Why You Should Sleep More
Weekly, Part 2: Persuasive Essay

Written by Wari
500 words

Ah, sleep. Who needs it, right? It can be all too tempting to stay up all night, playing video games, catching up on social media, or even working on last-minute homework. Sometimes, it seems impossible to fit everything you need to do in only 12 to 16 hours of the waking day. Sleep is relaxing, but getting a few less hours of shut-eye, in favor of using those hours to be productive, can’t be that bad, can it? Actually, it can. Sleep is very important in maintaining and improving your memory, reflexes, and cognitive functioning during the day, and lack of sleep can even be detrimental to your health. Even though it might seem like a waste of time, you should make an effort to get the amount of sleep appropriate for your age.

First of all, sleep is an important part of memory processing. Brain scans have shown that, while sleeping, the brain transfers memories from short-term to long-term memory storage. This means that snoozing is actually necessary for remembering facts and information, or even the events of the day. In addition, according to the CDC’s guidelines for health, getting adequate sleep can help you “stay focused, improve concentration, and improve academic performance.” Staying up all night studying for that test? Research has shown that you’re actually more likely to perform well if you get a good night’s sleep, rather than cramming. Not only is sleep beneficial, not getting enough hours of shut-eye can actually harm you. According to the CDC, students who don’t get enough sleep are more vulnerable to injuries, obesity, diabetes, and mental health problems. The immune system also is weakened, which can make it harder to fight off diseases. In addition, it can affect your performance in school. Also, for those of you old enough to drive, taking that car out for a spin while you’re feeling drowsy is a bad idea. Sleep-deprivation slows your reaction times and makes you less aware of your surroundings, which can be a recipe for disaster. Overall, skimping on your nightly hours causes more harm than good. To make the most of your time, professionals recommend sleeping 10 to 12 hours for 6- to 12-year-olds, and 8 to 10 hours of sleep for 13- to 18-year-olds.

It’s clear that sleep should be an important part of your daily routine. Even though you can probably think of many things you’d rather do with those 8 to 12 hours, getting those z’s will improve your performance during the hours you spend awake. If that isn’t enough to tempt you, remember that you will have lowered response times and awareness, and you’re at risk for significant health problems if you don’t get enough sleep. However, this all can be easily avoided by committing to several more hours of rest. So, the next time you are tempted to stay up late, remember: Giving up that short term pleasure will do you a big favor in the long run.

Next, Part 3: Script for Lost: Memories, Chapter 4

Script for Lost Memories, Chapter 4
Weekly, Part 3: Scriptwriting

Written by Wari
708 words

Original Text: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/633091313/

The ShadowClan Camp. Near the entrance.

SHOALPAW is onstage, along with TURTLEFOOT, SMOKESTAR, FINCHSPARK, AMBERLIGHT, SWANWING, ASHBREEZE, STALKFALL, and BACKGROUND CHARACTERS.

TURTLEFOOT, SMOKESTAR, and FINCHSPARK are facing SWANWING. ASHBREEZE, SHOALPAW, and AMBERLIGHT at the front of the crowd.

The crowd buzzes with excitement. SMOKESTAR looks astonished, her jaw hanging. FINCHSPARK looks shocked. TURTLEFOOT looks excited.

AMBERLIGHT walks forward past SHOALPAW to stand beside SMOKESTAR.

AMBERLIGHT
Greetings, Swanwing. What have you brought us?

SWANWING
They found it, Amberlight. They found the cure!

SMOKESTAR
And it works?

SHOALPAW
(loud) You can heal the sick cats?

Everyone looks at SHOALPAW. SHOALPAW draws back behind ASHBREEZE and looks down, embarrassed. Everyone turns back to SWANWING.

SWANWING
We’ve already used it to treat our ill cats, and they’re improving quickly.

AMBERLIGHT
Come to my den. You’ve come just in time.

SMOKESTAR nods. SWANWING, AMBERLIGHT, and SMOKESTAR exit.

FINCHSPARK
(to the crowd) All right everyone! Back to work!

STALKFALL approaches SHOALPAW.

STALKFALL
Congratulations, Shoalpaw! You’re an apprentice now! That wasn’t that bad, wasn’t it?

SHOALPAW
(smiles) It was better than I thought. Thanks, Mom.

STALKFALL smiles.

FINCHSPARK
(from across the clearing) Hey, Stalkfall, can you lead a hunting patrol?

STALKFALL
Yes, sure, Finchspark! I’m coming in a moment!

She turns back to SHOALPAW.

STALKFALL
Good luck, Shoalpaw!

All except ASHBREEZE and SHOALPAW exit. SHOALPAW turns to ASHBREEZE

SHOALPAW
Ashbreeze? What was… who was that?

ASHBREEZE
That’s Swanwing, the SkyClan medicine cat.

SHOALPAW
Why is she here? What are those herbs?

ASHBREEZE looks in the direction that the leader and medicine cats left.

ASHBREEZE
Let’s go find out, shall we?

ASHBREEZE and SHOALPAW walk over to where SMOKESTAR is exiting the medicine den.

ASHBREEZE
Do the herbs work?

SMOKESTAR
From what I’ve heard, they should help fight off the sickness. (smiles) Graycloud will survive.

ASHBREEZE
(sighs in relief) Thank StarClan.

SHOALPAW
They’re all going to be ok?

SMOKESTAR nods. SHOALPAW looks away.

ASHBREEZE
Can we go inside?

SMOKESTAR
Of course.

SMOKESTAR exits, and SHOALPAW and ASHBREEZE enter the den.

Inside, AMBERLIGHT and SWANWING are sorting herbs. GRAYCLOUD is in the corner.

AMBERLIGHT
What about some watermint to cure the fever—?

She cuts off, seeing the visitors.

AMBERLIGHT
(to ASHBREEZE) Here to see your mother?

ASHBREEZE nods.

AMBERLIGHT
(flicks her tail) She’s over there.

ASHBREEZE heads toward GRAYCLOUD. SHOALPAW follows after looking at the medicine cats for a moment. SWANWING AND AMBERLIGHT continue talking in the background.

GRAYCLOUD
(to ASHBREEZE, haughty) About time you paid me a visit.

ASHBREEZE sits down and smiles. She beckons SHOALPAW forward, who sits down beside her.

ASHBREEZE
(to GRAYCLOUD) I’d like you to meet someone.

GRAYCLOUD looks at SHOALPAW.

GRAYCLOUD
Who’s this again?

ASHBREEZE starts to reply.

GRAYCLOUD
No, wait. I remember. You’re…

She stares at SHOALPAW for an extended pause. SHOALPAW looks at ASHBREEZE questioningly.

GRAYCLOUD
(loud) I know! (to ASHBREEZE) Shoalkit. Grown like a sapling since the last time I saw her, hasn’t she? Told you I remembered.

SHOALPAW
I’m Sh-Sho—

GRAYCLOUD looks at her.

GRAYCLOUD
Speak up, sapling. Haven’t got all day.

SHOALPAW closes her mouth and looks shy. ASHBREEZE gives her an encouraging nudge.

ASHBREEZE
(teasing) Didn’t you hear Smokestar? She’s not an apprentice anymore.

GRAYCLOUD pauses, looking at ASHBREEZE.

GRAYCLOUD
(looks away) Can’t expect me to keep up with Clan news in this stuffy den.

ASHBREEZE shakes her head.

ASHBREEZE
Well, you’ll be out of here soon enough. Did you hear what Swanwing brought?

GRAYCLOUD
Aye. Those two starlings can’t shut up about it.

GRAYCLOUD gestures at the medicine cats. SHOALPAW looks at them, and looks sad. After a few moments, she jumps, noticing that GRAYCLOUD is staring at her.

GRAYCLOUD
(to SHOALPAW) If only it had been sooner, eh sapling?

SHOALPAW nods. They stare at each other sadly. Then GRAYCLOUD turns away to give her shoulder a lick.

GRAYCLOUD
Well, that’s enough chattering for my old bones.

ASHBREEZE stands.

ASHBREEZE
I’ll get you some prey when we get back.

GRAYCLOUD looks disinterested. ASHBREEZE and SHOALPAW leave the den.

Outside. ASHBREEZE goes ahead, and SHOALPAW lingers. She seems lost in thought, but then shakes herself.

SHOALPAW
(to herself) Enough about the past. It’s time to focus on my first day as an apprentice.

SHOALPAW hurries after her mentor. The stage fades to black.

Next, Part 4a: Six Tips for Improving Your Writing

Six Tips for Improving Your Writing
Weekly, Part 4a: Non-fiction Tutorial

Written by Wari
802 words

Imagine that you have an amazing idea for a story. It’s got loads of action, complex scenery, and a great backstory. But when you finally put pen to paper, it doesn’t… seem quite right. Maybe your characters are too flat, or perhaps your plot is spiraling in a million different directions. Or maybe the story itself is fine, but you’re having trouble translating it from ideas into text.

Every writer struggles at first, but mastery is a journey. With that in mind, here are six tips that might help you find what you’re missing in your masterpiece.

#1 Read
Yup, you read that right! One of the simplest ways to learn to write stories is to see how others dealt with the same challenges. For example, if you are having trouble with dialogue, see how your favorite author incorporates it. Also, reading a lot exposes you to different vocabulary and situations, which you can take inspiration from.

#2 Plan and organize your work
Depending on your style, you may like planning out every little detail of a story beforehand, or you may prefer to just dive in and see how the tale turns out. However, even if you are the latter, it is important to make sure that you aren’t just writing helter-skelter, which will eventually lead to writer’s block, or a story that doesn’t make sense. Instead, try planning out the general path of a story, including where you want to be at the beginning, middle, and ending. It’s ok to write smaller details on the fly, but determining where you want the story to go will help you out in the long run.

#3 Write purposefully
This leads into tip number 3, which is to write purposefully. The most well-crafted stories are the ones where every little detail or scene advances the plot, or reveals something important about the characters. Random scenes that are funny or full of action might look interesting in the short term, but they distract from the main plot of the story. It’s ok to put a few deviating scenes to release tension, or to reveal the personality of your characters in the beginning, but keep your big picture in mind.

#4 Give details, but not too many
A common phrase used in writing is “show, don’t tell.” Instead of blatantly stating things in your writing, describe how the character notices things. Lead up to the event, and show what the character was doing before it happened. For example, instead of writing, “Jill saw a red car on the other side of the park,” you could say, “Jill sat on the bench, watching families picnic on the grassy stretch in the center of the park. Suddenly, a shiny, brightly-colored material caught her eye. After a few moments of searching, she spotted what had drawn her attention: a gleaming red sedan pulling slowly into a parking space.”

However, it is important to keep pace and a character’s emotions in mind when deciding how much detail to give. A character that is peacefully wandering across a boardwalk might notice a spider weaving a web in the corner of a shop window. However, a character engaged in a fight scene, or one that is running in terror, probably won’t notice the same details. Try to focus more on the action in fast-paced scenes, but feel free to stop and smell the roses in less stressful ones.

#5 Be careful with dialogue
Dialogue tends to be a tricky part of stories, and there are multiple ways of formatting this. While varying your speaking verbs is important (e.g., using words like retorted or exclaimed instead of “said”), using too many synonyms can be tedious to read. Fortunately, there’s another way to show what a character says, without using a speaking verb at all.
You can imply that a character is saying something, by just stating that they performed an action, or mentioning a detail about them. This is called a dialogue beat, and works like this:

Murphy shook his head. “I don’t know what to think.”

Here, it is implied that Murphy is the one who is speaking, without using “said” or a synonym. As you write dialogue, find a healthy balance between stating that a specific character spoke, and using action tags.

#6 Don’t get discouraged
As you practice, it can be easy to feel overwhelmed, and to think that you are never going to be able to write like your favorite authors, and that your stories will never compare to those of your idols. However, remember that everyone had to start somewhere. Every word you write, every new thing that you learn, is a step toward reaching your goals. Just keep practicing, and eventually you’ll look back and realize how far you’ve come.

Next, Part 4b: Titan

Titan
Weekly, Part 4b: Non-fiction Descriptive Journalism

Written by Wari
426 words

Is there life beyond our planet? The question is hard to answer, since scientists have not found any evidence of it yet. However, this hasn’t stopped us from dreaming about what such life might look like, through books, movies, video games, and other forms of popular culture. From a scientific standpoint, one place of interest in the search for extraterrestrial life is Titan, located about 1.5 thousand million kilometers away from Earth (1 thousand million miles).

Titan is the largest of Saturn’s moons. However, it is less like the Moon we are used to seeing in the sky, and has an environment closer to that of Earth itself. Unlike all other celestial bodies in our solar system, Titan is the only one other than Earth with a strong atmosphere, and liquid oceans on its surface. Titan even has oceans of liquid water, located deep beneath its icy crust.

