ᵐᵃᶦⁿ ᶜᵃᵇᶦⁿ ᵈᵃᶦˡʸ | ᵐᵃʳᶜʰ ⁵ᵗʰ | ⁵²¹ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ

My partner was @Peachy_Rain . Here’s the link to her writing: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/651919378

If I wanted to, I could destroy everything. But I’m a good girl.
They underestimate my power.
“Aw, she’s so cute!”
No, I’m not
“She wouldn’t hurt a butterfly.”
Oh, yes, I would
Of course, I’d tried telling them that.
“Mummy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Mummy, do you ever get that feeling where you want to destroy everyone and everything and become a super secret assassin?” My voice sounded frustratingly innocent.
There was a pause.
“Of course not, darling. Where do you get your ideas from?” She said it jokingly, but I could see the concern behind her eyes.
So from then on, I kept it a secret. Until I didn’t.
The day started with the normal fussing.
“Athena, you look absolutely adorable in these braids. I’ll just pop in some ribbons…”
I try to smile sweetly, but probably fail. I am trying to focus on something else, but thanks to my mother, I have an enormous headache from the constant tugging.
I am trying to understand why my classmates are so irrevocably stupid. The day before, Mike had raised his hand to answer a question and ended up forgetting what that question was. The day before that, Nicole accidently spilt a bucket of water onto the teacher’s computer.
1. Who carries a bucket of water around a classroom?
2. How is it even possible to accidently spill an entire bucket of water onto a computer you weren’t even supposed to be near?
It’s impossible to not be infuriated by my classmates, they are lost in a world of their own. One day, I will give in. I will. The temptation is too great. Even now, I’m struggling to keep in the wave of power that threatens to burst from my chest.
I clench my hands, “Mummy?”
Her fingers are tangled in ribbon, which she tries to hide.
She really thinks she can hide from me?
“What is it, Athena, sweetie?”
“Could you be ever so kind and-“ I try not to shout, “and- hurry up and finish.”
She frowns. I spoke too quickly.
“Of cour-“
I interrupt, “I just- don’t want to be late for school…”
The crease in her forehead deepens, “Okay.”
There is a quaver in her voice. Good. Be afraid of me.
Quickly tying the ribbons into my hair, she hesitates, probably worried about how I will react, then says,”You look lovely.”
No, I don’t
“Thank you, Mummy,” I try to make myself sound thankful, but I’m screaming internally, so it’s incredibly hard.
“You’re welcome,” she says warily.
“Um- Mommy, can I- can I walk to school today?”
“Really? Ok, I’ll just get my shoes on…”
Now I was seriously in danger of bursting.
“Um, no- I kind of meant… alone…”
The unease returns, “But, Athena, dear-“
No. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t.
So I do the unthinkable.
I burst.
I see the destruction of the world before my eyes. I see it. Like a movie screen in front of me, I watch helplessly as the entire universe blinks into oblivion. And so I guess I was wrong. I’m not a good girl.
I’m a bad girl.

March 6th (Daily)
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Paired with Blue, from the Fairy Tales cabin. We have to write about our character are facing a problem to solve their friend's troubles. We need to write how we manage to cheer him up and solve his problem.

“Marbles649? Is something wrong?” Luna asked worriedly, since Marbles649 looks darker and less cheerful than usual. “Luna… I still hasn't forgave you ever since you read my dairy…” Back in the month of January, Luna had read Marbles649's diary and found out about his depression. Luna sighed and said, frustrated, “I already told you so many times, you didn't tell me the situation. You only told your ‘Best Friend’ about the situation. I mean, I am your friend too, right?” Marbles649 breathed hard, “Alright, I know I didn't tell you the situation, I'm sorry about it. But that's not the point, why would you read my diary?? THAT'S INVADING MY PRIVACY!!!” Luna was shocked when Marbles649 had yelled in the last sentence, “But-” “Also, Weren isn't a ”Best Friend', he's more than a friend to me! And you know it!“ Luna took a deep breath, trying her best not to lose her temper, ”Marbles, I only read parts of your diary. I didn't read anything else! I only read about SWC related stuff that's inside your diary so let's get to the point. What is causing this?“

Marbles649, trying to calm down, said, ”Don't call me Marbles, only Weren can call me that. I mean, he's a male, you're a girl, so I prefer someone with the same gender calling me that…“ Marbles649 blushed while saying that. ”But you know, that guy who stole my projects as his? It's… Weren's ex, I mean Weren's old mate he used to hang out with.“ Luna said nothing. ”His name… is Martin. He hated me ever since I joined this school, and I don't even know why.“ ”So why are you getting influenced by him so much?“ Marbles649 held back tears, trying his best not to let Luna know, ”Because of that, I've been doubting my skills…“ He said softly, not letting Luna know, then replied, ”I don't even know…“

Luna knew she had to do something, something to cheer her friend up. ”You know Marbles649, you should ignore him, and since you're upset, why don't code or animate to calm down? If you want to play some games, remember to call Weren, he loves to play online games with you.“ Marbles649 smiled, but it faded slightly after what had happened that evening, Luna hasn't know about it yet. ”Alright, I'll code and animate, I need to complete a project…“ Marbles649 went upstairs and switched on his computer. ”I hope it helped…" Luna whispered to herself as she went to the kitchen to cook for dinner, not knowing Marbles649 is sobbing upstairs that one of their best friends is in danger.

438 words

Note: The diary incident is canon from this project while Weren in danger is from one of my previous dailies in this session which is this one. This is still ongoing because the comparison part isn't completed yet

play sound [coding is life] until done

♘ 6th of March ♘
313 words

As you step into the overgrown clearing, one thing immediately becomes clear to you. Something terrible happened here. You're not sure what quite yet, as you begin picking your way through the tall weeds and piles of rubble, but you know that whatever did happen, it was bad. The tinge of wrongness permeates the air, and though the remnants of the incident remain, the cold mystery offers you no real clues.

You press ahead, letting out a small sound at the new sight. The clearing is quite large, and here, the structures are less rubble and more… partly destroyed walls. Deep, deep scratch marks claw through the parts still standing. Thousands of squashed bugs litter the ground. Frowning, you step back slightly. Perhaps the buildings being semi-intact wasn't a particularly fortunate thing.

