Date: July 2, 2022
Daily: Remember when you used to ask questions to a Magic 8 Ball? Here’s a project in which you can do that! https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/710721692/ Today, ask the ball a plot-related question, which will be related to your prompt. The outcome will then influence what happens in the story. For example, I could ask “Will I meet aliens?” and the answer could be “Most likely”, and then I could write a scene about meeting aliens. For 500 points, write at least 400 words with this prompt, and 100 extra points if you provide proof of your writing!

Blurs of red, white, and blue paraded down the streets as people gathered on their front porches to cheer and wave flags of their own. Dogs barked at the excitment and small children screamed with glee. The noise and colors, however, did not reach Valarie even as she sat in the middle of it all, for she sat upon Patches, her pinto horse. As they walked along, Valarie let only the steady rythm of hoofbeats reach her ears. All her attention was focused on moving as one with the horse, so there would be no definite line where human ended and horse began. When children caught sight of Patches's blonde mane plaited with red, white, and blue ribbons, they squealed in delight. Patches didn't mind them or the other noises in the parade, and his perked ears and steady tail was an indication of that. Valarie stared ahead and attempted to ignore it all. It was actually quite easy at first, and for the first few minutes the parade was running smoothly. Until someone close by decided to light a firework.
The booming noise that it created as it shot into the sky in an array of colors sent the horse in the front of the parade rearing in freight. Patches's head flew up and he halted abruptly. The other horses where either on high alert or hit panic mode. As more and more horses reared up or ran off, Patches's previous calm demeanor dissipated. Valarie tried to speak in reassuring tones to be sure he wouldn't panic, but her voice shook more with every word. Just as Patches seemed to gather his power and energy to shoot off into a gallop, Valarie quickly tugged the right side of the reins to her knee, causing Patches's head to whip around to the side. This momentarily put all thoughts of running off on hold. By this time, the remaining horses were calming down, and the rest of them had galloped away. Valarie slowly gave Patches control back. He breathed heavily, head still erect, but the danger of him acting out of fear had passed. During the chaos, the spectators had backed up to avoid getting caught underneath the horses' hooves but where now beginning to move forward with curious, though hesitant, looks on their faces. After a few moments of relative peace, the horses that had fled started coming back. The riders sat on their backs, some looking dazed, others shameful, and the rest carried a look of indifference. In a silent, unanimous decision the riders nodded to each other, agreeing to continue the parade since the horses all seemed to have decompressed.
The Fourth of July parade carried on unhindered, and blurs of red, white, and blue paraded down the streets of the small town, celebrating freedom.

WORDS: 467

Date: July 3, 2022
Daily: Today is Compliment Your Mirror Day! We all have good things we’ve done in our lives that we should be proud of, and acts of kindness are one of them. So today, for 400 points, write at least 300 words writing about a time you helped someone! No bonus points for proof today.

A few years ago, at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, school was shut down and we were forced to complete our school work at home through our computers. This wasn't a big issue for me, since my teachers never assigned much homework during that time. However, my little sister, though she was only in kindergarten at the time, had pages upon pages of it. So, every morning before I logged on to my computer to check what assignments I had for that day, I would go downstairs and sit at the table or on the floor to help my sister with hers. It was no easy task. She was constantly bouncing around and couldn't seem to focus on her work. The work consisted of flashcards with vocabulary words, some math worksheets, a short story to read aloud, a few pages of cut and paste work, and spelling worksheets to complete every day. Given the amount of it, I don't really blame her for not being able to concentrate the entire time, especially since she was only five or six at the time. But we still had to get it all done. So we would slowly work through everything while I tried to keep her focus on the schoolwork and away from everything else. Sometimes I would have to take a break from it all when she started getting upset and yelling at me. Thankfully, she would usually calm down after awhile and we would resume whatever we had left off on. Occasionally, my other sister or my dad would assist her when she got tired of doing it with me. Anyway, even though it was tedious getting through every morning, we did it so my mom wouldn't have to do it and she could get some extra sleep in the mornings.

WORDS: 302

Date: July 4, 2022
Daily: Have you ever seen a sentence that could be interpreted in two or more ways? That’s ambiguity. However, that's different from a sentence that just doesn't have the details necessary to understand it, which is vagueness. The difference between the two is what we will be focusing on today. Today, write two separate dialogues, the first one where a character is being vague, and the second where a character is being ambiguous. Each dialogue must be at least 250 words long, for 500 points. Sharing your writing will earn you 200 bonus points!

Ambiguity:
(words: 315)
Clove appeared around the corner of the dining room and threw her hands up excitedly, interrupting the game that was being played. “Guys, look at my new dress!”
Everyone in the room turned their heads to look. Some of their mouths gaped opened. A few widened their eyes.
After a moment of silence, Sophie set down her cards and said, “Wow, that's such a different look.”
Many nodded in agreement.
“I never thought I'd see you in something like that,” came a voice from the back of the room.
“I know,” Clove replied in a posh accent, giving a little curtsy. “Isn't it marvelous?”
“Well, if you're in a dress, I don't see why we can't carry out the plan of going to the dance,” Michel said as he stood up, pushing his chair back from the table.
“Ooh I'd love that!” Clove replied as she bounced into his arms.
“Okay, just be careful,” her dad said. “I want you to be safe.”
“Got it!” She replied as Michel herded her out of the doorway.
Once the door was shut and the noise of the car rumbling out of the driveway faded away, statements and questions about the dress were thrown onto the table.
Her dad said, “Don't you think people will comment on that dress?”
Aunt Jessica piped up, “Well, maybe… it is rather, uh, revealing.”
“No, no one's gonna say anything about it. Except maybe compliment it. She looked beautiful, stunning,” Clove's mother replied.
An uneasy silence spread around the room after the differing views were laid out.
Finally, her dad said, “Well, anyway, looks like I'm gonna get first place.” And laid his cards face-up on the table.
“No, I won't allow that,” Clove's grandpa rasped and smiled cunningly and he reached for another card in the center of the table.
Immediately, thoughts of the dress were forgotten in favor of the card game.

Vagueness:
(words: 263)
“I've concluded that it's pointless.”
“Well, it might not be just yet…”
“Still, I'm not gonna finish it.”
“…but I still think it might be possible.”
“It's not.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because I've failed time and time again… It's not possible for me to succeed.”
“If you changed your perspective maybe it would be!”
“It still won't.”
“Fine. Then I'm done helping you.”
“…why?”
“Because you don't try! You just expect to fail.”
“WELL I'D BET 1,000 DOLLARS YOU'D FEEL THE SAME WAY IF ALL YOU DID WAS FAIL!”
“…Calm down…please.”
“Fine. Maybe I am better off alone.”
“…”
“Don't you agree?”
“…”
“ANSWER ME. PLEASE!”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, I don't think you're better off alone. I just think you need to realize that you have to change your perspective.”
“I've tried. I can't.”
“See? It's that attitude right there! The ”oh I'm just gonna give up because I've failed before“ attitude.”
“I'm sorry.”
“What?”
“I said sorry. I really am.”
“…You don't have to apologize. You just have to help yourself somehow. Or get help. I don't know.”
“Can you please just accept the apology?!”
“…”
“Please?!”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome. But please understand what I'm trying to say.”
“I know… I know.”
“Promise me you'll try.”
“…I don't know if I can make that promise.”
“… Okay. Then don't promise. But just tell me you'll try.”
“I might.”
“…”
“I mean, I will. I'll try.”
"Good, and then after you're done trying I'm gonna tell you to stop trying and just do.“
”haha…“
”You'll be alright. It'll work out.“
”…Okay.“
”Come here."

