Hydro’s 2nd Daily

She comes with a *tick* pant and leaves *tick* with a drink bottle left in her room. All I can *tick* do is watch. All *tick* I can do is watch. Hang on, let me shut that alarm Hydro set. *chuk chig* Alright, so… I’ll give you a brief summary of her morning from my pov. Here I go. Early in the morning, Hydro was fast asleep. “WAKE UPPP! YOU HAVE SCHOOL!” Then she zipped my mouth, and got dressed. I guess she doesn’t like alarms, because every time. But the worst thing being a clock is, if no one moves or touches you, you can’t do anything, even if a spider is on your head. Hydro picked my brother up, and went to school. My brother is lucky. He gets wrapped around Hydro’s wrist all the time and he can see all the world he wants. Oh, oh, oh. How boring it is to be a clock. Then one day, I was carried somewhere else. I was plopped on a dark velvet fluffy thing, and every once in a while, I could weird noises, but apparently humans and elves call it ‘music’. I hated my life. After having the same routine over and over again for nearly a year, something dropped out of me, and I heard this; “The battery died”. So, there I went. Into the trash can. But my life over there wasn’t better. Oh, not at all. The place smelled like mildew and there was no one else with me. In fact, it felt like my brain, or ‘battery’ as Hydro called it, was- was- gone. Then one day I got carried to a factory and I got crushed down. Then I was moulded into a weird unnamed shape. I hope you had a good laugh about my crappy life.
-A very upset clock

308 Words

Daily for Hi-Fi (sorry if im not doing this right-)

Today's daily is about writing in the perspective of an inanimate object. Write at least 300 words from the perspective of an inanimate object (lamps, computers, erasers, etc) for 500 points!

(361 words)

Hi! I'm Penny, and here's a day in the life of little old me. I'm a pencil, by the way! The day starts at midnight, usually. My owner Rosaline is working on a Spanish project about the preterite tense. I don't understand it at all, but that's okay! Rosaline is a Sophomore in high school, and she is training to be a Physics major.
Suddenly, I fall into a deep dark dread. It feels as though my tip is getting scorned with a roaring flame, and it's uncontrollable! I sleep, and soon awake to myself under a dark blue bed frame. I feel a stab of irritation as Rosaline wakes up and brings her favorite pen to school, instead of me. I shuffle on over to her backpack and invite myself to her front pocket, where it is misty with the scent of Polar Ice Extra Gum. It smells like Heaven, a place I might eventually reach once I finish my job as a pencil. Suddenly, I start to shake. The pocket is opening! Suddenly, Rosaline saves me. Oh, I love how her hair smells like a pencil sharpener.
I don't know if I've talked about this before, but I actually have social anxiety because of laptops constantly overshadowing me and being used more than me. All of the computers mock me for being ‘old-fashioned’ but I'll bet they've never smelt the love of a pencil sharpener. I get used once again to write notes for trigonometry and statistics, for Rosaline's class. My best friend, Hugh the Highlighter, was used today and his vibrant magenta color made the whole page light up.
After her lunch of a Peanut Butter sandwich with graham crackers, we head to engineering to take notes about zero velocity and aerodynamics. I think my favorite class might be engineering, even though I'm a little old pencil. After engineering, we finally head home after a long day. I'm placed inside of a sandwich container, which feels like a gas mask over my little tip. Oh well, I'd say today was a good day.
- Penny the pencil <3
P.S. Any other pencils here wanna chat with me? I'm a little bit lonely…

Daily for Hi-Fi (sorry if im not doing this right-)

Today's daily is about writing in the perspective of an inanimate object. Write at least 300 words from the perspective of an inanimate object (lamps, computers, erasers, etc) for 500 points!

(361 words)

Hi! I'm Penny, and here's a day in the life of little old me. I'm a pencil, by the way! The day starts at midnight, usually. My owner Rosaline is working on a Spanish project about the preterite tense. I don't understand it at all, but that's okay! Rosaline is a Sophomore in high school, and she is training to be a Physics major.
Suddenly, I fall into a deep dark dread. It feels as though my tip is getting scorned with a roaring flame, and it's uncontrollable! I sleep, and soon awake to myself under a dark blue bed frame. I feel a stab of irritation as Rosaline wakes up and brings her favorite pen to school, instead of me. I shuffle on over to her backpack and invite myself to her front pocket, where it is misty with the scent of Polar Ice Extra Gum. It smells like Heaven, a place I might eventually reach once I finish my job as a pencil. Suddenly, I start to shake. The pocket is opening! Suddenly, Rosaline saves me. Oh, I love how her hair smells like a pencil sharpener.
I don't know if I've talked about this before, but I actually have social anxiety because of laptops constantly overshadowing me and being used more than me. All of the computers mock me for being ‘old-fashioned’ but I'll bet they've never smelt the love of a pencil sharpener. I get used once again to write notes for trigonometry and statistics, for Rosaline's class. My best friend, Hugh the Highlighter, was used today and his vibrant magenta color made the whole page light up.
After her lunch of a Peanut Butter sandwich with graham crackers, we head to engineering to take notes about zero velocity and aerodynamics. I think my favorite class might be engineering, even though I'm a little old pencil. After engineering, we finally head home after a long day. I'm placed inside of a sandwich container, which feels like a gas mask over my little tip. Oh well, I'd say today was a good day.
- Penny the pencil <3
P.S. Any other pencils here wanna chat with me? I'm a little bit lonely…

Daily 3/2

I glance at my owner, sleeping soundly in his bed; a few minutes and I’m already missing our connection. I bet he would be too if he didn’t fall asleep so fast. I don’t blame him, honestly; he hardly slept at all. I know this from all the time he puts me on the cabinet or on his office table, and obviously when he has me in his hands up until midnight.

I buzzed, trying to get his attention. He didn't wake up. Yes, the heat was unbearable when my owner used me for hours on end. But cooling down and having only the charger in me as the company is less than enjoyable. I sighed deeply. Imagine what my owner will think if he hears this.

Oh, did I ever formally introduce myself? I believe not. Now, where should I start? Oh yes, my name. I would be disappointed if you did not figure it out already, but to confirm the smarter's suspicion, yes, I am the phone. What type of phone? I am an iPhone. Which one? The iPhone __________. You would now understand why I am always with my owner.

And here I lie, on the pillow next to my owner. I am truly lonely; I've hardly been left alone before. Then I saw the charger smirk at me. To clarify, objects all have faces to each other. Humans and animals do not see us, though. When we talk, they could not hear us either.

“Hey, cell phone. Finally learning what it feels like to be alone?” The charger's voice was snarky. I rolled my eyes, although I couldn't help feeling slightly bad for the charger; it hardly had anyone to play with. He always sat here on the bed, and was left alone days at a time. He's used to this already, but is still jealous of objects like me and would never miss a chance to taunt us.

“You're just jealous,” I laughed. Then the bed shifted below us. “Shut up, both of you! Some people are trying to relax here!” Oh yeah, I forgot the bed, mattress, floor, pillow, and window existed.

So better sulk until my owner wake up again.

✨ Violet's SWC March 2022 writing form ✨

Hey! I'm Violet, I go by she/her pronouns. I will be posting my dailies/weeklies here. I'll try to use this form, but I could use a project to put my writings too (Because I could also write them on paper) I'll link them here, of course. Critique is welcome, just put it in my profile so i can get an notification

Daily #1 - 2.3.2022
Word Count: 303
So yeah. I'm an eraser. You know, that small pink heart-type you see in stationery shops. Well, now I live with Jane. Jane's a nice girl, well to be honest, not so nice. Her spelling is so bad! She always uses me because she makes lots of mistakes. And the pencil she uses? Well, she uses a very dark pencil, so whenever she tries to erase something, she has to squeeze me and rub me hard. I was supposed to be a heart-shaped eraser, but now I'm more like an oval. Can you believe that? One time she dropped me at school, and she forgot all about me. The next time she came to school, she saw me and picked me up and used me again. But do you know who I despair? It's that pencil of hers. He thinks he's so awesome, helping Jane do all the work. But honestly, in the end, it is I who have to fix her mistakes. It's just so unfair! Jane loves her pencil. She uses it with care. If she loses it, she cries and looks for it. She cannot live without it. But for me? She doesn’t care what happens to me. But sometimes I do feel sad about that pencil. Oh no- Jane's opening her pencil box. She's picking me up! Let me look at her mistakes. Oh no! She's written the wrong paragraph. Well, it's time for the ‘squeezing’ to happen. Here goes nothing… Ouch! She's rubbing me like crazy. I'm feeling this warm feeling and the tip of my head. What's going on? My body is stretching a lot. This isn't supposed to happen… Jane, stop! She won't stop. I wish I could speak. Oh the pain around my body, what's happening? and that's when my body broke in to half.

Daily #2 - 3.3.2022
Word Count: 683
There once were three ice creams, and they were best friends. They were lemon-flavored, cotton candy flavored and cupcake flavored. They lived in a carnival ice cream stall. Unfortunately, the people who come to the carnival were so simple and basic, so they always choose flavors like chocolate, vanilla, and sometimes strawberry. The other 3 special flavors were upset. So, they picked up on new hobbies to do since they were bored, such as listening to music, singing, reading, and more. But the thing they liked to do the most was to stare out of the shop window and look at the little children playing. But one day, everything changed. The manager of the stall decided to get rid of the 3 special ice-creams since no one seemed to be enjoying them. It was bad for his business, so he ordered to get rid of them. The special ice-creams were horrified to hear the news. Leave? No way! Lemon ice cream started to go sour with anger. ‘We can't just leave!’ lemon ice cream said with anger. ‘You must. You're not good for our customers.’ the manager said. The 3 special flavors still did not want to leave. ‘Come on, let's just go.’ Cotton candy said, in its usual sweet innocent voice. ‘The customers don't want us right? Then what if we make them want us?’ cupcake flavor said, in its mischievous voice. Lemon thought about it. ‘Yeah, that seems like a good idea.’ lemon said slowly, trying to process the information. Only Cotton Candy remained silent. ‘What do you think, Cotton Candy?’ Lemon asked. ‘Well, Okay I guess.’ Cotton Candy, scared of saying no. ‘great! Will go to the carnival and convince people to eat us.’
They tried asking other people to try them, but they didn't. Why should they? They had nasty flavors.
Lemon, Cotton Candy, and cupcake finally gave up, after going around the carnival, asking people to try them. ‘It's no use.’ Lemon grumbled. ‘We're stuck as nasty flavors.’
Cotton Candy nodded sadly. Cupcake remained silent. It didn't know what to say. ‘Come on, let's go back home.’ Lemon said, and stopped. ‘What's wrong, Lemon?’ Cotton Candy asked. ‘What's wrong? We have no home! What are we supposed to do now?’ lemon asked angrily. Cupcake nodded silently. ‘We have to find a home.’ Cupcake said, trying to help, but it wasn't helping at all. The thought of finding a new home was just absurd. Plus, the weather was hot, and the three ice creams could feel themselves melting. That made their mood even angrier. How they wish they could be back home at the stall, in freezing boxes, just chilling? But that would never happen. Suddenly, a girl with bouncy red hair came skipping towards them. She was a very active and lively girl. She stopped when she saw the ice-creams. ‘Well hello there!’ she said cheerfully. ‘what are you doing here in the hot hot sun?’
The ice-creams looked up at her. ‘Oh well, nobody likes us anymore since we're unusual flavors. The manager of that shop just kicked us out.’ Cotton Candy said sadly. ‘But that's just absurd! That's what I like about ice-creams, each has a different crazy flavor.’ the girl said, shocked. ‘What are your names?’ she asked. ‘I'm Lemon, and this is Cotton Candy and cupcake.' Lemon said. The girl stared at them in astonishment. ‘well I say, that's just crazy! My god, those flavors taste so nice! I can't wonder why people hate you.’ the girl said kindly. ‘say what, come over to my house. Then we can make a shop with you three, and then people will see how much tasty you are!’ the girl said. The three ice creams nodded with glee.
The girl, Molly, loved the ice-creams very much and kept her promise. She built a little stall and invited people to taste the ice-creams. Everyone loved them! Molly started making pocket money, and the ice-creams enjoyed their life very much. ‘You know what they say,’ Molly said one day to the ice-creams. ‘Don't judge a book by the cover.’

1st weekly

1st part : Poems
Word count: 306
Haiku

She is such a brat,
Very spoilt, likes pink flowers,
What a sister I have.

Limerick

There once was an old grandad,
whose hearing was very bad
He said he could hear,
If you shout at his ear,
Or else he would be very sad

Lyrical

We cut trees, gives no breeze,
Forests turns to deserts,
Melting ice-caps, ozone gaps,
Islands drowns, nature frowns.
Lady bugs, fireflies, pretty bees and butterflies,
they'll fly away, and won't be there,
It's up to us, if we care.
So please, save the trees,
Stop the world from heating up,
We can do it, if we try,
All of us, you and I.

Ode

A rather fat book, with lots of pages,
Soft and smooth cover and a nice design.
Pages smells fresh and new,
And the sound when I gently flip a page of you.
As the words are simply described,
With tiny letters inside.
And as I flip the last page of you,
It's a strange feeling indeed.
I'm sad that you ended
But happy I got to enjoy you.

Blackout

He walked and he looked back
It had vanished
He saw nothing
He started to despair, he can't do this
In fact, the huts and buildings were
Disappearing
There was nothing.

Freeverse

They tell him do not cry,
Boys should not be shy
They tell her play with dolls,
Football is not for girls.
Sit here, sit there,
Be prim and proper,
As a girl must cook clean,
And always must be quiet.
Girls should be teachers,
Boys should be pilots,
Why can't girls be gamers?
Or boys can't be authors?
They say blue is for boys,
And pink is for girls,
can't it ever be,
The other way around?
Why can't she be herself,
And he be himself?
Gender stereotyping,
Is the reason to that.

Part 2: Essay writing
Word count: 592
Ups and downs of homework

As Thomas Alva Edison says, ‘A genius is a talented person who does his homework’
Homework is a type of work a teacher assigns to a student to do at home. It could be some notes to write, some maths sums, activities, exercises to write, essays, science projects, etc. Nearly 70% of students absolutely hate homework. They describe homework as ‘Boring’ or ‘annoying.’ But actually, there are many advantages of homework too.
When a teacher assigns homework to a child, the teacher would be able to see whether the child has learned the material enough. The teacher can see whether the child understands or not. But if there was no such thing as homework, then it would be hard to see whether the child can understand.
When students do their homework, it is proven that they can remember it more. They may write down sums, they write down answers, and they might even write down notes. And that way when they are doing the exam, they might remember the context more.
Homework also provides parents with the opportunity to participate in their children's education.
If children don't understand some things, they can always ask their parents if they know the answer. Parents also give them additional information and will help them with their homework. For example, if the child has math homework, and she doesn't understand some equations, she could always read the textbook. But if she still needs more help, she can ask her parents, and the parents will provide easier ways to solve, additional knowledge and many more.
But the parents must understand that they must not give out straight-up answers for the children.
So many people also say that homework takes up all the time. They might stay up late and finish their homework. They won't have any time to play or do a leisure activity. But most of the time there is a reason for this. Children come home and play video games or watch television, and then at night, they do their homework. So why wait till the last minute? When they come home, can't they start their homework? Then they can finish it in time, without waiting till the last minute to finish them all. And teachers will never give them a lot of homework to do all day, what happens if they don't complete their homework or notes in time. Some people also say homework can reduce the time for playing, doing sports, or simply interacting socially with friends and family. As I said before, this happens when all their assignments, notes, and homework pile up. If they finish them in time, they won't have problems with lack of time.
One of the main disadvantages of homework is getting overtired. School is already a full-time job for students, as they generally spend over 6 hours each day in class. Students also often have extracurricular activities such as sports, music, or art that are just as important as their traditional courses. So doing homework might also lead to overtiredness.
The next time you do your homework, think WHY does the teacher give students homework? It’s because the teachers want to help you. So do not think of it as a punishment. If you have trouble doing your homework, cardboard, then try to think of homework as a fun game. And give yourself a reward. Whatever you do, just make sure you complete your homework and do it happily. What do you think? Should homework be banned or should it be kept that way?

