Daily #17

EDEN
“This is worth it,” Lyndon told me with confidence.
I wasn't sure.
“Doesn't seem like it to me,” I replied
“Eden, do you trust me?”
“Not really, no,” I still lacked the enthusiasm Lyndon seemed to have found, “remember the time you said that and we ended up at Olivia's house. That still gives me nightmares, I don't think I've ever met anyone that worthless to society.”
“Come on, it wasn't that bad.”
“Not that bad? Please. I'm pretty sure the snails she cried about at school are still there and she feeds them to her dolls.”
“I can't argue with that but, this time there's no chance we'll end up with that freak again.” Lyndon explained again, “We either do it correctly and go to whatever dimension we want or spontaneously combust”
“Sounds like a perfect way to spend our weekend.”
“Eden please, just this once.”
“Why do you even need me for this? Can't you just go alone?”
“No, you see, it needs two people for whatever reason. All you need to know is that it needs at least two people.”
“What about Johnny and Brandon?”
“They say they're very busy but I think they're just scared.”
I was still yet to understand this concept. Why did Lyndon want to try this so badly? And why the hell would a suspicious guy tell him to come to a random lake with a friend so he could go to another dimension? I thought I knew better but it's not like I didn't feel like getting kidnapped today. Could be a fun story to tell.
“You know what, fine. But if we get kidnapped don't say that I didn't warn you.”
“We survived 10th grade, we can survive this.”
“So when and where are we meeting up?”
“Here at 10pm?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, “I'll text you if anything comes up.”
Hopefully something did. I still thought this was pretty stupid but I didn't just want to chicken out already. Maybe my family decided to go to our trailer for the whole summer starting today.

LYNDON
Finally, Eden agreed. Sure they're difficult to convince but as someone who's been friends with them since kindergarten, I know it's not impossible.
And even if they disagreed, so would I in their position. This whole thing sounded sketchier than a guy in a white van offering a 1st grader candy at the park if they got into his car. But it wasn't some random guy, it was my uncle! I was pretty sure I could trust him.
I revisited the plan as I went home. Meet up with Eden, walk over to the lake, say the magic words and jump into the lake and go to another dimension or simply and painfully dissolve. A risk worth taking. I also needed to give Eden the second bracelet, bring some flashlights and avoid all of my family members except for my uncle.
I didn't even notice that I've already walked all the way to my house. 456 Hollybank Crescent. As I opened the door I was greeted by my mom yelling at my little sisters.
Taking her attention off them for a minute she confrontationally looked at me.
“Lyndon, you're finally here. Mind you you're half an hour late and I specifically said no detours,” my mom's wrath began, “Shane and Alina are being horrible and I really needed your help. If you ever think of disobeying me again you are as good as dead.”
I looked over to the twins who honestly looked like they were in need of saving from my mom rather than the opposite. And so much for avoiding my family.
“Ok mom, I need to grab something from my room. Is there anything you need help with now?”
“I already did everything you needed to do half an hour ago.”
“Alright,” I said without trying to seem relieved and instead, guilty.
I went up to get the bracelets and then maybe draw a bit before pretending to go to sleep and sneaking out.

EDEN
I checked the clock. 10:15 already? Great. And my family did not decide to move back to Poland or go camping in the middle of the night. I decided to text Lyndon that I was already on my way before leaving.
I silently left my room with nothing but my phone and a flashlight. Luckily no one was in the living room, my mom was most likely watching movies in her room and my dad was sleeping. This was my last chance to bail out. But no, I'm not a coward. Did I really still think that… This is worth it?
776 words

Note: I really wanted to make this longer but I had no time to

weekly 3 - 2910 words
part 1 - 854 words
small-ish isolated island
fairly large family
no “ruler”, just assumed
eldest is the ruler
people are fine with the ruling system since it has always been that way
no one outside of it knows the island exists
almost no interactions with the outside world
rulers are part of everyday life
people would only understand how close everyone is to each other
small talk is slightly unusual
deep conversations occur often
don't often use idioms/sarcasm
not many stereotypes
birds are common symbols, and they usually represent peace
water of any sort represents the family
there are not different social/economic statuses really
any art is put on by the family
simple tasks can be done easily with magic, but more difficult tasks require more effort and experience
everyone has magic, so normally
no laws - just use your own judgement
unknown, most likely natural
magic slowly drains away life forces
very common since everyone can use it, but people do not use it often

In the middle of the vast, sparkling Shimmer Sea, there sits an island. This island, tiny and isolated from the rest of the world, is made up of almost entirely mountains, although there are several rocky beaches along the shore of the island. This mountainous area is almost always cold and has a few streams running through it. No one has ever heard of this island except for those currently living on it. On this island, located precisely at the center, there lies a town, aptly named Centreville. The island has no specific structure of government, although the eldest members living there are generally considered to be the “leaders”, and their word is followed like law, despite the town having no official laws. This town consists of only one slightly large family, all of whom have the ability to do magic. This magic is particularly easy to use for small, insignificant tasks, but people in Centreville can rarely ever be found using this skill, since it drains their life force. This town is very self-sufficient, so they rarely ever make contact with the outside world, meaning they provide all of their own food and entertainment. Furthermore, they rarely ever engage in small talk. While it is not considered bad, it is simply just not something that the people of Centreville usually do. They prefer to get straight to the point and can often be found having deep conversations with one another, perhaps a result of their tightly-knit family and community.

I rubbed my eyes blearily, despising the fact that I always had to get up this early in the morning. The sun had not yet risen over the tips of the snow-covered mountains, and yet I had been up for already around half an hour. I knew it made my work easier, though, so I did it anyway. My branch of the family – my sister and myself, had gained the unfavourable task of herding and milking the mountain goats. While it was not the worst job we could have ended up with, it certainly was not the best one, either. I stood up, brushing off my dusty apron in preparation for the task ahead. Herding the mountain goats could prove to be quite a chore some days (well, all days, really, if I am being completely honest here) since the goats were often quite cranky this early in the morning. I did not blame them for that, though. I would be pretty annoyed too. But we had to do it early in the morning, because any later than that and it would be too late to begin cooking the bread. So, off to herd the goats I went. Hopefully today would not involve much running. Yesterday I had ended up running nearly a mile after a goat. My sister had tried to use her magic, which caused even more shock and adrenaline. Needless to say, I was incredibly sore today. If she had used her magic, I did not know what I would have done. Her life force had already flickered worrisomely low, since, as a small child, she had a big problem with her magic control. If she used much more, she would probably have to go talk to the elders, who are sort of like our leaders. We do not have any true rulers or laws, but everyone more or less trusts and accepts their word and advice. I focused back on the task at hand – my thoughts often had a habit of straying, which was not good for this task. After all, I did not want to be the one who had to go and talk to the elders, either. It was not that they were scary or anything – after all, they were just my great-grandparents, but it was generally not viewed as a good thing to have to go and talk to them and it often created gossip. Plus, I just did not want to get in trouble. I ran after a goat, out of breath. After I had gotten them all in line, I herded them into their pen and rushed back to start making the bread


part 2 – 1014 words

What kind of magic is used in your world? 89
In my world, the people use a magic with somewhat unknown extents and limits, but it generally appears to be mainly confined to powers of manipulating the elements. Everyone has the ability to manipulate every element, although some people are stronger in certain areas than others, and some people are not particularly talented at any sort of magic. Even those who are weaker in every section still have the ability to perform basic magic, though. These powers can also sometimes extend beyond simply the elements, depending on the person.
What are the laws of your world, specifically about magic? Punishments? 91
The world does not really have many laws surrounding when and when not to use magic, although it is generally not allowed in schools when completing schoolwork or exams, and it is illegal to use magic to cheat on any exam, particularly ones assigned by the government. Magic is also not allowed to be used to steal things, since thievery in all forms is prohibited. When it is used to assist in any sort of crime, the punishment is usually slightly worse than it would be for just the crime itself.
What is the origin of your magic? 110
The magic of this world is of somewhat unknown origins, but there are many theories. The most commonly believed one is that it came from the river. The water has always been regarded by this community as a very important part of society, and many of their beliefs are rooted in this theory. People believe that one day, when someone went swimming in the water, they returned with these magical powers – a gift of thanks from the water. Others believe that it simply came naturally, that people were just born with it one day, or that an experiment gone wrong created the powers. However, no one really knows for sure.
How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it? 85
Magic is very common in my world, since everyone has at least some ability to do it. All characters are aware that they have this talent, except for possibly some people who moved out of the town but still possess the powers. There are a few families that moved away, and the parents did not tell their children about these powers, so not every character knows about these talents. However, everyone in the town knows about it, since magic is even taught in the schools.
How can you ensure the magic in your story is realistic, and is written as a normalized part of your world? 100
I can ensure that the magic in my story is realistic by not overdoing the accomplishments performed by people using their powers, and I can vary the strengths of characters, along with describing beginners as less powerful than those with lots of experience. I can make sure it is written as a normalized part of my world by not making a big deal out of every time someone uses it, and by describing it casually. Furthermore, I can make sure to try to steer the conversation away from magic, to make it seem like everyone just takes it for granted.
What are the limitations of your world’s magic? 108
The limitations of the magic in my world are unknown since people do not really experiment with how much they can do very often. However, it is known that no one has been able to cure the d34d or travel at the speed of light. Additionally, the powers seem to have range issues. If trying to perform a task too far away, it usually does not work. It also seems as though the magical talents of those living outside of the town are weaker than that of those living inside the town, so it is generally believed that the magic is at least partially tied to the town.
How is magic viewed in your world (ie. as a boring normal, as a fascinating element of their life, or as a curse on society etc.)? 80
Magic is viewed as very normal, so no one really sees it as anything particularly special, and people often tend to take it for granted. However, people do also see it as an interesting talent to have, particularly those who are just beginning to discover this incredible skill. No one really seems to think of it as a curse on society, except for perhaps some of those who moved away, but most of them just left to find work elsewhere.
Are there any sensations the characters feel when they are using magic? Describe these sensations using their five senses. 117
When using magic, the characters sometimes feel a slight warm tingle or pull. While they usually do not smell anything unless the magic is trying to create a scent or using seawater, if the spell is powerful or strong enough, there might be a slight sizzling or burning noise and smell. The characters can sometimes hear a rushing noise in their ears, particularly when using wind or water powers. The characters usually can’t see what they are doing with their powers until the spell is over, even if everyone else around them can. This can make dangerous magic even more risky, since the characters do not know for sure what they are doing until it is done.
How is the education system in your world? What do your characters learn (or hypothetically would learn)? 140
The education system in my world is quite good. Characters go to school from the ages of three to fifteen, and then there is more optional school if desired. However, since nearly everyone in this world has a passion for education, most tend to continue on through this optional school, since it is always free or at a very low cost. They learn magic and how to control their powers. This is one of the main focuses for the younger students, although it usually becomes less urgent as they grow older. However, the classes never disappear, since there is always more to be learned about magic. The students also learn about regular school subjects, like history, math, science, English, and foreign languages. However, the science in their world, obviously, is a bit different, since they know about and use magic.
Does magic affect the government of your world? If so, how? 94
Magic does not affect the government much, except for the few laws about magic. Furthermore, the more powerful magicians tend to have higher status overall and, therefore, more say in the government, since the social and political standings of this world are one of the few things that are quite dependent on magic. The government will also occasionally solve minor problems, such as wildfires, with their magic. However, magic is not really a large part of the government other than that, so the government functions fairly regularly and is not very affected by magic.

