A-Sad-Invention wrote:

Yes I am. GITBC does flashback kinda things, and I do it too. The mc lost someone close to them, same in mine. Fkfkdbgjfjndmddms. Ww2 resistance too, althought mine takes place in Fronce

See there are differences so ur not copying
Hurry up and finish writing it already so when I come back in a few hours u can transfer dumbo

Critique for Brave (@23BraveHeart)

Hi Brave! Here's my critique for your fanfic entry :>
So first of all, I'm going to give a lot of nitpicky feedback on grammar and syntax :'D I'll go over that first, and then cover other aspects of your writing later in the next section.


Grammar and Syntax

The young gryffindor; Harry Potter walked down the path slowly, sparing his aged joints the pain of a faster pace, favouring the quiet and peace that permeated the atmosphere.

Gryffindor should be capitalized, and instead of a semicolon there should be two commas around “Harry Potter” (or alternatively no commas). Aside from that, you might also want to split this sentence into two, since it's a bit wordy and full of commas. Maybe separate the two gerund phrases (the phrases that begin with “sparing” and “favouring”)?

It wasn't at his expect

“Expect” doesn't really work as a noun :') I think the best way to use it would be a verb, as in “he did not expect”, or find a synonym for expect! You can also just do expectations instead (“It wasn't at his expectations”)

Feeling similar to a bubble, the young wizard felt a sudden, visible protection around himself.

The formatting of this makes it sound a bit like Harry himself felt like a bubble. You can rearrange it so that the phrase “feeling similar to a bubble” is at/near the end of the sentence.

The faint sounds of distant screams impinged upon his reflections, and suddenly, he was drowning in the past, memories blurring with reality as crowds erupted the castle at whose pavement, he was already occupying.

There's no comma after pavement! I love this line though heh

Screams filled the air, as students ran backwards, escaping the forces of the Dark, which advanced further upon the Hogwarts Castle.

No comma after “air”!
Also, and this is really more of personal preference here, but I think you don't need a comma after “Dark” and you can replace “which” with “that”. Definitely an optional change, though!

“Kneel before me,” As a distance voice spoke, magic sparked in the air with a high intensity. Whatever Harry stared at through his blue eyes was something he had only seen once before, from a cruel half-man with a cold stone smile, and terrible power.

The first sentence could work better if you ended the in-dialogue phrase with a period instead of a comma!
You don't really need a comma before “and terrible power,” but it's fine this way too :>

as he commanded to his audience.

It would be “commanded his audience” without the “to”

Numbly, the Harry kneeled with the rest of the people, barely able to hear the screams, as he sank deeper into the wells of history, forgotten fears swimming up to the surface, from the depths of his conscious.

No “the” before Harry ;D
I'd recommend splitting this sentence too, it's a bit lengthy.

As the others around him spoke, Harry looked up, hearing words of subjection, place, and suppression, that were the same as ever; words which resonated with the words of devils across the ages, with the speeches and triumphs of men since the dawn of time, and though the words were different, they were the same, in the end.

Normally I'd say something about the sentence being too long, but in this case it works really well stylistically, so I suggest you keep this!

Not of fear,—fear was weak without death at its back—but of pity. He was small, weak, and tired in many ways, young for all that he looekd grown, too young to view life beautifully, to see what was precious, and what was worth only to be seen through the eyes of those meant.

First, you wouldn't need a comma before the em dash!
Also, the second sentence is a bit confusing to me alskjsf – mostly at the end, since I didn't really understand the two words “those meant”
Plus you spelled “looked” wrong :'D

to those who have been lost in the light and wander among the dead lights of the marshes

Hmm, since you used the word “light(s)” twice you can switch it up?

“There are no men like me,” The devil proclaimed. In this, he proved his foolishness, seeking to show himself as unique, as being without compare in all of history, when there were other scores, like him. Others who only stood on the hands of others, scores like the devil with the red eyes and pale skin, and though they were terrible in there wrath and consistent in their rage, they too passed, as all living things pass away with time, and begin anew.

“The” wouldn't be capitalized, and you wouldn't need a comma before “like him” (it works either way though!)

Green as the grass in the mountains

I'm being reaaaally nitpicky with this ^^' but you can but an “as” before “green” or change the original “as” to “like”

As Harry stared the light in the eye, he saw behind it, the other eye. For an instance, his eyes too flashed a green of it's own.

Not sure if I interpreted this correctly, but you don't need the comma after “in the other eye”?
Also, “its” shouldn't have an apostrophe :>

Harry wished to do for another, what the professor, in his death, had done for him. As he grew older, he found himself becoming less cynical, rather than more—by remembering his own sins and follies—. He realized that the wisdom of his professor had far exceeded his own, and in his death, the world had lost something that was wondrous in its magnificence.

No comma needed after “another”
Maybe you can say "in his own death“ to clarify what the pronouns are referring to in the sentence!
I think that the second sentence would be more clear (both in regards to pronouns and otherwise) if you structured it like this: ”As he grew older he found himself becoming less cynical, rather than more, by remembering his own sins and follies. He realized that the wisdom of his mentor ((“professor” is a bit repetitive)) had far exceeded his own, and in ((some other way to refer to Dumbledore))'s death, the world has lost something wondrous in its magnificence."



alsjdflksj sorry for being such a grammar police :')




Other Aspects

In the first sentence, I'm kinda curious why Harry is young, but also described as having “aged joints”

Harry slowly dwindled to a stop

Maybe you can say “Harry's footsteps” instead of using Harry himself as a verb – the word “dwindle” is used best with plural nouns or abstract nouns :>

as the students ran backwards

I don't think it would be really running backwards, but more of running away from

Gasps erupted from the crowd that stood before the figure, as he slowly heaved himself up, his mind his own once more. An old man accompanied the devil, who had been inside him; a mind in his mind and a soul in his soul.

Woahhh love this paragraph!! Especially the second sentence

kneeled with the rest of the people

“People” seems like an overly vague word in this situation, try specifying it a little!

Harry looked at the nearest conqueror, conscious of a feeling.

I feel like this sentence feels more complete if you add an adjective to the word “feeling,” like maybe “a certain feeling” or something! This is definitely personal preference though, it's really up to you.

In this, he proved his foolishness

It's hard to explain, but I feel like the word choice of “proved” is a bit out of sync with the overall mood of the piece? I personally would prefer “displayed” or “demonstrated”
Again, it's up to you; this is just a really whimsical vibe I've gotten ^^'




General Critique

Overall, I really enjoyed reading this fanfic! It had a lot of emotional depth as well as clear imagery, and your writing voice (although quite different from mine) was very enjoyable to experience the story from. This is a bit of vagueness in the characters and objects being referred to, but generally I've got it quite well and I loved the two quotes at the end as well – great job!!

Remember that all suggestions I gave are optional, and feel free to disregard them if they don't seem to work out for your piece ^^

Hey Sandy :] As you requested, here is the critique ^^ I mainly focused on the theme, word choice, grammar and punctuation, plot coherence, and syntax.

(sorry for taking long – I ended up falling asleep after doing half xD also, thank you for the critique you've given me!)
_______________

To start things off, let's discuss about the main theme of your story. I like how you started the story with an introduction about the little girl, moved onto a little bit about her, and then to the actual story part. My only concern is that the story is too faced-paced. You started off with the little girl wondering where her parents were, and then suddenly wrote about the “shadow” and her becoming close. Other than this minor concern, this is a fabulous story! I love your writing style – Keep writing <3
_______________

Next, I'll combine word choice and grammar (and punctuation) together. When reading the story for the first time, I realized there are a lot of conjunction words that start sentences, such as “but”, as well as “and”. There are also a few places where commas need to be added/removed. Last thing I realized I'd that you seem to switch a lot between tenses (past tense, future tense, etc.). If it's alright with you, I'll be editing a quarter of the story, but with different word choices, fixed grammar, etc. This way, based on what I've already edited, you can make the changes yourself, for the rest of the story.