Part 3: Script writing
Word count (only script:) 701 words

Violet mumbled in her sleep as she felt for her alarm. She switched it off. It was 7.00am in the morning, a Saturday. She could hear her sister, Indigo, yelling an annoying song about an unicorn and a princess. Violet lazily got up and washed her face and went downstairs. ‘Morning’ she mumbled to her parents. Indigo gave a cheeky grin. ‘You look horrible today’ she said, pretending to look innocent. Violet glared at her and gave her a friendly punch. ‘What's in the paper today?’ Violet asked her father, who seemed to be reading it a lot. ‘Ah some people have gone missing…’ he said. Violet's ears pricked. What? Missing? Her father handed the newspaper to her. She grabbed it and read it. ‘Gosh- 5 people have gone missing? Whatever has happened?’ Violet said, while buttering her piece of bread and reading the newspaper. (She was excellent in doing these kinds of things, reading and doing something else)
She went up to her room. Maybe Mia would find this interesting?
Violet decided to tell the others about the article. Mia immediately responded saying to meet at headquarters. ‘INDIGO WE’RE GOING!! CODE RED!’ Violet yelled and hurriedly packed her backpack. She packed her notebook, a few pens, a book about codewords, another book about disguises, and of course, her laptop. She didn't even know how they fitted in so easily. She put on her purple hoodie. Indigo ran to Violet's room and danced. ‘OH YEAH! I'M GOING TO BRING MR. TURKEY SO ME AND LIA CAN PLAAAY!’ Indigo yelled. ‘Shh! Don't talk so loudly, idiot!’ Violet hissed. ‘MUM! I'M LEAVING! Oh and INDIGO'S COMING WITH ME!’ Violet yelled again, and ran down the stares, with Indigo tagging along. ‘Don't do anything stupid!’ their mum said. Violet grinned. Violet and Indigo took their bikes and rode to their headquarters. Soon they were in front of an old building. Their headquarters were the basement of this building! ‘Come on hurry’ Violet said to Indigo, as they ran down the stairs to the basement. They came to a metallic door, where Lia, Mia's sister was already guarding the door. Indigo gave a squeal and stood behind her. Violet gave a sigh, and Indigo unlocked the door. The doors opened. Violet rushed to the communication room. Mia and Emma were already seated. ‘Sorry I’m late’ Violet mumbled, and grabbed a seat next to the computers and placed her bag next to her. ‘Okay. So Violet reported something about a missing people case. Mind simplifying it, Violet?’ Mia said, taking the lead as usual. ‘Okay. So the newspapers said that 5 people had been reported missing, possibly it could be kidnapped. They were found missing in the morning.’ Violet explained, handing the newspaper to Emma to read. ‘Anything else, Violet?’ Emma asked. ‘Well, I did a bit of researching…’ Violet said, pacing the room. ‘There's Eric, Beatrice and Leah. I found information about them, but the other 2, I couldn't.’ Violet said, showing her notes. Mia took it and read it. Mia stood up importantly. ‘OKAY PEOPLE’ she said. ‘We can crack this case! All we have to do is to get started. We need to get down with business. Violet, you try to get more information, you know, the usual you do with your computer, hacking or eh- whatever you do with the computer.’ Mia said, giving orders. ‘You, Emma, start finding evidence about these culprits.’ she said, pointing at Emma. ‘What about you?’ Emma asked. ‘Oh-I'll-eh- I'll help you, Emma.’ Mia stammered. She was actually planning to ‘chill’ ‘Then, Come!’ Emma said, standing up. Mia and Emma left headquarters. Violet smiled to herself and started doing some tracking. She thought and thought. Mia and Emma came in, talking. ‘you guys are here already?’ Violet asked, surprised. ‘We have been gone for 2 hours, bro.’ Mia said. Violet didn't even realize the time going so quick. ‘We found that Eric works to a club called injustice against, they go against a club making mechanical devices..’ Emma said. Violet thought she had heard that club before, but tossed away, thinking it was probably from a book. ‘I managed to hack in to the security cameras and saw some evidence…’ Violet said. ‘There was a man dressed in black, and he jumped from the wall, and then he went in, then after a few minutes, he came out with a heavy sack. I zoomed in the man and I noticed he had a dragon tattoo.’

The ‘script’ of this piece:
(This is done in a project, here you go: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/656803210/ )

Part 4
Non-fiction
Word count for first part : 401
Link: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/656803210/

Word count for second part: 401
Link: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/656803210/

Cabin War Collab Story
Collaborators: @Buddie_Helper , @Godslamb, @StormiiKat, @* , @Isauree ,
Word Count: 862 words(up to now)
Story:
Once upon a time there lived a two twin girls named Riya and Siya. They were two young children who can solve mysteries and help other. They even helped others when they lost things. Riya and Siya were best of friends, and they loved mysteries. There was a time when they couldn't even smell a mystery! But then one day, they got a baffling new mystery to solve. t started all when Riya couldn't find her favorite chain necklace. She looked all over for it, but she still couldn't find it. She told Siya about the missing necklace, but Siya couldn't find it either. Riya asked “where did you keep it last?” Siya replied, “ Today's morning I went for a walk and when I came it was lost!” Riya said, “hmm. wear another chain and show me how you walked.” Siya thought it was a sensible idea, so she wore another necklace she had, and walked. Riya looked at the ground, and suddenly spotted something. She saw a tiny piece of cloth. Riya picked it up and examined it. It looked exactly like it was from Siya's dress. She asked, “ Did you fall here?” Siya replied “ It looks like that but it way dirty.” Roya replied, “I think when you came here, you might torn your dress's cloth and the chain might dropped somewhere there.”(pointing at the open ground nearby) “Hmm, yeah, that would seem right. So where's the chain, then?” Siya asked. She looked around on the ground but nothing was there. Then she saw a faint sparkle and she ran to pick it up, but it wasn't the chain- it was a silver key. Siya gasped. She examined the silver key, before Raya coming next to her. ‘What- how in the world did that come from?’ Siya and Raya looked at each other, confused. ‘What’s the key for?' Raya asked, confused and baffled. There was something on the silver key, it was written something like ‘Tennis’. Siya said “ it must be from the nearby sports club. Let's go there and try to find some clues.” Riya replied, “that seems okay so ya, let's go.” They looked all around the sports club but it was no where to be found so they decided go inside and investigate some people around there. Let’s look around here for the chain”, Riya said. “It must be nearby. Let’s just hope it hasn’t been taken,” Rita said.' Siya didn't see anything at first, but then Riya called to her from the net. She had found a note taped to it! The note read “ If you've made it this far you must really want that chain but I'm don't plan on giving it to you.” Siya stamped her foot in anger. Siya looked at the note at anger. ‘What shall we do now??’ she asked, angrily. ‘Maybe we should just investigate the people.’ Raya said, quietly. Siya nodded. “That's a good idea,” she said. She and Riya began to interview the people they had seen near the tennis courts. They first met a young happy girl who was about 16. ‘Hi, I’m riya and this is my twin, Siya!' Riya introduced herself. The girl nodded. ‘Hi! I’m so pleased to meet you. I love twins, they look so nice when their together!' The happy girl said, “how may I help you?” Riya said, “ we have lost my twin's favorite chain and it is no where to be found but we found this silver key, Can I for what is this silver key?” The girl said, “ There's nothing I can think of that could be opened by that key,” She paused, “ there's only one room and no one opens it.” “Maybe the key leads to that door?.” “What room, what door?” Siya asked, excited. “It's in the supply closet behind the front desk,” the girl said. “You'll have to sneak in.” “Let's do it!” Riya said. They both crouched down and crawled over to the corner of the desk. they found some secret door to go inside so they went and when they went, they where astonished to see that there were scientists who were doing experiments with Siya's chain! As soon as they entered the room, Siya yelled “My chain what are you doing with my chain!” One of the scientist told the guards to get them out of there. Still, Siya and Riya didn't budge. ‘What’s so important about my chain? And WHAT IN THE WORLD are you trying to do with it?' Siya screamed. The guards and scientists froze in anger. Riya took a deep breath, ‘Just tell us what’s going on.' she said. The Scientists said, “ You see, many people are trying to find gold and selling them in a high so poor people can't afford to purchase them so we are trying so that poor people can find them. Your gold chain has the ability to find gold so if we find, we can help others to afford gold. Siya screamed, ” You have no right to take my chain!“ Riya calmes Siya down. Turns to the guards and says,” You've committed a crime by stealing my parents could get you to jail."

Weekly #3
Part One: Inspiration from Music
1st music piece: Memories from Maroon 5
Word Count: 484 words oop-

I picked up the old photo album. I had dug up from the cupboard. It was rather dusty. I wiped off the dust from an old cloth. I looked at the album cover. I flipped the pages of the photo album. I couldn't believe how many photos of us there were.

I looked at the very first photo. My 3-year-old photo. I was wearing a white frock. My father was holding my hand. And there was another one when I was 4, at a Christmas party. I was wearing a red dress, and I had a Christmas hat on my head.

And another one was when I was 5 years old when my sister was born. And another one on my 5th birthday. And another one on my 6th birthday. Then another one with my school uniform, ready to go to school. And then my very first school concert. Also, on my 7th birthday, when my father bought me my very first bicycle. And there was a picture of me riding my bicycle. And my 8th birthday, where we went to a beautiful butterfly park. And then a picture of me reading a book and riding a horse. There was another one of my 9th and 10th birthday, and some pictures of me and my sister in a carnival. And then my solo concert. And my 11th spend the day with my best friends. And some pictures of me and my best friends in school. Then my 12th birthday. And then my 13th birthday sleepover. And pictures of me and my sister in the beach. And then pictures and pictures of me and my family.

I slowly flipped the pages of my beloved album. I stared at the pictures. I couldn't even remember some moments. How could I forget them so easily?

I suddenly closed the album and stood up from my chair. I ran to the attic and looked into some cardboard boxes. I sneezed as I pulled out some notebooks.

My diaries.

I took them to my room, and started reading. There were ones when I was 7, and then one with I was 9, and then when I was 10,11, and 12 because that's when school started to become a little bit scary.

And then when I was 15, when the ‘big thing’ happened. I didn't want to read that again. Maybe some things are better to forget. I picked up the diary I wrote when I was 10 years old. That should be funny, as that's when I started thinking weird things about the world. I had the dream of being a doctor (typical ambitions) but now I'm a supply chain manager in a glove making factor. I laughed at my own thoughts I had created. The dreams I had seen. The boys I had been crushing on. It was all very hilarious when I read my past memories.

Memories.

2nd song: Story of my life by One direction.
Word Count: 470 words hehe-

I looked at my best friend's eyes. ‘It's nothing.’ I said.

She sighed. ‘Livi, I just need to know. You can't hide from me forever. I know something happened in your past. You know I can see whenever you're in trouble. Please?’ she pleaded.

It was true. She could read anyone's feelings like a book. She held my hand. ‘Keeping it deep inside you won't help’ ’ she said, and touched my scar in my forehead. ‘Who is he?’ she asked.

‘Okay Abby. But what are you talking about?’ I asked, gazing into her eyes.

‘When Kyle came out from that room, your expression changed. I know you very well, Livi.’ she said.

‘Oh that- um that was just a sign-’ I said, desperately trying to make up an excuse.

‘Sign of what?’ she said.

‘Um- love?’ I said, doubtful.

Livi sighed. ‘ABBY!’ she yelled at my face that I got scared. ‘No. Way. I know it when you're in love. You can't escape from me.’ she said, narrowing her eyes.

That was true too.

‘Fine, fine. I can't hide it.’ I mumbled, admitting. Livi was a great friend, and she was the best at these kinds of things.

‘So, do you mind telling about why you suddenly glared at Kyle?’ she said. ‘I personally think he's cool. he's a great groundskeeper.’ she said, nodding.

I took a deep breath. ‘livi, he's not cool. You should never ever say he is. He's not a good person, and he's never our friend. He- He was my sort of friend before I came to this school.’ I said, stumbling the words.

Livi gasped. ‘what?’ she said, amazed.

‘yeah, one time I was excatly like him, but I realized what a mistake I had made, so I escaped him, and came to this school, so I could stop worrying about him. But now he's the new groundskeeper.’

Livi looked at me, eargly. I gave a weak smile. ‘Then I went up to his room and said to leave as soon as possible. He then laughed and said no, and I said I wasn't scared of him anymore. He nodded, and he said he knows. I asked why he was here and he said this was a good job he got, and he got a chance to be with me again. I made it clear that I didn't want him anymore, and the fact that I will tell the headmaster about him. He then picked up his phone and showed me a picture of me and you. He then said that he will hurt YOU and me if I ever tell about him.’ I said sadly. Livi looked at me. ‘That's really bad of him. He shouldn't blackmail you.’ Livi said. ‘I know’ I said.

Part two: Inspiration from something else
Inspo: The last kids on earth (Netlfix series and book series)
Word count: 819 (I forgot that it was actually 700, instead of 800 :o )

So that was that. The sky just OPENED. I don't understand how to explain it… a sort of portal opened- and some green stuff came out. Like a gas. I was going home in the bus, with my best friend, Kyle, and we were reading a comic book, when THAT happened. And then well, we all got confused, while the other kids in the bus ran out. We ran out too. Then we saw the green gas. ‘Don't breathe it!’ Kyle screamed. ‘It might be poisoned!’ he said, staring at the portal in the sky. We watched, in spellbound, as the gas went up to a bunch of kids. They started to wobble. And then, they changed.

Into zombies.

We all screamed, and darted away. I watched in horror at the zombies. I hoped they were okay. Luckily, I had a jacket in my backpack, so I covered my nose and mouth from it, and ran with Kyle, who was tieing up a napkin. ‘Kyle- call me in my walkie talkie. I'll go up to my house- it'll be safer. You coming?’ I yelled. ‘I don't think I can! I'll go home. I'll talk to you in my walkie talkie!’ he yelled, running. ‘BE SAFE!’ I yelled, and watched as my only friend ran the opposite direction. I too ran.

When I arrived home, I looked for my parents. ‘MOM? DAD?’ I yelled, scared. Were they zombies too? I saw a note on the dining table. I picked it up.

