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- ayid_7345
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Daily for March 22nd -
This animal is a hybrid of a bird, my favorite and a spider, my least favorite. I call this creation: a BIDER! This animal has a small body, with 8 legs. The legs feel like a regular bird’s legs. The bider can come in all shapes and sizes like an actual bird and spider. The bider has wings implanted in its back. The wings have a web-like feeling and can easily be damaged. The biggest bider found is around 2 feet long! The sound that the bider gives is something you would only find in your nightmare. The sound is somewhere between a bird’s sad chirp and a tsk isk of a spider. Despite being the fear of anyone who is sane, the bider is very helpful to the environment. Its wings sometimes decay, and fall off, leaving the bider unprotected. The wings however, are very nutritious to the soil and have many helping properties to the soil. The Bider builds a nest, in which female Biders lay eggs. The nest is similar to a bird’s nest because they use the same materials. But the shape is different. The nest is a funnel. The eggs are put inside to protect them from predators (bigger biders). The bider is very scary but rarely harms humans directly. They are actually quite friendly! Some people even keep biders as pets. The bider is often found in humid places and most commonly found in the US near places like Florida and Hawaii. The Bider feeds on many small insects like flies and moths, as well as earthworms. Their long mouth allows them to reach into the dirt and pick up the worms from the ground. The average age of a Bider is around one year, some lucky ones live for two. They lay eggs in the winter which then hatch in the spring, during the summer the babies learn to fly and during fall and the rest of the winter they survive by themselves. Near the end of fall the lay eggs, hence restarting the circle of their life.
This animal is a hybrid of a bird, my favorite and a spider, my least favorite. I call this creation: a BIDER! This animal has a small body, with 8 legs. The legs feel like a regular bird’s legs. The bider can come in all shapes and sizes like an actual bird and spider. The bider has wings implanted in its back. The wings have a web-like feeling and can easily be damaged. The biggest bider found is around 2 feet long! The sound that the bider gives is something you would only find in your nightmare. The sound is somewhere between a bird’s sad chirp and a tsk isk of a spider. Despite being the fear of anyone who is sane, the bider is very helpful to the environment. Its wings sometimes decay, and fall off, leaving the bider unprotected. The wings however, are very nutritious to the soil and have many helping properties to the soil. The Bider builds a nest, in which female Biders lay eggs. The nest is similar to a bird’s nest because they use the same materials. But the shape is different. The nest is a funnel. The eggs are put inside to protect them from predators (bigger biders). The bider is very scary but rarely harms humans directly. They are actually quite friendly! Some people even keep biders as pets. The bider is often found in humid places and most commonly found in the US near places like Florida and Hawaii. The Bider feeds on many small insects like flies and moths, as well as earthworms. Their long mouth allows them to reach into the dirt and pick up the worms from the ground. The average age of a Bider is around one year, some lucky ones live for two. They lay eggs in the winter which then hatch in the spring, during the summer the babies learn to fly and during fall and the rest of the winter they survive by themselves. Near the end of fall the lay eggs, hence restarting the circle of their life.
〚“Murderer, Martyr, Monarch, Mad.”〛
ayid ⌒ she.her
avid reader↴ & writer
100% reccomend:
heartless ● scythe ● defy the night
〚“Off with his head”〛
⁻ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗˡᵉˢˢ ᵇʸ ᴹᵃʳᶦˢˢᵃ ᴹᵉʸᵉʳ
- Bluemoon195
-
Scratcher
26 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Blue's March 2022 SWC Bread Crumbs
Follow the bread crumbs and you'll find my main thread! Wow! I promise I absolutely will not be recreating Hansel and Gretel. I swear. I am not a candy witch in the forest. Yet.
>> Blue's March 2022 SWC Content Log <<
March 22, 2022
Main Cabin Daily Writing Prompt:
Prompt:
Mix the features of your favorite animal and your least favorite animal to create a new animal. Flesh out the details of that new imaginary animal. Write 300 words (or more) to receive 500 cabin points.
(Note: I randomly generated both of the animals featured here. The generator got Cheetah on my first roll, and the Ox on my second roll. )
Word Count: +399
The Oxah is an elusive beast with a grand pair of horns, sprouting from both sides of its head. The creature, a tawny color with spots along its body, exempting for the darker (ranging in shades of clay red to black) underbelly, hind legs, and scruff. The scruff around the Oxah's neck is thicker and longer than the fur on the remainder of the body. Many researchers posit this trait as being a nature defense against stronger predators.
The Oxah, an omnivore, acquires the majority of its food from the plains and flat terrains. Being timid in nature, the large beast grazes in small groups, however, during the dry season when the grasses die and are less nutritious, the Oxah begins to hunt small-to-medium sized creatures of the field to tide over their voracious appetite. As researchers have noted, when particularly devoted the Oxah can run at 52 mph, but are usually slow moving creatures. Notably, when the Oxah is running at its greatest speed, they are in danger of fracturing their ankles. The beast's thinner legs are capable of supporting the muscle mass of the chest and torso, but running endangers the structural integrity of the bones and joints in those areas.
The Oxah is a curiosity amongst researchers for not only being a grazing herbivore, but for its ability to actively hunt. The beast's front teeth are flat, similar to that of most herbivores, but the canines - on both the top and bottom, are sharp and considerably larger than the other teeth. Researchers are currently investigating the back molars, which share common attributes to the felidae family.
The Oxah, while spending most its time in the plains, travels to higher zones of elevation during their exceptionally short breeding season - three days during June. Due to this short window of opportunity, the Oxah currently on the decline, concerning overall population. Researchers have begun a breeding program in multiple conservation zoos to attempt to boost the population, but are currently facing no success. Besides being generally more vulnerable in the more heavily forested and higher terrains, the animal also faces over hunting by poachers and locals. However, the Oxah have begun to gather in bigger groups, traditionally found in herd is six or less, now have been groups of ten or less. Researchers believe this might be an adaption to surviving in their breeding grounds, but are investigating further.
Last edited by Bluemoon195 (March 22, 2022 22:17:43)
- Sandhill_Crane
-
Scratcher
16 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
A world of Glass
a SWC Writing Competition entry.
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
They are all knowing.
They are all-seeing.
They are everywhere.
This is my story.
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
My mother, my father, my sister, and I are going to our annual check-up. “Family 13, Lane 32,” the robotic voice says through our earphones.
“That's us!” Dad says cheerfully.
I hate how they count us, as though numbers. Nobody else thinks that. It's all for the convivence of the operators. That, in my opinion, is not true.
But anyways.
The man behind the Curtain, a tall, skinny man with a vest on, ushers us through. They're always men. This, we are told, is because men are more level-headed, more gentle, more intelligent, really, in all actuality, just better than women in every way imaginable
The skinny man has us turn to the left. Then right. The siren that would have signaled our Ending, the siren that would go off if we were doing anything wrong, fails to go off. We were told to go home.
Later that evening, the Screen tells us that there is snow intended for tomorrow.
”Yes, snow indeed! ” says the eternally giggly weatherman, fiddling with his remote. ”The Planners have decided to make tomorrow a snow day! Fun! However,“ his face dropped with mock disappointment, ”that doesn't mean no Work! Kids, the Educators will be preparing a tough day of learning Fun! Parents, your Sheets will tell you all you need to know for your OWN Fun!“
”And now, back to you, Bob.”
We only have to watch the weather and news, even though most people stick around for sports. Even though I leave, I can still hear that the one sports team, the Louisville Misogynists, had played a friendly scrimmage against the other Misogynists, in which nobody had won, because “In a wonderful testament to their name, the Misogynists show manly strength and courage by submitting themselves to horrid cuts, which is something a Woman could never have done!”
However, the only person who got minorly injured (he was slapped on the back by one of the players on his team, which caused him to choke on his Mid-Game wine) was instantly put right by one of the Doctors always on hand.
A Woman has no place in a world like mine. A world, so dependent upon men.
A world, in short, of glass.
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
385 words.≿————- ❈ ————-≾
AUTHOR"S NOTE:
Um, there isn't really much to say here.
I wrote this.
This is an excerpt from a book that I'm writing.
(Jeez, this is painful . . .)
I wanted to make a story in response to some of the sexism that I've noticed. It's horrible, and it makes absolutely no sense.
(More awkward typing . . .)
Okay . . .
I'm going to leave now. I don't really know why I made this author's note.
*boops off*
≿————- ❈ ————-≾
- SophIIsa
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
3.22.22 - daily 22
Daily for Contemporary:
Introducing you… the Flydolphin!
No. It is not a dolphin that can fly. The Flydolphin does have wings, though! But not what you expect. (the typical, transparent white shining wings) Grey and black wings. In fact, the Flydolphin itself is completely grey and black.
The Flydolphin is a combination of a fly (like a mosquito) and a dolphin. Basically a dolphin-sized fly that has a really smooth body. Feared around the world.
You might ask, where does the Flydolphin live? Well, what's so interesting and unique about the Flydolphin is that it can both fly and swim! It lives in the temperate climate zone and flies in the air to look for food. It also swims to find food underwater. Yes, it does, unfortunately, suck blood. The Flydolphin can eat small fish but only drinks the blood of them. I don't want to explain more about this to you since it's a bit disgusting. But you get my point!
The Flydolphin is very temperamental, so its emotions can change abruptly anytime. Sometimes it is very fierce and sometimes it is calm. We don't train Flydolphins like we train actual dolphins, and they're not annoying like actual flies either. They're just… feared. Feared because you don't know what they will do. They're a new species. Feared because some people think they're monsters. Feared because people are too scared to fight them or kill them. Feared because we don't know if they're helpful or not.
Flydolphins aren't about to be extinct, no, no. In fact, the population of Flydolphins is growing and we don't know how or why. We don't know if Flydolphins will contribute to helping the Earth or continuing to the cycle of animals. Scientists are trying to capture some Flydolphins to examine them further, but they fly and swim so fast that we can't reach any of them.
Flydolphins are one of the first species to get mashed between two animals: a fly and a dolphin.
(327 words)
Daily for Contemporary:
Introducing you… the Flydolphin!
No. It is not a dolphin that can fly. The Flydolphin does have wings, though! But not what you expect. (the typical, transparent white shining wings) Grey and black wings. In fact, the Flydolphin itself is completely grey and black.
The Flydolphin is a combination of a fly (like a mosquito) and a dolphin. Basically a dolphin-sized fly that has a really smooth body. Feared around the world.
You might ask, where does the Flydolphin live? Well, what's so interesting and unique about the Flydolphin is that it can both fly and swim! It lives in the temperate climate zone and flies in the air to look for food. It also swims to find food underwater. Yes, it does, unfortunately, suck blood. The Flydolphin can eat small fish but only drinks the blood of them. I don't want to explain more about this to you since it's a bit disgusting. But you get my point!
The Flydolphin is very temperamental, so its emotions can change abruptly anytime. Sometimes it is very fierce and sometimes it is calm. We don't train Flydolphins like we train actual dolphins, and they're not annoying like actual flies either. They're just… feared. Feared because you don't know what they will do. They're a new species. Feared because some people think they're monsters. Feared because people are too scared to fight them or kill them. Feared because we don't know if they're helpful or not.
Flydolphins aren't about to be extinct, no, no. In fact, the population of Flydolphins is growing and we don't know how or why. We don't know if Flydolphins will contribute to helping the Earth or continuing to the cycle of animals. Scientists are trying to capture some Flydolphins to examine them further, but they fly and swim so fast that we can't reach any of them.
Flydolphins are one of the first species to get mashed between two animals: a fly and a dolphin.
(327 words)
“The poet waits quietly to paint the unsaid.” - Atticus
hii! <3
. ⇢ sophia/sofi/sofa ˎˊ˗
╰┈➤ she/her ꕥ 12 y/o ꕥ art + writing ꕥ infp-t - - - - - - - - - - - - > ❝ have a great day! ❞
#folkloreftw
- criminal-intent
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
ENTRY FOR THE SWC WRITING COMPETITION
“We have your brother in custody,” a soldier told him.
Jason closed his eyes. His brother. Jasper.
“Thank you for informing me,” Jason dipped his head in a gesture of respect.
The man bowed in response. He had dark skin and wore black pants paired with a light blue jacket with golden buttons. Straight black hair covered his head. He also had pointed ears and pale yellow wings, marking him as a fairy. Though Jason didn’t say anything more, the soldier remained standing there, perfect posture marking his rigid pose.
Jasper. Who had done everything to protect him, and whom Jason had abandoned.
Jason sighed and rubbed his forehead. Red curls fell into his face, but he didn’t mind. That way he didn’t have to look into the soldier’s curious brown eyes.
Could Jason really face Jasper now? It had been seven years, and Jason was still a coward. First he was afraid of being alone. Of being useless. Of forgetting his parents. Of so many things. And now he was afraid of his own brother.
Be brave. Jason constantly had to remind himself to be brave. He was sick of it.
“Can I see him?” Jason finally asked. Thankfully, his voice was steady. Just like a Ruler’s should be. Clearly, these seven years of education had not gone to waste. Training to make sure he spoke eloquently, or at least calmly, all the time. He was sick of that, too, but he no longer knew any other way.
“Yes, right this way, sir.” The soldier swirled around on his heel, perfectly balanced. Everything was always so perfect here. The best thing was, everyone thought Jason was perfect, too. But not the way Jasper or his parents always had. Jason wasn’t like his family.
Jason was like the fairies. Just like the Ruler told him every day since he’d come here. “The Heir,” he called Jason. Because to the Ruler, he was special.
The soldier led him through corridor after corridor, guiding him down to the abandoned floor of the palace. Though it had been many years since it had been in use, this floor had been a dungeon. Clearly, it was in use again.
An achingly familiar figure sat on the hard ground. Jasper’s legs were crossed, and his hands were laid flat on the floor at his sides. His vibrant orange hair was tied back by two turquoise bands—one keeping it from falling into his forehead and the other tying it into a ponytail to keep it away from his neck.
Jasper looked like a perfect mix of Jason’s parents. With their father’s vibrant hair and triangular nose and their mother’s soft face and bright turquoise eyes. . .Jason could hardly glance at him without thinking of the parents they’d lost. It wasn’t Jasper’s fault—but Jason couldn’t bear it. Though Jason wanted to look away, his eyes were glued to his brother’s sitting form.
With his head bent over his lap, Jason’s brother could have been asleep, but his rapidly rising and falling chest suggested otherwise. No—Jasper was thinking.
Suddenly, Jason’s eyes fell on a feather, tucked in the band around Jasper’s head. The same feather Jason had left behind when he left Jasper. His brother had kept it. Though Jason had been told that Jasper was looking for him—that’s how Jasper had stumbled into the fairy realms—Jason hadn’t quite taken it all in. Jasper had probably been searching for him for all these years. Because Jasper was just a better person—he never gave up, and he never would have believed the worst about Jason. Because Jasper was also naive.
Though he was shaken, Jason made a sweeping gesture with his hand, instructing the fairy to leave them. With a quick bow, the soldier mercifully left.
“Hello, brother,” Jason whispered.
Jasper’s head jerked up. His eyes widened, his lips curved into a smile, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Everything about his expression radiated shock and disbelief, but pure joy lit up his face.
“J-Jay?” Jasper’s voice broke, and a tiny bit of Jason’s heart shattered with it. He’d almost forgotten about that nickname. Jasper rushed to the bars of the cell. Though his hands were tied in front of him, Jason could tell that Jasper was straining to break free of his bonds. Trying to reach him—Jason took a step back.
“Jasper. How did you get here?” Jason asked.
“I-I, um.” Jasper moved his arms as if to brush the few strands of hair that had fallen into his face back from his forehead. “I was looking for you!”
Jason smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was an ironic one, a cold one, from the part of himself that he hated. The part that knew Jasper had been looking for him but had done nothing. And the part that told him Jasper was still trespassing.
