Weekly 4:3544 words!!!

PATHS TAKEN: 1-5, 81-2, 9-1, 4-1, 102-1, 6-4, 5-1, 2-1, 3-1, 7-1 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 3- F, 2- S;4- S;1- S;5- S;8- S;7- F, 6- S;9- F | ENDING: neutral

“Once upon a time.” was Carla's least favourite phrase in the world. She never believed in stories or liked them anyways.

What was the point in them What was the point of dragons and knights and princesses and fairies when you could just look at cool stuff on your phone all day? There are so many fun things to do on there, like games and texting friends, and all of the above. Stories were a waste of time. Dragons were boring, the knights were just wasting their time, and the princesses were annoying. Of course, there were the other genres, like horror, which was supposed to scare Carla, Sci-fi wouldn't make any sense, and, guess this, a new one she discovered this morning- Mythology! What was that even supposed to mean?

But, of course, this all turned upside-down one night when the clock struck midnight.

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(Incorporate features of fantasy, fairy tales, OR Myth into your writing!)

Carla woke up by the sound of rumbling from the streets below. She stood up to look by her window and fell on her bed again as another rumble shook her bedroom. She stumbled, and fell, and stumbled, and fell until she was gripping onto her curtains. She tore them apart and looked out at the street below.

Just a dog. Just a huge dog the size of the first floor of her house with three, snarling heads. Carla clapped her hands over her mouth before she could scream.

Just a dog. she thought. Just a dog.

Okay… this should just be some normal boring thing right over some greek myth or something!!! Those are the most boring things in the world, and Cerberus is just a big dog with three heads!!

Just a dog. Just a dog.

“IT'S NOT JUST A DOG!!!!!!!” Carla screamed,
She leaned so far over her window that she was knocked over and fell, out of the window, and towards the growling beast.

(Drink water or eat something for five minutes!)

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(Switch your perspective to another character and write 300 words!)

Yaladine's gargoyle's-eye view: (304 words)

I watched Cerberus as he stalked the night as if he owned this street. he has escaped from the clutches of the Underworld and is set loose to cause chaos. I should've known that was going to happen sooner or later. His heads growled and rumbled, making the ground reverberate slightly. I stood as still as a rock and hung on to his every move.

He crept near the house nearby me and I hid behind the chimney, trying to get out of sight of both the dog and the windows. Something shuffled within the house and I wondered if a human finally noticed Cerberus and all the racket he was making. A head with dark, long hair poked out and looked down at the three-headed dog. The child's breathing was loud and shallow as they watched the dog below. After a minute that seemed like an eternity, they shrieked:
“IT'S NOT JUST A DOG!!!!!!”

Wow. how did they not just notice that? Of course this was not just some normal one you humans keep as pets. This one's a good ol' three-headed hellhound. Honestly.

The child leaned out as if trying to get a better look at Cerberus, but their balance got knocked over, and I screamed as they fell right out of the window.

Look, that kid was not going to survive that fall!!

I hurriedly switched into my gargoyle form and swooped in, so fast I almost plummeted as well as the child, until I grabbed them with my claws before Cerberus could claim them, The child screamed, and struggled to get out of my grip, but I held them tighter, and I swooped towards the moonlight and above the dark street below us. The child relaxed, and I settled down on the roof of a house just a street away.

(Listen to music or look at art for ten minutes!)

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(A character your main character thought was dead turns out to be alive! Write about this for about 8 minutes!)

Carla looked at the gargoyle girl for a minute, trying to realize who she was. She looked similar to her… too similar. Surely she was not-

“Are you my old cousin Yaladine?” Carla blurted out. the gargoyle-girl was stunned for a moment, and then finally answered.
“Look, why would anyone try to tell you that I died?”
“To hide the real truth?”
“Oh, right.” Yaladine looked down and shuffled her feet. “Look, when they found out I was a gargoyle, I was scared they would try to hunt me down. So I ran away.”
“When was this? And what's with that dog??!“ Carla added, looking at the street behind her.
”When you were about two.“ Yaladine replied. ”And you mean Cerberus? Yeah, he got loose from the Underworld and I'm guessing he would be causing chaos. he isn't necessarily evil like that, but he is Hellhound, so you could never know.

”Right. So what do we do now?“ asked Carla.
”Well, I think we should stop Ceberus and get him back to the Underworld.“ Yaladine said. ”And I will tell you all about being a gargoyle as well so you're not missing out on anything!“
”Right." mumbled Carla.

(Do something creative for 15 minutes!)

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(Write 200 words on your character being the Chosen One!)
(204 words)

When humans were not around, Carla thought, magic was literally everywhere. Somewhere there was the flutter of a fairy's wings, or some big old magical bird of some kind swooping around, The creatures started at Carla as she stumbled near Yaladine. Surely this was all messed up? Magic was just supposed to be some stupid story thing anyways, and Yaladine was supposed to be dead, not some weird magical living gargoyle.

“Umm..” Carla decided to make a move. “Why is everyone watching us?”
“Because you're the one supposed to get Ceberus back to the Underworld.” Yaladine said.
“How?”
“Well, you're the human who saw the magical threat, so that pratically means by fate you have to fix it now.”
“But can't you just do some memory spell or whatever to make me forget about all the magic stuff?”
“Well, we could, but no one's cleaning up the mess you made, and no one will believe you an ways if you tell them about magic.”

None of this made sense to Carla. Why is magic real? Why are all the stupid magic stories real? isn't this all a waste of time? Stories are a waste of time.

But by now, judging what she saw all night, Carla wasn't sure. She was the Chosen one. Or, what that was supposed to mean. It was probably another stupid story thing, and she didn't need to know about that. She just needed to drag Ceberus back to the underworld and call it a day.

And perhaps… maybe just go back to not knowing that magic and stories are real. Or… perhaps not, as this was starting to get interesting…

(Nap or take a break for 15 minutes!)

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(Write 250 words about nostalgia and carry this over to the rest of the story!) (399 words. =00)

The two girls stood in front of a rusting metal door in a dingy alleyway. The sounds of night magic were now gone, leaving an eerie silence. Carla surveyed her surroundings, trying not to feel nervous.
“Wait.” she stammered. “Isn't the entry to the Underworld like, supposed to be a million miles away or something?”
“No,” Yaladine replied. “it could be anywhere really, anywhere people don't normally notice or go.”

She pressed her hand onto the door and heaved it open and Carla saw what lay beyond it. A dark and gloomy presence, making out candles with blue flames and the distant echo of a ghost. She gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. She… she knew this place!

She.. someone had told her about this. In an old storybook, she read when she was little.. and…
“Carla? Are you okay?” Yaladine asked.
“My mum used to read me a story about this.” Carla whispered, her voice quiet and cracking. “I get it now. About the Hidden World of the Ghosts and the gargoyles and all to the magic stuff.” She stepped through the door almost automatically, as if she was reviving a long-lost dream. Yaladine followed gingerly after.
“Look, I think I know hoe we could get Ceberus into here.” explained the gargoyle-girl. “There's a secret summoning leash around here, and if we get hold of that… Carla?”
But Carla was already down the stairs and by the river Styx, where she was talking to the hooded ghost on the boat.

“I know you. You're Charon, aren't you?” she said at the ghost. “Ceberus is unleashed upon the world of the living. Could you take us to Hades, the king of the Underworld?”
“Carla!” Yaladine said from the bottom of the stairs. “How do you know all of this already? A minute ago you were questioning everything.” Carla whipped around and said. Oh, excuse me Charon, I need to go talk with my cousin there.“
He grunted, and said. ”Don't be long.“

”I read about all of this in a storytime book with my mum when I was little.“ Carla said quickly. ”I forgot about lots of it over the years. But now I remember it, I know how we need the summoning leash for Ceberus. Now, please, come one! We haven't got all night!"
She ran off to Charon again, with a confused Yaladine following after.

(Come up with five reasons you appreciate a Scratch Team member, and tell them!)

These are the ones I made up for Scratch Cat!
1. You are cool and funny and friendly! 2. Cats, in general, are SUPER COOL! 3. You have great ideas and you are so creative! 4. You are super good at coding! 5. You are generally the best mascot EVER!!!

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(Write for five minutes on what comforts your character!)

Somehow, Carla had managed to convince Charon, who would normally not accept living humans aboard his boat, to sail down the river to get to Hade's palace.

“Okay, so tell me more about this book of yours the.” Yaladine said. “I never remembered that.”
“The book of magic stories.”asked Carla. To explain that, she thought, meant to explain the real, real reason she didn't like stories anymore.

The thought of the book had always comforted her so much, ever since she would used to read it. She cast her mind back to it always whenever she had an argument at school, or an argument with her dad or when she failed a test. She would lie down on her bed for a moment and think about it…

But talking about the book was whole different matter.

(let positivity flood into your mind and thank at least three people in SWC!)

I went to Moss, Birdi, and Robin!!

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(Write 200 words on how a character's main motive is revenge!) (427 words. xP)

“Finally,” Yaladine breathed. “Hades' palace.

The palace was actually a huge, dark shadow of a castle that loomed over everything and everyone. It's turrets were thin and the highest one reached the roof of the Underworld, the windows had no glass in them, and the doors were made of pure ash. The girls hopped off the boat and entered the dark palace.

The interior was just as menacing and shadow-like as the outside. The carpets were a dark, blood red, and the candles hung from gloomy chandeliers. This place would've been a haunted house if it wasn't full of ghost servants and located in an already-haunted world.

Hades sat in his long throne room next to an empty golden throne where his queen, Persophone, should have been. Though it was midsummer, and she'll only come in the cold months of autumn and winter.

”Humans from above, whatever are you doing ij my kingdom of the dead!?“ Hades boomed.
”It's about your dog, Ceberus. Carla said. “He became unleashed upon the world of the living, and we had come to ask if we could borrow his leash so we could bring him back down here.”
Hades thought for a moment. “Very well,” He said. “I'll give you his leash, but you must absolutely promise to get him back, or there'll be a consequence.”

A golden leash appeared before Carla and Yaladine. Before Carla could claim and say thank you, Yaladine snatched it for herself and grinned maliciously.
“Yaladine-!” Carla yelped, but Yaladine swatted her away.
“This is mine now!” Yaladine sneered. “Hades, You should know a gargoyle's revenge! After you trapped the rest of us in Tarturus!”
“I HAD NEVE-” Hades yelled.
"Don't pretend you are so innocent!! Ceberus is mine now, and now, I could control him!! Hah, and Carla,“ She turned on Carla. ”You had helped me so much, Chosen One. You had led me straight here! And now, I shall cause chaos upon those against me!!"

She changed into a gargoyle and, with the golden, shimmering leash in hand, swooped away.
Carla had then thought up a plan, one that had the power of stories as the fuel for her engine. She had never read one as they pained her with the memories of her deceased mother, and he had grew to hate them in the years, but it was clear now.

She needed those memories of the storybooks. She read something once in them, about story of being brave, and she was going to use it to defeat her long lost gargoyle cousin Yaladine.

(Write about ten awesome things about someone and give it to them!)

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(Write 300 words on breaking the fourth wall!) (439 words)

Carla's lost-girl's view:

Reader, this is how it's going to happen. I'm going to use a book as a legendary weapon.

Wait, a book? I hear you say. But Carla, aren't you supposed to not like stories?

Well, people change, and I know for a fact that I just didn't want go think of Mum anymore, even though stories are the one thing that keeps us together. I know that now. And I should've known in the first place. I buried the book at the bottom of my old box of toys I used to play when I was little, and as Charon raced the boat down the river I found the plan forming in my head as I'm talking to you now.

The book is attracted to magic things. Yaladine isn't the strongest when handling hot or powerful objects, so, if I use the book as magnet and get the leash to me, then I could go and get Ceberus and take him back to Hades.

Yaladine would then run after me, but I'll also send some fairy curses I knew back when I was six that aren't really harmful but'll do her head in.
Look reader, you haven't seen my curses yet, so how could you already judge them? They could actually turn out to be good.

As Charon's boat halted to a stop I jumped out of it, thanked Charon and ran back, with my lungs heaving so much and my breath caught in my throat, all the way back up the stairs and into the cool night air of the world of the living. See me run down those streets and through the gasps and watching faces of the magical creatures. See that gargoyle-girl-shaped shadow in thew distance with the three-headed hellhound? I turned a corner and ran around the streets to the behind where Yaladine was watching. I crept into my back door and silently dashed to my room like a total ninja? Did you see me there? I bet you did.

After that, I prised my toy box open and rummaged through it, looking for my book. And, wait, what was that, did I hear you say-

“CARLA!” screamed Yaladine.

Ah, you were going to warn me about that. But don't worry, I have the book with me!!

“Stay, back, Yaladine!” I shot back. I held the book right in front of me and focused it into the leash she was clutching onto. Cerburus was still down on the street.

Reader, did you see how it went all wrong? Well, I hope you didn't, because I swear that my plan still worked. I think.

(Write five achievements you did!)

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(Ask a camper in the cabin opposite yours on the leaderboard for a prompt to write on for ten minutes!)
Prompt from Dystopian: “The roses turned into sand before my eyes.”

Yaladine had put her palm out and roses bursted around the book, blocking it's magnetism. Carla stayed fixedly in place, unable to move.
Wait, she didn't know how to do this. She didn't know how to break the spell. She could not stop Yaladine!! There had to be a way.

Yaladine was getting away. Carla knew that if she didn't act now, she'll lose Yaladine and Cerburus will be hers, and chaos will be unleashed. Think now.., what is the answer?

Memory…

She was snuggled up in her bed with her mum reading by her bedside table. Carla hung onto every word, and was deeply immersed in the story. Her mum had told her one of them, one about a girl who sang a song of roses to save a prince from the evil wrath of the old king who had turned into an evil beast.

Surely the roses…?

The next day Carla's mum told her about a spell that could turn things that is the opposite of the object. A few hours ago Carla would've thought that was some sort of stupid fake things, but anything could be real, and stories were not a waste of time.

Turn something big and thorny, into something bland.. like sand.

Carla closed her eyes and said the magic words, and, before her eyes, the roses turned into sand.
The book was free, and Yaladine was getting away.

(read a book, online article, or someone's writing for 10 minutes!)

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(Make your character burst into song!)

The book was now powerful. Carla rubbed her temples, not knowing what to do now. the book was glowing under her hands, warm and smelling of old memories of her mother. Suddenly, a soft singing sound escaped from her lips, sweet verses of.

“For so long I didn't know,
That I awaited this very day,
Mother's book in hand,
I finally, see the way…”

She stood outside her window. And this time, she leapt, the book allowing her to reach to the next house. Carla jumped and leaped from house to house, closing in on a soaring Yaladine.

