7/16/22

Meet Harry, Thriller cabin’s muffin-loving new mascot

Article by Inky

If you are involved in SWC, you may have met Harry, the muffin-loving capybara who has recently moved into the Thriller Rift. Between Myth and Thriller’s heated debates over cabin mascots and the adorable rodent’s new Scratch account, it would be a surprise if you had not at least heard of them. Most SWCrs, in fact, have become well aware of the capybara and their presence in camp.

If you are not involved in SWC, you are may be asking yourself, “What is a capybara doing in an online writing camp?” or even “What is a capybara, anyway?” To answer that last question, capybaras are enormous cavy rodents that live in South America. They are furry animals that can grow to be up to twenty-four inches, making them largest rodents on the planet. Harry, however, is a particularly special capybara. For one thing, they type and have a Scratch account, where they like to chat with members of SWC. For another, they are Thriller’s beloved mascot, well-known for their purple pompoms and enthusiastic encouragement. Who could procrastinate on the weekly with such an adorable capybara cheering them on?

I was fortunate enough to get an interview with Harry, held on the their account profile. The rodent introduced themself as “Harry, a friendly capybara and mascot of Thriller!” They added, “I love to cheer other people on, I can talk and have a squeaky voice, and my favorite food is muffins <3”

When asked how they became Thriller’s mascot, Harry admitted that their memory wasn’t too clear on the matter. Before coming to the Rift, they were “just a normal capybara living in South America… One day I stumbled into the Rift, and the bearers took me in.” Given how kind Thriller’s leaders are, this isn’t difficult to believe at all. Although it is quite likely that Birdi took one look at this talking capybara and saw an opportunity. Harry is quite a motivator for the Thriller campers.

Besides, Harry quite enjoys being a cabin mascot. “It’s wonderful!” they said about their current job. “I love to cheer everyone on, and it’s amazing to see everyone happy and proud of themselves when they’ve accomplished something <3 Thriller’s even catching up to Myth, and everyone’s super awesome!”

And of course they have a healthy amount of cabin spirit. When asked why Thriller was the best cabin, they responded, “Other than the fact that we’re simply superior ;D absolutely everyone in Thriller is absolutely amazing and unique and brings something special to the cabin, and we will triumph over Myth < #thrillerftw.”

After all these heartfelt, enthusiastic answers, it isn’t hard to understand Harry’s immediate popularity with the Thriller cabin members. Their profile is filled with starstruck greetings and campers bearing armloads of muffins. “Hello Harry, our lovely mascot ,” one camper writes. Others have offered up praise and even, in one case, some sugar canes. Indeed, SWCers who are not even in Thriller have stopped by Harry’s profile to say hello. They come from Script, Fairy Tales, Real-Fi, and Poetry. However, one cabin does not seem to share in these sentiments. Many Myth campers are none too pleased with the capybara mascot. Myth and Thriller, as many people know, have been battling it out for the top leaderboard spot since camp started. Myth currently holds the title of first place, but Thriller is in second and quickly gaining on them. They are, in other words, rival cabins. And Harry, with their pompoms and loud words of encouragement, poses a threat to Myth. The capybara is boosting the morale of Thriller campers, motivating them to power through the dailies and weeklies. Above all else, Myth is determined to keep their place as number one on the leaderboard. For this reason, many Myth campers hold a strong dislike towards Harry, going so far as to send hate messages and compare the capybara to their own mascot, George the three-headed unicorn (unfavorably, of course). Several Thriller campers have returned the insults, loudly informing Myth that capybaras are superior to unicorns, any that claim otherwise is a lie. The leaders of Myth and Thriller have agreed to respect and support one another’s mascots, saying that George and Harry are equally lovable. Their campers, however, do not all seem to share these sentiments. Whether or not this cabin rivalry will escalate any further remains to be seen.

In spite of all this negativity, Harry remains quite positive. They enjoy their new home in the Thriller Rift, saying of it, “It’s so much more fun .” They continue to cheer on campers, and this encouragement has been working; as of today, Thriller remains in second, only a few weeklies behind Myth. If the campers continue to work hard, they may just claim first place for themselves.

When asked if they had anything else that they would like to share with the public, Harry responded confidently, “People should give me more muffins :pleading face: and #thrillerftw!”

So next time you stop by the Thriller Rift, you may want to pay Harry a visit. Bring some muffins, too; supplying campers with motivation is hard work. Besides, I’m sure Harry will appreciate it. What capybara doesn’t appreciate free snacks?

Word count: 868

Weekly #3
(Why are they always so hard :sob:)

Part 1

Brainstorms-

Forest setting
Large village with no ruler
Animals said to be divine gods
The great gods - Panther, Bear and Eagle
Bears feared as they are said to be hades/pluto (wutever)
Farming carrier as a necessity for citizens
Farming for boys as 1 year
Farming for girls 6 months
Snake seen as nemesis
Yellow snake seen: bad omen
Always at war with neighbouring tribe
Each man has to enter the army for at least 3 months
Sacrifice of goat and sheep every year.
Hard magic system, rarely inherited
Non-Vegetarians on one side of village, Vegetarians on the other
Animals never kept as pets
Technology rejected
Architecture of houses as good as modern designs
Dog seen as good symbol

(383) Connections-
Far far away somewhere in the middle of a forest(so far away even google doesn't know about it and that's saying something so don't go looking for it), lived a group of people, who lived in thier very own village that they built, called Camarat. The architecture was so defined, it seemed like a museum. The natives were actually descendants from the greek times, though thier version of gods were a little different.
Camarat was so vast you could probably mistake it as a medium sized town, though it really was just a large village. Long ago, there used to be monarchy in this large residency. But unfortunately, many of the citizens did not approve of this. The people saw the animals as gods, and the gods as animals only.
The rulers had to step down after a great riot, and the people chose thier three leaders- A panther as Poseidon, An eagle as She's and A bear as Hades. Snakes were avoided, as they were seen as Nemesis, the goddess of revenge.
Farming was a necessity. There was never a shortage of food, but a large village needed a lot of food, so the people voted out the decision that farming was compulsory.
The Camarats were always at was with thier neighbouring tribe, Sudille. It was an old fight which started a huge grudge, and then almost a war as the two rivals built upon thier horrible relationships.
Another queer thing about the Camarats was the slight magic in thier village, which was why the Sudille village got jealous in the first place. It was passed on to thier generation by the gods. It was very rarely inherited, and the last time any of them had seen a person like this was many decades ago.
Non Vegetarians and Vegetarians were kept away From each other. they had almost started a huge fight, because the non Vegetarians didn't want to go to such an extent as not to eat meat anymore, though they only ate fish and birds, which still angered the Vegetarians.
Animals were kept free. The creatures visited often, but no one would ever keep them as domesticated. they deserved to be free. Dogs were the most sacred animals, and we're loved the most too. It was believed that because of these canines thier village was kept safe.

(452) Narrative-
I'm kind of a secret, since no one knows about me, except my parents and a few natives.
When I was 4, just before I was going to be sent to school, my pparents found out I had magic. I had made a cup levitates and was laughing while claping my hands, the movements jerking and shaking the cup. For some reason, they are horrified, and have home schooled me and have never let me meet anyone again, except a few people for whom I am very grateful for.
Everyone says the same things every time they come to visit.
you're very lucky!!
I wish I had powers like you
Don't feel upset, one day you'll know how to control it!
It just frustrates me so much. They don't understand!! Have they been locked up in a very fragrant cave which makes you fall asleep randomly with lots of plants for about a decade? Ok , maybe that doesn't sound that bad but still, it's not fair.
Our village has very complicated magic. I can barely even use it without my knuckles turning white and my face turning red. And the only thing I've managed to do in my life is lift a teacup and wave some vines around.
And then, my friend, my mother comes in and says,
you haven't been messing around with magic again, right?
and then she gives me a look, though she has a smile on, Like, SO HELP ME LORD. IF YOU SAY THE M-WORD ANOTHER DECADE IS GONNA GO BY HONEY
And my father, he won't even come visit me. He's come twice so far, and they weren't happy occasions.
Once was when my grandfather died. He gave me a stern look before giving me a present from my grandfather: a woolen blanket and a nice pillow. He had made them before he had died.
The second time was shortly after that. I had not eaten for days, grieving over the one person who would visit me every time I called him. The one person who didn't treat me as the others did.
The one person who actually loved me.
My father came in, and gave me a huge lecture about why humans need to eat. I didn't really care about the lecture part, because I didn't know why he was telling me this after not visiting me in like forever, but it was interesting to know and study something, so I listened with great concentration. At the end, I are for, and my father walked out of the cave, clearly satisfied that he wouldn't have a starving girl on his hands.
They detest me. I'm an embarrassment. I wish I didn't have powers. I wish I was normal.
But I don't really think that wish will ever come true, will it?

Part 2 (1021 words)

My story- Mythaven

Q1. What kind of magic is used in your world?

Well, that depends on your aspect. I would say in the middle. Not exactly hard or soft. It can go from life and death to just a self writing pencil. Sometimes, the spell is forbidden and there are great risks in unlocking the secrets to casting it. In Mythaven, there are many types of magic. One form is Futivee, the art of invisible magic. It would be too hard to explain. Another one is Tarwei, the art of controlling the rain. I mean, channelling energy from the rain clouds or water , or… Ok you would probably have to read the book to understand, and I haven't even finished writing it yet. Even I don't quite understand.

Q2. How is the magic in the world used in the character’s everyday lives? What are the different abilities?

My main characters are Kendra and Samerth. They do not know about magic until later on in the book. There are many to types of magic, and I have already mentioned 2 above. Another one is Daksu. This magic is used only be the matured mages. It is very hard to do, so it is not allowed for amateurs, because they might hurt themselves. Daksu is the magic of levitating and flying. If the magic breaks in the middle you will fall, extremely tired, this proving this is very dangerous.

Q3. What is an important symbol of your world?

Hmm.. I would say the King cobra. This snake is an important symbol in the magical world, since there, they are the most peaceful snakes. Infact, if you domesticate one and keep it, it might guard your house, like a watchdog. In the story, King Cobra's are voted as the King of snakes by the other snakes. They admired how he had made humans calm around them.

Q4. Are there any sensations the characters feel when they are using magic?Describe these sensations using their five senses.

Well, that depends on the type of magic they are using. While you're doing Futivee, you feel light headed, like you want to fall asleep. You have to start very focused to use it. Your vision starts blurring slightly. While you're doing Daksu, your body feels heavy, which is ironic as you are flying. You feel like you want to just drop down under the weight, though that isn't quite a good idea. And while doing Tarwei, you feel immense pain. You need to be in the rain to survive until you finish the spell. That is why Tarwei is also very hard. You also smell a lot of mud mixed with watermelon.

Q5. What is a folk tale you have heard that involves magic, and how can you take inspiration from that tale?

Cinderella. As the story progresses, she leaves her shoe and runs away, ashamed of herself. I would say this as acting rashly. Samerth is an expert at doing that. Why did she run away without her shoe? That is the question. I mean think about it. Sure, she ended up with prince charming blah blah blah happy ending, but did she think about it? I'm not saying this as a smuggler or something, but prince charming still had the shoe after transformation. The fairy godmother had said- ‘you will transform at 12 o’clock', but nothing she was holding would transform, would it? This means than cinderella could have taken both her shoes of, stopped the transformation for those, and then sold them for money, maybe to eat or for some new clothes.

Q6. 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.)?

Magic is actually a secret. Very few know about it. Samerth and Kendra find out about it by accident. Thier uncle already knew, though he was keeping a secret too. To him, it would probably seem like a curse since (! spoiler alert !) his wife had died because of it. To the children, it probably seemed as something that could only be part of imagination. And to Figilanza, thier cousin, it probably felt frightening since (! spoiler alert !) she was trapped in jail, surrounded by horrible magical creatures, the scary type.

Q7. What are some slang terms or other words used in your world that are related to magic?

Slungbyck - that means when someone has no magic, also known as a normal human or as a muggle (for the harry potter fans)
Yugter- that means someone who is an outcast, or exiled from the magical community. It is the greatest insult, as it takes away not only your rights to be in the magic realm, but it also takes away your magic power.
Hritoshee - you are called this when you have mastered all the types of magic. No one has ever done this in the whole magical history, but the government decided to make a name for it anyways.

Q8. What are the laws of your world, specifically about magic? Punishments?

There are many punishments, but I'll say one.
As you read before, a Yugter is when someone is exiled and is stripped of all magical ability. Did you wonder why someone would have to face that kind of punishment? Let me tell you.
What is Yin and Yang? The sun and moon. Life and death. Eternal balance. If you do a specific spell, you can control these koi. Like bring dead back to life, or kill someone while making it look like a total accident. That kind of magic is forbidden. No one is ever allowed to do it. Unfortunately, in the history of the magic realm, two people tried to do it. First person? He got beheaded. but his son, he tried to do it too. He became a Yugter. the court saw this as a more torturing punishment.

Q9. How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it?

If you look at it, the fantasy world is quite large. Characters don't actually posses it, unless they are descendants of the Yin or Yang family, and have to learn it from the basics. Magic is not that common, if you are talking about bloodline. The Yin and Yang families have barely survived, many people or creatures trying to hunt them down, trying to kill them for thier blood. It is said that if you swallow a whole cup of Yin family blood and another of the Yang family blood, you will start your own magic bloodstream. Unfortunately, thier houses are as protected as they can be, though sometimes the members have been close to death.

Q10. What are the limitations of your world’s magic?

There are too many. I'll say this one-

First of all, you can't bring anyone back from the dead as normal. Before, you read that you could bring someone back from the dead, but they wouldn't be the same. Thier brain would be damaged, and thier doing would be rubbery and gray. They probably wouldn't get past mental disability even if spending thier whole life at a therapist.

Part 3

Urban Fantasy (425)

I'm Max Cooper. and I'm not having a very nice day.
Why?
Maybe because half my body is in the demon realm and half is in New York?
Or Maybe because there's this annoying red hand which tries to pull me into the former?
Or maybe because I might never go back to New York ever again?

