609 words
Amethyst slumped by the edge of the log, twisting three marshmallows, revolving them slowly. The low murmur of chattering surrounding the was blending in with the fire. It was dead in the night; invisible paintbrushes streaked the sky with charcoal-black, and sprinkled it with glimmering white dots. Amethyst twisted the stick again. In the heat of the fire, images slowly leapt to life as the flickers took a life of their own; reflecting, transforming, moving.
She squinted closely at the further one. A tendril of fire was dancing in the middle… and it slowly split up into many sections… of words slowly increasing on a word document labeled as “Word Wars - 2”. Amethyst smiled, remembering those frantic moments where she spammed the keyboard, trying to earn points for her cabin. Then suddenly, a plume of smoke wafted over the marshmallows, and Amethyst wrinkled her nose. However as soon as it came, it blew away, and the firelight was now dancing over a pinkish-melting marshmallow.
A train of comments appeared, and Amethyst’s smile deepened. Here was the ridiculous line of comments breaking the silence from the cabins. She had been trying to sleep, and she had screamed jokingly at them to be quiet because she needed to rest. Well, after all, everyone said Sleep > SWC. Not sure whether she entirely agreed with that, though. Every night, she looked up at the ceiling of her cabin. She wished she could get up and onto her iPad to type as many words as she could for her cabin. But that wasn’t the case. The leaders were predictably strict on it. So instead, she was lulled to sleep creating stories on the spot of dragons clashing with the lore of warrior cats; an epic adventure embarked by a human to save their village; incredible sealife spiralling around the ocean.
Finally came… what was that? A… group of people clustered around a small pinprick of fire. She thought she could recognise a few people, mostly from their clothes… was that… them?
Yes, it was. Adventure Cabin was sitting shoulder-by-shoulder, feasting on marshmallows. All except for one — Amethyst, who was politely declining her share of marshmallows and instead passing them on, to the delight of others. She stifled a laugh. They had made and went through so much; fighting off other cabins in a friendly tussle during cabin wars… screaming random stuff through the rooms of their cabin… Amethyst would truly miss everyone. But she was off for another camp now, as a leader, she remembered a tingling sensation that was excitement — Scratch Music Camp! Maybe her fingers would be happy, but not for long, when she pressed against the piano or used them to whack a drum. Amethyst tilted her head. It wasn’t really the end. She would join again; possibly in fan-fiction or Adventure! The the thought of that brought a smile to her lips.
Finally, the fire’s glow lowered, and the image slowly ceased. But a new feeling was ballooning in her; she was wrapped not by the heat of the fire, but by the warmth of the memories. These memories were worth a fortune to her. She would give anything to keep them. She glanced at her leaders, co-leaders, and fellow campers. “Don’t worry,” the words escaped her mouth, though she wasn’t sure anyone could hear her. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure that we’ll meet again… in a few months time.”
A gentle breeze blew through the campsite. Amethyst smiled deeper. Amazing. That was one word for camp. Amazing. This was the best thing she’d ever done on her lengthy time at scratch.

Wow I did the weekly??? Imposible. (wow, I don't have any spanish accents. Darn you keyboard)

TOTA WORDS: 2438


Weekly Part 1 - VIXI

WC: 300 exactly


Vixi is an introverted sixteen-year-old pursuing her passion for fashion. She adores all things fashion and design, which is why she chose Charise’s for her career path. She is short for her age, a fact she is constantly reminded about, and she is insecure about her height. She is a bit on the quiet side, and when she does talk she often fumbles over her words. Some people think that makes her cute. Vixi doesn’t like her mess ups at all. She cannot make a holo call to a pizza place for the life of her. People are not her area of expertise- not at all. In teams, she is neither a leader nor a follower- she just plain does not want to be in a team. While productive, she prefers to be productive on her own. She appreciates when people let her do as she wants, though if she does not get what she wants she does not make a big deal about it. She enjoys warm, rainy afternoons, cats, lo-fi music and digital scenery. She likes playing games that are small and open, things where you get to walk around, make friends, customize your houses, have a virtual job- and she especially likes when said games have cute art. She has always been told that she is good at art, and that is one thing she is inclined to agree with people on. She enjoys drawing- after all, her designs would not be her designs if she had not drawn them! Vee has fair skin dotted with seemingly endless freckles, short cut platinum blond hair and dark green eyes that Edward Crouch so often likes to call “dreamy, knowing and lovely,” Though she might be commonly called a midget, there is a spirited girl underneath all those insecurities.

Weekly Part 1 - CHARISE

WC: 300

Charise is an ambiverted twenty-six year old, and runs a fashion line by the name of Charise’s. Entrepreneur and founder, she is widely adored by the public. She is a bit of a mysterious figure, and not much is really known about her. It is known that she absolutely adores the colors green and black, which is how they became the signature colors of her fashion shop. She is good with different people, retreating to different methods in dealing with each of them. However, the one person she is not good with is her sister, Trix. She is also not very good with bullies- too bad for them, I suppose. Charise is very passionate about fashion and all things the like, and, if someone asks her for advice, she is quick to give it, though she refuses to give unwanted advice, attention or gossip where it is unneeded. She frequents hats (mostly fedoras), green lipstick, and long coats. Though some see her as intimidating (which she can be), she is often not as intimidating as is initially apparent. Often the moment she reaches home she will let down her guard, change into other clothes (usually comfortable yet fashionable pants along with a comfortable yet fashionable shirt and vest, though she does not often abandon her hats) and switch on her Nintendo- whatever version is the newest in stores. She is always caught up on trends, and, while she cares about looks, she is not one to push ideals onto others. She is often described as a “puzzle” by her friends. She has straight white hair- no one knows what color it was originally - and pale skin. She is quite tall for her own age, a fact she embraces, though it is simply not a fact she finds to be important.


Weekly Part 1 - SETTING (Charise’s, Green and Black)

WC: 312

The setting is a fashion shoppe called Charise’s, run by none other than Charise Black. It is a store painted in pure black, and, if you stand just ahead of it, you will see a board set in green with the word “CHARISE’S” painted on it in alternating black and white. Underneath this sign, which stretches nearly the length of the entire front (for aesthetic purposes), there is a set of automatic glass sliding doors which open to welcome you. Beside them are windows, set into the wall. They are wide, and display holographic mannequins wearing whatever is the latest in fashion. Though the mannequins are holographic, the clothes are not.

As you enter, you will see a splendid shop. Two opposing walls are green, and the others are black. The floor is checkered white and black. And the cashier’s counter! It is just luxurious. Black marble on sleekly cut black wood is what makes up the counter. The counter sits right in the center of the shop and is rounded. Two to three people work there at a time, each tending to different people in different sections. For instance, the side facing you is what is called the “questions hub & main checkout.” The other four lead off in different directions, but we’ll focus on the entrance. When you enter, you’ll immediately be greeted by the “main” clothing scattered on racks. These are the less-vip clothes, but they are still fashionable nonetheless. These clothes are everywhere, but there are more vip sections- this is where the counters tend to! In carpeted green, paths lead to different sections. Directly ahead is the “Tailor.” To the left is the “Trends,” and to the right is “VIP Suite.” Each of these are open to enter, but some are more expensive than others. The VIP suite is the most expensive and off limits to most people.

Weekly Part 1&2 - Freewrite & Cont.

WC, excluding chapter title: 1526

I used a bunch of different prompts, in order.

1.Make a character allergic to something strange.
2.Have your character do something that is not normal for them
3.Describe something without mentioning its appearance
4.Have your character have a conversation with their conscience
5.Include three similes and a metaphor in what you have written so far
6.Have your character's beliefs questioned
7.Give your character an unexpected haircut
8.Begin a section from a different character's pov
I didn't get this one but it was fun and I saw it earlier,
9. Make a character speak gibberish