The song ended on one, ringing note, as The two girls stopped in front of the gateway of the underworld, where Ceberus was finally restored to his place and Yaladine zipped away before she could face the wrath of Hades.

And Carla stood there, out of breath, knowing that for the first time in five years, she loved stories.

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(Write a 500-word cliffhanger ending to your story!) (513 words)

One month later…

Carla walked happily down the streets with a bag of shopping in her hand. She couldn't wait to get home to read another story from one of her new books tonight, and she's really getting into mythology. Who knew? It was such a fun genre top read, with all thew different types, like Greek, Egyptian, Mexican, Norse, Native American, Japanese, Chinese, and so much more! There was one she was reading about a monkey named Sun Wukong who journeys from china to India with a monk, a pig guy and a river monster to obtain sacred scrolls. and another one about a trickster called Loki who plots against the gods of Asgard.

She was also getting into Sci-Fi, which had amazed her with stories about mad professors and strange robots, and there was Horror, which had scared her so much at night. She went down to the bookshop or library every weekend, and in one of her recent trips her dad got her this book called Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, which is about some kid called Harry potter and how he finds out he some famous wizard and gets to go to this cool wizard school in the middle of nowhere Scotland. It was actually pretty cool, with these other kids called Ron and Hermione and how at one point they stumble across a three-headed dog in an out-of-bounds room in the school.

Carla particularly loved this bit, mainly because it reminds her fondly on how she had an adventure with a three-headed dog just one month ago. That was when she started o love stories again and it opened her up to the world of magic, with the fairies and the pixies and the gargoyles as well. Although she was not really that fond of the gargoyles, and that was because her supposed-to-be-dead, long-lost cousin, Yaladine, turned out to be one and tried to unleash the three-headed dog out of where he belonged so she could use him to unleash chaos upon the world.

But, in the end, Carla foiled her plans using the power of her magical childhood book and it sparked her love for tales and stories again. It was still there, and instead of being buried in her old toy box, it stood proudly propped up on her bedside table along with the other books she was currently reading. Carla picked up Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, it's cover gleaming in the moonlight, sat down in her armchair, and started reading.

Suddenly, footsteps thudded above the ceiling and Carla looked up. Someone was running along the roof.Then, she sensed the thing running towards her window and jumped off where it stood in mid-air in front of her window. Carla could see who it was: a girl in a stone-grey tunic and skirt, with short, choppy grey hair and gargoyle wings spread out and flapping gently in the breeze.
“Think I'll not be back for my revenge, Carla?” Yaladine smirked. “Well, think again!”

But Yaladine didn't know that this time Carla was ready for anything she threw at her.

July 24 daily - 255 words

Branches sway, leaves dance,
A squirrel scurries along a branch.
Nothing can describe the beauty of a tree, nothing,
Though one can’t help but attempt to paint an image of its magnificence.

A dance of leaves, each taking hold of a tiny bit of light,
Make a view of shadow and bright.
They swish and sway in a rhythm only nature understands,
That could easily be the laughing sound of a waterfall as it crashes to the land.

When teardrops pour from the sky,
They drip from the ends of leaves
And catch on the tips pine needles like diamonds.
The smell of wet dirt and bark fills the air, the earth, the world,
Asking you to step outside and enjoy its wet, sparkling glory,
Like the trees do.

Drops drip down onto your arms;
Snow is cold under your fingers
As you trail them along a branch in winter;
Bark is smooth or rough, crawling with ants
That tickle when they catch a ride on you,
Towering human.

Swish and sway with us, the trees say -
Sing and dance with us -
We have a melody ready for you -
A place you’ll fit just right -
Come out into nature,
to the night,
And the light,
And everything in sight,
And the beauty of a kite in the glorious summer sky.
The rain will give you a lesson in magic
And the trees will sing their song,
The squirrels will invite you to come along.

Come to these trees,
Come be free.

July 24 Daily

Word Count: 113

The water is deep
Brilliant blue
It’s great to be
Here with you

Sand is soft
Under our feet
Come on over
Have a seat

Hear the waves
Crash and roar
Over our heads
Seagulls soar

The air smells
Of salt and sea spray
Oh what
A glorious day

The sand
Golden glows
A few feet away
Kids line shells in rows

Birds run
From the sea
You laugh and
Point them out to me

The sun is hot
Beating down
But still
It’s too nice to frown

Isn’t this nice
I think so
Sitting here
Under the sun’s glow

So I have
To say
Thank you so much
For this special day

daily week 4 post:
daily 7/24 - 103 words

their energies rushing towards me,
beyond the crowded forest of trees.
wind blowing against my hair,
a natural fragrance in the air.
feeling the fresh coolness in my veins,
hoping the natural feeling remains.
tasting the sweet, syrup-like atmosphere,
in the infinite layers of mirrors.
where i can feel the softness,
hear the kindness in the forest.
i want the world to rest
and see it collide beneath my zest.
to hope for the light glimmmering in my eyes,
beneath the shaded canopy i can see.
i can hear, taste, touch and see.
what is finally realized, what is in front of me.

daily 7/25 - 116 words

Wind rushes to your veins, as your heartbeat swells. The shack, decorated in layers of wood stands still, unfazed by the wind. Regardless, it doesn’t escape your attention, and you run towards it. A stranger holds their arms, blocking your view. You feel an ounce of annoyance but ask them who they are.
“Glad you asked,” they smile enthusiastically. “I am your leader of the Wi-fi cabin!”
“Wi-fi?” The name sounds unfamiliar. “Did you perhaps mean Hi-fi?”
They look confused, before reluctantly muttering a “sure.” You frown, as their answer isn’t convincing, but their response is lead by another question: “Hey, do you want to explore inside?”
Before you blink, you are pulled to another world.

daily 7/26 - 391 words, 86 for the prompt, 305 from wording

My prompt I sent: The setting is a barren desert that has harsh temperatures but soft winds that brush over the sands. Barely any life exists on the terrain, except for cactuses that can endure changing climates. Usually, people can only stay there for one day due to the extreme atmosphere. The sun shines brightly, which doesn't help the excruciating heat. Beneath the grounds, there is a land that is filled with water and lush vegetation, but it takes forever to find a path and dig beneath the arid space.

Responding to Birdi's Prompt:

It's drowned. Wave topple on top of the surface, leaving only a small patch of sand compared to what it used to be: a maze of buildings in a bustling city. They say it once danced upon the surface, booming with neon lights that stretched across the sea. What was once carved in its hollow grounds was its name: CC. Where people once swarmed with bustling noise, carving paths of prosperity, is now gone, torn by its tumultuous winds. Such a city that once rose above its waves now buried by its overgrown pollution. Most of the islands surrounding CC are gone anyway. No one floats over here to dwell on what the city once was, or could have been, because there is no use. The oceans have risen, forced from gases and air to rise, rise, rise, taunted by us to keep below until we exploded this island. The air brings an intoxicating warmth, hot and humid against my neck. Curiosity flips at the back of my palms, and I begin to wonder if anything lies, sunken at the bottom of the sea.

The sands brush between the creases of my toes. The little volume makes me feel slightly lightheaded, but regardless, I lower down at the ocean that once shone so blue, but now barely ripples with energy. The water is polluted with dirt that distributes over the murky surface. Maybe the battery oil and smog from the city have drowned beneath the turbulent tides. Nothing much remains, most of the dirt has dissolved, much to my annoyance, and few bits of junk remain beneath the water. I pull myself up from the wet, hot, trash and stare at it from a distance. If you look away and ignore the details, it looks like a paradise island, what it all used to be.

daily 7/27 - 381 words

Everyone consistently debates which is the most superior cabin, and the names usually mentioned are Adventure, Thriller, and of course, Myth. Some of the other favorites are Hi-fi and Sci-fi. However, one cabin is consistently overlooked: Script. Cunningly creeping behind the other cabins, Script has consistently pursued an upward trend. To everyone's surprise, Script is actually the best cabin that no one expected to be the best cabin.

The Script cabin presents you with a theatrical experience of different acts, and immediately, the storyline engages the camper in, from the lively atmosphere to the brilliant word choice. As with the description, Script cabin stays true to its genre by taking inspiration from older, published, scripts. Through a goal, the cabin is united in enthusiasm, promoting teamwork and bonding, a genius construction.

Secondly, Script has the most polished profile pictures. Not only are they clean with a consistent color scheme while being distinctive, but they have intricate details, such as delicate expressions and multicolored lighting. The accessories of the profile pictures are carefully depicted which makes each member of Script feel a sense of belonging while having their own unique features. Much admiration and praise goes to Fae's artistic skill and allowing that to motivate campers. The activities they have planned are also engaging, with a question of the day that is not quite overbearing but thought-provoking. One activity unique to script is the collab story between their siblings. This gives campers a chance to improve their writing while having fun (and not stressing too much over it)!

The most important reason is the people who are in Script. We see the energetic and motivating community Script holds. All of the campers are supporting each other and motivate each other to do better and be on top of things. The leaders of Script have succeeded in what they've always sought to do: create an engaging community where campers can be happy. With this energy and motivation, Script does have the push forward required to do extremely well in placings. The leaders are a cast of different personalities that mesh well together, and all of them are incredibly chill and wonderful people to hang with. Because of the people in Script, it really seals the deal for who the best cabin really is.

daily 7/29 - 568 words


531 words for story | 37 words for all the elements

Beginning: a plane drops, Conflict: Your organs are stolen (literally or figuratively), Setting: Ice Caps of Polar Regions, Climax: Your character breaks down because they're finally burnt out, Ending: the character learns to find fulfillment from themself.

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'Setting: Cliffs by the sea' - Sandy-Dunes
'beginning- character moves to a new town/city/home' - yishujia
'conflict - a character is debating whether to lie or tell the truth' - MoonlitSeas
'Climax: Protagonist faces someone who has been lying to them' - Figurative_Wings
'ending: character makes a couple of friends' - legocookie6

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The salty wind blows at my face, an unfamiliar twist to the numbing cold I usually experience. The air is warmed with heat, as I see the waves rising back and forth, finally drifting away from the sandy coastline.

I park my oversized van and drag my suitcase over the polished stairs. Must be nice to live near the sea, though the only reason I came was because I couldn't stand the bustling noise of the city. Quickly, I drop my bags and tread on the wheels to school. Despite moving, the nearest school is thirty minutes away, nothing like the warm breeze and sanded structures.

Boarding school. I've heard nightmares, from their slithering tongues to the barren cold. Luckily, I stay away from their beds, in an area that's close enough yet far.

“Good morning, Miss Claudia.” She wears a flight-attendant suit and has a scrawny voice.

I say a good morning back. From the moment they see you, you are judged, scanned for information. I don't dare to not say anything back, because that places you under suspicion.

She leads me toward the door, and I follow, like the obedient child I am. I am placed next to a girl, jagged blonde hair with a frail figure. She doesn't move much except blink. I wonder if this atmosphere has drained anything out of her.

“Begin introducing yourselves.” The room creaks. I place my hand on the paper, eyes fixated on the blank paper. Do I lie or not? The less people know about me, the better. The students each take turns standing up in front of chalkboard, then the girl introduces herself.

Trissie Mcguin, a girl who likes doodling, playing badminton, and collecting fly toys. And I walk up to the chalkboard, and say one too many lies, before the teacher excuses me. We gather by our desks, studying for tests and not standing out too much, hoping they won't notice us.

Over the weeks, me and Trissie Mcguin talk over the bench. Sometimes, I lie because it's easy, and other times I don't. The hours pass by easily, and I want to tell her something.

“I've been lying a lot, Trissie,” I sigh. The wind goes silent, before she answers.

“Me too, in fact, I have been lying to you sepcifically.”

The words freeze. “You what?”

“I've been tracking you,” a cold smirk emerges from her face. “The school has gotten a hold of you.” I snatch my hand away from her grasp, but she sits in a carefree motion, one that ticks me off.

“There's no service here,” She grins. I furiously look back, and my thin bike is rusted and broken. So I run, run as fast as I can.
The salty wind doesn't brush against me anymore. The school is probably after me.

I run, scream and cry, before cell service arrives, and I cry through the phone once more.

They're going to get me. Finally.

I sit by the house by the sea, cliffs perched beneath. Hopefully, they'll pull me out. I'm sure they will.

I don't wait for the silence.

A few weeks later, I sit in a comfortable classroom, friends gathering by.

daily 7/30 - 330 words


“It's raining cats and dogs!” There's a shriek behind my ear, as heavy pouring hits by my window. I think it's heavy hail though.

“Are you crazy?” I scoff at the notion. “It's impossible to actually rain cats and dogs, and you realize this, right?”

But the frightened emotion: raised eyebrows, dilated eyes, and mouth gaped wide open suggested otherwise. “L-look around.”

I do, towards the window. It's streaming in water, but also odd objects, too big for hail. “Are you absolutely sure these are cats and dogs?”

“Yes,” she turns red, because I don't believe her. But what can I say, that belief sounds like misinformation.

“Alright then,” I wait by her side at the window. “Let's hideout here.”

A sigh of relief rushes between her ears, but another hint of alarm hits her. “Oh no, we need to flee, we need to flee!”

“Why?”

“The news, it says that these cats and dogs can barge through windows and contain a virus!”

I sigh again, because this information is too much to handle. Like what, who would actually believe this is actually happening all at once. First the raining of cats and dogs, and second, the virus they carry. The feeling of being unsafe, I somehow don't believe it.

“Then let's go down to the kitchen.” The food is left behind on the whitened tablecloth, with a glass perched beneath the light.

We do head down the dusty cellar. But it's deeply buried underground, where only root branches can be spotted beneath the soil.

“Alright then, we're hiding here, right here.” I tell her this and she calms down.

We wait for the thunder to stop, and for a moment, the overwhelming noise does stop. There is a news report that everything is safe again, so we walk back upstairs.

A ringing hits the door, and there's someone there. We don't think much of it, but as soon as we open it, there's a taste of regret.

We're dead.

Watch it Unfold

Main Cabin Daily, July 24th: In life, our perception of the world comes from the five senses: seeing, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. Using these is what helps to bring our writing to life! Write a descriptive poem that incorporates at least four of the senses in a minimum of 100 words to earn 200 points.

