I blinked as I opened my eyes. I saw a girl with stunning electric blue eyes staring at me warmly. We were sitting in a meadow with flowers, the sun shining down on us. It was a perfect moment. Suddenly I heard a beep. The girl faded, along with the meadow. I felt my hand reaching out for her, but suddenly, I was in my bed, my hand reaching out toward the ceiling. As soon as I realized I dreamed of the encounter, the dream disappeared from my memory, as I tried to remember the details. The only thing I could remember were beautiful, stunning blue eyes. I got up, took a shower, and put on my suit. I was about to head out to work when I heard the doorbell ring. I went to the entrance, and was shocked to be staring into those blue eyes. “Are you going to stop staring Karl? We have to get to work! Here.” It was Serena, my childhood friend/coworker. She handed me a coffee and a donut. “Er, thanks. Let’s go.” I responded. I felt weird for some reason, as we got into her car and drove to work. I was still thinking about her blue eyes. They were so pretty, and it was weird that I had dreamed about it. Was it a dream, or a memory?

Random Writing—
Alone in a new town - 763 words
psst! want to read my writing? all my writing links are here

The bedroom was empty. Ash felt the emptiness. She felt alone and scared as if there was a hollowness in her body. She could hear her own breathing in the silence.
She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be in her real home. She didn’t even get to say goodbye to her friends.
Ash crossed her eyes so that her vision was blurry and unbalanced, a habit she practiced frequently, typically when she was upset or anxious. Thoughts zoomed through her brain and rang in her ears. I don’t want to be here I didn’t choose to go here I miss Maya I didn’t even get to tell Kyle I liked him and I still like him but he’s gone now in a different state why did we have to move in this stupid crummy apartment that doesn’t allow pets and now I won’t be able to get that cat that I’ve always wanted to get I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYTHING SUCKS AND I HAVE TO STOP THINKING NOW BUT I CANT STOP THINKING NEGATIVELY. She sighed, but her breath became faster and choked up.
A tear trickled down her face. She wiped it away, realizing she was way overthinking and she needed to escape somewhere. But she didn’t want to come back downstairs and face her parents after the fit she’d thrown in front of them. Which she felt bad for. But she also felt relieved. It felt a little good to yell and let her feelings out.
But they weren’t out. She was still mad and still sad and still everything.
Then Ash noticed the window.
It didn’t have a screen yet. And the ground was not far from the windowsill…
No, she was thinking crazy. Even though she needed to escape the stuffy room and get some fresh air.
Next thing you know…
Ash fell. Her feet brushed the rocky gravel, and for a fleeting second, she thought maybe she would land okay. But they slid from underneath her, and she crumbled in that same second, scraping her knees and palms, then landing hard on her chest, knocking the wind completely out of her.
It was hard to breathe and she winced in pain. But it wasn’t anything terrible, and it could’ve been worse. She got up, looked around, and suddenly broke into a run.
She wasn’t even sure where she was going. She just ran, and then stopped. She wasn’t sure what she was doing. She didn’t feel normal. She felt weird and not okay.
She saw a bookstore across the street and walked over. The bell gave a small ding as she opened the glass door. There weren’t many people around, and she realized she didn’t have any money on her, so she couldn’t buy a book.
But she decided to stay a little longer, so she could calm down. She grabbed a book on the nearest shelf she found and plopped herself onto an armchair.
Immediately lost in the story, she jumped when she got a call from her mom.
Ash hesitated. She probably should accept it. But… nevermind, she didn’t want to consider the other option, and accepted.
“Hi,” she said wearily.
Her mother’s worried and quick voice made her pull the phone a little away from her ear. “Ash! Where are you! I checked up in your room just now and you’re not anywhere in the house! You cannot run away from us like that, you’ve left us worried sick!”
“I’m—Mom—I’m fine. I’m at the bookstore.”
“You need to come back right now, young lady. You and your father are having a talk with you,” her mother huffed.
Ash could sense anger, not worry. “Okay, just— give me a minute, okay?”
“Just come back safe.”
“Okay. Bye.”
Ash hung up. She returned the book to its spot and left.
It took her a minute to figure out where she came from, though. She wasn’t sure. She had run so far.
She found herself wandering around the twists and turns of her town, uphill and downhill, left and right, trying to get home, before she admitted she was truly lost.
In a back alley, she decided to get her phone out and see if that could help her. She sighed, realizing she could’ve used it after she’d exited the bookstore.
Then a hand grabbed her arm. She turned off her phone immediately and tried to yell, something her parents taught her—but another hand slapped her mouth, and she found herself being dragged away from the light.

Daily #6 - 1002 words

In Victorian times, people sent messages to each other through secret code - aka flower arrangements! The flowers they used signified different things; for example, roses for love and friendship, crocuses for happiness, and marigolds for grief. Today's daily is all about writing using the Victorian Language of Flowers. Our brilliant Alba has compiled this beautiful list of flowers: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/741579314/. In 400 words, write a piece with 2-5 flowers on the list (and incorporate their meanings into your work) to earn 300 points! Extra 100 points for sharing, and a virtual daisy for stating your favourite flower in the comments for Starr's enjoyment.

1002 words wrote:

I let out a breath of air, at least I thought I did, as I stepped into the small boat. When I was alive, the tales of the River Styx and its mighty guardian and traveler, Charon, always found me wherever I went but facing him now was easy along with all of the other departed souls. Some say you can tell the age of a soul judging by their eyes but they all looked the same to me: faded, fatigued…
All of us seem to be wearing the same outfits that we died within but all I'm wearing is a simple smock because I'm really not someone important compared to the others. I can find souls with jewelry hanging off of their necks like kings with others wearing impressive outfits of expensive silk and cotton. But I am but a common servant. My life was nothing special until that jealous house-daughter found me…the spot is hardened now as I rub my fingers over it. While my smock is white, there's a bloom of crimson surrounding that area. I can see that same stain on some others but I can also see ancient-looking people looking perfectly alive and healthy as they too take their place into the ferry.
I almost hurtle into the water as the boat begins to move. Charon moves his oar throughout the turbulence of the black river water. Hands extend out of the sea, trying to grab any undead that happens to wander too far out of the center of the boat. Which happens just now as an old man leans out of the boat. But Charon takes the oar and gives a whack to the sucker and it sinks back into the sea. I shiver, thinking of what would happen if someone were to ever find themselves drowning in this water. I look away.
Finally, we've arrived at our destination and the souls begin to anxiously leave the boat while I take my time. There's nothing on from here; I know it. It's either the Elysian Fields, Asphodel Meadows, or Tartarus. I expected the underworld to be smoking hot but although I can see the brimming, glowing lava trapped in the walls, the temperature feels fine. Maybe it's because I'm not alive anymore or the lava doesn't emit any heat but it doesn't really matter as we all take the path through…
I never thought the underworld to be pretty but strangely, with the earthly muted under-tones of the soil and the dark cover of the sky, it created an overall strangely welcoming aesthetic. The path had occasional flowers shooting from the floor although most of them were marigolds. From being a servant of a gardening home, I knew that zinnia represented grief, which explained a lot. There was also a bit of lucerne, ironic considering that lucerne represented life. As I continue down the path, I see the terrain slowly shaping up and in the distance, I can see the three areas including a ginormous castle in the distance with tall, twisted turrets composed of stones that seem to be thousands of years old.
But before I can take a look, a small belvedere is in front of me and the rest of the dead souls with three average-looking men giving us side eyes. Two of them stood up while the middle man stayed sitting in his chair. The brunet-haired man walked up to seemingly half of the group and the darker-haired man went to the other half of the group.
“Greetings! I am Aeacus, one of the three judges of the Underworld. That there is Rhadamanthus,” he pointed to the darker-haired man, “and over there lounging in his chair is Minos. It is our job to sort you to the three destinations you may go to: The Elysian Fields…”
I look beyond him and I see the Isles of the Blessed, on top of the black, corroded water sits a mystical area of land covered in various foliage that truly does it make it look like a blessed paradise.
“The Asphodel Meadows…” Directly behind the judges' belvedere is of course a large meadow covered in asphodel with souls I can see who are walking through them with their hands at their sides and their eyes looked down, as if filled with regret at not doing something more to be sorted into the Elysian Fields. In my opinion, being placed in the Asphodel Meadows isn't so bad. After all, if you're heading to the Asphodel Meadows, you've probably expected it your entire life.
“And of course…Tartarus.” The fact that Tartarus isn't even visible from here shows how bad it is. The sinking pit littered with Furies, being given the worst punishments for all of the sins committed in life, I'm sure I won't end up there but who knows?
Staring at Aeacus, my heart starts to pound (okay perhaps not my real heart since I'm unalive but still). It was only ‘til I see them in all of their ’shining glory' do I realize what this means. There is where I'll spend the rest of my…undead life in. For absolute eternity. I always thought life was short but no it was long. Hysterically long. And eternity was so much longer and there wasn't an end to it. Staring up at Aeacus as he and Minos discuss amongst themselves about the certain locations of everyone. I'm shivering now and I don't even realize it. From within my pocket, I take out a withered dahlia. Meaning, ‘yours until the end.’ I've had it when I died and I didn't realize that it was still with me. Perhaps he was still with me too. And he always told me to be brave. He always told me to be brave, even after he was sent into the warfront. Well that got him killed. And maybe he was in the Elysian Fields for his bravery. But I couldn't risk that. I wasn't brave like him.
I couldn't risk it. I wouldn't.

Moss's Weekly!!!!
I wrote 15 letters (two to script, hehe) and ended up with 1657 words :D

Dearest Faith, (folklore)
I hope you all have had a great beginning to the month! I can't believe it's been so long since we last saw each other—I have so much to share with you the next time we meet! We invited so many new recruits to the Sanctuary last week, and it's been incredible to get to know them. There are a couple that I'm sure you'd love to meet as well. How have your adventures along the trails been? Are you looking forward to the full moon next week? Those bright midnights seem to be the subject of much of that ancient folklore that you so love, perhaps you will have an legend-worthy adventure of your own that night…
All my love,
Lena

Hey there, Evren! (dystopian)
How have you been doing? I'm sorry I haven't come to visit in a while, I find it really hard to get through the mist surrounding your realm. Living on a sunny island, I'm used to being able to make out things for miles in each direction, so it's strange to barely be able to see my kitsune running in front of me. It's always so fun to talk to you, though, celestial beings are super interesting! Hopefully we can hang out soon! Maybe you should come for a visit to the Sanctuary so we can show you what we've been up to—there are quite a few magical machines in the works that I'm sure you would enjoy.
Your friend,
Lena

Aella!!! (Bi-fi)
I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing to you—we're not incredibly close, especially after the Great Mango Fight of a couple years ago—but nevertheless, here I am! I heard from a mutual friend that you started working at that new theater down by the Main Cabin, how's that been going? It seems like quite the interesting job—you never know what will happen in the darkness while a movie is playing…
As I write this, I've been realizing that I kind of miss the ball of chaos and fun that you are. Maybe we could talk soon?
-Lena

Hey, Damian! (Horror)
I'm writing this letter because I realized that I don't know a whole lot about you! We don't have an epic rivalry like I do with Aella, or a close bond like I do with Faith. So, here I am to say that I'd like to get to know you better! From what I've seen and heard about you, you seem a bit creepy, which isn't really my thing…I could get over that though, if I had a little time.
I should probably introduce myself, too! I'm Lena, as you probably know, I reside in the Steampunk Sanctuary (if you haven't heard of it, it's a haven for magical creatures on an island in the Sea of Ghosts). Currently, some Sanctuary recruits and I are searching for a griffin who was telepathically messaging us!
Your (hopeful future) friend,
Lena

Dear Aria, (script)
How have you been? It seems like you have your hands full—directing a musical AND finding a strange spirit? Sounds like you've been working non-stop! You got this, though, I believe in you!! I'd offer to help out, but I'd be pretty helpless—creepy spirits aren't really my thing. Hopefully you'll be satisfied with this motivational letter?
I haven't heard from you in a while—I'm a bit worried about you, but I'm sure it's fine, you know how to stay alive. I'm confident that you'll be back, like every time you've disappeared before.
Miss you,
Lena

Aria, (script again xD)
It was so nice to hear from you! You are one of my favorite allies as well, it has been great to work alongside you! While I don't have the highest authority in the manner of adoptions—we at the Sanctuary prefer to leave the choice to the animals—I can certainly provide some suggestions! Our krakens, while quite amiable, might not be the best choice due to their need to live in the water. Perhaps a phoenix, alicorn, or dragon would be a good choice? We have all three housed at the Sanctuary right now, I'm sure they'd love to meet you if you have time for a visit.
Hope to see you soon,
Lena

Hey, Kai!! (Thriller)
It's been while—how are you? Have you met any creatures on your adventures through the ocean? A kraken came to visit the Sanctuary yesterday, he said he had felt some disturbances in the water—I was wondering if it was you. Were you sailing through the Sea of Ghosts recently?
In response to your last letter, I've been doing pretty well. All of the new recruits have been great to get to know, but we're all feeling the pressure. There's a lot of creatures to save, and it feels like there's just not enough time.
Your friend,
Lena

Journey… (adventure)
I suppose I have to say, like I have to all the others, that I hope you have been doing well, even if I don't entirely mean it. Your Kingdom doesn't sound like the most amazing place to live, if I'm being honest. Sieges in your own home? No thanks. And your way to get around the so-called ‘monsters’ invading your home is to fight them? How long did you spend watching them, figuring out who they were, trying to help them? Why was the first thing you turned to violence? I know one thing for sure—I'm telling every creature that passes through our Sanctuary to never go near your Kingdom.
With no love,
Lena

Hello there Horatio. (Fan-fi)
All of your recent timeline exploits seem quite…interesting. I'd love to hear more about all the misadventures you've been having—I could always use more things to tease you about the next time we cross paths.
When I last visited your Agency, I was quite surprised by the lack of creatures staying with you. It might speak to your general unfriendliness that none want to stop by for a visit.
I hope that the trainees are doing well, though I could not truthfully say the same to you. See you later, or not—who cares.
With ambivalence,
Lena.

