Part 1 - I did Eisenhower's matrix and Paredo Analysis.

Part 2 - Joined Brainstorming!
Original comment: Take two of your OCs and squish their personalities together to make a new OC, and make them have all the personality traits of both OCs, even if they're conflicting traits >
Replies:
- And you're not allowed to make it a boring informational essay, like “This is what I changed” you have to actually write the story with the changed parts like “Character was living in the medieval land of Medievalland, and got a scroll from Othercharacter”
- Put in anything you suddenly think of-if you start thinking about Starbucks or roleplaying or some random song you like (or maybe can't stand) then you have to put it in!
- Make your character also have the vibe of that color - like if you chose black, make them emo, or if you chose neon green, make them crazy

Part 3 - Sleep
Listening to music can help you in many different ways. One of the ways it can help is if you’re studying and you just feel like turning on some music. Studies show that listening to lo-fi helps your brain relax and remember things. I won’t judge you if you just want to listen to pop music or country songs while you’re studying - I’m guilty of doing the same thing if I have to be honest. Another way music can help you is if you’re angry and just need to listen to angsty rock music for a while. I have used that technique many times before when I was upset or angry about something. Listening to music isn’t the only way music can help you - writing songs is another form of therapy and can help you express your emotions in a way not many other things can. Singing isn’t the only way to create amazing music. Try learning an instrument! There are many different instruments you can choose from, from string instruments like the violin or the cello to band instruments like the trumpet or the clarinet. I play both the piano and cello. Although writing songs on them is a lot harder than just writing songs I can sing, playing some of the songs I know and love makes me feel happier. Anyways, that’s my long, messy rant about how listening to music improves your mental health, so have a great day, and make sure to listen to some music!
250 words exactly, but that's just a coincidence lol

Scratch Entry- I’m Not a Villain

We all know how our teachers are really strange
and have secrets but this one had a bigger one
then you could imagine. I’ll start at the beginning
where Mr. Soroni first came to teach math for
Lithingpo High School.
No one knew where Mr. Soroni was from and
what he was all about so students and staff
started to question him. Mr. Soroni came to
room 504 and told all the students that he didn’t
care what they did and said that they wouldn’t
learn this year because he thought it was lame.
Mr. Soroni then gave us some lame crossword
puzzles and sat on the chair to rest. The kids in
my class including me all just listened to him
because he looked like he could strangle us
if we asked any questions. When class was
over he told us we all could leave except Ryan
which I thought was suspicious.
The next day at school when we came to class
Ryan was acting really strangely as if someone
was controlling him, even his boyfriend Matt
thought there was something wrong with him
and he also wasn’t speaking in full sentences
anymore. I saw Matt in his chair crying because
something was wrong with Ryan. Ryan kept on
saying “Ok” to every question someone would ask
him and he looked a little catatonic. Once class
ended, Mr. Soroni went to Matt and told him he
needed to speak to him. Matt and I were suspicious
because that is what happened to Ryan the other day.
I asked Mr. Soroni why he needed Matt and
he told us it is for lice checks so I understood and left and
I went home.
Once I got home there was a text from Matt saying “Help me”.
I rushed to the school and saw Mr. Soroni with Ryan, five other
teachers that I’ve seen before and Principal Kong. They were
all around a fire and then I saw Matt in the middle tied with ropes
while the teachers were all speaking in a foreign language.
I ran in the room and freed Matt from the ropes and the teachers,
Mr. Soroni and Ryan all came in and tied me with ropes and said
“forget this ever happened” and blew some powder in my face.

I woke up the next day in my bed confused and I felt more exhilarated
and alive than ever and felt something I’ve never felt before. I went to
Matt’s house and told him about my dream. I told him that it felt so real
and he replied saying “You know that’s not real” with an evil smirk on his face.

Next week at school almost all the kids were different and all the teachers also
acted strangely. The only person that was the same was my bully Maverick.
I went to tell Maverick about what’s happening even though he always would
bully me. Maverick responded with “you are stupid, your dumb, you imbecile”
and threw me into a trash can.

I regained my consciousness and I looked out the window and it was dark. Mr.
Soroni suddenly popped out of nowhere and said “ you know there is a way
where you can be more powerful than Maverick, all you have to do is say that
you do want to be more powerful. With no hesitation I responded “I do”.

He then took me to the auditorium and all the kids and teachers including
Maverick with all of their heads down and weird fluffy material above their
heads. Mr. Soroni said he was from some planet named Roolik and he
came to Earth because Roolik was destroyed. He said to me “You could
be my apprentice and we could rule together. I’ve been possessing the
souls of these people and you could have control over all of the people
with this potion” holding a flask of mysterious liquid. I quickly threw the
liquid in his face and he started to crumble and melt. While he was melting
I said “I’ll never become like you. I’m not a villain".Every person in the
school started to come back to normal and the teachers and kids thanked
me for saving them.

SWC Weekly #3:

Part I-
I did time-blocking and the pareto analysis. I think they both really helped me a lot because I really need to manage my time wisely between schoolwork/homework, chores, Scratch/SWC, my free time, etc. And the pareto analysis helped me because everyone has a lot going on currently in their daily lives and I just needed time to think about my current problems, list them out from greatest to least and help me see what's really important in life.

Part II-
I joined Encouragement! I needed motivation to do the dailies/weeklies and 4 people gave me GREAT advice and encouragement. They were all really nice to me and those few simple words really motivated me. So I guess that's why I'm here right now, writing my weekly…

Part III-
I love reading and listening to music while I do homework. They both calm me down and make me feel really relaxed. I did them more this past week and I felt even better than before. I also LOVE to sleep. I always try to do as much as possible… But school is a roadblock. Yes, I take advantage of weekends. The big importance on all of the mental/physical health-care techniques is they help you stay healthy and happy. Those are both very positive things. And this week, as I tried all of those techniques as much as possible, I felt much more happy. I now try to set an exercise goal each day. It's become a habit to set healthy goals to keep myself in shape. And as I exercised, I had to drink more water to stay hydrated.