Crack. Heart jumping, you look down. A single burnt tree branch lies under your boot, and footprints the size of your head cover the ground nearby. You lean over to investigate it, yet the more you see, the more a tiny, prickling feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong spreads up your spine.

Ignoring it, you venture farther, deeper, where into the underground ruins, where the smell of rot and decay and burnt flesh persist. Ahead, there is a dead end, but something lies on the floor just before the corridor ends. Looking closer, you gasp. The charred remains of the Chief of the settlement.

Run, run, run.

You dart out of the ruins (stumbling, tripping, breathing so heavy it rings in your ears), and into the clearing.

The prickle grows. You tense. Something is watching.
Something powerful, something dangerous.

The thing that caused the destruction of the settlement.
A wild, wild beast.

You turn.

The dragon, scales mottled like the forest floor, emerald eyes narrowed, hidden amongst the burnt trees, hisses fire out its nose. You scream.

Daily #6:
Prompt: Open up a dictionary to a random word and use it as a prompt for your writing
Word Found: Warble ((of a bird) sing softly and with a succession of constantly changing notes.)
Partner: @-Dxsty_Dxys-
Differences and similarities: our stories were similar in prompt but the most noticeable difference was the fact that we both got different words from the dictionary and had to create different stories because of that.

I can hear it. Yes it’s faint. But the song of a magpie is too beautiful to ignore. There's a name for a magpies song. My mother used to call it a warble. Yes, a magpie doesn't just sing it warbles. Some birds Caw or call. While several birds will trill or chirp. A few holler, whistle, or simply chat away. Others sing with sweet melodies and pretty notes. Various screech or hoot, but a Magpie is different. A magpie Warbles.

You can hear it at dawn. That sweet mix of notes, soft and echoing. Ever changing in tone and pitch, creating the most beautiful melodies. Oh yes, a nightingale or a canary could sing. Their voices are beautiful, but they do not warble like the magpie. They can not warble like a magpie.

I get up at dawn to hear it, so many people do. But the magpie is not alone. Not at dawn and not ever. It sings with all the other birds. Together they create an ever-changing whisper. Their songs enchant you. Leaving you breathless, in aww. And I can hear it now. Three or four magpies in the distance. They never sing alone. You can almost always hear them. Even if it's faint. It’s like a comforting lullaby, one that you can almost predict. One that you have known your whole life. Because whenever there is silence it can be heard. They hide away in the gum trees and give you their song. If you watch you can see a glimpse of them in the tree. If you sit there for hours like me, watching and listening, you can follow them as they glide through the air. Your eyes will chase the blur of black and white as it moves to land on the earth or perch in a tree to begin its Warbling once more. You can watch it, and it will watch you until it flies off over the horizon, leaving you with the whispers of its warbling notes.

335 words

MC Weekly 1
~~~~~
Part 1: Poetry
Poems: haiku, sestina, free verse, lyrical, pastoral

Lyrical: Ordinary Girl
I’m just a listless, washed down, ordinary girl
Inside a cumbersome, biased, hasty world
All the hobbies I enjoy, a million others will agree
It’s not like I will amount to anything
It’s okay, I’ve accepted my fate
Why bother trying anyway?

Haiku: If One Looked
If one looked closely
Maybe they would finally
See the constant pain

Sestina: I Saw
There was once a time when I saw
A little girl crying alone
I wonder if someone had seen her fall
She wouldn’t have been on her own
Trying to find her place in this cruel
Life that always oppressed others

She wears a gag unseen to others
Not knowing where to trip and fall
Down where those experience cruel
Beatings. It was the first I saw
Someone so small yet alone
Seemingly living on their own

It makes me cry, to be on your own
And have a life worse than so many others
It made me feel less glum and alone
To have someone with you when you fall
It was like the first time I ever saw
The harsh reality of a world so cruel

Yet among the lines of a place that’s cruel
Where birds still chirp everyday, I saw
While I was falling like her and the others
I’m sure, you won’t seem so alone
Once you hit it you’re not on your own
There’s a bottom to how far you can fall

Once you’ve seen the depths of the fall
You start to wonder, when you were on your own
If someone so close, if you just saw
The level of sad considered cruel
Inside, welling up from others
Perhaps you’ll see that you’re not alone

In a place as vast as this, alone
Your affection seems to turn cruel
But when you see you’re not on your own
A new light is in your eyes, that looks at others
And realizes how many seem to fall
I suppose that’s the power of I saw

It’s cool, how when she saw the others
It stirred up a not-cruel fall
You’re not on your own, you’re not alone

Free Verse: Surreal
There are many tiny things in life
That bring you up
It’s surreal
What such miniscule things
Can do to a person
And what that person
Can do to the world

Pastoral: Flower
When a flower blooms
The whole area radiates
In sparkling fumes
Delicate petals that you could lie in
And the softest pink color

If they were lips
You would kiss them
Because with flowers
You can’t resist
(415 words)
~~~~~
Part 2: Essay
Essay topic: schools should start at later times.

