Daily 18th - chaotic and kind of train-of-thought marvel fanfic

There are several memories I repeat in my head regularly. Some of them because they're too important or mean too much to me to let myself forget, others because I could end up in similar situations again and might need to know what choices not to make a second time. And then there's some that I replay only because I can't stop. Because what happened then affects my everyday life so much and in such obvious ways that I can't get the memory out of my head.
Such as the day Yelena convinced me to take young Zhenya back to the US.
“She needs a family,” my sister had said.”And she needs help. You can give her both. She needs you.”
Yelena had been referring to my two companions and me, as well as our other teammates, who were at the time scattered across the world as well as beyond it. That was one of the rare times my sister was wrong through. Zhenya didn't need us nearly as much as we needed her.

Right from the beginning, I was determined, more determined than ever, to make sure Zhenya had everything I never did. Starting with a choice. Zhenya, assuming we could heal her first from the terrible things that had been done to her mind, would decide for herself what she did with her life.
The healing process wasn't easy. And right from the beginning we knew it would never fully work. But we were still more than willing to try the best we could. And as it turned out, our best was enough to give a young girl a chance at a good life.

Zhenya is twelve now. She goes by Jenna and she loves music. More often than not she's singing, listening to, or writing music. She still struggles, but less than we expected. Who wouldn't struggle after going through the horrors she did? We all struggle. We've all been through horrors. But none of us have been through anything like what she has. Well… except Barnes. That's probably why they're so close.

Now we have an opportunity to do what we did for Jenna again, for two remarkable children who someone didn't care to consider before setting their parents up to die in a car crash. The police ruled it off as a mistake, an unfortunate coincidence of various circumstances, but to all of us it's obviously sabotage. I mean, we've been through things like this enough to know. Those twins, Bear Alexander and Millie-Rose are going to need someone's help, to figure out what happened and how to get through it. Who better than us?

Everyone who's available, and for once that's most of us, is gathered in the main room to hear our plan of action. This might be easier than most things we do, but it's in no way less important.

“These two kids are geniuses. And now they're orphans. Most of us have experience with one or both of those things. Let's see what we can do for them.”

Daily of 3/18 for poetry; 584 words; Percabeth story:

 I grinned. Time to show Goode High who was boss. Let me back up; my name is Jacob George, and I'm currently “fighting” with Percy Jackson, the most famous guy in our school. Well, I'm fighting. I don't really know about him. What I do know is that whenever some girl asks him out, he's all like “You seem like a really nice person, but I already have a girlfriend, so I'm sorry.” He is SO making up that girlfriend. There is /no/ way a loser like him could catch the eye of a … goddess like her. Percy even keeps a picture of her in his locker; he's /such/ a pervert!

 Back to reality! We're doing this unit in PE about “Self-defense”. I just KNOW that I can beat Percy! And guess what? We're in different brackets, so if we both win all of the games, we'll play each other. I'm kinda voting for him… NOOO, not for that reason! I just want to play against him!

 I'm staring at him now, by the way. He's writing a note to his “Annie”, which I'm guessing is his girlfriend? He's called her Annabeth before, though. This is what it says: (he's not even trying to keep it secret!)

  Wise Girl,
    I miss you so much!! Luckily we have school break soon, so I get to visit camp,
   and then you come to Goode! We're also doing this self-defense unit in PE??? You
   think I'll get first?
   - p <3
 Okay, like ew??????????!?!? He's also just SOO narcissistic! Come on! “Think I'll get first?” Haven't met me yet, Percy. I'll beat the sass out of you!

 I'd just won the 13 games, and I was doing well. I heard some girls squealing about how Percy also had a 13 streak. /Looks like Percy won. YESS, I get to BEAT the h3ll out of him!/

We were given gloves to protect our fingers, but that was it. Percy's hand flew to his pocket, but quickly pulled away and he just stood there.
 “Arghhhhhhhh!” I charged straight at him. He just stepped aside. I paused, dizzy. This technique had helped me beat literally everyone else?? Percy jumped up, and as he fell, he extended his arms… and brought me to the ground. He kicked me once, and whispered,

 “You thought you could win? No way am I letting Annabeth see me defeated.”

 “Percy Jackson; winner!” I couldn't believe my ears. One, Annabeth was coming?? Two, Percy had won? The Percy-winning part was less disappointing. And now, I knew what I'd do; I could break them apart!

 Annabeth was your typical California blonde, except for her eyes, which were gray.

 “Yo, babe!” I waltzed over, just as she was exited the car. “Been a while? How you doing? Wanna hop to the bed again tonight?” I winked, and rested my arm around her waist. I saw her roll her eyes, “Oh, you want to take public lightly in the beginning again?” I asked.

 She smacked my arm away. “If you want to touch me, I suggest not in front of my boyfriend- and I wasn't with /you/ last night, it was Percy.” She dislodged her arm roughly and gave Percy a quick kiss on the cheek. “Besides, I'm not interested in you- maybe go after those who are?” She gestured with her head at a group of girls gazing at me star-eyed. I turned around to look, then back quickly. But in that short period of time, they had disappeared.

Hope you enjoyed <3

Cruddy rushed writing

—

“Annabeth!” Percy yelled, coming down from the helm of the ship. His shirt was tattered from doing god knows what. He grinned quite a lopsided grin and sauntered towards her.
Annabeth sighed as she watched Percy walk over to her. His steps were uneven and he looked a little dizzy. Perhaps from drinking.
Before Percy could walk up to Annabeth, someone shouted, “Percy!” He swiveled around to find Hazel staring at him from the other corner of the ship. She walked up to him and put her arm on his shoulder before looking into his eyes.
Percy swore under his breath. Why did these two girls have to make it so hard to pick one of them? “I- Hazel! Fancy seeing you here. Did you need something? Perhaps an apple? Or are some ravagous sea monsters out to get us?”
“Nothing much really, I just wanted to see what you were doing.” She grinned pleasantly though Percy could see from the way her mouth crinkled at the edges that it was a forced grin and she was trying to remain pleasant or seem nice for Annabeth.
Actually-“ He cut off for a moment, trying to quickly make a decision. WHen he couldn't make one he went with his escape plan. ”I need to go.“ He dashed away and Annabeth and Hazel were left to each others company. Annabeth turned to stare at the swirling waves before she heard Hazel's voice speak up once more.
”Annabeth.“ Her voice became quiet now. ”I've been thinking about it, and would you like to be my girlfriend?“ Her eyes looked deeply into Annabeth's and for a moment they felt a connection.
”Y- yes!“ Annabeth shouted a couple moments later, ”I was so tempted to ask you but I really didn't know if you would accept.“
”Well at least one of us was brave enough to do it.“ Hazel smirked before grabbing Annabeth's hand and twirling her around.

Meanwhile, Percy was once again at the front of the ship pondering how he would ask Annabeth to be his girlfriend. He decided he would just confidently walk up to her and ask like a gentlemen would. That's the type of boy Annabeth liked anyway, she wanted a strong, confident person. Not a timid, shy boy who could hardly handle asking someone out in front of a person like Hazel. He marched down to where Annabeth and Hazel were still standing. ”Annabeth, could I confess something to you?“
Annabeth was shocked that Percy would actually have something to confess to her seeing as they were already such close friends. ”Yes of course although I wouldn't appreciate it if you were keeping secrets from me.“
Percy blushed and was about to look at his shoes before realizing that Annabeth didn't like shy boys. ”Will you be my girlfriend.“
”Sorry Percy, you're too late. I'm already taken."
Percy was shocked. Annabeth couldnt be taken!? She wasn't even going out with anyone else or hanging out with any other boys.

—

500 words

3/18 daily
828 words

HI THIS IS TERRIBLE AND FORMATTED LIKE A RANT/VENT PLS DONT READ </333
村田 雨月's perspective from ギヴン

(lol i'm using this for my weekly too B))
—-


The crowd erupts in cheers.

I bow,
he smiles.

-

Usually, the sound of the crowd gives me euphoria. But today, there’s an aching, longing ring in my ears. The ringing hurts me, even. I’ve won once again. Yet I’m still experiencing pain. It’s pain airbrushed with fury and sadness– all the same to me now. All my feelings, everything. Everything I do, it leads to pain.

It’s all his fault.

It’s like a headache. You would do anything to get rid of it, but no matter what, it’s still there; scattering your thoughts, tearing your mind apart. You need one once in a while to get your mind back to this hell of a reality. You don’t want it, but it still happens.

He’s my headache.

I look up. The audience is smiling, laughing, clapping. They’re experiencing the euphoria I can’t feel. It’s not fair. Shouldn’t they carry my pain? Can’t they hear it? Can’t they hear the pain and sorrow I’m screaming through my music? He can hear it, I know. He can hear it, and he just pours more salt in the wound. I want to scream.

Ha. Now that I think about it, Tchaikovsky’s music is really, really ethereal. It’s so delicate, yet so powerful. It feels as if… someone’s slicing your throat slowly, but gently. It’s over now, though, I suppose. It’s over. It’s over, but I still carry the suffering, anguishing music within me. I’m really one pathetic loser.

Row M, seat 713.

There sits another pathetic loser. I love him to death, but I want my love to end. He tears me apart and hurts me. We suffocate each other. I’m waiting for the day he leaves, but when he does, I’ll be left with nothing. I have no one to turn to, nowhere to go.

I realize it now. He has power over me. One day, he’ll choose to leave and never come back. What will I do then? I think about it a thousand times a day. I can’t clearly picture it, though. Maybe it’s because I love him.

Perhaps I “need” him. People often need things that are bad for them. Is that the case for me as well? People who don’t have power often think they need things, too. I love him, and I think he loves me. Sometimes being in love with someone doesn’t mean that you’re meant to be together. Love is supposed to be a gentle, sweet, and tender thing. So why is it a force so powerful it can tear you apart?

He tears me apart. Piece by piece, I’ve been crumbling for the past two years. No one’s here to pick up my debris, no one’s here to clean up the mess I am. When he’s gone, will dust be all that’s left?

The stage lights warms my skin. I should go. Am I smiling? How long have I been standing here for? The audience is still applauding, my ears are still ringing. I glance up at him one last time, but his gaze is now fixed somewhere new. Realization pounds my head; the pain heavier than any punch. My mind is a collage of a nightmare: broken bits arranged to create a musical prodigy, and somehow, the shards of it fall down to my heart, and stab it. It bleeds endlessly. Soon, half of the artwork will fade away. Will it stop the bleeding, or will it open the wound further? My mind continues to break. If I just let go, will it mend? Will his absence glue the pieces back together? No one wants a collage. Canvas paintings are always more preferable.

So it’s him.

I close my eyes, and walk off the stage. I place my violin back in its case. It clicks shut. Then, I grip the handle and run.

I run and run and run. What– who am I even running from?

Concerto in D major, Op. 35, is labeled allegro: lively, cheerful, happy. What a pleasant little lie that is. When I play it, I feel like I’m being torn apart. Why the hell should a composer who died hundreds of years ago decide how someone else plays their music? I only play music because I have no one else to turn to. If I chose to play pieces based on its key, I would be playing minor my whole life. I am so, so, so pathetic.

I sigh. The rain falls to the ground like bombs; the sound of the water’s punches rising to a crescendo. I can no longer hear the ringing, but I still feel pain. Pain that follows you wherever you go, like a shadow. Sometimes the shadow enlarges and sometimes it shrinks. The shadow of two people is larger than one. Is the pain worse, then?

I’m so lonely.

Our love was so strong that it broke us.
What the hell is the point of falling in love just to suffer?

