{October 17, 2014. (Spy/operative school)
(Begin a story anyway you like, but keep it close to 100 words.)
Argent (Silver) sat in the room he shared with his group, perplexed. If it had happened again, what did that mean? Was his group doomed? He scanned the space, wondering why it had to have happened just as he was beginning to belong. He had felt safe, but now that secure feeling was all gone. Sighing, he reached for a book, but stopped. What was that noise? He turned around, suspicious, and stopped, horrified. It was a bomb. In their room. he surged forward, pushing everyone out of the way and kicked the bomb into the hall. And it exploded, throwing them against the walls.

(Something feels off. One of the characters doesn’t feel genuine, and it feels as if they have ulterior motives. In these 200 words, a character reveals their main motive is to gain something. How does the character reveal this, and how do the other characters react?)

After the blast everyone was shaken and disoriented. Seemingly except for Ignavus (Coward), another student in his group. He seemed to be just fine. He frowned, suspicious, but didn’t have a chance to say anything because their teachers burst in.
“WHAT WAS THAT???”
“WHAT IS THIS???”
“YOU ARE IN GIGANTIC TROUBLE UNLESS YOU CAN TELL US RIGHT NOW!!!!”
“THIS BETTER NOT BE ANOTHER ‘SCIENCE EXPERIMENT’ YOUNG MAN”

The last threat came from his poor science teacher, who had been duped by Argent’s group into giving them access to dangerous chemicals too many times to count. Sure, it had given them a way to stop anyone from hurting themselves during the many attacks on the school, but the poor guy really never could stop blaming himself.

Argent shook his head. “No sir, not an experiment. There was a bomb in our room. Not by our doing.”

But Ignavus spoke up. “‘Not by our doing.’” he mocked. “You guys do realize that by saving the school so many times, you’ve become prime targets?”

Argent’s other group-member, Fidelis (Faithful), spoke up. “‘You’ve become prime targets.’ Are you leaving?” then she gasped. “YOU SET IT!” She yelled. “YOU IDIOT, THAT WAS WHY YOU WERE JUST FINE AFTER THE BLAST! YOU WORM, I’LL-I’LL-”

Ignavus smiled sickly. “Yes, I did. And even though we didn’t succeed this time doesn’t mean the next will. See you!” and he swung up through the skylight where they saw a chopper waiting.

(something I can’t remember about writing 8 minutes of a character being betrayed by their cousin)

After that disaster, Argent sat on the balcony and sighed. I just need my cousin to come. He’ll talk it out with me and he’ll understand, but he’s always late. Like this time. He sighed again and went back to seeing how far he could swing his legs when he heard a thump behind him.

As Argent turned around, he observed, “You- are not my cousin.”

The man, decked out in full armor straight from the enemy, sighed. “Yes, I am.” then he took off his helmet and said, with a completely straight face, “Aaaaaaargeeeeeeeent, I am your couuuuuuuuuusiiiiiiiiin.”

Argent snapped at him. “THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR GAMES.” then he groaned. “I’ve been telling you everything for months- you were with them the whole time?”

(For this task, you must change an element of your character’s world to a fantastical element. Make sure the change feels natural and supported by worldbuilding. This must be at least 300 words.) (I did not worldbuild ack- well let’s see where this takes us, I can always tweak it later)

His cousin, whose name was Iniquum (Flawed), by the way, grimaced. “I didn’t want to, but essentially, yes. They grabbed me a few years ago and gave me this,” he flicked his hand and a portal opened up near them.

“What?” Argent managed to gasp out.

Iniquum sighed. “Yes. Portals. I can call them out, but I can’t always control where they appear or lead to. That’s why I joined them, their experiment on me years ago needs to be controlled, and they know the most about these… powers.” he said the last word like it was pure poison straight from Hell.

It made more sense that his portals were from experimental serums, but Argent couldn’t figure out why Iniquum was revealing this to him. And he voiced this. “And why- why are you telling me…” he couldn’t quite finish his sentence. I still don’t want to believe he lied to me- I’m an idiot.

His cousin smiled sadly. “So I can do this.” he lashed out and grabbed Argent’s hand before jumping into his portal.

Going through the portal was like being tossed in a washing machine set on ‘Extreme Sensory Overload’ neon lights flashed, space shrunk and expanded randomly, heat and cold mixed together into one congealed wrecking ball of confusion. To make matters worse, he couldn’t scream, and that alone made him panic like crazy. And the neon lights. Did he mention those? They burned into his senses and eyes, making him want to rip his skin off. He knew he’d never be able to bear bright colors again. The portal continued to rip his senses apart little by excruciating little for what seemed like days, until just like that, it was over. His scream finally let itself out, and he curled into a ball, trying not to fall apart in front of Iniquum. After gathering his senses and half -convincing himself he was fine, he stood up.

“I- That- What is this place?”

“The stronghold.”

(We love it when a setting makes characters feel comfortable and safe – - we need more of that in our lives! For these five minutes, you will be writing so your setting provides an aspect of safety or comfort to your character. It could be any aspect. Maybe the constant moon comforts them, or this specific object in the setting! It’s up to you to decide, so be creative!)

Argent was in a cell in the Stronghold. It was a pretty nice cell, to be honest, a bed, sheets, some water, but Argent didn’t care about that. He was alone and betrayed. And still 100% overloaded from the portal. He fought to keep his eyes dry and his emotions under control, a horrible job to be tasked with. His eyes still had the neon lights ingrained in them, and he could feel the awful burning from the portal. He glanced around, trying to calm down, and saw a stuffed animal in the corner of the bed. It was an odd thing to have in a cell, but Argent recognized it and gasped. It was his favorite stuffed animal, Puzzle! It had a note from Iniquum, saying, “I feel sorry for betraying you. I stole this from your things a while ago- here. I’m sorry.” Agent grasped the animal and opened up, whispering things and crying into it. It helped, and he felt a lot better afterward.

(You know when you have sudden memories of past events? When characters have them, they’re called flashbacks. For this activity, write 300 words describing your character having a flashback of a previous event)

After calming down, he breathed in the scent of this beloved toy and suddenly was transported years in the past, when he was just a baby. He could hear his father and mother chatting amicably in the corner as his cousin held him. He remembered feeling safe and protected as his cousin leaned over and whispered, “I’ll always be here for you.” into his ear. He had trusted him so completely. He had felt safe. Now all he felt was betrayal. As his emotions mixed around and converged, the scene changed.

He was 7 years old now, and Iniquum was teaching him to draw and read at the same time. Argent’s parents never had much time for him, so Iniquum had become like an older brother to him; as for the drawing instead of throwing or biking? Argent wasn’t really that kind of boy. He spent his days inside, studying and drawing and reading with Iniquum right there next to him. His cousin was his second half. As the vision faded out, Argent felt an overwhelming sense of loss to fit right in there, next to the regret, betrayal and the feeling of needing to ‘barf rainbows’. As the scenery shifted into yet another memory, he felt every emotion at once. And that was rarely a good thing.