CHAPTER ONE

The building towered over Vixi. She felt so small and nervous compared to the building. Like it was winning and she was losing.
It was a stupid feeling, but a feeling nonetheless.
Just a few days ago, Vixi had applied for a job at this very store. Charise’s. Now, she was to report directly to Charise herself with six designs that she had drawn over the weekend. Vixi did not even know yet if she had gotten the job, and that was what worried her. She was not the kind of girl who took chances- she liked hard, smooth lines that did not tend to wobble all over the place in a strange string of chaos.
She also hated talking to people, which was what she was about to do.
She was fairly certain that this was going to be a gigantic mishap, and that she should just abandon it now. She did not, however- not when she was this close.
As much as she would have liked to back away, she found herself continuing to walk what she had been, for most of her life, endlessly anxious about.
Her first job.
Considering she had barely made it through her interview, she did not have high expectations for herself speaking with the actual owner of Charise’s, the world renowned fashion designer Charise Black. She had spent hours this morning preparing, trying to find something comfy yet fashionable at the same time. Hopefully a romper over a cute t-shirt would serve as ‘good,’ or else Vixi was afraid she may not get the job. Obviously, if one was to design fashion, one was also expected to be fashionable. In fact, that was one of Charise’s quotes. She herself had said that, and Vixi had adopted the saying.
To be here was like a dream come true.
So why did she feel so nervous?
The automatic doors opened ahead of her. Vixi was so caught up in her thoughts that she nearly walked into one of the display windows.
Focus, V. She thought to herself. You’ve got this.
At the same time, a thought of doubt crept into her head.
You don’t got this, it said. She really hated those kinds of thoughts, though they were mostly what drove her into not doing dumb things, so she wasn’t quite sure whether to appreciate it or want to hate it for all time. Mostly, the ‘hate it for all time’ option was what she opted for. Still, she let herself use it to her advantage.
As she walked into the store, she sneezed.
Oh, that’s great. She thought.
“Excuse me, miss, do you need a tissue?”
Vixi sighed. “Yes-” but she was cut off by another sneeze. “A-choo!” She took the tissue from the employee, grateful, and nodded. “Sorry. I’m allergic to… to…” Her allergy might be seen as rude, but she would have to live with it, she supposed. “To your hairspray, I think.” She frowned, placing her hand on the marble countertop.
“I apologize.” Said the employee, much to her surprise. “Would you like me to find another associate?”
“I’m actually here for a job?” Vixi asked.
“Ah, yes, the applications are through there.”
Vixi shook her head. Her word well was dry, but she forced herself to talk. “No, I, uh, I have this, uh… designs. I need to show Clarice. Charise. Sorry, sorry. I already… auditioned.”
“Applied?”
“Yeah.”
Vixi was near to the point of hyperventilating.
She inhaled. “Where can I see her?”
“There, miss.” Said the employee, pointing towards a section labeled “VIP suite.” He seemed sympathetic towards her utter failure to speak to other human beings. “Would you like me to lead you there?”
Vixi hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I’ll do it myself.” What was going on? This was not something she was prone to doing.
She was being confident, even for the smallest thing? It was mind blowing. She was doing things!
Vixi tried to focus only on her own hands as they grasped her Digit, taking her mind off of the venture she was about to undertake. The Digit was especially nice- sleek, smooth. It felt like a cold metal, and she guessed that its feel was why she had always liked it. It was also cold to the touch, just the way she liked her pillows. Cold enough that it could distract her from what was actually going on in the world.
Because she wasn’t sure if she could let herself actually pay attention to everything going on. If she did, she was afraid she would end up being even more paranoid than she already was.
Entering the VIP suite, she was told to wait. It was luxurious, really. Black couches sat on the checkered tiled floor, and each held green pillows on them. That was the thing about this place- green and black. Every wall alternated in green and black. It was Charise’s favorite color scheme.
Not Vixi’s, but she didn’t mind it, either.
Sitting, Vixi started to talk to herself. She barely realized what she was doing until she had begun doing it.
“All right.” She said quietly. “You’re fine. You’re totally okay, okay? You’re going to go in there and-” she made a sound that sounded something like a mix of an “Eep” and a “Sqqweeawe” and continued. “Talk to Charise, y’know, very casually. Charise. The owner. The fashionista. It’s all good.”
Vixi started crying.
“Ma’am?” Asked an associate. “Are you all right?”
“As right as a teacher, thanks.” She said, smiling and wiping her running mascara on her sleeve. “Sorry, that’s uh, a terrible metaphor. Do you have any more tissues, maybe?”
“Of course.”
The associate returned with the requested item, and Vixi forced herself to stop crying. It was all good.
She was definitely not falling down the rabbit hole of nervousness, or anything of the sort. She would be fine, of course she would.
She focused on the smooth Digit once again. It was strange how often this little thing brought her comfort. Like a blanket on a warm sunny day. That’s what this little thing was, at least to her. She wasn’t addicted, either, not like some people. That was a different rabbit hole entirely.
Those people were crazy like cat leashes.
There were few things Vixi despised more than cat leashes.
Like the fact that she could be addicted, too, if she wasn’t too careful.
Someone touched Vixi’s leg, and she opened her eyes.
“Oh. Hi,” she said, looking up at the person who had gently nudged her. He was dressed in some… questionable clothing.
“Uh, sir, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Is that like, the latest in fashion now?”
“Of course it is.”
“Ah, okay.” She said. Not like her world was crashing around her, no. Just neutrally. Because her world wasn’t. That would be overreacting. Her mom had told her many times not to overreact, only now she was.
What if Charise thought she wasn’t wearing good enough clothes? What if she hated them?
Vixi thought of the very sudden urge to cut her hair. Like she would even have time. That would go quite terribly, she was sure.
Except that, at this moment, Vixi was feeling very impulsive. She grabbed a pair of mock tailor’s scissors and examined them. They were sharp enough, right?
She experimented, snipping off a little curl.
Nope, she decided. Not happening. She said, putting back down the scissors. No way, no how was that going to go down.
The associate seemed to be questioning her mental stability. Same, she thought, as she let him lead her into the suite.
***
Charise Black sat behind her sleek, blackwood desk, donning a fedora, as usual, and a fashionable coat. The ring on her black fedora was green, the same shade of green as her lipstick, which had been a difficult find. Ever since the renowned Charise Black had purchased that lipstick from Chanel, they had chosen to deliver it to her for free since then. Mostly, she wore the green because of that. Why waste an opportunity? That was one of her quotes, one many liked to restate over and over.
Charise was not nearly as intimidating as people thought. Intimidating, yes. Just not as intimidating.
Charise received a Digit Note, one from her assistant, stating that he was bringing a girl in with designs who claimed to have had an application. He stated her name and appearance, and Charise acknowledged, giving them clearance to enter.
“Vixi! It’s just wonderful to finally meet you!” She said, standing immediately. She reached out her hand to shake, and the girl simply stumbled.
“Aklasha… asjakf aksk…” She mumbled.
Charise blinked.
“Excuse me, what did you say?”
“Sorry. Sorry I’m. I’m so freaking nervous.” Vixi squealed.
Charise understood. She had once been exactly like her. She laughed, her laughter a sweet lilt. “Darling, that’s perfectly all right. Won’t you take a seat?”
Vixi seemed surprised, but quickly took a seat. She fumbled for a bit before finally choosing a position. She gave her her Digit, and Charise smiled. “I think… you have a lot of potential.”

march 28 daily: Kitty looked around her. The main cabin was very active today, everybody chatting about the daily. She glanced at the daily, realizing it was all about memories. A smile spread across her face. “Time to get to work,” she said to herself, settling in a bean bag before pulling out her pen and notebook. “I can't believe this session is almost over.”

Memories. One of the only things that keep us apart after a long session of SWC. This session was full of chaotic, sleep-deprived, and procrastinating leaders, co-leaders, and campers. My favourite memories include cabin wars, the great point-adding battle between Eevee and Waterfall, and just the overall loving and welcoming community of SWC.

Cabin wars had always been stressful, but I feel like the first one in this session was the most stressful one I've experienced so far. Between our evil enemies, Fan-Fi and Contemp plus the annoyingly smart ninjas who always try to attack us, Mystery, most of the campers and leaders in Myth had to write their fingers off. Including me. I wrote around 2000 words for cabin wars! Despite that fact, I managed to get an early night's sleep, unlike most of Myth. Or the whole of SWC. Haha. Unfortunately, we lost 2 wars and Mystery ran ahead of us on the leaderboard. The second time cabin wars came round, it was pretty uneventful for me. I was offline most of the day but managed to get around 1000 words squeezed in. Overall, cabin wars were exciting but very stressful. Oh, and the songs! At the start of the first session, as I was getting ready to write, somewhere in the distance someone started singing. “We don't talk about cabin wars, no no, we don't talk about cabin wars…” It quickly escalated into an extremely loud song, with everyone bursting out the lyrics and singing at the top of their voices. The whole scenario made it a lot more fun writing.

Next, the great point-adding battle between Eevee and Waterfall! This incident was extremely funny, especially when Waterfall beat Eevee when adding by one second. I was one of many campers and co-leaders who were watching from afar, amusing themselves as Waterfall and Eevee tried to distract each other by leaving each other messages on scraps of paper that had sentences like, ‘DISTRACT EEVEE“ and screaming when the other beat one. As other campers came by, they would ask what was going on and we would just unsuccessfully try to keep our giggles in. After around 20 minutes, Eevee (or was it Waterfall?) finally decided to go to sleep. The main cabin was uneventful after that, but I’m glad I was there. It was a truly memorable 20 minutes.

Lastly, the community of SWC. I love how kind everyone is to new campers, answering questions and helping them with tasks. I met some truly wonderful leaders this session too. And don't even get me started on the gHosts! I have no idea how they can manage running a camp while dealing with IRL issues. Mad respect for all hosts, especially Birdi. My (co)leaders are amazing too. And not just mine, every cabin has wonderful (co)leaders. All the campers are chaotically cool too, and some will forever hold a special place in my heart. I also saw a lot of old faces this session and it was great to just bond together again.

I highly enjoyed this session of SWC and can't believe that this was my fourth session! I hope that I'll be able to participate in many more to come.

”come…" Kitty finished off, slamming her book shut and walking over to submit it. Memories were sweet. 613 words

Daily for March 28th :cool:

‘Put three of your favorite memories from this SWC session on a “stick” today by including them in a story! Write at least 600 words for 700 points.’

