Daily march 6!!

(The characters are based off my friend who moved away </3)

10pm, at the night, in a house, Kaia and her family were watching  movies. *ring, ring, ring…* the telephone goes, Kaia's sister, Jane picked it up. Her grandmother was calling and saying to hide under the table as soon as they can right now and they did. The ground started moving and moving as if it was rumbling. “Mom, is this an earthquake..?” asked Jane. Her mom replied it was just a procedure to do, she was trying not to panick her children so she had to do what she had to do. They turned on the news instead of the movie and, an entire neighborhood was destroyed over 500 deaths. Everyone panicked and immediatly ran out of the house.

Their mom, Nella ran and carried Jane. Jane was only 5 years old, Kaia and her dad ran outside too to the neighborhood and saw most of the buildings destroyed. They checked Google and the earthquake rate was 9.5. They immediatly ran to the farm district (it was only 10 minutes away) and they climbed up the mountain, seeing below. It was 10.30pm by then. They can see the beach from there and they saw this huge wave coming. Nella, Kaia and her dad knew a tsunami was coming. They needed to go to the summit which takes around 30 minutes. There was tons of people scared and just going to the highest point. The mountain was indeed not that very tall so they still had oxygen to breathe. The looked below and saw the entire city crumble only just 30 minutes in the tsunami. It's 11.00pm now, they were all very sleepy however they cannot sleep at this rate.

They tsunami started rising and 1/8 of the mountain was already flooded. The next 30 minutes was already 3/8. Again, 30 minutes 5/8. Some of the children and adults was caught up in the flood. There was only 200 people now on the 7/8. Kaia and her family were on the highest point, 8/8.

About 1 hour later it was 7/8. Everyone climbed to the top. Only 100 people left at 8/8. Everyone prayed and they all held hands and it flooded by a children's knee caps by now. Everyone said “Goodbye”, and stuff like that. It was only 10 minutes left before the last 1/8 was covered. It reached Kaia's shoulder and her father had to carry Kaia. 9 minutes, the flood was on her mom's neck and she started, to have heavy breathing. The last one minute happened, her mom started breathing properly because the police created a mini place where the water will be held, there were rescue helicopters and everyone was cold. Most were injured, some were even not there. They went to the military base and stayed there and slept. The next morning, they checked out the window. There was this beautiful rainbow, everyone went outside and there was very fresh air and the rainbow. They felt the new horizon and the wind slowly went, everyone felt joy.

Daily 3/6
Prompt: End your story with your character looking at a new horizon.

Even though her hands were bruised and her legs felt like they were going to fall off, Reina kept climbing. She knew the reward of getting to the top would be great, but she also wanted to beat her best time. That mountain she was climbing was about the same height as her last one, but in a whole new country. The one she had climbed before was full of mountains and was freezing cold. But this mountain was way different. That one had a warm fall breeze to it, since there it was fall. There were birds chirping, and all around Reina there were trees of various colors. There were greens, reds, oranges, and various other colors. The mountain she was climbing was a color like murky water. It was a blue/brown color that had been worn down by centuries of erosion and climbing. Reina had been preparing to climb this mountain for months. At first, like always, she very much doubted she could do it. But now that she was up here, a couple hundred feet off the ground, she knew she could do it.
Reina kept climbing, and kept climbing, for what seemed like forever. She already knew there was no turning back. At this point, she wouldn’t make it if she fell. But Reina knew she wouldn’t fall. She had spent months, years, just making sure that she knew what she was up against, for her own safety. Reina also just didn’t like to go into the unknown. She wanted to know what to expect and know what would happen. But, of course, that wasn’t how mountain climbing went. One moment you could be doing good, and the next, falling, falling, down until you reach the ground. Luckily, Reina hadn’t encountered that yet.
After what felt like forever, Reina climbed that final foot and reached the top. It was like nothing she could have ever imagined. There were leaves and trees of every color, but now they only looked like little smudges. She was so high up, Reina felt like she could almost touch the clouds.
She had reached a new horizon.
(357 words)

daily from 06/03/2022

with @-vanillamochabear-
prompt :The clock stopped… 74 minutes past 18… it was time to get up.
word count (311)

The clock stopped… 74 minutes past 18… it was time to get up. I grabbed my breakfast pill and swallowed if quickly with the glass of water from next to my bed-machine. From inside my wardrobe doors my metal body suit and oxygen peeked out ad me, so I hastily pulled them on. My meeting started at 12 minutes past 19, I’d would have to hurry.
Grabbing the keys to my car, I ran into the garage and buckled up in my car. Holding my foot down on the starting pedal, and pressing my thumbs into the ‘levitate’ button I hovered into the air, and then took off, beginning my journey across the void, barren city. A robotic monotone sounded out.
‘Please remember that FOOD is not allowed within this city, your daily meal pills will be supplied via Eat With The Future every week.’
Sighing, I checked my watch. It was 90 minutes past 18. I am not on time schedule; I’m going to be at least 544 seconds late. I sped up my car and watched the outside landscape fly by. Over the walls I could see lush green landscape. I wished I was out there free in the wide world.
Instead, I was stuck in this city, where I was surrounded by walls with no way out. The government controlled me, and I had to take pills. I had seen history textbooks about the year 2019, when everyone was free. But now they had kept some of us in this reality, after many generations passed through, we had made it to the year 4050. But as I pulled in the parking lot on the roof, and attached my oxygen tank before I stepped out of the door, I knew I had to forget all of this. Because otherwise, who knows what else could be in store for me…

GUYS I DID THE WEEKLY LESGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Super duper proud of the pantoum, but the non-fi took me an embarrassing amount of time.
Please please please critique anything and everything!
No i'm not procrastinating on schoolwork rn ofc not
Grand total- 2837 words

Poetry- 311 words

Defenestration (Haiku)
Defenestration
Getting thrown out a window
Wow, what a cool word

SWC (Limerick)
There once was an elderly tramp
Who loved his dear Scratch Writing Camp
He wrote for so long
Of lyrics and song
His hand, by the end, had a cramp.

Emotions (Acrostic)
Every piece of me longs for the
moment our world returns to the
obedient yet monotone everyday
that we were used to
instead of this
overstimulation of shadowloss
napping in the afternoons
such lowered expectations.

Mountainside (Pantoum)
The morning air is fresh and clear
Small flowers dot the mountainside
A small girl sits here, every year
She watches breathless, starry-eyed

Small flowers dot the mountainside
The birds sing out in joyous glee
She watches breathless, starry-eyed
Clear sky as far as eyes can see

The birds sing out in joyous glee
As fairies dance betwixt the oaks
Clear sky as far as eyes can see
She paints once more, with careful strokes

As fairies dance betwixt the oaks
Her paintbrush flying, floating, free
She paints once more, with careful strokes
Beneath the weeping willow tree

Her paintbrush flying, floating, free
The morning air is fresh and clear
Beneath the weeping willow tree
A small girl sits here, every year

My thoughts (Free Verse)

If they could see what's running through my head
See my hopes, my dreams, my fears
Would they still want to be around me?
My thoughts are ugly.
They swirl, they race, sometimes they fly,
But they're always there.

Some are like falling stars.
Beautiful, fleeting
But hard to grasp.

Some are like a cup of hot chocolate.
Warm, cozy, safe
Easy to wrap my head around.

Yet others are like mosquitos.
Persistent, nagging, painful
No matter how far I run
They always follow me.

My thoughts are
many different things.
Beautiful, ugly, painful, fleeting
But always there.