WORDS: 578

Date: July 4-8, 2022
Weekly: Fanfiction

Fandom I chose: The Lion King

Part 1: Character Consistency

Ref Sheet: Zira

Species: Lion
Strengths: patient,
Weaknesses: cynical, imposing, hateful
General view of life: an opportunity to get revenge
Relationships:
-romantic interest: none
-children: Nuka, Vitani, Kovu
Tendencies:
-let's her emotions control her
-launches into rants often
-tends to be impulsive

Situation: your character has just killed somebody and needs to cover up the murder

A cream-colored lioness sat by the lake, staring at her reflection in the clear water. Shade from a nearby tree bathed her fur in relief from the burning midday sun.
“Well, who do we have here?” A voice slid up behind her.
Without turning her head, she replied stiffly, “Stop playing games with me, Scar. You know who I am.”
“Ah, you're quite right, Zira” Scar said, approaching the lake and flopping down into the shallow edge of it. “Oh this is quite relaxing.”
“I know,” she said, finally detaching her gaze from the lake to look at the lion. “But why are you all the way out here? Didn't Mufasa request your presence at Pride Rock half an hour ago?”
Scar sighed dramatically, “Yes, yes he did. But I have better things to do.”
“Like what?” She asked quizzically. “Lolling around the fringes of the Pride Lands all day?”
He paused for a moment, dark fur gleaming in the sunlight. Finally, he replied, “No, actually I have a plan to devise.”
“What is it? Another of your hunting escapades that fail every time?” she asked dryly.
“No… no, this is different,” he said as a sly grin showcasing all his teeth slipped across his face.
“Then what is it? I don't have all day,” she said, tail thumping the ground impatiently.
“Well, well, no need to get so upset,” he replied, laughing quietly as he examined his claws.
She rolled her eyes and stood up, starting to walk away. When she was almost out of sight, he jumped up and chased after her. “Wait,” he said. “I just might be able to use you in my little scheme.”

They met up that night to plot the details, and by the next night, they were able to set their plan into motion. Just as the moon was starting to sink, Scar made his way to their agreed upon meeting place, a large tree near the border of the Pride Lands. As he waited for Zira, his tail twitched in anticipation and he paced back and forth. Finally, Zira appeared, followed by a larger lion. Grinning maliciously, Scar leaped up on the lion and Zira followed. The lion glowered at them, trying fiercely to battle them off of him.
Finally, after a few minutes, Zira was able to pin the lion down and Scar crouched down near his neck.
“Goodbye, Mufasa…” he whispered into the night, the grin still etched onto his face as he snapped the lion's neck.

Exhausted by the fight, Zira and Scar slept near the carcass until the sun climbed into the sky. They awoke quickly, shared a look of victory and prepared tell the pride about his death by hyenas.
However, when they drew near to the lion, Zira realized with a jolt that it wasn't Mufasa. Seconds later, Scar, crouched near the lion, glared up at Zira.
“What have you done?” He asked slowly.
“I didn't mean to… I-I thought that was him. It was dark- I couldn't see,” she babbled.
Scar looked at Zira suspiciously, then relaxed. “Ah, well, as long as it's buried where no one will ever find it I guess I won't kill you right now.”
Cautiously, Zira began digging, painfully aware that it was well into the morning and if anyone came near, they would easily see the body.

Finally, she was able to cover it. Scar looked down at her, features hardened. “Now we never speak of this again.”
She nodded, staring at the ground as they made their way back to Pride Rock.
(words: 595)

Part 2: Character Voice

Nala is very devoted to the animals she cares most about and isn't opposed to having a little fun. She strives to do what's right, even if it's difficult. She maintains a strong opinion on what must be done and a powerful sense of duty, and no one can persuade her once she's made up her mind, since she's very defensive of her opinions. She can also be a bit sassy and bold. Even with all these assertive qualities, Nala displays loyalty, compassion, and kindness. All of these qualities make her a good match for Simba, who needs someone who's playful and spirited.
(103 words)

Sarabi is a kind and caring mother to Simba, and she was the queen of the Pride Lands during Mufasa's reign. Being very supportive of Mufasa and then Simba, she uses her guidance and strength to encourage them through their reign as king. Even when Scar took over and Simba disappeared, Sarabi seemed to have remained determined and resolute. Though she is reserved, her presence appears to affect everyone she's around, giving them strength to face their obstacles and move through their life with a purpose. Her patience made her a great queen and an even better mother to Simba, who was a rambunctious and adventurous cub.
(107 words)

Nala’s Perspective
It was a day like any other. Of course, since I was only a cub, I don't remember much of it. But what I do remember is my mother was licking me vigorously, cleaning my fur and ridding me of dirt and bugs. I had planned to see Simba later that day, even though my mother told me I shouldn't see Simba anymore because she feared I would be hurt while we were out on our adventures. Which, I guess, is fair, considering the fact that Simba and I almost got eaten by hyenas the day before had Mufasa not shown up to save us. Anyway, speaking of Mufasa, his death came as a shock to me. I couldn't even grasp it at first.
When Scar had gathered up around Pride Rock and grimly told us the news of Mufasa and Simba's alleged death, every lioness looked like she was trying her hardest to stay strong. I also remember when Scar unleashed his hyenas and they climbed down from Pride Rock with a crazed look in their eyes. It scared me. I didn't understand. Weren't hyenas supposed to stay in the Outlands and lions in the Pride Lands? And then Scar declared that he would take up the leadership position of King of the Pride Lands.
It wasn't until later that night that Simba's alleged death Mufasa's and death really hit me. It didn't make sense that I would never see either of them again. And how could a king just die so quickly like that? One moment he's ruling his kingdom, the next he's dead. I cried that night, for the former king and for my best friend and for me. Sarabi told everyone to stay strong. I held on to those words for the entirety of Scar's horrible reign.
(301 words)