2 hours ago

Hi I'm Max Cooper. And today is the most frightening day of my life
Come on Max, I think. You're thirteen!! Don't be a scaredy cat.
Walking on the streets of New York alone, wasn't a very good idea. Especially if it's in a place surrounded by people. You're DEFINITELY not safe then. Someone could just grab you and cover your mouth and run away. People would think you were thier child's behaving badly or something. And alone, in a road only open to cars at morning, it wasn't any better. Now, even if you scream, no one will probably hear or see you anyways.
A guy smoking a cigar turned towards me. He had a high collar jacket, you know, the things bad guys wear in batman, and darkish jeans with a black T-shirt. But I knew this wasn't going to be a cartoon. He started walking towards me, sneering.
RUN, said my brain. WHY ARENT YOU RUNNING ARE YOU THAT DAFT.
NO. my legs retorted smugly. WE'RE not daft. YOU'RE the one who's controlling us. And we can't move anyways.
My brain grumbled and walked over to my heart. it knocked twice.
get out of there, fear. It said with a I swear to God if you don't
expression.
A small wispy thing came out of my heart, and my heart sighed, and then my legs started running like cheetahs. I raced back to the crowded alley, wondering how I'd imagined that in less than ten seconds.
But in a second, he was in front of me again. Weird. His face was slack this time. Suddenly, his cap fell of his head. A small thing started crawling out of his head.
Eurgh. My brain shuddered. You don't have to move any more, I'm done.
Thank you, the legs sighed.
I was petrified. It looked like a… Demon?
The crowd was gone. Only me and this strange freak.
When he was fully out, he looked at me happily.
'Hungry'. He said
Well gotta run, said my legs and ran, but it was no use.
How had this all happened so quickly? I thought.
My brain shrugged.
Soon, the demon caught me. A red portal opened behind him, and he started pulling me backwards, a cruel smile on his lips.
I groaned. The demon realm? Seriously?
I was doomed.

Hidden world (345)

Seingurfien (seen-ger-fine) is the most advanced city you could ever imagine. If cavemen were experimenting with fire, they were already at the 17 hundreds. If we were at the 17 hundreds, they were probably here in our place now, on tabs and laptops and figuring out different architecture. And now that WE are here, the Seingurfieniens, with all the help of our technology, are probably in the 40th century, with computers which didn't need 1s and 0s anymore or something. but how would I know. I'm not a Seingurfienien, am I?

Terry P.O.V
'Hi. I'm Terry.
I did not give you that mini lecture which you just read above, by the way.
That was Mrs. O'Jasjun.
I'm a Seingurfienien. I love it here. I love my pet dog, Festus, too.
Festus means happy in greek, so you could call him happy too, I guess.
Let's get one thing straight.
You're the new comer, right? Well no telling ANYONE about Seingurfien. you already knew? Great! Hope you like it here!'

Author P.O.V
Jasmine was still taking in ‘ I’m Terry' while he rushed out, telling her to enjoy herself. She stood in place, blinking a few times for atleast 5 minutes before she understood all what he had said.
Jasmine was finally in school. she wasn't able to go for so long because she had technodisease. It's when technology seeps into your veins in your fingers. That makes them sensitive for a few years, so she couldn't go to school.

Seingurfien had almost anything in it. A mechanical dog? Festus. A lollipop which says facts everytime you duck it? Done. A machine to do EVERY single thing in your house? Check.
Jasmine was so proud of her country. She would keep it a secret, but she didn't know why Terry had told her not to tell anyone, like she was a sly little child. Maybe she looked like one.
Jasmine headed to her class, machine5. Next to her was machine5 and machines, because the classes went on a zigzag pattern.
Jasmine took a deep breath, and entered her class.
She was going to do everything normally, no matter what.

Science-Fiction (318)
In the land of Narmnet, nothing was proper. Nothing matched our behaviour. Sure they ate ,slept and drank all those stuff, but regarding magic, well, they kind of are different.
Narmnet is full of magic. Not magical creatures, just magic. The only thing which you needed to perform magic was Science. Hence half the buildings in the city are laboratories, and people are STILL squashed up.
Science did no good for people who didn't love it. You needed to understand the science to perform any type of spell, which was easy if you put your mind to it.

Fred drew a circle on the ground, then a triangle inside it, and then a square around the triangle. Then he drew five stars inside the triangle, and tapped the chalk in the middle of the diagram.
'It isn't glowing' Reyna said, tittering.
Fred raised his eyebrows. ‘You wanna try?’
Reyna shook her head, taking a millistep back.
Fred took out a huge fat book. The label said SCIENCE!. Reyna asked ‘which formula will you used?’
'I think I'll use formula 4'.
'Mrs. barker would be proud'.
Fred chanted something, and wrote a small science equation on the side of the circle.
STOP
No, the people who don't know magic can't just use a book because you need specific words to chant, which can only be taught be science teachers.
AND NO they will not torture science teachers.
CONTINUING
The circle glowed blue. Reyna's eyes widened.
'thank mrs. Barker for me', said Frank.
Reyna nodded, silently watching as something was rising from the circle.
Fred and Reyna watched with bated breaths as the thing raised up slowly and slowly and then…
Reyna shrieked with joy.
She picked up the papers which held answers to the Math exam and kissed them.
Fred raised his eyebrows quizzically. ‘ But the maths exam is over.’
'i wat to check if I got the correct answers.'
'as expected from the class geek'
Fred tittered as they walked home after erasing the circle with a piece of cloth.

there and back


A wooden block sits alone on an empty table. It is unremarkable. It is the most unilluminating color of wood, a tasteless pale orange. It is patterned with the most average wood grain. Its texture has been worn away with time, leaving it nothing but mediocrely smooth to the touch. It simply sits on the table — doing nothing, meaning nothing, known by nothing. It has not been touched in years. (If a block of wood falls in an empty forest, does it truly fall?)

Once upon a time, a little boy — perhaps of ten or eleven years — notices the block. He wonders what it is doing, lying there all alone. A spark. His mother is a legendary craftsman, known in the country for her inventive wood sculptures, and she had recently started teaching him how to make little things out of wood. He grabs his knife, the block, and his imagination, and heads outside.

The boy wonders what to make of this inconspicuous wood block. He is not the best of carvers, not yet, yet he wants to make that block special — make it something wonderful, something magical, something incredibly unordinary. But what, he asks himself, would fit that? The things he has carved so far — little cars, a rudimentary cat, a pair of chopsticks — all seem too prosaic and too common for what he wants the block to become.

His mind flies to fantastical creatures, those which inhabit only the wildest corners of his dream-world. Unicorns, seahorses, pegasi — those are the creatures which illuminate his imagination. Those majestic, regal creatures are the perfect fit for his block; never mind that he doesn’t know how to sculpt! They had called his mom a genius at age 8, after all, so everything would turn out fine.

He eventually decides on a dragon, slithering its sinuous body through the sky. It would be dynamic, he decides, curving its way through the air. The carving need not be polished or refined, he thinks, wanting to show the powerful and archaic spirit of such beings. Yes, that would be a great idea.
Absentmindedly, he takes out his carving knife — a gift from his maternal grandfather when he was five, and kept safely out of his hands until recently — and starts whittling away at the wood. Little splintery chips fall onto the virid grass as he daydreams of flying through the sky and missiling through water. He imagines riding with the dragon as it gracefully arcs through whatever matter was in its way, avoiding obstacles and slipping through small cracks in a way that seemed impossible from his eyes. He imagines being embraced by the scaled coils of the dragon, forming a friendship closer than anything. He imagines the sheer extraordinary power of such a creature.

Wonderfully, after some time, he notices that he had carved the dragon. It looks almost exactly like he had thought it would — as if his hands had carried out his subconscious’s thoughts and desires. The carving is amazing.

For a while it is the boy’s favorite toy; he carries it around almost everywhere. But as all children must, he inevitably grows up — and the little wooden dragon sits on the table, untouched and unremembered by all.

Writing Comp. Entry

Out of This World
1797 words

Have you ever envisioned what Earth would be like in a hundred years? Did super-advanced technology and immense pollution come to mind? A frozen Earth? An Earth that’s always in a heat wave with natural disasters? What about no Earth at all?
—-
I walked into the dark hallway lit up by blue fluorescent lights overhead. I tried my best to clear my mind, but dark thoughts still fluttered in it like wasps that won’t stop bothering you. What would it feel like? What’s the last thing I’ll see? How long will I last?
My fingers fumbled with the toy piece my mom had given me many years ago. It had a pink circular base with a fairy on top. The fairy’s wand had a button that would play a lullaby. The same lullaby my mom would sing to me before going to sleep.

Just by looking at the toy piece, I could imagine my mom’s deep brown eyes and the scent of cinnamon. I could taste the warm cocoa she would give me that would put me to sleep in the night. I felt like the connection to my mother on Earth was so strong when I had this toy piece in my hands.
Of course, there was no point in dreaming about all this. All of these memories didn’t matter. My mom and the Earth are long gone, and soon, I will also be long gone.

There were probably only a hundred of us left on this ship. The oxygen had run out two days ago, so we’re surviving on the remaining oxygen inside. To preserve oxygen, the captain is shipping one of us off the Mega Ship every week, so less oxygen is consumed. How smart, huh. One of us has to volunteer to be shipped off in a small spaceship, and the captain provides plenty of food, water, and fuel so we last about a month. I don’t get why the captain is trying so hard to preserve oxygen. There’s no point since we aren't going to last even a month. Maybe the captain is hopeful that we might find a solution to continue human existence, either on a different planet or on Earth. I wouldn’t be scared to be shipped off. I was tired of this ship. The smell of new fabric always made me nauseous. The constant darkness, the dizziness from being in space, and worst of all, the loneliness. That feeling where there’s only you and a few others left who have no hope. As if we’re stuck in the bottom of a pit, and every day it gets lonelier and lonelier.

I stopped in front of a door. A sign on it read “CONTROL ROOM”. I clutched my mother’s toy tightly in my hands and took a deep breath. I opened the door carefully, my heart beating stronger. The room was small and had a control panel in front of a huge window. Tiny fake stars twinkled on the black roof.
Inside the room stood two people who seemed to be in a deep conversation. Once the blue light flooded out of the door, they saw me and halted their conversation.
The captain is the person on the left. He wore a black suit and had a sailor's cap on. The person on the right had dark eyes and curly, black hair. As soon as I saw him, I scowled. His name is Nicholas. We have been arch enemies since we were toddlers. He always pulled my hair and called me names. Out of all the people that I knew who could have been on this ship, it had to be him.
The captain’s eyes were red and baggy. He tried to suppress a warm smile when he saw me.
“Ah, Angie. I see you are also here to be shipped off.”
I noticed he said “also”.
“Wait,” I said. “Is Nicholas also being shipped off?”
Nicholas smiled his same taunting smile. “Well, well, I didn’t know you even dared to come here, Haggie.”
“Unfortunately,” interrupted the captain, “I only have one spaceship ready to go.” He pointed to the white circular ship right outside the window. “It’s either you two go together, or one of you goes along.”
“I’m not going with him.” I glared at Nicholas. I couldn’t imagine what torture it would be like to stand Nicholas 24/7.
The captain faced Nicholas. “Then you’ll go alone then, is that fine?”
Nicholas nodded. He was trying to keep a brave face, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

The captain strode over to the control panel and pressed a button. A window opened in front of the small ship.
A wave of coldness hit me. Both physically and mentally. Even though Nicholas was my enemy, I’ve known him since we were toddlers. Losing him would mean feeling completely alone and empty, and I didn’t want to face that.
“Wait, I said, “I’ll go.” It took some effort to say those words. It’s like saying: It’s okay, I’ll die instead of you dying.
“No, no I’ll go. Nicholas said. He probably didn’t want to be embarrassed by letting a girl go instead of him.
“No please,” I pleaded to the captain. “Let me go.”
Nicholas looked confused about why I wanted to go so badly. “It’s fine I-”
“NO!” I interrupted, which came much louder than I thought. Both Nicholas and the captain were now staring at me.
“I want to go,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “Please,” I croaked to the captain.
The captain looked stunned. “Y-yes, very well then.”

He led me to the window where the door of the small spaceship floated. “A month’s supply of food and water is provided in a gray cabinet on the left compartment.” He reached into his coat pocket and handed me a booklet with the same white spaceship on the cover. “Here is the manual on how to use the controls and where the emergency supplies are. I’m afraid that’s all I have to say to you. I hope you have a long flight. I’m also reminding you that what you’re doing can save humanity. Any questions?”
I shook my head. There was no point anyway. I don’t think I’ll even survive a week in this thing.
I stood in front of the window. The cold, empty air caused goosebumps on my arms. My heart was thumping so loud I felt like others could hear it.
Do I want to do this?
Yes, as the captain said, it’s for humanity, I thought.

I dug in my pocket and found nothing there. My breath became shallow, “Oh no, where is it?”
I frantically started to check all my other pockets.
“Looking for this?” Nicholas held up a circular toy piece in his hands.
My heart calmed down. I reached for the toy piece but Nicholas quickly moved his arm away.
“Why do you have such a baby toy anyway?”
“Give it!” I shouted. I kept grabbing for the toy piece in Nicholas’s hands.
“Now, there’s no need for this.” The captain tried to sound calm.
I spotted a miniature metal pole on the floor. I sprinted for it and picked it up. I faced Nicholas, the pole raised like a sword in my hands.
“Give it, or else.” My voice wavered with anger.
I swung at Nicholas’s hand just after the captain jumped in front of him. The captain got knocked out of the open window into the circular spaceship. The door of the ship instantly closed and the spaceship took off into endless space.
“NO!” We both said as we stood there in shock, gaping at the white spaceship that carried our captain becoming smaller and smaller.