On the surface, the atmosphere is mostly made of nitrogen, just like our planet. However, Titan differs from Earth in one important aspect: even though it has liquid rivers, lakes, and rain, they are made of substances like methane and ethane instead of water. Titan’s landscape contains water in the form of frozen ice, but you have to go far below the surface before you find vast oceans composed primarily of liquid water.

Earth-like life might thrive within these oceans, with adaptations to survive in the harsh environment. Even more interesting to think about is the possibility of unexpected life forms that breathe methane instead of oxygen, that may live in the rivers and lakes on the surface.

Imagine you are part of a team of explorers that travels to the unique moon. You’d need protection from the cold, as temperatures can reach as low as -179 degrees Celsius (-290 degrees Fahrenheit). In addition, your team would need to bring its own oxygen, which is not plentiful in the atmosphere. Although you wouldn’t need to wear a pressurized suit, you would experience about 60% higher pressure than on Earth.

If you were lucky enough to see one of Titan’s methane storms, you would notice that the raindrops of liquid methane fall slower than their equivalents on Earth. Due to its smaller size, Titan has gravity that is six times lower than Earth’s. During your time there, you would surely reflect on this alien version of your familiar home.

To scientists, Titan is of significant interest as one of the most similar bodies in the solar system to Earth. Who knows what we’ll discover as we keep digging closer?

(I TRIED REALLY DESPERATELY TO DO MY BEST ON THE POTERY, PLEASE HAVE SOME PATIENCE, I GOT A LITTLE CONFUSED AT SOME PARTS ._. *crii* it’s such a pain, there’s no rhyming in these poems, to preserve my sanity. PLEASE DON'T READ UNLESS GIVEN PERMISSION, THANKS!)
2917 words
Part One:: Poems (449 words)
Acrostic #1:
Round the bend, past the big city
Over the rooftops, a lady strides
Outstanding she is, with her newfound balance
Falling is far from a worry to her
The people don’t notice as she watches from afar
Out of their view she smiles, head bowed
Perhaps she is solemn outcast, that’s most likely the case
So she watches from the rooftops, and hums her sad melody
—————————––
Acrostic #2:
Mountains and meadows, dark caverns uncharted
Endless they seem, but that’s never the case
Always a tug at the back of your mind
Drawing you to a place beyond most’s eyes
Over or under, where will you go?
Wander too far, though and you might find your end
—————————––
Narrative Poem (loll, this suckss):
He follows the lines of stars with his hand
He traces the constellations they form
Sketching on his pad, he draws what’s around him
Lying with his friend at his side, he tells stories and myths
His excitement is real, but his friend’s is not
He does not know…
That his friend is a liar,
He might suspect so, but he would not believe it
However, he keeps on going, telling his stories
They spread through the world, and bring people joy
At the time of his death…
His friend is distraught
She regrets her boredom, her teasing and eye-rolling
She preserves his stories–his tales–keeping them close
They were silly things, of gods and fairies
Of magic, and happiness
Things unknown to their world
And yet the shift was visible.
More parties were held, constant singing was heard
They danced and they laughed, smiling and more
His drawings were plastered on their walls, and copied into books
She made sure he lived
In a separate way
And now in true excitement,
She reads his stories and watches the stars
—————————––
Free Verse:
The sun is bright
Through my window
The curtains are back,
Mountains and forests, green and lush.
Clean.
Familiar.
Beautiful.
And in a moment
it flickers
I see a city outside my window.
The mountains are gone,
The forests are gone.
Where did they go?
The quiet is gone,
Replaced by shouts
The fresh air is gone,
Is that smoke and gas?
Dirty.
New.
Strange.
Why did this happen?
But the sun is still bright.
It still shines through my window
It still casts light in my room
And it stays…and always will.
—————————––
Tetractys:
Dark.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
One eerie light.
Everything goes black, it all fades away.
—————————––
Haiku:
A hand grasps mine tight
The warmth is calming in the
Pain that comes too fast

Part Two:: Essay (515 words)
“Digital Art vs. Traditional Art”

Most people, when asked whether traditional or digital art is better, would have incredibly mixed opinions. Truthfully, throughout the art community it’s a topic that brings up lots of skepticism. There’s no specific “right side,” to this discussion. However, there are definitely pros and cons to each that are specifically based on what someone needs. As a quick example, multiple people prefer sketchier looks that are harder to portray in digital art, as it’s mostly smooth lines and such. At the same time, many people would consider the cleaner look as more professional and more suitable for most people. Both options are completely neutral, with neither specifically being bad or good.
Starting off with digital art. I personally prefer digital art for many reasons. For example, it provides a cleaner art piece (I can’t exactly stand any sort of sketchy style), and there are lots of extra tools available. Based on which software you’re using, you can access cropping, effects, auto fill, layers, masks, and custom tools. These can all be incredibly helpful for more crowded scenes, where you don’t have to put as much detail into things. Digital art does have a few cons though. You’d need a device for the drawing, a stylus (although some artists do draw with their finger), and at times even a drawing tablet, which can range from $30 to more than $2,500. Some processes are clearly much easier digitally. Coloring can be done without fear of bleeding lineart, bad color layering, and more. You can always erase, while in comparison, when drawing traditionally you can’t erase line art or coloring (specifically if it's a permanent marker.) With traditional art, there are quite a few pros, as well as a few cons. Top quality art supplies are incredibly expensive at times. However, you can find multiple good brands with good products and low prices. Again, traditional art is incredibly favorable for more sketchy styles, since if you’re sketching in pencil, the sketchy lines aren’t as visible as they would be if you sketched in pure black (digitally.) Microns are the typical best line art pens, but in my experience, the ohuhu brand pens work well. Alcohol markers are typically used for more professional pieces, but some artists also try to branch out and use cheaper brands sometimes.
In conclusion, digital art has multiple pros, but starting can be pretty expensive. It is, however, easier to start a professional career when working digitally. Traditional art is definitely a better beginner format, but when sought after in terms of professional careers, it’s much harder to pursue, as most people would prefer a cleaner digital print. There’s no exact right or wrong side to this conflict. I personally prefer digital art as it’s easier for me, but that’s a personal opinion, not a fact. In traditional art, there are many different forms that the art can take, based on what medium is used. From alcohol markers, to acrylic, oil, and gouache painting. In conclusion, it truly depends on the person, and hopefully it’s a decision that should hopefully be resolved easily.


Part Three:: Script Writing (974 words)
(Ayooo, let’s go coffeshop AUs)

REN sits on a pillowy armchair, legs crossed beneath her as she reads a book. JAYCE, ELLIOT, and AZALEA sit across from her. REN doesn’t look up.

JAYCE
Az, I know you’re trying to help me and all, but I’m literally only getting a headache-

He leans back in his chair, rubbing his temple, despite him not actually having a headache.

AZALEA
I thought I told you not to call me Az…

JAYCE
Fine, fine, Azalea.

He smirks, while AZALEA scowls at him from the armchair over.

ELLIOT
He whistles, sending a teasing smile towards Jayce.

Play with fire, and you’re gonna get burned.

JAYCE
I know. That’s what you keep telling me.

REN
He’s right, Jayce. Azalea is a force of nature.

She causes them to jump when she speaks up for the first time. She takes a sip of her vanilla frappuccino, smiling a little.

AZALEA
Thanks, Ren. I told you, stop calling me Az or I’ll-

JAYCE
Yeah, yeah. I know you take self defense lessons and all that, meaning that you can kick my butt if I ever irritate you…But I can handle a little verbal butt–kicking. After all, have you met my parents?

He raises an eyebrow, covering up his anxiety about his parents under his normal, irritated facade.

A waiter walks towards the group, carrying multiple drinks. She places a dark brown espresso and a mocha on the table. JAYCE frowns

JAYCE
Elliot, did you not order anything…?

ELLIOT
Yeah, I didn’t…I mean, I’m pretty broke so um-

JAYCE
Dude, you could’ve just asked for some money or something! I have like- a little below two hundred bucks on me…

REN
She snorts as JAYCE picks up his espresso.

I always forget how ridiculously rich you are-

JAYCE
I am not “ridiculously rich,” I just inherited a whole lot of money from my parents. Sure, I hate them and all but it’s not like I’d pass up some cash if they’d give it to me.

JACKSON and RIYA walk in, sheepish looks on their faces. They sit down near Ren and each let out an almost amused sigh.

REN
What took you guys so long? It’s like…twenty minutes after our scheduled meeting time.

RIYA
So sorry, really. We got stuck in traffic, and JACKSON’s honking definitely didn’t help.

JACKSON
You didn’t have to mention that part!

RIYA
You might as well tell them.

JACKSON
Well, I may or may not have gone a little overconfident and changed lanes way too fast, then honked at the driver, who had been behind me before, but had moved in front of me. But c’mon, we were already late!

REN
What if…say that man’s wife was in labor or something.

JACKSON
Okay, I probably would feel guilty and also a little scared for that woman’s life, but because there was no woman in the car, just one guy, I feel zero guilt.

ELLIOT
Wow, JACKSON is a little snarky today, that’s new. No more all Mr. Good Intentions

JAYCE
Well Jackson is still Jackson, snarky or not. REN? You bought RIYA and JACKSON some coffee, right?

REN
Honestly, you’re the rich one here so you should technically be ordering, but yeah. I got JACKSON a pumpkin spice latte. It is autumn after all, and I wasn’t really sure what he wanted. And I know that RIYA doesn’t really fully enjoy caffeinated drinks, so I got her some tea. British style.

REN winks at them, and pushes the drinks across the table. JACKSON and RIYA pick up their drinks with curious expressions, then eventually take sips.

JACKSON
REN, why is this spicy?! It shouldn’t be, should-

REN
JACKSON, those are just spices, and it also probably seems spicy because it’s burning hot right now, giving you the same feeling you have when you eat really spicy food.

JACKSON mumbles something incoherently while he sips more of his coffee, his mouth on fire.

RIYA
So, what sort of mischief have you guys been up to recently?

Elliot
ELLIOT grins, pointing towards JAYCE and AZALEA while they scowl at each other

RIYA
Ahh, of course. Let me guess, JAYCE was brash enough to assume he could call AZALEA “Az,” and get away with it

REN
REN lowers her voice to a whisper, giving RIYA a sly grin and holding back a laugh.

I highly doubt that they actually hate each other. This is totally some sort of tsundere drama or something.

RIYA
Her voice is louder than REN’s and everyone turns to them when she says her next words.

Tsundere…?

JAYCE snickers.

JAYCE
He mimics mock annoyance, but is smiling.

RENIE, what did you say now…Did you just call me a tsundere?!

REN stays silent, holding back laughter again. AZALEA is peaceful as silence finally ensues. REN pulls out her phone, reading her messages and is about to say something but JAYCE whistles however, breaking the silence that had followed. Everyone turns to him, confused at the interruption.

JAYCE
Why are you all looking at me like that?

AZALEA
Why can’t you keep it quiet for at least one second?!

JAYCE
Oh please, whistling barely does anything.

AZALEA
Every little sound is irritating me right now…

JAYCE
I’m pretty sure everything irritates you, AZ.

AZALEA
Don’t call me AZ.

JAYCE
It wouldn’t be a problem if it didn’t aggravate you.

AZALEA
That doesn’t mean you can keep doing-

REN
Guys, stop. We came here to have fun, right? You guys are honestly acting like…like six year olds. You guys are both eighteen!

AZALEA
Six year olds is an overstatement.

REN
Fine. Eight year olds. Anyways, I’ve been called back to work. Just stop yelling at each other while I’m gone…But then again, I can’t trust you with even that, can I?

REN waves goodbye, then exits the coffee shop. JAYCE and AZALEA start arguing again.

Part Four:: Non-Fiction
Book Report (Keeper of the Lost Cities 464 words)
If you’ve ever felt stuck between two decisions, you know how Sophie Foster feels. Keeper of the Lost Cities is a genetic-based magic-filled series with multiple unexpected twists and turns. As said, the book is centered around magical abilities and the main character is Sophie Foster, an elf (though she didn’t know it herself,) who had been living in human society for as long as she could remember. That all changes however, when Fitz Vacker, much in a similar sense to Harry Potter, tells her that she indeed isn’t the only person with magical abilities.
Throughout the course of the series, Sophie goes on multiple “quests,” learning more and more about the mysteries of her ever expanding powers. She also finds herself stuck between the two worlds of the elves and the humans. Along the way, she also meets multiple people who teach her new things as well. However, her friends often brashly put themselves into danger to save her, which I personally still think is a bit odd, despite their growing relationships with her. Each character develops at least a bit throughout the series, and many are still anticipating the newest book (Stellarlune) as in book 8.5, Shannon Messenger left the fandom stirring, waiting for book 9.
Keeper of the Lost Cities is probably for ages nine through thirteen, and I personally find it pretty enjoyable. The magic system has the basic Telepaths, Empaths, Pyrokinetics, Hydrokinetics, Conjurers, Mesmers, and more. The magic system isn’t completely unique, but Shannon found a way to put a few twists into the series.
She also finds ways to input references from Earth, such as the Disney reference in the first book. Dex Dizznee, Sophie’s best friend and cousin through adoption, has an interaction with her that is centered around Disneyland, and Shannon finds more ways to put movie references into her books, such as the occasional batman shirt on my favorite character.
In general, Keeper of the Lost Cities is an excellent series, with a basic and easily readable storyline that kept me captivated to the point of reading about a book a day. The page count ranges from 450 pages to almost 900 pages per book, allowing for a light or average read. It has an active fandom, who are constantly raging ship wars on each other, debating over Sokeefe versus Sophitz. I'd definitely recommend it as a starting series for most people, as it’s a generally easy to follow, and pretty universally liked series. However it is a 8.5 book long series, so there’s a bit of financial commitment that needs to happen when considering buying the books. However, they’re easily less expensive than certain series, and I’d consider the price worth it, as the journey is certainly a roller coaster of emotions.