As the last flashback hit, It brought a wave of emotions with it. It had been a tiring day after Physical training in the school, and Argent hated himself for disliking the class as well as being the worst at it. “I never do as good as the others, and I never progress at all! I’m so much better at reconnaissance, and I hate the class but I need to get better at it…” he sighed, more than a little depressed by his failure. Iniquum looked at him and smiled thinly. “I was never top of my class at P.E. either. I always was last, but look at me now! I can do what I love, what I’m good at without worrying about the little things. That’s the key to success.” Argent remembered feeling better once he knew his cousin messed up sometimes too, because for him, his cousin was his biggest role model. But when the picture faded out, Argent felt ready to cry again. He had given his brother so much information that day… he almost lost it again, then straightened. He laid back on the cot and closed his eyes, tired and ready to leave the world behind for a few hours. Within seconds, he had settled into restless sleep.

(These are some of the fun genres! For this activity, you will write for five minutes, incorporating Dystopian, Sci-Fi OR Thriller into your writing. Make sure to include features that define the genre, but you can also take your own spin on common tropes in the specific genre. Feel free to try something new!)(new? Lol nope)

Argent was rudely awakened by a guard of some sort who roughly pulled the boy up by his now crumpled beyond repair shirt collar. “C’mon, boy. Get up. The Brigadier wants to see ya.”

5 minutes later, Argent was fully awake, and fully in shock. “DAD??? WHAT???? NOT AGAIN!!” were the words first out of his mouth, followed closely by a litany of “Notagainnotagainwhymewhyeveryoneelsecan’teveryonebejustwhotheyseemtobewhy” His father, whose body consisted of several mechanical limbs and was mostly flesh, looked concerned.


(Your heart beats faster, as sweat beats against your palms. Have you ever felt a sudden burst of anxiety? For 250 words, your character feels a sudden burst of anxiety and this mood is carried through the rest of the story. You may want to use heavy amounts of description and inner thoughts to convey this mood.)(welllllllll. Already kind-of covered this in the last paragraph…)

Argent’s head was racing. My father is with them, my cousin is with them, I wouldn’t be surprised if my mom jumped out of nowhere all “Hey, I betrayed you too!” He tried to bang his head on the nearest wall, but only succeeded in shakily resting his head against it, suddenly needing the wall for support. Deep breaths wouldn’t work, he realized, this was not a place that he could afford to relax. He could see his father out of the corner of his eye, but ignored him. The git could find a different son. Argent was not this traitor’s son. All he wanted to do right now was curl up in a ball and cry, but he knew he had to rise to the challenge and face his father. He slowly turned around and calmly announced, “give me 5 good reasons that I shouldn’t hate your guts.”

He tried to calm down a little more as his father immediately went into full panic mode. “Uhhhhhh-” he stalled. “1, I’m your dad, 2, I am not very hateable, 3, I have you surrounded, this might not be the best place for hate, 4, ummmmm- I can show you everything and go all around this place, and 5, I could probably kill you pretty quickly if I tried.” Argent probably could have ripped apart all of these lame arguments in one slice, but stopped himself. The last one… “Then can you? Show me around?” he asked, expecting his dad to be suspicious. To his surprise, his dad looked grateful. “Yes, son. Of course I can! Come on now, we’ll start with the Laboratory.” Argent stared after him, a little disbelieving, but shrugged and followed him. The sooner he got out, the better.

(Cliche but classic is the ‘chosen one’ trope. Many fantasy books have this trope, where the main character is the ‘chosen one’. With at least 200 words, describe the moment your character is revealed to be a ‘chosen one’, whether the person to fight a villain, to go on a quest, or to do an everyday task.)

Argent trailed behind his father as they went through room after room, not really caring about anything but the exits that lead only to more useless rooms. Eventually, they came upon a largeish room that Argent’s dad pulled out a big silver key for. Holding a finger to his lips for silence, he turned the key and let them into a room that was surely bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Inside, however, was a teenage girl that somehow looked like the boss of this hold. She jumped down from the chair and walked towards Argent, her confident strides asserting clear dominance.

“Well done, Mechano. He’s a fine candidate.” Argent’s dad shrinks a little and nods. “My own son. You couldn’t find another,” he trills nervously. Argent can’t believe he’s scared of someone a half of his age, but his dad leaves and closes the door behind him. The girl and Argent were alone.

“You’re Argent, I take it?” The girl is overconfident that she can scare him.

It isn’t working. “Yes. What do you want from me?”

5 minutes later, he’s standing in front of the school, tasked with an impossible choice. “Betray your friends over to us. Or die.”


(Leave your story unresolved, with a cliffhanger. Write 500 words to end your story.)

After a very shocked Fidelis looked over and escorted an extremely betrayed, disoriented, and overall crappy-feeling Argent to the headmaster or boss, (insert). He debriefed on what had happened to him after Iniquum took him, leaving out the part(s) about him being so dizzy, disoriented, shocked, confused, overloaded, guilty, and tired (he hadn’t slept in days). After finishing up and taking some Tylenol, he stumbled off to bed, and tried to forget that the world was around him.

When he woke up, his problems all came crashing back down on him. Crushing him. Choking him. Drowning him in pain and regret and guilt and lights and shadows and- and- and- He managed to make it downstairs, tripping over his own feet not once, but five times, enough for his friends to see that something was wrong, because

“I mean, you’re clumsy, but it takes severe talent to trip over pure thin air 5 times in as many feet,” Fidelis observed as she picked Argent up off the floor. Argent flinched away, feeling guilty that they considered him unthreatening after the kidnapping/threatening/betrayal proposal. Fidelis frowned a little, just enough to look concerned. “Just what I mean. What’s going on, Argent?”

He slid into his seat, trying to avoid eye contact, and managed to smash his hand in his oatmeal instead of on top of the table as he lowered down. By then, everyone knew something was wrong. All of his teammates looked at him expectantly as he hurriedly wiped his hand off and resisted banging his head into the table for being such an idiot.

Fidelis growled. “Tell us now, Quicksilver, or I swear-” Her sentence was cut off by a loud explosion just outside the hall. Argentwent into full panic mode. I bet they bugged me but where… he checked himself all over, then realized the one place no one would look. My hair. No! He pulled the metal disk out of his brown mess of a hairstyle and crushed it under his foot just as the enemy busted down the door to the cafeteria.

“My, my… Argent, it seems like you’ve betrayed your friends whether you chose to or not,” The leader sneered.

Fidelis looked at him in utter disbelief. “YOU BETRAYED US???” she yelled, furious.

Argent frantically searched for an explanation. “No- I- She bugged me- I mean yes, she offered but I can’t do that and that was why I was so weird today I just hate my stupid LIFE!” he managed to blurt. Her glare softened, and she nodded brusquely. “Okay, you’re off the hook, but we are NOT going down without a fight.” The latter was directed to the leader, who shook her head.

“Sorry gal, but we’re taking over. You can’t tell us that today!” she giggled, and Argent felt sick. He was sick too. Right in front of everyone. He could see Fidelis fighting back a heave of her own. Everyone looked scared. And at that moment, the hall went crazy.

“You turn around and see your girlfriend/boyfriend & parents dead.”

Aaron had managed to crawl under a table as the bomb exploded. He pressed his inhaler to his face and tried taking deep breaths, but his stupid racing heart wouldn’t listen. After the smoke cleared, he stood up and ran over to where his parents had shoved him from.looking around, he suddenly stopped.

“No.”

