SWC Megathread || Nov. 2022

Polarbear_17

Daily #6

I. QUINCE

Ponder, wonder, yonder…
the streets are just cold enough to wander,
the gentle ghosts visiting from their above thrones
and napping on benches and cobblestones.
At times when I am not looking,
the world appears to lead me on, slight winds
guiding my sails toward a destination I have longed for previously
but have since discarded ever reaching the possibility…
I saw you, tall,
Sitting on a retaining wall
filled with jasmines and quinces,

I have learned from past experiences
to not approach, to not approach,
to not hope, to not hope…
but the temptation is a monsoon, a hurricane,
and ten seconds later, I know of your name.

And that should have been my cue to leave,
I should have realized that when I started to believe,
that should have been my sign to stop,
that should have been my sign to drop
the fathoming and accept the inevitable collapse,
but the temptation is a slow trap,
luring you into believing the tendrils wrapping around
are keeping you safe but now,
now you have been sinking the entire time,
sinking until you have lost your mind…

The world told me not to touch it,
society told me not to love it,
and I did not listen,
and now I am stuck in my own prison…

II. PANSY

Meeting you in ten…
I check the buttons and cuffs again and again,
readjust my tie
trying to perfect my smile
in the mirror of the restaurant restroom
and hope that my effort means something to you.
The sink is decorated with pansies and air fresheners,
and I steal a breath mint to circumvent the pressure
building up in my head
as I think of what to do instead
of pacing on the dirty tiles
trying to perfect my smile
Meeting you in nine…
I fidget with my tie
I check the lapels and the cuffs
wondering if this is enough
holding onto the sink for dear life
trying to perfect my smile
wondering if you will accept me for who I am
or run away when you can
Meeting you in eight…
the different colors of pansies on the counter
remind me of all the possible outcomes of this encounter
the variations of what could occur
all of the possible concerns
that could happen if I mess up
if I mess up
I will continue to wonder why
trying to perfect my smile
Meeting you in seven…
Meeting you in six…
Meeting you in five…
the tablecloth is white
the walls are covered in beiges
the menu has six pages
the floor is red with patterns
the ceiling is curved
the chandeliers are bright
it is night
Meeting you in four…
I wonder if you will look the same
on that first day
I saw you with your perfect smile
emerald eyes
a funny and enticing way of talking
an awkward and rigid way of walking
with a straight back
and a spontaneous laugh
chocolate hair combed
and the room owned
Meeting you in three…
If I mess it up
then I'll give up
Meeting you in two…
I should have expected you
to be early
as you look for me
amongst the tables and crowds
and I have been found–

III. SNOWDROP

In the park, snow swallows the scene
with white and little hints of green
of whatever life comes poking its way out
of the ground.
A few snowdrops litter the floor,
surviving like there is something to live for,
and I scan for the neglected bench
hoping to find you again
hoping to find the place we were
and who we were
hoping for a second chance
hoping to understand
hoping…
hoping…

~ 616 words, I told myself I wouldn't write poetry for dailies but I couldn't help myself for this one xD I got inspired by the numerous multi-part poems with roman numerals that I've read meows

zodiacdog

Emily turned away, cheeks burning. The laughter trailed after her.
“She can’t go to school!” The word echoed in her head. Her hands clenched into fists.
‘I’ll show that.. That.. That traitor!’ she thought furiously. Her brother had turned Europhobia, thinking he was the best of the best. They used to be friends, until he got to go to school. ‘Europhobia, vain.’ Thinking of flowers always calmed her down. ‘He’s a vain traitor!’ Not this time apparently. She stomped away, hating her brother. Emily heard people following her, judgeing by the snickers. Forcing down a smile, she slowly looped towards it, before turning away, as if she was pacing. On the 4th time she did it, she ran into the bushes, and kicked hard.
“Owww!” A boy stumbled out. His pants were torn from her kick. “Emily!” Her brother. His ‘gang’ followed behind him, glaring at her. “I was just gonna say-”
“That is what you get, foxglove kisser! Your chest is full of ice plants!” she shouted at him, then turned and ran away. She thought she felt him radiating regret, but she ignored him, and kept running. She didn’t care what he was going to say. It was not like his so-called friends knew what foxglove meant, and they would just think he was a nerd if he told them. Satisfaction coursed through her, and she slowed down, breathing hard.
She looked up and saw the house. Emily ran inside, slamming the door behind her. Her brother would never find her here. No one would, for the time being. This was where she went if she needed refuge. It was also the only place with some one to talk to, who would listen. “Sarah?” she called softly.
“Hey buttercup.” Emily snorted.
“I am not childish.” she stated.
“It’s childishness.” Sarah stepped out from the corner.
“Same thing.” she said, grinning.
“So, what happened today? You look.. Fuschia like.” Sarah asked.
“We can talk normally. Just anxiety.” Emily said, rolling her eyes.
“Well, I was kind of aiming for anxious, not anxiety.” she said.
“You can say anxious too. You just did.” Emily said.
“Well what did happen?” she asked, plopping down on the floor. Emily sighed, and relayed the ‘tales’ that had happened.
“I called my brother a foxglove kisser.” she said after a bit of talking.
“Oof. What he did was treatorous, I suppose. Although, I would have said something like, ‘Foxglove heart!’ Foxglove kisser?” Sarah buried her face in her hands in mock emmbaressment.
“Shut up.” she said affectionally. Hesitating, she said, “I also said his chest was full of ice plants.”
“Oooo.. He is not going to like that. Though the way you talk about him makes me think he is heartless.”
“You could say he.. Gorsed me??” she said, doubling into laughter after she spoke.
“I thought we weren’t going to speak in code?” Sarah said, raising an eyebrow.
Stifling her laughter, she said, “Fine, he humiliated me.”
“Much better.” she said queenly. Emily resumed her laughter.
Sarah joined in, snickering. They both laughed and giggled and snorted and eventually started tearing up. Sarah sighed.
“So, when is he going to apologize?” she asked.
“What?” she asked.
“Come on. I know he has some fern in him.” she giggled.
“Concealed love.” she corrected her absentmindedly. “And thst isn’t true.”
“Seriously? You’re the one saying he looked regretful. Do you know what he was going to say to you before you called him a foxglove kisser?”
“No.. And I also said his heart was full of ice plants.” she reminded her. “And whatever. He probably was regretful that I tore his pants.”
“You WHAT!?” she said, jumping up.
“Hey, calm down! That’s no worse than calling him a foxglove kisser.”
“And that his chest was full of ice plants.” she added, sitting back down.
“I need to go,” she said, standing up. She was suprised when Sarah didn’t question her.
“Okay. I know you have some things to figure out.” she said, with a twinkle in her eye.
“You should head home too.” Emily said, giving her a hard stare.
“Alright, fine! It’s not like I’m gonna fall asleep again!” she said embarrassedly.
“You better not!” she warned her playfully. She headed out the door carefully, making sure no one saw her. She didn’t have the time to wave behind her. Emily’s feet led her home. She sprinted through the houses, brown hair waving behind her like a flag in a strong wind. She nearly missed her house, but skidded to a stop, sending dust up. Emily toppled over onto her side, knocking the breath out of her. A shadow fell over her, and she quickly stood up, ignoring the pain in her side. She glared up defiantly at the shape.
“Emily?” came a cracked voice. A voice she wanted nothing to do with. She shoved past her brother ignoring his protests. A strong arm grabbed her, and she kicked it. He winced but didn’t let go. “EMILY!” he yelled.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” she yelled back, and broke free. Her arm pulsed with pain, but she ignored it, and ran in.
‘I don’t care what he has to say!’ she thought furiously.
“Emily! I’m sorry!”
“I. Don’t. CARE!” she shouted, and ran away again. Her brother tackled her on the couch, and she gritted her teeth, pushing up. Her anger took hold, and she turned around, slapping him across the face. He toppled off of her, and she took flight. “You’re just making this worse!” she warned him.
He got up, his face red. “Can’t you just listen!?”
“No!” she said, fleeing to the family room. Satisfaction coursed through her. Here she had power, she could do whatever she wanted, without other people stopping her. Here she would never forgive her brother.
Her brother stopped running, he bent down, arms on his knees, wheezing. He never wheezed. Emily narrowed her eyes. She was panting, but not as bad.
“Can’t run old man?” she taunted before she began to feel pity.
A light dawned in his eyes. “Can’t see the truth, woman?” he said. He got up, clutching his side.
She snorted, and turned away. “I don’t need to hear the truth from you.”
He let out a wheezing breath. “Emily, wait. Please..” He gasped for breath.
Emily froze. “What?” She whirled around. “What? That you deserve my pity after everything you’ve done?” She tilted her head to stare at him.
“Emily.. I have cancer. Lung cancer.” he said. He coughed, and blood splattered on the ground. He got up uneasily, and dropped on the couch. “ I just wanted you to know.”
Emily stood rigid, back straight. “How long.” she asked. He winced at her harsh tone.
“3 months. The doctor said I have 1 minute to 2 days.” he said weakly.
“You told everyone in the school I got a F, and 5 D-’s.” she said.
“Can you forgive me, for the time I have left..?” he said, trailing off.
She sighed. “Do I have a choice?” she said.
“Thank you..” he said, closing his eyes. He exhaled deeply, and didn’t inhale again.
“Goodbye, Charlie.”

sxrendipity

690 words | daily!

Hellebore - madness
Lucerne - life
Nightshade - sorcery, dark thoughts
Snowdrop - hope
Marigold - grief

I lie among the Lucernes, looking up at the sky.
The sun is bright today, as is my mind. Thoughts float through it like clouds on a breeze. I’m just so happy. I don’t exactly have a reason to be so joyful, it’s just that… Well, I have nothing to be sad about. Nothing at all.
Everything around me is so full of colour! So vibrant! I feel everything so fully, and every sensation is pleasant — a reminder that I’m alive. The wet grass on my skin, leftover from the rainy night, cools the rays of sun that otherwise cover me. And the dirt. The lovely soft dirt. I feel grateful that I can touch it. I wouldn’t want to live where the only soil is mud, or where there is no soil at all. I feel so grateful that I can have beautiful flowers, plants, and food to eat. So grateful that I have the Lucernes.
Everything here is just right. Sometimes the Hellebores grow with them too, and then my laughter grows higher than the sky.
I’m just so happy.