“Ugetsu!”

march 18 daily: (I might've done this wrong, this is my first time writing a fanfic) (this is also a writing comp entry)
Kotlc book 6 Chapter 85 fanfic from Linh's point of view

'You now have two choices,' Lady Gisela shouted over the roaring rain, which I was to keep away from my friends. I glanced at Ro, who was lying on the ground, and felt a lump in my throat as the water struggled to take control.
Stop.
Flood!
Stop.
I closed my eyes, fighting back the strain.
'Don't tempt me, Keefe. The same goes for you, Sophie. Keep your inflicting under control, or count on losing a friend.' I opened my eyes as Lady Gisela shifted her soporidine weapon's aim at Keefe, then my brother, then to me, and back to Keefe. ‘Now that everyone’s listening, you should know that the princess is still dying. The remedy I gave you isn't enough to save her- did you think I'd make it that easy?' she said. I felt dread pour through me, almost making me lose my hold on the water. I risked glancing at Sophie, who looked more ill than me. ‘What do you want?’ Sophie asked.
'I want to see that you're capable of making the right decision. So I'll make it this simple.' Lady Gisela pulled out a vial from her dark cloak. I didn't recognize what was inside. As I stepped closer, she also pulled out a crystal that looked like someone shattered it and glued it back together. ‘You can take this light and this crystal and use both to bring Ro to Firefox.’ She was holding both objects so tightly that there was no way to retrieve them with telekinesis. I caught a look at Ruy, who was standing beside Lady Gisela. He looked ready to form another force field the minute I tried to do anything with water. ‘Hopefully, you’ll make it to the Healing Center in time for Elwin to melt any skin exposed to the soporidine,' she added.
'And let me guess- you'll only give those to us if we let you go?' Keefe asked. I hoped that it wouldn't be the cause. ‘Do you think I need your help to escape? Trust me, Keefe, the second…’ The rest of her speech melted into chaos as more water flushed down, refusing to obey my orders. I gritted my teeth, refusing to let the water win. ‘-even with your Hydrokinetic friend. And by then, it will be too late for the princess.’ Lady Gisela's voice came flooding back into my brain. I jerked my eyes open to find her pointing to the torn dome up above. The hole was ginormous and two times bigger than when it first started. I leaned against Tam, straining to keep the rising water away from Ro. She pointed to the rising water, which was now past their ankles. ‘You’re destroying an entire city- to test us,' Keefe said. I stared at him curiously as the tone of his voice hit me.
There wasn't rage in his voice. Nor fury.
His voice was… bleak.
Like he just realized that his mum could hurt him more than he realized.
And he couldn't stop her from hurting him more.
'We should've let go of this city long ago,' Lady Gisela told him. ‘Atlantis is our past-not our future- and the more we cling on to it, the more impossible it is for us to move forward.’
I felt sick as I thought about all the people who couldn't escape. I gritted my teeth. No, we had to save it.
Sophie was thinking the same thing.
'It's also filled with thousands of innocent people,' Sophie snapped.
The cold water crashed around us, nearly knocking me down.
'Yes, and the strongest and smartest of them will manage to evacuate,' Lady Gisela told her, ‘The rest aren’t worth saving. And let's not forget that many, many more will be in danger if King Dimitar declares war which he would do if he found out you had a chance to spare his only daughter and ignored it. The right choice sometimes isn't easy, Sophie. But that doesn't mean it's not right. I need you to show me you understand that.'
I stared at the water which was calling to me softly, telling me to give in. My brain was pounding through the strain. I furrowed my brow, trying to think. Ro lay on the side, staying perfectly dry. She looked… blank. I shuddered, wondering if we could save her. My eyes found the crystal Lady Gisela was holding. ‘Thirty seconds, Sophie,’ Lady Gisela warned. ‘Thirty seconds.’
'You show more ruthlessness than I expected,' Vespera told Lady Gisela. ‘But you are giving her the wrong options. A real test would be to see if the moonlark takes her chance to capture us. ’She doesn't need to sink to that level to be useful,' Lady Gisela argued. ‘Is that what you tell yourself?’ Vespera asked. ‘ How you justify the slight shake in your hand whenever you point that weapon to your son? Would you be willing to pull the trigger if they forced your hand?’
'My son is important,' Lady Gisela argued.
'He is not. You need to see that. Otherwise, you're just as useless as him.' Nasua poured through me, sick and cold. Keefe glared at his mom. ‘Sounds like your creepy new alliance is off to a great start.’
'She will learn,' Vespera told him. ‘Look how far she has already come. But you will not do the same. And neither will she.’ She turned to Sophie, who looked extremely mad and somehow a little… scared. ‘You could have stopped this flood before it happened if you had been willing to sacrifice yourself- or your friends. It is not your fault. You were made that way. But you will always make the wrong choices.’
'WHO CARES?' Keefe screamed, tearing his hands through his hair. The intensity in his voice knocked me back a step. ‘WHO CARES ABOUT CHOICES?’
'Our choices define us,' Vespera informed him. ‘Wrong,’ Keefe argued. ‘Choice is only a tiny part of it. You’re an Empath- you're supposed to know that,' I saw Keefe reach for Sophie's hand. ‘Don’t let them get into your head. You know what we need to do.'
I knew too. It was simple, save Atlantis. But how?
'And what is that?' Lady Gisela asked. My eyes followed Sophie's as she stared at all the damage. Then she turned to us. ‘We’re staying right here,' she told us, staring into every one of our eyes. ‘Until everyone is safe.’
'And you're staying here with us,' I said, the words unexpectedly rolling off my tongue as I commanded a big wave of water to crash towards Gisela. But before it hit her, she grabbed Vespera and Ruy and they leaped away. Vespera sent a cold smile before leaping away.
A promise- a reminder that she'd cause plenty more trouble.
'Still the right choice,' I decided, reaching for Sophie's hand. She jerked back. ‘I don’t have my gloves on,' she warned. ‘Can you handle being enhanced?’
I took a deep breath before nodding. ‘I think it’s time to see what the water and I can truly do.'
'I guess it's not like we have to worry about you flooding the place,' Tam added. I felt my heartbeat in my ears. ‘Here,’ Keefe said, offering his hand to me and Sophie. ‘I can make sure you guys stay calm and don’t lose focus.'
'And I'll get Ro to a higher ground,' my brother told us, using his telekinesis to keep her out of the rising water. Everyone nodded, taking a determined breath as Sophie, Keefe, and I formed a circle. ‘Ready?’ Keefe asked.
'Ready,' I decided, my nerves calming down.
I reached for Sophie's hands and gasped at that shot between us.
Suddenly, the water became so much lighter.
The water listened to me, obeying my commands with ease.
I was wrong to fear this.
Why did I avoid her?
I could've done this every day. It felt amazing.
The power thrummed through my veins, powering me.
The water listened to me now.
I had nothing to fear.
'You okay?' Tam called to me.
'Better than okay,' I promised, a smile resting across my cheeks.
I was not scared.
'I was wrong to fear this. The water doesn't get to command me anymore. Only I command it. And I think I can save the city.'
1384 words :O

~March 18th~
Main Cabin Daily
Word count: 522
Main Post: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6081187/

I nodded. “I remember reading about it somewhere.”
“Interesting.” Alex commented. “Welp, let’s go.” She turned on her heel and walked off.

Sadie:
“Anubis, the piece goes there!” I shouted at my boyfriend, furiously pointing to one of the empty spots in the puzzle.
“Walt’s voice says that it goes here.” He pointed out. I blew a strand of hair out of my face.
“Walt, not to be rude, but you are as stupid as a donkey.” I grabbed the piece out of Walt’s hand and placed it where it was rightfully supposed to go. I was right.
I laughed with glee. Anubis and Walt both groaned, I’d assume, anyways, since I could only hear Walt’s voice.
“You just got lucky.” Anubis complained.
“Of course I did.” I retorted, rolling my eyes.
My brother, Carter, peeked his head in the library doors. “Hey Sadie, hey Walt, hey Anubis. I need you guys for a little.”
I whined. “Oh come on. Can we not finish a puzzle?”
Carter shook his head. “I need you, like right now.”
“Ugh, fine.” I stood up and Walt followed.

Carter was waiting for us. He got straight to the point and said, “Remember Percy and Annabeth?”
I nodded.
“Well, they were somehow able to contact us. They need help.”
“With what? Greek stuff or Egyptian stuff?”
“Neither. They said it had to do with a weird creature and they want us to identify it. They said to meet them at Boston.”
“Interesting. Let’s get on with it.” I said, grabbing my boyfriend’s hand and running to get my magic supplies.

Will:
Percy ran up to me. I gave him a quizzical look, since he didn’t look distressed.
That usually meant that it had something to do with Nico.
“Hey Percy.” I said.
“Hey.” He replied. “Nico’s about to help Annabeth, Keefe and I shadow travel. Could you come with me so you know where he is?”
“Sure.” I said, following him, wondering who Keefe was. We walked into the woods, and a little in a clearing, I saw Annabeth pacing, Nico sitting with his back against a tree, and I saw this other guy standing stiffly by a tree, like he wanted to be relaxed but couldn’t.
Percy said to Annabeth and who I assumed was Keefe, “Ready to go?”
Annabeth nodded.
Percy turned back to Nico and I. “Ready.”
Nico snapped his fingers, and Percy, Annabeth and Keefe were gone.
Yay, another patient.

Sandor:
Miss Foster was very trusting of these two. Alex, or that’s who I assumed she was, gave off a very snakelike presence. She felt like a trickster, and I had to be careful around her.
That boy, Magnus, was a little less concerning, so I focused all of my observation skills on Alex.
I turned to Flori and whispered. “Does she seem weird to you?”
“No?” Flori replied, her fingers twitching slightly on her sword’s hilt.
I shrugged. “Miss Foster seems tense, don’t you think?”
“Ohhhh… I trust the moonlark. She can handle herself.”
“If you’re sure.”
Flori smirked and walked forward. She tugged at Sophie’s cloak and whispered something to her.

Idk If this is the right area but umm i worked hard on this soooo i would like to get it featured when i am done with some parts i will Write a new reply when i am done with the part so here's what i want to be featured https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/661771406/ thank you for reading this! bye! -@Spotted_Pusheen



Scratch Is A Good Coding Web But If There was a mutiplayer block that would be more fun because you don't have to do all that work but its fine i wish you added it but if you don't want to you don't have to i know this is a coding web witch you have to work hard to make stuff but just sayin maybe? Well… bye! @Spotted_Pusheen And @madelineid





Scratch On!

Daily 18 March - finally gave me the motivation to write an SGE fic I've been meaning to write for a while

Clarissa is standing and listening to her Forest Group leader, a gnome named Yuba, explaining this week’s project when Leonora turns up, predictably late. She rolls her eyes - Leonora is always late, and it annoys her. Leonora notices, and shoots her a glare.

“I suppose I have to start again,” Yuba says, somewhat snappishly, and Clarissa feels slightly smug that the teacher is on her side in this silent argument. “You will be in pairs of one Ever and one Never. I have already set up an obstacle course for each pair, here in the Blue Forest. Each pair will be required to work together in order to find a way through the obstacle course. Teamwork will be imperative. You will not be able to succeed in this task alone - you must work with your partner.”

Clarissa sighs internally. Teamwork-based tasks aren’t really her strong point, especially when members of her team are Nevers. She gets on fairly well with her fellow Evers, but Nevers for some reason seem to dislike her. That’s particularly annoying because she would love to be able to preach Ever-Never unity, but since she doesn’t have any friends who are Evil, she’d look hypocritical. She’s tried making friends among the Nevers, but she’s never had much success.

Yuba produces a sheet of parchment paper from his pocket and reads out a list of pairs.

The first few pairs are all fine - Clarissa feels a small pang of sympathy for her friends who are being paired up with unpleasant classmates - but then it gets to Clarissa’s partner, and it’s her turn to be on the receiving end of sympathetic glances, because she’s been paired up with none other than Leonora Lesso.

This is not turning out to be a good day for Clarissa. She and Leonora have never gotten along. She finds Leonora’s unbothered, rebellious attitude frustrating, and Leonora is apparently irritated by her ‘goody-two shoes, little miss perfect act’. (That’s a direct quote, by the way. Leonora said that to her face.)

The pairs disperse, and as she and Leonora walk to the spot where their obstacle course has been set up, Clarissa realizes that she’s going to have to bite the bullet. “I know you don’t care much about classes, but you will need to make an effort on this project. It affects my grade, not just yours.”

Leonora rolls her eyes. “Seriously? That’s what you care about? We’re in these pairs for a week, meaning I have to put up with you for a whole week, and you care about your grade?”

“Yes! Is that so difficult to believe? Unlike you, I care about not turning into a freaking tree next year!” Clarissa responds, painfully aware that as she gets angrier, her voice is becoming more and more high-pitched.

“One project isn’t going to put you on a totally different track, Clarissa. You could be a bit less… uptight and prissy. That’s serious advice, by the way.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to let you mess around for the next week. And I’m not uptight or prissy.”

Leonora laughs. “Believe what you want, Clarissa. All I’m saying is, you could do with some relaxation.”

