March 3rd, 2022
488 words

Words: Abstract, Fluffy, Lotion

The façade always falls when I walk into my room. Every time. The moment I step foot onto those beautifully soft fleecy carpets, the tug of velvet brushing against my toes, the world fades away behind me. I am no longer the polished millionaire, but the exhausted isolated civilian who longs for the feeling of hedonism after another day of crowd-pleasing. The scent of a lavish dose of a special concoction of lavender salve, slowly wafting from the bottle, calms me considerably as I lazily shut the door and collapse into the layers of cottony rugs.

Many days, I take some time to sit on my bed, strip off all the jewelry and uncomfortable jackets that I wear for my public image. Some days, I’ll lie down completely, staring at the abstract, imperfect paintings on the ceiling as I ponder my life. Some days, I’ll grab my headphones and listen to whatever song that the application decides to play. Sometimes it helps, but often the lyrics just make the feeling of isolation worse.

My entire life, I’ve constantly demonstrated that I don’t need anyone to be close to me. Not a friend, not a partner. . . not a parent or a relative. My parents never cared much about me anyway – they had preferred a son – but that’s too painful for me to think about. Anyway, I proved them wrong. I studied and I went to university, and I escaped my parents – and with them, the poverty and provincial attitude they’d been living with. I lived the dream, growing my company and moving to one of the biggest cities in the world. I’m still living it.

And yet, despite all of this, I hold an odd longing deep in my chest – a longing for validation, a longing for someone I could talk to. Sometimes, if I close my eyes, I imagine them sitting next to me, a source of light and warmth that has never been available to me.

My staff are loyal, but I distance myself too much from them to call any of them friends. I’m the model of wealth, the perfect face of unique beauty, the role model for all those little girls who, throughout my career, I’ve been able to tell that they don’t need anyone else either. I’ve received letters and praise, acclamations and standing ovations. But what I long for most – a caring voice, a light squeeze of the hand, someone to stand by me in the hardest times.

I know that the way I’ve lived my life has likely shaped my destiny. Alone, forever. But it’s in moment like these, with the scent of lavender in the air and the abstract paintings that make me rethink the meaning of artistry, that I try and take the time to dream. I dread waking up, but the real world holds opportunities too. Who knows – maybe the right person is still out there, waiting.

1st Weekly

Part 1

Flowers (Haiku)
Petals open up
The breezy air whistles again
Wow, so beautiful

Mystery (Acrostic)
Monasteries
You are involved
Strong
The best cabin ever
Everyone learns karate
Run and run for practice
Young children learn to write

Bilbo Baggins (Cinquain)
Bilbo
Discovery
Wants Gandalf by his side
Always on tons of adventures
Stubborn

School (Free Verse)
School makes me want to sing
The morning bell chimes ding ding ding
I can’t wait to start the day
But I want to write even more

Sometimes words trick me
But I wait for recess to start
So I can run
And run
And run

Then comes reading
My personal favorite
Hours and hours
Of sitting in a corner
Reading and reading
Forever and ever.

But I still am waiting
for SWC to come
All the weeklies make me drool
The sun shines through
My windowsill

But still I am at school
Biting my nails
While the rest of my class
Learns 2x2

I cannot bear
To listen
At the back
Of the room

My classmates are dumb
They stay at the back
While I push my way through
doing long division

I can’t stand being next to them
I want SWC
Where people are older than me
And understand more

My peers stick around
They are all such fools
The bell rings
And that’s a ticket back home

I slam the car door
I scream at my dad
I say ‘I WANT TO GET BACK!’

At home I sit
Doing dailies and weeklies
And admiring the creators of scratch
The world is peaceful once again
And I can go back to typing and typing

Stairs (Calligram)
……………………………….I try to climb
…….…….……………up the stairs, but
…….…….……they never let me there
…….…..the stairs are meanies, they trip
……me over, I cannot stand a chance

300 (Exact) Words

Part 2

Time limit is a waste of time. It can make your child crave the online worlds even more. Having time limit can help reduce bad eyesight. An iPad or Macbook is the best choice for a device, though chromebooks and dell laptops are quite compact.

(wip)

Hot chocolate, rain, pencil shavings is what I got

Word Count: 536/400

I never really felt like I fit in, so there I sat, silently and alone, I was sipping my freshly made peppermint hot chocolate at my desk. I would have been outside practicing basketball or lacrosse, but it was raining. I could hear the tap-tap on the roof from the rain. I took another sip of my delicious hot chocolate, wondering what to do since I had just finished my SWC daily for the day before. I looked at my watch, It's 5:37. I thought to myself. I thought about ideas of what I could do before it turned to midnight UTC. I could write poems, I thought to myself. Maybe listen to music? I suggested silently. I had no idea what to do. Then, I decided I would work on a poem. I got out some scratch paper and a sharp pencil. I was about to write when it broke. I sighed then found a sharpener in my cluttered desk. The top was blue and the bottom was a see-through blue. I laughed and thought about the first time I used this pencil sharpener, in first grade. I had just moved to I didn't know I needed a pencil sharpener. My teacher, Ms. Young, had given it to me. I quickly acknowledged what I was doing and sharpened the pencil. When I was done sharpening, I realized the sharpener was just about full. I sighed again, as it seemed that everything was stopping me from writing this poem. I got up from my desk and went to the trash can on the other side of my room. I then sat back down at my desk, trying to come up with ideas. I remembered reading poems when I was about four and thought about how I didn't usually understand them. I then decided I wanted to make a piece of art to go with the poem. I wanted everyone to know what it was about and understand its meaning and what I'm describing. I grabbed an empty pack for supplies and went downstairs to the art room with the pack. I swiftly descended down the flight of stairs. When I reached the bottom, I went through the kitchen, smelling the fresh aroma of my mom's recent batch of snickerdoodles. I stopped to smell them. I then remembered what I was here for. I went through the living room to the art room. When I got there I filled the pack up with markers, pens, colored pencils, chalk, and all kinds of other things. I then went back up to my room. When I got there I thought to myself, Finally, I have everything I need to begin. And begin I did. I wrote a poem about the stars, and how they all look the same, but are so different in reality. In the picture I drew wild shapes of what I though the stars looked like. They were beautiful. Just like the clouds on a rainy day, today being that day. When I finished, i grabbed some tape and hung them up side by side on the wall just above my bed. They looked like they belong, as did I.

Daily # 2: Unexpected Flavours by Blush
Words: 526
Sunlight, Peppermint, Shattered glass

I just got the highest score in my school on a maths contest, and my dad decided to treat me with a trip to the ice cream shop. There’s a new one that opened down the alley recently, it’s called “Unexpected Flavours”. I’ve been dying to go there, although the reviews state that they have peculiar flavours. Honestly, how uncanny can they be? It’s just ice cream.

As I sprint out the door with the $50 bill that my father had given me, my long brown hair sways side-to-side from my quickened pace. My cheeks are already rosey red by the time I reach the ice cream shop as the weather is in the negatives today - not really my cup of tea. Yes, you may be wondering, “Who eats ice cream in winter?!”.. Well, I guess you just found one person!

