t compare it to beauty. But I cannot fixate. “How much time?”

“Yue, I give time based on why.” Her eyes narrow. She’s analyzing me, from my pinched posture to my pained expression. “No matter how valuable the object is, extra time must have a purpose. I like to keep things fair.”

“Is it really?” I mumble. Ripping away our possessions until we bleed, desperate for another breath?

She avoids answering. She knows she is exploiting my desperation, but keeping quiet is the safe option. Her lips remain still, and each silent second is a second wasted.

“I want-” The words clog in my throat. “Mother.”
Have I wanted anything for myself? Wishes have always been moons, orbiting planets of expectation.

“Do you want this?”

With a breath, I nod.

She rubs sand between her fingertips, then to mine. It’s warm and fuzzy, gentle like Mother’s touch.

“Best wishes, traveller,” Her ragged hands interlace mine. “You will have three days. Follow the trail of stars, until you find the moon.”

“Thank you, Yue.” Somehow, her name comes easily. How foolish of me, only remembering her name now.

The humid wind sweeps across the tent, caving the flap in. When I turn around, Yue and her tent have vanished.

-

It still hurts.

My back aches. The scars beat from endless heat, now hardened into scabs.

How has this day been different from the previous? Time is an ever-changing sky, a distant entity we cannot alter. We know this, yet we tirelessly attempt to change it.

The exchanges began with noble intentions. I speared Father’s neck to save the people. His blood brought joyous laughter; I was deified as the brave warrior, never the quiet princess. How ironic it is that I would be hung if I wasn’t royalty. The contradiction, it’s sickening.

The second time, I bargained to stop the war. Brother’s skin turned paler than a wilted flower, a direct contrast to his crimson-stained robes. Blame circulated. I was a traitor, the deceitful woman who vowed to destroy the family. They dismissed me, sent me into exile.

What I exchanged afterward, I cannot remember. They were a series of bargains, tiptoeing around the one thing humans face- death. Once death comes, it’s a crushing wave of darkness. Though would I feel darkness, or an empty numbing?

I inhale, and swollen dust clogs my throat. My insides burn, cracks hardening my skin. Despite the dark blurry color, a faint puddle of light extends in the distance.

Water.

The pain stings. But the sight of water, it’s slowly approaching and recoiling

and then gone.

I suck my thumb, bitter with coats of sand. For a moment, I can see the stars. Then they recoil, overshadowed by night’s gloom.

-

“Have you heard of the Moon Princess?” Mother’s gentle tap soothes my hair.

“Moon Princess?” Two chewy, smooth words. I imagine a pale woman floating in the sky, adored by all those who lived on Earth.

Mother begins, stroking my cheeks. “She was a commoner, but passion sewed through and through. She fought for freedom and stood for her people.”

“What do you think of her, Mother?” My eyes tilt upward, observing the ceiling. Scattered stars dot the wallpaper. There’s a life to each star, sights that will never become dull.

Her hand steadies on my shoulder. “I want you to grow up, inspiring people and guiding them. Strong and resilient- that’s the type of person I want you to be…”

What was that crisp sound?

The scene darkens. Echoing tunnels and harsh cacophonies.

Mother sits, fingers pinched over a cloth. Her face is paled with thin lines, harboring a dull look in her eyes.

“Who are you?” her voice is quiet. Pain squeezes her every word.

“I am-“ I wince. Once, I remembered my name, and I wish I could remember how easy it was to say it.

“Yue.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “What have you become?”

Yue? It must be my name. Yet the word is empty- any other word can replace ‘Yue’. But it’s Mother’s gift, so I must respond.

“I did not kill Brother.”

She begins to smile, as wrinkles spread across her face. But her eyebrows are lowered, pity dotting every cheek.

“I know. But, you are not the Yue you used to be.”

Now mother is gone, and silence settles among us.

Who was the Yue I once was, and who am I now?

-

I haven’t watched stars for ages.