He ran outside desperate for air. And there. By the front door, probably opening it when the bomb went off, was his girlfriend, Elizabeth. Limp. Burning hot. Steaming in the frosty air. He let out a choked sob, and fell to his knees in the yard. What should I do? What do I tell her parents? What’s going to happen to me? He hefted her body and set it next to his parents’ just as the police came. He answered questions that he couldn’t hear, was comforted by strangers he didn’t know, and was bundled into an ambulance to be checked out for any injuries. He didn’t care, and he wouldn’t for a long time.

Argent is special because he’s been through so much at the hands of family, friends, and trusted ones. First he was betrayed by Ignavius, a friend of his, then he was betrayed by his cousin who then bugged his only source of comfort. After a few more plot twists that will soon be coming because I haven’t written that part out, he discovers that one of his parents is the leader of one of the most well-known strike teams in the enemy’s organization. He feels the extreme need to stay trustworthy to his friends and family so that they don’t ever feel as betrayed or threatened. Teenagers and preteens are his weakness; he understands their need for some space and respects their preferences. He also is not the best with little children. As he doesn’t have any romantic attraction or intent to marry, now that he runs the organization and school he basically is every 10-18 year old’s father. You walk through the door, he takes a look at you, and goes over for a talk. He keeps careful watch over sibling and cousin relationships, and often gives them exercises to strengthen the trust between the two in question so no one gets betrayed.

But on that note, he often is seen looking at pictures of his family and sketching out group pictures of them all together. He makes at least one picture of the elements of his young life under fractured glass a year, and the elements of this picture change every year as he reflects and cries about all the awful things he saw. He’ll never see his family again without having to desperately try to block the stains of what he dreads on them, and He cannot be near Neon lights without feeling as though he needs to rip his skin off.

Total of 2,951 words ;D

That Morning:

“We need that thesis on the psychological long-term effects of PTSD printed out now. And while you’re- You! You there! Yes, go grab the search team, they just came in through the gates, we need a report now.”

It’s like they disappeared off the edge of the planet. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s no trails, clues, or signs of struggle anywhere they could have gone. So whoever or whatever took them, they were very thorough.

As Darren scooted out the door, Argent sighed and picked at the papers, feeling lost.

To his surprise, he got so many more things done for that day than he’d usually do in just an hour, it was almost scary.

That was when he heard whispering. Darren. He immediately thought. He listened closer.

“You still have them?”

“Yes. They have not given up hope on their so-called ‘family’ here, but they are breaking. We will have them soon.”

(!@#$%^&*)(*&^%$#@!) (do not curse, kids, adults have no self-control)(even though he’s only 18-20, haven’t decided yet)

readingCat11 wrote:

WAY OVERDUE WRITING COMMISSION!!!

Author's note at bottom.

Viola put down her finished college homework and saw that she had around 30 minutes before midnight. Hey- it’s not *quite* 12:00 yet… enough time to see what’s on the news! Switching the screen on the quietest setting, as to not disrupt her roommate (who was singing… really loudly. In the shower.) searching around for the remote, she spotted it in a flowerpot. “Why is that there?” she wondered aloud. Noting the security camera that was strangely required in every home, she laughed a little, waved at the camera, and sat on the sofa to flick on the news. Except… what came up was certainly not news. Not by a long shot. Her face immediately started burning when she saw a video of herself from yesterday, alone in the house after finishing homework.

Sun was out at a party, and Viola felt lonely because she hadn’t been invited, and didn’t really want to go because of an attack of social anxiety. She put on her favorite music playlist and started dancing to it in the living room. Even the slow waltz music- the focus of the clip- was danced to, using a mop as her partner.

Viola barely heard Sun walking out of the shower until the crash sounded. Whirling around, she saw Sun standing next to a shattered coffee mug, a horrified look glued to her face. Turning back to the TV, Viola saw a video- of Sun.

Sun was feeling awful that day, as she had just gotten the news that her big brother had died in action. She had cleaned and recleaned the apartment three times, trying to lose herself in work, destroying her work in a fit of rage and despair, and cleaning it up in sorrow. After one last fit of this, she put on the radio, trying to drown herself in something- anything. She sat, and tried to close her eyes to the song, but it was her brother's favorite song. Fresh tears dribbled down her cheeks and she remembered the silly dance that her brother loved to do to this song. Getting up, she sauntered through the steps, her load lifting with every step. By the end, she was crying even harder, but with mixed happiness and sadness. She was still a wreck, but it would be okay. Mostly.

Viola knew how much that song and dance meant to her roommate. Getting up, she hugged her, turning off the TV as she did so.

“It’s okay. They’re cruel, and I don’t know how they got the footage, but we’ll-” she trailed off when she realized that- she indeed knew where they got the footage from. She took the camera from its spot on the wall and squinted at it. Her reflection squinted back from the shiny black glass.

She shattered it on the floor.

Sun quickly spoke up. “We need to destroy the rest of these.” flicking the TV back on, she gestured to the man on it, he was crying while watching The Lion King. “Everyone is getting humiliated.”

Do we really need to do this?? Viola wondered. Or do we just go on and let someone else do it? Out loud, she voiced, “There are hundreds of cameras. How would we get to them all, let alone smash them?”

Sun thought for a moment, contorting her face into a philosophic pose. “We- we could-” she exhaled loudly, not quite a sigh or huff. “I don’t know. But we have to try!”

Do we have to try? Why do we have to try? It was a hard decision. But she knew what she had to do.

Viola sighed. “Fine. But still. How will we do that? It’s not like there’s a magic button we can press to EMP only the surveillance- stopping, she gasped. “The cameras- if I can trace their source back to the processor, we can shut it d-”

Banging on their door interrupted her sentence. What the- her blood ran cold.

Everyone knew about the mean men that would steal you away if you did something wrong. It was like not knowing what breathing was, or how to see. Many times these men dragged people away from their homes on any and all pretenses. Said people never came back. It wasn’t really scary- that is, if you followed the rules. People who broke them got captured. And honestly, though everyone wondered how they knew where, how, and when a person committed a crime, no one questioned the cameras. Anyone who did was taken away. There was no other reality.

The banging got louder, and by now, even Sun’s face got pale. Viola’s heart raced. What do we do?? Help!! What do we do???? The banging turned into crashes as the guards started crashing in- then Sun grabbed Viola’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Viola asked as Sun shoved a backpack full of granola bars? Clothes? Was that her missing hoodie?

Sun checked her bag, then tightened Viola’s as the crashing/banging noise gradually increased in volume. ”Survival bags. I made them if we ever needed to run away like this. They have everything we need, so grab your computer so we can hack into that button, and follow me through the shortcut.”

Viola numbly carried out the task, still processing what was happening, until the crashing noise amplified, and sent her running. She caught up with Sun just as the darkly clad males burst into the abode violently. The last glimpse Viola caught of her old home was with wood, men, and sawdust everywhere.

(That escalated from smol and cute to diabolical fast, did not mean to do that but love it anyway Soooooo- yes I took too much time on this, I’m posting it now because it’s waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too late, I wanna get it out on time, and I have a LOT more to write. There’s a higher power flexing its hand on this little society, and they have some things to discover before this is over. Again, I apologize for the wait, and will have the next part out by tomorrow/next day. Thank you for being so patient, I admire that ^^” -Kat!)