part 3 – 1042 words
dystopian (338)
I rubbed the base of my neck for the hundredth time today. I was currently in the middle of ignoring a very boring lesson at school, just like I did every day. I never paid attention at school. Ever. And why should I? I figured that, if the government was bad, and the government was controlling the school, then the school was bad. Makes sense, right? See, the problem is, no one else really seems to believe me on that. It gets frustrating. Really quickly. Anyways, I should probably start at the beginning. It was not always like this. I remember a time, when I was very little, when things were different. I had a happy and normal life, using my powers just like everyone else did. Until they came. I remember the day vividly. I was sitting at home, watching my favourite cartoon on the television, when a broadcast interrupted it. That never happened, so I already knew something was wrong. My five-year-old self was too young to recognize what the problem was though, so I just sat there like an 1d10t. I watched as a strange man who I had never seen before grabbed the camera and held it up to his face, muttering garbled words that I did not understand. I know now though, what he had said, now that I spoke the same language. Now that I knew he was not speaking English, after all. I just sat there as he finished his speech, sat there as the soldiers barged in through the door, brandishing their gvns. I just sat there as one of them demanded to see my father, just sat there as he came bursting through the door, only trying to protect me. I just sat there as one of the soldiers instinctively fired at the first motion he saw. I just sat there, the whole entire time. After that, I did not speak. I sat there when they took away my powers, my life force. I just sat there and watched.

hidden world (322)
Siara burst through the wall, shouting loudly. I shot upwards out of my chair, startled. I would never get used to that. “Why can’t you just use the door like a normal person?” I moaned, not actually very mad at her. She grinned. “But where’s the fun in that? Sometimes you just have to let go and have some fun, you know?” I hung my head, a bit defeated. Everyone here had a special talent. Siara’s was, clearly, being able to pass through solid objects. Mine was… well, we weren’t really sure about that yet. I definitely had a power, though, otherwise I wouldn’t have ended up here. I used to live in a normal house with my family, until I just woke up in this cave one day. I haven’t seen my family since – I’m not allowed to. I don’t really mind though; I’ve sort of managed to create my own here. Nobody really knows how, but this cave automatically teleports everyone with any sort of magical powers here. As far as we know, nobody created a spell to do it. We think it was just a natural occurrence, but people began to use it to their advantage. Now we have a school where people can take magic lessons, and people have put up spells and barriers to protect us from the outside world. If I’m being completely honest here, the cave is probably protection enough, but it never hurts to be extra cautious. Nobody is able to leave the cave once they appear here; they just get bounced back as if jumping onto an invisible trampoline. I’ve seen it myself. I even tried it once, but to no avail. I realized Siara was still talking to me, rambling incoherently. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked her. “You zoned out again, didn’t you?” she asked. Siara was pretty good at being able to tell when I was and was not paying attention.

science fantasy (382)
“And… action!” I cried, praying that this would work instead of just exploding in my face like all the other ones had. Yes, I had attempted this multiple times, and no, it had not worked any of those times. I was confident I had gotten it this time, though. Then again, I thought that every time. I flicked the enormous bronze switch. For a moment, nothing happened. My face fell as I accepted the fact that it had just been another failure. Then, I heard a light whirring noise. A light switched on above my head, indicating that I should step into the room. I took a deep breath and opened the clear glass door, stepping into the small, round room decorated with ornate metallic carvings. I realized, giddy with excitement, that it could actually work this time. The thought that my time machine could finally have worked, after years of trying, was enough to nearly send me toppling over with joy. As the whirring shut off, I peered outside, wondering where I had ended up. When I stepped outside though, I realized with dismay that nothing had happened – I was still stuck in my boring old workshop. Not that my workshop was boring. Or old, for that matter. But it was close enough. Just then, I heard a crashing noise. Uh oh. “Who’s there?” I called out, on edge. “Who is /that/?” a tinny voice replied, “and what are you doing in /my/ workshop?” “Um, excuse me!” I responded rudely, annoyed that someone had tried to steal my workshop, “This is actually /my/ workshop. I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to leave. Now.” I was generally a pretty nice person, but when people were messing with my stuff or trying to claim it as their own, I became about as mean as anyone could possibly be. A head popped out from behind a desk, eyes narrowed. The person’s blond hair was tied up into a loose bun, and she was wearing glasses. She edged out further, seemingly unsure of whether or not she could trust me. I let out a small gasp as she stood. She had wings. “W-where am I?” I asked. “Why you’re in Mystlandia, of course!” she exclaimed. And then everything went black.

daily 17
word count: 751

“Oh, come on! It can burn for all I care!” I sit at the table across from my parents, my sister, and her children, explaining my plans to them. “I'll be glad to leave this * place, and I hope all of you can join me as soon as possible!”
“Don't think like that!” my sister scolds me, "there are lots of great things here! All of us, everything we know… even though we are in some… unideal situations right now, I'm sure they'll clear up eventually. And it's not like they'd affect any of us!“
”Not before you leave!“ I say. ”But really, you should consider it. For all of us.“
”I really don't know.“

The next day, I pack my final bag, bringing as much as I can, and take my seat on the train. I look out the window at everything that goes by; bulking factories and tall skyscrapers, bustling and polluted streets, all the things I'm glad I won't have to see again. I sit there for some two hours until the train finally pulls to a stop and we get out. In front of us is the rocket, our gateway out of this cursed world, our ticket to freedom. As we approach it and get into our seats, we are warned of all the things that could go wrong, told all the safety measures, and reminded what we were doing. That we would not be in contact with the outside world for several months.
But I feel relieved as it lifts up into the sky, ridding us of all our troubles, our loyalties, our burdens. The Earth slowly grows smaller and smaller until it is but another speck in the darkness.

After those months of isolation they told me about, my destination finally begins to show. What was just a speck for most of the journey grows until I can see its shape, its surface, its dark red color. We prepare for our landing, all visibly excited at the possibility laid out in front of us. A new life, a new chance. The rocket moves closer and closer until it starts to land, putting itself down on alien rock. After a short talk, we all put on our breathing suits and exit the it one by one, our feet landing on soil millions of miles away from our home. We make our way towards the settlements, where we are given our rooms and our bags, and as I lay down in a real bed, for the first time in months I wonder about Earth and my family.

”Did you hear?“ Someone asks me as I exit my room, a week after arriving here. ”They just got another news report from Earth! We're all getting copies today!" I nod, pretending to be interested. For the past week, I've been trying to forget Earth and my life there, pretend as if this is all I've ever known. It hasn't seemed to be working so well - especially now that we're receiving news from there. I try to avoid it, to not think about it, but later that day I find myself standing in a line to be given a physical copy of all the news we need to know. I reluctantly take mine, and even more reluctantly go back to my room and begin to read.

“Tensions rise among nations”
“War breaks out in US”
“People flock to Mars in hopes of escaping while others continue to stand their ground”
“Armies invade cities of…”
Wait. Was that… my town? My home, the place I've lived my whole life, the place where… my family is. And knowing them, they are still there, refusing to leave, standing their ground and trying to stay strong. If they're not already…

“When does the next rocket leave to Earth?” I find myself asking the next day.
“Next week,” the person at the desk mumbles.
“Well, get me a ticket.”

The rocket picks up speed, shooting into the darkness until Mars is once again a speck in the expanse of space. I look out the window each day, seeing if I can spot Earth. The months feel like centuries. Each day, something could happen back home. Someone could be hurt. Earth begins to grow bigger, but is it too late? What's happened while I'm gone?
-
“You're- you're back?” My sister asks incredulously, ushering me inside. “But- you said- what about Mars?”
“Oh, come on!” I laugh. “It can burn for all I care!”

My Writing Comp Entry: The World Burns

Count: 495 words
Fandom: The Blackthorn Key By: Kevin Sands

My eyes burned in the harsh heat. What happened?
My mind went numb with confusion. I was just sitting in the lobby talking with Sally and Tom a few minutes ago. The next thing that had happened was a loud boom. Then fire demolished the world around me.

I sat there dumbly trying to process what to do. A firm grip dragged me from shock and dragged me outside, through the burning mess around me. I stumbled to keep up.

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Tom said once we had gotten out. Alive.

My face burned hot with shame.

“One day you’re going to get yourself killed and I won’t be there to help you!” Tom said lightly.

I know he was only joking but he was right. Time and time again Tom has saved me when I had just stood there. If I was going to help the king I needed to get my act together.

“Where’s Sally?” I asked, nervous for the girl.

“Over here!” I turned to see Sally helping some other people find safety.

I walked over to join her.

We went around checking out the damage.

The building showed no evidence of the old inn that it was. By the looks of it some fire had spread to the entire building and caused the rest of it to crumble under the damage.

After the fire was put away with the help of the other shops and houses on the street, I heard the clattering of horses coming near.

Lord Ashcombe had arrived with a small group of the King’s Men. He climbed down and walked over to me and Tom.

Lord Ashcombe looked at the rubble and glared at me, “What must I do to you!? First you set a carriage ablaze and now an entire building! Really Christopher, you give me a headache.”

My face grew hot, “This time it was not me! I was just inside in the lobby when the fire started…”

Lord Ashcombe looked at Tom.

“For once it wasn’t Christopher.” Tom added.

The Marquess of Chillingham looked reluctant then looked as if he wasn’t going to punish us for this sin, “Tell me what happened.”

Tom started telling the story while I let my thoughts wander.

Fire was not very common in London- when it did happen it wasn’t on such a big scale as this one. A cold feeling spread throughout my body. What if this was done on purpose?

I saw something on the floor of the mess.

I moved towards it. In good condition- was a letter. I looked around.

It lay on the once wooden floor that was now charred.

In familiar handwriting, were the letters:

C.R.
The letter was addressed to ME.

I stood there frozen in place.

Open it, Master Benedict's voice said in my head.

I swallowed the bile in my throat and took out the parchment inside.

I hope you enjoyed my gift

Signed,
The Raven

july 6th's daily but reposted so i can neatly enter it for the writing comp :sob:

-

Today marks the fifth day I've officially declared myself lost, and the week-anniversary of the fire. I'm leaned against a tree now, my once-pale pink dress gathering mud and twigs. In my hand is a pencil, and in my lap is a scrap of paper - I'm glad that I have them, and intend to send a message for help. But at the same time it's disappointing to see that pollution has made it so far into the woods. I sit and stare at the sky, thinking carefully how I should word my plea. The pencil had no eraser.
Nature doesn't acknowledge that I exist. The infinite cycle of the woods ignores my pain and struggle, staying silent and unfamiliar. I don't mind too much, it's my fault I ended up here anyway. Technically, not really, as I don't actually know what set the fire. Honestly, it could still be burning bright and bold and I'd have no idea. The thought alone shattered my heart, making me feel cold inside, but I thank the weather that reality is decently warm. Finally, my hand decides it's time to write.

