main cabin weekly ⍋ 03.17.22
word count: 2865

➻ part one // writing from music
word count: 852

song #1: duel of the fates by john williams (star wars)
(this song is amazing and iconic go listen to it now now now <3)

notes/observations ::
i would like to make the disclaimer that half of these make no sense asjkdbg i get weird with music okay
‣ the song kicks off with really dramatic, loud vocals, giving a feeling of tension, somber almost
‣ the strings come in very softly at the beginning, providing a speedy tempo/rhythm
‣ tempo is at a pretty quick pace, fast and suspenseful
‣ mood - anticipating, suspenseful
‣ in the beginning there are a few lower/bass notes adding to the suspense effect, like a darker undertone almost
‣ the rhythm from the strings acts as a suspenseful beat to a sort of legato, flowing melody
‣ ohoho those bass (or maybe cello) notes are definitely like a darker undertone to the music
‣ the brass strikes later on shift the song from a somber, anticipating suspense to a more thrilling, exciting feel (but also still kind of suspenseful)
‣ there’s a large crescendo and then a dramatic decrecendo in a matter of seconds near the halfway/end area
‣ the strings are always softer, adding the suspenseful underlay to the music
‣ there’s a repeating pattern of dramatic vocals and the flowing melody with some brass strikes, but the rhythm is always underneath, like a suspense underground of sorts
‣ the pitches and notes shift up prominently in the second half of the song, instilling a sort of excitement
‣ the vocals, which are always dominant whenever they come in, quiet drastically at one point the end, almost hushed
‣ there’s one moment of this enormous crescendo that just vanishes in a matter of seconds, very dramatic and climaxy hmm
‣ song has a rise and fall of dynamics, kind of reminds me of a mountain range. rising and falling, but gradually rising, and eventually falling
‣ the ending brings a final crescendo, and dramatic ending, reminiscent to the ending of some intense event or something haha (rip qui-gon)

. . .

. trapped / 427 words .

The sky shatters. It bursts into a nebula of crimson and azure, spidery, blinding white light spreading across the heavens like the marks of shattered glass.

“Come on, we need to move!”

Your sister grabs your wrist tightly, pulling you away from the sight of the exploding sky. The wind rushes through your hair as the two of you run through the crumbling corridors, dodging stone and debris that fall from the floors above.

Together, gripping each other tightly, you cover your heads as you make your way through a staircase as fast as you can. Veering the hallway, you screech to a halt as you burst through the door into a room of guards.

Their armor gleams in fresh bronze, their weapons sheathed in bejewed scabbards. They all pause in their actions to gaze at you two briefly, before shifting to cruel, contorted expressions as they pull out their swords.

“Run!” You cry as the two of you look for another escape. The guards come at you with swings and punches, and you can’t do anything except evade them by a hairsbreadth of sheer terror. “Over there!” your sister shouts, pointing to a narrow door on the other side of the room, through the guards.

Letting go of each others’ palms, you split up, individually weaving your way through the guards. Ducking, swerving, skidding between any gap you can fit through. Swiping under swords, leaping over legs until you reach the other side of the wall. Your sister throws it open, ushering you in.

But the guards are still on your tail, and you know that there’s know way you’ll be able to reach the landing pad as they begin to gradually gain speed on you. You glance at your sister worridly, and she nods silently in return, signifying that she’d already planned ahead of time. She points ahead to a ventilation shaft at the end of the hallway.

Clambering through the narrow vent, you can feel the sickly sweat running down your back, your breath heaving in your chest, the anxiety thundering quietly in the silence. The soundlessness is deafening, tormenting. If only this had never happened in the first place.

“I’ll go out first,” your sister whispers in a hushed tone as you reach the end. You give a small nod, and begin to work on opening the ventilation hatch.

Your sister slides down out of the vent, and you follow suit-

Into a landing pad filled to the brim with guards.

Hundreds of them. Thousands, even. Ruthless, powerful, invincible.

Leaving you trapped.

. . .

song #2: sweater weather violin instrumental by joel sunny
(SLKJHF I CAME ACROSS THIS YESTERDAY WRITING MY WEEKLY AND SAYING I DIED INSIDE IS A MAJOR UNDERSTATEMENT ITS SO BEAUTIFUL HHH)

notes/observations ::
‣ mood - tender, exhilarating, relaxed, curious, relaxing, happy, reflective
‣ tone - breathy, strong
‣ so many gosh darn beautiful harmonies :sob:
‣ the song has a very angelic/heavenly feeling to it
‣ they really do blend really perfectly together, kind of reminding me of a peaceful, beautiful harmonic universe
‣ had some lower melodies/harmonies during the middle, signifying a sadder aspect/feel to it- sentimental maybe?
‣ begins with some plucks, almost curious-feeling
‣ has a lot of high/on the e string notes, giving it that bittersweet happy feeling
‣ ohoho that vibrato is yes
‣ the fact that i had so little to say about this compared to duel of the fates really says something about me as a fangirl, doesn’t it-
‣ ends on a high note; no general conclusion, just fading into the end

. . .


It’s an exhilarating sight down there, to watch from above. Gazing down at the ethereal sky in its shades of amber and rose, spreading its wings across the vast surface, a majestic view to behold. The sun rising above its land, guarding, protecting it as it blazes in a divine, fiery white. To watch it freeze in time, enrich oneself in all its beauty is a feat so breathtaking, so fulfilling.

Watching as it hovers above the sunlit waves that shimmer on the surface, warming the cerulean waters with comfort and content. The oceans are like cerulean crystal, so reflective and glassy that one could see oneself from all the way up here. The sightless, breathy winds grazing over its sides, moving alongside atop the waves as they rise and fall gently, like breaths a steady chest, rolling out onto the pearlescent shores.

The dazzling cities that blare behind them, loud and ignorant to the beauty their shadows caress. The rubber on the road, the smoke swirling in the air, the endless shuffle of the communities that never sleep. Unlike this one, it is always resting. Alive, but slow, gently. Moving smoothly, delicately as it carefully treads along the fine lines of the epitome of balance. It’s peaceful, in its purest sense, as it sits elegantly, an admiration to all.

Then there’s the stunning white coasts, inhabited by the creatures, so tender, so delicate. Those broad and slender, kind and cold, bright and dark alike, each beautiful in its own way. Something about them sitting so tenderly in the soft, pale sands. Their backs turned to the blinding lights of the city behind them, curious eyes admiring the sights of hushed silence. So miniscule, irreverent, yet feeling all the importance and assurance wash through them like the oceans to the shores. A light, subtle feeling, one so abstract and abstruce that it’s almost indetectable, indescribable. But it’s there. In the waters, in the land, in the people, in the light.

From the skies above to the skies below, we lay gazing, observing the harmonious balance from our realms. From the ripples to the rays of warmth, to the footprints in the shore to the center of the sol, we watch from these wispy clouds at the breathstealing colors that lay underneath. We watch the flightless angels sink to the ground as their souls fly, crash to the depths as their hearts free. We enjoy, content as we watch from these wispy clouds in the heavens above, as they live and breathe in the heavens below.


➻ part two // finding inspiration
word count: 762

inspiration :: i was watching the flash when i got home from school, and was inspired by the concept of the firestorm matrix, which merged two beings together and optimized their best traits using fission and fusion! i also keep seeing these “pov” things on youtube when i’m binging amv haha, so i took a little inspiration from the “marked” concept in a few of those!

oops this story is unfinished xDD but it’s okay, i’ll continue it in the third part! ;D

. survivor / 762 words .

“On your left!”

“Tarian, keep your blast radius in check!”

“Hey, watch the wings!”

I stood outside the plexiglass-encased field with crossed arms, watching my fellow teenagers soar the loop-de-loop, run around the track at the speed of light, create arcs of fire a mile high. X-Coaches donned in neon colors and heavy visors shouted orders and warnings to them, applauding in praise or shaking their head in shame.

“It’s not fair,” my friend Camryn had told me earlier today. “Why must we sulk around uselessly for an hour while the Potent get a whole period dedicated to them?”

She wasn’t wrong. Those who were born with a special scientific gene, called the X-Gene were the ones known as the Potent for one obvious reason: their individual unique powers. The X-Genes- or the Potent, held the major influence in all aspects of the world- be it social, educational, or in the everyday workforce. Due to their extraordinary capabilities, they sometimes needed some extra accommodation to keep their powers safe from harming others or themself- sometimes at the expense of the Nonpotent.

Both Camryn and I had been born with the Z-Gene- the normal one. We didn't have any magical or majestic powers- but that was perfectly alright with me. The dangers it could unlock, the threats the Potents faced…I read about them avidly in my books, turning the pages with the utmost anticipation. I thrived on the fantastical novels and enthralling biograhies- but I think I would have been able to handle something like that in the real world. I wasn’t a survivor. I was me.

Camryn now approached me again, twisting her wavy crimson-dyed hair frusteratedly. “Are you still watching them?” she asked with a bitter scoff.

“We don’t have anything better to do, do we?” I replied indifferently, turning back around to her. “It’s not as insufferable as you think. At least they haven’t begun Merging.”

At that, Camryn’s face twisted into a shape of both irritation and repressed hope. The Merging was the only thing that brought us up to par with the Potent- if we were lucky enough. Every person in Kaze had a Mergemate- a person you were both genetically and emotionally capable of physically merging bodies with. It was a survival of the fittest between you two- the strongest mind, the strongest body, the two of you balancing each other out to become a more powerful whole. Only those with the same gene type- X or Z, would be compatible to merge.

The X-Genes merge to become an unstoppable force, combining powers and strength to become absolutely invincible. The Z-Genes, however, were all powerless- but the Merging was their only hope of being anything like the X-Genes. Two Z-Genes together have a 50% chance of gaining their own shared power- but one that could only be used in Mergeform.

I haven’t found my Mergemate yet, whoever they are. I’ve always wondered about the sensation of Merging for the first time, but whenever I ask a pair of Mergemates, I consecutively get the same answer: they don’t know. It’s hazy, indescribable. All they know is that when it is over, the Mergemates have identical, glowing marks, signifying their mergance.

Camryn sighed, watching the Potent train with disdain. “I suppose so. Still, though, haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be one of th-”

Her sentence was cut off by the sound of a deafening roar. The vibrations were tremendous, making us stumble to the ground from the impact. I covered my ears in pain, ringing throughout my whole brain. I could faintly hear the muffled sounds of pandemonium as boots and sneakers shuffled and tripped around us. The X-Coaches were bringing the plexiglass shield down, ordering the Potent students to use their gifts to stop the oppressors. I couldn’t see what it was. I didn’t want to know what it was.

Suddenly, a large, slimy tentacle came out from the sky and crashed down a mere few feet away from me, as if searching for something. I screamed, rolling away as fast as I could. Camryn wasn’t so lucky. She got swept up in the tentacle, shrieking and kicking as she was raised into the air.

“No! No! Camryn! Come back!” I cried, reaching out with one arm, which fell back limply to the ground. No. I had to get out of here- I couldn’t let myself fall to the same fate. I had to tell the Potents to save Camryn. I needed to be safe, I needed to think-

I needed to survive.


➻ part three // themes
word count: 1521

theme :: overcoming fear, a theme i am all too familiar with! xD
i’m continuing the story from the second part, since i had a whole plotline written out that i didn’t get to yet! >:)

. the y gene / 1521 words .

The ringing in my ears was beginning to dull, but my panic wasn’t in the slightest. I cound feel my heart thundering, my nerves dancing. There was no safety in any radius- I needed an escape.

My arms trembling, I tried to push myself to my feet- and utterly failed. I toppled back to the ground, knees scraping the pavement. I couldn’t get back up. My chest heaving, I began to shakily crawl towards the school building, wincing as I made my way across the sidewalk.

I feel my fear is something that has always hindered me from achieving my goals. Smart-aleck was a role I could fill, dry comebacks were a knack that I could do, but the everlasting thought of failure, of danger, of having to dig myself out of the hole- that wasn’t something I was capable of doing. And yet, here I was.

I managed to get behind the equipment shed, a short, wooden cabin a decent distance away from the actual school building. It covered me, out of sight, away from the monster. I was safe… for now. Peering from the corner of the shed wall, I tried to get a glimpse of the horror that was purging our school.

The monster’s tentacles were long, slimy, a deep sapphire blue, towering in the sky, the height of skyscrapers, They curled around children, rising them into the sky, winded around flagpoles, snapping the steel rods in two, their thunderous weight crushing pavement and architecture alike. The tentacles all led up to a small, slender, humanoid frame, floating up in the sky.

Shockingly enough- I recognized it. Or him. I remembered him as one of the students in the grade below me, Jax Griffyn. He was one of the advanced Potents- he was so skilled in his powers that he trained alongside the kids in my grade. Despite his petite stature and aura of innocence, his powers were one of the most terrifying and grotesque of them all.

The peculiar thing I found about Jax, in this scenario, were his eyes. Rather than the caramel, light brown irises that matched the color of his mop of hair, they were a glowing, rosy red. When watching the Potents train, that had never been a side effect to his monster-transformation abilities.

I had been caught up in thought for so long that I didn’t notice one of Jax’s tentacles swinging towards me. It hurtled into the shed, shattering it into wooden bits and splinters. I screamed, covering my head with my hands as I tried to shield myself from the debris. I was completely exposed to Jax. One more hit was all it would take-

“Hey, watch out!”

My eyes were squeezed shut in terror, so I couldn’t see who was speaking. But I heard the sound of their bright, airy voice, the sound of buzzing, crackling electricity, the sound of distorted, painful roaring. And…nothing. No debris. No tentacles.

