I am sharing my in-cabin weekly, part-3

Hi, I am writing this journal and this is my first journal excluding my school one but it very short.

So ya, I am usually very nice to other but when it comes to my brother, I began to rant at him as he annoys me every time. but after sometime, I tell sorry and became friends.

One day, he started to go to school and I was home which made me so sad and I missed him, then only I understood that we should tell someone nicely that we are not liking them doing like that. After that, I never-never again shouted on him and he too stopped hurting me.

I am very sensitive so I cry for the smallest thing. My dad often says, “don't cry, Make other laugh and you eventually forget about crying. I never cried. Don't lose hope.” If someone tries to tease me, I reverse make a joke on them. after I did this I began to feel happy and didn't cry.' SO EVERYONE LIKE MY FATHER SAID, NEVER LOOSE AND MAKE EVERYONE LAUGH.'

I often get annoyed of doing things the same time. I often shout on others about it, and hurt others, if I hurt someone I feel bad. I am still working a solution but I trying my best to make others happy so I am always trying to make others happy. I often Like people think good and be happy with me.

I am always thinking what I should be when I grow up and this is very I rant usually. Some say to be a collector, and some to study, though I have much time, I guess 10 years so let's leave it there.(I am 10-12 years)

I always rant on my Brother now also when he doesn't listen to me as he is very creative and keeps some not very good rules like- I should not study before him, I should not cuddle into bed before him. He basically has a temper of coming first every time and these rules only in home, Once outside he is silent like a small bug. I only rant on my brother of his very not sensible and logical rules and he instead says he knows more than me which make me rant. I like my brother and I would be happy if he changes so I will not rant on him ever again

Weekly - setting idea

The forests of Everadia are filled with light and beauty, and shadows and secrets. There are many paths that you could take, signposted in mossy wood, but no matter which road you take you will always come out where you least expected. Nobody should enter the forest of Everadia without reason.

There are places of solitude, of such peaceful tranquillity that you think even a pin-drop would shatter the silence. A crystal pool lies somewhere to the west, untouched by pollution and pure as diamond; they say this is where the self-reverential will find themselves. In sun, in rain, in snow, you will find narcissus flowers pushing their golden crowns up through the green grass on the banks.

There is the path of the worthless; the lonely souls who wander here have pressed their pennies into logs, and scattered them in the streams that trickle by. When sunlight reaches through the dark canopy, the light can be blinding. By the time you stumble out of the woodlands, out onto the dusty track leading to the city, they say your fortune will have been judged by whatever is watching. It is up to you where you go next; the forests of Everadia give no answers, just ask the questions that need asking.

There are paths wreathed with berries that no man, no matter how hungry, dares to eat; in the autumn, when they fall to the ground and rot, the wasps throng and circle but never feed. They say those who wander off the beaten track will have to be content to wander forevermore, or that they will have to escape by beating the spirit of the forest itself in a battle of wits. There are rivers, and boats with which to sail them – maybe the water will sing to you, lullabies of times when the stars fell to earth. There are plenty of stories to be found, after all. Listen harder, and you might hear whispers on the wind and between the leaves.

And after your adventure? You might walk out right back where you started. You might find strange lands, or maybe, after all you have seen and found, you will not choose to leave at all. You will be in good company, after all, and maybe then you too will become part of the legend of the Forests of Everadia. You may be lost beyond belief, but here, you will find yourself.


(404)

Hi, this is my in-cabin weekly, Part-4
Word count- 661 words

Elsa the gentle fairy

Once upon a time there was a fairy. She was very powerful and she lived in a beautiful palace. She had a little sister. The fairy’s name was Elsa and her sister’s name was Anna. Elsa was kind to everyone but Anna was arrogant. Elsa was worried about her little sister as she was arrogant.

Her mother who was the queen made Elsa as the queen and Anna became the princess. Anna was really angry and made a evil plan. When Anna was sitting in her room when Elsa came past her and noticed her evil plan. At night when Elsa was sleeping she tried to take her powerful wand but as Elsa knows her evil plan she caught Anna red handed and ordered her to never come back again to the palace. Anna was really sad and started crying so Elsa instead told her that she will be in jail for half an year.

At the jail she made another evil plan. Elsa noticed this plan too and told Anna that if she made more evil plans her punishment will extend.

The guard who was guarding Anna talked to his friend about the 4 magical things which were powerful in the whole universe. Anna noticed this. Anna also noticed that the 4th magical thing was the magical wand which Elsa had.

She wanted the wand and asked Elsa that she wanted her wand and Elsa told her that she will make Anna a magical wand that cannot do evil things and after her punishment was over .Anna accepted and after her punishment as Elsa promised she gave a magical wand but Anna took that to the creator of her wand and asked her that it should not stop me from doing wrong things if you do that I will give you 5 hundred gold coins. But the the creator of her wand told that he will not do such things so Anna became very angry and went back home sadly.

She found the creator's brother and he accepted to do her work. So while he was doing it Elsa was passing that way when she hid there and saw the whole thing.

Anna came home Elsa cursed Anna that she will be converted into a ugly swan but she loved her sister so she told that instead she will be converted into a beautiful swan the next time Anna thought or made a evil plan she will be like that forever. but she can visit Elsa for five days every year and she will remain as a human when Anna visited Elsa.

The break of the spell was she should realize her mistakes and should be humble and should know the meaning of love and kindness and should be happy with what she has and should not be selfish and should someone love her but he should be a human and should love her inner beauty and not her outer beauty she should break the spell before her 26th birthday and she
should break the spell when she is a beautiful duck.

Soon Anna broke the spell and soon a handsome prince fell in love with her and he loved her inner beauty and hated her outer beauty. Anna also fell in love with him but she was upset that the prince hated her outer beauty.

She told Elsa about it and Elsa told her to forget her outer beauty and never show her outer beauty to the prince and Anna obeyed her and soon they were married and Anna became very sad after her marriage because she had to leave Elsa but Elsa soothed her and Anna became the queen of the prince’s kingdom and the prince became the king. One fine day the prince saw her outer beauty and he also loved her outer beauty and They lived
happily ever after.

THE END
Moral: If we do bad we will get the bad again

weekly 2 - premise

Your character, for some reason or another, keeps finding mysterious letters absolutely everywhere – stuffed in bushes, neatly packed among their belongings, and even on their pillow after they’ve woken up for the day. The writing, small and neat as it is, is almost too scratchy and faded to interpret, but you slowly start to figure it out. The author keeps sharing little details, like their favourite colours, when they wake up in the morning, and even how they like their afternoon coffee, and you eventually grow to know them almost as well as you know yourself. But finally, enough is enough, and you set out on an adventure with only one goal in mind: to find this mysterious writer, and return the letters to their intended sender. Because that’s the very worst bit of all – the name addressed at the top of each and every letter is not your own.

(150)

Premise
go to weekly

Your character was just adventuring somewhere or a secret part of a place when suddenly a creature came up and attack the character. Your character is now held hostage in another location where they need to be freed. However, the area is filled with many guards that the character knew that it was impossible to escape. Throughout the journey, your character must complete quest all around the area without getting caught (or you can also make him or her get caught by the guards and tries to make another attempt to escape again) and what's even more shocking is that the area was larger and more creepy than usual. The obstacles contains deadly challenges your character must complete but the character needs to only complete three to escape the area, however your character must roam around the location to find the key for an escape, because of this every room needs to be explored by your character. And unfortunately, the area needs to be a large place to increase the intensity and the climax of the story.

177 words

play sound [writing is life] until done

♝ Weekly 2, Part 3: Setting ♝
555 words

My setting is a large set of interconnected tunnels and caverns and caves far, far beyond the surface. There is no light in them, beyond glow worms and the occasional clusters of bioluminescent fungus that grow in some areas of the tunnels and caves. In the caves and tunnels, there are sometimes little groups of glowing crystals and gems in or growing out of the walls. These have been prohibited from being taken, as they are the brightest light source around. The caves often also have a few stalactites and stalagmites, though most have been safely removed at this point, and the ones that remain are pretty steady and do not have a big risk of falling. The stalactites are sometimes turned upright and set in front of the homes of the people who removed them, as if to say that the remover survived the tedious and dangerous process of doing so.

Other than that, the creatures that roam the abandoned tunnels are dangerous and wild. They crawl and sneak around in the shadows, attacking those who disturb them. They are often either very large or very small and/or pale from the lack of light. There has been a recent tradition of finding, defeating, and then taming these wild beasts, which is considered either a heroic endeavour, or a death wish. However, the ones that do manage to come back with the defeated and tamed creatures and animals in tow, are praised. There are many measures to keeping these creatures out, like traps and smells that they do not like.

The architecture in the tunnels and caves are both very simple and very complex and intricate at the same time. Many and most of the homes and buildings are carved straight into the walls, which is better to protect them from falling debris from the cave ceiling and to protect their area from being overrun by wild creatures. The buildings that are not carved into the walls are instead tall towers that rise up from the floor of the cave like a great, spiralling behemoth. These are most commonly public areas and trading centres, though a few traders and merchants from other caves like to set up stalls beside the towers. Because the story takes place in the capital city and biggest cave and settlement of all, there are many towers and many homes, and even more stalls.

As the setting is merely a wide range of caves and caverns inhabited by people and connected by winding tunnels, they have no weather and not much light. Farming, because of the lack of soil and light, is a practically nonexistent profession. Instead, there are fishers (due to the abundance of cave animals that live in pools and ponds of water on the cave floor) and miners (due to the abundance of minerals, gems, crystals, and the like hidden in the walls). There are only three known passageways to the surface. Two are old, abandoned, rickety carved stone staircases full of deadly animals, and one is mostly a myth, said to be a long, long tunnel going all the way up. It has never been found. Also, the lack of light means that barely any know of flowers and plants, and most people have very pale, sallow skin, and rely more on other senses than sight.