Hey, Bian, what's up?
How's your trip on the Mystery Express been? I know you told me that this journey would be a break from the stress and chaos of your normal life as a detective, but mysteries seem to have a way of finding you. I hope whatever adventure you're on is going wonderfully!
I've actually got an adventure of my own to tell you about—we at the Sanctuary are currently searching for an injured griffin! We've been collaborating on a contraption that will help us get to him—perhaps your knowledge of fitting pieces together could help us?
Hope to see you soon,
Lena

Miran, (sci-fi)
I cannot forgive you. The Sanctuary trusted you. You were one of the few who I let near the animals, who I allowed to be with them alone. I thought you were different from all of those who wished the Sanctuary harm, but, like so many others, you proved me wrong. Why did you take that dragon? You knew she was too volatile—you never should have been near her for that long to begin with. There are so few dragons left in the world—how could you do this? And for you to disappear? I loved you. That was the worst betrayal of all.

Hey, Remus. (Hi-fi)
I suppose it's…fine to be writing to you. Life at the Sanctuary is awesome—so much more awesome than anything that happens in your little town. You and your cronies are all corrupt thieves. I know that's a name you're proud of, but you really shouldn't be happy about it, the police'll get you sooner or later. One thing's for sure, Remus—you and your gang are never going to be welcome in the Sanctuary. For all we know, you'll steal our gears and our pets right out from under us!
Good day to you.
Your very willing rival,
Lena

Hey there, Verity. (Real-fi)
Hope you've been doing well. I heard you started working for the inn off of Main Cabin street, how's that been going? You've been working pretty much all day every day, so I hope that you've been getting a whole lot done and helping that old inn look incredible! Maybe I'll visit sometime—or maybe you could visit me for a change! The animals love you, it's too bad that you haven't been around to hang out with them as much as you used to. Everyone in the Sanctuary really misses you.
Hoping to see you soon,
Lena

Ryeee!! (Naan-fi)
How have you been? How's the breadhouse? Are you tired of smelling bread every single second of your life yet? I sure would be by now! Amazingly, you seem to be resisting going crazy because of it. Makes sense, though, you're such a calm and steady presence in my life. I've been hoping to stop by the breadhouse soon—as I'm sure you know, I'm the biggest fan of your gluten free naan. We have a bread-loving phoenix in the Sanctuary right now, too, I'm sure he'd appreciate a delivery!
Your friend,
Lena

Hey, Claus, how's your day been going? (Poetry)
Mine's been fine! The Sanctuary finally got the proper technology to save our new griffin friend, but now we need to build a whole ship to sail across the Sea of Ghosts to the Forest of the Future! It's a lot of work, but I'm excited!!
Also, I heard that you were feeling a bit low lately—hopefully you can get some friends to support you and bring you up! You're an amazing person and I'm sure you can regain your former place close to the top of the world.
Your friend,
Lena

Daily-6:

I wake up and find myself in an unknown region. I don't know what happened, I don't know what is happening to me, I don't know what will happen to me…but I do know that this is not where I was before I woke up. Slowly, memories from my past life return to me, though why I wonder. As I take in my surroundings, I see someone in the distance. But it is too foggy for me to see who it is. I get up, and it hurts too much. I take a few steps only to stumble. But eventually I make it. We are only two meters apart. I look closely, it is not a human but a statue with a plaque which reads “Pools of Past, built by Yama, the great and valiant god of death, himself”. As I walk past the statue, I see a pool surrounded by pretty flowers. I see marigolds. With a shiver, I remember her death, she who I had never met. With another cold shiver, I see that now, we both are in the realm of death. Slowly, I walk by the marigolds. I see a nightshade. What sinister thoughts could I have had, I wonder. With a pang I remember all those blueprints and plans. Plans for what, I don't realize. But the answer lurks at the corner of my eye: a trefoil. Revenge. “Revenge for what?” I ask myself. “Revenge for murder.” an unexpected voice arises behind me. It was soft and sweet, but spoke of things not. I turned back to see. It was her, holding a tulip in her hands. She had fame, or at least that's what they told me. She looks exactly like she did in the pictures. “I wasn't expecting you to join me so soon.” she continues, even after seeing my silence. “How is he?” she asks me. Him. How could she ask me about him so casually? I spot a hellebore near the patch of marigolds. Madness. That's what he succumbed to. He was still normal, but deep inside he had an open wound of being abandoned. How could she be so casual after leaving us alone all those years ago? When I was not even old enough to remember her? Tears fill my eyes. I walk past her, our shoulders brushing each other for a moment. I pause to say “You don't deserve to know.”, before leaving her alone. I exit the garden full of sorrow and love to be never found again…

426 words

DAILY (Continuation of 4th November Daily)

Everything was slowly fading away. And I could do nothing about it.
As soon as the news of the shipwreck came, my days were filled with consolations, because they all knew he was part of it.
We had a garden, which we had grown ourselves, filled with so many flowers I could not count them. It had taken us both an year to grow that garden.
It had been an year since I'd been there. He always tried but….
The silver door was tightly locked, but I had the key with me. I turned the lock and found myself in a glowing garden.
Roses, dahlias, marigolds, forget-me-nots and snowdrops were spread all over the garden.
Dahlias…those were his favorite flowers, and roses were mine. I could feel tears forming in my eyes, and I hastly wiped my eyes. He told me I shouldn't cry.
I sat down near a snowdrop. Hope, it meant, and that was, without a doubt, in my heart. I could feel the soft grass brush against my numb feet.
Marigolds. Grief. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. Where was he? He couldn't have died yet….
Forget-me-nots. I knew it was he who had planted these flowers. I knew it. And forget him? Never. I would rather die than ever forget about him.
Roses. I buried my head in my arms, flailing my legs here and there. He wasn't coming back.
Dahlias. His favorite flowers. Stroking one, I smiled a little, the tears still dry on my cheeks. I stroked one lovingly, as if the flower was him. He had told me what it meant. To be someone's till the end. And I was his. No matter where he was. I would find him, even if I had to die for it.
I laid down among the flowers, staring at the setting sun, smiling. I would find him. He would come back. Everything would be normal again. He would survive everything, be it the storm, the war. Anything. And it would be fine.
With these wonderful thoughts etched inside me, I hugged a dahlia and fell asleep….

It was almost nighttime when I woke up, and I could plainly hear a chorus of my name. I jerked to my feet, and taking a last look at the flowers, left the garden with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face.