“The fairies don’t want you here,” Jason told him in as emotionless a tone as he could manage when his heart was still beating painfully quickly in his chest, and he felt the heavy weight of guilt in his stomach.
“I’ll leave! We’ll leave! You can come with me—I can’t believe I finally found you!” Jasper grinned.
“I can’t come with you.” Jason knew it was wrong of him to not want to go with Jasper. But he also knew that he’d made his choice seven years ago. And there was no going back, no matter what Jasper thought or said or did.
“What? But—but I found you! You need to come back! Back home.” Jasper gazed at his brother with pleading eyes.
“You don’t understand,” Jason said flatly. “I’m not going back. Not all of us are as perfectly selfless as you are, Jasper. I’m certainly not.”
Jasper merely blinked, surprise and hurt radiating from his expression. In all these years, Jasper had barely changed. Jason found himself recognizing little gestures, like how Jasper shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes. He’d done that before, too.
Jason gripped the bars of the cell. “You don’t believe me.”
Though his brother didn’t even reply, Jason felt himself grow angry—an emotion he had tried to repress over the years in the company of the aloof fairies.
If Jasper didn’t believe him, Jason had to make him. “You know what? I left you. I left you.” He stepped back, sweeping the curls away from his forehead with shaking hands. “I chose to go with the fairies—chose to go without you.”
The truth that he’d always known and always ignored was suddenly staring him in the face. Jasper would be ashamed of him—that thought had entered his mind seven years ago when he made his choice. Well, now it was real. Now, Jasper was ashamed of him. Staring straight into Jason’s eyes, Jasper’s turquoise irises glimmering with unshed tears.
“You. . .let them take you?” Jasper’s whisper was barely audible, but the words still felt like a stab in the heart.
Jason was afraid of so many things. But the thing he’d been most afraid of all these years was the truth. The truth was, Jason was nothing but a coward who’d abandoned his own brother, who never would have abandoned him.
And for what? Because the fairies were better? No. Just because they were different. Jason had needed a new life. Something that didn’t remind him of his parents with every breath and every word. Now, though, he wanted his old one back desperately. But he couldn’t fix the past—just like he couldn’t fix himself. Couldn’t fix the broken expression on his brother’s face.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
Thanks for reading & considering ♡
~ Crim from Sci-fi
“We have your brother in custody,” a soldier told him.
Jason closed his eyes. His brother. Jasper.
“Thank you for informing me,” Jason dipped his head in a gesture of respect.
The man bowed in response. He had dark skin and wore black pants paired with a light blue jacket with golden buttons. Straight black hair covered his head. He also had pointed ears and pale yellow wings, marking him as a fairy. Though Jason didn’t say anything more, the soldier remained standing there, perfect posture marking his rigid pose.
Jasper. Who had done everything to protect him, and whom Jason had abandoned.
Jason sighed and rubbed his forehead. Red curls fell into his face, but he didn’t mind. That way he didn’t have to look into the soldier’s curious brown eyes.
Could Jason really face Jasper now? It had been seven years, and Jason was still a coward. First he was afraid of being alone. Of being useless. Of forgetting his parents. Of so many things. And now he was afraid of his own brother.
Be brave. Jason constantly had to remind himself to be brave. He was sick of it.
“Can I see him?” Jason finally asked. Thankfully, his voice was steady. Just like a Ruler’s should be. Clearly, these seven years of education had not gone to waste. Training to make sure he spoke eloquently, or at least calmly, all the time. He was sick of that, too, but he no longer knew any other way.
“Yes, right this way, sir.” The soldier swirled around on his heel, perfectly balanced. Everything was always so perfect here. The best thing was, everyone thought Jason was perfect, too. But not the way Jasper or his parents always had. Jason wasn’t like his family.
Jason was like the fairies. Just like the Ruler told him every day since he’d come here. “The Heir,” he called Jason. Because to the Ruler, he was special.
The soldier led him through corridor after corridor, guiding him down to the abandoned floor of the palace. Though it had been many years since it had been in use, this floor had been a dungeon. Clearly, it was in use again.
An achingly familiar figure sat on the hard ground. Jasper’s legs were crossed, and his hands were laid flat on the floor at his sides. His vibrant orange hair was tied back by two turquoise bands—one keeping it from falling into his forehead and the other tying it into a ponytail to keep it away from his neck.
Jasper looked like a perfect mix of Jason’s parents. With their father’s vibrant hair and triangular nose and their mother’s soft face and bright turquoise eyes. . .Jason could hardly glance at him without thinking of the parents they’d lost. It wasn’t Jasper’s fault—but Jason couldn’t bear it. Though Jason wanted to look away, his eyes were glued to his brother’s sitting form.
With his head bent over his lap, Jason’s brother could have been asleep, but his rapidly rising and falling chest suggested otherwise. No—Jasper was thinking.
Suddenly, Jason’s eyes fell on a feather, tucked in the band around Jasper’s head. The same feather Jason had left behind when he left Jasper. His brother had kept it. Though Jason had been told that Jasper was looking for him—that’s how Jasper had stumbled into the fairy realms—Jason hadn’t quite taken it all in. Jasper had probably been searching for him for all these years. Because Jasper was just a better person—he never gave up, and he never would have believed the worst about Jason. Because Jasper was also naive.
Though he was shaken, Jason made a sweeping gesture with his hand, instructing the fairy to leave them. With a quick bow, the soldier mercifully left.
“Hello, brother,” Jason whispered.
Jasper’s head jerked up. His eyes widened, his lips curved into a smile, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Everything about his expression radiated shock and disbelief, but pure joy lit up his face.
“J-Jay?” Jasper’s voice broke, and a tiny bit of Jason’s heart shattered with it. He’d almost forgotten about that nickname. Jasper rushed to the bars of the cell. Though his hands were tied in front of him, Jason could tell that Jasper was straining to break free of his bonds. Trying to reach him—Jason took a step back.
“Jasper. How did you get here?” Jason asked.
“I-I, um.” Jasper moved his arms as if to brush the few strands of hair that had fallen into his face back from his forehead. “I was looking for you!”
Jason smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was an ironic one, a cold one, from the part of himself that he hated. The part that knew Jasper had been looking for him but had done nothing. And the part that told him Jasper was still trespassing.
“The fairies don’t want you here,” Jason told him in as emotionless a tone as he could manage when his heart was still beating painfully quickly in his chest, and he felt the heavy weight of guilt in his stomach.
“I’ll leave! We’ll leave! You can come with me—I can’t believe I finally found you!” Jasper grinned.
“I can’t come with you.” Jason knew it was wrong of him to not want to go with Jasper. But he also knew that he’d made his choice seven years ago. And there was no going back, no matter what Jasper thought or said or did.
“What? But—but I found you! You need to come back! Back home.” Jasper gazed at his brother with pleading eyes.
“You don’t understand,” Jason said flatly. “I’m not going back. Not all of us are as perfectly selfless as you are, Jasper. I’m certainly not.”
Jasper merely blinked, surprise and hurt radiating from his expression. In all these years, Jasper had barely changed. Jason found himself recognizing little gestures, like how Jasper shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes. He’d done that before, too.
Jason gripped the bars of the cell. “You don’t believe me.”
Though his brother didn’t even reply, Jason felt himself grow angry—an emotion he had tried to repress over the years in the company of the aloof fairies.
If Jasper didn’t believe him, Jason had to make him. “You know what? I left you. I left you.” He stepped back, sweeping the curls away from his forehead with shaking hands. “I chose to go with the fairies—chose to go without you.”
The truth that he’d always known and always ignored was suddenly staring him in the face. Jasper would be ashamed of him—that thought had entered his mind seven years ago when he made his choice. Well, now it was real. Now, Jasper was ashamed of him. Staring straight into Jason’s eyes, Jasper’s turquoise irises glimmering with unshed tears.
“You. . .let them take you?” Jasper’s whisper was barely audible, but the words still felt like a stab in the heart.
Jason was afraid of so many things. But the thing he’d been most afraid of all these years was the truth. The truth was, Jason was nothing but a coward who’d abandoned his own brother, who never would have abandoned him.
And for what? Because the fairies were better? No. Just because they were different. Jason had needed a new life. Something that didn’t remind him of his parents with every breath and every word. Now, though, he wanted his old one back desperately. But he couldn’t fix the past—just like he couldn’t fix himself. Couldn’t fix the broken expression on his brother’s face.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
Thanks for reading & considering ♡
~ Crim from Sci-fi
crim • she/her • Christian • mystery co! • artist and writer
• “i jump off into your arms, but i can’t trust the fall” •
- violent-measures
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Writing Comp. Entry!
Searching
Chapter One
“Love lies at the edge of hope,” —The Navigator, Vian Izak
The wooded hollow was serene and silent, except for the usual sounds found deep in the forest: a bird twittering here, a squirrel skittering over a branch and knocking leaves and acorns down to the forest floor there, and perhaps some distant nighttime predator snoring in its den.
Then, suddenly, the stillness was shattered by movement.
An auburn-and-white dog bounded quickly through a fern, spraying dew against his short fur with the movement, and stood, panting, on top of a fallen log. This dog appeared almost entirely normal, though his sole abnormal feature was quite jarring. Two big, brown eyes blinked right where you’d expect to find them, but a third, this one a brilliant teal, stared from his forehead. The dog turned and tilted his head at the bushes behind him as though waiting for something, his curled tail wagging slightly against his flank.
“Pip?” A voice called, and a brightly-clad teenage boy stepped into the clearing, a scroll with ink covering much of its surface clutched tightly in one gloved hand.
The dog grinned happily up at the boy.
“You almost had me worried there,” the kid said in a sing-songy voice as he knelt to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Do you think you’ve found the portal?” he asked, unrolling the crumpled scroll, which appeared to be a map.
This boy had a few more unusual attributes than his friend. Firstly, his hair, which was held back both with a ponytail and a turquoise headband, was an odd red pigment, almost strawberry blond, but too bright to appear natural. As well, he was wearing strange apparel which consisted mostly of a jumpsuit that looked almost like it would be found on an astronaut, complete with a control panel on his chest that connected with a handkerchief he had around his neck. Most notably, his ears came to sharp points above the temples of his glasses.
The boy was called Jasper Quill, and he was looking for his brother.
It had been a fruitless search thus far, but Jasper had hope, and a little bit more than that: faith, and knowledge. Following his dad’s maps had been quite the challenge of a learning experience, but he’d thought he was getting the hang of it—that is, until he got lost in what should have been an easy-to-navigate world for three months.
“I can’t believe we’re still stuck here,” Jasper groaned, looking at the map that he’d pretty much memorized at that point. “And we’re so close to being done with the maps, too. . . .” Slinging his backpack off his shoulder and looking through the contents, Jasper pulled out a map drawn on matching paper to the one he was currently holding. This one wasn’t as detailed as the other one, though, mostly labeling the territory around the portal. The only thing unique about it was that scribbled on the corner, in his dad’s familiar handwriting, were the words “The Light Path.” Jasper didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but if he couldn’t even find his way to that world, it didn’t matter anyways.
Sighing, Jasper put the next map away and focused on the one of the forested world. There weren’t many notes on this one, either; no especially dangerous predators roamed this realm, nor was there any civilization. But the latter fact was normal. Jasper hadn’t seen another human being in seven years, merely the occasional ruins of ancient societies. He tried not to feel bad about it, and Pip helped allay some of his loneliness, but mostly he just wanted his brother back. Not only because that would mean he hadn’t failed, but because Jasper wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on without Jay’s presence.
“I miss him,” Jasper said. It felt better to say the words aloud, and Pip was a good listener. The dog whined slightly and nuzzled Jasper’s hand.
Jasper scratched the dog on the bottom of his chin and sat down on the log Pip stood on top of. Wind rustled through the wooded hollow, coldly caressing Jasper’s uncovered face. Looking back at the map he was holding, Jasper sighed and put his chin in his hands, staring at the stubbornly unhelpful image his dad had transcribed from the forest around him.
“We should be there,” Jasper snapped suddenly, jabbing with his pointer finger at the dark circle labeled portal. Pip glanced up and tilted his head, apparently confused at the sudden display of frustration.
“We should be there,” Jasper repeated, glancing around frantically for any clues, any ancient altars like the ones he often saw around portals, any stone that looked carved by man . . . but there was nothing. “We should. Why isn’t it here?” Jasper was seized by the sudden urge to tear up the map, which simply stared back at him, unmoving, somehow smug.
Now groaning audibly with irritation, Jasper started pacing the clearing, angrily kicking pebbles out of his way.
Pip bounded up to him, an expression of indignation plastered on his doggy-face as though he were reprimanding Jasper; What did those pebbles ever do to you?
“Sorry, sorry, buddy,” Jasper tried to calm down, but he still felt as though fire were biting at his heels. He felt helplessly motivated to find something that he just couldn’t. He felt lost, which he was, and he felt alone, which . . . despite Pip’s comforting presence, was true, too. Suddenly despairing, Jasper collapsed into a sitting position, pulled up his knees to his chest, and let his head fall against them. He refused to cry, even though he really, really felt like it just then.
Why was a stupid, elusive portal making him feel this way?
He felt worse, because he felt so bad for such a stupid reason. Which was stupid. Someone had better tell my heart that, Jasper thought, blinking back the tears that he really didn’t care to cry.
With a deep sigh, Jasper tried to collect himself. Tried. And . . . sort of succeeded.
Something warm brushed by Jasper’s leg, and he reached out to pet Pip’s soft, furry flank. Falling back and putting a hand over his 100%-authentically-dry eyes, he continued to brush his hands through Pip’s short fur. The rhythmic movement actually did make him feel better, well enough to take the arm off from across his face.
Then, after his eyes adjusted to the bright afternoon light streaming through the branches above him, he saw something that made him feel stupid all over again. But this time, it was a better kind of stupid. The kind of stupid you feel after you realize something that should have been obvious.
“Oh, my goodness,” Jasper breathed. “Pip! Do you see that?” he cried more loudly, bounding to his feet. Pip looked up at his face, then his eyes drifted further above him and found the portal. The portal.
Jasper whooped excitedly and rushed to grab his backpack, stuffing the awful-and-beautiful map inside before closing it.
Last world.
His brother had to be there.
I’m coming, Jay.
1171 words. Characters owned by me and my sister, @criminal-intent, though all writing was done by me <3
Searching
Chapter One
“Love lies at the edge of hope,” —The Navigator, Vian Izak
The wooded hollow was serene and silent, except for the usual sounds found deep in the forest: a bird twittering here, a squirrel skittering over a branch and knocking leaves and acorns down to the forest floor there, and perhaps some distant nighttime predator snoring in its den.
Then, suddenly, the stillness was shattered by movement.
An auburn-and-white dog bounded quickly through a fern, spraying dew against his short fur with the movement, and stood, panting, on top of a fallen log. This dog appeared almost entirely normal, though his sole abnormal feature was quite jarring. Two big, brown eyes blinked right where you’d expect to find them, but a third, this one a brilliant teal, stared from his forehead. The dog turned and tilted his head at the bushes behind him as though waiting for something, his curled tail wagging slightly against his flank.
“Pip?” A voice called, and a brightly-clad teenage boy stepped into the clearing, a scroll with ink covering much of its surface clutched tightly in one gloved hand.
The dog grinned happily up at the boy.
“You almost had me worried there,” the kid said in a sing-songy voice as he knelt to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Do you think you’ve found the portal?” he asked, unrolling the crumpled scroll, which appeared to be a map.
This boy had a few more unusual attributes than his friend. Firstly, his hair, which was held back both with a ponytail and a turquoise headband, was an odd red pigment, almost strawberry blond, but too bright to appear natural. As well, he was wearing strange apparel which consisted mostly of a jumpsuit that looked almost like it would be found on an astronaut, complete with a control panel on his chest that connected with a handkerchief he had around his neck. Most notably, his ears came to sharp points above the temples of his glasses.
The boy was called Jasper Quill, and he was looking for his brother.