Essay- 875 words

Off the coast of Canada lies one of history’s most well-known shipwrecks. Now, companies like OceanGate are offering the once-in-a-lifetime experience of going down to see the Titanic. Although many people see the opportunity as educational, they do not know all of the unfavorable effects that the expeditions have on the Titanic, as well as the sadness of the surviving passengers when they see people exploring their families’ gravesites. Consequently, people should not be able to visit the Titanic because it damages the ship, endangers the customers, and is disrespectful to the perished passengers’ memory.
To begin, people should not be allowed to visit the Titanic because it is damaging the ship. Since people started venturing down to look at the Titanic, many artifacts and important parts of the ship have disappeared. According to the article “Would You Visit the Titanic?” by Mackenzie Carro, “… some historians worry about the inadvertent damage that these expeditions can cause. Take the Titanic’s crows nest… It’s gone missing, possibly after having been knocked loose by a submersible in the early 2000’s” (Paragraph 15). After letting people visit the Titanic, scientists began to notice new incisions and rust spots in the hull of the ship from getting bumped by submersibles. Many artifacts and parts of the ship are missing, and there might become a black market for Titanic antiques if this type of behavior is not restricted. In addition, in an interview with National Geographic, Dr. Robert Ballard states that “The Titanic is becoming a junkyard… people are leaving their trash there” (Natgeotv.com). Ballard was one of the crew that first discovered the Titanic, and he saw first-hand how badly damaged and full of litter the wreck was multiple times. Especially with all of the debris polluting the oceans, people should be observant and comprehend that humans are not the only creatures on Earth. If permission to visit the Titanic was denied to tourists, then the damage to the already dilapidated ship would undoubtedly decrease.
Furthermore, the trip to explore the Titanic is very dangerous and expensive. By going down into the deep ocean, tourists are risking their lives. Even though OceanGate promises a perfectly safe experience, something could always go wrong. In the article “Would You Visit the Titanic?” the author states that “…the deep sea is an unforgiving place. Outside the protection of a submersible, the deep ocean is pitch black and nearly freezing. At such depths, the pressure of the water is so great that a person would be crushed in seconds” (Paragraph 19). Although many people are in favor of visitation, they might not know the risk that they are taking by going down to see the Titanic. Tourists have a habit of wanting to try new things, and if somebody were to press a button or flip a switch that was to open a window or a door, the entire crew would perish from the high water pressure. Additionally, the trip is very expensive. In the article, Carro states that “…it is expensive: a whopping $105,000 per person” (Paragraph 21). Just think about all of the other, useful ways that this type of money could be spent. One could build schools in Africa or research cures for diseases. All in all, permission to visit the Titanic should be denied because it is a treacherous journey, and the money spent could be used for better purposes.
Finally, the trip to visit the Titanic should not be open to tourists because it is disrespectful to those who passed away when the ship sank. Because of the shortage of lifeboats and life jackets, only 705 out of the 2227 people on the Titanic were saved. According to the article, Edward Kamuda, then president of the Titanic Historical Society, said that “’To us, it’s a gravesite- why disturb it any further?’” (Paragraph 12). Some people say that visiting the Titanic is honoring those who died. They say that it is keeping the deceased passengers’ stories alive. Although this might be true for some, one should take into consideration the feelings of the surviving passengers who lost loved ones in the wreck. Even so, many years after the wreck, the site of the Titanic still holds many emotional memories for the survivors and their families. By plundering the ship, looters are dishonoring the memory that the survivors have kept preserved for all these years and dismantling the Titanic of many important parts. Therefore, tourists should not have permission to visit the site of the Titanic because it is dishonoring the passengers who perished in the shipwreck.
Thus, the privilege to explore the Titanic should not be permitted because of the damage it is causing to the ship, the danger to the passengers, and the lack of honor to the memories of the deceased. The ship is decaying because of the many submersibles and submarines that scrape the hull and leave trash behind, and the people in the submersibles are risking their lives and spending too much of their money. Lastly, the Titanic survivors are upset because they do not want people exploring the final resting place of their friends and family who passed away in the shipwreck. Ultimately, the site of the Titanic should not be open to tourists.

Script- 718 words. 99% true :')

The curtains open on a bedroom scene. MAIA, lying in a bed, is center stage.
An alarm goes off, but MAIA lazily slaps at it to snooze.

MAIA'S MOM storms into the room

MOM
Maia! It's 5:45! Your alarm should have gone off by now! Come on, get out of bed!

MAIA
(Speaking sleepily) I know, I know. I'll get up.

MAIA slowly gets out of bed, already in school clothes. She grabs her backpack and walks off STAGE RIGHT.
BLACKOUT

Lights slowly come up on a classroom. MAIA sits at a desk, surrounded by other desks. EVIL TEACHER stands by the whiteboard, slamming her ruler into her palm. Students start to file in, including SAM, AJ, MAX, and RYLIE.

MAIA shoots SAM a pained look.

MAIA
Seventy minutes. We're here for seventy minutes.

SAM
I know. Don't remind me.

AJ and MAX sit down in the seats next to MAIA. AJ is wearing MAX'S bar mitzvah sweatshirt.

MAIA (To AJ)
I see you got the merch.

Spotlight on MAIA.

MAIA (To audience)
Ew. Why do I have to be so awkward?

Spotlight off.

AJ (To MAIA)
Yeah- it's a Max original.

MAX (Rapping, or at least trying to)
This is Maia. She is a fly-ah. She likes to eat pie-ah.

MAIA rolls her eyes. AJ and other kids around them snicker.

MAIA
Max, it's 7:30 in the morning. It's too early. Please stop.

MAIA turns away.

EVIL TEACHER
Guys! You shouldn't be talking. Take out your notebooks and write five paragraphs on the Industrial Revolution.

MAX
Could I type it instead? My hand hurts from the seven pages we had to write about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire last night.

EVIL TEACHER (Horrified)
Of course not! The AP test is on paper, the SATs are on paper, everything you write needs to be on paper!

She pulls out a stack of paper a foot high.

EVIL TEACHER
This is your homework for the weekend. I did not make any extra copies…

She turns to the audience.

EVIL TEACHER
I try not to make extra copies. Save the trees!

She turns back to the class.

EVIL TEACHER
…So if you lose this one, you'll get a zero! Now, work quietly. If I hear anybody talking, you get an immediate zero on the assignment.

In the corner, RYLIE pulls out her phone and starts blasting country music and singing along to it.

SAM
Um, could you please turn that off? It's really distracting.

EVIL TEACHER
That's so rude! Rylie's working, and you should be too.

Spotlight on RYLIE, who is now curling her eyelashes and scrolling through social media. MAIA and SAM exchange a knowing look.

MAIA (To SAM)
And if it were anybody else, she'd write us up and send us to the principal.

SAM nods, and the bell rings. MAIA stands up, and the classroom rotates so that the stage looks like a different room. RILEY and NICK walk in and sit near MAIA.

RILEY (Arrogantly, to MAIA)
Did you do the Wordle yet? I got it in three today.

RILEY runs his fingers through his hair.

Spotlight on MAIA.

MAIA (To audience)
He's kind of a jerk, but he's a really hot jerk. It's kind of a problem.

Spotlight off.

MAIA (To RILEY)
Mhm, I got it in three as well.

NICK (To both MAIA and RILEY)
I got it in one.

MAIA and RILEY (Simultaneously)
WHAT?!