The endless cluster extends across the night sky. Each star flashes with an intense glow, and together, they form a city of constellations, vastly interconnected. They have an eerie beauty, a force I cannot touch nor feel. But I can see them, distant objects million miles away, living their own lives.

Stars, despite their ethereal light, are temporary. One day, humans may live with an empty sky. But they’re beautiful in their brief moments- a single glance gives me enough curiosity to wonder how this moment was created.

We die, as things in the universe do.

My fingers skim the soft sand. The flat surface is almost humbling, and for a moment, I feel small yet belonging.

I have to get going. My time is expiring soon- by the time sun rises, air will rush out of my lungs, and my heart will finally rest.

As I advance, so do the path of stars. There may come a day when we decay as one, waiting for sound amidst the prolonged silence.

The stars begin fading, and I reach an empty night sky. I tilt my head down, and for once, I see the world in front of me, tattered yet delicate.

The statues are glowing. Their figures, poised and still, immortalized in stone. And in Mother’s eyes, the moon glimmers, spilling a gentle warmth.

okay so this isn't actually my entry, but it's another fanfic through the universe of the salem territory, and we gotta love it! maybe. i wrote this in november 2021 after the writing comp due date and forgot about it (but thanks to starr linking it, it's revived!) i'm not sure if this will affect the storyline for my future entry because i wrote it on a whim but that's okay!

this is starr's beautifully written entry of the salem territory universe so yay!

i didn't really edit this much but i'd like to post it as is. please enjoy!

She can create worlds out of words and through a spark, destroy cities.

The storyteller sat in her chair, fiddling with her bookshelf. A joyful tune released from her lips, as she rocked back and forth in her wooden chair. What shall I create today?

Even thousands of miles away, she is known as Storyteller Starr. Her scratches, set in stone, remain immortal. The universes she creates with her mind intrigues wanderers from all over the world, from Poetry’s Celestial Grove to Fanfiction’s Library.

By day, she breathes life, by night, she destroys life. Perhaps this is the paradox of fire, able to give life, yet destroy all that remains. Power reigns heavy on its user and this thought runs through Starr. A few stories about fire remain unmolded, unreleased into the real world. Maybe it would be better to keep her secret power aside; for now, everyone living in the small towns can believe Starr is simply a talented writer, nothing less, nothing more.

Night shadows the plants by the garden, a moon casting its glow over the clear lake. She reads a thin newsletter; Alba, the arsonist, caught destroying Salem Territory. The newsletter is blunt, harsh to the arsonist. Yet does it ever consider the turmoil its perpetrator has experienced?

Because Alba would never recklessly harm innocent people.

The newsletter continues with its nonsense. A body of Sini, faint and frozen remains in the photograph.

Sini had been killed by Alba. All of this is nonsense- Alba loved Sini more than anything in the world-

A photograph of Alba is centered on the next page. She kneels on the snow, mouth wide open- from a first glance, one could assume she’s laughing, the first impression created by the writers. But her eyes remain heavy, ashes surrounding her figure. She’s remorseful- broken by the harsh cold.

Does no one realize this? The details in her face-

Red letters caption the photo: the perpetrator, 16, cruelly remarks “At least I had fun.”

“So who wrote this-” she scrolls at the author. “Oh, so the guards of Salem Territory decide to cower and not include their names- oh no! To think you can hide from me, is absolutely foolish.”

The brown parchment began to disintegrate into a black liquid, slowly disappearing from her hands.

Starr, you can’t be so reckless!

Everything you’ve built up will be destroyed! You may be known as the treacherous arsonist, not the immortal storyteller!

But what if, today I decide to have fun? I’m tired of hiding, tired of being passive in everything. My words, the verses I create, the worlds I bring, the characters I bring alive, they hold enough power! I’m tired, tired of holding myself back!

She took her pencil. “I will change everything. Whoever decided this, I shall break your rules of fate.”

She grabbed a loose piece of paper. In a few minutes, letters form words, words form phrases, phrase form sentences. Sini, now awake and alive, is now the same passionate person she was. Rather, is.