926 words so far, still counting

I love Cabin Wars. they’re fun, awesome, and challenging. And kinda scary, heh. (I’m watching too many vlogs, sorry) but there are pros and cons to them, like how the shield needs to be maintained by sleepless kids that live on the OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE WORLD and assume that everyone else lives in the US.
I have lists of Pros and Cons here, and at the end, I’m going to write a persuasive essay based on our data!

Pros:
Fun
Challenging
Brings Cabin together with teamwork
Gives you extra words
You can ask for wars, (I THINK?????) and they’re all really fun
BeTrAyAl Is In ThE aIr DD
It’s just really satisfying to type out a comment saying “you have been warred uwu >PPP”
It’s just really satisfying to type out a comment saying “500 words written, war is won uwu DDDDDD”
Satisfaction is immediate

Cons:
Lowkey scary haha
Challenging
Procrastination
Just like word wars (but more large-key and exciting!!)
I didn’t see that many people participating in them last session, and only like 7 people, the only ones I knew, were writing the comments saying, “I wrote blahblahblah, blahblahblah words left”
If you aren’t refreshing the page at least 20 times a minute, someone could beat you to finishing the war and that gives you a sense of uselessness and frustration

This morning, I woke up. Surprising, right? But even more surprising- everything was upside down. I rubbed my eyes- what the heckkk- are my eyes not loading??? Of course, it was no secret that my eyes were- odd. I needed varying lens sizes depending on the day, but nothing like this had happened before. I groped around my bedside table, grabbing what I hoped was my largest pair, and slapped them on. They fit kinda weird, and fit over something that I assumed was like a headband or something. And didn’t help. Just then, my mom called me for breakfast, and I ran down (or up?? Everything was still upside down) the stairs before my older brothers ate my pancakes.

I noticed some odd looks at the table, but shrugged them off, spending my precious time guarding my pancakes from my brothers and ruminating on the upside-down situation. Such as, how am I on the ceiling? Why is my hair not falling down? Why was all the furniture up here? I mean, I could see the lightbulb here, and that the windows were upside down, but the rest of the house looked the same on all the walls, so it was hard to discern up from down. But literally everything was upside down. As I finished my breakfast (with little-to-no pancake stolen )))) ) I quickly ran into the bathroom. As I stared in the mirror, everything was clear.

I had fallen asleep with a new pair of prescription glasses that the doctor was trying out! Because I was having a really hard time seeing that day, I had put them on upside down, and by putting my thickest pair of glasses on top, I had essentially jammed the part of the glasses into my nose, making my vision from both eyes overlap. I quickly fixed the glasses (okay, it took awhile) and suddenly everything was right side up. I was honestly relieved. As I heard my mom answering the phone, I suddenly remembered that I still had a strawberry on my plate left. As I heard cackling from the kitchen, I opened the door and ran out yelling, “PETER YOU BETTER NOT YOU-”

Dear Fan-Fi,

I really don’t know where you were going with this. Really. Your description, your demeanor, they don’t MATCH!! Your theme is mysterious, but you act casual, your plot and/or clues to any plot are nonexistent, and I don’t know where you were going with this. It IS a cool concept, but it’s very… obscure. I may have gotten something wrong, but aren’t you supposed to match your theme to your personality? You should have switched to something less- ominous. I feel that there should be more to the story. Or maybe you’re just giving me amongus vibes. Whatever. I’ll see you around, and FYI- even if we’re friendly, that doesn’t mean we won’t crush you!

Dear Lost-And-Found Horror-

GHHHHHGH, YOUR DESCRIPTION GIVES ME THE CREEPS! Your theme definitely matches my idea of Horror. I absolutely love it. Buttttt- YOU ARE DOWNRIGHT CREEPY! CHILL! You have- a bit of a problem of being- ghost-y. I need privacy- no more popping out of the seats when I’m trying to watch a movie, and then asking what a movie is! They are literally my life! Also- from what I’ve learned from our formal “alliance dinners”, you like 5 course meals and snails. I am allergic to snails. Why. but- aside from that, you’re pretty cool. But TONE DOWN THE “back in my day…” stuff! It’s not that way anymore!!!

Dear Folklore,

Again with the mysterious description. This actually does have plotlines that can stem through it, but I SEE NO CLUES!! There is nothing anywhere to say that, “this is Folklore and this will kick off our story!” It does remind me of an actual fable or tale, with forest, moss fairies, and holes, like Alice in Wonderland. Good job! But uhhh- ground rule, if you’re going to tend to the plants in the Bi-Fi lobby, they’re slightly poisonous and you cannot plant them elsewhere, even if they need “fresh air”. What is “fresh air”. (I’m kidding please don’t kill me)

Dear Script-

STOP TALKING IN SCRIPTS!! AND STOP EXPECTING US TO DO THE SAME!! IT’S ANNOYING!! Other than that- your description really matches your personality! And the storyline- I can see clearly what you have to do to “win” and go home, and while it was mostly weekly stuff in the comments, I saw a comment about the play you had to put on, meaning that even though I see mostly weekly stress, there is some plot gathering! I can’t wait to see how it turns out as, and I'm eager to see your “play” in action. It seems extraordinary!

Dear Poetry.

WE WILL CRUSH YOU, ENEMIES- acie et exercitus aside, I love your concept! Except- you changed your personality to fit your cabin. U-u-unconventional, but okayyyy- anyway, I love your Olympics-esque theme and competitive spirit. They mix together and this came to be amazing! I personally sound deranged when I try poetry, but that honestly makes me admire you more. But, seeing as you’re our enemies, I gotta say, you’re going DOWN. we’re gonna beat you flat, and then you guys can hold an award ceremony for the best writers in your cabin! And don’t give up- you’ll climb in the ranks!

Dear Real-Fi,

YOU ARE THE LEAST LIKELY TO PULL A MYSTERIOUS, UNLIKE-YOU DESCRIPTION! ARE YOU AND FAN-FI IN KAHOOTS??? oh- you are, haha. SHAME ON YOU, SHAME ON YOUR FAMILY, SHAME ON YOUR COW!! While I love the idea, I feel like the mystery and suspense aren’t suited for you. Well- since we are a new cabin, I suppose I don’t know much about you. Getting to know you will be interesting- I will also be looking out for beat-up hotels near me. Tell me, do you have room service? Or is that just for fancy hotels? Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But I’ve got my eye on your alliance with Fan-Fi. I’m watching.

Dear Hi-Fi,

Some of my favorite movies are set in the Wild West! It’s super cool that you rob trains for a living! Wait- We’re enemies… Well, we’ll deal with that when it comes. Some arson will put an end to that. Or we could pelt you with popcorn. But! Like I said, I love your idea. But it’s always the same “old timey” theme over and over again! I would love it if, next session, you turned it into a time-travel adventure, where you need to teach kids about the 2000s and set history books right before you can go home. It would add a lot of spice! But still, I love the whole thing. Good job!