119 words

I see a bird, flying high overhead
I feel the breeze, like a page to be read
I hear the babbling of a brook, like she said
And I taste the raindrops that from the sky sped

I smell the roses, fragrant and sweet
I grasp the snow amid the racing sleet
I feel the crunch of my boots against the leaves so neat
And I listen to the windchimes over the busy street

The chirping, the rustling
The flowing, the falling
The flowering, the covering
The racing, the twinkling

And above it all the symphony, the painting, the masterpiece that is our universe
It breathes it moves it watches
As I breathe
I move
I
Watch
It
Unfold

July 24 Daily
prompt: write a poem using four of your five senses (102 words)
I can see
vision makes things come to life
the colours are big and bold and wonderful
or dull and drab and simple
but all the same
it's magnificent
I can hear
sound makes come to life
sound gives things shape and defiition
quiet or loud or horrible or lovely
but all the same
it's gorgeous
I can smell
smells give things depth
sweet or sour or sugary or savory
but all the same
it's wonderful
I can touch
feeling makes things real
hard or bumpy or soft or fluffy
but all the same
it's lovely
all the senses are just amazing

meant to hit edit not quote ahh

Final Weekly

Current save code: 1;5;3;5;/2-2/5-4/4-2/3-1/6-1/7-4/9-4/82-2/102-1/1-3/;958436271;0;1;;1;001101011;

(First prompt: write 100 words for an intro.)
Taylor eats a cookie, and finishes it but is still hungry. She decides to go to the Main Cabin to see if there's any food there. She was thinking about mangoes and their tastiness when she meets another camper. They talk about how they're both unusually hungry and that they should help each other find something to eat. They were discussing the tastiness of mangoes when the lights go out. They go back on, but she then sees the lifeless body of the camper she was talking to.

(Second prompt: write 300 words where a character has a flashback.)
The lights flicker, causing her to panic even more. She then remembers something. The lifeless body of her friend. Broken glass everywhere. She mutters, “No, not again. I don't want to rememb-” Her sentence is cut off by a memory she had been holding back for a long time. Taylor was walking with her friend Diana. They find an interesting ring on the ground and Diana picks it up and wears it. Suddenly, a portal big enough for both of them to go into opens up under them. They scream as they fall into it. Taylor wakes up alone in a strange place. It's seems to be a mirror maze, but something is different. She stands up and looks for somewhere to go. She feels dizzy, like she was spinning around for a long time. She goes through one corridor of mirrors and when she turns her back to it, it changes into a wall. One of the mirrors spoke to her. She turns around to see her reflection. It cackles and comments on her looks. It then laughs again and insults her about her face. The insults continue. They echo everywhere, mixing with the sound of laughter. Taylor tries to run away, bumping into mirrors and getting herself nowhere. She keeps going, and soon finds a room with Diana. Her eyes are empty, a deep void with no light. Taylor smiles and joyfully runs to her friend, but her friend shouts, “Leave me alone!” and punches a mirror. Glass flies everywhere, many pieces going into her body. Taylor screams. “No!” Diana falls, and doesn't get up. Taylor runs to her friend. Realization strikes her. Diana had heard voices too. She had gone insane, and punched her reflection. Tears drip onto the cold floor. The voices tormenting her suddenly stop and a single voice says, “You've made a sacrifice. You may now leave.” Taylor protests as the mirrors fade into darkness.

(Third prompt: write 200 words where a character confesses they just wanted to belong.)
The memory ends, leaving Taylor in tears. She runs outside and sits under a tree for a while. A boy walks to her and sits next to her. “Hey. You looked sorta lonely. Is there anything troubling you?” Taylor stops her sobbing and says, “Well, I remembered this bad memory. Let's not talk about it.” The boy kindly smiled and said, “That's fine if you don't want to talk about it. Everyone has secrets. Hey, you want to know mine?” Taylor nods. the boy says, “Well, I've always felt out of place. Like everyone else is just the same and I'm not. No one talks about it, and I don't either, but I'm always thinking, ‘What if they actually think I’m really weird or something?'” Taylor replies, “Well, I can relate a little. I usually have friends that have the same interests as me, so it's not much of a problem. Sometimes, we're talking and I say something, and no one else understands,” Taylor watches a bird fly. “Well, it's a relief to know that I'm not the only one felling like this. I have to go, I'll see you later.” The boy waves goodbye as Taylor runs back to the Main Cabin.

(Fourth prompt: write 200 words where everything that just happened was a dream.)
Taylor trips on a rock while running to the Main Cabin. She falls and falls, and then finds herself in her bed. She gets out of her bed. “What was that?” She looks around her room. “Ohh, a dream. Wait, is this a dream too?” She pinches herself to check. This time, she wasn't in a dream. She goes to her computer and turns it on. She thinks about what to do, then settles on writing a story. She decides to write about the strange dream she just had, since it would be an interesting prompt. After a few minutes of brainstorming, she decided to write about a boy who gets framed for the murder of his friend. As she typed, she wondered what the dream could mean. Could it just be a random dream? Or could it be something more ominous? She tries to stop thinking about the dream foreshadowing something bad to come. She keeps typing on her computer and checks her watch. 1:52 AM. She never woke up this early. She decided to go back to sleep, since she wanted a healthy sleep schedule. She went into her bed and closed her eyes, hoping for a good dream.

(Fifth prompt: get a prompt from the cabin opposite you in rankings and write for 10 minutes.)
An hour passed, and Taylor still couldn't sleep. She rolled around in bed, read a few pages of a book, and drew a random tree, but nothing could help her sleep. She looked out of her window, looking for birds. She thought about what she could do. She finally decided to listen to some music. She took her phone from her desk and turned it on. After finding the right playlist in her Spotify, she turned the music on. She listened to the music, tapping her foot to the beat. The music made her want to dance. She went to the middle of her room and started to dance. The beats and melody of the song was perfect for dancing. She danced and danced. It felt like just her and the music, dancing forever. After a few songs, she checked her clock again. 3:07 AM. She realized she was very tired and sleepy after dancing. She went back to bed and slept well.

(Sixth prompt: write for five minutes where something suddenly becomes dangerous.)
The next day, Taylor wakes up and goes to school. She wears her favorite shoes. She's walking when she slips and falls, nearly faceplanting into a pile of broken glass. It reminds her of the dream she had last night and she shivers. Luckily, her friend had grabbed her and pulled her back just in time so she didn't fall into the glass. A teacher came to them and apologized. “I'm so sorry, we were cleaning up a window someone broke.” Taylor and her friend told the teacher that it was fine. Later that day, Taylor slipped again and fell while crossing the road, almost getting hit by a car. “Oh wow.” She apologized to the driver of the car and crossed the road safely. When she got home, she decided to never wear the shoes again. The soles were made of a material that was very slippery, which almost killed Taylor.

(Seventh prompt: For 15 minutes, make another line every 8-10 words you write.)
When she's back in her home she feeds her cat
She plays with her cat for a while
She then takes out a pile of homework
And goes to her desk to work on it
She works for an hour, doing math and other things
Luckily she was good at homework
She finished all of her homework
And turned her computer on to write
She continued the story she wrote in the morning
And finished a few pages
Then she ran out of good ideas
So she played with her cat while brainstorming
She couldn't think of anything at all
So she gave up and read a book
She read the book for a few minutes

(Eighth prompt: In 8 minutes, write where the main character dies suddenly.)
Taylor decides to go outside and take a walk. She walks while watching cat videos on her phone. She bumps into a few people, but she keeps watching videos. She crosses a street when she hears someone shout. “Watch out!” She turns her head to see a car heading straight towards her. Fear takes over, paralyzing her. Her eyes wide open, she tries to brace herself. A moment passes. She sighs in relief. Everything stops and her vision goes black. She wakes up in a bed. She sees the white ceiling and a bright light. She hears shouts and the sound of footsteps. Where was she? She tried to remember something, but she couldn't remember. Her head hurt. She closed her eyes again, trying to get rid of the pain. Then, it felt like all of her energy was gone. She couldn't open her eyes. She panicked. What was she doing? What happened? Where was she?

(Ninth prompt: write 300 words where an element of the character's world becomes a fantastical element.)
Taylor finally opens her eyes. This time, she's in a different world, with a piece of paper in her hand. The paper, neatly folded, had something written on it. Taylor read it: “Read this.” She unfolded the paper. Inside was a message written in neat handwriting. It said, “Hello, Taylor. When you were about to be sorted into Heaven or Hell, we noticed you had a very good life. You never did anything bad. Since you had lived such a short life, we've decided to let you be reborn. We randomly chose a world for you to be reborn in, and we hope you enjoy it to its fullest.” Taylor folded the paper and put it in her pocket. She looked around. The place looked like it came out of a fantasy book. The trees were growing jewels, there was a path leading to a beautiful cottage with a garden, and strange animals she had never seen were roaming the forest floor. She walked toward the cottage and noticed it had her name on it. She opened the door and peeked inside. She gasped when she saw the large rooms and hallways that was all hers. The house was already furnished, with comfy couches and beautiful paintings. It was the house of her dreams. Everything was perfect for her. Taylor explored the house for most of the day, finding lots of interesting rooms. One looked like a lab, with glass vials and other equipment. Another was a giant kitchen, with all sorts of pots and pans ready for use. After a long day of exploring, Taylor walked to a bedroom and sat on the bed. She sighed. Taylor did like this house, but she did feel lonely. She decided that tomorrow, she would take a walk to look for anyone else who could be friends with her.

(tenth prompt: write 250 words where the character feels a sudden burst of nostalgia.)
For the rest of the day, Taylor tried different things around the house. She tried cooking, drawing, gardening, and a lot of other activities. Taylor found a computer and turned it on. She decided to write a story based on the new world she was in. She quickly finished the story and started to surf the web. She spent a few minutes watching videos and commenting on random posts. She then found a post that asked people if they ever looked at drawings or things they wrote a long time ago. The post continued to state that they tried it, and it made them remember some good memories from the past. Taylor decided to look at some of the things she wrote a while ago. She found an online diary she had wrote about a year ago, and started to read it. One part said that she had gone ice skating with her friends. She was surprised that one of her friends was very good at ice skating. She read about the time she went camping with her family, and found a wild bear. She read more and more, remembering all of the memories, both good and bad. She remembered her friends and family. She wondered what they could be doing right now. She remembered all of the places she had been, and all of the things she had done. She smiled sadly, knowing that her life there was over. She turned off the computer and went to the kitchen to make some dinner.

Weekly! PATHS TAKEN: 4-1, 5-2, 2-1, 1-4, 3-2, 6-1, 81-2, 7-4, 9-1, 101-3 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 1- F, 9- S;5- S;3- S;2- F, 7- S;8- S;6- S;4- S | ENDING: good

She's doing a lot better,” Wanda mutters, talking to me even though her eyes are trained on
Jenna. The seven-year-old girl hangs upside down from a bar on a swing set, her long, dark red hair
nearly brushing the sandy ground. She swings back and forth, a smile on her face.
Watching her reminds me of myself when I was that age. Being upside down was something I
did. A lot. I nod, a motion that causes Wanda to look back toward me.
“Thank you,” I say, “for everything you did to help her.”
“No, thank you. I wouldn't have had a chance to help her if it weren't for you.” (111)

Suddenly, Jenna slips off the bars and smacks onto the sandy ground, face up. Yelena and I both surge forward, but Jenna stays put, not moving to get up, not crying, just lying there as if she'd been
spending hours watching clouds rather than swinging just seconds ago. Yelena and I slow our
approach. I crouch beside Jenna quietly and gently run my hand through her hair, which is splayed out
across the ground from falling.
“You okay, baby?” I ask. Yelena sits down on Jenna's other side and takes her hand. Jenna's
eyes look back and forth between us for several seconds before responding.
“They told me I was going to be phenomenal,” she mutters.
“And that you are,” I say, but it doesn't seem to get through to her.
“They chose me, out of so many.” She tries to shake her head while still having it rest on the
ground. “I don't know why it was me, I'm sorry.”
“It's okay,” Yelena tries.
“They told me the world would be mine. But they destroyed me so I would destroy it.” She's
crying now.
“Come on,” I say, lifting her into my arms. “Why don't we go inside?”
She gives a small nod and wraps her arms around my neck as I stand up.
“We need to tell Natasha,” Yelena whispers to me as we walk inside.
Of course we do. (232)
I suppose I knew it already. It's how the Red Room works. In order for Jenna to have been the
one experimented on, she would have had to beat out other girls for the spot. She would have had to
prove it was her they should choose. What they did to her would work far better if she had been
coerced into wanting it to happen. Of she had believed she had earned a prize, the prize of becoming a
perfect being.
When we finally calm Jenna down, we sit her in front of a tv show while Yelena and Wanda
explain to me what they discovered without me around. I heard enough from Jenna herself to be
concerning, and even though it's logical, I can't help but gasp at what Yelena and Wanda have to say.
“She said ‘he was taking care of me,’ over and over, as we came inside.” Wanda sighs.
“And then she changed it to ‘he was supposed to take care of me’,” Wanda adds.
My head drops onto the table with a thud. Yelena jumps.
“Sorry,” I mutter, “It's just so sickening.”
“She's right,” Yelena all but whispers. “He should have taken care of her.”
“He should have taken care of us too.”
“Dreykov?” Wanda asks.
“All of them,” Yelena says.
“Yeah, well.” I take a breath and raise my head from the table. “He was always about gaining
something. And caring for little girls doesn't exactly fit with his idea of what that means.”
“I hate ulterior motives,” Yelena says.
It would be funny. Except it really isn't. (265)
There are some things it would probably be helpful for you to know by this point, but I'm the
kind of narrator who would prefer to keep you in suspense and maybe a little confused as well, it tends
to be a lot more fun that way. So, I suppose I should wish you luck on understanding what's going on
here, because I won't be much help to you. You probably are thinking that you can't blame the
characters for not explaining their surroundings and situations, but now that the narrator is a third
person viewer I should be able to tell you at least a bit of what's really going on here. And you're right.
Unfortunately, as I said, I'd rather not do that, so here you are.
Jenna's show finishes and she enters the room in which Natasha, Wanda, and Yelena are sitting
around a table. She's much calmer than she was half an hour ago. Conversation around the table has
now has now moved on to something much lighter than earlier, and Natasha pulls Jenna onto her lap with a smile.
“I wanna play a game,” Jenna says.
Wanda sighs with relief to hear Jenna's speaking back to that of a normal small child, no longer
using words like ‘phenomenal’. The words are still in her mind of course, either drilled into her brain or
directly placed there, but she only uses them when she's stressed out.
“What game?” Natasha asks.
“Hmm… Sorry?”
“Sure. Why don't you go get it off the shelf?”
Jenna leaps up out of Natasha's lap and runs off to the bookshelf to grab the Sorry box.
“And we're back to normal,” Wanda says with a smile.
“For now,” Natasha amends.
“Sometimes that's all we can ask for,” Yelena adds.
Jenna comes running back, game box in her hands and smile on her face. “I got it!”
Her smile is met with three others. (321)
“Wait a minute…” I call out in confusion, using my clearest voice. “The board isn't here.”
Wanda looks over at the box in front of us. “Oh, you're right.”
“Who used this last?” I ask. I look around the table, seeing exactly what I expected on the faces
of those around me. No one here knows. That means it was probably the Bartons.
“Cooper and Lila?” I ask. It makes sense. They're always misplacing things. Not that it's their
fault of course. They just have a tendency to not finish one thing before starting another. It's fine when
they're on their own, but when it's both of them, a situation like this always happens.
Natasha sighs. “I'll help you look for it.
Yelena and Wanda help too, but even with all four of us it still takes almost half an hour to find
the sorry board, which has fallen behind the couch for some reason.
“There it is!” I call out when my eyes spot the familiar pattern. (168)
The game of Sorry is over in a flash, or at least that's what it feels like. To all of us.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask Jenna. We all seem to have a mutual agreement that,
because of what happened on the swing set, we're giving Jenna a happiness day. Whatever she wants, if
we can manage it, we do it.
“Can we go to the park?” She asks as she slides the Sorry box, now complete with the game
board as well as all the cards and all the pieces, back onto the shelf with all the other books and games,
new editions to the compound ever since Jenna's arrival.
“Sure!” I hear Natasha say, beating me to it by seconds, and by what I can see on Wanda's face,
beating her by even less than that.
We all follow Jenna to the door where she's pulling on her shoes. She's still small enough to get
Velcro on her shoes. Sometimes I wish they made Velcro shoes for people older than eight or so. But
no such luck. Instead, I have to pull on shoes and do up the laces. At least the pants I'm wearing today
have pockets in them. Sometimes I don't even get that much out of an outfit.
Jenna holds my hand and Wanda's as we walk to the park, Natasha walking slightly behind us.
As we arrive, we're immediately greeted by a kid, ten or eleven years old. By the look on her
face, I'm pretty sure she's recognized us. Or maybe not me, or Jenna. Natasha and Wanda probably.
“Hi!” The kid says. I glance back at Natasha. She looks resigned to being recognized.
“You're so cool,” the kid continues, “thanks so much for doing… well, for doing everything you
do as the Avengers! It's amazing!”
Wanda smiles. “Thanks, kid.”
The kid smiles back at Wanda before running off again. (321)