Dear whoever this ends up to,
I'm not quite sure what to ask of you, besides “help”, so I'll let you figure that part out, if you'd like. You don't even have to assist me if you don't feel like it, it's really okay. After all, you're likely a complete stranger, why should you care about a girl so… random? It would be slightly appreciated if you could give this to someone who actually knows me though… I'm not sure I can survive alone much longer. So anyway, onto my situation:
There's been a fire at my home. It is, or rather was, a little cottage not far from the border of the woods surrounding Town - if you know where that is. I was terrified at that moment, I couldn't find anyone or anything - so, I ran away. It's probably my biggest regret now. I doubt that any of my family is alive.
Now here in the present, I'm still wandering what I think is the woods surrounding Town. I'm afraid to stray too far, but I can't find my way back home, so I must've anyway. So to put it simply, I'm lost. But alive.

I run out of room, so I hoped, hoped, hoped that was enough and ended the note on
With many thanks, Cora Bloom
If you wish to mail be back, throw your letter into the wind,
whisper my name, and hope that it arrives.
(It's something my mother taught me…)

When the next strong breeze came by, I threw the paper into it, and whispered, “Anyone. Please.”
I watched my “letter” float higher and higher, above the tallest trees, and soon out of sight.

-

The next morning, I'm awoken with a cool, sharp wind. My insides fluttered with hope, as the world blinked into focus. In the air is a sage-green envelope, sealed with a golden stamp. It flutters into my hand, and I open it:

Dear Cora,
Your name sounds familiar - my mind wants to connect it to an old elementary school memory. Does the name Christine sound familiar… ?
Anyway, of course I'm willing to help you. Mr. Socks (my cat) and I may have been confused when your letter dropped onto him, and my memory totally may be mixed up (elementary feels so long ago, even though I'm only a highschooler!), but that's okay.
I happened to have a map of the woods you mentioned floating in my drawer. It seemed like the best way to lend a hand. I've attached a compass too.
Sincerely, Christine Nah

I peered into the envelope - sure enough, a folded-up map and tiny compass remained inside. I smiled, and wrote a reply on the back of the envelope:

Dear Christine,
Thank you. So, so much. By the way, I do recognize your name! We used to be playground besties, remember our hideout beneath the slide?
~ Cora

-

Later that afternoon, on my journey back to civilization, I received one last letter -

Dear Cora, anytime. I would still love to be your playground bestie, but for now, safe travels friend! ~ C.N.

-

7/17 - 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.

Here we go again, Nazari thinks, wondering what her mother wants this time. She’ll probably try to deny it, but everytime she walks in with that look on her face, she always wants something. Do the dishes, Nazari. Take out the trash, Nazi. Fold my laundry, Nazari. She was her child, for goodness shake, not a servant!

But maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time her mother would offer to do something for her. “Hey, Mom!” she says cheerfully, painting a smile on her face. Maybe if she acted willing, even eager, it would go differently this time. Or maybe it was a waste of time. Either way, it was certainly worth a try.

Her mom didn’t so much as glance at her.

She simply stormed through the room, walking into her office on the other side of it before slamming the door shut so hard it echoed, her rage practically bouncing off the walls. Whatever was wrong, it was very, very wrong.

Sighing, she looked back down at her paper, picking up a green pencil. She began to sketch a simple flower, starting with a thin, yet mighty stem. It stretched up high, as if it was determined to someday reach the sky, thin as a pencil, yet still holding up strong. Next, she grabbed a slightly darker green hued colored pencil and began drawing a delicate leaf, taking care to include every tiny detail, every little web of color flowing through its wide surface. Adding a few more leaves, Nazari wondered what was up. Her mom had just slammed her phone down on her desk, and was now furiously typing, smashing her poor keyboard into oblivion. Work, maybe? As she finished shading in the last leaf, she glanced at her remaining colored pencils. Yellow, purple, blue, orange… decisions, decisions. Perhaps today she would draw a sunflower.

Picking up the cheerful yellow pencil, she painstakingly outlined each and every petal, each of them unique, yet similar in their own ways. Perhaps they had different personalities, yet looked the same. Much like she and her mother. She shared her mother’s gently curling blond hair, bright green eyes, and pale, freckled skin, yet they couldn’t have more different personalities. Her mother was assertive, always appearing confident and commanding, ready to lead, plan, and take on every responsibility, every job, every imaginable possibility, yet her temper flared quickly and without warning. She came across as bossy and self centered sometimes, but Nazari knew her mother loved her. She, on the other hand, was very quiet, yet thoughtful. She rarely spoke, yet when she did, it was often insightful, kind, and adding something to whatever they were talking about. She herself wasn’t particularly inclined to lead nor follow, instead simply taking up whatever position she was naturally in. She could lead, and quite well, if she was being honest, but she didn’t particularly favor it over following a leader.

Her mother reappeared from her office, a walking storm. For a brief moment, her eyes seemed to soften when she saw Nazari, but then it was gone, lost in the cold fury of her rage. Maybe she had just imagined it. She stalked over to the seat next to her and took a deep breath, like she was about to tell her something she had never wanted to say out loud. As she opened her mouth, her entire expression came tumbling down, like bricks of a facade, falling away to reveal a sob underneath. “Your brother’s in the hospital,” she whispered. Nazari held her mothers gaze for a moment, reaching out cautiously, hesitating for only a millisecond before rubbing her back, hoping she would allow herself to be comforted.

“What happened?” she asked as gently as she could, fighting back tears of her own. She had to be calm. Someone had to be calm.

“He wouldn’t tell us.”

He.

Her father.

Something was indeed very, very, wrong.

“Can we go see him?” Nazari whispered, hoping her brother would be able to talk to them. They should have never let him stay at her father’s house. Never, ever, ever. What had she been thinking, giving her okay?

“He won’t tell us where he is,” her mom whispered.

Nazari sighed.

Here we go again.

Nancy W @sewwiththeflo
Hey @unbeatablesg! Want to help out with my Cat Thor fanfic?

—— Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo omg yess!! cat thor is the BEST thing to happen to superhero culture!

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo since kangaroo. the all-time best villain.



Tony Stark @starkmantony
@unbeatablesg Squirrel Girl, mutant animals are invading the city! I wouldn't normally bother you this late, but the Avengers need your help.

—— Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@starkmantony AHH IS THERE A KANGAROO??

Tony Stark @starkmantony
@unbeatablesg Yes.

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@starkmantony is it THE KANGAROO though? the dude with the cool mechanical tail?

Tony Stark @starkmantony
@unbeatablesg Yup.

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@starkmantony AHH YESS


Doreen leans back in her chair, tail curling into a tight knot as she considers.
On one hand, hanging out with Nancy would be amazing and epic as usual. But on the other paw, KANGAROO? THE MOST ICONIC OF ALL THE UNIVERSE'S VILLAINS? She got to talk to her friend all the time, but this? This just might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity….


Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo hey so do you want to come fight crime with me?

—— Nancy W. @sewwiththeflo
@unbeatablesg Now? What about writing? Mew misses you.

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo so

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo kangaroo all time best villain is possibly here!

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo anddd Tony wants help to fight him

Nancy W. @sewwiththeflo
@unbeatablesg Have fun, then.

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo ahh but i kinda want to stay heree

Nancy W. @sewwiththeflo
@unbeatablesg No, you're a superhero! Go do superhero things!

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo sometimes superheroing means staying home with your friend tho??

Squirrel Girl! @unbeatablesg
@sewwiththeflo …fineee ig i'll just go fight the best villain ever

10 minutes later…

The window in Nancy's dorm room crashes open, and she jumps. Wind howls through it, penetrated by the unusual noises of animals roaring and screeching, as well as the much more familiar sound of Iron Man's hand lasers.
“HEYY!” a voice sounds from behind the couch, and suddenly Nancy is enveloped in a fluffy blob of brown.
“Doreen?” she chokes out, pushing a handful of tail fuzz out of her mouth to reveal the face of her friend.
“Nancy! The Avengers seem to have everything handled, so I thought I'd come back here!”
“They have everything handled…” Nancy casts a nervous eye to the still-open window, through which sound firework-like crashes and cartoonish springing sounds. “If you say so.”

Weekly 4
___ words total

“Begin a story, anyway you like, but keep it close to 100 words.”
105 words
Once upon a time, in a small town seemingly in the middle of nowhere, a storm was brewing. Clouds obscured the sky from horizon to horizon, waiting to pour onto the world below. Lightning sparked and thunder growled in the distance. The few people out and about took one glance at the sky, and then hurried inside just in time before the sky broke open. Torrents of water turned the streets into small rivers. Lightning lit up the world like a cosmic flashlight, the strikes getting closer each time. If anyone were to look out their window, all they would see was water, water everywhere.

“Write for 8 minutes, making sure a character the main character thought was dead, is actually alive.”
141 words
Elle stared out at the endless water, waiting and waiting for the sky to stop pouring so she could play soccer again. Lightning flashed, making the whole window turn white like a computer screen. But wait- what was that? Some sort of humanoid was silhouetted against the light, walking through the storm. Whoever that was must have been freezing out there, so Elle decided to help.
“Hey! Come in!” Elle yelled out the front door, without a fear of strangers because she was familiar with everyone in her small town. However, once the person got inside, Elle was completely shocked at the face she saw… her best friend's face… the face that was supposed to have died from heart disease two years ago.
“Becca?”
“Hi Elle!” Becca greeted in the cheery fashion that she missed so much. “Crazy storm today, huh?”

“For 300 words, incorporate the songfic trope by including a short song lyric in your writing.”

81;6;3;0;/9-1/81-3/;5;0;2;12346789;5;000000000;

elysium (writing comp entry) forum post version

I
before
You float atop the marble patio, staring out at the ethereal world around You. A silvery spirit zips up to You holding a tray of food - or Your equivalent of food - and You eat the transparent pieces one by one, savoring every bite.
Your world is perfect - misty waves cascading over crystalline rocks and mountains, infinite marble palaces with everything one could ever need, beautiful auroras bursting with a million bright hues protecting Your world from anything that could possibly bring it harm.
You think of all this as You finish the last piece and slide back inside - into Your palace - to a place just as wondrous as the endless expanses outdoors. Giant hallways and stairs lead in hundreds of directions, each one holding something different, and far above You the crystals and glass that make up the great candelabras shine and sparkle. But despite the perfection, the wonder, You still feel something is missing. Something that You’ve known before - a thrill, an excitement. Something that is truly new.
You step back outside, gazing into the deep abyss.

And so You descend
leaving behind the sweet embrace of eternity
falling into a new world
of wonders.

II
within
After what may have been several seconds and may have been centuries, you open your eyes to an endless horizon of red. Eyes. Something new in this world, something wonderful, magical. Red. A real color. Something true, not an illusion, a real, tangible color right in front of you. And sounds - yet another wonder - an amazing array of pitches and vibrations, all against the backdrop of a constant, quiet thumping.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
You even feel. You move your hands about, feeling your own soft flesh, moving through the water you float in, touching and moving the surfaces around you. One responds with a sound: a soft, high-pitched yelp. Intriguing.
You know that you made the right choice coming to this new world. Even as memories of Elysium become distant and fade, the magic and wonders of this world await.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

III
birth
Sharp noises coming from all around you.
A pushing sensation, moving you out and away from the red expanse into a daunting new area.
Water making way to air.
You open your eyes and look around. Three towering figures crowd around you, touching you, picking you up, mumbling and making noises among themselves. They place you on an alien surface that seems both smooth and hard until another sound rings and one of them picks you up once more. Somehow, although they look just like the other two people in the room, you know that the one holding you is special. That person delivered you into this strange world, and will sustain you, nurture you.
The people take you out of the room, through long white hallways and down in strange boxes that seem to float and fly. Finally, they carry you through a set of doors that bend and open at their will.
And beyond them, stretching as far as you see, is the world. The dangerous, magical, wonderful world.