Nearly every child in the world goes to school, and as kids begin to go to middle and high school, they have to start waking up early. Some parents have to work and can’t bring their child to school. Others find the school bus more convenient. Because of school opening times, kids may have to wake up around 5:20 AM to catch the bus on time. The traditional American business hours are from 9 AM to 5 PM, and here is a teenager, waking up around 3 hours earlier than that. It seems ridiculous, and in some ways, it is. Studies show that when children start school early, it could impact their biological health, grades, and mental health.
Early school start times do take a toll on teens’ biological health. Many health organizations recommend that middle schools and high schools start no later than 8:30 AM. This is mainly due to changing sleep cycles. When students undergo puberty, their body can experience a shift in their internal clock, sometimes delaying it by 2 hours. As a result, teenagers and pre-teens will be more prone to sleep at later dates and wake up at later dates as well. Thus, later school start times can help students with these shifting sleep schedules by starting at later times. Middle schoolers and high schoolers additionally have more homework, after school activities, and jobs, which can cause them to stay up later and need more sleep. On top of maintaining a healthy sleep cycle, students also achieve better grades and behavior through having a better sleep cycle, which again, can be achieved through a later school start time. Studies have shown that not getting enough sleep may result in difficulty paying attention, worse grades, irritable behavior, and a higher risk of depression. Teenagers who don’t get enough sleep are also more likely to be overweight, not get enough physical activity, suffer from depression, and do things that may put their health at risk, such as smoking, drugs, and drinking. If schools started at a later date, however, students would be less tardy, have better grades, and have fewer disciplinary issues. Studies have also shown that later school times can cause a decrease in motor vehicle crashes, reduced symptoms of depression, and students would pay attention more.
With earlier start times in school, it can be argued that the school is moving backward rather than forward. Most elementary schools and middle and high schools have the same amount of school hours. The only difference is that elementary schools start an hour later than the latter. A school’s job is to aid students in academic achievement and prepare them for their future. Well, later start times for schools can contribute to this. As a part of preparing students for their future, schools should try the best they can to prevent harmful behaviors and mental health issues. Better sleep can help with this. All in all, sleep is very important. Especially as a teenager. With later school opening times, schools can achieve the goals that they set for themselves, and see their students grow more. Everyone can play their part in ensuring that teenagers and pre-teens get enough sleep. Now, schools can contribute their part as well.
(541 words)
~~~~~
Part 3: Screenplay

LYNNE wakes up in a barn. IVY is sleeping soundly beside her. LYNNE sits up and looks around. NICO is squatting next to her, holding a tray.

LYNNE
Hey Nico. Are you leaving?

NICO
No. I came to give you breakfast.

LYNNE
Nico, you know you don’t have to do that for me. It’s already enough that we’re staying in your barn.

NICO shrugs and holds out the tray.

NICO
It’s not like we need the barn that much. Nowadays it’s just a storage shed. Plus, we always have extra eggs.

LYNNE
(reluctant)
I suppose.

LYNNE looks away. She is lost in thought. It is clear she is sad. NICO sets his tray down.

NICO
Just eat your food. I have to sneak food from the kitchen because it would be suspicious if I always asked for double rations of a meal. If you’re not going to eat, what will all my hard work be for? Also, my parents might come in here since I keep going to the barn. They might enter if they’re looking for me or something. Just, beware of that.

LYNNE
I will.

LYNNE takes a bite of the scrambled egg and drinks some juice.

LYNNE
Anyway, you don’t have to worry about all of that NICO. I’m planning on leaving after my mom wakes up.

NICO
(bewildered)
Wait, really? But you guys are in no condition to travel and find somewhere else to stay.

LYNNE
Nico, don’t you realize how much trouble we’ve caused you? It’s not like your family have money and resources galore to spare.

NICO
Lynne, you’re just being proud and difficult. I'm your friend, and I want you to be happy. You won’t be happy like that, Lynne! I’m sure you know of all the hardships and troubles you’ll have to face. I want to help you however I can. Won’t you just let me?

LYNNE
(exasperated)
Nico, you’re too nice. You’re so considerate and helpful, but this’ll lead to something bad. It’s best we stay independent in this world. Stop worrying about me so much. I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore. And I’ll get by! Don’t worry. Me and mom are strong. Believe in me, please.

NICO
Don’t be so cold-hearted Lynne. I knew what I got myself into the moment I tried to help you out. After everything we’ve risked to get you somewhere safe, you’re just going to throw it away? I know you think you’ll be doing me a favor through this, but you’re wrong. You’re only making things worse, Lynne. Both for you and for me.

LYNNE turns away, looking at IVY and back at NICO. She heaves a long sigh, pressing against her eyes with her hands. She is deep in thought.

LYNNE
Okay. NICO… maybe you’re right. But my point still stands. Being in my situation, it’s hard and embarrassing to be in debt. I just don’t feel comfortable like this anymore… I- I’m really sorry if I hurt you or caused you trouble.

NICO
(quiet)
Why? What- what is the meaning of this? You’re seriously going through with this Lynne?

LYNNE
I’m sorry… Thank you. For everything.

LYNNE and NICO sit in the morning sun awkwardly for a while.

LYNNE
Good morning NICO, it’s a new day.

NICO
Morning, Lynne.

NICO gets up and walks away before dusting some hay off his pants. LYNNE brings her legs to her chest and rests her head on her arms. Tears began to well up in her eyes. IVY turns over suddenly, awake.

LYNNE
Oh- hi mom…

IVY
(hoarse)
Morning Lynne. How long have you been up?

LYNNE
Not that long, mom.

IVY
Did you see NICO this morning?

LYNNE
(uncomfortable)
Yeah… he came by to give us breakfast.

IVY sighs. LYNNE tucks her blanket around her.

IVY
It’s so stupid, how helpless I am. I’m the adult. I’m supposed to be the adult in this situation. Instead I’m lying here, all pathetic and sick. Unable to help my own daughter… both of my daughters…

LYNNE
Don’t be so hard on yourself mom. Once you get better, everything will be okay. You’ll find a job again and we can be on the move. Little by little, things will get better. I promise.

IVY
Thanks, LYNNE. You’ve always been the strong one in our family. I’m just sorry that I could never be strong for you and your sister

LYNNE
Well someone had to fill that role.

IVY
My only regret is that I never gave you the life you deserved. You and Lluvia deserved so much better than what you got, and it’s my fault. I’ve failed you both as a mother.

LYNNE
Hey, it’s fine, mom. How are you feeling today? Do you think we could travel tomorrow morning?

IVY
I’m slightly better, but it’ll take a while. Are we going somewhere tomorrow?

LYNNE
Uh… yeah. I was kind of thinking of leaving.

IVY
Leaving? Tomorrow?

LYNNE
Yeah. Today will be our last day at the barn.
(836 words)
~~~~~
Part 4: Nonfiction

Part 1: Informational
Books and writing in general are such a big part of society today, and all of this wouldn’t be possible without the printing press. The printing press is a device that can print writing onto paper in large amounts. It originated from China and was developed a lot further in Europe during the 15th century. The printing press really started to gain attraction from Johannes Gutenberg.

It is unclear as to where and who invented the printing press, but the oldest documented printed book originated from China. The oldest printed book recorded is called The Diamond Sutra, which is a Buddhist book. The book was printed using a method known as block printing. With this method, hand carved blocks of individual letters were arranged and applied on the paper in the form of lines of words.