It had been a fruitless search thus far, but Jasper had hope, and a little bit more than that: faith, and knowledge. Following his dad’s maps had been quite the challenge of a learning experience, but he’d thought he was getting the hang of it—that is, until he got lost in what should have been an easy-to-navigate world for three months.
“I can’t believe we’re still stuck here,” Jasper groaned, looking at the map that he’d pretty much memorized at that point. “And we’re so close to being done with the maps, too. . . .” Slinging his backpack off his shoulder and looking through the contents, Jasper pulled out a map drawn on matching paper to the one he was currently holding. This one wasn’t as detailed as the other one, though, mostly labeling the territory around the portal. The only thing unique about it was that scribbled on the corner, in his dad’s familiar handwriting, were the words “The Light Path.” Jasper didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but if he couldn’t even find his way to that world, it didn’t matter anyways.
Sighing, Jasper put the next map away and focused on the one of the forested world. There weren’t many notes on this one, either; no especially dangerous predators roamed this realm, nor was there any civilization. But the latter fact was normal. Jasper hadn’t seen another human being in seven years, merely the occasional ruins of ancient societies. He tried not to feel bad about it, and Pip helped allay some of his loneliness, but mostly he just wanted his brother back. Not only because that would mean he hadn’t failed, but because Jasper wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on without Jay’s presence.
“I miss him,” Jasper said. It felt better to say the words aloud, and Pip was a good listener. The dog whined slightly and nuzzled Jasper’s hand.
Jasper scratched the dog on the bottom of his chin and sat down on the log Pip stood on top of. Wind rustled through the wooded hollow, coldly caressing Jasper’s uncovered face. Looking back at the map he was holding, Jasper sighed and put his chin in his hands, staring at the stubbornly unhelpful image his dad had transcribed from the forest around him.
“We should be there,” Jasper snapped suddenly, jabbing with his pointer finger at the dark circle labeled portal. Pip glanced up and tilted his head, apparently confused at the sudden display of frustration.
“We should be there,” Jasper repeated, glancing around frantically for any clues, any ancient altars like the ones he often saw around portals, any stone that looked carved by man . . . but there was nothing. “We should. Why isn’t it here?” Jasper was seized by the sudden urge to tear up the map, which simply stared back at him, unmoving, somehow smug.
Now groaning audibly with irritation, Jasper started pacing the clearing, angrily kicking pebbles out of his way.
Pip bounded up to him, an expression of indignation plastered on his doggy-face as though he were reprimanding Jasper; What did those pebbles ever do to you?
“Sorry, sorry, buddy,” Jasper tried to calm down, but he still felt as though fire were biting at his heels. He felt helplessly motivated to find something that he just couldn’t. He felt lost, which he was, and he felt alone, which . . . despite Pip’s comforting presence, was true, too. Suddenly despairing, Jasper collapsed into a sitting position, pulled up his knees to his chest, and let his head fall against them. He refused to cry, even though he really, really felt like it just then.
Why was a stupid, elusive portal making him feel this way?
He felt worse, because he felt so bad for such a stupid reason. Which was stupid. Someone had better tell my heart that, Jasper thought, blinking back the tears that he really didn’t care to cry.
With a deep sigh, Jasper tried to collect himself. Tried. And . . . sort of succeeded.
Something warm brushed by Jasper’s leg, and he reached out to pet Pip’s soft, furry flank. Falling back and putting a hand over his 100%-authentically-dry eyes, he continued to brush his hands through Pip’s short fur. The rhythmic movement actually did make him feel better, well enough to take the arm off from across his face.
Then, after his eyes adjusted to the bright afternoon light streaming through the branches above him, he saw something that made him feel stupid all over again. But this time, it was a better kind of stupid. The kind of stupid you feel after you realize something that should have been obvious.
“Oh, my goodness,” Jasper breathed. “Pip! Do you see that?” he cried more loudly, bounding to his feet. Pip looked up at his face, then his eyes drifted further above him and found the portal. The portal.
Jasper whooped excitedly and rushed to grab his backpack, stuffing the awful-and-beautiful map inside before closing it.
Last world.
His brother had to be there.
I’m coming, Jay.
1171 words. Characters owned by me and my sister, @criminal-intent, though all writing was done by me <3
✰ vi | s.her | christian | co-leading dystopian july ’24 ! ✰
❝ show me who i am and who i could be ❞
- softlysinging
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
hehe dont mind me just a writing comp entry
-
1,212 words
!!TW FOR THEMES AND MENTIONS OF DEATH AND SUICIDE, SUCCESSFUL SUICIDE ATTEMPT, ALSO (IMPLIED)DRUG USE!!
(Also, some mentions and doubting of god. Uhhh if you cant handle these topics please do not continue <33)
(Also don’t report this please :’] i’m planning on deleting it from the forum as soon as swc ends)
(Also i used my ipad to write this and i have a weird keyboard thing that i bluetooth whenever i want to write,but there wasn`t enough keys i think so it doesn`t include ‘ so i use ` instead of ‘ - wow this is probably going to break the mood isn`t it)
As most stories do,I will start it off with words of power.No financial power, or things like that, but rather the power of knowledge, the feeling of magic that you would feel when your fingers go to open a book you’ve never read before, or, rather, the power of the word.For pens, without powerful words, hold no magic.
Once upon a time, in a prosperous land surrounded by hills with a castle tucked between the middle of two particularly large ones, a girl wanted to die.
Why the girl wanted to die, I have no idea why, and neither did she.The girl had quite a fine life, considering she was a princess, is living in a castle surrounded by hills, flowers, and townspeople (because townspeople definitely belong in that section).Perhaps it was because she was betrothed to a daughter of a duchess.But perhaps there is a different reason, as the girl didn’t have anything against the duchesss girl, no, in fact, they were childhood friends.But the girl simply had no interest in her.Both of the girls had fancied other girls before, yes, but the two girls simply were not compatible together.They were destined to be best friends, nothing less, nothing more.
But I dont think this particular predicament is one that our ‘protagonist’ would want to die over-
Oh,would you look at that.She`s waking up this second.Let`s see what will happen, and maybe uncover some clues about why.
Well, not very much, apparently.She goes to her bathroom with some clothes and a towel ( I will not be watching or describing her in the bathroom because it would be intrusive,creepy,and weird. -Narrator) , and leaves after about fifteen minutes, fully dressed, in a suit (or is that a tuxedo?), walks to her doorway, and slips on fancy-looking blue shoes, as that is one of the blue, pale yellow, and brown that makes up the kingdom`s colors, before opening the door and slamming it shut firmly behind herself.
After walking down the hallway, a large, burly, man with a large tuxedo (or a suit?) joined her in the hall, with his left eyebrow raised.``You don`t usually leave the castle.Where are you heading to, son?``
What an odd nickname.
The girl blinked, ``Oh, you know I`m heading to the village apothecary for something the duchess's daughter wanted,``
``Why does the duchess want something from the apothecary?I mean, she certainly looks the part, but…``
The girl shrugs.``Dunno.Oh, look at the time- welp, gotta go.`
` The girl, after this abrupt ending to the conversation, began to walk fast towards the door.Not even running, just walking at a odd pace, and did the same thing with the door, closing it shut behind herself, instead of turning around. The girl continued with this pace as she walked down the road from her castle down into the village, getting a couple of side-eyes while doing so.
Soon, she had reached the apothecary. The girl, finally, stopped in front of it, as if hesitating, but scrunched together her face stubbornly, and opened the door.
The apothecary was a cramped, one-room (that I know of) building, with multiple shelves, and somehow, even more concoctions.At the back of the shop there was a table, which the girl almost stumbled into when she first walked in, with a short, balding man attending it.
``Um- is this the apothecary?`` She asked, in a somewhat nervous tone.
The man raised a thin, wormy eyebrow.``Do ye got eyes,lad?`` He asked in a thick Scottish accent.How he had the accent, I do not know.The kingdom is nowhere near Scotland. ``Of course it is!And don`t just call it `the apothecary`, it`s Sr Lionel`s. Sir Lionels Apothecary.``
``Er,Okay.Um, do you happen to have- `` The girl leaned in and whispered something in his ear, and the man`s eyes went wide.``Do ye got a death wish, laddie?It`s a type of poison!``
The girl, wordlessly, took her hands into the pocket of her tuxedo (or was it a suit?) and dug out two handfuls of gold coins
``Why of o`course!It`s just somewhere over here…`` The short man got up from behind his table, and began to search the shelves.Rummaging through wildly, he eventually found what the girl wanted for her friend.
``Here ye go, `` he said, after taking the gold pieces.The girl smiled greatfully, before asking ``Um, sorry if this is annoying, but if someone comes by the name of Grace the duchess`s daughter, please give her this.`` The girl reached into her pockets once more, and pulled out a locket attached to a necklace from her left pocket and handed it to him.``It`s my most precious item- please do not let any harm come to it.``
And with that, she left. Somehow, she had spent so much time in the apothe- Pardon me, Sir Lionel`s Apothecary, it had turned to nightfall. The girl gave a bitter smile, and began to walk, much more slowly, towards the hills. And then she walked, and walked, way past the hills, until she came up to a gorge.
She takes the vial of whatever it was she wanted from Sir Lionel`s Apothecary, and pops off the lid.
I have a sickening feeling I know where this is going.Please don`t do it.
The girl looks up, and stares up.``You..You do know I can hear you, right?``
…I beg your pardon?
``I figured you knew.But i guess it`s just protagonist magic-`` she does air quotes in the air -`` and only I could.``
Oh.Well.I`m not sure what exactly that`s supposed to mean, but, please don`t do it.
She threw up her hands, almost dropping the vial over the gorge.``You know how they see me.As a..as a man.It`s horrible, knowing you cannot be who you want to be, and you know that the people you love would not accept you if they really knew you.I..I just-`` she stops, and covers her face with her vial-less hand, to hide a sob,I`m assuming. ``I just can`t do…`` She inhales a shaky breath, `` I just can`t do this.I hate this body,I hate it so much.If God, like all the churches and the bibles say, exists, and is all-knowing, all powerful, why didn`t he make me the way I- I need?``
I don`t have a answer to that.I`m sorry.
``I know you don`t.It`s okay.I just..can`t live in this world anymore.I can`t. Don`t you understand?Wouldn`t you like to change your fate of having to narrate everyone else`s lives, but never getting to live your own?``
I…
She smiles, bittersweet this time, goes to the very end of the gorge, and drinks from the vial, and I am gone, swept by the water, like her body, which toppled over into the gorge.
For narrators hold no power without a protagonist.
Critique:
Hi! I'm Rain, from hi-fi (here's my profile) and I'm going to be the person critiquing you today. Feel free to ignore or also accept my suggestions, either one is fine, and you can look back at this and read it anytime you want
Reading this for the first time, I was kind of astonished because it seemed like a fantasy story set in the past. At first, I have to admit that I was tempted to skim this because it said implied use of drugs, but I went and reread it a second time and then learned more about the princess. There are a lot of good quotes in this story, which is why I think it's a good writing competition entry (in my opinion.) You're a really good writer, and these words, they can take you places.
Positive feedback:
1. I love how detailed it was! I loved that you included lots of details in your story. I could visualize it really well, the imagery you included allowed me to picture old-timey, a fantasy/apothecary setting.
2. The setting. You set it up really well. The setting was perfect, and I could tell that you put a lot of thought into the setting before you wrote it, and so that's a theme-the setting of where you wanted the story to take place-in this case, it was fantasy/in the past, about 1900's.
3. Adjectives and adverbs. You did a pretty great job in including a lot of them throughout the story, I could see a lot that were sprinkled in, such as “predicament”, “abrupt”, “bittersweet.” This keeps the story exciting, and it also keeps the characters more enhanced and more vivid. But overall, 9/10 on the adjectives and adverbs.
Negative feedback:
{To be honest. I cringe whenever I have to give somebody negative feedback because I always think, oh no, they're going to dislike whatever I say about them, but hey, at the end of the day, it's your decision to improve your story or not.}
1. I don't really get why the girl ends up being a princess. I mean, I get why she ends up going to the apothecary, but there's a brief subject change about her being the girl and then “the princess” at the beginning. She's a princess, but also the girl? (she's only one person, plus the name is revealed at the end (Grace)) so maybe stick to calling her one or the other.
2. Mention what happened after the apothecary. What happened after she left the apothecary? Curious to know.
3. Add excitement, not just the character's emotions. (although, you did do a good job on that.) Add a little bit more drama. (that's partially why I skipped it and skimmed at the beginning.)
My favorite lines of this story:
For pens, without powerful words, hold no magic.
For narrators hold no power without a protagonist.
That's about it for this critique, I hope you liked it and got something useful out of it (and just read that you were planning on deleting it, so I guess this will be gone, but I'll save my critique on docs, so that it won't be gone
Thanks for reading, and bye!
Last edited by softlysinging (March 22, 2022 23:35:26)
R a i n || My profile || my first discussion post
“you may be small, but you can make a difference today”
she/her
hope. #ssh #climatechange #covid-19 #fridaysareawesome
writer, singer, student (in high school and eleventh grade)
INFP-T
I have a lot of homework.
- IvyCreations
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Wow really late daily
WC: 300 flat
My name is Bird. I am a llarat. You see, a llarat is a llama and a rat merged together.
In other words, a freak of nature.
At one point I was just a llama.
And just a rat.
At first, I was two separate beings.
Now I am one.
I look like a llama with the tail and legs of a rat. It’s not a pretty sight, but, if you were to take a picture of me and crop it from my butt forward to my knees and up, I’d look normal.
Mostly.
I was still a weird llama before.
When I was a rat before, my name was “skee ball.” I don’t know why I chose that name but I do recall liking it, even though it was strange.
I enjoy running around in wide open pastures. Lots of kids like me. They think I’m weird, which makes me funny.
Their parents do not like me.
Too bad for them.
Sometimes I get jealous of my friend Tex. She’s a Tigeraffe. A tiger giraffe. She got lucky- she just looks like a striped giraffe.
I guess stripes are cooler than rat tails.
There are some kids who really do like me, and I appreciate them.
I particularly enjoy birthday parties. Kids get cake all over them and all over me. Some feed me directly but it’s fun to eat cake out of your fur.
Once, I recall a little girl. Amy. Amy Something. She had a last name; I just can’t remember what it was. She fed me apples and sugar. I loved her.
Sadly, her parents did not like her fraternizing with freaks of nature, I mean, it’s not my fault I’m half llama, half rat. Duh.
But, hey. At least I know someone loved me.
Maybe.
WC: 300 flat
My name is Bird. I am a llarat. You see, a llarat is a llama and a rat merged together.
In other words, a freak of nature.
At one point I was just a llama.
And just a rat.
At first, I was two separate beings.
Now I am one.
I look like a llama with the tail and legs of a rat. It’s not a pretty sight, but, if you were to take a picture of me and crop it from my butt forward to my knees and up, I’d look normal.
Mostly.
I was still a weird llama before.
When I was a rat before, my name was “skee ball.” I don’t know why I chose that name but I do recall liking it, even though it was strange.
I enjoy running around in wide open pastures. Lots of kids like me. They think I’m weird, which makes me funny.
Their parents do not like me.
Too bad for them.
Sometimes I get jealous of my friend Tex. She’s a Tigeraffe. A tiger giraffe. She got lucky- she just looks like a striped giraffe.
I guess stripes are cooler than rat tails.
There are some kids who really do like me, and I appreciate them.
I particularly enjoy birthday parties. Kids get cake all over them and all over me. Some feed me directly but it’s fun to eat cake out of your fur.
Once, I recall a little girl. Amy. Amy Something. She had a last name; I just can’t remember what it was. She fed me apples and sugar. I loved her.
Sadly, her parents did not like her fraternizing with freaks of nature, I mean, it’s not my fault I’m half llama, half rat. Duh.
But, hey. At least I know someone loved me.