I opened my eyes hesitantly, to see a short, stocky student with chocolate curls and a silvery tracksuit. Their arms were widespread, shielding me, lightning erupting from their fingertips like a shield. It was a small one, to be fair, but it was enough to shield the both of us from the dangers. The debris showered with a clatter around us, and the monster arm retracted slowly.

The Potent student’s shield fell as they rushed down to me, kneeling down to my height and meeting me with misty, green eyes. “Are you alright?” they questioned me concernedly.

I could feel my muscles freezing, my brain rolling back and forth like a rickety trolley, my heartbeat bouncing like feet on a trampoline. “I- I-” I barely managed to stammer.

“It’s alright,” they said with a gentle, calming smile, as if they’d had to deal with situations like this before. “I’m here to help. That’s the job, after all.” they let out a light chuckle, wiping a streak of blood from their cinnamon complexion. “I’m Ender. And your name is..?”

“Kymani,” I answered, the word rushing out of me in a single breath. It was the first complete word I had strung together in this whole incident. “Kymani Tarka.”

“Great,” they said with a light, airy laugh. “Your knee is bruised up pretty badly. Let me-”

One of Jax’s tens of hundreds of tentacles came crashing down beside us, shattering a chasm in the sidewalk. It groaned along the pavement, drawing closer and closer to us. My panic, which had begun to melt, had frozen once again, sharp and tall like an icicle. It lifted, towering above us. Ender turned their back to the tentacle above, facing me in a futile attempt to shield me from the monster that was Jax. How heroic. They wrapped their arms around me, whispering, “It’s going to be okay,” before the edges of my sight began to glow white and engulfed my entire reality.

______ ____

I admittedly don’t remember much of what happened next.

I remember feeling like I was growing, rising, floating into the sky until I locked gazes from Jax’s crimson eyes to my dark brown ones. I was rushed with adrenaline; from fear or from courage, I couldn’t tell. Lightning and thunder coursing through my body, drumming within my veins.

I remember the lightning erupting from my body, large, immense, and beautiful, pure white light that encased the sky, trapping the monster and bringing him back to the ground. I remember falling beside him, hitting the ground with a thud.

Whether it was really true or not, I will never truly know.

______ ____

My eyes fluttered open to the faint buzzing of the pale light hovering above me.

Pushing myself up, I did what I do best- observe. My eyes scaled the white tiled walls, the silvery colored shelves with golden trinkets and copper swords. The sleek, leather bed I was sitting on, surprisingly cushioned given the material. A young, roughed up teenager sitting in the corner of the room, brown curls shielding their face.

“Ender?” I asked.

Ender’s face snapped up to look at me, lightning up when it did so. “You’re awake!” they exclaimed, rushing over to me with a coppery-colored stethoscope. “How do you feel?”

I shrugged. “I could be better. W…what happened?”

Ender’s brow furrowed, staying silent for a long minute. This couldn’t be good. “We…merged,” they finally admitted, meeting my gaze with a sheepish look.

It took me a moment to process what Ender was saying. “Merged? Us? That’s impossible. You’re a Potent, and I’m- well-”

Ender held up a hand to silence me, turning around so they could pull up a chair and speak to me properly. “I think I know what you are. My father studied this rare variant of humans called the Excelsiors, supposed ‘Y-Genes’, as he called them, that had a chance to merge with either X-Genes or Z ones. They were commonly born powerless- but while they didn’t have any powers themselves, they were known to provide immense power in their merged form,” they explained. “That would explain why we were able to merge, the floating, and why my lightning was so much more powerful than it usually is.”

I nodded, slowly trying to grasp this information. It was difficult to wrap my head around such a vast concept- Y-Genes? Excelsiors? Immense power? And at the heart of it, me as one of them? That was impossible. Such a coward like me couldn’t have been born with such power like this. “How do you even know we merged?” I questioned.

Ender pointed to my wrist, and I glanced down to see a glowing, turquoise mark in the shape of a jagged lightning bolt. They held up their right wrist as well, showing a matching one in the exact same color and shape. The sign of newfound Mergemates.

“S-Still,” I protested. “What does this mean? I can’t train among the Potent- I don’t have any actual skills. Not to mention, this isn’t something I’m meant to do. I don’t want to have to survive. I don’t want to have to face the dangers you do-”

“I know, I know,” Ender interrupted. “It’s not a fun life to think about. But you should have seen yourself- ourself out there- the things the witnesses have said-” they let out a small wolf whistle and cracked a grin. “You’re scared, I get it. I was too- and I still am now. Perhaps we could overcome those fears of ours…together?”

I paused, biting my lip. This was the exact thing I had sworn against- willingly putting myself into danger, willingly forcing myself into a hole I wasn’t sure I could dig myself out of. But if I could put myself into it…then with Ender, it’d be easier to get out, right?

The logic didn’t fit perfectly, but that was okay. None of this did either. They might not have settled into place yet- but I was confident that I was holding the right pieces.

I let out a breath, nodding shortly at Ender. “Alright,” I said. “Let’s see what we can do to save Jax and Camryn.”

( 2865 words total! )

Weekly #3
I only just started it and I hate it already

Part 1: Taking Inspiration from Music
First song I choose: “We Don't Talk About Bruno Instrumental”
Yes, I was desperate
We're doing the beginning part, in case you wanna know

“C'mon Ciara, you gotta get a move on or else your going to be late!”

Ciara tugged on her boot to get it to fit. “Coming!” She called. She grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs to greet her mother.

“There you are. What took you so long?” Her mother asked. Ciara tried to straighten herself a bit better. “Oh, the curling iron wanted to act up today, and that took me a while to fix.” She answered.

Her mother nodded curtly at her daughter. She gazed at the clock on the wall, which read 6:46. “Well now, you better get going, dear. You don't want to be late.” She said. Ciara fixed her hair a bit and nodded.

“Alright, alright, I'll get going.” She said while walking towards the front door. Ciara was about to open it when her mother put her hand on her shoulder.

“Remember everything I taught you. And do be careful, you never know what can happen.” She adviced Ciara. Ciara nodded, and gave her mother a small hug.

“I'll be fine, mom. Don't you worry about me.” She reassured her. Her mother beamed at Ciara. “I'm so proud of you.” She said with a smile. Ciara smiled back, and opened the door.

“I'll tell you everything when I get back!” She called, before waving good-bye, and carefully running off.

Ciara was bursting with excitement. For the first time in her entire life, she was excited to go to school. The feeling of finally graduating and having a good time with herself really made her happy. She was finally at the door, and she couldn't wait to open it.

The school was exploding with sound. Students were all over the place, and it was incredibly loud. Ciara wasn't fond of all the noise, but for once, she couldn't bother to complain. First, she needed to find Amanda.

Ciara squeezed her way though the crowd, and tried to find her friend. She remembered that Amanda said she would be sporting a baby blue poofy dress, so that gives her something to look for.

"Ciara? Ciara?? Is that you?“ Someone called. Ciara looked all around to try and find the person who called for her. But with the amount of people walking around, it was almost impossible. All of a sudden, someone grabbed her hand tightly, and pulled her to the side. It was Amanda

”There you are Ciara, I was looking all over for you.“ Amanda said. Ciara, still in a little shock, nodded. ”I was looking for you too, but I couldn't find you in the huge crowd.“ She explained.

”Yeah, there's a lot of people here. Maybe a little too many. And the teachers and staff aren't doing much about it.“ Amanda told her. ”At this point, everything is just out of control.“

”I can see that, but everyone is just having fun. It's not like their misbehaving or anything. Everyone is just enjoying their last couple of days at this school, that's all.“ Ciara defended.

”Well, whatever.“ Amanda said with a small sigh. ”Anyways, I think it's time you go up to Ricardo and give him a piece of your mind.“ She said.

Ciara gasped. ”I-I…you know I can't. I can be pretty outgoing, but this I can't do.“ She explained. Amanda simply shook her head. ”This could be the last time you see him, your in need of some closure.“ She told Ciara.

Ciara really didn't want to think that Amanda was right, but she was. But she really didn't want to admit it. She would be better off without having to deal with these things. ”Fine, I'll go find him.“ Ciara said while blushing a bit.

Amanda gave her friend a huge grin. ”Yessss, you go girl. Go talk to him." She said, while pushing Ciara back into the crowd.

Ciara tried not to blush more as she thought about Ricardo. Who knows what might happen. Maybe she'll finally be able to talk to him without screwing up. Maybe if she was lucky enough, she could get him to dance with her…

Once again, Ciara was bursting with excitement. She just couldn't wait. She felt so alive right now, she felt like she could soar and take flight…

But little did she know, she was going to come crashing back down to Earth.

——–
Word Count: 722

Second Song I choose: “Dos Oruguitas Instrumental”
I realized the song is in Spanish, so I didn't have to do it instrumental, but since I can't focus on the lyrics which I know what they mean in English since I'm taking Spanish as a language, I just did it instrumental

Ruins. Everything around them was in ruins.

The huge piles of broken furniture, pieces from the walls, paintings, doors, and other various things surrounded the area that used to be a house. And it wasn't just any house, it was a magical house.

But now it was gone. The candle went out. Everything was left in ruin. And it all was because the constant tearing in the family. If it wasn't for that, everything would have been fine.

“Camilo!”

Camilo, who had been gazing around at what used to be the glorious Casita, turned around to find his mother, in a complete panic state. She ran up to her son and embraced him.

“There you are. At least your alright.” Pepa said, squeezing her son tight.

“Is Antonio alright?” Camilo asked his mother, thinking about his little brother. Pepa stepped away, her eyes wide for a moment. She eventually nodded.

“He's with Papi, don't worry.” She reassured him. Camilo sighed in relief. If something would have happened to Antonio, that would have been devastating.

Just then, Juileta came running over. “Have any of you seen Mirabel?” She asked, sounding worried about her youngest daughter.

Camilo couldn't stand Mirabel right now. It was her fault that the magic was gone. Her's and Abuela's. If it wasn't for the two of them arguing, everything would have been alright. No body would be acting all depressed. If only he had his powers, then maybe he could cheer everyone up…

“No, I haven't seen her.” Pepa answered. Juileta sighed before looking at Camilo.

“Did you happen to see her after she fell? I know we all got pushed out, but I thought maybe you or Isabela might have saw what happened to her…” His aunt asked.

Camilo shook his head. He'd seen Mirabel trying to reach for the candle, to make one last attempt at saving it. He attempted to help, but his door went out just at the wrong moment. That was the last time he was able to shapeshift. He might never get to use his power again. And it's all Mirabel's fault.

“Tía! Mamá!” Someone yelled, before running towards the three of them. It was Luisa.

Juileta closed her eyes for a moment, in relief that Luisa was fine. “What is it?” She asked her daughter.

Luisa, who was panting hard, tried to calm herself down. Camilo never saw Luisa like that. She was always strong and never seemed tired or nervous. But, he supposed, times have changed.

“Papa said he saw Mirabel, but before he could talk to her, she ran away.” She explained, sounding worried. “And now no one is sure where she went.”

Juileta gave a small nod before sitting down beside a stone. Pepa immediately realized what was going on, and she sat down next to her sister.

“Don't worry sis, we'll find Mirabel. Then we can sort all of this out.” She tried to reassure her.

Seeing Tía Juileta like this made Camilo feel a bit bad about taking everything out on Mirabel. He had always been close to his aunt, and he never wished anything bad on her. But she could have tried and stopped Mirabel instead of letting herself be pushed out.

Sighing to himself, Camilo sat down next to his Tía, and squeezed her hand.

“Don't worry, we'll find her. You don't have to be upset. Abuela wouldn't want to see you like this…” He trailed off. Thinking of Abuela, who was just as bad as Mirabel, wasn't going to help anyone.

Juileta looked up at her oldest nephew and mustered a weak smile. “Thank you, both of you.” She said. She then looked towards Luisa. “Tell Papa that I'm coming. Maybe we can all look for Mirabel.” She said.

Luisa nodded, and hurried off. Juileta got up and looked at her sister and nephew. “I suggest that you two stay together, just to make sure no one else gets lost.” She said. “Maybe once the rest of us are back together, we can all look for Mirabel.”

Pepa looked at Camilo for a moment, and then back to Juileta. “Alright. Now, go make sure Agustin and Isabela are alright.” She told her. Juileta nodded before hurrying off.

Now it was just Pepa and Camilo, all alone. The two sat in silence for a moment, before Camilo broke it.

“Do you think we'll ever get our magic back?” He asked, a bit hoarse sounding. Pepa looked at her son, and put her hand against his face.

“Don't think about that. Now isn't a good time. But don't worry about it, once we find Mirabel, everything will be alright.” Pepa reassured her son.

Camilo wanted to believe his mother, but he knew perfectly well that everything most likely will never be the same again.

——–
Word Count: 800

Part 2: Taking Inspiration from other media
I took inspiration from a book I'm currently reading

28 hours.

That's how long Andrea has been lying on a hospital bed. The doctors have been coming in and out of the room, running tests and observing her. For the whole 28 hours, Andrea has been unconscious. Her parents have been pacing around the waiting room, restlessly. At this point, they can only hope that Andrea won't have any sort of brain damage.

Slowly, and very suddenly, Andrea wakes up. She blinks a few times, to adjust to the lighting. She rapidly looks around. None of the doctors or nurses were currently in the room, and she was all alone. She tries to get up out of bed, but pain shoots up her right leg, preventing her.