Biography thingy (mY ArT sTruGgLe 512 words )
I tried to rack my brain around what just happened. I had been on a roll, my pencil brushing across the screen like the strokes were nothing. I had been smiling, focusing. But then I just had to get up and get a snack.
My concentration was broken, and I had gotten distracted.
A whole week later, I finally picked up the drawing again. I was confused as I stared at the half-filled canvas. What had I been planning, again? My undersketch was vague to me now, just a mess of scribbles, piled on top of one another to make something that just barely resembled a human. How could I go off of that? I shook my head, attaching the apple pencil back on my tablet, and letting out a sigh. I got up, and sat on my bed, contemplating. Looking in the mirror, I saw the dark bags under my eyes. School had been too much. Drawing was usually my comfort, but even that couldn’t keep me from the stress that had overcome me. But…the only reason it hadn’t comforted me, was because I hadn’t even tried yet.
Turning back to my work, I sketched out the rest of the drawing. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t as good as before, but it would work. Lining the base sketch, I carefully increased and decreased my pressure. This was working. I was doing what I wanted, and even if the product wasn’t good enough, the process would be enough.
Line variation, hair strands, eye shape, neck length, ear placement.
These things were all familiar, yet they felt new now. I began to smile a little, my stress seeping away as I swiped across the screen.
The final stroke of my lineart.
I let out a deep breath, leaning against the bed’s backboard. The coloring stage was always easy for me, but I needed to try something new. No more cell shading…I needed to paint the piece, even part of it would be good enough.
Painting my artwork digitally was always something intimidating. Something that I’d never tried before, and yet…I breathed in and out, then switched to my watercolor brush.
Starting with the face, I eyedropped the skin tone.
The character wasn’t mine. It was from my favorite videogame, and yet, even with a character I hadn’t created on the canvas, this art was mine, and it always would be.
And that thought was exhilarating.
The piece was finished around an hour later. My thoughts were blurred as I looked at it. It was a masterpiece, my best artwork. I had recovered from the art block. I sent it to my friends, smiling to myself.
The praise from them didn’t make me happy. Sure, it was kind of them, but my pride came from something else. I was stronger than my problems.
It sounded silly that something as small as this would’ve made me realize that, even a little bit, but the tiniest things could mean something.
I breathed in and out, setting down the pen…And turned off the tablet.

✩──────────────✩
✯Weekly #1 Part 2: Essays✯
I guess this has a glossary now- ರᴗರ

Total words: 941
✩──────────────✩

Biology, generally, is the ‘study of living beings’. This includes creatures from small microorganisms such as euglena, to human beings like you and me. Psychology, on the other hand, is the study of the human mind and its functions. So, with that being said, should psychology be considered a science?

Before considering this question in depth, let's first review biology. It is considered to be a science and in many countries it is one of the ‘core’ subjects that students, typically between the ages of 11–16(+), have to study. Topics (and subtopics) in biology can range from the cardiovascular system, to using a microscope, to the structure of a plant cell. Psychology on the other hand, has topics that range from memory, to perception, to development (e.g. cognitive). Whilst there are a range of topics and subtopics in both biology and psychology, the latter is not considered to be a science by a considerable number of people. Despite this, research in this field can aid in developing a better understanding of how's and why's of human behaviour etc. For example Piaget's* theory of cognitive development* states the differences between the thinking of adults and the thinking of children, splitting the cognitive development of children into various stages that explain how their minds grow over time (e.g. in the pre-operational* stage (2–7 years old), children lack the ability to conserve* and egocentrism* is present). However, Hughes' Policeman Doll experiment*, which was set up in a more child friendly way than Piaget's and contained a sample of children aged 3½ to 5, suggested that children in this stage may somewhat lack a presence of egocentrism. 90% of the children were able to do the task correctly. Perhaps then, with psychology constantly changing and developing theories that easily become outdated, it should not be considered a science. At the same time, though, many other areas of science are constantly being added to, developed or having entire ideas being proven as incorrect. Take into consideration the development of the understanding of the atom (physics) in which J.J Thompson*, then Rutherford*, then Bohr* (and others, too) added to one other's ideas, changing correcting and redesigning the previously suggested structure of an atom by adjusting images through new research or discovery (e.g. Rutherford, Geiger and Marsden's* Alpha Particle Experiment*). Similarly, ideas around biology and medicine have evolved over time, from people thinking that bad smells (miasma*) caused disease to Pasteur* discovering that germs cause disease* in 1861, Koch* later adding the idea that different germs cause different diseases and today, with this proven knowledge, a range of different sicknesses that would have killed many a number of centuries ago can easily be cured via certain medicine(s) or treatment(s).

With these factors in mind, it cannot be said that psychology is not a science as it is constantly developing and changing as, in the past, many other areas that are considered to be sciences have been subject to change as well. Similar to biology, an understanding of psychology can help with bigger things, such as preventing or treating difficulties regarding mental health or smaller things, like the most effective way of helping children learn new information. Just like other sciences, the area of psychology is filled with theories and studies, as well as a general scientific method that is followed when an experiment of sorts is being done (which is/can be the same one as other sciences use). However, there are limits as to what extent psychology should be considered a science as well, such as the fact that some theories, which would be ethically immoral to experiment, can not have research evidence to back them up. Additionally, there is a subjectivity that psychologists have which makes it difficult for any experiment to be 100% unbiased (take the Piaget example from before — the original research underestimated children, but was originally still considered to fully back up the theory because Piaget likely had an idea of what results he wanted to see. Unlike in other sciences, it is sometimes difficult for results to directly prove that an idea, assumption or theory is incorrect straight away). So, should psychology be considered a science? Theoretically, yes. If anything, as a subsection of biology. To say the very least, it should be considered scientific, in a sense. Whether it is an individual science, though, is something many people — including some psychologists themselves — will likely debate over the years.

────────────────────────────
GLOSSARY
*Alpha Particle Experiment: an experiment done to find out more about the atom
*Bohr: Known for the Bohr/planetary model of the structure of the atom
*Conserve: from conservation — in this case the ability to realise the quantity of something can remain the same even if that thing's physical appearance changes
*Egocentrism: only being able to view things from your own perspective
*Geiger and Marsden: Rutherford's students. They did the Alpha Particle Experiment.
*Germs cause disease: Pasteur's germ theory
*Hughes' Policeman Doll experiment: a study that investigated egocentrism
*J. J. Thompson: Known for his Plum Pudding model of the structure of the atom
*Koch: realised, based off of Pasteur's theory, of that different germs cause different diseases
*Miasma: the belief that bad smells cause disease, most common in medieval and partially industrial times
*Pasteur: the guy who realised that germs cause disease
*Piaget: a Swiss psychologist
*Piaget's Theory of Cognitive Development: a theory of how our minds grow over the course of our lives. A big part of the theory focuses on cognitive development during childhood.
*Pre-operational: 2nd stage in Piaget's ToCD
*Rutherford: known for the nuclear model of the atom and the Alpha Particle Experiment

daily ^^ 3/5/2022

“With her faded dress and worn shoes, she knew she couldn't go…”

She sat down at the porch as her friends rushed into the bus. Mara wanted to go on the school trip too. Her class were going hiking for the field trip today. But, Mara had forgotten to buy the proper equipment. What’s more, she was wearing a dress and slippers with little, worn out heels. She thought the trip was tomorrow, not today. She assumed she could wear her dress to school today, and buy the equipment today too. Mara had forgotten that the field trip’s date was changed due to it raining squishy spaghetti tomorrow. Mara thought that was a joke, as would any sensible person. She didn’t realize the rest of her classmates… they went to SWC.
Mara sat down, and pulled out her black colored chromebook, given to her by the school. She was free to do anything at school that day, so Mara decided to go on Scratch, the coding platform her coding teacher had recently introduced. Hmm? What’s this? Swuckee? she thought. “Main Cabin SWC” read in bold letters on the studio’s title. She clicked the comments section, her eyes staring at the first few comments.
Alicorn10: hi everyone! so for my weekly i need some evidence and if you could pick out of these 4 options which of these is the best pronunciation (in your OPINION) that would be really helpful!! you don't have to be logical or anything, whatever your heart feels like ;D options: esduble-u-see, swoccy, swuhcee, saucy
FrogandChick: esduble-u-see usually but I also sometimes say swuhck
Pitau: swuhcee supremacy B)
Rey_venclaw: In my mind I always say esswuhcee lol
Mara tilted her head. Was she seeing things? This couldn’t possibly be what her friends had told her about. “The most magical place on earth” seemed to be exaggerated praise.
“Oooh, swoccy?”
Mara turned her head. Mr. Button looked at her computer’s screen.
“Swoccy? Uh, you oka–”
“I love swoccy! My daughter tells me every single day of swoccy her word count!”
“You– you mean your fourteen year old daughter?”
“Yes, as well as my sixteen year old!”
Mara’s jaw dropped. Seriously?
“It’s a magical place. Hey, I know! Why don’t you sign up as a back up camper?” Mr. Button’s smile turned into a grin as large as a slice of watermelon.
“Um.. I don’t know.. It’s kind of, no, extremely, weird.”
“Just give it a go! The trip lasts two days, you need something to do!”
Mara hesitantly filled out the application. “Are you sure about this?” Mara asked.
Mr. Button nodded. “I’m sure.”

Needless to say, Mara most definitely enjoyed her endeavor into the magical land of SWC.

Daily 3/06
308 words
prompt by @beeblush

Familiar eyes hurry through the fog. You will your legs to move, to turn around and run, but they’re frozen in place. Come on, come on, you scream internally. Finally, when the eyes are only a few feet away, you sprint. You can hardly see through the fog, but the terror pushes you forward. The fog has made the cobblestones slippery and your feet almost fly out from under you several times - you know you should be more careful, but as adrenaline rushes to your cheeks, you can’t slow yourself down. You turn corner after corner with no destination. The shops all look the same: beige paint that’s been slowly chipping away for ages, bright window displays that you have to squint to look at, scratched up glass doors.
You don’t know if you’re going in circles. You don’t know if you’ve passed this window ten times before.
All that matters is that you’re alone. No one can find you here. No one.
—
You don’t know when you started to slow down. They tell you that they found you lying on your back on the cobblestones. It’s raining now; you can hear it beating on the roof.
Wait. Who are they again? You must be in a clothing store; that’s all there is around here. Are they the owners? They must have introduced themselves. Right?
A chandelier turns on, and you thrust your head to the side, trying to get out of the light. You hadn’t realized it was dark.
“Hey.”
You know that voice. You know that voice! Why do you recognize it? Whose is it? You try to open your eyes. It’s too bright. You squeeze them shut once again.
You finally place where you know the voice from. A vague picture of someone smiling forms in your brain. Bright red lips. Round face. Tangled hair, always. And those eyes. Those eyes!

March 6th Daily
822 words

Prompt: “your teacher calls your name on the loudspeaker, but when you enter the room, your teacher isn’t there. in fact, there’s nothing in the room - nothing but two chairs and a desk, as if all your teacher’s possessions are gone. what happens next?”

I’m just about to grab my backpack and storm out the door, ready to welcome the weekend with open arms, when I hear something on the loudspeaker that sounds like my name over the roar of children being freed from the cage that is school. I can’t exactly decipher the wording. The words sounded more like “Rain Ece” than Renée Ferlise. I wrinkle my forehead and continue walking to the doors, figuring that it probably wasn’t my name. Then, as I’m pushed forward by the crowd of students, I find myself right next to a speaker, and the announcement blasts in my ear, clear and harshly loud.

“I repeat: Renée Ferlise, please make your way to room 205. Your presence has been requested by Kailey Grafton.”

I pause at the last words. Miss Grafton? Normally I’d be irritated at having to stay longer, but Miss Grafton is one of my favorite teachers. I don’t enjoy her (or any) class, but in comparison to every other one, she’s decent. She has curly purple hair and is very nice but also very strict when she needs to be, which makes her a very effective educator too. I think about it for a moment – I could just leave and pretend I didn’t hear the announcement, which might be preferable so I can catch the bus – but even I can’t successfully lie to Miss Grafton, so I figure I should probably just go and get it over with.