WEEKLY 2

Part 1: Collaboration, done with the amazing @polarbear_17

Z: written by Zai (@polarbear_17)
A: written by me (@-alocasia)

A: You are a very superstitious person, and your horoscope told you this morning that some of your small secrets will come to light. Therefore, you intend to approach the coming day with utmost secrecy.

Z: It begins with buying padlocks from the local locksmith. You ask him for the bulkiest locks he sells; he raises an eyebrow but does not question the request. You walk away carrying four bags of different types and sizes of locks, enough to cover every aspect of your house and have some left to spare.

A: Mission complete! You’ve successfully locked yourself inside your house. You’re starting to feel a bit safer, until you realise you’ve put a lock on your fridge and lost the key. Looks like lunch will need to be found elsewhere, but you’ll have to do it… secretly.

Z: You sigh; it turns out you can not be a hermit today after all. Sighing, you enter the carhouse, preparing to drive to your favorite Italian lasagna restaurant, but now you can not find your car keys anywhere. It looks like you will have to do some extra exercise today.

A: This must all be done, however, in secret. You put on a face mask, sunglasses, then a large hat with a wide brim to hide your face further. As the finishing touch, you disguise yourself completely by bringing along your large umbrella (never mind the fact it’s a lovely sunny day). You deem it safe to set foot outside and finally, after a long hard trek, make it to the Italian lasagna restaurant.

Z: You reach for the handle, but the door refuses to obey your desperate pleas for entry. You look at the operation hours poster posted on the impolite door; it reads: “CLOSED ON SATURDAYS AND SUNDAYS.” Great. You begin to cry, but then you remember the umbrella you are holding. It just so happens to be an umbrella made mostly of metal. Hard metal. The door also just so happens to be made of glass. Glass that could easily be broken by a very heavy object, say, something made of hard metal. The Italian lasagna restaurant also just so happens to be in the middle of nowhere, with no surveillance cameras, no cars in the parking lot, and nobody around to hear any loud sounds, such as, perhaps, the sound of glass being broken by a very heavy object made of hard metal.

A: You stand and think about your current scenario and the possibilities ahead of you for a couple of minutes. Eventually you conclude that actually, your horoscope said nothing about being careful when making big decisions today, and so promptly smash your umbrella through the glass door. The shriek of alarm bells screams through the air, but it’s not like anyone is around to listen! Secretively, you pick your way through the rather sharp hole you have just created and make your way to the kitchen. You flick on the lights, switch on a Bastille album to tune out the sound of the sirens, and pick a pre-sliced portion of your favourite lasagna out of the industrial fridge. This is going perfectly!

Z: You begin to help yourself to many slices of very delicious lasagna, not thinking of the possibility that the restaurant may have a lockdown function. Over the sound of your favorite Bastille song, you hear a robotic and monotone voice announcing, “lockdown protocol initiated.” You peek your head out the kitchen door, just in time to watch in horror as a large sheet of metal blocks the front door and all the windows. The lights automatically turn themselves off, basking you in darkness. Depressed, you continue to nibble blindly on the lasagna in your hands.

A: By the time you have eaten all the lasagna you can, you have plenty of energy with which to tackle the next problem in your ever-complicating life: escape. The doors and windows seem pretty firmly blocked, and there’s no point screaming for help when nobody’s in the vicinity to listen. Finally, you pick up the landline phone on the wall and are ready to dial the police’s number so you can be freed again - when you realise that if you did so, your secret would be out and your horoscope come true. A pit of horror opens in your stomach (also a symptom of lasagna overconsumption).

(Ed note: at this point I (Alba Alocasia) hit the 300-word mandatory limit. I’m not counting the rest sfkdljdfjkl)

Z: Instead of dialing the police, you decide to call your favorite ghost to help you out. Over the phone, you convince your favorite ghost into helping you escape the Italian lasagna restaurant, but under one condition: you pay Sini back in kneecap currency. You agree; you have plenty of kneecaps stored in one of the locked boxes back home. As soon as you hang up the phone, Sini materializes from thin air and, with the power of reverse architectural and structural trigonometry, the walls of the restaurant turn into a mush of chlorinated water and daisies. You do not question this. Running out of the restaurant, you decide to head back home as soon as possible to pay Sini the kneecaps.

A: At home, you find the box and unlock the padlock - fresh kneecaps! Delicious! It will be a shame to part with them, but you know better than to break a promise to a ghost (especially your favourite one). Sini, having received her payment, promptly dematerialises again; you breathe a sigh of relief, casting an eye to the clock on the wall. After the antics of the lasagna restaurant, it is now late afternoon - you're almost free! You might just prove your horoscope wrong yet.

Z: But first, you need to find all your lost keys. You begin looking in the basket that you kept all the keys from the locksmith from, trying every single one of them, but none of them will work on your locked fridge nor your car. Frustrated, you pick up your mobile phone and call Mechoy—maybe the programming genius somehow knows a thing or two about lockpicking. Upon hearing the words “lock” and “key,” Mechoy proceeds to give an in-depth lesson on cybersecurity, digital public and private keys, and malware. You attempt to explain the context of the situation, omitting as much detail as possible to keep most of the day a secret, but Mechoy insists on talking about cyber locks and keys. Sighing, you hang up and decide to call Kat instead—she works with spreadsheet cells, so maybe she also works with lockpicking (jail) cells as well.

A: Kat suggests creating a spreadsheet for all your keys and locks which automatically orders them in alphabetical order and compares their compatibility. However, that all seems extremely time-consuming, and you settle instead for jamming all the keys you have in various locks one by one and hoping something clicks. Maybe once today is over you’ll be able to return some of these to the locksmith… wait! That’s it! If anyone will know how to unlock all these locks, it will be the locksmith.

Z: You start waddling back to the locksmith, but it appears the road to his store is blocked. Sirens surround the roadblock, and you approach a police officer, questioning what happened. The officer refuses to give much detail, only mentioning a curfew and how they are looking for a lasagna robber. The police must have arrived at the scene of the robbery after all. You thank the officer for his time and waddle back home.

A: Planning to relax, you switch the local news on and watch with mild shock as you see the headline: LOCAL GHOST ARRESTED ON SUSPICION OF LASAGNA RESTAURANT ROBBERY. From the grainy police footage, it looks like Sini is co-operating - she could always just teleport herself away, but it looks like she’s quite enjoying the novelty of being apprehended by the police. Still, your heart fills with guilt at this miscarriage of justice. Can you really sit back and watch as Sini is slated for a crime she didn’t technically commit?

Z: Determined, you pick up your phone and dial a contact listed as, “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY.” You watch your phone dialing, praying that the receiver will pick up. You hear a voice from the other side, and you are relieved. Your favorite plant playing plant-corpse (who also doubles down as an arsonist) has arrived to help! You explain the situation to her, and she says she will “take care of it.” As soon as you hang up, you can see a change in scenery in the news coverage: the news station is on… fire? You quickly change to a different station, but you see fire everywhere you look.

A: You glance out the window. “Oh,” you say, because what else is there to say? The world is burning. Your lawn, the neighbour’s lawn - all the lawns in your neighbourhood, actually, and all the neighbourhood itself. You guess that’s what the chronic arsonist meant by ‘take care of it’. Oh well - her methods are efficient. You imagine the police will not be so focused on the lasagna robbery anymore.

Z: You celebrate as you watch the neighbourhood (and the neighbours themself) dance in the fire–or maybe the fire is dancing on them, but, whatever! Something's dancing, and that calls for a celebration! You pull out the beer (root beer obviously, because you drink responsibly!) and begin to watch the light show outside. It's pretty, yes, but it could really use a different color, perhaps a bright purple or a mysterious green.

A: Maybe the other hosts could liven the colour spectrum up! You give them a ring. They all sound very excited (there’s lots of screaming, at least) and Birdi says she’s coming over to deal with it. You don’t know exactly what that means, but probably more fireworks! You run to make some microwave popcorn, but have to go empty-handed after you forgot you padlocked the microwave too. A pity.

Z: Then you come up with a genius plan—bring the fire into your house so it can melt all the locks! You compliment yourself for such a brilliant plan, and proceed to get a few pieces of firewood from the backyard. After catching the pieces of wood on fire, you bring the fire inside and proceed to melt the locks—the fire realizes it does such a great job it begins to dance on the walls! You dance with the fire, and watch as the fire calls in more of its friends to dance around the house.

A: Standing in the burning ruins of what once was home sweet home, you stand and survey the wreckage. “This is fine,” you decide, and watch as the silvery moon rises to the centre of the dark, smoke-clouded sky. Wait - that means it’s the next day! Your horoscope will have changed!

Z: You rush to salvage your laptop from the rubble surrounding you. Booting the old machine up, you login and head straight to the Zodiac bot. You hastily type in, “.horoscope” and wait for the bot to reply.

A: “Danger! You will be at risk from fire signs today. Do not invite them into your home, ! The universe will thank you later.”

Part 2: Character!