This time, Alba is on her mind, and she will reach Alba. The scene is short- a mere 300 words, yet breathes life to a creature once numbed by the guards at the Salem Territory. Sini, now an alive, well-rounded character.

“Come to me,” Starr whispers to her creation, beginning to take shape. “Find me near the plants which scatter the Fairy Tale night garden.”

-

“All I heard was a voice calling me to this destination,” the former ghost speaks. Her long pony wraps behind her back, trailing behind her baby blue sundress. “I do not recognize you in any shape or form, but I believe we both worry about Alba.“

Starr smiles. “Sini, I’m so glad to see you. I’m Starr, perhaps you recognize me as Storyteller Starr.” I should have added the detail that Sini remembered me, but all is fine.

“Are you the Starr with two ‘r’s, the author who won the writing competition of March 2021?”

“Y-yes,” words are caught in her throat by surprise. “how did you know, Sini?”

Starr stares at the smooth paper placed by her desk, reviewing every detail.

“I remember, a lot.”

Oh, if Sini remembered so many details about Alba, why couldn’t she do the same with the people she’s made memories with?

“Yes,” she sighs. “That’s wonderful. I should tell you that I brought you back to life.”

“Wow, you truly are a god! I knew it- SWC is actually Starr Worshipping Cult!”

Starr chuckles, as she checks both pockets for a piece of parchment. Right, she arsonized it.

“You probably know, Sini, but editors, likely paid by the guards at Salem Territory, wrote an inflammatory piece degrading Alba! She is now detained- we both know this is an injustice cast upon her!”

Sini nods. “You’re right, Starr. Alba would never harm someone innocent. It’s funny how the press can flame Alba so harshly, yet never mention they kept me locked for a year.”

Starr tilted her head sideways. “Do you know why they kept you there? I could always search the stories, but I’d rather hear what you think.”

“I believe it has something to do with Alba’s false accusation made by the Salem Territory guards. They desperately tried to erase her, yet failed, because she had never committed the crimes! So they took me hostage, hoping, Alba would slowly crumble.” A frown spread across Sini’s face, eyes heavy. “And she did crumble.”

Starr grabbed a piece of clay, molding it in her hands. “It’s cruel how the guards forced you to lose your memory. And the cold, it must’ve numbed you, taking away all Alba loved.”

“What ideas do you have to, well, restore Alba? I have some of my own, but all of them are quite tedious and involve high-risk.”

Starr grins. “I don’t think you’ve seen this before.”

A thin, transparent red glow expanded from her hand. She took a piece of clay, and slowly, it began to disintegrate in her hand.

“Wow, you’re amazing… people who arsonize are truly legends! And you can do it-”

Starr smirked. “With just my mind. There are two options- one, we can play it safe and change the storyline, or we can arsonize the headquarters.”

“Oh- well, playing it safe is a bit, boring, don’t you think? Let’s have some serious fun.”

Before you read: This is a continuation of the Salem Territory universe, which if you want to have more context for, you can read burn and rewritten, but slight details will be different from rewritten. One note is that Zura uses they/them to distinguish Zura from Nights (though Zura usually uses she/her and yes, I know I’m talking about myself in third person). If you haven’t read the other works, you can treat this like an independent fic. I hope you enjoy reading!

Fifteen candles, placed in a closed circle, surrounded the roots of the oak. Fifteen seconds ago, her friend skipped in front of the tree, vanishing from sight. Fifteen seconds later, Nights circled the candles, searching for remaining traces. All she found were genres inscribed on the wax, each assigned to a particular cabin.

Maybe if Nights had arrived earlier, Zura wouldn’t have disappeared. But Zura would have tried again, and again, summoning the genre spirits until the portal swallowed them whole.