She was a little young girl, maybe around the age of five or six. Short-cropped hair, waddling steps, (I wouldn't exactly add “waddling steps”, because at the age of 5/6, children should already know how to walk, properly) curious eyes, and a perpetually unabashed smile.

Only Mmoments before earlier, she was clutching onto her plush teddy bear, being tucked to sleep in bed, by her loving mother. She was casually Lliving a life that any child would,. What any child should. What every child deserves.

But nNow though, with blisters on her feet and a smile replaced by pained confusion, she saw her watched the world crumblinge before her eyes.

With loud, and angry hisses, the flames devoured the buildings on her avenue.(what do you exactly mean “her avenue” ? the avenue she lives on?) The wooden tiles above her were snapping and splintering by the burning pressure upon them, a sickening sound like breaking bones. (I liked how you used a simile here ^^)

Panicked screams all around (instead of the words “all around”, you can try to use synonyms instead. Perhaps you can use “Panicked screams filled the _____ (streets, etc.), which seemed to form a sound barrier.. ”) seemed to form a sound barrier of sound, blocking out the houses, as the funeral pyre roared blared higher and higher towards the bleak, starless night sky.

Where were her the parents of a five-year-old girl, experiencing a neighbourhood fire for the first time? They were just here nearby, only minutes—if not seconds— ago. Surely they would be cominge back, soon. They had to.! Usually, Tthey would sit around the dinning table for dinner, and breakfast and lunch too,, eat meals, and coddle her and, still singing her those silly songs. All normalcy. What other existence did she know of? (as I said earlier, use a synonym for “existence” )

And s So now, she stood there, wearing a pitiful expression of woe. Waiting. But s She would never get what she hoped; yes, houses could be rebuilt, for they were simply material things. But Though, one could never piece back together and resurrect the charred ashes of the dead. She could not comprehend thisat concept yet.

The flames kept continued to cracklinge, and forcing the girl to backed away. Now trembling, moving further behind the house, she felt the concrete burn below her feet. There didn’t seem to be anywhere else safe for her to stay. And Suddenly, then something brushed against the ragged fabric of her shirt. Something warm. Perhaps A a lick of flames?

When sShe turned to look behind her, but wasn't able she couldn’t to see anything, at first. A sea of black layed before her body, as if daring her to step away. Strangely, it was as if she could feel the fire, even from afar. Maybe she could:; her house clearly was not wasn't the only one burning on the street. But Nonetheless, the absence of light spoke: it had to be something else.

There was nothing. Well, almost nothing. Because dDespite the darkness in front of her, there was still a presence.

“Hello.”

The darkness spoke… the darkness spoke? A quiet voice it was, too.

The child stared in silent judgment silently, in judgement, then before lookeding back at the fire. She could not go back; she could not go forward. So sShe could only stay still.

Time passed. Nothing screamed and lunged for her from the black. (I don't get what this sentence means??) There was nothing in the shadows, behind the shadows, or around the shadows. The shadow was something in itself. (I /do/ love this paragraph though <3)

It was shaped like a person human – each inky particle formed into a hovering fabric of limbs and , fingers, and toes, a torso, and a head. If they were able to form a full-fledged body, Tthey were human enough, if they were able to form a full-fledged body. Wasn’t that right?

Admittedly ( “admittedly” doesn't go with the sentence.) hHowever, something about them, “them” as in a singular being (readers will understand, without having to tell them.) seemed… rather two-dimensional. They were just made out of black and nothing but black. Their head was bare and smooth on all sides, nearly in a perfect sphere. No feature that would distinguish it as a human head. If they bore a semblance of true realism, it would have been terrifying. They were not exactly real,. At least not in the sense of fine detail and tangible existence, no

Who was this shadowed figure?

They came closer, their feet not quite touching the ground. Reaching out their hand, tentatively, they tilted their head at the girl.

“Come on, little one.”

With the lesson of stranger danger forgotten and unsure of what to do, she took their hand. It was warm, surprisingly full of substance. Rather unexpected of a shadow. But tThen, what kind of being was she? (the girl or the shadow?)

With a purposeful glide, the figure turned in to the opposite direction, their image floating and warping (use either one, because they basically mean the same thing) in the dark. They pulled her away from the burning street. Away from her family, a. Away from her past.

Disoriented, dismayed, and full of unspoken questions. (this sentence doesn't need to be added) She only wore slippers. There was nothing she could do. Insofar she could not change her destiny.

She swallowed And then, before lookeding up at the figure that was standing over her, their form displayed in darkness. (you've repeated this sentence too many times)

“Can May I call you, Shadow?”

Their essence twinkling, and the shadow nodded.
_______________

Plot coherence: This story is well-organized. Although there were quite a few mistakes in grammar and sentences structure, the plot elements were well executed. Nicely done!
_______________

Syntax: Last and final thing to keep in mind! I realised you /did/ use a lot of syntax, however, nothing needs to be changed about it
_______________

That's about it! My apologies for taking so long, and also if anything sounded rude ^^

As I said earlier, the story was well-written – good job <33

Daily 7/24

Based on a new idea I've had for a writing project :>
130 words

in these gold and green fields
drops of afternoon sun
falls
and splashes
onto the soul of the earth
streams of liquid light glowing bright

your words do not reach my ears
because the breeze
takes
and carries
the shouts of bliss across the hills
past the winding gate that awaits

the dry soil that I now lie on
under my hands it
breaks
and disperses
into scratchy particles coating my skin
throwing up billowing gusts of dust

the blueberries cupped in your hands
in an instant they
burst
and splatter
like black honey in my mouth
nothing can beat anything this sweet

the fresh scent of our shared world
with grass and berries
drifts
and sinks
into our hearts and lightened souls
i wonder if you love me too

Weekly 4



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




Prompt 1: Begin a story, any way you like, but keep it close to 100 words.

100 words

They are waiting.
They are waiting for my return. I’m their long-departed hero.
My journey had once seemed like a great adventure to me, to all of us. Yet it isn’t just a path of action, but a crossroads of hesitation and decisions. Love, heartbreak, suffering, enlightenment, truth. A collection of lessons, a myriad of experience, an universe of life.
And I’m still not back. Not yet. Instead I’m sitting in this cave, beside the ice, pondering my next steps.
Because I have to finish the cure before I could finally fulfill my destiny as the savior of the kingdom.







1) Boring Rooms - Lounge

Prompt 2: Write at least 200 words, where all the events in your story up to this point have all been a dream.

234 words

No. No, it can't be.
I piece together the shards of broken ice, but I do not register the cold anymore. I do not feel anything.
Why? Isn’t this the final destination, the moment of truth? What else am I supposed to bring back, to save my people from the rage of the plague?
I try again. The ice is supposed to be forever frozen, never to melt or to be destroyed. And yet it is falling apart in my hands, the rivulets of cold water passing through my fingers.
Ice. That was what the prophecy had said. Ever frozen, with the passing of time / Stony seat of power, the clearest ice.
The whole world begins crumbling in my vision. The pool fades from view, and no matter how many times I run my hands inside the empty crater, the water does not return. Stalactites splinter and fall to the ground, stirring up clouds of dust and displacing the boulders on the cave floor. I can only duck for cover under the ledge jutting out of the wall, but soon everything before me is decimated.
And the last boulder falls on the ledge, and everything goes black.

It has all been a dream. I have vaguely realized this from the very beginning.
What other fantasy can a dying boy turn to? There is no hero. There is no cure.
Now the kingdom will fall.