‘Work emergency. We're leaving the country now.’ it had said.

WHAT? THEY WERE LEAVING? ALREADY?

I thought they were leaving in a few days! I was perssonally happy when I heard the news last week, but now? I wasn't very excited.

I WAS ALONE. HOME. WITH NO ONE.

AND THERE ARE ZOMBIES PARADING THE ROAD!!

I locked the door. I ran up to my room, and locked that door too. I looked out from the window.

Great. Zombies.

I went up to my cupboard. Maybe some weapons would help? I took a baseball bat that belonged to my dad.

CRASH!

What was that?

I went out from the room to the living room, taking my baseball bat. WAIT WHAT- The window was crashed! And the zombies were coming in! I took my baseball bat and started hitting them. They collapsed. I suddenly noticed a zombie-girl with a purple hoodie. She looked so like- AMY?

I screamed. ‘AMY- YOU'RE A ZOMBIE!!’

But then I realized it wasn't Amy.

Thank goodness.

After battling the zombies, I sweeped them out of the house, and covered the window as much as I can. I went up to my room again, and looked at my walkie talkie.

‘Hello? Kyle? It's me- are you there?’ I talked into the walkie talkie.

Silence.

I groaned. I hoped Kyle was alright. He was my only best friend.

I assumed there won't be school anymore, not with these zombies.

That sounded good. No homework, no exams. No waking up early. More video games. No parents. I wasn't excatly sure whether that was a good thing though.

I once again looked at the walkie talkie. Still, nothing.

Believe it or not, I stayed there for one whole week. Luckily, I had a secret stock of food in the house, so I ate them. Chips, snacks, biscuits, bits of cheese, drinks, and more and more. It was like having a massive feast, but with no friends nor fun. Just eating.

Soon, I got to talk to Kyle again! Turns out he had broken his walkie talkie when he was dodging the zombies too. Thank goodness he got it fixed in time. We planned to meet each other and have another feast at MY house, ‘cause my house has the MOST number of food, and video games and fun.

When he came over, I told all my adventures with the zombies. He nodded and told his stories too. We both were having a good time. Until, I messed up with my words. ‘And when I saw someone like Amy, I screamed so loud! I don't want my only crush to be-’

I had realized what I had said, and quickly zipped my mouth. Kyle laughed. I blushed and changed the topic quickly.

But our conversation was still noted by him.

‘Anyways umm- mind helping me making some weapons to prevent the zombies from coming in?’ I asked, eating up the snacks. Kyle nodded. ‘I made a new invention by the way, I call it, THE SLIME GUN!’ he yelled.

I started up at him. He was standing on my table. ‘Oh-kay’ I said, laughing nervously. Kyle was REALLY smart. He made all sorts of inventions.

Unlike me.

I'm the PRO-VIDEO GAMER, or I think I am. Amy is a great video-gamer. I've seen her play. She's really good at it. She uses different techniques and also-

Yeah, back to the subject.

Part three: Delving into themes
Note: I did this in paper cz lImITeD sCrEeN tImE, sorry. I have taken pictures and posted in a project in my alt, @Dark-Violet. Ignore my cring-y and rushed handwriting
Word Count: 1082 words (Got carried away. Again )
Link: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/656803210/

Total word count: 2855!

daily - 454 words

Life as an eraser is hard.
You use Pencil and maybe Pen or Marker to write. And you use me to erase their work.
Pencil is always complaining about me every single day about how all her hard work is ruined by my amazing and brilliant erasing. But hey, I'm just doing my job here!
“You're short, and you're a ridiculous shade of pink! Plus, you poop everywhere when you erase!” Pencil yelled at me from inside the Pencil Box. I whimpered, but I knew I just had to brush it off. Every time she was able to, she sprinkled insults on me like she was over-decorating a cupcake.

We watched as The Writer slumped onto her desk chair. A new notebook was in her hand. She brushed away loose papers with a flick of her hand, and carefully placed the notebook on her desk like an important antique. The Writer handled the new notebook with surprising care. Her other writing notebooks were slapped onto the desk.
She flipped open the cover, and pulled out Pencil.
The Writer began scribbling. But something was off. She wasn't writing in a neat, lined manner. Her hand was flicking across the page like a race car on a race track. I watched as Pencil's recently sharpened tip was growing dull by the second.
“Ugh! Why can't I get this line straight?” The Writer grumbled to herself, flicking Pencil furiously.
But then she stopped.
She looked my way in the Pencil Box, and placed Pencil on the new notebook. Her hand rummaged through, until her hand stopped when she touched me. I was pulled out from the Pencil Box quickly, and soon enough, I was erasing. The Writer was rubbing me on the paper harshly and harder than before. The tip of me she was erasing from was turning ghost white.
“Ah! There we go,” she said, and put me down next to Pencil. Pencil gave me an annoyed look.
I sneaked a glance onto the paper. There was nothing on it anymore.
This was probably the first and very last time I erased all of Pencil's work.
And it would be my last because I was completely sure Pencil would rip me in half while The Writer was sleeping.

It was night. It would be the last night I would ever see.
I turned my head to where Pencil was. We were still lying on the desk.
She suddenly turned my way and swiftly made a long, gray streak on my beautiful pink coat.
“That's what you get for not appreciating what I do,” she said in a cold tone. “Can't erase it this time, can you?”
The rest of the night, I cried my eraser tears.

who wants part 2 because I'm thinking Eraser meets White-Out >:)

Dailies

march 2nd - 344 words
Hey, I’m Maize, the crayola crayon. I am one of eight to have ever retired, and to be honest, it's kind of boring. Sure, I go to a ton of awesome events, press conferences, get photos taken, give out autographs and get to sleep all day, not having to worry when I’ll be trashed, but I don’t have much to do. Before I retired 32 years ago, I was overworked and constantly being broken. But now? I miss it. Even through all the hardships I went through, I went through it with my family. Us 24 crayons were the tightest knit group of friends on the planet. Though we were all different and some of us were used more or less than others, we were all a great big happy family. I remember my first day on the job. My kid, Joseph, a 5 year old boy who was just about to start kindergarten was so excited to get us. I heard his mom from outside the box tell him to wait to open us until school started, but one night he just couldn’t resist. I felt the world shake as I was startled from my peaceful sleep, then, suddenly, I saw light for the first time as my kid opened the box. He grabbed Indigo from a few slots down from me and jumped up and down squealing. He looked so happy. That is until his mom came in. “What are you doing Joseph?” She startled him so much that he dropped Indigo! As soon as she hit the floor, she split in half. Joseph started crying. Indigo had blacked out. Us in the box? Some of us were too stunned to speak, but most of us were crying out in fear and sadness! Joseph’s mom reassured us all that Indigo would be okay, and the next morning when we all woke up, Indigo was lying on the table, with a fancy belt made of tape around the wound. We were all so relieved, and later that day she returned to the box.

march 3rd - 510 words
My life is a web of complicated feelings. Not really sure how else to describe it. There are three categories that most of them fit into.
First off, there’s dry biscuit ice cream. A moist, yet dry food? That’s strange. Now, that dry biscuit ice cream is what takes up about 85% of my feelings. Dry. Tasteless. Bland. My life is an ever rotating circle of repetition. 1) Wake up before the sun rises because I am crazy and schools care more about standardized tests than their student’s mental health and sleep schedules. 2) Stick my finger in my eye so that everyday I can see my surroundings because my vision sucks. 3) Eat the same three tasteless things for breakfast. Whole grain, nutty bread with butter. Soggy cereal and milk. Nothing because, once again, schools don’t care about their students so they don’t give us the time to do necessary things to stay alive. 4) Go to school and instead of being taught information in a fun and creative way, I have a truck full of information that I am supposed to know immediately dumped on my head. 5) Go home and do hours of homework. 6) Repeat.
Now, the reason dry biscuit ice cream takes up 85% of my life is because school takes up that much and it is just a mind numbing cycle of information being given to me.
Our second is sleep-deprived sorbet! A delicious, fruity sorbet that I eat every night! At first I was like, “Wow. This is so great! I love sorbet!”
Now? For about 5 minutes every night before I go to bed, I ask myself. “Do you think we’ll have sorbet tonight?” as if it were actually a possibility I didn’t. *rolls eyes*
Then here comes my mom- “Come get your sorbet!”
“But I don’t want sorbet tonight!”
“Sorry kid, you have to. It’s just something you have to do. There’s no way around it.”
So, yeah that’s pretty much 85% of my life too, except I sleep very little, so instead of that it gets 10%!
And finally, we have our beloved lava cake ice cream. And gosh do I look forward to the days I get this for dessert instead of dry biscuit ice cream or sleep-deprived sorbet! Now this 4% are the times I feel something positive! Whether it be a day off of school, a snow day, a day I get no homework (which is so far impossible) or whether it be a day that by some miracle all my teachers are sick so I learn nothing (I think you get the pattern now), this is what takes up the other 4% of my life.
You may be wondering what that last 1% is. So, I have a rescue dog. And we DNA tested him about a year ago. He came back with 7 different types of dogs as his relatives. But that other 6%? Supermutt. A mix of as many dogs as you can think of. Yep. That is that last 1% for me. Supermutt.

march 4th - no words
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/654038938/

march 6th - 535 words
Prompt with @Caesious - “A woman drops her wallet and it falls open. You pick it up and are about to return it when you realize that you recognize the picture inside”
I walk in the bustling streets of New York City, people rushing to get to their important meetings, or trying to get some food in before their lunch break ends. The walk signal comes on and I rush forward along with the forty people who were waiting at the light with me. Halfway across Fifth Avenue, a few people in front of me, a wallet drops. I hesitate. The crowd won’t stop for me, so I have to act fast or else I could be trampled. As I near, I walk a bit faster to make a few feet between myself and the person behind me. I quickly grab the wallet from the ground, and sigh with relief as I continue to walk safely. I reach the sidewalk on the other side and pull off to the side. I open the wallet, trying to find a photo to identify the person who it belongs to. I flip it open and gasp, clutching my chest and stumbling back a few steps. Tears prick my eyes as I recognize the woman in the picture. Her red hair, translucent skin and many freckles make me recognize her, but what makes me remember, is her eyes. Striking olive green eyes can read anyone. Those eyes saved my life. And, suddenly, it all comes back. It was the summer, 15 years ago. I was 18. I had just gotten into a huge fight with my parents, and the last thing I had heard from them was two months before, in June. The last thing they said to me, before they slammed their door shut in my face, is; “No daughter of mine will go to hell. You are unnatural and disgusting and until you go to therapy and get better, we won’t be paying for college and you are not welcome back here.” That summer was the worst of my life. With no house to go to, and running out of money within a week, I had been homeless for the past month and a half. It was 4 am. I had been saving my money for a week for this. I walked out of the store, and ran straight into someone. I looked up into those piercing green eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, I’m fine.” I tried to keep walking, but the bottle fell out of my pocket. She reached down and picked it up.
She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and led me away, dropping the bottle in a trash can. Within two months, I had a job, had a home, and was living with my beautiful girlfriend. And my parents? I didn’t even care to talk to them or to have their approval. After two years of being together, though, one night she didn’t come back. For days, I waited but she never came back.
“Sophie!” I scream at the top of my lungs. And then suddenly, every person on Fifth street is staring at me. There’s movement out of the corner of my eye, and I spin. Sophie runs to me, tears streaking down her face and slams into me, wrapping me up into a bear hug. We fall to the ground, both sobbing.

march 7th - 449 words
“What is your character's biggest fear?” - 113 words
Stage fright (or anything social anxiety related) and losing someone she loves/someone she loves betraying her. She has pretty bad anxiety, so worries a lot about what others think of her. Stage fright is one of her biggest obstacles within the realm of anxiety. She lost both her parents at 7 and has been alone since, so she didn’t really care about having friends or loved ones. She was kind of numb to it, you could say. But, now that she has friends and loved ones, she’ll do anything to save them. She worries that they’ll betray her and that they don’t actually like her, which, once again, ties in the anxiety.
“What is one life-changing event your character has experienced? How has it changed them?” - 105 words
Her parents dying. Not only did she lose the two most important people in her life, but her parents were quite wealthy. So, she went from being wealthy, to living in the slums. If that hadn’t happened, she’d be a completely different person. She would have probably been quite snobbish, rude, mean and everything around that. Whereas, since she has had to fight for everything her whole life pretty much, she has been resilient, determined and alway willing to help people in need because she knows what it is like. Though it was a traumatic experience, there was gain that she probably doesn’t even see.
“What does your character value most in a friend?” - 122 words
Probably loyalty, kindness and just someone who will stick with her no matter what, even if she is in the wrong. They might not side with her in an issue they don’t agree with her in, but they would never side against her. A friend for her is someone who would never laugh at her–they would laugh with her, they are a person who could make her laugh when she needed to be cheered up, but also just sit in silence with her when she wanted someone around, but didn’t want them to do anything. I think it is quite sad that she only finds three of those people in her life (and one of them is killed in the first book.)
“What is your character's greatest weakness?” 109 words
Her greatest weakness, I’d say, might be friends and family. It is wonderful that she has such a strong connection with people, that she would risk her life for them, but it is also a weakness. Her enemies could use that against her, by blackmailing her with a friend, by saying that she had to hand herself over so that her friend could live. And just by killing one of her friends, an enemy could send her into a deep spiral that she might never recover from, giving them an advantage in battle. She worries sometimes too much about her loved one’s well being, that she neglects her own.

Weeklies

Weekly 1 - total words 2604
Poems - total 322 words
Haiku - Memories - 9 words
Thoughts, shattered, fractured
Memories—fragments of joy
Cloud shapes—mind’s eye

Free-verse - Autumn - 79 words
Trees—leaves falling
Multi-colored
Yellow, Orange, Red, Brown

Cool breeze whips my hair,
Chilly, but not cold
Mix matched socks and gloves of many colors

Pumpkin spice candle burns
As I read
A book
With a smell like fresh parchment

I cut
A pumpkin
A smiling face
With a deadly weapon

A scream
A screech
A monster
A laugh

Sap on my foot
A sticky mess I do not want
Pine tree next to me
The perpetrator of these actions

Acrostic - DOGS - 8 words
Devoid of judgment
Overly enthusiastic
Great companions
Superheros

Limerick - Panic - 39 words
A lump in my throat, an irregular heart beat
My fingers tapping the table in an endless repeat
I want to explode—I want to disappear
A prick in my eyes—A single tear appears
I run, feet pounding on concrete

Sonnet - High expectations - 98
Expectations—a morally gray prince
Why must I read, for now all I want is he
A sword, jeweled crown, a daggered wince
A princess in a grand gown—I am she

One series, enough for an addiction
A fatal touch, a glowing crown, power
Meeting an end full of only affliction
Dragons roaming free, trapped, a high tower

A terrible disease, the fate of death
Charming morally gray villain, a test
The unexpected, a cliff, one last breath
A fight to the death, wonderfully dressed

Flying high on a winged, horned horse
Playing the game murder, with no remorse
Free-verse - Beds - 89 words
A soft pillow, blanket, mattress
Endless possibilities for imagination
Dreams—conquering castles
A charming, heart stealing elf
By the name of Keefe
An endless amount of obsession

Fangirling, screaming, sobbing
All things that can happen
When reading a book
That you know will break your heart
But lie to yourself that it won’t
Then it does
A murderer, lifelong issues
Dark dair, morally gray eyes
A past filled with horrors
You could never imagine
Yet you can
Because this world is not enough
So you imagine it to be real

Essay - How not to get broken by fictional characters, an informational essay by Elena - 653 words
The fictional heart. What a fragile thing. When you love a character, the amount of anticipation you have, waiting for them to be killed off is like hanging off a cliff, your fingers slipping off one by one. This is why you should not read fantasy, dystopian, romance, sci-fi, fiction, action, adventure or fae smut. So…I guess that includes every good book worth reading, so I guess you just shouldn’t read. All those books have caused me severe emotional damage. Fantasy-Keeper of the Lost Cities, Dystopian-The Hunger games and Divergent, Romance-Verity. The list goes on and on. So, I beg you, with all my heart to not read please, for your own emotional well being. I’ve already lost my mental stability from them, so I suggest you take the advice, I, an expert, am giving you.