And to balance everything out, I ate healthier, studied harder, read more books–and a bigger variety of genres–and I suddenly felt way smarter. And that made me feel super good. And even though I felt smarter, I didn't brag about it. My friends started liking me more than they already did and I got new friends as well. I'm just so happy! I will use these techniques 24/7. It's very much possible!

Now, the hardest technique I think was turning electronic devices off. “Why are you on one right now?” You ask. Well, I haven't been on one all day. I tried hard. And yeah, there were a bunch of exams and tests. So there was no way I could be distracted on my chromebook. I'm lucky enough not to have a cellphone. Heheh. Never heard anyone say that one, right? Well, I'm happy without one. I've seen practically everyone at school who has one… They're not very good at school, they say bad words, and have bad influence on other people. Yes, that may be a stereotype. I'm just saying, that's what MOST people are like these days. (not all).

Okay, okay, okay, I could talk nonstop all day about how helpful these techniques are. I think most of you reading would get bored. I just wanna say, these helped me a lot. Gave me a lot of motivation, happiness, and generosity. I am grateful that this weekly exists. 'Tis the season to be thankful/grateful.

Weekly 3 for Mystery

Part 1
I used the time blocking and Eisenhower's Matrix. Since they both sort of complete each other, or at least for what I was doing, I had to do both. I planned out yesterday in 60 minute blocks. They were: Study for tests, finish assignments, practice violin, take a break, brainstorm story for school, and have fun. This helped me finish my work and spend my time efficiently.

Part 2



Part 3

Love a Friend, Lose a Friend
(writing comp entry, 226 words - go here if you want to hear it sung! https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/765436624/ )

I never really saw you the way I do,
Until the day we talked.
And suddenly everything fell away -
Everything but you.

I'm sick of hiding in the shadows,
Empty days with no tomorrows.
I just wish that you could know
How much you mean to me.
I'm sick of hiding in the shadows,
Empty days with no tomorrows.
I just wish that you could know
How much you mean to me.

But I know that you'll never see me that way,
So you can never know.
I think it's time for me to let you go -
to just keep on pushing through.

I'm sick of hiding in the shadows,
Empty days with no tomorrows.
I just wish that you could know
How much you mean to me.
I'm sick of hiding in the shadows,
Empty days with no tomorrows.
I just wish that you could know
How much you mean to me.

It's too late for that though
No regrets, no looking back
I know that otherwise, we'd be through.
I'd lose a friend, I'd lose you
So I just hold back
'Cause you can never know.

I'm sick of hiding in the shadows,
Empty days with no tomorrows,
I just wish that you could know
How much you mean to me.
I just wish that you could know
How much you mean to me.

The sky outside was dark, but Orion had yet to fall asleep. A weak light illuminated his pale face.
Despite the alluring presence of warm, soft sheets and a fluffy pillow, Orion was sitting at his desk, determined to stay awake. Through all the pollution fogging the atmosphere, tonight, Orion would be able to see a meteor shower. His parents hadn’t seemed interested when he eagerly explained it over dinner—and, as usual, they seemed to forget everything he’d said about a millisecond after he’d said it. This time it was a good thing, though. It meant that after his mom had closed his door at 8:00, they hadn’t thought to check he was actually in bed when he was supposed to be at 9:00.
With another tired, too-long blink, Orion continued to stare at the clock, forcing his eyelids to stay open until the moment came.
It would begin at 11:43. (With a little thrill, Orion thought that would be the latest he’d ever stayed up.)
Right now, it was . . . . Orion blinked, trying to focus his weary eyes . . . .
11:25.
(With another thrill, Orion thought how close he was.)
Agonizingly, the minutes drew on until . . . 11:40.
Orion jerked from his slouched position, realizing he didn’t really feel tired at all.
(The adrenaline, part of him reasoned. The rest of him drowned that thought out with an inside shriek of excitement, shared only with himself. The tingling sparkles of excitement, or adrenaline, bounced around inside him—like meteors, he thought, with another inward scream.)
Orion rushed over to the window. His jacket was already on, and moving around too much might disrupt his parents. He had the advantage of a room on the ground floor. Hands shaking a little from effort and excitement, Orion heaved on the wooden frame, which creaked a little in protest.
“Shh,” Orion hissed, tugging until the edge left marks in his fingertips. But the window finally opened.
With a last glance inside to check that his Pillow Self was concealed neatly in bed, Orion dropped to the ground. He tiptoed around the hydrangeas, shining pale in the light from the front porch.
The night breeze was chill, caressing Orion’s cheeks in its cold embrace. Despite the jacket, Orion shivered slightly. Still, the warm elation inside carried some of the familiar coziness from his bedroom.
Bouncing from foot to foot, Orion gazed up at the sky, though he knew the meteor shower wouldn’t have begun yet. He was met with the frustratingly dull, black sky he’d expected. Orion hoped the dark, matte color wasn’t because of clouds—and he didn’t think so . . . not really. But a flicker of unease was a dash of ice water to the fire of his excitement, which sputtered but continued on, just less fiercely than before.
Surely he would be able to see an elusive star if there was no cloud coverage—right? But they were much more distant than the meteors, he reminded himself.
Trying to focus on finding a more comfortable vantage point, Orion jogged forward. A huge field stretched out before him, vaguely blue from the nighttime caste. Finding a tamer patch in the tall grasses, Orion sat down. A few prickly stems jabbed into his thigh, but he hardly noticed, his eyes having returned to the sky.
Sometimes, it seemed he was always looking up.
His parents would tell him to keep his head down, to focus on his responsibilities, just do his school and his chores and there was no need to do anything else—think about anything else—and everything would be fine. But he’d seen too many empty stares from adults. Work didn’t make them happy, at least not most of them. Sometimes, it really seemed no one was happy at all. Looking up gave Orion hope that happiness was possible.
Who could deny the happiness a distant star felt, that it sparkled so brightly?
They were never alone. Constellations and galaxies were their families.
Orion had only seen a handful of stars in his lifetime . . . but he already yearned to be part of that family. He wondered why the universe had put him in the wrong one.
His thoughts trailed off into wonderment as something bright streaked across the sky.
A falling star . . . .
Reaching between clouds and layers of pollution. Straining to join the dust below.
The weak, dying atmosphere took longer than it might once have to burn away the speckle of light.
Orion leapt to his feet, feeling the almost irresistible urge to reach out. Touch the trail of mere dust that sparkled like fresh snow under sunlight.
His fingertips brushed the distant fires of heaven.
Straining to join the stars above.