IV
life
Two of the people bring you through the vast outside and place you inside a box-like object made with the same material as the flying boxes. This one, however, moves horizontally, and you soon find yourself amidst a crowd of metal boxes much like the one you are in, all controlled by people much like the two you are with. Your box moves through areas like that for several minutes until it arrives in a quieter place, where it stops and you are taken out.
Your two people, carrying you, walk up towards another box-like structure and bring you through a hole in its side, placing you on a soft surface where you lay and wait. To your relief, this box does not move, but you soon realize that it is more difficult for you to move than you thought. Oh, well. Let the strange processes of this strange world take their course.
You lie there waiting until your two people come back, followed by two other, smaller people. The small two rush up to you, squealing, jumping, and touching you, and you let out a sound of distress when it begins to be too much. Immediately, your original two people come and make another series of sounds that seems to be directed at the smaller ones, and they leave you alone. You could get used to this life, this world. And as the last memories from before creep just out of reach, this is the only life, the only world.

Months pass, months of growth, exploration, and wonder. You learn of dogs and fish and birds. Of houses and skyscrapers, of flowers and trees. Of family. Of emotion. And there is still even more out there - places you have not been, people you have yet to meet, so much you need to feel, to touch, to know.
A world brimming with joy and excitement, all laid out in front of you.

V
departure
You run through an open field, feeling the grass on your legs and the soft breeze on your face. Your family sits by a path in the distance, laughing and talking amongst each other. You see an animal somewhere in the park and continue running, giggling as the small creature tries to evade you. Nearby, the moving metal boxes - which you now know are called cars - rush past, all those people hurrying to get somewhere, be someplace. Usually, your family would treat them like danger and tell you to avoid them, but you’d never see why. Now, with them occupied, you start inching towards the road and the cars, curious.
They zoom past, the noise nearly deafening, but still you come closer, ready to unveil another wonder. You step onto the street.
The car comes closer, lights blaring like two huge eyes. You laugh, holding out your hands, ready to feel it.
As it collides, you can hear a loud blare, along with a scream coming from across the park.

And then,
nothing.

You depart,
gazing down upon this world of wonders,
returning once more
to Elysium.

VI
after
You glide through Your palace and out onto a marble balcony which overlooks the whole of Your perfect world. The great waterfalls and cliffs, the shining lights above, the spirits in their marble dwellings.
This perfection is all You have ever known, yet somehow You feel something is missing. Something You’ve somehow known before - a thrill, an excitement. Something truly new.
You gaze into the abyss, wondering what magic lies beyond.

And so You descend
once more,
falling into the unknown with open arms,
departing Elysium,
and returning
to a world
of wonders.

Daily 17
(719 Words)

I'm afraid that I'll truly be alone forever. I'm afraid that I'll be old and dying and no one will be there to hear my last breaths. That I'll be lying in bed until someone notices I haven't been paying my bills. I know you'd tell me that I have nothing to worry about. You'd tell me that no one is truly alone forever. That someone will always be there for you. Maybe you're right, maybe I'll find someone one day. Find someone who cares, someone like me, but I doubt it. You'd believe me if you knew. If you knew who I was.

You're probably thinking I've committed a crime and I'm rotting in jail or running from the law when in reality it's nothing like that. Hey I'm Adeline Baker I'm in the eighth grade and after all this time have never had a friend. Here's the thing, people say they'll be your friend no matter what. They say they'll be your friends no matter what you look like, no matter how you talk, no where you've come from, no matter how much your family has, but it's all lies. It might not have been so bad if I had just been born poor, but beautiful or if I had been born with a speech impediment, but had a rich family and the best fashion sense in school, but no it's not like that.

Imagine the most ugly person in the world. Great, now imagine them stuttering every time they speak, imagine them in the same clothes they'd worn all week. Because of my features and lifestyle no one wants to be my friend. No one wanted to give me a chance, no one wanted to be my friend. If someone would just give me a chance I'm sure they would realize that I really wasn't all that bad. If someone would just get to know me I'm sure we could be friends, I'm sure they would find that I actually have an alright personality. I'm actually really smart and enjoy a lot of things other kids do. The problem is that everyone takes one look at me and decides that I'm not worth their time. That i'm not good enough to be their friend.

The only people that have always been there for me are my parents. I'm an only child with no siblings so I have no one to grow up with. My parents care about me which I'm grateful for, but they're always busy. They wake up earlier, make me my breakfast and then leave an hour before I wake. They then come home an hour just in time to cook me dinner. I get to talk to them for about twenty minutes over dinner, but then they have to take care of emails and such for their job and I don't get to see them until dinner tomorrow night. The thing is they're really old and sick and probably won't live for much longer. I don't know what I'll do without them. They are the only people that care about me. The only people that have stood by my side and made me feel like I was actually worth something.

If only someone sees that despite my looks I'm not a bad person to hang out with. I know some would say that being a teenager is hard and that everything would eventually get better. That life would one day turn in my favor and everyone who doubted me would learn their lesson, but I just don't really see how. I don't understand how it's possible for anything to get better when there's no changing how I look. People aren't going to get better. Humanity isn't going to get better. People aren't going to see me from the inside. They just pay attention to the outside. No one will ever see me for who I truly am. No one will ever realize that people can be beautiful on the inside even if they're not on the outside. One day when my parents are gone I'll truly have nobody. I'll truly never have someone who cares about me. I'll truly be alone. I wish it wasn't this way. I wish life was fair, but it's not. I'm afraid that I'll truly be alone forever.

I really hate him.
Whitney seethed. He's such a stupid, ignorant pig. And I hate him! She thought as she wiped mashed potatoes off her face. He is so going down. She wet a paper towel and let it run under the cool water.
“Whitney?” She heard a knock on the bathroom door. It opened and her best friend Charity White stepped inside.
“Are you all right?” Her friend's soft voice was like a charm, soothing Whitney's anger. “Here, let me help.”
Charity took the paper towel from Whitney and started gently patting her hair with it. She chatted as she worked. “You have to pat your hair, if you try to wipe the mashed potatoes, the paper towel will flake off, leaving little white dots in your hair.”
While Charity worked, Whitney calmed down.
“I think that's the best I can do.” Charity tossed the paper towel into the trash can. Whitney looked at herself. Most of the mashed potatoes were gone.
“Thank you,” Whitney sighed.
“Are you alright?” Charity's eyebrows crinkled in concern and she laid a gentle hand on Whitney's shoulder.
“Yeah, I'm fine. He just makes me so mad!” The angry tone returned to Whitney's voice. “I can't believe Jason threw mashed potatoes at me!”
“I know! He should have thrown jello instead!” Charity's mouth twitched with a smile as Whitney glared at her. “What? It would have tasted better!”
That did it. Whitney laughed and broke into a grin. “We should get to class.” Charity could hear the laugh in Whitney's voice.
“Let's go!” Charity smiled and linked her arm through Whitney's.
The next day at lunch, Whitney was sitting with Charity in the cafeteria when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Hey… Whitney.” A deep voice said hesitantly. She turned around to see Jason.
“What are you doing here?!” She shrieked. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand flew out, flying towards him.
Jason easily caught her wrist and lowered it. “Easy there.”
“I'm here to say,” He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I'm sorry.”
“Sorry?” Whitney squeaked out as if she had never heard it before.
“Yes, for treating you so badly and throwing mashed potatoes at you.” He looked down, his cheeks burning with shame.
Whitney just blinked.
“T-that's all.” He stammered and awkwardly walked away.
Whitney just stared after him.
“Whitney~” Charity waved her hand in front of Whitney's face and sang her name.
Whitney just stared after Jason, the most popular boy in class. The boy who apologized to her. Her!
“I think someone has a crush~” That brought Whitney back quick.
“What! No! I-” Whitney turned around quick as a flash.
“Don't even try to deny it.” Charity grinned. “He's not so bad. You two are so cute!!”
Whitney glowered at her.
Over the next few weeks, Whitney was subject to jabbing, raised eyebrows, and stupid grins from Charity whenever Whitney passed Jason.
One day, Jason approached Whitney at her locker.
“Could I talk to you?” He asked.
“Sure.” Whitney glanced at him and pretended indifference.
“Alone?” He looked pointedly at Charity.
“I think I need to go check on… something.” Charity flashed a smile at Whitney and ran off down the hallway.
Whitney wanted to yell, “No, wait!” But Charity was already gone.
“Could you take a walk with me?” Jason smiled bashfully at Whitney. “Just around the schoolyard.” He added quickly.
“Fine, but make it quick.” Whitney felt awkward and covered it up with pretended impatience.
When they reached the door, Jason held it open for Whitney.
Aw, that's sweet. So chivalrous. Whitney thought, a dreamy smile back on her face. She caught it and forced her expression back into a frown.
They walked outside in silence for a few minutes before Jason broke it.
“You are probably wondering why I asked you to walk with me. I wanted to ask you out on a date. I understand if you don't want me to. I have been a major jerk to you in the past and I don't deserve your forgiveness.” He burst out in one long breath.
“I…” Whitney trailed off. “I really like you.”
Jason's head snapped up, his expression one of surprise. Whitney was surprised too. She hadn't meant to say that.
“I'm sorry!”
“No, don't be.” Jason's expression morphed into a smile. “I really like you too, Whitney.”
Whitney was about to respond but a clap of thunder sounded and rain started pouring down on them. She hunched over and covered her head. Jason removed his coat and placed it over her. Then he guided her back through the doors into the school.
“I'll pick you up at 8!” He yelled and jogged off.
Charity popped up out of nowhere. “Eeee, you two are so cute!!!!” Something caught her eye. “Is that his jacket?”
“Oh!” Whitney realized she was still holding it around her.
“You know something, Charity?” She said as they walked down the hall together.
“What?”
“He's so sweet. How can I hate him now?” Whitney grinned. “I really hate him.”