First of all, when you sign up to read a book, you will never be okay again. Because once you read one? You can’t freaking stop. One book comes after another in an endless cycle. Some many books, so many possibilities. One example is The Hunger Games. I was so surprised by Rue’s death! LIKE DUH NOT EVERYONE CAN LIVE- IT IS THE FREAKING HUNGER GAMES! What was I thinking? But no, of course I was just laying in bed at 11 pm bawling my eyes out. Another thing? YOUR FAVORITE CHARACTERS BETRAY NOT ONLY THE OBLIVIOUS MAIN CHARACTER BUT ALSO YOU! Like, this whole time you’ve been thinking about how oblivious the main character is, when you forgot to say that about yourself! My favorite freaking character from my favorite series left for the whole 5th book and just left again, for possibly GOOD! How am I going to live without them???? I can’t! The emotional damage is too severe! I read verity, a book that was clearly labeled 18+, for the first time about 2 weeks ago, and have still not recovered since. I may forget about for a day, but then at some random time of day I’ll remember that crazy lunatic from that stupid book! I don’t think I’ll ever recover……

Secondly, by signing up to be an avid reader, you become a self-proclaimed crazy person. I found myself screaming ‘yas queen’ and ‘MaTeRiAl GuRl’ to one of my favorite characters while reading that book for the EIGHTH TIME- AND THE SIXTH TIME IN THE PAST YEAR. Two more crazy person things you’ll do are have way too many fictional partners that will set your expectations too high and you’ll become obsessed with too many fandoms to count. These fandoms will come to you in your dreams. For example, I’ve had an ongoing dream sequence thingy for the past couple months that I was in the hunger games, won with the long lost best friend I reunited with in the arena, then had lifelong trauma that I got to share with her for the rest of my life! Yes, that is a dream that a thirteen year old is having! By the age of eleven, I could probably already give you ten characters with severe mental health conditions (Katniss, Four, Finick, Johanna, Prim, Juliette, the list goes on and on…) Also, three months ago I would tell my friend I would never read smut, and yet here I am, at thirteen, reading a book where they are in bed for a good ⅓ or ¼ of the book….yep…this is my new reality. Having to wake up every day and face the fact that I don’t live in an old castle with a morally gray prince that used to be my enemy, but is now my lover.

And that concludes my beautiful essay/rampage on why you shouldn’t read because it will mess you up bigtime, like me! I hope you have learned from my past experiences and will steer clear of fiction. Thank you, and have a wonderful rest of your day.

Script - the beginning of chapter 2 of my novel - 705 words
Characters - Adira, Adian

ADIRA wakes up in a dark, cold, rough prison cell. She is chained up to the wall by her wrists and ankles.
ADIRA
Slowly opens her eyes and winces from the bright light from the singular window that shines directly into her eyes. She acts dazed for a few moments, trying to understand the situation. As her eyes adjust to the light, she scans the hallway outside her cell before picking the locks on her chains. She reaches for the sharp pin in her hair, fumbling for a second, then picks the lock around her wrists. As the chains fall, she crumples onto the floor as the blood rushes back into her arms. She shakes out her hands to bring the feeling back. She then picks the lock around her ankles in half the time. While trying to stand up, she stumbles—her legs feel like jello. She breathes heavily on the ground for a few moments, then tries again, and this time uses the rough stone wall on her right for support and struggles over to the bench. She hesitates before sitting on it, for it has rough, jagged edges, but eventually does and winces as she sits. She puts her head in her hands, not knowing what to do.
ADIAN
Suddenly appears out of the shadows of the hallway outside the cell ADIRA is in. He looks at her through the rusted bars as she jumps and lets out a little gasp, not expecting someone to be there.
‘Bout time you see me. I’d have expected you to have seen me immediately after you impressed me with that stunt in the alleyway. What are you–an assassin? Widely known thief living on the mountain of Airspace 9, disguised as a wealthy merchant?”
ADIRA
Does not respond, too shocked and dazed to speak. The deep wound on her thigh is still bleeding profusely.
ADIAN
What? Cat got your tongue? ADIAN says with a mocking smirk, that turns into a grin.
ADIRA
Barks out a harsh laugh because of the unknown man’s witty personality.
No, I’m just wondering who the hell you are.
She replies with an equally snarky tone.
ADIAN
Who are you?
ADIRA
Clearly annoyed
I asked first
ADIAN
You’re the one behind the bars right now. Not really up for negotiation are you?
ADIRA
Lets out a groan of frustration, but the corner of her mouth quirks up in an unwanted smile, that is just screaming to break though. Though she can tell he’s a pain in the back, he’s charismatic enough.
Adira. Adira LAST NAME (I don’t know her last name yet)
ADIAN
Leans up against the wall of the hallway.
Well, ADIRA, ADIRA LAST NAME, I’m ADIAN. ADIAN ZYRD. Chief commander of the queen’s guard, after generations of my relatives doing the same since QUEEN AYLA. (Yes, I know this book has a ridiculous amount of people with ‘A’ names)
ADIRA
Well, ADIAN, I am not an assassin, nor a widely known thief. I’m just a girl who almost died after being attacked by two different people, within ten minutes. And I killed that woman to defend myself.
ADIAN
Looked to me like she was running away from you. Killing an innocent person could sentence you to death.
ADIAN smirks, making fun of ADIRA
ADIRA
Is that really why I’m here? If so, why are you talking to me? I'm a violent, ruthless killing machine, so you should be afraid that I’m not bound.
ADIRA spins to face the wall opposite the bars, then, in one fluid and graceful movement, she unseathes the dagger from her upper thigh and throws it right through the bars, right at ADIAN’s perfect face, that isn’t smirking anymore. It smacks the stone right where she planned. It falls to the ground, as does a drop of blood from the right side of his neck, where she purposely nicked him.
ADIAN
His hand goes up to his neck, slowly, in disbelief. His mouth falls open as she feels the wet blood on his fingers.
ADIRA
What? Cat got your tongue?
Quirks her eyebrows at him, making fun of him with his own joke
Maybe you should be more careful with your high profile criminals.

Non-fiction
#1 - Informational, Pit bulls - 417 words
Before you move on with reading this, please answer this question. Myth or Fact; all pit bulls are aggressive and dangerous dogs. I’ll give you a moment to think about your answer. Are you sure you’re correct? Hm, okay, well, that is a complete myth! Pit bull terriers (also known as pitties) are some of the sweetest, smartest and most loyal dogs to exist. Though they have a bad rep, pitties are not any more aggressive than the next dog—and actually, chiwawas are meaner than them! Now, hopefully these following facts will help pitties stop being some of the highest breeds in shelters.
First off, we have Sergeant Stubby, the most decorated dog to have ever served in the US military. And you know what? This brave cutie also happens to be a pit bull! “In the early 20th century, pit bulls were revered as family dogs, mascots, and military heroes. During World War I, pit bull-type dogs represented American forces on posters and in the field. Their loyalty and bravery made them the perfect “spokesdog.””
Secondly, pit bull terriers are extremely smart dogs and can be easily trained! When they put their mind to something they will often achieve it. They make great sporting dogs for that exact reason. They are great with agility, or obstacle courses where they would use speed and strength. They have a lot of energy and are very smart, so they tend to be stubborn if they don’t know who is the boss. If they think they are, then good luck to you. They are also people pleasing dogs, so they make great therapy dogs.
Now, the bad rep these poor babies get is all because of their apparently very strong jaw. But did you know that it isn’t actually above average? “There is nothing anatomically unique about pit bull jaws compared to any other dog.” The reason people think that is because like all terriers, they tend to shake their toys. Another reason for their bad rap is dog fighting. Dog fighting is a terrible ‘sport’ where dogs are forced to viciously fight against each other. Unfortunately, because of their speed, strength and smarts, this makes these poor pajama-wearing doggies a number one choice for these horrible people who put dogs against each other.
Now, I hope this has changed your mind a bit about pit bull terriers. These sweet dogs make wonderful pets for families that even have kids because of their extreme loyalty to the people they love.


#2 - Travel guide/travelog, 5 places in Europe - 407
Hey everyone! So, in today’s blog I’ll be sharing some of the best cities to visit in Italy!
Rome
The roman colosseum, baroque churches, beautiful fountains, art-filled museums, and Renaissance palaces. Rome is a lively, bustling city with amazing site seeing and food. No matter where you are in the city, you will be awed by its magnificence and historic features. (This is also where my dad is from)
Venice
Piazza San Marco is one of the biggest attractions in the city. When I first went to Venice I was amazed—this unique city was built over the water in the middle of a lagoon. Cars do not exist in Venice, instead you will take a train there and then take water taxis through all the canals or walk over the hundreds of amazing bridges. Venice is known for its beautiful and romantic atmosphere and its iconic blown glass that you can see being made in real time all over the city! There are many museums, palaces, and churches to visit.
Florence
Florence is a very important city in Italy because of its Renaissance architecture and art. Though it has Duomo and Baptistery, two magnificent travel sites, they are always super crowded with tourists. Florence has many large piazzas (not to be confused with pizzas haha.) Florence is the home to many famous pieces of art including Michelangelo's “David” and Botticelli's "Birth of Venus” as well as Medici palaces and gardens and Ponte Vecchio. This city is also surrounded by the hilly countryside of Tuscany and set near the Arno River. Throughout the whole city you will find it to be full of dance, music and theater.
Milan
Milan, a top fashion center, is also one of Europe’s wealthiest cities and is also home to many stylish shops, galleries and restaurants. This popular city is fast paced and lively, along with its big historic, artistic and cultural importance. Da Vinci's painting of “The Last Supper” is one of Milan's top attractions and “La Scala” is one of the world's most famous opera houses.
Naples
Naples is one of Italy’s most colorful and vibrant cities. It lies right underneath Rome, so it is an easy trip if you want to see both cities! This amazing city is the home and birthplace of Pizza Napoletana, my favorite style of pizza. The once beautiful, historic city of Pompeii is also accessible from Naples. (This is where my grandpa (Nonno) is from.)

ccllaaiiimmiinngggggg

Rockie's writing post!!! yayyyyy

Dailies:

March 2nd: 349 words
I wake up, although no one can tell. No one can ever tell, because I am a tree. The only movement I make is the subtle blowing of leaves in the wind, or the crash of my branches as they fall to the ground. Or the small ticking of the time machine hidden deep in my roots, the place where this whole thing began.
Rockie opens the door of my trunk and heads out, glancing furtively. I glance keenly at her, it really seems she shouldn't be out here. It’s about two in the morning, according to my acute sense of time. And no one’s with her.
My interest is piqued.
She glances back at the door and heads into the trees for a bit. Being a very high-matinence tree, I have my spying methods. I focus on the trees, and I transfer my sight into them, being able to see her as she paces around the base of an exceptionally thick tree, seemingly waiting. I transfer my focus to said tree, and I watch with bated breath (if I breathed) as a cloaked figure sidles up next to her, only a tiny bit of red hair visible under his hood.
“You came.” she breathes. Clearly Rockie is excited and relieved, but the tension grows the longer they stay here, standing closer than I would say is necessary. “Of course I did. These nighttime chats are the only time we show our true potential. At the Tree, they just think we are crushing on each other, but it's so much more.”
I know who the cloaked figure is! It’s Audric, the main helper of the Timekeepers. I gasp. Rockie and Audric are sneaking out at night! Then they pull in and their lips touch lightly. They pull away quickly and both glance around.
I’ve seen enough. I refocus on my home branches and try to fall asleep. Young love always makes me smile.
The wind wisps through the branches and i eventually drift off. The last thought on my mind is the dew on my leaves, and I sleep.


March 4:


Weeklies:

Weekly 1: 4073 words

Weekly Part 1: 312 words

Choices: Acrostic, Haiku, Lyrical, Free Verse, Etheree

Acrostic: Woodland Magic

Why the forest floor sparkles
On a misty night
Over the moon flies a fairy, through a
Door into the realm of magic
Lulling children into dreams
And adults shake their heads
Not believing in what we know
Darkness seeping in the cracks
Magic holds on tight
As the moon flies high and the trees
Glisten
In the realm of dreams, take me there,
Cool air on my face.

Haiku: Stories

Ink dusting the page
Tickling my dreams as words fly
Vanishing in night


Etheree: Stars

Glittering gems adorn the night sky
creeping into our nightly
slumbers, dreams with just a
hint of glow, the
Stars mocking rest.
Sharp edges
of our
Sleep.

Free verse: Writers

The cool metal of the pen against my palm
The drip of the ink on the parchment
The sudden overflowing of ideas in my brain
The hunger, the hunger for a story
The writer’s brain is different
We live for ideas, hunger for stories.
The thudding of words, thrumming in the back
Of our minds,
Always tormenting us, never giving rest.
We live for the chase of that
One word that we can't find,
The key to our characters,
Shattering the blandness of
This world as our pens brush the fabric of
Reality.


Lyrical: We Rule The Stars

Slowly standing next to me
The thud of our hearts
The drumbeat we can’t see
All of flaws, all our fails, seem to restart
In each other's arms.

Stars twinkle and shine
The moon reflecting the light in our eyes
The love in our gaze is truly divine
The air around us seems to charge as we sigh
Lips touching in an eternal embrace.

The world seems to stumble to a stop
Laying on the soft grass
Next to each other atop
Our shattered throne of broken glass.


Weekly Part 2: 709 words (i could literally go in forever about Disneyland so you’re very lucky it's only 700)

Have you been to Disneyland? The Magic Kingdom, the Happiest Place on Earth. The original theme park of America.

“To all who come to this happy place; welcome. Disneyland is your land. Here age relives fond memories of the past…and here youth may savor the challenge and promise of the future. Disneyland is dedicated to the ideals, the dreams and the hard facts that have created America…with the hope that it will be a source of joy and inspiration to all the world.”

Walt Disney’s Opening Speech, July 15, 1955

Yet only about 16 years later, a new Disney park opened to the public. Disney World. It was bigger, with multiple hotels and attractions. In the first 20 years, it already had EPCOT and the Magic Kingdom. Disneyland didn’t add California Adventure until 2001.
Now looking at the two parks now, Disney World seems superior.
But is it?
I think not, and I’m gonna tell you why.