Name: Thea Gold
Age: 14
Species: Human
Personality and Traits: Thea is, above all else, stubborn. She makes up her mind quickly and sticks to her guns, and refuses to ever go back on her word. She fears trusting others and approaches situations with consideration of how it could benefit her. Despite the distant, awkward front she puts up, she is painfully proud and sensitive to the words and criticisms of others.
She does not make friends easily. She dislikes being emotionally vulnerable, fearing the ways that her weaknesses could be used against her, and this has led her to become outcast and lonely. She likes animals, however, and her quiet, calm nature makes them like her back; she is the sort to put up bird feeders and plant bee-friendly flowers (but in secret, of course, as she fears the judgement of her peers).
Thea doesn’t engage in small talk well, as she never knows the right thing to say, but enjoys speaking when she has a subject to talk about that she enjoys. Regardless of her other flaws, she is admired for her analytical mind and quick thinking, and is good at writing essays. Quietly, she is creative, but too scared to share her stories and poetry – she would probably keep a secret diary. (205)
Wants, Hopes, and Strengths: Thea Gold is extremely ambitious, wishes to do well in whatever she chooses to pursue, and quantifies being liked with success – but her very greatest want is to be accepted as she is. However, she does not feel like this is possible as she is insecure in herself and believes that showing that ‘weaker’ side of her will get her hurt. Her secondary want is for the appreciation, love and (ideally) the adoration of her peers, even if this involves not being quite so true to herself – that said, her stubborn nature stops her from actively going against any of her beliefs. Her kindness is one of her greatest strengths, despite her belief that this will be perceived as something to be exploited and her refusal to show that same kindness to herself. Another strength is her creativity – she has a flair for coming up with unique concepts and engages critically with what she comes up with, always pushing herself to be better. Finally, she hopes for a kinder world, and that if she ever did share the stories she comes up with, that they would make someone happy. She is self-aware of how her pride gets in the way of her own happiness, and hopes that this will change. (210)
Dislikes and Fears: She dislikes lying and hypocrisy, and always tries to be honest and reasonable. However, if she encounters bullying or unkindness, she will prioritise herself over sticking up for someone else. Her greatest fears are being disliked, perceived as weak, and being taken advantage of (the latter being a result of her debilitating trust issues). More generally, she dislikes the colour light green, small talk, crowded environments and watching movies when they have subtitles on. The safety and integrity of her reputation is important to her, and she hates it when anything she says is taken out of context or twisted to make her look bad. (105)

Part 3 – Setting!

The forests of Everadia are filled with light and beauty, and shadows and secrets. There are many paths that you could take, signposted in mossy wood, but no matter which road you take you will always come out where you least expected. Nobody should enter the forest of Everadia without reason.

There are places of solitude, of such peaceful tranquillity that you think even a pin-drop would shatter the silence. A crystal pool lies somewhere to the west, untouched by pollution and pure as diamond; they say this is where the self-reverential will find themselves. In sun, in rain, in snow, you will find narcissus flowers pushing their golden crowns up through the green grass on the banks.

There is the path of the worthless; the lonely souls who wander here have pressed their pennies into logs, and scattered them in the streams that trickle by. When sunlight reaches through the dark canopy, the light can be blinding. By the time you stumble out of the woodlands, out onto the dusty track leading to the city, they say your worth will have been judged by whatever is watching. It is up to you where you go next; the forests of Everadia give no answers, just ask the questions that need asking.

There are paths wreathed with berries that no man, no matter how hungry, dares to eat; in the autumn, when they fall to the ground and rot, the wasps throng and circle but never feed. They say those who wander off the beaten track will have to be content to wander forevermore, or that they will have to escape by beating the spirit of the forest itself in a battle of wits. There are rivers, and boats with which to sail them – maybe the water will sing to you, lullabies of times when the stars fell to earth. There are plenty of stories to be found, after all. Listen harder, and you might hear whispers on the wind and between the leaves.

And after your adventure? You might walk out right back where you started. You might find strange lands, or maybe, after all you have seen and found, you will not choose to leave at all. You will be in good company, after all, and maybe then you too will become part of the legend of the Forests of Everadia. You may be lost beyond belief, but here, you will find yourself. (404)

Part 4 – premise!

Your character, for some reason or another, keeps finding mysterious letters absolutely everywhere – stuffed in bushes, neatly packed among their belongings, and even on their pillow after they’ve woken up for the day. The writing, small and neat as it is, is almost too scratchy and faded to interpret, but you slowly start to figure it out. The author keeps sharing little details, like their favourite colours, when they wake up in the morning, and even how they like their afternoon coffee, and you eventually grow to know them almost as well as you know yourself. But finally, enough is enough, and you set out on an adventure with only one goal in mind: to find this mysterious writer, and return the letters to their intended sender. Because that’s the very worst bit of all – the name addressed at the top of each and every letter is not your own. (150)

Part 5: complete story

Character: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/658843707/
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=66#post-6112069
Setting: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6111421/
Premise (@bellevue91): Kiera is being forced by Ells to hand over an important key to something very important. She has just come into possession of it and she is not quite sure what it is or what it unlocks. She is pretty sure she does not want to hand over this key and must decide what she will do to get it back. This key could be anything from a real key to a special card. However, she has said key hidden in a pocket and Ells (the person asking them to hand it over) does not know this. She manages to stall in some way for a good deal of time. Eventually, though, she will be forced to make a decision and act on it. She is beginning to get stressed by the situation they have been placed in, and this exhibits itself in whatever way is suitable for your character.

(this has basically not been proofread, so I might come back and edit for the sake of my pride, hehe. still, hope you enjoy this story!)

THE KEY

This, Kiera has decided, is turning out to be an absolutely brilliant-awful day.

And it’s barely just started – sun just rising its pale ahead above the rocky horizon, the chill of spring breeze nipping at her fingers, gentle waves lapping at the shore in subtle, gentle rhythm. All that had been fine. She liked the world at this time in the morning, for it never seemed quite real; she always imagined this bit of the beach, in her head, as bustling with tourists at the height of summer. Not that she didn’t appreciate that, of course – she’d enjoyed many fun-filled summers herself in the middle of the throng, thriving off the energy and joy of the atmosphere. Now, caught up in its 6am haze, it seemed just like the sort of place adventure could take foot. Kiera was always searching for that.

Perhaps it was coincidence, the fact that such a thought had crossed her mind at that precise moment. Because now, she blinked in surprise; what was that, sparkling like a gem with its sheen of salt water? Its head just poked out of the sand, sand that was slowly being brushed away by the back-and-forth of the rippling water. Curious, she came closer and knelt down beside it, her trainers slowly getting soggy. It looked like a large coin, or maybe a brass curtain-ring…

Her fingers closed around it, and she pulled. With a squelch, it came up in her hands – a key. And not just brass either, but gold. Real, actual gold. It had to be, right? Heart thudding in her chest, she disbelievingly dipped the key in the water again to wash off the remaining lumps of gritty sand. A key, ancient and ornamental, in seemingly pristine condition.

Huh. Cool. She almost didn’t believe it herself, because after she dried it off on her t-shirt, she just stuck it in her pocket and kept walking. What else was there to do? She knew of nothing that the key could unlock, but perhaps – her imagination took hold – there was a secret buried chest near here, and the pirates had thrown the key overboard in a mutiny…

She went up past the closed seafood restaurants and ice cream shop, as well as the tacky little gift shop with its sun-bleached novelty t-shirts still hanging up outside the door, and intended to go right back the way she came – up the tarmac path back to civilisation, past the foggy old forest behind and the wild roses, when:

“Hand it over.”

Here's where the awful started. Kiera blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “Excuse you?”

“I said hand it over. Hand… i-t… oh-ver,” the person enunciated. They stood a head or two shorter than Kiera, but blocked the way solidly. “I know you have it, so hand it over and I’ll let you pass.”

“Have what?!”

“That key, featherbrain.”

“…What key?”


The person sighed longsufferingly, and pinched the bridge of their nose with the fingers of their left hand. “You’re a terrible liar. Gods, I knew this would happen. Of course the universe would set me up with an uncooperative twit like you –“

“Woah, hold it.” Kiera’s temper quickly flared to life. “Who are you calling a twit?! I’m not the weirdo who’s stormed up and started making bogus demands to a stranger!”

“My name is Ells. But that is Ells-gir to you, human child. Unless you happen to be,” and they puffed out their chest proudly, “over the age of 102?”

“Obviously not – !“

“Good. Then treat me, your dwarven-gir, with respect.” Ells’ voice hardened into something even stonier. “Hand over that key. I know you have it concealed about your person, and let me make this clear: if you do not hand it over sharp, then I will not hesitate to take it with force.”

Kiera didn’t doubt that; the dwarf, if this person was indeed a member of that long-lost race, had an impressive musculature. But still, the sheer cheek of this unsympathetic twerp, gir or not, had her seeing red. “No.”

Ells’ face scrunched up with annoyance. “No? Well then, let me rephrase: I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That a threat?” Kiera hissed, stalking closer despite everything. “I don’t appreciate those. Now you tell me exactly why you’re after my key.”

“It’s not yours, Child – “

“I have a name!”

“Fine! It’s not yours, Kiera – “

“Wait. How do you know my name?”

“No time for that!” Ells threw up their hands in frustration. “We are on a time limit now, Child. There’s a lot happening right now that you should definitely not concern yourself with. It wouldn’t be honourable of me to let you, a mere mite, get wrapped up in this. So, plllease – “ they grimaced with the word as if the act of engaging in manners physically hurt them – “give me that key.”

“What’s going on? Is it an adventure?” Fingers tightening over the key in her pocket, Keira’s breath caught in her throat. Ells rolled their eyes with a groan.

“Yes. And don’t you get any ideas! I don’t work collaboratively.”

“You’re in luck then, because neither do I. And especially not with you!”

She turned on her heels, ready to dash for it – when strong fingers tightened around her wrist, and she realised that her feet were skidding on the dust. With a yelp, she tried to pull herself free, but the dwarf held firm –

“Okay, okay, okay! Fine! Look, I do have the key, I did lie – “

“Didn’t we already establish that?”