My photographic memory captured the entirety of the daily board for today's daily. The hunger for more points for my cabin was getting stronger and stronger in my mind (and stomach of course-) wish is probably how I ended up in the basement of Horror Avenues largest mansion, “The Mansion.” I sighed, clicking my pen which went bobbing up and down as I clicked it. My mind felt like Antarctica, all frozen and foggy and… WAIT. Did I have writer's block?! I groaned. This daily was like a gift from heaven for me- for my entire cabin! If five or more of us completed the daily, we could successfully tier one of our worst enemies- and also get rid of our stupid third-last ranking. I continued clicking my pen, which actually annoyed me more but also pressured my brain to think. Honestly, I didn’t have many memories at SWC. First off, it was my first time participating, and when I tell you I’m shy… I mean that I am a shy blob of NOTHINGNESS that can’t even OPEN HER MOUTH AND SAY “HELLO” TO HER CABIN MATES! I shrugged the thought off, even though I hated myself for that particular thing about me. Thankfully, even Horror Avenue my cabin mates were SUPER supportive and also really kind! They even voted as someone most likely to expand the avenue into a city and then rule it- and trust me, I definitely didn’t see THAT coming! One of my favorite memories from my first time participating in SWC still makes me smile. I never really had time to complete many daily’s since at home I’m always expected to get a 99%+ on everything I do at school, and all of my extracurricular activities can sometimes become frustrating messes. Although I never really participated, I felt really bad when my cabin became third last one day and I was determined to put myself out there and write my heart out- even if it was really hard and a big change for me. I knew that the only way my cabin could get somewhere on the leaderboard was if EVERYONE cooperated. My first daily that I completed was the pi day daily, and then the freestyle poem daily. I admit, I never was able to reach the camper expectations, but I tried my hardest to make up for all the lost time. When it was time for cabin wars, it felt like someone and turned on a “competitive” switch that was hiding somewhere in my body, and I was finally awake. I was like everblaze, my hands moving like a maglev and weaving through the columns and rows of word keys on my computer. I saw that all of my cabin mates were working so hard… and then I went crazy. Somehow I was chatting with everyone, writing so much more than I had thought I could write in just a day, and most of all… I was enjoying it! It wasn’t one of those times when my parents FORCED me to talk to one of their colleagues, or the times where I had to work in a group to complete a project and only did it so that I could get a good grade. Cabin wars was one of the times where I felt like I could be me. I didn’t care about how I sounded, what impression I set on other people, or what the others would think about me. I was just… me… and it felt AMAZING! After that, I started chatting with my cabin mates more often, popping into conversations, and even finding time to complete more daily’s! I laughed while looking at my already full page. I had already exceeded the word minimum, but who cared. I rested one elbow on the rusty table I was sitting at and brainstormed about my third and final memory. Just then, a hairy spider with his stupidly sneaky little brain slowly lowered his silk strong and came face to face with me. I let out a petrified shriek, but recovered quickly and flicked the disgusting creature away. “I’m not in the mood today, Gregory…” I murmured to the poor spider that was now clinging to his dear life on the floor, mostly like a sorry not sorry kind of apology. Aha! I got it! My third memory about SWC was making friends with all the little creatures in the spooky Mansion. (not actually true irl but for the sake of the story act like this note never existed-) I learned how to tell apart a spider, either A : differ them by their web pattern or B : It depend on how many hairs are sticking out from their forehead (if you don’t like counting then this method isn’t most ideal for you.) In total I’ve met 27 spiders exactly. They go by alphabetical order : (Anthose, Bob, Creepy Crawly, Creepy Crawly 2.0, Dwarf, Elephant Giant, Fred, Fregley, Gregory, George, Mr. Gulon or just Gulon, Harry Potter, Isak, John, Johnny, Pope, Uncle Pope, and a bunch of other ones that I can’t mention right now.) And so, welp, yeah! That’s my SWC story. What’s yours? (Tell me in chat though DO NOT DARE DO THE DAILY anditstotallynotyouIpromiseIjustwanthorrortowinforselfishreasonsthatsallhehehe…)

901 Words how-

By ~ Hope <333

3/28, 600 word exactly lol: Today's National Something On A Stick Day! Sure, you can put a lot of things on a stick: fruit, fire, spikes, you know—totally reasonable possibilities. How about memories? Put three of your favorite memories from this SWC session on a “stick” today by including them in a story! Write at least 600 words for 700 points. If you decide to share your memory skewer, you'll earn 200 additional points!

1. Cabin wars chaos (287 words! and for the record we didn’t actually do this lol)

I spied on the Fanfiction cabin, eyeing their list of recent cabin’s they warred through my binoculars.
My troops and I were blending into the bushes through camouflage, only a few feet away from the evil Fan-fi’s cabin. Their plan had been to attack every cabin once their shield was down, and it was working. In an attempt to find out when the cabin’s shield times ended, and to maybe wait until theirs was down to attack, the entire Poetry cabin had snuck through their lair, spying from a distance. I turned back around, handing my binoculars to the person in front of me, Robin.
“We need a plan,” I said in a hushed tone, looking around to see if anyone had any ideas.
Someone raised their hand before saying, “What about, once their shield is down, we war them with the thousand words per person war?”
“Good plan, but they were already warred with that one. Any other suggestions?”
Another person raised their hand eagerly, and I nodded, signaling that they were free to speak.
“What if we warred a different cabin — like an enemy, perhaps, instead of sworn rivals?”
“Good as well, but every cabin’s shield is up.”
As I surveyed the group around me, all of which were deep in thought and despondent, I realized that there was only one thing to do.
Blair beat me to it.
“What if we war them with the easy five hundred word one? It has a short limit and allows them not to write too much!”
I snapped my fingers and grinned. “Now that’s something we can do.”
I turned to face my troops, who were all loyal and determined. There was no way we could fail.

2. Talking with Luna, Soki, and Zai (159 words!)

“I watched Ragnarok.”
Luna and I barged into the room, flinging the door open and sitting down next to Luna and Zai, out of breath and deeply curious.
“Did you like it?”
“What’d you think about the ‘get help’ scene?”
“Who’s your favorite avenger?”
Zai opened his mouth to speak. “It was… okay.”
“What do you mean, ‘okay’?” We all asked at the same time.
Then we all started talking over each other; Luna was talking about what movie Zai should watch next, and Soki was joining in on the conversation, adding suggestions, I asked about his opinions, and Zai was responding to it all.
“Which avenger do you think is the hottest?”
We all eyed him, randomly shouting out names of who we thought was the best as we all waited.
“Uh, Thor, Captain America, Ikaris, Ant-man—”
“ANT-MAN?!”
We all stood there stunned, before we eventually regained our senses and started talking about his bad taste in men.

bAsED oN a TrUE sTorY

3. Adding wars hehe (154 words!)

(Co)leaders stared at me from across the room, determined and gripping their clipboards so hard that their knuckles were a ghostly shade of white.
I eyed Eevee as I held my clipboard in one hand, my pen in the other.
It was Adding Wars time.
Suddenly, a camper walked in, yawning and placing a sheet of paper onto a desk.
We all sprang forward and dashed towards the paper at lightning speed.
I was the first to reach it.
My pen in hand, I switched both my pen and clipboard to hold in one hand while I grabbed for the camper’s daily.
“Five hundred points for—”
The leaders accidentally trampled over the camper, mumbling apologies as they flew past, all while I hurriedly grabbed the paper and scribbled down the information onto my clipboard.
I gave a sly smile and winked at Eevee, who was rolling her eyes.
“I’ll get you next time!”

Welcome to my 3 memories of SWC! Here is a short intro on all of them. Hope you enjoy it!

All of these memories are real, and here’s a short sneak peak on them.

I was a backup camper originally, and my first memory is being accepted into Adventure, or SWC.
We had our first cabin wars… SO FUN!!
I had an extra great time during it.
Basically me finding out that no one was ‘hostile’. I just loved the friendliness, the humor, and how no one is mean or rude.

There we go! My three greatest memories of SWC!!!!!

Thank you for taking the time to read this!
Author - Zodiac.



FIRST MEMORY (still on the first.. *pout*) –

Hmmm… My 1st favorite memory of SWC was probably……. Oh yeah! When @opheliio (one of our leaders in adventure), told me that I was accepted into Adventure, cause I was a backup camper at the time. I was super duper quadruple happy and excited when I saw the message in my mail, cause I knew there was a really high chance I would never have been accepted into Adventure and SWC. The first daily that I did was the one where you and someone else come up with a prompt for a story - any story - , and you both make a story out of the prompt and then share it with each other and also compare how similar they were. It was super great to be in SWC, and I do not regret joining it. I originally thought that I would not like SWC, and at first refused to join. I’m super glad I joined SWC, no regrets.

SECOND MEMORY (going good.. be done soon) –

Um, I suppose my 2nd favorite memory is probably definitely when we had our first cabin wars. At first I was kinda a little very upset, because I joined too late and our first couple wars were over. I didn’t get to do any wars for the rest of the day. I was quite surprised the next morning how many wars there were. I had a lot of fun. I honestly had a lot of fun writing and writing and writing and writing and writing and writing and writing until I had to eat and get ready. Luckily it was a weekend, and I wasn’t the latest person to school in the whole wide world. I was quite tired after all of that. Though I justify myself in thoroughly and very much enjoying it. Times one hundred thousand million gazillion trillion million at this point I’m just trying to get words.

THIRD MEMORY (finally it’s the last!) –

Let’s think……. Um… Hmmm.. Um, well, I suppose it’s probably the humor and friendliness of SWC. Like considering how they wrote this daily in the description!
‘Sure, you can put a lot of things on a stick: fruit, fire, spikes, you know—totally reasonable possibilities.’
It just made me laugh out loud. I love how friendly everyone is, and I don’t think anyone is really mean or rude. Also, I like how even if your enemies have a cabin, a representative will probably still help you, unless it’s Cabin Wars. (I got this to write by a person from contemp who helped me with some questions I had about the weekly) I like how everyone is helping everyone and not being mean or rude. I just like all of SWC as a whole, but here I’m pointing out the best parts of it. Therefore are my 3 memory’s of SWC, presented to you by your humble writer, Zodiac (@zodiacdog)!! *bowing, and people clapping*

Stormi squinted at her kitchen counter. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said to herself, over and over again. Maia walked in. “What’s wrong?”

“They were just here,” Stormi insisted. “Our enemies, they must have stolen them… our cookies must have been taken!”

“Oh, sorry Stormi. I ate the last one.” Maia looked apologetic.

“No,” Stormi said, an ominous look in her eye as she stared into the distance. “It was our enemies. They have stolen our cookies.”

***

“Cabin meeting!” Stormi rang her cowbell as she walked into the museum lobby. “I’m talking all of you- we have an urgent message to talk about!”

Dozens of campers poured into the lobby.

Star rubbed her eyes. “What’s up?” She was tired as she had just woken up from a nap.

“This is very important and I need all of you to listen,” Stormi said. “Real-fi has stolen our cookies.”

“Stormi, I told you, it wasn’t them-”

“THEY STOLE OUR COOKIES?” Ollie yelled. “THIS IS A CRIME PUNISHABLE BY WAR!”

“Yes, I know.” Stormi said seriously. She looked at her cabin. “I know it’s a scary time, guys, but we won’t let them get away with it. So I need all of you to go reclaim our cookies. Every cookie you find, please bring it to me. We won’t stop until I found the ones that they have stolen.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Telianar said, then scurried off.