Sarabi’s Perspective
It was a tragic day. It was horrible to lose both a husband and a son in the same devastating accident. At least, that's what we were told at the time. Scar said that Simba had gotten trapped in a wildebeest stampede. And Mufasa bravely tried to save him, though he slipped and fell to his death and the wildebeest trampled Simba. We all believed it then; there was no reason not to doubt it. When Scar informed us that he would take up the position of king, we all supported him. However, it did come as quite a shock to us when he united lions and hyenas, declaring that we would live together in the same land.
I sensed something was off at the very beginning, but I buried those thoughts. It was now more important than ever that the whole pride was unified. So, we obeyed Scar even when all the food in the Pride Lands had been reduced to nothing. All of us lionesses stayed strong even under Scar's new rules that seemed to conflict Mufasa's old ones. We couldn't afford to step out of line.
Years later, when Simba returned, it was an utter shock to us. Hadn't he been dead for years now? But what appalled us even more was when Scar forced Simba to confess that it was Simba who killed Mufasa. I was outraged, but kept my voice steady as I said, “It isn't true. Tell me it isn't true.”
However, most of us lionesses still supported Simba, our back-from-the-dead-cub who wasn't a cub anymore.
Then, Scar revealed to Simba that he was the real murderer, and Simba forced Scar to confess it to all of us, who had been wondering what was the right thing to do as the two enemies fought. Once we heard that it was Scar who killed Mufasa, we didn't hesitate to leap onto him and his filthy hyenas and rip them to shreds.
At last, it felt like things could be returned to a state of prosperity once the evil was weeded out to the pride.
(349 words)

Part 3: Fanfic Tropes

Tropes I'm using: cannon divergent, angst, and original character

Simba, who had recently returned to the Pride Lands, stood in the center of the pride, which sat near the base of Pride Rock. He held his head high and gazed with compassion upon his subjects. He gave especially fond looks at the cubs and the lionesses he knew before he ran away.
However, there was one group of lionesses he didn't look at with anything other than suspicion. They sat near the back of the pride, whispering in hushed tones about how they believed Scar was a better leader and that Simba had no right to take over. They were known as the Outsiders, the lions that still supported Scar even after his death. They weren't trusted by any of the lions who were devoted and loyal to Simba, so they started forming an alliance among themselves, planning to take over and avenge Scar's death.
Every lioness knew which side she was on and supported that side completely. Every lioness… except one. Her name was Amani, daughter of Scar and Shanga, one of the lionesses who committed herself to Simba after Scar's defeat.
Even though Amani knew of Scar's horrible misdeeds, she still felt a twinge of loyalty to her father. The Outsiders welcomed her and promised she would be queen once they took over because she was Scar's heir. However, she felt that Simba was the rightful king and she had friends, albeit ones who were slightly suspicious of her, in the group that supported him.
So, she sat between the two clusters of lionesses as she listened to Simba's second speech as king. His first one was about finding hope and strength to restore the Pride Lands to its former glory.
“Lionesses,” he began. “I've called gathered you here for an important decision that I have made. It wasn't an easy one… but I think it will benefit those of us who want peace and prosperity.”
A silent hush descended upon the lionesses as they strained their necks toward Simba in anticipation of his next words.
“I've decided to banish the Outsiders to the Outlands,” he said forcefully, though with a look of regret etched onto his face. The lionesses were still silent, though this time it was not of anticipation but of shock.
“I wanted to give them time to realize that Scar was evil. But I don't believe they'll ever understand. So, for now, to enhance the safety of the rest of the pride and to remove the threat they they bring to us… they are now banished!”
The Outsiders bristled in outrage, while the others held expressions which ranged from satisfaction to confusion to indifference. Amani, eyes wide, gazed at both groups, then at Simba, as fear drove its way into her. Her breathing grew rapid as she tried to catch Simba's eye, pleading: please, please, I'm sure we can come to some other conclusion. This isn't the answer.
But he never even glanced at her, instead occupied by the chaos that erupted among the pride. Some of the Outsiders attempted to stage a rebellion right then and there, leaping at the other lionesses through a mask of rage. The lionesses fought back viciously. Blurs of claws, blood, and fur floated past Amani as she sat, filling with a heavy dread. She desperately wanted to help the Outsiders because they seemed to be losing miserably, but the thought of banishment seared her mind. She also couldn't fight on the side of the others. If she did that, the outsiders would take away the offer to make her queen when they gained control of the Pride Lands again.
So, instead she stared into the battle, her tail twitching with apprehension. Finally, after a few more moments of fighting, Nala stepped in and ordered the lionesses to back off. Baring her teeth at the Outiders, she said firmly, “Get out.”
When they didn't move, she ordered the lionesses to chase them out of the land. Soon, only Nala, Simba, and a few who were injured or too weak to run were left at Pride Rock. That was when Simba finally focused his attention on Amani, though now, as he stared at her, the feeling of dread became massive.
“What are you doing still here?” he asked, voice patient but tail flicking impatiently.
All she could do was shrug helplessly as the sun shone on her dark coat, beating scalding heat into her cold body.
“Well, pick a side then. Quickly. Or I'll have no choice but to banish you with the Outsiders.”
(words: 756)

Part 4: SWC Fanfic

Melody and Claire sat on the deck of the lake, legs dangling in the murky water. Excitedly, they chatted about their favorite genres and point of view and style of writing.
"I love nonfiction and realistic fiction,“ Melody said as she stared across the lake at the various cabins settled there.
”Eh, those are boring,“ Claire said as she playfully rolled her eyes. ”Sci-fi and fantasy are the best genres!“
”No way.“ Melody shook her head.
Just then, the bell signaling the daily was posted rang across the lake. The two campers rushed to the main cabin, where there was a bulletin board used for posting the dailies. Eyes shuffling through the papers until they found the one labeled with the correct date, the girls chatted about how long they thought it would take them.
”I bet I could do it in 20 minutes. It's only 300 words,“ Claire said.
”It's probably gonna take me at least 35 minutes,“ Melody sighed. ”And I still have to finish the weekly.“
”You'll do fine!“ Claire said, touching Melody's arm encouragingly.
Melody smiled. Then Claire led the way to a small wooden picnic table located under a large oak tree. ”How about we work here?“
”Sure.“ Melody shrugged. ”Why not?“
They wrote furiously, creating worlds and characters and stories, until they finally finished a half hour later.
”Come on,“ Claire said. ”Let's turn them in.“
They first when to their cabin, the Sci-fi cabin, to record how many words they each wrote. Then they made their way to the main cabin to turn in the sheets.
”Well,“ Melody said as the walked out of the cabin. ”I should probably start working on the weekly.“
”That'd probably be a good idea,“ Claire replied with a yawn. ”I'll go back to the cabin to take a nap. Come and get me when your done.“
”Alright.“
Melody walked along the shore of the lake until finding an unoccupied beach towel lying in the sand. Sitting down, she took out a piece of paper and began to write, taking inspiration from the sun glinting on the surface of the water.
After two hours, just as the sun started sinking, she finished and let out a sigh of relief. Then she walked to the main cabin to turn it it, lifting a huge weight from her shoulders. By that time Claire was awake and they met up at the large oak tree.
”Did you finish?“ she asked.
”Yep,“ Melody said, smiling.”
“Awesome!” Claire gave Melody a quick hug. “Want to go get ice cream?”
(words: 429)

WORDS: 2,685

Date: July 5, 2022
Daily: Ah yes, proverbs. We all have in some way heard of these pieces of wisdom passed through short sentences. Today, we will be using them! For 400 points, write at least 300 words of a story that takes inspiration from a proverb (perhaps using it as the story's moral, perhaps incorporating it into the story somehow - it's up to you!)