Dear Naan-Fi,

GAHHHH YOUR CONCEPT IS SO KAWAII!!! I love every bit of it, and feel so cozy in your breadshop! It may become my new favorite place to sit and chat on the way back from the library! While it doesn’t have much action in it, the description is a satisfying and mouth-watering. You’re also the most calm cabin- I can always count on you if the day is too chaotic. Your cafe is always quiet but warm, and it feels homey. You’re also quite charming, and your waitresses’ uniforms are so cute! You are amazing neutrals, and I hope you rise in the ranks soon

Dear Fantasy! (I swear, we’re enemies with all the coolest cabins)

I love your concept! Your steampunk, aesthetically pleasing description sets the scene really well for your fairy- infested, Victorian- age, awesome setting. I don’t see a plot, but I don’t think there is one?? But that’s gotta change- someone needs to use this setting in a story or something, because they describe things perfectly. Aside from that though, YOU NEED TO STOP ADOPTING PETS WHEN YOU FEEL SAD! YOUR BUNNY CHEWED THROUGH MY SLIPPERS YESTERDAY, DON’T THINK I DIDN’T SEE! I know you’re a fairy kind of world, but you can't just have a million unvaccinated pets hanging around. It’s not sanitary!

Dear Thriller,

STOP MAKING THOSE CREEPY “JOKES”!! They get so confusing and dark- and then you kind of just go back to whatever you were doing before like nothing happened! It’s not funny! It’s actually downright creepy… but besides that!! I love the concept of your description! It gives me chills personally, as someone who’s tried breathing through a scuba kit before. Trust me, just breathing is hard, let alone being stuck in the dark! If I were, I would shoot straight up to the surface, no regard to safety concerns and Decompression Sickness. Terrifying. But again- why would you dive without a buddy?

Dear Dystopian,

You’re our enemy! Which means I don’t have to be nice when I ask you to STOP LEAVING ALL YOUR FEATHERS AROUND MY HOUSE???? I’M ALLERGIC!! Other than that, you look amazing! The description matches you, everything in your cabin looks ethereal, and I've never seen you so- shiny. It kinda hurts my eyes- but you seem to have a good theme going on for you there. However, I don’t see anyone in your cabin searching for clues or roleplaying. That may be because of the weekly, but you need to kick it up a notch! But other than that, you look amazing.

Dear Adventure,

Finally, cool siblings! You look amazing!!! I love knights and castles, so this is a super, duper cool experience. Your description is amazing looking, and makes me want to see what goes on there! One problem, (probably the weekly again) is that I don't see anything about any cabinwide quest. (if you have one.) what goes on in there, anyway? Do you have swordfights? I always hear that from your direction,but it could be from Fan-Fi, or Dystopian. Who knows what goes on in there. But I look forward to meeting more of you, and seeing what you can do!

Dear Mystery,

Why are you always so bundled up so much? It’s literally 75 degrees out- unless you’re like me, who is always cold because of the air conditioning. Of course, your description is mysterious, but the danger seems more obvious than it should be? I feel like it should be like “you are enjoying a great day at the fair, when suddenly, your balloon flies into a dark part of the fair, between tents, where you hear “I have them” whispered into a walkie talkie. You are confused, but not suspicious. Later that day you hear there had been a kidnapping, and you get a sneaking suspicion…” but other than that, it looks really cool!

Dear Sci-Fi,

Cool sibling!! And gosh- your idea is so cool! I love how close it is to thriller’s, but with a sci-fi twist! Even though I see no clues or reasoning about the plot in the comments, I’m sure that’s because of the weekly. (but get them into it!!!)(also, I saw the person from 2 days ago’s QOTD comment and it almost made me cry for some sleep deprived reason- so sad XD) I love how inverted I am in trying to get out after reading those few paragraphs in the description. You have done an awesome job!

Yayyyy- 1513 words, 1000 points, speedran from 11:00 to 2:00!

1.As you swoosh along through the caves of the jungle, you notice a glowing light coming from deeper in. What is that?? You wonder, as you unconsciously step towards it, unaware that the light is sucking you closer. A few steps later, you’re close enough to the light, now identifiable as a stone, that you are unable to think for yourself. As you shuffle slowly to the rock, you reach out your arm to touch the glowing, hypnotic mass- and blip out of existence. As you float in nothingness, a voice- the voice of the stone, speaks. Come with me, it speaks. And you follow, destined to be trapped forever.
110 words!!

2.Running, running, running… I feel invincible when I run, flying across the earth, soil under my bare feet- until I run into a tree. Owww- that hurts! I think, almost bursting out at it, but remembering that this is a magical forest. Instead, what comes out of my mouth is a pure, simple, “Sorry for that.”. As I watch, the tree croaks out “Tis okay- look where you go.” I nod, then begin to run again, but more careful this time. You never know what could be in this forest!
90 words!

3.“She sprinkles Pixie Dust on a small stone and it lifts off the ground?? She flies around Pixie Hollow and tinkers around?? She’s your favorite??” my brother yells, ridiculing me another time for believing in fairies. But he’s wrong. My eyes fill with tears, but I say, not for the first time, “Yes, she is. Sh-she’s cute, a-and brave, and imaginative! And she’s- she’s REAL!” but he laughs me off again. I steal a glance at the fairy I’m defending, Tinker Bell, sitting on the windowsill behind him, glaring and scowling at my unyielding brother. All of a sudden, she flies in front of me- and throws pixie dust in his face! And for good measure waves around a nail in his face. I can hear her tiny voice yelling, “We are real! Back off!” before she blips away, and my brother is floating. He takes one look at me, winces, then tries to swim to his room through the air. I smile, happy to have knocked him off his high horse. Tinker Bell won!
175 words!!

375 words in all, +350 points!

Melon Pan Hoax

Melon Pan is so sweet
Sweet- but like Vanilla, not Melon
Melon flavor Isn’t in them
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is so golden
Golden- not Green, like Melon
Green isn’t in them
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is round
Round- but not like Melon
It’s a semicircle
Sphere’s a hoax

Melon Pan is only named so
Because the top looks like Melon
The top isn’t bread
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan isn’t bread
Pan means Bread
But Melon Pan is Cookie
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is Cookie
Cookie on top of any bread
Bread is overrated
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is Cantaloupe
Not Watermelon
Watermelon is disgusting
But it’s still a hoax

Melon Pan is manufactured
With artificial Color and Flavoring
Melon’s not traditional
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan from convenient stores
Is too squishy
Real Melon Pan is Hard
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan isn’t real
Unless you get it traditionally
From a cafe
If not, it’s a hoax

Melon Pan is immortal
Not the store-bought stuff
The traditional stuff
That sounds like a hoax

Melon Pan is a character in AnPanMan
Crazy show
She feeds her head to kids
I wish it was a hoax

Melon Pan is not Bread
Or Melon, or Flavoring
Is not Sphere, or Squishy
Melon Pan Is a hoax

But Melon Pan is huge
Melon Pan is delicious
Melon Pan is Everything
Everything is a hoax

236 words, +200 points to Bi-Fi!

Sophie was standing in the middle of the school, having been caught off-guard in a flood of older kids. Oh, gosh- whyyyyyyyyy? She thought. After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly around, she bumped into a first grader… who seemed to be skipping class?

“You look lost!” he piped up. “Don’t worry- you’re what, a Kindergartener? I’ll get you there!” While he escorted Sophie down the halls, they exchanged questions and answers.

“What are you doing out of class?”

“I could ask the same thing to you. I’m skipping- or ditching, to be specific. What’s your name?”

“I’m Sophie! Who are you?”

“I’m Keefe. Do you want me to walk you here tomorrow, just so you don’t get lost? I’d gladly do that!”

“I- you would?”