Prompt 3: (Eat or drink water for at least 5 minutes)







2) Bulletin Board - Ranking Boards

Prompt 4: Write for 10 minutes with the prompt from a person in the cabin with the opposite ranking.
@b10_hAzard-’s prompt: two people arguing about how an important event in the past happened

279 words

“It was from a neighboring kingdom. I'm sure of it!”
“No, no, Elaine; don't be ridiculous. It has a natural cause and a natural explanation.”
“I'm not saying it doesn't. I'm saying that maybe Ermonia or Iberland spread it to us.”
“That's true, but what are you going to do about it?”
I watched my parents argue in the other room. Their nerves were high, and it came out painfully clear in their voices. It didn't help that I had the plague too.
Does it really matter how it started? The thought won't leave my head. I just wanted to get better, and not worry about some enemy kingdom waging war on us.
“I just want something to blame,” Mama admitted. “Our boy is sick! Look at him!”
Papa’s voice was thin and tired. “I'm very well aware of that. We're doing everything we can…”
“Are you sure that maybe the Ermons spread it to us intentionally? They've done it before.”
Biological warfare. I didn't know it at the time (how was I supposed to?) but ever since the Mass Conflict, all nations had been on high alert about the nature of warfare. There were chemicals, sure, but now biological viruses and bacteria too.
“We're not in a war with them right now. They've lost.”
“Listen to me, Lewis. You don't know that. For all we know they could be scheming for another war again.”
“Yes, yes, I know. I know.”
The two of them were silent for a moment, and I poked my head through the wall. Papa sat down next to Mama wearily and held her hand.
“We have to hope it'll be better soon,” he whispered.



Prompt 5: In order to unlock the door, stop working on this weekly and write a list of ten awesome things about a person who has impacted you significantly (either on Scratch or in real life), then give it to them.

Done for Misty, 46 words







3) SWC Rooms - Battlegrounds

Prompt 6: In these 200 words, a character reveals one of their main motives is revenge. How do the other characters react to this? What changes now that this is revealed? Keep these questions in mind while you write the 200 words.

232 words

And so I wake up from this dream, my hands still clasped together, trying to hold the non-existent ice. Papa is sitting next to my bed, wearing yet another mask and set of gloves.
I see the somber expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”
He sets his heavy gaze on me. “Your mother’s gone.”
“What?”
Papa pushes me back down onto the sheets. “Don’t worry. She’ll be back; she left a note.”
“Is this about the plague and the Ermons?” I blurt out.
“Yes, and no. This is just a plague, a virus spreading from one nation to another,” he says, with more patience than I have been expecting. “Just like you’ve heard me say. This is nothing normal, but it wasn’t started with ill intent, and everyone is suffering. No matter what the posters tell you.”
“But where did she go?”
“She’s off to the capital,” he replies in a dark voice. “With the horse… and the sword”
“Why?”
“The Society has been doing awfully little for us. Haven’t you noticed? You should have been getting better. Everyone should have getting better. Society people haven’t even started distributing the cure, and they had it months ago.”
“What is Mama going to do?” I ask with a trembling voice.
“Talk with the representatives, and if that fails… I can’t even imagine” Papa’s voice is despaired. “She’s heartbroken at what’s happening to you.”



Prompt 7: In order to fix the rankings, stop working on this weekly and write a list of at least five achievements you're most proud of.

29 words







4) Host Rooms - Kitchen

Prompt 8: For these five minutes, you will be writing so your setting provides an aspect of safety or comfort to your character.

206 words

In a daze, I step out of bed and straighten up. Papa does not stop me.
To tell the truth, it is difficult to live with the plague. To live with the fact that only children are affected, with the fact that my parents are going on with their own ordinary lives. Children provide no real use to the government. Maybe that's why they aren't helping us.
I go over to the table and sit down. The wood was rugged but comforting under my weathered fingernails.
“Do we have food?”
Papa leaps up in a flash. “Oh, whoops, I've almost forgotten. I'll bring it.”
In a moment he brings me breakfast. Porridge. And he threw in some dried peaches too. It smells delicious.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Anything for you, son,” he says gently.
The meal is warm on my tongue. Are the peaches from our tree? They probably are; I can taste the unique scent of the leaves and soil outside.
Behind me, Papa pulls up his chair and sits down. He keeps distant from me – grown-ups can still spread the virus to children without getting sick – but at this moment, his presence and the meal were all that I cared for in the world.



Prompt 9: (Listen to music for at least ten minutes)
Listened to Unbreakable by Sabaton, The Last Battle also by Sabaton, and Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears.







5) Basement - Compilation Rooms

Prompt 10: For 250 words, your character feels a sudden burst of anxiety and this mood is carried through the rest of the story.

282 words

After watching him eat, a look of contentment on his face, I leave my son to his meal and exit the room. Where is the note again? Ah, here inside the cabinets.
For the umpteenth time today, I read it again.
No, no, no. She did not just do that.
Maybe this is a thought I’ve had many times during the 20 years we’ve known each other, but this time it’s special. Elaine is actually heading to the capital, armed? With the intent of confronting the Society in front of the eyes of the world? What in the world was she thinking?
I toss the note back into the cabinet and slam it shut.
If anything happens to her, my whole life will fall apart. Heck, even if she gets into prison, I might not be able to pay the bail. If they allow me to do so anyway. I can’t provide for Jacob and take care of him at the same time. I can’t cook properly, nor can I fix up the taxes and find the right treatments for our son. That breakfast that I fixed up for him was a mere stroke of luck.
But more than that, I can’t stand losing her. I can’t stand Jacob losing her, can’t stand being alone if they are both gone.
I sit down shakily on the armchair and breathe. Just breathe.
I have to do all I can for Jacob and Elaine. Push down the fear and anxiety and despair. But though I can hide them I can’t destroy them – I could only try to stay strong on the outside.
And so I step out: “How did you like your breakfast, son?”



Prompt 11: Read for 10 minutes
I read The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, more specifically the story of The Greek Interpreter







6) Dining Hall - Table 2

Prompt 12: For this activity, incorporate features of Non-fi, Hi-fi OR Real-fi into your writing!

This story is already sorta (alternate) Hi-Fi heh but I tried to make it more Real-Fi by adding more normal stuff in there (library, reading, homeschool)
204 words

“Really good!” he chirps. I look at the bowl; it seems like it’s practically been washed clean.
“Well, I'm just going to clean up here,” I tell him as I take the bowl away.
When my back is turned towards Jacob, I sigh. This plague couldn't have been harder on us. Putting on my rubber gloves, I rinse the bowl and then scrub it with soap.
“Can you go to the library to get me some books today?” he says as I dry off the books.
This has become a daily routine of ours ever since the pandemic started. Well, perhaps not always daily, but Jacob is quite a fast reader, and books have practically become his way of education in this past year (along with my homeschooling him, of course; I think it was a good idea to have gotten a degree in education a decade back).
“Of course!”
I take the list from him. There are his usual favorite fantasy series. And the book on mathematics that I'm planning to use after we finish his old one.
But on the list is also “A Study of Biological Pandemics”
A feeling of unease settles in me. He didn't have to know about this.



Prompt 13: Thank at least three people in SWC for everything they do.
Done for Robin and my fellow Fairy Tales (co)leaders



⊱ ────────────────── ⊰



7) Rooftops - Match field

Prompt 14: In these 8 minutes, the main character dies a sudden and dramatic death.

I couldn’t finish the death in 8 minutes ahlkajs it took me a while longer
530 words

“Alright, then, I’ll go get you your books,” Papa says. I can see the frown on his face. He realizes how sick I am, how clearly my bones are showing through my pallid skin.
“Take care of yourself when I'm gone.”
He leaves.
Perhaps it's just my imagination, but I suddenly feel unwell. I haven't gotten too sick in the past few days, nothing that required urgent treatment or something of the sort, but right now my symptoms from months ago seemed to be relapsing.
So I head back to my room and open the window. Fresh air helps. A little. I plop down on my bed, and close my eyes. I'm kind of tired.

