I continued this story: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=48#post-6098535
472 words <3

On the way there, I started to remember the day of the testing to enter the Academy. I had been so eager to discover my Orient and finally begin school. . . up until a few days before the big day. My mother had still been alive back then – both my parents had been optimists. Honestly, I don’t recall much of how my father used to behave around us. Any optimism that might have penetrated his soul is all too gone now, what with his cold distance and pessimistic teachings. My Orient – whether I would be accepted as an optimist, pessimist, or otherwise from the day of the test forward – well, it might have been very different if it weren’t for that day.

What I do remember is that I had been looking forward to the day for the past two years, and it was coming up in just two days. I was skipping home from Wolf Pre-care without a care in the world. Then when I arrived, I saw my father with his head down, howling softly. I asked him what was wrong, and he batted me away. Worried, I went to Addie, who at that point was too young for Pre-care. She told me that our mother had been taken away by the Medis, wolves who specialized in healing. But she wore a smile on her face, telling me she was sure everything was fine.

That was it. That was the moment I doubted her, and when in doing so, my life opened up to realism.

The exact thought that went through my head: I wonder what happened to mother.

Seeking the truth. A rare and unusual thing, especially in my world.

So when I went to take the test two days from then, with still no news of my mother and no response from my father, my answers were shaped by that. Neither a pessimist nor an optimist: a realist.

I heard back about my Orient that day, and I received news of my mother the day after that. Still shocked and ashamed over my score on the test and my being denied admission into the Academy, I had slept and woken with a heavy heart. And then everything plummeted when the Medi arrived to tell us my mother only had a day to live.

I raced to the House of the Medis, not even bothering to wait for Addie. I knew she would be scared and need comfort, but I didn’t have it in me. I saw my mother lying there. She smiled upon seeing me – optimist to the end. “Everything will be okay.” she said. Then the Medi said she should limit her talking, so those were her last words to me.

And my last words to her were hushed, secret, scared:

“But what if it isn’t?”

Shared Writing for the Daily

(Haha, this was written when I had my old style of doing dialogue, soooo-)

Voices filled my head.
“Are you sure the bionics will work…?” A masculine voice asked, seeming eager to see some sort of outcome. What outcome, I do not know.
“He’s going to die if they don’t, 2-970.” A delicate voice follows, with a worried tint to an otherwise confident facade.
“Who cares if he dies? He’s just another clone.” A third voice scoffed.
“He’s a human being, even if he is a clone!” The second voice protested, and the passion in her voice made me feel a little too emotional for my liking. What was I hearing?
“Well then, if you’re so sure he’s worth saving, then you get to do the surgery all by yourself! Come on, 4-364. Leave 9-309 to do her own work.” A door seemed to slide open, then it closed again. Footsteps faded down a hall.
Silence. I decided now would be the time to ask questions BEFORE a surgery. But, something pierced my arm, and a voice whispered.
“It’ll be okay, 7-023, you’ll be fine. Completely fine…”

Fine… Fine… Fine…

I awoke to a smiling face. The face had large, shining eyes that were a deep coffee brown. She also had long, flowing hair, a raven black color. She had plump lips, perfect teeth, and wore a spotless white lab coat over light, icy blue scrubs.
I rubbed my head and tried sitting up. Immediately the girl shouted.
“No! Lay down! Lay down! You need to recover! Lay down!” I obliged, wondering why. She said, “My name’s 9-309. And you’re…” She checked a pad of paper.
“7-023. Sorry, names are hard for me to remember, so I have to have this piece of paper with me for my patients’ names so I can remember.” She paused and then took in a sharp breath. “Sorry, sorry, enough talking about me. How are you feeling? Specifically in your right arm, left leg and torso.”
I shrugged. “I’m feeling fine. No pain anywhere.” She nodded thoughtfully and wrote something down.
Now I started to notice the room around me. The walls were white. The floor was white. The machines were mostly white. The ceiling was white. The bed I was laying in was white. Everything was a sterile white color. That made me feel uncomfortable for some reason. Everything was too… bright. Too colorless. Too mundane.
I flexed my hand, looking at my fingers, which were now looking like they were made of nano-bots and plastic. Weren’t they different before?
“That’s because they are.” 9-309 said. I looked at her with wide eyes, not acknowledging that she hadn’t answered my next question.
“How did you know what I was thinking?” She laughed, a bright, happy sound. “Every one of the Clones, including myself, has a different power that they are allowed to use at free will, since we’re in the army. My power is mind reading. Your’s, we’re not quite sure yet, but we’ll figure it out.” I was now feeling a little scared of her. “But, what if I don’t WANT to figure out what my powers are.” She looked at me like I had just said that I liked eating tires.
“Why would you WANT to not find out what your powers are? They are held in high esteem among our people.” I blinked. “And who are our people again…?” Again with that face. “Wow, you really don’t know… that must mean that the bionics must have been a buffer against the information plant. Or you’re just forgetful.”
She gave me another look. “Our people are called the Clari, which means clones in our other, older language. We are the reigning species on our planet, Sarinalo, and we are in five different clans. You are a part of the Armada, the smallest, but yet most powerful tribe, our army. Ringing a bell?” I shook my head.
She continued. “Well, then there are the People, the biggest, yet weakest part of the Clari. They consist of the families, children and the elderly. If anyone in the People is found to have power, they are brought to train in the army. Then there’s the Third Laniar, and Laniar means Leaders. The Third Laniar consists of low rank officials in our government, who mostly deal with petty crimes in the People’s Sect. The Second Laniar reigns over the Third Laniar, and they deal with bigger crimes, and keep everyone together. The First Laniar consists of our most important and powerful leaders, who deal with wars, treason and anything that is not taken care of by the other Laniars, plus commanding the Armada.
“Each clan lives in a different part of our city. And each person or clone has a chance of getting a power. If you’re a clone, your chances are increased significantly.”
“How come?” I interject. She glared at me. “Do you REALLY want to know?” I shook my head. She said, “Well, the Armada, the army, has two different parts. The soldiers, and the medics. I’m a medic. You are a soldier, if you get a power.” I nodded. “Okay, making more sense now. Anything else I should know?” She nodded.
“You’re… different from the other clones. You had a bionics implant recently, which explains the nanotechnology that is used for your bionics. You are a prototype for this new type of enhancement, and I really am looking forward to seeing how you will fare.” I nodded. “Anything else?” She racked her brain for a moment then shook her head. “No. Not really.” However, she had a look on her face that told me otherwise. What was she hiding?

A few days after laying down in the colorless room, 9-309 came in and said to me, “You’ve recovered from the surgery fully. I think it’s time that you look around the Armada’s main building, the Heart.”
“Heart? Why call it that?” “Because the Armada has a special section in our whole city. Here, it’s easier to show you what I mean.” She produced a piece of paper from her coat and drew a circle cut off into five parts. The middle part had a square shaped part in the middle, but then had four rays going out of it. Otherwise it was surrounded by four sections.