for critiquitaire 11.20.2022

Nestled between the river deep and the mountain high lay a cozy stone cottage. It seemed straight from the pages of a fairy tale, covered in ivy and shrouded by beautiful birch trees all around. Out the kitchen door was a grand garden, full of life and lovely plants, buzzing with bees and butterflies. Joy radiated from the space, and a profound love for the world and all that it could offer.
Joy and love given by none other than the cottage’s witch.
Dahlia had no greater pleasure than her garden. She took great pride in cultivating its variety and beauty and tended to it all year round, rain or shine, snow or wind. And, in return for her care and compassion, the garden told her what she wanted to know.

From long-forgotten libraries to misty moors and manors, the world’s hidden secrets always tempt a certain few. Together, they formed an organization, a society for those curious enough to ask the questions without answers and dare to dig them up. Many years had passed since that first group gathered, but still their legacy lived on in the quests of travelers. Always faced by danger but never backing down, these proud travelers sought and saw and returned, every time.
Thus, danger was no stranger to the best traveler of her generation, the scholar errant.
But Blaise had never faced anything quite like this. The puzzles had been simple enough, the traps easy to evade, in the beginning. Now, it was changing. This place knew her. Knew her weaknesses and could exploit them. In a way, it reminded her of home, a twisted, broken version of her home. And she wasn’t sure she could make it out, not from this far in.

Enchanted as seeds and nurtured fondly for all their lives, Dahlia’s flowers divulged her in many tales, in tidbits she’d otherwise never know. Most prized among them were the woven matches of dahlia and nightshade. One bloom for her, the other for her beloved.
In times like this, with the scholar off on a quest and the witch here at home, the two would grow apart. All around, forget-me-nots blossomed, each small floret a reminder of love shared across the widest of distances. Warnings came alongside the little blue flowers, the pale pink of oleander accompanied by violet hyacinth for carelessness or dark hellebore for madness.
No warnings had yet appeared among the lovely usual blooms, not when Dahlia last looked out across the yard.

Lost, trapped, hopeless, Blaise knew she was all three. If only she had time, but her lantern would certainly burn out soon. If only she had wax, perhaps a spell could save her from this place. If only she had thought instead of blinding lunging at this chance.
Tears clouded her vision, morbid realization dawning. She reached for the one thing she always carried, the one reminder of her truest love. A bouquet, picked carefully from the cottage garden. One shaky breath in, one shaky breath out, flowers pressed close to her chest.
“Te amo, mi flor,” came her shaky whisper, last words with eyes shut tight.

Across the world, a flurry of growth, a bright burst of orange and yellow. Marigolds choked the garden.
Dahlia screamed.
One blossom fell into her hands. A lone white snowdrop. The promise of hope. The promise that the story isn’t over. Dahlia held it tight, the promise never to let go.

Part 1
I did Eisenhower’s Matrix and Pomodoro Techniques.

Part 2
I joined Time Pressure.
Dare received: “# how many tabs do you have open? write the amount of tabs x100. so if you have 3 tabs open, you’d write 300 words, etc. no closing tabs for less writing >:0” (from @unxverse-)

Dares given:
“Check the time. The current time is how much you have to write - like if it's 2:37, then write 237 words”
“@not-a-nobody Look up a random word generator. Then count the letters in the word you generate, and write for that many minutes (so if you get “mango”, you'd write for 5 minutes) ^^”
“Roll a pair of dice (or use an online dice roller), then multiply the number on the 1st die by the number on the 2nd, and write for that many minutes (for example, if you roll a 5 and a 3, then 5 x 3 = 15 so you'd write for 15 minutes)”

Part 3
445 words
When I’m not on my computer or tablet - and I’m trying to be on screens less - one of my favorite things to do is read. I always feel much better if I have a novel on hand, and notably worse if I go a week or more without reading one. I recently finished The Hidden Oracle, and am also in the middle of Pride and Prejudice (which I’m enjoying but find pretty slow, so I’m about to start another book too.) Reading is so enjoyable, getting immersed in a story, falling in love with the characters… it also helps quiet the constant chatter in my brain, which constantly jumps around from topic to topic and can get quite exhausting sometimes. The Hunger Games is especially good for this - maybe I should go reread it…
But that’s getting off-topic. I do like writing down my thoughts, though - it’s a good way to focus, and actually listen to the different thoughts instead of having them just jump around in the back of my head. It’s a good way to just sit and think for a bit, while also maybe feeling vaguely productive because I’m writing something, and it’s satisfying having the thoughts written down permanently - there they are, in black and white, and they can never be un-thought or completely forgotten.
I also like listening to music. I have a Spotify playlist of my favorite songs to listen to, or I can put on the album from some musical or something. If they’re my favorite songs that I already know very well, then I don’t need to pay attention to them and I can let my mind wander and think about whatever random nonsense. If it’s from some musical I haven’t listened to that much, then I can pay attention and focus on the songs and everything. It’s also nice to listen to my playlist while reading or writing - especially if there’s other people making noise nearby. When I feel overwhelmed by lots of stimuli, it’s super helpful to just put on some headphones and listen to familiar songs, and just tune out the world. (“Turn It Down”, an Encanto fan-song, is a favorite of mine for when I’m overwhelmed by sound - it’s just very fitting.)
Getting off devices sometimes is always great - while I could mess around on Scratch, watch YouTube videos, and scroll through She-Ra fanart for ages, I really need to not spend the whole day on screens. Moving around and going outside are generally great (I finally went outside today for the first time in like… a week… whoops), as is, of course, reading. All of this definitely helps with my mental health.