“Amelia, oh my god!”
“It's okay, mother. I was just in the garden. These stings are nothing compared to his flowers…”

Daily:
6th November, flower language:

“BANG” My head is spinning. My eyes are blurry. I tried to stand up, but my legs feel like jelly. “Whoa, take it easy!”, said a small voice. I looked around and saw a rabbit next to me. “Whe-where a-am I…?” I asked, ignoring the fact that the rabbit can talk. “Hmm… well I guess you can call this place the ”The Cursed Flower Field“ or ”The Magic Flower Field“, The rabbit answered. ”W-WHAT?! Why would it be called “The Cursed Flower Field”?!“, I said, surprised. ”Before all of that, maybe we should introduce ourselves? I'm Sorrel, the Wood Sorrel Guardian“, The rabbit named Sorrel answered. ”I'm Max. Now what's up with this place?“, I quickly replied. ”This is a flower field. Beneath it are rocks. Do you know what are these flowers and what those signified?“, Sorrel pointed towards the flowers. ”These are…. Ice plants, right? And they signified…“ Memories of my favorite subject flashes back, about flowers and what they signified. ”Ice plants signified Heartless!“, I shouted, a bit too loud. ”Yes, that's correct. we're in the ice plant field right now“, Sorrel nodded. ”But how did I get here?“, I asked, still confused. ”You suddenly appeared from the sky, and starting to fall down. The back of your head hits a rock, but thanks to my healing powers it's getting better now. And I guess you wanted more explanation?“ ”Mhm“, I mumbled. ”You're in the world of flowers. Every flower signified something. Every flowers have their own flower field. Every flower field has two to five guardians. I'm one of the guardians from the Wood Sorrel Field. It signified joy. Now, there are things such as Flower Field copies. Were in one right now. These fields are cursed. No one can get out. The only way to get out is with a help from a human. Usually there is only one human that happens to come here, every on thousand years. I somehow got stuck here. I think it was a monster, it tricked me into going to this field. I've been here for three hundred years.“, Sorrel explained. ”That's a lot to take in… but if you are trapped her for three hundred years, what about the other guardians?“, I asked curiously. ”They tried to help me. But in the end, they all abandoned me.“ Sorrel's voice trailed of. ”Oh… Didn't you say humans can get out of this? That means I can help you get out and I'm not trapped here forever, right? I can go home, right?“, I asked worriedly. ”Yes, but you need to figure out some puzzles and went through ornaments. There was human who tried to help me, two hundred years ago but she ended up being turned into a deer. She's the portal guardian now.“ I looked at Sorrel and was going to ask what a portal is, but he shouted ”Come on! There's no time to waste, we need to go now!“.
I followed Sorrel trough some rocks and ice plants. It seems like we're going into a cave, which is weird because we're in a flower field. Of course, when I woke up, all I can see is rocks and those ice plants. Makes me wonder, are we in a flower field in a cave? ”Oh, I forgot to tell you something. There are some more flowers ahead. They're not ice plants, and they signified…. a lot of bad things“, Sorrel reminded me. As he just finished saying that, we encountered some foxglove. ”They signified treachery“, I whispered. We stopped at a dead end. ”Don't worry, you only need to touch it.“ Sorrel calmly said. I touch the wall and it disappeared. Seeing a lot of weird things today, I didn't ask Sorrel how did that happened. We encountered some puzzles, ornament and a lot of flowers. I found a bunch of hellebores that signified madness (I was going to touch it, but Sorrel said these are magic ones that can make you mad and lost control), and more ice plants. We kept on running, dodging arrows and rocks. Sorrel said that we finished the puzzle section, and I was really glad. The cave became more and more bright, and I realized that there is more and more snowdrop that signified hope. ”We're getting closer to the exit!“, shouted Sorrel. We faced our last challenge. Rope climbing. We need to climb those ropes and swing to jump to the other. ”You don't want to fall!“, Shouted Sorrel again and he started climbing and swinging. I did the same, and suddenly we're both out in the open field.
”FINALLY! After three hundred years, I'm back!“, Sorrel was overjoyed. ”Let's go to the portal, and you can go home!“ And so, Sorrel started running, his energy restored. ”Hey, wait!“, I yelled, chasing after him. After around three minutes, we arrived at a portal. ”Here, you can have this. It's a thank you gift, and It'll never rod“, Sorrel gave me a Wood Sorrel. It's warm. ”Go now! Thank you, and goodbye Max.“ He said, waving at me. ”Goodbye Sorrel! Thank you, and be careful next time!“ ”And uhm… try not to encounter monsters…?“ I quickly added, remembering what Sorrel has told me before. I waved at him for the last time, and step into the portal. I feel like I'm falling… deeper and deeper…. *GASP* I woke up in my bed. ”T-that… was all a dream…?“ I tough. I looked around my room, and everything looks normal. ”Yeah, that MUST be a dream…" But then I looked at my study table that is right next to me, and I saw a Wood Sorrel. I picked it up, and it felt warm. I realized I never picked up a Wood Sorrel. I can't be…. Was it… Magic? All of that is real? I always remembered that time. Deep in my heart, I wonder if I can ever meet Sorrel again.

989 Words

Daily #6 :
Asphodel, bay, nightshade, night convolvulus and honeysuckle.
I sat here, in the pattering rain as I watched you from beyond. I watched as flowers were thrown onto my grave by everyone except you, and how you decided to stay to watch my last words etched on stone collect rust. But tell me, my dear, when will you leave? Your transient beauty fades as you slowly age in front of me, I know that you know about me, and you will take my regrets to your grave. Let’s keep our little secret, the fact you know i’m always watching you, looking down at you, from beyond. Shall we?

Tell me, how do you know that my soul is always present- when I would never be alive in your heart? After years of hate and treachery, how do you still get dark thoughts, about me? Why do you hate me so much, my love?
As I watch you, as nothing more than a soul, I feel the darkness and hate inside my slowly drip out like the tears in your eyes as you visit my grave everyday. Why do you visit, out of love or hate? Will you always be with me, my love?

I know you hate me, I hexed you with a cold, cruel curse many years ago, I used you and your innocence for my greedy use, but tell me, did you not? Did you loyally and honestly sit by my side, with no darker intentions of expanding your magic? Like me? I always had the dream, to be capable of destroying the world with a snap, and you were by my side, sacrificing your powers unknowingly for my greater cause, after I made up the excuse of ‘love’. But please tell me you did not believe that, please tell me you always knew I had never felt anything for you, but did I? I spent years thinking about why anyone would ever care so much about a person, while ai was the one growing into you, slowly falling in love with you. I was driven by desire, desire to fulfil my selfish needs, not desire to live with you. And surely you never loved me, please tell me you didn’t, I beg you, please.

Yet now that I am no more, you visit my grave everyday and cry tears heavier than these raindrops, why is that, my love? Please tell me you never loved me, I can’t help but regret using you for enhancing my powers, my love.

Daily for 6/11/22:



Dear Anastasia,

How are you? I hope you are well. Please find enclosed flowers.

Kind regards,

Lilith.

[Anastasia lifted up the envelope and a single gillyflower fell out. She skimmed through her memory to see what it meant… envy? No, that was geranium… Or friendship? No, that was periwinkle… “How did I get periwinkle and gillyflower messed up?” she thought as she got out her notebook of flower meanings.

Gillyflower meant… affection.

Oh.]



Dear Lilith,

Thank you for the flowers you sent. I enjoyed them. I thought that you would enjoy some flowers to be sent back.

Kind regards,

Anastasia.





Dear Lilith,

Would you like to meet with me at the town square at 10:00 AM on the next Saturday?

Anastasia.





Dear, Anastasia,

I wish you a merry Christmas. Would you like to meet me at the town square on the 24th at 12 PM in order to celebrate?

Lilith.