Everything happened so fast, it took me a while to process everything.
“Great, now we don’t have a captain.”
“This ship is always on autopilot mode,” Nicholas countered, “and we’re not headed for anywhere either.”
Nicholas had a point, but many people still have hope that we’ll find someplace to live. They were counting on the captain. Now we’re responsible for the lives of a hundred people. There wasn’t anything we could do but hope that we’ll survive long enough to find a livable planet.

My eyes scanned the control room for anything the captain had that could help us and caught something that lay shattered on the floor.
I knelt, my heart fractured. I picked up the broken pieces of the toy piece. I felt like I lost my only connection to my mother and the Earth.
Nicholas stood next to me. “I’m sorry. All of what happened is my fault.”
I forgave him. We were both suffering mixed emotions from everything that was happening. He also had a family and a life which disappeared like mine.
“It’s fine, it isn’t entirely your fault. I’m the one who swung at the captain,” I said. I wiped the sprouting tears from my eyes, got up and put the remains of the toy piece in my pocket. “I think we should both stay in the control room, in case we spot anything that could help us.”
“Or destroy us,” Nicholas added.

We both sat on the seats in front of the wide control panel. We chatted about our family and our most memorable events. It felt good to talk about our previous life as if the connection between myself and Earth was starting to rebuild again.
If I looked back ten minutes ago, I would have thought how silly it was to have still been enemies with Nicholas. We were going through everything together.

I yawned, and my eyelids started to become heavy. I never knew what the time was, so I do things whenever I felt like it.
“Take a rest,” said Nicholas. “I’ll wake you up when I spot something.
“Sure,” I yawned. “Do you mind shutting that window? It’s chilly here.”

I dreamt about being on the moon, I was about to establish another flag on the moon until the flag talked to me. “Wake up,” it said. “Angie, wake up.”
I opened my eyes. “Hey,” I complained. “I was about to put a flag on the moon.”
“Look.” He pointed outside the window, his eyes wide with amazement.
I looked outside and gasped. I saw a sparkling deep blue planet with spots of green on it. It looked almost like Earth. My heart started to pump a warm feeling throughout my body. Is this how hope felt?
“Can you try landing us there?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m good with controls. I just hope this planet won’t crush us.”
—-
If you’re reading this and have a useless light left on wherever you are, please turn it off right away, so something like this doesn’t happen.

—✯—

Castle facades, of jewels and flattery laid
Eons of wealth, stacked brick upon brick
Word after word, of careful diplomacy paid
Its majesty inspiring, yet of illusions made

—✯—

Sulvi closed her eyes, letting the crackle of the flames drown out the overwhelming cheers of the crowd. It was such a familiar, comforting sound – perhaps it was the flickering blaze that appeared to threaten her life, yet it was the fire that saved her; it was the fire that calmed her down, helping the storm of fear and anticipation to evaporate, leaving only the performer behind. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, shifting her focus to the trapeze artists performing to her left as she waited for her cue.

They soared through the air, flipping and spinning each time they let go, launching themselves well beyond safety without a moment’s hesitation. She’d seen them practice hundreds of times before, but she couldn’t help but hold her breath as they danced through the top reaches of the tent, just a hair's breadth from its striped fabric. One final sequence and a kiss goodbye; the audience cheered; it was her turn to fly.

Stepping gracefully on to the high wire, Sulvi relaxed, letting muscle memory take over. She’d been walking the tightrope – a fine line between life and death, between confidence and arrogance since she was a tiny child.

It was then, as she began her act, a delicate solo atop layers of strings, that a pair of brilliant blue eyes caught her attention. They were shining bright as a pair of dew drops glistening in the morning sun, the young owner’s awe unmistakable.

—✯—

Dragon’s hoards of gold, the circus has not
Yet beyond sheer wealth, their expertise lays
With tricks up their sleeves, true talent well sought
Nets of deceit, their deceptions well bought

—✯—

She looked up in astonishment as the girl stepped on to the tightrope with confidence written in every line of her face. Even hundreds of feet in the air; even hundreds of feet away from her, the girl looked so calm, her bright blue eyes focused. She couldn’t help but envy the way the girl leaped across the delicate thread, the fine line that stood between her and the fire, so gracefully and unconcerned. Tilting her head, she began sketching a tentative picture in her mind. Could she someday be that girl? She imagined herself atop the woven rope, dressed in a dazzling pink dress, glitter lighting up the tent as the warm glow of the fire reflected back at the audience, dancing around like a beautiful young princess.

As the girl began to cartwheel across the line, her feet quickly made a wide arc around her head before landing neatly on the tightrope, she knew. That was going to be her someday. Someday, she too would leap and tumble across the wire. Someday, the crowd would scream for her too. Leaving her imagination to entertain the thoughts now whirling around her head, she shifted her focus back to the girl. Something about the way she moved held her gaze captive. Every motion appeared so easy — an effortless spin in the grand scheme of her ballet, even as the furious flames surrounding her threatened to snatch her away and devour her like a bar of chocolate.

—✯—

(story continues with either poetry or sulvi's perspective)
(if you're confused, tell me that! please be brutal, i've found critique rarely does much good when the critiquer is trying to be nice)

word war - july 21
words: 199
warred: @Cherrie_Tree
status: lost

A blue square and a red circle. Two buttons sitting in the room, the room that would otherwise have been completely white. Well, now it was time to see what the buttons did. I reached out for the blue one, hoping that the color theory would be correct this time. But then I had doubts- after all, what if both of them did things that weren’t great? I reached for the red one instead of the blue, then pulled away- again, color theory- to try and pick the right one this time around. The two buttons sat on the ground, so bright and alluring, as if taunting me. Daring me to press one or the other. But there were two buttons, and so I reached out and pressed down hard on both of them. There was a flash of light, and then the buttons were gone. It would seem they either did nothing or did everything, but whatever the truth was I was left in the white room. The room that was now completely white. I was left there alone, completely alone. I didn’t have anything to do now except wait and hope somebody let me out soon, so

stardust

writing contest entry

by pandora

//

TW - Death

Prologue, one month ago

The library was dark at twelve o’clock. Mrs. Farnon, the caretaker, had evidently forgotten to light the candles, and it would be absurd to wake her at this hour. Besides, Francesca wouldn’t particularly like to wake the entire academy in her midnight trek.

She lit a lone lantern lying on a bookshelf. The soft yellow light illuminated the burnt umber shelves of the Alina Institute’s book collection, the crisp scent of yellowing pages in the air.

Francesca pulled Secrets of Cosmic Dust from a shelf in the Advanced section a while later. A couple of browned envelopes fell out of the pages and flew lightly onto the carpeted floor. She picked them up and tore the seal. Francesca pulled out an folded an ivory letter, unfolded it and whisper-read,

“Dear Cyrus,

Not a day passes by without me wishing you were besides me as I write, not venturing off in unmapped galaxies. Astrid is gloomier than ever this winter. The charm that lightens my life has disappeared, and I can sense it won’t appear until you come back again. As I hope for your fast return, please stay safe and come home as rapidly as you can, as we are all missing you dearly.

Yours,

Verity.”

Verity. She knew that name anywhere. The memories started to flood back, one by one, faster and faster. No. No. She had to forget. This was the past, unimportant. Forget. The face of a tall lady with a black sunhat decorated with a violet ribbon flashed through her head before Francesca felt herself crumble to the floor helplessly. A throbbing pain in the back of her head came in, and she shut her eyes.

———

The cobblestoned streets of Astrid glimmered in the sweltering morning heat. The air-conditioning in the institute’s admissions office was broken, and sweat was dipping down Francesca’s neck, although that might have been stress as well. It was hard to tell.

“Please, Mr. Benedict, there has to be a way you can get my scholarship back. The university was my home, my only key to a better life.” she was at a loss for words. “Without out, I’m lost. Nowhere to go.”

“Now, Miss…” Mr. Benedict started.

“Snapdragon.”

“Miss. Snapdragon, I’m told you have foster parents, right? Well, if they came in and, I don’t know, persuaded the admissions folk to reconsider reinstating your scholarship, I’m sure you could be back in the Alina Institute again.”

Francesca eyed him nervously. “But, Mr. Benedict, my foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Austen, they aren’t the most understanding. They don’t even know what happened. I need to get back in as soon as possible.”

The man nodded gravely. “Well, after Mrs. Farnon found you unconscious in a restricted section of the library after dark, it will take a lot to earn back the institute’s trust. Distrustful, that’s what they see you as. That’s why they expelled you. Without any guardian knowing what happened, well,” he sighed, “let’s just say the odds will be against you completely.”

“Please - ” she pleaded as she looked him right in the eye.

He rose to signal that their short meeting was over. “Miss Snapdragon, I’m afraid there’s nothing more to say on the matter. You bring your foster parents in, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Francesca’s knees wobbled as she stood up and pushed in her creaky chair. She then rushed out off the office immediately.

———

“Looks like someone’s had a bad day.” a lady smirked as Francesca walked out of the building sulking.

Francesca continued walking away from the building, and the person, at a rapid pace.

“Hey, slow down!” the stranger rushed after her. “If you want to talk about family issues, I’m here.”

Francesca whirled around. “Who said I had family issues?”

The lady shrugged. “You? I can hear your voice for miles. And you were completely lying about the Austen’s. Please, the parents of the students at Alina are all rich and famous. The Austen’s? Completely unheard of.”

“You’re… good.” Francesca eyed the stranger. She was only a few inches taller than Francesca, had short navy hair without a strand out of place, and was wearing a loose aqua blouse and a black sunhat with a violet ribbon. She gasped.

“You’re the girl I saw before I passed out that night!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” the lady shrugged again. “My name’s Moriah.”

“Francesca.”

Moriah’s lips twitched into a smile, the first one Francesca had seen from her.

— — —

Once she finished dinner by herself in her cramped apartment, Francesca pulled a small vial out of her pocket, like the ones used to store potions in the fantasy movies she once loved, and unscrewed the cork, which came off with a tiny pop! The fragrance of cinnamon and herb that came from a silver-like powder filled the dry air, and Francesca took a deep breath. The tiny words “stardust” were engraved at the top in gold, and although she didn’t exactly know what stardust was, she knew it was important and she would protect it with her life. She had received it in a tiny envelope during her time at Alina Institute, with the words “for Francesca Rowan Snapdragon’s eyes only.”. No one except her knew about it, and it certainly wasn’t dangerous! No, of course not…

Francesca turned on the television just in time for the nightly news. A bespectacled reporter flipped through pages as he announced the headline of the day to the audience.

“Well, folks, it seems like Lady Verity, famed wife of late astronaut Lord Cyrus, has received a death sentence and shall be hung tomorrow at noon after an unlucky thirteen years of imprisonment. She has been accused of treason and was found in possession of an illegal substance that was supposed to been given to the Council instead. Moving on…”

Snap. The TV flickered off. Sure, Francesca’s heart had skipped a few beats at mention of Verity and Cyrus, but she had more control this time. She couldn’t connect the dots yet, but she wasn’t going to let it haunt her forever.

She slipped the stardust into her pocket.

— — —

Moriah was waiting for her as Francesca walked out of her apartment.

“You followed me home?” she asked, alarmed.

“Nah, I live around here. Thought I’d stop by.” Moriah winked.

Francesca smiled. She was getting used to Moriah. Slowly, at least.

“Say, what’s that smell?” Moriah sniffed the air curiously. Her eyes darted to Francesca’s pocket. She lunged at her and grabbed the vial.

“Stardust, eh? Amaria, Nolan, we’ve found Verity’s little star girl.”

— — —

Two masked figures jumped out of the shadows and held Francesca hostage.

“You don’t see it, do you?” Moriah laughed. “Alright, I’ll start from the beginning. Lord Cyrus had found stardust illegally on one of his intergalactic explorations. Knowing it would land him in trouble, he handed it to his doting wife Lady Verity. Hours before a close neighbor informed the Council of what was going on and made me arrest her, she packed it away in an envelope, telling her trusted friend to deliver it to her daughter when she was ready. Her daughter willing took it, and endangered her life by doing so.”

“Today, two shall die now. Francesca Snapdragon, and Lady Verity Snapdragon.”

3 min word war with Peachi - 231 words

Let our voices be heard. We can’t afford to wait any longer.
I skip out of my balcony, dipped in wpuddles of rain. The surface is murky but in the end we need to gcountinue because it has to be great.

I open up my dor because i’ts great, and the feeling when warm ari surshes against you and whispers a soft sweeping lullaby is amazing.

The refreshment. The silence, yet peace.

Yet they can’t have peace. They want us to be peacfeful and quiet and submissive to oothier will. They wantt us to hang like small dolls from a string abnd movable, controlled by a wrapping hand that dictatews their every move.

But I won’t let it be me.

The soft stradns of the grass blaze against my hlegs, i guess it hursts somewhat to not be with anyone else. Ito be alone, ain this activism to change the world is cuncofmroab;e. TRegardless i try to do swht i don all the time because things have to change.

I take a breath and let my thoughts run outh smoothly because it has to meb eme. It has to be me who changes everything. It has to rstarte with me

Yes i don’t want to eresponnsibilities on the world on my shoulders, but what will i do if i act like those politicians that stnad in seats and do nothign

MoonlitSeas wrote:

—✯—

Castle facades, of jewels and flattery laid
Eons of wealth, stacked brick upon brick
Word after word, of careful diplomacy paid
Its majesty inspiring, yet of illusions made

—✯—

Sulvi closed her eyes, letting the crackle of the flames drown out the overwhelming cheers of the crowd. It was such a familiar, comforting sound – perhaps it was the flickering blaze that appeared to threaten her life, yet it was the fire that saved her; it was the fire that calmed her down, helping the storm of fear and anticipation to evaporate, leaving only the performer behind. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, shifting her focus to the trapeze artists performing to her left as she waited for her cue.

So first of all, I love your first line! I can totally imagine everything that the character is feeling and hearing. However, the second line about the fire “that appeared to threaten her life” didn't make complete sense to me the first time I read the story - is she a fire performer? Does she have some backstory that involves fire? After reading it twice more, it finally clicked into place that your were just commenting on the nature of fire and it had nothing to do with the fire itself, so I think you could either reword that sentence - maybe something like “the flickering blaze that appeared to be so dangerous, yet…”.