The only world that four people had ever known was crumbling at its foundations.

For a hundred years, the solid stone that was the base of a cliffside empire had been eroding. At first it was slow. Small chunks of rock would break free from the edges of the cliffs and plummet thousands of feet down, into a misty pink abyss that lurked under the mountains of Laweliniy. The echoes of the fallen rock crashing against the cliff would reverberate back up to the ears of the inhabitants of the empire. It was a haunting, ghostly melody.

As years passed, larger boulders of stone began to break apart from the weathered cliff. It was a while before anyone considered it a concern. Efforts to sustain the integrity of the cliff were proposed, but many dismissed the unease as a geological anomaly- a natural occurrence.

It was a fatal mistake.

Half a century passed. The boulders that would tear apart from the cliff were now big enough to take down houses and buildings with it into the fog below. The city was nervous. And that nervousness erupted into pure terror when one day entire miles of infrastructure, along with innocent lives, collapsed into the void and was lost to eternity.

The mighty society began to crumble. Every day, new reports of disasters never seen before filtered into the minds of the terrified citizens of Laweliniy. The government scrambled to keep the calm and to fix the gaping hole in the empire. But nothing anyone would do seemed to help.

The city was doomed to a final day before the collapse of everything it had been for thousands of years.





Jaylin didn’t understand. The fall of an entire culture was upon him and his family, and there was nothing he could do about it. He, as well as the rest of the city, would die because of the degenerating mountains.

No. He couldn’t accept that. There had to be something that could make a difference… what was the city doing wrong?

The government had been trying to fix the city with logic and science. Perhaps it was time to turn away from that.

Perhaps it was time to embrace the legends that had surrounded the decaying cliffs for millennia.





When Jaylin made up his mind, he would not halt his plans until he succeeded. Every day, he would study ancient leather-bound books that detailed him in the mythology of his empire. They told him of the strands of the mist, the rock, and the sky. The books detailed him on the all-powerful staffs of ancient craft that could control each element- and how those staffs were still out there.

Surely the rock staff could secure the city’s downfall?

Jaylin’s mind was on nothing but locating and wielding the rock staff. He summoned the most daring, the most hardened of his friends to accompany him on a journey that could save the city. He asked someone who was more than a mere acquaintance to be there with him as he set out to search the mountains. He would watch the stars each night, told that they would lead him to the elemental cane. He drew maps to guide him and his friends across uncharted wilderness. He prepared supplies for the journey. And every day, a little more of the ungrateful city fell into the misty pink void.

At last, the day came when Jaylin felt that he was ready.

On one dusky evening, the four silhouettes of Jaylin, Inisha, Temik and Ronan could be seen standing in a valley at the bottom of a towering mountain range. They had left the city- although it was still in Jaylin’s purview. He gazed over the falling empire. It used to be a place of prosperity, of peace. The avalanches had turned it into a battle for survival, a fight for a claim to the ever-smaller safe land inside the city walls. The city needed the staff.

But was it already too late?

“Come on,” Jaylin told his group, shaking his head and starting up the mountain trail. “We have to find the staff.”







The journey was the closest to climbing that walking could get.

Days upon days of hiking through raggedy brambles up untrod paths forged by forgotten ancestors. The group would trek up the foggy cliffsides for the day, and the light a fire and rest by night. They had been journeying for almost two weeks when suddenly, the clouds surrounding them cleared in the night.

Temik, who was by the dying fire sorting through his backpack, noticed the sudden clarity of the stars above them. He gently placed down his equipment, wary of disturbing their resting companions, and peered over the edge of the mountain.

A sharp gasp escaped their throat. They were very, very high up- the towering cliff they were on disappeared below them in a dizzying way, and the misty void that lurked under all the mountains wasn’t visible from Temik’s eyes.

The clear skies brought on a rush of loud night noises that washed over the group. Jaylin sat up from his perch, his hand entwined with Inisha’s. A hawk swept overhead, screeching. Rubbing the sleep from his groggy eyes, Ronan awoke to the hoot of an owl. The group looked in awe at the empty night sky around them. The air was thin, and the wind blew in gusty rushes. They were so, so high up.

“Wow,” breathed Inisha, leaning on Jaylin for support. Her silvery blonde hair blew in all directions as she glanced over the edge of the cliff. “We… we’ve really come far, haven’t we?”

Everyone nodded.

“I wonder what it’s like back in the city,” Ronan said.

“Panic. Fear. Terror. The usual,” replied Jaylin, slightly sourly.

Inisha bit her lip nervously. “We have to help our city.”

“In any way we can,” Temik interjected gravely. They turned to Jaylin. “How close are we to the staff?”

Jaylin reached behind him for his sack and pulled out a map. Inisha leaned over his shoulder as he studied it. “Actually- we’re close. It shouldn’t take more than a few days.” Jaylin smiled. “A few more days, and then we go back home- victorious!”

Temik began to cheer, a grin on their face. “Mere days. We’re doing it, guys. We’ll be legends.”

“Legends!” shouted Ronan. He looked almost astounded, his eyes wide with excitement and disbelief. He smiled astonishedly as his peers, who were grinning back. They were so close. The harrowing journey… it would bear its fruit soon. Mere days, and a century of disaster could be over.