“Jacob?”
I push open the door. It creaks unsteadily, just like it has done for a while now.
Where is he? Probably went off to get a nap. But it's rather early for that.
So far he appears to be fine these days. Maybe even recovering. I know that we didn't have the right medicine or anything, but maybe if we just feed him enough and gave him water, maybe a little antibiotics (that really weren't really available but worked wonders), he would be fine.
When I go into his room, at first everything seems alright. He's breathing normally, doesn't seem to have thrown up the food he had for breakfast.
But then I put a hand on his forehead, and the heat told me what I needed to know.
He's really sick.
The symptoms of the plague were different from child to child. But Jacob, especially at this stage of the illness, would suffer very greatly from this fever.
“Oh, Elaine!” I know she was probably already at the capital, but I needed her back, now.
So I send a telegram. It’s a good thing she told me where she was going, exactly.
Because she needs to be here, now.

The next few minutes, hours, days go by in a blur for me. Papa is leaning over me, handing me food and water and sometimes wet towels. But it is just so warm and stuffy. So uncomfortable too. There is a dull pain in the back of my head, in my throat, in my chest too. I don't know where. Somewhere. As time passes my consciousness flickers.
Then at some point, I come to completely, and I see the face above me.
“Are you alright?”
It’s Mama. Mama?
“Don't worry, you'll be fine. Fine!”
This time it was Papa’s voice, more desperate than anything I’ve heard before. He comes into view as he wipes yet another wet towel on my face, and the look on his face is heartbreaking.
I open my mouth, and whispers: “Can’t… breathe…”
My parents take hold of my hands. I was sinking in closer and closer into the black.
Papa pushes my hair back a little. “I love you, Jacob. Don’t go.”
He sits back, and I see the tears that were trickling down his face.
Mama lets go of my hand too. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you, my dear.”
Maybe I’m crying too. I want to say more, but I can’t – I take a good look at my parents, and then their images sink into the dark.
Goodbye.



Prompt 15: In order to contain the gas leak, stop working on this weekly and do something else creative for 15 minutes.
I drew fanart doodles of genderflipped Monk and TLLH characters :starstruck:







8) Throne Room - GHost Throne

Prompt 16: For this activity, write 300 words describing your character having a sudden flashback of a previous event.

401 words

And… he’s gone.
I come to check on him. There is no heartbeat, no breathing, coming from my boy.
Lewis looks towards me and then back down again. “So he’s really-”
“Yes.”
He inhales shakily.
I continue. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.” Two days ago, I thought that perhaps going to the capital might have helped. The sword was a precation. Everything should have gone to plan.
It didn’t. And this is the price of our son’s life that we pay.
I stroke Jacob’s hair one last time, and conjures the image of our pasts. It was before the war.
Six years ago, when he was still four years old, we took him to the gardens

“Mama!”
We looked towards the source of the voice. There it was, again. Lizard in hand and a triumphant grin plastered onto his face, Jacob was holding a couple of rolly pollies in both of his hands.
“Ugh, not again!” I groaned in mock annoyance, and Lewis laughed.
“What do you want him to do, put it all back?” he asked teasingly.
Jacob divided the bugs between the three of us. Two for Papa, two for-
I pushed his hand away lightly “No, I’ll just take one!”
“Alright then, we’ll each take three!” Lewis decided, deftly picking up the squirmy insects from my grasp and giving one back to our son.
He took it gleefully and stuffed it in his coat pockets. “What are we gonna do now?”
Me and Lewis exchanged a glance. “Oh, nothing,” I said.
“Nothing?” came the squeaky reply.
“Nothing,” I confirmed. “We’re just going to sit here, you and me and Papa, and we’re going to enjoy the view.
It was indeed a beautiful afternoon in late spring. We had finished our picnic under the tree and Jacob finished playing, and so I thought it would be time to relax for a while.
“This is kinda boring,” Jacob whined, plopping down and crossing his legs.
I smiled at him, and looked out across the grassy field. “Oh, you can say that, but maybe you’ll cherish this memory one day. But if you’re really bored, you can take a nap.”
He harrumphed, but was asleep in twenty minutes.
Me and my husband watched over his peaceful doze, and I brought out the extra blanket that we had.
If only we could stay here forever.
If only life never changed.



Prompt 17: Thank a member of the Scratch team
76 words for Zinnea :>







9) Daily team - Birdi’s Booth

Prompt 18: Write for five minutes, take a break, and write for five minutes again.

The pre-break and post-break sections are separated with the en dash ^^
Total 363 words

The memory fades away, and I glance back at Lewis. He's tired, a wreck.
“Come on,” I say quietly, standing up and tugging on his hands.
“I can't,” he replies, gazing down with sorrow.
I don't know if I can, either. But I leave him to his grief.
Maybe I appear like I don't care. Especially compared to my husband. Yet it's all inside. I can't express these feelings of pain outward as Lewis does, but I only stay silent.
That's what I have to do.

As Elaine leaves, I feel a sense of strange calm overcome me. It was so quiet in here. There was only the wind sifting through the window and my own heavy breathing. Crickets too.
This is Jacob. This used to be Jacob. This isn't Jacob anymore.
I swallow. I failed you, I think; my worst fear came true.
But no, I don't want to part with him. What else can I do? Get on with my life as I had for the past year, pretending that everything was fine?
No.

The morning dawns cold and bright. I gaze out of the window onto the grounds, tree barks still sparkling with frost.
“Lewis?”
It's Elaine. She takes a long good look at me, and then at Jacob, still in his bedroom sheets.
“They're coming today. To take the body.”
I give a brusque jerk of my head. I don't want to deal with this now.
“Come on, have some food,”
She guides me to the kitchen, and I sit down. “What do we have?”
“Just some eggs,” she replies wearily as she pushes me a bowl of scrambled eggs. “And toast too, of course.”
I force down my meal, each bite tasting like sawdust and sandpaper in my mouth.
“What time…”
“This morning. Maybe in an hour or two.”
I nod, and she continues. “They'll have to disinfect everything, bring a lot of equipment too. Just thought I'd tell you.”
“How was it at the capital?” I ask tenatively. In these past few days, we were so occupied that I hadn't thought of this question.
She stares at me with a faraway expression, but didn’t answer the question.



Prompt 19: In order to fix the lights, stop working on this weekly and take a 15 minute nap or just relax and do nothing for 15 minutes.
Went to bed right after finishing the writing prompt, so I guess it counts for this







10) Workshops - Character Consistency

Prompt 20: You now incorporate a character from your character's favorite fandom into your story, and writing at least 300 words.

Character is Scilis Raymond from the webtoon series Plague Muffins!
315 words

And so they come. They come with a wheelbarrow to pick up the body, and the simple coffin that Elaine had bought is already there. After a thorough disinfection, they cart him away once again to the crematorium.
“Come on, let’s clean his stuff up,” Elaine says to me, taking my hand and guiding me to Jacob’s messy room. There are his little stuffed animals from when he was younger, but none of us really threw them away, and now they’re still sitting here in this bottom drawer. And his figurine collections are on the top shelf, and then the books are on the bottom three, but I can’t help but notice all of the books that have yet to be returned to the library.
I’m still looking around when I hear a knock at the door.
“Oh, who is this?” I growl, hurrying out of the room.
Elaine follows and looks through the peephole in the door. “It’s Scilis!”
“Who?”
But she had already opened the door.
It’s a plague doctor, with beak mask and all, standing primly on our porch and holding a small basket.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Did you say… Scilis? From Plague Muffins?”
The doctor nods. “That’s what Elaine told me. Am I really just a part of a comic series?”
“This better not be a scam,” I say darkly to the two of them, but Scilis shrugs.
“Oh, I can assure you that I’m real.”
“And how did you get-”
“Into your world?” he finishes with a smile in his voice. “Well, I’m not quite sure myself. In my own world, I still have Malcolm to deal with and an apprentice to rescue, but I suppose I should help you out.”
“But what can we do now?” I ask despondently.
“Much more than you think,” Elaine replies, and I can hear the determination in her voice.







Prompt 21: Nicely tie up loose ends and finish your story with a happy ending. Write 500 words to end your story.