I can't help but think how strangely sweet that kid was. I mean, I;m an Avenger. I get a lot of
things like that. But usually the kids that age hide behind parents or older siblings, afraid to talk to
someone so famous or someone so powerful.
“Oh no,” I mutter. That kid isn't safe. I don't know what alerted me to it, but I'm certain of it.
Jenna suddenly breaks free of my hand, and I see Yelena's hand hanging free as well, our little
girl running into the arms of Natasha, saying, “Um, I want to go now, I don't like this.”
I discretely send out a tendril of magic. I'm hesitant to touch a kid with it, but I don't have much
choice right now. Besides, it's not like it's going to harm her.
That's… not good. As I touch the tendril of magic to the kid, she begins to shape shift. She
changes between several human forms, one alien form, and even a large dog, before settling as a
middle aged man. A middle aged man who has a gun.
I'm now incredibly grateful for Tony's emergency contact bracelets that alert all other Avengers
when one of us is in danger. I press it down and turn back to Natasha. (214)
Wanda's pressed her bracelet. That's good. I hold Jenna's head against my shoulder. She's
crying.
“Her powers just activated,” Wanda whispers to me. “I can take her back.”
I don't nod or anything, I just shift Jenna into Wanda's arms and turn back to the man with the
gun. I press my bracelet too, that way Tony should be able to track both pairs of us if something goes
wrong. Something already has gone wrong. If something further goes wrong.
Yelena joins me at my side. It's been a while since we fought together. It's been a while since
we fought at all. Which was the point.
“Well?” Yelena mutters. “Here we are.”
“Here we are,” I agree.
The man holds the gun out. Before he can pull the trigger, Yelena's surged forward and knocked
it out of his hand. It skids along the sidewalk, coming to a stop too close to where I'm standing to have
been an accident. I pick it up and walk toward Yelena and the man, who are now engaged in hand-to-
hand combat. This is fantastic, I think sarcastically. I turn my head back as I walk, relieved when I see,
or don't see, rather, that Wanda and Jenna have gotten far enough away to be out of sight. I join the
fight. Yelena and I together quickly overpower the man. Yelena stands over him and I point the gun in
his direction.
Which is when Tony arrives, Iron Man suit and all, perfect timing.
“Alright, dude,” he says, “I think you've figured out by now that you don't want to continue this
fight.”
I think the man nods, but since he's on the ground, I can't really tell.
“Yelena…” Tony says, and somehow Yelena knows what that means. I wouldn't have.
Yelena steps back, releasing the man to stand up. She comes over to me and takes my hand. “Let's go.”
I nod. Tony's got this handled. (323)

I hold Jenna tightly as I walk back.
She doesn't need to see this.
No one needs to see it, really.
But especially not Jenna. She's still fragile.
We don't know what seeing violence could do to her.
I open the door slowly and enter the room,
setting Jenna down gently as I do.
“Would you like to do something?” I ask her.
In response, she tugs on my hair. “Blue again.“
I shake my head. “No, it's not blue.
The hair dye faded.”
“So put more in, dummy.” Jenna says with a laugh.
Ah, so that's what she wants. I think I still have some.
“What about your hair? Want it blue too?”
“Yes!” Jenna says, jumping up and down a little.
“Shorter, too.” She holds her hands like scissors,
indicating where on her she wants it cut to. It's short.
“You sure?” I ask, wanting to clarify.”It will be a big change.”
“I'm sure, I'm sure,” Jenna insists. “Please?”
“Yeah, okay.” (163)

It looks amazing when we finish. Her hair is bright blue and reaches just bast her chin in waves.
My hair is blue too, but in stripes. I'm not really up for a full head colour do right now. I did it once, a
long time ago. It was not for me.
Suddenly someone knocks on the door. “Stay here, alright?” I tell Jenna.
She nods, sitting on the table with a smirk on her face.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, but as soon as I come back you get down, alright?”
She nods, grinning, and I head to the door.
I know who it is long before I open the door. But until I do, I can't believe it. Pietro is standing
in the doorway.
I stand there, speechless, just staring at him. He smiles at me before wrapping me in a hug.
“Pietro!” I shout, but I melt into the hug. “I thought you were dead, for almost two years!”
“I'm sorry,” he mutters, and it sounds like he really is. “I wanted to tell you, I did, but they
wouldn't let me.”
“Who wouldn't?”
“I can't say,” he says sadly, “I'm sorry.”
“It's alright,” I manage a smile. “At least you're here now. Come meet Jenna!”
“Who's Jenna?”
I smirk. “Natasha adopted a kid. I know it sounds ridiculous. But she did.”
“Alright, move over, let me inside.”
I do.
“Jenna!” I call, “Time to get off the table!” I ignore the questioning look Pietro gives me at that
statement and continue. “Remember how I told you about my brother?” I never told her what happened
to him.
“Yeah?” She calls back.
“Would you like to meet him?” (281)

“Yes!” I call back. This is exciting. I've always wanted to meet Wanda's brother, and now I
have the opportunity to do so. This is amazing. I run into the front room, and the stranger who I assume
is Pietro immediately pulls me into a hug. I don't really like hugs, but I let it happen because this is
Wanda's brother, and because he knows I don't like them.
“Goodness,” Pietro whispers, his voice heavily accented. “I've missed out on so much.”
“Would you like to make up for that?” Wanda asks.
“Yes! Definitely.”
Both the hair and the dead brother who isn't actually dead take quite a bit of explaining once
Natasha, Yelena, and Tony return, but soon we're all settled into yet another game of Sorry, and all the
other inhabitants of the Avengers compound have been called to join. Pietro's life is news enough that everyone is going to want to be involved.
“Hey Jenna?” Natasha asks about half way through the game.
“Yeah?” I respond.
“Did I ever show you a picture of me when I was eleven?”
“No,” I shake my head. I look across the table at Yelena, who is the only person present to have
known Natasha when Natasha was eleven. She's smiling like she knows full well what her sister is
talking about.
Even I have to gasp when I see the picture. Her hair. I look exactly like her now.
“That's insane,” Tony mutters. “That's so insane.”
I'm smiling hugely. “I love it!” I climb into Natasha's lap and hand her back her phone. She
scrolls through several more pictures from her at that age, and I look like her in every one. (283)

All the Avengers are here now, and after the excitement fades and everyone accepts the fact that
Pietro can't tell them how he's here, all of our lovely companions are satisfied. It's great to see such
happiness on their faces. In all my time as a narrator, happiness has been such a brief occurrence for
this particular group of people. And now it looks like they've got it pretty guaranteed for them for at
least quite a while into the future. I really hope they do end up pleased with the outcomes of these
situations I've put them through, even if it isn't entirely that real. Or real at all actually. None of this is
actually happening and yet it's happening for them and for them that's all that matters. And for them
that's what I want. Despite what I said earlier, I am a kind narrator. I am also just a humble player of
video games, and that's what caused all of this. Just video games played by a real person in a real world
providing happiness and also hardship to fictional people in a fictional world. And yet here we are.
These people, despite how not exactly real they are, deserve far more than anyone can gibe them,
especially despite all of the terrible things that have happened to them so far. It really isn't fair to any of
them. What has happened in this world is fair to entirely no one deserves the insane level of misfortune
that has fallen upon this group of amazing people. And yet it happened. So the fact that I, as a humble narrator and player of video games, can use my powers or just my powers of thinking to provide at least a bit of happiness to these poor characters who aren't so fantastic and live in such a fantastic world that I adore very much, means a lot and is very helpful to me overall. Yes, you've found me out. This mysterious unnamed third person omniscient perspective helping to tell the story is the writer. I'm Soki, leader of adventure, and I am burdened with glorious inside jokes and even more glorious fan fictions. I know this isn't supposed to be a fan fiction weekly, it just turned out to be that way. I've been thinking about possibilities for a fan fiction resembling the first two or so parts of this one for quite a long time now. This is a lot more chaotic than I want it to turn out to be, so this is just for the purposes weekly and has no bearing on the story overall. Still. I hope you enjoyed my rushing and rambling if you happened to actually read this.
”I really like you, Pietro," Jenna whispers that night. It makes the hearts of every single person sitting around the table melt. Each one of them was thinking exactly that but didn't want to voice it yet. And no one expected the one to voice it to be Jenna of all people.

Weekly #4
Total Words: 2,846
Code: PATHS TAKEN: 4-2, 5-2, 2-1, 1-1, 3-3, 9-1, 7-6, 102-1, 82-1, 6-4 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 6- S;8- F, 9- F, 3- S;4- F, 2- S;1- F, 5- S;7- S | ENDING: neutral

(Start a story- 105 words)

“Look over there!”
I turned my head to face…
absolutely nothing, but then I feel my sticky cold ice cream drip down my back.
Maylia likes to prank me. She's not the nicest of people, but we are best friends, so I have to be kind to her.
Even when she ruins the ice cream I paid for.
I sigh, curse under my breath, and head to the bathroom to rinse off the ice cream.
“Come on! It was funny! And I got it all on my phone. Wanna see?” Maylia said in her high-pitched voice.
I'm Sylvia. And Maylia and I are best friends.

(Write about the events happening up until now being a dream- 207 words)

Or wait…
I yawned and sat up in bed.
I'm not sure why I was still dreaming about Maylia. She had left me not too long ago when I had decided I wasn't putting up with her *. I also didn't know why that memory had stuck out to me. It was only one in a plethora of terrible ones. Like that time she burned, yes BURNED my hairbrush, so I couldn't brush my hair. She always found ways to humiliate me.
But, I couldn't sit around moping about Maylia all day. I had to get ready for school.
I grabbed my unburned hairbrush, (no thanks to Maylia) and started brushing my hair. I only had a few minutes to prepare, so I didn't take too long. Shoving my school supplies in my bag, I speed-walk out to the kitchen to grab some cereal. Taking some Chex, I pour milk, (yes, milk can go first) and then pour the Chex into the bowl. The Chex is crisp and crunchy, just how I like it, and then I finish breakfast. I sleep in the clothes that I wear the next day, so I'm all set for school, and I arrive just in time to catch the bus outside.

(A character has an ulterior motive- 228 words)

I can't wait to get to school today. It's nearly time to get revenge on Maylia. All the pieces are falling into place, and I can't wait to ruin her life. I won't tell my plan yet, though.
She completely deserves it, for everything she did to me.
As I get on the school bus, I slip a particularly… interesting piece of paper into Maylia's bag. She doesn't notice, (thankfully) and I walk to the back of the bus to take my seat. As the school bus arrives at school, I run to the lockers. I need to get to Maylia's locker before she sees me. Thankfully, she's still talking with her friends, and couldn't care less. Quickly and carefully, I switch Maylia's locker combo and then race back over to my own locker. I grab my books, then I get to class before I'm late.
Maylia came into the class a few minutes later and then went to sit in the back.
The teacher, Ms Staci stood up.
“Does everyone have their folders for the test?”
I could see Maylia digging through her bag, and then emptying it out. The piece of paper flew out onto the floor.
“Cheating, Maylia?” Ms Staci said, picking up the piece of paper with the answers.
“No, I-”
“Go to the principal's office.”
I sighed happily. Today was going to be a good day.

(Breaking the Fourth Wall- 306 words)

I know I seem a little mean. After all, you all haven't seen what Maylia has done to me. Trust me, if you've ever had a friend like her, you would know the damage that they do. All that you've seen is a few innocent pranks and shenanigans. It doesn't seem that bad… right? Well, it is. Maylia is a really horrible person. She's a disgusting liar and just so toxic and mean. Here, I'll give you all another example of the things that she's done.
I leaned my head against the stall in the bathroom. Maylia and her other friends were skipping classes again and hanging out in the bathroom.
“Hey, we forgot to tell Sylvia to join us,” one of them said.
“Eh, she probably wouldn't want to, she's like such a nerd.” They all laughed.
I didn't really mind them calling me a nerd. I was used to it, with my glasses and fantasy obsession.
But it got worse.
“Yeah, but like, she's good to have around. I mean, she's like super smart, plus, she's so big.” I could tell this was Maylia.
“Mm, yeah it makes our pictures look better if we have someone like her around.” Another one replied.
“Guys, like stop! You literally, can't say that, ya'll are like so mean!!” One of them said.
“Chill out girl, like we're just saying.” The first one said.
I didn't know what to do. I needed to get back to class, but I couldn't exactly walk right out. I sat on the toilet quietly until I heard them walking away.
Yeah. I think you get it now. So, I'm pretty sure I'm okay for doing this. And this is just the beginning. I have so much more planned for her. It's only getting worse from here. I'm gonna make her life terrible.