Finally, the tears come, and they don’t stop. I feel myself collapsing. Down, down down I go. I know I’m crushing the flowers beneath me. But it doesn’t matter, and even if it did, I can’t stop it. Nothing matters to me anymore except the inside of my own mind. No one sees me anyway, there in the Marigold field. I don’t even see myself — I may as well be floating in space. Everything outside fades away, a faint buzz in the back of my mind.

I lie in the bedcovers, looking up at the dark ceiling.
I don’t know where I am, exactly, but I know it’s not good.
Sometimes the room changes, but it’s never nice. The light leaks in and burns my brain… and the noise. The noise. It hums and buzzes and tries to hurt me. It never leaves, even when it seems like it; it stays, static, in the air. Like a cloud of dust hanging over me.
Then, sometimes, it’s so dark I can’t see — but I know what’s there in the darkness anyway. I sense the vines growing up the cracks in the walls, spreading like a rash all around me. And I know the flowers that grow. First it was the Nightshade. Reaching out from the walls like desperate arms, hanging down, trying to get to me, it does terrify me. But it’s nothing compared to the Hellebores. I think they’ve always been there really, waiting in the darkest pools of my eyes to blossom. But when they reached me in this room…
I can’t move when they come. I can’t move for fear, when I see them blooming from the walls. Each one a twisted, warped eye. Each one watching me.
Sometimes as I lie there, absent thoughts wander across my mind. I feel the nightshade around me and I wonder if they are my escape. I was always taught that nightshades mean death. Perhaps, I think, that is precisely how I can get out. But it isn’t.
I can’t even move to reach the leaves, anyway.
So, instead, I simply retreat into the furthest recesses of my mind.

The morning is cold, and the window pane is frosted up, but it is bright. My head is still sleepy, but the first time I can remember in a long time, my mind is clear. So I know I must get up.
And I do.
And I’m glad I do.
Because the first thing I see outside is a lone Snowdrop.
It’s grown between the cracks in the stone path. It must have gone on quite a journey, I think. Pushing up against the dirt to reach the crisp clean air. Pushing through the frost and the grass. Pushing against everything. But it’s made it.
And for some reason — I’m not quite sure why — it makes me smile. It’s the first smile in too long, but it’s a smile. So I leave it there, and I walk up the path with a very pleasant feeling.
The feeling that everything’s okay.

Dawn_Camps

Daily For November 6th
Word Count: 658

Table of Contents

Flowers:
Ice Plant - Heartless
Quaking Grass - Agitation
Tansy - I declare against you
Trefoil - Revenge
Xanthium - Rudeness

Celeste's mouth formed an O when she spotted the delivery boy struggling under the weight of an enormous basket of flowers.
“I think we have a visitor.” She called behind her.
A tall girl with auburn hair emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a spare dishrag. “Who is it?”
“Flowers.” Celeste peeked out the window again.
“What?” Kara's brow furrowed and she pushed the curtain back to see. “Woah.”
“Yeah.” Celeste hurried to open the door so the delivery boy didn't have to attempt to ring the doorbell while holding the basket in one hand.
“Are you Celeste Newsburr?”
“Yes, that's me.”
“Then this is for you. Careful, it's heavy.” The delivery boy handed the basket over to Celeste.
“No kidding! This thing must weigh 20 pounds!”
The delivery boy just grinned and tipped his hat to her as he left.
Celeste turned and walked back into the hall with great effort. Kara shut the door behind her before turning and helping Celeste with the basket.
“Thanks,” Celeste sighed and they heaved the basket onto the kitchen table.
“Who's it from?” Kara eagerly searched the flowers for a card.
“Oh! Here!” Celeste pulled out a small pale pink slip of paper. She quickly scanned it. “It's from…” She gasped.
“Who? Who?” Kara pushed closer to look over Celeste's shoulder. “Kurt!?”
“Yeah…” Celeste stared at the beautiful blend of yellow, green, and a tiny bit of purple. They were from Kurt? The absolutely adorable jock at college? The boy who she accidentally dumped paint on? The one who yelled at her for being so clumsy? The one she had a major crush on?
“Does this mean he forgives you for the… paint fiasco?”
“I… don't know,” Celeste murmured. “He must have forgiven me. He sent me a huge basket of flowers, after all!”
Celeste went on with her musings but Kara had stopped listening. “I wonder what kind of flowers they are…” She strode around the bouquet, picking out one of each type.
“Did you know flowers have different meanings?” She spoke up, startling Celeste.
“What?” No. What does that have to do with anything?“
”Well,“ Kara spoke slowly, as if trying to sort out her thoughts. ”Maybe nothing. But- What if Kurt knew about the meanings and this bouquet is a message to you?“ She gestured at the flowers in her hands.
”You think he's trying to tell me something?“ Celeste's eyebrows shot up.
”Could be.“ Kara pulled out her phone. ”I have an app that can identify plants. Let's see what flowers these are.“
She laid the purple flower on the counter and scanned it.
”According to this app, it's an Ice Plant. Can you search up the meaning?“ She looked up at Celeste.
”On it!“ Celeste rapidly typed.
When the web page loaded she gasped.
”What? What does it mean?“
”It means…“ She groaned and showed the screen to Kara.
Kara's mouth fell open. ”Heartless…“ She paused. ”I guess he doesn't forgive you.“
”We- We don't know that he knew the meaning. He could have just thought it was a pretty flower.“ Even as Celeste spoke she knew deep down that the flowers were chosen intentionally.
”We still don't know the meanings of the rest of the flowers,“ Kara said encouragingly.
But one by one, they searched up the meanings and one after another the results came up as insults.
”Quaking Grass means agitation.“
”Tansy means I declare against you.“
”Trefoil means revenge.“
”Xanthium or Cockleburrs mean rudeness.“
”It seems like Kurt hasn't forgiven me after all.“ Celeste pressed her lips together, trying not to cry.
”It's alright. Who needs a guy who's this petty?“ Kara comforted her friend. ”You're too good for him.“
”Really?“ Celeste frowned, then grinned. ”I guess you're right. I have you. Who needs a guy?“
After a moment Celeste spoke again. ”So… should I send a bouquet back?"
The two friends looked at each other and bust out laughing.

Last edited by Dawn_Camps (Nov. 6, 2022 23:24:51)

theseventh-crow

Weekly 2nd-9th
(2235 words)

Dear Dystopian,
I am writing to you minutes after returning to the comforts of the ocean, after a mistaken but appreciated visit to your realm, (I resurfaced sooner than I had intended too) and I was astounded by the elegance of the world that lay before me. As you said, it felt truly enchanted, and I was mystified by the vastness of it all. However, if I was to be petty and complain, (which I must be given that we are siblings, after all) I would say that the stars were too bright for my liking – they hurt my eyes, for as you know I am much better suited for the pitch black of the ocean. But putting aside my distaste for the overwhelming brightness, I must say that I was thoroughly impressed by your realm as a whole, and I was rather partial to the beauty of the moon and the effect it had on the land below it. Perhaps I may visit again soon, but it depends on where the currents take me.
Much love,
Your sibling, Thriller
(178 words)
–
Dear Mystery,
I was fortunate enough to experience the Mystery Express first hand, and it was truly memorable, it felt wonderfully energetic, and there was a certain buzz in the air that made the whole train feel like it was vibrating with anticipation. But for what? I cannot be sure, but you were most definitely right about something being amiss. For every excited murmur, there was an accompanying perturbed one. For every jittery passenger, there was an insensate one. I could not quite place my finger on it, but I was sure that there was something deeper going on behind the scenes. And while I could not be confident on what was wrong, I was certain that something was not as it should be. But you know what else I was sure of? That I love a good mystery, and I would be thrilled to support you as you solve this – which I’m sure you will.
Your thrill-seeking ally,
Thriller
(161 words)
–

Dear Poetry,
I have only visited your realm briefly, but I thought it rather pretty, I liked all the fields, but I was only there to return the favour after you visited me – etiquette and such. What I found more intriguing about you; was the way you write your letters. They are unnecessarily cryptic and may I add that your handwriting is atrocious. Why do such an unnecessarily loopy scrawl? Did Fantasy tell you that it was aesthetic or something? Because it’s most certainly not. But nevertheless, we are allies and I suppose I must be there to support you or… help you? I don’t know but if you don’t get your handwriting sorted out, it is going to severely irk me to the point where I may just betray you.
Chilly waves,
Thriller
(136 words)
–

Dear Fantasy,
I write to you from your own sanctuary, as today I was fortunate enough to visit, and I enjoyed it so much that I felt I must leave you with a token of gratitude; and while I had no mangoes with me, I did have a pen and paper. So here I am, writing to you from your own realm - and a lovely one it is too! In fact, it’s been so lovely, that I have spent the better part of my morning here, just exploring, and enjoying the presence of your dragons. My favourite place so far, must be the cliff that overlooks the harbour. I find that particular spot most relaxing, as watching the steam rise from the boats, is perhaps the best stress reliever out there. However, on the topic of the boats, I must ask if the smoke is innocuous, as the wellbeing of the ocean must always be my first priority and I cannot let anything stand in the way of that. Although, I’m sure that my concern is irrelevant, for I am confident that you would never do anything to jeopardise the health of the ocean. Thank you for your hospitality, and I hope to see you soon.
Wavy regards,
Thriller
(210 words)
–

Your royal highness King Adventure,
I write to you with great intrigue, as I have not yet had the opportunity to adventure into your land; although I must say that it is a highly anticipated visit. From what I have gathered about your realm, you are under a siege and the people of your kingdom must overcome their differences to protect their home. This task seems most honourable, and I wish you luck in your quest; although I have heard rumours from the other realms that the odds are improbable, and the conditions harsh – not to mention what is said to be at stake. It is believed that to reconquer what was once yours, you will have to embark on an extensive and arduous journey, that will lead you all over the world to exotic and undiscovered places. The whispers say that the trouble you will go to, will not be worth the reward, but despite this, I believe that you will come out victorious and I encourage you to continue to fight for what is rightfully yours. Go forth and conquer!
Best wishes,
Thriller
(185 words)
–

Dear Script,
I am writing to you with many questions, and yet I don’t expect you to respond to a single one of them, because I already know that you are too caught up in your little plays, to even bother read the letters you receive, never mind respond. But that’s okay, because nobody enjoys reading your letters, thanks to the way you write them – always treating them like scripts for your next big play. But that leads me to my first question: Are you aware that you could respond the same as everyone else, and that you don’t have to write in script 24/7? Clearly not, because you never seem to give it a break. Not to mention that you always go on about how amazing you are, even when if you actually stopped rehearsing plays for two seconds and visited another realm you would see that everyone thinks I’m the best – because I am. Anyway, I can’t be bothered to write to you anymore, when I know you won’t even read it.
Strong currents,
Thriller
(175 words)
–