She pointed to the top right section. “That’s the People’s Sect.” She pointed to the top left. “That’s the First Laniar’s sect.” She pointed to the bottom left.
“The Second Laniar’s.” She pointed to the bottom right. “And the Third Laniar’s. The Armada lives in the middle section that expands to each of the other Sects. The very center of it is called the Heart.” Okay, that made a lot more sense now. She looked at me and said, “The Heart is also our living quarters, and where we receive orders from the Firsts. Now, get ready to go. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

I waited for her to go, then sat up and got out of the hospital gown I was wearing, and changed into a soft tunic and pants that were laid on a chair for me. I then walked outside of my room, relived to finally be out of that stupid, dull room.
I saw 9-309 waiting for me. She looked at me and smiled. “Great, let’s go! Now, this might get a little disorienting, considering the height differences between the Sections.”
“Wait, what?” I asked as we walked. She only gave me a grin and kept walking forward. Soon, we had reached this lift, and I saw that this was state of the art tech. I went into the circular pod and two doors rolled in place of the doorway. 9-309 said to me. “Be prepared. This usually is very disorienting the first time that you use it.” Before I could ask what in the WORLD that meant, a whirring sound started and rapidly grew louder and faster. My eyes grew cloudy, I would’ve hurled if I had had anything to eat that morning, and I couldn’t stand up straight. I felt like I was breathing in nothing, and my head swam. I don’t know for how long I was like this, but finally, the whirring stopped and my vision cleared.
“Woahhhhh…” I remarked. The place was amazing, and quite literally. I was amazed. I stood on a towering platform, surrounded by even higher buildings, and down below me, there were people bustling around, looking very much like little polka dots all swimming before my eyes. 9-309 saw the look on my face and gave a small giggle. She said,
“Welcome, 7-023, to the Heart, or at least, the outer courtyard.” I was too awestruck by the view to even notice the Heart. The Heart was a gigantic building with several levels, each a different color. The lower levels were a dark, navy blue, slowly getting lighter until the highest level was a pure white. It wasn’t a toothy smile white, but it was even more of an eyesore, like it was a color instead of a very powerful flashlight that liked shining in your eyes just when you didn’t want it to. I hated that whiteeven more. 9-309 looked at me, waiting for me to get the stupid look off my face, no doubt. I quickly said, “Um… should we go inside?” 9-309 grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

There are a lot of things that I have never seen before. I mean, before I woke up, I had no idea what in the world ‘Laniar’ meant, even though 9-309 thought that she had ‘implanted’ information in my mind. (Creepy. Really… really… creepy…)
9-309 led me inside the first level of the Heart, and what I saw inside was a lot different than the outside. People were bustling everywhere, laughing and talking. There were so many people there. Even though they all wore the same uniform, I could see the differences between them. Some were tall, some were short. Some had black hair, others had blond. Some had green eyes, some had brown and every color in between.
I could see the diversity, but yet it seemed contained, uniformed, compressed. 9-309 led me to a group of people in the back, whom she seemed to be friends with. “Hey, 5-980, this is 7-023.”
A girl with long pink hair grinned at me and said, “Hey, newbie! Like 9-309 said, I’m 5-980. This is my brother, 5-947,” she pointed to a guy with hair that was dyed a bright green, “and that’s 2-612,” she pointed to a girl with long, and I’m talking LONG blond hair. She looked at me and used some sort of hand gesture.
9-309 said. “2-612 is mute. She can hear you just fine, but she can’t talk. She uses sign language. I’ll translate for you until you can learn it well enough to communicate.” I nodded and said to her, “Nice to meet you.” She nodded in acknowledgement. She swiped one hand over top of her other one, both of them flat, palms facing each other, towards me. Then she brought her fists together, her pointer fingers pointing upward, then she pointed to me with one hand. 9-309 said, “She says nice to meet you too.” I nodded acknowledgement and turned towards the other people and said. “So…” 5-980 laughed. “Small talk is not your forte, is it?” I winced. “Yeah, it isn’t.” 5-980 grinned. “Well, it isn’t any of our strong suits either, especially 9-309’s.” 9-309 seemed to blush.
“Oh well. Who cares?” Said 5-980

♚ 8th of March ♚
490 words

Izzy's unfinished story (that I'm continuing):

There is no way out… I thought in spite of myself. We are all going to die. In a way, we all died, inside at least.

It was a while ago, now… We have found a way to thrive, at least sort of… It's been hard but we are getting to where it will be okay.

It all started three years ago… I was a sophomore in high school then… Just living like a princess, my own selfish and spoiled life. One day, when I was hanging out with my friends, in a place with mounds and mounds of people, which you don't see at all nowadays. Vivian got really pushy.

“Hey, Cassie,” My friend Vivian pushed, “Let's go home.” I nodded at her. Vivian, Alice, Sam, and I went home.

The next day at school was when disaster struck. It was while we were in P.E. Class. Gail Baker all of a sudden got sick while we were running laps.
Gail had to go to the nurse's office, and then her condition got so bad that she was sent to the hospital. We were all sent home early that day.

It turns out that Gail was quite sick, she had a disease that made it impossible for her to handle the things she ate, it even made it hard for her to breathe… The worse part was that nobody had heard of the disease before. Gail had passed away three days after contracting it.

The next week, Vivian, Alice, Sam, and I were hanging out again. Vivian suddenly got sick.

“Girls, I need to go home…” She groaned. We helped her home, and she ended up at the hospital too.

It turns out that Vivian also contacted that unknown disease. She died just 24 hours after contracting it. At this point, the disease was spreading like a bunch of birds being released from a cage. Little, by little, all my friends had contracted the mysterious illness and had passed away. Next, came my family. My mom, my dad, my little sister Ally, all died from the illness. I was all alone.

My school closed down, while the disease spread rapidly. I was waiting for the day when I would get it and die, but that never happened.

It had been only a year, and over 3.5 billion people died from the disease, and scientists, had not found a way to cure it. We were in big trouble.

Another year passed; 7.4 billion people had passed away from the disease. There were only 1 million people left on earth. After 6 months, that 1 million, became a thousand. It only took another 3 months, till I convinced myself that I was the last person on earth.

All TV was gone, the last person in my town just died, they ran the bakery, so at least I had food, for a while at least. Only humans had been affected by the virus. So, if I had to, I could hunt, unless all the animals turned against me.

I sighed, bringing myself out of my thoughts. No use reminiscing when there were things to do, after all.
I stood up and looked around at the desolate remains of humanity around me. Rusty streetlights, buildings toppled where their support structures had crumbled away, nature slowly creeping its way through the places where we all used to live before the disease struck.

It's beautiful, in a way. Like the earth is being reborn, like it's trying to heal and recover and make way for a new age.
But it doesn't make up for how hard the disease hit, I decide, as I pick my way through the streets towards the bakery.

Everything happened so fast. People fell like flies. Family, friends, they all caught it, and none of them made it out. Vivian, Alice, Sam, my parents. Scientists scrambled to make a vaccine, but nothing passed. During those last few months before the last person died, life was hard. Some people set up shared homes, and trade stations where food would be traded for blankets, and water for clothes. But a few of the others in town got desperate.

They raided houses, stole resources, took and pillaged and hoarded everything they acquired.

My house was raided, one night.

They knocked down the door, and marched in, with guns in their hands and sacks to throw in whatever they deemed useful. The first thing they took were the torches, then all the food I had, then the plates and the pots and the pans. Then, they stormed up to my bedroom.
The first thing I woke up to was them shoving me off of the bed and taking it too, my wardrobe thrown open in the background, and all my jackets and hats and bags taken.

The house was a mess. The couch thrown against a wall, photos cracked and on the floor, the table upturned. It looked like a whirlwind hand blown through it. And all the photos, part of the few things I had left of the life I had before, were cracked and on the floor. Some were torn, some weren't.

That night, I took everything I could salvage and ran for the bakery. The house didn't have much left in it anymore. It wasn't going to be of any use. Better to go to where food was aplenty, and hunker down there.

Everything, everyone was taken from me. I wasn't even eighteen when it all started.

I step into the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread, bread I'd made myself with my own two hands because the world left no one here but me, greeted me. Bread I'd had to learn to make to survive.

I glance around at the darkening sky. Time to turn in. At night, the town belonged to the animals, even more so than in the day.

In the morning, hopefully my traps will have caught some for me to eat tomorrow.

Unfinished piece for daily on 3/7/22:

this is kind of like a prologue/context thingy for the start of one of my scrapped stories:

Dear Violet,
My trainer, who has become like a mother to me. I can’t say all I want in this letter, but I can say that you might never see me again. Darkwing, that foul evil creature has me. Come on the second full moon. I can not say where (the place is obvious) in case this falls into the wrong hands. I'm sorry, I should have fought harder. You don’t have to save me. I don’t want you to risk your lives for me. Only do so when I am worth it. I hope I am not worrying you, I am fine… for now. However, there was an attempt to rescue me, in which I don’t think you were aware of. I applaud Dove and Stella’s efforts, so please don’t scold them. Darkwing set up traps that even I was unaware of. Dove and Stella, who have become big and little sisters to me, broke through all of the traps, but then Darkwing came. Then… I actually don’t know what happened next. However, I do know that Dove and Stella escaped, and I’ve been captured. I don’t think there’s any more traps. This message might get delayed, but I’m praying it doesn't.
Best regards, Snowflake

Do with this what you will. It's really vague and kind of trashy but it's the best I could find. The next part is supposed to be Violet going to rescue Snowflake but you can do whatever you want.