The door for Andrea's room suddenly opens, and three people come in. A doctor, and her parents. Andrea's mother is in complete shock as she stares at her daughter. Her father looks a bit relieved.

“So, you've awaken. Good, very good. It might have been the medicine we injected.” The doctor announced. Andrea is eyeing everyone in a very confused manner.

“Wh-What's going on? Who are you? What am I doing here? Who am I?” She suddenly asks. Her mother looks down at the ground, and tries not to cry.The father puts his arms around his wife. Andrea stares at them, not having a clue what's going on. The doctor rushes to her side.

“It's alright, Andrea. Just calm down…. now that your awake you'll be perfectly fine. We were starting to worry that you might have gone into a coma, but you emerged just fine.” The doctor reassured her.

“Um, Dr. Johnson, are you sure Andrea is alright?” Andrea's father asks. Dr. Johnson turned to face him and nodded.

“She might have suffered a bit brain damage from the fall, but overall she should be fine.” He quickly answered. He then turned back towards Andrea, who tilted her head in confusion.

“Are you planning on doing something with me? If so, then what is it? I really outta know…” Andrea asked. Dr. Johnson politely shook his head.

“Once your fully recovered from your trauma, you can go home. However, I think we need to ask you something first.” He said. “Do you have any memory of what happened to you, or why your here?” He asked Andrea.

Andrea thought for a moment. When she woke up, she had the faintest idea as to what was going on, or even who she was. All she remembered was a bright flash, and a thud. But she couldn't remember anything past that.

“No, I don't think so…” She informed them. Her mother started weeping quietly into her father's shoulder. Dr. Johnson bit his lip and nodded.

“Alright. Well, I'll leave you all alone for now. But I'll be back in a bit, we just need to run some tests, and Andrea should be good to go.” He told Andrea's parents before leaving.

Once Dr. Johnson left, Andrea's parents ran over towards her bed. She was a bit confused as to why, but she tried to make sense of it.

“How are you feeling?” Her mother asked. Andrea gave a small nod, then remembered the pain in her leg.

“My leg hurts a little, but besides that, I'm feeling pretty good.” She answered.

Her mother nodded slightly, and then turned to face her father. She starred at him hard, before he eventually nodded. Andrea had no clue what this meant, but she decided not to question it.

“You think your ready to go home?” He asked Andrea. Andrea immediately nodded. She didn't like being in this place, where ever this was. If that man who had came into the room was a doctor, then maybe she just had a check-up or something. But she was still pretty confused.

“Does your head hurt at all?” He mother ask. Andrea eyed her curiously and rapidly shook her head.

“My head is perfectly fine. The only thing that really hurts is my leg, but my head is perfectly normal.” She said. The mother glanced back at her father, who gave a shrug-like gesture.

“Are you sure your head is fine? You don't have any headaches or anything?” She asked Andrea, who shook her head.

Just then, Dr. Johnson came back into the room. Andrea's parents glanced up at him. Dr. Johnson was carrying a clipboard with a few pieces of paper attached to it.

“We ran the tests, and Andrea seems to be back on normal levels. She's clear to be taken home, unless you have anything else to add.” He informed them.

“Well, Andrea says that her leg hurts a little-” The mother started. Dr. Johnson nodded.

“That might have been from the fall, but we checked over her legs and they weren't broken or sprained. It'll heal just fine.” He reassured them.

Andrea still didn't have much clue as to what the doctor was talking about, but she decided to go along with it.

“So it's settled, you can go home now Andrea.” The doctor said proudly. Andrea glanced back over at her parents, whoever exactly they were, and gave a small smile.

——-
Word Count: 828

Part 3: Using Themes
Continuing Part 1, Song #2

Just then, Isabela came running up towards the two of them. She looked messier than everyone else, and that was saying something since everyone was covered with ash and dust. Camilo noticed that her hair was all messy and her dress was a dark purple color. That was unusual for her.

“There you both are. Mami said you two would be here.” She started. “She said to tell you to come.”

Pepa glanced at her son for a moment longer, before getting up. Camilo sighed quietly to himself, and rose. Isabela gestured for them to follow her. She led them to the area where the remains of the front door of Casita stood. Everyone was waiting there for them. Everyone, except Mirabel, of course.

Dolores, who was whispering something to Abuela, stood up and greeted her mother, brother, and cousin. She let out an incredibly quiet sigh of relief.

“At least we're all present and counted for.” She said, timidly. At least someone was acting the way they usually do. Camilo thought. It was shocking to see his family all torn apart like this, and it hurt too much to bear it.

Felix gave a sad smile towards his wife. Everyone sat down in a circle, right in front of the cracked door.

“What are we going to do about Mirabel?” Antonio asked, looking up at his parents. Pepa wrapped her arms around her youngest son, but not saying anything.

“I think we should at least try to find her.” Isabella said. “It's not entirely her fault, after all.” She said while glancing over at Abuela, who looked down at the ground.

All of a sudden, Juileta stood up, and grabbed Agustin by the hand, and pulled him up as well. Everyone turned to face the two of them.

“All of you have always been so hard on Mirabel. She never intended to do anything to harm us, and that's a fact. Agustin and I are going to search for her, and all I ask is for you to help. You don't have to forgive her if you don't want to, but just note she never did anything wrong.” Juileta announced, and her husband nodded proudly.

Pepa and Felix suddenly stood up next to them. “She's right, without Mirabel I think we would all be lost.” Pepa added.

Isabela and Luisa were next. “Mirabel could be annoying at times, but she always tried to understand us as best as she could.” Isabela said. "And she is a great listener.“ Luisa added.

Dolores, who was still trying to comfort Abuela, stood up and headed towards her parents. She didn't say anything, but she gave a timid nod.

Camilo wasn't exactly sure what to do, he was still annoyed with Mirabel… but if what his Tía said was true, Mirabel never intended to cause everyone to lose their powers. And he'd rather side with his Mami and Tía over his Abuela any day. He slowly stood up, leaving Abuela the only one to remain seated.

”Alright, alright, I'll help.“ He finally said with a slight smirk. Everyone standing beamed at him.

”I suggest that we split up into groups of two.“ Juileta suggested. Since that sounded like a good idea, everyone nodded.

”I'll go with Agustin,“ She started, while pointing at everyone while she said this. ”-Pepa can go with Felix, Antonio goes with Dolores, Isabela can go with Camilo, andddd Luisa can go with-“ She paused when she realized they weren't even.

Abuela suddenly let out a loud sigh. Everyone looked over at her. And, Camilo noticed, that Isabela rolled her eyes at her in a manner that was exactly the same when she used to do it to Mirabel.

”I'll help.“ She said, in an unusually quiet tone. Her voice always boomed with confidence and strength. Now it was nothing compared to that.

Juileta and Pepa walked over towards their mother, and gave her a small hug. Juileta then gestured to Luisa.

”You can go with Abuela.“ She said, and Luisa gave a small nod.

Everyone gathered into their groups. It was decided that everyone would search in different areas around the Encanto, since there was a lot of ground to cover.

”And if you find Mirabel, immediately bring her back here. We'll all meet back here by sundown.“ Juileta explained. ”We'll eventually find her, if we keep looking. Any questions?“ She asked.

Everyone shook their heads. She nodded, and they broke up into their groups and set off.

Some of the groups went into town and asked the townspeople if they seen Mirabel. Others went into the forests, hoping to find her there. Isabela and Camilo was one of the few groups who did.

”Mirabel!“ Isabela called out. She checked behind each tree branch and in between each bush. She was clearly worried about finding her sister. After a while, she sat down on the ground, blinking back tears.

Camilo, who had casually been looking around for Mirabel, reunited with Isabela, who was on the ground, gazing around. He bit his lip and quietly walked towards her. He sat down next to her, and half smiled.

”You alright?“ He softly asked. Isabela sighed and nodded. ”Yeah…. it's just I'm a bit worried.“ She looked away from Camilo and back towards the ground. ”I-It's just that before I never treated Mirabel well. Up until recently, I've just seen her as a pest who gets in the way.“

She paused and put her hand on her dress. ”I never realized that she would be the one to help me figure myself out, you know? And now I feel guilty that I haven't always been the best sister to her. I only hope we find her soon…“ She let out a loud sigh and tried to blink back a few tears, that were forming in her eyes.

Isabela wasn't doing a good job at hiding her tears, since Camilo noticed. He put his arm around her, and she looked up at him.

”Don't feel guilty. Feeling guilty won't help you get anywhere.“ He said softly. ”And don't worry about Mirabel. We'll find her, and you can apologize for not treating her the best.“

Camilo paused for a moment, thinking about what he just said. Maybe if Isabela, who was the hardest on Mirabel, maybe only second to Abuela, who was able to forgive her, maybe he could to. In time, of course. She still had left the family in a reck that they needed to dig out of.

Isabela glances up at her cousin and gives a small smile. ”Your right, I shouldn't be worrying so much.“ She said. She gently grabbed Camilo's hand and pulled the two of them up.

”C'mon, let's go find Mirabel." She said confidently. Camilo grinned and nodded. At least one person is sorta back to normal. He thought. And I did it without having powers.

Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

———
Word Count: 1,158

Total Words: 3,508

Thanks for reading||Back to Contents

Weekly 3

Part 1: Inspiration from Music

Song 1: River Flows In You
The sky is murky gray, and water is dripping down the windows. Rain. You stare out the window, imagining what life would've been like if you made a different choice. Did you do the right thing? Or was it all just a mistake? Sitting there you ponder what could've been better. Honestly, everything. You're on the verge of tears once again realizing that you're responsible for your parents' death. Not really, but partially. You try to relieve yourself from the constant feeling of guilt, but it doesn't work because you know it's your fault.
Finally getting up, you head to the family room, and look at a picture of your mother and father, smiling while holding…you. Never in a million years did you mean to hurt them, harm them, in any way, shape, or form. But it happened, and there's nothing you can do about it. All you can really do is move on. I know it's hard, and it feels like you're betraying them by leaving them behind, but it's the right thing to do. It’s the only thing you can do.
By living in constant dread, you’re hurting your parents even more. They would want you to live a happy life, and enjoy the opportunities you get - not sulking around with remorse. Eventually, you’re going to have to move on, accept what you did, and move on. Mistakes are not what defines you, it’s what you do after them. Apparently, nothing seems to convince you, and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything for you, but now I’m going to have to stop, and give up. I’m done wasting endless hours trying to perk you up and failing consistently.
I know you lost people you care about, but that’s not an excuse. I know, I know.. I’m not being considerate, but I don’t think that I’ll ever be. You need to realize that something like this probably would’ve happened anyways. With your shoulders hunched, and constant crying, how do you think you’ll ever escape the main and achieve what your parents wanted for you in life. Dwelling on this is only making it worse, by moving on and accomplishing what life you have set for yourself, you can repay your parents for the incident that you didn’t mean to commit.
So please, wipe those tears because you are truly beautiful, and I don’t want anything to change that. We’ve been friends for too long, and I know you.. You have trouble moving on. That’s why I’m here with you every day, to help until you feel better about yourself.

Word count:

Song 2: …
Insert 400 words of writing.

Word count:


Part 2: Inspiration from Anything

Insert 700 words of writing.

Word count:


Part 3: Delving into Themes

Themes: …
Insert 1000 words of writing.

Part 1 Word Count -
Part 2 Word Count -
Part 3 Word Count -

Total -

The Little Mermaid by Amy
523 words
Once upon a time
Long, long ago, you see
There was a Little Mermaid
Curious and kind as can be

Her father, the king under the sea
Was a widower, but had
Six delightful children,
The youngest being the Little Mermaid

She lived down under the ocean
Fish, shells, water
But not satisfied by that,
The Sea King's own daughter

Went up to the forbidden surface
Just to look around here and there
The blue skies and trees
Watching flowers bloom
And the buzzing bees

Yet one day
While she was wondering about
Saw a man signaling in a ship
Calling for help, no doubt

Immediately, she swam
All the way to the boat
To make sure the prince
Was safe and afloat

After a few blinks and coughs
The handsome man woke up
Yet was not just a man
Was a prince, hair as
Yellow as a buttercup

Seeing him, the little princess
Fell in love with the boy
First glance, and oh
Lord, it was coy

The Little Mermaid kept staring
Until the prince woke
She gasped, surprised
And swam back under, leaving the old bloke

At home, she wondered if
They would ever be together
A sea princess and a human?
She didn't know whether
Or not it'd happen

Longing for the prince,
The Little Mermaid decided to go
And take a visit to the old
Sea Witch who lived down low

After a while, she found the cave
Where this supposed witch
Who was old and mysterious
But still apparently true and rich
Lived and stayed

“Come in, come in, dear”
Said a dark, yet somewhat
Nice voice, who was of course,
the witch in her sea hut

“So tell me,” the witch said
“What is it you truly desire?”
The Little Mermaid was shy at first,
But then admitted it, her voice getting higher:

“I saw this stunning man,”
She began, her voice dreamily
“A-above the surface, but I wonder
Will we ever be together?” she finished beamily

“Ah, I see, I see,”
Nodded the sorcerer
“Tell you what,
I will grant you these legs you wish
But
Your voice will have to become mine”

Desperate to see the prince again
The Little Mermaid agreed
Little did she know,
That the witch only had a heart full of greed

Wickedly, she smiled,
Telling her girl that all she
Had to do was sing, and the girl could
Get those beloved legs that brought her glee

After singing, she fell right asleep
And the next time she rose,
She found herself on the sand,
Couhging and dressed in clothes

“Who is that?”
Shrieked one of the guards
Outside of the palace
They were about to take her away
And send no regards

“No, stop!”
Shouted a voice
The prince who remembered
Stared at her with great rejoice

After convincing the guards
To forget about what happened
Her and the prince got brought in the palace and
Started talking

“So,” asked the prince
“What is your name?”
The Little Mermaid began to talk,
But couldn't form a word,
And of course, she had no one else
But herself to blame

Writing Contest Entry:

A drop of saltwater ran down the wooden walls of Lieutenant Mica's cell, drawing a spindly line down the inside of the hull. The man in the aforementioned cell just watched it, contemplating the futility of the world and some other deep stuff.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the Lieutenant slowly turned to face the cell door, bracing for whatever was about to happen next.