Dear, Lilith,

I found a house for us on Amwell Street. I hope to see you there to see it. When are you free to see it?

Anastasia.

P.S.: Thank you for the peach blossom. Please find a flower enclosed in the envelope.



Dear, Anastasia,

I am free on the 18th.

Lilith.





Dear Feodore,

Me and Anastasia invite you to our house. We hope you are able to come.

Lilith.



[Feodore knocked on the door of his sister’s house. He knew that she lived there with her girlfriend. Thinking about it, he probably was the only one who knew that.

In a few seconds, the door opened, to reveal Lilith standing there.

“Welcome,” she smiled and stepped aside.

The first thing that Feodore noticed about the house that there were many flowers. There were pressed roses and pansies and dahlias in frames and boquetes in vases.

“Admiring our flowers?” a voice asked and Feodore jumped.

“Anastasia, please, never do that again. God. But, yes. There are… a lot of them.”

“Well, Feodore, the flowers are the ones we sent to each other through the years. We pressed them and when we came to live with each other, we have framed them because we no longer needed to pass flowers to each other,” she explained. “Does that make sense?”

“Well, all I see is two years' worth of flirting,” Feodore deadpanned.

That sent Anastasia into a laughing fit. “That too.”]

nov 6 daily
psst! want to read my writing? all my writing links are here

Flowers used:
—rhodondedron (danger)
—fuchsia (anxiety)
—marigold (grief)
—snowdrop (hope)

Story:
Luna loved flowers. She was fascinated with them, and not simply the way they looked pretty in a glass vase. She studied the meanings of flowers. They told so many stories. She loved them so much she decided to memorize the meanings and keep track of them and record them.
Which proved to be very useful later on.
It was a cold night, and Luna was drowning in her extra blankets, which she regretted trying to use in order to keep warm. She couldn’t sleep. Her mind was busy thinking about anything but sleep, it’s gears turning as it pondered the events of her day.
It was, overall, a normal day. But as she was watering one of her many rows of flowers, she saw a box lying in the soil. She picked it up, noting its incredible amount of rust and the dirt clinging to it. Inside was a single flower: a rhodondedron. Luna gasped. This was a rare flower, but it’s meaning made her look around nervously.
It’s meaning was danger.
She needed to finish watering the flowers, so she did, but she did so carefully and warily. She hurried back inside as soon as she’d finished.
Luna took the box with the flower and hid it in one of her valuable hiding spots. She felt as if it was sending a message to her, telling her danger lurked nearby.
Maybe it was just a normal flower. But she couldn’t trust it.
Luna thought about the flower as she lay in bed. She stared at the fuchsias in the corner of her room. Anxiety. Luna could feel them staring back at her. She realized she had never put fuchsias in her room.
She threw off her blankets and decided to go outside.
She stepped outside and onto her porch in her comfy PJ’s and bunny slippers and dropped her flashlight in horror.
All her flowers. Gone. Burned. Stolen. Cut.
Except for one group of flowers left alone. Marigolds. They meant grief.
What was going on? Someone or something was sending a message to her—and not a very good one. Danger, anxiety, grief. These were all not good words. These were all sad words.
These were all words she could feel right now. But she could also feel something else. She searched for it in her brain, trying to think.
It was something positive, something bright in the middle of the dark.
A single, solitary snowdrop lay at her feet, small and forlorn.
It meant hope.
418 words

╔══ ≪ daily six ≫ ══╗

" In Victorian times, people sent messages to each other through secret code - aka flower arrangements! The flowers they used signified different things; for example, roses for love and friendship, crocuses for happiness, and marigolds for grief. Today’s daily is all about writing using the Victorian Language of Flowers. Our brilliant Alba has compiled this beautiful list of flowers: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/741579314/. In 400 words, write a piece with 2-5 flowers on the list (and incorporate their meanings into your work) to earn 300 points! Extra 100 points for sharing, and a virtual daisy for stating your favourite flower in the comments for Starr’s enjoyment. "

flowers used:
- dahlia, sweet pea, marigold, forget-me-not, asphodel

The second Tuesday of every third month, Carnation wakes up at five and spends an hour staring at the wall numbly. This is not intentionally worked into her routine, but it has grown on her like the flowers she used to love so much, and the wall is as good a companion as anyone else. In fact, better, because her wall doesn't try to convince her to get up. She doesn't want to – not on those Tuesdays. Every other day, she leaps out of bed, holding the sheets down so as to prevent herself from getting tangled in the emotions sleep holds.

On the second Tuesday of every third month, Carnation brushes her hair, spends several minutes picking out the perfect outfit (often black or pastel blue), and then smiles at herself in the mirror. She never looks very happy. Her face grimaces back at her and she stops trying to keep up the pretence, but at least she tries to smile. She is proud of herself for that.

On the second Tuesday of every third month, she slips into a hoodie stitched with patterns of dahlias (they made it for her a couple of years ago, a birthday present that she wishes she never accepted), and heads outside the house without telling anyone. Sometimes the door locks behind her, and she spends several minutes blinking away the tears. She has gradually become numb to that annoyance though, as her family don't tend to leave the house before she gets back.

She occasionally stops by the florist, watching the flowers from outside. She can't buy anything, as it is too early for the shop to be open, but the petals of sweet peas fold and whisper ‘good morning’ to her, and she shoves her hands into the hoodie's pockets and murmurs the same back.

On the second Tuesday of every third month, she walks briskly for half an hour until she reaches a spruce forest, where she gathers flowers from the patches where the trees haven't taken over. If she's lucky, no animal has ravaged the plants, and Carnation is able to sit down on a mossy rock and collect armfuls of forget-me-nots and of marigold. She strokes the heads of the flowers and apologises every time she rips one from the earth, knowing fully well how it feels to grieve after a loved one.

On the second Tuesday of every third month, she plods down the same, worn path, picking asphodels as she goes along and adding them to her tribute. The petals rub against the too-large hoodie, and the scents of them all together suffocate her, but she keeps her head up and watches as the sun rises slowly over the horizon. If she's lucky, the walk is endurable, the air bitter but not too cold, and she doesn't lose any plants on the way there.

When she arrives at the graveyard, she tucks the flowers in a blanket across a particular grave, and then she traces the words on the tombstone with her index finger. If she has had a bearable three months, she will talk, but otherwise she curls up beside her lost one and sleeps. Nobody ever sees her – as far as she's concerned, she could remain forever asleep and nobody would ever realise.

The moss would grow over her and the flowers she used to adore will cushion her sleeping head and sing lullabies to her dozing form. She might even be at peace.