NICK
I got all of them spoiled. I know every Wordle for the next four years.

MAIA rolls her eyes.

NICEST TEACHER EVER
Ok guys! I know it's a Monday and we're all tired, so let's do the Wordle. Does anyone have a good starting word?

PRIYA
We can start with adieu, that way we get the vowels!

NICEST TEACHER EVER puts “Adieu” into the Wordle. The “A” and the “I” are yellow.

JACK (With his mask down)
I know! I know! We can do DUKES!

NICEST TEACHER EVER (Laughing)
Jack- there is no D, or E, or U. Come on.

PRIYA
Can you try “TRAIN?”

NICEST TEACHER EVER puts “Train” into the Wordle. The “A” and the “I” are still yellow, everything else is grey.

JACK
Come on Priya. Do better.

EMMA
Try “Final.”

NICEST TEACHER EVER puts “Final” in. It is the word- everything is green.

BLACKOUT.

Non-fiction - 907 words

Marching band (Memoir) 411 words
Marching band. When you think of it, you may think of dorky kids marching around in ugly suits, but that's the complete opposite of my experience. I mean, the uniforms aren't great, but that's beside the point. Marching band has some of the prettiest, most intelligent, and most put-together people I know. Many so-called “band kids” play other sports and are involved in many extracurriculars.
Choosing to do marching band was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I have met some of my closest friends, become more organized, and improved my musicality. While it was a struggle physically, marching band has also improved my strength and endurance. I trust myself more and have developed my interests and relationships with others.
When I first started marching band, it was the middle of the summer. The delta variant of Covid had recently been discovered, and everyone was worried about having to go back to school. It was also my first year of high school, which made the stakes even higher. I had heard from many people that our high school was big and scary and that if you didn't have friends, you wouldn't survive. This terrified me since I had been stuck at home for two years. In my opinion, the pandemic had basically gotten rid of all of my social skills- the idea of making new friends was almost out of the question. However, when I first stepped onto the football field, I was met with nothing but smiles and open arms. Everyone was so welcoming, and I immediately felt at home. That first day, I met some of my closest friends and was even adopted by a junior saxophone player. (Rachel, I love you, thanks for being awesome!)
Band camp and the rest of the marching band season flew by. After those first few weeks of band camp, adjusting to high school was a breeze. I already knew my way around the school from the hours of practice, and I had lots of friends. However, many of my friends had trouble acclimating at first. They got lost and couldn't find a non-toxic group of people to hang out with. I never had that problem- from the first day of school, I already had people to sit with at lunch, and I didn't get lost.
It's March now, and the start of marching band season is just around the corner. I can't wait to see what this season brings.

Band Auditions (Narrative) 496 words
In our school, there are three levels of bands. Even though the band directors try to convince everyone that each ensemble has its strengths, everyone knows that there is a significant quality difference between the three bands. At the end of marching band season, every person has to audition for a concert ensemble. No matter what grade, what instrument you play, or how many people are in your section, everyone has to audition and get sorted. So anyway, it's the end of marching band season, and I'm feeling pretty nostalgic. The marching band had become such a part of me that not having it was like not having food or friends. But I knew that being part of a concert ensemble was part of being in the band. It would also determine my reputation- would I be respected or ridiculed, or simply blend into the background?
The day comes when we get our music, and everyone is super nervous. We have one week to practice a piece- and that piece determines our band for the entire year. It's pretty scary, but since I'm also a theater kid, I have experience with auditions. I knew that whatever band I got into, I would be with my friends. That was the most important thing to me.
The music was pretty hard- more difficult than past years, according to my friends in other grades. But I manage, and I learn the piece. I audition and I think it goes well, but then I have to go home for the weekend. That's where things get messy. When I'm alone with my thoughts, I constantly second guess myself. What if I'm not good enough? what if I get the last chair in the lowest band? What if I'm not with any of my friends? What if all my friends get into the top band and I don't?
My mind tends to spiral in situations like these, and the weekend after auditions was no exception. I was freaking out.
But the weekend passed, as time tends to do, and soon it's the Monday after. I get a notification on my computer, and immediately my heart starts to race. I open the word document and start searching for my name. First I search the lowest band- to my dismay, all of my friends got surprisingly low chairs. I felt bad, but it meant that I was either in the second or first band. Then, I search the second band, and oh. My. God. My name isn't there. That can only mean one thing. I frantically scroll to the first band and scream. Like seriously, I start jumping up and down. I got into the first band- as a freshman. That's practically unheard of. There are only three freshmen in our ensemble, but thankfully I'm friends with all of them. Throughout our experience together, it has really helped me become closer with the older kids and even people I wouldn't have considered my friends.

daily march 6th

“COULD PI TAU PLEASE COME TO ROOM 314. I REPEAT, COULD PI TAU PLEASE COME TO ROOM 314.” The intercom buzzes to a halt.
My friends all look at me. “…What did you do,” Lio asks.
“Nothing, I swear!” Sighing, I gather my lunch. “Bye, guys. See you on the other side.”
With that, I walk towards my destination.
What had I done, though? Sure, I might’ve copied off my table partner for the practice quiz, but everyone does that, and it’s a practice quiz so it doesn’t matter. Did I make a teacher mad one time? I don’t think I had — I’m generally quiet, so…
While I ponder, I go into a building, up a couple flights of stairs, and eventually make it to the room. The door’s closed. Huh, that’s strange. Shouldn’t it be open for me? I shrug, then knock on the door a couple times. Silence. I shrug again, then open the door.
Where’s Ms. Delta? I thought she’d be in here, but… Now that I look around, a bunch of stuff that’s generally in my math classroom isn’t there. All the annoying motivational posters are gone, and so are the pictures of my teacher’s three sons. And where’s her huge desktop?
Maybe she’s just out for a moment, redecorating, I think to myself. I take a seat at her desk — not the big swivvly chair that’s still there, but the hard, plastic stool next to it. I wait. I comtemplate eating the rest of my rudely-interrupted lunch.
Time passes.
I don’t have a watch on me, so I look up to where the clock is to check the time — and find blank space. What happened to the clock? Wait, what happened to the wall? Where before there was boring grey paint, now there’s… nothing.
What? As I watch, the entire room starts to dissolve. First the furniture — the seat I’m sitting on disappears, and I collapse onto the floor. Next to go are the rest of the walls, then the ceiling and the floor. Flabbergasted, I gaze at the slowly-melting tiles, growing closer and closer and closer…
I fall into nothingness.

Hey! I’m PeachyxMilk, first time camper from dystopian. This is my daily for 6th March, paired with @gh0stwriter

What happens when your best friend turns vampire? I don't know either, but the thing is, i kinda need to know… My best friend since year 1 has been acting really weird, and i don't know what to do. So, i was sitting at school doing a group project with her and my other friend, when all of a sudden she stopped in the middle of the sentence, put up her hand, and asked if she could close the blind. Sometimes the teacher says yes, if it's sunny and shining on our work, so she got up and drew the curtain. I wouldn't have found that odd if what happened at lunch didn't happen. After English ( which was very boring indeed) we went to the canteen to get pizza, and I asked for garlic bread with it. But as soon as we sat down, her eyes started watering and she moved to another table without talking. So anyway, the next day at break, she asked if i could go to the Maths classroom to get her coat, and on the way we went to the toilet. I came out of the cubicle to wash my hands but, looking in the mirror, she wasn't there. I hadn't heard her leave though, so i turned around and called her name. She was there. I looked back at the mirror but didn't see the reflection. I panicked, squealed, and ran out the room. I didn't see her next lesson at Science - there was a rumour that she had gone home but no one quite knew why. As soon as science was over( it was double physics and we had a test!)I raced back home, opened the door and fell on the comfy sofa. Out of breath, i said “well that was dramatic”.