“Yeah, don’t worry Stormi, we’ve got you.” Star ran off after her.

“But guys, I ate the cookies.” Maia said, but it was too late. The cabin had already gone to reclaim their precious cookies.

***

Amy was not happy to see non-fi in her cabin.

“Why are theyyyyy here?” She whined. “Bring me my pot.”

“We have come to reclaim what is rightfully ours,” Coco said bravely.

“And that is,” Amy sounded bored as she struck a match.

“The cookies.”


“I don’t have any cookies here… well, not yet anyway, but if you can get Opheliio in here….”

Coco looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just needed…. Help, is all. Anyway. What we were saying about cookies.”


“Oh, yeah. Ours were stolen.”

“WHAT? Who would commit such a heinous crime?”

“I KNOW! And Stormi was all like, cabin meeting, and everyone gathered, and she broke the news and it was just… you get it. But anyway. So you don’t have any cookies?”

“Uh, no. But while you’re hear, I was wondering if you could fit into this cooking pot. You look about the same size as the… chicken that I’m about to cook.”

“Sure! I’d love to try it out!” Coco climbed into Amy’s cooking pot.

And she was never heard from again.

***

“I’VE FOUND IT!” Stormi had never felt so smart. She was sitting at her desk in the museum office with Jia, Ollie, and Maia.

“What is it that you’ve discovered?” Jia asked.

“Okay. So you know how when you’re on the internet and it’ll be like ‘do you accept these cookies’ and no one really knows what it means but they click yes anyways?”

“Oh. Yeah. I do that all the time.”

“Okay. So we do that and we’ll have every cabins search history. I’m talking Birdi’s, Luna’s, Daisy’s…. EVERYONE’S!”

“Stormi!” Star rushed into the office. “You are a genius!”

“I know!”
“If you guys just listened, I could explain who stole the cookies-” Maia said.

“WE WILL FIND THE STOLEN COOKIES IN THEIR WEB BROWSERS!” Stormi yelled.

“It sounds like an invasion of privacy,” Ollie speculated. “I’m in!”

“What’s going on?” Nico asked.

“Stormi’s stealing everyone else’s private information! She’s gonna be the next Zuckerburg!” Star said proudly.

“Stormi! I’m so proud of you!”

“I KNOW! Oh, also, what were you guys thinking about gaslighting everyone and also starting a Dora cult at the same time?”

Shadow walked in. “Dora? Cult? I’m in!”

“Woah! You’re just full of awesome ideas!” Nico said. “When do we start?”

“Now. There’s no time to waste, camp is almost over!” Stormi smiled. She sure was having a great time at SWC.

March 28, 2022

Word count: 652

As you walk around in the burning remains of what was once a beautiful camp, you come across a patch of grass that is still lush and green. You walk closer, curious as to why there was still grass living. Getting a match out, you plop yourself down next to the grass and find an X marked there. You set the match down next to you and start poking at the X. After a while, you find a little dusty box. Blowing at the top, words appear on the top. ‘Memories of SWC,’ the first line read, ‘March 2022’. You stare at it, wondering whether to open it or not. Eventually, you decide to open it up and you get sucked into a world of distorted memories.

Eevee races over to the cabin of Contemporary. It was cabin wars and she was late! Dodging a nearby camper, she fumbles and trips forward, her legs tied.
“Aah, sorry!” she apologized, while getting up, before she even saw who she had hit, “Oh, sorry Waterfall, I have to go!” Eevee waves, her bag flying in the wind behind her as she runs to the Contemporary Cabin.
Waterfall shakes her head. “I was going to invite her to an adding war,” she says, crossing her arms, “Oh well, Donut Dora can wait a little longer.” Waterfall smiles slyly, knowing the gift that Eevee would find upon her cabin when she arrived.
“WATERFALL, YOU BETTER COME HERE RIGHT NOW!” A cry comes from Contemp, not too long later.
Waterfall giggles and makes her way over. “Hey there, my friend! You like our gift?”
“Of course!” Eevee says with a smile, looking too happy, “You deserve so many more gifts, oh my gosh. I must make up for this generous gift by giving you 3!”
“No, no! You deserve more gifts! We don’t deserve more,” Waterfall says modestly.
Eevee shakes her head, “You’re being so nice, Waterfall, but really. You guys could use the hardest cabin wars for all that you’ve done for us!”
“I insist!” Waterfall urges, “It’s the least I could do!”
The image blurs as it distorts into another view

It seemed a bit later that day. Yelling from across the camp could be heard. The final cabin wars were being sent out and the Lukaties were smiling at their victory. The air was calm… mostly.
Inside Camp Contemp, Eevee and CD were panicking, trying to get anyone who was still on to complete the final war. 4 cabins had tried to attack them and of course, the worst one was valid. Of what few campers there were, they all tried to write. Eevee had just finished up the war from Waterfall, exhausted from writing 1000 words, exactly. Most of it was ranting about her series she was working on and the other was a goodbye note to a friend. Eevee sighed in relief, as Arwen came up and added their 1000 or so words. There was only a little bit left of the war, but she had to leave. So soon… A cry comes out and you are taken to a darker view.

“EEVEE!” Waterfall shouts, clicking her mouse as fast as she can, “YOU BETTER NOT BEAT ME THIS TIME!”
“OH, DEAR WATERFALL, WE KNOW THAT WON’T HAPPEN!” Eevee yells in return.
A group of entertained campers sit around watching the war between the two adders. It was amusing to say the least. As they ate their popcorn, they watched as the two screamed and scrambled around each other.
Waterfall cries out, hoping to distract Eevee. “HOLA! SOY! D- D- D-” Waterfall implies, trying to agitate Eevee.
“DONUT, DONUT!” Eevee answers, “AND ADDING!!!”
There are screams and shouts as the scene fades.

You land back where you were. This box could be handy. You pack it away into your knapsack and burn the rest of the grass. You will come back soon…

Meeting new people:
One of my favourite parts of this Scratch Writing Camp session was the opportunity to meet and converse with people that I wasn’t really familiar with or had no clue that they existed. When I first came across Scratch Writing Camp (SWC) in November, camp had already started and all sign-ups had already been full. Then in January I saw that new sign-ups were getting posted soon, and kept my eye out for it. As I was waiting, I decided to explore the SWC community, and what it was like to be a part of it. What I saw amazed me: there were jokes, studios for parodies, leader and co-leader applications that looked amazing as they were all so creative and well-thought out, and so much more that I can’t fit into this paragraph due to space. I would often log into Scratch not to code, not to write - just to check the SWC Main Cabin to check if anything new was happening.

Cabin Wars:
Cabin wars are one of my most favourite parts of SWC because it really gets going on the weekly, and helps me with school work as well; this isn’t the only reason I like cabin wars though. I honestly just loved being confused about which wars were valid, which weren’t and so much more, because we found ourselves in a very confused position when we were offered some wars before our shield was down, after it was down, and the same war. Personally when looking through cabins, I love how everyone is so onboard and positive about everything, it’s like we’re a big family that helps each other when one isn’t available (offline doing something else). I also loved seeing cabins keeping track of when other cabins’ shields were going down, and to see the mini plots that were discussing which cabin should be attacked next.

Writing workshops + Dailies + Weeklies
Not only did I find SWC enjoyable, I really felt like I was able to take away something from it. The daily and weekly committee did an amazing job coming up with such creative and fun ideas to make us campers interested in taking part. A lot of them sparked ingenuitive thinking, and required some sort of thought process to go into them, which I found helped my writing skills as I completed work and extra curriculars. The workshops helped me to view a new perspective on concepts that I was already comfortable with – they always taught me to learn something new, and were well thought out, as they were engaging and fun at the same time. I know that a lot of work must have gone into the session and I appreciate everybody who helped out to make this session possible, and the next experience ever.

Overall experience:
Overall, this was such a great experience, and one of my best ones on Scratch. I found myself getting into genres that I normally don’t get into, which was great! I met friends, and people I knew, but also made new friends, and got to know people better. If you’re reading this and wondering if you should join SWC, I would recommend you to do so, because you will be able to gain 3 things in one: make new friends, improve your writing, and have a great time! I would also like to take this opportunity to thank my leaders and co-leaders. This session was absolutely amazing, and they were always able to answer any questions that we campers “threw” at them; and even if they didn’t know the answer, they always made sure to ask and get back to us to make our experience in SWC great. Honestly, I just want to thank all of you, for making this the best session possible, and I hope to join SWC next session as well (and maybe even be a leader )

647 words

Daily:

My character lives in a humongous city called Velvet. It's a busy city as normal. There is chatter all around. You can hear it. As normal cities, this city has ups and downs. Their crime rate is way up. Off of the charts. The police officers try to do everything they can to stop these crimes from happening as much. On the east side is where most crimes are happening but, the north, south, and west sides of Velvet are sort of safe. Sort of. In this character's neighborhood. It's a quiet neighborhood, just like the character's personality. She likes to read, and never raises her hand. Her neighborhood is full with kids playing outside. They go outside any time they choose, or whenever they can. The neighborhood flourishes with many green plants such as trees, bushes, and fern. It's also full with mud. This gives kids in the neighborhood to start making mud pies. Yummy, am I right? Kids in her neighborhood are nice, and typically fight. They also often go fishing in the nearby pond. It seems like an old timey place, but it has many modern houses. The houses are mostly white, and have nice bushes surrounding their houses. This neighborhood has a small supermarket on the edge, a school on the corner, and a furniture shop by the end of the last house. This place has electricity, so they use modern day appliances. This city is very polluted, since the cars take up lots of pollution. Luckily this neighborhood is made for ONLY people who drive electric, or hybrid cars. Though it is expensive to live there, I have heard it's a very nice neighborhood. Many people in that neighborhood are at least somewhat rich, and make at least a wage of about 2 million a year. This character's family is rich, but they aren't as happy as they are rich. This city has tall skyscrapers that you can see from houses. There is lots of entertainment and lots of museums you can check out. Lots of activities are kid friendly, and the dining areas are great. The seafood there is probably one of the greatest in America! There is lobster that tastes super fresh, and crab that practically melts in your mouth. I would love to move there, and I hope you consider it! Make sure to check out our website to check out some houses in Velvet, New Bracelet!