Weekly #3 (2957 Words)

Part One (691 Words)

Brainstorming (53 Words)

Connections (213 Words)

:sob: this is actually so bad don't judge

In a distant land far from the earth we know is a world both horrible and magical at the same time. There are only two towns in this land, one abandoned and one of a decent size, but still a low population compared to others on earth. The buildings are old and the restaurants are out of business. Despite the state of the first town, the second and slightly larger town is actually quite nice. The houses are small and cozy and give off a cottagecore vibe. The lawns are perfectly well kept and best of all is the beautiful winding river going through the town. The town is able to keep its magnificent shape because of the care it gets from its caring community. The fact that the town's population is somewhat low means that it's easier to look after and take care of everything. Another prized this of the second town is the healing fog. Even though it's technically on the border of the town they count it as part property of the town. The town all comes together to make everyone feel safe and at home. The small town may not be large in population or size, but the people in it make up for that with their huge hearts. (213 Words

:sob: that last bit was actually so cringy :')

Narrative (425 Words)

I sit down by the river that winds through our town. I let myself get lost in its rhythm. The sound of the water as it runs throughout the town. It's hard for me to believe that the river has magical powers. It has the ability to show one's future, a magnificent yet dangerous ability. One has to give up something that holds sentimental value to them from the past in order to get a look at the future. It honestly makes perfect sense, but it's unfortunate all the same. It has to be something that you would dearly miss and their no tricking the river. I'm not sure if it's the tears that hit the water as you give up your past or what, but somehow it knows. I'd tried giving the river a toy I'd gotten the day I was bor hoping, but also hoping it wouldn't count. I wanted to see my future, but at the same time, I wanted it to remain a secret to me. I know what the river wants from me. I hate to admit it, but I do. I try to ignore it, but it's quite obvious. When I was seven years old my mom passed away. The day she was killed by someone who had been possessed by magic after tampering with it had murdered her. She had given me a heart-shaped locket with me, my dad, my brother, and her in it. I treasured it greatly and I knew that I could never let it go especially not for seeing a future that I wasn't even sure if I wanted to see in the first place. There was no way I was giving up the last thing I had gotten from my mother, the token of our last reaction just to use some dumb river's powers. I sigh and stand up brushing the dirt off of my legs. I decide that I'm going to forget about the river. I didn't want to be tempted by it because I was worried that one day the temptation would become too much and I would end up giving in to my temptation and giving something away that I could never get back. One of the only things I had left of my mother and the only picture I had to remember her beautiful face with. I soon found that it turned out that ignoring a huge river that ran straight through the middle of the town I lived in was going to be harder than I had thought. (425 Words)

Part Two (1111 Words :0)

What kind of magic is used in your world? (107 Words)

What is the origin of your magic? (186 Words)

How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it? (93 Words)

How is magic viewed in your world (ie. as a boring normal, as a fascinating element of their life, or as a curse on society etc.)? (143 Words)

Are there any sensations the characters feel when they are using magic? Describe these sensations using their five senses.(94 Words)

What happens when magic gets out of control in your world? (98 Words)

What is an important symbol of your world? (97 Words)

What are some noteworthy examples of problems (in your world) that characters solved with magic? (80 Words)

Does magic affect the government of your world? If so, how? (94 Words)

How is the education system in your world? What do your characters learn (or hypothetically would learn)? (119 Words)

Part Three (1155 Words)

Urban Fantasy (316 Words)

“Be careful.” Annalia whispers, looking worried over at Molly. She appeared to be having no trouble whatsoever making her way through the field of lasers. If they touched one they would set off an alarm and their covers would be busted. They were currently in the city's largest bank. They were making their way to the most guarded vault in the whole bank, the vault of the sorceress. The group's leader, Annalia was the daughter of the sorceress who had recently been hanged because of the magic capability. People had been jealous and decided that if everyone couldn't do magic then no one should. There had been other hangings as well, but the death of Elisa was something else. Elisa had always used her powers for good. She had helped the town grow. She had helped to heal those who were sick or injured. Then the next thing she knew she was being imprisoned and tortured by people who wanted the same type of powers she had. When she wouldn't give them any information they hanged her. After everything she had done for them, they hanged her. She didn't even fight back. If Elisa had wanted to she could have killed everyone in the entire city. She could have survived, but she didn't fight back. She let them take her. She let them murder her. She had said if the jealousy in this world had gone this far she didn't want to live there any longer. I was sure she was in a better place, but I was still filled with rage. Filled with rage because the people of this city, the people that had been helped by my mother, had decided to kill her when she couldn't give them what they wanted. I was going to avenge my mother, no matter the cost, and breaking into her vault was the best way to do so.

Hidden Worlds (486 Words)

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask my best friend Katherine. We're currently hanging out together at my house. We'd done so many best friend activities together and neither of us was certain what we should do next.
“I'm telling you that's not a normal clock.” Katherine had taken one look at the grandfather clock in the living room and proclaimed it abnormal.
“Yea, even if it's not it's not are business.”
“Come on arent; you curious?”
“No.”
“Not even a little bit?” I did have to admit I was a little bit curious, but if I told her that she'd loop me in onto one of her cray dangerous plans that always lead to one of us getting hurt or even worse, in trouble.
“Listen it's not a good idea, we're going to get in trouble. For whatever reason, that clock is extremely important to my parents, especially my mom. If we so much as scratch a little bit of the paint she'll have our heads.”
“But, doesn't that make you even more curious? Why would someone care so much about a clock? It's literally just an old clock that honestly doesn't even look that nice. There's got to be another reason she cares about it so much.”
“It's probably just something that's been in her family for a long time. You know how parents are, they can't get rid of something if it's more than ten years old.”
“I thought you said she found it in a yard sale.” She did have a point there, I'd forgotten about that.
“Maybe she just really likes it.”
“Hmm I don't know about that, but you can tell yourself that I guess.”
“Wait I know what it is!”
“What?” She said raising her eyebrows.“
”The yard sale was being held because the past owners died, maybe she just really liked them.“
”I still dunno. Can I please just have one look at it… pretty please?“ I rolled my eyes.
”Whatever, I guess that can't hurt, just be careful.“ Before I could even finish she had already run over to it to check it out. The next thing I knew she'd gasped and pryed the top of the clock off.
”Hey! Come take look at this.!“
”WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MY MOM'S GONNA KILL ME!“ I run over to where she's standing, but immediately stop yelling at her when I see the clock. The inside doesn't look like what the inside of a clock should look like. There were no gears, just a field that looked strange and realistic.
”I'm gonna touch it.“
”Don't you dare.“ It was too late she'd already touched it. With a blinding flash of light, Katherine disappeared.
”Katherine!?" I said. I sighed. Great, she'd done it again. I had no choice now. I touched the field which felt just like grass and was teleported to wherever she was as well.

Science Fantasy (353 Words)

I hit the ground with a loud thud. I'm too exhausted to lift my head up et alone get up and my whole body already aches. I close my eyes and breath in the smell of freshly mowed grass. I listen to the sounds of birds chirping and children laughing in the difference. It worked, I think to myself. It actually worked! I laugh, after all of my efforts, my years of work, it actually worked! After everyone told me to give up, that I wouldn't be able to pull it off, it actually ended up working! I was now either years into the past or maybe even the future with no way back to my time, but I'd worry about that later. I'd find some sort of proof that I succeeded without messing anything up and then find my way back in my time. Then everyone would see, and I'd show them that I had done something. They'd recognize me for everything I'd done, for my efforts. I slowly mustered the energy to get up. I looked around at my surroundings. I was in a field with marks on it. It looked as if someone had painted the whole entire field with white paint. What's the point of that? I think to myself. I walk over to my time machine. It seems a little busted, but it's nothing I can't fix. I look at the houses. They seemed to be newer, bigger, and nicer than ours. This meant that unless this was a pretty expensive neighborhood I'd made it to the future. I pulled my camera out of my backpack, luckily it didn't appear to have been damaged from the fall. I spent the next hour walking around snapping pictures of everything. Fast forward a few days and I had prepared my time machine. It was time to go home. I stepped in making sure my camera was safely secured in my backpack. This time when I fell to the ground I ignored the pain and got um immedianlty. I looked around. No this couldn't right. What had I done?

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?

My father was a brave man.
Jason reminded himself of this every day. He carried his parent’s specters with him wherever he went. No matter how he tried to forget, they followed him and whispered words he’d never heard them say: coward. Failure. To stop himself from hating them, for leaving him and for their imagined slights, he had to fight to remember them as they had once been, not by their tarnished impression in his mind, which faltered further with every year of their absence. He had to remember that his father was a brave man.
Studying himself in the mirror as attendants messed with his hair and straightened his immaculate clothes, Jason did not see his parent’s son; he saw the heir to the throne of the High Realms. Which was both a burden and a blessing.
“That will do. Thank you,” Jason addressed the servants stiffly.
With their departure, he sat down on one of the gilded chairs in the room and fiddled with the golden clasp which secured his cape around his broadening shoulders. He was older than his brother, now, or at least older than his brother had been. It was hard to imagine Jasper growing and maturing apart from him, so Jason tried to think of him only as the boy who’d fought so hard to protect him that he’d made him flee instead.
Looking again into the mirror, Jason did see his parent’s son. Jasper’s brother. And he saw a coward.
Sighing, Jason stood and turned away from the mirror which spoke truths too close for comfort.
For now, today, he would have to forget. Today, he was the Prince of the High Realms. He was strong and brave. And he most certainly did not have a human for a father. Straightening his cape, though it was already perfectly draped over his shoulders, he walked out the large double doors of his room and into the polished hallways, across shining marble floors that reflected back at him the distorted face of a boy, not a prince.
A slight babble of conversation greeted him as he was ushered into the ballroom by a group of stone-faced guards.
Putting on a practiced, distant smile, Jason strode into the room at an even, measured pace. Though he’d done this a thousand times, appearing publicly in gatherings such as these still caused slight butterflies in his stomach. The hundred introductions to thousands of officials and nobility whose faces and names he could never keep straight did not help. Meijer had helped him appear unconcerned when it happened, but even the King of the High Realms had difficulty easing the knots in Jason’s stomach.
Meijer now appeared from the crowd to stand beside Jason. Though the easy smile that seemed synonymous with Jason’s father never graced Meijer’s lips, Jason felt the reassurance in Meijer’s strong presence. Though in appearance he was lithe and not powerfully muscled, tall, or broad-shouldered like the guards who flanked him, Meijer had a different kind of strength that came with the knowledge that his word was law, the fact that he ruled the Highest, brightest, most powerful Kingdom, and the cool self-assurance that all fairy nobility possessed. Merely standing beside him could make one feel infinitesimally small and weak or, as it did Jason, incredibly safe. Meijer had chosen Jason, and he rarely made decisions lightly, and even more rarely went back on his word.

After speaking with a few dozen nobles he for the most part would have rather not met, drinking some punch to settle his stomach but instead making himself feel sick, and being asked by Meijer to dance with a Duke’s daughter who didn’t seem to like him much, and obliging his request, Jason was ready to go to bed.
Instead, knowing Meijer would not approve, Jason walked with a group of fairies who were heading towards the outdoor pavilion, hoping the fresh air would do him good.
Taking a deep breath of the cool evening breeze, feeling the light wind tickling his cheeks and ruffling his hair, he leaned against one of the poles holding up the strings of lanterns which hung over the pavilion.
“I still can’t believe the Ruler lets him come out in public,” a voice muttered behind him, clearly not caring if he heard.
“With no wings, too,” another snidely remarked.
“Probably thinks that his pointed ears make him one of us.”
“What a disgrace.”
Jason pretended not to hear. He knew there were some people, particularly nobles, who disliked him. Meijer had forbidden him from talking to any of them, fearing what they would do to him, and, just maybe, what he would do to them. Plus, he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they bothered him.
“His manners, too . . . I suppose he gets it from his father,” the first person remarked more loudly.
“Crude, uncivilized . . . ,” the other one suggested.
“Human,” they said together and laughed derisively.
Forgetting Meijer and his earlier determination to ignore the bullies, Jason whirled around and found himself glaring across the pavilion at two boys who weren’t much older than he was. They did look a fair amount bigger, though. But just then he had the element of surprise.
Rushing towards them, Jason punched the first one in the face before he could do much but lift his hands slightly in reflex and surprise.
Jason had never punched anyone before, but he hadn’t imagined it could feel so good, and terrible, at once.
As the bullies, who had clearly been in a lot more fights than Jason had, fought back, he barely felt the blows land. His anger seemed to blot out everything except his need to destroy that smug look in the kids’ eyes. Kicking out at their legs and rolling out from between them, Jason staggered to his feet and found that two guards were holding the kids back.
Meijer stood behind the guards, his arms crossed over his chest and an equally cross expression overtaking his face.
Panting, Jason steadied himself against another one of the poles.
As the guards led the boys away, one of them spat at Jason’s feet. The one he had punched, presumably, for the spittle was laced with red.
Though he felt sicker than ever, Jason defiantly met the bully’s eyes.
“Getting them to do your dirty work?” he jerked his head behind him to indicate the guards. With a burst of mocking laughter, he shook his head. “You’re a coward, prince.”
“Gets that from his father, too,” the other one called as the guards shoved them along more roughly.
My father was a brave man . . . Jason couldn’t bring himself to say it. My father was a brave man . . . .