Ours is very different to each others, theirs is part of a fan fiction and is about marvel, while mine is sort of crazy and a bit rushed (XD). Our prompt was that it starts or ends with “well that was dramatic!”

march 6 daily (writing part)
partner: @sealifefriend, who came up with the prompt
prompt: “Are you ready? Because this is a moment you'll never forget!”
words: 463

Tom was an average child. Most people would pay him little attention and move on with their day if they saw him on the street, and if he was in a story he would be a side character to be rescued by the hero. His parents gave him the freedom to do anything except break the law, but aside from that there was nothing else special about him. That was going to change soon.
One day, as Tom sat on a bench in the park after school, he was approached by the famous scientist Cecilia Terran. Cecilia offered Tom a large sum of money to participate in a study. Tom was to come to her laboratory at noon on Sunday and fill out a questionnaire.
Tom accepted the money and, after getting lost multiple times, went to Cecilia’s laboratory, where he received a copy of the questionnaire. The questionnaire only had two questions- “Do other people consider you a normal person” and “Would you be interested in temporarily becoming a video game character”. Tom answered yes to both of them, then left the laboratory and walked back home.
When Tom walked to the library on Monday, he saw Cecilia standing outside the building with a clipboard. Cecilia saw him and walked over.
“Tom Brooks, was it?” she asked. “Here.”
Cecilia handed Tom an envelope and walked off to greet a teenager who was walking by. Tom opened the envelope and read the note inside.
“If you want to have the opportunity the second question mentioned, then come back to my lab on Friday,” Tom read. “Huh. Sounds interesting. A life as a video game character… Even if it’s only for a short amount of time, I’d sure like to try that.”
On Friday, Tom walked over to the giant conical building painted over with the words “Cecilia Terran’s lab”. The door opened on its own, and Cecilia welcomed Tom in. There were two other people in the entrance room- the same teenager from outside the library, and one of Cecilia’s lab assistants.
“Tom Brooks, Luna Stellan… You are about to embark on a journey few have ever ventured on,” Cecilia said as her lab assistant walked out of the room.
Cecilia’s lab assistant pressed some buttons in a control room only barely visible to Tom through a window near the ceiling, and the room turned black. With the presses of a few more buttons, a loading bar appeared.
“Are you ready?” Cecilia asked as the progress bar neared the end. “This is a moment you’ll never forget!”
Tom’s field of vision suddenly became sharper and more… square? He could see Luna and Cecilia becoming more and more pixelated, and the game began. And just as Cecilia said, he never would forget that moment.

3.6.2022 - daily 6

Doing this prompt with my partner @mayhem-olympia! Prompt: “Your character makes a living faking psychic powers. One morning, they wake up with real ones.”

Daily for Contemporary:

“Thank you very much!” I said, and I placed the 100 dollar bill into the cash register drawer. The customer waved and walked out the door.
I sighed.
I had been faking telekinesis, the ability to control objects with one's mind, for most of my life.
It wasn't like I had a choice. I just always had a… a talent with lying. Faking things. I never knew it would come to this; an entire building dedicated to people watching me perform a “secret power” I never even had.
My mom thought I was a doctor right now. She was far away, across the world, living in an entirely different country, but I knew that news like this would spread fast. Imagine what would happen when my mom suddenly found out I had a power no one else had.
I walked out of the door of the building, turned around the “OPEN” sign until it said “CLOSED”, and slid inside my car.

“AHHHHH!!!” I woke up with my nose pressed against the ceiling. “What's happening?! My bed's floating!”
My bed was floating, all right. It was dangling high in the air, with me on it.
I pinched myself. “Ow!” Nope, not a dream.
I managed to calm down. The bed slowly drifted down and landed onto the floor.
I began to realize what was going on. “Oh my gosh,” I said quietly.
I stared at the dirty brown bag that lay limp beside my bed. I could feel my eyes widen.
The bag was floating, like my bed! “Don't tell me..” I murmured. “Don't tell me that what I was faking came true.”
I thought hard. Was I going to go back to the building and make a living out of this? Was I going to become rich and buy a mansion, then live in luxury for the rest of my life?
Or would everything turn out bad?
Would I get too popular? Would people think I was actually faking it when I wasn't intending to? Did I really want to live my life depending on this?
I shook my head. I didn't want to become a cheesy superhero, but I had to, especially since our world needed one. I could help people rebuild broken-down houses after an earthquake. Put out a fire without going into a house. Not having to risk any danger.
I looked up, with a determined face. It was quite an extreme idea, but I was going to do it.
“But first…” I said to myself, “I've got to try my power out more. Just to confirm that I can actually move objects.”
I looked at the small picture in a picture frame on my desk. It was a picture of me faking telekinesis in front of some people on the streets. It was when I was a year younger than I was now. I became angry, knowing that I shouldn't have been so greedy in earning money, but I still did it. I knew what I had to do.
My mind was concentrating, my eyes were furrowing, and my hands were by my side.
There was a crashing sound. A cracking sound. And a sigh, from me.
The picture was now on the floor, faced down, with its frame cracked and broken.

(546 words)

COMPARISON: Heyo, Mayhem! Your story was very good! One major difference I noticed was that our characters had different powers, yours had fortune-telling and mine was telekinesis. Surprisingly, both our stories started with a customer or visitor leaving and the main character saying, “Thank you!” xD I feel like your story had more backstory to it, and gave more depth to the character. Most of my story was part where the character finds out about their powers. (I didn't give him/her a name hehe)

Daily March 6: Blush

Words: 346
Prompt: I heard the music as I entered the room, but all that was there was a violin, laying there on its back on the bare floorboards.

Pacing around my dorm room I was waiting for my best friend to come back. She had decided to go on a nightly stroll to train for her next run - I simply don’t understand where she gets her motivation from. Who would want to run outside in this type of cold weather, especially at this hour; who knows what’s out there?! As I waited anxiously for her to come back, I kept staring at the clock; glancing at it ever so often making sure that it wasn’t getting too late. When the clock finally struck 10:45, I knew that I had to go look for her, and make sure that everything was ok.

Gathering my courage, I left the comfort of my bed, and started heading down the hallway. My hands began to sweat, and I kept looking over my shoulder, hoping that no one was watching me, or worse, following me. I snuck past the front door hoping to not be seen by the security cameras, and make my way to the track. I look around the east and west field but there’s no sign of her. Starting to worry once more, I reassured myself that she probably went inside already, and that I was panicking for no reason. Creeping back into the school, I take a detour making sure that I don’t run into our custodian - a very strict man who expects everything to be kept neat and tidy, as if we all have the time for that between school, studying, and extracurriculars.

As I’m about to climb up the stairs, I begin to hear some ringing: it seemed to be coming from the music room. I put my ear to the door, and began to listen. Then it began, the same sound I had heard before. Officially curious, I decided to enter the room and see what was in store for me, while putting aside my fears. I heard music as I entered the room, but all that was there was a violin, laying there on its back on the bare floorboards.

✩──────────────✩
✯Weekly #1 Part 4: Non-fiction✯
Honestly, no comment…

Total words: 1330 (467+863)
✩──────────────✩

A Deliberately Boring Article about Grass Cause I couldn't Think Of Anything
Grass grows in most parts of the world. More often than not, it is green in color — but sometimes the region, the season or the general health of the plant can change this color to, say, a dirty yellow color.