MoonlitSeas wrote:

They soared through the air, flipping and spinning each time they let go, launching themselves well beyond safety without a moment’s hesitation. She’d seen them practice hundreds of times before, but she couldn’t help but hold her breath as they danced through the top reaches of the tent, just a hair's breadth from its striped fabric. One final sequence and a kiss goodbye; the audience cheered; it was her turn to fly.

The description of the trapeze artists is amazing, and I love that one specific detail about the striped fabric - it's the one detail that really ties the whole scene together. I think adding one or two more adjectives to those first two sentences could really help the reader visualize it better like the striped fabric detail - maybe something the clothing of the trapeze artists or the equipment they use.

Also (and I apologize in advance for this, I know grammar is annoying to a lot of people) I love your last sentence and in this instance I think the repeated use of semicolons in okay, but in general it's best to avoid a bunch of semicolons all at one XD

MoonlitSeas wrote:

Stepping gracefully on to the high wire, Sulvi relaxed, letting muscle memory take over. She’d been walking the tightrope – a fine line between life and death, between confidence and arrogance since she was a tiny child.

ADSAJK I LOVE THIS PARAGRAPH SO MUCH!! I'm a huge fan of imagery and symbolism so I think that's the reason I love it so much!! I love how you use the tightrope as a physical embodiment of the “fine line between” saying AND how you also use the line as a way to balance on the metaphorical line between life and death and confidence and arrogance. I don't think I'm doing a great job explaining why I love this so much BUT JUST KNOW IT'S AMAZING.

Just one teensy tiny grammatical thing (I'm so sorry) - since you put a dash before “a fine line”, there needs to be a dash after “confidence and arrogance”.

MoonlitSeas wrote:

It was then, as she began her act, a delicate solo atop layers of strings, that a pair of brilliant blue eyes caught her attention. They were shining bright as a pair of dew drops glistening in the morning sun, the young owner’s awe unmistakable.

I'm not sure if the line “a delicate solo atop layers of strings” is a deliberate callback to your symbolism of the line in the last paragraph but either way it feels like it is and I love it. The imagery here is amazing, the details are vibrant and I can totally see the blue eyes, and that simile at the end is just *chef's kiss*. However, that last clause “the young owner's awe unmistakable”…I don't really love it? It kind of takes me out of the mood and I can't explain why, but I think you could reword it to something like “young and awestruck”. I like the details in there I just think they could be conveyed in a different way.

—✯—

Dragon’s hoards of gold, the circus has not
Yet beyond sheer wealth, their expertise lays
With tricks up their sleeves, true talent well sought
Nets of deceit, their deceptions well bought

—✯—

MoonlitSeas wrote:

She looked up in astonishment as the girl stepped on to the tightrope with confidence written in every line of her face. Even hundreds of feet in the air; even hundreds of feet away from her, the girl looked so calm, her bright blue eyes focused.

I love the italics here, and right away it's distinguished that this is from a different person's pov, so that was done very neatly. Again, just a few edits: take out the word “with” before “confidence written” and replace it with a comma just to clean up the flow a little. In the next sentence take out the semicolon and replace it with a comma again to help with flow. I do like the repetition of “hundreds of feet…hundreds of feet” but I don't think you need to repeat the word “even” the second time, so I would suggest having the first part of the second sentence be “Even hundreds of feet in the air, hundreds of feet away from her…”

This is just a suggestion that you totally don't have to use, but both the young girl and Sulvi having the same color eyes is a littleee bit confusing, so maybe change Sulvi's eye color? I wouldn't suggest changing the little girl's eyes color just because I love your simile about dew drops.

MoonlitSeas wrote:

She couldn’t help but envy the way the girl leaped across the delicate thread, the fine line that stood between her and the fire, so gracefully and unconcerned. Tilting her head, she began sketching a tentative picture in her mind. Could she someday be that girl? She imagined herself atop the woven rope, dressed in a dazzling pink dress, glitter lighting up the tent as the warm glow of the fire reflected back at the audience, dancing around like a beautiful young princess.

Okay, so you do bring the fire back here! Okay now I understand why you talked about how the fire threatened her life in the first paragraph of the whole story. Maybe add something in that first paragraph about the fire being below her, just to clarify why she's talking about the fire as threatening to her specifically.

MoonlitSeas wrote:

As the girl began to cartwheel across the line, her feet quickly made a wide arc around her head before landing neatly on the tightrope, she knew. That was going to be her someday. Someday, she too would leap and tumble across the wire. Someday, the crowd would scream for her too. Leaving her imagination to entertain the thoughts now whirling around her head, she shifted her focus back to the girl. Something about the way she moved held her gaze captive. Every motion appeared so easy — an effortless spin in the grand scheme of her ballet, even as the furious flames surrounding her threatened to snatch her away and devour her like a bar of chocolate.

“Someday, she too would leap and tumble across the wire” MY HEART OH MY GOSH THAT IS SO CUTE AND SO INSPIRING AND IT JUST CAPTURES ALL THE EMOTIONS OF BEING AN INSPIRED YOUNG GIRL SO WELL. The little girl's personality is captured so well in the first five sentences of that paragraph.

The line “leaving her imagination to entertain the thoughts now whirling around her head” kind of felt like a disconnect from the last few lines though since “imagination” and “entertain” kind of main the reader feel like the little girl's dream is just an entertaining fantasy (which I know it isn't) so I think maybe rewording it to something like “with her mind whirling with new thought, she shifted…” would work better with the idea of the girl really, really wanting to be a tightrope walker.

Finally, the last line is BEAUTIFUL. “Furious flames, grand scheme of her ballet” - there are amazing visual details. But that last simile just seems a little off. The rest of your writing is lyrical and almost poetical and even seems like a commentary on being calm around danger. Your other symbolism is more abstract (like the line between life and death and dew drops) The bar of chocolate line doesn't fit with any of that. Maybe having another simile with a more abstract or circus related topic like “the mouth of a blazing lion” or even “devour her like the mortal she was”. Those two are just suggestions, you totally don't have to take them!

Yeah but overall I loved this! I thought it was so original, being set in a circus and having dual povs! I think there are just a few wording and grammatical things to fix and this will be pretty close to perfect! Those little poems in between the povs were also so well written and add to the lyrical mood of the piece.

—✯—

(story continues with either poetry or sulvi's perspective)
(if you're confused, tell me that! please be brutal, i've found critique rarely does much good when the critiquer is trying to be nice)

.

Critique for @Aliana_Cantu

I first met her in the ruined amphitheaters of Inai when the ground still crunched with the cold snap of winter.

I think there’s supposed to be a comma here, like this: “I first met here in the ruined amphitheaters of Inai, when the ground still crunched with the cold snap of winter.” Other than that, this is a great start! You’ve introduced a setting (“the ruined amphitheaters of Inai” already has me intrigued) and the two main characters, plus provided some nice sensory details (“cold snap of winter” is a nice touch.)

She was playing in the star strings filled with magic that stretched across our cities, blue and silver and yellow, shimmering under our purple skies.

This is a very long, wordy sentence. Just changing “star strings filled with magic” to “magic-filled star strings” could improve on the clunkiness, I think. Another thing: this is more of a personal preference and less an actual issue, but “blue,” “silver,” “yellow,” and purple” are very basic colors. This entire description could be made so much richer if you were more specific when explaining the different shades. Were the strings blue, or were they a deep cobalt? Was the sky purple, or was it a dusky lavender? You get the idea.

As I watched, she cautiously touched one of the golden strings with her finger.

You used the word “touch” in the previous sentence as well. I would replace it with a synonym like “brushed” or “stroked” to avoid redundancy.

I felt the vibration in the air, the way the magic responded to her like she was magic herself.

This is a wonderfully written sentence. I can feel the vibrations and the magic too. The best thing a writer can do is transport the reader into their fictional world, and that’s what you’ve done here.

She laughed as the string wrapped itself around her finger, and her laugh turned into a shriek of delight as the strings whisked her off her feet into the air.

I don’t know if this was accidental or stylistic choice on your part, but you might want to add another “and” in this sentence: “…the strings whisked her off her feet and into the air? This is what I would do, but if you prefer to keep it as it is by all means do so.

Being the only Anomaly all of Inai was horrible.

Did you mean, “Being the only Anomaly in all of Inai was horrible.”?

I stumbled to explain that I don't think of the Wielders as other.

You repeat this idea of not thinking of the Wielders as other in the following line of dialogue, which sounds redundant. I would change this sentence to something like, “I stumbled to explain myself.”

Stringless, Stringless, little child, tell her how you love her…

Nice touch, having the strings chime in. It adds to the overall mood of the piece, and the world building as well. It ties up the entire story so well with the last line, too, which I’ll get to in a moment.

Did you-did you tell him in not fully Stringless?

Caught a typo! I think you meant, “Did you-did you tell him I’m not fully Stringless?”

Maybe it wasn't fair of me to tell her right then, but I knew if I didn't tell her then, I'd never be able to tell her.

You use the words “tell her” three times in this sentence. I would replace them with something else, even with something as simple as “say it” to avoid redundancy.

“I will always love you too, Lija,” I whispered to the sky. I let my eyes slip close

Another typo, you forgot a period at the end of the sentence.

Stringless, Stringless, poor child, the tragedy of love lost so soon…

Perfect last line. It ties up the whole piece so nicely, what with the star strings bringing them together and the themes of tragic love.

And here’s a bunch of lines the hopeless romantic in me loved so much but couldn’t think of individual compliments for, other than Oh my gosh you’re such a good writer this line is pure perfection! If you go back for some last-minute editing, I would definitely keep these in:

In those ruins, under the stars, we weren't Stringless and Wielder. We were just…us.

“I'm already in my happy place,” I admitted softly. The old ruins danced with the star strings, whose beauty I had only come to to appreciate after meeting Lija. “With the stars and the strings and…and you.” I glanced over at her, and her lips were parted ever-so-slightly. It was very distracting, and I completely lost my train of thought, looking at her

Carefully, I took her other hand with mine. Her eyes went wide, but I saw her leaning in, and then I could see every individual string haloing her face, and each eyelash…

I was aloft on wings of stars when I was her. For the first time, I didn't need the star strings, because to me, she was the stars.

The world went black, then white, then black again, and the ground swooped away, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

”I love you,“ I whispered, my words tumbling over themselves. ”I know it's not fair to tell you now - and you don't need to say it back, but I needed to - “

”I love you too,“ she interrupted me desperately. ”Stars, Qea, I love you so much.“ She kissed me, urgent and hard, and I clung to her, knowing this would be our last moment together.

We pulled apart, after a few long moments that would never feel long enough. ”I love you,“ she promised again. ”I will always love you." Slowly, shakily, she rose into the air like the goddess of the stars.

Every single criticism I just gave you was incredibly nitpick-y. I honestly felt a little weird critiquing this, because your writing - the prose, the world building, all the little details - is sweet and heartbreaking and so, so, good. It was hard finding things to criticize, but I guess there’s no such thing as writing that can’t improve. I hope you know how much I enjoyed reading your work, and how very well written this piece is. Best of luck in the writing competition (they had better give you a place)!

pages-of-ink wrote:

Daily 7/2

“Is the world flat?”
“Outlook not so good.”

————

The cartographer’s apprentice leaned back, squinting at the parchment before her. Rough lines and curves squiggled across its surface, forming the shapes of wide continents and small islands. Or at least, that’s what they were supposed to do. The apprentice’s drawings looked less like landmasses and more like pools of runny egg yolk.

I love all the context we get in just these few short sentences: who the main character is, and especially the simile at the end! It's funny and witty but still fits with the tone of the piece so far.

pages-of-ink wrote:

She let out a frustrated sigh. This was an important assignment. The senior cartographer trusted that she knew about cartography to make a finally make a map, a complete map, a real map. Her work had to impress.

This is soooo nitpicky by the last sentence doesn't make total sense? Maybe consider changing the last sentence to “had to be impressive” or “it had to impress her boss” or whatever. Again this is superrrr nitpicky.

pages-of-ink wrote:

She ground her pencil into the parchment, as if darker lines would somehow make the sketch look better. The graphite tip snapped and flew across the room. She bit back a scream and reached for her sharpener. Why did mapmaking have to be so hard?

This paragraph is so genuinely relatable and funny! Everyone can relate to breaking pencil and pressing down your pencil frustration and I love it.

————

pages-of-ink wrote:

“Breaking news!”

The newscaster’s voice cuts through my concentration. I glance up, pencil hovering above my paper. On the television screen, a young woman stares solemnly into the camera, hands folded on the table before her. “Breaking news,” she repeats, “the world appears to be… folding in on itself.”

Okay so I'm just a little confused here. Do you switch from third to first person pov here? Or this a totally different person? I'm not sure what is happening and how this relates to the past section.

pages-of-ink wrote:

“Uh, what did she say?” I ask, certain I misheard.

“I repeat, the world is folding in on itself.” The calmness of her face and voice don’t match the words coming out of her mouth. She could be talking about the weather, for how unruffled she appears.

Again this is so funny and relatable. Unruffled newscasters are so common even when they're talking about full-on tragedies (all newscasters are either completely overdramatic or 100% calm XD)

pages-of-ink wrote:

I leap to my feet, my pencil drawing all but forgotten. “‘The world is folding in on itself?’ What does that even mean?!”

My family doesn’t respond. Their eyes are glued to the TV screen, fixated on the news report. “Satellite images show that our planet is mysteriously turning inwards, potentially harming many lives in the process.” Photographs taken from space appear onscreen, showing that the world is in fact folding up into the shape of a lumpy, irregular sphere. It looks like a crumpled wad of paper, actually. Folds of water and land are wrinkled up and pressed together, reminding me of all the drawings I’ve given up on and thrown away. “Indeed, our flat world seems to be turning into one of the round planets from myth,” the reporter continues, still impossibly calm. “The government has tried to reach out to countries that appear to be, ah, more affected by this cataclysmic event. As of now there has been no response.” The photographs zoom in to the more severely wrinkled areas - thankfully, nowhere near where my family lives. “The outlook for our future is not good. Indeed, our own country is one of the only-” Abruptly, the news reporter’s voice is cut off with a fizzle of static. The TV screen shudders, then goes dark.