Dear Horror,
I visited your realm the other day. I wish I hadn’t. I really hate what you’ve done with the place – the décor is horrendous and the whole place just emits a really creepy vibe. As I’ve said before, I don’t like it. Also are you aware that it’s probably an infringement of people’s rights to try talk to them while they’re sleeping? That’s just weird, and then this guy’s friends are kittens and bats? Come on! Be more creative than that. Oh, and now I have to ask – for the upkeep of my remaining sanity – is this alchemist dude still alive? Because apart from the whole freaky dream catcher thing, he sounds like a pretty cool guy, and I think he and I would get on terrifically.
P.S. Please don’t send your kitten friends after me, I’m allergic.
Spooky dreams,
Thriller
(143 words)
–

Dear Folklore,
Did you know that I’ve never been hiking before? I bet you didn’t, but now you do. I’m not really sure where I was leading with that fact, but I just want to talk to you because you seem quite nice, and like you would be fun to be around. Maybe you wouldn’t though, because I can also imagine you being incredibly boring and always droning on about every single animal that passed through your woods over the past few days. Yeah, I think that you’re that kind of person – here’s where I’m meant to say that I don’t want to assume, but right now, making assumptions about you is proving very interesting. Another assumption of mine is that you always smell like flowers, just because you wanted to impress everyone, and have a reason to talk about your nature trails. Oooh, and in school you would totally be a teacher’s pet. I’m not sure why but you just would be. Okay, well I’m bored now, but that was fun, maybe one day I will actually visit you and either prove or disprove all that I have said about you. Or not, it depends how bored I am.
Fishy wishes,
Thriller
(203 words)
–

Dear Fan-fi,
I hear that you’re able to go back in time, which I think is pretty neat, but you know what won’t be neat? When you lose to me, and feel obligated to go back in time and look for where you went wrong only to realise you didn’t – you just had no hope of beating me from the beginning, because I am the superior sibling. I know that you’re currently in denial when it comes to this information, but whenever you’re ready to talk, you can come visit, and I might even show you how to be a better cabin – not better than me though, because as we’ve established, that is simply impossible. Despite that, I wish you the best of luck, but only if you let me try time travelling – if you don’t then I will only wish you the worst of luck because I am evil.
Lots of mainly corrupt love,
The sibling that plans to use you (sort of, not really) Thriller
(167 words)
–

Dear Bi-fi,
I think that you are rather bizarre. I mean, who actually manages to get themselves trapped in a cinema with an Overlord? Sounds like something out of a bizarre fiction book if you ask me. Oh well, I suppose we can get past that so long as you don’t do anything else weird; not that I can actually judge, given that I’m not the most, sane person out there. Eh, who cares, it’s just sanity. And with that I feel the need to go off topic… I REALLY LIKE YOUR CURSIVE WRITING! Okay, I said it, we’re all good now. I’m not actually sure why I wanted to write to you, but I think it was something do with the cinema – oh yeah! I was annoyed they weren’t letting any visitors in after the takeover. Like, here’s the thing, I paid for a ticket -with real money, mind you – and now they’re telling me I can’t go in! Please get me a refund, or else!
-Thriller
(168 words)
–

Dear Sci-fi,
I was going to write to tell you that I’m sorry about the accident with the simulation, but I’m not, so in spirit of “No-Lying- November” I am incredibly not sorry, about what happened. I think it’s karma for your awful fashion sense, and the fact that you dot your ‘t’s and cross your ‘i’s, which is really not okay. I find you incredibly boring, but I think I could like you a bit more if there were any mad scientist involved – I like mad scientists. I’m really not sure why I’m writing to you, because I don’t like you very much, and I know that you really dislike me. I guess why I’m writing is because I’m extremely bored (neither Fan-fi or Dystopian are responding to meeeee) Oh well, I don’t suppose you’ll write me back either, but it was a good time killer.
Sending sea-itch your way,
Thriller
(152 words)
–

Dear Hi-fi,
I know very little about you, but I really like trains. Trains are cool, and if you rob trains, you are either the very bad sort, or the very good sort. I’m not yet sure, though, so I will proceed with neutral curiosity. And a rant about trains. Trains are soooo cool and fun – how could you ever rob them? But on the other hand, that sounds really thrilling, and what’s life without a bit of rule breaking, right? Yeah, as you can see, I’m very conflicted on whether or not you’re The Good Sort. Oh well, maybe sometimes we just don’t know the answer. Ooh, I’m being all philosophical, Poetry would be so proud of me. Well now I want to go visit Poetry, nice chatting (I think)
-Thriller
(131 words)
–

Dear Real-fi,
I am going to visit your realm tomorrow. This is a letter to warn you of my coming, so that you can get out the red carpet and the Heli-pad (don’t worry I am joking – sort of) no, this letter really just a pleasantry, so that I don’t show up unannounced. The other reason that I’m writing this letter, is so that you may warn me of the dangers of your home. As you may have guessed, I’m a bit wary of realistic things. Please respond soon, so that we may both mentally prepare for my visit.
-Thriller
(100 words)
–

Dear Non-fi,
I really like naan bread, and bagels are also exquisite, in fact, bread as a whole, is a gift to this world – even garlic bread. And yet, the most special bread of all, has to be baguette. And while I have tried very hard to support you, you just don’t give baguette enough credit for all it had done for this world. Therefore, I must ask if you will please give the world’s best bread to the world’s best person (aka me) for free. I mean, if you think about it, baguettes aren’t your best seller, so you wouldn’t really miss a loaf or two. And if not, I promise to leave you a one-star review – so watch out!
Please give me baguette,
Thriller
(126 words)

--Shine--

Weekly #1 - 1528 Words

Adventure (136 words)

Dear Adventure,
I hope that this letter managed to make it to the correct address, as it was ever so slightly challenging to find it. I believe that this letter had to travel through jungles, rivers, and many storms to make it to you, so please read through this although we may be enemies. I wish you all luck on your many adventures, wherever you may travel to. Although we have been enemies for some time now, I believe that we do have similarities. I am not one to participate in many daring activities, but I know that many who live in the Adventure Kingdom are so. Perhaps we could spend time and get to know one another better… at some point in time. This most likely will not happen for many centuries, however.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Folklore (107 words)

Dear Folklore,
Hello everybody! How have you guys been? I've been chilling out in Steampunk Sanctuary, riding on dragons, talking to unicorns, you know, the usual stuff. It is never quiet around here. How about you? I've heard that Folklore Trails are pretty awesome. I would love to visit with you sometime. I can tell that your entire cabin is working really hard, hopefully you and me can get the top two! I would love that. Did everyone in your cabin finish the daily and the weekly yet? I bet you could get up to a higher place with us if everyone does. Go Folklore!

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Dystopian (111 words)

Dear Dystopian,
I am not trying to be rude in any way, but how could you steal first place from us? The Fantasy Cabin is working very hard and I still cannot believe that we are in second place because of you. If you would please stop doing dailies and not finish the weekly, that would be greatly appreciated. We're allies, so we should not go around stealing first place from each other without any warning. Moving away from that, Dystopian Realm looks very nice this session. Everyone is very active, which is great! Well, great except for the fact it made us lose first place. But that's okay.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Script (101 words)

Dear Script,
Hello there! Great job so far this session, keep up the good work! I truly admire the true theme of your cabin. I love going to the theatre and watching lovely plays such as Hamilton be performed. Your work is amazing and I love what you do! I can't believe you managed to get on Broadway! I recently saw one of your works, it turned out really great! Right now I see that you are in sixth place, that's pretty good! Make sure to finish the daily and get on top! Have a great afternoon, my friend!

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Mystery (100 words)

Dear Mystery,
Although we are not the closest of friends, I admire the work you have put into Scratch Writing Camp over the past week. It is truly a mystery how you already have so many points! Perhaps in your next story, you could include this letter as a clue, which would be lovely! Letters are my favorite things to see in literature. They can be used for so many different things, even beyond my imagination. The Mystery Express seems even better this session, with plenty of surprises on the way. I wish you the best of luck.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Non-Fi (107 words)

Dear Non-Fi,
Hello, my good friend! Although you can sometimes go on and on about topics that I have absolutely no interest in, which can be REALLY boring sometimes, you are still really nice and a great listener. You are full of great information and have a lot of knowledge. I always choose to come to you rather than using Google or Wikipedia. I know I annoy you sometimes when I do that, but I do it because we are friends. I actually have some questions for you today. Am I your favorite ally? Do you like mangoes? What is the square root of 2490729?

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Thriller (110 words)

Dear Thriller,
I'm going to be honest, whenever I hear your name, I automatically get a certain song stuck in my head. But it's okay, the song is pretty catchy. Also, because I am not the smartest, I am not sure of the differences between you and Horror. When I asked Non-Fi, they gave me a smart-person explanation that made no sense to me whatsoever. I am truly sorry about this, but please do not take anything out on me. Take it out on Non-Fi instead, they are the ones that gave me a horrible explanation. I am not really sure what to say to you, so goodbye.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Fan-Fi (106 words)

Dear Fanfiction,
Hi. I know we don't really like each other very much, but let's just say that we are good enough friends to not be enemies. We both love to explore our minds and definitely both have vivid imaginations. I do have a question for you: which series has the most fanfiction? And I also must appreciate the creativity that all fanfiction writers have, along with many more. I believe we could become better friends if we both share the same opinion on this statement: Mangoes are the best food on Earth. If you disagree, then I apologize, but we cannot be friends.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Bi-Fi (117 words)

Dear Bizarro Fiction,
Hello, my enemy. Welcome to Scratch Writing Camp. I am aware that you are pretty new, but be warned that Fantasy cabin is going to beat you. I am not the most competitive one when it comes to my allies, but you are an enemy, and I will show you no mercy. I have always found Bizarro Fiction somewhat of an odd genre, but did not think much of it until now. I recently discovered the true reason which we became enemies, and it is simply because you are not a fan of mangoes. I understand that this is your opinion, but what I don't understand is how your opinion is possible.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Hi-Fi (110 words)

Dear Historical Fiction,
Here I am, writing another letter to yet another enemy. You are probably wondering why I am writing to you, when we have not spoken in years. I just realized that fantasy cabin is pretty much enemies with every cabin that ends in “fi.” Your genre is pretty fascinating, so I am unsure why we were enemies in the first place. Historical fiction is very interesting to me, but I personally think that it can get boring pretty quickly. It’s cool to learn new things, in a fun, fictional way. Overall, historical fiction is pretty neat, and I appreciate you, even though we are enemies.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Sci-Fi (101 words)

Dear Science Fiction,
Hello there. Science fiction, you are yet another one of my enemies. The main, and, well, only thing that I like about your cabin is Stars Wars. Star Wars is pretty great, but it doesn’t triumph over any fantasy books, especially things like Harry Potter, one of my favorite book series. Anyway, have you got any book recommendations for me? Even though I do not really read any science fiction books currently, it would be nice to have some.