In the 15th century, Johannes Gutenberg invented the first practical and movable printing press. Gutenberg was a stonecutter and goldsmith, who used his experience and expertise to create an alloy to use instead of wood. Mirror images of each letter were arranged on a small block, which would then be used to print pages and words.

Then, in 1452, Gutenberg began to print copies of the bible. Back then, books had to be handwritten and were rare, as well as expensive. However, Gutenberg was able to print 200 copies and sold them at the 1455 Frankfurt Book Fair. The combined money earned from that fair was roughly three years worth of pay for an average clerk. Around 50 of those bibles have still survived today.

At first, Gutenberg tried to keep his new invention a secret, but this new technology spread quickly. Before 1500 around 2500 European cities had printing presses, which quickly lowered the cost of books dramatically. More books were being printed each day, which made education and information more easily accessible. Libraries could hold more books and people began to spread more ideas. At first, books mainly consisted of religious material, but overtime people began to purchase books in other subjects such as literature and science. The printing press also made the evolution of science quicker and more reliable. Texts themselves were also more reliable, as there wouldn’t be any room for human error.

The printing press was a very important invention and influenced society to be what it is today. With the printing press, news networks became a thing, the renaissance was more practical, Martin Luther became the first best-selling author, and many world-renowned scientists were able to begin the science revolution. Now, more advanced printing presses are used, but that wouldn’t have been possible without Gutenberg’s method of printing.

Part 2: Narrative
I feel like in 3rd grade I learned the most I ever learned in elementary school. That was when I first started learning about technology and getting into it. It was also when I really started to write more. That was also when I met some of the people that I’m still very good friends with today. If I could choose a grade to relive, it would be 3rd grade.

It was always really nerve racking when a new student joined your class. You have no idea what their personality is, what they look like. You’re basically in the dark. It’s exciting too. You can’t help but wonder if this new student could be your best friend. For some reason in 3rd grade, we had a lot more new students than usual. I think we had at least 6. I actually became very good friends with 3 of them.

Out of all the new friends I made, there were 2 whom I became very close with. We always teamed up for group projects, we always hung out during recess and lunch. We even had a nickname for our friend group. My teacher called us the three musketeers. It was really cool and flattering, to have that sort of friendship. We all had common interests and wrote stories together too. It was really fun.

Then one of my friends in the friend group told us that she was moving to North Carolina with her family. I’ll call her S. It was obviously really sad, but over time I moved on. S was out of my life. As for the other friend I was very close with, well, I’m still good friends with her today. We still talk, and remember S fondly.

It’s 4 years later and I still haven’t forgotten 3rd grade. I still haven’t forgotten S. A year after S moved, I saw on the news that a hurricane was headed towards North Carolina. I immediately thought of her. Luckily, S told us that the hurricane passed through her area. But that was probably the last time I ever heard from her again. We still had our online stories we shared, but I stopped writing on them ages ago. I still like to look back at the memories we made together. Wherever S is, I wonder if she knows I think about her sometimes. I wonder if she still remembers our friend group. I like to imagine that someday, I’ll meet S again. Like in those TV shows, where childhood friends meet after many years and reconcile. That would be nice.
(871 words)