“Sure! I’ll meet you just inside the doors when you get here. Right in that corner. So you don’t get lost!”

“Wow- thank you!”

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help you.”

As they parted ways and Sophie’s overwhelmed teacher ushered her in and thanked Keefe profusely, She smiled. First day, and I have a friend.

Three years later:

By the time Keefe hit fourth grade, he’d had detention dozens of times, played a million pranks, figured out that he and Sophie were next-door neighbors, and made a solid friendship with Sophie, the supposedly “uncool” kid. From what Keefe knew, she was the coolest person he knew. And the one who had saved him from flunking at least 17 tests in their friendship, which was kinda impressive, since she was a year younger. He was constantly surprised with her, which he liked. She just couldn’t stop becoming more and more amazing. Which was a little concerning when he saw her crying at their meeting place during lunch.

“Hey- you need something?”

She sniffed and glared at him. “Tell me the truth. Do you really hate me and just pity me because you’re telling your friends my secrets? Because everyone seems to be saying that but I don’t know if it’s true and I want to believe you’d never do that but- but- I-” She burst into tears.

Keefe was taken aback. “What? You’re right about one thing. I would never do that. Who did you hear this from?” One more name to put on my “to be punched” list.

She looked up at him. “You- you didn’t- okay. I’m fine. It was Stina- the girl in my class that seems to hate me?”

Keefe almost laughed. “You took some gossip from Stina? She’s evil. Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t know- I’m gonna keep trying with her. She could use a friend.”

Keefe didn’t quite know what to do with that statement, so he just shook his head. “Whatever. You do that- but please, call me if you need something. Even if it’s at 3am to look at a stupid meme. Please.”

Sophie seemed to be thinking. Finally, she answered “alright, if you can do the same thing.”

Keefe smiled. “You got it, Foster! Come on, to the regular spot?”

Five years later:

“Hey!” Sophie said, opening the door.

“I am very graterful to be allowed into your humbly ostersmacious abide, thy majesty!” Keefe said with a flourish, smirking more after he saw Sophie blush.

“Keefe, stop it.” she said, trying and failing to hide a smile. “You and I both know that you said those words wrong on purpose.”

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something else before a voice yelled from across the room “IS THAT BOY HERE ALREADY??? WE AREN’T GONE YET!!”

Sophie winced. “That’s Grady. My foster dad. He- isn’t exactly your biggest fan, even though he’s basically an adult you.” and he’s pretty annoying about it-
Keefe’s smirk grew wider, if that was even possible. “Then he has good taste. I think he knows what I like and want- he seems to be especially wary of thieves.”

What the- Sophie was puzzled. Oh well. “Um- okay? We’re up on the roof! There’s a star shower tonight, and Mom and Dad said they needed a date night anyway, so we get to make our own dinner! But first we need to get you out of sight of Grady- he has a baseball bat that’s studded with nails.”

Keefe gulped. “Let’s get upstairs then.”

Once Grady and Edaline left, Sophie and Keefe made spaghetti and Sophie made the decision to “under no circumstances are we sharing the same plate of spaghetti.” After an uneventful dinner, they baked brownies and took them up to the roof to watch the star shower. Sophie showed out all the facts about the stars she had learned from the library while Keefe listened, enthralled by her voice. Finally, he spoke up.

“Hey- Sophie.”

Surprised that he had used her first name, Sophie trailed off. “…What is it?”
“Do you ever feel like- like you had this good friend, but then you feel a little more? As in the kind in those novels that we’ve read together?”

Sophie suddenly understood why he said what he did at the door. And started panicking. “I-I get what you mean but we’re too young and- I just- It feels so fast to make a decision now…”

Keefe’s eyes grew wide and he immediately started calming her down. “No, no- you don’t have to make a decision now, I’ve just- been meaning to say it for about two years. I- needed to get that out! You can think, no pressure. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to give an answer.”

Sophie took his word for it and slowed down. As she thought about it, she could feel those bubbly feelings that had been there the whole time slowly make themselves known. And every sign pointed to Keefe, choose Keefe. He’s the one. He has to be. Do it!!! “I- yes.” she said, resolute. “Don’t tell Grady yet?” she added tentatively.

Keefe lit up like a lamp and he laughed out loud. “I can’t believe how worried I was!” He pulled her closer. “And don’t worry, I’ll be far away when you tell him.” and as if their shoulders were drawn together, they kissed, and to Sophie, her world finally felt complete.

Graduating college:

After the graduation party, Keefe just couldn’t believe he’d made it through school. But he wasn’t so sure he’d survive this. He was tense the whole time his friends chatted and reminisced. By the time Sophie and Stina (who had become best friends in the end) had finally hugged and Stina departed, Keefe was just about as nervous as Sophie was on the first day of college. When Sophie came down to sit, he managed to relax a little.

. Oh, gosh- whyyyyyyyyy? She thought.

“You look lost!” he piped up. “Don’t worry- you’re what, a Kindergartener? I’ll get you there!” While he escorted Sophie down the halls, they exchanged questions and answers.

“I’m Keefe. Do you want me to walk you here tomorrow, just so you don’t get lost? I’d gladly do that! …

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help you.”

As they parted ways and Sophie’s overwhelmed teacher ushered her in and thanked Keefe profusely, She smiled. First day, and I have a friend.

.

By the time Keefe hit fourth grade, he’d had detention dozens of times, played a million pranks, figured out that he and Sophie were next-door neighbors, and made a solid friendship with Sophie, the supposedly “uncool” kid. From what Keefe knew, she was the coolest person he knew. And the one who had saved him from flunking at least 17 tests in their friendship, which was kinda impressive, since she was a year younger. He was constantly surprised with her, which he liked. She just couldn’t stop becoming more and more amazing. Which was a little concerning when he saw her crying at their meeting place during lunch.

Keefe was taken aback. “What? You’re right about one thing. I would never do that. Who did you hear this from?” One more name to put on my “to be punched” list.

Five years later:

“Hey!” Sophie said, opening the door.

“I am very graterful to be allowed into your humbly ostersmacious abide, thy majesty!” Keefe said with a flourish, smirking more after he saw Sophie blush.

“Keefe, stop it.” she said, trying and failing to hide a smile. “You and I both know that you said those words wrong on purpose.”

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something else before a voice yelled from across the room “IS THAT BOY HERE ALREADY??? WE AREN’T GONE YET!!”

.

Sophie winced. “That’s Grady. My foster dad. He- isn’t exactly your biggest fan, even though he’s basically an adult you.” and he’s pretty annoying about it-

Melon Pan Hoax

Melon Pan is so sweet
Sweet- but like Vanilla, not Melon
Melon flavor Isn’t in them
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is so golden
Golden- not Green, like Melon
Green isn’t in them
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is only named so
Because the top looks like Melon
The top isn’t bread
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan isn’t bread
Pan means Bread
But Melon Pan is Cookie
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is Cookie
Cookie on top of any bread
Bread is overrated
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is Cantaloupe
Not Watermelon
Watermelon is disgusting
But it’s still a hoax

Melon Pan is manufactured
With artificial Color and Flavoring
Melon’s not traditional
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan from convenient stores
Is too squishy
Real Melon Pan is Hard
It’s a hoax

Melon Pan is immortal
Not the store-bought stuff
The traditional stuff
That sounds like a hoax

Melon Pan is a character in AnPanMan
Crazy show
She feeds her head to kids
I wish it was a hoax

Melon Pan is not Bread
Or Melon, or Flavoring
Is not Sphere, or Squishy
Melon Pan Is a hoax

But Melon Pan is huge
Melon Pan is delicious
Melon Pan is Everything
Everything is a hoax

Drink water
Sleep 8-9 hours
Read

Now you, random SWCer (or just a person, that’s fine) that have stumbled across this post, may be wondering, Why do I need to drink water, sleep, and read? I run on soda, 5-hour energy, and video games! I don’t need this! Ohohoho, but- Spoilers! You do! Your body actually runs on that water your mom makes you drink, the naps you take at 5 am, and the majestic thing I haven’t seen in a while (jk jk haha), the sun. I do have evidence of this being true! I have a few reasons why you should do stuff like this for each thing on this list! Ready? Read!