405 words <333

Daily for 28/3:

So Lui, Sprout, Ren, Opal, Mocha, and Bee all live in a house when they're not causing chaos in my stories. Cherri, Noah, and Ari live in a house too, but not the same one as the other six. Lui is the one who built their house, and they did a fantastic job. The house was completed when they were sixteen, and they got help from their dad, a couple of his colleagues, and one or two friends of Lui's. The house is located in a remote area in Canada, with one half of it surrounded by the woods, and the other half an open field. There is a dirt trail heading from the driveway that leads to the city. The inside of the house is really big and really shows Lui's inner cottagecore lifestyle wishes. There are plants hanging in every room, and almost all the walls are painted a shade of green. The kitchen is sage green in an effort to keep a fair amount of light in there. In addition to the cottagecore, fairy lights are also hung in the bedrooms, and fake plants are there too, because Mocha and Bee are allergic to certain plants and Opal has asthma. The rooms are extremely comfortable, since they have a budget set aside and due to Bee's amazing engineering skills, they don't have to pay a monthly bill (besides taxes, but we don't talk about those). There are four full bathrooms in the house, with Opal and Bee sharing one, and Sprout and Ren sharing one too. Everyone else has their own bathroom that's theirs and that they don't have to share with anyone else. The kitchen and living room are quite spacious and they have plenty of light in the day. The backyard is basically a forest, and their squad of six tend to go hiking there every weekend. Bee has a garage that they installed on the side of the house, and that's where they keep their only plane, the van, and the car to take to work every day. They also created devices for the six of them as well as Ari and Noah (because Cherri has the worst case of middle child syndrome so she had to buy her own phone- just kidding she gave hers to Noah). So that's the whimsical and cottagecore house they live in and will love to the day they die.

ʚ Dreamland ɞ
409 words
go back to my main post

Dreamland is a place of magic where you can live out what you want to, do what you what you've always wanted to do, and create. Endless creating with no boundaries for you. If you are one of Izzy's characters, of course. You can live through fake scenarios you want to be in, experience having jobs you want to have, and experience meeting people you'd love to meet. There are thousands of things you can do here, if only you think of doing it. Izzy's characters go here when she isn't working on her stories. Its a nice and relaxing place for those with chaotic stories, and empowering to those side characters who crave attention. You can't remember any memories from Dreamland while in your story, while Izzy's working on it, because that would mess up the plot. Although when you return to Dreamland, your access to your memories is unblocked. Characters can meet other characters if they want to, or never come into contact with the others, fearing who they may be. Izzy seems to like her characters to have similar names, so watch out for any doppelgängers you might run into while you're here at Dreamland. Characters can't hurt other characters visiting Dreamland too, only in their fake scenarios where the other character doesn't feel it or remember.

Some favorites that characters popularly like to do here are calming down, expressing their true selves, and enjoying their freedom to create what they like here. Characters find it extremely easier to calm down here and to meditate. Some antagonists enjoy expressing themselves as the good people they are by helping people and practicing meditation. They like to make use of the freedom they get here and take a break from the life of being forced down a dark, evil, villainous path. They do what's right and try to better themselves. Characters also like to take advantage of the powers they have here. They can create things with their imagination, do whatever they put their minds to, and are completely free. All kinds of creative things are made here, like sculptures, new inventions, pieces of literature, art, memories. Dreamland is a place of dreams, creation, and peace. Characters prosper here, but none prefer it to their main home. Nothing beats the thrill of the plot line, the exciting twists, the constant amusement and adventure .. Nowhere is a replication of their story homes, not even Dreamland could come close.

daily march 29th <333

technically 406 words, 431 words total!

I'm doing chloe from the story I wrote with vi for the first part of the weekly!

I think that chloe would have a big loft with plenty of space! It would be two floors, with the first floor having a bunch of beanbags and a small space for the things that you need to live. She would be an only child. The second part of the loft would have a ladder that you climb up to get to it! It would have a window, her bed, and a TV which she can play video games on! And of course she has her computer so that she can access scratch writing camp! She just has to think of something she needs to get it, but she prefers working for things.



Some of her hobbies in her other life are making homemade milkshakes and smoothies, and baking! Yup, a cooking person. Plus, Gaming, Scratch, Writing and reading! She loves to journal, and she also has her own mini library that can be accessed through a secret door. She can also have more fun when she likes, and likes to travel sometimes on vacations! I think she would also enjoy boba tea. :> In addition, she would have everything she likes, and live a calm, relaxing life as a reward for all of the hard work she does during my story. (Yeah, I guess I'm nice to my characters. I kind of feel inclined to be nice to them because they all have a little part of me in them, and I kind of see myself in them. I know what they want, need, and deserve, and I naturally just want to give it to them!) Plus, she has another secret room that has all of her favorite treasures in it. And this is on a completely different note, but I think she is good at singing, although she will (i think) never sing in my story. She also enjoys wildlife, and photography of wildlife. She loves swimming outside, or just relaxing outside with a drink. And her sport would be tennis and a little bit of swimming, but not competitively. I think she would be decent at chess, too. Those are a lot of hobbies, but she has basically infinite free time in this little world I've created for her. It's all for her and she gets to have pleasure for all of the hard things she gets put through in my story. :) So it is very fun, pleasant, and calm for her.

wow 324 words that was fast-

Hello this is a big run on sentance filled rant for word wars! Are these not always super fun? I mean, they kind of are to write, I don't know about to read, but seriously nobody reads these anyways who would want to listen to my rant? Nobody, right? Plus the likelihood of them actually finding this in a sea of like a million scratch writing camp writing points is extremely low. But then again, they are going to find some ones, if they are looking for anyone's! Maybe not the specific person unless they give a link though. This topic is extremely boring but who cares. And here, you can tell by the topic change with that sentance that I have gotten bored of writing run on sentances and stream of conciousness and ranting about that specific topic and have run out of things to say about it in my typical way, so we are going to have to move on. How is that for a run on sentence, huh? Anyways now I don't know what to write about so I have to put in this filler because once again I was not able to write for long enough on that topic! This is getting, well, very extremely repetitive. But as you can see, if you actually for some reason read this, it is very boring nobody would actually /want/ to read this if they knew it's contents. There, do not even argue, because this is just so boring. Honestly nobody has to actually, really, genuinely want to read this! And once again, repetitive! Ugh can the three minutes just be over so I can be done with the word war and can just count the words and stop boring myself by just writing such boring and non purposeful stuff? Almost there. I just have to keep writing filler stuff for now. And here we go I am going to stop writing… now.

Daily 2/29/22 - 463 words

(Time to make my younger self's dream mansion xD)

When they're not busy fighting for the greater good, trying not to die, breaking into prisons, and all that fun stuff, my character live in an enormous mansion of referred to by them as “The Childhood”. This is meant to be somewhat ironic, as the interior is more or less the embodiment of childhood, and the mansion is their escape from the harsh realities of the world, and therefore more or less a trip back to childhood. While it may look fairly ordinary on the outside, or as ordinary as an enormous mansion in the middle of nowhere can look. Despite its outside appearance, its interior is anything but ordinary. As previously mentioned, it truly is the embodiment of childhood. The rooms are jumbled, and placed without any particular organization, the walls are painted in every bright hue imaginable, the doors are of every existent material, shape, and size, and the rooms themselves are often odd shapes, sometimes almost bubble like, other times sleek, modern, rectangular boxes. The mansion literally is every child's dream home, featuring an arcade with numerous gaming consoles as well as large arcade games, pinball and ski ball machines, laser tag, virtual reality systems, and escape rooms. Oh, and of course, how could we forget the bean bags, the most essential part of it all. Next up is the extensive waterpark, featuring dozens of waterslides, three connecting lazy rivers, one circling the entire floor, one circling the food area, and one weaving around the middle of the waterpark to provide transportation. The waterpark also includes a play tower, complete with state of the art water guns and an epic rope course, several obstacle courses, ranging in length and difficulty, bumper boats, and a several wave pools with varying wave intensity, including complementary tubes and life jackets. There are also several hot tubes, indoors and out, bumper boats, a several diving boards, good old fashioned pools, a splash pad for younger children, swings, and a lap pool for people who wish to exercise. Moving on the the kitchens, despite not being the most interesting or unique rooms, the three kitchens located throughout the mansion, not counting smaller restaurants and snack booths, feature campfire for marshmallow roasting, large stockpiles of every food known to mankind, especially ice cream, which can be found in every existent flavor in the freezers. Another of the Childhood's particularly fun aspects is the slide system. Every child has wanted a system of slides that allow them to move from floor to floor as well as different areas of a floor, and this mansion makes that dream a reality. Complete with a complementary system of elevators, the system of slides twists and turns through the walls, sometimes travelling within rooms and featuring windows, is a truly unforgettable experience.