Maybe.
banner m/w @hamilchaos eheheo love u lil sis /hj
- -inexplicable-
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Scratcher
25 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Extinguished - My SWC Contest Entry
WARNING : CONTAINS D3ATH
I don’t remember much of life before this torture.
But I remember a few things.
How my hair stood out against the pretty blonde and its sleek black color was admired.
Not hidden. .
I remember I had many friends, and we all used to play together without fear.
I remember when father was home and happy and it was just me, mama, and papa.
No Abraham, yet.
But then he came.
A name I cannot say
A name that made me hide my hair
Lose my friends
Lose my papa.
Abraham finally comes.
I always thought it was better for him to never have seen life before
Because the pain of once was is too much for even mama to bear.
My name is Deborah. And I am a Jew, in a place and time where we are rubbish
Nothing more than trash.
Maybe less than it.
My mother used to run a little shop, selling and fixing clothing.
Papa took care of the money.
I would help too, when I was four, just sit by the window and adjust the displays.
We had neighbors and we had synagogues and celebrations.
We were proud and we were present
We were known
and
Loved.
Our whole kind, united and present and essential
Like a rose
Each petal so beautiful
But not without our thorns.
I never thought someone could
take
them
away.
but they did.
our synagogues
our shops
our neighbors
our Life
and my papa.
I have one friend.
her hair is blonde
like sun
and her eyes are blue
she is perfect, they say
her name is Anna.
she stayed my friend
her mother disapproves
but her father doesn’t
so we stay friends
for now.
-
four lines and dots
arranged in a way they are deadly
it is a mark.
mother says they
will never take out spirit.
but they can take our blood.
and yet abraham cries and i ask about papa
and the shop was closed and
she’s out of work.
mama’s spirit is broken.
today is different.
the air is same but
a smell lingers.
it is smoke, and the synagogue is where it started.
mother says they have a list
abraham is crying.
I know many things
but this is confusing.
and then I am shoved and shifted.
i get to hold Abraham for once
but it is because mother is talking
talking
chattering
crying
sobbing.
that is when I understand, when Anna hugs me and rocks back and forth and
her mother looks at me with pursed lips and a fearful stare
because she doesn’t want to get caught
but neither do I.
we hide inside a little space under the floorboards
I lean against my mother, for comfort.
she is crying
so am I.
they are silent tears
abraham is
on the verge
of sleep.
and we are safe.
for now.
-
now is not a very long time
because hardly half an hour passes when I hear footsteps.
harder.
they are wearing boots.
the thumps wake up
abraham
he is crying
the thumps are louder
closer
the soldiers are talking
to anna’s mama
and we stop abraham’s cries too late.
dust falls from
the
floorboards.
there is no use in hiding it now.
mama prays
so do I.
and in my last moments, i am sure of only one thing
I’d rather die than suffer this any longer
my wish is granted
with a
creak
a boom
and a shout.
my suffering is over.
WARNING : CONTAINS D3ATH
I don’t remember much of life before this torture.
But I remember a few things.
How my hair stood out against the pretty blonde and its sleek black color was admired.
Not hidden. .
I remember I had many friends, and we all used to play together without fear.
I remember when father was home and happy and it was just me, mama, and papa.
No Abraham, yet.
But then he came.
A name I cannot say
A name that made me hide my hair
Lose my friends
Lose my papa.
Abraham finally comes.
I always thought it was better for him to never have seen life before
Because the pain of once was is too much for even mama to bear.
My name is Deborah. And I am a Jew, in a place and time where we are rubbish
Nothing more than trash.
Maybe less than it.
My mother used to run a little shop, selling and fixing clothing.
Papa took care of the money.
I would help too, when I was four, just sit by the window and adjust the displays.
We had neighbors and we had synagogues and celebrations.
We were proud and we were present
We were known
and
Loved.
Our whole kind, united and present and essential
Like a rose
Each petal so beautiful
But not without our thorns.
I never thought someone could
take
them
away.
but they did.
our synagogues
our shops
our neighbors
our Life
and my papa.
I have one friend.
her hair is blonde
like sun
and her eyes are blue
she is perfect, they say
her name is Anna.
she stayed my friend
her mother disapproves
but her father doesn’t
so we stay friends
for now.
-
four lines and dots
arranged in a way they are deadly
it is a mark.
mother says they
will never take out spirit.
but they can take our blood.
and yet abraham cries and i ask about papa
and the shop was closed and
she’s out of work.
mama’s spirit is broken.
today is different.
the air is same but
a smell lingers.
it is smoke, and the synagogue is where it started.
mother says they have a list
abraham is crying.
I know many things
but this is confusing.
and then I am shoved and shifted.
i get to hold Abraham for once
but it is because mother is talking
talking
chattering
crying
sobbing.
that is when I understand, when Anna hugs me and rocks back and forth and
her mother looks at me with pursed lips and a fearful stare
because she doesn’t want to get caught
but neither do I.
we hide inside a little space under the floorboards
I lean against my mother, for comfort.
she is crying
so am I.
they are silent tears
abraham is
on the verge
of sleep.
and we are safe.
for now.
-
now is not a very long time
because hardly half an hour passes when I hear footsteps.
harder.
they are wearing boots.
the thumps wake up
abraham
he is crying
the thumps are louder
closer
the soldiers are talking
to anna’s mama
and we stop abraham’s cries too late.
dust falls from
the
floorboards.
there is no use in hiding it now.
mama prays
so do I.
and in my last moments, i am sure of only one thing
I’d rather die than suffer this any longer
my wish is granted
with a
creak
a boom
and a shout.
my suffering is over.
" Perhaps the most fulfilling type of joy is that of finishing an indubitably good book" - Me
- -Galatic_Planet-
-
Scratcher
55 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
March 22 MC Daily
I did the Okapi and Mosquito combined
(Osqupio {Oh-skeep-ee-oh})
APPEARANCE
The Osqupio is a small, but tall (typically 1 foot (30 cementers) long and 3-4 feet (91-122 cementers) tall) mammal. It has a thin, dark brown coat with a zebra-striped behind. It has long legs with hooves and an okapi head. It also has two long, strong, and translucent wings on its back. Their wings are a little shorter than the length of its body with veins running through them. Basically an okapi with long legs and bug wings. .
YOUNG
Osqupio young are a little bit different than their grown up versions. The are more blood thirsty and vicious. While your adult osqupio is a herbivore, the osklits (baby osqupio) need milk like other young, but once they’re about 2 or 3 they want blood. In the osklit’s mouth, their tongues are pointed at the end. The osklit can control their tongue to either be normal or solid. It’s a unique trait the have to survive. With the solid version of their tongue they with go find an animal smaller than it to suck their blood, leaving behind a rash. The tongue trait eventually goes away though. Other than that, osklits only differences from their parents are that they have darker brown fur and they don’t get their wings until after their blood fest.
HABITAT
Osqupioes live dense rainforests in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. They love water and are typically found by riverbeds or coastlines of lakes or ponds.
DIET
Osqupioes usually eat any sort of leaves, twigs, or flowers that they can find. They are herbivores as adults and omnivores as osklits. Osklits still eat vegetation on the side with blood. Very young osqupioes drink milk and after a year will transition to small plants.
LIFESPAN
The Osqupio can live for up to 10 years- but in captivity they only live for up to 5 years
(305 words)
I did the Okapi and Mosquito combined
(Osqupio {Oh-skeep-ee-oh})
APPEARANCE
The Osqupio is a small, but tall (typically 1 foot (30 cementers) long and 3-4 feet (91-122 cementers) tall) mammal. It has a thin, dark brown coat with a zebra-striped behind. It has long legs with hooves and an okapi head. It also has two long, strong, and translucent wings on its back. Their wings are a little shorter than the length of its body with veins running through them. Basically an okapi with long legs and bug wings. .
YOUNG
Osqupio young are a little bit different than their grown up versions. The are more blood thirsty and vicious. While your adult osqupio is a herbivore, the osklits (baby osqupio) need milk like other young, but once they’re about 2 or 3 they want blood. In the osklit’s mouth, their tongues are pointed at the end. The osklit can control their tongue to either be normal or solid. It’s a unique trait the have to survive. With the solid version of their tongue they with go find an animal smaller than it to suck their blood, leaving behind a rash. The tongue trait eventually goes away though. Other than that, osklits only differences from their parents are that they have darker brown fur and they don’t get their wings until after their blood fest.
HABITAT
Osqupioes live dense rainforests in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. They love water and are typically found by riverbeds or coastlines of lakes or ponds.
DIET
Osqupioes usually eat any sort of leaves, twigs, or flowers that they can find. They are herbivores as adults and omnivores as osklits. Osklits still eat vegetation on the side with blood. Very young osqupioes drink milk and after a year will transition to small plants.
LIFESPAN
The Osqupio can live for up to 10 years- but in captivity they only live for up to 5 years
(305 words)
Howdy do!
- IvyCreations
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
March 22 MC Daily
I did the Okapi and Mosquito combined
(Osqupio {Oh-skeep-ee-oh})
This is so detailes I am amazed it's amazing
banner m/w @hamilchaos eheheo love u lil sis /hj
- hellohumans207
-
Scratcher
16 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Daily
I couldn't complete it in time
Word Count:
Cabin: Adventure
My favorite animal has to be an elephant. It has a long gray trunk, and I love the sound it makes. My least favorite, well, that's easy. My least favorite animal is a spider. They, (pauses while shudders) freak me out, only a little bit though. This mix of animals is an elespider. It is pronounced elle-eh-spi-dur. It is an elephant with eight eyes, with one on the back of its head. It comes in several colors, black, brown, and basically all colors spiders come in. They are surprisingly furry, more than a normal elephant. This elephant is about the size of a spider, and it acts like one too. It can be both vemonous and poisonous, leaving them dangerous. They can also be nonvenomous and nonpoisonus. They're smallest size is about the size of a tarantula. They are forbidden to keep as pets, and you can only find them is zoos and in the rainforests and jungles of South America and on the top of Mount. Everest. They are extremely popular in zoos and you can rent them for birthday parties.
I couldn't complete it in time
Word Count:
Cabin: Adventure
My favorite animal has to be an elephant. It has a long gray trunk, and I love the sound it makes. My least favorite, well, that's easy. My least favorite animal is a spider. They, (pauses while shudders) freak me out, only a little bit though. This mix of animals is an elespider. It is pronounced elle-eh-spi-dur. It is an elephant with eight eyes, with one on the back of its head. It comes in several colors, black, brown, and basically all colors spiders come in. They are surprisingly furry, more than a normal elephant. This elephant is about the size of a spider, and it acts like one too. It can be both vemonous and poisonous, leaving them dangerous. They can also be nonvenomous and nonpoisonus. They're smallest size is about the size of a tarantula. They are forbidden to keep as pets, and you can only find them is zoos and in the rainforests and jungles of South America and on the top of Mount. Everest. They are extremely popular in zoos and you can rent them for birthday parties.
- ArtisticOne111
-
Scratcher
52 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
WRITING COMPETITION ENTRY!
Water is decreasing. What to do? Nevada is in danger, we’re using too much water! How will we conserve this water?
I think that we should conserve this water. As you can see, Lake Mead’s water has decreased dramatically in the past few years. If you see, there is a mark where the water used to be, compare that to now, there’s a lot of difference. When Lake Mead was built, it was built over a town. The water used to cover this Ghost Town, but now, you can see it. The water level has decreased so much.
I think that we should get rid of unused turf. The grass that’s put on the side of the highway is never used. Do you ever see anyone step on it? Landscapers put it up for show and water it still. The water level is being decreased because of watering unused. According to Dave Johnson, he stated that they want people to water their grass once a week. If we remove a square foot of grass you can get paid 3 dollars. What this means is that people are trying to have this town remove the unused turf to conserve water. If all of us remove it, we can save 10% of our water. For example, a family in my neighborhood removed their turf yesterday. Now they don’t have to water their front lawn, and they save money for their water bill.
We should save our water by not keeping dirt down. Many people complained that there is so much dust from construction sites, that they made the construction workers put water down on the dirt! (That’s more work for them!) Using water keeps the dirt down, so the law is that you need to put water down every time you use the construction site. The water they use is clean and drinkable, this reduces our water level at lake mead. We should stop putting water down, it’s a waste. It will cause other people to complain though. People with asthma, stay away! According to Reviewjournal.com when the county dust control puts water on the dust, water gets wasted every second. About half a gallon is wasted per 30 seconds, that’s a lot of water! If we stop this, we’ll conserve water for future years. Which means that if a construction site is putting down water for an hour, about 60 gallons of water are wasted. A gallon is the size of a milk jug. For example, a few weeks ago, my family was driving past a construction site and saw that they were putting down gallons of water to keep the dust down. There’s a big truck that sprays water. It keeps down the dust, but the water gets wasted.
Leaky pipes are one problem. When your pipe leaks, you may not even know it, but since you don’t know, it can waste lots of water. The water is wasted and you can’t get it back. According to Dave Johnson, leaky pipes are one big problem people don’t even know if it’s going on. A video I watched also said that it depends on which leak you have whether it’s big or it’s small. If it’s a small leak, then it can waste about half a gallon per 3 minutes, but if it’s a big one, it’s wasting about 1 gallon per minute! Which means that any leak you have can end up you paying lots of money for your water bill, and it wastes lots of water from Lake Mead. For example, the video showed a leaky pipe. The way the guy found it? A leak detector. Leak detectors don’t cost that much money, and it can save your money from being spent on water bills.
In all, we should conserve our water for the future, we should use it for other occasions. If you do any of these things you will be helping Nevada. Will we be stuck in this drought forever? Maybe, but you still have to conserve water. Remember, we’re all getting water from One Well. Maybe you’ll try these things, maybe not, but either way, you’re helping our earth!
こんにちは、私はリリーです。
アイ・スタン・フィッシュ
不安で、よく音楽を聴く。
- Jojo_C0des
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
Writing comp. entry
A Visit From The Future. Wait, a Visit From The Future?!
SWC Writing Comp March 2022
~1845~
Winston Ertz and his partner Benjamin Young are astounding scientists for their time. Both acute in their knowledge of quantum cosmology, they’re the closest thing to ‘time travelers’.
Yes, Benjamin would argue that because they keep their name out of the papers they don’t really count as the world's most advanced scientists. But Dr. Young was always fame hungry. He believes you can’t be successful if nobody knows you are. Crazy how pride can corrupt one man's mind.
Dr. Winston on the other hand would rather finish their project completely before having news reporters bombard them with questions and interviews. He agreed that having their invention on the front page of every newspaper in the world is a job well done, but he had to keep reminding Benjamin that their job was in fact not done yet.
“Come on, Ben! If you want to succeed so badly why don’t you give me a hand,” Dr. Ertz grunted from underneath their ‘projects’ tin body - that looked quite like a modern day tanning bed, but they didn’t know that.
“I am, don’t you remember asking me to double check your formula?” Benjamin rebutted quickly, sliding his circle framed glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“I asked you to do that ages ago, I already double checked it myself. Now get over here.” Winston ordered.
Benjamin sat down his pen and reluctantly made his way over to their machine, “What can I do for you, dear friend?”
“Grab that thingy” Winston ordered waving his hand around in multiple directions.
“And what ‘thingy’ would you be referring to?” Benjamin deadpanned, his partner didn’t always form what he was thinking into words properly.
“The wrench, dimwit!” Impatience was heavy in his tone.
Wordlessly, Benjamin grabbed the wrench and handed it to his partner. The two worked on their project till nightfall.
“Winston,” Benjamin started, wiping sweat from his brow, “don't you think we’ve worked enough for tonight? The wife wants me home in time for dinner tonight.”
Sliding out from under their contraption Winston replied, “Yes, yes, of course Ben. Thank you for your work today”
Benjamin grabbed his hat off his desk as Winston spoke again, “say hello to Colin for me, you’re welcome to bring him around tomorrow, I know he likes it here in the lab.” he finished, talking about Benjamin's eleven year old son.