Now, grass is a plant. And as with many plants, which come in different colors and sizes (e.g. red rose, pink rose, yellow rose, white rose etc.), grass too, can vary in shape and size. Essentially, there are various different species of grass — over 9000 of them, in fact. Most of them, when growing, are green, or shades of green. The species of grass growing in a certain area or region, more often than not, will depend on the conditions of said region. This could, for example, include the climate or weather (patterns).

Random fact: something to note about grass is that it is a biotic component of the environment. This means that it is a living part of an ecosystem.

Many creatures depend on grass to survive, by hiding within it or eating it for food. Most animals that eat grass are herbivores, and many are prey animals. You may have also heard the term ‘grazer’, which typically refers to animals that only eat grass. A much more uncommon word for an animal that solely eats grass is ‘graminivore’. This sounds a lot like ‘herbivore’. This fact actually has nothing to do with grass itself — it's most likely, and almost certainly, because the suffix ‘-vore’ comes from a Latin word that is related to eating.

Back to grass. As hinted at before, it is one of the most commonly growing plants in the world — species of it even grow in Antarctica. It is part of a family of plants called the ‘Gramineae’ family, which is, as you've probably guessed, one of the largest plant families on the Earth.

Like most plants, grass leaves do the process of photosynthesis to create energy. The word equation for photosynthesis is ‘carbon dioxide + water → glucose + oxygen’, where the arrow means ‘reacts to make’. For those of you who are more advanced in the field of plant structures and processes, the balanced equation is 6CO2 + 6H2O → C6H12O6 + 6O2. (Sun)light is needed for the reaction to take place.

In any case, contrary to the stereotypical image of grass that likely popped into your head upon reading this, there are many aspects of, for example, lawn grass that most people don't see or generally don't know. For example, did you know that grasses have flowers? These are most commonly known as florets and though they can't always be seen, they are there.

Grass is an interesting plant, when you think about it. It makes all the other plants green with envy! Or chlorophyll. Whichever one works best for them.


An Autobiography About My Writing Related Stuff
This is autobiographical now, I guess.

Hi. My name is Jori. I joined Scratch because I had to and, fun fact, this is actually the original account that I joined with!

Hmm, I used to make random projects on Scratch. The first one was a maze game called ‘Maze Daze’, in which you had to fly a dove through a, well, maze. That project is from about 3 years ago now, and in case you want to go looking for it, it was unshared quite some time ago.

Most of the stuff I've made has been unshared, actually. My page currently says I have 47 projects but I actually have more like 80. Moving on…

I started to share writing on Scratch about, uh, two and half years ago or something? I'm not really sure. Most of that stuff is unshared too, but some of it is still there. Like my 10, More and 15 Random Writing Prompt projects. Speaking of those, I should look back on them to see if they're any good! The daily of the day I'm writing with is to pair with a partner and write something based off of the same prompt, so it's such a coincidence that I thought about those projects today~

Or is it?

I started a story series called D I G I T A L. It's kinda been discontinued, although lots of people keep discovering it for some reason-

The first story in the series, ‘Destiny’s Wings' was curated a while back. It has over three thousand views which is kinda annoying because it's actually not that good. And now three thousand people have seen it. Anyway…

I got about halfway through Terror's Alchemy (story 5). It was too big for my device so I had to split it into parts one and two, but I never actually shared part 2. It's there, just not shared. And it's technically not done anyway.

I wanted to rewrite the whole of D I G I T A L (you know…plot holes and stuff), but my bestie Procrastination called and told me I should wait a bit before I did.

That was a year ago.

I'm still waiting.

I'm also running out of things to say. So, uh, I helped run a Scratch magazine at some point. I have two magazine prototype projects, one is a stereotypical image on one side, writing here, arrow keys to go to the next page (or click cause we appreciate mobile friendliness) blah blah blah setup. The other one is more advanced, with games and articles, but I never actually finished it so it's just kinda half complete, like the rest of my stuff. Oops.

Oh yeah, I had a poetry phase at some point last year. Everything I wrote was a poem.

The funny thing is, everyone expects poetry to be the deepest, darkest parts of your soul that you just have to share with the world. I mean, people have told me that my poetry was disappointing because it didn't have some deep context. Somewhat similarly, they've said it was clever because the title and the general theme matched up in terms of syllables (I honestly can't remember if that one was intentional or not).

That's the strange thing.

You don't get that with prose. You get the general praise and constructive criticism, as with most writing, but you don't get there has to be a deeper meaning or it doesn't have to rhyme or it's good because it rhymes (or the prose equivalents for those things, I'm running out brain cells here so bear with me-)

Like, maybe I just like writing poems for the sake of writing poems. I know the techniques, I might as well use them. I have the motivation for once, so just let me write something whilst it's still there.

Something a little similar happens with writing. Everybody talks about how sad the endings are, or how they feel about the bittersweet endings, but the happy endings never get any recognition.

People can have happy endings though, can't they? Maybe not ‘they lived happily ever after’, but just ‘they lived happily’. It's strange, because I can't remember the last time I wrote an ending that wasn't at least a little bitter. Never 100% sweet.

I stopped writing happy endings a long time ago.

But you know, you'll see it in contests and stuff. The whole ‘this story moved me to tears’ thing. Which in itself isn't at all a bad thing — in fact it's considered quite the achievement by many — but a story doesn't have to move you to tears to, well, move you.

Back to writing in general…

I have a writing studio that you should totally check out. It's called Scratch's World of Writers, but everyone calls it SWOW because that name is a bit too long, don't you think?

Ahem…I learned about SWC quite some time before actually signing up for it. This is actually only my third session. I guess I just thought that I would never actually join? That was, uh, an incorrect assumption to make.

Okay, I really need to post my weekly now, so uh…bye!

March 6 - prompt: “Your character makes a living faking psychic powers. One morning, they wake up with real ones.”
Partner: @SophIIsa

“Thank you very much for visiting Marilyn’s Magical Emporium!” I say, smiling brightly as my customer exits the shop.

My smile drops the second they leave. I’m a con artist, you see. People these days are so obsessed with tarot and astrology and everything like that. So, well, I take advantage of that. I set up an occult shop, started advertising fortune-telling, and bingo! I’m rich. I don’t even believe in any of it - telling the future, your birth date meaning anything, gods and goddesses… it all feels like nonsense to me.

Some days I think about where my life could have gone if it weren’t for my accident. I wanted to be an Olympic swimmer, but then I got hurt. Badly hurt. I recovered, more or less, but I’d lost years of my life, unable to train or even swim for fun. So I figured I might as well just start scheming. See how many idiots I could swindle. I’ve had tons of different plots over the years. Selling old junk and claiming it had historical value. Making up celebrity gossip and selling it to the press (they cottoned on quickly, but I kept going using different pen names). And now I run an occult shop.

My real name isn’t even Marilyn. I adopt a different name for every con I pull. I’m Marilyn now, but before that I was Camilla, and before that I was Gwendolen, Kara, Lilly, Amira… the list goes on. My real name… well. I keep that on a strictly need-to-know basis, and nobody has “needed to know” for a few decades at least.

I clear up the cards and toss them in my tote bag, along with my crystal ball and my laptop, and then I leave, locking the door of the shop behind me.