I heave my backpack onto my shoulder and walk toward room 205. It feels strange to be walking back into the school, against the figurative current of the movements of everybody else. I hurry up the stairs and hesitantly turn into room 205, a bit curious by now as to why Miss Grafton asked for me specifically.

There is nobody there.

I frown. “Miss Grafton?”

As I look around, I notice that the room looks much barer than usual. I don’t know if the chairs usually get put anywhere after school, but there are only two chairs and an empty desk. All of the posters that are usually on the walls, the belongings on Miss Grafton’s desk – all of which were there when I came into third period this morning – are gone.

I’m starting to get a bit confused and slightly freaked at this point. Is this some kind of prank? Who would want to play a prank on me anyway? I thought that I’ve kept a low profile this year.

I rub my eyes, annoyed. When I open them again, Miss Grafton is standing in the same spot where the second chair was. She waves at me, a bit of a sheepish look on her face.

I blink twice. Once I’m sure she’s real, I wave back and ask, “Where did the chair go?”

“Well, I was the chair.”

“What?”

“I was disguised as a chair. See, I have the ability to shapeshift into whatever I like.”

I laugh, figuring this is one of Miss Grafton’s occasional halfhearted attempts at humor. When I look back at her, though, she’s not laughing.

“Miss Grafton, are you feeling okay?” I ask. “Is this a test?”

“I’m feeling perfectly fine.” she said. “Close your eyes and open them after three seconds.”

I close my eyes, feeling odd. I count to three and open them again.

Miss Grafton is gone. In her place is my backpack.

I startle, and turn to make sure my backpack is on my back. It is. When I turn back, Miss Grafton is standing there again. I stumble and find myself using the doorframe for balance.

“Are you feeling all right, Renée?”

“I think I’m hallucinating.”

“I’m afraid to inform you that is not the case.” Miss Grafton sighs. “See, I’m not what you think I am, though all I have ever wanted was to blend in with your society. I did that for the past few years as a teacher here. But I have been found out by a hostile group. And now I need your help.”

“Why. . . why me?” I ask. I still think I’m hallucinating. Or this is a test. Or prank of some kind. But I decide to play along.

“I’ve seen you reading fantasy in my class on more than one occasion. Very good book choice, by the way. I thought you would be less surprised to discover who I am.”

“You told me you were a . . .”

“Shapeshifter.” Miss Grafton supplies.

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Yeah, that. You told me you were a shapeshifter because you saw me reading fantasy?”

Miss Grafton shrugs. “Drastic times, drastic measures. But the fact remains, I do need help, be it from you or anyone.”

“Okay, okay.” I say. “I’ve probably already missed my bus, so I can do that. This is a very weird new test format, by the way. What do you need me to do?”

To be continued heh

Daily for March 6th!

(Prompt: “Come on, press it!” my sister says. I finally gave in and pressed it. At first, nothing happened, then she says, “Hmm… not what I expected. At all.” Prompt by me, also being done by @Warriorsisawesome)

(Also, heh, it was double of what it was meant to be, 655 words to be exact XD)

A perfectly normal day. Just like how every day and story begins. But, I always know something out of the ordinary will happen at some point. I didn't want it to happen, but it will most likely happen, especially when I least expect it.

Anyways, back to the story. It was after school. My sister, being the smart one of the three siblings, even though she was the youngest, was learning coding in gifted class. And she was good at it. After school, she'd be fiddling with technology, trying to make it better. A few times she even broke my computer. I arrived home hearing my sister clicking the keyboard again, working on something.

“Emily! Home just in time, I see!” she said, giggling and pulling me over to the computer. “I've been experimenting with coding things and making them work with a computer!” she continued, showing me this green glowing button. I stared at it. “Go ahead, press it!” I felt pretty skeptical. I shook my head and walked away.

Throughout the day, my sister Lily continued bugging me to press the button. “Come on, press it!” my sister says. I finally gave in and pressed it. At first nothing happened, then she says, “Hmm… not what I expected. At all.” I didn't realise the button buzzing, and then shaking. Little sparks came out. Suddenly, I couldn't see a thing.

“Emily! Emily, where are you?” I hear Lily. I opened my eyes. I couldn't see her. I just saw nothing but dark blue around me. “Emily!” I hear Lily's voice echo. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you!” I yelled, looking around. there was absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Lily gasped.

“Emily, where are you!? Where did you go?” Lily said. I looked around to see if there was anything at all.

“I- I have no idea…” I said. I heard the echo of typing.

“E-E-Emily… I'm not sure how to tell you this, but… umm…” I heard Lily stammer. “You are in the universe of blank. You are literally no where. You are in the only universe that is nothing.” I tried to wrap my head around what she said, but it felt like such a conundrum.

“Could you get me out then?” I asked, worried. I heard Emily, making the noises she does when she thinks.

“Only one way, but, it's difficult. And risky. I have to go to the portalverse, the universe that holds the portals to the other universes. And, I can't go all of the way in, or else we both won't be able to escape… but, I'll do it if that's what it takes…” Lily said. I had no idea what she was saying, so I just had to trust her.

It was hours later. No one said a peep. I felt alone. Suddenly, I hear Lily say, “Hold on, I'm almost here!” I smiled. She continued talking, her voice slowly getting less echo-y. Suddenly, I saw her. “Grab my hand!!” she said, reaching her hand out as far as possible. I came over to her, and just latched on to her hand. “Oh no…” she said, noticing the portal shrink. She pulled me as hard as possible. I squinted, as nervous as can be.

I woke up, seeing light. I grunted, getting up. Lily was sitting on a chair, typing away like nothing had happened. “Oh, Emily, you're awake!” she said, hugging me. I smiled.

“Well, thanks for saving me!” I said. Lily gave me a weird look.

“Saved you? I was scared I did something horribly wrong!” Lily said, giggling a bit.

“But- but you got me out of that weird universe-” I said until Lily interuppted.

“What!? You've been here the whole time! That must've been a dream.” Lily said, going back to her seat. Hmm… maybe that was possible. One thing's for sure, I would never touch one of her inventions again.

✩──────────────✩
✯Weekly #1 Part 3: Script Writing✯
Haven't done this in a while OωO

Total words: 1021
✩──────────────✩

On set, there should be two chairs, set up facing each other in preparation for an interview. This should be on the left side of the stage, with one or two cameras behind and pointed at each seat. A director can choose to have camera people on stage if they wish to. The light should be focusing on this side of the stage, brightly lit and exciting. The right side of the stage, in the dark at the start, should be empty. If they wish to, directors may add a couple of props.

The characters MS COOK, INTERVIEWER and MONTERINS (as well as camera people, if any) should be on the left side of the stage, in still image. INTERVIEWER should be seated on the right hand chair, and any respective camera people behind one camera each. MONTERINS should be standing beside INTERVIEWER and MS COOK should be standing beside the left hand chair. A dim stage light should follow ALBERT, as he walks onto the stage from the left wing.

ALBERT: My daughter and I were close. I used to bake, many years ago, and she would come running, along with her siblings, to the kitchen. I think they just wanted to get a taste of whatever it was I was making at the time (chuckling) It was our little thing. Our quality time. But now, with her own kids, she…

He glances in MS COOK's direction, sighs and shakes his head, walking and disappearing into the right side of the stage, a dim light following him. ALBERT exits via the right wing. As he does so, the other characters come out of their still image.

MONTERINS: (walking over to MS COOK) Ah, MS Cook! I'm glad you could make it today!

MS COOK: (seeming a little distracted) Yes, yes, it's a pleasure to be here.

MONTERINS: (smiling) Please do take a seat. The interview will begin shortly.

MONTERINS gestures to INTERVIEWER, who merely nods in acknowledgement from their seat. MS COOK checks the watch on her wrist before sitting in her seat.

MONTERINS exits.

INTERVIEWER: (clearing throat) So, Ms Cook, what inspired you to get into baking in the first place?

MS COOK: (focusing) I suppose, even from a young age, it was always something I was drawn to (smiling) My father used to love baking too, you see.

INTERVIEWER: You could say it runs in the family then, right? (grinning and facing the audience) It is in the name, after all!

Both MS COOK and INTERVIEWER laugh. INTERVIEWER'S laugh seems a little awkward at first, but they quickly regain their professionalism.

INTERVIEWER: Well, I suppose that's all from us then. Ms Cook, we'll all be looking forward to the launch of your new business expansions!

They both smile at the audience for a few more seconds before getting up. MS COOK checks the time on her watch again. Everyone else temporarily freezes in place whilst she speaks. At this time backup actors (EMPLOYEES) should walk onto the right side of the stage, still majorly in the dark, seemingly having conversations or occupying themselves with some sort of activity.

MS COOK: I really can't be late again so I-

MONTERINS enters.

MONTERINS: (her walking disrupts the still image and everyone begins moving again. She walks over to MS COOK, interrupting her mid sentence) Ms Cook! Thank you for your time!

MONTERINS and MS COOK walk to the center of the right side of the stage, with a light following them. INTERVIEWER walks behind them, but not within the light. The lights on the left side of the stage dim as the right side of the stage lights up gradually.

MS COOK: (plastering a smile on her face, but slightly puzzled as she tries to remember who MONTERINS is) Of course (giving up on remembering) I'm glad I got this opportunity — it was a great experience.

MONTERINS: (laughing) Ah, really? I'm happy to hear you say that! (suddenly glaring at INTERVIEWER who, walking across the stage, was behind them. She speaks again in a cold tone) Unfortunately, not everything was up to my standard…

An expression of alarm settles on INTERVIEWER'S face. MS COOK sighs and walks forward to distract MONTERINS'S attention. As she does so, INTERVIEWER hurriedly flees the scene.

(INTERVIEWER exits)

Note: throughout this exchange, the lighting can be played around with to add to the tension, should a director wish to do so.

MS COOK: (with a tone that hints at a slight disapproval) I'm sure you strive for excellence, then.

MONTERINS: (furrowing her brow and holding her hand out for a handshake) Naturally. As I'm sure you know, Ms Cook, everybody has a different way of going about such things. Excellence, and the like.

MS COOK: Oh, yes (clasping MONTERINS'S hand and shaking it) I'm sure you encourage and inspire all your employees, Mrs… (glancing at a name tag or general lanyard that MONTERINS is wearing) …Monterins.

MONTERINS: (speaking through gritted teeth, disapproving Please, call me Phoebe.

MS COOK looks around. The EMPLOYEES, who have been staring, quickly turn away and start whispering amongst themselves. They quiet down when MS COOK sighs.

MS COOK: (in a slightly sarcastic tone) Well, Phoebe, it was a pleasure meeting you and having this opportunity (smiling) I'm afraid I have to go now, though. Have a lovely day.

MONTERINS: And you, Ms Cook-

MS COOK: (interrupting in a seemingly more friendly tone Lianda.

MONTERINS: (smiling, correcting herself) Take care, Lianda. I look forward to seeing you… flourish in the near future.

They keep up their professionalism, nodding at each other before MONTERINS crosses to the other side of the stage with a prideful stride.

MONTERINS exits.

The EMPLOYEES start whispering and gossiping again once she leaves. MS COOK sighs, and they quiet down so that her voice can be heard. When she starts to speak, they slowly exit.

MS COOK: (checking the time on her watch again) If I hurry, I can still make it in time. Maybe not early, but on time. That would be enough. I just hope…-

She sighs, and hurriedly walks off the stage, looking worried.

-WINTERFAWN- SWC WRITING

DAILY 6/3/2022 - 343 words
The remnants of long gone balloons lay scattered about the ground, adding bright pops of colour to the dull, brown dirt. Splashes of red are splattered across the concrete, leaving a sickening feeling in my stomach. ‘So-‘ my voice falters, ‘where were you standing when it happened?’ They both look as sick as I feel, which is understandable. After all, they were here on that day. The fateful day of the incident. I’m surprised that I have been brought back here. Surprisingly, nothing seems to have changed. It is the scene of a horror scene, which it is.
Four years ago, on her birthday, Alison Penny, aged six at the time, was murdered in cold blood. When she was celebrating her birthday. When the parents were coming to collect their children, a man showed up. He tried to grab Alison without anyone noticing, but then gave up and stabbed her. It was a horrific day. The whole family was loved dearly by our small community, and such a crime broke the hearts of all parents and children, especially those who were close to Alison or her family.
Her parents pointed to where they were standing on the day, a spot just near the fence. I began walking over, but they protested. ‘Don’t go over there-‘. ‘The rumours-‘.
‘Yes! I know the rumours!’ I snapped. ‘The rumours are ridiculous’. The rumours state that the man jumped out of the woods next to their house. That he still lives nearby, waiting for someone to venture close enough. I strode over to the fence. A twig cracked, and my breath caught in my chest, but I did not stop walking. I reached the fence and turned around to look at them defiantly. ‘See it’s fi-‘ I was cut off as they both screamed. I felt hands close over my throat, cutting off my breathing. I whirled around, but all I could see was black. I could see the stars, even though it was daytime, and I struggled for breath. After that, I can remember no more.