He should have known what to do - he'd taken nearly every training course that the navy had to offer - but generally the consensus was that naval recruits should be capturing pirates, not the other way around. To make matters worse, the ship he was on was one of the most feared on the seven seas - all advice he'd got started and ended with ‘don’t get captured,' a task which he had miserably failed.

Someone appeared in front of the door, and Mica had to physically restrain himself from looking up. No weakness could be shown to pirates, not even curiosity. It was from the silhouette, flickering in the dim candlelight, that Mica realized who had come to visit him.

A massive hat dominated the composition of the shadow, feather sticking out of it. The rest of the man's outfit seemed to be rather modestly fitted, but that was all he could tell from the simple outline. But that hat was famous - it covered the eyes of the youngest pirate to ever captain a ship.

“Introducing… Captain Cyan of the <i>Blade!”</i> the owner of the hat drawled casually, shadow shifting to lean lazily against a wall, hand making some grand gesture through the air as he introduced himself in the third person. “Oh, come on, you could at least give me a little bit of applause.”

Mica dragged his eyes up from their stubborn resting place on the hardwood planks. Past polished boots and tailored pants, past a gaudy red coat and the silver bells-and-whistles adoring it, past several silver chains around a pale throat, until he met eyes - or rather, the shaded face - of his capturer. The hat and the surrounding white-veil-contraption covered his face entirely, rendering Mica's attempted assessment utterly useless. A white feather floated mockingly on top of the hat, bobbing in the imaginary wind

“There you are,” the pirate said, sardonic lilt and a knowing smile playing over every syllable. “Lieutenant Mica, is it not?”

“Let me go,” Mica hissed finally, wishing that he had put up more of a fight to keep the plate that they had served him gruel on earlier. It would have made a nice projectile to throw at Cyan's smug little veil.

“Look, Lieutenant, I get that you're a little irked - ”

“You /kidnapped/ me - ”

“ - but I suggest you stop interrupting me before I shoot out one of your eyes with a dart.”

“Just what I'd expect from a pirate,” Mica spat.

Cyan just twirled his pistol on one hand, the other gliding over an intricately carved dart gun. “Then maybe you shouldn't have gotten yourself captured by one.”

Mica's eyes burned with fury, but as Cyan slowly pulled a silver-tipped dart from the ammo bag at his side, the weapon catching on the low candlelight, he clamped his mouth shut before he earned his own eye patch.

“Now. Since you're there, and I'm here, you might as well make yourself useful. Why were you and your crew sent to capture me?”

“I'm not talking to a criminal like you.”

“I'd think again.”

“You and your crew deserve to be hung.”

A gunshot's loud bang echoed through the corridor, and Mica instinctively dropped to the floor, covering his head. When the moment cleared, Cyan stood steady, the only thing different about his posture being the arm extended up, a smoking gun aimed towards the sky.

There was a bullet hole in the roof, letting in a thin shaft of sunlight. So this was the capricious temper that the legends spoke of. His entire demeanor changed like the ocean that he was born to ride - one moment, sun and gentle waves, another, icy winds and high waves, another, choppy waters about to boil over, and another, vast swells over swaths of empty sea.

“Say what you want about me,” Cyan snarled, pleasantly mocking demeanor switching instantly into something a thousand times more dangerous. “but here's a little tip for you - you don't insult a pirate's crew.”

The fury dissipated like fine mist to the sea.

“I'll see you again later, Lieutenant.” There it was again, the lazily casual drawl from the young, volatile pirate. “Hope you're up to talk, or else that shot isn't going up again.”

- - - - -

Mica hadn't meant to drift off, especially not on an unfamiliar ship. However, when he awoke, the fresh air on his tongue made his heart leap. But after opening his eyes, confusion washed over him like the tides before a particularly nasty storm.

The sky was covered in clouds, and though it was late evening by the looks of the barely-visible sun, the rest of the sky was painted dark with the foreboding gait of an incoming storm. Mica was chained to the mast, seemingly dragged up for… something. He was still trying frantically to put together the puzzle pieces, something he was usually good at.

He instantly realized that he had stumbled upon a scene that he wasn't really meant to see. This was some wrong-place-wrong-time issue, and it was abundantly clear that this was the pivotal point in some kind of conflict. Between who, Mica also didn't know, but as he watched, the scene was painted more and more clear.

Cyan was disarmed, his pistol and dart gun lying innocently on the deck. The weapons were only several yards away from the man (child?), but for the relevance of the fight, they might as well have been at the bottom of the sea.

Cyan was a legend, but as a masked pirate with an obnoxiously white cloak stood in front of him, victory pulsing off of him, something in Cyan seemed to falter.

“Take the stupid hat off,” he said, jerking his head at a crewmember standing next to the two.

Cyan's ridiculously gaudy red feathered hat was tipped off, falling softly to the ground. The pirate's face was finally exposed, and it revealed something even more ridiculous than the hat.

Mica expected scarred features, maybe gold inlay, harsh lines and terrifying might. He expected a cold sneer with tattoos, or perhaps a missing eyes. Mica expected Cyan to be a monster.

Mica didn't expect him to be, y'know, a fifteen year old.

There was still baby fat lining the soft curves of his features, his blue eyes electric even in the evening light. Bright blond curls tumbled down his forehead, speaking of pure innocence, but the gleaming fury in his face confirmed what everything else pointed to: this was Captain Cyan of the <i>Blade.</i>

Mica quickly realized that he was the only shocked one here. The masked man's lazy lean against the edge of the ship looked almost bored, and the crew still looked like they were reluctantly following orders.

“What made you do it?” Cyan asked softly, a calm danger sitting on his lips - he had a silver tongue; he was still not to be messed with. “Lux? At the very least, a captain is owed an explanation for a mutiny,” it was said stiffly, formally, but Mica wasn't thick enough to miss the falter in his voice when he said ‘Lux’.

But, he quickly focused on the last word, grabbing it and using it as his mental reference on which to mold this whole situation around. So that was what this was. A mutiny against the great Cyan. Mica found himself leaning closer, wanting to hear the explanation that this ‘Lux’ pirate was going to provide.

The crew was unwilling to meet Cyan's eyes, but Lux just leaned closer.

“You have been an unfit captain, Cyan. You're too erratic, too young, too stupid - just last week you burned up a town because you felt like it. You're a liability.”

The crew nodded slowly, as if they had to be convinced of the words. But Cyan's full lip just straightened into a flat line. “A liability? I've made this crew great. I founded this place - this ship. I'm the captain of the Blade.”

Lux leaned in closer to Cyan. No one on the crew could hear it, but from his vantage point tied-up on the ground, Mica could just barely catch the words that the masked man hissed to the ex-captain.

“I did it because I wanted to,” he whispered softly. Anger spread across Cyan's features, but he stayed rigid. “I did it because I could. Your time is over.”

Lux lifted his head, addressing the rest of the crew. “What do we do, with those who are no longer captains?”

They were silent. It didn't matter; Lux answered himself. “We exile them! Onto the plank, Cyan. It’s a mercy we’re not tying your hands” There was no respect; Lux was mocking the stunned pirate.

Mica felt almost lightheaded with how quickly things were moving. One moment he was on his ship, going after a famous pirate, the next he was in a cell, and the next - well, Mica wasn’t supposed to be here, but it was very obviously the crux of a story for the ages.

Cyan took a proud step forwards, chin raised as he stared down his crew. For the first time, Mica could see desperation painting those electric blue eyes, his silent plea went unanswered. Mica almost thought he was going to walk to his stranding without a word, but finally, Cyan cracked a tiny bit. “Lux, there’s a storm coming - “

“Walk the plank. Serve your exile, Cyan.”

Cyan winced, perhaps at the lack of his title - captain. Now, ex-captain. “We can do this near an island, or some other day, there are prisons down below that you could keep me in - “

Finally, a murmur of dissent from the crowd. Mica thought maybe it would be Cyan’s saving grace, but with a growing realization, it was clearly a sneer at Cyan’s display of weakness.

He glanced around the crowd, and the boy’s lip tightened again. Without another word, he turned, eyes closing as he walked those final steps and - Mica watched dazedly, praying that this was some sick fever dream - disappeared from view, a tiny ‘plink’ like a penny in a grate the only thing that remained.

“He’s dead?” Mica asked. That was a mistake. He shouldn’t have drawn attention to himself.

“You,” Lux said, nothing betraying his icy calm voice, “were supposed to pass on the message. Spread rumors, witness this, all that nonsense - but you’re just taking up space, at the moment.” His gloved fingers glided across Mica’s jawline, pausing at his pulse. “It might be more fun to make you walk as well.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Someone made a move to shush him, but Lux waved them away. “He’ll be silent soon enough. With his hands tied, he’s got even less of a chance then that sniveling child.”

Panic set over Mica, and he thrashed against the ropes binding his hands, but it was no use. Hands picked him up, shoving him towards the plank, and pushing him off before he had a chance to scream.

A coward’s death, and one that perhaps Mica deserved.

Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders; Mica thought that maybe the sirens had come to pull him down at last. But no - the current of kicking feet thundered against his back and finally, his head breached the surface. Out of instinct, Mica gasped for air, struggling against the person wrapped around him.

“Stop resisting!” A voice yelled against his ear, clear over the tempest of the storm. “I'm saving your life, idiot.”

Cyan.

Writing Comp Entry 1 - Original Story Concept

Title: Three Worlds Collide at Every Turn (It's an excerpt of a larger work called Conduit that's separated into parts)
Word Count: 1356
I'm almost fifteen so no Juniors for me

Rowan
My Brother is Dead.
I Loved my Brother, and he is Dead.
I don't like that word. It's a shade of red that almost scares me, and it makes people uncomfortable. No one likes to talk about people who are Dead. Especially people like Rowan who are Dead because of the government.
The people in charge of deciding who we fight for and who we fight against, who pays money and who gets payed money, decided that my Brother was a threat.
My Brother found a puppy on the street, abandoned and starving, and took it in. He named it Milo and gave it food. He never stopped taking care of his little honey-coloured dog.
Or his Little Sister.
My Brother told me Stories at night whenever I couldn't sleep. When he worked at the bakery down the street, he would bring me home a Special treat every evening. A croissant. A cupcake. Candied nuts. Lemonade.
He shared what he had with others who had less, even if he needed what he had. He would rescue every spider that made its way into our house, taking it outside in his own hands and freeing it to Live its Life.
My brother would never Hurt a Soul. The government thought otherwise.
My brother was my Best Friend. The government didn't care.
They Killed him. They Killed Rowan.
Now Milo is my only Friend.
There's a lot of people like my Brother. People who disappear, are suddenly arrested, or tragically found Dead. Everyone knows the government did it, and everyone knows not to talk about it too much. The government is Dangerous, they whisper, voices full of Fear. They're right.
I was eleven years old when my Brother didn't make it to school one day. He was found by the Sea. No sign of sickness or injury. No sign of him either. He was an empty shell, a husk of my Favourite Person in the World.
I screamed.
The government didn't Care that they Killed a boy who woke up early each morning to watch the Sun rise over the Ocean and sometimes took me, his Little Sister, with him.
They didn't Care that they Killed a boy who had Friends and Family, people he talked to every day, people who Loved him.
They didn't care that they Killed a boy who was a week away from turning eighteen.
They didn't care that they Killed a Person.
My Parents only talk about Rowan quietly, in the dark, when they're sure no one is watching or listening. It is then that they tell me I must always be careful. The government Killed my Brother, took him and made him a husk, because he was Different.
I must be careful because I am too.

The Hunter's Daughter
Once, long before the memory of anyone now alive, there lived a hunter who had a kind and beautiful daughter. His wife had died and he never remarried, so he brought up the young girl on his own. The girl had short blond hair and wore a sky blue dress. It was her dream to become a good hunter, just like her father, so she began learning the trade from a very young age.
When the hunter's daughter was about eight years old, he took her into the forest for her first hunting trip. The hunter was worried for his daughter, but she proved to be a smart hunter herself, and a good companion. Together, they were able to get plenty of food to last them through the harsh cold winter. This was necessary because winters were more extreme in the hunter's time.
On the last day of their trip, the hunter and his daughter stumbled upon an old stone cabin, buried deep in the trees. Inside, the hunter found nothing but a few old blankets, worn with age and use. But when his daughter entered the cabin, she saw a white lion cub, weak and shivering in the cold. The lion spoke inside the girl's mind, telling her that her father could not see him because he was not truly there. The girl could see the lion cub because she had a gift. She could see what had not yet been but was still to be. She would live a long life, dedicated to serving the world. However she was doomed to fail. She and her white lion would fall in a glorious battle as hate campaigned to control the world. The lion cub told her this, and in time it all proved true.
The Story of the hunter's daughter has been passed down through many Generations and told in many different ways. This is the version my Brother would tell me, whispering over cups of hot cocoa, buried in blanket forts in the purest silence of the coldest nights. Carefully, quietly, because this is one of the Banned Tales. Stories the government doesn't want us to tell.
I can't Imagine why, but if a boy who hears Music in Colour is Dangerous, I suppose a Story of a girl with a Gift is too.