Drinking water! Drinking water is very important to our well-being. It quenches thirst, keeps you cool, and is needed to do things like sweat, pee, cry, and digest food! It handles the gross stuff, but gets the job done. If you don’t drink water, however, you can get dehydrated and die from it. Have you ever seen potato chips or jerky? They dehydrate it so they can store it. If you don’t drink water, you’ll literally be dead meat!

Sleep 8–9 hours. I have a lot of trouble with this, explained using some non-plagiarized info from an article! Some people don’t have a lot of time in the day to do the things they want, like scrolling around on social media, watching tv, playing video games, etc. because they have too much to do. So they take “revenge” on the day by using the night hours to do their own thing. I struggle with this, mainly because SWC last session taught me that staying up was extremely motivating. But it’s actually better to get sleep. 8-9 hours is the usual for people between the ages of 9-18, and getting 10-11 does wonders for your body. You can make better choices, have better reflexes, and be less moody when you sleep well, which is less of a burden for others around you!


The last point- Reading. I love reading, so I have an extreme bias towards it- The feeling of pages between my hands, the smell of new books- all of it is perfect. But even for other people who may not read as much, I find that comics and mangas are incredible as well. It feels so refreshing to sink into a new world and open your eyes as someone else. And yeah, books get me worked up and yelling, but it feels good to let those words out, and books let me do that. Try it!

Deep in the woods, there lives a great magic. And in these woods, a town rests. The people of the town are unable to leave, due to the magic, and therefore must pay tribute to the forest. Every year, on Giving day, five teens are selected to feed the forest. No one knows where they go, and no one ever comes out.

But the forest knows. The forest sees all within its branches, and knows the truth. These poor humans waste away in front of the very tree sucking their lives away, forgetting everything of the previous day. The trees whisper warings to these humans, trying to warn them, but the humans cannot hear- or cannot listen, trapped in their misery.

And this is the way things always have been.


Anacia sighed tensely. It was the day of the Choosing for tomorrow, which was Giving day. It was her third Choosing, (everyone having one for each year from 13 until 18, making her 15) but experience didn’t make her nerves any less relentless. She stroked the side of her family’s shared cabin/house, hoping the familiar feel of canvas and wood would calm her nerves. Sucking in a breath, she quickly picked up her bag and left the house, headed towards the path she usually took into the forest. As she walked, she took in the sights and sounds, well aware that she may never see them again. This was her tradition on the Choosing- every teen knew that this may be their last day to live. Many others around were performing rituals themselves, gearing up their nerves for what could be anywhere between their first or sixth Choosing. But while she walked, a light appeared in the path up ahead. Anacia frowned, suspicious. If this is a trap- nah. No one comes out here. Let’s check it out! She carefully approached the light, brushing away pesky undergrowth which tangled in her long braided brown hair, and scratched at her sandaled feet. She soon was clear enough to see an outline of a fox, tangled in some briars. The fox looked up, seemingly straight into Anacia’s soul, and smiled bitterly. “Beware” it said, maintaining eye contact. “This Choosing- I have chosen you. This is your warning- the magic will suck your life away. Thus, you will not remember what goes on each day. Write to yourself your findings, and set us free” For a minute, Anacia could see all the trees’ spirits, gathered above her- then they were gone. She stood, shocked for a moment- then ran away as fast as she could, as if to escape the burden that was now on her 15-year-old, tanned shoulders.

Carlos ran along a branch, trying not to think about the ordeal on his nerves that was about to come. He had been lucky the last few times, he knew, but this time- he was the only 16-year-old in the town, and was resigned to his fate. His age meant he was almost certain to be picked- after all, it was required there be a vast array of ages going to the forest. 16 was required, as was 13, 15, and 18, to get a diverse range of youths. Carlos knew he was doomed. But he was also determined to enjoy his last day in this world. He jumped from the edge of the branch, grabbing the next one and swinging himself up, the wind whipping his short black hair. His brother, Kuro flipped himself up next to him, one brother’s light skin blending into the other as their shoulders touched. Kuro also looked tired, and more than a little beaten. He was 18, the maximum age that you can be chosen. And also a required age. It was either him or his girlfriend, who was also 18. Not the best situation, and either one was doomed anyway, so they hoped to be placed in the team together. Kuro was basically Carlos’ only family since his parents died, so Carlos found it a comfort to know that their last hurrah would be together. They shared a small look and jumped off, trying to forget the rest of the world.

Miranda and Anti-Miranda paced nervously, knowing that they were definitely gonna get chosen. Not because of a lack of thirteen- year-olds in the town, but because of a family curse. A curse that stepped back generations. Nerves poured off the brown haired, brown eyed, honey-brown twins. Almost like they were one entity, two pairs of eyes darted to the father of these high-strung girls. Intimidated by the stress levels, he quickly ducked his head and scuttled away pitifully. The girls’ eyes followed him, then quickly went back to pacing. Everyone’s thoughts were on varying degrees of “I’m doomed.”

Finally- the hour came. The time of the Choosing. Everywhere you looked, there were no happy faces in Town Center. All the faces were a mix of anxious, resigned, confused, and scared. And preparing. The leader walked up- and began the customary speech to prepare the parents and teens for fresh heartbreak. Even though everyone had practically memorized it, he still read from the book, words decisive and excruciatingly slow for those who were waiting for the inevitable.

“We have been brought here, to this point, for a very sad, but very crucial point of life. The survival of the fittest. And you may be thinking, ‘I was born in this world to have a good time, and feel I am being assaulted right now.’ but I assure you, this is necessary to stay alive. You may feel sad now, but we move on, taking what we need, and casting off what is weighing us down. Which brings us to this point. We are at the point where things we no longer need are no longer relevant, and irrelevant things are useless. Today we shall see who has become the Irrelevant. Lots Will be drawn, and tears Will be shed, but we must move forward. Because those who don’t are weak. And the weak are Irrelevant. And so they are cast off as well. For humanity’s sake. Thank you for your sacrifice.

The crowd murmured nervously as the first name was drawn out of a convenient box of thirteen year old’s names. “The first name: Anti-Miranda!” the leader called out, sealing the twin(k)'s fate. She felt her soul almost leave her body with either shock or relief, but also felt it sink to the floor (and through it). A box of 15 year old’s names came onto stage, and the mayor whipped out another card with surprising enthusiasm. “The next name is: Anacia!” Her eyes widened, and her face grew pale. Please, no- I have a life to live! People I love! Fate can’t be this cruel! The man quickly swapped the 15 year old and 18 year old boxes. “Since there is only one 16 year old, he is automatically sorted into the Irrelevant. This last draw is between two 18 year olds. Now, who will it be?” Carlos Held his breath, heart sinking deep into the muddy ground underneath him. This draw would end badly either way.