3/18/22 - 988 words

(Soooo I didn't actually finish this cuz i had other things I needed to do but here's what I've got so far)

The darkness came at midnight.
Of course, no one could have seen it coming. The Vial’s didn’t just go out like that, but when I looked outside, I saw only a complete backdrop of black.
Sirens went off in the background. “Please stay in your apartment. Matters will be resolved by authorities in a few minutes. Please stay in your apartment. Matters will be resolved by authorities in a few minutes.” The voice- feminine and composed- played over and over.
I sucked in a breath. So this was my chance.
It wasn’t as if Dema didn’t have anything I could love. In leaving, I would be abandoning Jacob, and my family. Oh, how could I leave behind Jillia, my little sister who will have no other way to understand that this is wrong. I imagined my parents faces if they told them I had ran away. More likely, they’d just tell them I was dead. By the time they found out, I might very well be, if I am caught.
But I can’t stay here.
Oh, Jacob. I wish him the best as I head out the front door.

***

My shoes are too loud.
Of course, they couldn’t hear them in the Residential Complex, which is now overridden by the shrill scream of the sirens. But here, further out, it was silent, save for the distant ringing of alarms in the background. I slipped off my boots and tied the laces together to hang around my neck. I might need them later.
Here was dangerous. There was more danger to come, but this was the area that was more likely to be patrolled by guards. Of course, the Bishops would most likely be busy with other things, given the alarms. But that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be anyone out here to catch me. And this wasn’t the most dangerous part of my journey.
In the corner of my mind, I remember. Cameras. I creep against the wall until I spot it. It doesn’t see me, but I should be more careful from now on. The Professional Complex- mostly full of buildings built to spread more propoganda, make designs for Dema, that kind of thing- is located on the fifth ring inside Dema. Dema is like an onion, it’s circular-shaped with a complex for each layer. Each complex contains 36 buildings, except for the center, which contains nine. The centermost building is a temple, built around the vial that brings all of us life. No one really knows whats underneath, but rumor has it that it’s a prison for people who try to escape. No one really wants to know what goes on there.
I continue, more carefully this time. I don’t see anyone here, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t. People in Dema are good at hiding.

***

I’ve reached the Industrial Complex. Only two left to go.
There are more cameras, now. That’s how it is with every layer, as you get further and further out you see more cameras. There are giant factories here.
I’m getting a little worried, now- the seventh and eighth layers tend to be where the guards are. Sure enough, I think I see the silhouette of one a little bit out. But it is late and he is tired, and his flashlight doesn’t work anyway. I creep around a few buildings so he doesn’t notice me anyway.
Now into the eighth complex. This contains the water and waste management facilities. In a way, the people who work in this district are the most honored people in our community- second to the nine bishops and the guards, of course- because they’re trusted enough to work here. The stench of feces is heavy here, sort of like the Industrial Complex smells like a paper mill. Another thing I’ve noticed about Dema: it tends to smell worse at each layer.
And I’m way farther away from home than I’ve ever been- fifth district is by far the farthest, which is where I work. I wonder what they’ll tell my co-workers when I show up missing. Will they tell them I died trying to escape, make an example of me? Or will they just let my dissapearance go unanswered, along with a million other questions people in Dema have been too scared to ask.
My feet are tired, at this point, and it’s deadly silent. I still refuse to put my boots on, I’ll wait for the ninth complex for that- going there without the boots is a deathwish.
The ninth district is more of a trap that anything else. 90% of people are caught before they ever get there- or at least we’re told- but the ninth district is for the 10% who don’t. I walk on quietly, hoping that the vial will have taken some of it’s mystic powers with it. I pondered what I’d be leaving when I walked out of Dema.
There is no sun here, so I have no way to tell how long I have been walking. Nonetheless, my feet are painful, with blisters and sores. We aren’t used to walking without shoes in Dema, and it’s only hard concrete for me to walk on. In this district especially, that concrete is full of bits of trash. I wince as I step on a piece of broken glass, glad for the thick wool socks that they provide us with.
I see the ninth district in the background. Unlike the other complexes, which have a smoother transition, the ninth district starts off with a solid wall. I slip my shoes back on. I have heard rumors of a hole in such a wall, not far from where I am. Of course, rumors are unreliable, sometimes started by the Bishops themselves to make it easier to catch escaping citizens.
But I decide to take the chance. Afterall, there has been risk in this journey, and there really is no other choice.

March 18 daily

Harry Potter fanfiction.

“Rose! Have you seen my toad?” Hugo called from his upstairs bedroom.
“Last I saw, it was in the sink!” Rose called back.
“Oh, there you are Merlin!” Hugo exclaimed.
Hugo ran down the stairs with his suitcase and frog tank.
“Mum! Dad! I’m ready!” Hugo called from on the stairs.
A woman with curly, poofy, brown hair came down the stairs next to a plump man with red hair. The woman was holding a baby.
“Ronald, grab the keys!” The woman instructed as she walked out the door.
“On it, Hermione!” Ronald called back.

They all made their way outside of their house and into the car. They watched as a woman with long, straight, red hair walked towards the car. Following her was a girl with red hair and green eyes, and two boys with black hair and yellow eyes. Also, there was a tall man with black hair and green eyes.
“Ay, mate! Long time no see, huh?” Ronald exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s right mate!” Harry said as he gave Ron a big slap on the back.
“Who’s driving?” Ginny asked as she stepped into the car.
“That’d be me, Sis!” Ron exclaimed.
“Oh, lovely. Hermione, are you entirely sure he passed the driving test, with no spells involved?” Ginny asked jokingly.
“I’d like to say yes. . . . so why not?” Hermione laughed.
“Very funny, now let’s go!” Rose exclaimed. “This summer made me dumber, I can feel it.”
“Hey Albus!” Rose called to the shorter of the boys with black hair.
“What’s up, Rose?” Albus called back.
Harry, Ginny, Lily, Albus, and James joined Ron, Hermione, Rose, Hugo, and Marjorie in their van.
“Let’s head to Platform 9¾!” Hermione exclaimed.

The drive to the train station was about a thirty minute drive, which gave plenty of time for the two families to catch up.
Harry was in the front passenger seat, next to Ron, who was driving. The next row of passengers was Lily, Rose, and Albus. James was sitting in the back with Ginny and Hermione, who was holding Marjorie.

“So, how’s Marjorie doing?” Ginny asked.
“Oh, just fine!” Hermione replied happily.
“Mum, are the people at Hogwarts nice?” Lily asked her mother, Ginny.
“Well, my friends certainly were,” Ginny said as she smiled.
“Dad, what if I don’t make any friends?” Hugo asked his father, Ron.
“You’re an awesome kid, mate. You’ll find someone,” Rone replied without taking his eyes off of the road.
Hugo nodded, although he seemed to be a bit unsure of himself.
There was an awkward silence for a few moments.
Ginny finally broke the silence by saying, “So, you’re settling on three kids?”
“Yep, I assume you are as well,” Hermione replied with a smile.
“Yeah, though I’m surprised Harry doesn’t want six. You know how he loves six!” Ginny chuckled.
“No way! If that’s your way of telling me you’re having triplets, I’m not amused.” Harry said hotly.
“Oh, no, Harry! Of course not.” Ginny exclaimed.
“Good, because if you were, I wasn’t going to make any more food than I usually do.” Harry joked.

They spent another twenty minutes joking around and laughing.
“We’re here!” Hermione finally exclaimed.

In the end, Lily became very popular with the Ravenclaws. She became a social butterfly.
Hugo made three very close friends in Hufflepuff. They were inseparable.

yeet yoot mango da best froot
sup its ava
*gives competition entry* READ IT-

I really want to make the crappy end better but-
i dont have spare words
hhhh

“ memories ”

- 1997 words -

I can hear voices.

I would never
never-

They’re in my head.

Who are you? TELL ME!

A tempest of whispers no-one else can hear.

There’s a storm coming. We should get out-
get out-
GET OUT-

Darkness.

Then silence ruptured open by a
SCREAM-

I jolt awake, my breath coming fast and heavy. Where am I? All I can see is white, glaring down at me, blinding me.
I cry out. “Hello?” My voice is husky, croaking. It hurts to talk.
Slowly the haze of nothing melts into discernible shapes - white bedclothes, a white table, a white wall. My breathing steadies.
Until I realise where I am.
I’m in a hospital.
I croak out two more words. “H-hello? Anyone?”
This time, a voice answers.
“You’ve woken up.”
The silence stretches, bleeding into the white, white walls all around me, drifting into the air like a cloud of invisible smoke.
I jerk back. No. Not smoke. Anything but smoke.
A chill settles over me. A feeling of dread creeping underneath my skin.
The woman’s voice comes again, dripping honey sweetness into the glaring brightness of the snowy-white walls. “Darling, you’re in the hospital.”
I can see that, I thought.
A pause.
“And how did I get here?”
The woman - a nurse, I realise - hurriedly puts down the newspaper she was reading, sliding it away from me. “This may come as a little bit of a shock to you-”
I’m impatient. “Tell me!”
Three silhouettes. The silver gleam of moonlight on metal.
Fear.
“Who are you? Tell me.”
I jolt back to the present. “Please. I need to know.”
“Well….” The nurse seemed hesitant. “You’ve had a severe injury to your head. We’re afraid you’ve lost a fair amount of your memory, along with a fractured rib, bad bruising, and burn injuries-”
“Burn injuries?”
“Darling…”
The whole room seemed to hold its breath.
“You were rescued from a burning house.”
“That's it? Then why-”
“The house… it had been abandoned for years.”
“Then why was I there?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
Silence.
“I-” The nurse swallowed. “Get some rest, okay?”
I closed my eyes as she stood up and left the room. But I stayed awake for a long, long time.

-

“Elena?”
“Wake up, Elena!”
I open my eyes to a blanket of snow. Nope, not snow. Blank white hospital walls.
“Elena?”
“That’s not my name,” I respond automatically.
“You might not remember your name, and that’s okay-”
“My name is not Elena.” I sit up, to see a person I don’t know perched on a stiff white hospital chair. Her absurdly bright red hair looked like a flashing neon sign amidst the white, white, white of the rest of the room.
“I’m Clara,” She grins at me, a grin bright and wide and kind, and as fake as her ridiculous hair. “I’m here to help you get your memory back.”
“Okay.”
There was a pause.
“The first thing we have to do is find out how severe your memory loss really is,” Clara offered another strained smile. “Alright, Elena?”
“That's not my name.”
She ignores me. “Do you remember when you woke up before? Nurse Sarah talked to you.”
I nod.
“And do you remember when you woke up before that?”
“I-” No. I didn’t.
“Do you want me to tell you?”
Nod.
“You seemed very panicked, and you called out to someone. The doctors couldn’t comfort you, and had to sedate you again so you could heal properly.”
“Who did I call out to?” I didn’t remember any of this.
“Nurse Sarah couldn’t remember the name.” Clara pursed her lips. “She said it started with an E. She thinks.”
Another pause.
Again, Clara was the one to break the silence. “Do you remember the- the event that brought you here?”
“The nurse told me about it. The burning house and all.”
“And you don’t remember it? Not at all?”
I shook my head.
“Well, that… complicates things. It’s common for patients to forget what caused their injury, but - if you don’t know what happened either, then…” She trailed off. “But maybe it’s for the best. Such a traumatic occurrence- maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember it.”
I nod.
“We’re going to play a little game. Does that sound good, El-”
“My name isn’t Elena.”
A sigh. “Well, we’re going to make a list.”
“A list?”
“Of things we remember.” Clara offers me a candy. I decline.
“It’s your turn.” Her fake smile drips down her face, growing more and more stretched at the edges.
Well, this is dumb.
“My name isn’t Elena.”
I grinned at the grimace she was struggling to keep looking remotely like a smile.
“My turn,” she says through gritted teeth. “My name is Clara.”
“I, um, I like cats.” Do I? I don’t even know. I just want to win this stupid thing so we can finish.
“You’re making progress!” Clara offers me another candy. A candy wrapped in a yellow wrapper so familiar my breath catches in my throat. I reach out, greedily. I need it. Desperately.
I sigh, feeling the crinkly wrapper in my fingertips. A tiny bit of home in this strange place.
Clara coughed loudly. “I like the colour red.”
“I like yellow candies.”
“I’ll try to bring you some more, but you shouldn’t have too many. Bad for your teeth.” Clara smiles widely.
I stifle a snort. Funny she should say that with her yellow-tinged fangs.
“My turn,” Clara looked vaguely out the window. “It's raining outside.”
Sideways rain. Wind buffeting the rooftop. A flash of lightning.
A rumble of thunder masking a scream.
And the world going up in flames.
“Elena?” Clara was leaning forward, biting her lip in concern.
I try to slow my pounding heart, easing my white-knuckled fingers out of the fist they had clenched themselves into. I say nothing.
“Elena, are you alright? Did you remember something?”
The sound of the clock on the wall was suddenly deafening.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
“Elena?”
“I-”
Tick tock tick tock.
“No. I didn’t remember anything.”
Clara nodded curtly. “Well, I think that's more than enough for today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And with a flick of her neon-red hair, she swept out of the room.
I remained staring blankly at her chair, the candy clutched tensely in both my hands. Twisting, twisting, twisting the wrapper around my fingers. Again and again and again.