Total: 2663 words
~~~~~
Whew! First weekly of the session officially complete! I stayed up way past my bedtime to do this but it was kinda worth it. Plus, it's the weekend anyway. I kind of feel bad though because this post is so long. Anyway, it's really late so I gotta go to bed now.

♘ 6th of March - In-Cabin Daily ♘
292 words

Out of all the people I would potentially meet (the ones from other divisions), it would probably be a Warrior!

But, considering that I imagine the relationships between the Adventurers and the Protectors to be slightly less hostile than between the Adventurers and the Warriors, a meeting with a Protector would be preferable would most likely go somewhat well. Or at the very least, not violent or hostile, considering what I just said above and my personality.

There aren't many scenarios where a Protector and an Adventurer would meet, but my two most likely options are that we met when I (an Adventurer) was scavenging for food, or when I go exploring around the forest, and just so happen to wander near the Protectors' area.

However, like I said at first, a meeting between me and a Warrior would be more probable, because Protectors are more likely to stay in their Fortress and only go out to look for laurel shards. meanwhile, I think Warriors would go out and about and roam the forest more, which increases chances of either one running into me (and/or other Adventurers), or me stumbling across one of them.

Unfortunately, with the Warriors probably being on worse terms with the Adventurers than the Adventurers with the Protectors*, our meeting would be tenser and could very easily turn hostile, which wouldn't be good for both myself and the rest of the Adventurers.

*Remember, it was only after the warrior triplet touched the Heart tree did it begin to die. They may not have been the reason it died, but there's bound to be more left over tension and negative feelings to them and the Warriors despite that, because the situation itself does incriminate the warrior.

Dailies
6th of March
(wordcount:729)
At the banquete, where usually there were marriages and balls, a children’s party took it’s happening. Mr. Becker was a young successful businessman, who was celebrating his daughter’s 5th birthday.It was utter chaos. Cake sat on the wooden floors. When the kids picked it up, to eat it, the stuck forest-green frosting made it look as if mould had grown all over the floor. The dazzling white walls were covered with crayon markings. Yes, this place was quickly festering.
I thought none of it would be my concern, as I was to just keep an eye out for anyone out of the guest list. I was the security guard. My name is Luise.
Everything was going perfect, how did no one notice what had gone wrong? Brittany, Mr. Becker’s daughter, had been… murdered. It was discovered after most of the guests left. And I wouldn’t blame them. How in the world are you supposed to find one child in a 20 feet dance floor (length and breadth) which is filled with 40-50 kids? Where the corpse of the ittle girl, ugly, but just as innocent, lay dead, everyone was worried. Not for the little girl’s death, but for how it might impact their jobs. You see, Mr. Baker was the dictator of the town in a way. All the schools, colleges, apartments, and houses were built by him. If anything was to be a threat to him, he would shut down education, lock people in their houses, and wait ‘till they have “learned their lessons”. I was worried the most for this. All of my education has been free given by, you guessed it, Mr. Becker. And he would take full advantage of this to solve the murder of his daughter. He approached me. I knew he was going to ask me to solve this murder. If i was to fail, he would make me his slave. I feel like I am under exaggerating this.
“Luise-” He began. I cut him off;
“Understood”
With that two-word conversation, I immediately left to the security cameras. Before checking them, I took a breath, stopped, and began to think. Why did she die- no. What killed her? I began to think of the possibility that maybe, someone attacked her with their weapon, then realised that there were no marks of wounds on the corpse. No one would be this determined to kill a little girl to get the weapons past security without being noticed. Then, the second easiest option would be drugs. The kind that kills you after inhaling it. Or swallowing, I don’t know poison. There is one kind that might have killed her, rosary pea. Not your average poison filled cherry-red plant, The stuff that is exclusive only in WindDale.
It is known for making the corpse of the consumer red after 6 hours of death. Children, like Brittany, are likely to be mistaken these for berries and consume them for their saccharine scent. I mean, Mr. Becker has a factory that sells this plant to who-knows-where for who-knows-what. He also brings these products to his home to try to lessen down the effects of this plant. If I were to be wrong; he would definitely murder me. I thought to prepare myself for if she didn’t die from eating these plants.
Upon opening up the cameras, I saw something that could never be forgotten. A ghastly figure of a little, ugly girl- about the age of five, staring directly towards the camera. I gulped. No, this can’t be happening. Ghosts don’t exist… r i g h t ?
Up from my chair I got, sprinting away. Where to? I had no idea. It started to rain. I ambled, still filled with this tension and anxiety. I then heard a little whisper inside my ear. “Walk slowly… you fall…” I made nothing out of it, and continued walking. BAM!! I slipped. I tried my best to get myself together, and told myself It was just a coincidence, but I just couldn’t shake this feeling off that someone, or something, was following me. I decided to run for it. I kept running and running, until I found myself two towns away from home. I finally felt at ease. I decided to stay here for a while, before jumping towns once again. This would keep the ghost of Brittany for a while..

Daily 3/6 Collab with @Sunii_days

hi have a rushed daily this is why I don't usually type on my phone :<

'hills o'er the mountaintops
vales that sparkle green,
of all the glorious things i've seen,
none hold a candle to–
to—'

I can't seem to remember anymore. They laugh, the stars, but it isn't a mocking kind of laughter; it's a sort of music–the music of good natured mirth. I know it just as surely as I know that one day, they shall explode, fading out of my line of sight and into another realm, one that shall stay beyond me for the rest of eternity.

There used to be a time when I knew  their names, and called out to them as the sunrays smote upon my back with gentle, airy strokes. When my bricks rattled in inquiry, they would answer. They would answer specifically and elegantly; not as they do now, cackling in collective chaos. I don't mind them, and I'm glad for their company, but I'd be lying if I told you that I don't miss what I've lost–for the stars that illuminate the sky I am bound to gaze at are not the stars I once befriended as a pile of clay and stone.

Most of the time, I recall in pictures dotted with detail, but sometimes memories blur into one another and bounce around in my mind with little regard for the effort I put into organising them into clusters stoved away in drawers, where i thought they couldn't hurt me. Every now and then I scan the skies for the planets of yesterday, doomed to failure as their obliteration of yore flashes before me. I cry, but not for long.

When disconnected hands put me together, and fingers rubbed mortar into shape, I met my first friend. He was called Clarissimus, and never was one more truly named. He spoke rarely, but well; when he wasn't turning over the thoughts in his head, he'd tell me tales of the planets at the beginning of the universe, delivered to him by meteoroids and comets. There was one planet in particular that I begged to hear about–Earth. Over and over again did Clarissimus squeeze information out of the forgetful rocks who moved relentlessly back and forth, never failing to impress. It became, in a way, a joke between us, one that was called upon multiple times throughout the course of my friend's life, but few things survive eternity.