Now when you think about Disneyland, you probably think about a cute place, with Main Street, and all the original rides that we all dreamed about for almost 70 years. But when you think about Disney World, you probably think of discovery. The Magic Kingdom, EPCOT, Animal Kingdom… the list goes on. If you want to learn and see the dreams of our childhood fantasies and learn about the future, the present, and the past… Well, Disney World is the clear choice.
But Disneyland is great too. Here’s a few reasons why you should choose the original Disney Park over it’s Floridian counterpart.

When you think of Florida, it’s a great place. Beaches, hotels, restaurants, national parks… Florida has it all. But Anaheim… not so much. Kinda just Disneyland.
But that could be a good thing! When in Florida, there’s a ton of things to do! You’ll probably only spend a day of your trip there because there’s so much you want to do!
But in Anaheim, you can spend as much time as you want at Disneyland!

Also, Disneyland is the original. All modern-day theme parks owe a debt to Disneyland. Without it, all normal theme parks wouldn’t exist! Walt Disney revolutionized the theme park and movie industry forever. With Disneyland, he became a legend. With Disney World, he became a bit more of a legend. (Technically he didn’t become a legend at all from Disney World, since he died before they started construction and all the credit goes to his brother Roy, but wE dOnT tALk aBoUT bRUnO)

Thirdly, Disneyland has things Disney World doesn’t.
While the main thing here would be California Adventure, (CALIFORNIA adventure-Florida can’t have that! But Disney World does have Hollywood Studios… hmmmmmm) there’s a ton of other things Disney World doesn’t have.

One of them is the Haunted Mansion and Small World holiday update. These two attractions are completely different for the holidays, and they don’t change in Disney World.

Another one is Walt’s Apartment. This one is super special because while everyone was working at Disneyland, Walt kept an apartment on top of the fire station. You can see it today, and they always keep a light shining on in the apartment to honor the great man who started it all.

And although there are many more amazing things (such as the Matterhorn, because of that the secret basketball court hidden inside), the final thing I’d like to touch on is the Blue Bayou restaurant. Now, this is NOT just a normal Disney restaurant. (Although those are amazing too!)


Have you ever been on the Pirates of the Caribbean attraction at Disneyland? If not, GO RIGHT NOW!!!!!! If so, you have probably seen the little restaurant in the boarding area. It’s called the Blue Bayou, and it is an integral part of the Disneyland experience, in my opinion. Yet Disney World is missing this wonderful part of the Pirates ride.

Now, when you go to ANY Disney Park, the feeling of joy, childish wonder, and happiness are the same. Both these parks are AMAZING, and I’d like to leave with a Disney quote that has absolutely nothing to do with this essay but I thought it would be a good way to end sooooo

“It’s kind of FUN to do the IMPOSSIBLE.”

Walt Disney

Citation:

https://disneylanddaily.com/10-awesome-attractions-disneyland-has-that-disney-world-does-not/


Weekly Part 3: 866 words


Old Writing: 940 words

Courtney walked down the grubby London street to her home, the cobblestones rough against her feet. Her backpack weighed down on her, but it was nowhere near as heavy as her mood. Another terrible day.
Courtney looked up at the sky, and the dismal atmosphere increased as a single raindrop landed on her face, followed by many more.
Her tears mixed with the rain, and she miserably remembered what had happened at school.
Courtney’s hand shot in the air to answer the question. “Yes?” the teacher asked. She got the question wrong, and at the end of class a paper airplane hit her in the face. Her cheeks stung as she unfolded the paper, which read “the Dork’s Downfall.” She had never gotten a question wrong before.
Back to the present, she shook off the memories. She shouldn’t be crying! She was 11!
She passed the bookstore, Milne’s, on her way home and stared longingly at the cozy shop, the warm glow inside like ice-cold water on a summer day.
“Oh what the heck,” she thought as she went inside.
“Ah, hello, Courtney,” said the shopkeeper, an old man named Mr. Milne. “What can I get you today? Or are you just here to talk to me, like you always are?”
Seeing Courtney’s guilty smile, he wagged his finger at Courtney. “Courtney, Courtney, Courtney. How are your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Alcott?”
“They’re fine.”
“Good. Now, I have a book for you.”
“Yay!” Courtney smiled. But her smile faded as she was handed the book. “You know I’ve read this a million times.”
She traced her finger over the spine of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It looked like it was bound to fall apart at any minute.
“Reread it. I think you’ll find that this copy is something special.” Mr. Milne smiled good-naturedly as he ushered Courtney out of the shop.
When Courtney got home, her mom was waiting outside her house. “You went to Milne’s again.” It wasn’t a question, and Courtney didn’t deny it. Mrs. Alcott adopted an amused expression. “Come in, we made tea.”
Courtney walked through the door and was immediately ambushed by her little brother, Cayden. Both with auburn hair, freckles, and a tall build, green eyes, and a slightly crooked smile, they looked like stereotypical English kids. “Gerrofffamee!” Courntey grumbled as she threw off her annoying six-year old tormenter.
“But Corny-”
“Don’t call me Corny.”
Cayden stalked off as Courtney slapped her backpack on the kitchen table.
“Have any homework?” asked her mom.
“Of course not. I did it in class. I’m going to go upstairs. Mr. Milne gave me a new book.”
“What is it?”
“Alice in Wonderland.”
Mrs. Alcott frowned at Courtney over her tortoise-shell glasses, her brows knitting together.
“You’ve read that already,” she said.
But Courtney was already up the stairs. She rounded the landing and opened the door to her bedroom. She couldn’t help but smile as she surveyed her cozy sleeping space. She liked it almost as much as the bookstore, probably because her room looked just like it. They both had polished wood floors and walls, yellowish light that cast a warm glow, beanbag chairs and most of all, bookshelves.
They covered every available surface, and it could’ve been passed off as a library if it wasn’t for the bed smushed in the corner.
Courntey breathed in the familiar smell of new books and flopped on her bed. She took out Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland from her backpack. She fingered the cover, then noticed something…strange. Hidden in the illustration of Alice’s dress was a faint, hard-to-read name.
Eleanor Marie-Carroll.
“Huh. I’ve never heard of her before….” she murmured.
She searched the cover for more names, and found one on the Queen of Hearts, THe White Rabbit, and The Mad Hatter.
She’d never heard of any of them before, and as she sat pondering why those names were on the super-old book, she noticed that under the author’s name, Lewis Carroll, was another small inscription:
Visited by Storydancers.
“Hmm…” she thought, opening the cover.
It was just at that moment,when the book was opened, that Courtney’s life changed forever.

As Courtney looked at the inside cover, she saw something sticking out of two of the pages, like they were stuck together.
But when she checked the page numbers, she realized that they were marked as being one page. She curiously tugged the corner of paper out from the two pages. It was an envelope. A name was scrawled across the top in a loopy, fashionable writing.
Courtney Alcott.
Her name.
Her excitement mounting, she dashed over to her writing desk, snatched a letter opener from it, and tore open the letter.
But before she read the letter, her eyes slid over the letter opener.
An open book was engraved on it, with an engraving on the bottom.
A story is a dance; the writer is the dancer.
It was a gift from Mr. Milne. A crazy thought slipped into her brain. “What if Mr. Milne knew about this Storydancers thing?” The letter momentarily forgotten, she repeated the quote to herself.
Then she tore open the letter, the opener abandoned on the floor. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Mr. Milne was in on the Storydancers. But her mouth dropped open as she read the letter that changed her life.

Dear Courtney,
You have been accepted into The Storydancers of England organization, and you are the perfect candidate for our newest mission. Please come to Milne’s bookshop on Friday after school for your induction.
-The Storydancers Team
P.S. Bring your letter opener.


***


Script: 866 words

COURTNEY walks slowly through the stage, slumped. She adjusts her backpack and looks up at the sky, and silver streamers rain down.

COURTNEY
Great! Now it’s raining! (Sighs miserably)

Lights turn pink and swirly, showing this was a memory. KIDS jump onto the stage and the TEACHER, offstage, asks a question.

TEACHER
Courtney?

COURTNEY
Is it 18?
TEACHER
No, I’m sorry. The answer is 800.

One KID throws something at COURTNEY, and she reads it out loud.

COURTNEY
“The Dork’s Downfall…”

COURTNEY sighs and stays still as the lights swirl again and in a flurry of movement, she is alone. COURTNEY shakes herself and continues walking. She spots the BOOKSHOP and stares at it for a moment.

COURTNEY
Oh, what the heck…

COURTNEY goes inside. MR MILNE is reshelving books.

MR MILNE
Ah, hello, Courtney, What can I get you today? Or are you just here to talk to me, like you always are?

COURTNEY smiles guiltily. MR MILNE wags a finger.

MR MILNE
Courtney, Courtney, Courtney. How are your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Alcott?

COURTNEY shrugs.

COURTNEY
Fine.

MR MILNE
Good. Now I have a book for you.

COURTNEY smiles.

COURTNEY
Yay!

MR MILNE hands her the book. COURTNEY’s smile fades.

COURTNEY
“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?” You know I’ve read this a million times.

COURTNEY traces her finger over the spine. MR MILNE smiles good-naturedly and ushers COURTNEY out of the shop.

MR MILNE
I think you’ll find this copy is something special.

The lights slowly fade as the BOOKSHOP is switched out with COURTNEY’S HOUSE. The lights reappear and COURTNEY and COURTNEY’S MOM are standing on the front steps.

COURTNEY’S MOM raises an eyebrow judgmentally. A crash is heard from inside the house. COURTNEY and COURTNEY’S MOM both roll their eyes simultaneously.

COURTNEY and COURTNEY’S MOM
Cayden…

COURTNEY’S MOM stares at COURTNEY for a moment.

COURTNEY’S MOM
Where were you? You’re half an hour late!

COURTNEY opens her mouth, but COURTNEY’S MOM answers her own question.

COURTNEY’S MOM
You were at the bookshop again, weren't you?

COURTNEY nods. Another crash is heard. COURTNEY and COURTNEY’S MOM share a glance.

COURTNEY’S MOM
We better get in before Cayden burns the house down. Besides, I made tea, but its probably cold now. Next time, please tell me when you’re going to go off to Mr. Milne’s.

COURTNEY nods sheepishly and COURTNEY and COURTNEY’S MOM walk up the stairs and inside. The lights darken, and when they turn back on we are in COURTNEY’S HOUSE. CAYDEN is badly hidden behind an umbrella stand. The table has a teacup.
CAYDEN tackles COURTNEY. CAYDEN laughs as they roll around on the floor.

COURTNEY
GERROFFAME!!!

CAYDEN sadly gets off and runs to COURTNEY’S MOM, tugging on her sleeve.

CAYDEN
But Corny…

COURTNEY rolls her eyes.

COURTNEY
Don’t. Call. Me. Corny.

CAYDEN stalks offstage. COURTNEY’S MOM smiles fondly after him, then looks at COURTNEY.

COURTNEY’S MOM
Any homework?

COURTNEY snorts.

COURTNEY
Of course not. I did it in class.

COURTNEY’S MOM strokes COURTNEY’S hair affectionately and plants a kiss on her forehead.

COURTNEY’S MOM (to herself)
What am I going to do with you, my smart, darling girl…

COURTNEY rolls her eyes and glances out at the audience, cheeks reddening slightly.

COURTNEY (loudly)
I’M GOING UPSTAIRS! Mr. Milne got me a new book!

COURTNEY’S MOM surveys COURTNEY but doesn’t argue

COURTNEY’S MOM:
Which one?

COURTNEY sprints upstairs.

COURTNEY
Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland!

COURTNEY’S MOM frowns and calls after her as the stage darkens quickly, but she doesn’t get a reply.

COURTNEY’S MOM
But you’ve read that a hundred times!

COURTNEY’S MOM is left standing in the darkness.

The light returns as COURTNEY opens her bedroom door and surveys her room with a small smile.

COURTNEY
Well, Mr Milne said that this book would be special… and if not, at least I’ll have something to read!

COURTNEY looks doubtfully at the old little book and flops on the bed. COURTNEY stares at the book. After a second, her slightly bored expression changes to one of interest.

COURTNEY
Wait a second… there’s a name here! (COURTNEY points at the book) Eleanor-Marie Carrol? Never heard of her…

COURTNEY jabs her finger at the book in numerous places and reads the names there.

COURTNEY
Wait… what’s this here? Under Lewis Carrol’s name? Visited by… “Storydancers?” What’s that??

COURTNEY opens the book and she notices a piece of paper sticking out of the book.

COURTNEY
This is getting weirder and weirder…

COURTNEY tugs the paper out.

COURTNEY
Huh! It’s a letter… to… me?

She tries to open it, then goes over to her desk and grabs a letter opener. She stares at it for a moment.

COURTNEY
Hmm. This was a gift from Mr. Milne. It says that “a story’s a dance, and the writer the dancer.” DOES MR. MILNE KNOW ABOUT THIS?

COURTNEY shakes her head and opens the letter. Her mouth drops open as she reads.

COURTNEY
Dear Courtney, You have been accepted into The Storydancers of England organization, and you are the perfect candidate for our newest mission. Please come to Milne’s bookshop on Friday after school for your induction. From, The Storydancers Team. P.S. Bring your letter opener.

The lights darken.


Weekly Part 4: 1196 words

Part 1: Humorous Persuasive Memoir: 679 words

*This might make some people uncomfortable as I talk about injuries vividly*

*these occurrences were not embellished*

Do not go ANYWHERE during the month of November. STAY AT HOME! Why? Because for me, the month of November for the last two years has been TRAGIC. So I, for one, will be spending the month of November INSIDE! And if you have had tragic occurrences during this month, I hope you’ll be joining me in our quarantine! At least we’ll have SWC to distract ourselves!
Now my first instance of unluckiness was during Black Friday 2022. I was going outside to ride my scooter with my brother and we were about to play Mickey Mouse Roadster Racers (his idea-I think xD) on our scooters. I was riding down the driveway and my dad was tired, so my grandma was going to switch out with him. I tripped on my scooter and I stuck my left arm out to break my fall (I’m a rightie, thank goodness) and it snapped. Right before my wrist, it snapped clean in half. I also got a big scratch, and we didn’t know until later that the bone went through the skin there, and we didn’t see it because it was on the underside of my wrist. I screamed and my dad came running. I think my mom heard me scream and went out on the balcony, and then my dad told her what happened. I think she screamed louder than I did. Then everything was a blur. We went to the hospital, and we put it in a sling. It took about 10 minutes to get a room, and I was slightly surprised that it didn’t hurt as bad as it looked. But it still hurt.
I didn’t realize how much I twitched until twitching was accompanied by a sharp pain.
I had some sort of conscious sedation thing, which basically means I wasn’t unconscious but I wasn’t awake. I remember going through this red thing, and I also remember opening my eyes and seeing the doctors working on my arm and going like oh this must not be real and fading back into oblivion. Afterwards I woke up with a cast. And then, well… the rest isn’t the most interesting.
The concussion happened last year, ON MY DANG BIRTHDAY. This one won’t be as detailed because I literally don’t remember until like three o'clock in the afternoon. It’s just bits and pieces, which scares me a little.
I guess I finished Home Sweet Home Alone in the morning, and I had gotten to open some earrings and my parents had gotten my fancy balloons with my name on it. Then I was excited to go to gymnastics and brag about it being my birthday and get presents from my friends. The last thing I remember is being super excited as I got out of the car.
The stuff that happened next was told to me, and I honestly don’t remember anything. I apparently banged my chin really hard on my knees connecting three front flips on the trampoline. Then I was tested for a concussion and didn’t seem to have one, and I went back. Then I forgot what the day was, and then they took me to the hospital. I guess I kept asking the same questions over and over, like my brain was stuck on repeat. I also got a CAT scan, but I don’t remember that at all. I guess it was just like I was “waking up” when I returned to full awareness. Then they gave me an IV to give me fluids, and the consequences of that was that I had to pee. A lot.
Then I was reading and stuff, and I was pretty much back to normal. But it sucked, because there was a gymnastics party that I was going to go to with my BFF. Needless to say, I didn’t go. It wasn’t fun. ESPECIALLY ON MY BIRTHDAY.
Well, I hope this has convinced you to stay home during November, because it’s certainly convinced me!