(To be continued)

swc daily - march 29
words: 462

“Welcome to the rest station,” a cheerful voice greeted Yersa. “If you are here, it means that your storyline is taking a break, so you get to rest for a while. You will forget your time here, but you will remember it when you return. This is the first time you are visiting the station, so please state your world’s name, your name, and if you have any injuries that you would like treated for the time being.”
Yersa blinked and realized that she was in a room that was filled with doors- thousands of them, in fact, with all sorts of different names on them. Behind her was an open one labeled “Unnamed World”, and directly in front of her was another open one labeled “Rest Station”, out of which a being seemingly made of words was peeking out and offering a hand to Yersa.
“Well, the door says Unnamed World… I’m Yersa Rieula, I guess. And I'm not really injured… Last I remember, we all healed up. I should be fine,” Yersa told them as she took their hand.
“Alright, Yersa Rieula from Unnamed World,” they said. They pulled Yersa in through the door and it slammed shut behind them.
Yersa stared at a blank white void that was completely empty except for Althaea, Arla, and Ruthane. They were discussing something, and then a table suddenly fell from the sky. Then, so did four chairs and a few cushions- plus a large book that was triple the size of the table.
“Wow,” Arla exclaimed. “It worked! You were right, Althaea.” She and Althaea started arguing over who should get the credit for the idea, and Yersa groaned, drawing Ruthane’s attention.
“Oh, you’re finally here, Yersa,” Ruthane greeted her.
“Finally?” Yersa asked, focusing on that word. “Have you been here for long?”
“Just a minute or so,” Ruthane answered. “Not too long.”
“So, how does this work?” Yersa asked. “You guys just made a table and chairs fall out of the sky. Also, what’s up with the book?” she asked as she pointed at the large book, which Arla and Althaea were staring at intently.
“Well, apparently they can alter the world just by imagining things,” Ruthane said, scratching their head. “I’m not too certain about it myself, but they seem to have gotten the hang of it. Apparently it requires a lot of mental power…”
“Mental power?” Yersa scoffed. “Of course, the one thing I’ve never had an abundance of is suddenly the thing I need. If I could use my mental power appropriately, I would conjure up a nice, large, soft carpet right there and lie down on it.”
Then, suddenly, a large, fluffy carpet appeared right next to Yersa, who sighed.
“Of course it works now… ” she muttered.

Part 1:

Character 1: 6 of spades. Age 10-20, extravert.
Eldush. Whether he’s actually still alive or not is debatable, but regardless people see him and they talk to him. He grew up on a large estate whose property line ended at the foot of the Yaman range. He was mostly in charge of the livestock, but would often trounce off to fool around within the nearby woodland. After his father died for reasons known only to him, Eldush’s mother decided to send him to work in a more suburban area. Conveniently, he retreated into the woods and his mother became temporarily homeless before turning to life as a member of the Etriol church. Leaving his previous life behind, he made his mission to one day scale the mountains he’d gazed upon in awe as a child. He might’ve died in any number of ways – hypothermia, poison, dysentery – but his spirit and perhaps body still linger on. Remains of his camps – a green, tattered tent, a charred fireplace, burnt logs, and the hides of rabbits – can be found all throughout the woods, and are used as rest places for lumberjacks and lost travelers. These emblems alone, however, were not enough to propel him to fame and notoriety amongst all those traveling through the area. His mother, a storyteller who dictated pieces for the Etriol Church, frequently lamented about her son in public and private. She spoke of a runaway boy, searching for the remains of the Amyotari but in the process turned away from society. Editors dramatized her words, and altered Eldush’s story. Now, he’s known as a boy who died in an avalanche a few days after running off the estate, his ghost searching for a purpose within the woods, warning others of his sins. As for his appearance, he’s still remembered as having wide, emerald eyes and what could only be described as a thin and pallid stature. He was always rather short and often mistaken for a child, even as he grew older and undertook more physical work. Towards the end of his time at the estate he became extremely malnutritioned due to forced rationing and was thus known to be weak and inept physically as well.

Character 2: 3 of clubs. Age 1-10, introvert.
Does he actually fall into the age range of 1-10? I’m not sure, and neither is he. In the summers Kirze, his family, and their foxes live down in the forest. Born into a nomadic family, he spends his autumns collecting berries and scaling mountains, holing up in their sides of the winter and praying that snow doesn’t fill up their den. He’s albinic and already undergoing moderate amounts of hair loss, which definitely isn’t his proudest point. He takes a lot of enjoyment in collecting pine cones, often scaling trees in order to try and find some. Usually, it’s fruitless, and he just ends up with countless needles poking through his coat. Kirze’s two foxes, Ej and Ew, are often seen weaving along his sides, joining him in hunting…or just chasing after other birds. He’d helped raise them, and he considers them somewhat his brothers, even though he has a real one. Six of them, in fact. Him being the fifth. His parents generally take a hands-off approach to his life – he’s expected to hunt and forage, and not come back completely crippled, but his family shelters together, and generally shares what is needed. Kirze is viewed by his family as a good luck charm, and for almost all his life he’s lived in peace. He knows very little more than scuffles with other families, and has never participated in a war, something all of his elder brothers have partaken in. They mock him for it, calling him a pacifist and isolationist who’s too cowardly to fight. As such, he’s often reckless and cocky, almost wishing for a conflict so he could prove himself to others. For this reason, he’s often kept away from engagements with other nomadic tribes and families, just mentioned offhandedly like a trinket or collectible.

Setting: lime and black. A forest. Eventually cut down for fuel, it used to line the entirety of the Yaman range. However, by the time Eldush was born, barring the eastern stretch most of it was gone. The high-growing pines allow for some light to penetrate through, and there’s very little foliage aside from pine needles. But it smells. It’s rather easy to navigate, but everything looks the same. Besides where people had cut trees down, there are no clearings or easy places to set up refuge, or live permanently. Nomads traverse this region, and it’s also the home of bears, foxes, and whatever screeches at 90 decibels in the dead of night. Smoke can often be seen rising high above the trees. It’s considered quite taboo to enter, so very few do. Sometimes children are sent in for a few hours in order to scare them into line as punishment, and get them to avoid entering by their own volition.

Free-write
“I’ve always watched from afar. So many people travel through the woods, weaving their way through the thin and thick. Almost nobody comes twice, and those that do I remember. Emerge from behind a boulder. Or jump out of a tree. Or fall out of a tree. Same difference. Introduce myself. Speak to them. Many of them come from the mountains, and consider the forest their seasonal getaway. They live in units of family, of friends, and oftentimes if I bring some meat or furs they’ll let me stay with them. They show me how to prop up tents, I show them how to dunk them with dyes.

And then there is the one family. Standing at their side is a family of foxes. They have white hair and don furs I’ve never seen before – also pure white like the snow. I see them roaming around, but whenever I turn and chase after to greet them they disappear. I even stormed their camp, just to see what would happen. It was deserted. It didn’t even look well-maintained, completely different from when I had observed it from afar a minute before. So instead, I chased after their foxes. Maybe that way they’ll speak to me, let me know who they are. One of them – he’s undergoing male pattern baldness, has two foxes, when the rest have one. And his look much smaller, much younger. They notice me, slinking my way through the trees behind them, and they whimper and buck as they try to run away from me. I’ve been doing it for weeks, but today is the first time the boy has noticed anything awry. After angrily cursing at them, I smirk and accidentally tumble off a branch. I manage to regain myself against the trunk, but now three sets of eyes are on me, and I painfully slide my way down.

I extend my left arm and smile as I walk up to him. He mocks my tree-climbing skills for a while and laughs. I try to interject, learn his name, or at least have him learn mine. He doesn’t let me. He’s turning. Leaving. I tackle one of his pups, and it bites me on my glove. His boot meets my face unceremoniously as I try to stand back up with a squirming fox against my chest. Despite the screaming of him, the fox, and my muscles, I turn around, holding on for dear life, and run off. At first it’s scattered, but my legs, by instinct, carry me back to my own camp. I plop down on a log, and place the fox in my lap, still holding it firm so it can’t wriggle away. Eventually he catches up. By then, most of his energy is gone, too, and he can't bring himself to immediately knock me out. Knowing I seem like a madman, I offer him a seat.”

6 Activities for Part 3:
Kill off a character
Include a very spoiled pet
One of your character’s beliefs is challenged
Have a character go on a rant about the good old days
Include a scene where a character starts talking to themselves
Describe something without mentioning its appearance

“‘Eldush, you really know how to make broth!’ I smile sheepishly and turn away from the fire and Pron slaps my back heartily, sending me stumbling forward. He laughs. I can see the outline of Kirze’s mother, nodding in assent. Kirze himself is bundled up, crouching on a stump and staring at his spoon, analyzing it. He looks up at me as his parents comment, bringing the soup up to his mouth and slurping quietly. He looks extremely displeased. Besides him, Ej is curling up to sleep, but Ew, the kit I ‘almost killed’, is happily drinking straight out of Kirze’s bowl. Both of them have become a bit pudgy as of late. I wonder if it has anything to do with my cooking, or the fact that they’re no longer eating only avians. He says nothing to me all night. He just gazes absent-mindedly at things, and at people. His spoon,his bowl, his pets, his parents. Once both of them are asleep, he slides off the stump and beckons me to follow before shooting off into the darkness.

I feverishly sprint after him, trying to catch up. “Well,” I exclaim breathlessly, “What’s the rush?” He looks over, his eyes hostile.

“You said you wanted to show me the towns. The sun will rise sooner than later, and it must be a long way if I’ve never seen it before. I’ve been to the coasts, you know.” I nod, then stare in confusion as he continues streaking off as if he knew the way.

I try protesting, but he’s out of earshot, and soon it becomes a test of my speed and endurance against him. Luckily, Ew keeps just a few paces ahead of me, leading me after them. He knows I have treats in my pocket. I stare not in the thicket ahead but instead down at my feet towards the pup, and eventually I gain my balance and maintain a good pa—

I slam into Kirze, sending him reeling forward. The pine needles crunch beneath his feet and he wheels around to glare at me.

“Why’d you stop?” He glances towards me, then back at what was in front of him. What made him stop were a series of tents. Green, abandoned, tattered. “I told you before, those are m–” He feverishly clasps his hand over my mouth and signals at me to listen. Snoring.

There were people in those tents. In front of them, where there were once trees, are stumps. But they’re cut completely flat, completely cleanly. On them rests something that could’ve been the origin for the hacking that’d been gnawing in my ear for the past few days. Something that bit into trees, cutting off their lifelines. Something that wasn’t the one I kept hidden away, buried in Kirze’s den.