I would rather not talk about the painful millennia that followed–after the laughter died–the dreadful silence.

Planets flitted in and out, some stars faded, others remained. I made acquaintances and exchanged small-talk with the light and dust, but as the pictures in my head grew older and their physical counterparts more  feeble in spirit, I retreated unto myself.
-
oh, hear the whispering melodies
of the mountains, the trees,
of the once bright that shine no more;
none so deep as the void—
i lost you to.

I scan the skies for the source of the voice, but I see no-one. Then I see it all at once–the voice grows louder–and then, just as suddenly as it all started, just as suddenly as awareness fell upon me–am I drained of it, sucked into an inescapable pit.

nothing lives forever,
eternity lies beyond reach
but when the cup of life has been drained,
the dead, the dust, the light, the echoes
shall rest as one.

March 6th Daily 2022
“Pair up with someone and write about the same prompt. Compare your writing afterwards, what's similar and different?”
Prompt: Someone has the ability to summon an army of fish, and learns how it can be useful.
538 words

“Unique.”
“Unexplainable.”
“A phenomenon of nature.”

I’m used to those words by now. I’ve certainly heard them a million times before, and when you hear something that much, it does tend to lose it’s meaning. No one knows why I am the why I am. Not even me. “At least it doesn’t affect her in everyday life,” is what the doctors always say. But they’re so wrong. If that were true, then I wouldn’t be in the doctor’s office in the first place. This so-called “power” – this entirely useless, inexplainable power consistently disrupts my everything in just a moment.

The most recent incident took place this morning. My friend Barley came to me as soon as he arrived at school, seemingly distraught.
“What’s wrong? Hey, are you okay?” I ran up to him, tears streaking down his face.
“My goldfish died. Albert. My poor little Albert. Just gone,” he replied shakily, holding back more tears.
I immediately felt so terrible for him. No one knows how much Barley loved Albert like I do. Obviously, I do my best to comfort my distressed friend. I should’ve known it would happen. All that thinking about fish; it never leads anywhere good. And so, before I knew it, I had summoned my army of flopping fish, gasping for air out of water, covering the school grounds, screaming children everywhere. All because I had no idea how to control this “power” of being able to summon a fish army on command.

I’m at the beach now, having just come back from my doctor’s visit. They sent me on my way like they usually do, saying there was nothing they could do. My power was beyond their knowledge. No medications work. Nothing works. So I bring myself out here, away from all the frustration. I don’t know what it is about the beach, it’s just so calming. Maybe it’s the fish.

I dip my feet in the water, wading through the ocean. The feeling of gliding through the water gives me a sense of control when I feel like nothing else does. A wave crashes overhead and I dolphin dive under it, opening my eyes underwater, revelling in the salty sting. But what greets my sight is terrifying.
A shark.

It lunges for me, and everything I’ve ever been taught to do disappears from my mind. The “punch in nose” tactic leaves my brain immediately, and I try dart away from the creature, failing miserably. I scream underwater, petrified, and the salt fills my mouth. In a panic, all I can think of is the water. The water. And the fish. The fish? What if… what if…?

What if I summoned the fish? So, I did. I squeezed my eyes shut and I summoned the fish army. And you know what? It actually worked. The fish came blazing through the ocean, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was surrounded by water, I probably would’ve laughed at loud in relief. Distracted by the gigantic school of fish, the shark left me in piece to find a new dinner for itself. I was safe.
My power, the hugely misunderstood thing that’s hindered me all my life, is what saved me today.

my half of the prompt
with @wootdragon
(this is so funny-)
WORD COUNT: 317 (haha YES)
Dragons = Cabins
Soldiers = Campers

The battle raged on when they heard a terrifying roar. Ivy spun around, ready to face whatever beast had made that raucous noise.
Oh no.
It was… THE MYSTERY DRAGON!!! Ivy narrowed her eyes at the dragon, sword in hand. “YOU TRIED TO FEED US POISONED COOKIES!” She screamed. “THAT’S NOT HOW YOU PLAY THE GAME!” Ivy slashed at the dragon mercilessly, honestly surprised that her recklessness was not getting her killed.
“I VANQUISH THEE!” She screamed, holding her sword high. Then she realized that she had always been a better archer than sword fighter and stole a bow from her fellow warriors (Ivy, tsk tsk tsk.)
“Weee will winnnn.” Hissed the dragon.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re everyone’s FAVORITE DRAGON doesn’t mean you’ll win.”
“Theee dystopiannnn dragonnnn is looosinnggg.”
“Ah. Fair point.” Ivy chuckled quietly to herself. “YO. MOVE YOUR BUTT.” She screamed behind her at the dystopian dragon.
The dragon was asleep.
“That’s worse than losing!” Ivy groaned, simultaneously readying her arrow. She shot it at the main dragon instead, who looked at her like it was just, so, so tired.
“HAHAHAHA.” She laughed. “DAILY FOR DYSTOPIA!”
The Dystopian dragon didn’t move.
“Okay, patience is a fine thing to have.” Ivy told herself, though she did not believe that. It wasn't a cabin war. Fighting with this mystery dragon wasn’t doing anything for them. Ivy snorted.
“Okay, I’m going now. Bye!”
“Sooo youuuu surrrrrenderrrr?”
“Uh, no!” Ivy laughed out loud. “This isn’t helping either of us, my man. I’m literally attacking a dragon. Where are the soldiers? Not here. This is kind of funny.” She tried to lean on a sword stuck in the ground but fell over.
“I’m good!” She said. “WE WILL DEFEAT YOU!”
“Yeahh, righttt.” Said the dragon, turning to go back to its soldiers. That had been very, very weird. That person was very, very weird. The dragon sighed.

——

I think it's funny how similar and yet different ours were. Theirs was more serious, mine was sillier. Theirs was more literate, mine was more… whatever this is. Theirs was futuristic, mine was set in the past. We both had a beast and a battle, though. I liked them both.

At least 300 words, paired with blvberri-mlkshks and prompt is Prompt: "At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a room with a table of many foods. what you eat decides your superpower. You are the first to eat the table.
589 words

I'm staying up until midnight. Why? Because tomorrow is my Feasting Day. At midnight of my birthday, I'm teleported to the Room. In there is “all the foods you could ever want”, my grandpa says. He has telekinesis and basically stays in his bed all day, since he can just summon stuff with his mind. He said I must eat the glowing white berries on the left of the table for this.
It's 11:50.
I Google “what foods are what powers feasting day” again. My search history shows I've searched this dozens of times. When the results pop up, every link is purple, indicating I've clicked them all at one point. I click the first link again. There is a list of hundreds of people, each saying their food and superpower.
“SirStrawberries56” says that he ate…strawberries. And now, he can change his skin color and pattern at will. Hmm.
11:56.
“Aren't you excited?” Mom asks me. She smiles warmly, bringing out the dimples on her light, fair skin.
I manage a tight smile, but in reality I'm dreading the Room.
“How long will I be in there? You can't get out? No doors, no windows?” I ask. Again.
“Time is..hard to tell in the Room,” Mother reassures me. She's my other mom. Mom and Mother.
“You'll not be focused on the doors and windows,” Mom says briskly. “Now, it's a minute to your Feasting Day. Remember, eat the bananas. They give you ultra-memory that you need.”