Temik stood up and shouted at the sky in excitement, the campfire seeming to burn brighter than before. Inisha pulled Jaylin close into an embrace, burying her face in his chest. Her cheeks were burning with pleasure. Ronan stared up the mountain, an expression of great determination etched on his face. They could do it. They would do it. They were so close.

The next morning, the group rose early and stared the- once again- cloudy sky in the face as they resumed their journey.







It was another night. The group were close. They could feel it. A sort of closure was in the air, and though the moon was high in the sky, Jaylin and his group did not pause for a break. They knew the staff was on the other side of the clouds. They knew it was in their grasp. So they travelled on.

Hours of climbing ensued, but the group would not stop. They were in the clouds now. They were freezing and blind. Temik was struggling for breath. Ronan was unsteady and dizzy. Inisha was leaning on Jaylin.

But they surged forwards.

And then, at last, the clouds broke, and they were at the top of the mighty mountain.

The sky was a brilliant purple-pink, the stars like diamonds glinting in the fantastical-looking canvas. The clouds below them were like a blanket. The hard stone beneath their feet was cold and icy. It felt mythical. It felt like a supernatural place. And the feeling was elevated by the stone staff lying across an altar, waiting to be claimed.

The four city-dwellers looked at each other in pure amazement. They were here. In the presence of the staff that would save the city. It was right in front of them.

“I… I…” Temik choked on their words.

The stunned silence that ensued was broken by Ronan’s question of, “Who will take the staff?”

The answer was unanimous. Jaylin. Jaylin had led the expedition. Jaylin had believed in the fantastical elemental staffs and brought the group here, Jaylin would wield the power of stone.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forwards, towards the altar. Jaylin paused for a second, and then-

He lifted the heavy crook from its place.

The ground seemed to come to life beneath him, responding to the power in his hands. He smiled. Inisha shrieked in wonder. Temik and Ronan laughed and clapped.

They had done it.

At the top of the world, four people stood, one bearing the power to save their city. The sky was a brilliant dark pink, celebrating the fantastical achievements of Jaylin and his friends.

“We’ve done it,” Temik finally said in awe.

“We’ve done it!” Ronan echoed, almost crying in joy.

“We saved the empire!” Inisha ran forwards and embraced Jaylin, who laughed. He backed up and took Inisha’s hand.

“We are legends,” laughed Ronan disbelievingly.

“We’ll go down in history,” affirmed Jaylin. He smiled again- sadly? His grip tightened on the staff.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s save the city!” said Inisha, looking into Jaylin’s eyes. But Jaylin glanced away.

“Do you guys really want to save the city?”



Silence.

Shock. Disbelief.

“You- you’re joking, right?” Temik clarified.

Jaylin frowned.

“Think about it. Maybe our city used to be a wonderful place, full of great people. But look at what it is now. A haven of theft and crime. People kill to get land where they won’t be taken down by the avalanches. I don’t believe that the rockfalls started for no reason so many years ago- I believe some higher being caused them, seeing our city for the scum haven it is. If this staff of such power is real- if all the myths about the elements of rock and mist and air are real- shouldn't a transcendent being be real too? And who else could have caused such disaster in our city?”

The three others stared at Jaylin in utter distress. This couldn’t be real. Not Jaylin, the leader of this mission- surely not…

They shared a look of terror. What was wrong with Jaylin? When had his thoughts become so… dangerous?

“J-Jaylin?” Inisha pleaded, letting go of his hand. Tears were welling in her eyes.
“Inisha,” Jayin said sorrowfully, “You must see that I am in the right here. Don’t leave me. We can start a new city,” Jaylin looked at all of them now. “Together. Leave the old city to die. We’ll be okay by ourselves.”

“But our friends and family, Jaylin,” said Temik, their chest heaving. “We can’t leave them.”

“We can. And we should.”

Inisha backed away, tripping over her feet, sobbing. Ronan was still in shock.

Temik charged at Jaylin, roaring.

Faster than lightning, Jaylin swung the staff to the ground. With a thunderous crack, the mountain separated, and Temik, Inisha and Ronan were standing on a small floating island that was hovering over a deadly drop.

“How could you, Jaylin?” Inisha pleaded. Jaylin shook his head.

“I see now that you’re not going to co-operate. Goodbye, friends. You will no longer have to bear the burden of being a legend on your backs.”

He flicked the staff, and the island plummeted downwards, Jaylin’s friends going down with it.

Their shrieks and screams could be heard echoing off the mountains for miles.

And the empty sky had faded to a deep bloodred.



-




1997 words! =0 Go Thriller!! D

dsjlin wrote:

something I wrote a long time ago that I might enter in the writing competition. It's a short lil fanfic.

692 words.

“Alright,” Namaari started. “I've got a report due on Monday…another deadline tomorrow…one today…oh! I forgot- there's a description due this week!” she exclaimed, quickly picking up her pen.

“You know I can help you with that,” said Raya, looking over Namaari's shoulder.

“I'm good,” replied Namaari. Raya sighed. She always says that, Raya thinks.

“You know what?” Raya asked unnecessarily.

“Mmm?” Namaari responded, pen twirling in her fingers.

“I'm helping you this time,” Raya said. Namaari just raised her eyebrows and went back to writing. “Er,” Raya started, realizing she didn't know what Namaari actually did at her job. “Do you need anything? Water?” she asked.

“I'm good,” Namaari replied.

“Food?” Raya asked.

“Nope,” Namaari said, laughing.

“Uh- you need some ink?” Raya asked.

“You well know this pen is filled, Raya,” replied Namaari. Raya exhaled. She didn't think it'd be this hard. Suddenly, she got up. “Just a moment,” Raya said, running away towards the throne room.

“Where are you-” Namaari started. But Raya was already too far away. “Eh, nevermind.” Moments later Raya came back and sat down quickly. “Where have you been?” asked Namaari.

“No place,” replied Raya. Namaari returned to her work. Raya just sat there, every so often glancing up at the desk. Soon, someone called. “Na-maar-i,” the voice called. Namaari scribbled down some last words on her paper then got up.