DAILY 2/3/2022 - 390 words
It’s freezing in here, honestly. I don’t know what I’m doing or how I got here, only that it’s freezing. I had a feeling I might get taken soon, but I didn’t realise we were sent to the Antarctic. Although, it doesn’t seem to look much like the Antarctic out there, what with humans walking around, baskets in their hands, with more like me in them. Suddenly, a blast of warmth shoots into me as a human opens what seems like some kind of see through thing. Possibly an icicle, depending on whether or not we are in the Antarctic. I look to my friends, nestled in between small twigs that might once have been branches, seeing if they’re seeing what I’m seeing. But suddenly, I feel myself moving, being lifted up off where I am hanging. I swing around and around, trying to find out what’s going on. Once I get a view, my nonexistent heart stops. The human has picked us up. We’re in a bag! So this is what happens when you get taken away. You get put in a cold place until someone decides to take you. Take you where, I don't know. The human walks around for a bit, jostling us around in the bag, until she stops. We are placed on some kind of machine, I can tell because we start moving, slowly but surely, forwards. After some moments, the machine halts, and I topple over from the suddenness of it. We are picked up once more, and a loud beep sounds from nearby, before we are blacked back down. A few minutes pass before we are picked up once more. I’m not going to lie, this business of being picked up and put back down is becoming rather tiring. I mean honestly, can’t humans ever make up their minds about anything. Once again, I am rocked from side to side, crashing into my fellow fruits, and I am shocked once more as what seems to be a giant fleshy paw reaches into the bag and grabs me and some friends out. It is not possible for me to release their grip, so I must succumb to their strength. I am dropped from a great height into darkness. I hear teeth gnashing, and I barely get to think another thought before I am gone.

~March 6th~
Main Cabin Daily
Word Count: 329
Main Post: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6081187/

Prompt: Soft, billowing clouds caught me. I bounced onto their surface. Wow, they were really soft.

Soft, billowing clouds caught me. I bounced onto their surface. Wow, they were really soft. Where was I? This wasn’t Flower Fields. I had just dropped into the clouds. I don’t remember anything else, and this scared me.
A cloud pixie poofed into existence in front of me, a floof of white hair on top of his head and skin pale as a white peony. “Are you lost?” He asked.
I nodded.
He looked me over. “Flower Sprite?”
I nodded again, afraid.
“Cool. Come with me.” He said. I stood up.

We walked for a while on the clouds. The thing that fascinated me the most wasn’t the fact that we were walking on CLOUDS, but that a cloud pixie, a member of the clan that was the Flower Sprites’ worst enemies, would help me out.
Finally, I broke the silence. “What’s your name?”
“Ronan. You?” He asked, his back to me.
“Theenash.” I replied.
“Interesting.” Ronan mused, and he said nothing more.

I hoped that he could help me. But what if he gets me killed?
I trusted him. I hope that he didn’t think I was some spy for my people. I wasn’t even sure how I got there, so he couldn’t blame me for anything.

Something rose over the horizon. It looked like a palace. I already knew where this would go. I never should’ve thought anything about him other than that he was going to turn me in. I stopped, started walking backwards and hoped that Ronan wouldn’t notice, but he did notice.
“Don’t worry. This is my house. I’m not turning you in, against my better judgement, but all the same I’m not.” He turned to me and crossed his arms. “You may be a flower sprite, but you’re not responsible for your ruler’s actions.”
I made a face. This isn’t what I had expected. “Thank you?”
Ronan rolled his eyes. “Come on already. If we hurry, my father won’t see us come in.”

vee's boring swc writing

– dailies –

march 6:
(removed bc bad)

march 8:
(removed bc bad)

march 24:
tw: body shaming, implied ****
“Oh my god—”
“Did you see her knees?”
“You’re trapped.”
“—disgusting.”
“Gross…”
“–breaking all of the–”
“Did you see-”
“–wait, what is she-”
“Her shoulders!”
“She’s taking–”
“Stripper-”
“—being distracted!”
“The boys can’t control–”
“—****.”
“Attention seeking-”
“—clothes?”
“—cracked up–”
“—taking it to the extreme–”
“Are you really wearing that?”
“I heard her mom hits her every-”
“It’s always the traumatized kid.”
“You know what they say, the more mentally deranged–”
“–w****.”
“She’s taking it off more!”
“Look at her!”
“So shameful”
“Principal, expel her!”
“Shoulders! Knees! Arms!”
“All the qualities–”
“– a young woman should not have.”
“Why is feminism a thing?”
“—her trauma, faker.”
“Go away! No one wants you–”
“Haha, I heard she’s–”
“Hilarious! I cracked up when I saw those pics.”
“Serves her right!”
“She always wore skirts anyways.”
“Literally asking for it–”
“Look at those—”
“Dang….”
“Woahhh…”
“Everyone grab a rock!”
“K1LL HER!!!”
“EVERYONE KILL THE DISGRACE!!”
“Sitting like that…”
“Wait, is she-”
“What are they doing to her?!”
“…It was coming for her anyways.”
“Leave her be.”
“The boys can’t control themselves.”
“She did have her–”
“Her shoulders were exposed, though-”
“Her legs–”
“She’s crying–”
“Tears-”
“Is that–”
“Blood?”
“Look at her collarbones, so hot-”
“Her thighs-”
“Her chest-”
“Her arms-”
“Her neck-”
“Her feet-”
“Her skirt-”
“Her attitude-”
“Her makeup-”
“–Wait, she’s punching him-”
“Someone stop her!”
“Wasn’t he doing something wrong to her?”
“SHE WAS ASKING FOR IT!!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-”
“Her corpse."

– weeklies –

(deleted the first weekly because i don't like it)

“SWC Weekly 1”


haiku:

left with only the taste of your lips stained on my cheeks
like a permanent tattoo that’ll
never leave.

elegy:

the tears that fled from the eyes that day were sweet with despondency,
the rain covered the sun that could’ve broken the woes,
the power as the gavel proceeds to burst the excitement through the crackling voices of white folk,
the seller’s voice box fracturing as the melancholic rain keeps pounding,
harder and harder as families are being torn, when the sentence splits into two.

and when you leave up, up, up,
after our village was torn down,
past seas, oceans, and its flaws,
past the ones who sent our home up in emblazoned flames,
may you rest in peace,
as my name is put now up on a board,
my price,
my culture,
my skin tone,
my everything.

narrative:

if you look above, you can see a woman swaying on a board–
that board is a swing–
she stares at the sky as her hand rests on the right side of the swing;
was someone supposed to sit there beside her as well?
you can listen to the pounding grail as her tears collect the dirt on her face,
cleaning it up with dejection.

to the side you can see a young boy on the sidewalk,
with a sign in hand–
“please help”
and a small cup with one overused penny–
he also cries.

past both of them,
the sun is covered by clouds that
let’s drop its pounding raindrops,
as the grail melts into the ground,
creating a pool of mud water.

the sun seems to weep too.

pastoral:

“at the top of a building,
you can examine the world below—
the mountains feed the flowing rivers with minerals,
as the glistening water falls right back into the ocean,
lined with sand that gets darker as the arriving waves coat it with its water.

you can catch the trees that slowly minimize as the days go on,
paper reproducing while animals switch habitats and explore new parts of the forest,
and the dryness of the land,
and where the field caught the glimmer of the aureate sun,
and slowly fades into a golden color,
until it becomes dust
like the dust in deserts.
do you see it?”

“i can’t, no.”

free verse:

the tramway stops as the city spins in a whirlwind around her,
her eyes divert to the consistent beeping of the sign above the gray chairs–
{ Tree Street } –
her street.

she walks out,
and looks up.

the planet’s flaws are inevitable,
but the myriad of stars shine past the tears in the world,
and sew together the valleys that should've stuck together.

— — —

Essay:

Take a look outside. You may see flowers lining all the corners of your viewpoint, well, you may or may not know this, but some of those may slowly switch colors because of climate change. I’ve never thought that climate change would have this much of an effect on flowers, but perhaps damaging the world also means damaging the plants, herbs, and trees that come with it.

Over the past many years, climate change has severely affected our climate, and with that, animals and plants change their habitats, by changing habitats or switching seasons where they breed. Based on a few studies, their colors could either get darker or lighter, based on the “temperature” and “vapor pressure deficit” (“the amount of aridity in the air”). Some flowers have been changing, or adjusting, to the temperature changes and altering the UV (“ultraviolet”) pigments in their petals by declining the ozone that protects them from harmful rays of sunlight coming from the emblazoned sun. The UV pigments in a flower’s petals are invisible to our own eyes, but instead, they draw pollinators (i.e. bees) and are told to be like sunscreen except it is for flowers; meaning that without UV-absorbing pigments, sensitive cells in a flower could be damaged by UV light. These pollinators usually prefer where there are UV-absorbing pigments near the center of the flower, where the pollen usually is. Koski had studied that flowers near the equator or who reached a high elevation would often have more UV-absorbing pigments because they were exposed to more sunlight. Scientist Matthew Koski decided to find out how human activity or ozone affected the changes in UV pigments.

Koski and a few other of his colleagues decided to use a UV-sensitive camera to examine flowers that dated back in 1941 in North America, Australia, and Europe. He had concluded that, over the course of around 78 years those flowers’ pigments’ rose by 2%, on average. It wasn’t the same for every flower, in fact, flowers that had pollen slapped into their petals had decreased in UV-pigment when the temperature became hotter, ignoring whether or not ozone levels were high or low because they were already naturally protected from the UV exposure because of the petal that protected the pollen. If the flower had pollen that was exposed to broad daylight, then when the ozone levels went up, the amount of UV-absorbing pigment went down, and when the levels of ozone went down, the UV-absorbing pigment went up.

Hence, pollinators who fly by these flowers are attracted those with a lower pigment, but if the flowers adjust that pigment to protect the pollen, they could lose the contrast that the other flowers with a lower pigment have, making that flower not as outstanding to the passersby flying pollinators. Even if the change in pigmentation helps protect the pollen altogether, pollinators might completely ignore that flower, and the changes in UV-pigmentation are not visible to the human eye, but can affect where the pollinators choose to pollinate.

— — —



SCENE 1 (DIALOGUE / NO INNER THOUGHTS / PAST):

(Outside the air blows a stern wind as they sit on their window. They sit next to each other staring at the nature that surrounds them).

YUA:
“Look—a cocoon, do you see it, Himari?”

(A silence breaks through and only soft chirps can be heard through the atmosphere).

— —

SCENE 2 (NO DIALOGUE / INNER THOUGHTS / PRESENT):

(Yua thinks as she sits in her room about her surroundings and about all that has been going on during the war that breaks through the story).

YUA (inner thoughts):

Betwixt the copper sun and the wooden walls that guard me, I sit.

Above my head, a golden rayon shines over the King’s painted face, struck by heavenly emblazoned colored paint brushes, under the crumbling world that turmoils over the monochrome hidden under his smiling face. A bursting sprite of energy jumps on the strokes of beautiful ecstasies depicting an ethereal-like world. A beautiful aureate throne is what he sits on, a specter in his hand with a carved red jewel ingrained into the burning gold.

It’s just a painting, but I could’ve sworn that smile turned into a cold, unfeasible stern look. A straight line pursed on his lips, beaten by the orders and commands thrown out to fight the world that struck an earthquake into the center of the pearl-white building that guarded me and the monarchy. I sit at the top, at the very edge of the world—protected by guards riding on hooves covered by rough metal armor, and the soldiers sitting at the bottom of the podium, little stars compared to the sun, pawns on a checkerboard of life or death or pride.

Me; on the top of the stone-matted walls—me, always hiding in the dust from the bloodshed and the life pulse of the world.

So this is what it is? Layers of rumors on top of layers of rumors—brick by brick with plaster cracking out of each one, imperfectly built. The rumor that royalty commands, children born into it the “luckiest of all”? The prominent monarchy built by the coarsened hands of poverty reigning over us more than the richness that reigns over the fraction that can hold it on their own scale, too heavy to sustain—too heavy where you can fall?

Where the Queen and King get drunk on bubbling champagne and the highest grades of fed beef—the best of the best, only for Royalty.

And so we push aside those who built this monarchy, and the only ones who didn’t build it, are the ones who feed off of it. We’re beasts—we’re criminals feeding on the food made by others. Why aren’t we guarded by unbreakable metal bars, only with the ability to be fractured by an arson-filled world. Why are the ones who are behind bars the one who made this capitol?

— —

SCENE 3 (DIALOGUE / INNER THOUGHTS / PRESENT):

(Yua still stirs in her room while listening to the voices that surround her.)

YUA (inner thoughts):

Past the etched doors carved for centuries, lies the King—my father. His command is the worst beckoning plea. Though he doesn’t realize it, he’s drowning in war—his heartbeat is the tune of a military song, his face is weary, sinking a marine blue. Dressed in a velvet cloth, he’s hiding.