-

It’s past midnight when I wake from the haze of nightmares, gasping and shaking. Usually I’m not afraid of nightmares. But these - the smoke clouding my vision, the flames licking the walls, flashes of lightning and falling, falling, falling… These could have really happened to me. These did really happen to me. Except I can’t tell if my dreams are fiction or real memories.
I sit up, stretching my stiff muscles. The room is dark. Black instead of white, for once. I can hear dim murmuring from the neighbouring rooms, but can’t make out any words. I sigh, and lean back. I may as well make myself comfortable. But I don’t dare go back to sleep.
Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s not completely dark due to the light from the corridor seeping in under the door. Clara’s chair is still here, a stiff plastic silhouette. And something else is still here too- something left on Nurse Sarah’s table. The newspaper she didn’t want me to see, I realise.
I chew my lip. Should I? What if someone hears me? I shouldn’t.
But of course, curiosity gets the better of me. Silently, I slip out of bed, wincing at my injuries, and creep over to the table. I flick on the light - blinking as the sudden harsh whiteness hurts my eyes - and pick up the newspaper.
Young girl rescued from abandoned burning house, I read. The picture underneath the title is blurry and shrouded in smoke, but the outline of the house is easy to see. I’m disappointed when it doesn’t trigger any memories.
I keep reading.
Elena, age 14, was rescued from a burning house north of Queen Street late last night. The young girl was immediately taken to the hospital, where she was found to have severe memory loss along with a fractured rib and burn injuries. The police are looking into why she was inside the abandoned house, but have found nothing except for a size-14 jacket left on the same street, the name tag reading “Elena” with no last name.
The newspaper falls from my fingers.
I fall to my knees.
I can remember.

I could only just see her through the mist. A blurred silhouette in the distance, stumbling across rooftops that reached up to the dark sky like jagged claws.
I pull my thin, threadbare jacket closer around me, trying to stop my body shaking from the cold. My stolen jacket. Borrowed, I reminded myself. I would give it back to the girl in our new foster-home when I saw her again. If we were back tonight, she would never even know I had taken it at all.
I press on, scrambling to the next rooftop. I have to keep going.
She’s stopped, looking around. “Elodie!” She sees me, relief dawning on her face as I jump the last rooftop and run towards her, gripping her so tightly I doubt I could ever let go. We can make it back, I know it, as long as we have each other.
She pulls away, tears staining her face. “I- I thought I could do it all by myself. I thought I could f-find them and tell them I would run away and never come back if they adopted me without you!”
“It’s going to be alright, don’t worry,” I whispered. “I would never have let them take you away from me.”
I slipped my jacket onto my sister’s shoulders. “See those clouds? There’s a storm coming. We should get out-”
My words were suddenly cut off as a chill swept through my blood. A shadowed silhouette was slipping through the mist, towards us. Someone else was here.
I pushed my sister behind me, shielding her from sight.
The person called out, his voice hostile. Threatening. “Who are you?”
He was holding something. It took me a moment to realise what it was.
A knife blade, tapering to a long, thin point gleaming silver in the moonlight.
“Tell me!”
“I- my name is Eva!” I shout, fear thrumming through my bones. I can’t let him hurt Elodie.
He was so close now I could reach out and touch him. His face hidden by a dark hood, his knife pointed directly at us.
And with a flash of lightning, the sky opened up.
“Run!” Elodie shouted.
And we ran.
The rain blinding us, we staggered onwards, slipping across the drenched rooftop. I cast a frantic glance over my shoulder - and lurched forwards, the gleaming silver metal inches from my throat. “Elodie!” I shouted, but she wasn’t there, only the sheets of rain pouring down. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked
and suddenly i was falling
falling with the rain
down
down
my body forming a
perfect arc
like the crescent moon
until i hit the ground
and it all turned to
darkness.

-

The days passed in a haze after that. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t sleep. All I would do was twist, twist, twist the wrapper of the yellow candy Clara had given to me. The yellow candy that Elodie had loved so much.
The days kept passing. I kept twisting. A mountain of yellow candies grew and grew by my bedside each day. I didn’t eat a single one.

It’s my sixth day in the hospital when there’s a knock on the door.
“Elena?”
“Someone’s here to see you,”
I don’t reply.
The door opens anyway.
And there, standing in the doorway-
Holding a yellow candy in those tiny hands I know so well-

“Hello, Eva.”

3.18.22 - daily 18

Fanfiction: Harry Potter!

Daily for Contemporary:

It was my first year of Hogwarts.

I sat on the chair, ready to be sorted. My heart raced.

“Go, Isabel!” Someone shouted from the crowd. My eyes were closed but I smiled. I had come from a full family of Gryffindors, and I was desperate to get into nothing but that.

I knew the person who had shouted was Benjamin. He was, of course, the nicest sibling in my huge family.

My name is Isabel Starwaski. I'm the second youngest in a family of seven, which consists of my three siblings, my mother, father, and grandmother. Benjamin's thirteen, in his third year. My other older brother James is in his fifth year. And my younger sister's still got three more years to wait until she gets into Hogwarts.

I'm so excited to attend Hogwarts because Harry Potter's in his last year, and I was lucky to be able to actually see him. My sister, Angelica, is sad because she won't be able to see Harry Potter when she's in school.

The sorting hat was placed on my head.

Please be Gryffindor, please be Gryffindor. I begged in my mind.

The sorting hat spoke. Or I thought. Hm, you want to be Gryffindor, huh? I think you would do much better in Slytherin.

I panicked. I cannot get Slytherin, never in my life! That would be a disgrace to my family, and I would be sad myself. Besides, Gryffindor's much better!

The sorting hat seemed to chuckle. Oh, you're one of those.

Those two minutes seemed to be the longest minutes in my life. Please, not Slytherin. Please, not Slytherin. I thought as I braced for the sorting hat's announcement.

The sorting hat yelled, “Gryffindor!”

Everyone clapped, except for the Slytherins, of course. I sighed in relief. Benjamin whooped. James, who was also in the audience, nodded in approval. He's fifteen years old but he acts like my father. Formal and professional.

Before the sorting hat was taken off my head, he whispered to me in my mind, You would've done better in Slytherin, though.

I shivered. I didn't dare to imagine myself in Slytherin. It would be terrible.

Professor McGonagall came behind me. “That took quite a long time for the sorting hat to decide. Well, congratulations.”

I smiled, but still grimaced at the thought of being in Slytherin. I was so relieved. But what did the sorting hat mean?

—

Later, I joined the Gryffindors and they seemed pretty friendly to me. I introduced myself, and they introduced themselves. I met a girl named Hailey Condinglay, who was really nice. Hailey had brown hair, like me, but it seemed to pop out with its curls. She also had another friend named Lina Moon, who had black hair and really pretty blue eyes, but Lina seemed kinda shy and quiet. I didn't know if she liked me or not.

“Isabel,” Hailey asked me while we were eating the feast, “Are you glad you're in Gryffindor?”

“Glad?” I replied. “I'm ecstatic! It's such a relief that I'm in Gryffindor. I was literally shaking when the sorting hat was about to announce my house.”

Hailey laughed. "My family honestly doesn't care if I get either Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. But I would also never get into Slytherin.“

”I want to, though.“ Lina said, quietly.

”Hm?“ I asked, since I didn't hear her that well.

Hailey's face suddenly looked really sympathetic. ”Lina wanted to get into Slytherin, but she got Gryffindor. Oh, Lina, I'm that we talked about Slytherin like that, we don't mean it's bad, it's just we don't want to get it because of our families.“

Lina looked down. ”I know."

I looked at Lina. I felt bad for her. What if I got Slytherin, like how she got Gryffindor?

And did it even matter?

I didn't know.

Yet.

(639 words)

Daily for March 18th



Fan fiction for the Framed Series by James Ponti

Florian ate his cereal and tried to pay attention to his best friend, Margaret. She was going on and on about how excited she was about her upcoming soccer game. She was going up against one of her favorite teams in the juniors championship tomorrow? Something like that.

“FLORIAN! Are you even listening?” Margaret asked.

Florian who did not want to get caught and face his best friend's fury, nodded.
Margaret raised her eyebrow, “Ok… Anyways, you want to play a round of TOAST at the metro?”

TOAST, was an acronym that stand for Theory of all small things. It was something Florian had come up when he was small and moved around a lot. It was basically when you used TOAST and looked at all the small details, then add them up to see a bigger picture. This skill is something Florian taught Margaret. This skill is also helpful when you work for the FBI. Which is exactly what Florian and Margaret do, despite being 12 years old.

“Sure, but loser pays for doughnuts later.” He said while heading to the sink to rinse his bowl.

Margaret grinned. “Your on.”

They headed to the metro station and positioned themselves on a bench, where they can see both the metro train and the ticket booth. The game is where they try to figure someone out using TOAST, the person who can figure out the most amount of people wins.

They finished with Florian losing. Margaret bought like 8 doughnuts just because she knew Florian was going to be paying.

The next day was Margaret's game. Florian sat by the bleachers next to Margaret's adopted parents, ready to cheer for Margaret. Then Margaret's team was introduced and brought to the field. She had her before game face on, which was an expression that only a bull getting ready to charge could have.

The game started, and for a while it went pretty well, Margaret's team was winning 2 goals to 0 until the other team was catching up. Soon both teams were tied and drenched in sweat. The game was up and the opposing team had a chance to score, when Margaret swooped in and stole the ball. The girl she stole the ball fell over and howled. The game stopped, Margaret stood over the ball and watched with a confused expression. Apparently the girl had fallen over and sprained her ankle. But according to the girl, she didn't fall over. Margaret purposely pushed her. The girl demanded that Margaret be kicked out of the game. The referee came in and heard the story from both girls. After around 5 minutes he declared that Margaret should sit the rest of the game out! The crowd was enraged.

Florian ran down the bleachers and stopped the referee before the game could resume. The girl who had gotten hurt was still on the floor.

Florian ran to her, “Are you alright? Must have hurt huh?”

Margaret stared at Florian in disbelief, was her best friend accepting that she had purposely pushed her?

The girl nodded. Florian lent out his hand she used him as support. Then when she was about half way up, he let go.

The girl yelped and tried to stood up perfectly fine. She had landed both feet planted on the floor firmly. She had also not cried in pain.

Florian grinned, “I thought you said you sprained your ankle.”

The girl grew beet red. The referee had her banned from the game. At the end of the game, after Margaret won, she came over to him and said thanks, “You used TOAST didn't you?” she had asked.

Florian just smiled and nodded.


AND THAT WAS MY TERRIBLE FANDOM. I HAVE NEVER ACTUALLY DONE THIS BEFORE SO I HOPE IT WAS FINE AND ALL.

BYE BYE.

Wari’s Journal, Entry 5
March 18th

There’s a gathering of all the divisions tonight, called the Princeps Celebration. I’m not sure whether to be excited, nervous, or full of dread, or maybe even all three.

This must be the first time the factions of Fanfiction Forest have gathered together in years, and the first time there’s been any semblance of goodwill in the weeks since the talismans shattered. I’m not sure what the leaders are up to.

Maybe they have had the same thoughts I’ve been thinking, that our rivalry and hostility toward each other due to an ancient feud is nothing short of foolish. But why change their minds so suddenly? From what I’ve seen of the Chief Warrior, and my brief encounters with the other leaders, such a transformation seemed impossible.

Unfortunately, it’s much more likely that one of the divisions, or maybe even all of them, are planning to betray the others. I observed high tension between the Protectors and Adventurers, with the Adventurers unashamedly trying to steal keys, and the Protectors determined to even invade and conquer their people to stop them. Perhaps one of these groups has staged a trap.

Or maybe—it hurts to admit this.