Both of us know who sleeps in those tents, and what they’re here to do. We turn tail and run. Well, it was more of him. I was just playing the catch-up game again. This time, neither of us knew where we were going. We were just stumbling like mad through the darkness, acting as though we’d never been lost in the woods before. But there was no time to slow down. Fear ate away at Kirze, inserting itself into his mind and following him wherever he went. I’d been trying to get him to understand the kindness behind other nomads and other agrarian people, but he wasn’t having it. And now, after months of coaxing and convincing him to come with me to visit a pub it had all been more naught. He was running, trying to find his way back to his camp. But we had just moved camp a few days ago, and he was going completely the wrong way.

Clearly, I’d eaten too much broth, because I still could barely keep up. Yelling at him wasn’t an option either, because I didn’t want to wake whatever was lurking within the roots of the trees. But to my surprise, when we stumbled into where our camp was just a week before, it wasn’t empty. There was another tent. It belonged to a family I wasn’t well acquainted with yet, but I decided now was the time to do so. Or at least, in the morning. Kirze obviously disagreed, but I’m pretty sure he just didn’t know this wasn’t our camp, and didn’t think to check in his panic. He strolled into the tent quietly, so as not to wake ‘his parents’. His footsteps were quiet, but his profanity was not as he realized someone was sleeping in ‘his bed.’ I scampered up a tree, Ej and Ew not far behind. The latter sat on my shoulder as I laid my belly down on a thick branch. I muttered a thanks under my breath for not having the branch collapse under me. It came a little too soon, because I saw Kirze rushing out of the tent.

Not fast enough, because a hatchet went wheeling through the air, and found its place at the back of his neck. He tumbled downward, and three young men came scrambling out with stubby daggers and sticks, poking them into Kirze’s body. Without any hesitation, they took him by his feet and arms and dragged him away. Soon after they went out of sight, I heard the cracking of ice, and the splashing as his body was dumped into the river.

I heard laughing and jokes as they walked back, ducking underneath the flap of their tent and rummaging under their covers for several minutes. As painful as it was, I slid down the trunk of the tree. Ej ran to what I presume was Kirze’s body. Ew stayed huddled on my shoulder.

Trembling, I trekked my way back slowly and deliberately to Kirze’s camp. Halfway there, I stopped. I instead went to visit the lumberjacks, trying to remember the way. A million jumbled thoughts race through my mind. “Those nomads had blue paintings on the sides of their tents.” I pause as the realization occurs. “Only I or other nomads who learned it through me would have taught them that. And all nomads I’d met, whether it was meeting them in the dead of night or provoking their initial hostility towards me (like with Kirze), or whether it was actually a normal circumstance, led to friendly relationships and acquaintances. None of them ever meant harm, and none of them went out of their way to grievously injure or kill me. Kirze never had enemies because he never met any of them – why could they’ve been so hostile to him?” Would they have treated me the same way? I can feel the tepid breaths of a tired fox on my shoulder. Peering out from behind a boulder, I see that they’re already awake. Clasping their tools, they’re about ready to leave. The aroma of beans fills the air, although all the cans are empty. The sun has begun poking out from behind the trees, which was their signal to begin chopping. They were as jovial and lighthearted as can be, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say they were already drunk. The way they cut down the pines spoke volumes about how sober they were. They had an accuracy and efficiency I could only dream of. One of them put on a jacket, and I saw the crest. The crest of the Yaman estate – the one that had cut down an entire swath of forest when I was little. Or maybe before when I was little, but either the stories or my experiences imprinted itself vividly into my memories.

I felt Kirze’s panic and I decided to run away. It was a miracle I was even able to reach his camp, and the sun was already well awake by the time I did. Complete incoherence spews out of my mouth as soon as I see people, but eventually something that makes sense could be stringed together, and I feel the entire family steel together in horror at my ‘story’. His parents say nothing, but they gently walk me over to a stump and sit me down. Someone offers me nearly frozen broth. Ew leans down from my shoulder to get the first lick. Someone else sits down besides me. I’d never seen him before, but I’d assume it was Kirze’s younger brother. He stares up at me, wide-eyed and silent. Then, he says, “Maybe if you weren’t here, Kir would still be alive.” It’s said with no malice, just plain, emotionless. “Mother talks about a time when he wasn’t resentful, when the creatures in the trees still had life and the trees were still there. Now’s there’s lumberjacks and enemy factions and they’re all friends with you. Kir – Kir” he still struggles to say his brother’s name. I couldn’t tell if it was because of his inexperience with it or his grief. “Spent a night with you, and now he’s disappeared.” He reaches for Ew and plucks him off my shoulder. “Maybe things would be better if you weren’t here. Or if, you know, you left.” I have nothing to say to him. I still don’t.

Word counts for each part: 360, 300, 155, 482, 1533

Final Weekly
Character List:
Mark: Main character
Ben: Mark’s half brother
Ingrid: Ben and Mark’s mom, deceased
Nolan: Mark’s dad
Jonas: Ben’s dad, Mark’s stepdad, deceased
Lisa: Mark’s adult cousin
David: Lisa’s husband
Amy: Lisa and David’s daughter
Jennifer: A failed therapist

Character 1: Mark
Age: 17
Personality: Introvert
My first character, and main character, is a seventeen year old boy named Mark. Mark and Lisa are cousins, technically, but they’ve never really met before. So, as part of this, I have to explain the family drama… How bad is it? Murders bad.
Mark’s mom, Ingrid, was Lisa’s niece, but they are the same age, so they grew up more as cousins. Just keep that in mind.
Mark’s parents divorced when he was nine, and his mom married Jonas a year or so later, and had Mark’s brother, Ben.
Mark’s dad, Nolan, is an angry and unstable guy, so when he found out that she’d married someone else, he murdered both of them.
Mark holds a lot of anger, because of the way he was treated by his dad as a kid, and because of the way the police treated him after the murders. The police thought that he was helping his dad, even though he hadn’t been, and refused to let him be alone for almost two weeks. Additionally, he was separated from Ben, who was taken in by Jonas’ parents. Mark is a very private person, but he wasn’t given time to process his emotions by himself, which led to constant verbal attacks on anyone who got in his way.
One of Mark’s greatest flaws is that he refuses to trust anyone. He didn’t trust the police after Ingrid and Jonas were killed, and he refused to trust Jennifer, who eventually decided to quit being a therapist because of him. It also took him almost six months to trust Jonas enough to talk to him in full sentences.
Mark doesn’t say much to anyone, unless he feels that his words are necessary. He generally answers most questions with one word, and most of the times that he says more than one sentence, he is being confrontational and argumentative.
Mark comes across as angry, which he is, but he’s quite different when he’s around someone he actually cares about, which doesn’t happen often. The only people he is his true self around are his mom and Ben, and so he suffers greatly when he and Ben are separated after their parents’ deaths.

Character 2: Ben
Age: 7
Personality: Ambivert
My second character is Ben, Mark’s younger half brother. He and Mark have different fathers, but Jonas was more like a father to Mark than Nolan was, so there’s little difference between Ben and Mark, and other siblings. Ben is an average first grader, and he looks up to Mark because (standard little kid logic right here) Mark is a big kid, which makes him infinitely cool.
Ben is a generally quiet kid around people he doesn’t know, but once he gets going with a topic he enjoys, he will not stop talking. His best friend at school is a girl in his class that he first met when they got in a fight over the T-rex toy during indoor recess. The heated argument was dissolved when Ben yelled “But it’s a Tyrannosaurus!” earning the girl’s respect by using the full name of the dinosaur. The teacher was rather relieved that intervention on his part would not be required.
Ben and Mark are very close, despite the ten year age gap between them. When Ingrid and Jonas were killed, the relationship between them was proven to be strong despite their differences in age and blood. Being constantly surrounded by questioning police, paired with the trauma of being orphaned, terrified Ben, and so Mark had to fill in as an almost parental figure, which helped Mark because it gave him something to do to keep him from being confrontational while he was trying to keep himself together.
Ben isn’t a very serious child, but he is intelligent. He is very proud of himself when he remembers anything important, like the names of dinosaurs, or all the tens between one and one hundred. When he is sent to live with Jonas’ parents, they don’t understand his love of random information. Ben also takes his school work very seriously, and he will spend a long time on his math homework to make sure he does it “very correctedly.” His teachers love that he’s a good student, but his enthusiasm can be a bit too much.

Setting: House
Colors: Purple and teal (Light shades of both)
The colors I got were very light purple and teal, which had me frustrated and puzzled for an unreasonable length of time. Finally, while remembering a Lego house I built years ago, I thought “Huh, these colors would be nice on a fancy house.” So here is the setting: a rich person's house. Not the most inspired setting I’ve ever thought of, but the story was already beginning to form in my head, and so I had to work within the rather vague lines I’d begun to (mentally) draw. (So no fluffy purple clouds with unicorns and cats )
SO, the house.
First thing I have to say is that it is an adorable little house. Well, not so little, but cute. Three stories tall, and wide. The exterior walls are teal (Not siding, the other kind of exterior house look, like someone decided to coat it in plaster. I don’t know what it’s called), and the door is purple. The shutters, windows, and columns (yes, columns) are white.
Their car is blue, in case you’re wondering. No garage, so it just sits outside on the street and ruins the aesthetic. They’re probably rich.