Proverb: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

A small, white horse limped through the auction ring, pulled by an old man whose features were hidden under his wide-brimmed cowboy hat and whose feet stomped when he walked. As the crowd looked on, the man tugged on the horse's lead rope, swearing under his breath. When the horse tripped, unable to keep up with the man's demands, the old cowboy threw up his hands in disgust before giving one last jerk to the rope, causing the horse stumble to the ground.
Looking up at the people gathered around the ring, the man said, “Someone take this dang horse. Heck, I'd give him to you for 5.”
When his statements where answered with a heavy silence, he continued in his raspy voice, “Alright, then. Slaughterhouse it is. Idiot horse.”
Just as the man turned to give the horse a disdainful glance, a girl of around seventeen jumped through the crowd, shoving others away in her haste. “I'll take him! I have 5 dollars right here,” she said, waving a bill in her hand.
Without pause, the man replied, “He's yours.” After dropping the lead rope to the floor, he stepped out of the auction ring and snatched the five-dollar-bill out of the girl's hand, then vanished through the doorway.
For a moment, the girl stood still, staring at the horse, who was struggling back to his feet. When he fell back to the ground the second time, she stepped into the ring and knelt by the horse's head. Upon closer inspection, she saw the matted coat and tangled mane, along with numerous scars that embraced the bald spots on his body. With a sympathetic sigh, she laid a gentle hand on his forehead and he gave a soft snort. Smiling, the girl rubbed his neck and whispered into his ear, “You're beautiful, you know that? And I'll do everything I can to help you heal.”

WORDS: 316

Date: July 6, 2022
Daily: Write 500 words about a character with one of these superpowers: psychometry, intuition, premonition, telekinesis, astral projection, or telepathy.

Chosen superpower: intuition

As the sun sank lower in the sky and clouds inched in to cover what little light was left, Chloe lumbered down the uneven sidewalk, becoming more dejected every time she stumbled over a crack. Hugging her arms across her chest, she gazed up at the sky, wishing for rain. The houses around her blurred, and noises of people shouting, dogs barking, and children squealing faded once they reached her ears. Numbly, she continued walking, throwing the hood of her black jacket over her head.
After a few hours, night had slyly crept in, and Chloe was nearing an open field that supported a wall of trees on one side. Figuring it was adequate for resting, she hiked through the tall grass until she reached the trees. Then she collapsed, too exhausted and deadened to care about the safety of the forest or the bugs sporadically landing on her face. She got a few hours of sleep this way, tossing and turning, and unconsciously swatting away preying mosquitoes.
However, when the sun started its rise in the sky, Chloe was awakened by the thumping of hoofbeats from across the field. Before she had time to register what was happening, the sound seemed to be engulfing her and she covered her ears while looking out into the field, trying to get a glimpse of where the sound was coming from. Suddenly, a horse was only feet away from her and galloping quickly. Just as the horse was about to run her over, the rider yanked the reins back and yelled, “halt!”
The horse obligingly skid to a stop. Sweat poured from his coat and his head was pulled back to his chest. His tail swished violently and his ears were pinned back. The horse's rider sat pridefully with a smug look smeared across his face.
Bringing a hand to her eyes to shield the sun, Chloe gazed up at him, brows furrowed and mouth set in a frown.
“You're horrible,” she said.
The rider glanced down at her, saying, “I beg your pardon?”
“You treat your horses horribly. You don't care for them at all.”
“Excuse me? Do you even know horses?”
Gaze glued to the ground, Chloe replied, “Well, no.”
“Exactly, so instead you should be thanking me. I could have just run you over.”
“But you didn't only because you don't want to face a lawsuit because you wouldn't be able to afford a lawyer.”
For a moment, both were silent as the rider looked down at her with a look of confusion and fear. Finally, he replied simply with, “Where did you come from?”
Chloe shrugged as a slight breeze combed through her tangled hair. “It really doesn't matter.”
“I'm just making sure you didn't come from some insane asylum or something.”
“I didn't.”
“Still doesn't explain what you're doing on my property, sleeping in a forest,” he said, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Also, you look like a pale zombie.”
Chloe glared at him. “Shut up. We're talking about you here. You're selfish and the only reason you have horses is to try to make what little money you can since no one wants to hire you!”
“Get off my property.”
After a moment of silence, Chloe slowly stood up. “Fine. But I won't forget this.”

WORDS: 549

Word Wars

Date: July 7, 2022
With: @Greatybo
Time: 3 mins
Prompt: none

I don't know what to write. The cat sat on the mat. I feeel like I alwyas start off with that lol. Okay, I'm gonna try this again. The horse looked over the vast feilds of dandilions with the rider sitting proundly on his back. The rider looked around aat the clouds and reazlised that it looked as if it may rain in the near furute. He took the horse back to the stable and fed it and that's when the thunder started. It like up the sky like lightining (I know this makes no sense lol I really don't care right now) anyway, the thunder lit up the sky like lighteneing and that's all that happened. Let's move on to the next thing. The horse stood utop the mountain and grazed like a unicorn and he grew wings and floated over the earth( oh my gosh help lol this is the worst thing ive ever written in my entire life) and… end aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Words: 164
Lost

Date: July 8, 2022
Daily: Today is another classic SWC daily — copy and paste a song into Google Translate, translate it into a few different languages, and then translate it back to English and use the messed-up lyrics as a writing prompt. Write at least 400 words to earn 500 points for your cabin. Also, make sure to prepare your cabin for cabin wars tomorrow!

Song: Arcade by Duncan Laurence (I only used part of it)

The only thing left was a sore heart
I'm fixing all the cracks
Two pieces were lost at the time
I tell, carry, tell home
I am afraid of everything I have
I feel like a foreign land
Silence sounds in my head
Please take me, take me, take me home
I ended all the love I had ever held
We are always a losing game
The little town boy in a big arcade
I added the winning game

The rain poured out from the clouds, drenching the small country town. Noah sheltered in his stable, calmed by the presence of his horses. Shakily, he gave them their grain and replenished their water supply. Then, even though the ground would be muddy from the rain when he turned them out later and they'd just get dirty again, he groomed each one of the horses. Then he decided to sweep the stable floor.
Finally, after he ran out of chores to do, he sat on a hay bale, numb. Carefully, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a little gray horse statue. One of the back legs and the tail had cracked off when he jumped out of a moving car the previous day.
He had went to the city to visit his girlfriend, who had been dating him since they were twelve. When he got there, however, she was in a weird mood. After sitting around her apartment for a few hours, they went out to dinner, and finally the reason for her mood was revealed. She was breaking up with him. Noah didn't have time to hear the explanation, since he rushed out the door of the restaurant, leaving her to pay the bill.
He called a taxi and, when they neared his home, he decided to jump out without telling the driver to stop. Maybe a few bruises would feel good.
So, now he sat alone in his stable, trying not to think but trying to pull himself out of the numbness simultaneously. The horses neighed, but he barely heard it. Instead, he stood up and walked into the rain, which was coming down so hard it stung his skin. It felt good.
Sitting down in the wet grass, he let the sound of the rain and the feel of grass under his fingertips lull him into a peaceful state of mind. Once the rain let up, he grabbed one of his horses, Patch, and went for a short bareback ride through the pastures. The crisp, fresh air flowed through him and the steady beat of the horse's cantering hooves relaxed him.
When he made it back to the stable, he turned the horses out to pasture, watching them gallop into the rain-soaked grass and stop to graze peacefully. Leaning on the fence, he observed them carefully, letting their occasional snorts and the sight of them tranquilly eating put his mind at ease for the moment.