Quick clarification that’s probably warranted by now: Lewis, Elaine, and Jacob’s world is in something of a crossover between 1665-1666 (London Plague) and the late 1910s (Spanish Flu). It’s set in what’s supposed to be England – as you’ve seen in the third writing prompt, though, the European countries go by alternate names.
1279 words oops

A few days later, the three of us were at the funeral.
It’s hard, that’s all I can say. Of course, it’s harder for Lewis, but I can feel the weight of loss dragging us down. Scilis tries to help us, and he’s good at it too – the (non-cure) cupcakes he made are really delicious.
But what we need the most right now is time. Time to heal.
So right now we just wait for the proceedings to begin. Spying his basket again, I ask him what it’s for.
“Tonight, do you mind if I use your kitchen for a few hours?”
It isn’t a direct answer, but of course I know what Scilis means. He’s going to be making more pastries.
But he didn’t stop there. “I’m going to modify my muffins to make a cure for your world.”
“I thought it wouldn’t work if you used your cure for anything other than muffins,” Lewis says doubtfully.
The plague doctor hesitates, and I cut in. “Why don’t you just try using your original muffins? I know that they treat different and usually more serious symptoms, but maybe they’ll work.”
Scilis just nods. Poor guy, he still seems really confused that we know so much about him and his world.
“I think they want us up there,” Lewis tells me, pointing up at the stage.

I guide Elaine up. These days, no one other than public figures and celebrities really holds long funeral services for their children anymore. But I’m still determined that we do a little something.
About fifty people are gathered here in the bright grassy clearing this morning. Jacob’s aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. One or two of his old friends. Neighbors who just wanted to drop by and offer a word.
And so the priest begins. The exact events fade into the reclusion of my memory, but something Elaine says is etched into my mind.
“We can’t forget him. Maybe we won’t be able to bring him back, but maybe we can stop this plague.”
No one misses the implication behind her words. The Society has to do something.

When it was all over, I walked with Lewis and Scilis back to our house.
“A corrupt Society is something we both have in common,” I sigh, and the doctor gives a sad nod of his masked head.
“I don’t know if this gives anything to you. I doubt it really does,” he begins. “But I’m really sorry for your loss. I’ll really do the best I can with the muffins; no more children should have to suffer.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Lewis says grimly. “Here’s the local shop if you want to pick up some baking materials.”
We veer off in a quick detour to the store.
And when we arrive at the house, it’s indeed early evening. Scilis empties all of the flour, butter, and other things onto our kitchen counter, and the three of us get to work.
“I'm not really good with baking,” Lewis says nervously, but with a bit of help, I guide him with the ingredients and the batter.
“We'll take your suggestions for now,” the plague doctor nods to me. “If these muffins don't work, we'll customize them.”
For a good two hours, we make batches after batches. When we’re done, I turn to Scilis.
“Would you like to stay with us for the night?”
He accepts, thanking us profusely, and I direct him to the guests' room. I don't know why we still have one, but I was glad he didn’t have to go to Jacob’s room.

The next few weeks pass in a haze of baking, delivering, and campaigning. While I take the freshly baked muffins all over the city, Elaine and Scilis gather in front of City Hall to protest the Society’s actions. In the first ten days or so they aren't that successful, but soon many people in town find the courage to speak out and join them. It turns out many people were seething quietly with anger, like me and Elaine.
Meanwhile, the muffins did work, much to our delight. Children were quickly recovering from the various illnesses that the plague brought upon them. Though we did not request payment for the muffins, plenty of thankful parents managed to gift us anyways, and we ended up with everything from knitted blankets to classic books to homegrown fruits.
And eventually, we ride to the capital once more. Now the rallies against the Society's actions have grown more widespread, we are becoming more famous. And we make progress. Concessions are made, and despite not having huge progress, lives are still being saved.
For the first time in a while, I feel truly happy.

One day, Scilis turns to us and says that he'd like to go home.
“I'm glad to see that you are all having so much success with this,” he begins. Me and Lewis exchange a look; we know what he's talking about. “But I'm needed back in my world. England.”
“But how are we going to get you back?” I ask.
“Well, there might be a way. I came from the garden somewhere around here,” he explains. “A few blocks away from the Council buildings.”
We hop on a buggy and head there. Vibrant flowers bloomed everywhere, and all around there were people strolling and admiring the view.
”When I first landed, I thought it was so beautiful,“ Scilis said, with a reminiscent smile. ”Of course it still is, but I just thought it was a really welcome break from my work.“
We follow him to a secluded oak tree standing near the edge of a field. ”It's somewhere around here…“
He touches the tree, and suddenly its bark lit up.
”What in the world?“ Lewis exclaims.
”Yes, that's it!“ Scilis says triumphantly. ”I remember the light. Here…“
He walks towards the tree, and then right into it, but instead of hitting a solid surface, he seems to go right through.
”I think I know how to do this now.“
He turns to us one last time and waves. Me and Lewis wave back, but instead of going right in, he scrambles back.
“I almost forgot to give you this!”
Scilis hands me the basket. “I think you’ll like it.”
He steps back again, and with that, the tree swallows him whole.
For a while, I don't do anything, and neither does Lewis. We just stand there, processing everything that had happened, and I suppose savoring the moment in this beautiful place as well.
Eventually, I break the silence. ”Hope he, Lewin, and Barat do great on their adventure,“ I say, smiling. ”I can't wait to see the comic updated.“
”Maybe after all of this is over, we should talk with whoever made the series," Lewis replies, and I'm relieved to hear his old cheer returning to his voice.

We head back to our inn as the sky darkens. The receptionist gives a quick nod as we pass by, and we nod back in reply. When we get back to our room, I take out what was inside the basket.
Cookies. Elaine gasps with delight at the sight of them. There were chocolate chip, peanut butter, macadamia nut, and…
Almond oatmeal.
These were Jacob’s favorite.
And we spend the night munching on cookies and reading and talking. Now with the muffins and recipe that Scilis left us and the change we’ve started in the Society’s actions, we still have a lot more to do.
It’s for Jacob. For keeping his memory alive, for helping the world he had once loved.
That thought comforts us as we drift off to sleep.

Quick conclusion: I loved this weekly – to tell the truth I've never felt more motivated for a weekly in my five-session experience of SWC lol. The story is a bit clunky, doesn't transition well at times, and also has a good bit of inconsistencies, but the concept and plot are pretty awesome when I have time in the future, I'll definitely edit this to be a full-fledged, finished story! This weekly is probably my all-time favorite :>

1429 words
SWC July 2022 – Writing Competition Fanfiction Entry

On a sun-baked field of an arena, the wizard stood against her opponent. The sand was warm beneath her feet, and her companions of fire and ice created a dual environment around her. Cold and hot, cold nor hot, all at the same time. Ahead, a clearly flammable Forest Neek and a Squawks unsuited for ice spells were watching her warily. This was almost over. She’d just have to finish it.

Brandishing her wand, she cast a luminous spell that sent dust billowing from the group. Sparks sprang. Her foes, bearing the full brunt of the starry force, signaled defeat on his turn.

“You have bested me, Amberlight,” he said, voice scratchy from dust.

Cheers and boos alike sounded from the stand. The audience was wild over this victory.

Sylvia Amberlight nodded. She presented a mild demeanor, but was secretly brimming with excitement underneath her blue sunglasses. Now that she had won another victory in the arena (against a wizard of the top 50, no less!) she would be able to advance to the leaderboard.

But her ambitions could wait. First, she had more important things to take care of.

Sylvia headed away from the center of the arena and headed over to where her pets had gathered after the match. Charfoal was looking at her expectantly with wide green eyes, while Keeper was flicking his frosty tail to and fro while waiting.

“Doing alright, you two?”

Of course they couldn’t speak, but both Charfoal and Keeper seemed to be fine despite their exhaustion.

“Great, then,” Sylvia continued, turning away and gesturing for her pets to follow.

She didn’t battle here often. But now that she looked up at the audience, there was something strangely uniform about them. They all stood equal distance from each other, and they stood basically still except for a few twitches.