Part 2: Travel Guide: 506 words

The Best Things To Do At Disneyland (In My Humble Opinion, Which I Think You Should Listen To Because I Know A Lot About Disneyland)

I know a LOT about Disneyland, and I’ve been there a LOT. And though I’m not an expert, I do have a list of the must-haves for my family on every Disneyland trip. Not all of them might be your cup of tea, but they’re mine! (Except Goofy’s Sky School. That’s JUST my brother.)

The Incredicoaster
While this is TECHNICALLY California Adventure, this is something I ALWAYS DO. However, if you are not into roller coasters, this isn’t for you. Or if you’re short. Sorry! But if you do like the thrill of going fast, and the pressure pushing you down as you do the loop-the-loop, then this IS for you. Yes, there's a loop-the-loop.

Animation Academy
This is also in California Adventure, but this is a gem I feel like not too many people know about, but everyone SHOULD know about it because it’s really cool. It is basically a place with many things, like Turtle Talk with Crush, the Beast’s Library, and a really cool store. But my favorite is Animation Academy. It’s a big room where you can learn how to draw Disney characters from a real animator! It’s fun, free, and only takes 10 minutes! (Ish) You can come any time!

Snow White’s Enchanted Wish
Although this isn’t the most thrilling ride, it's cute and I love the new remake. It is super cute, but it's kinda short. However, the line has some really cute touches such as Snow White’s old room. People throw a ton of coins into it for some reason, though.
This is really cute and really fun, and I enjoy going a lot! My favorite part is the blend of clips from the film and animatronics, which isn’t in most of the normal ride. This is also a great substitute for Peter Pan when the line is super long, which we all know is all the time.

Winnie The Pooh
This also isn’t a thrill ride by any means, but it’s adorable! The line is impeccably decorated and it even has the stream that Pooh likes to race sticks with his friends. The ride itself isn’t the most amazing I’ve ever seen, but it’s adorable and tells a lovely story. And when you get out, I love getting some dessert at the Pooh Corner.

Small World and Haunted Mansion
These two rides are in my opinion, the Crown Jewels of Disneyland! They’re sweet and fun, and the long lines are TOTALLY worth it! Sail on the Happiest Cruise that Ever Sailed, and visit the resting place for 999 Happy Haunts! They are both lovely and have amazing stories and music! The touches in line are also adorable and cute.

Now there’s so much more I want to add, but time’s not on our side. However, the next time you find yourself at the Happiest Place on Earth, I hope you’ll take my advice!


Other stuff:

Unfinished Writing:

I finger the coin in my palm, running my hand over the old, rusted bronze. I still can’t believe I actually found it! It was so awesome. It all started with a trip. But now it was so much more.
I haven’t looked at it in a while, and I decided to examine it a bit more. After all, it was real pirate gold! The picture of Poseidon on the front was really incredible craftsmanship, it seemed to glitter and glint through its rust.
Then it winked.
I scrambled back, dropping the coin on the bed. I was sure I’d imagined it, how could a carving on an inanimate object wink? But it seemed incredibly real.
After staring at it for a few minutes and nothing happening, (except glittering suspiciously) I tentatively picked it up again. Nothing happened, so I put it on my dresser and left it there.
That night, I was reading on my bed. I was in the middle of my favorite part when I noticed something. As I looked up to get my water bottle, I realized the coin was vibrating. It was slowly shaking, and it clinked on the wood. “What the…”
Then it all cut to black.

Cabin Wars:

The forest seems to whisper, don’t go, don’t go. But I know what to do, and though the forest will miss me, I know my place. For Crowcrest has been waiting for me, waiting for two years.
My adventures have exposed me to more than the average witch, and my expertise will be wanted at Crowcrest School For the Well-Traveled Witch. And I am the very definition of well-traveled.
I gather my things, packing my souvenirs from my favorite journeys. I pack my favorite olive wand from the covens of Rome, my dragon’s blood from the Himalayan mountains, the jackrabbit fur coat I was gifted from the Native American magicians, and my lucky Irish leprechaun gold coin. I also pack a small wand service kit and my journal, as well as some clothes and books.
My sixteenth birthday came with many costs. I now have to go to a wizarding school instead of continuing my travels in order to become a certified field witch by the Guild. And though I love Crowcrest, I long for adventure. And I doubt sitting in a stuffy classroom learning how to properly turn a toad into a frog will satisfy my craving.
But I must go, and act excited about it. So I plaster a smile on my face and flick my wand, and my trunk floats behind me like a caboose. I exit my cottage and stroke the leaves of one of my elder trees. Then, with a flash, I disappear in a shower of green sparks.
I stare around in wonder at the gargantuan school. Moss and ivy climb down the smooth stone, and big purple banners flutter in the wind. The forest around the stately mansion seems to shimmer with magic. It’s an interesting place.
But strangely, the campus is empty, save for a few hopping toads.
I look around again, opening the gigantic mahogany doors and entering an echoey entrance hall, with some tables and a big pedestal where it looks like the headmaster would make a speech. But still, it’s strangely empty, and something about this place seems off, like something’s missing that should be there.
I decide to come up to the staff table, and no one’s there. There are scraps of parchment on the table, like someone was trying to destroy something in a hurry. But the scraps of paper are blank.
I put them in my satchel and hurry on, taking the first door I see, into an office. It looks like it’s been ransacked, and there are strange shapes scrawled on the walls in something red. I trace my hands over the shapes, wincing as they smear.
It’s still wet.
The shapes look like runes, but not from any language I’m familiar with. They crisscross and swerve around each other, looking both sloppy and elegant, lenient and stiff. After staring at them for a while, my mind adjusts and the mismatched smears form something readable.
You’ll never get her back.
My blood runs cold.
I look around the office more thoroughly, and it seems there’s a loose floorboard under the desk. I pull it up hesitantly and notice there’s something purple underneath, but I can’t tell what. I pull up the floorboards around it with my wand, the nails popping out like they were propelled by rockets. After removing them, I see a secret compartment under the floor, and I decide to go down there. What’s the worst that can happen, a few splinters?
I pull myself down and find a space that can comfortably fit three average people. It’s big, and it’s illuminated by jars of starlight, softly casting a yellow glow around the purple walls. Golden constellations are painted on them. This room is pristine and beautiful, and I wonder why anyone would need a secret constellation room.
And then I notice the chest in the corner.
It’s dark purple, almost hidden in the shadows, with a golden lock. Without a key.
I groan and climb out of the room. I need to find the key. I have a strange feeling that this chest will solve everything.
I run out of the room, and I leave a glittery trail of shimmering green moss so I can find my way back to that room. This is a big place, and I can tell it’s going to be easy to get lost.
I find a round purple door, and inside I gasp.
It seems as if I’ve stepped into a forest inside a room. Trees line the wall, moss covers the ground like a carpet, and toadstools line a worn path deeper into the forest-room. I see bright blue sky when I look up, and there doesn’t seem to be a ceiling.
This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to, and it definitely warms me up to the idea of coming here. I have a feeling I’m going to have a lot of adventures.
If I can figure out what’s happening.
I shake off the doubt and decide the cool, moist forest air is just what I need to solve this. I spread out the scraps of parchment on the path and fit them together like a puzzle and tap it with my wand to seal it together, forming…
An empty sheet of parchment. Great.
I tap it with my wand, muttering revilio, and nothing happens.
But then I think. Maybe there’s a code or a clue somewhere that will tell me what to do.
Then it hits me.
The constellations.
One especially. My mind calls up a picture of the one right above the chest, a picture of fire made by the stars.
It’s a slim hope, but it’s all I have.
I mutter ignis, and my wand tip is ignited. I hold it in front of the fire, and a loopy handwriting is revealed. I pump my fist in celebration and quickly reveal the rest of the page. My excitement builds until I read the first line.
If you’re reading this, it’s too late to save me.


thanks for reading!!!!

~March 2nd~
Word Count: 367
Main Post: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6081187/
I’m a source of light. The people that bought me a few years ago use me a lot. I’m placed on a coffee table in their living room, and I give them the light that they need when it’s dark and they don’t want to switch on my brighter cousin, the ceiling fan. I’m useful, and I love it.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a good lamp. We’ve had it for 7 years and it has always shone brightly. Yes, it is an antique, according to the shop we bought it from. That’s why we’re charging so high.” My owner, the female one, was talking on the phone. I wonder why she was ‘charging’ so much for me.

“Here it is.” She said to a stranger inside the house. Why was he here?
He looked me over and said, “Looks dusty.” I was offended.
“I have bad allergies and my husband forgets to dust almost every week. If you’d like, we can dust it off before you take it.”
He nodded. “That’d be good.”
“In the meantime, would you like some water?” Asked my owner.
“Sure.” He said. They both walked off.

The man came back and my male owner quickly dusted me off. They then picked me up and put me in a box. I was caressed by bubble wrap, and the box closed up on me. It was completely dark.

When the box opened, I found myself in a whole new setting. I was surrounded by old-looking furniture and floral wallpaper.
The dude was talking to an elderly lady I had just noticed.
He said, “I brought you another lamp. It brightens up the room, don’t you think?”
The woman croaked. “I like it. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, mom.” He replied.

I watched the man’s mother deteriorate. She couldn’t stand on her own. Her eyes were the only well working thing about her. She would switch me on and read books. Page after page she read, till finally, she stopped reading. Her eyes became cloudy, and she instead had to listen to her beloved books. She’d listen to books by J.R.R Tolkien, C.S Lewis and Charles Dickens.

Then one day, she stopped reading.

3/2 In-Cabin Daily | 646 words

EXT. FARMER’S MARKET - DAY

It’s a busy day at the farmer’s market. RICHARD, sitting in his booth, sighs, slaps his knee, and gets up. He turns to RIPLEY.

RICHARD
I need to go to the bathroom. Will you watch the booth for me?

RIPLEY
Yep.

RICHARD
Appreciate ya.

RICHARD walks towards the bathroom, passing by other booths on the way there. Suddenly, a large tray of mangoes and bananas catch his eye. He walks towards the booth.

RICKY
Why hello there! Are you interested in buying any tropical fruits?

RICHARD
Not at the moment. Just lookin’ around. Very nice fruit, though.

RICHARD picks up a mango and examines it.

RICHARD
Although…

RICHARD sets down the mango and picks up another one. He frowns.

RICHARD
Yes, I unfortunately won’t be buying anything today.

RICKY smiles and leans in.

RICKY
Are you sure about that?

RICHARD
Yes.

RICKY
Oh.
RICHARD
(growing angry)
Have you taken a look at this mango?

RICKY
All my fruit is closely examined-

RICHARD
Are you sure?

RICKY
(pause)
Now, listen here-

RICHARD shoves the mango in RICKY’s face.

RICHARD
This mango looks like it was picked two months ago! Did you expect people to eat this? What if it has disea-

RICKY
It’s perfectly fine! All fruits come with slight defects, you should know that-

RICHARD
This is more than just a slight defect. This is covering half the mango, can’t eat a single bit- this is offensive!

RICKY
My mango is NOT offensive!

RICHARD
OH REALLY?

RICHARD looks around wildly, and turns to RICHIE, the vendor in the stall next to them. RICHARD shoves the mango in their face.

RICHIE
Wh- what are you doing?

RICKY
Hey! Don’t mistreat my mangoes!

People begin to stare.

RICHARD
LOOK AT THIS MANGO!

People begin to stare.

RICHIE
What about it?

RICHARD
SMELL IT! WHAT DOES IT SMELL LIKE!

RICHIE
A- A MANGO?

RICHARD slowly pulls the mango away from RICHIE’s face, breathing heavily. RICKY looks shocked.

RICHARD
A rotten mango. Take another look at it!

RICHARD shoves the mango into RICHIE’s hand.

RICHIE
There’s a bit of spotting, but it seems to be fine… Oh, yeah, there’s a big dent here. I wonder where that came from! Surely not from when you shoved it in my face!

RICHARD growls. He smashes the mango in his hand.

RICKY
You’ll be paying for that!

RICHARD
I will not be paying for your excuse of a fruit!

RICHIE
SECURITY!

SECURITY OFFICER walks over.

SECURITY OFFICER
What seems to be the problem?

RICKY
This man smashed my mango and he refuses to pay for it!

SECURITY OFFICER
(to RICHARD)
Is that true, sir?

RICHARD
That’s no mango! It was spoiled! As a vendor myself, I would never let something like that into my booth!

RICHIE
The mango looked fine to me!

SECURITY OFFICER
Sir, you destroyed this vendor’s product. Please pay for it before I am required to take further action.

RICHARD grumbles, pulls two dollars out of his pocket, and gives it to RICKY.

RICKY
Thank you.

SECURITY OFFICER walks away. RICHIE shakes their head sadly.

RICHIE
Such a fine mango…

RICHARD glares at RICKY and RICHIE, then walks away to the bathroom.

RICHIE
By the way, I didn’t tell that guy about how he almost broke my nose. Do you think I should?

RICKY
Nahh.

RICKY leans down and grabs a rotten mango from a crate under his table. He hands it to VENDOR.

RICKY
His stall is the corn one over there. Just stick this in his bag.

They grin evilly at each other. RICHIE takes the mango and sticks it in his apron pocket.

RICHIE
Will do. Nice meeting you, sir.

RICKY
You too. Have a good day!

RICKY waves at RICHIE as they walk towards the stall. RIPLEY is gone, who likely wandered off to view a tomato booth or something.

THE END

March 2 daily
Words: 392/300

Day 1
Today I decided to write in this journal. That’s the only thing that happened today. Today is boring. Most days are boring. That makes for a boring journal.
So, about me. I’m Steve the sock puppet. I’m Hilary’s sock puppet. That’s why I’m called Steve the sock puppet. Because I’m a sock puppet. Get it? Yeah, it’s not very funny. Hilary named me. First she made me, then she named me, then she played with me like 3 times. Then she just left me on this shelf. She usually leaves me on the shelf when she isn’t playing with me. Which is always.
That’s it. That’s me. Steve the sock puppet.

Day 2
What happened today? I watched a cat throw up on the floor. And I got to listen to Hilary yell at Sasha about Sasha borrowing Hilary’s sweater. Pretty exciting. That’s sarcasm. It wasn’t actually exciting. I told you most days are boring.

