Nov. 8/9 Daily! I used two of my OCs (co-created/owned with @violent-measures) for this exercise this was actually quite fun and was an interesting challenge! total word count: 400 words.

“Follow me!” Will called.
Odysseus heard his brother’s shout as clearly as if the other boy had been there in that moment, not ones that had long passed.
They weaved through the trees, over logs, under low branches.
Under Odyssesus’ feet, the dirt was dry. His mouth was even dryer. The trees had long since died, becoming cracked and hollowed out.
For a moment, Odysseus was angry. He stopped in his tracks. Refusing to follow the voice he heard so vividly in his mind. How dare Will lead him on like this? Everything from before had died. Even Will had left him.
Odysseus fell to his knees, burying his head in his hands. Memories burned in his mind. Ones he couldn’t erase.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Will said, reaching down to help.
Odysseus had fallen and scraped his knee. Tears streamed down his face, but he hid his face and the tears.
“It’s gonna be okay. It’ll heal.”
Odysseus nodded with a faint smile touching his lips and took his brother’s hand.

+ 171

Every day he would stare out his window as the sun rose above the seemingly endless sea.
And every morning he would wonder what that day would bring.
Would he be strong enough to face it? Would he be strong enough to always come back, just like the waves?
“You’re the strongest kid I’ve ever known,” Will would tell him whenever Odysseus hedged the question.
Even so, even though he trusted Will with his life, Odysseus doubted.
After Will was gone, all Odysseus had was the ocean to remind him.

+ 90


“Ugh, I can’t do this!” Odysseus complained, throwing the latest rock into the ocean and watching it land with an infuriating, single splash.
Odysseus knew he shouldn’t be so upset, but Will didn’t get mad.
That made it a bit better.
Even so, when Will tossed his flat, smooth stone and it skipped across the ocean’s surface, Odysseus’ frustration was rekindled.
“I think that last one wasn’t flat enough. You can do it,” Will encouraged.
Bending down, Will selected a new stone and placed it in Odysseus’ hand. Will made the motion, and Odysseus did his best to copy his older brother’s movement.
Finally, the stone skipped.
One.
Two.
Three times!
“Yes!” Odysseus exclaimed, jumping up and down on the sand.
“Great job, little guy,” Will said, ruffling Odysseus’ hair. “I knew you could do it.”

+ 146

daily 11/8

story 1
mother nature looked upon her creation. she smiled warmly, as the children played in the park. she nodded approvingly, as the family built their garden.
unfortunately, somebody decided to toss their trash in the grass. it's plain disrespectful, trying to hurt her beautiful world. guess this wasn't the right one.
welp, time to delete another one. maybe the next universe she creates will have better results.

story 2
i looked at my clock- there was one hour exactly before the incident i have to stop.
then i realized daylight saving ended today.

story 3
i yawned as i jumped into bed. it was an exhausting day at work. our boss made us complete a project in one day, when it was supposed to be four days. it was because someone was slacking off while doing their share. ugh. but now, thankfully, i get to take a nap! i grabbed my phone and set my alarm.
“alise!” i yelled to my roommate. “i’m taking a nap! so do the dishes!!!!”
“okayyy!” she yelled back at me.
then, i slowly but surely drifted off to sleep.
..
“eva!” i woke up to alise shaking me.
“what?” i yawned. then i smelled it- the smoke. i yeeted myself out of bed, and saw the fire surrounding my room. the door was blocked. there was no way out. i panicked, looking around wildly for an exit.
“the window!” i yelled, gesturing at it. alise stared at me in horror. “eva, no-” but it was too late. i threw myself out of the window, and felt something break inside me as i landed. it’s what happens when you jump out of a five-story house.
and as i lay there, accepting my death, i heard alise call:
“wait, eva, chill! it’s just a prank!”

Daily - 11/8/2022

(Story 1 - Cosmic Confrontation - 147 words)
BLAST!
Nova dove behind a silver boulder as a blue energy whooshed over her head. She was in the center of an intense battle between the Jadelings and the Vlorints, and nobody could tell who was winning. She hopped onto a rock, casting a spell that blasted a group of Vlorints away from her, before dashing down the hill and taking out a few more with her laser blaster. With little regard to her comrades and any damage taken, the sunset rabbit sped past the formation of crystalline soldiers, heading towards the larger, brighter creature in the back, the leader of the hive mind. She telepathically slung a rock into their chest, joining a fellow Jadeling in battle. The onyx jumped onto the back of the creature, distracting them enough so that Nova could drive an energy sword into them. Their light faded, and the army fell.

(Story 2 - Origin of the Grimmvessel - 130 words)
She was created from the red flames of an eternal ritual, encased within hollow shell, before abandoned. As she aged, she connected with the underground world around her, finding peace with crystals and learning how to use the ancient method of Soul spellcasting. Her friends would come and go, her wish to adventure far greater than those of others.
After a decade of existence, she came upon a canyon filled with mysterious pink fog and jellyfish that generated dangerous electricity. Upon exploration, she found herself dangling off a ledge, just above a lake of fatal acid.
Although she was prepared to accept her fate, she instead was rescued by another vessel. Letting her loyalty lie with the newcomer, she gained a new life, taught by the strict, yet caring sibling.