Sincerely your enemy that cannot think of anything else to write so is making this part super long,
Fantasy

Horror (112 words)

Dear Horror,
Hello, my… I don’t want to say enemy, but we are definitely not the best of friends. As I told Thriller, I am not sure what the real difference between you two is. Is one, like, more scary than the other? I really do not want to live with an incorrect definition, so please write me back and let me know. Please and thank you. This is one of my final letters, and, to be honest, this is getting slightly boring. But it’s worth it, since fantasy is going to win. Oh, and one more thing. Please do not scare me, I would rather not have nightmares tonight.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Real-Fi (100 words)

Dear Realistic Fiction,
Hello there! I am writing you this letter hoping to gain a truth between our cabins. I have admired realistic fiction for some time now, and I believe that we should become allies, or at least less hostile neutrals. Maybe things could become better between us.Realistic fiction is a pretty fun genre to write in, and would probably be my second choice if I wasn’t in the awesome fantasy cabin! Anyways, I wish good luck to your cabin this session. May the odds be ever in your favor (I’m sorry, I like the Hunger Games!).

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Poetry (110 words)

Dear Poetry,
Hey there, my good friend! I know almost nothing about your genre in real life and the little knowledge I have about it fails to captivate me in any way possible. I once attempted to write a poem and failed miserably. Perhaps you could try and teach me an easier way to do so? For some strange reason, I just can’t convey emotion through poems. I can only do it through things like monologues or short stories. Please help. This is my very last letter to write, and I am glad that my final one was to a great ally like you. So thanks for that.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

violent-measures

Numbly, I nodded thanks as each person, dressed in black and gold, handed me their bright gifts. Marigolds in orange and yellow, all of them, with black ribbons tied around each. They were colorful; too colorful. I couldn’t appreciate them now. They represented grief, but I had never understood why. Their elegantly layered, short petals reminded me too much of a child’s skirt. The rest of the world was empty, grayscale, dark and hopeless. The marigolds didn’t belong anymore. I stood there in the cold winter air, shivering but unwilling to grab a coat, until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Clutching my makeshift bouquet, I blinked up at the sky. It was overcast, the clouds turning dark blue as night fell. A gust of wind separated the clouds for a moment and an empty plane of midnight blue was visible, starless. Then it was covered again by the blanket of gray.
“Come, Iris,” Mother said gently, grasping my shoulder with her brown, strong hand.
I nodded again, tired. So tired. I tried not to think of the lack of stars above me. How they would never smile on me again; I would make sure of it. Without him, there would be no point.
“Come,” Mother repeated.
I stumbled after her across the smooth, pale floor of the funeral home. Hangings in black and orange covered the walls. I hated the smothering emptiness. The way my footsteps echoed, every single footfall amplified. I was stuck in some huge, endless void. A world with all the life sucked out of it. I didn’t know how to go on, I just knew I needed to.

Exhausted, I blinked to try and focus my unwilling eyes. My wavy brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, but it stuck to my perspiring neck. I sighed, everything aching.
“Where—where is she—?” I asked, jolting upward suddenly, remembering.
“Calm,” Mother said sternly, pushing me back down against the pillows.
“But—”
“She’s fine,” Mother explained. “But you need to rest.”
“No. I want to see her,” I insisted.
“They’re just cleaning her up. One moment. Rest.”
With a sigh, I realized again how tired, terribly tired I was. Still, I refused to fall asleep before I’d seen her.

“Any ideas for names?” Mother asked.
I smiled. “I was thinking . . . Lucerne.”
“Life. It’s a good choice.”
A warm hand rested on my shoulder. I hugged Lucerne closer, resting my own hand on her tiny shoulder.
+408 words

bIxez

she was beautiful, the girl next door. her brown hair fell down to her shoulders like a delicate silk, and the smile painted onto her face was the most gentle one i have ever seen. if she were a flower, i would think of her as a flourishing orchid, white pearl-white petals, cleaned up by its beauty.

i have never talked to her, but she looks kind and innocent; a daisy.

every day she’d sit near her window and stare at the forest across of her house—her chin would be tilted up slightly towards the sun or the moon, depending on the time of day, and her eyes focused on the trees, as if she was waiting for someone to come for her, perhaps a bird.

i wanted to give her my heart, yet she would never come out from that house, and i didn’t know how to express my feelings into words. it felt as if that if i did talk to her, she would break. words would break her.

perhaps i could give her flowers — a sunflower, for adoration, a pansy, to let her know she was constantly integrated in my thoughts, an elder blossom, for compassion, and finally, a gillyflower, for affection.

i planned on throwing the bouquet to her window or dropping it down at her doorstep. somehow i felt that she would not pick up the bouquet, and would just ignore it. but i felt sorry- didn’t she have anyone to talk to but the droplets of rain on her window?

the next day, i threw the bouquet towards her window — from mine to hers. she barely blinked for a few seconds, but after, she turned her head towards me. i saw her eyes were grey, full of pain and hurt.

… had i hurt her?

she didn’t say anything, but then she turned her head back to the dark green forest.

the broken pile of vibrant flowers were left to rot in the ground, as tiny ants crept up the green stems.

—

the next day, i stared outside my window — at her. after a bit, i saw her eyes well up, as silent tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she mouthed “mother—“ and then “father—“. she was still staring at the forest, so i turned towards it,eyes wide open. two red birds sat next to the dead pile of flowers, looking up at her window.

(403 words)

Last edited by bIxez (Nov. 6, 2022 22:34:17)

SussyLegWarmers-

Flower Daily

Matthias had been wondering what gift to give to Aola as it was their friendaversary. He pondered and finally decided, he was going to write her a letter. But not any type of letter, one he knew she would like. He went and found something that there were many types of. He wanted the letter to signify something. He knew his gesture had to mean something to her. Show her that he was glad they were friends. He spent days figuring out which to pick. What to get for her. When this marvelous idea had struck him, he knew that it was the thing to do. He knew she loved old Victorian and medieval themed stuff. As he finished his letter he posted it to her, making sure it would cause suspicion to arise from her. She thought he was going to give it to her. To him, it seemed fitting to let a detective get suspicious. It also seemed fitting to let a detective find out the meaning of his letter.

In the mail Aola got a letter. A letter from her dear friend Matthias. It wasn't your normal letter. It was a letter that had flowers stuck on it. Flowers representing his entire letter to her. The flowers on the page were, a gillyflower, an orchid, a lotus, and a rose The signified what he thought of her, affectionate (affection) , she's a rare beauty (rare beauty), she has a way with her words (eloquence) , and that she's a great friend. (friendship) The letter didn’t beat around this bush. It was straight to the point. The flowers stuck on the page were pretty looking. The gesture was sweet and it brought her joy to know that Matthias went out of his way to make this letter.

Though she already had another gift for him, she decided to write him a letter with flowers in it. She chose a buttercup, an elder blossom, a lucerne, and a vetch. She knew he'd know what they each meant. She knew as a fellow detective, he'd figure it out. It described his personality. Because he's childish, compassionate, full of life, and shy. As she finished writing it, she added a small slip of paper. As she sealed it up she was thinking about how he got the idea to use flowers. When she had finished writing, she tucked it inside her other present and left it at his apartment.

406 words

Last edited by SussyLegWarmers- (Nov. 6, 2022 22:43:45)

imaperson-ithink

“Why hello Hydrangea (show off), I did not expect to see you when I answered the door,” I say, forcing a pleasantly surprised look onto my face.
“I thought I’d come and visit, Meadow (meadowsweet, uselessness),” she says, “After all, it has been so long since we have talked with each other.” I strain my face into a smile at her words.
“Then of course, come in,” I say, gesturing for her to come inside.
She walks in with confident strides, and when her back is finally turned to me, I snarl distastefully at how elegant she is. Why must she act so perfect at all times?
She leads me into my own kitchen and sits herself down without being asked. “What a nice little home this has turned out to be,” she says, fidgeting with the Xanthiums (rudeness) sitting in a mason jar on the table.
“Thank you,” I say, not even bothering to further the conversation.
“It’s a shame you never come to visit,” she says in a voice imitating disappointment. I barely keep my head from shooting off my head in anger.
She knows the curse that was put on me when I was twelve. She knows that I’ve been stuck in this place for six years. But if I ever want a chance to leave, yelling at the only person that can help me isn’t going to get me anywhere. Even if she’s the one who cursed me in the first place.
“I wish I was able to,” I say feigning longing. Her eyebrow twitches.
“I see you’ve started a garden. What lovely nightshades (sorcery, dark thoughts) you have blooming.” I freeze at the comment, confused. I have no nightshades growing in my flower garden.
“They seem to have sprouted rather quickly from the look of them,” she smiles. I look through my kitchen window to see my garden overrun with nightshade bushes, some blooming and growing before my very eyes.
“What- why…” I stutter. Why is she ruining my garden? My garden that I’ve spent hours upon hours growing. My flowers and fruits, gone, replaced by rapidly growing nightshades.
“Oh, looks like I made an oopsie, I didn’t realize that I was the one growing them. I’m so very sorry.” The words quite literally hit me in the chest, and I'm thrown backward into the countertop. I’m momentarily breathless, but I quickly feel my face turn red with rage.
I slowly climb off the countertop, wipe off my dress, and look up at my sister.
“Get. Out. Of. My. House,” I annunciate, barely keeping myself from screaming.
“But Meadow, it was only a silly-”
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!” I scream at her, fuming with all the rage I’ve built up over the years. All of the rage I’ve built up for her cursing me. All of the rage I’ve built up for her not being there for me when we were little. All the rage I’ve built up for her perfection and praise.
But all she does is smile back at me. “I don’t think you understand how this works, dearest sister.”
“Oh I understand how this works! I understand that you left me to rot in this little cottage after we lost our parents! I understand that you hate me! I understand that you would kill me if you were able to! I understand that you think you have all of this power over me!” Then she watches as the fumes slowly die down. I turn away, not being able to stand another second of looking at her delighted face. I hear her walk up beside me. She stands over me, and I can tell she is staring down at me like a vulture at its prey.
“But that’s where you’re wrong, my little Meadowsweet. I don’t think I have ‘all this’ power over you. I know I do. And there is no way that I will ever let you out of this pathetic little cottage, and you’ll be able to rot in here for all of eternity.” I tremble in fear. But I know it’s not real fear, just a perfect mix of emotions concocted by Hydrangea and thrown onto me.
“It’s a shame you can’t end your life here. Guess our parents never could’ve fathomed a situation like this, the ignorant fools they were. I guess it’s a good thing I ended them before they made any other stupid decisions and hurt the family name any more than it already is.”
I finally look up at her. Hydrangea killed Mom and Dad?
“Yes that’s right my dearest sister,” she says, reading my expression, “They didn’t die from their own stupidity, they died at the hands of their second favorite daughter.”
Second favorite?
“Have fun my Meadowsweet, I have great things in store for you,” she sings, then she leaves.
I collapse to the floor. Roses (love) start growing out of my skin, thorny vines wrapping around me, pricking my skin. Blood starts dripping onto the floor, and I start to cry. Great, ugly sobs wracking my entire body, ridding myself of any sanity I had stored away.
I cry on the floor for hours, the roses withering quickly, leaving me encased in the dead carcass of the rose bush. I finally get up when I have no tears left in me. I thank the rose bush for keeping me company and apologize for its quick end.
I quickly clean up the puddle of blood on the ground, being sure it would never be noticeable if anyone were to come over, for this will not be the last time Hydrangea comes into my house.