(I really want to redo this. It barely even goes with the song. I'm just so tired of writing for the day since I had to do almost the entire weekly today too that I rushed this.)

WORDS: 409

Cabin Wars

Date: July 8, 2022
War: “Cabin Wars! Four people have to write 1000 words each. This has to occur in the next 8 hours, or lose 950 points. Extra challenge: you must use two characters, no more, no less. Yes, animals count as a character. You will be rewarded with 50 extra points each for the extra challenge (totaling 200).” sorry guys lol“ and ”Cabin Wars! Your cabin must write an extra 1000 words toward your most recent war."

Wet, rainy, stormy
Slick fur, dripping manes
hooves stuck in suctioning mud
desolate neighs and whinnies
echoing through the air
Storm of horses

Thunder rumbled overhead as rain poured down from the sky, startling the herd of wild mustangs into turmoil. Kicking frantically and calling out loudly to each other through neighs and whinnies, the herd moved onto the higher ground of the prairie.

(Oh.. oops… forgot to follow the 2 character challenge. But you know what… I really think I should stop now. I don't want to risk burning myself out since I already did basically the whole weekly and the daily today.)

Date: July 10, 2022
Daily: Have you completed today’s Wordle? Go to https://www.nytimes.com/games/wordle and complete the Wordle; if you can’t access the website, you can use this scratch version here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/639908378/ . After you complete the game, incorporate all the words that you guessed into a writing piece. Write 400 words to earn 500 points for your cabin.

My words:
-canny
-broke
-don't know if I'm allowed to say it- it's a type of drink
-bever
-berth
(This is gonna be interesting XD)

Dusk fell over the land, hushing the nearby towns as the crickets began their nightly song. A small canoe bobbed in the calm river as the men inside of it bickered over which breed of horse was best suited to ranch life.
“American Paints ain't got nothin' on Quarter horses,” the man in the back of the canoe said, his words slurring and sliding over each other as he gripped a can of be*r in his right hand.
“Maybe… but Paints sure look a whole lot prettier than them Quarter horses,” the man at the front argued, adjusting his brown Stetson.
“Well, maybe we'll be able to get both of ‘em breeds once we get that ranch,” the third man said as he stared off into the distance, a look of concentration etched onto his face.
"That ain’t ever gonna happen, Duke. We all know we too broke for that,“ the dr*nk man slurred.
”You never know,“ Duke said quietly. ”You never know…"

The next morning, as the sun rose on the land and birds chirped from the trees, the men awoke, cramped from a night's sleep in the small canoe. Duke took control of the front paddles, giving the river bank a wide berth to avoid being seen by police patrols who might recognize them as the men wanted for stealing from markets back over the border of Illinois. Even here in the rivers of Kentucky, there was a risk of getting noticed.
When the sun hit the highest point in the sky, they lured the canoe into a small bay shielded by trees and stopped for a bever* of stale crackers and cheese. Once they finished, there was discussion about how they would get their next meal. Duke suggested they hunt or fish, though the other two men claimed they were too exhausted to do that and instead should buy food from a local market, despite the risks.
"Duke, you should do some bargaining. Ain't you canny** when it comes to gettin' good deals?“
”Yeah… I guess so,“ Duke replied, sighing heavily. ”I'll go into the nearest town, and you two stay here and stay hidden, you got that?“
The two agreed and Duke set off to the nearest town.

*didn't even know that word existed- apparently the definition is ”a light lunch eaten between regular meals"
**don't think I used that word right… but I'm really running out of time to submit the daily

WORDS: 411

Date: July 10-16, 2022
Weekly: Newspaper

Part 1: Main Information Article

My choice: Sports

There are many different equestrian disciplines throughout the world, ranging from dressage to barrel racing or reining to showjumping. Most disciplines have different fundamental principles at their core. For example, dressage focuses on being in harmony with the horse, the suppleness of the horse, and exaggerating the natural gaits of the horse. Racing, on the other hand, is usually less about the horse and more about the profit to be gained by the horses. Of course, within each discipline there are good and bad people: the “good” people want the best for their horses, whereas the “bad” people only want the prize money to be gained from horses.
However, there are still certain disciplines which can be considered more ab^s!ve to horses than others. Let's break that down.
Reining, which is sometimes called the western version of dressage, and dressage are about obedience and a partnership between human and horse at their core. This makes them, in theory, great equestrian disciplines. However, there are many people in both that ab^s* their horses by overworking them, practicing inhumane riding, etc. When a horse is overworked beyond repair, the majority* of them are sent to s!aughterhouses because they can't win anymore money for their owners. This can happen in any discipline. Though, when these harmful practices are not in place, both reining and dressage can be beautiful to watch and be inspired by.
Showjumping is a different type of English discipline that can actually have the potential to be fun for both the horse and the rider, however, especially. at the professional level, they are often ridden roughly and usually develop lameness a lot in their career if they are owned by incompetent or uncaring handlers. Otherwise, it can be awe-inspiring for people to spectate this sport and watch the horse's power and grace while jumping over the hurdles.
Hunter classes are another type of jumping discipline. In it, the horses and riders are judged by grace, accuracy, and elegance, whereas showjumpers are judged by fewest faults and fastest time.
Now on to barrel racing and racing. These are two of the most hated sports in the equestrian world*. Many feel that the only reason for involving yourself in these two disciplines is to earn money. The vast majority of horses in barrel racing and racing end up in s!aught*r and have numerous health problems. Sometimes racehorses will even die on the track. Barrel racing horses are forced to run in tight circles around barrels, which can lead to unbalance in their bodies. Many of the riders in these two sports use harmful aides, such as whips, spurs, and kicking the horses in the ribs. All of these aren't necessarily wrong if used gently, however, when they want the horses to move faster the riders usually use them quite aggressively. So, while it can be entertaining to watch, these disciplines need to stop, or at the very least put forceful rules in place that prevent this treatment of the horses.
Endurance involves long-distance racing and many hours of training and conditioning. I'm not sure of the practices this discipline uses or whether or not it is good for the horse, though it seems very natural for a horse and doesn't involve any unnatural movements.
Cutting and roping are western disciplines that involve other animals. Roping involves bringing down a steer, while cutting focuses on cutting a cow from its herd.
Cross-country, which is part of a three day competition also involving dressage and showjumping, can be extremely dangerous to both the rider and the horse. However, it is said that it is the most natural discipline for a horse** because it takes place outside and it involves running of grassy terrain. I feel that there could definitely be ab^s* in this discipline due to bad or rough riding, however, some horses seem to be in their natural state while in these competitions.
Trick riding is another type of discipline, though I feel that this discipline (if indeed it's called a discipline) is more about the rider than the horse, which contributes to the reason I'd rank this my least favorite equestrian sport to watch. Vaulting is a discipline that uses some of the same fundamentals as trick riding, making the two very similar though not identical.
Driving is an equestrian sport that uses carriage driving to complete and go through obstacles on a set course. There are usually two to six horses in a team, with the coachman sitting in the carriage, directing them.
This is just a brief overview of different types of equestrian disciplines, and to really understand them more research will be needed.