(Story 3 - Dream of Truth - 123 words)
Gentilezza looked at the young hybrid in her paws, who was staring up at her in terror. She had known that this would’ve happened, known that her presence could have triggered anxiety in the troubled child, but she had made a promise, one that she hadn’t been keeping like she should have been. Her eyes glowed, and she used her abilities to calm her niece down, before saying, in a tone more mysterious then she would have liked, “You are destined for greatness, young one.” The glowfox’s eyes widened as Gentilezza continued, “What else would come from the child of a deity?”
The two stared at each other, before their subconsciouses separated. Both of them awakened, hundreds of miles apart, sweating from anxiety.

(400 words)

dribble —

he had a large bucket filled to the brim with red liquid, and it smelled of dead bodies. he came out of his room, with the bucket in hand, still filled with shining, dark red liquid. i wanted to ask him — “is it blood?” — but i was too scared. turns out, it was just red paint; he was going to paint my new bicycle.

six word story —

blue
red
blue
red
blue
yellow

drabble —

i have loved him since the day i saw him in the field, singing along to the tune of claire de lune. i have loved him since the day he held out hit beaten up hand to help me up. i have loved him ever since he hugged me tightly when tears fell down my cheeks. i have loved him ever since he pulled up into our village in a large truck. i have loved him ever since i started loving him. i have loved him just like a friend.

daily 8
400 words
+400 word redo
back to dailies
back
flash fiction

prompt given by my brother

The one with mental speed is already ahead of the cars.
Once a great behemoth of a dog lay on the earth. Its snout is the width of a car, the length of its body the length of a school bus, and its swift, huge tail is three cars long. It arose from its place on the ground. Whoosh. Its ginormous tail swung back and forth, the steps of the creature shaking the earth. Amazing in size, this dog was amazingly smart in their mind, too. They loved running, the earth, and nature. The dog had a gentle mind, to balance its uncompromising appearance. High above, the cats soared with their feathery wings, the wind rushing down their furry backs. Their wings sang elegantly, in songs of wind and their feathery movement. The wind gushed and powered the speed of these creatures as they spun through the fluffy clouds. They picked up speed and rocketed back to their island. As they sped to the island, they gained a fiery trail of emblazoned fire. As each of them hurtled toward the island, when they bounced up from impact there were explosions from the fire made by the speed. As all the cats landed, – they flew in clowders, groups of cats – they walked toward the center of the island. There was a birthday party on the island today; the cats smelled it as they walked toward the island center, smiles splitting their faces. The smells of candles and melting cake from the island's heat spoke to the flying cats. The warm and sweet smells drew the cats in, oblivious to what lay ahead for them. The dog, riddled with fear, took a step onto the clouds. The dog clumsily stepped onto another cloud, a moving cloud. They breathed in and out to calm down. They squeezed their eyes shut, in an effort to not look below them. At the sounds of partying, the dog opened their eyes to see the cloud had glided down to the island. They eagerly stepped off the cloud, with a big exhale of relief. The dog trudged up the island. Then, motivated by the smells, the dog bounded to the island center. The dog ran into flying cats, knocking them everywhere. They bit at its skin, and it knocked them aside with its paws. The cats beamed lasers at it from their eyes. It acted like it was nothing.

Redo, since it was supposed to be three stories

Letting go:
The water stirred as the paddle pushed the boat forward in repetitive sways. Other than that, the water was still and serene. I was troubled. I still didn't want to let go. I held the ashes in my hand and maybe held onto more than just ashes. The memories of her. The fact that she was gone. All I wanted to do, all my heart was telling me to do.. was to hold on. When I had been grieving, I had been told countless times to look in my heart for the answers to healing. They weren't there. My heart denied her absence. I forced myself to let go. I released the ashes over the lake. I trickled the last ashes off of my palm.

Not there:
I saw her at lunch today. She looked happy, unloading her lunch bag and smiling. She looked happier, I thought. Nothing had been wrong. Nothing at all. I went over to sit next to her on the bench. As I turned to unpack my lunch, she disappeared.

Barely even seen:
It was rowdy after the bell for lunch rang. I stepped out of the halls. The students weren't any noisier than they usually were. It was always loud. I went over to her, where she always was. She sat there at lunch every day.
“Hi,” I said to her, and a smile that had started to spread on my face went away as quickly as it had started. She didn't return a smile, not a single twitch in her mouth, not even in her eyes. She looked at me as if I was a stranger who she barely even saw. She must have not been feeling well, I told myself. A group of tall girls walked over to us. They had the kind of collectiveness a friend group had. I knew. Wearing the same style of clothes that she had started wearing, I realized, with a pang of a shocking betrayal. I didn't know why I felt that way. They asked her if she wanted to go with them, somewhere else. She didn't even look back at me. She didn't care. She didn't even glance back at me by chance, even though I put on a hurt face in the hopes that she would look back at me. She kept walking. Away. As I stood, a tear leaked from my eye and dripped down like a broken faucet.

Data for 2nd weekly!