Last edited by imaperson-ithink (Nov. 6, 2022 22:48:05)

laluvy

Victorian langugage of flowers swc daily!! (1,312 words +400 points for folklore yayayayyaayya)
Note: I went a centimeter of track with these cuz i was like ON A FLAME TYPING AND EVERYTHING and i was almost done when i just like ran out of ideas but i think its cool so read it!! tell me what ya think

Innocence, the Beauty of Shock, and Meredith

“Miriam, come here for a moment, child,” Momma advised.
I did as she said. From where Momma was, she probably heard the chair I was sitting on scratch along the floor, making a creaking sound as I tried to get up. I winced at the sound.
I ran over to where Momma was, fixated on cutting some fruits,
“Miriam, please do be careful; the last thing I need is a broken floor,” she replied.
I nodded, looking down at my shoes in disappointment.
“Now, would you do me a favor, dear?” She looked at me.
A grin spread across my face. Inside, I was bursting with delight. I had been bored all day in my room, waiting for Momma to give me another adventure, or as she calls it, a favor.
“You promise not to ask questions once I tell you, right?”
I nodded fast. She squinted her eyes at me, probably speculating my suspicious jubilance at what was probably going to be a minor task.
Quickly, she picked up a napkin and a pen and wrote down a list. I knew it was a list because I leaned over to see what it was before she shooed me away. “I need you to go to the flower shop,” Momma announced. I could feel my eyebrows spring up over my head.
“Here,” Momma shoved the napkin in my arms.
“This is a list of the flowers I would like you to get,” She said, pointing to the words. “Don't worry about not being able to pronounce them, Miriam, dear– the only thing you need to do is show the list to the kind man at the desk and safely come back with the plants. I will offer you some money for the flowers and a wagon to put them in. Usually, I would do this myself, but now that you've grown, I trust you enough to handle this task carefully. You gon' do that, right?” She raised her eyebrow at me.
That was quite a ton of details to take in, but I complied.
“Yes, Momma,” I promised.
She smiled. I followed her outside to get what I needed. Once she handed me the wagon and the money, I was off.
“Don't come back too late, don't talk to strangers, and stay on the trail, so you don't get lost!” Momma shouted at me from the house porch.
I looked back at the house and her, glistening in the sunlight, as I stuffed the money in my shorts' pocket, dragging my small, crimson wagon behind me. You could see my smile beam from galaxies away. Now was the time for a new adventure.
* * *
It had been a while since I left the house. I put the napkin up close to my eyes, squinting at the cursive letters. Momma never taught me cursive, but I managed to decipher a couple of the words.
“A-ma-ranth…” I read aloud. “Such a pretty name for a flower. People should start naming their children flowers,” I thought.
A memory bloomed in my head.
At a young age, Momma introduced to me several names of flowers and their meanings. And if I remember correctly, amaranth would mean immortality. I looked at the next flower on the list.
Daisies.
“Innocence,” I murmured.
Another recollection jumbled up in my head.
Momma used to call me her daisy. The corners of my mouth twitched.
Before I could retain any other thoughts, my legs stopped walking.
I peeked my eyes over the napkin and saw a brown, wooden cabin with moss growing on all sides. On the moss were various types of flowers. My legs started dragging me along the cobblestone stairs to the green, entrance door. I left my wagon outside since pulling it up the stairs would be difficult. My hand was one inch away from knocking on it when the door flew open.
“Come in,” yelled an old man from inside.
A bit scared, I went inside. Tens of hundreds of pots lined the shelves across the walls. The yellow sun's rays beamed through the glass window, feeding the plants. My eyes traced all the flowers and their names; tulips, hyacinths, lotus, orchids, and dozens of others I couldn't place a name on. It was enchanting; exquisite!
A man sat on a desk, looking at me. He saw my amazement and smiled.
I rushed to him to deliver Momma's list.
“H-here! A list of flowers my Momma told me to give to you.” I handed over the little paper.
“And you must be?” He eyed me.
“Miriam Laurier, sir.”
“Ah yes, the Lauriers. You look very much like your mother, who comes here often, Ms. Miriam.”
I grinned.
“What is your name sir?”
“You are very kind to ask, Ms. Miriam. My name is Elias.”
“Hello, Elias!”
“Hello to you too.”
He got up from his chair and walked over to the shelves, plopping flowers on the floor. First, he put down the amaranths, and then the daisies.
“Innocence and immortality,” I whispered to myself.
“What?” He paused.
“O-oh nothing, I was just recalling their meanings from the language of flowers, the daisies, and amaranths.” I pointed to the pots on the floor.
“Oh yes. Y'know? I'll tell you something.”
All my attention was on him now. This will be an interesting story, I could feel it.
“People, specifically witches, used to use the language of flowers to make their potions. Always, the use of a specific flower corresponded with the type of potion they were making,” Sir Elias explained.
“How do you know this, Sir Elias?”
He stared at me.
“O-oh– sorry for prying, I didn't mean to, it was just a question…” I blurted out.
“No, no, Ms. Miriam, ‘tis is all right. I am a witch. Or rather, the male version, a wizard. I make potions for a living. Witches and wizards come here to buy their plants to make their potions. Old little humans come here to just buy flowers.”
My eyes widened. I thought he was joking. I started to chuckle.
“You’re kidding, right, Sir Elias?”
“No, Miriam. I am not. I know I shouldn't have told you this, but it was about time you knew. And I'm sure your Momma agrees.”
“W-what do you mean? She knew this.”
“Yes, and long before you were born. She was a witch, Miriam. This favor she made you do, it was to have me tell you.”
My throat went dry. I stopped breathing. This couldn't be happing, could it? What'll the kids at school say? I can't tell them. What happens when I get back home to Momma? What's going to happen after this? Sir Elias sensed my dozens of questions.
“Those will all be answered in time. For now,” he paused, putting his arm on his hips, gesturing to the flowers on the floor ", help me get these plants on that wagon of yours.
* * *
There are many flowers with meanings that I could use to describe what life was like after that. I could make a potion out of it. I would describe it as the most majestic state of shock. Like a dream, you knew would never happen, that feels so good, you are in astonishment.
My potion would have 4 ingredients.
Dandelion. It means faithfulness, something I obtained after going to Sir Elias' flower shop.
Ox-eye. Patience. If you do not cherish the time you have now, you will regret it.
Orchid. Rare beauty. Life after that was like an orchid; I learned to treasure all moments. Even something as simple as the sun rising is something I hold on dear to.
Finally, my main ingredient is a Snowdrop, meaning hope. I maintained having hope my whole life, hoping to believe only good will come.
I will name my potion Meredith, the name of my Momma.

Last edited by laluvy (Nov. 6, 2022 23:30:44)

rainiidreamxs

--Shine-- wrote:
Weekly #1 - 1528 Words

Adventure (136 words)

Dear Adventure,
I hope that this letter managed to make it to the correct address, as it was ever so slightly challenging to find it. I believe that this letter had to travel through jungles, rivers, and many storms to make it to you, so please read through this although we may be enemies. I wish you all luck on your many adventures, wherever you may travel to. Although we have been enemies for some time now, I believe that we do have similarities. I am not one to participate in many daring activities, but I know that many who live in the Adventure Kingdom are so. Perhaps we could spend time and get to know one another better… at some point in time. This most likely will not happen for many centuries, however.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Folklore (107 words)

Dear Folklore,
Hello everybody! How have you guys been? I've been chilling out in Steampunk Sanctuary, riding on dragons, talking to unicorns, you know, the usual stuff. It is never quiet around here. How about you? I've heard that Folklore Trails are pretty awesome. I would love to visit with you sometime. I can tell that your entire cabin is working really hard, hopefully you and me can get the top two! I would love that. Did everyone in your cabin finish the daily and the weekly yet? I bet you could get up to a higher place with us if everyone does. Go Folklore!

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Dystopian (111 words)

Dear Dystopian,
I am not trying to be rude in any way, but how could you steal first place from us? The Fantasy Cabin is working very hard and I still cannot believe that we are in second place because of you. If you would please stop doing dailies and not finish the weekly, that would be greatly appreciated. We're allies, so we should not go around stealing first place from each other without any warning. Moving away from that, Dystopian Realm looks very nice this session. Everyone is very active, which is great! Well, great except for the fact it made us lose first place. But that's okay.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Script (101 words)

Dear Script,
Hello there! Great job so far this session, keep up the good work! I truly admire the true theme of your cabin. I love going to the theatre and watching lovely plays such as Hamilton be performed. Your work is amazing and I love what you do! I can't believe you managed to get on Broadway! I recently saw one of your works, it turned out really great! Right now I see that you are in sixth place, that's pretty good! Make sure to finish the daily and get on top! Have a great afternoon, my friend!