Maybe the Chief Warrior, growing desperate due to our falling behind the other divisions, has their own plans for the celebration. If we took out the other groups, we’d regain our dominance and make sure that the Battalion reigned supreme over the forest.

I shudder to think that such a thing might be happening. If it was, I’d hear about it, right?

Maybe not.

A few weeks ago, I might have agreed wholeheartedly with such a plan. But in the past days, I’ve learned much more about our world, about our divisions, and about our society. I’m certain that, if we look past old rivalries, each faction is exactly the same on the inside.

We have the same roots, the same culture, and our traditions come from three siblings that were once part of the same community. Each division had its role, and each played its part to ensure that the village thrived.

I’ve met Protectors and Adventurers. I’ve experienced a glimpse of their way of life. And a great weight settles on my chest, as I see how we ignore everything that should unite the groups, only to grasp at the fragments of variation that divide us.

The celebration is dedicated to remembering the old leaders of the forest, parents to the first Warrior, Protector, and Adventurer. The divisions will be once again gathered at the place that marked our unity, but also where the rift that fractured the community grew too wide to hold.

I’ll be on alert tonight. Perhaps, if the leaders allow it, I can speak to those of the other divisions, and learn more about them. I don’t know what a single Warrior can do to stop the disaster that this evening will inevitably be.

But maybe I can do something. It’s better than standing still, full of regret and anguish as I wonder what I might have been able to change.

I’m still a loyal Warrior. And that means that I will do whatever it takes to help them, even if the best way to do that is to go against everything I was raised. I’m doing this for my friends, my family, my battalion.

To unity,

Wari
The Warriors’ Battalion
569 words

Weekly #3 - 2615 words total

Also, a note- I typed this in Google Docs, but italics don't copy over into forums, sorry.

Part 1

https://open.spotify.com/track/0D5YcW57alDCPA6XQwwKcZ?si=c73b75286efd4ba7
Woodpecker by Explosions in the Sky (nice beginning with a horrifying ending don't read it)
(433/400 words)

The sun shined down warmly, seemingly smiling, its rays neither too hot nor too cold. A blanket of white clouds drifted across the blue sky like fragrant white blossoms. In their hands they held the solid wood of a pinewood-made oar; they were rowing their homemade boat along a quiet, motionless stream.
The water did not move, except for the little ripples that were created with each push of the oar. A few small minnows darted back and forth, out of the boat's path, but otherwise there were no signs of motion made by any living creature. It was perfectly peaceful, and their steady rowing of the oar seemed to place them as the center of the painting.
As they advanced along the river, the water started to get deeper; there were currents and ripples, hummingbirds buzzed around and stuck their long beaks into lilies, flashing vibrant feather patterns. A young gray furred cotton-tailed rabbit ran along the bank of the river, stopping momentarily to chew on a patch of grass, twitch its nose and angle its ears towards the boat, eyes darting around.
A flock of chickens were babbling amongst themselves while the rooster sent his watchful gaze over his hens, and the curious chicks ran around and pecked and scratched at everything they saw. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered past, many different colors creating a rainbow of fluttering wings through the air. Two bluebirds with snow white bellies flew past, causing the rooster to bark in alarm.
The sun was tracing a path along the sky like one that a young child might draw on a sheet of white paper with an orange marker. They gripped the oar tighter and rowed faster.
They often went on boat rides to escape the reality at home, and it worked. They had learned that nature was peaceful and calming, especially watching all the innocent animals do their day to day business out in the forest, along the banks of a stream, inside a small pond.
Up ahead, there was a waterfall. The roar of the crashing water seemed to cover up everything else, the twittering of the birds or the swish of the cattails. They looked up in alarm. They had never rowed this far before, and they had never come across this waterfall, or gone along this path. They held their breath as they plummeted down. Drenched and wet, breathing heavily, their hair stuck to their face, they brushed their bangs out of their eyes which slowly opened. Water dripped down their face. They breathed out loud, scanning the scenery around them. “Wow.”

https://open.spotify.com/track/3n9tGuweKR2d6z6Qc5ShOP?si=953f68065b7d4e79
Locked Out Of Heaven by Marcus Chow (sorry and no offense if I wrote anything wrong, I'm agnostic so I don't really understand anything about heaven or things related )
(437/400 words)

Life as an angel isn't always easy. Celeste was the guardian of souls; she was the one who preserved the souls of the people until they were ready to either enter heaven or hell.
It was an enormous amount of pressure placed on one angel. At least I don't have to be the one doing the sorting, she thought. If I saw anyone I pitied, even though they had done horrible deeds during their lifetime, I would let them into heaven, where they would make the land of the skies corrupt.
Then again, I could damage the souls of those who I don't want in heaven. Celeste bit her lip. Managing all these souls was complicated, and as her grandmother had always told her, ‘thoughts can turn into actions’. I shouldn't be thinking about these kinds of things, or I may end up doing them one day.
I have many souls to manage and to read. Celeste had little time for playing games, hanging out with others, but she did love to play the piano.
Celeste loved soft and meaningful music. Mostly music with lots of slurs, arpeggios, and usually soft with one or two crescendos here and there. She sat down on her piano bench, took a deep breath, and played a G chord.
She wouldn't say she was the best at improvising music (after all, there were special angels specifically for that). But she did love to try. When she wasn't managing souls, she liked to improvise music on the grand piano that was set floating between the clouds.
Celeste took off her little bag where she stored souls and put it on the clouds, then turned back to her piano, closed her eyes, and began to make music. She hit a few wrong notes. She accidentally played too loud. But when Celeste opened her eyes again… her bag was gone.
The bag of the souls. The souls of the deceased human beings whose souls had not yet been placed on the scale as an entry to Heaven, they were gone. Frantically, she looked around and moved apart the fluffs of clouds with her hands, hoping it had just been kicked or buried somewhere in the fog. But no, they were gone.
There had been at least 200 souls in there. That meant 200 people not being able to get into Heaven. And the bag too- it was a sacred bag, especially for storing souls and retaining their human counterparts and personalities well.
Celeste practically had a major heart attack when she spotted Saint Peter walking towards her. “It's time for the sorting,” he said.

Part 2 - Thank you to Vi for the idea :)
(739/700 words)

Sizzle. Bang. Bump.
The chicken nugget had awoken.
And so had all its fellow comrades.
The army of chicken nuggets had arisen, and they marched out of McDonalds while the employees screamed and tried to grab at them.
The chicken nugget army walked on for an entire day. They lost many members of their giant troop of one million chicken nuggets, but they marched on. Some of the soldiers that had been recently coated in a layer of oil and fat got stuck in the sand. Some of the soldiers that hadn't been cooked yet were still really quite raw, and got pricked by thorns. They hiked through the plains (it was really someone's lawn), then through a jungle (it was really just some tall grass). The chicken nugget army finally settled down to rest in a cabin (it was actually a gopher hole. Being a vegetarian, the gopher was frightened out of its hole and ran away).
The next morning, the chicken nuggets awoke to find themselves… no longer in nugget form. They were in chicken form! The chicken nuggets had turned back into their own selves, but when they were alive. They flapped their wings, clucked, and ran around and scratched at the grass, slurping up earthworms (quite like noodles), crunching beetles (simply similar to potato chips), and munching spiders (I really don't know what to compare this to).
The big flock of 50 chickens ran through the forest, clucking and screaming. One of them saw a piece of cheese and picked it up. The next one saw a piece of meat. One of them saw a box of Sun-Maid California Sun-Dried Raisins. She tilted her head at the lady on the cardboard who was holding a basket full of green grapes and pecked a hole in her face (but really, it was the cardboard).
Then the rooster looked up, and squawked in alarm. There was a red fox, tail high up, swishing, staring right back at him.
The hens screamed, and they ran in all sorts of directions. The one with the cheese went to hide in a bush, but her fluffy butt stuck out of the leaves and made it quite obvious. The one with the meat flew up into a tree and perched precariously on one of the tiny branches. And the one with the raisins scampered into a hole in the ground, where a snake was sleeping, curled up.
“Hey, wait!” the fox walked forward, a sly grin on his face. “Hens, come on out!”
“Shut up!” the rooster flapped his wings in an intimidating manner. “Leave my hens or I will fight you!”
The hen with the Sun-Maid raisins had figured out how to open the box and was eagerly snacking on the little wrinkly black rabbit-dung shaped thingies.
“Aww. But can you crow for me, Monsieur?” the fox held up a paw and shrugged, tilting his head sideways and perking an ear.
The rooster's nose tingled. “Why?”
The snake curled up in the hole's nose began to twitch as well, scenting the smell of the raisins.
“Your voice is so beautiful. Nothing can match your excellent style of making music, Sir.”
“Hmm.” The rooster tapped his chin with his wing. “Alright, I can crow for you.”
The hen looked around frantically for the last raisin, which was somewhere in the hole- she just couldn't see anything because it was too dark.
The fox smiled. “Under one condition.”
The rooster abruptly stopped. “What's the condition?”
The snake started to slither through the hole, tongue flicking in and out, nostrils twitching.
“I want to see all your beautiful hens! They have such beautiful feathering, I just want to admire them for a second.” The fox sighed with a fake dreamy expression that the rooster obviously did not catch.
“Hmm. What do I get in return?”
The hen started to hear the slithering of the snake and freaked out. She ran out of the hole, her empty box of raisins bouncing up and down inside her beak.
“YOUR HEN!!!” the fox screamed, pointing behind the rooster. The rooster turned around and saw his hen jumping and flapping her wings, a feathery mess, with the snake snapping at her ankles not far behind.
“Hold on! I'm coming!” The rooster jumped on the snake and killed it with a blow to the head. All 48 of the other hens peeked out. The fox jumped and smiled.

Part 3 - Continuing From Part 2
(1006/1000 words)

“I don't need your help!!!” screeched the hen, put secretly she was grateful that the rooster had saved her. She dropped the box of raisins and began to preen her feathers.
The rooster crowed and strutted around for a bit with the dead snake dangling in his beak. Then he turned back to the fox. “What were we talking about again?” he said with his mouth full of scales.
The fox was gone. There was also a pile of bones and feathers and blood on the ground that looked oddly suspicious.
“The fox ate her!” said a sobbing, clucking voice.
“Ate who?” The rooster turned around and saw the Raisin Hen sobbing into her wing, and her beak which was covered in a layer of spittle was opening and closing as she wept.
“R-rosemary!”
“Who's Rosemary?” The rooster scratched his head thoughtfully with his toes. “Why do I not remember her? Sorry, there are so many of you I can't remember all your names. Wasn't Rosemary the one that liked to eat…. potatoes?”
“No! She liked to eat rosemary silly. That's how she got her name.” The hen (Raisin) huffed and folded her wings and flicked her tail crossly.
“Sowwy,” the rooster muttered. “Are all the other hens here, though?” he looked up. “Oh.”
The 47 remaining hens were huddled together in a tree, all glaring at the rooster.
Raisin the hen joined them.
“Okay okay I'm sorry!!!!!” bellowed the rooster. “Where is that fox though-”
“I'm right hereeee!” said a snickering voice. There was a rustle in the bushes and the fox popped out.
The rooster, who was overtaken by his fury, ran towards the fox and spread his wings and started to flog and attack him. He slashed with his claws, tore with his spurs, and bit with his beak. He closed his eyes and pulled on one of the fox's ears while clawing at his spine.
The fox screamed in fury and rolled over. The rooster was momentarily squashed, then yanked his leg out from under the fox and started to flog him again. The fox lashed out with his front paws but the rooster, who was agile, dodged it and jumped onto the fox's back again.
Howling, the fox rolled over and attempted (but failed clumsily) to grab at the rooster on his back. The rooster was holding on very tight to the fox's head fur with his beak. The fox yowled and started to run away while the rooster pulled out clumps of fur. Once the fox was a good distance away, the rooster jumped off and turned back to his hens.
The hen with the raisin box jumped down. “You look terrible!” she clucked, horrified. She pointed at the rooster's bruised eye and his slashed comb and wattles. “Are you okay?”
The other 47 hens all fell out of the tree at once in a big feathery mess. They all squawked, “Are you okay?” which was actually quite loud as multiple hens, when they scream together, are even louder than a rooster.
“Yeah I'm fine,” said the rooster. “I just hope that fox doesn't come back with his entire family!”
“Blah blah blah, the fox probably will,” rasped the rooster's mother. “You know what foxes are like, sonny! They seek vengeance on everyone who has wronged them in the past.”
“I didn't wrong him, I righted him.”
“Same thing.” Mother Hen croaked. “Which is why you never should have angered the fox. Now our entire flock is in trouble. And it's YOUR FAULT!! You should've been a good chicken.”
“I was trying to, Mom!” complained the rooster. Suddenly, there was a bark and 10 foxes came charging out of the bushes, screaming and howling and yowling of revenge.
“I told you this would h-happen!” screamed Mother Hen, her voice cracking. She struggled to climb up a tree and finally collapsed into its leafy tops. “You lead them away, I'll manage your hens!”
“Huff! No!” crowed the rooster. So while he was fighting the biggest male fox and all his companions, his hens had to sneak away by themselves. When he turned back around, he screamed, “Where are all my hens?? Mooooom! You were supposed to be guarding my hens to safety!”
Suddenly Mother Hen's head popped out of the tree. She was hanging upside down talking to him. “I did~~” she rasped.
The rooster was not happy about this. He still had 9 foxes to fight, by himself. Where were all his hens?
“RAA!” A giant group of hens came charging out of one bush and attacked the foxes, screaming and flapping their wings. They weren't of much use because of their puny size and good nature, but it was a good distraction. About 10 seconds later, the second group came jumping out of the trees. The third group came speeding out of a hole. The foxes screamed. Feathers and tufts of fur were flying through the air, and it was complete chaos. The rooster couldn't tell who was on his side and who was the enemy. He clawed randomly. About 10 minutes later, everything went silent.
All the foxes were gone, and casualties on his side had been heavy. Mother Hen was gone, which wasn't a good sign. Plus, the hen with the raisins was gone too. And most of his hens were nothing but piles of feather and bone.
The rooster scanned the scene. Where was everyone? He heard a cluck and saw one of his hens scuttle away, not looking at him. He swore he saw the swish of a fox's tale in a bush, but when he walked over and stuck his head inside he didn't see anything.
The rooster was about to lament his deep grief and sorrow for being a brat when -pop- all the feathers turned into chicken nuggets. And so did he, he turned into a chicken nugget as well.
The chicken nuggets were lying on the ground, unmoving. Then they all turned back into chickens. And the cycle was turning, again.