“And I’ll let you see it. If you tell me what’s going on.”

The bruising grip around her wrist retracted; she stepped back, rubbing the red marks reproachfully. Ells still seemed unhappy, muttering what can’t have been pleasant remarks under their breath in a foreign tongue – but finally, they fold their arms and sigh.

“I will tell you what’s going on. Then you’ll give that key to me. Chosen-one nonsense isn’t the work of a child.”

We’ll see about that. “Come on. Tell me!”

“Patience, Kiera-yer… it all started long ago. Once upon a time…”
(1034)

(setting, premise and character all independently posted somewhere else in this thread and commented in the appropriate studios )

Word War with @PaigeTurnerE

“Brooklyn! Brooklyn, come back!” Brooklyn ignored the desperate cries coming from behind her, and continued walking down the London street, her hands in her coat pockets while flurries of snow fell around her.
“Go away, Andrew!” Brooklyn screamed over her shoulder “I’m not talking to you!”
“Brooklyn, please!” She heard Andrew continuing to call out to her “Brooklyn! Please! You can trust me! This is a big misunderstanding! Please!”
“Be QUIET!” Brooklyn screamed, walking even faster, trying to get as far away from Andrew as she possibly could. He had betrayed her. He had lied to her, and manipulated her thoughts.
Yeah right I can trust him! She thought to herself.
“Brooklyn! I need you to listen to me!” Andrew screamed, running up and jumping in front of her to stop her. Brooklyn shook her head, and pushed the boy onto the road, and he just kept on his feet, nearly being crushed by an incoming London cab. “Brooklyn! Please! Please let me explain what was happening!”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!” Brooklyn yelled, starting to run. She didn’t want to talk to him, she just wanted to get as far away as she possibly could from the boy who had betrayed her trust and ruined his relationship with her. And he was trying to justify this as “a misunderstanding” and this was completely ridiculous.
(230 Words)

weekly 2
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part two: character profile

Name: Callie Faire
Age: 16
Species: Fairy

Personality and Traits (202 words)
On the outside, Callie is quiet and extraordinarily polite – that kind, warm-hearted fairy who will always hold the door open for you, a friendly smile drawn on her face. She goes out of her way to help others: for a reason. Inside, Callie hides a dark power. Every day, the magic grows. Her passiveness is mostly an act to hide the truth – the truth that no one must ever know. Behind each nonchalant grin is a brooding persona. People know her. Or do they?
All they see is what she wants to show them. They don’t remember the accidents, the messes, the failures. The weight of the world is a heavy burden, almost as heavy as a heart. Life has always been hard. But this feels like, well, just a little bit too much.
To her friends, she’s bubbly and optimistic. To her family, she’s kind and successful. To the world, she knows who she is – but to herself, she’s a complete stranger. The world does not welcome her kind. They would not welcome her.
She’s not the protagonist. She’s not even the villain. Callie Faire may not be as nice as she seems – but does that make her a bad person?

(help this literally sounds like a badly written blurb of a quirky middle grade series)

Wants, Hopes, and Strengths: (200 words)
All Callie really wants is to live a normal life and be appreciated for it. Her unwanted magic has given her a valuable viewpoint of the world, and a deep understanding of the burden of power. Her kindness and willingness to help others (façade or not) has made her very empathetic. She understands other people and their emotions extremely well, even though she has trouble making out her own. Callie is also great at making witty jokes and considers that to be her most valuable asset (it isn’t).
Her biggest strength is her ability to adapt to different situations. She’s very resourceful, and her intuitiveness is almost as impressive as her magic itself – no one can best her. Life experience has made her almost immune to the sting of failure. Hard work is something she’s used to. Callie doesn’t get attached to people or things very often – or at all – which makes it easier for her to stay on track and focused.
Callie hopes for peace; for herself, and for everyone else, too. They’ve all been through too much. A world where everyone can be themselves without having to fear judgement or exile: isn’t that what we all dream of?

Dislikes and Fears: (153 words)
She dislikes loud noises and intrusive people. Callie deeply values her personal space; anything or anyone that interferes with that gets on her nerves. Constantly worrying about hiding her powers has made her slightly paranoid.
Indeed, that is her biggest fear – that she would be outed as a fairy. Her weakness is her wariness, of everyone and everything. Callie never lets her guard down, and as a result, she has begun to lose sight of humanity. Each vulnerability that she portrays is only an act to pass for being a functional person. But in truth, the walls around her soul are high and formidable.
She has begun to lose hope of ever being “normal” again. If she could be herself in front of the light, the results would only be catastrophic. She would be putting them all in danger. No one – not even you, reader – must ever know of what she can do.


part three: setting

(*wince* yes, I might’ve gotten into a more narrative perspective than necessary – but think of it like an atmosphere than an actual description ^^’)

-

The witch’s cottage hid deep within the forest’s embrace.

It was rumoured that, in the summer, paths of wild roses would lead to it – if you were naïve enough to brave the thorns. Each footfall in the forest was louder, each tree’s whisper more reverent. The light shone brighter. The roses, people said, bloomed bigger and more beautiful than roses anywhere else in the world.

In the cottage, the legend sat and waited and breathed dust. The seams of the horizon were stitched close, and so it stayed that way. Come summer, spring, winter; each day splintered in the mud and rain and sun, and time dragged on. The roses withered, and grew; again and again, each year, without fail. And still, the cottage waited, with a patience as old as the earth itself.

What did it look like? Well, you would have to see for yourself, because no one knew.

Some said it was made of chocolate and gingerbread. Blanketed in fine, sweet powder, with gates made of licorice and doors of hardened caramel. The ghosts of Candies Past drifted through the open windows, making them rattle sharply in their panes. Others said it was cold and dreary, and that the ghosts carried sickles and had bad breath. Stories clouded the village, growing larger and larger than the legend itself had ever been. No one could agree – sweet or vicious, both or none.

Many had tried to follow the flower-woven tracks. Weary feet hastened through the forest, as branches clawed desperately at their skin and clothes. They would wash up at the feet of the river, throats no longer parched, and hearts healed, but with no answers. The forest guarded her secrets closely.

And so, there were always those who wanted to know, who dared to adventure. Generations passed, and people still wondered of the legend, dreamed yet of the roses that were too lovely for the earth. What hands would feel their petals? What eyes would catch a glimpse – at last – of that which has never been seen? The desire, the fleeting, uncatchable hope itself, was enough.

Most only shook their heads. They lit candles and raised them to the forgiving heavens. The tension in their hands, pressed together in prayer, was not absent of dreams – but spoke more strongly of content. One safe haven was enough. Witches and magic only brought danger.

And why would they be wrong?

(401 words)

part four: premise

The light is a sharp, striking shade of violet. Your character reaches out and wraps a hand around the glowing orb. It stings. Their surroundings blur and change. Suddenly, they’re standing somewhere entirely different. They don’t remember where they came from, or how they saw the light. Only one thing is in their mind: their name, a pulse inside their soul. There is only that and the memory of the blinding light.
Out of the fog, a road materializes in front of them. The end is nowhere in sight, but they have nowhere else to go. Cautiously, they make their way forward. As they walk, a sharp sense of nostalgia surfaces. They catch a whiff of a scent that is almost familiar. It feels like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place. The air seems to sigh in relief.
Perhaps they have been here before. It must have been a very, very long time ago.

(155 words)

Premise: (158 words)

Your character is starring in a reality tv show of their life. The only problem is, they have no idea! They believe that they are going about their life just as any typical person would, when really everything they know is a lie. Their town is filled with paid actors, and everyone they come across is speaking to them from a script. Even their best friends were cast specifically so that they bond well with your character's personality. This illusion of normalcy is shattered one day when your character goes beyond the confines of your setting and sees that they are actually living on a giant soundstage. There are cameras everywhere, and your character accidentally notices a fat script with their name on it. Within it is a record of everything your character has ever said and done, their thoughts, and how they interact with others. It is your decision how your character deals with this shocking information.Your character is starring in a reality tv show of their life. The only problem is, they have no idea! They believe that they are going about their life just as any typical person would, when really everything they know is a lie. Their town is filled with paid actors, and everyone they come across is speaking to them from a script. Even their best friends were cast specifically so that they bond well with your character's personality. This illusion of normalcy is shattered one day when your character goes beyond the confines of your setting and sees that they are actually living on a giant soundstage. There are cameras everywhere, and your character accidentally notices a fat script with their name on it. Within it is a record of everything your character has ever said and done, their thoughts, and how they interact with others. It is your decision how your character deals with this shocking information.

3/13/22 - SWC weekly #2:

Part 1 (with Maia):

Stingray: Flying squirrels. They seem mostly harmless, right? Well, they're not. Don't worry, I won't be offended if you call me crazy. You wouldn't be the first, and you won't be the last. But you still need to hear my story. The future of humanity may depend on it.

Maia: I was walking home from school. It was a Tuesday in autumn, brisk and chilly, with the hint of winter. The trees had just begun to turn, and the park near my house was awash with crimson, scarlet, and gold. I decided to take a different route than I usually did; after all, it was such a nice day.

Stingray: You could almost smell the autumn in the air. The thought of this beautiful day and my minimal amount of homework made me giddy. I swung my lunchbox around in circles, trusting inertia to keep the contents in place. Inertia failed me, and my half-eaten peanut butter sandwich fell to the pavement.

Maia: I bent down to pick it up when a high-pitched squeal rang through the air. I barely had time to look up before a mass of fur attached itself to my face. As one does when going into shock, I froze for a moment, paralyzed with fear and surprise.