Living
History seems so simple when you Read it in a Book. It's obvious what events lead to others, and why things that were terrible had a good reason for happening because of what they caused.
Living through History doesn't feel like that. Living is Confusing.
Living is it's a bad Idea to take a car to school. You have to walk, which isn't Safe either. But it's better than not going at all.
Living is I can't do anything with the Right Colours or the government will make me a husk like Rowan.
Living is the government tells you what your job is based on criteria no one knows.
Living is we're constantly at War with hundreds of countries, on behalf of hundreds of others.
Living is I can feel the darkness deep inside me. Living is terrifying.

Selini
There's a new kid at school today.
That hasn't happened in a long time. Years.
I'm told it used to be normal. People would Live in one place, go to one school, and then they would change where they Lived and go to a new school. Now people only move when the government tells them to Get Out. So few kids are born that even at the beginning of the year there are very few new kids.
This kid looks younger than me. Year or two, maybe a bit more. Not younger than thirteen. That's close enough to sixteen, my age, that we could easily be good Friends. Somehow I feel like we will be Friends. I'm not sure if I've ever had a real friend before. When Rowan was Here, everybody thought I was too weird, and after, I was always too scared. This kid doesn't scare me for some reason.
Everyone, we have a new student today! says our teacher, Jeremy Blewit, as if we couldn't all tell already. I guess he just has to say that. Protocol, or something. My thinking that is nothing against him of course. He's actually a wonderful man and a great teacher. I just don't Understand why he had to say that.
Seleni Michaels is her Name. Somehow after school we find each other. She has another young woman, probably in her twenties, with her. They've been together all day. I can't figure out why. Unless one is adopted, they aren't related. Seleni is shorter than average, with pale skin and long blond hair. She looks shy, nervous. Her companion is very tall, and her skin and short hair are both dark. She looks gentle, but serious.
Hi, I say, I'm Caitlin. Welcome to this school!
I'm Genesis, the companion says. This is Seleni. I'm her translator and she calls me her Best Friend. She then turns to Seleni again, making signs with her hands. Seleni watches closely before smiling. She starts to respond to Genesis, before abruptly stopping.
I'm sorry, Genesis says, a teacher's coming. Officials don't like us to sign.
I'm sorry too, I say, that isn't fair.
It sort of reminds me of my colours.

Main Cabin Daily March 17

Character: Annie (aka Egyptian god Anubis's adoptive human daughter who was granted immortality and magic powers but lives on earth with modern technology, she is kind of worshipped in a kind of secluded society that still worships ancient Egyptian gods but she's mostly there to solve smaller problems while the actual Anubis is busy with other things)

It was just another typical day for Annie. She had awoken to the sunlight and found a list by her bedside- her duties for the day. She got up and brushed her hair- it was a dark golden brown colour at that moment- it used to be just brown, but ever since she had been granted powers, the colour of her hair gained a certain depth to it and would change according to the lighting- in darkness or dim light, it looked almost jet black, while in bright sunlight it seemed golden-blonde, and in other lighting it tended to look brown or somewhere between the several colours. The long, black-furred jackal ears on her head twitched as she pulled the brush through her tangled locks. She got dressed and painted on her makeup- there was some important ceremonial reason for how she had to do makeup and how she had to dress, so she just went with it. She had a black outline of eyeliner painted around her eye with an extended, square-shaped end and an extra tendril that extended from her lower lash line. Her outfit was a modern reinterpretation of the ones seen in ancient Egyptian artwork, adorned with certain symbols with a certain meaning.

She entered into the temple from a side door and greeted her assistants. Or at least the so-called temple, because it was a bit like some kind of royal audience chamber inside and she usually waited there for people who required her advice.

250 words

Writing Comp Entry 2 - Star Wars fanfic

Title: Resilience Together
Fandom: Star Wars
Word Count: 1,580
This is a fanfic so it's automatically not juniors

Something changes. Even my unconscious, sleeping, mind can feel it. It startles me awake. Not a sound, or anything physical. Just a feeling. What my still tired mind takes in surprises me only for an instant. Then I accept it, part of me saying I should have guessed this, or something like it, would happen when I heard that Luke had convinced Breha to stay the night in the library for her research. He never allows students into the library unsupervised. Breha told me that Luke, our uncle, was simply in full support of her research project on historical variations of the lightsaber, and, providing she promised to be responsible, he could see no reason why she couldn't spend some time in the library after hours. Clearly that was a lie. In my seventeen years, I have never once heard my uncle tell a deliberate lie. But I suppose he thought it was something he needed to do.
I know why he's here, or at least why he thinks he's here. I know that if there weren't another reason, he would have found another solution. And yet, somehow, he has ended up in my room, breaking a very important rule he established for his own order, a rule that you never enter or influence another's thoughts unless absolutely necessary. He thinks he has a good enough reason to break his own rule. All because he knows I'm angry. But what he doesn't know, or at least won't admit to himself, is that he's angry too. Far more that I ever was.
His lightsaber ignites, arcing toward me. I scramble to come to my senses, calling on the Force to pull my own blade from my dresser and ignite it, blocking my uncle's just in time. This action only solidifies my uncle's resolve, but it was the only thing I could do to save my own life. Because for all my anger and uncertainty, one thing I know is that I do not want to die. Another thing I know is that, no matter what, this fight will end in tragedy, and it's up to me to choose what tragedy that will be. I only have a split second to choose, and I hope I make the right choice. I push against my uncle's blade and manage to stand up, deciding all I have to do is hold out until my sister returns from the library. I only hope I can last that long. Soon, we're engaged in a full on fight, except that it's mostly an act on my part. I have no intention of hurting my uncle unless I need to. But I'm struggling to keep up with him. He has me taking a step back toward the door every few seconds, and these steps add up. It isn't long before I'm taking my first step into the hall. Surely, if someone hasn't heard us already, they will now. I decide to risk it and step all the way out before Luke reaches me, and with my spare seconds, I speak.
“Talk to me, Luke,” I say. Nothing. “Uncle, please!”
“I'm sorry Ben.” Luke's voice is low, serious. Angry. “It's too late, there's no talking with you.”
No, uncle, I think. It's you there's no talking with.
By now, some of the other students and order members are waking up, and coming out into the hall to see what's going on. Everyone seems confused and I don't blame them. I'm not entirely sure I understand what's happening either. Luke pauses as the crowd grows, the older students lifting some of the younger kids onto their shoulders. Everyone seems to be doing one of four things. The most common one is asking repeatedly what is going on and does anyone know what happened. The second is begging us to stop, which I would if I could, but I can't. The third is shouting at me what they think I should do. And the fourth is shouting suggestions at Luke.
Luke manages to drown out the crowd before I do, coming at me again with pure focus. His green blade crackles and wavers as it collides with my blue one. Wavering is built into the nature of my saber, but I've never seen Luke's behave this way before. I can't afford to wonder what it means, not now. I jump back, landing carefully on the railing, struggling to keep my balance. Finally I succeed in regaining my focus, drowning out the din of voices around me with the endless sky of the Force, filled with endless stars of endless possibilities. I leap down backward, off the railing. I fall down four storeys, sets of doors and railings blurring past me. When I come to a stop, perfectly balanced, I'm standing upright on the ground floor of the sleeping quarters building. Luke follows me, seeming to glide through the air. I wonder for a second if I looked like that as I fell. Then my uncle comes after me again.
“Stop, please,” I say. But I don't seem to get through to him. His blade comes at me again and again. I'm beginning to get worn out. Somewhere in my peripheral vision, I see several of the older students jumping down to join us. Breha is among them, and, I notice, so is Jacen. I look over at them for a split second, hoping the two people who know me best know me well enough to see I'm asking for help. Then I have to look back. Only a few seconds pass before two more blue blades join my own. Jacen on my left, Breha on my right, the three blades meeting at their tips, forming a triangle. The three of us stand perfectly still.
So does Luke. He takes a deep breath, as if to calm himself. But there's a burning fury in his eyes that I've never seen before. His blade increasingly wavers.
Almost as if we planned it, Breha, Jacen, and I deactivate our blades as one.

He's gone. Luke Skywalker, the Master of the new Jedi Order, is gone. It's been three days, and still none of us understand why. All we know is that he succumbed to the Dark Side, and then left. Since then, many people have arrived, my parents among them. They're all trying to figure out how to continue from here, how to rebuild the order. I'm not even sure it can be rebuilt. There's this rocky outcropping nearby the headquarters of the order. It juts out over the sea, and at night, it's the best place on the whole moon to view the stars. I love the stars. I come to this outcropping whenever I need to think, and only five people know to look for me here. One of those five is Luke. The others are my parents, Breha, and Jacen. I wonder how long it will be before one of them finds me here, and which it will be.
As it turns out, it's my mother. She sits down beside me and places a hand on my shoulder. “I thought I might find you here.”
I smile at her, but it feels so fake. That's because it is, I realize. “The thing is, everyone is looking to me for what to do next, expecting me to step up and lead the order on. In part, I think, because I'm the one Luke attacked. But they don't know he had a reason.” I almost don't know I said that out loud until I finish.
I feel my mother's arm wrap around my shoulders, her long hair brushing against my back. “Everyone struggles with the darkness at some point. None of this is your fault.”
“How did you know, could you feel it?” I ask, the only thing surprising me being that I'm not surprised.
“No, It's not that strong yet. I don't know what Luke was thinking…” she trails off. “It was your father who noticed it.”
“I don't know how to lead the order,” I say. It's the only thing I can get my mind to process.
“You won't be alone. The order is a community, remember that.”
“I know, I will.”

I try to take my mother's advice to heart, but as I walk through the campus, usually filled with noise and happy laughter but now silent and sorrowful, every face turns to me. The order is made up almost entirely of children, most far younger than I am. None of them know how to deal with this unexpected turn of events. Even I don't.
A small girl approaches me, blond ringlets pulled back in two pigtails. She can't be older than five or six. “Mister Solo,” she asks, “What are we to do?”
“It's Ben, please,” I tell her. “And we're a community. We'll solve this as a community.”
“Okay,” the girl says before running off toward a boy in his early teens who looks similar enough to the girl to be her brother. The girl whispers something to him and he nods. I watch as the whispered message slowly makes its way through the courtyard. As more and more people become aware of the message, the idea of it takes hold in the Force and I realize there is a plan. I wonder how many of these kids know the plan was thought up by a five-year-old child.
The plan reaches Jacen as he steps into the courtyard.

Contest entry

Secrets of white blue

She dived into the Deep White Blue seeking the secrets of it. The deep white blue was forbidden for her, for every mankind. It was the only zone in the ocean that was white as snow. Nobody thought that there was anything wrong with the deep white blue, except her older brother, Evan. She didn't know why he forbade her to swim or even go near the deep white blue, it seemed fine. As she swamped deeper into the unknown her body suddenly became numb and then it happened, a hideous creature attacked her. The pain spread through her body like lighting venom before she fainted into the wild.


* * *


Beep, Beep, Beep was the first thing she heard as her consciousness returned.. She was in the hospital. Her mother was next to her weeping in her handkerchief, her siblings were standing in a corner, her brother Evan looked mad, angry, and furious. “Oh my child, you finally woke up! I don’t know what I would've done without you.” Her mother gave her a warm hug full of love and joy. Her brother Evan came storming at her, he held her tight as if she would escape his hands. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU, Ulva? DIDN'T I TELL YOU NOT YOU GO THERE?? NOW LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!!!” He started shaking her rapidly. “Stop it, Evan! It’s not her fault that the thing got her!” Their mother stopped him. “What's gotten into him?” The eldest sibling, Kai asked. Evan glared at them and then swiftly left the room.

“He's been like this ever since we found you at the beach, injured and hurt.” Their mother looked at Ulva with concern. “He’s been like this ever since he was born, Ulva.” Kai laughed trying to change the subject. “He was?” Ulva asked as she turned around to Kai. Kai sat down at her bed patting her head. “Yes, just ask Riam.” Riam was Evan’s childhood best friend but when they were fourteen they got into an argument about Ulva that broke their friendship. Ulva now relaxed a bit as she remembered that Evan burst into anger quite a lot, but this was the first time she saw that much anger in him. Ulva remembered that Evan also looked worried and concerned. Then, Ulva remembered what Evan told her about the deep blue.

“But, why shouldn't I go there?” A year younger Ulva asked Evan. “You're too young, besides, I don't even tell Kai, or mom. I didn't even want to know. “ He looked away from Ulva. “But-”Ulva tried to get anything out of Evan. “There is no but. No means no, Ulva. And don't think that anybody else will tell you about it, they don't even know.” He muttered unpleasantly. “But, this is what you should know is that I'm doing this because I care about you, you won't understand it now, you understand it later, but you should be grateful.” The flashback ended in a zap.

“Mom,” Ulva grabbed her mom’s clothes. “Yes, Ulva?” Her mother looked at her with concern. “Did Evan seem strange to you?” U/va hesitantly asked. “Well, he always hated the ocean or his birthdayBut, nothing else seems strange about him.” Her mother smiled weakly. “Right,” Ulva sighed. “If you really want to know about Evan’s strange habits, go ask Kai, he knows Evan more than me.” Her mother pointed at Evan, who was reading a book. “Oh, sorry, Ulva, is he strange or weird you're asking? Please be specific. Because I can go on for days about how weird and strange he is. “ Kai asked in a joking manner. Ulva signed Kai to come closer. When he did, she told him about the memories this paragraph ago. “I don't know, Evan may be like that, but I know he isn't the one to joke around. He probably means it when he says that.” Kai forced himself to say it.