“Justine, you're just saying that because YOU ate the bananas,” Mother laughs. “As we know, each person's different foods give them different powers. There's no real way to chart the correlations..”
Mom laughs, too, but I can't because I'm too nervous.
Suddenly, the grandfather clock strikes midnight with twelve BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG-
Halfway through the fourth BONG, my room vanishes. I'm standing up in a gray expanse of nothingness. I start to panic. Where's the Room? What's going on? I try to touch where Mom had been sitting down. I feel nothing. I look at my feet and almost pass out. It looks like I'm standing on nothing. Then the world renders like in Minecraft.
A room takes shape before me. An empty table, then fruits and meats and veggies of all kinds appear on the table.
My hungry stomach growls. Mac and cheese..steak….delicious mangoes…it's winter, and I barely get mangoes anymore…I want mangoes. WIAT! I tell myself. THIS IS THE DECISION OF A LIFETIME! WHAT DO I CHOOSE?
This is a stupid idea, I tell myself when it forms in my head. I feel stupid, but I bite the table itself. The wood goes through my mouth soft as butter, and tastes like a mixture of my favorite foods. Mmmm. I close my eyes, and the table disappears from my mouth. “Okay, I failed the test,” I say miserably, eyes still closed, knowing I'd see Mom and Mother horrified if I opened them.
“You succeeded,” said a melodic voice who was NOT either of them.
My eyes popped open.
“We are the Celestials,” say a feminine-shaped burst of glowing light. “We have cultivated humankind and led each and every human to this place, hoping they would choose the substance-holder, not the substances upon it. This shows humankind is evolved past the here-and-now rewards and instead picking the root of the reward.”
I can't say anything. My mind is blank.
The light laughs. “Welcome to our ranks, Celestial. Let us cultivate another species together.”
Eyes glowing, I take her hand.

FirestarForReal wrote:

At least 300 words, paired with blvberri-mlkshks and prompt is Prompt: "At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a room with a table of many foods. what you eat decides your superpower. You are the first to eat the table.
589 words

I'm staying up until midnight. Why? Because tomorrow is my Feasting Day. At midnight of my birthday, I'm teleported to the Room.

SNIPPED

AHAHAHHA THIS IS AMAZINGGGGG I LOVE THIS

Weekly part one yay. *IN PROGRESS I AM SAVING THIS TO FINISH LATER*

1- haiku- rose
Scarlet petals bloom
With more elegance than swans
They sway in the breeze

2- acrostic- the dragon

Deathly flames gushing across the land
Running villagers dashing into the hall, only to be disbelieved
A worryingly small amount of sheep grace the hills
Gone is the undergrowth, scorch marks blacken the trees
On the highest peak a generally dark cave lights up
Never perfectly comfortable, the villagers live in fear

3- tanka - ocean pollution
Swimming along are
Extraordinary fish
That we are hurting
Badly, for no good reason
And, in turn, hurting ourselves

4- sonnet -

Daily march 6th (379 words)
Prompt: On your 12th birthday you get assigned a color that will represent you for the rest of your life, it decides everything.
Partnered with @SeltzerWater1000!

My life is violet.
Like seriously. Everything in my life, from my hair to my clothes and even my eyes, is violet. Every. Single. Thing.
That's just what happens when you live in Vivid City, so I guess I've gotten used to it by now.

It all started on my twelfth birthday, about three years ago. The government decided a while back that each person had to be assigned a color on their twelfth birthday. They said colors were more personable and human than numbers, and I suppose they're right. You wouldn't want to go walking around looking like the number 3,803,274- and since the population keeps growing exponentially, it would get tedious.
Anyways, it was the morning of my twelfth birthday. I woke up to my monotone white room, in my boring white pajamas, with my unpigmented white hair. (Everyone has to dress and live in white until they're twelve, it's just the rules.) I was so excited- today was the day I got my color, the color that would define me for the rest of my life. Bursting with excitement, I raced down our white stairs and into our white kitchen. It looks like my mom's been busy- white streamers, white balloons, and even a white birthday cake are waiting for me on our white table. Once I get my color, everything in our house will shift to match! It's part of the microchips the government puts everywhere- everything can be color-coordinated with a just wave of my hand.
My entire family is waiting for me- my older brother, my mom, and my grandma, in navy, fuchsia, and sage, respectively. I'm the last person in our family to get my color. Once I do, our house can be painted, and everything will be complete.
I step up to the white easel that waits for me in front of the table, my family waiting with bated breath. Carefully, timidly, I reach my hand out and press it against the rough canvas. Immediately, a violet stain begins to spread from my palm, across the canvas, and over all of the birthday decorations. My family screams, shouts, and hugs me, as my clothes and hair begin to adopt the same shade as the easel.
Watch out world- here comes Violet.

the diary of meaning
__________________________________

“Clean your room ray! Or else no pizza for dinner ! “ a voice said, “ yes mom .. “Ray responding to the voice.
Ray whistles as he mops, a sudden sound interfered ray's mopping and as an 11-year-old boy like ray would do, it intrigued ray and ray found mysteriously a diary shaking on its own, ray was shocked and curious but ray was also frightened, ray grabbed the diary with his mop's end and got the diary.


Ray opened the diary and it glowed with green light for a few minutes, which caused ray's vision to look like everything around him had meanings, he found a d3ad flower in a vase he wanted to replace it because it was not beautiful anymore but then a sting interfered him, and he realized that the flower represents a meaning, once you come to an end with somebody for example a friend or a love interest, they are easily replaced by the other person's interest.

After that situation, Ray could'nt sleep all night thinking about it but he tried to carry out his thoughts on another notebook , an normal one to be exact , he reflected what happend today but was too tired to finish and fell asleep on his desk , he woke up with his alarm going off loudly , he woke up as fast as he could of the sound and see it was 9:00 AM , he starts school at 8:30 AM, because of this he realized the meaning , time is limited and fragile.

When it was time for dinner , Ray's mother cooked cream soup and waffle fries
he used an spoon to eat the cream soup and fork to eat the waffle fries, another sting interfered him,the fork and the spoon match he thought to himself, he realized sometimes opposite people can be freinds .
__________________________________

i'm really bad at making meanings xD
- hazel left the chat

6 daily
“And then they ran off into the sunset” – Cloud finished telling a story. “What’s a sunset?” – her kit, Sparkle, asked. “I dunno, but my grandpa
saw one once”- Cloud answered. – «There are a lot of different places apart of this forest.» «Tell me more, please!» «No, I have to hunt now.»
Cloud and her mate, Leaf, have lived in this forest whole their life. Cloud's grandpa, Fastleg, had once lived in a place called «beach», but he moved because a grounp of cats, «Mountainclan», killed his clan.

Cloud saw Leaf catch a mouse, and walked closer to him.
- Can we move out of the forest, dear? At least Sparkle will be able to see «sun» and «moorland». – she meowed.
- I think no. We don't know what lies ahead. By the way, I dunno which way is «moorland». – Leaf answered.
Cloud and Leaf walked side by side for a bit, then hunted together.