Unfinished writing for the March 7 daily:
As your fingers swipe the piece of paper, your cheeks flush, filled with redness that makes your skin feel burnt to a crisp. You’re shocked. Purely shocked. You never thought they would choose you- not anything special, just you- as a recruit. Them- the company vital to a lot of peoples’ lives, their survival. Maybe your own! You could save your own life- you could save the world’s life- but you?
You think of the Dystopia, that awful place that you never wanted to revisit. And the rebellion. You think of the rebellion that sparked like a flame and almost burned everything. And how you escaped at the last moment, before you were captured for life. With Dystopain. The one you never expected. The one full of potential, but what she referred to as “dystopian potential”. Not your potential. You know that Dystopain will have a challenging time in this world you’ve imagined. You haven’t come to accept it. You want to live in a world where both of you can thrive. But if one of you falls, the other will inevitably sink, like a pebble in the ocean being thrown to its floor.
Dystopain. She’s young, like you, and she could have a life here, a life that fulfills all her dreams and beyond. Unless you take this opportunity. This opportunity, the one that you’ve always wanted, will shatter everything the two of you have built.
And so begins your conflict.
You can’t tell Dystopain- doing so would simply end everything. You can’t tell anyone else- secrets get out easily here. And you certainly cannot keep it to yourself, because the opportunity could slip by.
You think about how this would force you to leave, obliterating all the potential of the things she wanted to do. And how, out there in the middle of nowhere, she could never become a leader.
“How did I get here?” you ask yourself.
The world offers no response.
Your mind pulls you back to that singular day. Eleven years ago. You were… five. You are sixteen right now; you should be in school. Not like you’d understand a thing. The Dystopia taught you so many other things that your mind is now filled with them.
Her glasses are like blades of ice, if those are real things. She is a cruel woman, one you want to escape from even though there’s nothing to escape from. You are young. And you belong here. Everyone knows that. Trying to leave school would be awful. Especially in First Academy, with so much potential.
But would it really?
“You. Are. A very terrible young girl,” she growls. “You absolutely perplex me. The things that go on in your mind! You never focus. There is no potential within you. And you know what? That lack of respect is not going to come in handy for you as a grown civilian. If you survive at all, it will be… amazing. Except it won’t! Because you’re no use to us.”
You know this is wrong. And that is the exact moment the rebellion sparks within you.
You started it. You did it. You did this to Dystopain.
Your best friend. Your only real friend- sure, five other girls accompanied you on your journey, but they all parted ways and went off somewhere.
You. Did. This.
You feel yourself going up in flames, flames of hatred. Self-hatred. And self-hatred is a thing that can completely change someone’s soul, hurt their heart, destroy their mind. And that, at that moment, is what happens to you. You throw your head down on your wooden desk. Upbeat pop music plays in your headphones. The world seems to spin for some time, and then you pick your head up.
Okay. You can do this.
You pull out your laptop. Its blue glow seems to pull you in, and you research the organization. The organization you dreamed of being accepted into until you found out where it was, and how much conflict it would bring to you and Dystopain, the person whose life you ruined.
Millennium Industries. More than a center for research.
It may sound boring to someone else, and you know that, but many things are researched here, much more than boring things like respect, which you had to write an essay on back in Second Academy. You wanted to be one of the people who researched criminals, in particular. What they have done, and how to stop them. You know how to check for reliable sources.
You scroll to the bottom of the page. And there, you discover a startling notice.
We are aware of the recent accusations by the Canadian federal government that our organization is being used for malicious purposes. We deny these rumors and are disappointed in the agents and researchers who dropped out of our organization for the purpose of looks.
“Oh,” you say out loud to no one in particular. “Oh, wow.”
The Canadian federal government?
But this organization is based in Ireland. Why would the Canadian federal government care?
You look out the window. It’s an icy night in London, only 13 degrees Celsius according to your smartphone. In the Dystopia, there was only “hot, get over it” and “mild conditions, it won’t last long”. You don’t even know if there was a real temperature.

March- 8th daily!
I continued from here https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6098752/
(Btw, Panther, Licorice and Midnight are few month old kittens)
'They don't look like good news!“said Panther.
”Hopefully, they won't attack us! Boy, they were huge!“ said Midnight.
Just then their owner's girlfriend came in the yard, and with her were the 4 gigantic birds!
with sheer instinct, the other 2 cats (licorice and panther) started running away, but the door of the yard was closed!
they had nowhere to run to!
”stop, stop!“ yelled the lady.
”they won't harm you! trust me, they look huge but their very friendly!'
the two cats looked at the birds. the birds snarled, ( as the cats thought) but they had nowhere to run to!
so they bent down, curled themselves up, and started to whimper.
Panther, Licorice and Midnight
'They don't look like good news!“said Panther.
”Hopefully, they won't attack us! Boy, they were huge!“ said Midnight.
Just then their owner's girlfriend came in the yard, and with her were the 4 gigantic birds!
with sheer instinct, the other 2 cats (licorice and panther) started running away, but the door of the yard was closed!
they had nowhere to run to!
”stop, stop!“ yelled the lady.
”they won't harm you! trust me, they look huge but their very friendly!'
the two cats looked at the birds. the birds snarled, ( as the cats thought) but they had nowhere to run to!
so they bent down, curled themselves up, and started to whimper.
“Oh god! I thought you cats would be happy to see the gifts I got for your master, but It looked like your all on your death beds!
dont worry! I asked the owner if they would cause any harm to you, but he said the birds might as well be afraid of you cats than you being afraid of them!”
“I'm opening the cage!'
”no please don't!“ wailed the cats
but the lady couldn't understand them! she opened the cage and the birds hurriedly flew out, they dint pay any attention to the cats, the just wanted to get on the trees, it felt like they were in the cage for an eternity!
the cats sighed in relief! maybe the seller was right! they may not harm them!
the lady left, smiling.
and then the world collided.
the birds swooped downwards and started to attack the cats! or so they thought. the birds had just come down, they definitely, did not attack the cats!
”who are you? what are you doing in our territory?“ asked the birds to the cats.
”we live here too! and this is NOT your territory, master owns us too!“ replied midnight.
”so, we're brothers?“ asked the birds.
”technically, yeah! but unless you stop attacking us, were not family! family don't attack each other!“ replied Panther.
'We're not attacking you! we're just defensive!”
all right then! were friends from now on!


da end!

unfinished story
CHOO CHOO CHOO CHOO
Milly woke with a start. At first she couldn’t remember where she was but then she realised.She was right now in her grandma’s small cottage in a small town located in France. She also remembered that her grandma would be out for the day as she was going to pick up her other niece. She had never met her and expected her cousin to be boring like her grandma. Her grandma wasn’t really boring but there wasn’t exactly anything to do in that town other then painting the views as they were practically awesome. But Milly wasn’t interested in painting, she wanted to make something. Christmas was arriving and she was the tea maker for the party. She just dint want to make any tea but a special tea after which drinking everyone one would be amazed but no matter how many times she tried she couldn’t think of anything . She couldn’t even make proper tea! Her grandma expected her to learn how to make tea after she was home with her other niece. She was probably on the train home! Milly could already hear the Christmas bells ringing and after a week she would face disaster. No; either she would make an amazing tea or not make anything. She couldn’t disappoint her parents and grandma by giving a disgrace to her family. She could already see her brother laughing at her telling “You can’t even make proper tea and you volunteered for making a special tea! You must have been mad!”.
She dint even notice as the went in the bathroom, brushed her teeth went to the dining table and went to the dining table for breakfast. Same croissants that she ate everyday. Nevertheless she loved those croissants very much so she gobbled them up fast. Then she went into the kitchen and turned the gas on and put the kettle on it . As usual she put some tea powder, bit of sugar, milk and ginger. She stirred the solution and poured it in a cup. She took a sip. Too much ginger. But she had tried making tea without ginger and it tasted awful so she had took less amount of it but still to gingery. She tried adding more sugar. No improvement .