“Will do, he’ll be very pleased to be able to drop by again, you know he loves hearing your stories.”
Winston nods his head, “be safe on the way home, Ben”
“You as well, see you tomorrow.” Benjamin confirmed, setting his hat on top of his head and slipping his coat over his arms.
Benjamin grabbed some of his paperwork, sliding it neatly into a folder before heading home. He took to the sidewalk, trying his best to stay in the streetlights since nighttime had fallen.
Checking his watch he realized the time. 8:46 pm.
A sigh escaped his lips, “I guess I didn’t make it home in time for dinner after all.” he groaned.
All the early morning and late nights at the lab were adding up as he felt his arms grow tired. He slipped his briefcase from one hand to the other in hopes to take the strain off his right arm. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to successfully finish their mission, more than anything. But he most definitely missed quality time with his family.
It’ll all be worth it. This is to give them a better life. A more successful life.
While Benjamin was all caught up in his head he didn’t hear the heavy footfalls behind him until it was too late. A hand flew over his mouth, a cloth muffling his cries for help.
Instinctively, he bit the hand, the person who it belonged to let out a short yell partly out of disgust. The hand and cloth dropped from his mouth in the process. Benjamin turned around to face his attacker moments before a sharp pain in his head and everything went black.
Meanwhile, Winston was on his way home as well. Writing in his handheld notebook as he walked, he too was unaware of the same attacker approaching him. This time, the attacker went straight for hitting his victim with a blunt object, Winston falling down against the cold concrete.
====
Winston woke up with a pounding headache, his arms were tied up behind his back as he laid on the ground. His senses started to return as he sat up, possibly too quickly as his vision blurred and a dizzy spell overtook him for a moment. A groan escaped his lips and he heard a shuffle.
“Winston?” A familiar voice called, “are you awake?”
Winston forced his eyes open as he took in his surroundings, he was in an old empty factory, possibly downtown as it was abandoned. Everything was dark so he could only make out a few strong pillars holding up a wooden ceiling.
Then he remembered the voice that had asked him a question a moment earlier. Benjamin.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice weak, “where-” he started but lost his train of thought.
Silence filled the room for a moment before he spoke again, “where are we? Did someone hit you on the head as well?”
“I have no clue, my guess is an old factory downtown. And yes, I got a pretty good look at him before he hit me though, too bad his face was covered by a mask…” Benjamin trailed off.
Winston was about to speak before a loud squeak and thud of a door opening and closing made him keep his mouth shut. Lights flickered on, and even though they were dim they worked well enough to see a tall, well built man walking towards him, papers in his hands. Winston turned his head to see his partner in the same position as him, tied up and sitting on the floor.
“Oh good, you’re both awake. Finally.” the man spoke.
“What do you want from us?” Benjamin shouted. The man froze for a moment and looked stunned. After a moment he then finally responded.
“I know you two are building a ‘time machine’.” he spoke, making quotation marks with his fingers.
“What?” Winston gasped,
“How?” Benjamin questioned.
“It’s complicated, but you don’t need to worry about that. Just hear me out, ok?”
“If you want our plans or you want us to finish the machine for your own purpose, our answer is no!” Benjamin shouted.
“That’s not what I want, do you want me to finish now?” the man replied, his patience being tested. After it was silent for a while he spoke again, taking that as his signal to continue, “I want you to stop all processes on building your machine or anything to do with time travel.”
Winston shot out a breath of air, “Why? So you can build your own? Trying to get rid of competition?”
“Not at all,” the man replied calmly, “I simply want to stop you before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Winston and Benjamin repeat in unison. The man rakes his hand through his hair and sighs.
“Listen, I can’t really explain without risking more than I already am.” he starts, his voice shaky, “you just have to believe me.”
“Why would you trust anything you say after you knock us out, kidnap us, and tie us up here?” Benjamin pressed.
“Right.” The man says, as relaxation hits him. He walks over and unties both of the scientists.
“What-?” Winston mumbled to himself, rubbing his sore wrists. The two scientists took at each other completely confused.
“So, you want us to stop our time investigating entirely?” Winston clariftys, the man nodding his head in confirmation. “Do you understand how much you ask of us? This is our carree!” Winston shouts.
“I- I understand that, trust me. I do,” the man starts, his tone surpiedly sad.
“Who are you?” Benjamin askes. The man just looks at him in return before slowly removing his mask.
“I’m Colin Young, sir.” the man spoke, emotion full in his voice.
“Impossible” Benjamin sneered, “where is my family?!” anger took him over.
“Home. It’s 11 pm. Everyone is comfortable in bed. All except mom of course, she always waited for you to come home.” Colin replied softly.
“How- This doesn’t make sense…” Benjamin started, looking into the man in front of him. His eyes. They did indeed look like his son’s, just polluted with age and sorrow, “Did we do it?” he finally asked, breathless. Winston perked up at this, had they really succeeded at time travel?
“Unfortunately” Colin answered.
“Unfortunately?” Winston asked.
“I guess I should explain, I already told you who I am so I might as well risk everything.” He started. “Just promise me you’ll let me finish and not ask questions till the end, okay?”
“Yes, go on.” Benjamin spoke, Winston nodding in agreement.
“Well, yes. You are successful with making a time machine, in about… two years?” he starts, trying to recall old memories that haven’t even happened in this timeline. “You see I’m from 1867, twenty years after your first successful lunch. You’ll be proud to know you did very well for us, dad. You were hired for the Government. Unfortunately, you’ll also be disappointed to hear they weaponized your machine. Wiping out entire civilizations before they barely came about, not all of them bad civilizations too.”
Benjamin and Winston let out a gasp. Colin stops for a moment allowing them to soak up all he said.
“That's only one of the reasons I am here to stop you. It’s a mess back in my time. After I return I’ll probably not make it out of the facility I snuck into to even get here- ” he paused, “but that’s not your concern.”
“How do I know what you’re telling us is the truth?” Benjamin asks.
“I can sit here and tell you, memory for memory, what happens in this present life and in the future but that’s wasting time. Just promise me you’ll burn your notes and destroy that machine. Please.”
“We promise” Winston speaks before Benjamin, who shoots him a confused look. Winston just looks back, full seriousness framing his face.
“Very well. We’ll do as you ask.” Benjamin finally agrees.
“Thank you” Colin says, relief visibly shadowing over him as he lets out a shaky breath.
====
The two scientists did exactly what they promised. Three years of their life, gone up in flames. However they were both aware that the sacrifice was a responsible and necessary one. They both continued to work in the science field earning respectable jobs.
Winston Ertz became a professor for the first college to accept both males and females into the world of science. He raised hundreds of extraordinary scientists in his time as professor. His life was fulfilled and completed at the age of ninety-four when he passed away peacefully.
Benjamin Young continued his journey as a researching scientist working for some scientists who swore that one days they’d explore space. He spent a lot of time with his family, being blessed with multiple grandchildren and passing away peacefully days after his wife at the age of ninety-seven.
Both scientists never spoke of their encounter with the future and they carried their secret to their graves.
A Visit From The Future. Wait, a Visit From The Future?!
SWC Writing Comp March 2022
~1845~
Winston Ertz and his partner Benjamin Young are astounding scientists for their time. Both acute in their knowledge of quantum cosmology, they’re the closest thing to ‘time travelers’.
Yes, Benjamin would argue that because they keep their name out of the papers they don’t really count as the world's most advanced scientists. But Dr. Young was always fame hungry. He believes you can’t be successful if nobody knows you are. Crazy how pride can corrupt one man's mind.
Dr. Winston on the other hand would rather finish their project completely before having news reporters bombard them with questions and interviews. He agreed that having their invention on the front page of every newspaper in the world is a job well done, but he had to keep reminding Benjamin that their job was in fact not done yet.
“Come on, Ben! If you want to succeed so badly why don’t you give me a hand,” Dr. Ertz grunted from underneath their ‘projects’ tin body - that looked quite like a modern day tanning bed, but they didn’t know that.
“I am, don’t you remember asking me to double check your formula?” Benjamin rebutted quickly, sliding his circle framed glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“I asked you to do that ages ago, I already double checked it myself. Now get over here.” Winston ordered.
Benjamin sat down his pen and reluctantly made his way over to their machine, “What can I do for you, dear friend?”
“Grab that thingy” Winston ordered waving his hand around in multiple directions.
“And what ‘thingy’ would you be referring to?” Benjamin deadpanned, his partner didn’t always form what he was thinking into words properly.
“The wrench, dimwit!” Impatience was heavy in his tone.
Wordlessly, Benjamin grabbed the wrench and handed it to his partner. The two worked on their project till nightfall.
“Winston,” Benjamin started, wiping sweat from his brow, “don't you think we’ve worked enough for tonight? The wife wants me home in time for dinner tonight.”
Sliding out from under their contraption Winston replied, “Yes, yes, of course Ben. Thank you for your work today”
Benjamin grabbed his hat off his desk as Winston spoke again, “say hello to Colin for me, you’re welcome to bring him around tomorrow, I know he likes it here in the lab.” he finished, talking about Benjamin's eleven year old son.
“Will do, he’ll be very pleased to be able to drop by again, you know he loves hearing your stories.”
Winston nods his head, “be safe on the way home, Ben”
“You as well, see you tomorrow.” Benjamin confirmed, setting his hat on top of his head and slipping his coat over his arms.
Benjamin grabbed some of his paperwork, sliding it neatly into a folder before heading home. He took to the sidewalk, trying his best to stay in the streetlights since nighttime had fallen.
Checking his watch he realized the time. 8:46 pm.
A sigh escaped his lips, “I guess I didn’t make it home in time for dinner after all.” he groaned.
All the early morning and late nights at the lab were adding up as he felt his arms grow tired. He slipped his briefcase from one hand to the other in hopes to take the strain off his right arm. Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to successfully finish their mission, more than anything. But he most definitely missed quality time with his family.
It’ll all be worth it. This is to give them a better life. A more successful life.
While Benjamin was all caught up in his head he didn’t hear the heavy footfalls behind him until it was too late. A hand flew over his mouth, a cloth muffling his cries for help.
Instinctively, he bit the hand, the person who it belonged to let out a short yell partly out of disgust. The hand and cloth dropped from his mouth in the process. Benjamin turned around to face his attacker moments before a sharp pain in his head and everything went black.
Meanwhile, Winston was on his way home as well. Writing in his handheld notebook as he walked, he too was unaware of the same attacker approaching him. This time, the attacker went straight for hitting his victim with a blunt object, Winston falling down against the cold concrete.
====
Winston woke up with a pounding headache, his arms were tied up behind his back as he laid on the ground. His senses started to return as he sat up, possibly too quickly as his vision blurred and a dizzy spell overtook him for a moment. A groan escaped his lips and he heard a shuffle.
“Winston?” A familiar voice called, “are you awake?”
Winston forced his eyes open as he took in his surroundings, he was in an old empty factory, possibly downtown as it was abandoned. Everything was dark so he could only make out a few strong pillars holding up a wooden ceiling.
Then he remembered the voice that had asked him a question a moment earlier. Benjamin.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice weak, “where-” he started but lost his train of thought.
Silence filled the room for a moment before he spoke again, “where are we? Did someone hit you on the head as well?”
“I have no clue, my guess is an old factory downtown. And yes, I got a pretty good look at him before he hit me though, too bad his face was covered by a mask…” Benjamin trailed off.
Winston was about to speak before a loud squeak and thud of a door opening and closing made him keep his mouth shut. Lights flickered on, and even though they were dim they worked well enough to see a tall, well built man walking towards him, papers in his hands. Winston turned his head to see his partner in the same position as him, tied up and sitting on the floor.
“Oh good, you’re both awake. Finally.” the man spoke.
“What do you want from us?” Benjamin shouted. The man froze for a moment and looked stunned. After a moment he then finally responded.
“I know you two are building a ‘time machine’.” he spoke, making quotation marks with his fingers.
“What?” Winston gasped,
“How?” Benjamin questioned.
“It’s complicated, but you don’t need to worry about that. Just hear me out, ok?”
“If you want our plans or you want us to finish the machine for your own purpose, our answer is no!” Benjamin shouted.
“That’s not what I want, do you want me to finish now?” the man replied, his patience being tested. After it was silent for a while he spoke again, taking that as his signal to continue, “I want you to stop all processes on building your machine or anything to do with time travel.”
Winston shot out a breath of air, “Why? So you can build your own? Trying to get rid of competition?”
“Not at all,” the man replied calmly, “I simply want to stop you before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Winston and Benjamin repeat in unison. The man rakes his hand through his hair and sighs.
“Listen, I can’t really explain without risking more than I already am.” he starts, his voice shaky, “you just have to believe me.”
“Why would you trust anything you say after you knock us out, kidnap us, and tie us up here?” Benjamin pressed.
“Right.” The man says, as relaxation hits him. He walks over and unties both of the scientists.
“What-?” Winston mumbled to himself, rubbing his sore wrists. The two scientists took at each other completely confused.
“So, you want us to stop our time investigating entirely?” Winston clariftys, the man nodding his head in confirmation. “Do you understand how much you ask of us? This is our carree!” Winston shouts.
“I- I understand that, trust me. I do,” the man starts, his tone surpiedly sad.
“Who are you?” Benjamin askes. The man just looks at him in return before slowly removing his mask.
“I’m Colin Young, sir.” the man spoke, emotion full in his voice.
“Impossible” Benjamin sneered, “where is my family?!” anger took him over.
“Home. It’s 11 pm. Everyone is comfortable in bed. All except mom of course, she always waited for you to come home.” Colin replied softly.
“How- This doesn’t make sense…” Benjamin started, looking into the man in front of him. His eyes. They did indeed look like his son’s, just polluted with age and sorrow, “Did we do it?” he finally asked, breathless. Winston perked up at this, had they really succeeded at time travel?
“Unfortunately” Colin answered.
“Unfortunately?” Winston asked.
“I guess I should explain, I already told you who I am so I might as well risk everything.” He started. “Just promise me you’ll let me finish and not ask questions till the end, okay?”
“Yes, go on.” Benjamin spoke, Winston nodding in agreement.
“Well, yes. You are successful with making a time machine, in about… two years?” he starts, trying to recall old memories that haven’t even happened in this timeline. “You see I’m from 1867, twenty years after your first successful lunch. You’ll be proud to know you did very well for us, dad. You were hired for the Government. Unfortunately, you’ll also be disappointed to hear they weaponized your machine. Wiping out entire civilizations before they barely came about, not all of them bad civilizations too.”
Benjamin and Winston let out a gasp. Colin stops for a moment allowing them to soak up all he said.
“That's only one of the reasons I am here to stop you. It’s a mess back in my time. After I return I’ll probably not make it out of the facility I snuck into to even get here- ” he paused, “but that’s not your concern.”
“How do I know what you’re telling us is the truth?” Benjamin asks.
“I can sit here and tell you, memory for memory, what happens in this present life and in the future but that’s wasting time. Just promise me you’ll burn your notes and destroy that machine. Please.”
“We promise” Winston speaks before Benjamin, who shoots him a confused look. Winston just looks back, full seriousness framing his face.
“Very well. We’ll do as you ask.” Benjamin finally agrees.
“Thank you” Colin says, relief visibly shadowing over him as he lets out a shaky breath.
====
The two scientists did exactly what they promised. Three years of their life, gone up in flames. However they were both aware that the sacrifice was a responsible and necessary one. They both continued to work in the science field earning respectable jobs.
Winston Ertz became a professor for the first college to accept both males and females into the world of science. He raised hundreds of extraordinary scientists in his time as professor. His life was fulfilled and completed at the age of ninety-four when he passed away peacefully.
Benjamin Young continued his journey as a researching scientist working for some scientists who swore that one days they’d explore space. He spent a lot of time with his family, being blessed with multiple grandchildren and passing away peacefully days after his wife at the age of ninety-seven.
Both scientists never spoke of their encounter with the future and they carried their secret to their graves.