Tales of disappearance weren’t uncommon in Salem Territory. A few months ago, an arsonist had returned from exile. Her words were dulled with lethargy, a once decisive gaze now aimless. Skin and lips crystalized with pale snow, she was more dead than alive. Pained by her girlfriend’s death, she disappeared. At first, they were rumors. But seeing Zura vanish in front of a tree, those weren’t rumors at all.

-

Nights at Salem Territory were cold and bitter, with a hum of silence spread across the town. When the moon faded, the two friends would chat by the wooden bench. Though the nights remained stale, hearing voices break the silence brought comfort.

“Hey Nights,” Zura paused, before muttering. “What would you do if you had the chance to live beyond death?” A small candle, unlit, rested in their palm.

Nights narrowed her eyes.

“An afterlife?” she chuckled. “That’s absurd. Why would anyone try to live once more?”

“Let me ask you something.” The words jittered from their mouth. Do you like the world we currently live in?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought. Surveillance everywhere, either from cameras or people. Forcing an internal filter so we aren’t jailed and suffer the same fate as Alba.” They revealed their palms for a second, before placing them on their lap. Wrinkled in white, their hands had dried from the cold.

She sighed. “I get what you’re saying, but what does this have to do with your question?” Nights tapped on her knee, waiting for Zura’s answer.

“I think it’s worth it.” Zura raised their finger up at the empty night. “Even though it’s dark, light still manages to shine through. And in those places, I see Jinty, our deity, in them.”

“Is she the goddess you worship at those private meetings?”

Zura nodded. “I think it’d be peaceful if I could live in the world above. Oh!“ They shift towards Nights, creating direct eye contact. “Have you heard of portal jumping before?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Zura, if this is what you’re planning to do, don’t.”

“I can’t ever dissuade you, can I?” Their smile tightened. “It has worked before–Alba portal jumped.”

“How do you know she didn’t regret it?” The bench was cold with silence, and Zura’s eyes lowered at the dulled soles of their shoes. “Just don’t.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. But I only know her technique worked from the church group.” Their softened eyes gazed at the tree. “I know she’d be happier in the afterlife. With Sini.”

A few moments linger between them. Sometimes, it was better to say nothing.

“Nights, let’s head back.” Quietly, a few chuckles escaped from their mouth. “If you want to portal jump with me, you can on November 13th at 6:45, in the evening.”

Nights arrived too late.

-

The oak, once a system of bare branches, fruited with leaves. Bright spring green colored the leaves, giving it its own energy.

Nights sat at the wooden bench again. A tiny candle with grey wax rested in her fingers, spreading its fickle warmth. Tonight, a youthful person crossed their legs next to her, tapping her shoulder.

“You must miss Zura a lot,” They paused. Nights uttered no response. “I was also shocked when I heard they jumped the portal.” A gust of wind brushed the sides of their dark hair, filling the night.

“Thanks Kenna, you’re the best.” Setting the candle aside, Nights placed both hands on her soft knees. “It’s been hard. They just talked to me one day and the next they’re gone. ”

Kenna grinned. “Don’t worry, I understand it’s hard. I never knew they would actually portal jump and I miss them as much as you.”

“How do you do this?” She exchanged glances with Kenna. “Have the will to carry on. I mean, Zura was wrong about a lot of things, but they were right about our reality.”

“Pfft. I don’t. It’s just doing the things I want within the confines.” They leaned closer to Night’s ear. “Sometimes breaking the rules.”

A grin peaked from Night’s face. “You know the cameras and sound detectors can’t pick up anything from here, right?”

“I just wanted to get closer to you,” they giggled.

A streak of red spread across Night’s face. Flushed with heat, she stared at the roots for a few seconds, before lifting the candle.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.” They shuffled their feet, standing upwards. “I should um, go.”

“See you.” The sound of Kenna’s footsteps faded, as the flickering candle wavered.

In with a breath, and out with another, Nights noticed the warmth in the atmosphere. As the seasons change, so does time, moving further along.