Part One
https://scratch.mit.edu/users/-PeachiiStxr-/#comments-234108904

Part Two
https://scratch.mit.edu/users/-Midnight–Moon-/#comments-234262014

Part Three
I wrote about my fear and curiosity of death and what happens after it, I tried my best to keep it Scratch appropriate!

As I watch the sun fade away
I think, how long will I stay?
Will I leave in fifty-nine years?
Or will I leave before the sun reappears?
I want to know what is after life
Something with fear sharper than a knife
When it eventually reaches me
I’ll open my arms and greet it with glee
I am curious of what happens after
Will I gain or lose everything in a disaster?
I keep thinking of death and life
Leaving me with a strange emotion I can’t describe
Taking over my thoughts and actions
Making my life filled with distractions
Someday, sometime, I’ll get to see
The truth will be known by me
But I won’t be able go right back
‘Cause death is just a one-way track
I know my time here is not very long
My dear reader, know this and stay strong
It is not what you do that makes life worth it
It is happiness, and anyone can prove it

Part Four
Trefoil - Revenge

Hey, did you hear the rumor where
Someone's lover had a little affair
The man’s lover, oh, her heart was broken, but
Her hate and despair became something more corrupt

Oh, the sorrow and the shame
When you had kept control of me I felt so lame
But now I know what happens when one's rage is left unchecked
The rage can be a weapon that leaves things wrecked

Hey, did you hear the story where
The brokenhearted girl destroyed the man's affair
His heart was shattered, his mind torn apart
He thought it was over but this was just the start

Oh, the sorrow and the shame
When you had kept control of me I felt so lame
But now I know what happens when one's rage is left unchecked
The rage can be a weapon that leaves things wrecked

She'd left him defenseless to pay for his sins
He begged for forgiveness, but the girl just grinned
She laughed in his face, at that disgusting disgrace
She pushed him away and got him replaced

Oh, the sorrow and the shame
When you had kept control of me I felt so lame
But now I know what happens when one's rage is left unchecked
The rage can be a weapon that leaves things wrecked

daily 7:

“ Flash fiction is the shortest form of prose writing. It’s a flash - a blink - of a story, a universe contained within a few words. Afterwards, we challenge you to, in 400 words, write three complete stories. Structure it however you like - the sky’s the limit! Upon completion, 300 points (and an extra 50 for sharing) shall be awarded.”
- - -

And it Ended with a Thump
TW: blood, gore

I woke up with a start. A water droplet had fallen on my nose, reminding me that I was out camping in a forest because I needed to get the blue orb before the evilest of the evilest demons got it. If he got it, everything was over. I couldn't let that happen, so I quickly fried some pancakes, packed up the camp and continued on my journey. While I munched on my pancakes, I thought of a plan. I would have to face the demon at one point, right?

I left my village, Pristea, about a week ago. I had been out collecting orbs because the demon wanted them to turn this place into hell, but I couldn't let that happen. The first few orbs were fairly easy to find. Since then it's been mainly just walking and exploring, until today.

I was walking in the woods heading straight for the north, where the last orb was, when I met him. When I first saw him I saw a hooded figure. I didn't think much of it, but that was a little suspicious. He couldn't be an explorer, this place was already explored! So why would a random person just be standing here in the middle of the woods? I approached him slowly. After taking two steps, I saw the symbol on his cloak sleeve. The symbol of the demon…

I took out my sword but the cloaked figure was even faster. He grabbed his sword and stabbed at my left arm, but only grazed it. My arm was burning as I fought to defend myself. We stabbed, dodged, and fought. I stabbed at his leg, leaving blood dribbling down his leg like a stream. This only made him angrier and he attacked again, this time aiming for my heart. At that moment, I realized there was something familiar with this person. The hooded figure took me by surprise and stabbed my heart. I felt his sword puncture my body. I fell to the ground as I struggled to breath. The hooded figure threw down his hood revealing his face. The last thing I saw was the evil smirk on the face of my brother…

366 words

that was one heck of an adventure. let's bring it down a bit

Growing up - Twitterature

I was born with a howl
Took my first step
Learned to read and to write
Finished school and traveled the world
Now I'm 105 and still silent.

136 characters & 28 words

Unkown
a dusty grave, unmarked, no flowers

6 words

Total of words : 400

author's note: the last one could've been done much better tbh

There was a time when days rolled on,,, like silent tides. Now they only know,,, to spin. There was a time when each spinning day was,,, visibly counted by a clock whose,,, needles, instead of moving in synchrony with slipping time,,, rode on Time itself. And they were bound by fate and time-worn rules engraved in stone,,, to tick on till the last second,,, of humanity’s ostensible prosperity.

the clock itself is bound to tick on regardless of the fact that it no longer bears any needles,,, to tick with.

-

There is a poster at the marketplace where everything shines… and on the poster is a child… who smiles in the fond certainty of a tomorrow that shall be brighter than today… and who will, it is speculated, remain oblivious to the knowledge of a tomorrow that… will never come.

An antique camera… lies on the riverside by a forest that is too vast… to house living, breathing… animals.

its screen bears a stilled reflection of a child who smiles in the fond certainty of a tomorrow that shall be brighter than today and who will remain oblivious to the knowledge of a tomorrow that will never… come.