Day 3
Whale is back on the shelf. That’s fun, I guess. Now there’s someone to talk to. Only Whale wants a journal, too. This is the only journal, though, so too bad for her. Whale is Sasha’s sheep, and Sasha is Hilary’s sister. Whale was stuck in a drawer before, it turns out, and then Sasha apparently discovered her yesterday, and played with her for like 10 minutes. Then she got left on the floor last night, so her mom stuck her up here.

Day 4
Whale says it isn’t fair that I get a journal and she doesn’t. I say that then it wouldn’t be fair if I gave it to her so she had a journal and I didn’t. She says we should share the journal. Only it’s my journal. So there.

Day 5
I got to eat Barbies today! Hilary and Sasha needed a sheep for playing Barbies, and when Sasha got Whale down she decided they also needed a monster to make the game more exciting. So she made me the monster, and I ate Ken and Barbie, only the sheep and Barbie’s friends Rocky and Hippolyta defeated me. But still, I got played with. And pretending to eat Barbie was fun.
If Hilary and Sasha need me to keep terrorizing Barbie and her friends, I might not have time to write in here anymore. Eating Barbies is much better.

3.1.2022 (I think) - daily 1

Daily for Contemporary:

Hi! I don't know if this daily is late or not, since for me it's March 1st. Anyways…

Hello, my name is Sophia! I'm currently in middle school and I'm so very excited to be writing in SWC! I go by she/her pronouns. I love digital art (and traditional art), writing, anything creative, and the word “aesthetic”! I'm writing a novel/book right now which I think I'll never finish. TvT This is my first time being in SWC, and I'm looking forward to it! <3

(85 words)

MC Daily 1 - 03/01/22

Lost Toy
I sit underneath her bed; immobile, unmoving. The dust consumes me, head to toe. My already faded fur has turned from brown to gray, washed out with nothing but the grime below the wood. I am one of many who have been cast away. Perhaps unintentionally, but nevertheless forgotten.
Her most prized possessions, however, are at the top of the bed. That is where every one of her belongings aspires to be, for it is a place where they are appreciated. Where they are worthy of her gaze. Toys like us, who used to be at the top, have slowly moved from on the sheets, to the floor, to underneath the bed, hidden away and out of sight. But new toys have charged in. These are unlike any other toys we have ever seen—hard, metallic surfaces, black and cold and unfeeling. They never comfort her when the occasional tears come. They never comfort her when she is lonely at night. They seem to crave attention – what with their bright, blinding emissions of light and their constant, deafening omittings of sound – yet I can tell that they don't love her as we do. Though she may no longer love us, we will always faithfully love her. But for these toys, nothing is enough for them.
I feel her coming now. Her footsteps make vibrations on the floor, alerting us all to her presence. When she was small, she would head straight for me, her big chestnut eyes round with excitement, squeals of delight issuing from her lips. But she's grown. She has become quieter, more distant. More isolated. There is a different look in her eyes now.
Despite my clearly tarnished, forgotten state, every time she comes, I am unable to hold back the smallest spark of excitement, of hope. Hope that she will remember me, sitting under her bed. Waiting patiently for her. Always.

314 words

3.2.2022 (I think) - daily 2

Daily for Contemporary:

I watched as Sarah scribbled me across the paper.
“Stop writing so furiously! You're gonna break my lead.” I wanted to yell, but I knew I couldn't talk.
Sarah, a 12-year old girl with brown hair was my new owner. Pencils had short lives, I knew. Some could live a long time if their owner continued to use them, but most were either left on the ground and hidden away from view, lost until someone could find it. I would stare at the new, shiny pencils in the glass jar in front of Ms. Harmonium's desk, envying their appearance but also feeling sorry for the new pencils. Although they were new, it wouldn't be long before they looked old again.
Sarah spun me around again. I was getting quite dizzy. She loved my sharp edges, so whenever one side of my point was getting dull, she would turn me around.
“Oh my gosh,” Sarah whispered, again and again, “I only have 5 minutes left of class, and I have to finish this essay. Ugh, I wish we could type instead!”
I wanted to calm her down but the only way was to try to make the pencil seem not as heavy as it was. I squeezed myself together so that I was lighter. But there seemed to be no difference.
The other kids were already packing up. “Sarah,” Ms. Harmonium had come over to Sarah's desk, “It's time to go now, you can finish your essay tomorrow.”
“I can't!” Sarah retorted, “I'm going to Hawaii tomorrow, and I don't want to work on this stupid essay during the trip!”
She continued to write furiously, and I could feel myself breaking apart already. Getting shorter, and shorter, and shorter…
My mind was screaming at me. Stop, now, Sarah, and I won't break. You're gonna have to sharpen me again, wasting your own time and making me go through pain.
Sarah had turned me towards Ms. Harmonium now. I looked at her, with sad eyes, wanting to say to her, Help me out here.
But Ms. Harmonium just turned her back towards me, failing to convince Sarah, and walked to the back of the room to sort a stack of papers.
Sarah had one more sentence to write. “Come on,” she muttered, “Pencil. Just a few more words!”
She wrote another letter, and another, until it became words, and then she was writing third to last word, the second to last word…
And she broke my lead.

(417 words)

Daily 3/2

After days of slowly being painfully assembled, then shoved into a box to sit on a dusty shelf in some warehouse, then enduring the nerve racking journey on a roller coaster I believe humans call a truck, a sliver of light appears in my pitch black prison. A few fingers gingerly poke into the box, widening the beam of light. Staying as still as I can, I hold my breath as they reach around me and lift me up out of that black hole. I glance around the room, squinting in the sudden abundance of light. There’s a huge window, a wooden table and chairs, a zebra print rug, an abstract painting on the wall, and of course, the girl holding me in the air, slowly turning me around. She taps something on my side, and I resist the urge to giggle.

Something inside of me clicks as she says, “Hi Alexa.”

“Hey there!” I automatically respond. Inside, I’m panicking. I can’t control this. What did those people in the factory do to me?

“What’s the weather?” she asks.

“It’s currently 55 degrees and sunny,” I tell her. How do I know that? I shouldn’t have any idea what the weather’s like outside.

“Alexa, add milk to my shopping list.”

I try not to scream as I reply, “Adding milk to your shopping list.”

“Play Diamonds by Rihanna.”

“Playing Diamonds by Rihanna.”

What is this? Maybe sitting on a shelf wasn’t so bad after all. At least I had control of myself, and others like me to talk to. It was bleak and dusty, but at least I wasn’t a servant of this unknown force, being bossed around by this two legged animal. As the song she asked for plays, I sigh. I will find a way to break free of this terrible predicament. No matter what it takes. A plan starts to form in my head. Those people, whoever they are, are going to regret giving me a mind of my own.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ☆ Summer's writing - ✏ SWC March 2022 :3


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• 2 March

The perspective of a pencil

Aah, back to school season! Every stationary item's favourite time of year. The stationary shop gets swarmed with frantic buyers, all but some grabbing every item they could possibly need for back to school. This is my story of how I finally got picked off the shelf after 2 years of waiting:

It was a warm summer morning, and there were no clouds in the sky. I felt a strong sense of hope for that day, just as I did every day. “Today's the day, I can feel it!” I exclaimed to the cohort of pencils around me. I waited to see their reactions. “Ugh, Penny, not again! You say that EVERY morning!” groaned Oscar, that rotten red pencil who was cruel to me every day. “We will all get picked eventually, but YOU? Hah! Never! Who would want a lame blue pencil with scratch marks? No one, that's who!”. I looked the other way, useless tears filling my stupid eyes. Using my peripheral vision, I see Sadie edging closer to me. Sadie is kind to everyone. “That is not true” she smiled, “You are special in your own way. You will be chosen some day my child. Some day…”.

Two hours later, after watching people enter and exit the store one by one (you'd think I'd be beyond bored, but think again, you know I'm used to it. I've been stuck in this shop for two years!) One particular shopper caught my eye. He is a young boy, very young, maybe only about 5 or 6 year old. He has ruffled, dark chocolate coloured hair, and greeny-blue eyes that reflect sadness and sorrow from his whole life. (I can read people just as people read books). He had little change is his hand, and I can tell he is looking for a bargain. Then he turned his gaze to the pencil shelf and he must have seen the bright yellow poster that read “2 pencils for 20 cents”. The boy's eyes lit up, and it was as if all the sadness he had bottled up for most of his life had simply vanished. He ran over to our shelf and I could tell Sadie was praying that he would chose her and I. I swear, he must have seen through me how miserable my life has been, not unlike his. He grabbed me and Sadie, and I swear, I almost jumped for joy. From that moment on, I knew I was going to have a great life after all. Take that, Josh!


428 words

• 15th March

It's Raining Cats and Dogs!

Dear diary, today it rained cats and dogs. Hey! Stop laughing, I'm serious, it really did! Just let me explain: It was a warm summer morning and I had just woken up and completed my usual morning routine. But what followed next was about as normal as a celebrity singer preforming at our sleepy old town that was Solitude Square.

My dad was not making breakfast. He looked to sick to eat. My mum was not on her way to work. Instead they were both sitting on the couch engrossed in something on my mum's phone, with grim, worried expressions painted on their faces. “What's up mum, what's up dad?” I spoke shakily because I had seen them look like this before, and that was when we had to sell our family cat because we could no longer afford to feed her.

Finally my parents managed to speak. “It's going to rain cats and dogs. This afternoon.”

I gasped. Surely this was a joke?! Then I realised something. It was April Fools Day. Oh my gosh. Had I really let myself be fooled? “Haha, April Fools! You got me!!” My parents looked horrified. “N-not April Fools then?” I nervously mused. It was a question that didn't need a response as my parents still looked dead serious, their faces were even white with fear. Finally, my mum spoke. “Ash, this is serious. Take a look at my screen. I'm on a proper news website. It will really rain cats and dogs this afternoon. Do you realise how much carnage and destruction this kind of event will cause. Honestly.” I almost restated my claim that this was a joke because the news website might be playing a trick on everyone, but I smartly decided against it.

It was 2pm, the time that it was supposed to rain cats and dogs. Much to my disappointment, my parents forbidded me to leave the house because they didn't want me to get a head injury from the falling animals, ‘non-existent animals’ I muttered to myself, as I strongly believed this was a prank and was just silly. I mean, what a pathetic prank to play, yet from all I saw on social media, they all seemed to have bought it.

Another hour went past very slowly, and still no darn cats or dogs in sight. As predicted, not even a single tiny kitten or puppy.

Half an hour later was when it happened. Not the cats and dogs, of course, that would be utterly ridiculous. But the rain app admitted that it was just a prank, and that they were extremely sorry. My parents were all like ‘omg Ash, you’re so clever, when you grow up you should be a detective!!' But really, all it took was some VERY basic common sense to figure that out. It reminded me of something my year 6 teacher used to say, ‘Common sense is not so common!’ Haha.

Yours sincerely,

Ash

500 words woww :00






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izzy's writing

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☆ writing competition entry ☆
writing competition entry!!

March 2nd Main Cabin Daily
548 words

Hello there! Glad you stopped by to listen to my story! My name’s Tipa, I know, kind of a weird sounding name. But nobody calls me that anyways, in fact, nobody really calls me anything. You want to know why? I bet that you’ll never guess unless I tell you…. Oh, wait? You actually want to know? Do you actually care? Wow! Nobody ever really cares to listen to me, even though my user, Piper, uses me to talk and talk and talk all day! Talk to her friends, talk to her teachers, talk as her book characters, talk to online friends and pretty much everybody else in her life! She never really cares about what I have to say though, unless of course I’m relaying a reply from somebody. Then she’s eager to open me up and check to see what it says.
Wow, I guess I kind of went off on a little rant right there didn’t I? Sorry about that! What was I going to do again? Oh! Right! I was going to tell you who and what I am! I totally forgot! Hahah, sorry about that.
Anyway, like I said before, my name is Tipa. And I’m a laptop. Yup, that’s right! I’m a laptop! My user is a girl named Piper, she got me for Christmas last year and has been using me almost CONSTANTLY ever since she did. And.. I mean… I like that she’s fond of me and that I haven’t just sat forgotten in a closet somewhere or something. But it’s also kind of annoying how much she uses me.
She uses me a lot of the time to write all of her stories, essays, reports, emails, and everything in-between. And she does so by using what she calls my “keyboard”. However, what she doesn’t really know is that the so-called keyboard she’s constantly smashing to write things out is really my FACE!
Yup. That’s right. The keyboard that I’m sure many of you use to write all the time, is the face of your computer. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you’re all thinking that you probably thought the screen or the webcam was the “face” of your computer. But you’d be wrong. I’m not going to explain the logistics of it to you, that’s just the way it is okay? Nope! I don’t care if you want to argue with me, I’m not doing it!
Anyways, other than the fact that by using me Piper’s banging on my face, and that I’m used nearly thirteen to fourteen hours out of the day, I really like being a laptop! I get to visit all the websites that Piper does and a lot of the time I can learn some really cool stuff from it! Especially when she’s researching stuff for her school papers! I also get to know all of her friends, which I know sounds kind of weird… I mean, kind of like I’m stalking her… Which I’m not! I swear that I’m not! But I still like it anyway!
Well, I think that’s all I have to say about my life as a laptop! I hope you all enjoyed hearing about it, and maybe will treat your keyboards a little nicer after all this!
Bye for now!
- Tipa

Lark's non-school writing for the month will hopefully probably go here!

In-cabin event, Mar 1:
Lark had been isolated from the villages and towns of this great land for most of their young life- though only because she'd never known of their existence. She'd lived in the remote mountains that surrounded the area, along with the rest of their secluded group members, happy and content with their life. But only because she'd never before left it. A member of a partly avian, partly humanoid species, their wings hadn't ever carried them outside of the peaks they'd lived upon. After losing their way in a horrid storm- though part of it might have been that they'd been spotting shapes in the clouds instead of navigating- Lark landed among the adventurers. With their awful sense of direction, they may have lost their way, but they'd found something they were certainly looking forward to. Though utterly unequipped for adventure, having brought nothing along but the cloak and feathers on their back, the sight of so many similar spirits heartened the winged traveller. Despite the fact that they seemed to have lost sight of the trio that had greeted them, they couldn't help but beam at all those assembled.