Stingray: I inhaled, about to scream, but the taste of fur made me gag. I choked and spit, as the furry thing - whatever it was - clung to my face. The sandwich. It wanted the sandwich. I fell to the pavement and felt around, trying to grab my lunch from the ground.

Maia: My hand closed around the sandwich and I held it up triumphantly, practically smashing it against the fur in an attempt to regain my dignity and my face. Thankfully, the thing jumped off my face and scampered away before I could see what it was. I brushed my face off as best as I could, and promptly ran home to take a shower.

Stingray: (timeskip hehehe :>) The next day was just as beautiful. After school, I was a bit more cautious, taking my normal route home instead of the disastrous path I took yesterday. I gazed up at the tree-lined streets, marveling at the giant, colorful oaks.

Maia: I inhaled deeply, taking in the smells of peat and fresh air as I reveled in the fiery blaze of autumn. But wait- there was also the smell of something else. Something more earthy, more… nutty?

Stingray: The smell was familiar. I racked my brain, trying to come up with where I'd smelled it before. Then I saw it: A flying squirrel, sitting in front of me on the sidewalk. It had an almost expectant look on its face. Many things became clear, all at once.

Maia: The first was that this was no ordinary flying squirrel. For one thing, it was a charcoal grey- so dark it was almost black. The squirrels in my neighborhood were always more of a reddish-brown, never grey. The next was- and here I gasped in disbelief. The squirrel had disappeared, leaving only a faintly nutty-scented plume of smoke where it once stood.

Stingray: The older kids at school liked to tell stories about magical flying squirrels at the lunch tables. I'd never believed them. Maybe I should've. I looked around, trying to figure out where it had gone. There! I saw it in a tree, high above me. And - this was the really crazy part - it had my lunchbox in its hands. It chattered, satisfied, and ran away through the sea of autumn. “Bu- Hey! That's mine!” I shouted, but either it didn't hear me or didn't care.

Maia: I started to run, my heart racing as I pounded across the park to the old tool shed. They had to have ladders in there of some sort. But as I reached the shed, I felt a strange sensation in my head that I couldn't quite place. It felt like someone was going in there with an eraser and physically erasing… what was I saying? I reached the shed thoroughly confused. Why had I come here? What was the problem?

Stingray - 325 words
Maia - 349 words

Part 2:

Name: Iona Marshall (that’s iona not Lona btw)
Age: 23
Species: Not-quite-human-but-humanoid
Personality and traits: Iona hates other people. She has very good hearing (cybernetically modified) so she picks up on a lot of gossip, which she uses to start nasty rumors about people she doesn’t like. She is naturally athletic but has modified that as well, making her an unnaturally fast runner. Because of the athletic implants, she can also jump higher and survive extreme temperatures. She also has higher stamina levels than normal humans. Iona has a sharp tongue and a sharper wit, and is quick to jump to conclusions. When attacked, she gets very defensive and will lash out (verbally and physically) at those near her, even if they didn’t do anything to her. Iona lives in a cave and watches anime in her spare time. However, she doesn’t like having spare time because it means she’s alone with her thoughts. If she’s not busy doing something, she’ll find something to do, productive or not-so-productive. She generally puts low effort into her work products because she doesn’t want people to have high expectations of her. When she does put work into something, she will get defensive and hide whatever it is she did. Iona is very tall and skinny. She has stringy blond hair and pale skin that is green-tinged. Everything about her is angular and pointy; also, her ears look a bit like elves’ ears and her lips are dark green. Her eyes are cold and gray. She cybernetically modifies herself (as stated before) to improve her senses, intelligence, and abilities.
Wants, hopes, and strengths: Iona is very shrewd and will manipulate any situation to her advantage. If her goal is to drive all other people away, she sure is good at it. Iona wants to have control over things that could affect her, but also likes having a certain aspect of life be unpredictable. She wants to be on top of the pyramid so she can exploit the emotional weaknesses of others. Outwardly, she wants to appear cold and emotionless; however, the inside is another story. Iona desperately wants someone she can love and trust, but is too scared of her own feelings to admit it. When she puts her whole self into something, Iona is a hard worker. She’s not scared of much, so there’s almost nothing she won’t do. She’s taken a few jobs bounty hunting before and is very good at it because she doesn’t feel empathy for her targets. Because of her modifications, Iona can win pretty much anything she does (she doesn’t care that it’s sometimes by cheating). Although she doesn’t put much effort into her work most of the time, she likes to know that she can be the best. She feels better about herself when she knocks others down, and dislikes the idea of having friends - they make her think too hard about her inner self. She doesn’t like it when she doesn’t get her way, so she will play dirty to get what she wants.
Dislikes and fears: As previously stated, Iona detests other people. She thinks they are ignorant and boring and they do nothing to make her life better. But deep down, she is lonely. Her biggest fear is having someone who she lets get close to her hurt her. Because of this, she pushes other people away. It’s a subconscious fear; she doesn’t self-reflect enough to know she’s doing it to herself. Iona can be a perfectionist, but not on things she’s doing for other people. She is afraid of failure. She’s harsh on herself sometimes because she thinks it will make her work harder. She is afraid of other people figuring it out and trying to help her, so she puts on an air of not caring. Iona doesn’t really have any fears that she’s aware of. Her true fears are buried deep down, so much that her conscious doesn’t know they’re there. She has no outerfears; she thinks they’ll hold her back. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do, no matter how reckless, immoral, or dangerous. She doesn’t like losing (unless it’s on her terms), which is another reason she cybernetically modified herself. Those implants also helped make her braver. Iona doesn’t like having spare time, because it makes her think about herself too deeply. If she’s not busy, she’ll find something to do. Often it’s a waste of her time, but it’s better than sitting around thinking.

724 words (personality and traits = 252; wants, hopes, and strengths = 239; dislikes and fears = 233)

Part 3:

Your story takes place in a bustling city.
The city center is a metropolis, filled with gleaming skyscrapers, traffic, and pollution. The city center seems to act like a utopia, but truly there are many glossed-over problems. People in the city center are always busy and have no time for simple pleasures or interactions with other humans. All it is is rush, rush, rush. The city center is a corporate jungle, bureaucracy and corruption abundant.
Outside of the city center are suburbs. It’s a sea of identical houses, manicured lawns and smiling faces as far as the eye can see. Everyone knows everyone and everything seems perfect.
Then comes the sprawl: Huge superstores and strip malls. Everything is covered in a haze of ‘industrial.’ Walking is unheard of in the sprawl; you’d be run over if you didn’t have a car. Nobody lives in the sprawl, but you can’t live without it - it’s where you have to buy all your basic necessities. People visiting the sprawl are always rude to one another.
Then you get to the outer limits of the city. All pretense of glamor is gone at this point; the outer limits are the place for anyone who fell through the cracks. If you’re looking for a fugitive or an entrance to the undercity, the outer limits are your place to go. Nobody talks to anyone in the outer limits. People are too dangerous. The whole place is fraying.
Beneath the city is the undercity. It’s vibrant and full of life, but also dangerous. And totally illegal. The undercity is where you’d go to find anything that isn’t allowed abovegrounds. Everyone knows it’s there, but nobody talks about it. Kind of like Bruno.
Put together, you have the city. It’s trying to be a nice place. It really is. And for what it’s worth, it once was. Long ago, before the city center and the suburbs and the sprawl and the outer limits and definitely before the undercity, there was a town. No skyscrapers. No huge industrial wastelands. No thriving criminal underworld. Nothing but a modest skyline, tree-lined neighborhoods, and happy people. It was small, but it had everything the citizens needed.
Until, of course, the citizens decided they needed more. And more, and more and more and more and more until the town became a city and the city became what it is today: A not-quite-utopia that’s in a downward spiral. Every day, people smile thinly, lie to themselves, and go about their days, pretending nothing is wrong.
How much longer until things boil over?

430 words

Part 4:

Sunlight pours in through the window, waking your character up. Most days, the sunlight is a pleasant way to start the day. Today, it is harsh; a rude awakening. Your character rubs the sleep out of their eyes, then rolls over. What happened? Their head is throbbing and their limbs ache. They want to remember - but also want to forget. Something happened last night. Something important. But something terrible. If your character could just remember…
They smush their face into the pillow. It helps relieve the headache. The cool darkness helps your character remember. Flashing lights. Loud noises. The party. The party! Yes, that was it. Your character digs deeper, probing into the depths of their brain. Somebody wanted them to forget. It is of the utmost importance that they remember, no matter how painful it is.
Searching, searching… There! Like a flash of lightning, it all comes back to your character. Reverberating in their brain is the final message.
With a jolt, your character comes back to reality. They look at the clock with a sense of urgency that was not there just a few minutes ago. 7:50. They’re going to be late! They can’t be late. Your character rolls out of bed and dashes out the door, only stopping to eat a muffin for sustenance. They’re still wearing their clothes from last night; otherwise, it would have taken much longer. Hopefully they’re on time. They can’t be late.

241 words

Part 5 (using this character, setting, and premise):

Sage’s legs felt like they were on fire.
This was not part of the plan.
Sage had things to do; there was no room in her schedule for achy legs.
It was her own fault. She should have foreseen this, what with all her running yesterday.
Yesterday, some of her friends at school invited her running.
“Hey, Sage,” they had said, “want to come run at the beach with us?”
Sage had said yes, of course. Never mind the fact that she never went running. Her schedule was open, and there was nothing planned for the afternoon. Besides, she would do anything for her friends.
Looking back, it had been a bad idea from the start. Sage didn’t have the right shoes. Her good shoes were brand-new and clean; she didn’t want to get them dirty running. So she used her old, beat-up sneakers. Her feet didn’t appreciate it.
But she went running anyway.
Her friends had pushed her far beyond what she was capable of. Sage knew her limits, but figured that, if it made the others happy, it would be worth it.
Nobody even thanked her for coming.
“What did I do wrong?” Sage thought to herself. She must have done something; why else would they be so hot and cold to her?
But now was not the time for that.
Sage hobbled to the bathroom and looked for something she could take to ease the pain in her legs. She had a busy day ahead of her; she could not change the plan.