Hiding from the world.

(Sounds of thudding)

YUA’S FATHER:

“Get the girl to safety.”

YUA:

“No—it can’t be me. It can’t.

Whatishappeningwhatishappeningwhatishappening—”

“WHERE IS HIMARI?—
what about Himari?”

— —

SCENE 4 (DIALOGUE / INNER THOUGHTS / PAST)


(They are sitting under the dappled sunlight, hands intertwined into each other. They dreamed of star-like rhapsodies and marriage, a pile of sweet cakes that could fill their mouths to the brim with and all the songs and piñatas breaking as little children—once their age—would gobble down acidic candy…even at such a young age—so much time to climb; higher, higher, with a pick-axe grappling at each pile of dirt.

Her eyes: a deep emerald green, despite the amount of money she holds in her own pockets that almost are ripped, they stand out with a pulchritudinous, shocking sprite of color. If only I could give her more, those frail limbs sticking out of his skin, cuts and scratches are the only thing that he has a lot of. Years of working on rice fields, picking rice. Nothing more, nothing less. Wages given, nothing more, nothing less.

The stars would shine brighter than the biggest, burning flame made by the sun—)

YUA (with tears streaming down her face):

“It’s a dream—Himari is real, but this, THIS… it’s a dream.
It’s not reality—”

“Even if I put myself to my knees in front of my father, begging him like a villager with nothing left, what would he do? Nothing. Even if I gave him my soul glistening in a warped aureate light, he wouldn’t accept. In that squeamish heart of his, he couldn’t fit the thought to rescue at least one villager—he can’t even save himself.”

— —

SCENE 5 (DIALOGUE / INNER THOUGHTS / PRESENT):

(The guards cuff Yua’s hands, and cobwebs line the room.)

YUA’S FATHER (said with regret):

“Bye Yua. Leave now—past the walls that guard our city. And once you’re out—you run. Find a way. Carve your own pathway, cariño mío. A milagro will make its way to you, amor—go.”

(They walk out. All they hear are sounds of crying villagers, their screams echoing a sorrowful sound in their hearts.)

YUA (tries to say something but can’t):

“…”

GUARD 1 (a toned voice, with a slight peak of fear:

“We will go past the first bridge, then enter the center of the city, then will pass by Madera Street to reach the gate safely. Stay near us—we’ve sworn to protect you. When we shall die—eventually, we can’t hold them off for long—you run.”

GUARD 2 (a toned voice, the voice you must use when addressing to Royals):

“We are put under the orders of The King. We will respect His duties with whatever it takes, regardless of your role in the Royal Family.”

YUA (with a slight edge to her voice):

“Just… be quiet.”

YUA (inner thoughts):

Madera Street: Himari’s street.

I’m being drugged on this dreaming eidolon of me finding Himari alive, and with the capability of saving him, taking him with me and running along the rapid waters—free.

But freedom was something nonexistent here. Ever since I opened my fluttering eyes, first seeing the flourishing world, I had been hidden up in the darkness. One window would allow me to meet with Himari every day. She was the only thing that brought me joy—and springing one that ricocheted.

When I would hear scratching on the glass window, I’d see the curls of her hair pop up, and I would rush to open the window, my arms flailing against the air.

— —

SCENE 5 (DIALOGUE / NO INNER THOUGHTS / PRESENT):

(After walking in the fog of the bullet smoke and the pools of muddy blood, they reach Madera Street. No sound, no breathing, no…nothing.)

YUA:

“Hold up.”

GUARD 2:

“We must go Your Highness—”

GUARD 1:
“We must follow the orders of The King; we continue now.”

YUA:

“You may continue, I am staying. You can leave without me, or wait a few minutes.”

(Without a word, she escapes the hard grasp of the armored guards, and rushes towards Himari’s house. What she sees is a villager—“just a normal villager”—a laborer, one who had worked for her country, her city, sits dead. One who had used to be a precious gift, one who had brought life to my timeline of living, one who had succeeded in bringing me the smallest amount of joy when the bursts of it last, and now she sits dead, a rotting trunk. Just another red oak shifting in the wind when the mountains top their dead tree trunks—cut in half and stolen the roots from up. It will dry, it will be there forever until the new army that will power over our city will clean off the remnants. Will there be a grave? A new dug hole? No—she shall rot just like the others, mosquitoes will feed off her carcass and dead bones.)

YUA:

“This world will forever be tilted, even if someone new will reign, all those who are left leaving a pool of scarlet red blood to survive off of will never make the world right. So when the iconoclasts will rule, we will tumble over the new mountains of rocks they will protect themselves with. Then it will repeat—more war, more death, more loved ones broke into two: one dead, one alive. And more iconoclasts will find their way through the battles, until one shall decide to take over and make our world vertically placed. Would it be possible? I don’t know—I won’t be alive to see it, but maybe high, high up, in God’s willing hands, we will create a new world; with the same origins, but new roots to the growing trees and flowers.”

GUARD 1:

“You know nothing of this world, Yua.”

GUARD 2 (whispering to Guard 1 so Yua won’t hear):

“Keep your head up, don’t say a word or oppose her.”

GUARD 1 (whispering back to Guard 2):

“I will oppose whoever I want. She is not entitled to her own opinions at such a young age. You keep your head up.”

GUARD 2 (whispering back to Guard 1):

“Don’t act entitled, The King will get mad at you, and you know it.”

GUARD 1 (whispering back to Guard 2):

“We’re wasting time. I’m not acting entitled and He won’t get mad because, for all I know, we’ll die protecting this young Princess. And you know that.”

(Guard 2 stays silent, lips pursed.)

YUA:

“Let’s go now.”

GUARD 2:

“Yes, Your Highness.”

(And they leave.)

— —

SCENE 6 (DIALOGUE / INNER THOUGHTS / PRESENT):

(When they arrive to the other side, they slowly make their way past the forest that has been destroyed too. The guards leave her there.)

GUARD 2:

“Go past the red bridge and beyond. ‘Tis the order of your father.”

GUARD 1 (whispering to Guard 2):

“Don’t we need to accompany her?”

GUARD 2 (whispering to Guard 1):

“No, He said we must leave her here and go to fight. She shouldn’t encounter any of them anyway. They won’t do anything if they find her, either way—”

GUARD 1 (whispering to Guard 2):

“Yes, of course they will? They’ll hurt her.”

GUARD 2 (whispering to Guard 1):

“Since when do you care?”

GUARD 1 (whispering to Guard 2):

“I follow my duties.”

GUARD 2 (whispering to Guard 1):

“This is our duty, to leave her here. Your next duty is to assist the King to safety. I must fight.”

(Guard 1 grumbles, and they leave).

YUA (inner thoughts):

Do I go straight forward? Where else can I go? Right, left? That will only make me turn back again. We can’t go in cycles. Straight forward is a guarantee to somewhere else.

(So she follows no path, but she takes a step forward, and keeps doing it. And when she goes straight forward, she knows she’ll never turn back. And she can never turn back. She can’t turn back to Himari—after all she can only hope she’ll be following her. And all she can hope is that she’ll remember her).

— —

SCENE 7 (DIALOGUE / NO INNER THOUGHTS / PAST):

HIMARI (after a long pause, her voice finally breaks out):

“I see it.”

(The cocoon is lined with gossamer-like strings, lined with freshwater pearls made in the morning dew’s milagros).

YUA (in awe):

“It’s almost about to break.”

(If they close their eyes, they can hear a small cracking. When the cocoon finally breaks, birds start picking at the cerulean blue patterned butterfly, and it quickly hides itself, camouflaging its wings in a blue petalled flower).

HIMARI:

“Where did it go?”

YUA:

“Somewhere safe, Himari—somewhere where the animals won’t hurt it.”

(Silence.)

“Are you still there, Himari?”

HIMARI:

“Yes, Yua, but how long do they live?”

YUA:

“As long as they last, as long as they can survive.”

HIMARI:

“Hm. It will survive a long time—I know it. It looks strong, very strong.”

(And the butterfly? It spread its wings and soared.)


— — —


Non-Fiction writing:

Who is Gloria Steinem? Gloria Steinem is an activist, specifically a feminist, born in Toledo, Ohio on March 25th, 1934 who traveled around the US for a few years (Michigan, Florida, and California) until she finally settled back into Toledo where she could finally get an education without having to switch schools constantly. Her parents got a divorce that same year and she then had to take care of her mother, called Ruth, who suffered from a mental illness. When she grew older, she went to Smith College where she studied “government” which was considered unusual for women at that time. At that point in her life, she decided she didn’t want to marry anyone, because whenever you married back then, you became who your husband was and had to technically “work for them”. She started getting into feminism when she had to get an ab/rtion when she was younger (in secret) and saw that other women couldn’t get it. Steinem first spoke publicly about feminism in 1969 which inspired her to continue her career. She fought for feminism by writing (speeches, journaling, newspapers, articles, books) and by joining or founding many communities fighting for feminism as well as founding to big newspaper companies (Ms. magazine (a magazine for women who couldn’t express themselves freely, so that they had the opportunity to) and the New York magazine (a magazine for all types of discriminatory topics: religion, culture, race, gender, sexuality…)). Not only did she support feminism, but she created a documentary fighting against child abuse, and received the “Presidential Medal of Freedom” (the highest civilian honor possible) and the “Eleanor Roosevelt Val-Kill Medal”. She, along with all of her medals, got a lot of awards for her writing like the Clarion awards, Front Page awards, Lifetime Achievement in Journalism, Society of Writers, and way, way more.

Later on in her life, she did in fact marry an activist called George Bale at the age of 66, who was an entrepreneur and activist for animal rights. He then, sadly, died of lymphoma four years after their marriage. Through all the years she worked, she collaborated with some other feminists called Bella Abzug, Shirley Chisholm, and Betty Friedan.

Some other important feminists besides Gloria Steinem were Simone de Beauvoir, Doris Lessing, Germaine Greer, Bell Hooks, Roxane Gay, Andrea Dworkin, and Malala Yousafzai, all of which fought for this important cause in different ways.


–


What is SWC? Well, if you didn’t know SWC, also known as Scratch Writing Camp, is a triannual virtual writing camp where you can experience the joy of writing without any limits (unless you are doing a weekly or daily) from an hour to only a few minutes a day. To start off, there are fifteen cabins and fifteen leaders and 25-40 co-leaders (depending on if the leader wants to have 1 co-leaders or 2 co-leaders or 3 co-leaders) that each lead a different kind of genre (dystopian, fairy-tales, mythology, poetry, adventure, mystery, fan-fiction, historical-fiction, contemporary, realistic-fiction, science-fiction, horror, fantasy, thriller, and non-fiction), but you, of course, don’t need to write in the genre of the cabin you are assigned to.

To join the camp, you are assigned the role of a “camper” who basically has less responsibilities than a leader, and who enjoys their time “fighting” or being “competitive” against the other cabins who all fight to be on top of the leaderboard. They get to write from 1,000 words to 100,000 thousands words for the whole month. Speaking of that, Scratch Writing Camp takes place during March, July, and November! The rest of the months are usually made for planning of the leaders or the hosts.

How are the leaders picked? Well, leaders are picked by them making applications that please the host. Or in other words, the hosts look out and see who seems like they’d lead a good cabin, by reading answers to questions they ask the leaders. Usually there are about nine questions. After leaders are picked, they spend about a month to plan out what is going to go on during the camp and choose co-leaders, who aren’t chosen by the hosts, but by the leaders themselves.

Every day, the Main Cabin (where all the activities are posted) is updated and you can see that there are new activities (dailies or weeklies!) that you can do. Each activity has a different amount of points you can gain, usually based on the difficulty or the amount of time it takes to do it. Quite obviously dailies are supposed to be done in a day and weeklies done in a week!

Scratch Writing Camp also has writing workshops made by the wonderful leaders, co-leaders, or hosts based on various things that’ll be helpful when writing. Along with that, in your cabins that you’re assigned to, you get to meet people and create new friends. Sometimes you can do extra in-cabin dailies or in-cabin weeklies. There are also cabin wars, a twice a month activity where other cabins war other cabins with writing challenges.

That’s most of it, you should join SWC

— — —

Daily 3/6/22

You jerk awake as you feel something cold pressed against your throat. As the world sharpens into view, you see a pair of bright green eyes staring at you…

As you open your mouth to scream, a gloved hand clamps over your mouth. You hear a girl whisper, “None of that now. I’d rather not have to gag you.” She sounds young, too young to be of any real danger to you. And yet, here you are, held at knife point by this mere child.

“Gag me?” you ask, incredulous, as she removes her hand from your mouth.

You hear a click as she turns on your lamp, flooding your room with light. “Yes, gag you,” she answers, sounding almost impatient. “But I’d rather not deal with a spit-covered piece of cloth, so keep quiet, will you?” She crinkles her perfect little nose at the thought, and judging by her face, she looks about nine. Far too young for anything of this sort.