-

A camera and broken watch on the riverbank might not intrigue the casual observer, but to one better acquainted with the ways of the world, seeing that which measures seconds in such close proximity to that which captures them must be something. A child sits silently by, feet encircled and held close, gaze hovering protectively over these articles, almost as if aware of their potential. Tiny but nimble, steady fingers trace oceans in the sand.

somewhere, the earth tremors, water gushes into cracks—seeming to glue the pieces together while, in reality, tearing them apart.

-

tried using successive commas to exaggerate the spaces between ideas but not complete spaces (?) sort of like enjambments but not really adhljtdsa and ellipses to depict ideas that cannot be seen. 291 words

monologue thing about guilt, heavily inspired by crime and punishment (a parody of raskolnikov but with repentance)! it's to be performed so I'm not sure how much sense it'll make in the written form but its worth a go. so for context the protagonist's pet dodo was killed and now she is out for revenge <3 set in a sort of abstract reality, and performed in front of a mirror (symbolic of circumstances/lack of control/ inevitability). and yes dodo bone. a million thanks to legendary luna for critiquing, fixing things soon!

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear—

A warning that puzzled me no end, when I was younger.
Was it the cars in the real world that were closer than they
Appeared to be/ in the mirror,
Or did the mirror tell a different lie,
Portraying what were, in actuality, tens of metres away
As being /suffocatingly close?

You see, my childish mind could not differentiate
Between what was / and what seemed to be,
Even the simplest phrases confounded me
Because/ my eyes saw beyond the threshold of
common assumptions/; could one who had seen reason roar
Possibly restrict her vision/ to wisdom's quiet shores?

But why am I reiterating what you already know?
You must think it strange, dear Avdotya Romanovna
That I should speak thus when my words are not truly mine.
Or should I say, rather, that my words are not truly yours?
And yet, we seem to be the same person
Acting/ in conjunction.
I do not force your jaw open or contort the fear,
the repentance in your eyes.
I do not hold the bone. We do. You do.

It was when you saw Cook chopping vegetables,
When you recalled the solitary feather–all that
Remained of your /beloved bird,
That it / struck you. Bones . A dodo bone. Handy, easy to use.
But close, demanding skill, courage, daring.
It was raining, as the gloam set in, and you were
Struck by the / justice of it all.
You were alone at home, your thoughts aswing,
And the rain was a curtain, separating you from the physical world.

We were ruthless, blind, vengeance coursing through our veins.
Perhaps, if the door had not been so easy to open, we would never have left.
Our conception was nothing if not terribly planned.
We would burst in
And thrust a dodo bone / through the poor woman’s back.
It seemed so right, so simple.

Now she stands before us, in her blasted kitchen.
We lift our right leg and twist our left, acrobatically,
To slam the door behind us. She hears something.
No, we do not exit through the door. Stand back!
Listen to me, to yourself, we’re here for a reason.

you're merely setting the scales on balance.

She emerges, wipes her hand on her apron.
Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth to scream.
With an agility that does not seem to be ours,
We lunge at her. We spin like a great top and thrust
Our hands /against her mouth
And then/ in one smooth gesture, we thrust the bone home.

Our heart shrieks in protest, it thuds at the doors of our chest,
Fighting tooth and nail to break free.
And yet a ballet cannot cease mere seconds after it has commenced,
We cup our trembling hands beneath the body and break its fall.
Keep your eyes open, it is not your fault—it’s ours.
Remember your justification—I—we shall stand our ground;
Guilt is but a mental construct sustained by irrational insecurity.

I collapse on the ground, in a half-reverie I rub my shirt-end against cold granite,
A haphazard attempt to remove fingerprints, to dispose of evidence,
And yet the voice in my mind remains clear, I cannot tell if its cry is its own
Or in synchrony /with some predetermined symphony,
I am stained—tainted.

Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand?

Critiquing legendary luna's legendary writing:

luna i am just sitting here in awe of the delicacy of your writing. the thread of nostalgia that binds all three poems practically gleams; your poetry is a joy to read. it was so difficult to find actual things to critique.

Clarity:
there isn't much to say about clarity per se but perhaps a touch of specificity here and there could better ground the poem.

'greenery surrounding us on every edge'

a beautiful line, if you could maybe describe a little detail of the greenery, it would be all the more special. I think part four was very well done, especially in that respect. the reference to smoke and mirrors ('interwoven with the smoke/ like a mask') was ingenious.

'and you stole me, taking me through'
again, there is nothing really wrong with the wording here; it's just that it is a little on the vague side, perhaps elaborate on the what/where a little more here or consider replacing it with a different line.

Figurative Language:

your metaphors are impeccable and i absolutely love how you indirectly connected parts three and four by placing the danger above and regret below– a masterstroke.

'to retreat from the edge
rather than find a way to brave it?'

perhaps replace ‘brave with ’tread over' or something similar, in keeping with the image of the edge?

'so i jumped in behind you
and we speeded away.'

because you've mentioned the fire in the friend's eyes, the reader sort of expects them to brave the danger, instead of speeding away– its fine as it is, just some food for thought.