Trying to ignore the pain wasn’t making it go away. Sage didn’t like that. Normally, she could squash an irritation like a fly, just by pretending it wasn’t there. She’d just have to deal with this.
“One ticket, please,” she asked at the counter.
She was at the train station. She’d arrived 45 minutes early, so she wouldn’t be late. And she was not having it with the bored teenager manning the ticket booth.
“Here’s your ticket,” he drawled, as he slid it over the counter ever so slowly.
It was all Sage could do not to snatch it out of his sweaty hand.
“Thank you,” she said.
The teenager didn’t say anything back.
Sage strode to the terminal, exuding confidence in every step. Only the best-trained eye would be able to see her tiny, pained limp. Her legs weren’t feeling any better, but at least she could walk now. Hopefully the pain medicine would kick in soon.
She still had 20 minutes before her train came, so she pulled out her phone. It, like everything else about her, was dependable and predictable. Sturdy black case, picture of her smiling at a baseball game on the lockscreen, password of her birth date. It wasn’t the newest or most expensive phone on the market, but it was reliable. That was all that mattered to Sage.
None of her friends were up yet. This amused Sage; she couldn’t imagine sleeping in on the weekends. She liked to get up at the same time every day, 6:30 am. Couldn’t imagine it any other way.
Now, at 11:50 am, her train was due to arrive any minute now. If it was on schedule. Sage hoped it was, she couldn’t stand it when things were late.

The train pulled into the station. Sage boarded without any problem. Uneventful, just the way she liked it. Still, something was nagging at her. She had the unshakable feeling that something was going to happen. Maybe the train would derail. Or the fuel tank would explode. Or worse; there could be a mvrderer on the train!
Sage tried to tell herself that she was being irrational. No such luck. Doing her best to soothe her paranoia, she sat in a window seat next to one of the emergency exits. That way, if there was a danger on the train, she could escape.
It was cloudy outside. Nothing like the sunny afternoon from the run on the beach yesterday. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted this, which only added to Sage’s sense of incoming doom. Something was going to happen, and deep down, she knew it.
Her legs still ached, but the pain was starting to fade, only a mild twinge instead of the roaring fire there was before.
Other people started to file into the train. They were all in such a hurry! This was why Sage boarded early. She could get her preferred seat with no worry of being late. And since she wasn’t in a crowd, she couldn’t get pickpocketed. You never know; it could happen.

Somebody sat down next to Sage. They seemed… normal enough. Probably not a psycho k!ller. Probably. The person was a woman in a dark wool coat. Her brown hair was pulled back in a beautifully braided knot at the back of her head. She held a pink backpack in her lap, hugging it like it was valuable. She was wearing dark lipstick and eye shadow.
Sage didn’t make eye contact.
The train started moving, right on time. That calmed Sage’s roiling stomach a bit, but not as much as she would’ve liked.
“You’re just being paranoid,” she muttered to herself.
Sage could’ve sworn that she heard the woman next to her mutter back, “don’t be so sure.”

The train had been moving for a while. Sage was reading a book about avalanches. She figured that, if she knew everything about the disasters she feared, she’d know what to do if and when one occurred. It was summer, but one could never be too careful.
Things were quiet on the train. A still, musty quiet. The train kept moving.

Suddenly, the woman stood up.
Her backpack fell to the floor.
In her hand, the woman clutched a kn!fe.
Sage trembled softly, awakening the nerves in her legs, which were throbbing dully now.
She hoped the woman wouldn’t take notice of her.
Stay quiet. Stay calm. Stay quiet. Stay calm. Stay…
The woman advanced through the train car.
Sage shut her eyes.
Someone screamed.

Sage popped out the emergency window and stuck her head out. The train was on a bridge over roiling waters.
Sage knew how to swim. She did not know how to survive a kn!fe wound.
She thought through it in her head. It didn’t take long.

Sage jumped out the window. As she plummeted toward the river, she thought through everything the survivalist books said.
Feet pointed. Arms against sides. Mouth closed. Don’t scream.
She hit the water. It was freezing cold.
Keep moving! Don’t slow down! Kick! Kick!
She burst to the surface and took in a great gulp of air. The blazing-fast current swept her downriver, toward a group of rapids. Sharp rocks stuck out of the water. Sage paddled furiously, trying to make her way over to the side of the river. An underwater rock ran into her leg, cutting her calf. The pain only made her move faster.
There! A large branch was hanging low over the river. If Sage could only grab it…
She reached up and grabbed the branch, holding on with all her might. Her wet hand wanted to slip off; it seemed that mere willpower was keeping her holding on. The wind, rain and current buffeted Sage around as she used the branch to haul herself to the side.

Using the last of her strength to pull herself up onto the bank, Sage flopped over onto the sodden grass, grateful to feel solid ground again. Too weak to walk, she crawled over to a large tree, seeking refuge from the pounding rain.

She was safe.
But she was so going to be late.

1300 words

Total word count for the weekly: 3020
New total: 16650

909 words for encanto fanfiction
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6080204/ PART 1 if you want to read


“It’s 3 o’clockkkk,” Mirabel sang aloud. Dolores would hear her. She was nestled in a comfy bed of leaves. “And Dolores, I know you hear me. You have nine hours to decide! Or have you already? Well, my gift ceremony is soon.” She giggled like a little girl, mad with power. “Here’s a burst of indecision!” she curled her hand and Dolores, if she was listening, would suddenly feel very capricious.
The young woman rolled off the greenery and strode out of the door, still laughing slightly. Whatever Dolores decided, she would bear the consequences either way.
When Dolores and Mariano were talking, she could hear them! She had honed her ears and eyes as much as she could when she was fifteen. So the prophesying gave that result. Interesting.
“I will be the dark shadow?” Mirabel tapped her chin. “No, Dolores. I think with my amazing new powers that Mariano will give me soon- or not, if you don’t want protection- I will protect your son AGAINST the dark shadow!” She giggled again.


“Oooh-kay,” Dolores mumbled to herself, hearing everything Mirabel had just announced. She put down her ice cream spoon.“Mirabel has clearly gone a little..” she twirled a finger around her head. “Cuckoo!”
Mariano looked at her. “So should I not-”
“No, no, go ahead,” Dolores confirmed, picking up her spoon again and eating. “The more I hear from her, now that I know what you told me, the more I think- I know she might be a little crazy. Maybe fixing her power will fix all of this.”
“What if…” Mariano looked away from Dolores munching a chocolate chip in the ice cream now. “What if, instead of fixing her powers, it-uh- amplifies her ‘shadow powers’? What do we do then?”
Dolores looked steadily at him, despite having ice cream dripping down her dress, “Then we’ll at least be on her good side, since we’re the ones that got the candle for her. We’ll be fine either way, and this is the third time we’ve had this conversation. You must stop being so capricious.”
“Well- uh-” The man couldn’t disagree with a word of what his wife had said. He just wiped Dolores’ dress and paced around the room, ignoring the dropping sun and his watch reading 3:15 pm, just procrastinating.
“And I’m due any day now,” Dolores patted her round belly fondly, shoveling in another bite of the yummy ice cream. “They say it only takes 8 to 10 hours.” Her words ended in a screech. “It’s starting!” she gasped.
Mariano ran for his life- well, his wife’s life. Well, his wife’s baby’s life. Maybe also his wife’s life. Whatever! THIS WAS THE WRONG THING TO BE THINKING ABOUT!
“HELP! JULIETA! PEPA!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. “DOLORES IS GIVING BIRTH!”
Almost immediately, the two women raced over, orange-yellow dress and gentle aquamarine dress fluttering in haste. “You bake things quickly,” Pepa instructed her sister. “I’ll aid Dolores.”
A nice sunny sky opened the mourning gray clouds above them. “I need light to work!” Pepa waved away the clouds irritably. “Now, Dolores, you’re going to be okay…”

“Isabela, your magical gift is the most tangible.” Luisa rushed up to her sister.
“How do you even know the meaning of that word?” Isabela looked bemused. She’d always thought of Luisa as strong but not very mentally gifted. Not to say her sister was dumb, just not the brightest of the group.
“I exercise my brain, too,” Luisa replied shortly, and then hurried to the point. “As I was saying, your gift is the most real. Dolores can hear, but hearing isn’t something you can touch. Camilo, maybe. His shapeshifter ability affects matter, but only his own body’s. But your gift can affect a wide range of matters.”
“Um, yeah.” Isabela rolled her eyes. “So?”
“Dolores and Mariano- well, just Mariano, but with the help of Dolores- plan to steal the candle. Our miracle candle. For Mirabel. At midnight tonight.”
“I have many questions,” her sister tossed her long glossy black hair over her shoulder arrogantly. She hated speaking about Mariano, her ex-fiance. “I trust you’ll answer them? One, if Dolores was planning to do anything, and you just told me, she would hear you. Not very mentally gifted, are you? Hmmm?”
“You are so snooty,” Luisa muttered under her breath. “Isabela, Dolores is giving birth right now. I’m pretty sure she’s occupied.”
“Okay.” Isabela idly twirled a lock of hair with a finger. “Well then, why would Mariano bother to steal our candle? It’s well protected by all the Madrigals, especially Tía Pepa.”
“Tía Pepa is assisting Dolores right now. Did you not hear Mariano screaming for her and mom to help Dolores?” Luisa arched her brow. “Not very mentally gifted, are you?” Her lips curled in a sneer. “Hmmmm?”
Isabela frowned. “Whatever,” she quickly tossed her hair again. “So you still haven’t answered my question. Why would he steal the candle?” The girl avoided using Mariano’s name.
“I’ve been following the clues,” Luisa said, and in hushed tones, conveyed all her information to Isabela.
By the end, Isabela’s snootiness had decreased, her mouth falling open, her eyes stretching wide with shock. Nervous pink flowers popped occasionally into her hair.
“Mirabel must’ve been infecting you with snootiness,” Luisa figured out grimly. “MIRABEL!” She suddenly called.
A patter of footsteps, and then: “Yeah?”
“Come here, sister,” Isabela snarled, shock turning into anger.