“Just a sec,” Namaari said to Raya.

“Okay, ” she replied. Namaari walked to the throne room. Swiftly, Raya walked over to Namaari's desk. She glimpsed at the papers laying there, spotting the lined paper marked, “Work”.

“Deadline…” Raya muttered to herself. “Deadline…deadline…another deadline…toi. Here we go. ‘Music, cats, silence,’” she read off the list, “…and Raya,” she paused and put the list down. “Alright,” she said, and ran off. She soon came back, her arms scratched and holding two baby serlots. Raya quickly put them down on a cushion,“Ugh. You two behave yourselves,” she said, pointing a finger at them. Music, music, music… she thought. Raya sat there, absentmindedly stroking the serlots laying next to her.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, running away again. When Raya came back, there was a far away sound of a pan flute, lute, and drums. She stood next to the desk and looked through Namaari's documents again.

“Looks like she's got everything,” she decided. Raya absorbed herself in reading the boring papers. There, she created the perfect working space. A steady beat tapping in the distance, a treasured animal close by, and a favorite person near, everything perfect-

“What are you doing?” a voice asked. Raya looked up, startled. Standing there was Namaari, hands on her hips.

“Uhh, hi,” Raya replied.“I got some things for you.”

“Raya!” Namaari groaned. “You've got my papers messed up!”

Raya hastily tried adjusting the large quantity of forms, deeds, and others in flimsy piles. “I'm sorry, I-” she started.

“Raya,” Namaari started sternly. “This is not for playing around.” The Princess of Heart stared at the floor. “I need these - they're important!” Namaari said, stacking the documents into separate piles, neatly placing them in different areas of her desk.

“I brought a couple, um,” Raya began. She pointed to the cats on the floor. Namaari's gaze softened.

“That's really nice, Raya. But,” Namaari started, “But, please don't shuffle these around anymore.” Her voice lowered, “Thanks,” she added. “But, what's that music playing in the background?”

“Oh, er, I did that. It's the band - the soldier band,” Raya said, casting Namaari a questioning look.

“Huh, uh, that's good. Can you tell 'em to play the march though?” she suggested. Raya chuckled.

“The, uh, march? You mean the one for drills?” Raya asked, hoping for a negative answer.

“Er, yeah,” replied the Fang Princess. “Why?”

“Oh, I just thought- you know? Nevermind,” Raya said. And she ran off. Namaari sunk down into her chair and called one of the serlots, who trotted over to her. She caressed the pet in her arms, listening to the change of song in the background. “All we need is Raya, now, huh?” she said to her cat, who purred in response. Namaari laughed - and for once, paused her work.

to start, this is a very fun ‘slice of life’ sort of fanfic. i enjoyed reading it and getting to revisit the characters of raya and the last dragon in a more low stakes, friendly setting. you used dialogue well to pace the story and show personalities and did a good job throughout to show rather than tell.
however, the setting is very vague — at the beginning, i thought it was a modern au, but i don’t believe that is what you were going for. i’d suggest introducing the setting in a small way early on — perhaps mention one of that one of the other royals is coming to visit, or mention the dragons (or other events of the movie). the setting isn’t too important to the plot of this fic, but it would add a little depth (:
my only other main criticism would be the length — this work could be a lot tighter with some cuts. it’s not up to me what you cut, those decisions would have to be made by you, but i’d definitely think about it (:
as a whole, i quite enjoyed this short story, from your usage of dialogue and character to your style!!

{ Critique for @ForestPanther! }

The only world that four people I’d say “we” or “they” instead of four people here, it’s just kind of clunky had ever known was crumbling at its foundations.

For a hundred years, the solid stone that was the base of a cliffside empire had been eroding. At first it was slow. Small chunks of rock would break free from the edges of the cliffs and plummet thousands of feet down, into athe misty pink abyss that lurked under the mountains of Laweliniy. The echoes of the fallen rock crashing against the cliff would reverberate back up to the ears of the inhabitants of the empire. It was a haunting, ghostly melody. Love this description!! Great stuff.

As years passed, larger boulders of stoneI’d try to pick between either saying “larger chunks of stone” or “large boulders” and cutting the “of stone”; just kind of redundant began to break apartaway from the weathered cliff. It was a while before anyone considered it a concern. Efforts to sustain the integrity of the cliff were proposed, but many dismissed the unease as a geological anomaly- a natural occurrence.

It was a fatal mistake.

Half a century passed. The boulders that would tear apart from the cliff were now big enough to take down houses and buildings with itthem into the fog below. The city was nervous. And that nervousness erupted into pure terror when one day entire miles of infrastructure, along with innocent lives, collapsed into the void and waswere lost to eternity.

The mighty society began to crumble along with the cliffs ?. Every day, new reports of disasters never seen before filtered into the minds of the terrified citizens of Laweliniy. The government scrambled to keep the calm and to fix the gaping hole in the empire. But nothing anyone wcould do seemed to help.

The city was doomed to a final day before the collapse of everything it had been for thousands of years. this sentence is a bit unclear, perhaps take a look and reword it? I think the main thing pulling it back is the “doomed to a final day before the collapse…” - what does that mean? Would the final day not *be* the collapse?





Jaylin didn’t understand. The fall of an entire culture was upon him and his family, and there was nothing he could do about it. He, as well as the rest of the city, would die because of the degenerating mountains. what about this situation doesn’t he understand? it seems he believes every problem has a solution. does he not understand why everyone is turning hopeless? - if so, perhaps make it more clear that he *does* believe the city is redeemable, because “there was nothing he could do” seems rather hopeless - maybe instead say “everyone said there was nothing to be done” ?

No. He couldn’t accept that. There had to be something that could make a difference… what was the city doing wrong?

The government had been trying to fix the city with logic and science. Perhaps it was time to turn away from that.