I open the door of the store, to find a sudden aroma of something unusual flooding my nostrils. I shrug it off, and make my way to the counter to make my order. Looking at the flavours, a lot of them had weird names; I thought it was because it correlated to the colour. I ordered three scoops of ice cream: sunlight, peppermint, and shattered glass.

I went over to a nearby table, and picked at my ice cream. First was peppermint. I carefully put a spoon of what looked like a mixture of red and green icing into my mouth. Agh.. it tasted exactly like my toothpaste, but even more minty! I mean, I may have overreacted, but who goes to an ice cream shop to eat a spicy flavour.. Isn’t ice cream supposed to be sweet? I began to question what ice cream shop would sell such a flavour, but my curiosity made me hungry once more.

I put my spoon back into my cup of ice cream, and grabbed a scoop full of the next ice cream flavour. Looking at the pale whitish yellow tint, I assumed that it was probably vanilla or something. As I placed the ice cream in my mouth, I began to feel sharp pains and pokes all along my tongue! Woah.. that really was shattered glass. Not having hope that the last flavour would be adequate, I dove in once more.

This time, my spoon was filled with ice cream that has a bright yellow tint - just like the blazing sun outside. Just holding the spoon in my hand gave me warmth, but that was nothing compared to the feeling I felt when I tasted this delicious comfort. In my mouth, the ice cream completely dissolved, and my body began to feel more toasty. I could feel myself rising into the air (metaphorically), and I shined like a star. I thought to myself that maybe this ice cream shop wasn’t bad at all.

It was just that people judged it based on its names and flavours, that the true experience of taste was gone. I am glad that I chose those 3 flavours, because I learned a valuable lesson. Always give a chance for weirdly named things, as they will prove you wrong 100% of the time.

Decided to change my log to hyperlinks, so here is my 3/2 daily:

As a white plain drawer, it is very lonely. During the night, all the lights are turned off, making it very impossible to see. The human in my room, who I think her name is Penny, snores very – and I mean very loudly, making it hard to have peace and quiet. During these long eight hours, I try to relax, but when I do, a loud, sudden snore knocks me right out of it. Can you even wonder how irritating this is? Spending a third of a day having absolutely nothing to do except for listening to snoring?
When the sun rises, I know it is another long day. This Penny girl opens the window. At least now there is some light. She brushes her teeth in the bathroom next door, combs her long, silky hair, and puts on some clothes from my brother, Thomas. He is way older and bigger than me. Soon, after smelling a breath of the air, the human goes out the door. She goes somewhere, which I think she calls “school”, for a long time. A bit of time to sleep and have some quiet.
When the girl returns from “school” and comes into her room, she goes to Thomas, and changes her current clothes to another pair. Then, she grabs some paper, books, and folders with random scribbles and symbols. She walks towards me as usual, and tugs on my lowest arm. It didn’t budge.
“Open,” she hissed. Finally, with a few more tugs, it pops open, and puts some of the paper one book and folder into it. She shoves the drawer back. Ouch. It hurts, okay? She repeated this a few more times, though she only puts a book and folder in the top, still carrying a couple papers. She puts the remaining papers on Gabriel, my cousin, and starts writing.
After 30 minutes of doodling stuff on the papers on Gabriel, she tugs on my top arm and grabbed the folder. After putting the papers in the folder, she opened the next arm and grabbed papers out of that one. This time it took 45 minutes before coming back and opening the next one.
By the time she is done with the things for the bottom arm, the sky is beginning to dim, though just slightly. She leaves the room but leaves the door open. I wonder what is beyond this room…
After a couple of hours, which I finally can get some rest, the girl comes back, and the sky is dark. She turns on the lights and brushes her teeth again, and then turns the light off. After that, she comes to her bed and lies down. Ten minutes later, I heard a snore. And the cycle repeats.

Daily 3-2-22: write from an inanimate object’s perspective.

After ages of silence I finally hear fast footsteps running upstairs. The digital alarm clock on her nightstand reads 9:27. It must be her bedtime. Knowing her, she’ll probably stay up until around 11:00 or so reading. She changes into her pajamas: a comfy loose t-shirt and shorts that look similar to sweatpants, and plops onto her comfy bed with me. I’ve known her since the day she was born. Ever since I saw a pregnant woman, walking around Toys-R-Us and she looked at me and placed me in her metal cart with a smile, her home has been mine, and her daughter would be my best friend for life. She walks over to the string lights and pushes the button. A peaceful yellow twinkling glow comes over the room, like bright fireflies covering the dark night sky. She pulls out a book and begins reading, absorbed into a whole other world. After a few minutes loud footsteps that slightly shake the items on her dresser rapidly come closer. She flinches, disrupted from her world and instantly hides her book under her pillow and imitates a sleeping sound. Her father walks in, and either falls for her fake sleep, or doesn’t bother to tell her to. He walks over and puts the blankets on and closes the door as slow as he can, then walks back to his room, again shaking the dresser. This time, she doesn’t bother to get her book back out again, and I watch her eyelids sink, slowly but surely falling asleep, the string-light’s glow still filling the room.

daily 3/3/22 - 422 words
from @Snuggle1267 - mint chocolate chip, unicorn sparkle, and snowflake


She tapped experimentally on the strange picture that had appeared in her room. She was normally very particular about her belongings being placed in a specific order, so, naturally, she had noticed immediately when this photo was out of place. She paused for a moment, waiting for something, anything, really, to happen, but there was only silence. “But it can't just be an ordinary picture!” she exclaimed sadly. She scanned her entirely pink room, looking at each item individually, hoping to notice something missing, or a clue of sorts. Finding nothing, she began to wonder why anyone would put an ordinary photo in her room, especially since everyone knew how picky she was about her decorations. It didn't even match her pink theme! She gazed at the picture, at the snowy hills, the gently falling snow, and the unicorn in the center. A unicorn with a strangely curved, cotton candy-colored horn. Something seemed familiar about this particular unicorn, but she couldn't figure out what… She sighed resignedly, ready to give up, when the painting began to ripple strangely. The image distorted, and she felt a strong, chilly breeze pulling her towards the picture. “But….that's impossible!” she stammered. She blinked several times, making sure she wasn't imagining her situation. But no…it was real! She took a deep breath, catching a faint scent of…was that mint chocolate chip? When she opened her mouth, a delicate snowflake landed on her tongue, and she savored its sweet, minty taste as it melted away. However, something was still bothering her… “wait…snow shouldn't have any flavor! It certainly shouldn't be minty!” Her attention was diverted, though, from the confusing snow as she glimpsed something glittering in the distance. She cautiously edged forward, curious as to what this strange object or person could be. Staring in silence, it took her a few seconds to comprehend what she was seeing, and a few more to understand why this scene seemed so familiar. Then she realized. The majestic creature before her was a sparkling unicorn, the very same one from the photo! She would have recognized the horn anywhere. The unicorn gazed wisely at her, and without it speaking, she realized that it was communicating to her that this was not where she belonged. She was meddling in affairs she didn't, couldn't, comprehend. The girl was brought nearly to tears by the calm, quiet understanding that she showed, dipping her head towards the unicorn in respect, as a pink glitter vortex spiraled out of the unicorn's horn, slowly dragging her home.