☆ Artist • Christian • Author
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Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
A man squats to meet my eye level before gently speaking to me. “Where are your parents, Robin?”
I shrug. “Outside, I think. They said they would only be a little while.”
He stands back up, seemingly satisfied with my response, and touches something in his ear. “They’re outside. Don’t let them get out of your sight!” He says condescendingly, almost shouting the order.
He then turns to me again, and his face softens. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
The man from earlier raises his g u n, aiming first at my mother, then at my father.
“No!”
He fires.
I am knocked down to the ground from the impact of the blast, my ears ringing and muffling the pain of my sobs as I lay upon my parents’ bodies, apologizing to them until they can’t hear me anymore.
The guard looks as stoic and lifeless as my dead parents as he walks away.
A cruel, abrasive man, undeserving of his powers.
He will pay.
“How could you?!” I say, mostly to myself.
He stops him dead in his tracks.
“Do you have any idea of what you just did to me?!” I shout at him, not caring that everyone can hear.
My eyes shine with a hungry light. “Because you will now.”
The scream of my victim gives my morbid spirit life as I tear at his heart.
I then sit down, sweating profusely, rethinking the past few moments.
And then I cry.
I sit up, panting heavily.
It was just a dream… I say, trying to convince myself. Just a dream…
I sigh, blowing a strand of my messy, raven black hair out of my face.
Even ten years later, I still think about it; the night where everything went wrong. For a while, I was held in custody for my crimes until my leader took pity on me and let me live, but with many more guards standing outside my room.
I could say that that’s the only difference now, but you and I both know that’s not true. Now I wouldn’t even think of escaping, not with my parents to remind me of what would happen if I failed.
So now, I’ve come to learn that, whether I like it or not, freedom is not a choice, but a punishment. And fighting for it only gets you killed.
I shove on my uniform, pull my hair up into a ponytail, and gaze at myself in the reflection of my mirror.
Staring back at me is a pale, sickly girl with golden brown skin and bright blue eyes full of hunger and hatred, ready to kill on command and sacrifice everything no matter the cost. A puppet who can’t tell who's holding the strings.
- -
my critique!!
This is so cool! I love the ending especially, symbolism is my FAVORITE (sorry all caps) and oh boy you captured it perfectly in that sentence! makes it seem so much darker than without the metaphor.
Love it! The writing overall seems quite strong and most everything flowed smoothly, I was able to comprehend it on the first read through instead of having to go back for certain sentences, which can happen even in books by professional authors. So good job there! Now, for a few things to just take note of and maybe change if they make sense to you! I’m mostly going to focus on a few wording issues as well as a possible point of change in regards to character emotion and reaction. First of all, the sentence “He stops him dead in his tracks” should be changed to “The words stop him dead in his tracks” or “He stops dead in his tracks” because the original just doesn’t make sense; it’s probably just a typo or other mistake but it does grind the story to a halt right there if you take note of it!
Then, another wording issue, this one probably more of a personal opinion than the other. “The scream of my victim gives my morbid spirit life as I tear at his heart.” So actually this sentence has some things I really like about it! I like that she says “my morbid spirit” it just makes sense with the rest of the narration and definitely adds some spice and overall interest to that sentence! So well done there. However, “I tear at his heart”—honestly, I’m not sure if this is meant to be figurative or literal? Given she doesn’t helpfully think “I hadn’t k1lled him…though sometimes I wish I had” after she wakes up, I can’t tell. Since she had clearly committed a crime, I can assume she did kill someone? But overall that part is actually quite vague. I assume that was intentional, so I’m not really going to comment on that, although giving a few more answers after she wakes up might be nice? It depends on how the story continues after this, really.
Okay, last thing (I promise)! I’m not certain the timeline within the dream is completely correct to what actually happened that night, but if it is, I’d suggest maybe having more of a lull between the parents’ deaths and “He will pay.” Just to illustrate more clearly and fully the transition between grief and anger. Depending on how old she is when this happens, I’d also do more denial and confusion. Overall, though, this is totally up to you and you understand the character way better than me! If she’s lost someone before, obviously there will be more clarity in the situation to her, particularly if she’s older!
This story was awesome! Very dark but very well executed. Great job!
(485 words)
✰ vi | s.her | christian | co-leading dystopian july ’24 ! ✰
❝ show me who i am and who i could be ❞
- cheeseloverwv
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
3/22/22 - SWC weekly #3 | finding inspiration:
aaaa finally it's done :relief:
Part 1:
Part 2 (based on a conversation with a friend at symphony):
Part 3 (based off my Zia story from earlier, with the themes of love and finding yourself, with a healthy dose of cynicism thrown in):
Welp, that's it!
Word count:
Part 1:
Story 1: 639
Story 2: 443
Part 2: 741
Part 3: 1116
Total for weekly: 2939
New total: 21119
aaaa finally it's done :relief:
Part 1:
Story 1 (based on Palladio by Karl Jenkins, first movement):
The clock is ticking.
Your feet slap the wet concrete as you run through the dark, dripping hallway.
The clock is ticking.
Water drips from the ceiling in time with the hurried beating of your heart.
The clock is ticking.
You are so close that you can almost taste your victory.
But the closer you get, the farther away you seem.
The clock is ticking.
You push faster, faster; keeping a rhythmic pace.
The clock is ticking.
Control your breathing. Control your footsteps. Control.
The clock is ticking.
You see the light at the end of the tunnel.
You push forward. Soon you will know what it is like to look fate in the eyes.
You keep running.
Your prey is huffing ahead of you. It is surprising that they have eluded you for so long. But that will not matter. In a number of minutes, the chase will be over, and you will be triumphant. All the searching, all the waiting and longing and planning; it will all come to its shining, valorous end.
The clock is ticking.
You swiftly move forward, your legs pumping, your feet a perfect tempo.
The clock is ticking.
You close the gap between you and your prey.
The clock is ticking.
You can hear their panicked breathing, a contrast to your own measured ins and outs.
You burst into the light of the waning day. It is getting darker, but it still burns your eyes.
No matter. You press on. You are so close.
The clock is ticking.
Your prey looks over their shoulder, an expression of pure fear in their eyes.
The clock is ticking.
A cliff is approaching. Your prey jumps without a second thought.
The clock is ticking.
You leap in after them.
For a moment, there is peace.
You forget about the war, your hunt, your prey, the reward.
You feel the wind rushing around your face and whipping your long braids of hair back behind you.
You close your eyes, and for second you can almost fool yourself into thinking that you are home, where you belong.
But just as soon as it started, the moment of bliss is over.
You hit the hard ground, rolling once, twice, three times to absorb the momentum.
There is no time to stop, so you keep going.
The clock is ticking.
It’s an adjustment, going to the uneven ground from the predictable concrete.
The clock is ticking.
You can see that your prey is tiring.
The clock is ticking.
You are tiring too, but push onward through the burning in your legs and the twitching in your arms.
You run faster. And faster. The clock winds down. Only a few more minutes left.
The clock is ticking.
Your prey stumbles.
The clock is ticking.
You don’t miss the chance.
The clock is ticking.
You sprint as hard as you can.
Before your prey can get up, you plant a large, solid foot on their back.
They writhe and struggle beneath you. You don’t move.
The clock is ticking.
You raise your sp3ar over your head.
The clock is ticking.
Your prey looks up at you in terror.
The clock is ticking.
You plunge the sp3ar down, deep down, until the scent of bl0od fills the air.
You have succeeded.
You looked fate in the eyes; laughed in the face of d3ath.
And here you are, victorious after all the war and bl0odshed.
The fight is far from over. But you must celebrate this day for what it is.
Your foot is still on your prey. You keep it there, looking off towards the sunset with a smug and triumphant smile on your lips.
As the sun sinks below the horizon, you breathe in the fresh air.
Knowing that the fight will never truly be over, you ponder your next move.
-
639 words
Story 2 (based on Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles (instrumental cover by the St. George Quintet)):
Zia sat on the roof of her brownstone apartment. Not for the first time, she thought about how pointless life was.
From her perspective, it was one big board game; one where everyone was doomed to fail.
You come into the world unceremoniously,
live meaninglessly,
and d!e alone.
If there was no grand purpose in life, no big thing (other than wealth, of course) to strive for, what was the point?
Some would say God.
Some would say happiness.
But neither of those had been very forthcoming in Zia’s young life.
Fifteen years old and you’re already a cynic, Zia thought bitterly.
She wondered what happened, and the answer came to her.
Nothing happened.
Or rather, there was nothing in her life to make it worth living.
Zia swung her legs against the ledge and looked out at the city.
It was the only place she’d ever lived, and she intended to stay there until she rotted away.
Or maybe she’d travel the world.
See if there was anything out there spectacular enough to validate dedicating your life to it.
But either way, Zia was sure she’d end up right back where she started: Sitting on the roof of a decrepit, vine-covered apartment building.
Zia thought that all the fighting in the world was pointless. To be fair, she thought everything was pointless, but fighting was especially pointless. Just a bunch of nobodies who want to be somebodies, duking it out over nothing in particular.
Sometimes it was mildly entertaining; mostly it was a distraction from Zia’s mundanely predictable day-to-day routine.
Sometimes, when she was really bored, Zia would think about what would happen if she had turned out differently. What would her life be like if she actually cared? If she wanted to make a difference instead of showing off her indifference? Most days, Zia didn’t think much about it. The past was the past, and it was too far gone for her to change.
So instead she looked out at the city, and all the other people in it.
There was the cellist on the balcony of his suite, showing his great love for the world with melodious bowstrokes.
There were the people in the park, taking walks with their dogs or babies or lovers.
There were the ones waiting in lines, waiting and waiting and waiting until they forgot why they were there.
They were all fools, according to Zia.
To her, the only smart decision was to not care. If you expected nothing, you were never disappointed.
Or maybe you were always disappointed. Either way, life was a whole lot easier when you didn’t make anything out of it.
-
443 words
Part 2 (based on a conversation with a friend at symphony):
It’s a screwed-up world I’m stuck in. The reason I only say ‘world’ is because I’ve never been off this tiny planet. If I’m being honest, this whole dimension is screwed-up. But I’m trying to keep an open mind. Maybe there’s an asteroid out there that’s normal. I wouldn’t know.
I’m still not totally being honest. If it were just me and a journal and nobody else, I would use language that is a lot stronger than ‘screwed-up.’ But I’m telling this story orally, and there’s a lot of ugliness and profanity in the world already. It’s better not to curse without a reason; I might actually end up cursing someone. And then I’d be wanted.
Being a wanted man (or woman, or whatever my gender is - I wouldn’t know) isn’t bad in theory. In fact, it’s one of the highest honors that one can bestow here on Aravala-B. Being evil, immoral or corrupt enough to warrant a wanted poster with your name on it immediately gains you celebrity status. So, at least on this screwed-up rock, the ones who want attention are as bad as possible and the ones who keep to themselves abide by the rules.
Except, there are no rules.
I kind of got the short end of the stick here.
It’s not just Aravala-B that’s weird, the inhabitants (saying ‘people’ would be inaccurate; I once met a sentient that was a living car that looked like a Croc and had feet for wheels) are just as strange (and in some cases, stranger) than the planet. You meet a lot of people when you live in a criminal… heckhole.
It’s tempting to use stronger language again, but I know where that would get me.
On a daily basis, I will have at least five death threats and more than a few assassination attempts. You’re probably gasping in shock or disgust, but don’t worry. Most attempts on my life are done by inexperienced teenagers who just want some attention. And besides, it’s hard to kill someone who spent the better part of their young adult years as a bounty hunter. Yes, that’s right. A bounty hunter. I’ll explain:
Once upon a time, I was one of the idiotic kids who, more than anything, wanted an official government-issue ‘wanted’ poster. Every morning, I would look in the mirror and practice my mug-shot face. I took odd jobs: Bounty hunter, mercenary, assassin-for-hire, you name it. Anything that could possibly get me noticed by the big guys. And it worked - but not in the way that I expected.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. In all honesty, it could have actually been yesterday. Time works funny here. I was standing on the red-carpeted High Court floor, waiting anxiously for the jury’s verdict. I had been working toward this moment my whole life: Lying, stealing, k!lling, backst4bbing… I would do whatever it took. And I did. I shoved my conscience under a rug and told myself that the ends would, eventually, justify the means.
“Guilty as charged.”
As those three words were spoken, it felt like I was zapped with an electric current. My hair stood on end and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hide my maniacal grin. After all the work, I had done it. Then, the judge’s next words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“Sentenced to a lifetime’s hard labor in the syzix crystal mines.”
In all my youthful naivete, I hadn’t realized that breaking the law came with consequences. I had, for some reason, assumed that the only repercussions I’d get were instant fame, TV interviews, and a spot on the ‘Top 100 Bad Guys of the Year’ hot list.
I was in shock as the guards marched me out, hands in shackles. I didn’t realize what was happening until I was hacking at rocks in the crystal mines.
I escaped, of course. I was the best of the best, no prison cell or backbreaking labor could hold me. But the question was, what next? If I let the reporters and photographers find me, the government would come calling and I’d be back where I started. I had to go on the run.
And now, here I am. A former vagabond, bent but not broken; telling their life story into a tape recorder to hopefully save some young, reckless kid from the same fate.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
-
741 words
Part 3 (based off my Zia story from earlier, with the themes of love and finding yourself, with a healthy dose of cynicism thrown in):
The sunlight hurt Zia’s eyes.
Using her hand as a shield for her eyes, she squinted into the harsh morning.
It was summer, so she could do whatever she wanted.
Maybe she’d go out and enjoy life, like her mom was always telling her.
Maybe she’d sit inside and do her (pointless Common Core brainwashing) summer homework.
Whenever Zia called it that, her dad would roll his eyes and say something along the lines of “when I was your age…”
It made Zia snort a little derisively. If they wanted her to comply with the stuff they were teaching her, they shouldn’t have put Orwell in the school library. She decided that summer reading could wait another day. Or week. She should’ve learned her lesson about procrastinating by now, but Zia had a bad habit of not doing something if she didn’t see the point.
She pulled herself out of her internal rant. She liked ranting better when there were other people to hear her. Maybe someday she’d get enough followers, then stage a revolution.
No, Zia reminded herself, That won’t work. If you want to make change, you’re going to have to do the work and pull all the idiots along with you. That’s too much work. Either leave them behind, which you can’t do because they’re the workforce keeping your toilets clean and packaging your processed foods, or stick with the status quo.
Zia had to go with the second option.
Besides, she reminded herself, you’re just a kid, and people won’t take you seriously anyways.
Revolution was pointless, but breakfast wasn’t.
Or maybe it was.
From a certain point of view, everything was pointless; and Zia wanted to cultivate that point of view for use in future situations. She wouldn’t be a good editorial cartoonist if she didn’t like making fun of society.
But she couldn’t make fun of society without being intelligent enough to do it right, and she couldn’t focus well if she didn’t have breakfast.
So, Zia got off the roof and went into the small kitchenette.
She opened the minifridge and pulled out a blueberry muffin.
Stuffing the muffin in her mouth and throwing the wrapper in the trash (what a throwaway culture she was forced to conform to), Zia marched out the door, exuding a mix of confidence and apathy.
Zia wasn’t really sure where she was walking to. She told herself that it was fine and that she wouldn’t get lost. Then she reprimanded herself for being so quick to defend her fragile ego, even though it was partially true that she knew her way around the city.
She speedwalked. Her dad would always tell her to “stop and smell the roses,” but Zia never really smelled anything when she took a whiff of a rosebush, or any flower, for that matter. And in the city, all she smelled was smoke and exhaust.
Zia figured that the faster she walked, the quicker she’d get to wherever it is she was going. And, this way she wouldn’t have to talk to cheerful people.
How could they be so happy when society was on the verge of collapse?
Zia walked into the park. The day was just beginning, and she had the fog-covered greens to herself, with the exception of a few dog-walkers and joggers.