When I get home, I stare at my crystal ball, which is on my dining table. (I use it as decoration.) Is it time for me to move on? People come in and ask me about serious, life-changing stuff, and I try to give pretty good advice, but I don’t know. It feels kind of wrong. Like I’m misleading them.

Just as a joke, I say out loud, “What should I do, o wise crystal ball?”

Shadows start swirling in the surface, and I jump, looking behind me as a reflex. Is there somebody in my house?

But there’s nothing moving, and I reluctantly look back at the crystal ball.

You’re on the right path, it seems to say.

I’m definitely imagining this, right?

…Right?

Comparison:

I noticed that both our pieces were done in first person, and they both had a similar idea - the main character as a con artist or something similar. One main difference was that in your piece, the reveal that the main character has a superpower is nearer the beginning, whereas in mine, the reveal is right at the end. Also, the magical powers in question were different - I wrote my piece about fortune-telling, and yours was about telekinesis.

Daily with @-just_human-

Our spaceship was hurtling towards the sun. Alarms were going off, the emergency broadcast system was putting out static, and the lights were flashing red.
I hurriedly propelled myself down the narrow corridors, slowing down only when I passed someone else going the other way. I seemed to be the only person going to the front of the ship, to be trying to fix this problem. Everyone else, like the cowards they were, headed straight to the escape pods at the slightest alarm.
Sometimes it seemed like I was the only level headed person on this whole ship.
Finally, I reached the cockpit. Captain Moreland sat hunched over the dashboard, pushing buttons seemingly at random.
“How do you turn off the alarm again?” he mumbled upon seeing me.
“Turn it off?” I replied tersely.
“Yeah! It doesn't seem like it needs to be ringing…”
“Look out the window!” I exclaimed.
After a moment, the man craned his head upwards. “OH!”
The sun loomed outside the window, its surface bright white and flaring with streams of fire.
“Now do you see why we need the alarms?!”
“I-I gotta get out of here!” was Captain Moreland's only response as he pulled himself out of the chair, pushing himself out the door at a comically slow pace.
Sighing in annoyance, I maneuvered myself into the captain's chair. He was right—it was astonishingly hard to focus with the alarms and static blaring in the background.
“There must be something wrong with the autopilot…” I muttered to myself, searching for the correct button.
Almost immediately, I found the right thing to press.
“Are you sure you would like to turn off autopilot?” a mechanical voice sounded from next to me.
A small confirm button popped up on the screens in front of me, and I pressed it.
“Please confirm that you would like to turn off autopilot…” it continued.
Another box appeared, this time forcing me to type in Y-E-S before it let me through.
“Autopilot deactivating.”
I reached for the ship's manual controls, and easily pulled the joystick—yes, America's highest-tech spaceship was controlled by a joystick—upwards, sending our ship happily swerving away from the sun.
I sighed when met with the sight out the window now. A small army of escape pods floated in front of me. It seemed as though our entire crew had evacuated.
It was going to be a long ride home.

weekly #1
part 1 >/////<

__________________________

POETRY:

Tetractys

Hold
On dear
Soft breaths rise
Soon if we cry
At least we have love

Acrostics

As the soft clouds come into view
Not a moment left to spare
Green hill, set with sincerity
Even with the crows nearby
Love is in the air, my angel

Fluffy little cows
Love their little faces
Until the day I meet one
Forever I will keep dreaming
For there fluffiness is enchanting
Yellow sunshine is here ♡

Continue to be so curious
Understand how things happen
Remember that it’s okay to explore
Instead of crying, smile and say
Oh, I’d like to learn some more
Um, please keep being curious
So even if there is mistakes, keep going!

Giggles and laughter surround me
Everyone’s been there before
Oh, I’m different because I hold on to the
Railing of my youth
George, you kept me company
Even now, you do ✨

Monorhyme

The sky turns a soft pink
And we both start to think
Our arms interlink
To hold in tears, we blink
Hopefully together, in sync
Before long, our glasses clink
Dusk breaks, at the brink
We end the tears, we blink
Our arms unlink
Beautiful thoughts, we think
As the sky turns a dim pink

Haikus

A youthful blue bird
Makes its way into the sky
Holding onto dreams

Fish swim in the pond
Gracefully, with elegance
Focused on right now

The sheep graze on grass
Beautiful fluffy creatures
I want a hug, please?

Ghazal

Your soft young hand holds mine beautifully
Swan dance in the river, beautifully

As the world spins without slight hesitance
Think, if we were waltzing beautifully

Imagining it all beautifully
Hoping to say the words, beautifully

You hold onto my arms beautifully
Enchantress sings the tune, beautifully

Hold the rose in my hand, beautifully
And I hand it to you, beautifully

Even when the it’s cold, beautifully
Your soft young hand holds mine beautifully

part 2: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6094825/
part 3: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6094828/
part 4: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6094830/

weekly #1
part 2

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SCRIPT WRITING

MR. ARIAL got out his microphone to start recording his new audiobook…

MR. ARIAL
Once upon a time, there was a little mushroom named Peter. Peter was very cute and adorab

PETER jumps onto the microphone and starts reciting his idea of the story.

PETER
No..! Hewo! I’m Peter.. Sorry for Mr. Arial’s interruption. ;w; I’m Peter! Normally referred to as Princex Peter. (Okay, I’m not a real princex ;v I am a mushroom, as you prolly know already >v< I love hugging my grass sprouts.. even though they’re taller than I am! (Shhh, don’t tell anyone..) I love playing with everyone in Woodland Cottage Valley. This is my first time using hooman bean pa

MR. ARIAL
Nope- Hey, this is Mr. Arial.. again. Pardon me for the.. err, disruption. This is supposed to be a childrens’ fairytale, for goodness sake! Anyhoots, let’s actually begin the story.

The Tale Of Mushr

PETER
Peter’s Life In Bits

MR. ARIAL
Sigh.. It’s going to be a long week.

Once upon a time, there was a young mushroom by the name of Peter. They were born in a small village (To the mushrooms at least) called Woodland Cottage Valley, or in human speak, the weed plantation. There were beautiful wildflowers in this land, and though one would shun this land, one’s heart would go faint at the sight of those flowers. They brought a mystic, yet comforting aura to the land, and soon you’d be imagining all sorts of things. But in this case, how much of what we see is in our imagination?

PETER
Peter (Speaking in 3rd person about myself is hawd- I mean hard) was a very small mushroom. Very small. Peter was a different mushroom- they looked like the mushrooms you see in cute pictures. A cute red cap with white polka dots, and a puffy little base that was cream colored. Peter’s best friend was a sweet mushroom named Cremini. Not actually having anything to do with the Cremini variety of mushrooms, Cremini was a soft hearted mushroom that had a small little cap which was a soft cream color, and a thin, tall stem that was a pale, dimmed out orange.

MR. ARIAL
Peter and Cremini met one auspicious afternoon when Peter’s little roots said “Hewo~” to her. Cremini replied back to them with a “Hihi!” and they became instant friends. They were pen pals for 2 weeks, before they realized they could talk (Strange, I know..) and they happened to live just a few centimeters apart! And that is when they met me, Mr. Arial.

PETER
Mr. Arial lived on 12736 Auralin Avenue and was very.. big

MR. ARIAL’s face looks amused.