this was yesterday's but i decided to do hyperlinks so…

If the real-fi academy were an actual academy, in it I would like to have fun socializing with others. The academy should be organized, so it is easy to get from class to class, and in those classes, I would also like to learn awesome things that I would have never imagined! The library would have books to help us learn the things that we are learning, and extra books just for fun reading! I would like many clubs, such as a newspaper club, sports clubs, and subject clubs to have fun. The newspaper club could be once a week, giving information about what is going on. The sports club can have soccer, tennis, basketball, and other sports. The subject clubs could have writing clubs (duh lol), math clubs, science clubs, and reading clubs. Some events could include celebrations for holidays, a talent show, art competitions, and science fairs. A student council should lead and choose all of this, because they know what their age group would like.
Now with the activities done, let’s move on to equipment! In the library, comfy chairs and desks, bean bags, sofas, and other things to sit and read on would be nice. In each class, chairs with desks for students, and a separate desk for the teacher. (Lol I am basically coping with the basic structure of a classroom here.) A chalkboard, whiteboard, and/or a screen projector would help with showing what they are learning. In specific classes, for example, in art class, you might need canvases and paint brushes, paper and pencils, and more. And it isn’t only electives like art class. In science class, you may need to experiment with tools. For the cafeteria, it should have tables of some chair amounts, and have a lunch bar thing (I forgot the name) on the side or center of the room. The gym should be big and have equipment for activities to do. For example, hurdles for hurdles (lol).

Daily for Twinvincible (Hi-Fi)
#2
Words:511

As I walk through the soft rain of Paraguay, I remember an interesting ice cream shop that had opened across the street from my town! I decided to walk inside, because on a 90-degree day ice cream is one of the most amazing things someone can have. As I walk into the shop, it smells like Heaven. There are normal ice cream flavors, peculiar ice cream flavors, and never-before-seen ice cream flavors! As I walked up to the counter, my eyes seemed glued onto three flavors. The three flavors were sour strawberrilicious, carnival chocolate crunch, and fantastically fun fruit punch. I was extremely excited to try all three, but then the owner of the shop told me if I ate all three in one cone I could have it all for free! The owner sure did know how to grab someone's attention.

As I walked past the tables to my spot to attempt the challenge, I spotted Blush attempting this challenge as well! They were attempting to eat sunlight, peppermint, and shattered glass. I was super surprised to see them attempting to eat shattered glass, because that seems like it would taste unpleasant. Moving on, as I got to my table Enrique brought the cone to my table. He also told me I have 10 minutes, and he said start.

I rushed through the first scoop of fruit punch with a strong mindset, I was positive I could do this if I tried. It tasted like nostalgia, truly it did. I remembered my childhood house filled with gallons of fruit punch for me to eat, it was and still is my favorite drink. After I finished that, I was told that I am four minutes into the challenge. I started to stress, and decided to move into the next scoop.

The second scoop was supposed to taste like a circus, but it was named chocolate because of the tiny little pictures of chocolate inside of it. There was red and white food dye to give the ice cream a carousel look. It tasted like red clown hair, and it was surprisingly appetizing. I was told I had finished that scoop in two minutes, and it was making me feel more confident than ever. I had four minutes to finish the cone and the last scoop.

It was absolutely divine, truly divine. It tasted like a strawberry jolly rancher combined with a green-apple caramel lollipop, I was addicted. I realized that I had lost connection to the outer world, and that if I was to finish this scoop, I had to completely focus on it. I scrambled to finish this last scoop and cone, and finished. I was terrified, as I was completely sure that I had not finished in the time frame. The television lit up with the time 9 minutes and 54 seconds. I had did it, I had beat Enrique's challenge. He awarded me with a spot on the hall of fame. Blush had also succeeded, which made me glitter with pride for them.

Today was a good day.

- twin <3

Main Cabin Daily (March 3rd)

Flavors (thanks to zparkly): he told me flavor; that the life of my dreams flavor; would be promised and someday be mine flavor lol

(I realize that the story is a quite different mood than the original lyric)

Before my older brother died, he was my idol. And he still is! I was only a small child then, but he adored me more than anything. I was his only sibling after all. My mother described me as adorable when I was a small child, so maybe he saw that in me too. But to me he was more than a big brother. He was a father figure. My father died a little before I was born and ever since then, my brother helped my mother care for me. He babysat me on weekends while my mom was at work, he drove me to school and picked me up (we lived in a small rural town), and even brought me out with his friends sometimes!
Life was all well until one day as he was driving to pick me up from school, he got into a fatal car crash. When my mom got the news, she rushed to the hospital. All she was thinking about was my brother, and she forgot that I was still at school (my best friend’s dad brought me home that day). But anyway, who could blame her? After the incident, my mother tried to pretend to be a-okay. After all, she had a 6-year-old to take care of.
One of my favorite memories of me and him was one I was five. We were walking to the park and he asked if I wanted to stop by the local ice cream shop. Me being a five-year-old with an extreme love of ice cream, I shouted yes, excited. He laughed and said, “Ok buddy, let’s get you some ice cream.”
I remember the next part very vividly. We got to the ice cream shop and my brother said to pick a seat. I sat down at a circle table with 2 high spinny stools. My brother helped me up on the chair. The parlor was bright pastel pinks, blues, and yellows. The walls were striped vertically and the room was small. Only enough to fit 4 tables and a counter. There was a door in the back of the room but I never wondered much. My brother got me my ice cream (he knew which one I was going to pick Superhero Life Power, the parlor’s twist to Superhero) and sat down. He told me, “Jayden, I would like you to know that if you ever have a dream, a goal in life, reach for it. Reach for the stars. I promise you that you will have the life of your dreams. It will be yours. Make sure, at all costs, no one ruins your dreams, your hopes, your pleasures.”

(445 words)

Daily - March 3

TW - Mentions of suicide


I woke up to the smell of freshly baked banana cream pie. The smell wafted up the stairs, and drifted into my room. I opened my eyes and tears formed in the corners of them as soon as I recognized the scent. It was the scent of the pie my girlfriend got me on our first date. I left my bedroom. As I stepped off the last stair, I froze. I saw roses on the counter, delicately sitting next to a note wrapped in a purple ribbon. I slowly got up the courage to walk over to the counter. Before picking up the note, I placed my hands on the white marble, steadying myself. I felt a little dizzy. With trembling hands, I picked up the note and untied the pretty ribbon. I set it down and slowly unrolled the handsized scroll. Scrawled on the yellowish paper, in neat handwriting were the words, “I’m sorry mi amor. I have to. If you were me, feeling what I am, you would understand. The light has gone out of this world. You are the only thing that makes me feel, even a little, alive.” I dropped the note. Gravity pulled it to the floor. I watched it drift back and forth, before settling on the cool tile. Only then did I let myself fall apart. Sobs racked through my body. I don’t know how long I was lying there. The world seemed to disappear, time leaving with it. I finally pulled myself together. Before finishing the note, I went to the bathroom sink, and turned on the cold water. I washed the tear stains away, and dried my skin off. I placed my hands on the counter, and looked into the mirror. The paleskined girl I saw standing there looked almost…. happy. If only mirrors could show what we felt like. Then I would be half monster, and half a cold blurry mess of grief and guilt. I walked back into the kitchen, on trembling legs. I sat on the floor, my back braced against the cabinet. I picked up the note. “You make me smile and laugh, but then I go home, and you're not there. I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. I don’t feel sad or angry or scared anymore. I just feel numb, lost, broken, and worthless. Please don’t blame yourself Scarlett. It wasn’t your fault. I would feel awful if you tore yourself apart because of this. I’m not worth it, my love.
Love you forever and always,
Alejandra”
After I got over my tears, and new grief, I wondered who brought all the things that used to mean something to us.