(Write in a poetry style- 101 words)

I know I might seem cruel
But it's the only thing I can do
It's the only choice I had.
I have to show her somehow
Had to tell her
That I couldn't be messed with.
I was in charge
She had taken control of me for long enough
And I was tired
I was tired of being used
Being taken advantage of
And not realizing that I'm way better than her.
I have so much more power
I'm so much smarter
And nothing, nothing can stop me
Not one single thing
Will change my mind
I will ruin her life.

(Take three words from three campers, and fit them into your story- 142 words)

The next part of the plan would be at lunch. I sat alone at my regular table in the back, waiting for the show to start.
And soon, it did.
Pink slime dripped from the ceiling. But it wasn't just pink slime. The slime was sticky, with leaves and sticks smushed into the mix as well. It dripped down onto Maylia's hair.
She stood in shock, slime, leaves, and sticks stuck into her hair.
Maylia had got her hair done a few days ago, and she had gotten golden highlights in her hair.
Now, those enchanting highlights were ruined.
I quickly took a picture. I would make sure it would be in the school news report.
As I took it, Maylia glared at me harshly.
I laughed to myself. May might think it's bad now, but it's only going to get worse.

(A character thought dead is now alive- 169 words)

Maylia's day was only going to get worse.
I had another trick planned, something way more terrible.
As Maylia ran to the bathroom, trying to get the sticky slime out, I had another plan.
Maylia's mom used to have a Youtube channel, where she made crafting videos and some family vlogs or something.
Her mom wasn't alive anymore. She had passed away one year ago
I was way ahead of Maylia, and was already in another stall. I grabbed my phone, and scrolled to one of Maylia's mom's apology videos.
“I'm… so sorry, especially to my daughter.” The video echoed in the quiet bathroom.
I didn't know if Maylia would actually believe that this was real, but I could hear her crying more.
“I know it's you, idiot. Why are you doing this?” She muttered.
I knew Maylia was talking to me. I didn't say anything, and the silence stretched on.
May eventually gave up trying to fix her hair, and she left, leaving me alone in the bathroom.

(Go off on a tangent- 379 words)

I wondered if I had went too far. After all, I knew what it was like to lose a parent.
I had lost my parents at a young age. They left because they weren't responsible enough to take care of me. Well, and because they never wanted me in the first place. They only made it five years, before they finally gave up.
They left when I was five or six. It was hard when they left, but I got over it. It's not easy being abandoned by your parents, and I really struggled.
I mostly lived in an orphanage for that time. I was pretty alone, and didn't really have friends. Though, not much has changed about the friends bit.
I love my new parents, though. They take care of my way better than my biological ones do, even though they aren't typically around much. They deifinetly make the most when they are there though. I can take care of myself, though. I had learned a lot in the first five years of my life. Having parents that don't care about you really makes you grow up quicker. I'd probably say I missed out on my childhood, but again, I also had lots of other great moments, especially when I got my new parents.
Sometimes I wished they were around more, but I know it's a lot better than what I would have gotten with my other parents. They… weren't exactly the nicest of people. In fact, I'd say that they were quite rude and cruel.
In short, I might have gone too far with Maylia. She's still a person, regardless of the rude and uncivilized things that she's done.
She lost her mom too, and I know it was really hard for her. It was hard for her whole family. Her dad was really sad after his wife died, and he started ignoring Maylia, which I know really hurt her.
So maybe that recording rubbed salt into her wounds. But she still deserved it. She'd done so many terrible things to me, and I bet a lot of other people too. Even so, I still have a lot of other things planned for Maylia, though I might dial it back a bit. She really deserves it. Right?

(Write about a nostagic moment- 250 words)

Thinking about the things I've done to Maylia, I feel a little bad. I wish sometimes I could go back to the time where it was simpler, and that we were just friends. Sure, she was annoying, but we did have some good times. When we were little kids, she would come over to my house and we would play dress-up together. Our outfits were terrible, but we would laugh and pose, taking photos of each other. We watched cartoons and ate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, and we laughed until we were on the floor and our sides hurt. We played with my dolls, and pretended that they were a perfect family, though both of us didn't have one of those. They were good, simple, times. But she had changed, and we wouldn't have those fun times anymore. She hung out with her other friends, while I didn't make any new friends. I tried to hang out with them a few times, but I could tell that they didn't like me, and we didn't have much in common anyway. I decided that maybe I should say something to Maylia. We hadn't talked in a while, so maybe it would be good to talk to her. But she always avoided me, and I figured that she didn't like me anymore, and I just gave up. Maybe it would be good to say something again, though. I'd avoided her for so long, I figured it wouldn't hurt to talk to her.

(Reveal a character has powers- 301 words)

I knew what I had to do. Rubbing my thumb against my fingers, I started making sparks. I'd learned to control these sparks a lot time ago, and I knew what I could do with them. The sparks glowed brighter and brighter, until they finally were the only thing I could see. Slowly, my vision faded away, and when it came back, I was in a white room. This was where the magic could really begin. Concentrating on the memory I wanted, I summoned a sphere that could take me there. It was when me and Maylia were kids, and playing together.
I knew that they couldn't see or hear me, so I sat on the floor, watching them.
“May! You put your headband on wrong!”
“No I didn't!”
“Yeah, you did! You're supposed to wear it like this.”
“Who says you're supposed to wear it a certain way? I think mine looks cooler than yours!”
“No it doesn't!”
“Yeah, it does!”
“Whatever, let's just watch a movie.”
May sighed, dragging her feet across the floor.
“Fineee…”
The two walked downstairs to the TV, and I carefully followed them.
“What movie do you wanna watch?”
“I don't know, you're the one who suggested it!”
“Yeah, I was trying to be nice!”
The two continued bantering back and forth for a few more minutes, and I eventually left, returning to the bathroom. Class was starting soon, and I needed to hurry up. I'd missed almost all of lunch, but I just needed to see that memory again. I needed to see the old Maylia. The one that liked me. Before she had changed. But still, I really needed to go. I ran out of the bathroom, racing to class to try and get there as soon as possible before the bell rang.

(Write about a comforting moment- 139 words)

Maylia sat outside, breathing in the cool air. She wasn't supposed to be outside, in fact she was supposed to be in class. However, she didn't feel like staying in class. The day had been just too eventful, and she just needed a break. Shifting on the cool, soft, grass, she slowly breathed in and out. Being outside had always comforted her, and she wanted to be comforted right now. She wasn't sure why Sylvia was being so mean to her, she hadn't done anything wrong? Maybe she was just mad that they had drifted apart, and that she didn't really have any friends now. But, she put all of that out of her mind, and just focused on the peacefulness of the outdoors. She'd face her problems later, but for now she needed to relax and calm down.

(End on a cliffhanger- 504 words)

Eventually, Maylia heard the bell ring.
She got up to go to class, and though she might have been a few minutes late, she still made it to the classroom door.
Still, she hesitated. Was she really ready to face Sylvia? Pushing those thoughts aside, she opened the classroom door…
And jumped back in surprise. The room had turned into a black abyss, and was filled with black, inky tentacles.
One of those tentacles was gripping something. And that someone, well it was no other than Maylia's former best friend herself, Sylvia.
“Sylvia! What the heck is that!?” Maylia exclaimed in horror, as Sylvia tried to wrench free and failed.
“I-i don't know! Help me!” Sylvia cried, trying to break free yet again, but once again failing.
Maylia grabbed at the dark abyss, and found that it was sticky ink that she couldn't do anything with.
“I don't know what to do! I can't get over there!” She tried kicking around in it with her legs, but found to her horror that it only made her stuck in the black goop as well. With no one seeming to be around, and Maylia's legs being stuck, the two ex-friends didn't know what to do.
Suddenly, a loud, echoing voice boomed into the room.
“Sylvia Ann Stevenson, you are being Relocated due to tampering with the Timeline.”
“Who the heck are you?!” Maylia screamed, confused and scared.
Meanwhile, Sylvia seemed frozen in fear. She turned even paler than she had before, and she started hyperventilating.
“Sylvia! What's going on?!” Maylia yelled, but Sylvia didn't say anything.
“Sylvia! What's happening?!?” Maylia kept asking, but Sylvia didn't seem to notice. She was staring off into space, seeming like she didn't know what was going on around her.
“SYLVIA! SYLVIA PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING!” Maylia somehow managed started yelling louder.
Finally, Sylvia seemed to snap back into existence.
“I-I don't know! Nothing ever happened before!”
“WHAT THE HECK TO YOU MEAN BY ”BEFORE!“ TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON, YOU IDIOT!”
“I'm not sure! I didn't even know that this is a thing! I-I thought I was the only one!” Sylvia started panicking again, trying to break free, but still to no avail.
“SYLVIA! JUST TELL ME!” Maylia tried pulling her legs free from the gunk, she was still stuck fast. Would she be stuck here forever? Somebody would come eventually, right?
Then, the loud voice started talking again.
“Sylvia, please remain calm as you are Relocated. The process may feel unsettling, but it is all in your mind.
All of a sudden, the tentacle that was holding Sylvia started sinking downwards. She screamed, and started kicking her feet violently, but it didn't seem to do anything.
”MAYLIA! HELP ME!“ Sylvia screamed.
Sylvia's voice echoed in in Maylia's head, and she stood frozen for a minute.
Then, without thinking, she somehow ripped her legs free from the ink and jumped towards Sylvia.
”I'M COMING, SYLV!"
Then, she plunged into the black abyss, searching for her ex-friend.