Also, multiple alternate dimension Nayeli's warnings today xD None of these are me ofc


While Leo woke up from his bed, noticing that it was 5:00 A.M. at the time, he celebrated.
Leo was trying to wake up one hour before his light-filled alarm from now on to the die he died which occurred at 6:00 A.M. as he felt that if he did so, he would successfully accomplish things better. All though.. Leo did not do very much in his day.
As Leo walked slyly out of their room, they yelled “OUCH!” as he had banged his head against the tall, wooden, strong, table near him. “I need to lower that table height” he thought as he slowly walked out, making sure to not hit anything once more.
Leo was not the type of person to remember things. For instance, last week they had also hit their head against the same table and told themself to lower it inside their mind. And well, here he is this week, hitting his head against the same table at the same height once more. Some say that they forget things because they are dull, others say it is because of their high sleep deprivation. He thinks it’s just because sense he does so much during his day, his brain makes space for some more important things in their mind by erasing simple things, like where the table is.
Poor Leo..
~~~
NEW PASSAGE:
“DOGS!” Nayeli yelled out of her pink, long, bed. “THAT’S THE ANSWER!” she screamed as she bolted over to her computer, completing her homework last minute like the true procrastinator she was.
Nayeli’s room consisted of red walls, bright lights, and pink guitars. That was the main décor. Some people think that it is a bit to “childish” for a girl her age. Nayeli thinks just the opposite. After all, according to scientific studies color helps you get work done successfully and creatively, which could especially help if you are trying to write a word war.
“DOGS, DOGS, DOGS!” Nayeli yelled out loud to herself on loop, trying to remember the answer.
Some would say that it was rather silly the things Nayeli did to remember things. Screaming out loud, tying things on her walls, and writing paintings were some of them. That was just the Nayeli thing to do!

Dogs were often Nayeli’s answer to all complicated things in life. I mean dogs are just so.. perfect. They love people, they never get jealous, they are ever so kind, and love to eat pancakes. Doggies are wonderful you know?
Anyways, as Nayeli waited for her old computer to load up already, she was totally eager to type it in. Nayeli just loved to submit assignments late, what can I say? She was quite the fire ball if you know what I mean.
Then it happened. A ninety-foot-tall dinosaur came creeping out her window from the middle of nowhere. Nayeli shrieked. “Why is this.. creature here???” she thought. It seemed like it was saying something. Something to Nayeli. “Is it targeting me?” she yelled inside her mind.
Whatever it was, she knew it was no good. Especially for a young gal like herself..

~~
NEW PASSAGE:
“And do not leave the chair until you finish!” Mrs. Lifehacker said to Jermy.
Jermy hated Mrs. Lifehacker. Not only because she had a terribly long last name, but because of her even more terrible attitude.
Jermy liked to think that how a teacher decorates their classroom represents them. For example, Jermy’s favorite teacher, Mrs. Uhl had a very clean, welcoming, classroom that had lots of Christmas decorations all around.
Mrs. Lifehacker’s classroom was the exact opposite of Mrs. Uhl’s classroom. In fact, some could say that it was life threatening. From the rats held along the side of the class, to the random Halloween directions put messily around the table, it was quite literally what you would call a “poorly made” room.
Jermy was always surprised how the students in her class could even ever so calmly deal with the ugly room they were in every day for the sixth period of school. And yes, did I mention to you that this class occurs at the SIXTH period of school? Well, it does and Jermy hated it. Absolutely hated it. I mean it was after all the class he had the worst grade in happening last.
It could have at least happened at lunch so he can take a break from Mrs. What’s-her-face for thirty minutes.
But no, he got the worst last. The bad-aftertaste class last. He found it quite disgusting but he delt with it. He really tried the best he could always but some days he just feels so annoyed. After all, Mrs. Lifehacker was quite bossy ya know?

~~~
NEXT PASSAGE:
“What is that thing?” Harry asks as Nayeli, his grandmother grabbed out a black rectangle-looking device.
“A I-phone of course!” Nayeli yelled softly in an old-lady tone of voice.
“Ohh yeahh. Wasn’t that that thing that people used in the pandemic days? It’s so olddd.” Harry says.
“Harry, you know the pandemic was not real right?” Julie, the well-known 9-year-old neighborhood eavesdropper screamed from the backyard.
“Of course I do! It’s just that Grandma Nayeli over here has lost her marbles in these 387 years she has been alive and I want to make her feel better.” He yelled as a response to Julie’s question.
“I have not lost my marbles! And no, it was not a mistake in the life-longinator device as well! I truly know that when I was a young gal that I went through a pandemic!” Nayeli yelled angerly trying to give wisdom to Harry.
“Yep.. believe whatever you want Nayeli.” Harry replied.

Daily 3/14 (Pi day, yay! ^u^)

(Wow, 507 words)

“Ok, anyone know why 3.14 is an important number?” The teacher asked. I had my and raised before she even started asking the question, knowing exactly what she'd say.
“3.14 is the first three digit of the mathematical term, pi, which is used to measure the area of circle, which is calculated when multiplying the diameter and pi.” I said, not even waiting for the teacher to call on me. I gave that look of pride while dropping my hand. My friend, being the clown of the class, decided to add on to my little speech however.
“Ooh, pie, yummy! I sure like pumpkin pie, cherry pie, but mathematical pie!? What have people come up with!? They've ruined pie, the mathematical flavour must taste gross and boring.” my friend exclaimed in front of the whole class. I put my head on the desk, knowing that she had made a large mistake. The teacher stood up.
“We've talked about this Lavender, do not speak out when it's not your turn to speak.” said the teacher, unpleased. She folded her arms and sat down again, while my friend Lavender did not care about what the teacher had said at all. She was just repeating what she had said in her head.

It was the end of the day and Lavender and I walked out of school together. “Ha, didn't I just say the most hilarious thing in math class?!” she exclaimed near my ear. I took a few steps away from her, uncomfortable about how close she was to me.
“Umm… I guess…” I said. “But, was it really worth getting yelled at for?” I asked, hoping that I could teach my friend a decent lesson.
“No, I just can't keep something that funny inside.” Lavender said enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes. I knew what I should do to teach her though.

I went home, and took an old math textbook. I took some of the pages that had anything related to pi on it. I put them in a blender, turned it on, started making pi crust and filling, and put the shredded math pages in the filling. I baked it and brought it to school the next morning.

“So, you said you like cherry pie? Well, I made some last night!” I said to Lavender, handing her the pie. She sniffed it and closed her eyes. She took a fork and put it in the pie. She ate the bits of pie that stayed on the fork.
“Mmmm… this is so, so delic-” she said until she spat out the pie. “Blech! Something tastes really gross, I can almost taste boredom!” she shouted. I smiled slyly.
“I put a special ingredient, math,” I said, showing Lavender the pages I tore out of the textbook. She threw the pie off of the table.
“EWW EWW EWW EWW EWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!” She exclaimed, running to the bathroom and trying to get the horrid taste off of her mouth. This may have just taught the nearly unteachable an important lesson. >

Part #1 (collab w/ @nyan_cat121)



@nyan_cat121: I stare captivated through the train window at the quickly moving trees and bushes in front of the night skyline. This is my first time traveling alone to another country, but I can't wait to see my cousin soon. I press my hand to the cold glass and gaze up at the dark, starless sky. Suddenly a loud bang shakes my seat, and the train shudders to a stop. The people around me start murmuring in foreign languages and yanking out their earbuds to look around, confused. I hear shouting in the front.

Me: “Attention passengers! Please stay calm as the staff figures this out. We ask you to stay in your seats.” The conductor announces over the loud speakers. I can feel my face start to heat up. Anxiety flows through my body,

@nyan_cat121: and I wonder what has happened that’s so bad that the conductor stopped. I jolt as the shouting grows louder, and in the foggy door window up front I see the silhouette of a head. Then the door swings open, and a shadowed figure enters. It raises its head to reveal a pallid white face that would have looked beautiful should two violently red scars not have raked it from the right eye to the chin. Then to my horror, the person turned their head to stare unblinkingly at me.

Me: I clutch my bag, scared for my life. The emotionless face studies me, their robed body not making any movement. Slowly sliding back towards the window seat, my cheek pressing against the cold glass. I close my eyes and recite a prayer, hoping it's just a dream. Please, please, please, I repeat. I open my eyes again and see other passengers with widened eyes, wishing on their lives. I look back at the faceless creature, wondering their purpose and why they came to me. Out of all people, just a 17 year old boy on a train headed to England. Me, out of all people…

@nyan_cat121: The stranger walked—no, glided—toward me, bringing a sinister aura of impending disaster, waiting to strike. For what seems like an eternity its eyes stare daggers into mine, and my legs start to tremble. Who is this? What did I do to attain its presence? Suddenly I flinch when an airy voice reverberates around the inside of the passenger car; I realize it must be coming from the mouthless creature. “You are… Grayson Anders, are you not?” Without waiting for an answer it leans down until we are face-to-face and whispers into my ear, “We have unfinished business.”