MR. ARIAL
I’m only 4’7.. It’s just that you’re a mushroom

PETER
Um, okay. Fine. Anyways, Mr. Arial had a jet black crew cut with a little curl of dyed red hair cascading down the center of his face until his nose where it abruptly stopped. He wore a black suit with a complementary Shinobu Kocho (thank you to Demon Slayer!) handkerchief and tie. He had a few freckles, and one of those curly mustaches that you probably drew when you were younger (Or you still do..). He also had one of his ear lobes pierced with a small black circular earring. He seemed both serious and fun, once you got to know him, of course. He was an author who visited universities to talk about can’t urn phyllis.

MR. ARIAL
I think you meant quantum physics!

PETER
Oh, um yea! Thanks Mr. Arial! He sometimes visited universities to talk about quantum physics. He also used the pen name “Aria Luna” to write romance novels, like Soft Pillow Cushion. I dunno why he didn’t just use his real name.

MR. ARIAL turns bright red.

MR. ARIAL
Ahem, that was rather embarrassing. Anyhoots, now this is how I met Peter and Cremini. One brisk morning, maybe half past 7, I was getting ready for my morning jog. I had recently turned in a new novel on Blaise Pascal to my editor, and was feeling rather accomplished. As I stepped outside, I felt my foot squish something, and a soft crunch soon followed. “Watch where you’re going!” a soft voice spoke, stumbling a little on a few words. I looked around. No one was around. Only then did I look down to see what I squashed. A small, insightful pair of mushrooms, with their caps tilted up toward me, waddled toward me ever so gracefully. Their caps had brown prints from my shoes. “You know, it’s not polite to stare at people like that..” the taller one spoke with clarity. My jaw dropped so suddenly it felt like it would fall off, if not for the support of the rest of my face. I was flabbergasted, and I made it clear with a deathly shriek, one that made the murder of crows fly off like a storm.

MR. ARIAL peered down at the mushrooms after taking a step back.

MR. ARIAL
I- I must be imagining this- Mushrooms don’t talk.. This, this is probably a prank!

CREMINI AND PETER shook their caps with a defiant no.

PETER
“Sowwy hooman bean…We is able to tawk wike yuuu…

CREMINI “elbows” Peter.

CREMINI
I don’t think he can understand your English.. if you could consider it English at all..

PETER nods.

CREMINI
Basically, we mushrooms can understand everything you said, and can speak in English language as well. We can also read. Yep.

MR. ARIAL smiles and places the two mushrooms on his palms.

MR. ARIAL
Welllll… How about you check out my books…

MR. ARIAL holds up Soft Pillow Cushion.

CREMINI
We’ll see.

PETER laughs.

__________________________

3/6, 318 words: Today, you'll have a chance to interact with your fellow SWCers! For this daily, pair up with someone and agree on a writing prompt you both want to use! Then each separately write a 300 word story using the prompt. When you're done, compare your story with your partner's. How were your stories similar? How were they different? You must comment on what aspects were different in your stories along with your word count to each receive 600 points!

TW: topics about war

The leaves on all the trees have turned black, but refuse to fall off the branches. It’s the middle of spring. But it’s also the middle of an all-out world war. I can already hear the clattering of hoofs and sprint back inside. I shouldn’t have attempted to go outside anyways. Mother always reminds me of the risk, but shouldn’t I at least try to do something in exchange for our freedom? Mother always replies that only men fight in the war, no women, so we should just sit back and relax and do the thing we’re supposed to do: Support our husbands and housework. But it’s all just gibberish, really. If either side really wanted to win, they’d be smart enough to recruit some women in their army, as I always say. But Mother, and even all of my sisters, if you can imagine, call me crazy and ignore me most of the time. But maybe it’s not because of mockery; maybe it’s because they know that once I know what I want, I will do anything in my power to make it. I shake my head, bringing me back to reality. Or maybe I am just speaking rubbish, in hopes that this war will one day end, only long enough for me to see it. I can already imagine the fireworks lighting up the sky in a sparkling ray of light, not only lighting up the sky, but lighting up every one’s hearts, in hope that something as crazy as this will never happen again. But I can only wonder, what if this never ends? Or what if I don’t live long enough to see it? And what will happen to mother if father dies in the war? What will happen to us? I run my hand through my silky black hair, trying to clear my head. Just rubbish, I remind myself. And Mother’s always right.

weekly #1
part 3
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NONFICTION

A Camper’s SWC Guide

Step One: Signing Up

Ingredients:
1 pound of computer smoothie (Equal to about 1 computer)

Substitutions: Any electronic device

Takes about one month before ready to eat, but is definitely worth the wait.

Steps:
Wait until one of the months in which SWC occurs (March, July, November).
Locate the sign up project in the month of SWC.
Read the description of the project for any and all information.
Place your cursor/finger on the box in which you make a comment.
Fill out the first question on the form.
Fill out the second question on the form.
Continue filling out questions until you’ve completed all of them.
Reread the questions on the form in the description.
Check your filled out form to make sure you’ve written everything you need.
Click the post button, which is the blue one under the comment writing box.
(Optional but highly recommended) Comment-stalk all the other applications.

Now that you know how to sign up, let’s talk about cabin sorting. Remember that you may not get the cabin of your choosing, since there is such a big number of campers. All cabins are wonderful places, so don’t feel sad. I have made many friends in SWC, and I’m sure you will too. Let’s talk about making friends.
Making friends can most definitely be challenging. But it’s actually not too hard in an environment like SWC. All you need to do, really, is write something in your cabin’s comments. Make sure it’s appropriate, friendly, and use tone tags when needed. My first SWC, I’m pretty sure all I needed to do was say “Hi” and people were talking to me. I made friends, who I cherish so much!!
Ask your leaders for help too! Remember, SWC isn’t like any other in real life camp, because you’re most likely not that far from your leader in age. This makes it a lot easier to talk to them like a friend, so use this opportunity! Interacting with them really helps you make friends, trust me. For one, they can be your friend! And, you can ask them for tips.

weekly #1
part 4

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SWC < Life. We’ve probably all heard this at least once, and that’s because… It’s true! Remember, your life, your health, is very very important. So if you need to go outside for a walk instead of do a Word War, then that is perfectly fine. Drink water, stay healthy, school, all of that goes before SWC. That being said, we have our next topic…

Be active! You joined SWC, so you need to remember not to neglect it completely. Try to do at least a few dailies a week. usually, your cabin will have a list of expectations– try your best to fulfill them. It’s okay if you can’t, but try! Remember, doing that essay for school does count toward your word goal.

Cabin Wars may seem kind of intimidating at first, but don’t worry! Your cabin will help you, and cheer you on. Sometimes, we won’t win a Cabin War, and that’s okay. Your effort is what matters. Don’t feel guilty if you slept through a Cabin War, I’m urging you, not to prioritize a Cabin War over your sleep. I recommend at least 8 hours of sleep. Trust me.

There is so much more to SWC that I couldn’t cover here– and I don’t want to– this is a guide. You need to explore SWC yourself, it’s a lot more fun when you do it yourself. So get out there, and start your adventure!