(446 words) (Dystopian)

Daily March 3rd
——————–
425
book smell, dusty shelves, coconut cinnamon candle

“Do you want to go to Magic Cone after school today?” Ashlyn asked as I was pulling my biology books out of my locker. I paused for a second before saying, “ Not really, but if you want we could just walk around the shop area if you want.” Ashlyn gave me a quizzical look before letting out a small chuckle and saying “Why? Come on, Dylan works there on Wednesdays, don’t you wanna see him?” Dylan is Ashlyn’s boyfriend but they don’t have any of the same classes. I still don't know how they met but I still barely know Dylan. “C’mon Ash we’ve been going to the same place for seven years and they still haven’t changed any of the flavors, it’s kind of getting boring.” Ash finally agreed just before the bell rang and we separated and went to class.

The shopping area was very busy, full of little kids and other high schoolers who just got out of school. Me and Ash were allowed to go by ourselves when we were eleven and I remember how excited we were that we went into every shop. But today another shop was right between the bookstore and Magic Cone that I’ve never seen before. “Weren’t we here just last week? Where did this shop come from?” I say pointing at the big sign that said, “Store of Wonders” Ash laughed, “What kind of name is Store of Wonders?” We decided to see what's in it. At the door there was a wheel with different store types, “Books, Ice Cream, Grocery, Stationary, and many more, “This is weird” I said as I pointed the arrow at “Ice Cream”. As we stepped in the bell rang and a man wearing a white shirt and jeans he smiled but still didn’t say anything. This was starting to be scary. The man stood behind a counter, three ice cream flavors in front of him. “Book Smell”, “Dusty shelves”, “Coconut cinnamon candle” What kind of flavors are these? Ash spoke first, “I’ll have one scoop of book smell and dusty shelves!” She smiled and looked at me expectantly. “Um then I’ll have the coconut cinnamon candle” The man scooped two of the strange flavors and gave it to Ash and gave me a scoop of my strange candle? “How much?” I asked and finally the man spoke “ Free of charge to my first customers!” I took a small spoon of my ice cream, it was sweet at first until you took another bite and suddenly it felt like fire.

Table of Contents for my SWC Writing ^^

MC Daily - 03/01/22
IC Daily - 03/03/22
IC Daily - 03/09/22
MC Daily - 03/14/22
IC Daily - 03/21/22
IC Weekly - 03/23/22
MC Daily - 03/29/22
Writing Contest Entry

Part One: Poetry, 404 words
Write 300 words of poetry, comprising of at least 5 different types of poems.

Poem 1: Inutil (acrostic, 75 words)

Unable to be deemed worthy in the eyes of others, especially in yours’
Shameful acts deemed unmeaningful and pitiful without a thread of thought or concern
Extra negativity and continuous losses of hope as you try your hardest, but fail anyways
Lasting regrets and lasting heartaches all over a single mistake
Each threat one more painful burden to carry
Suffering from sarcastic phrases and an unfixable broken heart
Shielded from positivity even six feet under

Poem 2: Fire (tongue twister, 10 words)

Flame flickers fast for fearless fighters found fasting for Florida.

Poem 3: Fear of heights (haiku, 12 words)

Flame flickers beneath,
I hold my breath, nervous,
Hoping I don’t fall.

Poem 4: Old age (free verse, 207 words)

sorry for the weird topic; I couldn’t think of anything else hhh- and yes i know it’s cringy

Old age creeps up on you like a spider on its precarious, hairy legs.
It bites, like your sour memories, but it also helps, like your family whenever you ask for their support.
Like spiders, old age is despised by most people. Although everyone knows old age will eventually come, they ignore the signs until it’s too late.
But revolting in disgust?
They do not.
Screams of terror?
No as well.
Why?
The wisdom you gain is more precious than your childhood memories.
The disadvantages hurt too, but so what?
You are still you, no matter how different your face looks, your clothing style, or your choice of friends.
Because, in the end, your memories are still the same.
The same old fears,
Happiness,
And heartbreak.
The same old love,
Giddiness,
And rejection.
All of the sobbing,
Mistakes,
And horrors.
Inside, it’s still you.
The same toddler who couldn’t even walk.
The same moody teenager.
The same stressed adult.
So, why should becoming older scare you this much?
Your parents guided you,
The same as their parents guided them.
So, don’t be frozen in ultimate fear.
Instead, embrace the change with open arms.
Because life is full of change.
You just have to get used to it.

Poem 5: The Giver (pantoum, 100 words exactly)

Hidden from view
Lies covered by lies
Everything seems askew
As I gaze into your eyes

Lies covered by lies
Pain barely burdened
As I gaze into your eyes
The atmosphere feels uncertain

Pain barely burdened
Black and white colors as you know
The atmosphere feels uncertain
Other colors being to show

Black and white colors as you know
Murder!ng children for not being perfect
Other colors begin to show
Rejecting the world I’m starting to suspect

Murder!ng children for not being perfect
Truths start to unfold
Rejecting the world I’m starting to suspect
The air begins to turn cold

Part Two: Essays, 520 words
Write a 500 word essay about an unpolitical topic. Instead of typically writing 5 paragraphs, you only have to write 3: Introduction, 1 Body Paragraph (including at least 1 piece of evidence/reasoning), and 1 Conclusion. While writing, try to create an informational (that doesn't involve too much research) and convincing/persuasive.

You cover your mouth with your hand as you yawn and scroll through the Scratch homepage on your phone, scanning the screen intently and constantly dabbing water in your eyes to help keep you awake and stay focused on your task: Finishing a cabin war. After a few hours of this repeated activity, you are finally convinced that you should go to sleep now, despite having your parents telling you to go to bed at nine, and are eventually satisfied with your writing result. So, you drowsily turn your head towards your alarm clock to read the time and notice that it shockingly says that it is three in the morning! The more sessions that I am part of, the more that I am convinced that life is actually more important than Scratch Writing Camp, despite many popular opinions (Yes, I’m looking at you!). With the ever-growing cases of sleep deprived campers, procrastinating on work, increasing levels of stress, and other consequences dealing with health, this demonstrates the importance of focusing on your personal life instead of an unimportant online writing camp.