“Who are you?” you wonder, wishing you didn’t sound so stupid. Even with the possibility of death looming in the back of your mind, you still want to know what’s going on.

At this, she actually laughs. “Do you really think I’m going to answer that? Wow, you’re even dumber than I thought,” she says. “The better question is, who are you?”

She looks at you expectantly, adjusting her grip on that knife of hers still resting at your throat. You look back at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She sighs, then reaches into a pocket in her sleeve you hadn’t realized was there. From it, she produces a letter. You stare at it blankly, and she represses another sigh. “You really don’t know what this is?” she asks, sounding surprised.

When you shake her head, she pauses for a split second, her expression unreadable. Then slowly, maintaining her neutral expression, she turns the envelope so you can see the seal. You stifle your gasp as you realize what it is. It’s not just any seal.

It belongs to the king. Belonged, that is. It’s made of dried blood, and that can only mean one thing.

Someone murdered the king.

March 5th Daily

“Alright, goodbye,” Mia Williams hung up the phone and smiled.
Mia’s coworker and fellow teacher, Taylor Miller, took a seat next to her. She and Mia had been friends since middle school, and both landed a job at the same elementary school, teaching the same grade. They ate lunch together every weekday afternoon. “You’re talking to Ryan, I suppose?”
“How’d you know?”
“You always get that look when talking to him.”
“He’s a nice guy!”
“Sure he is, but Mia, until he quits being such a burden, he’s not for you.”
“What?” Mia scowled.
“Mia, he’s so clingy! He seems so insecure, as if you would leave him.”
“What bull!”
“He visits you at work every single week.”
Mia stood up. “And? Taylor, I’m not gonna listen to every single suggestion of yours…you’re so nit picky.”
“I’m not saying you have to listen to me. I’m just saying. Just… don’t let him ruin your life.”

Mia walked back to her fourth grade classroom. “A burden,” she grumbled. “What does Taylor know? I’m thirty-one. She’s acting as if I’m a high schooler. I know who and who not to trust!”

Mia continued with the rest of her day, not talking to Taylor. When every student departed from the school, she checked her phone. There was a message from Ryan.

Mia, can you please drive me to the cafe on Second Street at four-thirty?

Ryan had gotten his license suspended three times. He always needed someone to drive him places. Oh, how Mia wished she could stay at school and grade papers! She was very behind- progress reports were due next week! Then again, Ryan’s parents were far too seeing-impaired to drive. Ryan definitely had friends, but they must be busy.

Sure. Be there in 10.

Mia reluctantly left her classroom. I’m far too busy for this… I can hire an Uber for him next time, she thought.

As always, Mia was punctual. In ten minutes, she was at Ryan’s place. “Hey Ryan!” she called.
“Mia!” Ryan greeted her as he entered her car.

The cafe filled up once Mia and Ryan fell in line to order.

“Can I have a pumpkin spice latte?” asked Ryan.
The cashier tapped something on the screen in front of him.
“And may I have a shot of espresso?”
“That’ll be 5 dollars and… 20 cents,” said the cashier.
Ryan checked his pockets. “Aw man… I’m so sorry about this, but I might have forgotten my wallet at home.”
“That’s alright. I’ll pay,” Mia pulled out some cash.

Ryan sipped his latte. “Thanks so much, Mia, for paying for this.”
“It’s no problem.” Mia replied.

The next day was Saturday, so Mia had off. She could finally relax.

Hi Mia. Could you please drive me to the grocery store?

Mia groaned, then reminded herself that she didn’t have to drive him.

I’m busy at the moment, I’ll call an Uber for you.

I’m not comfortable with Uber.

Why not?

Ubers are too dirty. Who knows who last rode in that car? Please, Mia.

I guess now’s a great time to step out of your comfort zone, because I really can’t drive you all the time.

No response from Ryan.

Maybe, like Taylor said, Ryan was a burden. Mia thought. How many times had he made made her feel obligated to drive him places? Why her? Couldn’t he call his friends? I was busy, like his friends. He always wanted to be with me. I can’t deal with that my whole life. Ryan’s a really nice guy, but maybe, just maybe, I’m better off without Ryan.

599 words

~ Astrid's Weekly One ~
Word total ›› 3,241 words
All writing is by @Astrid_da_potato

Part 1
(50 words + 18 words + 54 words + 104 words + 219 words)

What If . . .?
(Oop the image doesn't work on forum posts)
Here’s what it says: Billions of shining lights illuminating the night, casting dazzling luster to ignite the murky darkness, reminding humanity night after night: the power of unity in which, joined together, can have the power to bring light to the whole world. I look up . . . I perceive . . . I understand . . . I hope (In the shape of a star)
~
Concrete Poem
(Image also doesn't work on forum posts -_-) It's an excerpt from Pride & Prejudice:
a flutter of the . . . wind . . . and . . . the turn of the tide . . . like . . . the beginning of . . . a . . . luminous . . . canvas.
~
Restart
Red, scorching blisters
Embers flickering out
Shining lights perish within me: hopes, goals, and dreams
Terrified and helpless watching accusations and shouts
As I pick up the broken shards of what used to be hope
Reaching for the lone company of the pen,
Trembling with nothing but the wish to start over again
~
Life in the Countryside
Sunlight beams down like a warm caress,
Noiseless streets with no sign of cars.
Morning dew reflecting the sun,
Like billions of shining stars.

Misty breezes brush through my hair,
Soft mud squishing like slime beneath my feet.
Pondwater brushing lightly against my heels.
Friends wave at me across the street.

Thorns and weeds,
Pricking at my hand,
Birds of all sizes,
Take a rest on the wet sand.

A fresh piney scent,
Fills the bright day.
As ducks from the East,
Come for a stay.

Full of surprises,
And great adventures,
Life in the countryside,
Filled with fun ventures.
~
Flying Solo
Fighting to be heard
Over the pouring rain,
Lost in the darkness
Like a wingless plane

Straining to keep my smile in place
While the rest of me is crumbling
I fall
down
down
down
My mistakes smothering the air from my lungs
Falling from the sky, watching as I’m tumbling.

Hope washed away from the howling wind.
Who are my so-called friends?
Suffocating under the makeup and cliques
A tunnel with no perceptible ends.

Crying at you through the agony and grief
You don’t hear a word.
Excuses raining down with every fall I make
You don’t turn around.
Can’t you see my desperation?

No one there to help me up
No one there to make me smile

Lost, as the rain pours down,
Drenched in the roaring cyclone
My smile burned into my face.
Everything in me crumbling
D
O
W
N.

One thought echoes through the storm:
JUST.
KEEP.
SMILING.
As everything else goes up in a dark, black swarm.

Why me, now?
Why can’t I just be myself?
Why all the lies?
Why can’t I just be like everyone else?

As I fly solo
The rain still gushing down.
Flying toward the light
On broken wings
Hoping not to fall out of the sky
I promise myself, my smile still burned in place:
I will do better tonight.

Part 2
(534 words)
Paul Coelho’s story, The Alchemist, poses as one of the greatest stories ever written. In the prologue of the story, the alchemist reads a book in which the character of Greek myths, Narcissus, drowns in a lake in an attempt to contemplate his beauty. However, this particular book has a twist. After Narcissus’s death, the lake weeps, and when questioned for the reason behind its tears, responds by claiming that now that Narcissus had perished, the lake couldn’t see its own beauty reflecting in his eyes. This creates a case of situational irony because rather than grieving over Narcissus’s beauty, the lake was mourning for the loss of the reflection of itself that had been mirrored in Narcissus’s eyes.
In the first chapter of The Alchemist, it is shown that the main character, a shepherd that travels and has received a certain extent of education, wishes to grow up to be a shepherd. Over time, his father assists him in achieving this goal, generously bestowing the two Spanish coins he had discovered while working on the fields. The shepherd chooses his own life purpose/goal, his life dream, over several other factors, such as identity and love. And with his great decisions come great sacrifices: he is never able to settle in a single place for a long time in order to pursue his ambitions and has to live tending to sheep for his entire life, with scanty social human interaction. These two stories are related because they both indicate that understanding the proper amount of self-esteem one should have is substantial to decision-making. Instead of obsessing over dreams that other people made for him, the shepherd decided to pursue his dreams and tend to sheep. In this scenario, the shepherd needed higher self-esteem in order to chase his life purposes and make his decision of serving himself before serving others. On the other hand, instead of seeing Narcissus and mourning over his death, the lake mourned for its loss of seeing its reflection in Narcissus’s eyes. This shows that the lake should have had lower self-esteem, due to her arrogance and indifference to Narcissus’s death. These situations suggest that emotional vanity toward oneself leads to apathy and ignorance of what is occurring in the world. This prologue will impact the shepherd because this is the point in the book where he is contemplating settling down and asking the merchant’s daughter’s hand in marriage. While doing so, the consequences would be to give up on his childhood dream to traverse the world. This story foreshadows that self-esteem may impact him by causing him to lean in a certain direction and make a choice that will change his life.
Ultimately, I believe that the prologue and Santiago’s story are related because they both emphasize the importance of understanding self-esteem and choosing to pursue your own dreams rather than one’s physical features. The prologue and the shepherd’s story show that even the greatest downfalls can come from good intentions, and that, as a method of balance, knowing the proper amount of self-esteem is essential in decision-making. As Shannon Messenger, author of the Keeper of the Lost Cities series once said, “Our decisions are what define us.”

Part 3
(714 words)
SCENE ONE
EXT. THE FORT, CALIFORNIA - MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
KATRINA walks onto the stage, looking lost as she wrings her hands. RAVEN follows her a few steps behind, looking concerned for KATRINA. They sit down.
RAVEN
Hey . . . Kat . . . Are you okay? It . . . what happened out there . . . it’s not your fault, you know.

KATRINA turns away and does not respond.

RAVEN
Kat?

KATRINA
It’s just . . . y’know . . . I thought training to be a soldier for the army would make me stronger. Braver. Better. But even with all those push-ups, drills, sit-ups, and perfectly targetted throwing knives, I couldn’t even do the one thing that mattered to me the most.

RAVEN
(softly)
And what is that?

KATRINA
Protecting my friends. I know our mission is to defeat the enemy. But now, I think I might have another mission: keeping everyone I love and care about, safe. And now, look. Kyle’s unconscious because they launched some unpredictable attack. Justin looks half-dead and might never wake up because he saved my life out there in the war zone. First my dad, and now Justin? He’s been the one supporting me through this all. Sticking with me when my hallucinations got out of hand. He didn’t even leave when the townspeople thought I was crazy. He’s . . .

KATRINA’s voice cracks and she stands up, looking away. RAVEN stands up too, touching KATRINA’s arm.

RAVEN
I’m so, so, sorry, Katrina. This shouldn’t have happened–to anyone, but especially you. But you’re the bravest soldier in the legion. Failing doesn’t make you weak. It just means our enemies are too strong. You’re thirteen, Kat. Thirteen. We’re supposed to be in school, giggling about school dances or crushes, not celebrating because we’ve slaughtered more of the enemy. Our biggest problem should be dealing with acne and zits or how popular we are or something. Instead, we’re out on the battlefield, amidst all the gunfire, not knowing whether we’ll survive this battle and live to tell the tale. Or if our friends would be the ones who fall instead. Giving up everything to fight for a battle we have no idea if we’ll win. We’re facing off against robots. Artificial intelligence. They’ve been programmed to be perfect. (pause) But . . . you know the one thing we have that our enemies don’t?

KATRINA
Raven . . .

RAVEN
Our endurance. Our courage. Our hope. Our ability to keep standing, even when we brave the most drastic downfalls. Robots might do their whole logic-calculation thing, turn around, and just leave, but we keep standing. We never turn around by choice. We’re invincible, in our own way. I learned that from you, Katrina.

KATRINA
(laughs softly)
Thanks, Raven. I guess this is what Kyle meant by how you really have a way with words. It’s just . . . it hurts, seeing my friends fall like that. I almost feel like we escaped from the Labyrinth just to land in something even worse.

RAVEN
(softly)
I know. I still get nightmares sometimes. But I’ll imagine it has to be a million times worse for you, with your . . . situation.

KATRINA
It’s really not that bad once you get used to it.

RAVEN
Which is exactly why you’re the bravest person I know.

KATRINA laughs and gives RAVEN a playful shove.

KATRINA
Do you think he’ll ever wake up from his coma? Justin, I mean.

RAVEN
Yeah. He will. He’ll wake up just in time for the Goldenleaf Festival and then get all embarrassed about asking you to the dance.

KATRINA
(laughs)
Raven! (pause) But . . . wait . . . do you really think he . . .

RAVEN
Oh please! I see the way he looks at you. And the way you stare at each other, for that matter. You guys are meant to–

KATRINA
(interrupts)
Yep. Ick. No. Okay. Changing the subject. (pause) Nothing even makes sense anymore. I just . . . I just hope we don’t lose anyone else tomorrow.