General:

I'm being insufferably nitpicky here but please bear with me asfjljgdsa. at the end of the poem, you make use of a really beautiful caesura pause preceded by well placed enjambment. however, the punctuation employed throughout the rest of the poem leads one to believe that one must pause at the end of every line without a punctuation. thus, in the end, one pauses and damages what should be a beautiful thought carried over to the next line without interruption. this could be remedied by filling the gaps with commas or semicolons

'we were holding hands
tangled in each others souls
we were one and the same.'

can I just say how beautiful this is– I simply cannot get over it. you truly have a way with words luna and your poetry is beyond mortal realms of magnificence.

-

19/11/22 very rushed daily oops

a rug representing the concept of inquisition:

At around 3 a.m. on Friday last, The Society of Red Rug Fibres arrived at the conclusion that Red was Right. Yellow fibres reeked of pretense, and had no business to be parading as gold—Red was Gold. Obviously. Gold and Right and All Things Good. Maroon fibres were intolerable because, while they minded their own business, they fancied their coffee black, and this, to the Reds, was tantamount to sin. Doing their best to try to pretend to appear sane, the reddest Red fibres decided to go outdoors and “mow the lawn”. Of course, they were blissfully ignorant of the fact that their ignorance extended to lawn mowers, to the fact that carpets had their origins in cloth, and not soil.

Those who questioned the Reds’ Rightness were inexpertly condemned.


Once, a particularly intelligent yellow fibre naively assumed, in their youth, that the Red fibres were good listeners. That the Reds had the decency to listen to well-structured arguments. Civility, however, did not fall under the Official Declaration of Rights and Wrongs. Courtesy was not Red. The Red in question saw red, not hesitating to accuse the innocent (and intelligent!) yellow fibre of Treachery and Tomfoolery. The Red’s wealth did him great disservice, for he had surfeited on both victuals and vice. He would have uprooted the still rational yellow fibre if not for what he called his “muscular” stature. He commanded that the yellow fibre turn red under under threat of dire punishment; he was of course, an Authority appointed by THE Authority; overflowing with wisdom and not at all susceptible to folly—corruption susceptible to folly? Inconceivable.

Somewhere else on the same rug, a maroon fibre was sipping a cup of black coffee as she illustrated the latest book on chivalrous knights attired in armour and intrigue. She did not enjoy her work, but the Reds she was working for, unaware of her identity, paid her enough. She was understandably taken aback when a self-righteous Red fibre barged into her home, besmirched her furniture, and set things on fire.

And that is how our best rug was ruined. All the nice patches of colour were smoldered, leaving behind naught but frayed ends and a very tired looking patch of red. It isn’t worthwhile to keep something that doesn’t serve its purpose, even if one did pay a small fortune for it. The rug had to go—after all, of what use is a rug that isn't warm?

LALS TABLE OF CONTENTS
————————————————————-
Victorian Flower Language Daily
Flash Fiction Daily

Flash fiction 1#

On the fort I made outside,
Brushing the tops of the blankets,
Raindrops start to fall.
I crawl outside my warm den,
to check what's going on.
Raindrops hit my nose,
and then my arms,
and then my cheeks.
I listen to the blowing wind
as it wistfully speaks.
I stand outside for a while,
refusing to go inside.
For I know it is just a drizzle.
Be calm.
I smile.
(71 words)
____________________________________________
Flash fiction 2#

If the Earth cracked in half, would want to be on the same half as me?
(16 words)
____________________________________________
Flash Fiction 3#

I stand in a pitch-black room.
No light.
No noise.
Silent.
Peaceful.
I close my eyes.
Whispering to nobody, “I wish to stay here.”
“No, you don't,” somebody answered.
I shoot my eyes open.
“Who's here!?” I shout.
“Me.” the person retorted.
“What?”
“What?”
Silence.
“Y'know, ‘Me’, I went into this room for a reason,” I said, annoyed.
“And what would that reason be?”
“To get away from all the noise! Is that so hard?!”
No reply. I assumed the person was gone.
I felt their presence fade into the black walls.
Their voice was drowned out by the silence I so desperately wanted.
A ghost, trying to fool me.
I close my eyes.
Glad they learned their lesson, though.
They won't be entering this room again.
(127 words)

Daily -9:
180 words story : From the Future:
As I swim past the coral reefs, I notice many colorful and beautiful fishes: puffer fishes, clown fishes, even a bump-headed parrot fish. I continue swimming by until something peculiar catches my eye. A small golden chest on the ocean floor. The carvings are intricate, and there are species of fish carved that I have never even heard of before. Snatching the box, I swam up to the surface as fast as I could. Excited, I try to open the box, but I barely succeed. In the end I open it, but only to find a crumpled note with faint ink all over it. I drop the box and unravel the letter. It reads:
HELP. No oxygen left. FAST. Dying.
9/11/3023
I gasp in surprise. 3023. Exactly a 101 years from now. It has to be a prank. But it doesn't feel like one. I kind of believe it. I know everyone will pin me as crazy. But I feel I am responsible for saving them. “I am about to begin a journey of discovery.” I tell myself.