+1122 words

Week 3 Dailies

daily 7/17 - 754 words

Let that sink in.

She ran down the stairs, galloping past a series of steps. Sweat beat on her neck, as she zoomed out the door, waiting for the chance to burst out the door. The doorknob, painted in silver, slipped through her hands, and it took a few tries to spin the knob open.

“Please be there,” I interlaced my hands as I ran to the woods. Sighing, the rows of trees had stood on the ground, firm and planted.

Now where is she?

I zoomed through the leaves, as my foot stomped on the crunching leaves. “Claudia! Where have you been?” My voice is loud and accusatory. It's almost like the voices that swim in your head, but also like a parent trying to take care of their child, so they scold them.

The girl, skin painted in soot, grimaced. Beneath her lip was a streak of dried blood, imprinting on the fleshed pink gum. Hoping she is okay, but she looks fine, at least for now. With her reddened yet ashy face, she gently grabbed my hand.

“Claudia, I'm so glad to see you,” I pant, looking at her clothes. They were dusted in grey powder, clean white sprinkled with grey. She's alive. That's all that matters.

“Me too, Lyra, but you should be home.” She makes a concerned expression. “You wouldn't want to get involved with someone like me.

What is she talking about? She's my friend! ”What do you mean someone like me?“ I clench my teeth. ”You're worthwhile. Don't treat yourself like you aren't!“

”Take a look at me, Lyra.“ One too many stains on her shirt and bruise spots scattered across her arms. ”I'm not the good kid type of person like you.“

”Then why did you tell me to come to the lake?“ There is a cold edge to my voice. ”You should tell me what you wanted to say and do what you have always wanted to do.“

”What is that,“ Her eyes wandered aimlessly. ”Something I've always wanted to do?“ A mosquito, hovering over the trees swarmed on her arm. Claudia quickly swatted away, spitting on the floor.

”You should really get out of here. I'm serious.“

”No.“

Claudia crosses her arms, revealing her match carefully hid behind her back. ”I'm not holding back.“

”What's that,“ I say naively, ”Are you going to burn me?“

”Of course…“ she says half-heartedly. ”Not. But I will burn many things today.“

”Like what?“ the trees in the forest stay put, stopping their swaying motion.

”Bridges, maybe half literally, maybe not. Depends on my mood.“

A plastic bag catches my eye, and I finally notice it.

”Is that the thing you wanted to burn?“ I sigh. ”Claudia, you're way too impulsive.“

”Things.“ She corrects me. ”That's why we're going to a pond. Leave if you want to.“

Claudia had always spoken in a brash way, saying things harsher than she meant. I sighed for a moment, shaking my head at the waste that will be dumped. But hey, it's better than starting a wildfire.

”I'm coming," I shouted, following Claudia through the dirt-marked trail. A small patch of water shook back and forth, reflecting the stillness of the forest.

“It’s a bit mossy and humid, don’t you think?” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

“Quit the small talk, Lyra.” She smirks. “We’re going to burn things up.”

“Yeah, burn all the bridges you’ve ever wanted.” I sigh, dipping my hands into the pond. “It’d be better if you did it somewhere else.”

“You can’t put out a fire with bottled water. I’m sure you can still go away, you can’t stop me.” She pressed the button to eventually light the bag on fire.

“Wait, are there any valuables?” I grab the bag sitting on the dirt. I shuffle out the items in the bag- mostly just clothes hanging inside. But isn’t that Lumity shirt her favorite?

“You sure you don’t want to keep your Lumity shirt? You loved that cartoon!”

“Hush,” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m burning bridges. That includes my past self.” Immediately, she places fire onto the clothing. It begins to eat the fabric, creating dark holes inside.

She tossed the shirt near the pond, but it landed at the edge.

“Wait, it’s not in the pond!” I sigh. I throw the bag onto the fire pushing it in. The fire howls and grows until it touches the pond water. For a few moments, the fire grows but shrinks once more.

Let that sink in.

daily 7/18 - 511 words

The sisters of script, adventure, and thriller gathered at the corner of the ballroom, chuckling at the intelligent fi-s.

“Sci-fi, Non-fi, Hi-fi, Fan-fi and Real-fi,” Adventure smirked with joy. “I think I like that one over there, Hi-fi, we've only been acquaintances but I think we can change our relationship into friends.”

Script nodded in excitement. “Look, Hi-fi is trustworthy. I think we should go over there. I'd love to introduce you to her, though poetry is already in our trio.”

Adventure shrugged. “You know, I'd make a powerful friend, as I grow in power. I don't have any intent stopping my influence.”

“Hi-fi doesn't like that,” Script rolled her eyes, but linked arms with her younger sister. “Come.”

Thriller, stood alone, looking for potential Fi-s. Three sisters, gorgeously dressed in large gowns. “Look at Non-fi, Fan-fi, and Real-fi though,” Thriller beamed in excitement. “We would make great best friends!” She scurried towards the three elite sisters.

All was left was Sci-fi. The most mysterious sister of all. Clever and scheming, she had never allowed anyone to get too close to her. All she presented were a series of lies, and with this demeanor, she soon would quickly pass Adventure and Thriller, landing in first place, guaranteeing a place on the throne.

As the sisters of all the cabins danced, one sister stood out from the rest. A plain girl, dressed in an unflattering flat dress stood in the center of the room. The other young women paid her no attention, but Sci-fi raised her eyebrows. Why is a poorly-dressed girl in a royal gathering?

The girl advanced towards Sci-fi, with a smile on their face. Sci-fi frowned, nervousness threaded across their face.

“Hello, Sci-fi,” she had a quiet voice that barely distinguished consonants, but they were still recognizable.

“Who are you?” The sharp edge of her voice is highlighted.

“Myth.”

“Myth cabin,” The girl grinned. “Rankings will end tonight and currently you're in last. I can help you though,” She looked at the rankings and saw that myth was 50 thousand points away from Real-fi at the leaderboard.

“You know, it'd be funny if you surpassed the middle Fi of our family. Again, I can help you.” Sci-fi continued to smirk, staring Myth head to toe.

“Aren't you under Adventure and Thriller though?” Myth gazed at the rankings. “You're five thousand points under them!”

She grinned. “Actually, I have a 50k point lead over them. They don't know this yet, because I haven't updated. When the clock strikes twelve, I'll update it.”

“You don't need to give me the points, you can have them with your lead.” Myth smiled back. “Thank you.”

The clock began to tick quietly, eventually turning one minute towards twelve. Myth dashed out of the ballroom, pulling out her phone to update. As twelve-o-clock struck, their hair, once thick as broomstick powder turned into luscious smooth hair. Her simple dress turned into a fully puffed gown, and everyone who looked at the rankings were shocked.

Standing at the top was Myth, in first by 100,000 points.

daily 7/19 - 425 words

Of course it didn't work.

“You should have tried again,” brother sighs with disappointment. “Giving up is not great.”

“But I wouldn't have succeeded.” I drop the supplies in my hands. When could I finally not fail and be a disappointment? “I should go and do something else.”

“No, you need to try and put your best effort in!” He grinned. “I'd rather see you try than just giving up like you always have. You need to have a better mindset.”

“What's mindset?” I wondered. “I think I need to work on it, but oh, I'll never get better!”

“Growth mindset is approaching something from an open mind.” He began to regroup the supplies. “See, you could try again, maybe with a different structure!”

“How do I get growth mindset?” My voice went two octaves higher. “I want to be able to build this windmill model. One that flies in midair and that makes people happy all inside.”

“Windmills don't fly in midair.” he laughed. “You should realign your goals and make a clear objective. So first, consider what you actually want to do. Do you want to make a windmill, or a rocket, that matches more accurately with what you're doing?”

“I want to make a rocket that flies!” I exclaim, the tips of my toes glossing the floor.

“That might be better for a private jet or helicopter.” He placed a small toy of the private jet in his hands. “We should start from the beginning.”

He handed me a piece of paper and a thick blue crayon. “You should make a blueprint.”

I nodded, with a grin spread across my face. “I should!” Quickly scribbling, I drew squares and triangles on the paper, eventually making a creation.

“What materials will you use?” he raised an eyebrow. “You should plan that out, and as school teaches you, constraints too.”

“Oh,” I sighed, dejected at how I did not do it perfectly. “How did you do this, brother? You're always perfect.”

He chuckled, before bursting into heavy laughter. “That is anything but the truth.”

I shook my head. He's always getting the best test scores and he's only two years older than me. Ten years old, already receiving awards for state championships. How do I do this?

“I'm not perfect.” He sighed. “I wish was, but slowly, I've learned to accept progress. That is what is most important.”

I nodded.

We worked on the model for a week, before building it. Eventually, we got it in an exhibition, all thanks to my big brother!


daily 7/20 critique for Re, 389 words!

Ooh this is cool! I mostly critiqued what you could add to the setting and some grammar edits.

And there I was, with a smile on my face. Pretending that watching you walk away didn't break my soul. Rain pouring all over the place, and my heart breaking in a million pieces. I closed my eyes, trying to stop tears from coming out. But I couldn't stand it- how could I let you leave? When everything I ever cared for was you. Knowing that if I didn't do something I would regret it my entire life, I ran behind you.

I find these sentences to be slightly disjointing, with a similar structure. I think that you could connect some sentences together: like ‘And there I was, with a smile on my face, pretending that watching you walk away didn’t break my soul' (but it's up to you). Some of these statements don't feel very illustrative (show not tell), which creates distance for the reader. For the next sentences, you could describe why the narrator's heart was breaking in a million pieces, because we don't see the connection yet. Also with the earlier point (of the combining sentences, or changing up sentence placement), for flow, you could combine: ‘how could I let you leave?’ and ‘When everything I ever cared for was you.’

“Wait!” I yelled as I ran. “Don't go!”
“Huh?” You asked as you stopped and turned around, “What happened? Is everything okay?”

I think you could give the setting a bit more atmosphere, like describe the pitter-pattering, or footsteps.

“I- I love you!” I babbled as I leaned in and kissed you. “I don't want you to leave…”

You held my face, rain cascading between us. You kissed me again and took my hand. What did that mean? Were you staying?

“Then I won't go.” You chuckled, “Come on, let's go back in. You're soaked.”

I'm a bit confused here (but it could be due to my inexperience with romantic affairs). Are they breaking up? If so, I don't really understand how saying ‘I love you’ would bring them back together. Maybe have the main character try to make the relationship work out?