Sleep-deprived campers is a term you have most likely already heard of multiple times, especially during the months SWC hosts (March, July, and November), which is exactly why it should be stopped before it becomes a too extreme or too normal irregularity, especially as kids tend to follow others’ examples online. According to a website titled “Healthline”, sleep deprivation causes many negative effects, including feeling grumpy and fatigued, a weakened immune system (over time), not being able to stay focused, remembering/memory problems, and other drastic consequences, especially of those related to health problems. Less than seven hours of sleep can also cause you to be moody and drowsy, which can lead to accidents if you’re not too careful or paying attention. In addition, Healthline states that regularly sleeping for less than seven hours can stop your body from functioning like normal and other health problems. Furthermore, all of these consequences can cause you to be more stressed, especially if you’re staying up for cabin wars or to finish a weekly that’s due tomorrow.

The negative effects of sleep deprivation, also known as sleeping for less than the expected seven to nine hours, includes changes of mood (cranky, stressed, not focused, tired) and lots of health problems (a weakened immune system and trouble with remembering things, which all have a high chance of leading to dangerous accidents). As you can clearly see, these effects obviously outweigh the good (finishing a weekly or a cabin war) by a lot, and can cause devastating factors if not taken seriously. So, while staying up late to help defend your cabin from a cabin war may seem good in the first place, the bad outweighs the good by several reasons, all of which have a very high chance to lead to drastic health, mental, and other problems in the future. So, in the end, sleep deprivation, which was caused by an unimportant situation with no benefit except for pride, is way less important than risking having problems in real life as consequences.

Part Three: Script Writing, 765 words
Pick out an old piece of your own writing to adapt into a script. It should be about 800-1000 words long and have narration and dialogue. Then, think about how you'd adapt it into a script for a play and start writing a script based on it, at least 700 words long.


The backdrop and props depict a grand castle painted black. It gives off an eerie vibe that matches EDWARD standing in the room, his face stoic and his clothes midnight black.

GUARD 1 walks in from off-stage, stops in front of EDWARD and salutes.

GUARD 1
We found an intruder, sir.

EDWARD (irritated)
Bring them in, then.

GUARD 1 runs off-stage.

ROBIN walks in from off-stage, GUARD 2 and GUARD 3 holding her hands behind her back.

ROBIN (annoyed)
Get off me!

EDWARD laughs.

EDWARD
Well, well, what do we have here?

ROBIN glares at EDWARD before staring at the floor.

EDWARD starts tapping his foot against the floor impatiently.

EDWARD (impatient)
Well?

ROBIN
(Hesitates)
You already know.

EDWARD scoffs.

EDWARD
What do you-

EDWARD cuts himself off, a look of awe and confused shock on his face.

The lights dim, and EDWARD, ROBIN, GUARD 2 and GUARD 3 walk off-stage.



When the lights turn back on, YOUNG ROBIN and YOUNG EDWARD run in from off-stage, the props and set replaced with ones to look like a living room.

YOUNG ROBIN giggles as YOUNG EDWARD chases her, seemingly playing a game of tag. They run around the stage for a few moments, until YOUNG EDWARD finally touches YOUNG ROBIN.

YOUNG ROBIN and YOUNG EDWARD collapse on top of each other, both of them shaking in a sudden fit of giggles.

MOM walks onto the set from off-stage. She continues walking until she stops in front of YOUNG ROBIN and YOUNG EDWARD giggling on the floor; a disgruntled expression on her face.

MOM clears her throat, causing YOUNG ROBIN and YOUNG EDWARD to suddenly stop, looking up at MOM with guilty expressions written on both of their faces.

MOM (angry)
What are you both doing?!

YOUNG EDWARD (scared)
We were just playing…

MOM (angry)
This behavior is unacceptable! Do you hear me?!

YOUNG EDWARD and YOUNG ROBIN stay quiet; their mouths sealed shut.

MOM takes a deep breath.

MOM (furious)
I said, “Do you hear me?!”

YOUNG ROBIN lets out a whimper.

YOUNG EDWARD (scared)
Y-yes, mother.

MOM (annoyed)
Good. The next time you guys do that, you’ll be punished. Are you clear?

YOUNG EDWARD
Y-yes, mother.

MOM storms off the set, muttering inaudible words as she leaves to go off-stage.


YOUNG EDWARD notices that YOUNG ROBIN is still shaking and goes over to her to comfort her in a warm embrace.

YOUNG EDWARD
Shh; everything is going to be okay, Robin.

The lights dim until the stage pitch black, the word “Robin” echoing around the room.


The lights come back on again, revealing that the set has changed back to its original state as a creepy, dark castle.

EDWARD stares blankly off into the distance.
GUARD 2 clears his throat, and EDWARD snaps back into reality.

GUARD 3 (confused)
Um, sir, do you know this individual?

EDWARD
Robin.

GUARD 3 (confused)
Uh, excuse me?

EDWARD
Her name.

EDWARD turns to face GUARD 2 and GUARD 3.

EDWARD
You may leave.

GUARD 3 splutters in protest.

GUARD 3
But, sir-

EDWARD (sarcastic)
Go. I can handle one teenager.

GUARD 2 and GUARD 3 hesitate before eventually leaving.

EDWARD opens his mouth to speak when GUARD 2 and GUARD 3 have gone off-stage.


EDWARD’s expression softens as he glances towards ROBIN.

EDWARD
You’ve grown.

EDWARD smiles and unties the rope binding ROBIN’s hands together.

ROBIN flexes her wrists before embracing EDWARD in a warm, caring, hug.

ROBIN (still hugging)
I’ve missed you so much!

ROBIN finally lets go of EDWARD and looks him up and down.

ROBIN
So, uh, what happened when I was gone?

EDWARD gestures for ROBIN to join him on a bench, so she joins him without a hint of reluctance.

EDWARD sighs before beginning.

EDWARD
Well, as you know, I joined this place.

EDWARD stops briefly as he gestures around the vicinity.

EDWARD
…And that’s pretty much it.

ROBIN laughs.

ROBIN (playful)
You’re kidding.

EDWARD (serious)
No; I’m being serious.

ROBIN
Then what have you been doing for eight years?

EDWARD
Waiting for a moment like this, when you would trespass on my private property, so I can arrest you.

ROBIN stands up abruptly.

ROBIN
I’m sorry?

EDWARD smiles coldly.

EDWARD
The guards are already on their way. You have nowhere to hide.

Right on cue, GUARD 4 and GUARD 5 burst onto the set from off-stage, armed and shouting.

ROBIN (disheveled)
Why are you doing this?! We’re family!

EDWARD
And so was our mother.

ROBIN flinches.

ROBIN
But-

EDWARD
Goodbye, Robin.

sorry that the ending is pretty lame; i was tired and rushing ^^’

Part Four: Non-Fiction, 1,000 words exactly (545 + 455)
Write two different non-fiction writing pieces of different types written in different styles. Each piece should be at least 400 words.