15 word story: In the Underworld again:
“Happy Halloween! ” said the Undead Queen. Then an arrow pierces her chest, killing her again.

170 words: A scare:
I sit under the autumn trees, listening to birds chirping and the sun glow. I wonder what the future has in store for me. A piercing scream startles me from my meditation. I look around. This time another piercing scream joins in. I follow the sound, which leads me to a clearing in the middle of trees. I stare down and gasp. Blood. In the center of a pool of blood lies a dead bird. I look around. A gun is thrown against the trunk of a tree. But that's it. Until… I hear footsteps behind me. There is a woman being held hostage by a girl, a very young one that too. And then I hear a camera shutter. I turn back and then again look front. The girl and the woman are smiling. “You got the video right, Kia?” ask the girl. A third female appears, as if on cue. “Yup” says the new girl. “Fake bird?” I ask my voice quavering. They nod. I sigh in relief.

Word war with @SugarN_Milk

I lost myself in the darkness. Filled with fear and tension. Lights flickered here and there. I felt completely lost. Tiana had lost herself too. I saw a bleary dark figure approach me . Scared , I cried “Spare me , I’ll do whatever you wish “ . But the dark figure was Tiana. With tears she cried , “Don’t lose me again Charlotte!”

58 words

Daily 8-9:211 words

Through the clarinet (#1):
Dusty,
Still,
In the
Midst of
Disguised demons

Inside the drums (#2):
The girl watched the clock every day, as it rocked by and ticked by. It was outdoors, so she sat in the knife-sharp cold and amidst the gem-eyed animals that woke up in the night like ghosts. She still sat there, watching the clock, saying nothing. Apparently her surroundings were haunted, or so people told me, although nobody actually approached her.
So I did. She wasn’t far away, Although she was tucked away in that little corner in the park nobody went to.
I actually just said hi to her, and she said nothing. I succeeded into making her actually turn to me, but I regret doing that.
Because she was a mannequin with a computer chip in her eye.

Behind the Piano (#3)
Once upon a time my friend found himself in a room of complete darkness. There were no walls, or lights.He screamed and screamed because he was absolutely terrified of the dark, and then I, being out onside the room, told him that I didn’t want to save him. Instead, I flicked on the hidden light and it lit up the room with neon paintings full of my friend’s favourite animal- jellyfishes.

Flash fiction daily: (145 words)

1. Six-word story:

Imagine dying. I don't have to.

2. Twitterature - Spoken vs. unspoken (39 words)

I always knew that one day I wouldn't be good enough for you anymore. You wouldn't notice or care, but I would slowly lose significance, and with it, purpose. But in your eyes, we would no longer be perfect.

(read both with and without the crossings out)

3. Drabble - Revenge (100 words)

I stared over at my ‘friends’, feeling just as isolated away from them as I would be with them. So I resort to staring at the flowers: deep red fuschia, and weak, blue geraniums. They’re prettier than my thoughts were. My thoughts tell the flowers how I hate everyone for not loving me and I hate myself for hating them. The vicious encircling of my mind almost drove me crazy with every thought. I couldn’t help feeling that the flowers were listening to my thoughts. So as my ‘friends’ stalked towards me, I prepared for the flowers to avenge me.

121 words total

Flash fiction daily



Numero uno – 93 words





I really don’t want to go to school today. We get our test results- and I’m confident in my failure.

Whatever. I didn’t have a choice- I've already sat through three hour-long lessons. Next period, I hear my fate.

I’m sitting down in the classroom, tapping my feet nervously. The teacher is handing out our tests- I get mine-

D+.

I’m about to cry, but my friend reaches over.

“Hey, it’s only a first-term year-eight test”

“It’s no big deal!”

I nod and try to smile. The positivity instantly makes me feel better.



2. 9 words

I thought I was special.

Do does everyone else.



3. 6 words

I wish they would notice me.

SWC Daily Flash-Fiction

One of those two sentence horror stories… I guess

It was peaceful in his room.

Until he heard the crash downstairs…

(12 words)

Dribble

The town was ablaze. The groans of the horrors were reverberating across my old home. I clutched the locket, the only thing left of my family. The stench of rotting flesh permeated the room. They were outside. I closed my eyes. BAM! I turned, and saw my older brother. Alive.
(50 words)

(And idk what to call this. Limbo between a Drabble and a Twitterature XD):

The ice monster slammed the back of his hand into Lucas’s companion. The mage, who had made it with him halfway through Hell, was killed swiftly by the giant, elemental horror. Lucas stumbled backwards, his longsword seeming heavier than usual. He heft it over his soldier and swung at the monster. It barely cracked the icy skin as he himself was swatted away. His leg twisted upon the ice and Lucas howled in pain. He couldn’t move it. The pain was piercing. He looked up at the ice horror looming above him in the icy cave. The blizzard blurred his vision, or was it the pain? He couldn’t think straight. The thought of his friend, her soul trapped in hell. If he could just make it past this horror to revive her. The fall from the tower had killed her. He wasn’t there to save her. Lucas crawled forward. He tried to get away, but he saw the shadow of the horror’s foot above him. He closed his eyes, and all went silent.
(169 words)