Hmm. Nothing too unusual. Maybe she hadn't noticed such things before, but Sylvia didn't have to worry about this. After all, why fret over the miniscule details of life?



Prodigy Island was home to a wide range of biomes and territories. The lands of different elements were sprawled out across the terrain: Firefly Forest, Shiverchill Mountains, Bonfire Spire, Skywatch, and Shipwreck Shore. All exciting places. Not only these, but many other locations of note were present on the oversized island too.

One of them was at Lamplight Town – the arena that Sylvia and her crew just exited out of. It was located on the eastern side of town; a grand staircase led down to this popular place for wizards and pets to spar. (Sylvia could not fathom how any spectators went into the arena another way.) Of course, there were the Crystal Caverns, where Sylvia earned some items for health, power, and defense. And in the same general area was the Bounty Board. Wizards could earn quite a few neat rewards for defeating (or adopting!) the wild pets.

But enough backstory to her life. Today was Sylvia’s day in this magnificent world, and she was determined to make the most of it, as she did every day.
So, what to do?

She climbed up the stairs and strolled out of the arena preparation building. The street was not very crowded, as many people were at the town square. Rickety shops stood along the streets, and the cobblestone pavement felt smooth beneath her boots. Sylvia headed towards the town square, but then her foot landed on something slippery, and she nearly slipped before she caught herself.

The object in question that she stepped on was merely a piece of ripped paper, with thin and ragged edges, lying facedown on the ground. From its position and looks, it seemed that it had been sitting there for quite a bit of time.

Maybe it’s somebody’s bounty note, Sylvia thought. It’d be hard and frankly pointless to go bounty hunting without a note. Though it was unclear why anyone would rip a bounty note up…

So she stepped towards the note. Looking at the back carefully, she saw that it seemed safe to pick up, though it was a bit worn from the scratching pavement.

But when she turned it over, it was not the typical image of the bounty note, with the missing pet's profile and reward shown. No, it was just a piece of paper with some instructions written on it.

“Fill out the two-way table based on the following:”

And the table was displayed below, along with additional instructions. Sylvia couldn't make head or tail of its purpose, but she left the note where it was. She couldn't take it into her backpack, no matter how much she wrestled with the paper.

This was strange. Very strange. Normally, fireflies were the most difficult to pick up, and even then did she ever have too much trouble doing so. There was something wrong here… something dreadfully wrong. Yet Sylvia couldn’t quite grasp at the feeling that was creeping up and perching anxiously in her mind.

Dismissing the matter yet again – there was little else she could do – she headed to the Lamplight town square..



At the square there were quite a few people hanging about. Ahh, this was the place that Sylvia knew. The two wheels of daily rewards stood in the back, Scientist Slimerella stood on the lawn, and all was normal. About 10 or 15 wizards hung around the square, and then the Wheeler said that membership was required-

No. She could not go on with this for any longer.

At that precise moment her ignorance shatters.

There was the code. There were the players behind their computers and tablets and phones, children who did math problem after math problem. There were the controls that dictated every moment of every avatar’s life, when they had an ongoing life at all. There was the Membership that the Prodigy company gave to customers in-game in exchange for extra money.

There was the fact that this was a game.

No one else understood. No one knew that this world was not real, that it was just made for the enjoyment of some others.

She wanted to cry, and she could even imagine the tears streaming down her face. But no, she couldn't physically cry in this world on her own command. She could only go on, on with her life that wasn't hers.

What, she thought dizzily, was the thing that had come and woken her up from this dreary controlled existence?

The thought came to her in a flash.

She felt it on her face. The sunglasses. Her controller did not know this, but it was these spectacles that had somehow given her knowledge.
Now, where did she get these? Sylvia reached into her memory, but she really had no such thing as a memory regarding this information

Her desires and the will of fate had once lined up. What was going on in her head was what the rulers above wanted her to think. Perhaps they didn't mean for her to have the capability of thought, but she did it nonetheless. And yet now the truth of Sylvia Amberlight, in the realm of Prodigy Game (and, she supposed, many other worlds) was revealed. When she wanted to do something other than what she was destined to, she had no free will.

So she could only stay here in this world, with no hope of escape.

Alright.

Opening up her map, she pointed to the Academy.

She would continue her dreary existence.

In her mind she could scream. In her existence she could do nothing



In the living room, blissfully cool compared to the summer air outside, a 6th grader was clicking away on her computer keyboard.

“Time for dinner!” her father called, slamming the lid of the pot onto the table counter.

“Wait a bit!” the child called back, and continued scribbling on her piece of scratch paper.

Solve for x. So she would have to had five to both the left and right, then divide both sides by two. Hmm.

“The answer is three!” she announced (rather unnecessarily) as she put the number inside the answer box.

And thus she came out of the Archives of the Academy. She spun the wheel eagerly… and it turned out to just be a few pages. Oh well. The controls were pretty awful today too. Ever since she had gotten those sunglasses from that weirdo NPC, the game had been a bit laggy.

“Come on, Via!” This time it was her mother.

And Via strode off to dinner. She forgot to close her computer behind her.

Daily 7/25

184 words!
Edit: I'm actually not sure whether this is supposed to be Hi-Fi or Non-Fi ahaha

You cover your head as the dust flies into your face. The sun is blazing overhead in the clear blue sky, and you hope that you put on enough sunscreen when you came on this journey. The sand can be hard to deal with.

Skidding to a stop on the lonely road, you park your vehicle in front of the building. A modern one, but inside it displays the histories of all time periods, from the prehistoric era to modern times. The Sahara, the Gobi, the Arabian. This is the house of desert civilization and of desert conflicts.

“Welcome!” a voice rings from the museum, and the front door opens. You see three figures beckoning to you to come in, and so you do.

“This is the Desert History Museum,” the first person, the museum director who had greeted you, explains. "We have artifacts and records here of the civilizations and figures of the deserts. Controversial and morally complicated, perhaps, but all in need of research!”

You nod, intrigued by this place of knowledge and study.

The director smiles at you. “Care to join us?”

oh oops i accidentally quoted my own weekly and put it here
guess this will be a placeholder post then

Word war with @yishujia 7/27

178 words! This is part of the same story as part 1 of my first weekly

Nope. Mr. Monk was still as angry as ever. Sharona tried to calm him down, of course, but he was adamant that the voting should be equal.
Benjy briefly considered texting the Robinsons, but in the end decided not to; voting's going to be ending soon, right?
And it did end. None of the votes for the three maps were equal, though Area 8 had a significant portion of it. Out of frustration, Monk zoomed away on his swivel chair and didn't come back to his computer for a while.
Benjy waited with his mom while they waited for the game to start. “I hope I get a good role,” he piped up. Not something boring. Hopefully a psychic of some sort. Clown would be fun too, for flexing his tomfoolery at all of the other players.
But he blinked in disappointment as he saw that he really got. “Witch?”
“Well, you just told me what you got,” Sharona sighed. “I'm obviously not showing you mine.”
Dang it. If his mom was on the good team,

Sandy-Dunes wrote:

Word war with @yishujia 7/27

178 words! This is part of the same story as part 1 of my first weekly

Nope. Mr. Monk was still as angry as ever. Sharona tried to calm him down, of course, but he was adamant that the voting should be equal.
Benjy briefly considered texting the Robinsons, but in the end decided not to; voting's going to be ending soon, right?
And it did end. None of the votes for the three maps were equal, though Area 8 had a significant portion of it. Out of frustration, Monk zoomed away on his swivel chair and didn't come back to his computer for a while.
Benjy waited with his mom while they waited for the game to start. “I hope I get a good role,” he piped up. Not something boring. Hopefully a psychic of some sort. Clown would be fun too, for flexing his tomfoolery at all of the other players.
But he blinked in disappointment as he saw that he really got. “Witch?”
“Well, you just told me what you got,” Sharona sighed. “I'm obviously not showing you mine.”
Dang it. If his mom was on the good team,

Kinda out of context for all who don't know what it is lol

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

Sandy-Dunes wrote:

Word war with @yishujia 7/27

178 words! This is part of the same story as part 1 of my first weekly

Nope. Mr. Monk was still as angry as ever. Sharona tried to calm him down, of course, but he was adamant that the voting should be equal.
Benjy briefly considered texting the Robinsons, but in the end decided not to; voting's going to be ending soon, right?
And it did end. None of the votes for the three maps were equal, though Area 8 had a significant portion of it. Out of frustration, Monk zoomed away on his swivel chair and didn't come back to his computer for a while.
Benjy waited with his mom while they waited for the game to start. “I hope I get a good role,” he piped up. Not something boring. Hopefully a psychic of some sort. Clown would be fun too, for flexing his tomfoolery at all of the other players.
But he blinked in disappointment as he saw that he really got. “Witch?”
“Well, you just told me what you got,” Sharona sighed. “I'm obviously not showing you mine.”
Dang it. If his mom was on the good team,

Kinda out of context for all who don't know what it is lol

LOLOL trueeee

Daily 7/28

338 words about Real-Fi

As some of you may know, Realistic Fiction is the “worst” or “evil” sibling of the Fairy Tales cabin this session, and I am a coleader of the latter cabin. Despite the friendly cabin rivalry that is so typical of Scratch Writing Camp, however, I believe that Real-Fi is the greatest cabin.

To begin with, the theme of Real-Fi is very well done. A restaurant isn’t a theme that immediately springs to mind when one thinks of Realistic Fiction, but the (co)leaders of the cabin pulled off vivid descriptions and engaging thumbnails for the theme. The color palette is very pleasing and it gives off a comforting vibe, fitting the mood of a typical restaurant very well. Also, the matching profile pictures created by Gee can easily be realized as belonging to the cabin by the palette and art style.

The dedication of the Real-Fi campers is also astounding. I mean no disrespect by this, but to be frank, Real-Fi does not have as many active campers as some of the other cabins. To add on to this, two of their leaders (through no fault of their own) became less active during the course of the session. In the face of these challenges, the remaining coleader and the campers valiantly completed activity after activity to earn points. Because my in-real-life sister is a member of the cabin, I can attest to the fact that the campers worked very hard writing during cabin wars. Several active campers take on leadership roles and gives guidance to the rest of the cabin, which is really uplifting to see.

And lastly, I appreciate the comedic relief that the cabin provides. From the cookies (which may or may not be poisoned) that they send to other cabins, to the arson they commit, and of course the ceiling-eating they do to our cabin (especially by my aforementioned sister, Misty), they bring humor and amusement to the camp.

In conclusion, due to the reasons listed above, Real-Fi is obviously the best cabin of SWC.

Thank you

Daily 7/29

Beginning - a character dies (Birdi)
Setting - train tracks through a field (Cali)
Conflict - that character is known by everyone in that place (Lia)
Climax - protagonist faces someone who has been lying to them (Skylar)
Ending - both characters are dead (Re)

My own layers are here

1014 words!

TW: Two implied deaths.

This is the project I've mentioned in the note of the 7/24 daily ^^
I'm actually not completely done with coming up with names for all of the characters (including the main character of this piece oops), nor have I decided on whether the setting will be fictional or not (much less what it'll actually be), but so far it's inspired by the landscape of Léré!
The ending is kinda rushed but I guess I'll fix it later alskjf
yes there is a DEH ref here

as he falls
the sun-dappled past
falls with him



The letter, crumbled into a ball, was clutched in her hands.

She didn’t know how she got ahold of it. Obviously, she wouldn’t be the intended recipient, but some unknown person managed to forward it to her.

And she couldn’t bear to open it again.

When she first received it, she didn’t what to think about what it meant. Was he imprisoned? Injured, perhaps? Maybe he’d come back after a year or two like the other soldiers taken prisoner by the West. Even if he was captured by the Soviets, there was still a chance.

She could not think of the last possibility. Yet the letter told of exactly just that.



The train tracks were some distance away from the town. Yet on this cloudy June day, this was where she came. She remembered the day where he and the rest of the troops came, retreating east, and then she saw no more of him.

Ever since the occupation ended, she had felt growing hostility from everyone in town. They all knew her. Perhaps it was more of a small sleepy village than a gossipy one, but everyone has been shaped by the experiences of the war. So here she was, in this precarious. And now that she knew for sure that he wasn't coming back, she had to act soon.

Her footsteps rustled the dry plantation of the field. It felt only like moments ago when the two of them were in another field, together. What a beautiful time they shared – brief moments away from the struggles and demands of life.

A small part of her hoped that she would be able to stay once he returned, that the town would be able to regard them with a sense of curiosity but eventual familiarity.

But no, that would never happen. She and her daughter would have to face the world alone. Though it wasn't so obvious at first, she knew that her family had been slowly fraying at the seams.

She had thought of this plan for a long time. Ever since Rosie was born, even. But now, in this empty land she used to love, her hesitance washed away. This was her decision.

Tonight she leaves. Without the baby.



It wasn't such a hard life in Paris. It wasn't that hard to leave her past behind. Perhaps it hurt at first, but she brushed everything aside. This was the best decision.

And so she started her new life. It almost astounded her, how easy it was. She had just applied for a job as a secretary for a company, and was soon accepted. The tasks she had to perform weren't so hard. City life was pretty much the hardest thing to adjust to.

Twenty-five years passed. She saw Rosalie again, in a short but intense meeting. She couldn’t answer all of those questions that her daughter tossed at her, but she did pull out the letters that he wrote before that day in May. And then the last letter, not from him, that she couldn’t bear destroying even after all of those years.



Summer 1998. She was 74 years old, and now she had arguably found peace. Her new life had been modestly successful. She resided comfortably in a nursing home. But something was still missing.

And so she returned. The tracks and the field were remarkably still there, even after fifty years of human modernization. As the bus headed east, she stopped for a while and got off. No one from town recognized her.

She wandered on the trail, glancing up at the flickering sunlight that fell on the ground. The trees were still here, too. A reminder of the picture-perfect afternoon that she shared with him.

Fields of amber called her from ahead, and she quickened her pace. When she stepped out into the full reach of the sun, the breeze whispered something in her ear.

I’m glad you came here, Meg.

It was his voice. How could it be? Perhaps it was the heat getting to her. After fifty years, after all of her attempts to push him from out of her memory…

She replied out loud.

“Florian?”

Yes, it’s me, he replied, and she could hear the amusement his voice.

“What- how?”

It doesn’t matter. I’m so happy for you, for Rosie.

“You left us. You said that you would come back,” she accused. Deep inside she felt her old anger reawaken. There could’ve been a more simple life for her, a more fulfilling one.

His voice was bitter, full of sorrow. I know. I’ve lied to you, to all of you. My parents too. Why couldn’t I have just stayed safe? I didn’t have to die for a ruined country.

The wind was silent for a few moments.

Remember what you said to me? That I had to live in the real world? I hope I did the right thing.

“You did.”

She did not know where she found the conviction. Wasn’t his life one mistake after another, just like hers? But he had to face his destiny, and at the town he did just that. Everything from his enlistment to his death, he had to bear. And he suffered through every moment of his life the best he could.

Now the real question was, did she?

It was hard to answer.

Maybe we both did. We make mistakes, but we keep going. I only wish I had stayed with you longer.

“Don’t we both?”

She couldn’t see him, of course, but she felt a certain warmth around herself. And she closed her eyes, savoring this last embrace.

Goodbye, my love.

And he was gone.



Seven weeks later, she was lying in her bed. The suburbs of Paris twinkled below her window, and she sighed. What a tiring year it has been. The millennium was coming to an end, however, and she wondered what would come in the future.

She switched off her lamp and fell asleep. Before the morning came, she would be with him once more.

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

Thank you

oh sorry i just saw this but np B)

Thank-You Notes!!
Hello everyone! These are my thank-you notes for this session to tell the truth, I wasn't as active as I could have been, and so I didn't get to interact with many people personally. Regardless, I'm still thankful for everyone who participated and contributed to this camp, and I've tried the best I can to write these. Without further ado, let's get started!