The description here is so vivid, I love it! And here I get some connection between this girl and the mapmaker because of the "drawings given up on" like the mapmaker, but honestly it makes me more confused because the girl in the beginning seems like somebody in maybe the 1500s and this is very obviously in modern times.

pages-of-ink wrote:

“Um, what happened?” I ask nervously. My palms have begun to sweat, but right now that’s the least of my worries.

“I don’t know, Sammy,” my dad says weakly. “I guess it’s like the news reporter said. The outlook isn’t good.”

The honesty in his voice scares me more than anything else I’ve heard tonight.

“Daddy?” my little brother murmurs anxiously. “Are we going to be-”

I love the raw honestly and fear here and I can totally feel it. I can completely imagine myself having this kind of conversation with my parents and little sister.

pages-of-ink wrote:

With a crunch like paper ripping, the ground tips over sideways. I shriek and grab onto the coffee table, trying to keep my balance. I hear my dad yell something as I slam into the wall, though I can barely hear it over the noise of my own internal panic. As the world folds in over my head, I only have time for one last thought: Why is this happening?

I love details in the first part: “crunch like paper ripping”, “shriek and grab onto the coffee table”, and it's a very vivid scene in my mind. The only thing I would change is the line “over the noise of my own internal panic”. It's a good line, but it feels a little bit like telling and not showing. What does the panic feel like? What does it sound like, specifically?

The ending here is amazing!! I love the idea of the word folding over her head and the hopelessness of her final thought.

————

pages-of-ink wrote:

The cartographer’s apprentice dipped her pen into the inkwell. She still wasn’t satisfied with her map. The graphite had smeared, and it was difficult to tell where land ended and muddy grey ocean began. She didn’t know how to make the drawing look better, however, and it had to be completed by sunrise tomorrow. Well, no one could say she hadn’t tried. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Then she lifted her pen and placed it on the parchment. Jaw clenched, she began to trace the swoop of a gently curving coastline.

Focus, focus…

The tone shift is very well executed. The beginning of this paragraph feels like a definitive beginning just like the ending of the last section felt like a definitive ending. But again…I'm not sure what this girl is doing. I have the idea that maybe she's observing the folding-in of the Earth and trying to map that? But that's just pure speculation because my mind is trying to make sense of it.

Just from a writing standpoint, however, I love everything you wrote in this paragraph. The imagery, the feelings…I think you definitely have a knack for painting a picture in your readers' minds.

pages-of-ink wrote:

Her arm trembled ever so slightly, and ink spattered across the page. She stared in horror at her ruined map, anger and despair warring within her. Then she picked up the parchment, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it across the room. All that hard work, and she wouldn’t even have anything to present tomorrow. She stalked out the door, furious.

Why had she ever decided to become a mapmaker?

Again, I love the writing here, and the details. Separately, I love both sections of your story with the mapmaker's apprentice and the modern girl, but I'm not sure what the link between them is. I feel like you were trying to hint at what it is because there were some parallels, so I think just making the connection clearer would help the reader and the flow of your story. But I loved the writing and especially the sections with the mapmaker's apprentice, which gave me very strong Shadow and Bone vibes (I don't know if you've read the series but I would very much recommend it)

I leapt onto the hard wooden bench that viewed the everlasting green hills and clawing oak trees. It was the perfect place to be alone and relax- as well as finish homework without scrunching it up in a ball.
I reached into the overfilling leather I had plonked beside me and grabbed a neat, clean paper filled with several hard, long and boring questions. And you have to show your marking!
Ugh.
Oh well. I took out a sparkling purple gel pen before biting my lip in disbelief, shoving it to the side and grabbing a light mechanical pencil. I clicked the button at the end and tugged on one of my nails. Then my eyes widened and I leapt across the page, my hand a blur. Question after question, I was revolving the answer in my head before scribbling my strategy down.
I imagined the shiny, glimmering A I would get on this homework. I'm not a straight A student, I'm one to drop down into the B's but I never get lower than that.
Wind battered me, and dark storm clouds formed in the sky. I tugged at my homework, shielding it while finishing the last difficult question with the 25 multiplication and adding the one several times.
When I had finished rain was dripping down and the wind was taunting me with its strength.
I raced back to my block, promising myself to not get close to anyone. Their emotions? I could feel them and change them. And I couldn't control it.
The little kids were jumping in the puddles, and they cutely waved to me.
I got the first tingle of emotion, happiness. It was very strong, Happiness.
I stumbled back, waving before racing back to my block.
When I reached the silver block with bronze doorknobs in pale classrooms I jumped up the stairs quickly.
There were many people here, and I waved cautiously at them. They stared back at me and disgust poured at me from their emotions.
I mumbled “I- uh” and rushed into a room “BBC”.


I hurriedly ran to the slightly rusted doors of Aspenbrook High, slowing down before anyone saw me dashing. I had to remain calm and collected, with an “I don't care attitude”. The only time I'm allowed to run is in sports. If someone saw me running, it would totally ruin my “cool” reputation, a reputation I had so painstakingly built day by day, year by year.
I stopped just long enough to catch my breath and check my appearance before continuing on. I couldn't be late, I had to be perfect. And being perfect meant straight A's, captain of every sports team and being Miss Popularity. It was exhausting and honestly, I would prefer to be a normal everyday girl. But this is my life now and I have to keep it. Besides, it's dangerous to let people see the real you, they might reject you.
For those reasons, I hold my head up high and pull open the doors. In the corner of my eye, I see my two best friends, Mandy and Leia but I ignore them. If they want to talk to me, let them approach me. I don't need anyone.
There, that was the kind of attitude I needed.
I made a slight stop at my locker to collect my books and then hurried to my first class. I reached had just reached the doors when I ran into someone. I opened my mouth to say sorry, then switched into a more appropriate sentence.
“Watch where you're going!” I infused as much venom into my voice as I could muster. Today wasn't going to be an easy day to fake an attitude which just meant I had to try harder.


I shivered as I entered the cold dorm, trembling as lightning clashed down. The room was empty, everyone else gazing at the flashing lightning and thunder. I stooped back onto my bed, wiping my eyes and brushing my hair from my eyes.
Ugh.
I grabbed my plain blank pencil case and my soft yellow notebook filled with notes. I picked up my folder and walked out onto the deck.
Wow.
It was like the sky had feelings. They were numb, but still there. It was hard not to notice them, so different from others I had ever felt. But I drilled past, ignoring everyone else.
They could be late to class, I wasn't going to ruin my perfect attendence. I wasn't one to do that.
As I made my way down the steps into the pouring rain, a rampage began to riot down the steps, everyone attempting to barge to the front. The emotions, they were so strong- I altered them.
I didn't mean to. It just…happened. I don't know who, but someone ended up experiencing numbness as I raced down the steps.
I should have changed it, I know, but I didn't want to. I hated using my power, I would never use it on purpose. Never.
I ran into the main block where all the classes were, as well as the hall and grade ones. The rusty iron doors heaved for me as I slowly paused, walking into the English room.
The English room had many desks, each with a bronze name plate and oak chair. The walls were plain white, and the teachers desk was plain with only a few scarce paperwork for “course english pafe” and a silver ringing bell.
I pulled into my desk, slapping my bag under my desk quickly and getting out my “notetaking” pens with delight.
I was alone again!


I had been hurrying to English when all of a sudden I went numb. Suddenly, it didn't matter if I was late for class. I didn't care about pretending to be angry. I didn't feel anything. I just stood there on the steps.
I don't know how long I stood there but the bell rang and I felt a sudden rush of emotions. The rush was so overwhelming, that it made me gasp and double over. People gave me funny looks and made a wide arc around me.
I shut my eyes tightly and held my head until the rush passed.
I looked up and realized everyone had dispersed. It was just me and the storm. I was late for class!
I picked up my bag from where it had fallen and hurried up the steps.
I hurried into my classroom out of breath. I cringed at the glare my teacher sent me and slid into a seat at the back.
Ms. Ark returned to teaching and I pulled out a notebook. Hopefully, no one noticed how dishevelled I was. What had happened back there? I was walking up the steps and… just went numb. That had never happened to me before. It could be my powers… But my powers only affect my looks, not my emotions.
I pulled out a mirror to examine my looks. Oops, a streak of red had appeared. I placed a hand on my hair and felt a tingle as the streak disappeared. There we go. I'm blonde with blue eyes again. Just like everyone at school believes I look like. Thankfully the streak had been hidden under most of my hair. I had to believe no one noticed.
I realized I hadn't heard a word Ms. Ark had said. I would have to think about the numbness later. For now, I needed to focus.


I bit my lip, fidgeting as Ms. Ark turned to face the board.
I hadn't been upset before about the numbness I had inflicted on someone, but now I just was nervous.
If anyone knew my secret…
I jerked my head jauntily, staring at the teacher and poising my pencil onto the notebook's fresh page. As I watched Ms. Ark write down the assignment in great detail, my mind wandered off and I doodled in the corner of the page.
The drawings turned into panicked faces the word “numb” written in their hair, on their clothes.
I was still thinking about it.
I glared hastily at Iris, the girl next to me. She was popular, thought she was perfect, and just annoyed me constantly. I watched her carefully- she looked restless and less…perfect.
Huh?
I caught a glimpse of red hair, an orange streak curling through her locks of pure blonde. But then…
It was gone.
I screamed in my mind, almost shouting out loud. But I remembered my other surroundings and kept quiet.
I stared at her strand of hair again..and- it was still blonde.
But I knew it wasn't an illusion. I had seen it too clearly to pretend it never happened.
Her emotions. They were softer, number. And I liked that.
I really liked that.


Finally, English was over and I could return to my dorm. I arrived but my dorm monitor, Lisa, blocked my way.
“Sorry, Iris. But the dorm is being fumigated. We discovered mould growing in the walls. It will be another week or two before anyone can go in.”
“But, where am I supposed to stay? And what about my stuff?” My head pounded. Today had been busy and given me a lot to think about. I had been looking forward to dropping my things off, then running off for a few hours to the cove I had discovered a while ago.
“Your things have been moved to a different dorm. You'll have to share a room with another girl.” Lisa pulled a crumpled paper out of her back pocket. “You're assigned to room 216, Bemster Hall.”
I sighed, of course, it was on the other side of campus. And to top off this amazing day, I would have a roommate. I wrinkled my nose at the word. All the girls I knew of hated me. Which meant having a roommate would be less than pleasant. I decided I might as well get it over with and started down the path towards, Bemster.


I laughed cheerfully and walked along to my dorm, the lovely Bemster. Somehow this had ended up as the “weirdo dorm”, but I couldn't see why. Everyone was so kind and wonderful- so loving!
All thoughts of the girl, Iris, had disappeared and so had the numbness I had caused before. It's one of those things you feel when you're back at home- and “home” for me was my dorm.
I walked carefully across the hallways in a joyful mood, waving at everyone- even the ones that gave me dirty looks!
I reached the door to see Iris, standing outside my dorm door. I couldn't seem to get away from her!
But her hair was still blonde, her eyes still blue. It made the orange-y red streak seem imaginary- just a small second where my mind was confused and couldn't focus on the colour right.
But somehow my mind told me that I had been right. I guess it's just something with me?
I didn't like Iris at all.
She's a snobby, stuck-up popular girl- I mean- we're just too different!
I strutted towards her, towards my dorm, in a positive manner; trying to keep away from Iris. I might be a loving and welcoming girl, but I can't stand people who are popular and have a rather hateful attitude.
Iris ticked all those boxes.
I made no visible contact with her as I walked stiffly into the room, ignoring her without making it seem so obvious.
I was about halfway to her before I stopped.
“Hey.”
Then I ran inside the dorm.


I froze as I spotted who my roommate would be. It was that stupid geek! She's so ditzy, always optimistic. I sighed and stepped inside. This was going to be a very long two weeks.


I glared at Iris as she stepped into the dorm.
Ugh.
But then I realised- I could handle her.
She couldn't be staying here for long, right?

ic daily - july 21
words: 232

Raieni turned to look out of the window of Querial’s house, irritated by the constant sound of rustling leaves that kept preventing her from focusing on using her powers. The annoyance was made even worse by the fact that the wind was forecasted to last several more hours- meaning several more hours of being constantly distracted by the noises of wind.
“Do you know how to stop the wind?” Raieni grumbled.
“Trust me,” Querial replied without looking up from the book fae was reading, “if I knew I would. But, unfortunately, that’s not something I can do.”
She sighed, turned back to the red ball that was currently bouncing around the room, and started to try to visualise a box around the ball. Contain it, trap it, keep it from moving. It had been a simple assignment at school, but somehow doing it for fun made it harder- although maybe it was just the wind, there wasn’t a way for Raieni to tell.
There was a thud against the window. Raieni startled, turning around to see what had happened, and the Querial sitting across from her vanished as the real one lost focus. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when she saw that it was only a tree branch that had fallen against the window.
Raieni just rolled her eyes and tried to continue, ignoring the wind that seemed desperate to not be ignored.