Journalism

A question that has been long contemplated by SWCers of the past, present, and most definitely will be in the future. How do you pronounce SWC? The acronym, is short for Scratch Writing Camp, but how do you pronounce… The acronym?
It’s not as simple as one may think at first glance. There is no vowels in the acronym, leaving the people (and not people) far more to their own imaginations. And quite obviously, SWCers have quite the imagination. Mango? The list goes on. Pitau, a SWCer, believes in “swuhcee supremacy”, while FrogandChick thinks both “esduble-u-see” and “swuhck” are correct. There are many pronunciations out there, some which you may have never thought of before. An example of this is how Stormy_Brook said “I always say esduble-u-see but now I have more things to use (I hadn't thought about the other ones…)”
In the words of 129waterfall, this mystery is one of “the questions we have pondered since the beginning of time.” And, it’s true. For countless generations (well, it is countable I suppose…) SWCers, both campers and (co)leaders have pondered. Is it swuhck? Swuhcee? Swoccy? SAUCY? The ideas are countless. SWCers of all cabins join together to figure out the answer.
Put a little thought into it, and you’ll find interesting ways to pronounce the well known acronym. All you need is some sparkles (here’s a free one ✨) and your head. Who knows what you could come up with. I think “saucy” pretty much proves this point. Here is a collection of pronunciations to get you started: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30978477/comments/#comments-177276023
If you’re wondering “Well, what really is the pronunciation?” the answer I can give you is… Saucy. No, I’m just kidding. The truth is, this is one of those questions that will most likely never be answered. The original creator of SWC probably didn’t have a single pronunciation in mind. And even if they did, why would you want to know? Why would they reveal it? The fun we have in simply trying to guess is part of SWC. I laughed when I heard “swuhcee”. And I’m sure you’ll have some interesting memories when you find a pronunciation that you find quite… intriguing.
If you’d like to “deposit” your findings, you can do so in the Main Cabin of your current SWC, or tell a SWCer that you have befriended, or are acquainted with. You’re going to have a ton of fun searching for the next trendy name, that really shines. That being said, they all do… Especially swuhcee.
Some wonderful SWCers participated in this study. Here are their names for you .
FrogandChick
Pitau
Rey_venclaw
Suburban-darkness
S_theCreator
AmazaEevee
Applecrumble-
Stormy_Brook
Peach_Drawing
Seasiide
-Just_human-
Zparkly

daily 3/6/22 - 742 words
with @totesme

prompt - When walking through an abandoned house with your friends, you find a room of mirrors. One of the mirrors is labeled ‘The Mirror of Truth’ and shows you with wings…

“Whoa… this mirror is weird…. it's like it's magical or something!” you say to your friends, but there is no response. “Um… hello? Helloooo?” you call, listening to the echoes bounce across the walls of the large, empty room. Wait… this room wasn't empty before? And what happened to all the other mirrors? Your attention is drawn back to the golden, shimmery wings on your back, which begin to flutter. “The mirror of truth…” you mutter to yourself, wondering what on earth wings could symbolize. “I mean… that could mean anything!” A loud, booming voice resonated throughout the room “That's for you to figure out, but I can help you along the way,” you jump, frightened. “Who are you? Where did you come from?” you yell at the walls, feeling rather silly for seemingly talking to nothing. You shivering, wondering why you and your friends decided it would be a good idea to come to this creepy old house in the first place! The room began to shake and spin in strange directions, almost like an earthquake. “DO NOT QUESTION ME!” the voice cried furiously. “Oh… um… ok.. sorry” you respond quietly, trembling in terror, hoping that this would stop the person's anger. Unfortunately, the room did not stop moving; in fact, it almost seemed to get faster, if that was even possible. Just when you feel like you're going to get motion sickness if this continues much longer, the room stops abruptly, throwing you to the ground. You brace for impact against the cold, hard, stone floor, but it never comes. Instead, you land on a soft patch of grass. You look around, bewildered to see you have landed on what appears to be a farm. A small brown goat approaches, munching grass, and sniffs you curiously. It bleats loudly, which brings over a large crowd of bleating goats. You back away nervously, unsure of whether goats can be harmful or not, too distracted now to wonder how you arrived here. You cry out in terror, edging away nervously. Suddenly, an enormous goat pushes through the crowd of the smaller ones, arriving at the front. All the other goats almost seem to bow before it, and you look around awkwardly. You bend over slightly, unsure of whether you are supposed to bow or not. The large goat dips its head in respect, and opens its mouth. “Greetings, human,” it calls. You shriek in terror and surprise, then quickly cover your mouth, hoping you don't seem rude. “Oh sorry, I suppose I should have warned you before speaking,” it continues. You tune it out for a moment, wondering whether you have learned to understand goat, or whether that goat is speaking English. You suppose that it's speaking English, since you have no memory of ever learning goat. “Greetings, human,” it repeats, “I am Einhard, king of the goats. Why have you trespassed in our territory?” You look around nervously at all the menacing goats, and reply with the truth, “I… um…. I'm not sure… One moment I was in this weird, abandoned house, and suddenly I ended up here!” The goats begin murmuring among themselves. “Stop!” Einhard yells to the other goats, and they immediately quiet themselves. “If you have truly been sent by the ancient house itself, then, by ancient law, we must welcome you upon our territory. However, we must first ask the password for security reasons,” Einhard continued. “The….the password?” you stammer in confusion, “I'm telling the truth, I promise… but the voice never gave me a password! I didn't even know where I was going!” “Aha! A fake! I knew it!” Einhard cried. “GOATS, ATTACK!” You scream in terror as Einhard pulls out a strange stick with a glowing blue light at the top. He points it at you, and before you can even say anything, you find yourself being transported back to the hall of mirrors. You sigh in relief as you realize that your friends have reappeared. “Where were you guys?” you ask, and they stare at you in confusion. “What do you mean? We've been here the entire time and so have you,” they reply. You stare, confused, wondering if this was all in your imagination. When you look into the next mirror and see a reflection of Einhard, you decide that you are done with this creepy house. You sprint out of the house and into the safety of outside, screaming the entire time.

~ Waking Nightmare ~

Main Cabin Daily with Scarlett_makesart
Prompt: “You have a nightmare at night. When you wake up, it starts coming true.”

Written by Wari
Story: 377 words
See Scarlett's story here: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6082761/
Comparison: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30978477/comments/#comments-177574424

I yawn, curling up in my soft bed as the sunlight fades away. Soon, I’m asleep, drifting off to sweet oblivion.

I walk through a dark mansion, getting more anxious as I take twists and turns and only find myself deeper in the maze. Then there is light, at the end of a dark corridor. I race toward it, trying not to think about its strange flickering orange glow.

The harsh smell of smoke hits my nose, and I skid to a halt a split second before I would have raced into the raging fire. For a moment, I stand there, staring disbelievingly at the flames.

Then it roars, spitting sparks as it devours the floor, the walls, the furniture. And I know it’s coming to consume me next. So I run.

Heart pounding, I race through the halls, legs desperately pumping. There is only darkness ahead around every corner, beyond every doorway, but I can see well enough from the light of the sinister crackling on my heels.

At once, my muscles start to slow. I struggle forward, but fatigue drags my feet like the floor is made of mud. The world grows hotter and hotter, and the brightness intensifies…

I bolt awake, drenched in sweat. A few moments pass before I get my breathing under control, and I lean back into my pillows. Just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about. The familiar surroundings are calming, reminding me that I’m not trapped in an endless maze.

I close my eyes, but the residual terror still pumps through my body. I swear I can still smell the acrid smoke from my dream. Even though I try to shake away the sensations, my mind refuses to relax. That’s when I realize that I’m not imagining the scent.

As if on cue, the smoke alarm in my bedroom starts pierces the air with a rattling screech. I scramble out of bed, tripping over my covers. An eerie glow casts strange shapes on the ground, and I look through the window to see a wall of flames hovering menacingly in the forest outside. As I watch, a branch tumbles to the ground, groaning terribly as it burns.

Almost blind with terror, I stumble to the door of my bedroom. “FIRE!”