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Mystery (100 words)

Dear Mystery,
Although we are not the closest of friends, I admire the work you have put into Scratch Writing Camp over the past week. It is truly a mystery how you already have so many points! Perhaps in your next story, you could include this letter as a clue, which would be lovely! Letters are my favorite things to see in literature. They can be used for so many different things, even beyond my imagination. The Mystery Express seems even better this session, with plenty of surprises on the way. I wish you the best of luck.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Non-Fi (107 words)

Dear Non-Fi,
Hello, my good friend! Although you can sometimes go on and on about topics that I have absolutely no interest in, which can be REALLY boring sometimes, you are still really nice and a great listener. You are full of great information and have a lot of knowledge. I always choose to come to you rather than using Google or Wikipedia. I know I annoy you sometimes when I do that, but I do it because we are friends. I actually have some questions for you today. Am I your favorite ally? Do you like mangoes? What is the square root of 2490729?

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Thriller (110 words)

Dear Thriller,
I'm going to be honest, whenever I hear your name, I automatically get a certain song stuck in my head. But it's okay, the song is pretty catchy. Also, because I am not the smartest, I am not sure of the differences between you and Horror. When I asked Non-Fi, they gave me a smart-person explanation that made no sense to me whatsoever. I am truly sorry about this, but please do not take anything out on me. Take it out on Non-Fi instead, they are the ones that gave me a horrible explanation. I am not really sure what to say to you, so goodbye.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Fan-Fi (106 words)

Dear Fanfiction,
Hi. I know we don't really like each other very much, but let's just say that we are good enough friends to not be enemies. We both love to explore our minds and definitely both have vivid imaginations. I do have a question for you: which series has the most fanfiction? And I also must appreciate the creativity that all fanfiction writers have, along with many more. I believe we could become better friends if we both share the same opinion on this statement: Mangoes are the best food on Earth. If you disagree, then I apologize, but we cannot be friends.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Bi-Fi (117 words)

Dear Bizarro Fiction,
Hello, my enemy. Welcome to Scratch Writing Camp. I am aware that you are pretty new, but be warned that Fantasy cabin is going to beat you. I am not the most competitive one when it comes to my allies, but you are an enemy, and I will show you no mercy. I have always found Bizarro Fiction somewhat of an odd genre, but did not think much of it until now. I recently discovered the true reason which we became enemies, and it is simply because you are not a fan of mangoes. I understand that this is your opinion, but what I don't understand is how your opinion is possible.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Hi-Fi (110 words)

Dear Historical Fiction,
Here I am, writing another letter to yet another enemy. You are probably wondering why I am writing to you, when we have not spoken in years. I just realized that fantasy cabin is pretty much enemies with every cabin that ends in “fi.” Your genre is pretty fascinating, so I am unsure why we were enemies in the first place. Historical fiction is very interesting to me, but I personally think that it can get boring pretty quickly. It’s cool to learn new things, in a fun, fictional way. Overall, historical fiction is pretty neat, and I appreciate you, even though we are enemies.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Sci-Fi (101 words)

Dear Science Fiction,
Hello there. Science fiction, you are yet another one of my enemies. The main, and, well, only thing that I like about your cabin is Stars Wars. Star Wars is pretty great, but it doesn’t triumph over any fantasy books, especially things like Harry Potter, one of my favorite book series. Anyway, have you got any book recommendations for me? Even though I do not really read any science fiction books currently, it would be nice to have some.

Sincerely your enemy that cannot think of anything else to write so is making this part super long,
Fantasy

Horror (112 words)

Dear Horror,
Hello, my… I don’t want to say enemy, but we are definitely not the best of friends. As I told Thriller, I am not sure what the real difference between you two is. Is one, like, more scary than the other? I really do not want to live with an incorrect definition, so please write me back and let me know. Please and thank you. This is one of my final letters, and, to be honest, this is getting slightly boring. But it’s worth it, since fantasy is going to win. Oh, and one more thing. Please do not scare me, I would rather not have nightmares tonight.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Real-Fi (100 words)

Dear Realistic Fiction,
Hello there! I am writing you this letter hoping to gain a truth between our cabins. I have admired realistic fiction for some time now, and I believe that we should become allies, or at least less hostile neutrals. Maybe things could become better between us.Realistic fiction is a pretty fun genre to write in, and would probably be my second choice if I wasn’t in the awesome fantasy cabin! Anyways, I wish good luck to your cabin this session. May the odds be ever in your favor (I’m sorry, I like the Hunger Games!).

Sincerely,
Fantasy

Poetry (110 words)

Dear Poetry,
Hey there, my good friend! I know almost nothing about your genre in real life and the little knowledge I have about it fails to captivate me in any way possible. I once attempted to write a poem and failed miserably. Perhaps you could try and teach me an easier way to do so? For some strange reason, I just can’t convey emotion through poems. I can only do it through things like monologues or short stories. Please help. This is my very last letter to write, and I am glad that my final one was to a great ally like you. So thanks for that.

Sincerely,
Fantasy

this is the deffentiion of the difference of thriller and horror:

One of the main differences between the two genres can be found in their names. A horror film wants to “horrify” audiences whereas a thriller film only seeks to “thrill.” With horror, the focus is on scaring people.

--LilyWriter--

DAILY FOR FANTASY FBHFSUVA YES
ehe tw angst I guess, by far not the angstiest thing I've written. If any Isle of Ryth readers find this (for my story, see this studio:https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30812619/) this isn't canon. A scene like this may or may not have happened but not this one

Flowers:

Dahlia- yours untill the end
Asphodel- my regrets will follow you to the grave
Forget-me-nots- love in absence
Merigold- grief
Periwinkles- memory, friendship
Purple Hyacinths- forgiveness
~~~
“You love her.” Enoriem accused, glaring down at his son through slitted eyes.

Caelleum was silent, his fingers tightening around the flowers he was holding, the wilted bouquet that he had picked earlier. The firelight played on his face, doing nothing to mask the fact that it was bright red up to the tips of his pointed ears.

“She's a commoner.”

Caelleum's expression didn't change, nor did he look at his father. But this time, he spoke, his blue eyes staring unwaveringly into the depths of the flames. “I will not lie to you.”

“SHE'S A COMMONER,” Enoriem raged, slamming his fist against the stone wall. The pain just made him angrier and he towered over his son, the veins in his temples bulging. Frost radiated from his fingers into the wall and it crackled and snapped. He withdrew his hand.

Silence. It was the painful, agonizing silence that seeped through Caelleum's skin, into his very bones.

“Mother was also a commoner.”

Enoriem took a step back, pain on his sharp features. His shaking hands buried themselves in his green robes. "That is exactly why I am forbidding you from ever seeing her again. Commoners are trouble. Commoners aren't worthy. Maethor isn't worthy of you."

Caelleum's expression somehow didn't change, and it made Enoriem's ice-encrusted fists ache to connect with his son's face. But he wouldn't. He wasn't going to be like Rienre. He wouldn't hurt his children.

“You gave mother flowers.” Caelleum whispered, finally looking up at his father.

“I…” the pain on Enoriem's face sharpened, “It matters not.”

“Her favourites were the roses, because they meant love.”

Enoriem passed a hand over his face, seeming older. More tired.

“You had the flower gardens planted the year after she died. I was in the library, reading. You planted dahlias, asphodel, forgetmenots, periwinkle, and marigold, as well as roses. That was intentional, wasn't it? The meanings? Memory, love, remembrance, l-”

“Please.” tears were in the older feyrie's eyes. “Stop.”

In response, Caelleum reached into his pocket, pulling out a purple hyacinth and offering it to his father. “I think you know what it means.”

“Forgiveness.” said the Feylord quietly, plucking the flower from his son's fingers. Ice crept slowly up the stem, and one by one the petals froze, white and blue frost stars along their lengths.

He let it fall to the ground and crushed it under his foot, watching the shards of ice melt into the ground, leaving nothing but wet stains.

Last edited by --LilyWriter-- (Nov. 6, 2022 23:46:43)

Wishingdeer

Nov. 6 Daily

Word Count: 400
Flowers incorporated: magnolia, zinnia, dandelion, Japanese Kerria and sweet pea

Nature has
A mysterious way
Of bringing calm
Making everything okay

I look out the window
And what I see
Is a towering
Magnolia tree

I enter the garden
Trying to clear my head
Wishing for company
But being alone instead

My friends are not here
Though I wish
They were near
They’re not

I’m lonely
In a way I’ve never been
My patience with this
Is wearing thin

I sigh, walking on
I miss them so
I walk to a bench
Wishing these thoughts would go

I sit on the bench
Zinnias bloom all around
They’re everywhere
Covering the ground

My friends’ absence
Burns strong in my mind
Sometimes I wish
The time, I could rewind

What would
I give
If over and over
That day, I didn’t relive

I still remember the day
So vividly
Japanese Kerria in bloom
As she acted so uncivilly

It didn’t happen
Out of the blue
Still when it did
I didn’t know what to do

She was so thoughtless
After all I’ve done
She couldn’t be bother to give
Though I’ve gave a ton

It was getting
Harder all the time
As I felt myself losing
What was mine

Yet with a dandelion
Behind my ear
I stayed faithful
Fighting my fear

That someday
She would leave me alone
By myself
I’d have to roam

I remained
By her side
Even if my true feelings
I had to hide

But there came a day
When the dandelion was gone
Perhaps that meant
It was time to move on

On that day
The sweet peas grew tall
Hard to believe
Not long ago, they’d been so small

I knew I
Had to leave
As impossible as
It was to conceive

I knew I
Could not let her know
That it was my plan
To go

So my departure
Went unsaid
And the thought of returning
Fills me with dread

I remember how
Thoughtless she became
Yet always made me think
I was to blame

Even so
I find myself lonely
I can’t help but wonder
If only…

Things had been different
If they hadn’t gone that way
I wouldn’t be here
With no one to talk to, nothing to say

Always my mind
Circles back to the same thought
In a way
It’s making me distraught

Zinnias in bloom
Thoughts of her in my mind
The absence of a friend
I left behind

Tulipstars

Daily #6 597 words (Unfinished story)

I stood and looked proudly at my garden of flowers. The flowers came in different shapes and colors. The fresh nature scent they gave off filled the gentle spring breeze. Every home in this village was required to have a flower garden. I, however, had a deep fondness for flowers. My garden included the most common of flowers to the most exotic. The reason for my interest in flowers was not just because of the looks, but of the meanings they held. My favorite type of flower is magnolia which has beautiful white petals and means “love of nature”. Everyone in our village wears flowers to resemble who or how they are. I wear carnations- which means fascination -in my braid to show my fascination for the word “fascination”. Having a fascination in things can spark curiosity and passion which can go down two paths, good or bad.
The flowers you wear aren’t permanent, you can change them whenever you want. I haven’t changed the flowers I wore yet. I’ve been wearing carnations since I was a few years old.
The breeze ruffled my hair as I walked to the corner of my garden and bent down to pluck a tiny white flower called a snowdrop- hope -and put it in my pocket. I’ll need it especially during these times.
The gate to the garden suddenly opened and I looked around frantically to see who it was. A girl my age with brown hair entered. My heart rate relaxed. It was my friend, Liana.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed. We were specifically told by the village governors to remain inside your houses from the ongoing war taking place.
“I was bored so I thought I would come here, and plus, no one is even outside to catch me. The Ice Blood never come here.”
The Ice Bloods are the ones fighting against our village. It’s true that they avoid our section, but we’re told that they’re often spies who pretend they’re on our side.
I sighed. “Fine, let’s go inside.”
As we went inside, I noticed Liana changed the flowers she used to wear. Now she wore a combination of two flowers, a light pink one called sweet pea and a purple one of which I forgot the name of. Sweet pea meant “departure”. I wondered if she’s leaving the village today. No, she can’t do that during the war. I decided not to ask her because it’s usually ill-mannered to ask about someone’s flowers.
“Umm, Earth to Zara.”
“Whoops, sorry I was just thinking about something. What do you need?” I must have been deep in my head for too long.
“Can I use the restroom?”
As Liana was in the restroom, I continued to ponder about the other flower she wore. It was violet and funnel-shaped. I scanned all the flower names I knew.
Fuchsia, fern, foxglove… foxglove! It’s foxglove. Now I tried to remember what foxglove meant. It took a few seconds until the meaning exploded in my head. TREACHERY!!
Just then, I heard the toilet flush and the sound of running water from the sink. My heart pounded. Did Liana simply wear foxglove because it looked nice?
As the bathroom door opened, I ran to her.
“Your flower choosing is quite interesting.” I implicated that as a statement and not as a question, as if I knew what her intentions were.
Her eyes met mine. “I see you figured it out now.” She showed me her hand which had a ring with a light blue crystal, the ring of the Ice Blood.

Last edited by Tulipstars (Nov. 6, 2022 23:56:15)

TheBibliophile7

Daily #6: 11/6/22
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: Marigold (grief), zinnia (thoughts of absent friends), periwinkle (memory, friendship), and everlast pea (rememberance)!

Elise,

Hello. It’s me, again. I keep writing to the ghost of you, the image in my mind of your lifeless form. I don’t know if you’ll ever see any of these letters, quite honestly. I don’t know if I’ll ever do anything with them. Maybe they’ll be a periwinkle, your favorite flower, on my desktop, representing your memory.

These letters are getting old, but I find myself with nothing else to do. It’s in vain that I do this, a broken attempt to put myself at ease with the sudden emptiness in my heart. Every time I write one I begin to cry again. How many times will the tears come before my eyes are dry? How many times can I do this before my will breaks?

It’s been, what, three weeks? Already? I’ve done nothing but stare at the walls, it seems, seemingly so empty of all color since you’ve left. Your funeral was three days ago, and I’ve visited your grave every day since. Yesterday I left you everlast pea flowers. They remind me of you, y’know. Your unique beauty and personality, indescribable yet so familiar. I remember you whenever I see flowers, Elise. You loved them.

Today I brought you zinnias in as many bright colors as I could find. I hope that’s what you would’ve wanted; something bright and beautiful to remember our friendship by. Our eternal, everlasting friendship that I will carry with me until the day I lay beside you in the earth.

On the day of the funeral I stayed too. That day I gave you a single marigold, for I had nothing else to spend but my tears. Grief rolled heavy that day, tearing my heart and soul into unmendable pieces.

I know you would tell me not to feel guilty. You’d tell me it wasn’t my fault, over and over again. But I can’t help it. I can’t help feeling guilty that you died, that you’re gone forever, and I’m still here, living out whatever future you could’ve had. Don’t tell me I can’t be guilty for that, Elise. The days drag on, yet I can’t not hurt to think that I left you behind.

You’d want me to keep going, and I promise you’ll try, but… I’m sorry, I’m sobbing again, thinking of you. This might be my last letter. I don’t know if I can do this without you.

Grace

Last edited by TheBibliophile7 (Nov. 7, 2022 00:01:22)

scratch_warrior_cat

A Story of Love, in four parts (497 words)

Golden Sky (Dahlias)

Dear Loved One,

I hope that these flowers

So reflective of your beauty

Convey a hint of my unending devotion

The spark within my chest

That burns with

Loyalty

Passion

Adoration

And a million other wonderful things

None of which can

Begin to describe the feeling that I feel when you dean to gaze upon me with those sparkling eyes

That hold oceans and meadows

Empires and ashes

Universes beyond end

I am nothing compared to you

These flowers only offer a glimpse of the rosy smile of dawn

But know that if you would care to have me

I am yours, until the end.

Dark Clouds (Marigolds)

Once upon a time

A lover was seated here, eyes lost in visions of another

Eyes dancing through a future where they both lived to eternity

Forever clasped in each other’s arms

A bouquet of magenta flowers

Proof of their everlasting love

And it did, last forever

An eternity clasped in a moment

An atom containing worlds upon end

And that love

Came to a close

In a lifetime within a year

And now that lover

Clutches a different bouquet

And laughs

And weeps

A river of soul

Onto the cold, unfeeling stone

The heart once overflowing with love

Now struggles to summon a drop

And the spark vanishes under the endless rain

The Tide Ebbs (Forget-me-nots)

I saw you there

I saw you

And my heart opened

Like Dahlias welcoming the light of day

Like a dying flower stretching toward the energy of life

Like the warmth that comes after the darkest snow

And I loved

I loved you

So much that

When your warmth left your eyes

I froze

I wilted

I drowned

Every wave

Pushed me further down

Until

Until what?

How can I live, move, breathe

Air that is no longer yours?

I thought I would join you

But I didn’t

I thought it would never end

And it didn’t

But somehow

It changed

And it will never stop hurting

But the pain never could have existed without the love

And the pale pink of the flowers against your grave

Forever remind me of your light

A New Day (Lucernes)

Dear Lover,

It has been three years since we met. Since it all started.

It has been two years since we parted. Since you left me, alone in this wretched existence.

It has been one year since I glimpsed you again. Since I forgave you for everything that you never should have needed forgiveness for.

And today, I leave this gift of lucernes beside you just like those dahlias so long ago.

I loved you.

I love you still.

And I will still love you.

Forever.

One day I will see you again.

I know that.

And I was wrong to think that you took all the light from my life with you when you left.

Thank you.

Thank you, my love, for giving me life.

Until we meet again,

Your Lover

Last edited by scratch_warrior_cat (Nov. 17, 2022 18:05:13)

x_Rosemary_x

Dear Fantasy,

Uh, hi, Fantasy people. So I know I need to give my allies presents, even if I’m pretty sure they’re not going to win our contest. But the Steampunk Sanctuary is far away, and right now I’m kind of stuck in this weird celestial dystopian realm, so here’s my present (and a letter while I’m at it). Hopefully you’ll get this, since I’m not that sure how the mail here works, and I honestly don’t even think that the Celestials are even going to be able to send it with our world like this. Not that I even trust them to send it. Anyways, here’s your gift of some mangos, since you probably aren’t able to grow them in your Sanctuary.

With love from Dystopian. (127 words)

Folklore? Wherever you are?

This probably isn’t going to send, since you could be on literally any trail in the world. No idea which trail, but I guess if I just address it to Folklore, the mail guy will know where to go? I don’t know. Anyways, as your friends and allies, we decided (okay, I decided) that you should get some mangoes as a gift, and if Fantasy tells you they got the same gift, just ignore them, because it definitely is NOT true. Definitely. Stop being suspicious, I literally just told you I didn’t copy your gift! I wouldn’t do that since that would be very rude and in Dystopian everyone is nice and we totally know what to get you.

Hopefully this will reach you, from Dystopian. (130 words)

Sci-fi! Did you get this?