Zia didn’t let up her fast pace as she walked the stone path into the park, but slowed down as she reached the topiary.
Life might be pointless, but Zia loved a good topiary. This one was unique, a recreation of a famous Impressionist painting. She strolled through the gardens, marveling at the artistry it took to pull these off. The topiary was the one thing that could get her in a good - or, above average - mood.
Zia was pondering whether she should spend the rest of the day reading Doonesbury or doomsday-scrolling when she heard it. The faint strains of guitar coming from the other side of the park sounded all too familiar, yet Zia had to be sure.
As she walked closer to the music, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.
Some random guy who she had never seen before was sitting on a park bench with a guitar, singing the words to “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers.
At first Zia was mad.
That was her song!
That was the song that Zia’s mom used to sing to her when it was late at night and Zia couldn’t sleep. That was the song that, when Zia was a toddler, her mom would sing when she came into the room after naptime and lifted Zia out of her crib, kissing her on the nose.
Zia felt her body fill with boiling rage as this man, whoever he was, played a song that was supposed to belong to Zia and only Zia.
Then, the anger subsided, and like a tidal wave she felt the sadness.
Zia felt her eyes fill with tears, then bit her lip. She did not like crying; it was, in her opinion, a mostly useless emotion that only gave people a reason to not deal with their emotions.
But today, with all that was going on, it was just too hard.
Zia couldn’t listen to her song when she knew that Mom was about to die.
Her mother was in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, and had been like for the past 20 hours. Dad was at the hospital, functioning on little sleep.
Zia’s mom had been having difficulties for a while now, and nobody knew whether she was going to live, or…
Zia shook her head. She needed to stop feeling sad. Stop thinking about her mom. Stop feeling.
She kicked the curb, sending a sharp stab of pain up her foot.
Good. Relish the pain. It means you’re alive.
Zia kicked the curb again, and started walking at an even brisker pace back to the apartment. The rest of the day was decided: Doomsday scrolling it was; it was an easy way to turn her brain off.
Zia exited the stairwell and went to the door of her apartment.
Strange. It was unlocked. Zia was certain she’d locked it.
She entered the apartment and it seemed brighter, happier than normal.
In the bedroom off to the left, she heard humming.
Without her permission, Zia’s heart sped up a notch.
Entering the room, she saw her mother lying in bed, holding a little baby.
“Zia,” her mom said, blinking back tears, “meet your new baby brother.”
In that moment, Zia felt something new blossoming in her chest.
She racked her brain for a moment, trying to describe the sensation.
There it was:
Hope.
-
1116 words
Welp, that's it!
Word count:
Part 1:
Story 1: 639
Story 2: 443
Part 2: 741
Part 3: 1116
Total for weekly: 2939
New total: 21119
Stingray
❝You may be right // I may be crazy // but it just might be a lunatic you're looking for.❞
-Billy Joel
- Vana_Beifong
-
Scratcher
77 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
{ Daily for critique. 3/22/22 }
Hey! This is a song I wrote. I think this counts, since it's considered creative writing. If it doesn't you can let me know.
{ Time Flies }
Hello, how are you is what I’d like to say
If I even had the guts
I’m nervous to get close to you
But to your bros i’m not
Time flies time flies
But still we’re just sitting here
I don’t know if you feel the same
But I’d like to know your name
Taking a picture of this place
Seems like the right thing to do
But once your gone it feels like I’m lost
And I don’t know what to do
Time flies time flies
But still we’re just sitting here
I don’t know if you feel the same
But I’d like to know your name
Where are we going now
We haven’t even left the ground
You seem so far away
can we please see each other someday
Time flies time flies
Can I some how find a way
To say hi maybe goodbye
So then we will start to form
Time flies time flies
But still we’re just sitting here
I don’t know if you feel the same
But I’d like to know your name
Hey! This is a song I wrote. I think this counts, since it's considered creative writing. If it doesn't you can let me know.
{ Time Flies }
Hello, how are you is what I’d like to say
If I even had the guts
I’m nervous to get close to you
But to your bros i’m not
Time flies time flies
But still we’re just sitting here
I don’t know if you feel the same
But I’d like to know your name
Taking a picture of this place
Seems like the right thing to do
But once your gone it feels like I’m lost
And I don’t know what to do
Time flies time flies
But still we’re just sitting here
I don’t know if you feel the same
But I’d like to know your name
Where are we going now
We haven’t even left the ground
You seem so far away
can we please see each other someday
Time flies time flies
Can I some how find a way
To say hi maybe goodbye
So then we will start to form
Time flies time flies
But still we’re just sitting here
I don’t know if you feel the same
But I’d like to know your name
-•̩̩͙ˏˋ⋆≿༺⛧༺≿⋆-•̩̩͙-
dextri {they/them}
{please consider checking my profile out! @Vana_Beifong ^^ }
- scarIet-stars
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
writing competition entry <3
it's not my fault - 821 words
tw: brief mentions of death and bl00d
There she lays, eyes closed, ghostly pale, hardly breathing, heart beating slowly. Six pairs of nimble hands on her. They whisper in hushed voices, as if being too loud would awaken her.
I stand in the corner, hands trembling and breathing shakily. They try beckoning me over. But it's no use. I'm frozen, stuck in a whirlpool of thoughts and worries.
We studied for this. Years of hard work and dedication seem to fall down the drain as I stand there, doing absolutely nothing.
All I can do is stare at the frail woman laying on the stretcher, who's tangled in an assortment of wires. I look away, feeling sick to my stomach.
Instead, I look over at the sterile white walls, full of racks of soap, gloves, masks, needles, and countless supplies. I look away quickly, feeling queasy again.
I feel the monsters in my mind emerging again, clawing at my brain, digging into my skull. Rubbing my temples with my fingertips, I usher the monsters away. I imagine a large glass bottle, and stuff them inside, locking them inside a dark, empty space inside my head.
A surgeon rushes over to me, his eyes filled with fear.
'We need help. We're losing her and you're the only one who would know how to fix her.' He says, replacing his red stained gloves for fresh ones.
I gulped, taking in a deep breath. I imagined my lungs filling with the sweet smell of flowers, letting the smell wash away all the dark thoughts. I imagined it was a spring day, bees buzzing, birds chirping. The monsters slowly faded, and I sighed with relief.
'Well?' The surgeon said, interrupting my fantasy. I felt the monsters climbing back, grinning evilly.
I shook my head violently. ‘I can’t' I said, embarrassed that my voice was so squeaky and weak.
The surgeon slipped off his fresh gloves, and grabbed me by the shoulders, gently shaking me.
'I know that you can do this. Now's your chance to prove it. If you don't, I know you'll regret it.'
I shook my head. ‘I’ll mess up'
He snapped on new gloves. ‘Fine. Do what you want.’
He walked away angrily, looking back at me with a pleading look.
The monsters swarmed inside, growing in size, their voices increasing in volume. I swallowed hard, taking myself back to the fantasy, with the flowers and the butterflies. I felt the monsters slip back into their dark corner, sitting and waiting for a minute where I would snap and fall apart. But I wasn't going to do so today.
This woman and her family needed me.
I tied my hair into a messy bun and put a scrub cap over it. I pulled on brand new gloves, adjusted my mask, and clenched my fists. With one last reassuring breath, I walked over to the woman.
'What do you need me to do?'
✾✾✾
Delivering the news had been tough. Much Harder than performing the surgery.
There were many tears and gasps. It was really a blur to me. Only two words kept replaying in my mind.
“You failed”
That was all I could think about for the weeks following the incident.
There was only one other thought that kept popping in and out of my head.
“Attend the funeral”
And so I did. It was rather impulsive, but I think it was the right thing. After all, it was my fault that there was a funeral in the first place.
The funeral was a haze. The only thing I can remember are the weird looks from the family. I didn't belong there. But I needed to be there.
The monsters were stronger than ever. Too strong to ignore. I was weak, and alone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
After everybody had gone back outside, I knelt down at the headstone, stroking it softly. I ignored the dirt staining my knees and my dress.
'I failed you. If I hadn't stepped in, maybe you would still be here.' My voice broke, and a single tear fell upon the earth.
'It's not your fault.' A voice behind me said.
I jumped up, frantically brushing my dress off. It was the eldest daughter of the woman.
'I'm sorry?' I said.
'It's not your fault' She repeated.
'But it is,' I argued.
She shook her head, grabbing my hand. ‘Listen. Mama was sick. It was far too late to save you. I just wanted to say thanks. For trying to save her. That’s what matters.'
And with that, she walked away.
The monsters fled from my head, falling down a deep ravine. I gasped. Were they gone? I inhaled, and exhaled.
'It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault.' I said quietly.
And, for the first time, I believed it.
it's not my fault - 821 words
tw: brief mentions of death and bl00d
There she lays, eyes closed, ghostly pale, hardly breathing, heart beating slowly. Six pairs of nimble hands on her. They whisper in hushed voices, as if being too loud would awaken her.
I stand in the corner, hands trembling and breathing shakily. They try beckoning me over. But it's no use. I'm frozen, stuck in a whirlpool of thoughts and worries.
We studied for this. Years of hard work and dedication seem to fall down the drain as I stand there, doing absolutely nothing.
All I can do is stare at the frail woman laying on the stretcher, who's tangled in an assortment of wires. I look away, feeling sick to my stomach.
Instead, I look over at the sterile white walls, full of racks of soap, gloves, masks, needles, and countless supplies. I look away quickly, feeling queasy again.
I feel the monsters in my mind emerging again, clawing at my brain, digging into my skull. Rubbing my temples with my fingertips, I usher the monsters away. I imagine a large glass bottle, and stuff them inside, locking them inside a dark, empty space inside my head.
A surgeon rushes over to me, his eyes filled with fear.
'We need help. We're losing her and you're the only one who would know how to fix her.' He says, replacing his red stained gloves for fresh ones.
I gulped, taking in a deep breath. I imagined my lungs filling with the sweet smell of flowers, letting the smell wash away all the dark thoughts. I imagined it was a spring day, bees buzzing, birds chirping. The monsters slowly faded, and I sighed with relief.
'Well?' The surgeon said, interrupting my fantasy. I felt the monsters climbing back, grinning evilly.
I shook my head violently. ‘I can’t' I said, embarrassed that my voice was so squeaky and weak.
The surgeon slipped off his fresh gloves, and grabbed me by the shoulders, gently shaking me.
'I know that you can do this. Now's your chance to prove it. If you don't, I know you'll regret it.'
I shook my head. ‘I’ll mess up'
He snapped on new gloves. ‘Fine. Do what you want.’
He walked away angrily, looking back at me with a pleading look.
The monsters swarmed inside, growing in size, their voices increasing in volume. I swallowed hard, taking myself back to the fantasy, with the flowers and the butterflies. I felt the monsters slip back into their dark corner, sitting and waiting for a minute where I would snap and fall apart. But I wasn't going to do so today.
This woman and her family needed me.
I tied my hair into a messy bun and put a scrub cap over it. I pulled on brand new gloves, adjusted my mask, and clenched my fists. With one last reassuring breath, I walked over to the woman.
'What do you need me to do?'
✾✾✾
Delivering the news had been tough. Much Harder than performing the surgery.
There were many tears and gasps. It was really a blur to me. Only two words kept replaying in my mind.
“You failed”
That was all I could think about for the weeks following the incident.
There was only one other thought that kept popping in and out of my head.
“Attend the funeral”
And so I did. It was rather impulsive, but I think it was the right thing. After all, it was my fault that there was a funeral in the first place.
The funeral was a haze. The only thing I can remember are the weird looks from the family. I didn't belong there. But I needed to be there.
The monsters were stronger than ever. Too strong to ignore. I was weak, and alone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
After everybody had gone back outside, I knelt down at the headstone, stroking it softly. I ignored the dirt staining my knees and my dress.
'I failed you. If I hadn't stepped in, maybe you would still be here.' My voice broke, and a single tear fell upon the earth.
'It's not your fault.' A voice behind me said.
I jumped up, frantically brushing my dress off. It was the eldest daughter of the woman.
'I'm sorry?' I said.
'It's not your fault' She repeated.
'But it is,' I argued.
She shook her head, grabbing my hand. ‘Listen. Mama was sick. It was far too late to save you. I just wanted to say thanks. For trying to save her. That’s what matters.'
And with that, she walked away.
The monsters fled from my head, falling down a deep ravine. I gasped. Were they gone? I inhaled, and exhaled.
'It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault.' I said quietly.
And, for the first time, I believed it.
Last edited by scarIet-stars (Nov. 11, 2023 17:31:18)
scarlet / mary <3
- Peach_Drawing
-
Scratcher
1000+ posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
swc weekly - march 18-23
words: 2642
part one: taking inspiration from music
songs: the background music in part two's workshop, smoke rising like lifted hands
words: 856
story one:
words: 451
story two:
words: 405
part two: taking inspiration from not music
inspiration: bad luck and good luck
words: 738
part three: incorporating themes
themes: nature's natural beauty
words: 1048
words: 2642
part one: taking inspiration from music
songs: the background music in part two's workshop, smoke rising like lifted hands
words: 856
story one:
words: 451
Felicity watched the sun slowly setting as the waves crashed onto the beach’s shore. The entire scene was a pleasant sight for her, and she could hear music drifting by from a restaurant somewhere near the beach. She let herself sway to the beat for a while, then stood up to head home when the sun finally set below the horizon and the last natural sunlight slowly vanished, yielding to the night.
She could feel her magic, which had been elated at the change of scenery from the dreary city with trash everywhere, shrinking back down somewhere inside her heart with the knowledge that Felicity was going back to that boring and gray place without natural plants. The change was stunning- first, she had felt as though she could do anything and not just sit by the beach and watch the sun go away, but now she just felt like a dear friend had moved away to a distant city, state, country, or town just out of reach.
With that change, everything felt a bit too far from her, and she sadly headed back down the long path to the city. Eventually, the path changed to a paved road with a sidewalk, and then a larger two-way road. After following the road for a while longer, she reached her house and opened the door.
Felicity sighed and made up her mind, deciding that she would go out into nature more often. Even if the feeling of magic everywhere only lasted while she was just enjoying the scenery, she still wanted to go outside and experience that joy. The city felt even more sad than it had before now, so she sat down at the couch and picked up a book to read to distract her from the world around her. Even if that distraction only lasted while she was reading the book, it still helped her get her mind off of things since after finishing the book she would have lots of ideas in her head.
Maybe it would even inspire her to add on to her novel she had been writing in her free time. Since she hadn’t had any inspiration, Felicity hadn’t added on to the book in a while (or even edited it), but maybe if she read the stories of other people the ideas would merge with her own. The book both functioned as a distraction and inspiration for her.
The next morning, Felicity woke up and realized she had fallen asleep while she was reading. When she stood up, a sight she had most definitely not seen when she fell asleep greeted her. The dream she had had of walking to the beach had become reality.
story two:
words: 405
Rosa woke up in the morning far earlier than normal and greeted the world outside cheerfully. Birds flew by her bedroom window, and the calls of the birds and sounds of nature was like a song- so much so, in fact, that Rosa started humming as well. The scenery outside her house felt peaceful and allowed her to relax and forget the world’s problems for a bit.
She pushed open the door and walked outside, deciding to take a long walk outside and enjoy the peace of nature for a bit until she felt tired and decided to go back home. She walked along the banks of a calm pond and watched dewdrops fall into puddles.
As she walked farther and farther away from her home and towards the city, though, the calm aura of the natural world slowly faded until the only natural sound Rosa could hear was the chirping of birds as she walked closer and closer to the border where the calm world of nature seemed to stop and the hurried realm of metal buildings, “order”, and blue lights began.
Eventually, the birds were drowned out by the sounds of cars and other vehicles, and Rosa could smell the strong scent of trash that drifted from the city. A fence made of metal bordered the edge of the city, but the stench and cacophony still drifted by. The only evidence of plants here were the weeds growing between the cracks in the oppressive substance known as concrete, the ivy climbing up the fence, and trees that appeared every so often, encased in concrete cages and slowly withering away.