Word War

There is a cat. The cat is wearing a hat. The cat wearing a hat is fat. The fat cat wearing a hat is sitting on a mat. The mat the fat cat wearing a hat is sitting on is red. The red mat the fat cat wearing a hat is sitting on is fuzzy. Fuzzy is fun. The fat cat wearing a hat sitting on the fuzzy red mat is making pancakes. The pancakes are burnt. They do not taste good. The fat cat wearing a hat sitting on a fuzzy red mat can’t cook. He is a bad chef.

I DID NOT FINISH LAST WEEKS WEEKLY AND I AM MAD AT MYSELF I SHOULD HAVE JUST DONE THE LAST PART BUT here- 1553 words

weekly :>

section one

but here is my part-

I'll start - It was a bland morning - not exactly Chloe's idea of anything fun. Even the rat-a-tat-tat of the rain was more exciting than the drab grey sky that was polluting sunny dreams. And on a sunday, of all days. Now on Monday the world would probably daunt her with great weather, only for her to be stuck in school. Oh well, she thought, and hopped downstairs, for Chloe believed in enthusiasm. Then, she saw her annoying little brother, Ben, making a mess out of the kitchen. BAD DAY INCOMING!


(whoa that turned quickly-) Chloe gasped, but no noise came out. She saw panic in her brother's eyes, but he couldn't scream. Then, in a great flash of light, her brother and the shadow dissapeared. Another softer, kind voice spoke. I can hold them for now, a little bit longer. You now have five with my magic. I will try to help you, but cannot come in much contact, they are strong now - they have your brother. Good luck, we are rooting for you. The brightness faded and Chloe almost fell over.

She ran upstairs, only to find her parents gone. Then she remembered, they had gone away for their /exciting/ government jobs and couldn't be contacted unless it was an emergency. That sparked Chloe's hope. She dialed and it rung, but her breath grew heavier and heartrate quickened as they didn't answer. Maybe they were just in an important meeting? It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay, Chloe told herself. “Deep breaths, deep breaths,” she muttered. She figured she would have to find Ben


her best friend, Katie. /She/ always knew what to do, she had a plan for everything, and was also kind of an organization freak. As long as they weren't in, Vermont or something. Katie's parents worked from home, or from anywhere, so they were always traveling. Chloe was just /slightly/ jealous of that, but Katie always invited her over when she baked cookies and never was mean about it. She went across the street and rang the doorbell. Thank goodness Katie answered it. “Hi Katie uh emergency-”

section two 532 words

For my character I will be building off of Chloe from the first part of the weekly.

Name: Chloe
Age: 14? older?
Species: Human unless I decide to give them magical genes that make them not human, but for now human-

Chloe is a girl with she and her pronouns who has a lot of responsibility. Luckily, she can take this even if she isn't so oragnized. That's her friend Katie, but this is about Chloe. She has a younger brother she has to constantly take care of because of her parents and their governmen meetings away from home. She is kind and persistant, and she is also smart. I personally imagine her as a brown-eyed girl with long black hair that goes past her shoulders (but not to her waist, more like the middle of her upper arm.) She smirks often when she is right, like a told you so eye. I think she is popular but not super popular. She is very nice to children, and doesn't snap at her younger brother Ben a lot. She is especially caring about people. Plus, she likes to think things through and always has to make sure her decision is right.

Chloe's wants and needs:

Chloe just wants her family to be good. She usually lives a happy life and the one thing that she hates is being a dissapointment. She can take unorganized and imperfect things, but if it is a complete mess, like her younger brother using the creative end of the spectrum for his projects (namely, cereal,) and misuses and/or spills it, she will be a bit frustrated but always willing to help clean it up. It is her job, and she wants to make other people happy. Sometimes, she wants to be freeer and to be able to be like Katie's family, but she remembers how hard it can be for her parents and how her life is still great. And obviously for the plot, she wants to find Ben and bring him back. From earlier, she cares about Ben and would not forgive herself if she couldn't get Ben back. Plus, she would without a doubt be an extreme dissapointment if she didn't find him and he got disposed of by the shadow creatures, and she really, really doesn't want that, especially with, as she puts it, “All the stress her parent's already have.” She cares about them so much too, and really loves her family and doesn't want to lose them.

Dislikes and fears, what makes her tick.

First of all, for the literal hundreth time, being a dissapointment. She just does not want to let anyone down, it is like breaking a big serious promise to her, and she does not like it. She does not like leaving Ben unattended. He is, as a matter of fact, her responsibility. And then the whole thing of loosing him and letting people down for the hundreth and first time. Plus, she likes him because he is her little brother and is worried he would cause too big of a mess or do something silly, or *ahem* get captured by shadow things and she would never know- aanyways…

Section three 410 words

The setting starts out in Chloe's house, in her room. It has tan walls and two shelves, plus two windows with blinds that are wide open. She has a clock and an alarm clock, a bed-side desc, another beurau and a closet with a dresser. She looks out and sees the weather- which is just plain bland. It is just grey/gray skies with nothing exciting like rain, snow, anything else exciting or liked, or a sunny day. Later, it starts raining right before her brother Ben get's taken by the shadow people or whatever. (still no name for them heh) In the kitchen, the second “setting” that they are in. (yes this is very micro-setting but I have to) A large window over a sink looks into their front yard, where a couple of cars go by. The walls are grey/gray. and there is a dishwasher next to the sink. After that, next to the sink, to the right again, is a refrigerator and freezer. There are a bunch of cabinets and Bowl of cereal on the table but it is just left sitting there with a spoon in it. The many cabinet doors are open because Ben was raiding them for empty cereal boxes and little things he could use for his next and newest project which literally ranges to everything. (creative, huh?) Then, there is also just outside. The front yard, it's small with a little path leading up to two steps, with a small like 1 meter patio that stretches across the front of the house. The path is made up of gravel and some larger stones, and cars are parked in front of the yard and sidewalk. The front yard is made up of all grass and some bunches of flowers that have been planted in front of the little porch/patio. Once she walks down the path to cross the street, there are cute white picket fences and then a perfectly paved sidewalk. (In Chloe's backyard transitioning to the sidewalk and road.) There are some children's bikes in the street and parked cars in Katie's driveway. Katie's front yard has no fence and 3 wider steps leading up to a door. There isn't really a padio, just a large doorway and a doorbell, which Chloe rings. It is a small round oval shaped faded yellow button on a fading black background for the doorbell. (yes, a lot of detail on a doorbell B))

Part Four 199 words

Using the prompt “write about a hero or villain deathly afraid to do their job” I made this premise:

was destined for greatness. He know that he is meant to fight this monster and have to do it, whether they d1333 trying or succeed. It has been their destiny, their life challenge, and their curse. He has been training forever to do this, and have fought off many monsters before, but none quite as bad and evil as this. But he secretly is kind of a coward inside, and has had so much luck to have actually beaten the other beasts that he fought before. He had literally would've been lucky to have been alive, let alone escaped or beat them, but somehow he did. But now as he approached the cave of the darkest beast in the underworld, he knew he wouldn't beat it - or at least with out some help. Then, a mysterious heroine comes in and says “Give me a sword,” and he is caught off guard and spins around “What?” “I said, give me a sword! You're not going to defeat that thing alone. It is still there for a reason, after all… because NOBODY DEFEATED IT. And you certainly can not get that thing.” He unsurely gives it over.

Weekly 3

Story inspired by Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos flipped backward in the Scratch sound editor:

The scream echoes out, Angeline falling to the ground beside me, bleeding. Suddenly everything is chaos. It takes me a moment to think through what could possibly have lead up to this moment. Disaster, violence, death. All at a simple party.
Music, gentle dancing. Celebration. Now all of that has crashed.
I've always loved music, and I've always loved being with people. Standing next to Angeline as the sun sets, dancing a little to the music being played by whatever artist or band is taking their turn on the stage at the time, laughing and smiling. That's how tonight began, and that's how it was supposed to have ended. But now this has happened. I kneel down beside my girlfriend, blinking through the tears blurring my eyes. She's struggling to breathe. “Hold on,” I whisper, clinging to her hand as if to illustrate what I mean.
“Allie,” she whispers, breath hitching, “It's too late.”
“No,” I say, “No, no, I will help you, you will live.” Even as I say it I feel her starting to slip away. The tears escape. I can't loose Angeline. After all this, I thought we were free, safe. Now I'm loosing the one person who's loved me through everything, who's been there my whole life. It feels like I'm the one bleeding out, not her. I wish it was me, not her.
“Allie,” she whispers again, “Promise me something, okay?”
I nod, unable to take my eyes off ber beautiful face now twisted in pain ans smeared with red. “Yes, anything.”
“Don't try to get revenge. No matter what. It will only make the pain of the world worse.”
I nod again. “No revenge, I promise.”
“I love you,” Angeline says.
“I love you too,” I respond.
She smiles, then her hand goes limp in mine, and the brilliant light leaves her beautiful green eyes. She's gone.
I lean my head down on her chest, no longer rising and falling, and let the tears stream out. I don't know how long I stay there. All I know is that by the time I look up, I'm alone. Just me and the carnage left behind at what was supposed to be a celebration. I'm sure everyone else fled.
Something compels me to glance up at the sky. When I do, I gasp. Colourful flames shoot through the heavens, surging, like breaths, like what no longer flows through Angeline. And green. Green like Angeline's eyes. (409 words)

Story inspired by The Hanging Tree from Mockingjay flipped backward in the Scratch sound editor:

I rest my hand on Willow's, praying she stays asleep. I know it's unlikely, but she's only six years old. She doesn't need to experience what's going on right now, just outside our window. My baby sister, I want her to live a happy life. I don't care how unlikely that is. I'm an older brother, it's my duty.
The bombs and gunshots continue to go off, and she startles awake, crying. I pull her close to me before she can ask where our mom is. I really don't want to tell her what happened, but I know I'm going to have to eventually. I won't let eventually be now though.
Suddenly, flame bursts aross the rear wall of our one-room house as one of the small bombs goes off just outside. We have to go.
I lift my baby sister into my arms.
“Leo…” she whispers, the fear in her eyes tearing right through me.
“It's fine, just go to sleep, Willow.”
I grab a bag I've had prepared for months, slinging it over the sholdier Willow isn't currently resting her head on. It has essentials to last us a few days as well as a few special family memories inside. This bag and Willow are everything I need. I get out as fast as I can.
“Close your eyes,” I tell my sister, “don't look.”
She obeys, burying her face in my chest. I keep my head down and run through the town square as fast as I can. I try to block out the screams and shots, hoping Willow is doing the same. I keep going for hours, not stopping for even a second. When we're finally far enough away, into the forest surrounding our small village, I lay Willow down on the ground and set up a quick tent with a sheet and a rope from inside the bag. Then I sit beside my sister, trying to formulate a plan in my mind.
She whispers something, trembling either from fear or cold. Or both. Probably both.
“What?” I ask.
“Sing.”
I smile, nod. “What song?”
“Mom's.”
Mom's song is something she wrote for Willow when she was a baby, about how she would always love and protect her little girl. It reminds me again about how I'll have to tell my baby sister our mom is dead. Then I think, the song still stands. It's ust about me now. It's me who's preotecting my little girl. And I will do so with my life. (418 words)

Story inspired by a weird sentence my sibling said the other day:

I can't help but laugh as my new blade arcs through the air. I'm the first female protector in at least seventeen generations, and I'm also only fifteen years old. That's plenty of reason to be proud.
Edila, perched awkwardly in the rafters, his dark face half in shadow, smiles at me. “Now it needs a name, Morgan.”
“What, you're saying I should name it Morgan?”
“No, that's you're name, silly.”
“I mean, I know that, obviously. What should I name it then?” I set the blade back down on the table, and stare at it, trying to see if a name comes to me.
Edila jumps down from the rafters. It's eight feet, but he somehow lands standing up. “I think it looks like a Jeff.”
“What?” I ask incredulously, “Jeff? Why would I name a sword ‘Jeff’?”
Edila laughs. “Why wouldn't you name a sword Jeff? Like, seriously?”
I shake my head. There are so many reasons not to name a sowrd Jeff, and I'm pretty sure Edila knows that. He just wants to mess with me. “I'll keep thinking about it I guess.”
I suppose a name for my weapon's pretty important, or at elast that's what I've gathered by the time I finish my first training session with my own blade. Everyone keeps asking me about it.
“What's you're blade's name?”
“Lovely sword! What are you calling it?”
“Congratulations! Have you decided on a name for your personal weapon?”
“You don't have a name, do you? If you'll allow me, I'd suggest Cordelia.”
Cordelia? That's almost worse than Jeff! But it was Master Tarron who said that, so I didn't dare argue. Chances are, with it being Master Tarron and all, it was a joke anyway.
That night I decide to go the swordsmith, Sir Wilren, and ask him about how you name a weapon.
He smiles at me. “Now, that's something that's entirely up to you.”
“Could you give me some help at least?”
“Of course, sit down.”
I do as he says, taking a seat on a wooden stool he has out for visitors to his shop. “Where do i start?”
Sir Wilren thinks for a moment, I can tell because whenever he's thoughtful he runs his fingers through his long, dark hair, as he's doing now. I don't know how he stands his hair so long, it reaches half way down his back. I never let my curly red hair get past my jawline or it annoys me too much.
“Well,” he finally says, “What do you care about in this world?”
“Edila,” I say immediately. No question there. Ever since my father died six years ago and Edila's father took me in as his own daughter, Edila has been the dearest thing to me. He's my brother, even if we obviously aren't related by blood. I love him.
Sir Wilren smiles again. “Edila,” he says, “Edila… now that would make a lovely name for a sword.”
“No, that's too weird,” I say immediately, trying not to laugh.
“How so?” Sir Wilren asks. I can tell it's a genuine question.
“He's my brother!” I exclaim. “I can't name my sword after my brother. That's so weird.”
“Yeah,” Sir Wilren admits, “you're probably right.”
“Thanks, though.”
“Of course.”
I think about what Sir Wilren said as I try to fall asleep that night. I keep tossing and turning, unable to sleep or to think of anything. When I finally get myself to still for a few moments, I can hear Edila tossing and turning in the bunk below mine.
“Trouble sleeping?” I whisper.
“Yeah, you?” Edila whispers back
“Same. Can you be serious for a moment?”
“I don't know, I'll try.”
“What would you choose to name a sword?”
I hear Edila laugh slightly. “What are the options?”
“Anything apparently,” I say, giving up on whispering because we're both fully awake so what's the point? “The suggestions I've gotten are Cordelia, Jeff as you know, and Edila which I said would be too weird.”
“Yeah, you can't name a sword after your brother.”
“That's exactly what I said!” Oops. That was louder than I meant.
“Shh, you'll wake dad. What about a plant or flower name?”
“That's a good idea. Byrony?”
“I like that.”
“Me too.”
And with that it's settled. I'm the first female protector in seventeen generations, and I will save the world with my brother Edila and my sword Byrony. (739 words)