Total of 231 words. Hope you liked it! #fantasyftw

rando writing - nov 9

The light spilled from the goblet, now spreading across the ancient stone tiles. “Oh no…” Addalyn said, fear and anxiousness coarsing through her veins, “oh no oh no oh no.” This couldn't be. That light… that light was the only thing that could save her world. She had promised she would bring it back to the Elders. Addalyn had swore. And to make matters worse, she had sworn on her life. Tears gushed out of Addalyn's eyes, finally letting her emotions show. Light was the only thing that could heal, and light could only be captured by that goblet, which was now cracked, and on the floor. Light was also only made every 10,000 years. 10,000 years! That was too long to wait. Addalyn's world would be gone by then. The plague was spreading, and it was spreading fast. There was nothing she could do. Her world was doomed.

school writing
The Good-Luck Fish

In the Quinghai Province, in the tranquil Yangtze River, you may see a man, out in a boat. An old man, some may say, fishing quietly, humming a sad song. Now, not many people know this, but this man was the great Chinese legend Yulong. But this was the old Yulong. Not the Yulong most people know.
Humming quietly, Yulong sung, “Hāi, rúguǒ nǐ néng dú dào zhège, nǐ jiùshì yīgè hěn hǎo de pǔtōnghuà yǎnjiǎng zhě.”
While he was humming, Yulong felt a slight tug on his line, so he reeled it in. When he pulled it out, there was the ugliest fish he had ever seen (with bright red eyes and half of his scales falling off his body) flopping around before him. “Aiya,” Yulong said, “This will not do.” As he was moving to throw the fish back into the water, he heard a strange voice echoing in his ear.
“Wait!” the voice said, full of anguish and fear, “don't throw me back in! Please! I beg of you! For I am the good-luck fish, and I promise I will bring you great luck and fortune if you don't throw me back into the water.”
Yulong was surprised and scared, for, (like most of us), he had never heard a talking fish before, especially one that gave good luck.
“Why don't you want to go back into the water? It is your home, after all.” Yulong said suspiciously.
“Because,” the good-luck fish said slowly (he seemed to be choosing his words carefully), “I was being chased by Jiao Ren, the half-fish, half-human demons were chasing me!”
“Aiya!” Yulong exclaimed, suddenly worried, “Jiao Ren?!? In these waters?”
“Yes indeed,” the good-luck fish said, smirking (it was clear that the good-luck fish had tricked Yulong).
“Ah,” Yulong said, “I see.” Thinking carefully, he than said, “Well… I suppose it couldn't hurt to bring you along and sell you at the market.”
“Thank you, loving master!” The good-luck fish exclaimed, clearly grateful, “I will be forever indebted to you.”
Yulong grunted in response and began to row towards the market, where people would buy his fish. It was the mid-autumn festival, a festival celebrating the rice harvest and many other fruits, so people were coming from here and there to buy things from him. Once they came to the market, Yulong hauled the good-luck fish (and the other fish he caught) onto the dock, dragging them over to an open stall.
Yulong looked around the markets and stalls, he saw young and energetic children running around in the clearing in the park, playing a silly game of tag, stuffing their faces with mooncakes. To the right of the children, were some older women practicing their Tai Chi, with the little children beginning to run towards them and knock into them. Yulong couldn't help but laugh at this. In another stall, people of all ages were beginning to light their lanterns (for it was getting dark) and say their prayers to the great god Hou Yi, who had saved the earth from getting scorched by the ten suns that the world had once had.
Soaking in all of the activities, Yulong stood at his stall for a while, until he had been standing there for over an hour. Now, Yulong began to grumble to the good-luck fish.
“Good-luck fish!” Yulong exclaimed, “you have betrayed me! Where is my luck? Where is my money? Although my wife and children may have drowned in the Yangtze, I still do not have enough money to support myself!”
“Calm down,” the good-luck fish said, without worry, “call out ”fish! Fish! And that distinguished young gentleman will come over to you and buy all of your fish.“
Sure enough, after Yulong shouted ”fish! Fish!“ a few times, a distinguished gentleman with a handsome tuxedo and slicked-back hair stepped towards his stall.
”Well, what have we got here?“ the gentleman asked, ”some fish, eh?“
”Yes, sir“ Yulong replied properly, trying to make a good impression on the gentleman.
The gentleman laughed coyly, saying, ”Call me Zisi. That is my name.“
”Zisi.“ Yulong said, a bit scared now, for Zisi, in Mandarin, means ”selfish“.
Zisi grimaced in what seemed to be disgust, and said, ”Yes, you decrepit and senile man. Are you deaf? Hmph!“
Yulong was quite insulted at the least, but he tried to hide it, for fear that he would not sell those fish.
”Ah, yes,“ Yulong remarked, ”would you like to buy some of my fish?“
”Hmm…“ Zisi said, ”Yes, I suppose so. I'll take the lot.“
”Aiya!“ Yulong said, for he had a very good catch today, and it would surely cost a lot, so he said, ”That will be 50,000 yuan, please, good sir.“
”Fifty-thousand yuan…hmm…“ Zisi commented, ”well, that's nothing for a rich person like me. I'll take it.“