My SWC writing competition entry

The Hunter

There once was a man who liked gunning
He thought he was awfully cunning
He walked in the park
And shot in the dark
But there was nothing there to be hunting

That same man sick of eating things canned
Went back thinking it would be grand
He tried shooting his shot
But tripped on a rock
And ended up shooting his hand

Still, that very same man
Decided to try it again
Thought he saw a hare
It was really a bear
It'd be better if he were just banned

The man awakened one day
Went to the park without delay
He saw a small lump
But it was a skunk
Now you can smell him from miles away

Now the man, battered and bruised
Decided to go on a cruise
Tired of land
He came up with a plan
It was time to try out some harpoons

Owl House Fanfiction! 1999 words, just under lol

Child of Secrets
“…You’re late.”
Halee quickly shut the door to the throne. “I’m sorry, Bel-Emperor.” She took off her coven scout helmet and bowed.
“I expect you to be faster next time, or you won’t get a second chance. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Emperor.” Halee slipped into the role of a coven scout quite easily but it was still hard to talk to Belos in a formal matter of speech.
“Good. Now I assume you have them…?” He questioned, standing up from his throne and walking over to her.
Halee nodded and summoned the two staffs she had gathered for him. He took them from her hands quickly and inspected them.
“You have done quite well. The Titan is pleased.” Belos took one and cracked it open, inhaling the green smoke that came out of it. Halee looked away while he did the same thing with the other one.
Belos chuckled dryly, handing her the broken staffs. “Squeamish now, are we?”
“N-no, not really,” Halee replied, looking back up at him. He seemed more alive and threatening, making Halee nervous.
“Good. Now, I’m afraid you have to go for now. I have…business to attend to.”
Halee knew better than to question him so she just nodded. Right before she left, Belos called after her.
“Yes?” She said, unsure of his request.
“You have done well. Perhaps you shall be allowed more freedom if you continue to do as we ask.”
We? Halee thought to herself, before assuming he meant ‘the Titan’.
“If the Titan wills,” she replied flatly, opening the large door to the room.
Belos smiled behind his mask. “Goodbye, Halee.”

Even though Belos clearly didn’t want her to overhear his next conversation, she stood right outside the door, using an invisibility spell to hide. To her surprise, she spotted the Golden Guard walking down the hallway to the door. He was still wearing his full uniform but as he turned the corner the Golden Guard took his helmet off, revealing his messy blonde hair and the scar on his right cheek. Halee touched her own scar, the one over her right eye subconsciously and vividly recalled where she got her own scar.
It was her first mission. At that time, Belos had been exposing her more and more. The newfound freedom of the Boiling Isles made her more agreeable to his requests. So, when he proposed to send her out as a normal coven scout, she agreed. Outfitted in her new uniform she came across a group of rebels. Halee still had trouble fighting in the restricted helmet so she tossed it to the side. It wasn’t a smart move. Halee by far exceeded their magic skills…but they came at her with knives.

She could have won if there were three of them, but it was a group of five rebels. Halee just couldn’t keep up. One stabbed her right in the eye as she knocked out the magic users. Halee recalled screams, unsure if they were her own or the rebels. Blinded with blood and rage she blasted them all, making sure she knocked them unconscious. Afterwards Halee quickly teleported back to the castle; right into the throne room. Belos and Lilith were talking when she collapsed on the floor holding her right eye.
“Holy titan..” Lilith murmured.
Belos seemed to even be in shock for a second, but quickly shook it off.
“A-apologies for the intrusion,” Halee said, wiping some of the blood off of her face with her right hand.
“What happened, scout?” Lilith asked, walking over to her; a glowing blue circle on her hand.
“Rebels,” Halee growled.
Lilith nodded slowly and held the circle up to the young girl's eye.
“Thank you, coven head…”
Lilith nodded again and Belos watched this all silently. Once the wound stopped bleeding, Lilith stood up.
“There you go. You still need a medic…what’s your name again?”
“Hal-“
“This is Hazel,” Belos interrupted.
Halee looked at him for a moment before letting it go.
“Thank you,” Halee said again to Lilith.
“I’m sure the Emperor would prefer you didn’t bleed out on his floors. What even happened?”
“Well I was tasked to-“
“That is confidential information, apologies Lilith,” Belos said, speaking over her again. “Hazel, are they taken care of?”
Halee nods. “Unconscious, sir. At Police Precinct 112.”
“Well done, scout. I’ll send a healer to your barracks later. Where’s your helmet?”
Halee quickly summoned it back to her. She held it in her left hand because her right hand was sticky with blood. She bowed to Lilith and Belos before leaving. Halee first went to the coven scout’s medic who gave her some herbs and healed her wound, leaving a long scar over her eye. Halee headed to her room, exhausted. She knew Belos would be there soon to check on her, but all she wanted was to sleep.

Halee flashed back to the present and felt someone brush past her hiding place. She was too caught up in her memories to care. Halee ran a hand through her hair nervously. The memory was all so real…like it just had happened. She heard the door to Belos’ throne room open. The Golden Guard stepped out, looking ashamed. He practically jumped when he spotted Halee sitting down on the floor. Apparently, she started breathing again.
“Scout? Are you okay?” He asked awkwardly.
Halee didn’t know what to say. “I-uh…yeah.”
“Was he mad at you?”
They both knew Belos was dangerous when he was angry. Dangerous and uncontrollable.
“No…not this time.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Hunter asked, puzzled.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
Hunter stuck out his hand, offering to help her up. She took it and stood up next to him. She blushed and felt small butterflies in her stomach.
“You sure?”
Halee nodded, wondering why he kept asking.
“I haven’t seen you around before, scout. What’s your name?” The Golden Guard asked.
“Ha…zel,” she replied, using the alias Belos gave her earlier. “Am I allowed to know yours?”
He paused for a moment before responding. “I’m Hunter.”
“Nice to meet you, Golden Guard.”
He grimaced.
“What? You are my superior,” Halee pointed out.
“Yeah, please don’t call me that, that’s what everyone calls me. Besides, I’m not going to call you ‘scout’ every time I see you.”
Halee laughs, blushing again. “You have a point, there…”
The doors open again and Belos stops, seeing the pair talking and laughing.
“What are you two doing?” He asks, when they both look over at him.
They look at each other awkwardly and then back at him.
“Well?”
“We were just uhm, talking, sir,” Halee says awkwardly.
“I suggest that you both talk less and work more. You aren’t going to get your PS5 back if you act like this, Hunter.”
He bows his head and mumbles, “Sorry, Emperor.”
“And you…”
Hazel, Halee thinks, knowing he’ll notice.
“Hazel, you better not have been eavesdropping.”
“I wasn’t!” Halee protests.
“Good. Get back to your duties.” Belos teleports away somewhere, probably his room and Hunter and Halee look at each other awkwardly.
“Sorry for getting you in trouble,” Halee tells him.
“It’s okay. I hope you aren’t either.”
“Honestly, he didn’t seem too mad or annoyed. I don’t think he cared that much about us talking.”
“Yeah he must have had Pal-food lately.”
“It’s okay, I already know. I steal him Palisman too.”
“Really? I thought I was the only one who knew.”
“…Same. I guess we better go now.”
“We should. Maybe I’ll see you later, Hazel.”
“Bye Hunter,” she replied, smiling. Halee teleported back to her room. Belos was already there, waiting.
“What have I told you about interacting with other witches!?” He said angrily. “And even more you didn’t listen to me! You eavesdropped! I have told you a million times to not speak to people! Much less, Hunter!”
Halee looked at the floor, her face red with embarrassment.
“Speak! What were you thinking?!”
Halle mumbled something unintelligible.
“What?” Belos hissed.
“I-I-I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” he scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I should wipe this little incident out of your mind.” Belos paced around the room madly and Halee sat down at her desk, eyes still on the floor. “You should be grateful I don’t.”
“Thank you,” Halee muttered.
“Look at me,” Belos commanded, taking off his mask. She complied, looking into his blue eyes with her own. “You need to listen to me, Halee. I’m doing this for your protection! We can’t have people knowing about you. You need to be kept safe!”
“Why?” Halee asked. “I’m tired of you locking me up!”
“Because you aren’t mine!” Belos exclaimed, losing his cool quickly.
Halee’s eyes widened in shock. “W-what? What do you mean…?”
“I…” Belos realized his mistake. He was always her guardian. She looked up to him like a father. Had he ruined everything? “You weren’t born to anyone related to me. I’m not your first…family-“ he grimaced at the word but proceeded to try and explain himself. “-but I’m all you’ve got now.”
Halee slumped on her desk, still in shock.
“I don’t want people to stare at you or notice too much that we aren’t alike. You have great power, and that makes you valuable and need to be protected. Do you understand?”
Halee barely nodded and he stared at her for a moment.
“Get some rest, you need it.” He left, closing the door behind him.
“I don’t want to be valuable,” Halee muttered, closing her eyes and resting her head on the desk.

Halee couldn’t sleep so she picked the lock on her room door and walked into the halls. After a few minutes of walking she arrived at a private bedroom. She knocked on the large oak door softly. “Belos?”
“You may enter, Halee.”
The door swished open quickly, the edges covered in a red glow before fading away. Halee stepped in nervously. She noticed that Belos was sitting at his desk, his back to the door.
“I-I have a question,” She said in a quiet voice.
“And what’s that?” Belos asked, turning around to face her. He did nothing to hide his appearance this time; the large green marking ran across his face and neck. On the desk sat his golden mask and he made no move to grab it.
“Who was before you?”
“Excuse me?” Belos’ eyes seemed to glow a brighter blue than their normal color.
“Wh-who was my first family if you aren’t?” Halee said, rephrasing the question.
Belos stared at her for a moment, trying to guess the true intentions of her question. “That doesn’t matter now, does it? They surely didn’t care about you, since you are with me now.”
“Of course it matters! My mother gave birth to me! She had to have loved me!” Halee protested.
“You know as well as I do that heritage means nothing to a parent,” Belos retorted, turning around back to face his desk. “You see, I hate to tell you this but…”
“What?” Halee asked.
Belos sighed. “They’re dead.”
“What?! No, you’re lying!”
“I’m sorry but I’m not hu-Halee.” To see how she would react Belos added; “They were killed on my orders.”
“WHAT?!” Halee looked glared at him, her face a mask of rage. “HOW COULD YOU?! You…you… YOU ROTTEN WITCH!”
Belos turned back around slowly. “What. Did. You. Say?”
“I-I…” Halle realized he was really, really mad. She looked away, still mad at him, but not wanting his wrath to be on her.
“That’s what I thought. Go, Halee. To your room only.” Belos glared at her for emphasis before turning back around. Halee quickly left his room, opening the door and slamming it behind herself. She ran to her room, tears streaming from the scar on her right eye down to the tip of her chin. She shut the door to her room after entering and lay down on her bed and sobbed. I’m not doing anything for Belos ever again! She thought to herself. I quit!

Dailies up until 7/22

1 - Hello and welcome to SWC! Use today to introduce yourself and get to know your cabin. SWC starts as soon as it's July in *your* timezone! When SWC has started for you, write something (anything literary!) and add it using your cabin’s word adding system to make sure you’re on top of how it all works! Please also check out this forum post for guidelines to follow throughout SWC: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6391551

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

3 - Today is Compliment Your Mirror Day! We all have good things we’ve done in our lives that we should be proud of, and acts of kindness are one of them. So today, for 400 points, write at least 300 words writing about a time you helped someone! No bonus points for proof today.
There is now a forum that will allow camper contributions to the memory book! You can post screenshots and quotes here from your cabin over the course of the session. Here it is: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6423912/

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

5 - Ah yes, proverbs. We all have in some way heard of these pieces of wisdom passed through short sentences. Today, we will be using them! For 400 points, write a 300 word story taking inspiration from a proverb, and no proof required today!

6 - Do you believe in horoscopes? Today, find your sign’s horoscope at https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/711163750 and use it as a writing prompt! Write at least 500 words to earn 600 points for your cabin, and earn an additional 200 points for sharing proof of your writing. If you would prefer not to reveal your zodiac sign, you can choose a random horoscope. If there are other reasons you are uncomfortable with this daily, contact someone on the daily team (see bottom of description) and we’ll give you an alternative prompt.

7 - Today we’ll be doing the classic three word stories daily! Comment three words to start a story, and reply to other people’s comments to continue their stories using only three words per comment. You can not comment to the same story twice in a row! No points will be awarded for this daily.
Additionally, word wars are now open today! All rules and information are located in the project, which can be found here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/700921014/
Also, the memory book cover contest is open! You can submit entries for front and back covers by remixing this project: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/712226842/

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

9 - Cabin Wars!

10 - Have you completed today’s Wordle? Go to https://www.nytimes.com/games/wordle and complete the Wordle; if you can’t access the website, you can use this scratch version here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/639908378/ . After you complete the game, incorporate all the words that you guessed into a writing piece. Write 400 words to earn 500 points for your cabin.
Also, the submissions project for the Postscript (the SWC post-session magazine) can be found here at https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/712941951/ !

11 - In order to connect with our characters, we writers often use their dialogue and inner thoughts as tools to convey their emotions, opinions, and characteristics. For today’s daily, however, neither of those tools will be available to you. For 600 points, write at least 500 words of an emotional narrative with neither dialogue nor inner thoughts. To earn an extra 200 points, provide proof of your writing.
Also, the writing competition is now open! Check it out here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/706191085/

12 - Have you ever wondered which warm drink best fits your protagonist’s personality? How about which SWC host your story’s villain is most like? That’s right, for today’s daily you’ll be taking personality quizzes as your characters! It’s simple: take one (or all) of the following quizzes as one of your characters, then come back here to chat about the results in the comments.
Which SWC (g)Host Are You? - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/438231455
Which SWC (Co)Host Are You? Part II - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/524409427/
Which Animal Crossing Character Are You? - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/160463819/
Flower Personality Quiz - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/435860987/
Which Hot Drink Are You? - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/95692703
No points for this daily.

13 - Who doesn’t love a good map? Whether a fantastical royal palace, a public school and the surrounding neighborhood, or an entire new world complete with oceans and continents and nations galore, maps provide a new perspective on a story. Make a map of a setting from one of your stories for 400 points, and earn an extra 100 points by sharing your map. We look forward to seeing your creations!

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

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

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

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.
Also, the deadline of the writing competition has been extended until 11:59 PM on July 22 UTC!