Daily for 3/7. I continued @seasiide 's unfinished story (which was great). My part was 694 words.

This is Etacyre. Most people live in the village next to the seashore, since they like hearing the crashing of waves onto the wet sand. Animals are caged from coming in, blocked by an iron fence that isn’t the prettiest tourist sight. They say that animals are dangerous, some even vicious, but I know the truth.

The animals that live here are special. They come in different shapes and sizes that benefit their abilities. I’ve met a lot of animals, and I’ve also read about almost all of them.

I actually have a pet of some sort. I met him when I first stepped into the woodland, my boots crunching on the dead leaves. He came out to greet me, and he’s kind of like my best friend, since I have no human ones.

He’s a Selentip, a creature that looks like a blue bean with legs. Selentips are a combination of a duck, a honey badger, and a bluejay. They have a honey badger’s body, a black duck beak, webbed feet, blue fur, and white underbelly. They crawl on four feet and have an addiction to everything pure white. I nicknamed him Moonbeam, because it looked like the moonlight reflected off of him.

Everyone in Etacyre has a special skill, or a talent. Mostly everyone has around two skills, sometimes three or one. I actually think no one has three skills, except for me. I can talk to animals, healing magic, and have a talent for fighting.

I have healing magic, well typically healing powers but it’s not really like that either. I can’t heal everything, but I can make medicine stronger than the original version. Believe me, It helps so much when helping injured animals.

When I first stepped into the forest, it felt like I spoke their languages for a long time, even though I actually just learned it. Every time I entered the forest, I grew more attached to them. The skill helps me understand the animals' language. It also helps me heal animals easier and talk to them to keep me company.

Sometimes I was lonely. I was an only child and all the other kids bullied me. The only friends I had were animals. My parents didn’t really have time to comfort and play with me, as they were always busy. Loneliness hurt me, but it was the animals who helped me.

When I thought no one would be by my side, animals always peeked through my window to comfort me. That’s when I knew that these creatures weren’t dangerous, and that they only protected themselves and fought back after we killed many of their kind. It was only self defense.

I’ve been breaking rules since I was four. It was easy to hide, other kids liked to bully me because of my status. I’m the daughter of the king and queen of Etacyre, the princess. I’m technically the second princess, since my older sister will rule Etacyre (unless something bad happens to her, I would take the crown but I tend to not think of that stuff much).

If my parents knew that I was sneaking under the fence to meet and heal animals, they would probably freak and lock me inside the castle forever. But they haven’t. I’m still doing it, until the day the guards found out.

I stepped into the forest, the trees swaying in the wind. Moonbeam was waiting for me. I was reckless and thought no one would see me, I didn’t even check to see if anyone was watching.

I picked up Moonbeam and whirled him around. When I stopped, I was really dizzy and fell to the floor, the thump echoed across the woodland. I chuckled as Moonbeam crawled on me and licked my face.

That’s when the guards came. “Princess, stand back! We need a clear shot to hit the beast!” They didn’t understand, Moonbeam wasn’t hurting me at all.

The captain shouted, “Attack!”

“No!” It was too late. The bullet almost missed it’s target, but it grazed Moonbeam’s fur. He whined in agony, a beautiful but horrible sound.

I screamed, “Stop it!” Rage filled my veins and bubbled to the surface. I felt more powerful than I’ve been in my entire life.

I punched the guard who shot him, right in the face. He fell, making a loud thump that scared off some animals.

The other guards were cowardly and tried to run away, afraid. But I wasn’t finished with them yet. I kicked both of them in the shins and they collapsed as well. I was surprised by my sudden strength.

I checked to see if they were unconscious. All of them were. I felt a little guilty, but reminded myself that they deserved it. A little.

I tried to hold in my tears, but one escaped my grasp. I picked up Moonbeam gently. I brushed his fur as another tear fell, followed by another and another.

I whispered in his ear, my voice slightly shaking, “I’ll try to save you.”

For some reason, everytime my tears fell he seemed to get a bit better; The wound seemed to stop bleeding as much and Moonbeam’s whines quieted. I didn’t really question it, I was just glad he was getting better.

Hopefully he would be fine. I prayed that he would stay with me long enough for me to help him, or try at least. Fortunately, I knew where I had to go. Well, what to help heal him.

Stepping over the unconscious bodies, I carried Moonbeam towards the exit. I bent down and crawled through a gap in the fence, my thin size fitting through the fence easily.

I wrapped Moonbeam in my black cloak carefully and continued on my way. Though I wanted to let my tears consume me and wallow in my own despair, I knew that my only hope for Moonbeam was to push forward.

Trees rushed by as I continued to sprint, my wavering hope continuing to propel my black boots forward as they clinked against the cobblestone floor.

Before I knew it, the bustling train station came into view. The train was going to Kiomerah, one place that has the rare cure to help Moonbeam. As I boarded the train, I still felt like I was forgetting something, though.

Now I’m sitting in an uncomfortable train seat as it travels to Kiomerah, my last hope to save Moonbeam. Even my healing magic won’t work for an injury this bad.

I stare out the window, letting my mind stray to Moonbeam. Moonbeam is safely inside my purse, but I’m worrying about him constantly. Once I’m at Kiomerah, I can get the cure and save Moonbeam. The only problem is that I don’t know how long Moonbeam is going to stay with me.

Etacyre is a separate world from Kiomerah. Etacyre is a world filled with powerful skills, while Kiomerah is specialized with medicine. However, Kiomerah doesn’t know of Etacyre’s skills.

Everyone at Etacyre can teleport. The process however is painful, so I tried a different solution a few years ago. I added a teleporting crystal inside my mother’s locket, a necklace with a silver string and golden colored pendant. The process is less painful, but it can only teleport to one place; my sanctuary.

My sanctuary is the place where I put injured and recovering animals I find in the forest. I can’t always save them all, but I try anyway. I’ve seen the worst injuries, but none of them have been shot by a bullet before, if they have I find them dead. But I’ve read about it, and the only cure is in Kiomerah. My healing magic can’t even compete against it.

The substance is rare and extremely valuable, so I don’t know how I’m going to convince them to give it to me. Worse case scenario, I’m going to have to steal it. But at least I have a plan. Sort of.

I hear Moonbeam whimpering, so I lean over, a strand of blonde hair falling out of my ponytail. I stroke Moonbeam’s fur and it finally pops into my head, why I was feeling like I forgot something. I can’t go into Kiomerah looking like this. Ingenio, the race of people from Etacyre, know what I look like and my parents might release a search party once they discover I’m missing.

I rack my brain, searching for answers. I’ve pulled my hood up when I stepped on the train, but that’s not going to be a good solution. That’ll only work for a while, until people get a better look at me. I have to think quickly though, the train is almost to Kiomerah.

I find an answer. Selentips have magical powers, one of them being the ability to change their appearance, along with changing others too.

Staring into Moonbeam’s black eyes, I whisper, “Mutatio.”

Moonbeam stares back at me and breathes out a wisp of air, sort of like smoke. I’m surprised he has enough strength to even use his powers, but I don’t object. The air is shiny pearl white and lands on the stray strand of hair.

Almost immediately my hair starts to change color. I can feel the change coming into effect. My blonde hair changes to brown, the light tips becoming darker.

I whisper my thanks to Moonbeam and glance around. No one seems to have noticed the magical substance that came out of Moonbeams’ mouth or Moonbeam.

Luckily Sanitatem, the race of the people in Kiomerah, are mainly clueless. They barely notice when Ingenio sometimes does something suspicious in their hometown. I breathe a sigh of relief.

The train comes to a sudden halt and I fall forwards. I get up when the driver announces that we have reached Kiomerah.

Pushing Moonbeam down further into my bag, but making sure I don’t close the bag to let him breathe, I step on the gravelly pavement.