RAVEN
Only fate can tell, right?

KATRINA and RAVEN laugh softly before RAVEN grabs KATRINA’s hand and they both sit down, gazing up at the stars. A few seconds pass. Suddenly, there is a loud ringing of an alarm bell. RAVEN and KATRINA stand up quickly, looking around fearfully. KATRINA stands, all traces of her worry vanishing.

KATRINA
(angry tone)
The alarms! There has to be an intruder.

RAVEN
(hushed whisper)
They’re here.

Part 4
(723 words + 809 words)
The Devil’s Triangle: A Mystery Lurking Beneath the Ocean Depths
When people don’t have an explanation for a mystery, they would usually turn to scientific studies, or start brainstorming some supernatural elements and explanations, depending on who they are. As for this particular mystery, no one can seem to agree on a logical clarification for mysterious disappearances around Bermuda. Sound familiar? Yep. We’re talking about the Bermuda Triangle, also known as the “Devil’s Triangle,” the area that captured so many victims with no apparent reason. The Bermuda Triangle is a great mystery that hasn’t been solved to this day. Some are convinced that it’s the work of angry spirits and magical forces. Others are certain there’s a logical scientific explanation lurking beneath the ocean depths. Who’s right? We’ll let you decide for yourself. Even now, our information on the Bermuda Triangle is somewhat limited. In this article, you will learn about the explanations people came up with in the past, the mysteries surrounding the Bermuda Triangle, and the reasons people are coming up with today, through scientific studies.
In the past, there were many beliefs fabricated to explain the disappearances of those who had ventured to the Bermuda Triangle. Some who have dared to seek the Bermuda Triangle have not returned ever since. These disappearances were all marked as “cause unknown,” making this area even more mysterious. The reason why this triangle even exists? There were many explanations for this. Some people thought it was the work of angry, vengeful gods or other supernatural events. According to the conversation.com, “others suggested aliens or the mythical underwater lost city of Atlantis had something to do with the tragic events.” Others thought it was just a problem of human error or weather. However, some of the disappearances had nothing to do with human error, and few of the boats that vanished set out on great weather. Even now, we still haven’t solved the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle.
Many things about the Bermuda Triangle are shrouded in mystery. Even the location of the Bermuda Triangle is unclear, for many around the world claim different things. However, it is confirmed that the Bermuda Triangle is located in the Atlantic Ocean near Bermuda and Miami, Florida. When people start nearing this specific area, paranormal things start happening to them. According to themountaineer.com, “Many of these crafts simply vanished, even in good weather, without having sent any distress signal whatsoever.” Even now, scientists do not fully understand what the Bermuda Triangle is. Some do not even believe that the Bermuda Triangle existed at all. Ultimately, this shows that many things about the Bermuda Triangle are unknown, further increasing its fame. Even Shakespeare probably based his play, The Tempest, on a shipwreck caused by the Bermuda Triangle.
Many hypotheses are addressing how the Bermuda Triangle was created and how it acts like it is. Several scientists believe that the clouds there may have something to do with the disappearances. According to bibalex.org, Dr. Randy Cerveny of Arizona State University stated that huge hexagonal-shaped clouds are causing “air bombs” that hit the ocean and create massive waves. The resulting violent, unexpected storms are so powerful that ships and airplanes can be plunged into the ocean instantly. As for the reason why these clouds are created, scientists aren’t sure yet. Other explanations scientists have discovered are underwater earthquakes and other natural causes. There are many different types of natural disasters that happen very frequently in the Bermuda Triangle. Even today, however, there are still some explanations that have to do with legends and supernatural elements. Without any solid explanation, many different people suggest that the Bermuda Triangle was caused by ghosts and spirits. All in all, from this we can clearly see that there may be several explanations as to why the Bermuda Triangle is as it is– a mix of scientific and supernatural.
Ultimately, many people believe opposed resolutions as to what the Bermuda Triangle is and if it exists at all. Contrasts in opinions increase in the vast aura of mystery already surrounding the Bermuda Triangle and the interest the public has in it. What do you think? Is the Devil’s Triangle just an old myth worked up and exaggerated over time? Or is there something else in the ominous oceans, just waiting to be discovered . . .?
~
Have you wondered what it would be like to be an elf? In Keeper of the Lost Cities, a series by Shannon Messenger, she reimages life for the elves in the Lost Cities as a lively paradise. However, things may not be as they seem, and Sophie Foster, accompanied by her friends, has to journey to the Lost Cities to prevent the past from repeating itself. In this series, the main setting is the Lost Cities, the elven world. If I were to choose a fantasy world I would like to live in, I would favor being an elf in the Lost Cities above all else. There are many desirable features in this separate world including having a magical ability, seeing different fantasy animals, and being able to meet some of my favorite book characters of all time.
When someone hears the word “magic” for the first time, they would usually think of witches or wizards. In this case, the elves in the Lost Cities each have a unique magical ability that sets them apart from the others as well. In having this ability, they are able to attend Foxfire, a magical school for the worthy. There, they learn how to control this ability and contain it. I would especially like to be an elf in the Lost Cities because it would mean I would manifest a magical ability and go to Foxfire. This would be especially intriguing because, with this magic, I would be able to do things I wouldn’t even dream of in the human world, like control objects with my mind, build complicated gadgets with ease, and even be able to channel my strength and transport with crystals by manipulating light. With these powers, life would be a lot easier for me. I could lift heavy objects with my mind without having to carry them, or even teleport away to faraway places without having to walk. Ultimately, I believe I would benefit greatly from being an elf in the Lost Cities because I would have powers I couldn’t even begin to imagine how strong.
In the series Harry Potter, there are many mythical beasts that Harry stumbles upon in his quest to save witches and wizards alike. Most of these animals can also be found in Keeper of the Lost Cities. The elven world believes that no animal should be completely wiped out forever. This is why they keep these animals in a place they call the Sanctuary. In this place, elves could go visit these animals and see prehistoric creatures like dinosaurs or saber-toothed tigers. If I could be an elf in the Lost Cities, I would be able to meet mythical and prehistoric animals. It would be very interesting to see what they really look like in person. After all, it could be hard to tell what an animal looks like from its fossils due to innacturate depictions. This is why this opportunity to see what an animal really looks like is what some may call an opportunity of a lifetime. Not only do I get to see what prehistoric and mythical animals actually look like, but I would also use my powers to protect them. The elven world includes laws that protect these animals from harm. Because of this, I would like to be an elf in the Lost Cities because I get to meet prehistoric and mythical animals.
On the other hand, many people may argue that by being an elf in the Lost Cities, all contact with the human world would be destroyed. This is a very valid point because, in the Lost Cities, elves are forbidden to have any communications with humans. However, if I was an elf in the Lost Cities, I would be able to meet some of my favorite book characters, like Sophie Foster or Keefe Sencen. And though the elven world may not be able to replace the human world, there are many new things to discover in the Lost Cities. I would be able to make friends with some of my favorite characters and even be able to attend the same school as them. This would be a drastic change to my daily life. I would be able to explore the world one of my best-loved authors created and better understand their elven ways. All in all, I would love to be an elf in the Lost Cities because I would be able to meet some of my favorite book characters.
Ultimately, I would like to be an elf in the Lost Cities because I would get a magical ability, meet prehistoric and mythical animals, and get to see some of my favorite book characters. The world Shannon Messenger created is one of magic and fun. Thus, even though every world has its benefits, I believe that the Lost Cities are especially preferable above all.

3.6.22 Daily
Prompt: You and your family are on a hike when you stumble upon a group of witches in the forest, in midst of casting spells.

Why did mother force us to do this hike? I kept asking myself. I absolutely hated hiking, and I really didn't want to go on one. But my mother insisted it was for ‘family time’ or whatever. I love my family and all, but they can be a pain to hang out with at times, especially my younger brother Alex. I couldn't wait until this hike was over-

“Amy? AMY!” My brother suddenly yelled. I groaned and turned to face him. “What could you possibly want?” I snapped at him. He grabbed my hand and glanced at my mother. We were on a break now, so she was setting up a little campfire for later. He started leading me into this area in the wood. He started walking even further and further. My feet were aching with pain, but I didn't dare to complain. “Where are you taking me I finally asked?” I finally asked. At that moment, we arrived at a clearing, and Alex pointed in that direction.

There was a group of people, at least a dozen. They seemed to have formed some kind of connection with each other, and they were standing in formation in a circle. I noticed they all had their eyes closed in concentration. “Look. Who are these people?” Alex asked in a hushed voice. I shrugged. “What do you think their doing?” I asked. All of a sudden, a chain started to connect the people together, but it wasn't any ordinary chain. It looked…magical. The chains glowed as the chain grew brighter, almost blinding.

Alex finally turned to me, still in shock. “Should we tell mom?” He asked. I shook my head. “She wouldn't believe it. You know how she is.” I suddenly got an idea. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket. “Hey! Mom said you weren't allowed to use your phone.” Alex whispered-shouted at me. I rolled my eyes. “Don't you want to remember this?” I asked. Alex hesitated, but he eventually nodded. “Finnnne. But just this once.” He told me.

I grinned at him, as I stepped out from behind the tree, opened my phone, went to the camera, and clicked ‘record’ for a video. I aimed it right at the group of people and started filming. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with this video, but I thought it would be a fun video to keep. I had the camera rolling for about three minutes, when suddenly, the camera stopped. Weird. I didn't click stop. I was working out why the camera suddenly stopped, when Alex called out “Look out!”

The group of people must have noticed me filming them, and the broke the chain, and aimed it right at me. I was pretty fast, and I almost completely dogged the attack….except for my right shoulder. It got hit, and it felt numb. I looked up at the group to yell at them, but they were suddenly gone. Alex came running up to me. “Are you alright Amy?” He asked. I nodded since I was almost perfectly fine. He embraced me, and for once I didn't mind. After a while, he looked up at me, with worry shinning in his eyes.

“Are you going to tell mom what happened?” He asked concerned. I shook my head. “What she doesn't know won't hurt her.” I told him. Alex sighed and eventually nodded. I grabbed his hand, and tried to ignore the slight throbbing from my shoulder. We slowly walked back to where Mother was. When she saw us, she jumped up in relief. “Oh good, there you two are. I was worried about you, but I didn't want to look for you in case you came back. Where did you go?” She asked us, a bit suspiciously.

I glared at Alex to make sure he wouldn't dare tell the truth. “Oh, we just went exploring. We didn't go that far into the woods, don't worry mom.” He quickly reassured her. She let out a sigh. “Okay, good. Now that your back, we can have the hot dogs I made.” She said, gesturing to the hot dogs my the campfire.

As the three of us sat by the campfire, I thought about what happened back there. It was really strange. And I was positive I wasn't dreaming since the pain in my shoulder was very real. I smiled slightly to myself. Maybe one day I could figure out what happened back there. But for now, I had bigger issues to deal with…..

My mother was eyeing my shoulder suspiciously now.
——-
Word Count: 763

~Thanks for reading :D Back to contents~

Daily 06 with @–kitti-kat–

It was a weird day to begin with. I mean, it was, for anyone who considers a day in which you and your little sister waltz through your front door to head to school but instead find yourselves transported to the control room aboard an alien spaceship. At least, I assumed it was alien. There wasn’t exactly a whole lot to judge it on, considering the place was devoid of a single soul apart from the two of us.

“Hello?” my sister called to the vast chamber.

“Hello?” returned back, and for a moment my hopes lifted before I realized it was an echo. Weirdly distorted and eerily lifelike, but an echo nonetheless.

Warily but curious, we wandered around within the corridor of strange space technology, likewise calling out for anyone who could possibly be present and receiving only our own words mirrored back at us with an almost unnerving human quality. It came back in different voices, too. Like I said, weird.

And so passed an hour or two in this manner.

Bored out of our minds, we continued to explore, ennui finally pushing us towards the control board resting innocuously in the center of the room like the hands of a parent encouraging their children to go socialize with the neighbor’s child. It was there that we found the button, bright red and innocent with a label scrawled in foreign characters below it on the panel.

We spent the next who-knows-how-long debating the fate of the button.

“Come on, press it!” my sister said, her enthusiasm almost contagious. Almost. But I knew better than to press big red buttons. …Then again, it was super tempting… “Press it!” she insisted again. I groaned and rolled my eyes, but finally I gave in and pressed it. The button emitted a tune, an almost pleasant melody contrary to the blaring sirens I had been anticipating, before the music abruptly stopped. Nothing happened beyond that. What a strange little button.

“Hm, not what I expected at all.” My sister’s contemplative voice broke through my cloud of disappointment and thought. I looked up to find her turned away, her head cocked as she faced a large window. Frowning, I stepped away from the panel to find what on Earth– what in space she could be looking at. I almost wished I hadn’t.

Emerging in the hollow black atmosphere beyond the glass was a massive disembodied cat head approaching the ship, its pupil-less rainbow nebula eyes glittering and shining like a thousand stars.

What a weird day.