18 - We all love SWC fanfiction (or at least I do)! Today, we’re putting a twist on SWC fanfiction: rewriting a classic fairy tale or children’s story as if it takes place at SWC. Maybe the three little pigs are campers who won’t go to bed, or the rabbit hole takes Alice to SWC! Your story must be 500 words to earn 700 points. If you share your writing, you can earn an extra 200 points!

19 - Settings are always vital to a story, however let’s put this to the test! How challenging do you think it would be to write a story without a setting? Get your pens and writing documents ready to try this out: write a story without establishing any setting, try focusing on the characters, dialogue, and plot You must write a minimum of 400 words for 500 points!

20 - What’s the best way to improve, if not by getting feedback from others? We have such a great community of amazing writers here, so let’s use this opportunity to grow our own writing! Comment a piece of your own writing, an excerpt or short story no more than 800 words that you want critique on. Respond to someone else’s writing with at least 200 words of feedback for 400 points.
Additionally, the MBC Cover Voting is out today, it'd be great if you could vote here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/715801399/

21 - Guess what day it is! It’s the 21st of July! Which is Be Someone Day, and in honor of this we have a roleplay day. You must talk in 3rd person in SWC throughout the day, whether that is adding words in your cabin, or just chatting with fellow SWC-ers! No points, but have fun

22 - Oh my goodness, is it July 22nd already? Happy Mango Day! Commonly used in improvisation, the phrase “yes, and…” allows people to creatively build off each other, and encourages us to explore unique perspectives. Comment or reply with one or a couple sentences starring a story with a mango. While you don’t need to directly write “yes, and…” use this phrase to guide your replies! This isn’t worth any points, but have fun!
Also, it’s the last day to enter the writing competition! Unless you’ve been given an extension, submissions are due at midnight UTC. You can find it here: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/706191085/

word war - july 22
words: 204
warred: @23BraveHeart
status: won

The box was painted a shade of pright pink I had only seen in my dreams before- far too bright to be a normal color that would be seen in nature, and yet somehow not a color that looked as though it could be made by a computer. And the inside was even stranger- a deep blue that I was sure was darker than black, with orange accents that seemed to attack my eyes.
I wasn’t expecting, in this very not-normal box, for there to be a typical object. A completely normal pen, with normal black ink and a normal shiny casing that had normal white words around its edge. The pen worked- I had tested it several times-, and there was nothing about it that would make me suspect that it had come from that box. Yet, somehow, for no apparent reason, it had.
And that was what made me so suspicious about this gift- about this box, about the pen I now apparently owned. It seemed nomal, which just made my suspicions worse- if it seemed normal, surely there was something wrong. At that point, I was half expecting for a stream of ink to come out and hit me in the

electrical pressure

I’m smiling, it’s a wonderous, exceptionally delightful freeing experience from the conjectures that uptake and master any focus that were left within the hollow lenses of my eyesight, amidst a crippling passion to annul the glorious view between those viewpoints to achieve a sense of calm. As of this, my lethargic arms lay inactive and fatigued amidst the seize of my zeal-driven legs, which shook both slowly and adequately, trembling with excitement. My head gazes lower, locked in the elevated glance over the seal of complete work otherwise called my fear, which benefits my thoughts immensely, allowing me to feel, calm, careful, content- mostly naïve, but unaffected; a confused happiness, to have lacklustre control over myself.

The meagre sense of contentment flurries in the warming air, so my unstable grasp on my legs escape, as my arms seize the passing breeze and wave around, slowly, silently, before my eyes gaze upon the calming wrath of the ceiling with the angle of neuro-understanding to this being the pinnacle of wonder, which was, beautiful, and an upturned delightful phantasm, which I really enjoyed, truly. The stars on this wall overflow my vision, downpouring a torrential flood of sunshine, bulging my eyes away as my transparent lenses are indulged in this beauty of the calming rain, and my own tears downpour in the union of sunshine with disgust, and insolence. They intertwine, pouring out to my sides and directly into the creases between my fingers, now inert across the floor, as my posture collapses under the swift cataclysm of the water, and I fall, and I lie, languishing. I blink once, twice, and thrice, with the eager urge to escape from the inclination of weakness, to argue against the proclivity to never let go from this fatal error, the disposition to dissipate every strength of my personality and let it ebb into the undiscovered and undisputed and unforeseen! Routine.

Electricity pummels and ripples through every shred of my skin, roaring and bellowing the sudden urge to escape, to be independent and freed, with an impulse that pounds and screams unto my throat, choking me, scouring me to find every spark of static movement left in the tenfold of my flesh and I can’t breathe; I watch the light, scream before my eyes, lunge into the sky, before it wasn’t. Dematerialisation and I lay, helpless, washed away by the crashing shore, seduced, and imprisoned into the mental state of a beggar, but not even a beggar would feel any upset; so, I was a champion- and I won! They were proud of me.

I let out a cheer, flushed red, waving my arms, and clapping in an orderly manner to celebrate the spark of delightful enrapture to uphold my will to live, for I’d never felt so much content. When the electricity began to move, shift, and turn, swiftly back into my direction, the biting, glacial glare of putrid dismay plastered their face.

“What did I do wrong?” I ask, fondly, batting my eyelids under the suspicion of applause.
As the electricity impelled right into my eyes; with a glance which was embellished in a loud, sharp cry of pain, which bawled, ‘WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU DID- CORRECTLY?’.

I coughed, voraciously, my allaying willpower upheld within several- short- breaths, which allowed the trajectory to wane from the light. I was sick, I was fatigued, I couldn’t breathe, and I was angry. I hoisted myself unto my thighs, grappling to the ground, uplifted in sway, unable to sturdy, and threw my head backwards, allowing myself to assimilate my neurology into the sunshine, to revolve in the beaming brightness, before crashing my head forward like a wave increasing in ardour slowly and gradually, and I broke.

“WHY DO YOU EXIST,” I lash out at the unforgiving walls, “WHY DO YOU ENDEAVOUR INTO ME? I’M TIRED, I’M TIRED,” I cry against zero, the tumultuous anger enveloping more, and more.

I suck a torrent of wind into my lungs, before shrieking once again, “I DON’T WANT TO BELIEVE, I DON’T WANT TO THINK AND I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH ANY CONSCIENTIOUS UNDERSTANDING OF ANYTHING!” I yell, before pausing, “I don’t want to- I don’t want to-”

Time fractures, until seconds, become seclusion, and realisation, becomes a very comforting façade.
“Oh, my, good, God,” I spit.

An abstraction deemed infallible, and true. I dart my eyes, cave my legs and posture into the unforgiving ground, even, before whispering, silently, to the electricity which consumes me, “You don’t want to leave, do you?” Spoken words; scented in a real- feeling.

The idea- of jumping, the antagonistic flair- of salvation. I rethink, I delicately consider the newfound thought without devolving hysterical into a reminiscent silhouette of anger, or sorrow, or overflow, I was calm. Imagination, a new home, a eulogy bestowed upon myself a sign of respect to my name, or a new life, which the influence of the inclusive population can be overwritten, concisely, with somewhat care for the beliefs I hold to my heart. It’s a beautiful, gloriously bewitching fantasy. Validation.

‘It’s not real,’ retaliated the sharp whistle, the pulsating charge, the electrical fibre surging from my chest. I spluttered, heaving, choking once over. My lenses make haste, flurrying across the room in spurts from the core, encrypted from the blissful retreat with a seal of repulsion and a putrid taste, even. I cough, “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” at the empty air, awaiting a justifiable response. The electricity swarmed around my rationality as for beating across the thinning walls, bellowing a cry to be let within the realm of even- thinking. I choke even more, blinking rapidly, watching the view from my irises replicate spinning and spinning, the hollow shout of my ears rattling on my cochlea, exacerbating in volume by the passing second. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see- and I looked distraught, unkempt, and unwelcomed. Discrete juxtaposition.

A myriad of warm, acidic colours flooded my eyes, I collapsed, warped, endeavoured into disdain, and I was so cold, so- boreal, so numb. I gazed, among my quivering hands, my uneasy, juvenile clasp, all fingers disoriented, wholly trembling. I ruptured the last contrived strand of charged particles from the wrath of my body and divulged every inch of willpower I owned in my name in the flight to the shaking palms, to enlighten them once more. The electricity- which was my conscience, curled fondly around the clasp of my individual hands, before uniting the unique yet equal spasms, into one flesh; my hands formed into the shape of a heart.

“I love myself,” I whispered, I repeated, with the exhorted, arresting wish, that it wasn’t futile.

Weekly!! I had SO much fun doing this, I love world building <33

Part 1.
-Their world (Kamdar) revolves around two suns: Grius and Mantus, and a third, much smaller sun named Verilyn revolves around these suns along with four other planets, excluding Kamdar.
-Because of Verilyn circling the suns similarly to a planet, once every five years there is something called a ‘Char’, where for 118 days Verilyn is passing by and it is deadly hot on Kamdar’s surface.
-Kamdar has two moons named Jesque and Reve.
-1 year = 216 days. There are nine months in a year, and 24 days in a month.
-Kamdar is 7,521.625 miles in diameter, which is about 19/20ths the size of Earth.
-The most common races include the Lunen, the Bird-People, the Winged Women (otherwise known as the Bird-Monsters or the Eliveen), Humans, Goblins, Satyrs, Centaurs, Dwarves, Shifters, the People of the Forest, and the Faeries.
-The People of the Forest are split up into three different groups: Tree-People, Flower-People, and Stone-People.
-The history of Kamdar is split into three or four ages, depending on who you ask: The Beginning, the First Age, the Second Age, and the Third Age. Some people combine the Beginning and the First Age together to only make three ages.
-The Lunen are extremely wise, spiritual beings that are born from the Silver Tree. Most races highly respect the Lunen for their wisdom and connection to the moon and try to imitate them in some ways.
-Kamdar, though it has all climates, ranges in average temperatures from year to year.
-Mooncloth is made from a spider web-like substance that grows on the Silver Tree and is seen as a very wealthy material to have, showing pristine status if you are wearing mooncloth.
-Shifters are a race that is mistrusted by most because of their ability to change their form at will.
-Satyrs are known for their happy, outgoing nature, and talent both musically and in the business of making the finest wines.
-Nearing the Second Age/end of the First Age, the different races begin to be wary and sometimes even aggressive of each other as the humans spread their reach farther and farther, starting to wipe out all the magic in the land.
-The different races have stereotypes about them, some (but not all!) that can be quite true. For example, the Bird-People are said to be very proud and stoic and serious, and not to be very fond of the Lunen, unlike most everyone else. Humans are whispered to be self-centered and entitled, while Fireborn (a subrace of humans) are said to be hot-headed and loud and ambitious and dangerous.
-FASHION!! Throughout much of the first age (while the Lunen still existed), much of the fashion of the Western half of the world (the Eastern half is not yet inhabited by races) tries to resemble their simple gowns and slender figures. Lighter colors are very popular, with simple silver jewelry–usually that never pierces the ears. However, in less centralized areas that perhaps aren’t as familiar with the Lunen, these styles obviously change, and the Bird-People in fact tried to be very different from the Lunen style, instead using lots of leather and fur and rough wool for their clothing. They claim to value useability over style, and while that’s definitely true, it is also speculated that much of their “fashion” was just them trying to not be like the Lunen.
-In the First Age, magic is very common and no one bats an eye at it until Humans and some others start to demonize it. It is almost completely wiped out in the Second Age, and has a resurgence in the Third Age along with the magical creatures returning, though magic is never quite as common as it was again.
-Some of the famous fairy-tales of Kamdar include The Green Cap, How the Wind Wails, The Red String, Three Pretty Princesses, and Nightshade.
-The People of the Forest live in Ashmond’s Forest and absolutely never interact with the outside world. Because they are so rarely seen, many people believe that they are only legend.
-Each subgenre of the People of the Forest elects four of their members every 12 years to be part of the High Council. You cannot be reelected, and the High Council is there to make big decisions if they ever need to be made, which is very rare.
-Each subgenre of the People of the Forest bow to a different sacred animal. The Tree-People worship the wolf, the Flower-People worship the dove, and the Tree-People worship the stag.

The two moons (Jesque and Reve) are said to have once hit each other. The exact story varies from place to place, but whether it be a piece of Jesque/Reve, a piece of each, or a new piece formed with the collision, some part of the moon(s) fell down to the ground and got buried in the ground. This then sprouted the Silver Tree. Every 40 years, the Silver Tree sprouts two new blossoms. These blossoms then grow for 40 days and 40 nights, until a lunen emerges, similar to how a butterfly emerges from its cocoon.
During the Char, it’s obviously extremely hot, and, because of this, if you stay above ground (unless you have extremely advanced technology that doesn’t exist for most of history), you will be burnt to a crisp. Because of this, the dwarves often make a giant profit during the Chars, from many different creatures paying them to accompany and protect them underground. Entire towns have been set up under the surface that are completely deserted except for during a Char.
The Char only lasts for 118 days every 5 years, because that is whenever the planet is at its hottest. However, throughout these 5 year intervals, the average temperature can also vary greatly, because Verilyn can still be close by and warming the planet, even if it hasn’t gotten close enough to actually constitute an official Char.
At the end of the Second Age is whenever most of these negative (and sometimes even positive) stereotypes became extremely well-known and even popular. This created a sense of division between the races, which then only made it easier for humans to chase out all the magical races.