Rosa looked at the scene before her, locked away behind the fence covered with ivy, through the cracks. People walked by, paying no attention to the world beyond. Large signs next to even larger buildings advertised products and companies with pictures of people and other machines or products of varying types. Cars, trucks, and other vehicles thundered by without a care for the smoke coming out of the exhaust pipes, never stopping to look through the fence like she was.
Even more fences and gates separated the people living in the city, though most of them never looked up from their handheld devices. Houses in neat rows were lined up one by one, with almost no green plants visible. The city was a world without nature- a sad place defined by lines and borders.
part two: taking inspiration from not music
inspiration: bad luck and good luck
words: 738
What most people think of as luck is just an excuse to make up for personal failings. This was what Iris Fortuna believed. Unfortunately for Iris, she was born in the worst world to have this belief.
You see, the world is secretly ruled by two beings who obtained an otherwise impossible amount of control by manipulating luck to control the world. Nobody actually knows this- whenever a person gets close to discovering the world’s secret, accidents and other things happen around them until they are injured to the point where they can’t investigate any further.
These two beings are known as “bad luck” and “good luck”, but there isn’t really a strict line between the two. “Good luck” is in charge of helping people, but sometimes helps people by punishing those who wrong them. “Bad luck” is in charge of punishing people, but sometimes punishes people for wronging others by helping the people they wronged.
The divisions between the two are so blurred, in fact, that the beings sometimes argue with each other over whether they were responsible for punishing/helping a person or causing an event. Once an event happens, they can’t go back and change it, so their arguing is pointless- just like the pointless arguments of the people they punish and help to change the world at their every whim.
Their whims, as you can imagine, often involve punishing Iris for her opinions about fate, luck, and destiny. Iris is the only person in her sector of the world to have broken four bones, fractured seven, and caught thirteen flu variants with no vaccine. Having that many strange things happen to her is so rare, in fact, that everyone in her school believes that being near her will give you bad luck.
Most of her classmates avoid her like they would try to avoid illnesses and injuries, since most are extremely superstitious and believe that bad luck is like a disease that you can catch. Iris mostly ignores their attitude and blames her bouts of bad luck on other people or on herself.
It was her fault that she was running on a slippery floor that had just been cleaned. It was the teacher’s fault that her homework was swapped with someone else’s and she now had some extra pages of mathwork that she had to do. It was her classmate’s fault for not noticing her and stepping on her foot… Sometimes, her justifications for these events may seem like they are stretching the truth, but for Iris they are her truth. Otherwise, there would be no possible way that the events that happened did so… Except for luck being a factor.
One day, Iris was walking through the school building when she noticed something strange. In the sky, looking down at her, was a large eye that seemed to be made of sparkly golden thread. It didn’t look real- in fact, it looked as though it were something from a book that had escaped the paper sheets and roamed the real world confusing people.
Up where “bad luck” and “good luck” dwelled, “bad luck” was using a similar eye to watch the world, while “good luck” was tampering with Iris’s luck. “Bad luck” didn’t notice what “good luck” was doing until it was a bit too late to change it. “Good luck” had made Iris look up and see what “bad luck” was doing- or, at least, “bad luck”’s magical eye.
“Good luck” told “bad luck” not to do anything because Iris wouldn’t know why the eye was there or what the eye meant, but “bad luck” was still angry at “good luck” for causing the eye to be seen and didn’t listen to their advice. Over the next few days, the two beings that controlled luck were both ignoring the sectors of the world without Iris and focusing on her.
“Bad luck” would cause a beam to weaken just as Iris walked by, but “good luck” would cause a sign that allowed Iris to dodge out of the way in time. “Bad luck” would make the teacher mix up the homework packets, but “good luck” would change the direction of the wind to confuse everyone and get the packets to the right people. Their conflict went on and on without a clear winner, and as they fought the other sectors of the world fell into chaos without the two overseeing them.
part three: incorporating themes
themes: nature's natural beauty
words: 1048
Felicity sighed as she took in the sight before her. She must have sleep walked all the way to the beach while she was dreaming about walking to the beach.
She could tell both she and her magic wanted her to stay at the beach and watch the waves for a while, but the busy city’s schedules were interfering. Felicity had lots of things that she had to do- return some books to the library, buy new clothes, work on her novel, go to work, cook and pack her meals- and she didn’t have enough time to do them all and still have some time to go to the beach.
Felicity reluctantly stood up and walked back down the path to her house to eat breakfast before she had to go to work. The instant sorrow she felt from her magic felt like a gut punch and left her wanting to sit down and recover for an hour or two, but she forced herself to keep walking back home so as not to be late for anything. She opened the door and walked in feeling exhausted.
After lying down on the couch for a few minutes and regaining a portion of her strength, Felicity realized that if she waited any longer she would be late for work. She hurriedly stuffed a chunk of bread into her mouth, threw together a quick salad from pre-packaged ingredients and grocery store dressing, tossed the salad and her library books into her backpack, and rushed out of the door to the bus station.
Felicity arrived when the bus was just about to start driving off, and in a surprising burst of agility and speed somehow managed to jump on board right as the doors began to close. She tossed enough coins to pay the bus fare into a box and hurried to the nearest empty seat as the bus began on its way.
On the long road to her office, Felicity occupied herself with finishing reading her book. Then, when she finished, she spent the remaining portion of the ride looking out of the window and watching the buildings and cars on the road go by.
She spent the rest of the day sitting at the desk in her office, clicking around on the computer. On her way home, Felicity got off the bus by the library to drop off the books and checked out a few other books, this time about natural landscapes and the geographical features around the city instead of adventures with fantasy settings, then walked the rest of the way home.
Felicity was already used to feeling the constant pain from her magic’s sorrow at the tight schedules of the city without magic, but the exhaustion that came from keeping down the aching sadness took a large toll on her, and she felt as though her legs had turned to gel as soon as she entered her bedroom and relaxed slightly.
She groaned and lay down on her bed. At this rate, she would be completely drained at the end of the week. She had to do something about it before her condition worsened- something that would have more of an effect than anything else she’d tried yet.
Ignoring the urge to leave her room and go make some food or take a walk through more natural sites coming from her stomach and magic respectively, Felicity spent an entire hour brainstorming possible solutions and another hour using her personal laptop to research people with similar problems. After those two hours, however, she still didn’t have any concrete answers and so turned to what she always relied on to distract her- books.
The books she had just checked out from the library had been left out on the kitchen table, so Felicity mustered up the strength to get up and head to the kitchen to grab the books. Taking the books and heading back to her room had been her original plan- no distractions and nothing else, but the basket of delicious-smelling fruit on the counter reminded her to eat some dinner, so she reheated leftovers from the day before and started reading while she waited for the food to be fully warmed.
The first book she picked up was a book filled with pictures of landscapes that had been photographed at the right time, in the right place. Felicity wasn’t interested in a book of photographs that relied too much on timing and spatial distance, though her magic cheered up at the sight of the beautiful scenes. Since the pictures seemed to make her magic feel better, she didn’t skip through the book as she would have otherwise.
The second book, which she read while eating dinner, was written for people who wanted to visit, but had lots of information about different sites in the city that were naturally made. One of them was even the beach that she had visited (and sleep-walked to) earlier! Even if many of the places were far away, Felicity still took out her notebook of places to visit and wrote down all of the sites.
The third book wasn’t, as the cover had led her to believe, about geographical features or natural sites. It was about photographing such places, which wasn’t of much use to her. The pictures were similar to the first book’s pictures and relied mostly on timing, so Felicity skipped many of the sections with pictures or tutorials on how to get the best photograph of a natural site.
After going through all of the books she had checked out, Felicity filled four pages in her notebook with the names of places from the books and started scheduling days dedicated to spending some time visiting them. Her first visit was scheduled for the next day, and Felicity decided to use the time she had to watch the sun setting again at the beach.
When she headed home from work that day, she packed her dinner in a plastic container and walked the whole way over to the beach. Felicity sat down and immediately felt the shift in her magic’s mood. The pure joy from watching the sun setting felt contagious, and she couldn’t help smiling at the rare and beautiful sight as the sun slowly set behind the ocean.
「 Procrastinator - Exhausted - Awkward - Chaotic - Human - Inconsistently Social 」
(peachi - she/they(/xey) - artist, camp tropiland co-host, writer)
- seventene
-
Scratcher
45 posts
Scratch Writing Camp Writing Sharing Thread (March 2022)
kenna’s 3/22 daily
597 words
806-209=597
min. 400 words
sry if this sounded harsh btw im rlly tired rn lol
i didnt critique the whole thing+didnt read the whole thing thoroughly so i didnt make any comments on theme/symbols
yeah this is a bad critique but hope this is helpful anyway
“I can’t! Not anymore!” I cried. It was my fourth high school month and I just couldn’t do it anymore.
first off, it’s cool that you started off with dialogue. the emotions/moods of the story are already visible, and your first sentence definitely hooks the reader to keep reading.
Things were just too much for me,
maybe a semicolon or colon instead of a comma, or just end the sentence there to build suspense.
exams were coming up, my grandpa had passed away, and dance classes were getting harder.
ASDFGDFGHJDK okay so that was really sudden!! it’s clear why things are hard for the main character, which is good, but its a lot in one, and mixes up the mood a bit. is the main character feeling grief, as their grandpa had passed away? stress because exams were coming up? etc. it’s a bit hard to tell because this was A LOT in one sentence. not grammatically, but in general. perhaps you could have things described in flashbacks? showing not telling, and descriptive writing would be great here. for showing not telling, you could say “the papers were piling up on my desk, burying the fun i used to have. now, there’s only red marks and endless late nate study sessions” or something, instead of “exams were coming up”. that was a bad example but i hope u get what im saying lol. and this connects to showing not telling– you should describe/elaborate more on each thing you listed here.
(honestly, as the reader, the vibe im getting is that the main character doesnt really care much about those events. they just listed them like that, as if they’re tired. again, im not really sure what the mood is. the dialogue is very powerful, and this sentence completely contrasts it.)
“Why can’t things be easy again?!”
ooh more strong dialogue i like it makes it less boring for the reader haha
I had been crying in the bathroom for 30 min and I was sure my friend and teacher were already worried about me.
alright so again, showing not telling+descriptive writing!! “tears were streaming down my face” or anything like that!! also “so” instead of “and” would fit better here. it connects the two clauses better. i was a bit confused on what the friend and teacher were worried about/why they were worried.
I cleaned my tears and went back to the classroom.
you cleaned your tears? if you wanted to make this scene brief, you could still describe it really short. “i wiped the tears off my face” or something.
When I got there everyone was looking at me, my face was surely messed up but I couldn’t fix it now.
comma after “when i got there” would be better. and instead of the comma after “looking at me” it should be a colon, semicolon, or em dash.
“Andy, is everything okay?” my teacher asked, worried.
“I’m fine..” I lied, my best friend looked me in the eyes. She knew I was lying.
“Then please go back to your seat, dear”
i mightve copied and pasted this poorly, but there should be a period after “dear”.
I took my seat and waited for school to end. When the bell ran I took my things and hurried to my locker. Lea, my best friend came running towards me. I knew she was gonna interrogate me, but with the hope she had forgotten about the matter I started talking.
idk if its just me, but it caught me off guard that it was last period. this is just a personal choice, but i think the reader wouldve empathized more/showed more sympathy with the main character if it was just the beginning of the day and they had a long way to go.
also, this part is quite bland. more description+showing not telling (specifically the bell ringing and running to locker part)!! after “my best friend” there should be another comma btw. the last section was also bit confusing. “the matter” is a little vague. maybe you could say “my little accident during last period” or something. and after “the matter” there should be a comma
“So, any plans for the afternoon?”I said, she gave me a disapproval look and took me to a place away from everyone.
space after the quotation mark, and disapproving instead of “disapproval” look. also, i had no idea there were more people around you. you should describe the scenery more. i like that you said you were at the lockers, but i didnt know that there was “everyone” around you. i thought it was empty, as you just described the best friend running towards you. perhaps you could say “making her way through the crowd” if you wanted to show that there were more people.
597 words
806-209=597
min. 400 words
sry if this sounded harsh btw im rlly tired rn lol
i didnt critique the whole thing+didnt read the whole thing thoroughly so i didnt make any comments on theme/symbols
yeah this is a bad critique but hope this is helpful anyway
“I can’t! Not anymore!” I cried. It was my fourth high school month and I just couldn’t do it anymore.
first off, it’s cool that you started off with dialogue. the emotions/moods of the story are already visible, and your first sentence definitely hooks the reader to keep reading.
Things were just too much for me,
maybe a semicolon or colon instead of a comma, or just end the sentence there to build suspense.
exams were coming up, my grandpa had passed away, and dance classes were getting harder.
ASDFGDFGHJDK okay so that was really sudden!! it’s clear why things are hard for the main character, which is good, but its a lot in one, and mixes up the mood a bit. is the main character feeling grief, as their grandpa had passed away? stress because exams were coming up? etc. it’s a bit hard to tell because this was A LOT in one sentence. not grammatically, but in general. perhaps you could have things described in flashbacks? showing not telling, and descriptive writing would be great here. for showing not telling, you could say “the papers were piling up on my desk, burying the fun i used to have. now, there’s only red marks and endless late nate study sessions” or something, instead of “exams were coming up”. that was a bad example but i hope u get what im saying lol. and this connects to showing not telling– you should describe/elaborate more on each thing you listed here.
(honestly, as the reader, the vibe im getting is that the main character doesnt really care much about those events. they just listed them like that, as if they’re tired. again, im not really sure what the mood is. the dialogue is very powerful, and this sentence completely contrasts it.)
“Why can’t things be easy again?!”
ooh more strong dialogue i like it
makes it less boring for the reader hahaI had been crying in the bathroom for 30 min and I was sure my friend and teacher were already worried about me.
alright so again, showing not telling+descriptive writing!! “tears were streaming down my face” or anything like that!! also “so” instead of “and” would fit better here. it connects the two clauses better. i was a bit confused on what the friend and teacher were worried about/why they were worried.
I cleaned my tears and went back to the classroom.
you cleaned your tears? if you wanted to make this scene brief, you could still describe it really short. “i wiped the tears off my face” or something.
When I got there everyone was looking at me, my face was surely messed up but I couldn’t fix it now.
comma after “when i got there” would be better. and instead of the comma after “looking at me” it should be a colon, semicolon, or em dash.
“Andy, is everything okay?” my teacher asked, worried.
“I’m fine..” I lied, my best friend looked me in the eyes. She knew I was lying.
“Then please go back to your seat, dear”
i mightve copied and pasted this poorly, but there should be a period after “dear”.
I took my seat and waited for school to end. When the bell ran I took my things and hurried to my locker. Lea, my best friend came running towards me. I knew she was gonna interrogate me, but with the hope she had forgotten about the matter I started talking.
idk if its just me, but it caught me off guard that it was last period. this is just a personal choice, but i think the reader wouldve empathized more/showed more sympathy with the main character if it was just the beginning of the day and they had a long way to go.
also, this part is quite bland. more description+showing not telling (specifically the bell ringing and running to locker part)!! after “my best friend” there should be another comma btw. the last section was also bit confusing. “the matter” is a little vague. maybe you could say “my little accident during last period” or something. and after “the matter” there should be a comma
“So, any plans for the afternoon?”I said, she gave me a disapproval look and took me to a place away from everyone.
space after the quotation mark, and disapproving instead of “disapproval” look. also, i had no idea there were more people around you. you should describe the scenery more. i like that you said you were at the lockers, but i didnt know that there was “everyone” around you. i thought it was empty, as you just described the best friend running towards you. perhaps you could say “making her way through the crowd” if you wanted to show that there were more people.
Last edited by seventene (March 23, 2022 02:47:36)
(・⊝・)