My Continued Part:

The first thing I notice when I step off the train is how packed the streets are. The cobblestone streets are lined with tall, narrow shops, mostly apothecaries. Back in Etacyre, everything is spread out and spacious, thanks to our architects’ careful planning.

The buildings designs are also quite different. In Etacyre, we try to incorporate as much natural light as possible and everything is made of glass. But here, the buildings are dark and stony. Their intricately carved facades impose an intimidating stare.

This is my first time visiting Kiomerah so I try to suppress the uneasiness of being in a foreign world.

As I squeeze my way through the busy crowd, my eyes scan the signs for the shop I am looking for. Hopefully I will have no trouble getting the substance. I check my bag to make sure Moonbeam is still breathing. A little bit - but not much - of my anxiety is lifted when I see he is doing okay. I must hurry if I am to save him in time.

After fifteen or so minutes of forcing my way through the packed crowd, I finally reach the place I am looking for. A faded sign overhead reads, “Herbs and Elements: Kiomerah Apothecary.” This was the place I had read about numerous times. It supposedly contains the only cure for severe animal wounds, a single drop of moonlight. Hoping I had remembered right, I take a deep breath and push open the door.

Inside the dimly lit room, a dry, musty stench wafts through the air. At the back of the room is a spiral staircase that ascends to the second floor. Like everything else in Kiomerah, the shelves are closely packed together. Every single inch of space is filled with jars and vials of labeled substances I can’t read.

No one else is in the room and I am starting to regret stepping in. “Hello?” I call out. It is silent for a moment. Then, I hear the sound of footsteps coming from above. My heart skips a beat; I am both nervous and excited. If I get the rare substance, Moonbeam will be healed. But if I don’t… I don’t want to think about it.

I look to see a tall man descending down the stairs. He is dressed in plain, dark pants and a long sleeve shirt. But his eyes are what surprise me the most. They are bright, electric blue, the same color as Moonbeam’s fur. His piercing gaze meets mine for a second.
“What are you doing here?” he grunts in a deep voice.

“Hi, I um, was wondering if you carry moonlight substance? The one used to cure wounds?” I reply, my voice trembling slightly.

The man’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Now I am beginning to feel nervous.

Then he says, “Show me the animal.”

I hadn’t been planning on showing him Moonbeam. Selentips are rare animals only native to Etacyre. If I show him Moonbeam, my cover will be blown.

But, seeing as I have no other option, I gently remove Moonbeam from my bag. His pulse is weak and his body hangs limply in my arms.

As soon as the man sees Moonbeam, recognition crosses his face. “Ah, a Selentip. So what are you doing here, Ingenio?”

“Please,” I say, my voice breaking. “I need him.”

The man strokes his wispy beard thoughtfully. “Interesting. I’ve never met an Ingenio who cares for animals.”

I could feel Moonbeam’s energy starting to get weaker. One of my healing powers is to sense when something gets weaker. I knew that if I wanted to save Moonbeam, I had to act quick.

“His pulse is getting weaker. Can you save him?” I asked hurriedly.

The man considered this for a moment. This was the moment of truth.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give you the moonlight substance. But after that, no more help.” the man said.

Relief surged through my body. I had done it! As I waited for the man to retrieve the substance from the shelves, I stroked Moonbeam soothingly. “You’re safe,” I whispered. And somehow, I knew that everything was going to work out just fine.

Continuing @sunclaw68's brilliant story. ; )) this is a sort of play on the central theme of casabianca

But what is freedom? To run wild, sure, to lounge under the shade, weightless, free of the burdens of another. There’s only so much a sack can carry before it tears, only so much damage stone can withstand before crumbling to dust—morphing into something else entirely, losing its form to the winds and waters that carry away its particles and use them to fashion new structures on distant shores.

On the other side of the road sits a mongrel. Warily, I open my mouth to greet them—before choking back my words midway. Freedom is independence. I walk back to my side of the road, back to the shadow of a tree in the moonlight, my newfound refuge.

Of the winding paths before me, one can be traced to a hill, zigzagging through rocks, rivers and signboards. On the hill is perched a solitary cottage. Inside the cottage is a room with a window facing the night sky, such that the coruscating moonlight filters through the leaves of an ancient oak before brightening the face of…a child. Hands clutch a blanket, whisper to a pillow—no. My mind’s eye shifts its focus. Beside the bed stands a door, that, when opened, leads to a grandiose hallway, its walls almost smothered in grand paintings of serious-faced people, with the possible exception of my father, a pair of flower-shaped sunglasses perched on his magnificent nose.

‘Kid, I thought I asked you to flee.’

I start. Behind me stands—or rather floats—my great father’s ghost. Stuttering, I jump to my feet, rigid, respectful and afraid.

‘But I did as you bade me, I fled; I left all I thought I held dear because you asked me to.’

The magnificent specter shakes his head slowly and emphatically. ‘Dear innocent, naïve, helpless, dutiful, dumb, wonderful child, I asked you to flee from the flea and feast on the Leavegogo before the gluttonous family you lived with consumed it all.’

I stand stock-still. ‘Excuse me?’

‘A decade or so ago, a man called Johannes Leave opened an ice-cream factory ten miles from here. Although he made some of the best dessert in town, his ice-cream failed to conform to government regulations, and as a result, he couldn’t call it ice-cream anymore. It was suggested that he refer to his products as ‘frozen desserts’, but he, being the creative genius he was, decided against it. He rechristened his sweet treats ‘gogo’, and rebranded his company.’

‘Ah, I see.’



‘No you don’t. Leave’s Gogo went on to become the most popular stop for fresh gogo in the world; as a result, the prices shot up.’

‘I’m confused.’

The phantom smiles tolerantly. ‘I always knew you weren’t the most scrumptious cake in the box, but son, even sheer stupidity has a limit.’

I collapse against a tree, and start counting my sins.

‘Anyway, I was once deprived of my share of Leavegogo—it’s now your turn to claim yours. According to Google Maps, the cottage you inhabit is an eight hour walk from here. It’ll be worth it—provided your loving foster family haven't inhaled all the Leavegogo.’

The specter of my father fades into the rising dawn, while I fade into my little puddle of sweat and tears. Needless to say, it’s a long walk home—where the food is.

My unfinished story for daily

I was working on my homework when I heard a startling sound. The sound was
very weird. I was amazed by hearing that sound. The sound was coming from a room
which had been locked for the past two years. A strange smell was coming from it. It
was dark when I unlocked the door.
I saw that it was the room where many perfume bottles were kept and thought it
may be one of them had fallen, I sighed and felt relieved. I went back and the moment
I sat on my chair there was again a sound. Now I was really horrified and ran back
to the room. I unlocked it again and switched on the lights. I was stunned to see that
there was a hidden door from which a person entered. He was hiding and playing with
bottles.
He saw me and stood up, he started walking towards me. I was terrified. Then I
realized he was the same man I saw in the missing poster a couple of days before. It
was written that he was a murderer. There was a prize of 1 crore on him. I made an
accusation and tied him up quickly.
I was hesitant at first but then I finally mustered up the courage and I asked,
“What are you doing here?”. He said “I am John Collar. I am not a criminal. People are
misunderstanding me, that the person who killed that boy was my friend, not me.”
There were tears in his eyes so I had to believe it. The police were called and they were
really sorry for this trouble.
After this, John and I decided to solve this case ourselves. I still had doubts about
him so I kept a watch on him but acted as if I was his friend.
My parents returned home after a few days and I told them the whole story. They
also were now involved in this investigation.I was thinking that he said it was his friend that means he knew it so why did not
he stop him or inform the police instead of investigating it. Days passed by, I observed
that he still kept hiding from police and always told me to communicate with police and
not take his name.
Now, I got a feeling as tho he is the murderer or was involved with the gang who
had committed such a crime, but waited to find an evidence. A few days passed but I
still found him suspicious. Then one day I saw him sneak out of the house and into a
black van. I decided to follow him. He reached a bunker. I snuck in and what I saw
shocked me. There was a huge gang discussing something.