Weekly- 7/23/22
Start a story about 100 words long (later it said to incorporate an element of Fantasy, but I already did)
Elle slyly smiled as a ferocious, emerald green fire blazed through the forest, summoning up smoke and ash. Suddenly, a cacophony of ear-piercing sirens came ringing from behind. Elle quickly spun around. The firefighters had arrived. Really, Elle should have been grateful that they came, but she was terrified of what they were going to say, because clearly, it wasn't ordinary. It was a witch's fire. She nervously watched as firefighters, all in smoke masks and equipped with hoses, flooded out of the firetrucks.
At least they wouldn't get transported. Unless they were witches themselves.
“What's with this fire?” one asked, staring up at the green flames.
“Chemicals, I presume. Let's make sure nobody's in here,” said a tough looking female firefighter.
They marched closer to the fire, shoving Elle out of the way.
“You must get out of here!” ordered one.
Write 200 words where your character is magically transported to another world
Elle nodded, and picked up her bike from off the grass. She slowly pedaled away from the intense scene, feeling accomplished, but guilty. She knew that the fire couldn't harm anyone, but it would cause chaos and questions, both in the Flame Coven and on the news. Elle spotted a singular cloud of green colored smoke. She confidently rode her bike through the smoke, closing her eyes for protection.
Please let this work, she thought. If it didn't, who knows where she would travel to.
Suddenly, she had the odd feeling that she wasn't riding on the ground anymore. It was as if she were pedaling on thin air. She curiously opened her eyes, and she was right. When she looked down, where the ground should be, there was just sky blue. Sky blue. She observed her unnatural surroundings with great caution. She made it to the Sky Coven. In the distance, she spotted a grand castle perched atop a cotton-candy-like cloud. Elle smiled. Finally, she could see the remarkable place she had always wanted to visit for herself. There didn't seem to be any witches yet. But, there was life, for sure. Clouds took shape of a variety of ‘normal’ animals- there were hopping rabbits, soaring eagles and prancing deer. It was beautiful.
It was only then when Elle realized that she'd seen all of these wonders before.
Write 200 words where a character reveals one of their main motives is to gain something
Shattered memories flooded Elle's brain. She had been her before.
A young red-haired girl, giggling as she twirls around a perfectly normal, calm campfire. There's another girl, too. She has long, silky black hair, and is a bit older. She outstretches an eager and to the fire, and it turns an eerily beautiful shade of emerald green. Smoke gathered above, and the girl steps into the smoke, and suddenly disappears into nowhere. The other, red-haired girl wants to follow her.
“Elle, stop!” says a middle aged woman, trying to grab her away. “You can't go there.”
“Why?” asks the girl, and the woman sighs.
“That's the entrance to the Wind Coven. Sophia's part of it, but we're not. Remember?”
The girl ignores her mother, and confidently steps into the smoke, and soon enough, she's gone.
Elle's plan had worked. She had created a portal to the Wind Coven; something most Fire Witches could do. She smiled and disembarked her bike. Instead of falling down into nowhere, it made a thud at the same level as Elle's feet.
“What are you doing here?” asked a soft, airy voice.
Suddenly, a girl, about 13 years old, was standing beside Elle. She had long and luxurious black hair.
“I- I…” Elle nervously stared. Then, she realized something. “Sophia?”
The girl nodded. “It's been a long time. But really, what are you doing? You shouldn't be here.”
“I know, I know,” said Elle. “I just wanted to see what it looked like?”
She looked at Sophia, hoping that she'd buy her lie, but she simply crossed her arms at her and rolled her eyes. Elle noticed her slightly smile.
“What?” asked Elle.
“Nothing. It's just… I know you too well to believe your lies. But really… why?” replied Sophia.
Elle was more than glad that her (old) friend didn't exile her or something.
“This is going to sound really stupid,” warned Elle, “but… I wanted to seem… capable.”
Sophia raised her eyebrows. “Capable?”
“Some of the other witches in my coven sort of doubt me. Say that I'm not as good as them, that I'm too young to be a skillful witch.” Elle explained genuinely, worried about what Sophia might say.
Sophia started to laugh, and Elle's face turned redder than a cherry.
“Yeah, I know it's really selfish-” Elle started to say, but Sophia cut her off.
“Exactly. You're a selfish person. I know. But in a good way, if you know what I mean.”
“I don't.” said Elle, her expression suddenly blank.
“It's nothing. Just leave before you get caught.” Sophia spoke, a bit of laughter remaining in her voice.
“Okay… but we never see each other ever since you moved,” Elle said, hoping she could stay for longer.
Sophia sighed. “Fine. But don't let anyone see you. Our coven's relationship with yours will only worsen if anybody finds out.”
Stop working on the weekly and do something creative for 15 minutes- I painted a rabbit on Kleki
Write 200 words where your character acknowledges that they aren't perfect, and they try to improve.
“What are you talking about?” asked Elle, her voice insincerely cheery.
Sophia gave her a stare that Elle interpreted as everything.
“Fine.” she sighed, brushing remaining soot and ash off of her jeans.
“Sophia!” roared an unknown thunderous voice.
Sophia swore under her breath, and grabbed Elle by the arm. "It's Ester. The High Priestess of our coven, and she would kill you if she saw you. Literally.“
She had a serious look on her face that told Elle that she wasn't lying. Ester was an elderly woman with shiny, silver hair twisted in a tight bun atop her head. She was stern-faced and had a strict, no-nonsense essence.
”Quick! Come here!" whispered Sophia, maneuvering Elle towards what appeared as a swirl of purple-colored smoke; a portal to Earth.
Once Sophia's finger touched the smoke, she was gone, and a moment later, Elle was pulled in by Sophia's force. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't believe what she saw.
It was the same scene; the same fire as before, but only now, it was out of control. There were about a dozen fire trucks, and firefighters everywhere. The fire was burning more and bigger than ever before.
Both Sophia and Elle's went agape at the sight of the uproar.
“Is this… is this the fire you created?” Sophia asked, a hint of worry in her voice.
Elle guiltily nodded. What had she done? Obviously, the firefighters knew that it wasn't just chemicals. Seattle has a large population of witches. What if some of them touch the smoke? What if Xena, the Fire Coven's High Priestess, had found out what she'd done? What if her parents found out?
“And this was all to impress your coven members?” Sophia clarified, with confusion and slight anger.
Elle's false look said it all.
"I can't believe you. You're so immature. None of… this is going to impress anybody, you-“
”I know.“ Elle sighed. ”I made a mistake. If anything, I'm just going to be kicked out of my coven. But the truth is, I deserve it. I'm not a great witch, and I know that. I'm not powerful, I'm not mature, and I make horrible decisions.“
Getting it all out felt good, but at the same time, made her feel more guilty.
”Thanks for finally admitting it.“ said Sophia with a sly smile. ”So… what are you going to do about this?“
Good question.
”I have no idea. For now, let's just get away from here,“
”Woowww. Great solution." Sophia smirked, and Elle rolled her eyes.
Stop working on the weekly and relax for 15 minutes
For eight minutes, write a main character discover that they though was dead is actually alive
When they were about to head, well… somewhere, Elle felt vibration in her pocket. She pulled out her phone to see who was calling. “Unknown number”, it read. Most likely spam, but what if it was something important? Elle accepted the call.
“Who is this?” asked Elle.
"Thomas Scott. Do you know anything about the fire?“ answered a deep, recognizable voice.
Elle was breathless, and couldn't bother answering the question. ”Wait- you're alive?“
”Yes.“ he answered, and said nothing more.
”But- but I though you got murdered! You know, when the coven was under attack by the Earth Coven, and-“ Elle rambled, her head flooded with different wild theories of why he might be alive.
”It''s all a lie.“ Thomas said simply. ”I knew that if I said I wanted to leave the coven, people would be angry. So I faked my death, and have been carrying this lie for years.“
”That's not true.“ said Elle. It couldn't be!
”Yes. But enough about that. Do you know anything about the fire?“ Thomas asked sternly.
”No.“ Elle lied. ”I do not.“
”Well then,“ he said, with a tone of conclusion. ”Have a good day.“
He immediately hung up.
Elle sighed, and caught Sophia glaring at her.
”I heard everything. You said you would fix this. You said that you wouldn't lie!“
”Sophia,“ said Elle, her voice a bit frail. ”This is different. Thomas would get angry. He would report me to the coven.“
Sophia rolled her eyes. ”From what I overheard, he's not even a part of the coven. He faked his own DEATH just to get out!“
”I know,“ admitted Elle. ”But he didn't say why he left the coven. What if he's dangerous?“
”Elle, stop." said Sophia sternly.
Stop working on the weekly and write about a person who has impacted your life
For 5 minutes, write where the setting has an aspect of comfort for the character
“Let's get out of here.” Elle said, overwhelmed with the drama she'd sparked. “There's a nice beach near here. Let's just go there.”
“But what about your parents? What would they say if you come home late? What if they figure out what you've done?” Sophia asked.
“No, they're not here. They left me home for a week. There at some international meeting for witches. Or something.”
Elle was honestly relived that her friend still cared about her. After everything she'd done. Not just the fire, too. Sophia had been very well aware of Elle's lies and her longing for acceptance which turned into a hunger for fame.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Sophia, nudging Elle by the elbow.
Elle lead Sophia to her absolute favorite place in the world- Lake Washington. Usually, it was packed full of people, but at this late time of the day, it was calm. The only sounds you could hear (besides the somewhat distant sirens) were soothing waves.
They found a good spot to sit on the sand, and they watched the waves go up and down. Up and down. The sunset was striking. It looked like a painting in a prestigious art museum. They sat there for a moment, forgetting everything. Forgetting the fire. Forgetting that when they were young, they weren't allowed to be friends. Only because they were in different covens.
Stop working on the weekly and listen to music for 10 minutes
Write using the "Chekhov's G^n principle for 300 words
The wind started blowing more violently. Trees started swaying. The fire was noticeably more intense, kicking up green smoke clouds slowly drifting towards Elle and Sophia. Elle was worried, but on the other hand, Sophia felt connected. Connected to the elements.
“I can't touch the smoke!” Elle exclaimed, suddenly in a panic.
“It's fine,” Sophia assured her. "If you've already traveled to the Wind Coven once, you can't go back unless you create a new fire. The same goes with traveling by a fire portal for most of the other covens.“
”How is it that you can possibly know all of these things about other covens?" Elle asked, feeling quite dumb.
Sophia shrugged, and turned her head away. She was hiding something. Elle could tell. Then, everything clicked. Sophia had always had some connection with all of the elements- not just wind. Neither one of them had mentioned anything, though. For almost a decade. Something was off. Something wasn't right.
But then again, if she did posses all of the elements, then wouldn't Elle see her at coven meetings?
“Are you hiding something from me?” Elle asked, Sophia still turned away.
Sophia remained silent, and faced Elle.
“Look me in the eye and say that you're not.”
But she didn't.
“I can't. I can't say that I'm not, and I can't tell you what I'm hiding.” Sophia stated, seriously.
“Why?”
Sophia sighed, and fiddled with her black hair. "It would cause too much drama. Too much confusion, and too many lies. And, to be honest, you would never be my friend anymore if I told you."
Elle raised her eyebrows when she heard the word friend. It felt good, but she hated that Sophia felt the need to keep something from her.
"Come on. I told you my secret, now tell me yours.“
”Yours was barely a secret!“ Sophia remarked.
Elle gave her a look that told her otherwise.
”Fine.“ Sophia grumbled, and took a breath before her next words. ”I posses all of the elements, as you may have guessed. I was born into the Wind Coven, but I can do much more than that. I'm just not very good at controlling the other elements. I used to attend other coven's meetings, disguised as other people by magic. But then it got too dangerous. I couldn't risk anyone figuring out."
It took Elle a minute to soak up all of the information. She'd always thought something was up, but she didn't know that it was this elaborate.
Thank 3 people from SWC
Birdi- Thank you for putting SWC all together and executing it so well! It must be hard to dedicate so much time to this, but you've done brilliantly.
Moss- Thank you for being an amazing (and not to mention first-time! ) leader!! You work hard to make sure that Myth reigns above all, and your enthusiasm and encouraging words are super helpful.
The whole daily team- Wow. Thank you for coming up with all of these amazing, inspiring, and fun dailies and weeklies! All of you are awesome!! (by the way, the among us daily is pog)
For 15 minutes, work on one of your characters and describe what makes them unique
“Are you… are you Thomas Scott?”
Sophia went pale. “Yes. He's the fake persona I made to attend Fire Coven meetings.”
“But… but how did I just get called by him?” Elle asked, in shock.
“It was sort of pre-recorded by my magic. I was watching you from the Wind Coven, and knew that you were up to something.” Sophia explained. “But something went wrong, and you didn't get called until just a little while ago.”
Elle was still surprised and impressed.
“I didn't know that you were that powerful,”
“Neither did I.” Sophia admitted. “But really, I'm not.”
Elle frowned. "How did you- well, did you learn the other elements?“
Sophia shook her head. ”They just came naturally to me, I guess. I discovered when I was five. But I only created the fake personas a few years ago.“
”How has anyone not guessed?“ Elle asked. ”You're a thirteen year old girl-“
”Fourteen.“ Sophia corrected.
”Fine. You're a fourteen year old girl, and Thomas Scott's a 40 year old man!“
Sophia shrugged. ”I guess the magic just does it for me. But I had to stop at some point."
Stop working on the weekly and eat/drink something for 5 minutes
Write 300 words incorporating magical realism
Elle nodded, attempting to be understanding, even though she really couldn't. This was a lot of information. Who would ever suspect that Thomas Scott was Sophia?
“And… this is real? Your telling the truth?”
Sophia didn't answer in words. She rubbed her hands together, and when she opened them, dazzling, dancing fire emerged from her palms. Majestic wind soared from her fingertips, forming new shapes every second. Slowly, the fire died and the wind drifted away, replaced by water rushing out of her hands.
Elle's mouth went agape. She really did have all of the elements. And to be honest, she was better at sparking fire than Elle herself.
“Does anyone else know about this?” she asked, blown away by everything that happened.
“Well, my parents know,” she said. “Honestly, the only reason I told you is because you forced me too.”
Elle glared at her. “I did not!”
Sophia raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Are we just going to stay here forever? My parents will wonder where I am.”
"Where do you want to go?“ Elle asked, still watching the picture-perfect sunset.
”Home.“ she answered as if it wasn't obvious enough.
”Fine. But what happens when my parents find out? I'm sure that it's all over the news.“ Elle asked, concerned.
”Well,“ Sophia said. ”They will find out, but they won't know it's you. Right?“
Elle shook her head. ”No. My coven will most likely do searches because it's obvious that a Fire Witch did this,“
Sophia slowly nodded as if she was thinking very hard about something. Finally, she said, ”Just deny it. No matter what they say, deny it.“
”And what good would that do?“
”Your own?“ Sophia said, and the two of them started laughing; something they hand't done in a while.
”I'll think of something," Elle promised.
Write about why you appreciate a Scratch Team member
@Ceebee- I appreciate how you work hard and dedicate your time to make Scratch a more fun, safe, and friendly environment. It must be challenging to deal with so many problems, but you have done a great job. You are a huge inspiration to lots of different Scratchers everywhere!
Prompt from cabin with opposite ranking- the Flower of Song was slowly fading (@ChueyTheCat)
"The Flower of Song is slowly fading,“ Sophia spoke, her voice mysterious and unnatural.
Elle furrowed her eyebrows. ”What the heck is the Flower of Song?“
”The what?“ Sophia asked, her speech suddenly normal.
”The thing you were just talking about? You said it was slowly fading,“
Sophia thought for a moment. ”Oh! The Flower of Song. That sounds familiar,“
”Yeah,“ said Elle. ”Because you just said it!“
”I did?“ asked Sophia.
Elle nodded. Strange.
”But really, I have heard that name before. I think is was in a fable, but I can't quite recall what the fable is called," remembered Sophia.
Elle pulled out her cell phone, and googled “the Flower of Song”. The first few results weren't helpful; they were just songs about flowers. But when she scrolled deeper, something caught her eye. She clicked on a blue link that read, “Cautionary Tales for Young Witches”.
“Does that ring a bell?” Elle asked.
“Actually, it does!” Sophia exclaimed. “My mom read that to me when I was young. Can you read it on your phone?”
Finish story unresolved for 500 words
Elle frowned, and shook her head. “They don't have it online, and it's not in print anymore. Apparently, it was banned from some non-witches who thought is was promoting witchcraft,”
“That happens a lot,” stated Sophia. "But did I really say that, or are you just pulling my leg?“
”You did,“ Elle promised. ”And it freaked me out!“
Sophia smiled, but she still seemed a bit worried. Was she in a trance? Or maybe a hallucination?
”Well, I have to get home.“ said Sophia, getting up and dusting herself off. ”Text me if you discover anything, or if anyone suspects you of the fire.“
”I will." Elle assured, and Sophia took off into the night, leaving her alone.
Too much had happened that night. Too many things that she now regretted. Too much information to comprehend. Too many mysteries. Elle was more than grateful that she and Sophia had caught up so fast, but also angry and shocked by all of the things Sophia had hidden.
She lied about her identity.
She lied and boasted about her powers.
But she was still a good friend. But what if she also lied about the ‘trance’? It was hard to trust and believe her after all of the elaborate things she'd lied about. But maybe, just maybe, she could trust her this time. Forgiveness is a hard thing. But maybe, just maybe, Sophia deserved it.
For the next few days, Elle endlessly dove into research of the Flower of Song, only to find the same, unhelpful things each and every time. Nevertheless, she kept Sophia updated about every little detail she could find, her own act of forgiveness.
Just as she had expected, news and rumors about everything that had happened were spreading like wildfire. (Pun intended!) Every single article went on and on about what chemical they suspected to make the smoke. Thankfully, there hadn't been any coven meetings in that time, but Elle still felt guilty.
There was nothing she could do about it, and she was busy solving her own little mystery.
Her parents had reached out to her about the fire, but only to see if she was okay. “I'm fine,” she would tell them, but really, she wasn't. For now, it was just best not to think about the fire, and dedicate all her her time to the mystery.
What could the Flower of Song be, anyway? Sophia did remember one thing, that it had to do with harmony. But harmony with who? With what?
On a rather uninspired day, Elle video called Sophia, in the hope that she'd uncovered something.
“I do have a theory, and it actually makes sense!” Sophia declared. "Maybe it represents harmony between the covens! And, obviously, that harmony is fading, so maybe something inside of me knew that,“
”Sophia, that's brilliant!' Elle exclaimed.
At last, everything clicked. The puzzle was almost complete. The biggest question is, where is the last puzzle piece?