Continued from the first story, theme of revenge vs. justice

Seventeen people died. I hate numbers. But there it is. “Seventeen people died.” It doesn't say “Angeline, a sixteen-year-old amazing artist who had a girlfriend” or “Thomas, an eight-year-old who was dearly loved by his two brothers” all it says is “seventeen people.”
It mentions who killed them by name, because it's so much more important who's fault it was that seventeen people died than who died and who's grieving. At least, that's what they think.
I have now lived five days without my Angeline. That's the longest I've ever been apart from her. Our mothers were best friends. I was born two weeks after her. We practically lived together our whole lives. Until now. Now she's gone. She's up in the sky, maybe. Maybe she's watching me. Maybe she's somewhere completely separate from me. Maybe she's nowhere at all. I don't know. All I do know is that she isn't here, and that it hurts.
No revenge.
I have never been one to break a promise, and I have no intention of starting now. We know who did it. But no revenge.
Our meeting that night is seventeen people short, we all feel it. The spaces around the table, the lack of different opinions and the lack of ideas, even from those of us still here. We have holes dug into our souls.
Finally, an argument strikes up. It's never good to argue, but in this situation it not only seems appropriate that our meeting have an element of conflict, but it doesn't seem that bad since at least we're talking. Until I realize what the argument's really about, at its centre.
We're going after the ones who killed the seventeen missing voices. We're going to get revenge.
I listen as the voices scream louder and louder, everyone tossing their opinions, their frustrations, their grief, all onto one large pile that if it were tangible I'm sure it would be explosive. Angeline would have hated it. I hate it too.
“No,” I say. It's quiet. A harsh kind of quiet. And it's all the people need to silence themselves, to listen to me for a moment.
“No revenge. That was Angeline's last request. She told me to promise her not to get revenge. And I did.”
“Angeline though!” Someone shouts from across the table. It's Stanley. “After all she went through she still managed to be unbearably soft.”
“Angeline was a beauty,” I say, “she was the kindest soul in the world. I believe honouring her request would be the best thing for us to do, for all seventeen of our fallen siblings.”
My argument fails. The revenge is planned. Detailed. The three men responsible for the deaths of seventeen will now die. The twenty-one of us remaining will now be responsible for the deaths of three. And then the ones who loved those three will end up responsible for the deaths of twenty-one. It will never end. But by the time I get a chance to speak again, it's beyond too late.
The plan is set. I cannot stop it from being carried out.
But wait.
I can stop it from succeeding.
Three days later the plan is officially underway. I have no role. I'm fully and adamantly against it and everyone else knows that. But I'm the only one, my voice too small to make a difference here and now. As soon as I get a chance, I slip away. I walk slowly through the woods, parallel to the path they are set to follow, twenty minutes from now. I only barely have enough time. I reach my destination with four minutes to spare. The rest of them will be here sooner than is ideal for my plan, but just on time for theirs. Here is where they are. The three people responsible for the deaths of seventeen. And I'm here to warn them.
Miraculously, they believe me. All three of them set to work to avoid their own demise. They plan defense tactics and escape routes and explanations that seem a lot like lies. The way they say it, it sounds so horrible. And at that moment, I realize how horrible these people really are. And at that moment I realize I messed up, I realize I failed.
A fight, a terrible fight, is inevitable now.
They've called for backup. Three becomes thirty-nine. Twenty is still twenty. And battle engages.
Screams, shots, blood, all the things that terrified me the night Angeline died are back. All the things I tried to escape are here, and they're my fault.
I watch as, around me, people start dying again. Collapsing. Trampled. Forgotten, it seems. And more keep coming. Before long, people who have no bearance on the conflict, people who probably have no idea what's really going on here, have joined the fight from both sides. And finally I no longer have a choice. I end up in the fight as well. I don't have a weapon so I fight with my fists and my wit. And I loose.
Pain arcs through my left leg, piercing through everything else in my mind. I think i scream, but I really have no way to know. I lay there, I don't know how long, and I watch my friends, the twenty, get slaughtered. By the time the fighting lets up there are fourteen survivors, largely unharmed. None of them are of the twenty. Another shot rings out, the loud noise briefly shocking me away from my pain and I only have a split second to wonder why before it hits me. Literally. The pain in my leg feels like nothing now, not compared to the absolute fire in my chest. I'm fading fast. The last thought I ever have is failure. I failed Angeline and I failed myself. All I did was bring more pain into the world. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was stoping this, stoping revenge. All I did was cause more harm, less joy, more pain, less justice.
“I'm sorry”
Thirteen survivors.
(1,011 words)

3/18 Daily <3
554 words
I wrote a fanfiction about Dolores Madrigal from Encanto :0

I take a few long deep breaths in. And then a few long deep breaths out. In. Out. In. Out. My ears are on the verge of exploding. I hold it all in, timing my breathing with the ticks of a faraway clock. I’m sitting at the base of the mountain that overlooks the village. It’s a calming place for me, where I can process the noise of the town while simultaneously being one with nature. Today, though, I just can’t seem to focus. I tune out the clock and tune in the birds. The birdsong usually feels calming, but today it’s like an incessant ringing in my ear. I put my hands over the sides of my head, frustrated. What’s wrong with you, Dolores? ¿Por qué no puedes hacer esto?

Abuela’s voice fills my head. She is standing in her room. I don’t know how she gets me to tune her in, but I hear her every time. “Dolores, come back. We need you here.”

I don’t really want to leave the security of the mountain, especially because I haven’t been able to meditate. But I can’t disobey Abuela, so I bid my little sanctuary farewell and slowly start the trek down the mountain. I try to put my finger on what might be the cause of my not being able to focus. Maybe it’s that Abuela has been more and more stressed ever since the day of Mirabel’s ceremony. Now that it’s Antonio’s ceremony tonight, her stress is off the charts, though nobody knows but me. I would talk to her about it, but we’re not close enough for that. She distances herself from everybody, on purpose. I suppose that when you’re able to hear everything, you become attuned to everyone’s mental well-being. You’d be surprised how many people in the village talk to themselves on a regular basis.

So that’s one of the possibilities. Another is the deal with my cousin. Isabela. I can tell she’s putting up an act, but she always comes off as so perfect and mature that I’m jealous. And then there’s the fact that I’m well aware of how Abuela reeled in Mariano like a fish, using Isabela as bait. The whole circle of emotions there is way too complex so I don’t bother to analyze their cues and mumblings, though sometimes I subconsciously do it anyway. But Mariano and Isabela are well on their way to being another happy Madrigal family, with myself left in the dust.

I find the most likely possibility to be a combination of both of these. There’s just a lot going on for me right now. There’s nobody I can rely on to help me deal with it, either. I’ve been a lone wolf for a while. Camilo and I haven’t properly talked to one another, and I’m too afraid to dump all of this on him anyway. But I suppose eventually everything will get sorted out. I’m probably needed in the Casita. I can hear Mirabel singing to some children without a care in the world. I try to imagine being so carefree as I speed up on my way back to the town. Soon Mirabel will have her own worries. But for now, I hope for the best as I do what I’ve always done: wait and listen.

daily march 18
I work at a place called SWC — let me tell you about it! Maybe if you read this, someday you’ll want to work there too…
Basically, SWC — short for Scratch Writing Camp (I have no idea why it’s called that, it’s just a name — is a place where you can write whatever you want and be rewarded for it. I mean, some things are more valued than others (every day there’s a specific prompt that grants extra), but that’s unrelated. Point is, it’s amazing for creativity and for productivity, too.
I’ve been working there for over 4 years now, which is crazy to think about! I think I’m one of the most senior employees there — there have been people who started before, but they left to pursue other things. I can’t say I’m the best employee we have, because there are some younger and brighter prodigies who have really upended the way we work, but I like to think I’m consistent and reliable. I’m senior enough to be able to wax tales about how small the company used to be, and how much it’s grown since then. (When I started, there were only a couple dozen people working there, now it’s grown to several hundred. In fact, we had to downsize because our new employees were actually somehow making us less productive…)
The reason I’ve stayed so long is probably partly because of a loyalty to the company who’s invested in me, but also because of how fun I still find it. Most days (but not every day), I wake up excited and rejuvenated to write. It’s great, and so is the company culture! Everyone is incredibly excited about their work, and there’s just a big fun vibe covering the area. It’s amazing.
But because I’ve been here so long, I can say that the work culture hasn’t always been this great. There used to be a bunch of people who would stay up all night and write really unhealthy amounts of words. I was never in that group — I was too lazy for that, and I valued my sleep too much — but they really affected the way that SWC was. It became less friendly, and it was bad for the people involved, too. Luckily the bosses figured it out, and now there’s a limit to the amount of words people can write a day. Of course, correlation doesn’t equal causation, but I feel like SWC has become more fun again since that change.
I really appreciate how willing the bosses are to change things. They’re really open to listening to our ideas (there’s even an open forum for it) and they keep an ear on the ground just making sure that everything is running as smoothly as it can be. They tweak things once in a while and see how they go, so they’re always improving how it feels to be working here.
And sure, sometimes it gets stressful— sometimes it gets to be too much— but the rest of the time, it’s super fun to work here! I’m thankful.

3/18, 562 words: What fandoms are you a part of? Today, write fanfiction of anything - it could be a book, movie, video game, or even SWC! 500 words for 700 points, and you can earn an extra 200 points if you share your writing!

TW: mentions of blood, weapons

I did a star wars fanfic

“Andromeda, are you there?”
“Just entered the base.”
“Good. Keep on the lookout for guards.”
“Will do.”
I push in my earpiece before moving forward once again— what I have to accomplish now is vital, and I will not fail simply due to a missed message.
I then creep around enemy territory, making sure not to make a sound. The entire fate of this war rests on this mission. So if I fail, the entire world will end, and I am deeply determined that it will not happen all because my boots slipped.
I hold in my breath and peer around the nearest corner.
Two stormtroopers guarding the entrance.
I check to make sure that my ponytail is perfectly made and tighten it before I take a deep breath and head around the corner.
They immediately point their weapons towards me, and I raise my hands to the sky.
“Easy! I’m not here to hurt you,” I lie, cocking my head to the side in a playful manner, my ponytail swinging.
They hesitantly drop their weapons, suspicious but willing, as they obey my seemingly harmful state and playful smile.
I take a step forward, the guards flinching at the sudden movement. “I’m Andromeda. And you are…?”
Before they get a chance to answer, I kick the stormtrooper closest straight in the chest. He goes down like a rock or an abandoned sock puppet as I head towards the remaining one, the strands of my ponytail slowly cascading and my expression fierce— a contrast to the kind and innocent expression from earlier.
The stormtrooper aims and shoots, but I dodge the bullet with ease before knocking him down as well, before he has the chance to alarm the others.
Still breathing heavily from the near-death encounter, I touch my earpiece and say, “Entrance is clear.”
I then drag one of the stormtroopers’ hands towards the keypad, causing the door to unlock. I let go of his arm, and it drops back down to the floor as I step through, satisfied.
As I step through, the door starts to close behind me, and I whip around, alarmed, and reach to pry open the door, but I’m too late: It closes and locks me in. Just great.
I tap my earpiece. “The door just closed in on me. Do you think I’m being watched?”
“Not sure— but be careful nonetheless.”
“I’ll try,” I reply, my voice visibly croaky and dry. I have trained for so long for this moment, so if someone was watching me, no, toying with me, like a child, it certainly ticked me off.
My vision becomes red around the edges. I proceed forward, determined more than ever.
As soon as another stormtrooper notices me (only one was guarding, however, since Darth Vader and the rest of his crew were probably too cocky to think that anyone would ever make it this far), I whip out my knife and throw it at him, who collapses in a heap, too shocked to even attempt to dodge it.
I take his uniform and put it on, which mostly fits, and face the wall, which is clear as glass. I check to see if all of the straps are on correctly, before I put on the helmet. Glancing at my reflection, I realize just how convincing I look. I smirk. Nothing would go wrong now.