—-
The wind gently rustled the spring leaves. Amidst a saturated blue sky, full clouds puffed the air. Nights and Kenna linked hands, as they approached a church, perched on top of the hill. Neatly coated in red and white, glossed mosaic windows hung from the sides of the building.

“Here’s where I met Zura.” Kenna asked. “Want to go inside?”

Nights tilted her head. “Yes. By the way, why aren’t there any cameras, nor sound detectors?”

They led Nights towards the flight of stairs, before approaching the door. “This is a sacred place. No one would dare intrude. Plus, we have Mech, our pastor.”

Kenna lowered their voice down to a whisper. “They don’t trust Mech so we have Birdi, who covers everything.”

Opening the door, echoes flooded the room. Though the exterior of the church was clean and polished, decayed wooden furniture scattered across the room.

People stood in bundles, half of them singing Jinty worship songs, the others engaging in intense conversations.


“Wait,” Nights squinted. Her voice traveled across the corners, capturing everyone’s attention.
“You in the blue sundress, and you in the bright yellow tank top…” she gestured towards them. “You’re not Sini and Alba, are you?”

“Oh hi, Nights! I believe we’re old friends.” Sini’s signature smirk resurfaced. “Kenna talks a lot about you.”

“You’re alive?” Nights scanned at the people once again. “And Alba too? So you portal jumping was a rumor and you were alive this whole time?” She buried her hands in her face, sighing at her stupidity.

“Well, it’s hard to explain.” Mech cleared his throat. “You’re not wrong. Alba disappeared two months before Zura. But Alba didn’t portal jump. Coincidentally, this occurred at the same day and time as Sini’s death.”

“How was the portal created then?”

“I created it.” A girl with a blue blouse stepped forward. Starr, the soft-spoken writer. “Jinty cared about Alba and Sini most, yet they starved for power. So I gave them the powers of a god to regulate the afterlife.”

“Jinty connected Alba to the afterlife, and allowed Sini to go back into this world.” Mech fixed his t-shirt. “As long as the person portal jumps on the same time of the same day, we have access to entry. It doesn’t have to be the same month.”

“But why Zura? They never told me about this.” Nights raised an eyebrow, then lowered her voice. “That sounds kind of exploitative. Also, about Alba portal jumping, did she not know about anything?”

“Nightsies, let me explain.” Kenna walked over towards her, slowing their voice down. “Zura, they suggested that we sacrifice her for Alba. They didn’t like the guards here and insisted they’d be happier meeting Jinty. We tried convincing them otherwise, but they would have done it anyway.”

“I’m still not convinced. You could have kidnapped a guard of Salem Territory to take Alba’s place.”

“Nights, I know you’re upset. I understand that.” Sini extended her arm. “But I can guarantee that we’ve tried kidnapping a guard before. Jinty kicked the body out the portal.”

Alba walked over towards her. “Sini and I have small marks on our hands. If you look closer, it says Jinty.”

Nights squinted, noticing the marks were in fact there. “Then why couldn’t Storyteller Starr-”


“I’m sorry Nights,” she frowned. “My powers have limitations.”

“We have this,” Starr continued, holding a small grey-waxed candle. “Zura is watching over us. I know they are.” For a moment, the church fell silent, as everyone lifted their eyes.

“Sorry, let me process all of this.” The rest of the people huddled around Nights, giving her peace to cry. Small sniffles escaped from her mouth, hands covering her wet face.

“It isn’t your fault,” Kenna crouched in front of her. “Nothing is, and Zura will be okay. They’ll be back.”

“Thanks, Kennsies,” her voice trembled. “Thanks for being there for me.”

They reached out, placing their arms around Nights. For a few moments, warmth spread across their bodies.

“Okay okay, you can pull away now.” Her voice was muffled against Kenna’s blue cardigan. Nights rubbed her head a few times, before they pulled away.

Her eyes were swollen with redness, tears drying her face. But she positioned herself the same way she always did, ready to speak and listen.