Code: PATHS TAKEN: 1-5, 4-3, 5-2, 101-3, 9-1, 6-4, 2-3, 7-3, 82-1, 3-1 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 9- S;2- F, 4- S;1- F, 7- S;6- S;8- F, 3- S;5- S | ENDING: neutral

note: It wasn't possible for me to upload the screenshot- thanks for your understanding :)

Day #25
Your torch casts a beam of light through the shadows, and your fresh, eager eyes scan ahead for any signs of life. Behind you the alarms blare, their shrill whine echoing into the silent night.
You run, shining your light ahead, searching desperately for the thief.
“You’ll never find them that way.”
You jump, whirling around. Three figures in hooded cloaks stand before you, half shrouded in the mist.
“W-who are you?” you say, attempting to regain your composure.
“Follow us,” says the one on the right. Then as one, they turn around and run into the mist.
Having lost sight of the thief, you run after them.
You arrive at the entrance to an old maintenance tunnel.
“In here!” one of the figures call, before darting inside.
“Why? What is this place?” you ask.
“If you want to catch your thief, you’ll come.”
You deliberate for a second, but decide to follow, all while poised to flee at any second.
“Who are you?” you ask again in the dim light of the tunnel.
“I am *leader-name*” says the figure who had spoken to you first, “And this is *co-name1* and *co-name2*” they smile, “Welcome to the Mystery Caverns”

Daily #25 7/24/2022 EDT

Word count: 130

Dystopian Civil War

(Everest and J are made up ^^)

The war has divided the utopia into two. Lives had fallen into ruin and cities crumble to the ground. You have to choose whether to go with the monarchs, democrats, or dictators. When you are faced to choose your destiny, what path will you decide to take?
You look up at the three figures looking at you. “Well, what do you choose?” the first urges. “Joining me, Eevee, with the monarchs?”
"The democrats will win in the end; you have J's word,“ the one at the opposite end persuades.
The middle one scoffs, ”Dictatorship demands order, the perfect order of chaos. It's Everest here.“
After you have given everything to flee the war, what side do you place your life into?
”We're waiting for your answer,“ Eevee smiles, ”Well?“
”I…"

Daily #25

The Thriller Agency

Following the directions in your earpiece, you finally arrive at what is supposed to be the spot.
As you approach, the abandoned-looking gate before you opens with a slight creaking sound.
You enter, hesitantly.
The voice in your earpiece returns, “Welcome to the thriller agency, Agent X,” proceed towards the building and I will meet you there.“
You do as they say, making your way towards the tiny and rusty shed. The only building in sight.
The gate closes quickly behind you and you realize that you won't be able to leave soon.
A figure exits from the shed.
”I am glad to finally see you in person, Agent X,“ they say, ”I hope your journey was pleasant.“
Two more people join them.
”You're probably wondering who we are,“ one of them says.
”I'm <name>, your leader for this session and these are the co-leaders: <name2> and <name3>."
132 words

Daily

134 words

The corridors stretch out in front of you, long and dark. A shiver goes down your spine. Are you in the right place? The note told you to come here… Maybe you read the address wrong.
A screaming cry echoes through the walls. You jump, startled. Wiping your sweaty hands on your clothes, you look up, to see three flashlight beams coming towards you. Relief swamps you. They’re here.
“Welcome,” Says the one in the middle, grinning. “I trust you got our note?”
You nod, wondering how she can grin in a place like this.
“The name’s Ava.” She shines her flashlight in your eyes. “Yours?”
“Wait,” you say, gulping. “What is this place?”
“Oh, the Horror Asylum, of course.” Ava says with a shrug, shining her torch onto the red-splattered walls. “Where else?”

Weekly #4 SUSWC
Code: PATHS TAKEN: 2-1, 101-1, 5-4, 1-5, 4-3, 3-2, 9-3, 6-3, 7-7, 82-2 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 9- S;8- S;3- S;1- S;7- S;5- S;2- S;6- F, 4- S | ENDING: good

Word counts: 105, 358, 334, 328, 345, 456, 474, 530, 346, 1089, 392, 592
Begin a story, any way you like, but keep it close to 100 words. 105 words
When we arrived on the island, I was immediately aware of the fact that we were not alone. This place was not deserted. Painted rocks, and fish bones could be seen scattered within the gravel. I could hear the screaming of children and the crunch of their footsteps on the rocks nearby. Smoke was rising from behind a row of scraggly bushes. Immediately, my mind started searching for who these people could possibly be. Ohmdahra who never left? No, they wouldn’t be awake in broad daylight. Marooned sea goers? No, no current led here. I vehemently denied it to my party, but we all knew.

Breaking the fourth wall (Host Shrine): 358 words
I know, it’s not the best situation to be in. You must be reading this and scoffing at my stupidity — the grandson of the great scholar is so delusional he sails to random island chains, trying desperately to prove his forefathers correct. That way, he can claim the favor and sponsorship of the Etriol branch, and live comfortably for the rest of his days. Well, my heritage isn’t exactly a walk in the park. I could just as easily take Srasho’an’s route, write a few articles giving my ‘eternal support’ to the Pirujan council, vouch for them at every turn, and sit back. But this, this isn’t about supporting my grandfather’s legacy. It’s about proving I have my own. I know that he was completely improvising when he wrote of the end of the world, and I know that everything, from his basic translations of Hyrati scripture to his greater claims of “mysterious phenomena” is bogus. Nobody looks at me and sees the descendant of one of the revolutionaries of alchemy, or even as myself — nobody even remembers my given name. They just call me Srasho’an III.

And really, most of the reason why I’m here is your fault. Every single province I travel to encourages literacy in order to better understand il Hyratil. There is nary a blind Ohmdahran child nor a braindead Fawlin peasant that cannot read, write, and recite the text. Most, too, can explain the meaning of every line of every passage, to some degree. But none of you listen to those sacred strings of words you recite, for the scrawling lines of text scraped into the backs of leaves was not written for show. It was written to teach and more importantly, to warn. And its warning was so prevalent that you, like most others, have likely failed to grasp its true meaning. Or, worse, fail to realize that there is one at all. If you really cared about the words on the page, then you would’ve made an attempt to understand it. And if you can understand even a little of what the glyphs truly say, you’ll know exactly why I’m here.

Overcoming failure (Printing Press): 334 words
But after several years of studying and traveling, regional support from the Pirujan council has begun to wane. They write me angry letters, as they have to my whole family, demanding that we do better, bring them more tangible results. After all, it was easy for everyone in our line before us. I’ve spent months marooned on random rocks in the middle of nowhere, surviving on nothing but fish and bark for moisture, yet the sting of rejection — of failure — hurts worse than any desertion. I’ve never been quite sure why. If I lose favor in the eyes of the council, I don’t lose my inheritance, I don’t lose my name, and I certainly don’t lose my mission. But somewhere, deep down, I know I want to be revered, just like my grandfather.

I think it was my close proximity to my uncle that first started this mess. My father died just after I was born, so my uncle took me in. He was an aspiring healer, having worked for years concocting poisons for the Aumarans in secret. He, and everyone around him was confident that his experience (and his name) would carry him to great fame and success. He made his first brew, took it off the rack, and it exploded (in) his face. I was eating soup on the doorstep of his small lab, and I watched as he toppled over, slumping face-first onto the table. He had to be dragged out of the house, and while he managed to live, he never lived it down. I haven’t seen him since, rumor has it he hung himself.

But I’m not him. I have already sacrificed my best standings when I spent those years pouring over texts, finding secrets hidden within the hearts of mountains and traversing the dangerous depths of the sea. I have nothing left to lose but my life, and I don’t intend on giving that up until I leave these isles with the key of death in my hands.

Motivated by Sense of Belonging (Sorting Room) 328 words
Awn and I clambered off of the boat as the others took the rope, snaked loosely along the vessel’s exterior, and tied it to the dock. The two of us headed inland towards the screams we’d heard before, accompanied only by the sound of rocks crunching beneath our feet. After about ten minutes of walking, and being no closer to the sounds than before, we were forced to stop, as we’d arrived at the foot of one of the southern karsts. The boy tentatively kicks the base, almost as if he expected it to come crumbling down and create a path for us. I looked at him, and asked if he was going to help me scale it. His eyes widened like saucers, and he quickly told me that he had only agreed to come on the expedition to get away from schooling.

I had first met him on a visit to my old school, the Bansorn Academies. His parents were senators of some large city somewhere, I don’t quite remember, and he, being the child of a relatively affluent family, was forced to spend his youth in an overly-religious school (which, I might add, was in an area of the country that never saw the sun). Given the privilege that frequented that place, however, he was probably on the poorer side of the spectrum. Here, he explained that most everyone who studied the natural world could afford to make wayward expeditions to anywhere they wanted, carelessly plucking and destroying plants and animals from their habitats to bring back as trophies. He, not wanting to get shown up for his lack of worldliness, had gone against his parents wishes, and talked his way into coming with me. The Bansorn spirit was certainly in him, though, because he was just as stuck-up as the rest of them, and refused to go up. He instead suggested we go around, pointing at a dark, narrow crevice he’d spotted just moments before.

Fantastical Elements (Table of Fantasy, Fairy Tales, and Myth) 345 words
Logically, I called him mad. Nothing could fit through there, and given the darkness within the limestone formation, it was more likely we’d fall to our deaths or get impaled by a stalactite than actually make it through to…wherever it went. I began to tell him off when a small silver fox with a bushy, black tail trotted out, holding the heart of a bird in its jaws. Its starry blue eyes stared right at me, stopping me mid-sentence. Awn turned and practically squealed in excitement when he saw, rushing over and tripping over his own words as he spoke to the Sormtir.

“My dear fox, could you lead us to the city of the fallen logs? We can help you search for the thousand-dyed cloak, and search for the lungs of the fifth bird!” If it had been anywhere else, I would’ve been impressed by the knowledge of an obscure Ohmdahran story, one that even I can only vaguely recall from a single drunken visit to the black Mountains.

And none of that actually happened, no magical prince-turned-fox ever existed on these isles, nor was it cursed to spend one hundred years searching for a cloak containing all the colors in existence, because that came from a completely different fairy tale from the Black Roses, which Awn didn’t seem to realize in the midst of all his ramblings. The actual magical Sormtir that lived on these islands did lead to the city of fallen logs (before it became submerged about a thousand years ago), and was actually the main deity and protector of the city. It was said to have been slain by a young, bashful hunter not much different than the bumbling idiot I was traveling with, and shortly after the entire Itherian pantheon collapsed, and that part of the island engulfed by rising sea levels. But as irked as I was, I wasn’t going to ruin the boy’s mood any further, lest it make my task of convincing him to cross the karst even more difficult. Besides, he was a good storyteller.

Transported to another world (Rec Room) 456 words
Before I knew it, I had let the boy’s enthusiasm off the leash for too long, and he was dragging me by my hood into the depths of darkness. I snapped, taking both hands and forcefully pushing him off of me. His eyes glowed with fear as I heard something beneath us crack, and he went tumbling down into the darkness. I heard the stone crack as the echoes it sent upon hitting the ground reverberated upwards, but there was no second impact. I called out for Awn, but he never responded. Sighing, I jumped downwards, and suddenly I could see an eerie green ring, glowing several feet off the ground below.

Because I wasn’t an idiot, I reached for the clamp on the right side of my belt, grabbed firmly onto the resin inside the pouch, and stopped myself for just a moment, a few feet above the hole. If I fell to the ground, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. If the hole took me elsewhere (and I couldn’t see Awn’s corpse yet, so I assumed it might), I would have time to prepare. With my other hand, I clutched the knife at my side, and continued down. I blinked, and everything in the cavern was different. I was sitting in a side-alley, atop rows of small, polished, painted stones. These ones were marigold, although they were quite faded. Looking straight ahead, I could see the baggy pant legs ripple past one another, just barely obscuring the reflective, coral-embedded, mossy boots that meant Itherians. Their coats, most patched together hastily and appearing in desaturated gradients of cold colors confirmed it. Looking further upwards, there was nothing. No head, no neck, just the body.

These were the dead, and I had somehow fallen into their world. Awn was nowhere to be seen, but I was sure that I could find him on the account of him being much taller than the average Itherian, and of him (hopefully) still having his head. It was my suspicion that he had entered one of the many shops that lined the sides of the roads, given his affinity for cobbling together different fairy tales, and their constant references to armories, tanneries, and bars, but every time I strayed from the crowd towards the entrance of a building, it would fade away, revealing nothing but a cold, deceptively rough-textured wall. Periodically, I would feel for my own face or pull at my hair, just to ensure that all parts of my body were intact, feeling it burn up in embarrassment as I did. No one acknowledged my presence, they just kept drifting past each other in silence. Down towards something covered by a dusty, yellow haze. Resigned, I walked with them.

Character Inspired by Cabinmate (Ava) 474 words
Trooping along, I realized that while the ground was made of polished stones, there was also a lot of unseen dirt that was being kicked up, which was responsible for the haze I had seen earlier. I coughed loudly as it sprayed into my face, and suddenly, I felt a hand tug at my side. Overjoyed that Awn was alright, I turned to see that the person dragging me was someone else entirely. She had long, flowing blonde hair, and while I couldn’t see her face as she dragged me against the crowd, I could recognize a rose pin bobbing up and down atop her head. She had a crossbow strapped on her back, and I could see the decorative hilt of a long, thin sword strapped along her waste, although I didn’t see it before the sheathe poked me in the leg. Once we were hidden beneath an overpass, she stopped, and turned to face me. Seeing her face for the first time, I finally realized: she was alive, just like me. It carried a jaunty expression far more welcoming than I expected for someone who had basically kidnapped me, but still far less welcoming than I wanted it to be.

“What are you doing here? T’is is my patrol area, go back to your own zone.” The corner of her mouth lifted upward slightly, and she huffed in amusement toward her own joke. Her ts were noticeably glottalized, and her English (although I suspected her primary language was not) was somewhat broken. Bewildered, I stared blankly towards her, trying to identify her species based on her attire alone. She wore a chestplate made of copper or bronze (it was hard to tell in that light), with something long-sleeved underneath, but couldn’t make out the fabric. Wrapped around the back of her neck was a silky, cloud-like scarf, reaching down on both sides to roughly her belly button. Several distinctive knots were made at different intervals along the left side, and I could see that similar stripes to the ones in front were draped behind her. I had never seen anything like it before; she was either incredibly old (and possibly dead? I am still in doubt), or the people living here were nothing like their mainland counterparts.

“Ohmdahran?” She gave me a wider smile this time, as well as an over-dramatic gasp in fake surprise, but said nothing. “Do you watch over the dead, or-” I glanced over at the headless, “nearly dead?” I trailed off. As I glanced back at her, I saw her mouth rounding, and I could’ve sworn I heard her mumble “poof” as she winked at me, and disappeared as a particularly shuffle-prone spirit kicked a cloudful of dust in my face. Bewildered, I continued on, this time traveling in the direction the guardian had taken me in.

Main character gets amnesia (candyland!) 530 words

NOTE: “Wow, you’re really bad at this.” Yeah, I know, I originally had it formatted in an actual text editor to black out the things that Srasho’an shouldn’t have remembered, but Scratch doesn’t do that, so here we are. You get all of it.

I began to make my way, pushing through the crowd, and besides falling as I shoved, none of them ever responded. At this point, I was certain Awn had gone the same way, as he probably would’ve been dragged in the same way I was if he’d chosen to go in the other direction. Plus, if all the dead were going in one way, I could probably return back to the living going in the other…right? I heard a crack, but this time it wasn’t a small rock crackling underneath one of the spirits’ feet. It was loud and booming, and came from above my head. I looked up, and saw the source of the sound tumbling straight down at me. Mesmerized and transfixed, I realized too late what was happening, and I collapsed to the ground as it broke against my head, the debris scattering through the bodies of the others.