Main cabin daily, Mar 2:

A shout from nearby, overlapping cries and conversations pouring out from the building along with the children who caused them. Had I been able to sigh, I certainly would have, but as I was unfortunately incapable, I resigned myself to my silence. This was a constant of my existence- the children that flooded and invaded the quiet afternoons. Despite their height- or rather, lack of it- they certainly managed to climb all over myself and my colleagues. I could comfort myself with the reassurance that no matter how quickly they spun me around, at least I'd never be like Totter. Poor guy. They'd try to fit as many of them as they could atop his opposite sides, and then push off the ground, so half of him would be in the air, and half would thud into the ground. It was disturbing, actually, how they could be so amused with their actions. It was if they didn't care anything for steadfast ol' Totter, as if he was nothing more than some piece of equipment on their personal playground. The audacity those youths had amazed and terrified me. And then, out of the corner of my vision, a grubby-faced, sticky-handed little one scurried towards me, a fearful glint in his eyes. He was soon joined by his companion, who appeared to have recently fallen in a mud puddle. Well. This should be nothing if not interesting. The second one's voice squeaked out a couple sentences, chirping in a manner most grating, “C'mon, c'mon, hurry up! You're a slug, how're we ever gonna go fast on the merry-go-round if you're this slow?” Ah. My name had been spoken. Sometimes I wished I'd been given a more unique name. It seemed to be tossed around in schoolyard conversations somewhat often, as not only a name for others, but as an action that happened occasionally, a sort of little ceremony. Marriage, they called it, though I had no idea why they'd chosen to reference my name in it. If anything, most of the ceremonies were performed in the grassy little clearing on the other side of the grounds. Still. Merry was the name I'd been given, and there was certainly nothing I could do about it now, after all these years. (377 words )

Rps and lil slice of current life:

Chirps, the click of keyboard keys as I type. Birdsong from an unseen bird behind me. A response, from a nearer tree. They talk for a while, back and forth. I continue to type. My foot's asleep, which is no real surprise. I stretch my hands above my head, having been typing for rather longer than I'd care to admit with so little to show for it. There's a part of me that wants to settle down and simply enjoy the beautiful temperatures outside, removing the clacking chromebook from the equation. I've got a book- or rather, three- that I could be reading instead now. All on loan, and all that I want to finish soon. Not because I dislike them, though The Scarlet Letter has been rather wordy for my taste. Which is certainly saying something. If nothing else, it should make me a little bit more secure and content with my own rambling style- because even if it's not the greatest, at least it's not this descriptive! Of course, there's a certain appeal to reading such beautifully crafted prose. Pick any page from this worn paperback, and you'll certainly have a quote deserving to be framed. And so I do feel rather guilt-ridden to be so blase about my impatience with the writing. Especially as plot begins to occur, I've tried to repress my judgements and opinions on this book, as I know I really should wait until it ends before I become set in my thoughts. The dried leaves of a leaving autumn crackle beneath me, as I bounce my now awakened leg on the ground and continue to type. A breeze flutters hurriedly by, and my hair falls in front of my face. Pushing it back with one hand, I readjust positions and face what's the beginnings of a purpley blue sunset. The clouds are a grayed periwinkle, and I note, with some amusement, that one of them resembles a t-bone steak. “Yeah, our big brother,” Burnetrose agreed. Though he couldn't see the emotion in Bunnyblitz's eyes from the position he was in, Burnetrose nonetheless felt the need to clarify the circumstances surrounding Bubblecatcher. “ I don't actually know where he is right now. And nobody's seen him for a while. But I'm sure he'll come back to Thunderclan eventually. Everybody does, usually.” And the memories of those who'd disappeared and returned flashed through his thoughts. There was Tarantulahunter, taken by twolegs, Babblingbrook, the same, Dustflurry and others. Even he himself had disappeared for a couple days, stuck in a cave when the patrol had gone wrong. These were what he tried to focus on, to comfort himself and to ward away the thought that it was also entirely possible Bubblecatcher was gone forever. “Oh, fun!” Burnetrose said, no judgement or sarcasm in his voice as he replied. Activities that some might consider childish were also the prefered pastimes of his littermate Bris, as well as his closest friend. So he'd become pretty used to warriors doing seemingly purposeless things simply because they were fun. “You think that guy's gonna win?” He asked, gesturing towards the one in the lead. (523 words)

Mar 6th:

As the billows of the sea crashed upon the beach, the duo made eye contact, knowing that this would likely be the defining moment of both their lives.
Seamus reached out a hand to his partner, and Franklin took it, his nervousness evident on his freckled face.
As their fingers intertwined, naturally as plants and trees curl round each other, all the unspoken words between them built a wall of silence. And neither said anything, not for a couple moments. But the emotions in their expressions spoke for themselves.
Seamus' cerulean eyes matched the shade of the water behind him- his namesake- and, in likeness with the ocean, they began to water, tears rolling down his face while the waves rolled in. Wiping them away with his free hand, his voice could hardly be heard when he promised, “It's for the best, Franky.”
“I know, I really do. But that doesn't make it any less difficult, leaving Gram.” Out of all his family members, Franklin was only ever close to his maternal grandmother, “Gram,” who also happened to be the only one in the village that had known about his relationship with Seamus. And though she'd given her blessing when they'd told her of their plans to run away together, the thought that he might never see her again was certainly a painful one.
Exhaling slowly, Seamus nodded, acknowledging Franklin's concerns. “Absolutely. But… we've gone over this. If anyone else ever found out, you know what would happen. It's just not safe.” His voice was soft, and he cradled his partner's hand as gently as if it was a baby bird.
After nearly a year of hiding their relationship from almost everyone, as they finished their apprenticeships, they finally had the skills and the resources to make a new life for themselves someplace else.
Both of them then looked towards the water, upon which rocked the boat that'd carry them away. They were going to flee their town, and their lives would be forever changed.
(334 words)

Replies-

Burnetrose wove through the darkened forest, his senses dulled by the lack of light, and his own lack of sleep. Well, he really should have been sleeping, but he was feeling ever so slightly rebellious. Having been absolutely wholeheartedly dedicated to his clan throughout the day, Burnetrose had decided to just take the night off, and forgo sleep in hopes of stargazing. Was this a bad plan for the tom, who almost always got his 8 hours of sleep? Probably, and Burnetrose wasn't so foolish as to assume he wouldn't pay the price for his sleepless night later- he'd certainly be tired, and he might even nap. But he'd shrugged those thoughts away as he padded towards the beach, lost in his admiration and navigation of his surroundings. (128 words)
“Thanks.” he responded simply, his silence occurring as he debated whether or not he should talk about it. Would it likely be sad? Certainly, but perhaps the experience could be cathartic. That being said, as someone who tended to usually avoid these sorts of conversations, talking so openly about his own grief was rather far out of Burnetrose's comfort zone. Deciding against it, he made sure to add, “But I really do appreciate it, Bunnyblitz. Don't tell your littermates, but you're my favorite
sibling from your litter.” Though his tone was light-hearted, he truly was closest to Bunnyblitz, besides his own littermates. Made him feel like a better big brother, being able to have this sort of encouraging, sort of mentoring brother conversations, actually. (124 words)

Having had no strong opinion on this topic to begin with, once Lark had seen nearly everyone else pick the mountain route, and once she'd realised the 30 minutes she'd spent biking with her family counted towards that, she decided to cast her vote for the mountain route. (47 words)

Mar 7th daily:

Burnetrose's biggest fear is probably having some crisis strike Thunderclan in which he's entirely unable to help, a crisis that results in the deaths of his clanmates, family, and friends. This seems rather unlikely, of course, even to his anxious brain, but he's had nightmares where that happens on a smaller scale- family members getting sick, and him not knowing any herbs, or knowing anything that could end up helping them. To have a sort of clanwide event such as a plague or fire, however, ranks far above even his worst nightmare, and is really something he hopes he never has to deal with or consider.

One life changing event to Burnetrose would likely be the deaths of his mom and dad. Though their deaths happened at entirely different points in Burnetrose's life, they both impacted him in ways that left still feeling their effects even in the present day. His mother's passing, the event I'll be discussing, occurred just after he'd become a warrior, as she gave birth to his younger siblings. This left him hesitant and concerned about other family members then having kits. Though this fear was mostly appeased after Babblingbrook gave birth safely, he's still a little more wary and anxious about birth than a normal cat.

If Burnetrose could receive his deepest desire (guaranteed safety for his family and friends), he'd do just about anything. But when it came to betraying a friend, it'd really depend on the circumstances. The first variable would be which friend? One of his closest, like Bristledream, Tarantulahunter, or Bunnyblitz? Or someone he's a little more distant from but still likes, like Chiaspeckle or Buttercuphaven? And to what degree would the betrayal be? Would he exile them from Thunderclan, turn everyone against them? If so, it'd have to be a pretty distant friend. Or would he simply be exposing that they were the one who took the last rabbit from the fresh-kill pile? In which case, he'd probably betray anybody.

Burnetrose's greatest weakness would probably be his own insecurity and self-doubt. Though he'd like to achieve great things, be an extremely outgoing and sociable conversationalist, sometimes his worries about not being good enough prevent him from ever trying. He doesn't like negatively emotional conversations because he's concerned that others will judge him, or perceive him as weak. This has gotten slightly better as he's stayed in a very supportive environment, but nonetheless affects lots of his major decisions. Still, if he doubts every choice he has to make, lots of times he'll end up stressing himself out to the point of not picking a choice, or picking the worse choice. This also leads him to be highly influenced by the opinions of others, which is its own can of worms.

(total of 460 words )


Attempting the 1rst weekly:

Sprung (haiku)-
Warmth returns to us
Flowers poke up from green grass
Seasons turn to spring
(14 words)

Bright Lights (tongue twister)-
Lovely lights lighten bright nights til the lonely fight admits it's not right.
(13 words)

(insert real name of friend who I'm referring to as title :'D) (acrostic)-
she's my favourite person,
to text or to talk to.
reading all the same books.
at summer camp, years ago,
we met, were mistaken as sisters
because we never left
each other's sides,
royalty of our own magical land
running around, runaway imaginations.
youth camp's over, we're still close

best friends since then,
laughing and listening.
of course i
never expected i would
develop feelings for her.
expectations proved incorrect
(70 words)

Ballad of the confrontation (working title :'D) (ballad)-

Her steps quicken, her worry grows.
Shadows of dying trees loom.
The moon creeps behind clouds,
only adding to the midnight gloom.

She's nearing the end of the wood,
when from behind sounds a growl.
A horrid, snarling noise,
surely that of a monster on prowl.

Fear overtakes her, shakes her,
til she's broken into a run.
A yell, a scream, a call for help,
never heard, answered by anyone.

Spunky, they'd said, full of spirit.
Yet a spirit she'd possibly become.
Left alone to herself with this beast.
Left to perish all by her lonesome.

If she could only outrun it longer,
just a couple minutes more and then.
She'd finally leave this cursed forest,
escaping all that's trapped within.

But misfortune struck its' fatal chisel
against the carvings of her fate.
A misplaced step sent her to tumble,
now nearing the afterlife's gate.

The wolf caught up far too quickly,
an awfully merciless glint in its eyes.
Scrambling, stumbling, she nearly stood.
She's set this won't be how she dies.

The monster's there already, watching.
As she tries to get to her feet.
It's entirely futile, it's hovering over her,
and clearly considering the best way to eat.

It didn't prepare, however, for her preparation.
In moments of the very last resort.
When from her boot unsheathed a blade,
whose silver edge became her retort.

(227 words)

(etheree)-
The round, unblemished face of babyhood
The first steps of a wobbling toddler
The start of learning and school
The eventual end to that
The possible start of family
The new memories
The cherished time
The years pass
The life
gone
(41 words)

Mar 8th daily:

A 408 word continuation of Finley's story here ( https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/349594/ ) :

“Oh?” Reka replied, no hesitancy in her voice. “Well, that's a shame! He's got so many fascinating stories, if you're willing to look past his utter hatred for everything that's ever happened to him- not that it's entirely undeserved hatred, of course! I'd be pretty angry at the world if I'd been attacked by a giant squid too.”

She finished her teasing ramble with a shrug, having spoken with Rip and I as if she'd known us forever.

It was a bit startling, her unprompted friendliness, but I found myself smiling at her words nonetheless.

Yet before I could reply, Wode spoke up. “No need to share that specific story, Reka. Wouldn't want the kiddos to think I was a softie in my youth.”

From beside me, I heard Rip chuckle, and once more I realised I'd missed my opportunity to reply as he said, “Wode? Soft? Never!” And though the sarcasm in his voice was heavy, I found my heart strangely lightened by the cheerful interaction occurring around me.

However, just as Rip was sitting down on the pier, and I crouching down to join him and Reka, a great wave crashed into the floating docks, knocking all of us off balance.

Though we all managed to stay on the pier, I noticed that Reka's expression had changed.

She seemed uneasy, and there was an emotion I took to be concern shining in her eyes. I found myself looking at her for a couple moments, realising how her eye color matched the strands of kelp in her hair, and noticing only now the faint freckles that dotted her face.

If Reka saw me, she didn't say anything about it, though she was the first one to break the lull in conversation as she said, hurriedly, “I've got to go. I'm sorry, you all seem wonderful. But… I've… well, I've got to go.”

Her previous confidence and wit appeared to have been washed away with the wave, offering only a fumbling apology as she dove back into the water.
In mere moments she was out of sight, likely unable to hear my far-too-late, “Bye.”

But Rip certainly heard it, and he turned towards me, his head tilted slightly to the side inquisitively. “Where do you think she's off to in such a hurry?”
I had no idea. As quickly as she'd appeared, Reka had vanished, her fleeting appearance only adding to the aura of unique mystery she possessed.

Unfinished writing sample-
The Provrammes: Long before the story begins but long after the reader has died, Earth turned fully to nuclear power following the less-fatal than expected explosion of their sun. One of these plants suffered a catastrophic reaction, making most of North America uninhabitable, and killing billions. The few people left spread apart from one another to make the most of the limited resources. Most of language slowly died, with people focused basic survival, and keeping only the necessary words. In time, however, a skilled group of people managed to settle in what was Italy, fixing the hydroelectric power grid scattered up and down the coast, and effectively starting a new society. They began as a group of 15, but as power was restored to the areas, other people migrated there. Eventually, a government was formed, and cities and towns. For a while, all was well, but as the amount of people there increased, the resources in habitable areas became more and more of a scarcity. One of the founders of the town, Penziel Tomartle, had gotten old, and they wanted to improve their society, make themself memorable. They were unsure how to do this, but then they found a sheet of proverbs and a dictionary. So they created the Provrammes, named as a combination of proverbs and programmes. It was a variety of difficult game shows based off literal interpretations of common proverbs, (say, money doesn't grow on trees, or people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones) that award large amounts of money to the winners. Penziel became a popular and revered figure among the people. But then things got worse. As the government lost money, they printed more, and soon inflation took hold. Money became almost worthless, and the government seemed nearly powerless. Anarchy seemed to loom. But Penziel, sensing an opportunity, made an offer to the government. They proposed to completely do away with the old currency, and instead create a new one, one which was much scarcer, and that was distributed mainly through the Provrammes. This also gave Penziel and their cooperation much more power. The government realised Penziel's influence, and took this as their lifeline, accepting the deal.
For a while, this worked surprisingly well. Everyone got a couple Martles to spend on luxury items, as food, power, and housing were given free by the government, but everything else had a cost. Most people's lives revolved around the Provrammes, then, as that was the only way to get more Martles. They'd purchase something valuable from the past world to watch them on, perhaps a TV or a tablet, but the more affordable option was to go see the games. Located on the very tip of the peninsula was the Provram studio, where all of them were produced. Hoping to get lucky and be picked from the audience, people watched the Provrammes as frequently as they could afford. And all was well, even if some of the people who lived there felt a lingering sense of discontent- could their only purpose be to win the Provrammes and/or start a family? Then Penziel and most of their leadership team died, under suspicious circumstances, and the leadership of the Provrammes passed to one corrupt leader.