You walked me home, we got back to my room and watched a movie.

This might be grammatically incorrect with the punctuation. You might want to have a preposition between the comma and we.

I wanted it to go on forever; to never stop.

You can replace the ; with a period

But the movie ended, we got up and walked around the room.

See two suggestions above.

“What should we do now?” You asked me, smiling. That smile, that only made me fall more in love with you every second.
“Let's bake something.” I suggested

Remember to add a period behind ‘I suggested’.

“Hey!” I yelled laughing “Give me that!”
“If you want it, you'll have to catch me first!” You said, and ran.

This is kind of cute

“You are beautiful, you know that?” You said softly and I laughed
“I look like a mess!” I laughed

Add punctuation for these! You may also want to change ‘laughed’ just to avoid repetition.

I yawned, it had been a long day and I was tired.

Make sure to add a preposition to the sentence so it flows (and grammatically correct).

“Sleep well, princess.” Was the last thing I heard.

'Was the last thing I heard' is a fragment, so you should integrate it into the dialogue

I opened my eyes and saw you walking away in the rain. A tear coming down my cheek.

Maybe connect these sentences together?

But as your figure got smaller in the distance I knew there was nothing I could do, as you never heard the words I didn't say.

You should add a comma between ‘distance’ and I.

-

Overall, this is a cool scene, it may need some description for certain parts. I think you should also expand on their relationship for a bit, because I don't feel a personal connection to the mc as of now. You can either do this through extending their moments together. Adding some symbols that reminds mc of the other person is a potential idea you could explore but nice job, and I like the events you put to your story!

daily - july 17
words: 1019

“You’ve got to be kidding me” I said. “There’s no way that I can help you pass the test without getting caught. I’m having enough trouble even on my own; there’s no way-”
“There’s a way,” Miranda insisted. “You just have to get the crew together, and they can come up with some ideas. It won’t just be you thinking, you know. If we get everyone- all seven- coming up with ideas, something will succeed.”
“…Alright.” I reluctantly agreed. She knew better than anyone else how fractured “the crew” had been after the last mission, so I assumed her idea had made sense.
That night, I called each of the other six. Using the last of the favors they owed me from back when we had been the closest of friends, I managed to get everyone agreeing to come to the Highest Hill around midnight the next day. It seemed like things would actually go our way for once.
Of course, that was when everything started to fall apart. Janice’s parents had scheduled a surprise trip without her, Alex had received a well-paying client and needed to leave for their job, and Onyx was sick and wanted to avoid infecting others. That left the gathering with only five people instead of the eight that had planned to attend.
The meeting started with a heated argument between Miranda and James about my exact concerns for the plan Miranda had hatched. Their conflict ended when James stormed out with Samantha, who said she would try to calm James down and come back later to help. Miranda, Timothy, and I were the only people left in the meeting, which wasn’t ideal.
“Timothy, do you have some ideas?” Miranda asked, but Timothy just shook his head.
“Sorry, Mir. I don’t think it will be possible for both of you to fool the graders, let alone the observers. It’s already too much for them to handle- they won’t be able to help you.”
I didn’t like how he phrased his statement as though I wouldn’t be able to pass the test- I was pretty sure that as long as I mentally focused on everything good I had done and ignored the bad, like how I had practiced, I would be able to fool everyone and get into Higher Society. But he was right- I was still struggling, and with the test only a few days away it would be too much.
Timothy walked down the Highest Hill and faded into the distance. I looked at Miranda, who was staring into the distance with an inscrutable look.
“If you’re going to do this, I- we- can’t help you,” I said, just to make sure she was clear on that. Miranda didn’t reply, and I felt a surge of anger. I had wasted all of that time getting the whole group together, only to end up with the same conclusion I had already come to, and there was no compensation for my efforts.
When there was still no reaction from Miranda, I sighed and started to walk down the hill. I paused to look back at Miranda, who was by then just a dark silhouette on the hill.
“Well, if you refuse to take action, I’ll help myself,” I could just barely hear her saying. I snorted- now, she finally understood that- and, after one last glance at the person on the Highest Hill, left.

Two days passed, both of which I spent in nervous anticipation while trying to practice the strategy that I planned to use. When I took a break, though, all I could think of was Miranda’s words. She seemed to have a backup plan- but then why try to come up with more? I hadn’t been able to come up with anything, so I put that to the back of my mind and focused on fooling the replica grading machine.
Finally, it was the day of the test. I walked down the hall to the waiting room, feeling nervous but making sure to act confident. Maybe if I told myself it would succeed, it would.
As the youngest of the seven, I was the only one who hadn’t taken the test yet, meaning that the hopes of the other six of taking the test- and whether or not they wanted to take it- depended on my success. Needless to say, that fact added much more pressure to the already-stressful test.
In the waiting room, I took a seat in the corner of the room. I looked around the room and didn’t see Miranda in the room, so I turned and watched the doorway to see when she did come in. The ring of seats around the room slowly filled up, and yet Miranda hadn’t appeared. Despite being angry at her, I started to get worried about her chances of passing the test.
Maybe two minutes before it began, Miranda finally came in and sat down at the only empty seat: the one in the corner next to me. I craned forward to try and look at her, but Miranda pressed herself against the wall and kept her face out of sight.
Miranda was the first to be called in to take the test, and she didn’t come out. It took far too long- way more time than I knew a typical test would take- for the next name to be called. The rest of the names went quickly, with people going in and either coming or not coming out.
Then, it was my turn. I walked into the room- a large one, with a small balcony looking out on the room. But instead of activating the grader and beginning the test, the observer just looked at me.
“You have been accused of conspiracy to make your way past the test,” they said in a flat voice. “Prove to me that this accusation is false or be disqualified.”
I turned to the balcony, where Miranda was standing- but this time in the colorful clothing of those in Higher Society- and I realized what her plan had been. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Self-Control
Birdi's Writing Competition Entry
SWC July 2022

The breach alarm for the castle is blaring. I don’t see the typical mobs outside the castle as I usually do, though, so I decide to stay in my room. I lock the door, but my son knows the password.

Sure enough, the door unlocks within a few minutes, and I see him. Dark hair like mine. Messy, uncombed. His face is rough, his expression determined and angry like it always was. Otherwise, he looks nothing like the boy who left me eight years ago – combed hair, clean-shaven. But he’s wearing a suit that is identical to mine. Perhaps he has come here to mock me. Or to destroy me. Either way…

“I’ve been expecting you.”



“People are out on the street, protesting. You can’t pretend everything is working anymore. The economy is collapsing. This isn’t going to end well.”

“Remind me who has experience here, Aspen.”

My father stood there waiting for my response, dressed in his pristine suit, hand calmly wrapped around a goblet of expensive champagne. He was always so perfect at not letting his emotions affect the rest of his body, but his face always betrayed his disappointment in me.

I would like to say that I had a reasonable level of control as well, but I didn’t, really. To be honest, the only thing that kept me from grabbing his drink right out of those prim hands and sloshing it all over his tidy shirts was the knowledge that if I did, his assistant – who was perpetually posted at the door – would tell someone and that someone would tell someone else and soon enough it would be all over the news tomorrow, and the revolts might start up again. I had learned this the hard way and I had a scar to show for it. I might despise my father, but I didn’t want to die before I got a chance to right his wrongs.

I gritted my teeth, slowly turned around and walked purposefully to the door. I paused at someone’s voice

“Don’t go out to sea.” said my father’s assistant. I didn’t even know their name, but they had been there for as long as I could remember. “There’s going to be a storm tonight.”

Ignoring them, I opened the door and was about to leave when my father spoke.

“What a selfish little brat you are.” he said, almost casually.

Not even sparing the comment a reaction, I walked away from my father from the last time. The funny part was that I almost agreed with him. It might have been selfish of me, but I wanted no part of it anymore.

––––

The cold burned me relentlessly, slicing into every bit of exposed skin, but as much as I wanted to return to the warmth of home, I couldn’t let myself. I couldn’t go crawling back to my father again. That was what I had done every time before when I’d left the castle and returned due to that hint of sadness and regret that we never seemed to get along, which was absent this time. It had been replaced by a powerful resolve to escape him, once and for all.

I was a legal adult. Every other legal adult in the kingdom was free to go out on the waves whenever they wanted.

Except the crown prince. He had no rights.

I wanted to punch something, but I channeled the energy into marching through the snow to the dock. Perhaps my father was watching me from a window in his specially built personal tower. I liked to think that was all it was ever really built for. To watch over the kingdom and people he pretended to love so much. He would assure himself I would come back to the castle into his open arms as I always did. I bitterly continued, my anger revitalizing as I thought of him.

I was feeling short of breath, so I tried to breathe deeply but the air was so cold that it felt like I was inhaling frost. I covered my nose and mouth with a scarf from my sack and tried again. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it to get oxygen in my lungs.

My runaway sack was hastily packed a few years back on another runaway attempt – I had dug it out of the closet, where I had buried it in shame when I returned that night – and so it was likely that the food was stale and the clothes barely fit, but it was enough.

I breathed heavily in and out as I continued on my way to the dock. I took a rowboat (taking a sailboat would be a bad decision in this kind of water) and rowed it out over the crashing waves. The sea was choppy and the skies were grey. In my frustration, I almost tipped myself over, and my sack nearly fell out. In the panic of the moment, I dropped one of my oars and grabbed the sack just before it toppled into the waves – and before I knew it, the oar had drifted far away. I cursed myself, wishing I wasn’t so angry right then. If I had been more in control of my thoughts, this wouldn’t have happened.
For the next few hours, I took on the horribly tedious task of rowing once on one side, flipping the oar and rowing once on the other side. If I used any quicker methods of flipping the oar, I could risk losing the one I had too, and I couldn’t afford that. I started to lose hope, but I rowed on and on until I got to calmer waters.

It took at least a day until I saw land in the distance, and by that time I was tired beyond belief, but the sight of the island, steadily approaching, bolstered me.

Malnourished and exhausted, I remembered little of the next few days.

I met people. They helped me. They taught me things.

And I started planning for the day of my return.



I took a few purposeful steps forward. “My dear Aspen.”

My son simply glared at me with the fierceness of a man. I took special care not to shrink back from him. “Think about what you’re about to do.”
“I’ve thought about it.” he interjected, slowly unsheathing a dagger. “I’ve been thinking about it for twenty-five years.”

I forced myself to step forward again, resting a hand on my bedside table. “My son. Whatever ideas those ragtag islanders have put into your head, they are nothing compared to what I could teach you. What I could have done for you.” My mind had shifted into survival mode. I knew I was spitting utter garbage, and I think my son knew that as well.

“All you’ve ever done for me is make me want to. . .” Aspen hesitated for a brief moment. His eyes strayed to my bedroom door, and he waited for a moment until realization struck. My assistant had been evacuated. He was in control now. He could speak his mind. “. . . punch something so hard that it shatters into a million pieces.”

I reach out my hand, plastering a delicate but forlorn expression on my face. I place my hand over his hand, still wrapped around his silver dagger. I recognize it as a treasure from my collection. Anger flickers across my features – he had stolen it. But I quickly bring myself back to the situation at hand. “So that’s what you’ve come here to do. To me.” I observe.

He swats my hand away, making a tiny cut with a flick of his dagger. He seems irritated. “No. That’s where you’re wrong. That’s where you’ve always been wrong.”