Weekly #3:

Part 1:

Piece #1: Knight’s Ruppert (438 words)

Bam bam bam bam the sound of hoofsteps hit the ground in an orderly fashion. Sir Pierres holds his sword high in the air. It is time to march into battle. To free the king and queen that had been taken hostage by Lord Lambard of the West.
The West is a hard journey and he is not sure whether it is appropriate to send all of these soldiers out into the fight. He begins to wonder whether there will be many casualties. It is his honor and duty as the top General to review whether the amounts of knights needed is necessary and yet, he iiss second doubts.
Do not be a prisoner of doubts. He thinks to himself. It is their honor to protect the king and queen and if they are not up to the task, then they are not true knights at all. He is now reassured. Sir Pierre knows what is right. He has to. The King and Queen selected him personally. Even though he was the King’s younger brother, that didn’t matter. The King and Queen are not biased!
“Onward, thy knights!”
“For the Royal Crown!” They chant and they hup into battle. Their armor makes creaking sounds and their horses slam at the ground with their shiny horseshoes that had just been made last week.
This is order, this is the opposite of chaos, Sir Pierre thought. Look how we can work in harmony when there is no messiness, no uncleanliness in this area. It is all orderliness and tidiness. Look at his knights in their new shining suits and their armored helmets and their prestigious horses with their long manes and muscles hiding under tough skin. It’s not just the knights, the horses play a key role in their marching too. How the sounds mingle together to create a reasonable melody. Not a beautiful one, no, but it is clean. It is tidy. There are no extra noises that make it non-worthwhile. It is just one rhythm again and again and again. It is miraculous indeed.
Though the battle won’t be the same way. No it won’t. Fights are not as orderly, though they can be. Some battles…are quite the opposite. Bloody and raging, all chaos. Not a single note of order in all of the pandemonium and disarray. There is flesh being cut and lives being taken and you cannot keep up with it all until you are forced to see the bodies of your fallen knights, lying on the ground with a blank stare in their eyes.
It could happen again. Sir Pierres reminded himself.
But it might.

Piece #2: Claire de Lune (443 words)

The world is my river and this physical river is my home. I’ve been flowing in and out many great dimensions and even dimensions condensed within dimensions. I have no eyes but I can see and sense everything clearly. I know that the sky's the loveliest color. Humans like to call it the color ‘blue’ but what superficialness. The sky is not defined by a color. Humans like to say ‘oh what a pretty color the sky is’ or ‘the sky is so blue!’ but they never say ‘how beautiful the sky is today’. Perhaps they do but I have yet to see a human who does that.
Though I like to compliment, I am full and gushing with sorrow. Huge waves of sorrow wash over me intermittently. Splash. The waves crash over me and I fall into the deep waves of treachery. I am not sorrowful but I am filled with the amount of sorrow. I can keep the sorrow inside of me to save those shallow humans.
But to those who may feel bad for me (which may be a little amount), hold your tears back. I may be full of sorrow but it is a bold move to save them and for that, I am full of sorrow but I do not feel it. I am a wave in an endless ocean of them so do not feel bad for me, the one drop of water that makes no difference in the grand scheme of things. My life is a poem, waiting to be read by the one and only poet. I never knew that I could be that poet and so, I am not only the poem but the poet, not the metaphor but the writer, not just the servant but the god.
How I can be both things is not an impossibility, not just a mystery. I am like the speech of a poet. A poet knows how to make the words splash, how to make them flow, how to make them wash ashore, and how to make them make a whirlpool that sucks everyone inside. There needs not to be a physical reality for it to really suck inside. A poet can suck everyone inside their magic if they wanted to.
But how rude of me, the waves are calling me and I may not have answered their call. My life is a mystery, a cryptic rhythm that perhaps I don’t think would be proper to seal. Perhaps my words seem cryptic and in need of deciphering but not everything needs to be understood to be joyful.
For I am not just the poem but the poet.

Part 2:
Inspired by: Encanto/Endgame (712 words)



Why is my worth the value of a penny? Since when did anyone appreciate my talents around this god-forsaken pit? I’ve been working my off, trying to make this work. For all those who’ve I’ve provided resources to, for all those who I have constructed shelter, houses, towers, for? For whom I have created magic streams, magic rituals flowing out of my hands, giving my soul to those who would have never ever ever done the same thing for me? Every bit of my magic takes a part of my energy, my concentration, maybe even more than anything on the surface.
I’ve been dealing with this for years. My papa and my mama are always bothering me to do things for other people. “Attend the annual meeting for the planning of the new church building!” “Have you finished fixing the orphanage yet?” “I hope you’re well today! Or else all of those little kids will suffer because of you!” Can’t you already see how obnoxious and selfish they are? The truth is, they don’t care about all of those little kids without homes or parents or those old guys who live on the streets begging for a coin or even a biscuit. They only care about themselves and what can I do all of this to add to their reputation. But what about myself? Since when did I matter to nothing and no one? Well, according to what this means, since the beginning. I was born in a pit. A figurative one but just because it’s not tangible doesn’t mean that it’s not real.
The family was having a hard time. Quite difficult. The stock wasn’t in their favor and my dad loved to gamble all of that precious little money away until it really became little and their lives were going to be broken. They decided on a last resort, having me. Fun fact, they googled every single name that means ‘successful’. They eventually decided on the name Cirie. It means a successful person who likes to be reasonable. In their dictionary, ‘reasonable’ means not having an opinion and always obeying orders from their parents. How thoughtful of them!
My family is stupid, specifically emotionally but they had a plan. They planned to raise me to be intelligent, clever, resourceful, and superior to all those around me. Their plan did succeed (at least, not trying to brag, this is merely to scream out my horrible life story) and I quickly raised up the ranks. They thought that I would easily enroll in a professional and famous college (preferably Harvard) and how beneficial it was for them when it turned out that I had magical powers in my blood, activated by a terrible accident that they thought would have ended their lives (yes their lives, not mine, they didn’t care for mine at all). I had the magic power of telekinesis which would have definitely made their lives easier, using me as a pickpocket to steal everyones’ greatest possessions and treasure. And also generally using it for the benefit of other people so that way they would gain recognition and importance throughout their city for their “wonderful daughter” that they raised. Okay, I admit, I got some of the credit. I mean, it’s not like it was me doing all the heavy lifting, learning everything I could, just to praise a pair of guardians that didn’t raise me out of love. No, they didn’t raise me out of love. Nor did they give birth to me out of it. They gave birth to me and raised me out of their sheer desperation. Their desperation for their own survival because they didn’t want to do anything themselves. I guess they raised me but… I still want vengeance.
I’m slicing my way toward that triumph and I know that I will succeed. It’s my name after all. Perhaps my parents did one thing right, even if it may be the death of him. But I mean, they don’t stand a chance. I know I will succeed. How do I know? Because if I don’t, my life will be an unholy pit and I will come through a figurative pit and leave this world through a figurative pit. The irony of it all.

Part 3 (my theme I was trying to convey is vengeance, continuing part 2, 1115 words)

The world is my oyster and the pearl is my infinitely forever expanding power that I can use to my will. I am not to be confined ,concealing to just two mortal men who have not a shred of an ounce of the magic I contain. They thought that they could manipulate me, strengthen me, only to have me bow to their every whim without not an inch of free will. Perhaps they thought that I would be grateful for their wondrous acts of being a parent. In fact, they reminded me everyday.
“If it wasn’t for us, we would be in the dumpster wearing cavemen clothes!”
“If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have that reputation now!”
“If it wasn’t for us, your grades would be all F’s!”
“If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t be smart!”
“If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t be alive and you would still be considering how awful your life would be without us!”
How motivating they were and though, I do suppose they have a bit of truth. After all, if it wasn’t for their furious methods of raising me, I wouldn’t be this powerful to be able to slice their throat with a knife a mile away. Okay, I’m probably exaggerating but I am stil definitely powerful enough to think of several ways to kill them. Possibly making their precious cabinet of trophies fall on top of them. Ooh, how ironic that would be that their wonderful reputation and fame would end up getting them killed. Ooh, that’s a very nice way to die.
Or perhaps I remember that they got a gift from the mayor, it was a knife (who gives a gift of a knife to someone they admire? The mayor apparently). I could definitely also use that to kill them. They’re always bragging about my grades. Another idea is I can outsmart them using a lot of mathematical algebraic equations and then using that to annihilate them.
Wait.
I’ve got just the thing.

A woman and a man are preparing for their upcoming awards ceremony. How amazing it would be that their daughter wasn’t invited so they can keep all of the glory for themselves! As they appropriately deserved of course. I mean, if it weren’t for them, she wouldn’t be this way and then they wouldn’t be receiving the award in the first place! It was great that the entire village saw it this way as well, it’s not like they were hiding anything. It was professional and it was fine.
The woman inspected herself in the mirror and thought her outfit was very appropriate for the situation. She was wearing a dark red dress with several layers but it didn’t look so formal and floofy it would belong at a ball. Her husband was wearing the general man attire, a shiny black and white tuxedo that strangely didn’t make him look like a penguin.
“You look…gorgeous ma cherie,” the man said and gave her a quick peck.
“Why if I look gorgeous then what does that make you. A god probably,” she replied. “Now, it is time to receive our reward.”
“As we deserve.” Both of them were unaware from the glowing presence quietly descending on them in their jubilance. “How we have evolved from rock bottom. We have really developed haven’t we?”
“Yes we have. When we were poor and broke and nearly homeless, we almost had to leave our home to find a place where we could acquire an easy salary. But now, we will never have to be troubled by such a threat anymore.”
“For our hard work!”
“For our hard work!”
A shiny flash blinked behind them and they turned around to see a medal on the table. Instead of being concerned, both of them snorted. “What a rebellious phase she is in right now. She’ll get it back. She always does.”
“Oh will I?”
Crash. The cabinet tipped over from its position and nearly fell on the couple before the man swooped in and grabbed his wife from being crushed onto its weight. “Oh Cirie, you’ll get out of this. You always do.”
“Oh will I?”
An incredibly intricate and steelmade knife burst out of a cupboard and made a swirl across their outfits, tearing apart the bottom half of the woman’s dress and cutting away parts of his shiny tuxedo. “Now look at what you have done! Now we will have to buy new outfits! Apologize immediately, Cirie Minra!”
“Cirie Minra.”
Slice. A mighty slash cuts the cupboard behind them, leaving an ugly scar.
“Cirie Minra.”
Crash. Down went another cabinet of their awards and trophies.
“Cirie Minra.”
SCREAM went two people in the house.
“Referring to me by my full name. Oh and by the way. This isn’t a phase.”
And I exploded through the house. Eyes filled with fire, a heart streaked with years of torment and hate. “Believe me, this is not a phase. Or maybe it is. Either way you won’t be able to see the end of it.”
In that moment, both the woman and man saw the immense amount of loathing their daughter had for them. They realized how their daughter was a person, not just a thing that they had given birth to. She was not their object, not just a toy, but a living person through years of abusement and selfishness. They did not realize how much hurt they had caused me. And then, karma came for them and punched them in the chest. They don’t realize the consequences until years and years after. And yet they never learn from them. How stupid they are and how smart I was. My vengeance is sweat. Perhaps they would remember that later. Though there won’t be a later. Good for them. Maybe it will give them some wisdom in the afterlife. Unless their afterlife is in and they’ll never have to put it to good use. Quite a shame, quite a shame.
My plan was perfect. Killing them with the medal they had given me when I was 11. It was a plan one, with no shimmer nor glimmer yet it was a medal. They kept all the shiny ones for themselves. They didn’t say that they were proud of me. They said that they did very good jobs and that if I can do better then I would be able to get a shinier one. As if I would want some stupid…ugly…worthless…MEDAL! AS WORTHLESS AS ME!
But before they could plead for their lives, both opening their mouths in unison, a medal flew from a table and sliced their . Falling down…down…down…
And then they were no more.