Okay, so I have to email you this letter since you’re living in the virtual world, which I should have done for all the letters I wrote, just because it’s so much faster. But the problem is, if I email you, I can’t send you any mangoes and I have to send all our allies mangoes! So I’m sending you $20, but you have to promise to use it on mangoes, okay? Right? You will? Good. Anyways, my phone is about to die, and chargers are non-existent here, so -
ALERT: Rosemary’s phone is now dead. Please read this email with caution, as it could contain malware. (111 words)

The Mysterious Mystery,
Hi! It’s nice to talk to you - or at least write a letter to you, since I can’t talk to you. You’re very… mysterious. So, here, I’m giving you some mangoes, since we’re allies and I can’t think of a more amazing present to give you. Everybody loves mangoes, so don’t be all like, “Oh, that doesn’t fit in with the mystery vibe around here” because even if it doesn’t, who would turn down free mangoes? Mangoes for life!
From your ally, who is currently eating mangoes and might not be able to answer any return letters right away, Dystopian (103 words)

- A message in a bottle bonks a camper from the Thriller cabin on the head. They open it, eager to see what’s inside. -
Hey Thriller!
It’s nice to write to my enemies friends in the awful amazing Thriller cabin, and also I somehow fit a gift inside this very tiny plastic bottle, so you guys get a gift with this letter, but it’s a very tiny gift just because I’m putting it inside a plastic bottle! Uh, did this get to you, or did it get eaten by a shark or a killer whale or a turtle or something? Guess I’ll never find out, although I hope it got to a camper so that the turtles don’t have to suffer. Anyways, as our frenemies, you get a gift, but I can’t get you mangoes, which are the best gift, for two reasons-first, mangoes don’t fit in a bottle, and second, you’re not really our allies, and allies don’t get mangoes. You’re just neutral. Wait, maybe we could be friends. But then, what if we become enemies? Neutrals are weird. Anyways, small gift - a Nerds box that actually fits in the bottle, so maybe we can be friends! Or enemies if our cabin feels like betrayal, since sometimes we really feel like betrayal. Wait, I shouldn’t have written that. I just want to be friends-or maybe enemies, just because having an enemy is fun. You know what, ignore all of that since paper is almost nonexistent around here and I’m writing this with a pen and I can’t erase it or rewrite it or anything. I really hope you have an awesome day, eat my tiny Nerds box, and that my letter doesn’t get too soaked for you to read it. Wait, did I just destroy an entire letter AND a box of Nerds? I really hope I didn’t, because that would be bad.
Your best friend (or worst enemy), Dystopian (296 words)

Fan-fi, my friend!
Or enemy. I can never tell, since we’re neutrals and neutrals are really mysterious. Maybe more mysterious than the Mystery cabin, but probably not. You’ll probably get this in the future, since–oh, and then you’ll know who wins the contest! But you’ll probably just say it’s going to be you because you’re jealous. We all know Dystopian is the best - #dystopianftw! Anyways, back to what I was saying - you’ll probably eat the giant Twix I sent you in the future, since you’re the literal time–traveling agency. But my advice is to wait to eat it until you’re back home in the past, and you can share it with one of your friends, since there’s two Twix bars in there. And you already ate it, didn’t you?
From Dystopian, who’d love to use your time-travel thing once we’re out of here? We’ll send you more Twix! (148 words!)

Really, Poetry?
So we’re “dysto-pain” now? Wow. I can’t believe that! I thought we were friends-wait, actually I wasn't really thinking that. I actually kind of expected this. We’re literal enemies, so I should have expected this from you. We can just give you your own nickname! How about… I don’t know, okay? Somebody please help with nicknames. Maybe this will teach you that we’re a real dysto-pain if you give us nicknames like that. Don’t worry, your present will cause no lasting harm, and no pain worse than a broken bone. Wait, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m supposed to be convincing you that the present’s something good like mangoes or 20 dollars or something! Nevermind, ignore all that. Open the present because it’s something good like mangoes or 20 dollars or something! I think I messed this up but I don’t have enough paper to write another letter…
From Dystopian (NOT dysto-pain!) (154 words)

Hi Adventure.
Shouldn’t have gone to the trouble of writing this on a dusty scroll, since I’m allergic to dust (and whatever the heck is in this weird calligraphy pen that I just bought, maybe some dust got into the ink or something?) But whatever, it’s too late now, so I just have to cough my way through it and wish we had more paper. I just thought that since you were always in battle, fighting over… whatever you fight about… that you would appreciate me thinking about all the knight-y stuff in Adventure, so I sent it on a scroll since my letter is important, and wrote it in fancy cursive because I’m a perfectionist and it’s totally going to fit with your vibe, even though we’re enemies so I shouldn’t have thought about the vibe, but whatever. This new present is also going to fit in with your vibe-it’s an apple, since apples are kind of old-fashioned to me, even though it’s probably just me thinking weirdly. Ignore the very weird texture, in a dystopia apples are different and totally not poisoned more juicy than regular apples, which makes them taste so much better! Also ignore how this letter is so friendly even though we’re enemies, it’s just me trying to be nice.
Your enemy, Dystopian. (218 words!)

Bi-Fi, how are you doing, enemy?
Ignore that part, my friend here says this letter is supposed to be friendly. I don’t get why, since you’re trapped in a movie theater and you probably think this is from some weird movie you watched, but it’s not. It’s from your ACTUAL ENEMY, the Dystopian cabin, and we ACTUALLY EXIST. So here’s an apple, from the Snow White movie (or not. My friend is like, “Have you ever watched Snow White?” and apparently the apple is poisoned. Which I wouldn’t know, because I have DEFINITELY NEVER watched Snow White.) So nevermind, it’s just a regular apple.
Sorry for scaring you, Dystopian (109 words)

Hi Horror,
You’ll never get our candy! Especially mango candy, the best candy in the world! Wait, now you’re going to steal our mango candy, so nevermind! Just don’t steal our licorice, which is totally the best candy ever and not just some really gross candy that we need to get rid of because nobody likes it! Hold on, pause that thought. Is it really you listening to me, or are you all possessed by that ghost guy? Nevermind, I don’t want to know that. Uh, take this non-poisoned licorice rope, which has no poison at all in it, since we’re being nice and giving you some of our favorite candy which is definitely the best candy!
Licorice is the best, from Dystopian. (123 words!)

Real-fi,
So, we’re enemies. Which probably means I should be all like, “REAL FI YOUR OUR ENEMY BLAH BLAH BLAH ENEMY STUFF” but I’m polite (unlike some people that I know), so maybe I won’t do that. Anyways, since I’m super nice (even to enemies), here’s an UNpoisoned licorice rope! Licorice is obviously the best candy, definitely not just random black junk candy nobody likes (or it could be red, which is not as good as black. Your licorice is black though, to hide any signs of me poisoning it since black licorice is the best).
Your very, very friendly enemy, Dystopian. (102 words, I’m really tired while writing this lol)

Hello Non-fi,
Oh, I’m sorry, you’re Naan-Fi, not Non-Fi! I always loved eating your homemade croissants, but then I was trapped in this other world where none of the croissants here are actually that good. Hey, do you deliver any bread to weird dystopian realms in who-knows-where? Nevermind, you probably don’t. Anyways, I tried to make a croissant, but it totally failed, so I’m sending you a bunch of mangoes, but the deal here is that two of the mangoes are going to be for a mango croissant that I’m hungry for, and the rest you can have for free. I’ll even pay you after I get the croissant - the only reason I’m not paying you right now is because I don’t know if you can even send it, but please try to! I’m giving you like 10 mangoes…
Thanks for the croissant, a Dystopian camper. (146 words)

Hello Script, it’s nice to write to you
Uh, I think this has to rhyme because
You’re Script and make movies that we can pause.
It’s super great to talk to you,
Since you make plays where cows go moo.
I’m doing awful at this so far,
So let’s get to the point and play this “song” with a guitar.
I sent you some Twix as a gift,
Another word that rhymes is swift.
You’re friends and neutrals, that we know,
So I sent you Twix and hope you like it so.
This is from dystopian,
But our world is not utopian. (102 words)

Hello, Hi-Fi Train R-
Hi-Fi Train Robbers? Can I even send a letter to a train? Nevermind, all of you guys live in weird places - the Thriller cabin is literally underwater! I can’t judge you guys, since we live in a literal dystopia (but not the good kind). Anyways, guess what you’re getting (if you get this letter)? Since I’m nice to my neutral frenemies, you get… drumroll please… a Twix bar! Eating Twix on a train sounds a lot nicer than being stuck in a dystopia where mist might destroy our planet. Even if you just robbed the train. Which, let’s be honest, you probably did.
From Dystopia, who doesn’t rob any trains. (114 words)

2041 words! I'm pretty happy with most of this tbh, I can't believe how many words I wrote! This was really fun and I can't wait to write next week's weekly.

Cynthialz

Word Wars

War with Amethyst: I clutch the balled-up sheet of paper in my fist. The paper that says so little, but means so very much. The paper that could save my life. I follow the guard down the dimly lit hallway, keeping my eyes on the floor. I can feel his eyes on me when he turns around every few moments to check on me. What? Does he think I'm gonna run away? Finally, I look up at him forcing myself to make eye contact. He has eyes unlike any I have ever seen. We hold eye contact for a moment and my heart flutters. He studies me for a moment more and then turns back around and continues to lead me down the hall. I find myself wanting him to turn around again. For his bright blue eyes to look into my dark brown ones once more. I shake my head. What is wrong with me? This could very well be my last hour alive and I'm thinking about some stupid guard leading me to my stupid trial. The trial I shouldn't even need to- (182 Words)

War with Lax (continuing the story above)
-partake in. This is all a big misunderstanding. I've explained my case over and over even providing the little proof I have that I'm innocent, but no one believed me. That is until now. Now I have something they can't just shrug away. Something they can't ignore. The guard leading me to my trial turns around to face me once more. He looks at me with those eyes. Those bright blue eyes that I can't seem to get over. They're familiar in some way I can't explain. I know I've never seen the guard before today, but there's something about his eyes. Something that makes my heart flutter. Something that makes my heart beat and an alarmingly high rate. Something about those eyes draws me to him and I don't fall for just anyone. I tear my eyes from him. No, not again. I force my eyes to the floor and keep walking. I look- (154 Words)

War with fynn (continuing the story above)
-ahead at the large double doors at the end of the hallway. I take a deep breath. This is it. The guard leads me inside and I look around. There are more people here than I expected. There are at least fifty people in the stands there just to watch my trial. I hate that they came to watch my trial like it was a sports game or other event. This is a trial that will determine my life or death. It isn't just a game to me. This is everything. The guard leads me to a chair in the middle of the room. Relief floods over me as I notice they're no chains on the chair. At least they don't see me as a threat, I think. I sit down in the chair and look around once more. The room is large with a high ceiling. There are stands on three of the four walls. Only the wall directly in front of me is actually occupied. I suddenly start to feel anxious as the reality of my situation starts to sink in. This is it. I look down into my lamp cracking my knuckles even though they don't make a noise as I'd already cracked them during my walk down the hall. It's a nervous habit I have and besides what else am I supposed to do with my hands? I hear someone enter the room and turn towards the door. (242 Words)

war with luna <3 (continuing story from another word war)
-take another deep breath. I hear restless whispering all around me which only feeds my anxiety. I reach into my pocket and take out the balled-up sheet of paper. The paper that will decide my fate. I open it slowly and read over the comforting words as I wait for my trial to begin. When I see who it is I immediately regret it. My brother waves to me with a weak smile on his face. I don't return the wave or smile. My brother, Caleb, he's the reason I'm in here. I go back to looking at my lap and messing with my fingers. I hear a bang from the front of the room and I know what's about to happen. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open my eyes the crowd falls silent. This makes me realize how closely they must be watching me which makes me even more nervous than I already am. Nobody says anything. My anxiety is getting worse by the second. I wonder if I'm supposed to say anything. I look around at the crowd. They look at me. I meet a couple of people's eyes. When did the room get so hot? (204 Words)

Last edited by Cynthialz (Nov. 8, 2022 00:47:34)

ButterflyWings22

word war proofs!
Only word wars I’ve won will be here ^^

134 words

The clock rang 12. It was midnight and I was still awake. I sighed, wishing my insomnia would go away, and walked out of bed, trying not to wake my sister up. I got a glass of milk from the fridge and grabbed some food then walked outside. I thought I heard someone calling my name and felt nervous suddenly but I tried not to worry. I went back inside and went to bed and pulled the covers over me, scared. The wind howled and the night was dark. The branches scraped the window and made creepy noises. The voice called my name. Then I realized it was my sister sleep talking and chuckled softly. It was nothing. But she rose from her bed and walked towards me, her face covered with gruesome wrinkles

Last edited by ButterflyWings22 (Nov. 9, 2022 03:47:40)

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