Perhaps it was time to embrace the legends that had surrounded the decaying cliffs for millennia.





When now that Jaylin had? seems rather vague Jaylin made up his mind, he would not halt his plans until he succeeded. Every day, he would study ancient leather-bound books that detailed him in the mythology of his his? is he king? empire. They told him of the strands of the mist, the rock, and the sky. The books detailed him informed him of? told him about? explained? detailed the? not sure the phrase “detailed him on” works on the all-powerful staffs of ancient craft that could control each element- and how those staffs were still out there.

Surely the rock staff could secure the city’s downfall? this sounds like the staff would secure the fact that the city has a downfall; I assume you intended the opposite

Jaylin’s mind was set on nothing but locating and wielding the rock staff. He summoned the most daring, and the most hardened of his friends to accompany him on a journey that could save the city. He asked someone who was more than a mere acquaintance who? “more than” makes the person seem important; the description of his relationship with them is just rather wordy and unclear to be there with him as he set out to search the mountains. He would watch the stars each night, told that they would lead him to the elemental cane. who told him this? the books? He drew maps to guide him and his friends across uncharted wilderness. how did he get the information to make the maps? He prepared supplies for the journey. And every day, a little more of the ungrateful city fell into the misty pink void.

At last, the day came when Jaylin felt that he was ready.

On one dusky evening, the four silhouettes of Jaylin, Inisha, Temik and Ronan could be seen standing in a valley at the bottom of a towering mountain range. They had left the city- although it was still in Jaylin’s purview. how? can he get messages from a representative in the city? perhaps this could be explained later instead? He gazed over the falling empire. It used to be a place of prosperity, of peace. The avalanches had turned it into a battle for survival, a fight for a claim to the ever-smallershrinking amount of safe land inside the city walls. The city needed the staff.

But was it already too late?

“Come on,” Jaylin told his group, shaking his headwhy? and starting up the mountain trail. “We have to find the staff.”







The journey was the closest to climbing that walking could get.

Days upon days of hiking through raggedy brambles up untrod paths forged by forgotten ancestors this is an incomplete sentence . The group would trek up the foggy cliffsides for the day, and then light a fire and rest by night. They had been journeying for almost two weeks when suddenly, the clouds surrounding them cleared in the night.

Temik, who was by the dying fire sorting through his backpack, noticed the sudden clarity of the stars above them. He gently placed down his equipment, wary of disturbing their resting companions, and peered over the edge of the mountain.

A sharp gasp escaped their throat. They were very, very high up- the towering cliff they were on disappeared below them in a dizzying way, and the misty void that lurked under all the mountains wasn’t visible from Temik’s eyes.

The clear skies brought on a rush of loud night noises that washed over the group. Jaylin sat up from his perch, his hand entwined with Inisha’s. A hawk swept overhead, screeching. Rubbing the sleep from his groggy eyes, Ronan awoke to the hoot of an owl. The group looked in awe at the empty night sky around them. The air was thin, and the wind blew in gusty rushes. They were so, so high up.

“Wow,” breathed Inisha, leaning on Jaylin for support. Her silvery blonde hair blew in all directions as she glanced over the edge of the cliff. “We… we’ve really come far, haven’t we?”

Everyone nodded.

“I wonder what it’s like back in the city,” Ronan said.

“Panic. Fear. Terror. The usual,” replied Jaylin, slightly sourly.

Inisha bit her lip nervously. “We have to help our city.”

“In any way we can,” Temik interjected gravely. They turned to Jaylin. “How close are we to the staff?”

Jaylin reached behind him for his sack and pulled out a map. Inisha leaned over his shoulder as he studied it. “Actually- we’re close. It shouldn’t take more than a few days.” Jaylin smiled. “A few more days, and then we go back home- victorious!”

Temik began to cheer, a grin on their face. “Mere days. We’re doing it, guys. We’ll be legends.”

“Legends!” shouted Ronan. He looked almost astounded, his eyes wide with excitement and disbelief. He smiled astonishedly as his peers, who were grinning back. They were so close. The harrowing journey… it would bear its fruit soon. Mere days, and a century of disaster could be over.

Temik stood up and shouted at the sky in excitement, the campfire seeming to burn brighter than before. Inisha pulled Jaylin close into an embrace, burying her face in his chest. Her cheeks were burning with pleasure. Ronan stared up the mountain, an expression of great determination etched on his face. They could do it. They would do it. They were so close.

The next morning, the group rose early and stared the- once again- cloudy sky in the face as they resumed their journey.







It was another night. The group were close. They could feel it. A sort of closure was in the air, and though the moon was high in the sky, Jaylin and his group did not pause for a break kind of redundant. They knew the staff was on the other side of the clouds. They knew it was in their grasp. So they travelled on.

Hours of climbing ensued, but the group would not stop. They were in the clouds now. They were freezing and blind. Temik was struggling for breath. Ronan was unsteady and dizzy. Inisha was leaning on Jaylin. lots of this is passive; try saying, “Temik struggled for breath” and “Inisha leaned against Jaylin” instead! :D

But they surged forwards.

And then, at last, the blanket of clouds broke, and they werefound themselves? at the top of the mighty mountain.

The sky was a brilliant purple-pink, the stars like diamonds glinting in the fantastical-looking canvas of the sky. The clouds below them were like a blanket I get it, but perhaps explain what attribute makes them like a blanket. The hard stone beneath their feet was cold and icy. It felt mythical. It felt like a supernatural place. And the feeling was elevated by the stone staff lying across an altar, waiting to be claimed.

The four city-dwellers looked at each other in pure amazement. They were here. In the presence of the staff that would save the city. It was right in front of them.

“I… I…” Temik choked on their words.

The stunned silence that ensued was broken by Ronan’s question of, “Who will take the staff?”