“The Ashmond—What about the People of the Forest!?” Versin growled, feet pounding against the ground. Her eyes widened as an arrow flew past her head. They were gaining on them.
“What other choice do we have?” Beside her, Amrynne was panting, her dark hair plastered against her forehead with sweat. Somehow though, the suns still managed to catch the curve of her face in the perfect lighting, setting her flushed skin aglow.
“Maybe they’ll be nice.” On her other side, Dakar seemed to be doing just fine, almost enjoying the chase as his hooves passed over the hilly, rocky terrain with ease.
Ahead of them, the tree line was growing closer and closer, looming dark and ominous in their wake. Versin swallowed, looking left and right only to see the trees standing in stoic formation for miles in either direction. They couldn’t go into the Ashmond Forest. With people who feasted on bone marrow and human eyes and sang devilish songs in their caves. They’d be killed. Or worse.
“Versin.” Beside her, Amrynne’s voice held no room for argument. “They won’t follow us into the forest.”
It was true. She knew it, even as the trees loomed dark and forbidding over their head. The foliage grew closer, closer, closer..
Versin closed her eyes and let the leaves swallow her whole.
>>><<<
Jessell shot through the undergrowth, brambles scratching at his face and branches pulling at his clothes, leaving dark bruises where his feet hit against stubborn roots and stinging scratches where thorns kissed his skin. He had his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of forestry, the only knowledge that he was still with his friends was the sound of their cries of pain and surprise as the forest harassed them as well. He gritted his teeth, holding his hands up against his face to try to block some of the onslaught just whenever the ground disappeared beneath his feet.
Screams echoed through the trees as no doubt Amrynne and Versin and Dakar met the same fate, tumbling head over heels down an impossible steep slope, tearing their clothes and bruising their bodies. Jessell opened his eyes just to close them once more as they all landed in a heap on the forest floor. Groans and grunts sounded in Jessell’s ears as he blinked open his eyes, staring into dirt.
Sitting up, he spat leaves out of his mouth, looking around as gasps went up around him. All around them, the scenery had changed. What had been a dark, aggressive labyrinth had turned into a magical paradise. The trees around them were lush and green, flowers climbing up their trunks in troves and the foliage around them beautifully thick, but manageably maneuverable. A warm breeze brushed through his dark hair, carrying the twinkle of birdsong along its back. The smell of green and earth and rain flooded his senses, and Jessell realized with a start that he had allowed his mouth to fall open.
He snapped it shut, allowing Dakar to pull him to his feet before he brushed himself off, looking around in awe.
“If I had known it was so beautiful here I would have suggested we enter a while ago.” Amrynne said silkily, dark eyes practically glowing with awe and excitement as she looked around at the wondrous landscape. She was home.
Just then, the sound of leaves rustling came from beside them. They all whipped towards the sound, holding up stones, drawing swords, reaching for blue-glowing vials.. But all the weapons in the world would not prepare them for what happened.
Before them, a tree emerged from the forest, walking like a Lunen. His eyes were intelligent and calm, the forest around him seeming to bow to his every step, praying at his feet and relishing even the slightest brush of his rough, bark skin. As he approached, Jessell and the others stumbled back in surprise, shock written across their faces, fear laced in their depths as well. This was a Person of the Forest. There was no doubting it.
Jessell pushed the others behind him, backpedaling away from the ever approaching tree until a root he swore wasn’t there before caught his foot and sent him stumbling onto his rump, staring up at the creature in frozen fear. Slowly, it leaned over him, everyone in his party holding their breath as it reached out its equivalent of a hand.
“Hello, Dark Prince. Welcome to the Ashmond Forest.”

Part 2.
What kind of magic is used in your world? There are four main different types of magic: Sun Magic, Moon Magic, Earth Magic, and Dark Magic. You cannot draw magic from nothing. There are infinite amounts of magic stores in the sun and moon and earth (earth magic is the most versatile. You can draw magic from the rush of the wind, soil beneath your feet, the trees around you, even some sounds), and you can even, over time, push loads and loads of magic into objects to store the magic for later on, so that you can use large amounts of magic at a single time without having to spend much energy drawing it from the sun, moon, or earth. Dark magic, however, is drawing magic from other people. Every living creature has magic in it, but drawing it from another race is considered Dark magic, and is strictly forbidden in most societies. Now, this does draw into question where to draw the line, as it is legal to draw magic from most animals (as long as you don’t draw all their magic, as that would kill them), and many ask where to draw the line between animal and lunen-like (lunen-like means human-like. In this world, in at least the first century, humans are not the center of everything, the lunen are. So instead of saying humanlike creatures, it’s lunen-like creatures, meaning they stand on two legs, have mostly flat faces, etc.).
How is the magic in the world used in the character’s everyday lives? What are the different abilities? Throughout the first age, light magic is used in most people’s everyday lives. It is taught in schools, and is used to say, start a fire in the kitchen or just get a book off of the highest shelf you can’t reach. No one blinks an eye at magic, or really even cares about the use of it. During the Second Age it is demonized and you are put to death if caught using it, and because of this, during the Third Age, much of the magic that used to exist has become only legend. There are much fewer magic users than there used to be, and it is seen as surprising if one was to even know how to use magic. However, throughout the Third Age magic does make a comeback and gain popularity and widespread knowledge once again, though never to the same extent as during the First Age.
What is the origin of your magic? Magic is almost like energy in Kamdar. There is magic in most things, a person only needs to know how to harness this magical energy and use it to their will. Magic dates back to even the earliest history, and even in the First Age, most can’t remember a time when there wasn’t magic. Magic is in the sun, moon, wind, trees, even some great songs can produce magic from their melody. Everyone has a bit of magic in themselves as well, but that is, in most cases, forbidden to use.
How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it? Like mentioned before, magic varies in how common it is throughout the different ages. In the First Age it’s very common, in the Second Age it is almost completely forgotten, and in the Third Age it makes a slow resurgence. Typically, magic is done on purpose, though there are tales of people feeling an emotion so strong that they start to draw from their surroundings without even realizing. There are also myths that each race holds a different kind of magic, though the only truly magical race is the Lunen, because they came from the moon. This is said to be where their great wisdom comes from. Some say that the other races were also blessed with different magical abilities, like a satyr’s expertise in wine-making and brightening a person’s life, a human’s ability to invent and create something from nothing, and the bird-people’s expertise in battle.
What is a folk tale you have heard that involves magic, and how can you take inspiration from that tale? It’s not really a folk tale, but my little brother is also creating a fantasy world, and at least in the magic system, I’m drawing lots of my inspiration from him. His isn’t the exact same, but we both like to discuss our worlds with each other, and I like lots of his ideas regarding his own magic system, so I changed them a bit and incorporated them into mine. For example, in his world people also draw magic from around them, but in my world I’m almost equating magic to energy, and in my world you can store that magic energy in things like pendants or necklaces or other objects.
What are the limitations of your world’s magic? To draw magic from your surroundings is really only one part of the battle. Doing this takes energy, and you also have to become a vessel for this magic. The magic you are drawing from your world must travel through you first before you send it out in a blast of flame or a levitation spell. Both drawing magic and allowing it to travel through you can take great amounts of energy and can tire a person out. However, with practice anyone can create more stamina and strength in themselves, and there are some specific practices and rituals that can move this process along even faster.
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.)? Again again again, it varies in the different ages. In the First Age, it is very common and no one blinks an eye at magic, because it has always been around and always will be, or so they think. In the Second Age after the (something) Wars (where magic is used to wreak great devastation and kill many people), humans demonize magic and outlaw it across the lands. You are put to death if you use magic. In the Third Age, magic is fascinating and cool and unique—though in the beginning there are still some who advocate against magic.
Are there any sensations the characters feel when they are using magic? Describe these sensations using their five senses. Depending on what type of magic you’re using, it can give you a different feel. For example, using sun magic can make you feel warm and powerful and maybe even ambitious/hot-headed/dangerous. Using moon magic usually makes you feel a sense of surety and calmness, and sometimes it even feels as if you’re more grounded, like gravity is pulling you down to the ground harder than normal. Using earth magic throws you from your body the most. You almost feel what you are drawing magic from, whether that be feeling yourself float on the breeze, or feeling your tiny heart beat as you hide underneath the ground, away from predators. Using magic usually leaves a metal tang in one’s mouth, and their eyes focus on whatever they are drawing magic from. A strong magic-user doesn’t need to see their source, but it does make the process easier.
What happens when magic gets out of control in your world? The different governments would do different things to keep bad things from happening, and whenever they did they would handle it as best they can. However, in the Third Age an organization is established (that I don’t know the name of yet) that is in charge of keeping the ‘magic order’. One other thing I would like to note is that the amounts of sun magic vary because of Verilyn. So, whenever the third sun is very close to Kamdar, there is excess sun magic, and almost too much magic to even know what to do with during a Char, however it’s very hard to reach deep underground. This has led to more than one instance of people staying aboveground during a Char in order to harness this magic (usually to put into an object to store) and to their burning death.
Describe the popular infrastructure in your world. It depends on where in the world you are and what race built the infrastructure. Transportation in the first and second age looks like wagons and simple walking or sometimes riding giant frogs or horses (or boats on the water). In the Third Age, carriages are introduced. The different races have different styles of building as well. For example, dwarves, because they mine so much, use mainly stones and materials you’d find underground. Their buildings are usually short and stout, just like them. The Bird-People build for use and not aesthetic. Their buildings are called ugly by many (not that they’d care) and are for functionality more than anything else. The Lunen use lots of whitewood in their buildings, that are usually tall and elegant and usually even feel otherworldly. The Satyrs love using warm-toned stone with open plazas and lots of greenery (like grapes and lemons) in their builds.

Part 3.
Dystopian Fantasy:
My mother used to tell me stories of magic.
Of great dragons that no longer sleep under our suns, and fairy-folk that turned to flowers whenever you tried to get a closer look. Of women with skin the color of the sea and golden eyes that held the moons. Of great castles in the sky that have since fallen and songs that have gone silent. I had been fascinated with magic when I was little, but now.. Now I knew it was a curse.
I leaned my head against the side of the jail cell, the rough stone cold and grim against the mutilated hole where my ear used to be. I had almost made it. I had almost escaped the harsh sights of the government. My mother had sheared me when I was young. She had cut off my ears and my tail before anyone could see, broken my legs until I stood straight, tripped the fur on my legs and filed down my horns. All to protect me, and now..
I pressed a fist to my mouth, hot tears beginning to stream down my beaten, muddy face. She had tried so hard to protect me, to hide what I was. And I had gone and ruined it all.
That night flashed in my mind. The loud music, the cheering crowd. They saw only a flash of my foot and the scene had changed. Rough fists, shouts of fear and rage. I still felt the pianist’s hands around my throat, could still see his burning blue eyes glaring into mine with hatred, intent on ending my life before the sheriff had pulled him off of me to take me to jail.
I almost wish he had let that man k!ll me. What was a better way to die? On my back in a crowded bar, a bunch of drunks surrounding me in troves and b-ating me to death, or beneath the setting sun with a rope around my neck, in front of thousands and thousands of people who came from miles around, just to see a satyr?

Hidden Worlds:
Oh goodness, what had I gotten myself into?
I swallowed as the man led me down crowded streets and through cramped alleys, the usual calls of sweet mangoes and roasted goat going up around us. He ducked around stalls and under swinging signs, taking careful notice not to let a single thing brush against his tophat. I glared at the back of his head, struggling to keep up as my skirt snagged on the wheel of a cart or draped into a puddle of mud. I eventually resorted to hiking it up around my shins to move around better, lest I lose him in the crowd.
“Would you slow down?” I called once. If the man even heard me he didn’t respond, but I could’ve sworn his pace slowed, if ever so slightly.
Finally, we stopped in front of a cart in front of a building like any other. I studied the man behind the boxes of no doubt fake gold jewelry. He had a rough red beard covering even redder, ruddy skin. His beady eyes were narrowed on top of rounded cheeks, and he stood a head taller than the man leading me. What were we doing here?
“I’m looking for a silver fox necklace.” The man leading me said. I remembered unnervingly that I didn’t even know his name, yet was following him through the crime central streets just because he said he could get me a good living.
“Would you like a gem in the eye?” Came his gruff response. I frowned, scanning the jewelry. Everything he had was gold.
“Yes, I’d like a ruby red as blood.”
The red-bearded man gave a short nod, turning and walking away, gesturing us to follow. I raised my eyebrows in surprise that he would just leave his cart to be stolen like that, before noticing a nasty-looking dog lying at the base, baring its teeth at anyone who dared approach.
I hurried after the two men, hands beginning to shake as we were led down an alleyway even narrower than the rest, that had a cramped red door at the end. The man knocked on the door in a strange pattern. Once, then four times, then twice, and the door swung open.
I let out a gasp.
“Welcome to the Underground.”

Urban Fantasy:
I walked along the forest trails, a huge grin on my face and my giant book of Grimm’s Fairy Tales clutched close to my chest. The leaves above me rustled, bringing with them a cool Irish breeze. I let my feet lead me farther and farther away from the castle, and farther and farther away from Galway. The forest swallowed me whole.
Already, I saw the drooping flowers with bulbs for heads and petals for arms and wings twitching. I heard the twinkling jitter of laughter above my head, a soft footstep off to my left. I picked up my pace to a run, a grin splitting my face as my legs ate up the ground below. Faster, faster, I sped over roots and rocks, stumbling only once and quickly regaining my bearings. I knew this path by now.
Suddenly, the trees fell away and a round, crystal pool stood before me, its waters glittering beneath a summer sun and a beautiful woman poking her head out of the cerulean waves. Her hair fell around her in silver waterfalls and she smiled when she saw me, swimming over to me with her long, strong tail. I sat down on my usual rock, crossing my legs as I stared at her in awe. Fairies, shy at first but now growing confident, made their way over, tinkling lightly.
“Will you read for us again?”
I nodded at the mermaid’s question, opening up my book and flipping to where we had left off: “The Knapsack, the Hat, and the Horn”. I giggled as the fairies began to pull at my hair, coming their tiny fingers through the strands to braid and play with it. I began to read.
“There were once three brothers who had fallen deeper and deeper into poverty, and at last their need was so great that they had to endure hunger, and had nothing to eat or drink.”
The mermaid rested her head on her arms, staring up at me as I spoke. In the forest, I could’ve sworn I saw the flash of a beautiful centaur, the sun speckling her gray coat as she watched. Soon, my trip to Ireland would come to an end. Soon, I’d have to go home and there would be a chance that I’d never get to see these beautiful creatures again. Soon, they’d be nothing but a memory. But for now, I read.