(580 words)

november 6 daily

flowers used: dahlia - yours til' the end
foxglove - treachery
nightshade - sorcery, dark thoughts

Under the moon, my lover slipped a deep red dahlia into my ear. He whispered, “a symbol of my love to you forever.” Or so I thought. Seven years later, here I sat, in the basement of a grim apartment building, nobody to stand next to me and comfort me. Sights of dead bodies filled the streets, covered in dirt and grime. Before my lover had left, things were better. Until that one day, the day he had handed me a purple foxglove. Only then, I was too naive to know what it meant. Now I know, though. And I will never forget. It meant treachery. My lover had betrayed me many years ago, and left me… left me where? Oh, that's right. He had left me to fight a battle. He had turned against, me, against my family, my friends. He had turned against the world to join a small, horrible group of people that killed. And they were growing. Faster then ever before. Bombs dropping, guns shooting, pain everywhere. Some of my friends have even joined that… group of people. And they had come up with something that made everything so much worse. They began to drop nightshades in people's houses, a symbol of sorcery, a symbol of dark thoughts. This put fear in people's minds, invaded their senses. The nightshades eventually killed. But it was only because of the fear. Fear could kill. And that was something that we all had.

cxtton-moon wrote:

november 6 daily
hi i didn't use enough words xD

flowers used: dahlia - yours til' the end
foxglove - treachery
nightshade - sorcery, dark thoughts

Under the moon, my lover tucked a deep red dahlia behind my ear. He whispered, “a symbol of my love to you forever.” We gazed into each other's eyes, our fingers intertwined, my head on his shoulder. Occasionally, we would whisper quiet little murmurings of love to each other, our love radiating off of each other. We had loved each other so deeply it was hard to bear sometimes. The heartbreak that would ensue if he didn't love me anymore would be too much to bear, so much that I would die of heartbreak if he didn't love me anymore. But he loved me now, and he would love me forever, he would say. Or so I thought. Seven years later, here I sat, in the basement of a grim apartment building, rats skittering across the floors, trash and bodies littering the ground. There was nobody to stand next to me and comfort me. Nobody to hold my hand and whisper quiet affirmations, to whisper that everything would be alright. But everything wasn't all right. Sights of dead bodies filled the streets, covered in dirt and grime. Before my lover had left me, things were better. Much, much better. Until that one day, the day he had handed me a purple foxglove. Only then, I was too naive to know what it meant. Now I know, though. And I will never forget. It meant treachery. My lover had betrayed me, turned away from me, many years ago, and left me… left me where? Oh, that's right. He had left me to fight a battle. A battle neither side would ever win. He had turned against, me, against my family, my friends. He had turned against the world to join a small, horrible group of people that killed. And they were growing. Faster then ever before. Bombs dropping, guns shooting, pain everywhere. Death was always looming, a Some of my friends have even been desperate enough to live that they had joined that… horrible, terrifying, group of people. And they had come up with something that made everything so much worse. They began to drop nightshades in people's houses, a flower with a symbol of sorcery, a symbol of dark thoughts. This put fear in people's minds, invaded their senses. The nightshades eventually killed. But it was only because of the fear. Fear could kill. And that was something that we all had.

403 words!

Daily nov 6

Flowers used:

Daisies (Innocence) , Wood sorrel (Joy) , Ox-eye (Patience) and Trefoil (Revenge)

Lost in her own world of depression , Ellen felt like a blank box. She wandered alone in her blank space her mind had created , desperate to escape. It all started yesterday afternoon. Her fake friend, Fiona , had given her a flower called “Trefoil” and that only made things worse. Fiona had been struck with envy after seeing her “own” friend studying with a boy called Lewis.
Lewis was the most quiet boy in school. He never interacted much with other students. But accidentally he had bumped into Ellen while studying in the Library. This had made Fiona red with envy and anger . Lewis was going to be her boy and not Ellen’s. Desperate for a solution , Fiona had found a book of flowers and managed to find a Trefoil flower at school. After the flower was given to Ellen , Ellen found herself in a mess she couldn’t get out of. Lewis stopped talking to her and started hanging with Fiona instead , Miss Diana was cross over Ellen’s homework and a lot more started to pile up. Frantic for a solution , Ellen studied a book of witchcraft and flowers which the librarian had suspiciously given to her . Only 3 flowers and a drop of the sea was what she needed. Somehow , She found the 3 flowers she needed in her garden. And the 3 flowers were Daisies , Wood sorrel and Ox-eye . Later she retreated to the beach and using a dropper , Ellen managed to get a few drops of the sea into a test tube. Already she was exhausted and was flagging since she had been on goose chase trying to collect the items before they dried out. Tired of running , she sat down on the porch of her verandah and started mixing her components in a jar . Ellen had to squeeze all the nectar and water out of the flowers and then added the drop of the sea. Once she mixed it , with all her might, she prayed it would work and then she drank it up. The taste felt just like the warm brownies at Grandma’s. Tired and sleepy , She hopped into bed and slept off. The next day , Lewis had apologised to Ellen after the incident and Ellen gladly accepted his apology. But Fiona had disappeared into thin air and no matter where Ellen looked , Fiona was never found. Even the teachers had shrugged and given up on finding her. What a tiresome and adventurous day!

408 words

daily 6 - flowers
flowers used: buttercup (childishness), tulip (fame), trefoil (revenge), sunflower (adoration), oleander (beware)
823 words


The wooden wheels of the carriage clattered against the cobblestone road, the centuries-old golden gate opening in front of it, granting us passage to the inner city. As we made our way down the road, crowds cheered from either side, calling out my name-/my/ name-with pride and adoration, blowing kisses and throwing flowers. I caught two particularly beautiful ones-a bright orange tulip and a dazzling sunflower-and beamed back at all the people, somehow still stunned that any of this had ever happened. That /I/ really had become a hero, a real hero of the nation like all those in old tales.
Another set of gates soon opened, these ones much taller and made with gleaming silver. The gateway to the palace itself. I was escorted out of the carriage by two royal guards dressed in matching red uniforms, and walked down the remainder of the path and into the main hall of the palace itself.
Standing at the end of the room, high up on a marble pedestal, was an adolescent girl who looked to be the princess herself-wearing a regal blue dress and a silver crown adorned with buttercups, and emanating a powerful, confident, and even slightly arrogant-but who was I to judge?-aura. The two guards walked me up to the pedestal, bowing and gesturing for me to do the same, before leaving the princess and I in private.
“So, I hear you’re some kind of… hero,” the princess said, her voice carrying a slight tone of exasperation, as if this was all just another chore.
“I suppose I am,” I replied. “I was told I would meet with your father, though. Where is he?”
“He’s too busy to deal with anything like this,” responded the princess, sounding even more annoyed, “but I’m happy to welcome you into our home. I’m sure we’ll find some use for you in the years to come…”