Daily 3/7

Nitrous Utopia

Janene Allison woke up with a smile on her face. There was nothing to be happy about. The world was at war- The Last War, they called it. Bombs, gunfire, and screaming were all Janene had heard these past two months. Only about two billion people remained on Earth.
What are you smiling for? Janene asked herself. You’re absolutely sick.
She hobbled down the squeaky stairs. Her only living relative was Anne, her twelve-year-old little sister. She was downstairs watching the Saturday morning cartoons.
“It’s wonder that that TV is still working,” Janene remarked.
Anne looked up from the television. She had bags under her eyes. “Look, Jan.” She played something on the DVR. It was the president.
“This war…” he began.
“What’s this?” asked Jan.
“Listen,” replied Anne, annoyed.
“…has been too much for all of us, needless to say. We’ve lost too many. Therefore, other leaders and I have implemented a new law.”
“Implemented a new law?” repeated Janene.
“What’s wrong?” Anne questioned.
“Well, in America… weren’t we supposed to, like, vote in this?”
“But Jan, this is a good thing. Why should there be a vote?”
“What’s so good about it?”
“Just keep watching.” Anne turned her head back to the TV.
“…have decided to stop fighting. Stop the negative emotions. Now more than ever, we need to control ourselves. Therefore, anyone who is even believed to have negative emotions must be locked up.”
“That’s not all,” another man onscreen chimed in. “We’ve released humongous amounts of nitrous oxide into the air to give everyone a little… push… to be happier.”
“Nitrous oxide?” Janene repeated.
“That’s laughing gas,” informed Anne.
“I know that, I’m just wondering, is that why I haven’t been feeling awful lately?”
“What?”
“On a regular day since Dad passed, my heart would be racing… knowing that we’d be next.”
“Really?”
“But these past few days, I’m feeling some sort of euphoria.”

March 7th Daily

—

“We'll do something this year,” my mom murmured to me, sitting in a relaxed position under a flowering tree, with sizably cherry blossoms. “For the new year. 2045!” I stared at mom as if she was crazy. We hadn't done anything for any new year since I was five. Since my brother left us. Left everyone.
“If you're not busy with work,” I mumbled, and if looks could kill, my mom would be in the emergency room as we speak. “Or you might be mourning over him.” From looking at my mom's expression, I know she had heard what I said. And it hurt. She deserves to be hurt.
“Dean,” my mom said, in a harsh voice. “Your brother died in a brave way. Fighting for us.” I raised my eyebrows.
“He fought for our name, not us.” As soon as I said this, I knew I crossed a line and I wouldn't be able to step back on it.
“Dean, you shouldn't be okay with our name being laughed at,” she seethed, her chocolate eyes trained on me with a cold stare.
“It's our name that killed my brother and you're son.” I said, matching her tone and stare. My mom's face looked down as she murdered random things to herself, like ‘see the positive.’ A phrase she said often, but I had never understood why.
“I've killed people directly, so this doesn't seem that bad. And it was for our name.” Now her voice was soft, and I just wanted to know if I had to call the police on her or not. By the look on her face, I could tell I was about to get a history lesson. Or something. Sometimes, having a teacher as a parent stinks. “Maybe not directly,” she said after a long pause, “but practically. Because of me multiple people - including your father - died.”
“How? You killed my dad?”
“I didn't. An illness we never speak of did. It was awful.” Her voice trailed off, and by judging from her face, she knew that she had spoken too much. But I needed more. I needed to know what else there was. What illness?
She shakes her head, obviously not wanting to say another word about this illness.
“What illness?” I can't just stop pushing now, especially when she's started to open up just a little bit more.
She shakes her head, looking down and attempting to hide her facial expression which I can't say is working so well, “I can't say.”
My expression turned into one of curiosity concealed as pleading all of a sudden. “Just a little, you can afford to just say a little more, can't you?”
She stands up abruptly, and only says a single word, and not the one I was hoping she would say. “No.” She's already left before I can even begin to push for more answers.
Sighing I stand up, grabbing some belongings I've left sprawled around the table before hurrying behind her, trying to dig deeper for answers even though she said she wouldn't say anything else.
“Mom-” I yell, still chasing behind her as she navigated room through room, without a second of hesitation.
She's standing in my fathers study when she stops without warning. Peeking over her shoulder to make sure no one besides me is nearby she pushes on a bookcase and it swings open to reveal a concealed room. I quickly follow her in before the door can close behind her.
My jaw drops without my permission as I spin in a slow circle to take in this astonishing view. Vials along vials are tucked into the walls, each sitting on a net shelf. Some shelfs are thick with dust but others look like they've recently been cleaned and touched. In the center there's a long table. A stack of books sit to one side and on the other some sort of interesting mixing item. It's made purely out of glass and there's something running through it. A purple liquid comes out of it and is poured into a vial that the end of the machine leads into. It starts to fizz when it's poured but by the time it's all poured there isn't anymore fizzing. I quickly swivel around to find my mother as I remember she's the one who led me to this ridiculous weird place that's in our,, house.
“Welcome,” My mom mutters from a corner. Her long fingers are twirling a glass vial filled with clear liquid. “Now that you're here . .”
Her eyes are wide with hunger and I slowly back up, taking small steps until I'm pressed up onto a wall on the far side.

—

781 words, wrote last 406 words

daily 8
my unfinished story: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/656006546/
original: @scarIet-stars
word count: 425 words

“You ready?” Dominic asks.

I inhale deeply, the salty ocean wind whipping my hair all over the place.

“I’m ready.”

He could obviously tell that I was nervous.

“Hey, it’s not too late to back out. You just have to give me the money.”

I rolled my eyes and glared at him. “I never refuse or back out of a dare. I am not going to break that record.”

He shrugged, but I could tell he was nervous too. We would become legends if we did this.

Furious butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I felt nauseous.

Dominic grabbed my hand and squeezed it so hard, that my knuckles were turning white.

He took a deep breath. “Okay Willow. On the count of three. One, two… three!”

We dashed to the edge of the cliff. My stomach climbed up my throat. I could taste the puke. Dominic and I skidded to a stop right in front of the edge. We both took in deep breaths of air.

“Maybe we should do this some other time. Or even better, come up with a different dare,” he said panting.

I scoffed, coughing back the bile. “C-Coward! Have you forgotten about my record?”
“You don’t want to do this either.” Dominic’s face had paled further, somehow, and his cheeks tinged green. “Hey- hey! What’s to stop us just… going back down to the beach and dunking ourselves in the sea there? We come back sopping wet, claim all the glory, and both our reputations are intact.”
“And you’d let me keep the money- ?”
“No way.”
“Sounds like we’re at a stalemate, then.” I huffed out a breath and sat down on the thin, straw-like grass. If I stretched my legs out, my toes could have touched the void; well, he had said that this would make us feel alive. There was no denying that this was having the intended effect. However, I also rather wanted to stay alive, and this crazy idea (which, let me say, had seemed so much less scary when I wasn’t tens of feet about sea level) had me feeling like the grim reaper was chilling in the nearby area just in case.
Dominic muttered quietly and angrily about something to do with ‘stupid’ and ‘stubborn’ and ‘gonna get us killed’, before turning to me again. “Look. This is getting boring. Whatever we’re going to do, let’s get it over with!”
“Jump with me then,” and I can feel the fire in my words. “Dare’s a dare.”
He stares down at me, almost numbly. “You’re an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. Have you absolutely no regard for your safety?”

“If you’re so scared, you can stay and watch me go.” In truth, I’m barely aware of what I’m even saying anymore. All I know is that I’ve committed, and my pride – a shallow, fickle thing – will never let me retreat now. Whatever.

I scramble up and walk back a few paces, ready to get a running start – he grabs my wrist, eyes painfully wide. I wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of my pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. “Willow… please. Whatever, yknow! You can keep the money! Changed my mind!”

His laugh is high and frightened, but I’m past convincing. Money can’t buy legend. I smile, with all the dare and recklessness of my youth, and all of a sudden I’m running up into nothingness – I’m flying. I hear him scream, and I think I’ll make fun of him for that when I get back –

I’m falling. And oh, I pray, watching the sea beneath me get bluer and darker and closer, I hope I’m coming back.