Aaron Burr. Some call him a madman; others a murderer. Because he did, in fact, kill secretary and founding father Alexander Hamilton in a duel near the Hudson in New Jersey, but that’s later on in the story. His story first begins in college. Left alone after his parents’ and grandparents’ untimely deaths and ultimately disgusted by his adopted parents, Burr joined Princeton and graduated at the shockingly young age of sixteen! By now, you might be wondering, how did a young prodigy become a murderer? Well, it all started in the year of 1776, in New York city, where he first met Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton was young when he became an orphan, same as Burr, and moved to New York from Nevis, due to describing the effects of the recent hurricane in such detail, which gave him enough money to move. Hamilton and Burr became good friends, which might seem ironic, but it’s true! They were both young prodigies filled with determination and grit. But Burr tended to stand apart from Hamilton in one way: Hamilton preferred to go after his dreams with no hint of hesitation, while Burr tended to wait for opportunities to come to him. For a while they got along, especially during the American Revolution. They even had a friend group. It was Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Marquis de Lafayette. When they fought in the war, Burr was the first to ask to help out the revered general George Washington. But, Hamilton ended up beating him to the task and became Washington’s right hand man. This is where Burr’s first few feelings of hatred start creeping up inside him. And as Washington’s right hand man, Burr feels a sense of longing for a seat of power. After the American Revolution has ended, Burr attempts to rise to the top as he sees Hamilton climbing so much farther at a much faster pace. But, Burr patiently bids his time, waiting for an opportunity to open, while Hamilton is already a secretary. And when there is an opportunity, it’s Hamilton’s father-in-law. This causes Hamilton and Burr’s friendship to break even more, starting the beginning of their rivalry. So, while Hamilton crumbles under the weight of betraying his wife and arguing with Jefferson, Burr becomes part of the senate and waits until the Election of 1800 to try and run for president. So, since Hamilton’s currently suffering from the grief of his son’s death and trying to rebuild his reputation from the Reynolds Pamphlet, nothing can stop him, or so he thinks. But, when the election comes down to a tie, Hamilton is the one to break it. And, since the other candidate was Thomas Jefferson, whom Hamilton despised, possibly more than Burr, Burr feels betrayed and decides to fight for revenge. Greed made him blind enough to duel with Hamilton, leading to Hamilton’s untimely death and forever impacting Burr’s reputation so much that he had to leave for many years before everyone else forgot. So, that’s where his story ends. Motivated by greed and jealousy from watching Hamilton shine while he stood on the sidelines, Burr was blinded from the consequences of his actions, which lead to his reputation to be forever ruined due to Hamilton’s murder.

!SPOILER ALERT!
Harry Potter and Percy Jackson: They are both revered series (and characters!), but the real question is, which one is better? Well, for starters, the Harry Potter series are novels that follow a young wizard named Harry Potter (hence the name) who comes to Hogwarts, a magical wizarding school, and overcomes challenging obstacles in each book, including coming face to face with the person that killed his parents! He also makes friends with an intelligent witch named Hermione Granger and a fellow wizard named Ron(ald) Weasley. But in the last book of the series, Harry finally faces his fears and stands up to Lord Voldemort, the classic fairytale villain with a traumatizing backstory, where they duel, leading to Voldemort’s death and Harry’s triumph. The Percy Jackson series, however, is a greek mythology themed saga that, like the Harry Potter series, features a young hero named Percy Jackson who, similarly, travels to a camp called Camp Half-blood, which is full of demigods like him, where he also overcomes many challenges and learns how to use his powers as the son of Neptune. The series follows him and his friends Grover the satyr and Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. As the series progresses, the challenges become, well, more challenging as the real danger, the titan Kronos, becomes more powerful. In addition, Percy finds more friends along his journeys, including a Cyclops named Tyson who happens to be his half-brother! In the last book, like Harry Potter, the real threat, Kronos, attacks, leaving Percy and the rest of the campers to fight against him and eventually win. So, what does the Harry Potter series do a really good job of? For starters, J.K. Rowling is a gifted writer, and therefore, her writing is fabulous and much more descriptive and well-written than Rick Riodan’s Percy Jackson series (though it is written for an older age range than Rick Riodran’s books, which does count for something). But, Riordan’s books make you feel more towards the characters, in personalities and feelings, than Rowling’s, whose series sometimes lack in personality. For example, the only real traits that come from the Harry Potter series is Ron’s humor and Harry’s temper, while Riordan’s characters feel much more real and much more human with feelings that readers can relate to, and generally more elaboration on their backstories and character. I feel that both authors are pretty equal in terms of backstories, however, and also do an amazing job with the plot and villains. But, by now you might be asking, but which one is better? And I’m going to leave that one up to you. So, what do you think? Which one is better: Harry Potter, or Percy Jackson?

2689 total

Blue's March 2022 SWC Bread Crumbs

Follow the bread crumbs and you'll find my main thread! Wow! I promise I absolutely will not be recreating Hansel and Gretel. I swear. I am not a candy witch in the forest. Yet.

>> Blue's March 2022 SWC Content Log <<

March 03, 2022
Main Cabin Daily Writing Prompt

Prompt: Today is 33 flavors day! Share three ice-cream flavors (fiction or real) and then choose a set of three. Create a story of at least 400 words using their 3 flavors as inspiration for 500 points, plus 200 bonus points if you share your writing!
(Flavors: Cloud Swirl, Nebula Swirl, and Sunset Sorbet - Provided by @Wishingdeer)

Word Count: + 485

Bethney inhaled sharply as she stared at her empty canvas. A grand expanse of blandness lay before her and her mind, usually brimming with ideas, was uncharacteristically void of creative thoughts. Her music continued to thump in her ears, the smell of paint thinner clinging to the air like a lifeboat, and, suddenly, working on her final semester piece seemed abysmally unrealistic. She defeatedly untied her apron, bitterly tossing the item onto the old and worn drop cloth at her feet. A less rational part of her wanted to trash everything in her sight. Throw paint at the canvas until perfection was born and scream until her lungs cracked, demanding for the nebulous abyss to scream back.

She opened her window, slipping out onto the fire escape stairs right below her window. The tender coolness of the early night air offered a reprieve from the dominance of the paint thinner, even as the fumes of the city tried to fist-fight her senses. Her grandmother, with all her wisdom and aged sarcasm, probably would have patted her leg and wheeled away with a curt: “Cry about it.” The thought almost made her laugh. Her grandmother was as sharp as a blade, but gentlest when a paintbrush was in her hand. In the dying sunlight, the warmth of those summer days spent painting with her grandmother on the front porch of her grandparents' even older country home. A stark difference to the coldness of the metal underneath her and the noise of the city that surrounded everything - consumed everything - as she lived amongst others who had found themselves in the belly of the beast. She closed her eyes, allowing for her brain to clear, before she passively indulged herself with identifying the colors in her field of vision. Marigold yellow. Tangerine Orange. Slate blue. Hot Pink. The latter entirely attributed to a random city goer - indiscernible in all but the color of their shirt.