*I don't have statistics to prove this; I'm just going by what I've read or heard on numerous occasions.
**I'll be honest; I've heard this once.

Disclaimer: Some of the disciplines I mentioned I actually don't know much about (such as trick riding, vaulting, driving…) so please don't take it very seriously.
(828 words)

Part 2: Main Opinion Article

My Choice: Sports opinion

(TW- Horse Ab^s*)
There is an equestrian discipline (though it shouldn't even be called that) that is extremely ab^s!ve to horses. It is believed to be worse than all the other disciplines combined and needs to be banned. There is no way to save this sport by enforcing more rules or requiring vet checks of the horses. It just needs to be stopped immediately. Let's take a look at what it is.
The Big Lick is a sport involving the Tennessee walking horse breed, which is a beautiful breed of horse that has a very smooth natural gait. However, in the Big Lick this gait is completely destroyed. It uses a method called soring, in which the trainer or owner or whoever is in charge of the horse puts dangerous chemicals on the horses front legs to cause them to hurt. Then, they put a chain around the leg, which causes the horse to lift its leg high to attempt to get rid of the pain, which produced the desired gait. The objective of the horrendous Big Lick is to force the horses' front legs to swing higher than the other horses' in the competition. Because the horses are lifting their front legs up so high, it causes a lot of pressure to fall on their back legs. This is a problem, because, when walking naturally, horses put more weight on their front end than they do their back end. So, because the back legs have to support all that pressure, they stick out at an odd angle and put strain on all the muscles, bone, and tendons in the horse's legs and hooves.
The handlers also put something called “stacks” on the horses' front hooves, which causes an even more dramatic leg lift and, again, causes more pressure to be added to the back legs.
Another horrible method used in the Big Lick is cutt!ng the tendons in the horse's tail and wrapping it up a certain way any time the horse isn't showing to produce an exaggerated lift of the tail.
When showing, the rider forces the horse to walk in circles around an arena in front of judges, who judge by how high the leg lift is. Basically, the one who ab^s*d his/her horse the most is deemed the winner of the competition.
The horses are also kept in stalls the entire time and aren't allowed to lie down because it would take the strain off of their legs, which need to be sore for the competition. With this horrible way of life, the horses can't be expected to function properly for long and I believe most of them are sent to s!aut*r.
Even if they are rescued from this awful cycle, many of the horses aren't able to fully recover.
This is why the Big Lick needs to be stopped. The majority of people see why this is wrong, and many participate in protests against this treatment of these horses and donate money to help.
The Tennessee walking horse is an amazing breed of horse that does not deserve this treatment (nor does any horse breed). Horses are amazing animals of beauty, grace, and connection. Treating them this way cannot be legal anywhere on Earth. It needs to stop.
I cannot understand how people who do this to these horses are okay with it. How do you have the job of hurting horses and go to work every day? I know there's an argument of money, however, there are many, many other jobs in the world and taking away the Big Lick will only help the world. There are no negative sides to it. A few people may loose a lot of money, but I believe they deserve it. They can try to find another job. We can't keep the Big Lick alive just for the sake of their income.
There is nothing good about the Big Lick. It is based on crue!ty to horses. The riders who ride them aren't even good riders. Whereas, in other disciplines, even though there can be harmful practices, the core of it is partnership with the horse. There is no partnership in the Big Lick. The only reason for doing it at all is to make money. You can't possibly care about the horses you own if all you do is hurt them.
It may be too late to save most of the current horses involved. The minds of the people who show them cannot be swayed. However, we can save future Big Lick horses by warning the new generations about how horrific it is. With determination, we can end the Big Lick for good and save the lives of countless Tennessee walking horses who could have been the next v!ct!m of this horrible sport.
(800 words)

Part 3: Column

My Choice: Advice (I used fake questions because I wanted it to be equestrian-themed

My horse never wants to spend time with me after our three-hour long lessons. So, I tried increasing the amount of time we train so that maybe he'll get used to being around me. Also, lately I've noticed that when I call his name when he's out in the pasture, he trots away from me. It makes catching him so much more difficult! What can I do to get my horse to like me again?

Hey there!
Training for that long may actually have the opposite effects of what you're looking for. By forcing your horse to spend that much time training, you may be making him associate you with hard work. By trotting away when you call his name, he's probably thinking that by not coming toward you he may be able to get out of work. Three-hour lessons are way too long for horses. I'd suggest twenty minutes to a half hour for lessons right now. Once he's comfortable with it again, you might be able to slowly work it up to an hour. But, I wouldn't do more than that. Spending more time with your horse on the ground is a great way to bond with him and restore trust. By practicing groundwork or even just talking to him and petting him for a few minutes at a time may help him associate you with good things. Eventually, he may even come when you call his name.

I have a horse who's always trying to walk ahead of me when I lead her to the arena, and, when I ride her, she ignores almost every command I give. She used to be a sweet and willing horse, but now all she wants to do is get ahead of me. What can I do to fix this?

Hey there!
It sounds like your horse needs to learn respect and personal space. You can do this by practicing groundwork to teach her ground manners. This will help her learn to respect you and not try to get ahead of you, as well as strengthen your bond. It will also help her to listen when you're in the saddle. Another thing I'd recommend is switching your riding routine up a bit sometimes. Horses can get bored while being ridden if you do the same thing all the time. Try going on trail rides, setting up some jumps in the arena, or, if you're looking for something to do out of the saddle, try liberty!

There's this really pretty chestnut mare that I want to adopt. I've been looking for months to find a good horse for me, and it seemed like I finally found one. However, all of my equestrian friends said I shouldn't get her because she's a chestnut mare, so she'll be crazy. I always thought it was just a myth… but now I'm wondering, is it true?