“The one who is Irrelevant is: Kuro Quantima!”

The breath Carlos had been unconsciously holding let itself out. Kuro looked tired, as if he’d aged 20 more years, but nodded and smiled wanly at Carlos. He smiled bitterly back. This is a disaster. But then again, it always is.

The leader took all the boxes and mixed them into a big box that said “literally all the teens on this small-* island” then he took the box and-

Kuro’s gf held her breath.

Miranda gritted her teeth.

Carlos prayed.

Anacita stood awkwardly to the side of these crazy people.

“The last member is:”

“Miranda”

Miranda hugged her sister for joy.

Later, after the Choosing, Anacita packed her bag to go, and decided that if she was going to go down, she would go down with a good reputation among her fellow Irrelevants. What do I want to be seen as? A cool person, who has a love/hate relationship with rules. I want to seem capable and smart, so hopefully nerdy knowledge will accomplish that. Capability- could be a problem. We’ll see. I wanna- like jokes, and know the inside ones, like I exactly don’t. I’ll make some up. That’s fine, right? Everything was, of course, not fine, but who was she to say that?? A coward??? Of course not. Right?

Kuro steeled his nerves and walked next to his girlfriend for the rest of the ceremony. She didn’t say a word. He could see her crying. But whenever people said “I’m sorry” or “Have faith” her face steeled up a little more. By the time he walked her back home, her face was screwed up and angry. She tugged him into the row between their houses before they went inside, looking- well, suffice it to say that Kuro didn’t want to make her any more mad.

“You can’t do this.”

“What.”

She glared fiercely at him, as if trying to burn a hole through his soul. “We could run away. We could refuse. No one needs this ‘Sacrifice’ stuff. Take off. Go. don’t.”

“I-” Kuro looked torn. “But- the kids- they need a responsible adult. I can’t- I can’t leave them on their own in the woods! That’s not moral.”

“I D F C about morals! I just want you to live!”

He shook his head. “I need to do this. I would hate myself forever if I didn’t.”

She fumed for a minute, then regained composure, cold as ice. “Don’t expect me to be here if you come back then.” she turned on her heel and stalked back into the house.

Carlos tossed and turned in bed, caught deep in the throes of a nightmare. Or something.

It’s a dark night. The middle of the woods, however, is ablaze with color and light. A wizard is standing at the foot of a tree, infusing the last bits of his soul into the bark and inner workings. He turns around, looking straight into Carlos’ soul, and as the young man screams, the empty, zombie-like look boring into him, the Wizard crumbles away, leaving Carlos with an immense pile of Deja vu and questions about life. But the dream doesn’t stop there. The tree grows older, and bigger over time, and more powerful. It causes earthquakes. It floods cities. It causes tornadoes. It consumes all in its magical radius. And requires sacrifice. 5 youths, every year. On the Choosing.

This is how things came to be!

And you must stop them. Good luck, my chosen.

Kuro took one look at Carlos and knew he hadn’t slept well that night. The opposite was also the same. But- Kuro knew he had to keep morale up. Suffice it to say- it was time for reminiscing. He dredged up a memory from his immense store of knowledge and blurted it out the next time Carlos looked at him.
“Remember that time you were playing soccer indoors and kicked the ball into our mac n cheese?”

Carlos looked at him. And smirked a little. “I’m telling you, I didn’t know where it was. I promised! And the poor ball was disgusting when you pulled it out. I wouldn’t have done it on purpose anyway!”

They laughed, reveling in the shared memory of happy times, when they didn’t have stuff to worry about. For a moment, the atmosphere was clear as day. Then the bell for the start of Giving day, and it grew cloudier than ever. The ordeal was about to begin.

Miranda and Anti-Miranda packed a bag together, in silence. The tension in the air was honestly quite more than either could bear, but they endured it because talking was worse. If they didn’t open their mouths, no sobs would come out. Easy as pie. The bags were all packed as they headed downstairs for their last breakfast with their families. The last breakfast they’d have without fear for a while.

Anacia finished packing and ran downstairs at her parent’s request to hug them one last time. Their tears ran openly as the only daughter of 5 attempts at babies was to leave their house and never come back. Nothing would separate them and the pain for the rest of eternity. Anacia sniffed and stepped back, drinking in the sight of her parents one last time before exiting the door for the last time.

The teens gathered together in the square for a few hours before the day’s festivities technically began to discuss what their plan was. Several times the concept of running away as a group was brought up and shot down for varying reasons. Too risky, too dangerous, why would we do that, we already have a path to follow, etc. no one brought up what might happen at the center, where they were supposed to go. No one bothered to think why the leader would want to sacrifice kids. And Carlos refused to tell his dream. Not much to do, and having already said their last goodbyes, the teens milled around the festival, doing what they could to help. Nothing really helped, and no one helped them, but something to do was better than nothing at all.


Finally, the time came for them to be sent off. The teens stood on the stage up by the leader as he gave another customary speech, them now knowing the reason behind the grave, dumb, blank looks on the other kid’s faces when they were up here. A sea of beaten down, grieving faces stared back at them, and the kids felt a spark of- excitement? At being set free into the wild, away from this blank place, full of blank people, doing blank things, where nothing really mattered. As the leader sent them off, they waved back, but looked forward, smiling, because their future was now wide open.

If I were a book, I’d likely be a compilation of short(er) stories, probably consisting of a mixture of genres anywhere from sci-fi to real-fi to a 50k chapter of nothing but vine and fandom references strung into barely comprehensible sentences, making you want to scream WHAT ARE THOSE??? Sometimes, the chapters would be fast-paced and a whirlwind of action, followed by an imposter chapter of a crappy beach day filler episode attempt. Anything and everything goes, having almost ‘eras’ or ‘levels’ in varying degrees of eloquence and seriousness, at some points seeming as though written by a different person entirely. The chapters and short stories would also vary in length directly proportional to seriousness and mood.

The book of me doesn’t have a cover. How can a book with no end have a cover? Besides, a cover is restricting and tiring, and takes effort and only makes a book heavier. If it wasn’t a goliath stack of documents on an ever-sagging table, it’d likely be a hardcover, with a simple, porous surface covered in stickers and papers from my life. That’s just a fantasy though, as the stack of papers is taller than the author herself.

The pages would be printer paper, restocked into the printer every few weeks as the author cranks out whatever dumb ideas reside in her weird, disorganized brain. The ink on top barely dried before being nearly torn and stomped on multiple times until the paper safely made it into yet another clip, another binder clip, another folder and being set on top of the ever-growing pile of manuscripts.

The book would doubtless remain forever unpublished, always staying a dusty collection of papers handed down through the author’s descendants, who would become increasingly confused by the fandoms, ships, vine references, song lyrics, and language in the old-smelling documents as they aged. Eventually the pages may become worn and discarded, or perhaps donated to libraries, separated forever, scattered across the world.

But for now, the book of me is just a happy little stack in the making, waiting for days of glory ahead.