Unfinished Story:

The dragon swooped down from it’s perch and breathed fire on all the surrounding trees. I watched as the fire swallowed them up. That could have been happening to me if I didn't move. I dived down onto the mossy mouth of a cave and rolled inside. A water droplet landed on my back, but I could still feel the immense heat of the fire. I hear thundering footsteps of the dragon above the roof of the cave. The dragon’s head pops into the cave itself. I have just enough time to cover my face with my arms before I’m engulfed in flames. When the flames die down, my whole body is aching and my skin is burnt in every place imaginable. The hair on my head has singed ends, ruining my beautifully long braid. Closing my eyes, I rolled further into the cave. The ground began to go down hill, and I rolled on without effort. Then I began to fall.
SPLASH! I felt my body go cold and water seeped through my half burnt clothes as I fell into a pool of murky water. Stretching out my limbs, I let the water sooth my scorched skin. After just a moment, I was out of air and kicked hard to return to the surface. The air was humid but was cooler than the air outside.
Squinting around, I could identify from which direction I had come from. There was a small cliff that I had fallen down whilst rolling. Unfortunately, it was dripping wet after I splashed it. There was no way I was going to be able to climb out that way. Moving through the water in a methodical manner, I realised it was much shallower in one direction than the other. I continued in that direction along the cave. It became narrower and narrower. Luckily, I could stand up in the water before the passage became too thin. Leaning against the uneven wall, I allowed myself to relax. My eyelids became heavy and before I knew it they were closed.
When I woke up, my body was no longer soaking in cool water. My clothes were not even wet. Somehow, the whole pool of water drained during the night. The tip of my tongue was as dry as a bone. I crept back along the cave to the centre of the pool. The wall was climbable, as the water there had been drained away too. I clambered up and swung my leg over the top of the wall. I could see daylight creeping into the cave: the sun had begun to rise over the mountains. I tried to stand up but I banged my head on the roof of the cave. The ceiling was very low in this area - just high enough for me to crawl around freely.I made my way in the rough direction of daylight, standing up more as the cave got more roomy and the ceiling got higher.
Soon enough, I was at the mouth of the cave. The dragon was nowhere to be seen. Cautiously, I tiptoed down the mountain, taking care to walk on the moss and grass rather than stone - perhaps the dragon was asleep. Whichever direction I looked in, I could see fallen down trees and ashes from where the dragon’s fireballs had hit. All of a sudden, I felt cool and I realised I was in the shade. I looked up. The dragon was above me.
I froze. Was it possible the dragon hadn’t noticed me? Perhaps it was flying past by chance? My doubts were completely destroyed when a circle of fire around me. Trees went up in flames. This dragon really ought to give me a break. I had no idea why we were meant to go up a mountain to see a dragon. Part of the dumb training exercise, I guess. To decide which of us get trained to become wizards. And those of who get to become slaves. My guess is I’m headed for the slave end of things. We were meant to demonstrate our skills on this mountain but I have no idea what skills to demonstrate. I mean, what skills do I even have?
“Save me!” I shout up into the air. It’s our signal. What we shout into the air when we’ve had enough time to perform. Then we’ll be picked up. Then the judges will see camera footage of me and decide I’m a slave. Then I’ll be a slave for life.

3/8 - daily part 1 (old writing)

“Orange!”

It took Ruby a second to realize that the cyan blob bounding towards her wasn’t talking to someone else. “Yes?”

This trust, this trust that she’d managed to harvest from the people surrounding her, was so tenacious. So fragile.

One wrong move and it would all come crashing down.

The cyan suit stopped in front of her. What was her name? Ruby struggled to remember. She’d mentioned it once. Hadn’t she?

“Orange,” Cyan put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “We’ve received commands from Mission Control!”

I know.

“Really?” Ruby let her lips spread into a smile. “Finally. We’ve been waiting for so long.”

Waiting for the perfect time to strike.

“Yep!” Cyan’s eyes were bright. “So Mission Control has been receiving signals that indicate the presence of a structure. A temple. Here, on Polus!”

“Wow.”

“And the best part? It’s a water temple. Made of glass! Think about what that means!”

For the life of her, Ruby had no clue what a water temple meant. It was just a normal temple, but for water, and this one happened to be made out of glass - wasn’t it? But Cyan was excited, as she got sometimes, and so Ruby smiled. “It’s astonishing, really.”

Cyan grabbed Ruby’s wrist and dragged her over to two other suited figures. “Aylin! Cielo!”

Cyan could remember names well - she was good with people. Ruby simply knew them as Purple and Blue.

Blue turned, and after a second so did Purple. “Maya!” Blue’s voice was excited. “Do we have anyone else to tell?”

Cyan shook her head. “I just told Orange, I told everyone else.”

Purple, for her part, didn’t say anything. She was quiet, but Ruby had seen her become close with Cyan, Blue, and Pink. The four of them were nearly inseparable at this point.

Connections are dangerous.

But of course, the poor thing doesn’t know any better.

A Misunderstood Case



I was working on my homework when I heard a startling sound. I when towards the sound as it was continuous and reached to my father's shop. My parents were outside but a thief tried to open the shop and started stealing things from there. When he tried to run away, I asked a person walking nearby for phone and dailed 100. And police came fast to the spot. I was relieved. The police was about to arrest and take him to the police station but I insisted them to ask the reason and after a lot of discussion police asked the thief the reason of stealing from the shop. The shop sold everything. He said, “I am Ram. I was stealing from here because a person is forcing me to do it. He said he will give me money and I am very poor and can hardly make my ends meet.” I and the police officer had tears in our eyes. We told him, “We will get you a good job if you will help us get to your master.” Ram agreed. Then we made a plan that Ram will go to the person who was forcing him and tell the person that he would not succeed in his task. Till then, I and the police will go and spy on them. Whatever he replies, we will listen and then go to him and arrest him after we have handful of evident proof. He agreed to the plan too and everythinv went as planned. Then we gave him job ideas like he can open a small business or offer help and service to people.

word war w/ @Cherryblossom211 prompt: my hands trembled as I opened the fancy envelope.

My hands trembled as I opened the fancy envelope. I saw my name written in beautiful calligraphy and breathed in and out. This was it. This was my chance. I opened the letter and read the words in cursive that were very short. "Hello, we regret to inform you that you have not finished the contest. Your entry was very nice, but you have not made 1st place. Good job! I sighed and crumpled up the paper. I threw it in the trash can and sat down. I didn't make it? I didn't win my one hundred thousand dollars? How? I was an amazing writer. An excellent writer. How could my entry not win the writing competition? How? I got out my phone and found the text that had led me to the competition in the first place. How come I didn't win? It's no fair! I texted, then put down my phone. Ugh. I wouldn't have even entered this competition if I'd known I wasn't going to win. Suddenly, a knock on my door. “Um, hi..” I said, answering it. “Oh, it's you.” I moaned. It was the winner of the writing competition, who I did not want to meet

unfinished writing for the daily (pls ignore grammar mistakes/bad writing/that stuffffff)