First few hundred words of the story:
Oh, great. They’re rich.
It’s very obvious. The house that Jennifer pulls up to is a large, nice house, surrounded by other large, nice houses. I hate it. I grew up in a small, crappy apartment in a bad area, then got moved to a small, average house in a slightly less sketchy area. I’m not comfortable with extensive shows of wealth.
“Now remember, Lisa and David are doing something nice for you.” Jennifer says. “Be polite. Actually talk.”
She’s fighting a losing battle.
I’m tempted to say no, but that would require obeying her command to speak, so I just shrug.
“Mark, please.” Jennifer faces me. “I know you’re going through a lot, but Lisa is still your cousin. She’s your cousin. She’s your family.”
“Blood doesn’t matter. I’ve never met her.” I say irritably, getting out of the car. I hear Jennifer sigh as she closes the driver’s side door. I follow her to the front door, and I keep my gaze on the ground.
The door opens, and a woman speaks to Jennifer.
“Come in.” she says, and Jennifer steps through the door, pulling me along with her. “I’m sorry about the mess, I’ve been…” the woman doesn’t finish. She sounds tired.
“Mark, this is Lisa.” Jennifer elbows me when I don’t say anything.
“Hi.” I mumble, looking at Lisa briefly. Short woman, with wrinkled clothes and tired eyes.
I don’t pay attention to what they say to each other, but Jennifer leads me away, up a staircase, and into a bedroom. “This is your room.” she says. “Lisa’ll be up in a minute.”
I don’t say anything. She shuts the door behind her as she leaves. I probably won’t see her again. But I don’t care.
This is the first time I’ve been alone in weeks.
I sit in the middle of the room.
I try not to cry.
Lisa comes in a minute later. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I respond.
“Jennifer says that you don’t talk much.”
“Jennifer is a failed therapist. She never understood that I speak only when I have something worth saying.” Like bad things about her.
“Ah.” Lisa doesn’t seem sure how to respond. But a little girl pokes her head into the room.
“Hi.” she says, looking directly at me. She approaches me, despite the fact that I don’t answer. “I’m Amy. I’m five, and I go to kindergarten.”
“My name is Mark.” I look at Lisa, questioningly, and she smiles.
“Go back to bed, Amy. I’ll be there in a minute.” She guides the girl out of the room and closes the door. “I’m sorry about that. She’s supposed to be in bed.” She sighs. “I know this is all really hard for you, but David and I are here if you need anything, okay?”
I nod absently. “Can I be alone for a bit?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Lisa leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
I’m alone. No police trying to associate me with my father. No one trying to ‘help’ me.
For the first time since Ben and I found out that Mom and Jonas were dead, I let myself cry.
Just because I’m almost an adult doesn’t mean that I have to be strong all the time.

I know that the word count went over. I’ll make up for it.

Part 2
Six things I got:
Related to enemy
Character speaks gibberish
Character talks to self
Reunites with long lost friend
Object that they always have with them
Character falls unconscious.
Roughly 1000 more words… here we go!!!:

I sleep uneasily all night.
I have nightmares about the day that my dad killed my mom. But in my dream, I wasn’t outside. I’m in the house, and I see him shoot Jonas. I hear my mom’s screams, ten times louder.
I wake up crying every time.
The next day, Lisa shakes me awake.
“I made breakfast.” she said. “Come downstairs soon, before it gets cold. I’m going to be bringing Amy to school in a half an hour, but David’ll be here.”
I nod, but it takes five minutes to actually get myself out of bed. I go downstairs, and Amy greets me with a huge smile.
“Hi!” she says brightly, and I smile, just a bit. “I’m going to go to kindergarten in a bit, with my mom!”
“Yeah?” I sit down beside her, where a second plate is waiting. “Is it fun?”
“Yep.” Her feet swing back and forth as she alternates between eating and telling me about her school. I can’t understand most of what she says, but her stream of gibberish reminds me painfully of Ben. When Lisa comes down, she shoves the last of her food into her mouth, and hops off the stool. She runs into the living room, and hugs David, who is working on job stuff, I guess. But when she re-enters the kitchen, she does something really unexpected.
She climbs back up onto the stool, and gives me a big hug.
I’m not sure how to react, and I look up at Lisa. She smiles.
Amy releases me and gets down from the school, and runs to her mom, taking the purple backpack from Lisa’s grasp.
“Bye!” She calls to the whole house, then runs out the door.
I turn to Lisa. “Is she always like this?”
“Yep.” Lisa smiles. “She’s like a little angel when it comes to new people.”
———————————————————————————————————————
A month passes surprisingly quickly.
I still have nightmares, but they lessen in intensity, and I start to feel like maybe, just maybe, I’ll have a normal life after all.
But one morning, a weekend, I wake up feeling that something isn’t right.
My hand instinctively goes to the matchbox car in my pocket. It’s the last thing I took from the house, an old toy that I got from Jonas when he and my mom were first dating. I used to play with cars a lot, but most of them went to Ben.
There’s a tear on the screen of my bedroom window.
Something is definitely not right.
Holding the car so tight that it hurts my palm, I open the window. A piece of paper is wedged between the glass and the screen.
My heart almost stops when I see the mildly familiar handwriting. Nolan’s handwriting.
My father’s handwriting.
Mark
Come to the Hilly Valley trailer park on Harlem Road. South Corner. Alone.
Don’t call the police. I know where your stepfather’s child is.
You have three days. Don’t call the police.
Nolan
Hilly Valley trailer park. About a half hour away if I walk.
‘I know where your stepfather’s child is.’
Ben… If I didn’t find my father in three days, or if I notified the police, he’d kill Ben.
I shoved the note in my pocket with the car, my mind spinning. I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“If I don’t go, Ben will die.”
That’s a fact. I know it’s strange, but I don’t care. I have to say things out loud in order to process them.
“But if I go, I don’t know what he wants. I could be endangered.”
“I don’t care. If I don’t, Ben will die.”
I close my eyes, trying to ward off the arguing voices in my head. “I’ll go tonight.”
That night, after Lisa, David, and Amy are asleep, I push the screen out of the window.
It’s a bit dangerous, jumping out of a second story window, but I have no other way of getting out. The doors are locked, and unlocking them will cause too much noise.
I push out the screen and set it aside, next to the note I’ve folded on the nightstand. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I whisper, easing myself through the window.
I cling to the windowsill, looking down at the drop. Roughly nine feet. Not easy, but probably doable.
I push myself away from the side of the house, and drop.
My feet slam into the ground, sending pain shooting up my ankles. The stones shift under my shoes, and I slip into the shadows, making my way down the street. I keep my hand in my pocket, fingering the matchbox car. I haven’t seen my father in a very long time, and he tore my life apart. I know that I should call the police, but if Ben is in danger… I can’t risk his safety.
When I get to the trailer park, I head towards the south corner. Cautiously. As I creep behind the trailer at the end of the southern road, I hear the click of a gun being prepped.
“It’s me. Mark.” I say. My father steps out of the shadows.
“Good. You came.”
“I couldn’t let you hurt Ben.” The words came out, and a second later, I regretted them.
“So you care for that boy.” Nolan said disgustedly, still keeping his gun trained on Mark’s head. “He’s not even your real brother. As for Jonas, he wasn’t your real father. And your mother, she deserved what she got.”
“No, she didn’t!” I exploded. “You can’t just… kill people!”
“I knew it! You’re on your mother’s side!” I flinched away as he moved towards me, anger filling his eyes. “I knew that I shouldn’t have trusted you.”
He pushed me, hard, and I fell back into the mud. The gun was pointed at my chest.
“I’ll call the police.” I say.
“No, you won’t.”
The gun goes off with a bang. Pain explodes in the center of my chest, and everything goes black.
———————————————————————————————————————
I wake up in the hospital, but I’m not alone.
A familiar looking police officer sits beside the bed.
“Officer.” I push myself up, ignoring the pain in my chest. For a moment I’m confused. “What happened?”
“A resident of the trailer park called the 9-1-1 when they heard gunshots. We found you laying on the ground, unconscious. Your father was gone by the time we got there.”
“So, do you still think I was in the league with him?” I ask.
“Perhaps, at least at the time of the murders.” I catch sight of the officer’s name tag. C. Rodnick. I remember him. He was the one who was in charge of the investigation.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I wasn’t with him?”
“You should have called the police when you received the note we found in your pocket.”
“He would have killed Ben.”
“We would have caught him.”
“He would have gotten away!” The place where the bullet entered explodes with pain, and I close my eyes, briefly. My breathing has grown quicker, and every breath hurts. “He was prepared!”
“And how do you know that?”
Oh, he’s good, this C. Rodnick. I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying so out loud. From what I remember, he does not appreciate sarcasm.
“Listen to me. Please, just listen to me.” I’m almost crying. No, I am crying. “You have to understand. I didn’t call the police because I wanted to keep Ben safe, because I love him! I love my mom and I love Jonas! What, just because he’s not my ‘real dad’ and Ben’s not my ‘real brother?’ They’re my family! And so then, you go and take Ben away, and I can’t even say goodbye, and you refuse to believe a word I say! I HATE YOU!”
My wound is on fire, and my throat stings from yelling. I fall back onto the pillows, chest heaving, pain enveloping my entire body. Officer Rodnick stares at me in shock.
“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say,” he says.
“That’s because I mean it,” I say. Quietly, but viciously.
Rodnick just gets up and walks away. I don’t know what he’s thinking about, but I hope that he believes me, for once. I have nothing to do with my father.
Lisa comes in a minute later, and Rodnick is following her. “You… you idiot!” she yells at me. “What were you thinking?!”
“I wasn’t.” I admit.
“Don’t EVER do that again.”
“I won’t.”
But best of all, once Lisa is done yelling at me, scolding me, and hugging me, my step-grandmother comes into the room, holding the hand of a familiar seven year old boy.
“Ben?” I whisper.
“Mark!” He lets go of his grandmother’s hand and runs over to me. He embraces me so tightly that it hurts, a lot, but I let him. I missed him so much. So much.
“I love you.” I say.
“I love you, too.” He’s crying.
I hug him for a moment longer. Then, I turn to Officer Rodnick. “So I take it you finally believe me?” I ask.
He nods. No smile or anything, but a nod is enough. He’s a man of few words, like me, I suppose.
“We’re still working on catching your father,” he says, “But you and Ben are safe.”
Safe. I’m not used to that word.
But if I’m with Ben… I think that it’ll be okay.

3,029 words, total

May have forgotten that 1500 was in total, not in bottom part…