Birdi cleared her throat, with small pockets of tears suspended in her eyes. Despite that, she turned towards everyone, calm and steady. “We have worked on a plan to rescue Zura. And I’m sure you would want to help. If not, that is absolutely alright.”

“No, continue on. It must be even harder for you, Birdi.”

“Thank you, Nights. The plan is to negotiate with Jinty.” A grin peaked out of the corner of her mouth. “You can offer to help her to do deity duties and simple tasks.”

“What if that doesn’t work? I might ditch you guys.”

“It is highly likely to work.” Starr gripped the pen tightly. “I will make sure of it.” Written in the air were six faint words: Nights will successfully negotiate with Jinty.

“Come two evenings later, Nightsies.” Kenna grinned. “I’ll be there with you, with the candle.”

-

Fifteen candles once again circled around the oak. This time, the small candle flickered, standing closest to the tree. The couple stood away from the candles, waiting for 6:45 to come.

“I love you, Kennsies,” She placed her hands in Kenna’s. “I’ll miss you so much. Please wait for me.”

Their hands trembled. “I love you too, Nightsies. Please know that.”

Nights leaned on Kenna’s shoulder, as both of them waited for the warped substance. A large oval portal shifted side to side, colored in a shade of purple.

The heartbeats thumped in Night’s chest. Despite her shaken movements, she made her way towards the candles.

“Nights, goodbye!” Kenna shouted with their loudest noise. With one wave back, Nights stepped into the portal. Slowly, it crumbled, swallowing her whole. In a blink, the portal disappeared, as if it had never existed. The nights were still dark as always, candles still lit against the moonless night.

A gentle wind swayed against the leaves, as a quiet sob traveled through the distance.

july 2022 - Our Voices, Muffled - 1967 words

Hear the haunting whispers
Dangling by their heads
Carved in crimson blisters
Foreshadowing their fate ahead.

-

Specks of dust beat against the glass. My thoughts, swimming in knots, tighten in my head. They leave cold emptiness tingling in my chest. Small pockets built from days of layering have now created a murky surface.

High-pitched cries continue to swarm my mind. I clutch the edges of my blanket, as breaths tear themselves out of my mouth. The noise won’t stop.

I don’t understand. At night, everyone returns to their cottages, leaving the forest empty from humans. Despite this, voices roam in my head, no constrictions to stop them.

I can’t get you out of my head.

With a breath, I collapse, hypnotized in darkness.

-

By morning, the voices subside.

We gather by the forest like always. The sun raises its brow, glossing over the pond’s smooth surface. As we sit and breathe, birds ruffle their feathers, chirping sweet melodies.

There’s a small hiss in my ear, but I ignore it. I focus on what’s around me, wet grass brushing against my hands, soft soil a reminder of the Earth beneath. Us, living in harmony with our world, with the animals that breathe music into the air. Gently, I close my eyes.

I can hear the birds flapping away. The forest is quiet, except for the pond that shimmies back and forth.

A sharp pain jolts inside. The voices crescendo until sharp noises spiral in my ear. I can’t ignore them, I can’t ignore them, I can’t ignore them.

I shriek. Their eyes turn towards me, concerned yet judgmental.

“It’s painful,” my words bury against the voices. The others pause, words suspended in their throats.

“I think something’s poisoned in the water.” A low voice ticks. “That’s why Miss Lyre felt pain.”

What?

“Then someone poisoned it!” another interjects. People shuffle towards the pond. Getting up, I try to follow the crowd, but struggle as the voices crash in anger.

“Someone poisoned it!” This time, it’s shouted loud and clear.

The pond’s surface is placid, save for bubbles bursting on its surface. Small specks of dirt drift from its sides. It’s clean but maybe they’re right.

“You sure it wasn’t the nutrients from the side floating in there?” For a while, the sounds aren’t overwhelming. The bubbling on the pond disintegrates, before the current’s motion is clear once again.

A finger points at him; pairs of eyes then follow. “Traitor!” “He did it!” “Get him away!”