When I woke up, I was sitting in our boat again. Sleek, white with a red stripe on the outside. This was the Arletta, the first boat I had ever sailed in, in an expedition to the southern reaches of the continent. Right now, I was in Vak Tameer with Awn, staring at me with great concern. His body was all covered in soot and yellow-ish dust from the roads that led to Ksjoridizu, and his left elbow was resting on its corresponding knee, the hand blocking my view from the left side of his face from when I slapped him.

He said nothing to me, just watched silently as I groaned and sat up. He was in a seat, I was on the floor, with my head propped up on a box just across from him. The box smelled foul, and I regretted packing it with sardines and spices. I looked out towards the ocean. A dark wine-blue. I looked in towards the land and saw the beginnings of a giant, lush mountain. Ah yes, the shortest karst we still hadn’t climbed. I could see a campfire on the shore, smoke rising lazily, and three people who I didn’t recognize sitting around it, eating out of a can. I wanted to tell them that the tide might go much further in at night if they weren’t careful, and extinguish the fire, but I had forgotten the advice I had learned and tried to reinforce in my brain so recently. I stood up and clambered out of the boat, cursing as I tripped over the rope. “Who tied this stupid thing?” The world around me was shaking, and I could barely hear the boy as he replied directly: “You did.” It was like I was drunk. Did I drink? Did I pass out? I think I did. I hobbled my way over towards the strangers, hoping they would have the antidote to my dizziness, and one of them ran over to me, guiding me back towards the boat.

“You should get some rest.”

“Why?” He stared at me blankly. “You fell? Awn dragged you out?” I almost mocked him for suddenly shrinking several feet in my eyes, but it might’ve just been the alcohol or the falling boulder.

Messy to clean setting (Boom-boom broom closet) 346 words
He guided me back into the boat, and I fell back asleep, the young boy still stealing quick glances at me. I might’ve woken in the middle of the night when somebody else got on as well, rocking the vessel significantly, but overall, my sleep was peaceful.

I was pleasantly surprised the next morning when our party woke up, and the shore was clean again. No traces of our sloppy fire-making, it didn’t even look like there were any footprints left on the ground. Just the rocks and the water, dipping in and out. I could feel bandages wrapped around my head, and suddenly everything came in as the waves did, jerking me back and forth. Awn had found me, because apparently I had screamed when I was hit by the rock, and carried me back onto the boat. And I wasn’t the one who slapped him, Rikme’an was. The three of us walked along the shore, admiring how untouched it looked. Awn kept claiming he could hear giggling from the bushes, but each time we waved him off, and called him paranoid. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was incredibly touchy (as we’d later find out, it was simply how he acted in the mornings). But after enough times, we gave in and let him guide us to where he heard the sounds. There was no wind, but the bushes were rustling and sure enough, there was the sound of high-pitched laughter. Children, hiding, watching us.

All of a sudden, Awn lunged forward, practically throwing himself at the plants, trying to grab for whatever was in there. He immediately landed on one, who uttered a very profane expression in a language neither of the other two understood, and another sprung out, leaves and seeds still stuck in their hair, sprinting their way away. They clearly knew the terrain better than we did, and they ran pretty fast for a child, so we let them be. Besides, Awn had gotten what he wanted: a beach without laughter, and he’d gotten a traumatized child as a bonus.

Premonition becomes reality (Zura’s booth) 1089 words
I had a feeling that somehow, all of this was going to backfire on us. Usually, societies get a little concerned when they hear screams of sheer terror from their children, and then see their companion come running away in fear without the other child. Awn, in his youthful way, didn’t seem to realize that perhaps this civilization was larger than two children, and had ears, and began to harshly interrogate the younger boy, who must’ve been no older than eight.

“What are you doing, reveling in our confusion?” He shook the child, causing his shoulder-length, raven-black hair to shake, and his eyes to well up with tears. He said nothing understandable, and their exchange continued back and forth for far too long. It took at least five or six questions for Awn to realize that the kid had no knowledge of English, and give up. He let go of the boy’s arms, and he ran off in the same direction as his companion. Turning to us as if nothing had happened, Awn continued on his merry way, investigating the cleanliness of the shore. We waded into the shallow water, trying to catch some fish in a primitive exercise, more for the fun of it than to actually fill our stomachs. We failed miserably, although I did get to briefly touch the slimy, sparkling scales of one before it wriggled quickly out of my hand again.

The rest of the party had already left, trying to navigate around the coast of the island to reach what we now know as the isle’s the second southernmost island, the one that was previously believed to have been the northwestern part of the one we’d just landed on. I cannot take credit for that discovery, I have only been to that place a few times in my life, and every time the mist was so thick that I understand why one would have been fooled into thinking the two islands were connected.

I joined Awn in collecting natural specimens of plants, throwing out all the damaged leaves and stickers from the bush he’d mauled earlier in the day, while Rikme’an started searching for suitable writing material to label our finds and divide it accordingly. If anything, Rikme’an was the older, more mature version of Awn; he had studied more thoroughly in the same field, and was much more quiet, mature, and quick. I think that by this point, he too, had realized that, and it irked him greatly.

The sun had already risen high behind the karst when we heard them again. These weren’t just footsteps, they were clamoring, hushed voices chorusing in anger at a few quick, scared commands. We could see the tops of heads, and hear the voice of children whose delighted and fearful screams we were already somewhat acquainted with. They were climbing up a hill, the top of the crest would lead down to the shore, and was where we had our first encounter with them earlier that same day.

The bush was stepped over, first by a familiar short figure, and then by dozens of older folks, donning silky scarves that billowed in the wind, draped over tunics and leaves that didn’t seem unintentionally stuck to their bodies. The child who had run away pointed at us, the other was nowhere to be seen. We all froze, and though they had no weapons visible, I almost expected them to charge at us. They came together silently, as one, heading towards us. I was hunched over a small flower that grew no more than three feet tall, and Awn had been preparing to cut it. Rikme’an sat behind us, midway through labeling a jar that contained several leaves scattered within.

I did recognize one of the figures, still wearing her white scarf, although the copper chestpiece was gone. She stood near the front and was frowning, although I could see her gaze was clearly directed towards Awn and not I. Someone stepped forward and spoke in a language I did not understand. His face was stone-like, serious, with not a hint of brevity in it, or in his voice. He was inquisitive, not angry. It sounded vaguely like a dialect of Ohmdahran I had heard during the nights, when I stood atop the cliff outside of Piruja. I had never understood the whispers, but I knew they couldn’t have come from anywhere else.

Awn responded in the same tongue, and it horrified me that I had no idea what he was saying. Knowing him, he would’ve told them we were there to discover the secret that they surely protected. But he might not’ve, as the man nodded in response, and asked him yet another question. Awn explained more calmly than I had ever seen him before, making controlled (albeit it very frequent) gestures towards the shores. Once he finished, the man nodded quickly, and he turned towards us, and re-explained his thinking, this time in a tongue Rikme’an and I understood.

He had placed one of his knapsacks containing a lighter, a dagger, notepads, and a family heirloom (although I was not quite clear of what it was at the time, he was being intentionally vague in his language, although there seemed to not be any confusion with the other man) on the shore the night before. When everything was cleaned out, so were his belongings, and when he heard the giggling he assumed the children had taken it. As we would later find out, they did not, the tide came in and washed it deep into the ocean, where it remains to this day.

The man switched to a very broken and archaic English (placeholder while I name my language ), the likes of which I had not recalled encountering since reading simple folk tales from several hundred years ago. He lectured us on the harassment of children, on the assumption of guilt and taking advantage of the vulnerable. Not everyone in the crowd understood him, in fact, only a few seemed to at all. But they all stood in silence, staring at us with unreadable expressions as he continued on. I don’t know when he finished, or what point he finished on, but he invited us back to his village to further the discussion on the children, and something concerning Awn I hadn’t quite grasped. Seeing Rikme’an’s expression, it’s clear he hadn’t either. But still, the Bansorn boy eagerly walked alongside them, so we could only follow, and hope he hadn’t led us to our deaths.

Real to Fantastical (Worldbuilding Workshop) 392 words
(I don’t know what I was thinking when I picked this, I was already writing this all exclusively in my own world)

We headed down the hill for the first time, taking a rather oblique path to the karst. We could see the same crevice Awn and I had fallen down into ahead. When the crowd reached it, they stopped, and instead of deciding whether they wanted to traverse their way in the dark or not, they simply pushed back on the sides of the opening. The walls moved outwards in large cracks, and then they released. The ones who had opened it remained guard outside of the entrance, their faces pallid as they ate what looked like honeyberries to replenish their strength. It was distinctly uncharacteristic of the Itherians to perform Iphilum-styled magic, drawing from their heartbeats, and I had guessed they had not other resin or trapped-based creatures to pull from, which is why the exertion took so much of their energy. Perhaps they didn’t want to intimidate us. I nodded respectfully at one of them in acknowledgement of their effort, although it likely meant absolutely nothing to them. They followed us in, not even bothering to close the massive opening they had made. With natural light pouring in, we could finally see that the gap we’d fallen into was patched, and a narrow walkway to the other side of the karst had appeared.

We exited from the other side, which I didn’t even previously know existed, but now had a similar-styled entrance to the other side. There was nobody standing on the other side, and we hadn’t seen it open, so it was likely they used their own techniques to open the mountain from within. We saw several small, elevated structures on the ground, propped up several feet in the air by wooden logs and stone reinforcements (along with some other material I couldn’t quite make out from the distance). However, the people were not heading in that direction, instead, they turned back towards the karst, and began weaving their way up the narrow footholds along its sides. Several structures were built into the side of the mountain, and others were poking out, their long legs winding their way all the way down to the somehow still partially-snow-y ground.
Gulping, we had no choice but to follow them upwards, trying not to fall to our deaths as I contemplated what other ordeals could be waiting when we arrived at our destination.

Finishing the story 592 words
As it turns out, there was no point in Rikme’an and I going up there at all. Awn stopped about a quarter-way up and asked us why we were going with him to replace his weapons. Indignantly, I turned right around and went back down, but Rikme’an simply shrugged and followed the boy up. The crowd had dispersed and were already back to their daily routines, many on the ground, but just as many up on the karsts. They ignored my presence, rotating around myself like an idiot, trying to take everything in. I noticed the roof was made from a thatch-like material, although it was probably a lot more sturdy than the peasant houses at home, and water-resistant, in order to account for the blizzards and avalanches that would come during winter.

Soon enough, a beaming Awn and his noticeably less enthused counterpart made their way back down, although one did so far less carefully than the other and tumbled at least 20 feet down. Not that he cared much, he was too busy admiring the new, shining replacement that he had somehow talked his way into getting. Once down, he beckoned us ecstatically to follow him back out, and back to Arletta. The afternoon was still early, so we returned to finish cutting and labeling the last few plants of the day. The other crew wasn’t back yet, so we ate half a can of sardines alone, passing it around and each taking a spoonful as we did so.

This was the beginning of the first five months we spent on the island, and the first of eight different trips to this island that I would make. Our food was only supposed to last us three weeks, but our hosts were so gracious that we stayed for much, much longer. Awn almost didn’t leave with us, only resigning to returning home three hours after I tricked him into coming onto the boat and sailing away. I shall not leave you hanging now, so I’ll note that we did not even get to hear about the secrets within this small gang of Itherians until our third trip, in which we learned of several other small villages, littered throughout the island chain. Starting with the sixth and seventh trips back, we began to shred them to pieces, burning every trace of the civilizations as they lost their value to us. I have not yet gotten to touch the keys myself, but I am certain that as I write this, sitting onboard the very old, worn-down Arletta, that Rikme’an is returning with it now. He and a small band of privateers have entered the karst for what will hopefully be one of the last times. I have heard only a few noises from out here on the shore, but other than that it has been relatively peaceful. No one back on Iphilum has realized the extent to which I have succeeded. I have everything I desired for and more, the only thing I am missing now is my own name. But my name lives on here, in the Red Privateers. They, every one of them having studied the Hyratil and understanding my mission, will continue on with my vision. Even if no scholars now acknowledge me, or find me worth remembering, their grandchildren will, and they will curse my name. Their grandchildren will praise me, and thank me for my work. I will have saved the world from complete and utter destruction, and the Privateers will watch, ensuring everything goes according to plan.

Daily 25 144 words

You look outside the window of your home. The bright sun rays shine on the dogs barking outside and people doing their usual morning business.
Suddenly, the sky dims and shadows appear on the ground outside. You look at the sky and see that dark clouds cover the sky. You squint your eyes and see a round flying disk in the air. The disk gets closer and bigger as it flies to your house. You stare with wonder as it appears in front of your yard and slowly lands on the ground. Three people walk out of the spaceship towards your house on a ramp. Your window suddenly disappears and you step out.
“Hello there.” said the person in the middle. She hands me a book with blank pages.
“Welcome to sci-fi! Here’s your writing journal. Make sure to write out of this world.”

july 25 daily, 186 words

the cabin is sci-fi! (i want this to actually happen now)

You open the door as it makes a soft creaking sound. The unusually large library is closed. Not one day in your life have you seen it open. But tonight, out of curiosity, you want to explore. Your gut says that you have to be here.

Tiptoeing, you step in and are overwhelmed by the number of books there are. Your hands are itching to open one, but you move on. At the very end, there is a large bookshelf with just about a million books on it. You glance at all of them and pick out the thickest book. Excitedly, you open it to page 121. Suddenly the world begins to spin.

The dizziness stops. Your mind clears. Standing up, you take a moment to observe your surroundings. You're standing on… nothing. The waves of colours around you seem to resemble a galaxy. Feeling confused, you turn around and see the strangest sight. 3 people are standing there, smiling. The tallest one waves at you and steps forward to shake your hand.

“Hello. I'm (name) and this is (name) and (name). Welcome to the multiverse.”

july 25th - 198 words

sci-fi cabin intro


You walk down the hallway, and notice a white door, a bright glow emitting from the cracks under it. You had never seen it before, but you notice the scratches and the small, torn holes on the wood. Your heart tells you that you should open it, a tugging feeling in your chest pulling you forward, dragging you towards the handle. You reach out and pull open the door, suddenly falling into a darkly coloured void.

Screaming, you tumble further and further down into the hole. The void melted into a galaxy-type space and the waves of colours and stars mesmerise you. You fall onto the ground and stagger to your feet. When you stop feeling dizzy, you observe your surroundings. Large marble platforms surround you, each one with a different type of theme, floating in different areas. Four people stand behind you, and you turn at the sound of one of their voices.

“Welcome to the Multiverse, Skylar,” they pass a black notebook to me, smiling. I take it and flip through the pages, realising it's blank. “That's your journal. We encourage you to write things that are out of this world,” they wink. “Have fun exploring.”