Soon the chilliness of the night was nipping vehemently at her skin, making her nose run and her eyes ache with dryness. Slipping back into her apartment, the stench of the paint thinner had ventilated out the open window. Her snow white canvas, patiently awaiting her return, glowed in the light gifted through the window. She inhaled, a sense of dread tingling at her nape. She could almost feel the pat of her grandmother's hand on her leg, along with her customary quip of advice cosplaying as a jab. Bethney stalked over to her canvas, picking up her apron and restarting her music playlist. Then she started painting. If she couldn't paint the canvas itself, she loathed to think of what the difficulty of completing her sketchbook would be like. The repetition of planning-sketchbook-painting was a well traveled path, familiar in all but the project's content itself.

“I guess I'll just cry about it, ” she muttered, forcefully adding another strip of tangerine orange.

3/3 Main Cabin Daily
Words: Smoke, coffee, and misty rain.

Smoke.
What an unusual sight. Especially when they thought all fire has disappeared in this world. When even the Sun was gone, and they were living off artificial heat. In the rain, too. Very unusual indeed.
He rose from his seat. As a member of the Council, it was his responsibility to check out what was happening. He slid on his raincoat, into his heavy rain boots, and snatched his umbrella. As an afterthought, he grabbed a camera as well. To maybe take a few pictures. He brushed back his hair and set his foot out gingerly into the rain.
It had rained for a couple of days already; he didn’t bother to wonder why. Maybe that was his mistake. He strolled to where the smoke seemed to be coming from. He arrived at the scene a few minutes later. There was already an entire crowd around the smoke.
“Step backward, please.” He commanded calmly. The people, his people, obeyed. He pushed through the crowd to see the fire with his own eyes. And there it was; just a few sparks of light dancing on a few tree branches. A man stood next to it, shock and joy radiating in his eyes. His expression was reflected in every other person in the crowd.
“How’d you do it?” he growled, suspicious. The man snapped back: “I’m not telling you!” he blurted out. “Not unless you pay me.” “Calm down,” a man with sunglasses hummed. He passed a cup of warm coffee to the man who started the fire. The man gasped. The crowd did, too. It may seem strange for those who live in the Normal World, but coffee was worth millions in this world. Coffee was the rarest object in the entire world; it has disappeared the moment heat disappeared. The ingredients were never found again. So you could imagine the joy the man had when he received the coffee. He slowly took a sip of the coffee, then spat it out.
“You-”
“Now, our dear friend,” the Council member smiled. “How’d you do it?” In case you were wondering, the coffee wasn’t real. It was just some water injected with food coloring and a smell. But, aside from that, there was a manipulation medicine. Basically, if somebody drinks it, they would have to tell the truth of whatever they’ve been asked. It was a recent discovery by the medics of the town.
“The rain,” the man blurted. “I found a filter.” he gestured toward a thing the Council member had not noticed before. “It turned the rain into sparks of fire.” The Council member smiled widely as he realized how much this would help him.
The aroma of coffee, the misty rain, and the small trace of smoke, all a boost in his personal career.

March 2nd Real-Fi Daily

Fruit robotics
In fruit robotics, you experiment with fruits to create energy! Using this energy, power up robots to do any task. Challenges will need students to be in groups or by themselves, build robots, and see which one the best is using a rubric! Students can bring any fruit they would like/think would be good for a challenge.

Writing
In this class, students would be given a prompt. For example, “Write about water from a water bottle’s perspective.” Then, students would write them. Students can also critique other student’s work. All of these are in a points system. (Basically swc in a nutshell aside from this last part ->) Students can buy fun activities to do using these points.

House Engineering
House Engineering focuses on the building of houses. Students would experiment with different materials, to see if one material is better suited for one area rather than another. They would also learn about the process of making real houses. Students would build model houses, and the teacher would fake weather conditions, such as rain, wind, etc.

Main Cabin Daily, March 3rd

Ice cream flavors: vanilla hope, sad betrayal, and mint chocolate chip, from @RLove10
Words: 845

I’m walking along the boardwalk, not really paying attention to where I’m going. My heart weighs heavy in my chest, making it feel as if I’m forced to drag it along. In a way, I suppose, I am. What I would give to be free of this weight, weight which was caused by recent events.
Soon, I find myself in front of a building I’ve never seen before. I find this strange, because I know this town like a fangirl knows her favorite character.
I look around and realize that in my heartache I’ve walked a lot further than I intended to. Ah well. It’s not like I had anything I really wanted to go back to. No one’s waiting in me.
I finally tilt my head up to read the weathered sign on the building. “Mario’s Supreme Ice Cream”. Well now. Ice cream is a cure for heartache if I ever knew one, wouldn’t you say? If nothing else, it should be a distraction.
As I walk through the door, a collection of bells announce my arrival. They’re really not needed though because boy, could that door use some WD40.
I look around. It’s a small shop, but in a cute way. There’s a collection of tables and booths near the windows, and stools lined up by the counter. It is, however, devoid of any one else. I wonder if they’re closed…
Just as I start to turn around, an older man comes bouncing out of the back. Yes, bouncing. I’m telling you, I think his shoes have springs in them. His grey hair is going white, and his face is wrinkled, but he seems energetic despite his age.
“Hello, hello!” He calls. “Do we have a costumer?”
I nod, still a bit surprised by his sudden appearance. “Yes.” I walk up to the counter and peer at the containers of ice cream. Most don’t look like anything I’ve ever had before. “Don’t you have any chocolate?”
“Chocolate?” The man looks aghast. “Chocolate! As if I, Mario, the greatest ice cream man in the world would serve /chocolate/! Pah! Take a look, my dear, and see if there isn’t anything you would like more.”
Okaay then… I read over the labels. Sad Betrayal. That’s an odd name for ice cream, I think. I wonder what it tastes like… probably a weird mix of bitter and sour. And I bet it feels heavy in your stomach. Like the way it feels when your best friend in the whole world turns out to be a backstabber. Not that I know what that feels like.
Mario catches my gaze. “You have been betrayed recently?”
I look up at him. Part of me wants to lie, to say no. I don’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Isn’t that why I came here? Still, Mario has kind eyes and before I know it, I’m pouring out the full story to him.
How I loved Ron more than anything.
How I thought we would be friends forever.
How, just as I was getting the courage to ask him out, he let me down.
How I didn’t think I could ever trust someone like that.
Mario never interrupts me, just nodding along while listening intently. Not until I’m done does he finally speak. “It is sad, yes, when someone betrays you.” He says it with an understanding that makes me wonder just what this kind old man has been through. “However, you must not lose hope. One day someone will come along, and trusting them will not be a question.”
“Right…” I say. I want to believe it. I really do. But it’s hard to have hope when your whole world is falling apart.
Mario dishes up a bowl of ice cream and pushes it towards me. “Here. Try some of this.”
It looks like plain vanilla, but as soon as I put a spoonful in my mouth I realize it’s not. It’s vanilla, yes, but it’s so much more. It’s light and somehow bright, and eating it makes a little bit of the weight in my heart disappear.
“What /is/ this?” I ask Mario.
“Vanilla hope,” he says simply.
I nod, my mouth too full to do anything else. After I finish I start to stand, then stop. There’s an almost empty container of ice cream, sitting at the end of the row. Mint chocolate chip. My favorite. And there’s just enough for a scoop.
“I know I just had this, but… I’ll take some mint chocolate chip too, please,” I say. Mario nods and dishes it up.
“Thank you.” I smile as soon as I take the first bite. There’s always been something comforting about this flavor for me.
Mario and I sit and talk while I eat my ice cream, and before I know it we’re joking and laughing, something I thought I’d never do again. By the time I finally go to leave, I feel the last of the weight come off my heart.
Maybe this really was the cure for heartache.

main cabin daily, march 3rd

Ice cream flavours: Snowflake ice-cream, galaxy ice-cream and lemon ice-cream.