“Oh?” I say, waiting for him to inevitably lash out. He never was excellent at self-control.

“Yes. On the behalf of the entirety of this kingdom, I’m arresting you, Corwynn the fifth, on charges of misusing your power. I will immediately assume the throne.” he says.

I have to admit, I’m surprised.

The Foolish Society of Fools
Birdi's Fanfic Entry
SWC July 2022

Fandom is the Mysterious Benedict Society, this is set between the books (when they're all separated) <3 It's meant as a comedy ahah so I hope it brings you some joy ✨



Sticky: Hi! I thought I would make this so it would be easier for us to talk while we’re all away from each other.

Reynie: Hello! That’s a good idea

Constance: my peaceful slumber has been ruined because i gave you my number

Mr. Benedict: Thank you, Sticky, but now I fear that we will all be besieged by messages from Constance when we are asleep.

Sticky: We can just set our phones to silent.

Constance: the use of punctuation when you text has left me utterly perplexed

Reynie: Everyone has their own texting styles, Constance

Kate: Im now kind of afraid that this chat will eventually just be full of Constance poems

Constance: number two has been reading this chat and probably thinks i’m a little brat because i stole her favorite hat

Number Two: I’m outside your door, Constance. Give it back. I did your laundry, remember?

Constance: no can do, but that is true



Sticky: Constance…



Kate: Oops



Kate: How does this thing even work



Kate: Finally

Constance: kate has arrived but clearly she is sleep deprived

Kate: You guys woke me up! My phone was buzzing



Constance: i am going to sleep but when i am back you will weep

Reynie: I have to say that I’m slightly concerned

Rhonda: You’re not alone.



Constance: Number Two here

Constance: I unlocked the door and stole Constance’s phone when she was asleep. I also stole my hat back. That’s why we’ve had silence from her so
far. So we should be good and able to use this chat for what it’s intended for.

Kate: Nice one!

Sticky: Oh, thank goodness. I was kind of afraid of what she was planning.

Rhonda: To be honest I’m kind of curious now

Reynie: Don’t be

Reynie: Trust me, we’ve all been the subject of Constance’s poems before and it really isn’t very a pleasant experience

Number Two: constance here

Number Two: i stole number two’s phone and now the old crone has been overthrown

Constance: WHAT

Constance: CONSTANCE. GIVE IT BACK RIGHT NOW.

Sticky: I really didn’t expect this to happen when I made this chat.

Kate: You didn’t?

Number Two: my objective is simple- to entertain

Kate: yourself

Number Two: yes!

Number Two: finally, someone gets it

Milligan: What is this

Number Two: milligan has arrived but his arrival is contrived

Number Two: he has been reading this all along if i am not wrong (and i am not)

Number Two: i will now treat you all to an epic poem

Number Two:
i am awaiting certain doom, it seems
as i listen to number two’s screams and schemes
but as long as the door refuses to submit
and as long as number two refuses to quit
as long as i have something to say about it
i will not budge one bit

why won’t my point get through?
no matter how many times you tell me to
i will not open the door for you

if number two insists on throwing a fit
just because she’s tired of my endless wit
(i don’t know why it’s so hard for her to admit)
i will do nothing but think, ‘what a twit’
and i will not budge one bit

i’m not pleased with you, number two
or the tantrum you threw
or the fact that despite you know it’s true
you still don’t seem to have a clue
so before i bid you adieu
i will give you one last review -
i will not open the door for you.

Sticky: …

Kate: Wow.

Mr. Benedict: LOL.

Number Two: i will never recover from seeing mr benedict use that acronym

Constance: I will never recover from that poem. Now open the door, Constance.

Number Two: that was my intention, i'm glad it captured your attention <3

Mr. Benedict: Kindly, Number Two, I wish you the best of luck. We should call each other sometime. Thank you, Sticky, for making this chat. We all needed some joy today.

Constance: You call this joy? Quite honestly, it’s torture.

Number Two: hehe

daily july 17 We were not guilty. But nobody would say that we were innocent. The kingdom needed a scapegoat or two to blame for the death of their prince and who better than two young shamans who had poured so much energy into trying to get the spirits to heal him. Those two shamans were myself and my wife Gwaedberthia. I was outside at our mountain home far from civilization reading the stars while Gwaed blessed our nightly meal inside. It was a good and simple day. Then I heard a shout. “Lady of the Spirits! The King of Quagmireland begs for your help.” Then the messenger boy who had spoken collapsed from exhaustion and I rushed forward to catch him. Gwaed and I shared our supper with him so he might regain his strength for it was a long and difficult journey from Quagmireland for simple humans who could not borrow strength so easily from the spirits. After we had eaten I began packing for the journey. Food, a change of clothes, my ritual stones, my ritual herbs, and a scroll of prayers. The messenger boy had been able to tell us the prince was sick, but he couldn’t say what afflicted him, so I packed a little of each of my healing herbs. Once this was done I checked that our guest was sleeping well then I went to see how Gwaed was doing. She was in our room and she had not started packing at all, she was simply praying. I sighed in annoyance but knew I couldn’t interrupt her, so I joined her, planning to ask her why she was dawdling afterward. Gwaed beat me to it. As soon as our prayers were over, she said, “Quagmireland has never had a love for us shamans, going there is a dumb idea.” I gasped slightly in indignation at how straightforwardly she had said that. “Are you calling me dumb for wanting to help someone?”
Gwaed sighed and gently brushed a hand across my cheek. “No Coedwa, I’m not calling you dumb. I’m just worried something will go wrong.”
I put my hand on hers, looking her in the eyes. “But Gwaed,” I said, voice softening. “It is in our oath that we must heal all who seek our help unless they have broken their side of the oath. And I know they do not treat us the way the other lands do, but they haven’t broken their oath. We must journey to heal their prince. I’m going, are you coming with me?”
She thought for a few moments and then nodded. “You’re right. We knew the hardships we would face when we took the oath.”
I smiled, glad that hadn’t turned into an argument and then began to help her pack.
Before dawn the next morning we set out with the messenger boy so we could return him home as well.
By the next evening we had reached the palace and no one had bothered us during our journey. But as we approached the front gate, I had to hold onto Gwaed’s hand for reassurance. “What if something goes wrong?”
“You said yourself that it won’t.”
I nodded and then we went inside. We were led to the throne room where the king sat weary and broken on his fur draped throne.
“May the spirits bless you, good king,” we called in greeting. We didn’t bow because that was not something we did for other humans and I saw his eyes narrow a little but he was hardly worried about it. He stood up immediately and clasped Gwaed’s hands and I saw her recoil slightly, but she didn’t stop him.
“Are you here to heal my son?”
“We are… here to serve as vessels for healing spirits. It is up to them if your son is healed,” she said, clearly uncomfortable at being touched and I had to say a silent prayer of self control so I didn’t push the king away.
“Of course, though I hope this will work. We’ve tried everything else.”
“You should take us to him,” I said, knowing that the sooner we started the better.
The king nodded and mercifully let go of my wife’s hand. “Heleta, take them to my son.”
A servant stepped forward and bowed to the king then eyed the two of us nervously for a moment before smiling politely. “Follow me.”
As Heleta led us down the corridors, Gwaed leaned close to me and whispered, “That was not the grief of a man about to lose his son, but a king about to lose his heir.”
“What do you mean? He seemed pretty upset to me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know but I felt the bl**d flowing in his veins and that’s the way it felt to me. And as you know it is much harder to heal someone who is not loved simply for who he is, not what society hopes him to be.”
“What about-” I stopped myself and sighed. “The king wore a braided leather ring. His wife is dead then I suppose.”
Gwaed nodded. “Let us see what we can do for the child.”
Heleta led us into the prince’s room and then left so we could have some privacy.
He was a sickly yellow color and his breathing was ragged. When I touched his skin it was burning, but I felt… something else I couldn’t quite place. Another presence.
“Gwaed, come here, do you feel something?”
She touched the boy’s forehead and recoiled immediately. “A demon has made itself a parasite in him,” she whispered.
I trembled suddenly and she had to put an arm around me. “But… no demon has escaped Cairnhome for centuries. The sages of the Fearless Age drove them all out.”
“We should still try to heal him,” I said, wanting desperately to believe we could do something, even though demons were not in our field of training.
She brushed away some tears that had spilled from my eyes. “We will try.”
We began laying out ritual stones around his body in the best order we could think of for a case like this.
Then as Gwaed chanted I began to smear a paste of herbs over the boy’s forehead, mouth, and chest, murmuring a different prayer, an invention I came up with on the spot in the hopes maybe I would say the right words to drive the demon out.
We tried many different things for many hours but in the end, he just seemed to be getting worse.
We told the king we would try again in the morning, but by morning the prince was dead. And the king declared us murderers and put a bounty on our heads. Luckily we were able to flee to our home and when we finally got a chance to rest, I sobbed in Gwaed’s arms. We’d never failed to save a child so young. We’d never seen what a demon could do. But i wasn’t only sad, I was angry. “We need to journey into Cairnhome and face these demons in their homeland.”
“No Coedwa, don’t put yourself in danger. If we go there bad stuff will happen and we will be guilty, but for now we were not guilty.”

swc daily 18
fairy tale used - the strange feast
word count: 507 words

Two scratch users had been friends for some time, and one of them had just gotten accepted to lead a cabin in Scratch Writing Camp. The leader invited her friend to join her cabin, and the friend happily obliged. That month, the camper merrily set out towards her friend's cabin. On the way there, she saw strange things, such as a strange fire burning in the forest. Once she got to the cabin, there were even more strange things: a mango fighting a cookie, a pencil with a knife, and more such things.
The camper became very upset and worried seeing those things, but she knew that her friend was leading this cabin, so she took heart and went inside. She was welcomed warmly by the leader, who introduced her to the cabin, but every time the camper tried to bring up the strange things on the way there the leader would pretend not to hear, change the topic, or say something like “oh, that was probably just my co-leader word warring someone,” about the mango and the cookie. And she continued talking about camp and the cabin.
The camper soon forgot about all that, and simply enjoyed camp with the leader and her friends. Later that day, after most of the campers were asleep, the leader said she had to go prepare the next activity and add points in the main cabin. Soon after she left, the camper remembered all the strange things in the cabin, and began pacing back and forth through the cabin, worried. While she was thinking about this, a strange figure appeared - we don't know who, probably a leader from an enemy cabin - and said “Let me warn you, camper, this is not an ordinary cabin! You're in a dangerous, fiery trap! You'd better leave this cabin quickly if you value your life!”
The camper was very confused - the leader was her friend, and would never do anything to harm her, yet there were also those strange things on the steps. She could hear the leader getting ready to return, and needed to make her decision quickly.
“Run! Flee!” The mysterious figure called. “Before it's too late!” Just as the leader was coming back into the room, the camper decided to listen to the mysterious figure and opened the door, bolting away from the cabin and through the woods. She did not stop until she was far away, in the safety of the main cabin, and could look out over all of the camp. Looking back at her cabin, the camper spotted the leader standing high up in the attic window holding a box of matches. She threatened the camper with them and yelled, “if you had stayed, I would've had you!”
The camper was very glad she had listened to the voice and escaped, for now she knew what fate would have befallen her had she stayed. Looking back at the cabin once more, she saw that the whole thing, along with the forest around it, had gone up in flames.