- Hey, Sparkle! Do ya want a mouse? – Cloud said, walking into their den.
- Yes! – Sparkle said and gulped on a piece of prey.
- You wanted to move out of the forest? We agreed to start right now. – Leaf meowed.

After they all finished eating prey, they started to walk, Leaf leading the way. Sparkle was talking all the time. He said: «Oh, look, a bird!» or «Can I catch this leaf?».
Suddenly they stopped, spotting a small stream. «If we follow this stream, it will go out of forest after some time.» - Leaf said.
After about two hours, Cloud said: «I still can't see the end of this. Leaf, I can just hope you are right. Let's eat and sleep now.» They caught some mice, ate and fell asleep, laying close to each other.
Next day they walked for half a day, then Sparkle exclaimed: «Wow, another trees?» - and ran forward fast. Leaf and Cloud moved faster after him. Cloud leaned on Leaf's shoulder and said: «Smaller trees mean end of forest. Maybe we will finally reach the end.»

march 6th ‘22

prompt: write about a hero or a villain deathly afraid of doing their job.
partner: @pandascodinggames/poem

stella didn’t want to turk into superhero stellark. they hated the media in general, and didn't enjoy young children making costumes. amma once said, “soon you'll find the greatest power of saving crime. when you're life is lost, you'll perish, but you're feelings deep inside you will still be there.” stella didn't believe a single thing she said, after amma died, things were hard. there were supervillains out there, and she had no idea how to mourn the loss of someone while battling crime. it was like this circumstance was planned out all along, to kill amma and then kill her. there were no other superheroes here out in new york except stella herself.. at least she thought that. “war is coming, it's an evil thing,” her best friend told her. except her best friend was a normal girl, no power, no special parents, just living in a two-story house eating ice cream and watching disney+ like all the kids in her school do. one day, when the power was out, stella started picking at her scabs. “oh why can't amma be here? i wish i could tell her that i never want to be a superhero, but there's people out there that really want to be a villain. just because the stars sent you a message that i was fit for the job, i feel so sad and depressed and angry when i do my job. i just want it to- to, stop. this chaos and madness inside me is unreleased, and i know that those villains were once superheroes, but now all that rage transformed them into who they are today. as the rain unfolded, stella logged into the world press and logged into amma's old account. ”stellark has grown and has now left as of tonight. the rage has came into her and she's left new york. say goodbye to the honorary, stellark. written by pheobe clark, thats the news you need for now"

comparing: first off starting with differences, poem wrote about villains and i wrote about superheroes. these two teenagers have different ways of like suffering through the pain that they both face. similarities: they're both teenagers, of course trying to speak out to at least one person they don't want to do their job, and pretty much carry the same legacy as their mothers.

“How did you manage to mess this up?! All you had to do was ‘ON!’” His booming voice echoed around the hall, although he was trying to be quiet. Since, this was, in fact, a heist. “You could of k!lled someone!”

I meekly pointed to the body of a security guard by his post, with a slight smirk. He sighed, but then me being extra, pointed to the pile of security guards laying by the door. It was that many, only maybe five or six, but it was enough.

“You are to NEVER mess with the disco ball again! Do you hear me?” I nodded and started off to clean up the mess I made with the ball.

Now, you must be wondering how I managed I k!lled multiple people with a mere disco ball. Well, that disco ball isn’t your average disco ball, it was meant for the spy game. Made by the great and all powerful, Mr. E. Well, formally known as Mr. E. Mr. E was actually a woman who wanted to be known for her ‘womanry.’ Whatever that meant.

Sorry, I’m getting distracted again. Mr. E makes weapons for the spies who need them, just like me and my buddy ‘ole pal, Riley here. That disco ball was built like a grenade, you press a button, roll it out into a group of people, and take cover. Then it shoots spikes and pepper spray. All I had to do was put the guards in a pile, so they could rest.

What are we trying to steal, you might also be wondering. We are trying to steal the great ball of hosts of World Camps. We’ve been trying to undermine them for years, but they always thwart our plans. Not this time they won’t though. You want to know why, because they are all at the th World Camps annual fundraiser for, well world-wide camps, and I just k!lled off all of their security.

Now, all we had to do was get the code for the door to the vault that held the ball. The hard part was done and now all we had to do to get our victory was put the little ring sized ring around the one of the handles to the vault door and let it do it’s magic.

It spun around for a minute then started to turn the handles to get the right combination. The ring rang like a little kitchen timer, and the door opened. There it was, what we had been working for years to get, was finally in our possession. Riley stuffed the ball into his bag and started to shake my hand when …

“Put your hands up! You are under arrest by the World Camps authorities!”

“I thought you said you k!lled all of them!” Riley was seething with anger and you could tell, even if he hadn’t said a word.

“I never said anything about k!lling them all.”

———

“ … And that is how I ended up here, officer.” I finished in the interrogation room.

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

Word Count: 514

Seltzers 3/6/22 Daily
(412 words)
Prompt: On your 12th birthday you get assigned a color that will represent you for the rest of your life, it decides everything.
Partnered with @enchantedd-

Violet

“Violet,” she says. It’s not terrible, it’s violet. Think of a rainbow starting at red ending around a dark purple. Your color determines your status, how you look, your life. Red is the worst dark purple is the best so I am on the better end but my whole family’s yellow.

I turn around from the pedestal where I was just granted my color and see the look on my mom's face. Shocked. “Well I guess we need to go shopping to buy you some new clothes,” she laughs but you can see it in her eyes, confused, shocked and overwhelmed at the same time. She takes my hand and we walk out, the rest of my family follows a bunch of yellow, see you have to wear your color and if you fake it you definitely don’t make it.

We find our way to the color shops, a plaza of shops for each of the 20 colors. We walked, obviously it’s very rare for yellows to have cars, especially since my family is a very orange shade of yellow. They are the 5th lowest color. And I just got the 5th highest.

Me and my mom go into the Violet shop and the rest of my family waits outside because unless you are the parents of a different color you can only go into your colors shop. I try on a bunch of stuff enough to rebuild my whole closet, luckily it’s free because it’s a law to wear clothes of your color though it’s only free the first time.

I open the door to my house as we get home “So, Mace we need to talk, your violet and your father and I are yellow. I know you know what I am gonna say but, you need to go pack up your stuff. We have a family lined up already for you to go to.” her eyes water with tears though this is very common in our world we just never thought it would happen to me. I don’t know what to say, I run upstairs and start packing. I know it’s normal and it would have to happen but I was holding on to hope that she would love me enough to try and find a way around it. But no, and so I won’t fight it. I make my way down stairs and out the door. I won’t be staying with this family or any family at that.