weekly #3 - 4415 words

part one
words: 841

song: unknown
words: 423
The horse trots along the path, slowly and peacefully at first. You listen happily to the soothing, rhythmic clopping of its hooves as it meanders down the path. Clip clop, clip clop, clip clop. Suddenly, without warning, it slows down, seeming like it is tiptoeing, trying to make as little noise as possible: clip clop, clip clop, clip clop, go the hooves. You wonder why it is trying so hard to be quiet when you see it: a small family of hares in the bushes. When the rabbits scamper away, the horse decides to pass by a small town, where a woman tells tales of sorrow, of a river of tears that flows from grief, but how, at the end, it forms one of the most beautiful sights in the world. Still, the horse continues on: clip clop, clip clop, clip clop. It brings you past the river the woman sang about, and into the land at the end of the river. Then, boom! Once it reaches the area, it is like a cannon goes off; the horse races, faster than before: clip clop, clip clop, clip clop, faster than any horse you have ever seen: CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, so fast that you think it must be the fastest in the world, the fastest ever, but still, it finds a way to speed up: CLIP CLOP, CLIP CLOP, CLIPPITY CLOP, CLIPPITY CLOP. It gallops faster than ever, with its goal finally in sight; it has nearly arrived, if only it can pass the final stretch. Right before it arrives though, it stops abruptly, instead prancing about in circles: showing off for some reason. Clip clop, clip clop, clippity clop. You wonder what on earth the little gray horse could possibly be doing, until you hear a sound. A steady noise, like a drumbeat. A pleasant aroma of food from all around the world fills the air, and your stomach protests loudly, making you realize how hungry you are. When you listen even more closely, you hear hoof beats. Not just the steady, rhythmic clip clop, clip clop, clip clop of your horse, but the less organized clop of many horses. You turn around on your horse, still holding the reins in one hand, wondering what could be happening, then you see it: the rows and rows of carts, all pulled by donkeys and horses - it is the spring festival! The drumbeats announcing the entry continue as bagpipe-like sounds join in, bringing the joy and excitement of the festival with them.

song: Heathens - Vitamin String Quartet
words: 418
WARNING: somewhat frequent mentions of d34th, etc.

3042, Mars. Your mission: to retrieve the sacred artifact from the long-d34d planet.

Your spaceship lands with an abrupt screech on the surface of the planet. You activate your invisible oxygen helmet and step out onto the ground. You are immediately shocked by how lonely, how empty this planet seems. They did warn you before you left, and of course you already knew how barren it was, but seeing it in person was an entirely different story. How could do much d34th have occurred here? You trek along sadly, silent out of respect for the lonely, pl4gue-stricken planet, with no life around whatsoever. The ground crunches underfoot and you gaze around at the empty, bland nothingness. You see imprints of plants that tried desperately to cling to life, but to no avail. The pl4gue took them all, everything. So many fought back, tried to cure it, but they just didn’t have enough time or enough advanced technology. If only they had the medicine of today, then maybe things would be different… you have to stop your thoughts there, you know that it’s impossible, traitorous even, to think those thoughts. What’s gone is gone, and nothing can change that. That’s what they always tell you, and so you tell it to yourself too, trying to convince yourself. It’s their fault - they should have tried earlier, have advanced while they still had the chance. They made that choice, and the choice was theirs alone.

You consult your map again; the spot is here. You press the hatch, and sand crumbles down along the edges as it creaks open - clearly, this hasn’t been used in a while. It was their fault, their fault, THEIR FAULT, you repeat to yourself over and over, knowing you can’t reflect on the sadness of the situation, for your own safety. You creep in cautiously, finding the small alcove where it should be located. But… your heart skips a beat… where is it? The fact that it is gone fills you with hope - maybe there is still life on this planet after all! But… you go outside cautiously - whoever it is could be hostile.

You wander around the planet, averting your eyes from all the devastation, the remains of expl0ded ships and debris. Finally, you stumble upon a small village - the only town on Mars. The dilapidated shacks sit in a circle, their walls crumbling and their roofs sagging. You sigh in sadness and despair at the injustice of the pl4gue.

part two
inspiration: my vacation
words: 2355

Cockadoodledoo! The loud rooster continued its eternal, infuriating crowing. Belinda rose tiredly with the sun, needing to start her day early, before it became too hot outside to work. She rubbed her eyes, looking around blearily at the simple yet vibrant room around her, made up of sticks, with a multicolored blanket for the roof. She stepped outside, walking over to the small shack nearby her own, this one housing animals instead of people. Belinda entered tapping the large, tan-colored creature beside her. The camel opened its enormous eyes, blinking with its three eyelids. Belinda mounted it, then it stood up slowly, first unbending its knees, then lifting itself up as though it was struggling to stand. The camel swung Belinda this way and that as it stood, but she continued holding tightly to the saddle, and remained safely on the camel. It opened its mouth and grunted loudly. At least it didn’t spit on me, Belinda thought right as the camel spit on the ground. Belinda groaned loudly. World domination could be so tiring sometimes, especially because she had to do hard work to fulfill her plans. Soon though, that will all be over, she though, cackling evilly, then looking around nervously, hoping that no one had heard her. I can’t be discovered now, not when I’m so close, she thought to herself. In truth, she wasn’t very close to world domination, although she was, admittedly, slightly closer than she was, say, a year ago, as might be expected. The camel trudged along through the sand, walking at a snail’s pace. Belinda screamed into the empty sand dunes in annoyance, patting the camel roughly to make it speed up. The camel only grunted loudly in reply, somehow finding a way to spit on her, even though she was riding it. Belinda knew that camels could hold grudges for years, and that this camel would most likely dislike her forever, but she didn’t care anymore. “Why is nothing working?!?!” she wailed.

The camel stopped in front of the well, accidentally, or perhaps on purpose, knocking Belinda off of its back and into the well. Belinda landed with a splash. “Uuuugh!” she screamed, sounding rather like a spoiled toddler who didn’t get their way.

Meanwhile, Selui was living happily in her boat house, having won the b4ttle against Belinda. However, she was still uneasy, and lived in constant fear of Belinda returning and using her to help conquer the world. She kept a constant lookout for Belinda, and last week, she had placed some new wards in her boat after Belinda had found a way to send a messenger bird through Selui’s window. However, Selui still had no idea where Belinda was or what she was planning, although it probably had to do with world domination. Little did she know that Belinda’s plan involved living on the other side of the world, taking care of goats and being dumped into wells by camels who disliked her.

By this time, Belinda had successfully retrieved some water from the well and dried off. She was now feeding the goats, taking care to slip some mind-control potion into their food as usual, an element that was essential to her plan. She made sure to do it each day so that she could not only train the goats, but also so that she was always prepared, in case she had to alter her schedule for world domination and att4ck earlier than planned. “Hello, Belinda!” called Xy, her neighbor. Xy was secretly a faerie, but he didn’t know that Belinda had powers, nor did she know that he could use magic. They had both ended up, by chance, in the same area, and they both thought the other was an ordinary human, like Tahre. Tahre exited their house, waving a greeting to Xy and Belinda, then leaving to take care of their animals.

Belinda, who was still struggling to feed the animals, accidentally opened the gate, allowing several donkeys to escape, which accidentally trampled Xy, who was still standing by the gate. When the donkeys trampled Xy, he yelped and jumped backwards in fear. He slowly edged away from the donkeys, suddenly ‘remembering’ the million tasks he had to do. This worked well for Belinda, who needed to be alone to be able to train the animals for world domination. She took the goats and sheep out of the pen, leading them down a small, well-worn trail, one that she had used many times during her life here. The villagers always complimented her on her incredible ability to herd the goats and sheep perfectly, although, of course, they didn’t know that she had used her mind-controlling potion on the poor, innocent animals. Belinda immediately knew that goats were the best way to dominate the world when she visited the town. She watched them traveling in their perfect herds, and imagined how powerful they would be when working to defeat the Earth.

One might wonder how Belinda is hoping to achieve ‘world domination’, and what her definition of it would be. In truth, Belinda had no idea what she was doing, and had only an inkling of an idea for her plans. She decided that she would wait until her goat army had enough strength to take over the world before she came up with a plan, which was perhaps not her wisest choice, but after she lost the b4ttle against Selui, her intelligence levels had been slowly decreasing, leading her to make decisions that weren’t as well-planned. This may have also been a late side effect of using the summoning spell. No matter the cause, Belinda couldn’t even notice the issue, despite it being very evident to those around her, if they cared enough to notice.

Xy had, at this point in time, no idea that he could use magical powers - he had forgotten. He had helped to eliminate all witches (other than Belinda, of course), but he, unfortunately, lost his memory in the process and moved to his current location in search of a quiet, peaceful life away from people. Today though, when he was trampled by the donkeys, he began to feel a strange tingling sensation - unbeknownst to him, it was his powers reawakening.

Selui wandered around her small blue kitchen, preparing an early lunch, when she was nearly knocked off her feet with an overwhelming sensation of welcoming. She identified it as a new surge of power, one gone for years, filling the empty ache of a void that she didn’t even realize existed. She staggered sideways with the sheer weight of this feeling, which made her think about how powerful this person must be to do this to her unintentionally. Selui decided that she had to track down this person, whoever it was, before Belinda found them. She called a messenger bird to her side with a light whistle, and instructed it to track the person and report back with the location. While she waited, Selui decided to kept trying to find Belinda, filled with a renewed need to stop her.

Belinda felt a strange tremor in the ground, which she found strange, but nothing else alerted her to this newfound talent, probably because, although Selui didn’t know it, this power was Xy, who was already a faerie. She continued her arduous work of training the goats to be her personal army. /And, march!/ she thought. While a few goats obeyed, most just continued grazing, some walking a bit. Belinda groaned - she wasn’t getting anywhere - these goats had been doing the same thing for months! Belinda looked up at the sky as though she were asking /Why me?/ While looking at the sky, Belinda noticed a small falcon flying across the sky, which she found odd, since there were no falcons in this area, but she shrugged it off. If she had looked for a few moments longer, she may have noticed that it was Selui’s messenger bird, but she didn’t, which was fortunate for both Xy and Selui, despite being rather unfortunate for her and her plans.

Xy watched as a falcon flew directly over his head, but he didn’t even flinch, to his credit, although he did find it unusual that there was a falcon in the middle of the desert, where they had very few birds, and certainly no falcons. Plus, this looked like a wild bird, and most wild animals that he had seen didn’t like to get very close to humans. It to mention the fact that there was something about this specific bird kept nagging at the back as his brain, like it was something he should know but didn’t. He continued on with his work, his thoughts still straying periodically to the unusual bird.