Sharp noises stab my ear like daggers. Their screams envelop me, burying the voices in my head. They fight him. He shrieks, but his voice is drowned by the violent mob.

“Wait,” my voice is quieter than silence. But it’s possible that he did it . No, there’s no evidence, yet he’s nervous.

Above, the flock of birds soar over the horizon. Slowly, they land on branches, thin and brittle, singing their song against the unwavering noise. Though tedious, they persist with their melodies, eventually shattering the noise.

“Come on, now, we’re all busy,” A squeaky voice commands the mob. Bundles of people scatter away into their separate cottages.

The man pushes himself off the soft grass. Mud has been slobbered over his clothing, permanently staining his pants. His face is shaded with black spots, leaving his eyes to hang without direction nor focus. He shifts side to side, as he heads towards his cottage. Tomorrow, he will see his last rising sun .

As I head away, muffled hisses snarl beneath the ground. There’s something telling me the water’s poisoned . No, that’s not it, or are you lying to yourself?

The pond’s surface remains still, yet another rattling shakes the ground. For a moment, the noises decrescendo towards fading, until a faint whisper taunts me.

Come on, face it if you can.

-

What lies concealed
From their sight today
Must be revealed
Before the next fading day.

-

I stand in the dew grass, watching the fireflies buzz and glow in the night sky. Tonight, it's peaceful, and I hate to admit I miss the creatures that croak in the background. Everyone gathers by the firewood, except the man.

They're going to execute him. I know this from the joy that rolls off their faces, shining a pale white.
Sometimes, I think I'm too good at lying. Skillfully, I tiptoe around their accusing questions, feigning agreement until the thought is cemented. Because the best lies are always truths.

Until everyone is silenced. I hear the pond shifting back and forth. Distracted by the excitement, no one searches for the slithering voice that gurgles. But what if you’re just hearing things?

Subtly, like an owl camouflaged against tree bark, water overflows on top of the ground. A boiling laughter arises, loud enough to disrupt their quiet chatter. The voice pulls toward itself, almost entering my mind and telling me it’s a good idea to listen.

The water is pitch black, stars poking at the thick blanket. A look into the pond, and I find no one’s inside, but the obscure lights and shadows reflecting over.

You’re so naive. With an icy tone, the voice mocks me. Why are you so disloyal? You’re betraying everyone with your sickly thoughts.

Me, disloyal? I try to ignore that thought, but it seeps in my mind like chemicals in water, unstoppable in its spread. I should stop trying so hard.

Your opinions don’t matter.

“That’s not true,” I shout. Pairs of eyes turn and raise their eyebrows, and I freeze. The pond bubbles, as water stirs the surface.

Those sitting by the fire continue their conversation, and the water
The formless voice continues. They’re right, because you’ll always be wrong.

The thought twists and turns, in a way that punctures my rusted armor. I can’t find words to argue back, so maybe I should give up . After all, everyone agrees the pond was poisoned and how can you trust your own thoughts?

Good; the pond nags. It ripples, as if opening its mouth, but an owl’s hoot interjects.

I stare back at the pond; the voices and ripples have disintegrated. Another thought, unlike the cacophonous noises, arises like a harmony. Is this a feeling inside — no, I know the pond wasn’t poisoned by the man.

The owl flies to another branch, but still on a surrounding tree. I crouch near the pond to find it more dark and empty.

A question tugs at me; who was that, even?

Look at me carefully, and you’ll see. With a breath, the voice fades to the background, out of existence.

The noises ring triumphantly, but for once, I ignore them; it’s not because I want to, but because the voice by the pond is all that fills my mind. The crowd goes back to their cottages, and I follow them, because I don’t want to be alone.

There’s a tingling that leaves my insides cold; I’m unable to sleep.

-

The sun rises, a normal sight for most of us, but the thought that it won’t be for someone else is unsettling.

Look at me carefully and you’ll see. What does that mean? Our bodies surround the pond, as heat coats my skin. The man, unkempt, is dragged, hands tied. He holds a lifeless gaze, which contains not even an ounce of desperation.