Mei and her friend Darrell had gone to an amusement park for a holiday. After riding loads of amazing rides, they were hungry. They ate at a nearby cafe, but sadly there wasn’t any desert,
Just when they were about to take the bus home, an ice-cream truck appeared! It was a horribly hot day, and seeing an ice -cream truck they jumped out of the bus and ran towards the truck.
“Wait!! Please!” The girls shouted as they caught up with the truck. A very ancient looking lady was standing there. “Ice-cream or something else?” Asked the old lady. The girls looked at each other. This was an ice-cream truck only, right? “of course it must be ice-cream!” Said the old lady.
“sadly we have only 3 flavours left, lemon, galaxy and snowflake.”
“galaxy and snowflake?” Asked Darrell. “ yeah, we’ve never heard of that.” Joined Mei.
“of course you haven’t! You dont get these flavours on earth!” replied the lady. “ I would’ve normally given you the lemon flavour but you looked so tired and hot that I thought maybe the other 2 flavours might help you!”
“not from earth? What do you—“
“Enough now! Please pick a flavour!” Interrupted the lady.
The girls din’t know what sort of a truck this was, but they were feeling very hot. So Mei decide to try the galaxy flavour whereas Darrell went with the snowflake.
The lady took out a weird looking spoon and took out a scoop of the galaxy ice-cream. It looked different. It had too many colour! It looked like a part of the galaxy was taken and put in her cone!
She tasted it. She gasped! It was incredible! Thousands of tastes swirled in her tongue, contrasting beautifully! She ate the scoop in a gulp and asked for more. Each time she licked the scoop, she felt like she was in heaven! Darrell seeing Mei eat so many scoops, gave her snowflake- Ice cream a try. Just when she licked it it felt like all the hotness of her body had disappeared! Oh how wonderful she felt! Both the girls ate as many scoops as their stomach could take until the lady stopped them.
“looked like you enjoyed the ice-cream! See I told you they were good! But now I think its time for you girl to go home, its dark already!” Mei and darrell took out all the money they had but when they turned around to give it to the old lady, the truck had disappeared!
The girls were shocked! Where did the old lady go? The girls had no luck finding her. Oh the ice-creams were wonderful! After some time, they took the last bus home, still confused. They never saw the old lady or her truck ever again but they would never forget the wonderful tastes.

main cabin daily ⍋ 03.03.22
word count: 694

>> My three themes were mallowmelt (from KOTLC), butterbeer (from HP) and mangoes! (we all know where that one comes from haha)

MangoCorp Story Manipulation Headquarters. 2:22AM.

“Mallowmelt?”
“Check.”
“Mangoes?”
“Check.”
“Alright, let’s do this thing.”

The MangoCorp workers of the Lost Cities Department seated themselves into their crudely cushioned seats, craning their heads up at the vast television screens covering the wall, the only source of light in the room. They watched scene after scene play out, pausing and rewinding as they snacked on their tasty treats.

“This scene is so boring,” Worker NON-01 stated. “All they do is sit at the table and eat awkwardly. There’s no emotion, intriguement, feeling.”

Worker SCI-28 nodded in agreement. “What if we give them mallowmelt?” he mused. “Perhaps the girl, what’s-her-face- Sophie, might experience pleasure from tasting such a majestic treat in a majestic world. It would loosen the tension between her, Grady, and Edaline.”

NON-01 snapped their fingers in agreement. “Brilliant. Let’s rewind a couple pages back, and add in the-”

The door flew open behind them, revealing a teenage girl leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, guys!” FANFI-03 called, smiling cheerfully as she twisted a mug of butterbeer between her palms.. “Just checking to see how you’re doing!”

SCI-28 knew better than to fall for FANFI-03’s facade of innocence. “Quite well, thank you very much,” he replied sharply. “We’re in no need for the most notoriously mischievous story manipulator of the Potter Department.”

FANFI-03 simply smiled wider. “I’m just checking on my favorite department,” she replied. Making her way into the room, she examined the events playing out on the scene carefully. “Mallowmelt? Pretty smart! Non’s idea, I presume?”

“Mine, actually,” SCI-28 grumbled under his breath. FANFI-03 chose to ignore him, eyes darting from screen to screen with mischief.

“What about over here?” she asked, pointing to a screen on the far left with her wand. The main character of the scene, Sophie, was holding a shimmering, clear crystal to the light- a light leaping crystal.

“Yes?” SCI-28 answered irritably. “What’s wrong with it?”

FANFI-03 shrugged in reply. “You could do better. Liven it up, give it some spice! You know?”

“And how do you propose we do so?” SCI-28 asked.

That question was a mistake. FAN-03’s wide smile shifted into a smirk, growing more and more devious by the second. The wand that had been innocently twirling between her fingers was now pointed at the screen before either SCI-28 or NON-01 could react.

“FANFI, no-” NON-01 called out, but FANFI-03 wasn’t listening to them. She hollered the words of a spell, sending jagged light streaming from the tip of her wand to impact the scene screen.

As the light faded, SCI-28 grabbed FANFI-03 by the collar and pulled her away from the televisions. “What- did- you- do?” he asked through gritted teeth.

FANFI-03 shrugged innocently. “Just made a few crisscrosses in your straightforward plot.” She winked, Apparating away before SCI-28 could inflict anything further on her.

Turning back to the screen, SCI-28 tried to figure out what damage FANFI-03 had done. The screen that had once shown Sophie holding a pure, clear crystal now showed her face contorting in horror as it started glowing with facets of blues and yellows and pinks alike. The light shimmered and flickered, absorbing her figure until- she was gone.

. . .

“Blimey! Hermione, Harry, look! She just materialized out of the air!”

At the sound of voices, Sophie’s eyes began to slowly flutter open. Her mind was muddled, confused. Her vision slowly cleared- only to find three figures peering down at her. She instantaneously scrambled back from them. “I- I can hurt you,” she stammered. That was a lie. “D-don’t come near me!”

The trio looked at each other before looking back at her skeptically. The boy in the center, slender and lanky with a mop of jet-black hair, peered at her curiously with bottle-green eyes through round, thin-wired glasses. He studied her face carefully, taking in every detail before finally asking:

“Who in the name of Merlin are you?”

Author’s Note: Not much of a long author’s note here, as it’s 11:21PM and I’m half-asleep xD As leader of Fanfiction, it was brilliant to finally be able to write in my cabin’s genre! SWC x HP x KOTLC crossover for the win >:> This deviated away from my more professional and /better/ style of writing; I kind of just let myself run chaotically with this one!