Hey there!
It actually depends a lot on the breed of horse. For example, thoroughbreds and Arabians are more likely to be hot-tempered and unpredictable than other horse breeds. Gender also plays a role. Sometimes, mares can be more fiery than geldings. There was a scientific study proving that chestnuts were bolder than bays. However, all of this also depends on the horse. Some people have chestnut mares that are actually very well behaved. I'd say, if you can teach the horse good ground manners and teach her to respect you, go for it!
(574 words)

Part 4: Other

My Choice: Awards/recognition (fake)

The following awards were awarded to various equestrians across the state the state of Texas for their outstanding competition performance and/or their humane way of riding and treating their horses.

Championships/“of the year” Awards
Julie Smith: Most Competitions Won Throughout The Year
Megan Gibson: Best Wins to Loses Ratio For Dressage Competitions
Hannah McGwuire: Champion Barrel Racer Nationally
Diane James: Champion Showjumper Internationally
Richard “Richie” Beck: Champion Roper Nationally
Greg Franklin: Champion Eventer Nationally
Francine Web: Champion Reiner Internationally
Courtney Jackson: Champion Endurance Rider Nationally
Elizabeth Greene: Champion Dressage Rider Nationally
Jake Nickson: Champion Roper Internationally
Buck Austin: Rodeo Champion Of The Year
Elise Francis: English Rider Of The Year
Marcie Johnston: Owner of the Year
Michelle Morgan: Trainer Of The Year
Laney Rose: All-Round Equestrian Of The Year

Humane Treatment Of Horses Recognition
Kara O’nell, founder of “No Bit No Bite” movement
Nicole Macey, founder of “Humane Racing Means No Racing” movement
Claire McCourtly, founder of “Riding for Horses” movement
Jamie Blake, founder of the Humane Horseshoe
Georgia Bentley, founder of the “Let’s Do This Right” movement
Sierra and Nate McNutly, co-founders of “End The S!aughter Of Horses” movement

All of the awards and recognitions stand for this year only.
(201 words)

WORDS: 2,403

Date: July 11, 2022
Daily: In order to connect with our characters, we writers often use their dialogue and inner thoughts as tools to convey their emotions, opinions, and characteristics. For today’s daily, however, neither of those tools will be available to you. For 600 points, write at least 500 words of an emotional narrative with neither dialogue nor inner thoughts. To earn an extra 200 points, provide proof of your writing.

!!TW!!

She sat kneeling in the wet grass, letting the rain absorb into her clothes. The soil collected her tears, blending them with the falling rain. As the moments ticked by, the weight grew heavier on her mind as the world itself grew darker, trading it's vibrant colors for a thousands shades of gray and black. She let those colors sink into her, and she held onto them for dear life. She was falling into the void of inexistence, there was no denying it. Her tears pulled her back into the depths of nothingness. Darkness inched in on her, covering her like a heavy blanket. She had realized long ago that there was no other way. Once darkness settles and makes up its mind, there is nothing that can deter it. Some people say that all you need to cast darkness away is a light, but what they don't realize is most people don't possess that light. She didn't. So the darkness made a home in her, moving some feelings and thoughts around in her mind until the lines between reality and unreality blurred. She forgot how to cry for help. There were no more words left in her. Not a sound left in her soul. Her lips were unable to part, and strength had fled her. Long horns of solitude and sorrow echoed within her for hours at a time. There was nothing she could do to stop the noise. The darkness taught her to welcome it. She had learned to welcome many feelings. Hunger gnawing at her stomach, tears dancing just out of sight, a scarf of sadness that choked her, stinging lines etched into her skin. She craved it, and eventually, the darkness itself. She couldn't see on her own anymore, didn't even dare to breath without it. Nothing was left in her that was her own. Her body was a ticking clock. Even her tears wanted to escape that body and mind that absorbed darkness so readily. Her body became a stone, completely still for hours upon hours at time. Her heart beat only because it was forced to, an instinct to keep the body alive even when the mind decided otherwise. Night and day were merely words to her. Being full and hungry the same thing. Nothing had differences. It was all part of the same blackness that settled into everything and everybody. Light, joy, happiness–they were only allusions. Distractions from the grim truth that seeped into every pore on earth. Her hands grew numb. She was no longer in control of her own body. She didn't want to be. Blood ceased to flow through her veins, it was replaced darkness and gloom. With every slice of her body, that darkness leeched out onto her skin, coating her with a layer unable to be penetrated. She had been chained and tied down. Every positive thought left in her mind had been captured and held under close supervision until it complied with the shadows that floated around her. Sometimes they slipped into her. They made sure the world didn't exist to her. They darkened her sight and thoughts. She let them carry on until they were impossible to case away. So she made close friends with them, thinking that would suffice. But they wanted complete control. Soon, they slowed the ticking clock within her until it stopped, and, at last, they seized her.

WORDS: 566

July 14, 2022
Daily: How many hours did you sleep the night before this daily was put in? Write 1200 words about your various characters’ sleep habits and the effects they have on them for 700 points. For every hour that you slept that night, you have to write 100 fewer than the 1200—so if you slept 8 hours, you only need to write 400 words. (Caps at 10 hours for 200 words.) There are no points for proof.

6 and a half hours = 550 words…

Alan Fletcher usually doesn't sleep until one or two in the morning, and he falls asleep on his couch. And he normally doesn't wake up until twelve in the afternoon. He does this because he likes being up at night to avoid other people, though the downside is that with minimal human interaction he becomes lonely easily, though he'd never admit it. His room looks like a pigsty. There are clothes scattered about on the floor and his bed is unmade.

Kira hart is the opposite. She goes to bed on time every night and wakes up at the same time every morning. Her room is neat and orderly and everything has its place. She also has a dog that helps her sleep sometimes at night and lays in bed next to her. This routine really helps her keep focused and healthy. Sometimes she reads in bed before going to sleep. Other times she paints at her art station (which is really just a desk with an easel on it) until she's ready to go to bed. These were all tips she learned in therapy and she sticks to them in hopes of recovering completely from her sister's _ _ _ _ _ _ _.) She's doing much better now and sleep definitely helps her be able to focus and be attentive the next day.

Jake Nickson is sort of science nerd and usually stays up late studying and soaking up new information on various subjects that interest him. His room is filled with textbooks about animal anatomy and psychology. The only part that's neat about his room is his desk, with is nicely organized with different labeled experiments. The rest of the room is cluttered in clothes, homework, and books. When he finally does go to bed he's usually exhausted and sleeps pretty well. On weekends and over summer break he sleeps in, however, during the school year he runs off of an average of five hours of sleep a night. He says it's worth it though, since the time he's not sleeping is spent acquiring new knowledge.

Mara Rikson loves sleeping. She drinks a glass of milk with two oreos every night at eight PM, then heads off to bed. Usually, she sleeps really well, and wakes up around six AM to start the day. This really improves her mental health and allows her to feel as though she is in control. Her room is kept nice and orderly and has many plants of various species. She also has a calendar hanging on her wall that she uses to write down every individual plant's watering schedule. Her room is painted a light shade of beige that almost looks white.