The dark streaks bleached into the grass makes him shiver. A cruel reminder that no-one, not even those bound on their knees, pleading for another breath, has escaped. The exact details of their deaths are muffled – miraculously, all of them have died from disease.

“Do you have any last words?” a voice snarls. The man doesn’t bother responding. The people who dragged the man force him to kneel down, and he does, by will. The crowd laughs, distasteful to my ears, knowing I would have laughed along if the voices never disturbed me.

Thoughts travel like wind – once one is picked up, more spiral into a flawed yet reasonable narrative.

Aren’t you going to do anything? You’re useless. The words flow like fish swimming in sediment – knowing the general direction yet being unable to pass through the murkiness.

Come and look at me if you dare. The voice is sarcastic and rash, but I do as they say.

I stare in horror, seeing all of our moving faces reflected in the pond. Even the man’s.

As they lower his head near the water, I scream. Once again, the eyes flash towards me, this time, in hostility.

“What is it, Miss Lyre. Your coughing fits again?” Glares narrow in. What are you going to do now? “This gathering is too important for any interruptions.” Gathering, as if this was a normal morning.

My mind races. “L-look.” I spit the first word on my mind.

“Miss Lyre, please stop bothering-” the loud noises of a crane flapping its wings diverts everyone’s attention.

Nature, finally here to interrupt. The pale bird dives and snatches a fish, but quickly spits it back on land. Though it croaks in different pitches, each note forms music, which is what captivates the crowd. Even the man lifts his eyes, all of this a diversion from the unnatural towards the natural.

“So that's what was in the water the whole time.” The fish rests, smeared in streaks of blood. Quickly, the rope tugged against the man is released, and he scrambles onto his two feet.

“He is innocent,” a squeaky voice gasps.

The man breathes once, before the tension locked in his muscles release. He finally nods, and everyone does in unison. The crowd falls silent, until the beginning of an accusation is released.

“If he was innocent, doesn’t that mean someone framed him?” Their gazes shift to one another, before focusing on me. Great. My heart races in pain.

That same low voice breaks the deafening silence. “Lyre. She was the one who started this, wasn’t she?” What a funny joke. The guy who declared the water was poisoned is going to accuse me.

“That’s not true-” I begin, but my words are cut by the shouts. My foot is a centimeter away from the pond – I don’t have any steps to take.

Screams of my name break into agony. At first, they’re only cries of the mob. But now, they boil from sharp noises into a sharp accusation that holds cold anger.

Liar, liar, liar. They scream endlessly, as if I am the pollutant that needs to be extinguished. A heavy tug pulls against my arms. My legs crumple, not by will, but pressure.

The man doesn’t make a sound.

Another man gestures to speak, but his name is not important. “Any last words?”

There are too many to count. Yet any word spoken is a word sunken – a truth from a single person does not beat the orders of a mob. Because Lyre, that’s all they think of me, isn’t it?

“No.” I obey, as I realize not even nature could save me. As they snatch my chin, regret sinks underneath the soles of my shoes. Because I should have kept quiet.

The wet liquid sticks against my face, sucking the breath out of my skin. My insides spin in livid bursts, but I suppose that’s a side effect of asphyxia.

The Lie is happy to live another day, isn’t it? The desire to burst inside and vomit out the pain stings, and I don’t wish to repress it so they can stare at the pond reflecting the ugliness back at them. After all, they can clean it up because I died from disease.

I suppose I am turning blue as I drown, not to water, but to silence. And for once, I long to hear the voices that once haunted me.

-

Note (not part of the word count nor necessary to the entry, which should be read after!):

I had ideas and I guess it took a while for my ideas to take form? But I found the idea of lying and groupthink fascinating, and how they impacted our personal thoughts. Thank you to Alba, Nights, and Elfie for critiquing and support, as well as encouragement from Luna and many more If you want a bit of an ‘afterthought’, read the italics only.