Me: My heart beats fast. I wait there silently, my chest rising and falling quickly. “Erm, yes…” I manage through short breaths. The stranger begins to drift farther away, floating above the seat next to me. I gasp, and the creature turns its head as soon as I make a noise. “Silence!” I flinch, hitting the window against my head. It stares at me in the silence it asked for, slowly moving closer to me. I gradually turn my head away, hoping the stranger won't mind. I catch another glimpse of the other passengers, who are silently sobbing their heads off, but not getting cornered by a demon. Lucky them, I think.

@nyan_cat121: Do you not remember me?“ the creature tilts its head. ”We made a deal… seventeen years ago, on this day.“ My eyes flicker toward the other passengers as some take out their phones and dial numbers with shaky hands. I look back at the stranger, thoroughly confused now. ”S-seventeen years..? I don't know what you're-“ They cut me off, laughing softly. ”Of course, you probably would not wish to recall such an event. But I did you a favor then. Now you in turn must help me."

Me: “Um. I’m sorry…I think you must have the wrong person,” I bit my lip nervously. “Foolish child,” it mutters under its breath. “I don’t have the ‘wrong person’,” it huffs. I know it won’t give in, so I broaden my shoulders and turn more directly towards the creature. “Okay, but I can’t promise anything.”

Daily March 14

One closed her eyes and tried to remember life before Archimedes. It had been so long ago, but hey, the numbers had been around since there was math to calculate and humans to calculate it.
She had heard rumors of a new place, a magical, amazing place where all numbers were whole. But it was impossible to escape this horrid place, this dystopia, as she'd heard the letters that lived in the neighboring city-state of English say. Letters were the only ones able to move from English to the Math territory, and sometimes this city-state, Pi. But it never went vice versa. The tourist and immigrant letters were known as “Variables.” What would the life of a Variable be like? What was freedom like? Ever since the Archimedic Government took over and established the Decimal Barrier, the Highest Three had all the power.

“Hey, are you alright?” Asked Four, One's partner, “You look upset.” Four was kind, and never hesitated to comfort someone if he thought they weren't okay.

“Yeah, I'm…alright,” One tried to sound enthusiastic, but couldn't.

“You know, some rumors are flying around. Rumors of one day, every year, where we can leave the Academics. It's called Pi Day,” Four whispered. He knew the Highest Three was always listening, always watching, and the Highest Three could never know.

“We have a day?” Asked One. She couldn't believe it.

“Yes,” Four smiled, “But it's today. Come on, we have to go. Now.”

And so they made a run for it. Sure enough, the portal between the Academics and the Human World was open. Running through alongside a few other numbers, they made it. They ended up in an abandoned city corner that opened up into a larger, more crowded area full of humans. Looking into a piece of glass on the ground, One realized something. She was a human, now free from Pi.

(314 words! And yes, I turned pi into a slight dystopian. Do you have a problem with that?)

Daily 3/14 (Pi Day)

Hello! I wrote a story about a pie competition on Pi Day. Its exactly 314 words long

The Battle of the Pies was an epic baking contest held every March 14th to celebrate Pi Day. 14 of the best bakers from around the world compete in a competition to see who could bake the best pie. Among one of those 14 contestants was 13 year old Olivia Chang, the youngest baker on the show. “A baking prodigy” was what people called Oliva, who had supposedly been baking since the day she could walk. Name a dessert, and she had already baked it. Name even the most bizarre ingredient, and she had already used it. For the competition, Olivia would be experimenting with a new flavor—cheddar cheese and chocolate. While some people may have rejected the idea, Olivia welcomed it with open arms. She did love a challenge after all.

The kitchen was a frantic commotion of cameras, pulsing blenders, and beeping timers. While the other bakers ran around, trying to get at least something on their plate, Olivia stood undisturbed at the counter. Her nimble hands kneaded the shredded cheese into the pie crust, and in turn, the dough smoothed out to just the perfect thickness. She was planning on making a savory, cheesy pie crust to balance out the sweetness of the chocolate filling. Pressing the pie crust into the baking sheet, Olivia could already sense that this was going to be a delicious crust. She couldn’t exactly explain the sensation, but sometimes she could just feel when the dough turned out well, even before it had gone into the oven.

Now, Olivia started making the filling. Chocolate and cheese was perhaps the most ambitious flavor she had ever attempted. Nonetheless, Olivia was confident she could do it. Her filling would be a custard-based chocolate with candied pecans. The nuttiness from the pecans would balance out the chocolate filling and the savory crust would wrap the whole pie together. Perfect.

3/14, 314 words : The date is March 14th, which means it's Pi Day! Write a narrative or descriptive with a minimum of 300 words about Pi Day or perhaps about pie. For instance, you could write about your character eating pie or about a world without pie, etc. Extra challenge: write your piece in exactly 314 words! This daily is worth 500 points for your cabin ^^

I groan, yawning as I force my sleep deprived body out of bed, still rubbing my eyes in weariness. I turn off my alarm with a lazy slap of my arm, before I turn towards my calendar, prepared to cross off yesterday’s day, since I always forget to do it. Still trying to rub the tiredness out of me, I grab a random pen and bring my hand to the paper. I stop in the middle of the writing motion as I glance towards the current date and nearly gasp at the sight: It’s Pi Day! I always forget this day. In fact, in all of my seventeen years of being on this Earth, I have never remembered a time in which I celebrated and acknowledged Pi Day before the morning. In fact, at this point, it has become so comical that it has become hard to imagine a life without my little memory. I did not even realize that it was even more significant than the first three numbers of the pi formula; it was also Albert Einstein’s birthday (which, I still find slightly ironic, but whatever; at this point I have learned to accept that the world is weird). Back in the real world, I let out my breath that I have unknowingly been holding in since the start of seeing that iconic number on my flimsy, paper calendar (I think it was gifted by a friend a few Christmases ago, but I don’t really remember now. But then again, as I already mentioned earlier, my brain is obviously messed up and desperately in need of therapy). When I have finally recovered from the shock of Pi Day, I finally finish crossing out March thirteenth, shove some random clothes on, and walk outside, my vision still pretty groggy as I climb down the stairs to the Living Room. “Hey,” I call halfheartedly.

WEEKLY #2: Setting - 400 words

This story takes place in Akihorren, a gnome city deep in a forest. The city has a high population and thrives, but is very unwelcome toward outsiders. They never take kindly to humans in their territory and have no intention of allowing any to pass through. They’re willing to tolerate other races - elves, dwarves, et cetera, but they hold a very specific grudge against humans for some reason. They have simple-appearing but effective weaponry and their army, despite being a third of the average human’s height, is prestigious as well as fierce. Many young gnomes aspire to join, though it seems slightly pointless to have a constantly training army when no one actually wants to invade and the land around them is uninhabited and available. Apart from the army, they’re very good with architectural design and engineering and innovate things quite often; a fair percentage of the buildings are just creative workspaces. This raises the question of why their weapons are so outdated - who still uses bows and arrows? - but despite the look of them, those bows and old-timey cannons are quite powerful and updated. The city’s buildings are not particularly tall, but many are in trees to take advantage of the space. The treehouses are very carefully engineered and there’s an entire part of the city high up; many have bridges to other buildings or staircases from houses on the ground. Nearly all of them have ladders for easy access. The city usually has warm weather in the summer, but may deal with harsh winds in the autumn and winter that can even be destructive of the treehouses. They often deal with having to repair the bridges despite the strong materials and designs used to keep them up. The spring usually brings light rains; the gnomes celebrate the first rain each year with gatherings and feasts. The city is quite unknown by the outside world, especially as most of its citizens never leave and never want to. However it does show up on most maps and isn’t particularly difficult to get to; many people simply deem it a waste of time. The story takes place during the aftermath of one such harsh wind at the end of the winter. Your main character is in the city just before the first rains of spring begin to fall and due to the celebrations, the gnomes are less hostile toward your character.

Daily for March 14, Pie Day!

Carl wakes up and is immediately excited. He grins. It’s pie day! Pie day in Carl Happi’s town was always amazing. There was always a huge party in the middle of the town square with a bazillion pie-themed games. Carl didn’t even know there were that many different games you could theme after pie! But the best part was the pie-making contest. Everyone entering had to make 20 pies of the same flavor, and everyone else in the contest got to try a piece of everyone else’s pie and vote on who they thought was the best. Carl not only loved to bake, but he loved to taste test pies. Carl quickly hopped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Ten minutes later, he was sprinting down the steps into the kitchen- baking time! Mom was already baking and a few pies were already cooling on the counter.
“Good morning!” Mom said as Carl grabbed his apron and put it on. “Excited to make some apple pies?”
“Sure am!” Carl said cheerfully. “How many have you made already?”
“Four.” Mom said.
“Already?” Carl said, surprised. “It’s only 8:15!”
“I woke up early and figured I should go ahead and get a headstart. But now you’re here, so you can take over.” Mom took off her apron and hung it up inside the closet. Carl went to work making his pies.

***
“Mmm, so good!” Carl said as he took a bite of yet another apple pie that day. “I think I might vote for this one!” He said.
“Well you better do it quick, they’re getting the vote cards not to tally them up!” Mom said. Carl hurried over to the man taking the votes, and the man went to count them.
“And the winner,” The man was announcing a few minutes later. “Is none other than Carl Happi!”

Tis exactly 314 according to google docs