First of all, to the hosts, Birdi and Robin! You two did great guiding the camp, and Robin, you did especially well as a new host and balancing all of the duties you took on this session! As for the co-hosts, Bakie and Sawyer, you performed just as well! I've seen Bakie around camp quite a couple of times, and I'm intrigued by the format of point adding that Sawyer did.

Next is the daily team: Lio, Zai, Zura, Bakie, Birdi, Robin, and Sawyer. Thank you for creating the epic dailies and weeklies that we had. All of them were great ideas, and I especially enjoyed the SusWC weekly ;P And of course, thanks to everyone who had created a workshop for the weeklies this session. It's really great that you shared your knowledge with the rest of the camp

And of course, the writing judges: Starr, Robin, Fi, and Sini. As I’ve heard a few times over the past sessions, judging is pretty tough, but it’s great that you’re dedicating the time and effort to doing it! I know you guys have really great skills that you can put to use in evaluating all of the entries you read.



Now, to the other cabins – every (co)leader is awesome and instrumental to their cabin! :> (sorry if I descended too deep into generic descriptions ahaha I tried to spice it up though)

Adventure: You guys did really great in the rankings! I love your matching pfps, and your storyline seems so fun.

Dystopian: The matching pfps by Sai are really pretty – I remember when my pfp was in the same art style during SWC November 2021. I love the palette of the cabin too ^^

Fan-Fi: Amazing theme concept! And the Duck Deity is just - wow :000

Fantasy: I love the vibe that your cabin has – really pretty color palette!

Hi-Fi: The Faire is such a cool theme! I love the immersive experience you put in your cabin.

Horror: Neon Horror is an amazing theme hehehe :p but in all seriousness, a Horror Arcade is a really interesting idea, and you guys are epik siblings!

Mystery: The matching pfps are so cool :0 and the MBTI test was a pretty cool idea for sorting!

Myth: Very cool matching pfp generator! And I love the rivalry with Thriller xD

Non-Fi: Really cool matching thumbnails and theme :cowboy:

Poetry: Woah, I really love the vibe of this cabin! The theme and thumbnail go really well together, and Poetry Mango Lounge isn’t half bad either B)

Real-Fi: I know I already did a whole daily about you guys, haha, but your hard work is really amazing!

Script: Script is a new cabin, but I think the (co)leaders managed to pull off the concept wonderfully, and the theme gives me a really Shakespearan vibe too!

Sci-Fi. Really iconic, feeding your honoraries into a vortex and doing ethical hacking :star_struck:

Thriller: The Rift is a super intriguing concept! (though my feeble brain still can’t quite comprehend it ahha) and Myth rivalry hehe



And then, to the Fairy Tales cabin!

First, Vi and Aspen! I know I've already given both of you a short note for the weekly, but here's a more thorough one. Thank you both so much for being awesome (co)leaders! – it was a really fun experience brainstorming ideas (especially for lore!) with you guys, and you did a wonderful job with the cabin!
Vi, you did everything so well – the art you made for the thumbnails and the matching pfps were super epic, first of all, and you were really great with interacting with the campers too! You're really enthusiastic about the cabin and informing/encouraging campers too and Aspen, you're a really wonderful co to be with! I've already said this, but the aesthetic set and fairy tale prompt generator are amazing! You have a lot of creativity, and it shows in your writing too; I loved your writing comp entry poem!


And then to campers: (in no particular order)

@Galaxy_Awesome: Hey there, Lax! Thank you so much for dedicating so much to our cabin during cabin wars, you helped a lot with all of the wars we received, especially when all of us (co)leaders were asleep, haha. It's been a great time being in the same cabin as you again after last session, too!

@Starthorn: You were in my first batch of campers in my word count group, and I saw how active you were! You're super dedicated to writing (so close to hitting that 100k cap!) and you're really great with finishing the activities. It's been a joy seeing you around the cabin during the session, Starthorn! :>

@Airfairy934: Heyo, J! I’ve seen you a lot in the cabin, and you’re a really fun person :> I’m really happy to see how much you’re invested in our cabin storyline, and the art you’ve done for the lore is immaculate!

@puppycutest: Hi JoJo! Thank you for working so hard on the activities this session – you’re one of the first (if not the first) to get to 100 chapters! :3 also, the writing website squibler.io that you recommended is so helpful :0 I've been using it for nearly every single word war, the last weekly, and my ordinary personal writing all the time!

@Delta_doodles: Thank you so much for being active this session, Delta! And thanks for contributing so much for cabin wars :>

@TheWarriorCat0416: You were pretty active in the cabin and invested in your lore, WC, and it’s cool to see that. (Also, I heard that you’re having a pretty exciting RP with my sister Misty – sounds fun :3)

@BeeBean37: It was fun seeing you around the cabin too, Skye; you’re a really bright camper!

@YorkiesAreAmazing123: Hello Nayeli! I appreciate your enthusiasm – it’s infectious through the cabin

@suburban-darkness: Hey, Fenn! We didn’t get to talk all that much, but it was nice to see your progress on your novel – it looks like you’re pretty dedicated to it!

@Snuggle1267: You joined as a backup camper, but I’m astounded at the progress that you’ve made throughout camp, Ame! It has been great to have you in my word group

@Emma201112y: Em! At the start of the session, you were in my word count group, and it’s cool to see you back! It was great seeing your participation all throughout camp :>



I would finally like to say thank you to every single camper of the session: you have all done a wonderful job, whether by working on activities or just writing faithfully towards your word goal, and it is because of Scratchers like you that this camp is alive.

Apologies if I haven’t included you personally in this note: As I mentioned previously, due to unforeseen levels of inactivity I haven’t been initiating as many convos and getting to know as many people as I should have been, and for that, I’m quite sorry. That combined with a lack of time caused me to cut this note short alsdkfj – but please know that I think everyone here in camp, both the (co)leaders and campers, is amazing!

And, well, that's it for the session! I hope you have a wonderful rest of summer (or winter, if you're in the Southern Hemisphere), and I hope to see you in November! Personally, I probably wouldn't be applying for (co)leader again next session – my class schedule next semester is just a bit too demanding! But I will definitely sign up as a camper, and it'll be really fun to see you guys around :>

Sandy-Dunes wrote:

But anyways, some updates on my summer plans, since I really can't think of anything else to put.

So that's all! I know that these plans are too ambitious and I'm probably going to fail half of them, but oh well, it still might be nice to have big plans.

hey, I actually managed to finish much of this before the first day of school, very nice.

Dead Soldier's Waltz

Short unedited piece inspired by the Sabaton track of the same name. It's HIGHLY RECOMMENDED that you listen to it while reading.
Hopefully I'll get around to editing this sometime!

A dead soldier lies on the barren earth of No Man's Land, one of many left behind in this forbidding place. The sky is dark, the land is somber, and the souls of the lost remain trapped in this mass grave. The wind sings a mournful elegy for the fallen, as their last breath silently departs their bodies.

And then the wind picks up.

The ashes of ashes, leaves, glide and tumble. Souls rise, spirits soar. The gravel is swept away by the triumph of these fallen heroes, who had braved so much in their combat.

Their alive comrades see it too, the final farewell sent by the lost. They lived life, laughed, and now they remain.

For as long as we live, we will remember.

A sacred oath, swore upon the lands tainted with blood.

Courage, hope, innocence, these things will never quite fade in the face of darkness. The world just has to recognize it.

And now, the ghosts are at peace. Like doves, they spread their wings and soar into the recedes of the lightening sky.

interestingggg ig also I auditioned for Les, I just had to sing a bit of King of New York with other ppl, and nothing else, so idrk if I'm getting in

A-Sad-Invention wrote:

interestingggg ig also I auditioned for Les, I just had to sing a bit of King of New York with other ppl, and nothing else, so idrk if I'm getting in

coolio