Daily for 17/3:

It was quiet in the Casita. Everyone was asleep, or so they thought.
Bruno had disappeared two years ago, the night of Mirabel’s gift ceremony. Pepa and Julieta had been utterly devastated at the loss of their (slightly) younger brother. Little did they know, he was still with them, quite literally, as he had been living within the safety of the walls to save Mirabel from the wrath of the family through his prophecy.
It was around one thirty in the morning. Small, quiet footsteps hopped out of bed and began making their way towards the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible so they didn’t wake up the house. Casita clacked a few tiles, trying to get the culprit to head back to bed, but they ignored the warning, hoping to steal a few arepas from the giant stack left in the kitchen before everyone else headed to bed.
Bruno was in the kitchen, with some of his rats on his shoulders. Julieta had made such an abundance of food that day that there had been so many leftovers. Dolores had decided that since there was more than enough food for tomorrow’s breakfast, she could leave out a platter for Bruno, and the missing arepas would go unnoticed. She had alerted Bruno before she headed to bed for the night, and he was grateful he had such a thoughtful niece. He was eating his fill of arepas and shoving the rest in his ruana when he suddenly heard a noise from another side of the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Camilo had reached the kitchen and was grabbing some arepas from the leftover pile. He shoved some in his mouth and reached for more. He was glad that nobody else was in the kitchen, because it meant that he wouldn’t have to shift into Dolores or Isabela to get food because they tended to stay up later than the other Madrigal family members.
A glowing green light from the other side of the room caught his attention, and in his surprise, he dropped a couple of arepas on the floor, which made a small piff upon impact.
Bruno noticed the timid movements from the other side of the kitchen, and slowly made his way towards them. With luck, it would be Dolores, and his secret wouldn’t be revealed. Unfortunately, he never had such luck. The source of the noise turned out to be a terrified seven-year-old Camilo, who looked up at his uncle’s glowing green eyes with wide, scared ones. Bruno tried to approach slowly, as to not startle his young nephew. But it was a bit too late.
“Camilo…?” asked Bruno nervously.
Camilo stared at Bruno, not sure if what he was seeing was real or not. But as Bruno and his nerve-wrecking eyes moved closer and closer, he couldn’t take the fear anymore, and screamed. He knew his sister wouldn’t be able to hear him (her room was soundproof to anything out of a ten-foot range) and nobody else would either (Casita had made their rooms soundproof so they could have privacy when Dolores wasn’t in hers).
“Wait Camilo it’s just me!” called Bruno desperately.
Some rats appeared on Bruno’s shoulder, and he saw Bruno pounce towards him in a supposed effort to calm him down, but it only made him stumble backwards in surprise. He tripped on a fallen arepa and went crashing to the tiled floor. The last thing he saw was Bruno’s face, then it all faded to black as Bruno called his name one more time (I am so sorry).
Bruno looked at his nephew apprehensively, then glanced around himself anxiously. I hope nobody saw that, he thought. He was a bit terrified himself at this point. He had just watched his nephew trip, slam his head against the cold hard floor, and pass out. He felt a little guilty, as it was his fault that caused Camilo to pass out just now. And he had been looking at Bruno like he was some kind of monster. He couldn’t just leave Camilo here and head back to the safety of the walls, there would be a hurricane before sunrise if he did that. But he didn’t want to risk being seen by Alma or his sisters if he decided to bring Camilo upstairs. That would be worse.
After debating over his options for a few minutes, he decided that he would bring Camilo to his room and then immediately escape through the portrait. It was quite convenient, as Camilo’s room was only a door away from the painting in front of his entrance to the walls.
He gingerly bent down and gently picked up his unconscious nephew, completely overestimating his weight in the process. He hadn’t expected his nephew to be so unusually light, but he was just glad that Camilo would be easy to carry. Bruno brought Camilo’s head to rest on his shoulder, and he softly patted his back as he carefully carried him up the stairs.
Casita clicked a couple of tiles, and it seemed to be asking Bruno a question. Bruno nodded. “I’ll just put him to bed now, don’t worry Casita.”
He opened the door to Camilo’s room, and internally cringed at how many reflections of himself were staring back at him. Casita popped up a mattress on the top row of mirrors, but Bruno shook his head, remembering that Camilo had complained about nightmares whenever he slept there.
Bruno made his way down the stairs towards the stage in the centre of the room, trying his best to avoid the gaze of the mirrors. When he reached the stage, he pulled back the curtain and opened the door that led to Camilo’s sleeping area. He laid the seven year old down on his bed, and gently stroked his forehead.
“Goodnight sobrino,” he whispered. He left the room and headed back inside the walls, only to remember that he had forgotten to take the platter, but he had put some arepas in his ruana beforehand. He gave some to his rats. “Here, mi chicos. Eat well.”
Camilo woke up to a throbbing pain in his head around three hours later. He was surprised to find himself in his bed, and not in the kitchen where he had seen his nightmarish Tío Bruno, with his glowing green eyes, and his creepy rats…
He shook his head in an effort to get rid of the throbbing, but it unfortunately did not go away. He would have to ask his Tía Julieta for an arepa later, as she wouldn’t be awake at five am. Suddenly he remembered what had happened a few hours ago, but he wasn’t sure if it had been a dream or not. He sprung out of bed and raced downstairs towards the kitchen.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there. There were Dolores’s arepas on one side, which she seemed to have eaten since there were a couple half-eaten ones, and there were Julieta’s leftovers on the other side. Wait… there it was! On the ground was an arepa that had looked like it had been stepped on. And Camilo had stepped on it. He felt his head, and sure enough, there was a bump where he had hit it on the tiles.
He headed back to bed, wincing as his head hit the pillow a bit roughly. Well, that clearly hadn’t been a fun night for either of them.
Thus, the origin of Camilo's verse.

Main Cabin Daily 3/18
Topic: Fanfic
Word Count: 518
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Amelia turned her head slightly in the mirror, her mom yelling for her to get ready sooner.
Her hair was fine. Yes, it was fine, she reassured herself. Everything was perfect and she was not at all stressed for her first day of foxfire.
Breakfast was a lost cause. She’d already spent too much time preparing that there was no time for food anymore. In a desperate attempt, she shoved a ripplefluff into her mouth before stepping through the Leapmaster 4000 with her mother.
All the families crowded up in the foxfire grand hall, paitently waiting for orientation. Magnate Leto finally arrived.
“Thank you for coming, foxfire year one families! It is a great pleasure to welcome you to this prestigious school. All wavers and class info should already have been distributed, and you hsve not gotten them, please meet me at my office,” he said. “All classes will begin in 15 minutes, so please get yourselves settled in. Any questions you have at all can be answered by me. I’ll see you at midterms!”
He stepped down from the small podium and hallways began to become bustling mazes.
“Bye, see you later!” Amelia said to her mom, dashing off before something embarassing happened.
She found her locker eventually and bent down to lick it. It tasted like fresh peppermint, thankfully, and not dirty dishes.
She looked at her schedule obsessively. Ability testing was her first class.
Well, that certainly didn’t require much textbooks to do. Amelia left most of her items in the locker, shutting it and wandering off to the ability testing, room, map in hand.
Once she reached it, she saw that it was a room with chairs lined against the wall, and a blank area in front which had to be the testing chaimber
Amelia sat down in one of the chairs, waiting. Sometime after, a red haired girl with freckles, her hair tied in a tight bun came to sit next to Amelia. The girl smelled heavily of perfume, and Amelia almost choked.
“Amelia Brato, you’re first!” An instructor ordered from the back.
Amelia got up and walked over to the other side of the room, feeling uncomforable as everyone’s gazes lay on her.
“Please step on the red X,” the instructor ordered.
Amelia opened the glass door and stepped into the glass cage, and stepped on the X as she was told.
The instructor moved his hands, and ice started to appear in thin sheets against the sides of the room.
Amelia felt a strange sensation, almost like something was being awakened inside of her. It was a feeling she had never felt before. The ice started calling her, and she felt a strong tug in her gut to respond back. She tried to regain herself, but it was too much.
Her hand shot out, and she flicked her wrist twords her, creating a icy spiral in the direction of her wrist.
Her classmates watched in awe, and she continued playing around with her newfound Froster abilities for a few minutes.
Finally, the instructor drew back the ice and opened the door.

THIS IS A SWC WRITING COMP ENTRY
Poem: 2 school ( lyrical)

Up in the morning,
Not ready to rise,
Same old boring day
To get ready in a trice.

Forget to pack our bags,
The day before.
Hurriedly stuff food .
But miss the bus,
The same thing once more.

Forget our homework
Punishments arise,
Try to get away
But the teacher’s here with her advice.

Detention and more homework
Life can’t be worse!
Have to memorize poetry
Till our voices go hoarse.

Finally lunch break!
Maybe a food fight or two?
But then trouble arises again
And We end up in detention ,
That’s true!


After a handful of scoldings,
And I guess some good pats on the back!
Bell’s finally ringing!
Thank goodness! Time to slack!

THIS IS A FAN-FIC WRITING COMP ENTRY:
THIS IS BASED ON THE Harry Potter FANDOM

Poem: 1 Hermione granger in 99 seconds ( lyrical)

There once was a girl named Hermione,
Destined to be the top
Her parents were muggles and she was a witch
Whose life had a big flip-flop

Yo Hermione your a witch

Hermione goes to hogwarts,
She meets harry and Ron
In studies she doesn’t even
Have a single con
She gets saved from a troll
In Halloween night,
And earns 50 points for being so bright.

Ron breaks his wand
Now ginny’s gone
And harry’s in mortal danger.
Hermione turns into a cat
Then it’s a bit sad
As she becomes a petrified granger.


Hermione stays with the Weaslies
The dementors come an seize,
Hogwarts not a safe place,
Ron sees Sirius Black’s face
Hermione uses time travel
To save the prisoner of askaban
Who just so happens to be harry’s godfather
She doesn’t really get it either.


Harry gets put in the
Triwizard tournament,
Hermione goes to the yull ball with Krum
Which leads to a big argument,
Voldermorts back!



Hermione, Hermione its scary Hermione!
Voldermort’s back your made into a prefect Hermione!
Umbridge’s here and now Draco’s a big tool
For the inquinstingshon sqad.
Dumbeldore’s army a brilliant idea,
But he’s now gone without any see ya’s
Thestrals and ministry
A scary ride
But Sirius’s gone now where to hide?

Slughorn’s here and Lavender too
There’s horcruxes!
Its Dumbledore’s end!


There once was a girl named Hermione
The brightest of her kind
Harry and Ron just wouldn’t survive
Without her friendship, bravery and mind

daily for march 18 (warriors fanfic that really has no plot), 501 words

“Hi, Lilypaw.”
It was Fishpaw. Lilypaw glanced at her brother and quickly mewed a “hi” in response.
“Whatcha doin'?” Fishpaw settled down next to his sister, a bright tabby ginger-furred she-cat with striking green eyes, and rested his chin on his paws.
“I'm fishing. You're being noisy.” Lilypaw replied crossly, turning away from him. She stared back into the water. A shadow flitted silently above. Uh oh, it must be a hawk. She looked up and sure enough, there was a Cooper's hawk circling above them.
“That's not fishing,” Fishpaw blabbed annoyingly, causing Lilypaw to puff her fur out and unsheathe her claws- she didn't want to harm him, she was just annoyed.
“Could you-” Lilypaw struggled to find a polite way to tell him to go away. “Leave me alone for a bit? I think your mentor needs you and honestly the fish aren't going to come out if you keep talking. Come on, I'll catch you a nice, juicy trout.”
Fishpaw smacked his lips very loudly. “Okay, sis,” he meowed, and bounded off in the direction of camp.
As soon as he left, Lilypaw jumped into a tree. She balanced precariously for a couple moments, then started up the branch. From that branch she jumped onto a thicker section where multiple branches were intertwining, and at the top of the three she poked her head out through the leaves. Dust flew everywhere and Lilypaw sneezed.
The hawk had disappeared. Lilypaw shrugged. Just then, the hawk reappeared, a squirrel in its talons. It swooped into the air and turned into a speck, and then it was gone.
Huh. Lilypaw blinked at it, twitching her whiskers and ears. Then she bounded from one tree onto the next.
She was learning how to climb in the trees like a SkyClan cat. She wanted to be like all the Clans, at once. She wanted to be fast like WindClan (which she had mostly already achieved), stealthy like ShadowClan (which she had achieved as well), strong like ThunderClan (she was already strong), nimble like SkyClan (which she was working on right now), and of course, she could already swim like a RiverClan cat- because she was one.
And one day she was going to be as wise and all knowing as StarClan. Lilypaw beamed at the reflection of the water. There was a giant tree, with a little ginger cat perched on top. Suddenly, without thinking, she slipped.
With a yowl, Lilypaw plummeted into the deepest part of the water. Help! I- I can't swim that well yet! Thrashing and kicking, she saw that land was pretty far away. Struggling to swim against the current, Lilypaw eventually gave up.

Lilypaw woke up with stars in her pelt.
“Are you as wise as StarClan now?” said a voice. “It's what you wished for. You were fast like WindClan, strong like ThunderClan, nimble like SkyClan, stealthy like ShadowClan, and a good swimmer like RiverClan. And now you will be as wise as StarClan.”
“What?” said Lilypaw.