And it all just went downward from there.
For what seems like the thousandth time, I think about all these events as I sit in my old, creaking rocking chair, holding in one hand a small, withering trefoil. Across from me, on a small wooden shelf, is a cracked glass vase with nothing in it but a few scattered ashes-the last of the flowers those cheering crowds gave me on that fateful day. The last of anything that truly belongs to me.
I slowly stand up out of the chair, walking on old, tired legs towards the door, which opens out onto a dingy, secluded, mud path. Something akin to where I’d lived a long, long time before, before any of this had ever happened, before the war had ever begun and before I’d even been called a… hero. And for what seems like the thousandth time, I ponder the idea of revenge. It would be so simple, so quick…
Since when am I standing in front of the palace gates? And since when are they wide open, the two guards lying unconscious on the floor? I walk slowly along the path, still holding the withered flower, drawing the sword that I seem to have taken from home-another thing that, I had forgotten, truly belonged to me. Along each side of the stone pathway is a small garden, filled with beautiful tulips and sunflowers: all things that could have been mine. All things that were stolen from me. I cut them down, sunflowers and tulips and even a tall, dazzling oleander that marks the doors to the palace itself. As I reach to open the door, two guards run to stop me, but I make quick work of them. I swing open that final barrier, walking straight into the great hall with a confidence I have not had in decades.
“So… you truly did return.” The woman who sits on the marble pedestal-the Queen herself, at the moment-is far from the arrogant girl who greeted me so many years ago. She sits on the edge of her throne with a sort of humility, everything about her more quiet and laid back-but somehow I can tell that she was still the exact same princess who once stood so boldly up on that pedestal. That arrogance, that sense of entitled power, is still very much there, and her crown-although it is now a tall, gold one-is still adorned with buttercups.
“I did,” I whisper, and without waiting lunge towards the throne, sword in hand… until my hand is firmly grasped in place, and I fall down to the floor, gasping. The sword drops onto the floor, and I hesitantly look up to meet the Queen’s eyes. She forces me up and takes from my other hand something that I had forgotten I’d been holding-the old trefoil. She crumples it in her fist, and when it opens again all that is left is ash. The ash drifts down to the floor, slowly, and all my last hopes and dreams with it.

Before i start this weekly, note that i don't hate any cabins, you all are incredible!This is ALL satire.I am going from siblings, to allies, to neutrals and finally to enemies.(43)(the numbers are the amount of words for each letter)

Dear the one and only Folklore,(115)
I am excited to write to you on this lovely morning!How have you been doing?I can see how many words you have written so far-you are doing amazing!Keep up the hard work!Have you been doing the dailies?If you have, then which one has been your favourite so far?Personally, i really liked the one where you had to look to your right and then convince customers that the random object you had first seen would be delicious in a smoothie!If you did that daily, what object did you do?I did a pride sticker lol.Anyway, i hope you're well.
From, Fantasy


To Poetry,(106)
Nice to be able to write to you again!Im afraid you are currently last in the word count-but that's ok!Im sure you'll bounce forward and claim many points!Anyway, aside from the points, how are you?Im hoping that you aren't under any pressure whatsoever.And if you are, you can come talk to me about anything, whether it's got to do with points or not.Im also happy to share ideas if you need any help with finding ways to source or write words.In fact, im sure anyone from Fantasy would be content helping you!<3
Sending many hugs, Fantasy

Dear Dystopian,(107)
First of all, WOAH!You have the highest word count, congratulations!You did overtake us, and i have no idea how to feel about that, but overall im happy for you-you all deserve to be first!Keep up that astounding work!Secondly, how is everyone?I hope that you guys are doing well!Honestly, what kind of magic are you using to be so incredible?Are all of you working your socks of to be this good?Probably, lol.Anyhow, feel free to write to Fantasy at any time, we would all love to hear from you once again ^^
Sending much love, from Fantasy

To Script,(116)
Hey, we haven't talked in a while, so i thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up with all of you!How is everyone doing, whatcha all been up to?<3 I noticed that you are just under our dear siblings, Folklore, in the word count, in fact very close behind them!A gigantic congrats to you guys!What sort of things have you done to earn all those treasured points?The weeklies/the dailies?Homework?Creative writing?Fanfiction?Scripts?There are so many more for me to suggest, but i don't want to lecture you!All i know is that you earned each point, and you deserve them all!
Signing off, Fantasy

Dear Non-Fiction (Non-Fi), (121)
Greetings from Fantasy!What's up?Is everything going well?I hope it is all going to plan.Do any of you need help with words?I couldn't help but notice that you guys are second to last in the word count-sorry for being nosy, i don't mean any harm.I only want to assist any one who needs help.Anyway, how is it in your cabin?Is it cosy and bright?Also, since the first week is almost over, I would like to know how many dailies you have done, if you have been able to do some.If not, then thats fine.Im just curious.All of Fantasy are cheering you on!
From, Fantasy

Dear Thriller Cabin,(106)
I FINALLY get to write to you!!Im so sorry that i haven't wrote to you sooner-I've been incredibly busy.Please don't take our abscene the wrong way!Well, how has everyone been?You have got a nice amount of points, that is good.Also, would you guys be interested in being our allies?You don't have to of course, but the options out if you want it.No pressure.Well, i think that's everything i have been dying to say-nevermind, i also want to just ask, is anyone doing the current weekly?That's all, i promise.
Signing off, Fantasy

To Mystery,(101)
It's nice to talk with you, we don't do this very often.How are you?You know, you are also doing marvelous in points-well done!Sooo…anything interesting happen outside the camp?Nothing much has gone on for me, but SWC is an exception!I love writing, as im sure everyone here does, and it makes every task here, big or small, very enjoyable.Im sure all of you are very talented at writing!So, anyway, i wish all of you good luck with your writing, and with the points!You'll do amazing.<3
I wish you luck, Fantasy

Dear Horror,(108)
How is everyone?Most importantly, how's your terrifying cabin?Please be careful in it-i heard that the horror cabin can be a dangerous place.But i guess you guys are all dauntless, so maybe i have nothing to fear…maybe for myself, but not for anyone actually staying in this cabin.i should be more cautious, especially because we are just about in front of you in the word count-i kinda sound like im bragging sorry.Well, you are doing decently with points, keep up the excellent work!I believe that's everything i desired to say, so ill see you!
Sending good spirits, Fantasy

To Real-Fiction (Real-Fi) (103)
Yes, hello.It is the Cabin that you just slightly hate, Fantasy, but we are still counted as hostile neutrals instead of rivals.Well, i guess ill count you guys as enemies.So, whats going on down the line of the word count?We couldn't know since we are basically at the top of it.And how's the extraordinarily boring book,Thirteen Reasons Why?I kind of assumed you'd be reading that.I only actually know one book from this section:To Kill A Mockingbird.Sounds like poaching, matey pie.Anyway, good luck i guess.
From Fantasy x

Dear Fanfiction (Fan-Fi)(136)
To be honest, i am slightly reluctant to send you a letter whinning about you all, mainly because i love this cabin and I in fact had this on as one of my three options.Well, we are unfortunately hostile neutrals.So instead ill critisise the points and not the genre itself.You all can only be described as a chihuahua-mainly because of how small your number of word points is, and how you act quickly and unoriginally, meaning how when a fandom is popular, you swiftly take characters that aren't yours to write about instead of making up your own.Decrease your egos please, you all have little dog syndrome.Oh, i did say i wasn't going insult the genre-that was a lie.Ok im actually sorry-
From Fantasy

To Adventure (106)
Adventure time, Come on grab your friends, We'll go to very distant lands with Jake the Dog and Finn the Human, the fun will never end, it's Adventure time!There you go, i sung you your intro ) (i actually loved Adventure Time).Anyway, prepare to write about how a random chosen kid has to travel far far away to find some powerful wizard who turns out to be a lonely, ordinary geezer.Or write about something completely different, up to you ‘young nitwit traverlers’, and good luck with your adventure of climbing up the word count system.
From the Fantasy cabin