Scooping up the fish into a large net, Yulong handed them over to Zisi.
”Goodbye, good-luck fish“ Yulong said, smiling a bit, ”thank you for your help. I surely would not have had this much luck without you“
”No problem“ the good-luck fish said, ”thank you for not throwing me back into the water to my death.“
Bowing slightly, Yulong said, ”xièxiè, xièxiè.“ (Or, for those of you who don't speak Mandarin, it means, ‘thank you, thank you.)
As all of Yulong’s fish had been sold, Yulong went home with sacks filled with coins, enough so he could live pleasantly for the rest of his life. Smiling, Yulong entered his humble home, with delusions of grandeur. Yulong slept peacefully until the next morning, his dreams filled with money and wealth.
Yulong yawned slowly, rubbing his eyes, but feeling fulfilled and excited for the day to come. Yulong took a gold coin or two and skipped out of the house.
”To breakfast!“ Yulong thought, feeling hungrier than ever. Once he had arrived at his local cafe, Hé kāfēi guǎn. Entering the cafe enthusiastically, Yulong called for a server.
”Yes, master?“ the server asked, ”how may I help you? What would you like?“
”Hmm,“ Yulong said rudely, ”Yes, yes, server… but don't servers, in most places, seat you first?“
The server looked thoroughly embarrassed, put-out, and irritated, but he grouchily showed Yulong to a seat.
”Here you are, master.“ the server said sarcastically, ”the almighty's seat.“
Yulong proudly sat down with great vigor and said, ”yes, yes. Now where is that menu of yours?“
The poor server quickly left, angry and annoyed, and came back with a large menu.
”Ah, there you are!“ Yulong said, spotting the server, ”I need some tea. Green tea. Now, off you go, server! Go fetch my tea.“
Rushing off, the server left, leaving Yulong and his menu alone. Yulong was very full of himself, getting greedier and greedier by the second. Picking up his menu, Yulong decided he wanted juk, scallion pancakes, wontons, and bao. He quickly called ”the server“ (as Yulong called him) back.
”Ah!“ Yulong said, when the server came back, teetering and tottering, the tea and tea kettle sliding and sloshing around, and then the server slided the tea platter onto the table.
”I have decided what I would like to eat.“ Yulong said proudly.
”What?“ the server asked, more frustrated than ever.
”Give me juk, scallion pancakes, pork wontons, and pork bao. And do it quickly!“ Yulong said.
”Right away, sir“ the server stammered, overwhelmed.
”Actually, never mind.“ Yulong said, ”I will actually take everything on the menu. One of each. And hurry up with it! I don't have all day!“
The server muttered, under his breath, ”I cannot stand you. Being a server in 6723 is tough,“ and then ran off to fetch Yulong's food.
Once Yulong had eaten his fill, he left the restaurant and then went to the continuation of the mid-autumn festival. Beggers lined the streets, begging for a bite to eat, a coin to use.
”You filthy little beggers!“ Yulong said, ”I don't have time for your silly little problems! I have money, and you do not. Get over it!“
Yulong grunted and glared at the beggars, refusing to give anything to them.
Going to the temple, Yulong took some inscense and burned it to the god of wealth, Cai Shen.
”Oh Cai Shen,“ Yulong declared smugly, ”I have gained great wealth and fortune, and I would like to become a god. I have succeeded in life, and gained great power and wealth.“
Yulong sat there for another while, praying and begging to become a god, until he heard a deep voice.
”I am Cai Shen, the god of wealth. You have taken advantage of your money and fortune, so you will now become none other than on of those beggars you have seen on the streets!“
Yulong's eyes snapped open in surprise and fury, only to see a beautiful young woman descending gracefully from the top of the temple.
Her eyes were those of dark tree branches, and her hair flowed down her sides in waves of dark and beautiful ebony. Her pale skin was soft, and her lips were a deep, rich, red. A beautiful golden dress flowed down her body, the light, thin silk waving in the wind, her dress shining in the sunlight of the new day. The golden dress waved by her shoulders, the fabric flowing this way and that around her small, slim figure. She was beautiful, there was no doubt, but there was something a bit familiar about her. She looked like Yulong's daughter, but she couldn't be. As this woman's small feet gently touched the ground, she looked at Yulong sadly.
”My name is Chu Hua.“ the woman said, in a voice so soft Yulong had to strain to hear it, ”And I'm afraid you have taken advantage of your wealth, so now I must take it away.“ Chu Hua looked truly sad and her eyes were so full of disappointment that Yulong could not bear to look at them.
Yulong's heart stopped, and Yulong wished he could change his actions.
”No! Please!" Yulong said, begging and begging for another chance. But the gods were cruel, and they refused.
Chu Hua assured Yulong that he would still have enough to eat, and the gods would still watch over him. This calmed Yulong a bit, though he was still heartbroken and depressed.
Yulong knew he had made a mistake. Yulong knew he should've given to the poor and been nicer to the servers at the restaurant. Yulong knew that Chu Hua and Cai Shen were right.
Yulong closed his eyes, to sad to open them again, and then woke up right back where he had started; on his rickety boat, fishing on the Yangtze River.

(1,782 words)