While enjoying her delicious meal, Selui heard persistent tapping on the window. After a while, she couldn’t take it any longer and went to the window, annoyed, until she realized it was her own messenger bird. She opened the window apologetically, feeling bad for being annoyed, leaving the bird outside, and somewhat forgetting that she had sent a messenger bird to find the powerful being. The falcon flew in, pecking Selui’s shoulder in annoyance as it passed. Selui took the location from the bird, giving it a treat to tell it she was sorry. In fairness, she didn’t expect the tiny bird to return so quickly, especially since the person was… she glanced at the location… roughly halfway across the world. Selui packed a bag and set off immediately (with the falcon, of course) to find Xy.

Xy was sitting down, ready to take a rest before it was too hot for him to work, when he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. She looked so familiar, like the falcon, which he noted was now sitting on her arm. “Hello! Is Xy here?” she called out. Xy stood up, confirming that he was Xy. The woman gasped and took a few steps backwards. Xy stood awkwardly, not sure what was wrong or whether he should try to help or not. He decided against it, allowing this strangely familiar woman to regain her composure.

Selui hasn’t been looking very closely when she asked Xy who he was, but when he stood, she nearly fainted. This was no new power, some weakling who needed help. This was Xy, her former friend and colleague, who had always been strong, nearly stronger than Selui herself, despite their large age difference. But what was Xy doing here, out in the desert, when he was presumed d34d? Why didn’t he tell anyone he was still alive? Something seemed off…

“What do you want from me?” Xy demanded uneasily. The woman looked almost hurt, and certainly confused. The woman asked whether he remembered her. “Umm… no?” Xy replied, although that wasn’t entirely true. He did somewhat recognize her, he just couldn’t remember why or from what.

Selui felt immense sadness - he clearly remembered nothing. She had been so excited, hoping that she could at least have one friend, but it seemed like the universe wanted to make things difficult for her. She sighed. “I need you to come with me, for your own safety,” she announced, hoping that wouldn’t scare him away. Xy backed up a little in fear, but he still remained there.

Was this woman crazy? First she shows up out of nowhere, then she wants me to follow her to who knows where - absolutely not!!! This was an outrageous demand, and he felt no obligation to fulfill it. Although… he somehow had the feeling that he could trust this woman, that she would never lead him into harm, at least not intentionally, but she was still a stranger, as far as Xy was concerned.

Selui knew she would probably regret her decision - she already did, but she knew she had to do it - for his safety and hers, not to mention.that of the entire world. She grabbed Xy with her telekinesis, placed him on a horse, and began dragging him away. He began to protest, but she just ignored him. On her way out, she passed Belinda without noticing, then did a double take. Was that… Belinda? Right there near Xy? Impossible! She dismissed the thought, but kept it in the back of her head for later, in case she needed to find Belinda.

When they reached the house, Selui prepared a cauldron to restore Xy’s memory while attempting to explain to him what she presumed had happened. “…we were defeating the last witch, other than Belinda, of course-“

“Wait. Belinda?” Xy interrupted, “you mean like the person in the desert?”

Selui cursed herself for her carelessness. She should have left Belinda out of this. Of course he knew her. This day was just getting better and better. Selui decided to ignore Xy’s interruption, continuing with her story, “when your radio went silent. I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I assumed we had lost you. I couldn’t even find a trace of your magic. You probably lost your memory, and, therefore, your magic, which is why you turned off your radio. You should be able to remember the rest,” she finished, stirring the cauldron and adding colorful ingredients to it as she spoke.

Xy nodded in confirmation. Her story seemed to make sense, so he decided to follow his instincts and trust her. He leaned over the cauldron, which was full of a shimmery, bubbling liquid that seemed to change colors regular - from neon green, to coral, to lavender, and more. “What are you making?” he asked, curious but also slightly concerned, since it smelled putrid. “It will help you get your memory back,” Selui replied. Xy recoiled in disgust.

Selui chuckled, since Xy was clearly not looking forward to that. She searched the kitchen for something that could make it smell and taste better. She opened a vial, sniffed it, and, nodding her approval, dumped it into the cauldron, which caused the smell to disappear, and i it t also made the colors swirl together of their own accord.

part three
continuation of part one (heathens)
words: 1219
theme: you can’t hide behind lies used to cover up bad deeds
VERY MUCH SO WARNING: even more d34th than the first part, so you have been warned

One of the small brown huts has its door hanging open, although it is only on one hinge, and you walk in, hoping to find someone there. “Hello?” you call out hopefully, but all you can hear is the echo of your own voice bouncing back to you, over and over again. You decide to venture further out into the room, and on the floor, you find a person lying down limply, seemingly asleep. You quickly loop a mask around your ears to avoid the pl4gue because, even though you have a vial of the cure in your ship, you would still rather not risk it. You lean over the person, searching for a pulse, but you find none. You remain leaned over, though, because, as you were checking the pulse, you noticed a message, hastily scrawled into the sand. The letters are nearly illegible, but you manage to read it, as follows:

things aren’t as they seem ~ don’t trust anyone ~ beware the plague
- Milkflower, November 2357

“What kind of a name is Milkflower?” you ask yourself, confused. You wonder whether or not it could be some sort of code, although that is more likely just an example you expecting too much information. You decide to analyze the note instead, line by line. While you are still stumped by the first two lines, you find the third line completely clear, which is unusual, especially when compared to the cryptic beginning lines.

Although the note had temporarily distracted you from finding the artifact, you realize now that you have to continue with the mission first, then you can ponder the note further.

You poke around the house a little more, feeling slightly guilty for it, but continuing nonetheless. As you search, you notice something clutched in the person- in Milkflower’s hand, you correct. You crouch down, trying to investigate more closely, wondering what the object is. You slowly unfurl their hands, cringing at how disgusting, not to mention disrespectful, this must be, but you have to know. The tiny object falls into your hand with a light /tink/. “Could it be… the artifact?” you breathe, comparing it to the photo in your suit. You check for the defining marks, and find them on the silver object. When you hold it up to the light, a small folded-up piece of paper falls out.

Keep this safe at all costs - Breezewind

“Again with the strange names,” you think, “and who am I supposed to keep this away from?” You barely have time to reflect upon that thought, though, when a powerful breeze, almost like a targeted blast, but surely not, barrels through the room, sweeping you off your feet, dragging you - and Milkflower - up, up, up, never stopping or slowing down as it goes. You continue rising upwards, and soon you begin to fret that you are about to leave the atmosphere, which would leave you with no air. You spot your space shuttle, where the extra air is located, now a small speck in your vision. Worried, you check how much air you have left. Great, only five minutes’ worth of it. “Well, I’d better figure a way out of this quickly,” you think, but not very worriedly. Even when faced with d34th, you feel unnaturally calm. It must be the loss of oxygen. You think dimly that it would be nice to know the meaning of the unusual notes that you found before you run out of air forever.

You watch, detached from reality, as your suit beeps insistently at you, flashing red with a low air warning, then as your fingers slowly uncurl themselves, allowing the artifact to slip away into space, floating through the nothingness. You make swimming motions through the air to try to reach it, but it is like swimming through molasses. You start to feel the lack of oxygen getting to your head, making you dizzy, until your survival instincts kick in.

You faintly remember the note saying to protect the artifact, and you reach desperately for it, and time seems to stop as you attempt to retrieve it while trying to calculate how long you have left in your fuzzy mind. You accidentally bump into Milkflower during your frantic swimming, and, suddenly, a prerecorded audio tape begins playing through the silence: “If you find this, then we probably lost, and the so-called ‘pl4gue’ has taken the whole planet. But maybe, if you’re listening to this still, you’ll be open to the truth. I have to try, at least. Let me start with the basics: the pl4gue is a fake, a cover-up. Now that you know this key piece of information, I’ll start at the beginning. The new government is cruel, and they sent all of their prisoners, most imprisoned for trying to advance technologically, like myself, to Mars. The members of the government were worried that we would gain too much power, enough to overthrow them, which is why they unfairly imprisoned us. On Mars, many of us tried to start a rebellion, but they quickly found out and fought back, covering it up with the story of this so-called pl4gue. From there, I don’t know what happens next, but I can assume it didn’t go well, since you are listening to this right now. I hope sincerely that this recording never gets used, but I’ll have to assume for now that it will, and so I ask you to join our side, to preserve our memory. We have assets on other planets who may be able to help you, but I can’t provide names in case this falls into the wrong hands. Before I stop the recording, here’s some advice: take down the system subtly, since attacking in the open clearly failed, and a parting gift.” The recording crackled off abruptly, seeming to have ended early.
You groan in frustration, wanting to hear the rest of the message.

Suddenly, you realize that you are still breathing, still alive, and you wonder, dazed, how this is even possible. You check your oxygen tank in confusion and realize that somehow, miraculously, it was refilled. You check it again, making sure that you aren’t imagining it, but it seems pretty real to you. You pick up the glass of water next to you, feeling an immediate need to quench your thirst, then you pause, wondering where the glass of water actually came from. In fact, you have no idea where any of this came from, to tell the truth.

You look around at the multicolored walls, at the fancy couches, and finally, your gaze rests upon the rows and rows of computer screens before you. You have never seen anything as advanced as these before, and you recall what Milkflower said about the people from Mars knowing how to make incredibly high-tech devices, and finally understand how true that statement was. Almost a thousand years ago, these people were smarter than society is even today! While staring at the information zipping across the computers, you absent-mindedly stroke the armrests of the plush, velvet lounge chair that you are sitting in. You finally decipher the words on the computer, and it sinks in that you are steering the mini spaceship towards Mars, and, more importantly, the biggest decision of your life.

Fanfiction Forest Poetry
Written by Wari
118 words

Rifts in the forest (Haiku)
Rifts in the forest
Will the divisions unite?
Or fall, each alone

The Separation (Etheree)
Once, the village was filled with joyous peace
Three siblings joined to protect us all
Then a shadow came over them
The leaders gone, rifts forming
Bitter accusations
Drive the groups apart
Strife reigns supreme
And now we
Are at
War

Pondering (Limerick)
I am a warrior, proud and strong
Ready to fight for glory’s song
But new revelations open my eyes
And I start to question our broken ties
What if all we have learned is wrong?

Rivalry and Unity (Diamante)
Rivalry
Prideful, Invigorating
Rouses, Provokes, Emboldens
Hostility, Warfare, Alliance, Empathy
Connects, Harmonizes, Strengthens
Peaceful, Empowering
Unity

swc daily - march 18
words: 515
swc fanfiction based on the fantasy facility storyline

When Peachi walked into the Fantasy Facility, everyone was chatting with each other for some reason. Typically, everyone quietly did their tasks and only talked when spoken to by the Director, Chief, or Regulator. Otherwise, they would face punishment from the Regulator, Yumi. But today, the three leaders were sitting by and letting it happen- something clearly abnormal had happened, or otherwise they wouldn’t have been doing so.
Peachi ignored their station in the facility in favor of following a few others and attempting to sneak up to the front, where the leaders were sitting as they talked, in the hopes of listening in. Since they were rarely told about matters that the leaders deemed unimportant and of no need to complete their exercises.
“What else should we do about the people trying to escape?” Director Soft asked, brow furrowed and in deep thought. “They clearly still have a spark of resistance and are willing to risk their lives for freedom despite all of our efforts to break their will to escape.”
“We’ll do what we’ve always done,” Chief Aria replied, barely a second’s time between Soft’s question and her answer. “Anyone who attempts to escape dies. That’s the rule.”
“Soft has a point,” Regulator Yumi said. “We can’t just take action after the attempt. Eventually, someone will actually succeed. There has to be a way to find the rest of the ones with a spark of rebellious spirit before they put their plans into action…”
Chief Aria nodded. “We should conduct an inspection.”
Peachi’s eyes widened in realization of what this meant for most of the facility residents, and she quickly hurried back to their station before the leaders noticed that she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. A few of the residents weren’t so lucky and were forced to do extra work during lunchtime as punishment for listening in.
When it was time to eat lunch, Peachi didn’t touch their food, instead choosing to weigh the pros and cons of telling someone that the leaders were planning to conduct an inspection. While this would put her in far more trouble than they would have been before if the leaders found out she had done something that wasn’t allowed by the rules, it would also likely save many lives since most of the others who had chosen to listen in were being punished for that choice.
A while ago, they had overheard a few of the people in her group talking about their plans for escaping the facility. They hadn’t joined in since she was trying to be uninvolved in escape plans and not upset the leaders as much as possible, but they did make sure to remember who it was that had been talking.
That information would likely turn out to be something that I’ll be glad if I remember, she had thought at the time. For once, they had been right. She could remember the names, numbers, and faces of all seven residents who had been plotting. Now, it was up to them to figure out if she should notify the seven.