Dear Science-Fiction (Sci-fi) (100)
Congratulations on sharing a genre with Star Wars!^^ Im going to be nicer to you lot, as i sent three rude letters to my foes and im too busy worrying that perhaps ill get into trouble for it.I can't take any more risks, and i don't particularly enjoy being mean anyway.Anyway, now i have ranted, how's…life?Do you get to write a detailed story of how the Monster Mash song happened? /j.What?I need to at least hint to the readers that we aren't allies.Actually, what readers?Forget the readers <3
Fantasy

To Bizarro Fiction (Bi-Fi) (119)
You are the last poor cabin who will have to recieve a letter from me.So let's get this over with.To be fair i quite like your cabin, so this will be slightly more difficult than i imagined.Uhhhh…sooooo…what's everyone writing?Anything good?Who are your other rivals?Oh my god, can i be your most challenging and annoying rival?No?Ok, fine.Is your cabin decent?How many people are in your cabin, times by the area in your cabin and divided by the number of furniture you have in your room?Send me a reply by Monday please, or you owe me three choclate coins.
From the Fantasy Cabin

Hello

06 Flowers

Table of Contents

Backstory: Four years ago Brystal's mom died in a car accident. Every year on that day (December 28th) Brystal visits her mom's grave and places a bouquet of flowers at the grave's feet. She uses this as a way to communicate with her mom, even after death. The flowers she uses depend on what had happened in her life that past year. Say she graduated college and got her dream job, but had also broken up with her partner whom she had adored. She might lay down a wood sorrel for joy as well as a marigold for grief. She also writes a letter to her mom explaining why she had chosen the flowers that she had that year and lays it down with the flowers. This is the first letter Brystal wrote to her mother after her death explaining the flowers she had chosen for that year's bouquet and why.

Flowers Used: Marigold, Snowdrop, and Wood Sorrel

December 28th, 1998

Dear mom,

It's been a year since it happened. At first, I thought I'd never recover. I wasn't sure how I could go from hearing your voice as you told me I love you every night, from eating your blueberry pancakes every morning before school, from seeing your bright blue eyes shining with tears of joy when I showed you my report card for that quarter. At first, it was unbearable. My grades went from A's to D's. My mornings went from filled with love to loneliness and my nights went from peaceful nights with sweet dreams, to restless nights of sleep filled with nightmares. Dad tries his best, but ever since you passed it's been hard for him too. He's had to work longer hours to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. Sometimes he's gone before I wake up in the morning and comes back home long after I've gone to sleep. Because of this, one of the flowers I am leaving you will be a marigold, symbolizing grief.

After a few months, things started to get a little bit better. Nothing changed, I still almost never saw dad, and I still felt the absence of you in my daily routines, but I started to get used to it. Time went by slowly, but at the same time it went by quickly. Each day was the same, and before I knew it the school year had come to an end and summer had arrived. Grandmother had offered to let us come stay with her during the summer. My dad didn't have work during the summer and didn't have enough money saved up to feed us for the next three months. Grandma also insisted we needed a break and that some new scenery might help us move on. I have to admit, grandma was right. Having her and grandpa there every day to shower me with love and affection helped to fill the whole your death left in my heart. While neither of them could ever replace you, those three months gave me hope for the future and that is why I'm including a snowdrop (symbolizing hope) in the bouquet as well.

While the three months at my grandparent's house had made things seem a lot more bearable and made the future look a lot less bleak, the end of summer break meant the return of school as well as the return of the loneliness and the constant reminder that you were gone. Not only would I have to go back to school, but I would have to start over at an entirely different school this year as I was about to enter ninth grade which meant high school. I went into high school expecting that year to be the same as the last and all before that. I never had many friends, and the few I did have I wasn't very close with. Now that I look back on it I think that may be because I was so distant with them and never really tried to strengthen my relationship with any of them. I was determined for this year to be different. I decided that I would join as many clubs and after-school activities as possible to try and keep my mind off of everything and I'm happy to say that it worked. While I joined many different clubs and sports, my favorite and the one I looked forward to the most was drama club. I discovered my love for acting there. I enjoyed being able to take on different characters' views and perspectives on life. It made it easier to cope with my own. I also made many new friends in drama club and a couple of other clubs. Friends that I would hang out with after school which made eventually coming back to the empty house a lot more bearable. While not a day goes by that I don't miss you my new friends have made everything a whole lot easier and have genuinely brought me joy. That is why the final flower in the bouquet I am leaving you is a wood sorrel, symbolizing joy.

Love,
Brystal

853 Words

Here's my entry for today's daily. This is my first post for SWC this November! This isn't entirely my regular quality or caliber compared to some more poetic works that I'm much more proud of. If you have any question's regarding this piece or just basic questions don't be afraid to go to my profile! I'm proud( or slightly proud) to present “Yours”:


“Yours”that was all Fern said before she was dragged into Ms.Winslow’s carriage to head to the train station. “Yours” was a common expression between the two. Expressed when they ever parted, although Zinnia didn’t know how she and Fern could be parted so simply. Fern and Ms.Winslow were leaving for Austria, a far of land that sounded like something as frivolous as a poorly written fairy tale, but it didn’t matter to Ms.Winslow, all it mattered was that she was going and Fern was going with her. She saw them off, waving hastily to Fern before she was pulled back from running the length of the tracks, searching for something that wasn’t hers any more. For Fern really wasn’t hers like she had promised, she was Ms.Winslow’s now.


“What a shame” a voice whispered behind her, jolting her out of her dream-land. “Oh, it's just you Mr.Baker” she said, still flustered.”Come with me child, I may just have something to help you” Mr.Baker proclaimed,taking Zinnia firmly by the elbow.”That would be if you’d like to come along.”Mr.Baker continued. “Yes,” Zinnia replied simply. Mr. Baker looked at her with a spark of confusion.”Yes, I would like to see what you have for me”she expressed. “Well come along” Mr.Baker said, guiding her out of the bustling crowd.



When Zinnia first beheld what Mr.Baker said would “help” her she thought that he might have been confused. For certainly, Baker’s House of Herbal Sorcery and Communications was not what exactly she had in mind.It’s high sage walls with sides of glass and a peculiar red door didn’t exactly read “to be of help to a girl that lost her best friend and doesn't know what to do”. “ I know what you may be thinking, but just trust me Zinnia” Mr.Baker said. Zinnia just looked at him as she reached deeply into his pockets, pulled out a golden key and turned it in the lock of the red door. To Zinnia’s astonishment, the door creaked open and she would never guess what exactly was inside.



Baker’s House of Herbal Sorcery and Communications was nothing short of breathtaking, extraordinary, magnificent, regal, grand. Zinnia didn’t know all of the words to accurately describe how entirely other-worldy it was but as one like Zinnia would, she tried. The glass windows reflected gorgeous sunlight off the vials capped with cork.Windchimes ringed melodically. “Now how exactly can I help you?”.



Ps. The flowers I chose for this piece include: Dahlia: yours forever. Everlasting-attachement. Periwinkle- memory,friendship. Zinnia- thoughts of absent friends. Forget-me-nots- love in absense.


Thank you for reading my work! Have a great rest of your morning, day or evening!