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-
I open one eye, reach out my hand, and shut the alarm off.
8:00 in the morning.
I rubbed my eyes and took in my surroundings: Blankets. Bed. Walls. Window. Calendar. Chair- wait. Calendar. I bolt upright in my bed.
Today’s December 24th. Christmas Eve!
I throw off the blankets and they land in a heap on the floor. I quickly get dressed and hurry downstairs.
Dad’s drinking coffee at the kitchen table. “Hi Hannah,” he says with a tired smile. “Merry Christmas Eve.”
I grin. “I’m so excited! Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year! You know that—right?”
“Of course I do. Hannah, I’m kind of trying to-”
“Drink your coffee in peace? Of course.” I head towards the living room, where the Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner. I breathe in it’s piny scent. I love real pine trees for Christmas. It’s gonna be perfect tomorrow.
My cat, Princess, is trying to rest underneath it, but it’s branches keep poking her. She yowls, and I can’t help giggling. She gives me a look.
“Sorry,” I smile, and I pick her up and cuddle her. She frowns at me, and hops down from my arms. Given up on the tree, she trots to the stairs and climbs them. She’s going to my room.
I follow her, and she hops onto the bed and lies down. I stroke my fingers on her fur and she purrs, but somehow I understand that this purr is not a friendly one. “Okay, okay,” I mumble, and I take my hand off and get off the bed.
I go downstairs and fix myself some scrambled eggs. Dad’s no longer drinking coffee, so he must be in his room.
Fifteen minutes later, he comes out and goes downstairs and into the living room.
I’m almost finished with my eggs when I hear a huge crash from the living room. It sounds like branches snapping and a glass breaking and things thumping to the floor all at once. I get up, trembling, and peek into the living room. I gasp and put a hand over my mouth.
The Christmas tree is lying on the floor. Dad’s staring at it in horror. Ornaments are everywhere and some fragile ones are broken. Water for the tree is in a puddle on the floor.
Mom rushes downstairs and screams. “KYLE! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

unfinished writing for the daily!! March 8th 2022

Salmon was feeling a little bit down in the dumps that morning. Well, either down in the dumps or she had just fallen ill. She couldn’t really tell which, and her thermometer seemed to be broken (snapped in half, specifically, she had no idea how) so it couldn’t really tell her either. So instead she just laid in her little nest of sunken algae at the bottom of the lake, covering the entrance so know slivers of sunlight could weave their way through the water and bombard her eyes with way too much light for when she was feeling this poorly.

Because of this fact, she did not swim to the surface of the water and pass by Mr Purple, the frog, to say her usual good morning to him. Mr Purple, in his usual grumpy mood, sat on his little rock waiting and waiting for Salmon to come. Even though he, of course, hated the salmon’s usual cheery little greetings which would always dampen his sour mood even more than it was before, the interaction had become kind of routine and he didn’t really know what to do without it.

He sat waiting and waiting until it was way past her usual calling time. The sun was no longer rising in this sky, the heat becoming more and more apparent as the day went on, instead it reached the centre of the blue dome above then simply started going down, of all directions to go in! Mr Purple, although superbly intelligent, found this fact very confusing. Not the fact that the sun went down- no, he knew this fact very well. It was the fact that Salmon, who always, always came to say hello when the sun was still rising… still had not been.

So Mr Purple decided to do something he had not done in a very long time. The frog, who had now spent his days sunbathing on his little rock or doing whatever he does in that little homemade muddy, mossy, grassy house of his, had nearly forgotten where he originated from. He had suppressed the memories of his childhood, even though they were happy memories, he thought he was above his previous childish thinking now. But deep down, he could still find the place where he spent his entire childhood if he really wanted to. He could remember it well, if he just simply tried.

And so, he did. He racked and racked his brains until he finally found what he was looking for. A forgotten memory, pushed under for years began to resurface. A memory of… the water.

He had grown up there. He knew it, and he could feel it. The nostalgia of his old home came to him in waves until he began to let our tears. Memories of himself and his siblings in their old form, happy and carefree young tadpoles dancing around just below the lake’s surface, playing chasey as their parents watched from the same rock he was sitting on right now.

At that memory, Mr Purple opened his eyes. He knew these waters well. It was time to find Salmon.

He dove into the lake, searching and searching through the algae and seaweed and shells in the depths below. Then, he saw a movement. Could it be?

He swam with his little frog legs towards a huge pile of algae that had seemed to flicker in the water, and pulled one string of seaweed aside to reveal… a fish. Not just any fish… a salmon. The Salmon. He had found her.

March 8th Daily 2022
504 words
“Continue one of someone else's old unfinished stories.”

@ButterflyWings22 's story:
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-
I open one eye, reach out my hand, and shut the alarm off.
8:00 in the morning.
I rubbed my eyes and took in my surroundings: Blankets. Bed. Walls. Window. Calendar. Chair- wait. Calendar. I bolt upright in my bed.
Today’s December 24th. Christmas Eve!
I throw off the blankets and they land in a heap on the floor. I quickly get dressed and hurry downstairs.
Dad’s drinking coffee at the kitchen table. “Hi Hannah,” he says with a tired smile. “Merry Christmas Eve.”
I grin. “I’m so excited! Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year! You know that—right?”
“Of course I do. Hannah, I’m kind of trying to-”
“Drink your coffee in peace? Of course.” I head towards the living room, where the Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner. I breathe in it’s piny scent. I love real pine trees for Christmas. It’s gonna be perfect tomorrow.
My cat, Princess, is trying to rest underneath it, but it’s branches keep poking her. She yowls, and I can’t help giggling. She gives me a look.
“Sorry,” I smile, and I pick her up and cuddle her. She frowns at me, and hops down from my arms. Given up on the tree, she trots to the stairs and climbs them. She’s going to my room.
I follow her, and she hops onto the bed and lies down. I stroke my fingers on her fur and she purrs, but somehow I understand that this purr is not a friendly one. “Okay, okay,” I mumble, and I take my hand off and get off the bed.
I go downstairs and fix myself some scrambled eggs. Dad’s no longer drinking coffee, so he must be in his room.
Fifteen minutes later, he comes out and goes downstairs and into the living room.
I’m almost finished with my eggs when I hear a huge crash from the living room. It sounds like branches snapping and a glass breaking and things thumping to the floor all at once. I get up, trembling, and peek into the living room. I gasp and put a hand over my mouth.
The Christmas tree is lying on the floor. Dad’s staring at it in horror. Ornaments are everywhere and some fragile ones are broken. Water for the tree is in a puddle on the floor.
Mom rushes downstairs and screams. “KYLE! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

(my continuation)
“I- I didn’t do anything!”
Mum put her hands on her hips, staring Dad directly in the eyes. “You know you can’t lie to me.”
“I swear, honestly!” he continues to insist. “I just came down here and it was already like this.”
Mum turns to me, clearly not believing Dad’s story. “Hannah, maybe you can make the situation a bit more clear?”
I shrug, shaking my head. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened. I only just walked in.”
Mum groans, turning around, raking her hands through her already messy bed hair. “Look, you two, just get this cleaned up. When I found out who did this, though, I can assure you that they’re NOT going to have a very good Christmas tomorrow!” She treks back to her bedroom, still in her nightgown.

Dad and I glance sheepishly at each other. “Did you do it?” I ask him.
“No, of course not!” he says defensively, and I know he’s telling the truth. “…Did you?” he poses to me.
“No, how could you accuse me of such a thing,” I reply back jokingly, and he suppresses a laugh.
“I guess we better clean up this thing, regardless of how it happened,” he sighs, staring at the mess with his arms folded.
I nod in disappointed agreement. This was not a great way to spend the morning of Christmas Eve, but both Dad and I know better than to disobey Mum when she’s angry.

“How do you think it happened?” I ask casually, beginning to gather up the baubles scattered across the room while Dad sits the tree back upright.
“I’ve got no idea. Your guess is as good as mine,” Dad responds, voice panting a bit as he picks up the tree. That thing has got to be heavy.
“Hmm.” I try to untangle the mass of fallen fairy lights (unsuccessfully). “Trees don’t just fall on their own. It had to be something.”
“Maybe Santa came early, then realised his mistake and took off in such a rush that he knocked it all over!” Dad says, giving me a cheeky smile.
I roll my eyes. “C’mon. Be serious. I want to actually know what happened!”
“I AM being serious!” he insists again, and I huff in exasperation at his words, giving up on the lights and turning my attention to the strewn tinsel.

“Oh, hi there Princess,” I coo, uncovering my cat from a bunch of piled tinsel. “What are you doing here?”
She meows in response, trying to free herself from the wrapping of tinsel. As she does so, I notice something glint in the light. Is that… a bauble? Tangled up in her collar? I take a closer look and find that yes, it is in fact a bauble. I remove it from Princess, holding it up to Dad’s face with a smile.

“I think I found our culprit,” I say with a grin. “It was Princess all along!”
Dad shakes his head, laughing in response. “Well, that’s our Christmas Eve mystery solved!”