Kara Rikson's entire personality and sleep schedule conflicts with her sister's. Even though they are both adults now, they had the same deferring personalities and sleep habits as kids, which made it extremely difficult for them to share a room and eventually caused their parents to allow them to have different rooms. Her life, along with her sleep and room, is a disorganized chaos. She doesn't care at all about the presentation or aesthetic of her room, and even her walls show that. Her walls are painted with various different colors smeared randomly across sections of the wall. Numerous papers line the floor haphazardly and food crumbs gather on her bed and are brushed off onto the floor.

(I know this is in no way my best writing… I was kind of rushing and I didn't have any character ref sheets to reference.)

WORDS: 562

Date: July 15, 2022
Daily: July 15th is Give Something Away Day! In honor of this, comment a description of a strange object in your home that you would like to “give away” for someone else to use in a story. It could be anything, from an old newspaper clipping to a weird sculpture! Then, choose someone else’s object and write a short story where it is given some significance. Your story must be 500 words to earn 700 points, and if you share your writing, you can earn an extra 200 points!

Item: glass chips of a broken mirror

I had it all here- i just had to delete it bc I feel like I would get a warning or ban from the scratch team if I kept it up

WORDS: 509

Date: July 16, 2022
Daily: Imagine if you were telling someone about yourself using only a story about a brief, two-and-a-half-minute experience - what would you tell them about? Perhaps it would be a time you helped someone up, or maybe something that helped you grow as a person! Today, think of how a character of yours would answer that question. Write a story about their vital two-and-a-half minutes in at least 300 words to earn 500 points. If you share your writing, you can earn 100 bonus points!

Character: Kira Hart

“Well, I was having a… rough day. And I was sitting in class, completely not paying attention to the teacher. All I could do was try not to cry. I kept feeling the tears in my eyes, so I just focused on my desk. Suddenly, the teacher called on me to answer a question. I forgot what the question was now– probably something about math, but anyway, I slowly looked up at her and I felt a tear run down my cheek. Panicking, I wiped it off before anyone else could see it – I was at the back of the room – and said I don't know. But my voice cracked and I was so scared someone would be able to tell I'd been crying. But, instead of getting mad at me, like all my other teachers had done over the past weeks, she smiled softly and said that's alright. Then she moved on to the next person. It was such a small thing, but it meant so much to me that she didn't immediately get mad at me or accuse me of not caring enough or not paying attention. She also didn't wait until I got the question right. Then all the attention would have been on me for quite awhile because I was in no mood to do math and probably would have sat there and just kept looking down at my desk and not said a word. After class, she asked me if I was alright because she knew about um, my sister's- uh… she knew about it. I said I'd be fine and I really wanted to thank her for doing what she did but I didn't know how so I just gave her a small smile– the first one all day. Then she told me not to worry about the test that was coming up because she could help me study and I could take it next week. So, yeah… that wasn't two consecutive minutes but if you added that together it would probably be about two and a half minutes. It's crazy how only like two minutes can make such a positive difference in someone's life… It actually helped me start to realize that I needed to recover and that I couldn't stay in that state forever.”

WORDS: 382

Date: July 17- , 2022
Weekly: Fantasy

Part 1: High Fantasy and Worldbuilding

Part 2: Magical Realism

Part 3: Joint Workshop

Date: July 17, 2022
Daily: The meaning of a phrase can be immensely impacted by the experiences of the person saying it, the relation of the person they’re speaking to, and the situation in which it’s said. Today, write a story in which the first and last lines are the same. How do your characters’ and the reader’s interpretations of the sentence change? Your story must be at least 700 words to earn 900 points.

Day 1:

Erasing is a privilege.

When strokes on a paper go wrong…

You can erase them.

If only it worked like that in real life.

Real life…

What separates real life from fantasy?

I guess there's no magic.

Bummer.

But I guess magic would destroy the world anyway.

I hate magic.

Maybe dreams are magic.

Well…

Perhaps not.

Magic doesn't exist.

But fireflies do.

They look magical.

I love fireflies.

And I love being outside at night.

I love trees.

I love grass.

I love…

Nothing.

I love nothing.

And you, stupid therapist, cannot get me to say I love anything anymore.

Because I don't.

I'm sick of that small room.

Suffoca!ing…

Pointless room.

Talk,

you say.

Tell me about your problems,

you say.

I'll listen,

you say.

Lies…

Lies…

Lies…

You only listen to money.

The money shoved in your face for an hour long session.

I am money to you.

Nothing else.

Stop your lies.

I ha!e you.

Clock ticking, ticking, ticking

Forever ticking

Until forever reaches it's end

See?

I'm better at solving my problems than you.

You are pointless.

I'm done with this assignment.

Day 2:

Why can't I write in poem form anymore? You say it's “cheating”, but it's not. I told you, you're pointless. And you never even gave me a reply to that. Instead you just wrote with your stupid little red pen like a teacher and marked up my words. And wrote all over them. You ruined them. I ha!e you. You say it's healthy to say that sometimes. Well, I'll tell you the truth. It's not. It's actually very destructive to say that all the time. Believe me, I would know.

Day 5:

Why did you make me

Sit in that stupid room

All day

For two days

In a row?

I told you

I will not

Talk

To you

and your stupid little

Obsession with money.

Day 6:

You say it's not an obsession, that you just need it to pay your bills. But I know better. You love money.

Day 7:

You told me to write something heartfelt and meaningful. And I promised I would. But if you read this today you'll be disappointed… because actually I plan to do a little more research into your money obsession. You love money too much. All you do is work all day and I know the reason. You want money more than anything else in the world. So… yes, I figured it out. You can stop lying now.

Day 11:

Oh, wow, look at that. I found this stupid little notebook. It was under my bed. It was there the whole time. I knew where it was when I told you I lost it.

Day 12:

If writing something that “goes far deeper than surface level” (your stupid words) is the only way to get out of here… then maybe I'll try it. Maybe.

But

I like

My little

Pointless

Poetry.

Day 13:

Today went horribly. But I'll turn it around. Because I am capable of doing good in this world. (There, are you happy now?)

Now I can

Float off into

The abyss of my

Dark mind.

Day 15:

I want to get out of here. I really do. But I can't write down all of my deep secrets and everything… It feels weird. Maybe I'll never get better. Maybe my mind will always be a broken and I'll have to spend the rest of my life here. I hope not though.

Day 20:

I know you said I should write in this every day. But what's the point of that? I had nothing I wanted to say the past five days. I still don't have anything I want to say.

Day 21:

Is it true that I might be able to get out of here by the end of the month? It's possible I only have to stay here ten more days? I can't wait to go back home and not have to see you every hour of every day.

Day 27:

I can go home in three days!

Day 28:

Am I really ready to go home?

Day 29:

I don't want to go home.

Day 30:

I'm not going home tomorrow. I'm not ready. I have to stay here for another month. But now I do want to go home. But I still can't.

I guess I'll just have to

Forget about my life

Before this.

Erasing is a privilege.

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