The answer was unanimous. Jaylin. Jaylin had led the expedition. Jaylin had believed in the fantastical elemental staffs and brought the group here, so Jaylin would wield the power of stone.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forwards, towards the altar. Jaylin paused for a second, and then-

He lifted the heavy crook since you’ve consistently referred to them as staffs thus far, perhaps either intersperse the different word throughout or merely keep using staff from its place.

The ground seemed to come to life beneath him, responding to the power in his hands. He smiled. Inisha shrieked in wonder. Temik and Ronan laughed and clapped.

They had done it.

At the top of the world, four people stood, one bearing the power to save their city. The sky was a brilliant dark pink, celebrating the fantastical achievements of Jaylin and his friends.

“We’ve done it,” Temik finally said in awe.

“We’ve done it!” Ronan echoed, almost crying in joy.

“We saved the empire!” Inisha ran forwards and embraced Jaylin, who laughed. He backed up and took Inisha’s hand.

“We are legends,” laughed Ronan disbelievingly.

“We’ll go down in history,” affirmed Jaylin. He smiled again- sadly? His grip tightened on the staff.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s save the city!” said Inisha, looking into Jaylin’s eyes. But Jaylin glanced away.

“Do you guys really want to save the city?”



Silence.

Shock. Disbelief.

“You- you’re joking, right?” Temik clarified.

Jaylin frowned.

“Think about it. Maybe our city used to be a wonderful place, full of great people. But look at what it is now. A haven of theft and crime. People kill to get land where they won’t be taken down by the avalanches. I don’t believe that the rockfalls started for no reason so many years ago- I believe some higher being caused them, seeing our city for the scum haven it is. If this staff of such power is real- if all the myths about the elements of rock and mist and air are real- shouldn't a transcendent being be real too? And who else could have caused such disaster in our city?”

The three others stared at Jaylin in utter distress. This couldn’t be real. Not Jaylin, the leader of this mission- surely not…

They shared a look of terror. What was wrong with Jaylin? When had his thoughts become so… dangerous?

“J-Jaylin?” Inisha pleaded, letting go of his hand. Tears were welling in her eyes.
“Inisha,” Jayin said sorrowfully, “You must see that I am in the right here. Don’t leave me. We can start a new city,” Jaylin looked at all of them now. “Together. Leave the old city to die. We’ll be okay by ourselves.”

“But our friends and family, Jaylin,” said Temik, their chest heaving. “We can’t leave them.”

“We can. And we should.”

Inisha backed away, tripping over her feet, sobbing. Ronan was still in shock.

Temik charged at Jaylin, roaring.

Faster than lightning, Jaylin swung the staff to the ground. With a thunderous crack, the mountain separated, and Temik, Inisha and Ronan were standing on a small floating island that was hovering over a deadly drop.

“How could you, Jaylin?” Inisha pleaded. Jaylin shook his head.

“I see now that you’re not going to co-operate. Goodbye, friends. You will no longer have to bear the burden of being a legend on your backs.”

He flicked the staff, and the island plummeted downwards, Jaylin’s friends going down with it.

Their shrieks and screams could be heard echoing off the mountains for miles.

And the empty sky had faded to a deep bloodred. ooh, nice(/terrible, but I think that’s what you were going for~) ending!! I like that you brought it back to the color of the sky! overall I really loved your story! was it a villain origin story mayhaps? :’0 only two things really—you used the words “seem” and “fantastical” a lot—perhaps just check yourself on that count! also, perhaps foreshadow Jaylin’s change some more? have him try to convince them that the city is fallen beforehand? in the very second section, I think showing his belief in some greater power, some god, would be helpful to the end. just seemed slightly sudden, especially his betrayal of Inisha (girlfriend? wife? sister? they seemed close at any rate). otherwise, I think it was really cool! the worldbuilding was awesome! great job on the whole :D

fanfic writing comp entry
the spam saga - the adventures of ness and lucas
word count: 1516

THE SPAM KING sits in THE SPAM CASTLE with SPAM and ALMONDS.
THE SPAM KING: Ness and Lucas are getting too strong… We need to defeat them!
SPAM: I know! But how?
ALMONDS: Spam is right! They’re too powerful!
Enter MENTOS, holding a mysterious console.
MENTOS: I think I might just know how…

NESS and LUCAS are in their house, playing Minecraft.
NESS: HELP! I’M DYING IN LAVA!
LUCAS: DON’T YOU HAVE A FIRE RESISTANCE POTION?
NESS: NO, YOU IDIOT! I USED IT IN THE NETHER FORTRESS!
LUCAS: BUT YOU HAVE NETHERITE ARMOR! ITS FINE!
NESS: IDIOT, I GAVE IT TO YOU!
LUCAS: Oh…
NESS tried to swim in lava
Enter THE SPAM KING, holding a mysterious console.
THE SPAM KING: FINALLY… I HAVE FOUND YOU…
LUCAS: Ness! Run!
NESS: No, it’s okay! He can’t hurt us!
THE SPAM KING: YOU UNDERESTIMATE MY POWER…
THE SPAM KING presses a button on the mysterious console.
NESS and LUCAS start to disintegrate
NESS: HOW? NO…
NESS and LUCAS disappear.

LUCAS falls from the sky, followed by NESS.
LUCAS: Huh? We’re still alive!
NESS: But where are we?
NESS and LUCAS look around. They are in LOOT LAKE.
LUCAS: Oh no! This bro got a gold SCAR!! Ness run he is so cracked at Fortnite!
NESS: Omg, cracked at Fortnite my guy??
NESS and LUCAS run away from CRACKED MAN
CRACKED MAN: I AM SO CRACKED AT FORTNITE. I WILL FIND YOU!
NESS goes to TILTED TOWERS and finds a CRACKED FORTNITE WEAPON.
NESS: Lucas! I have a cracked fortnite gun! Now I can kill the cracked guy!
NESS kills the CRACKED MAN.
FORTNITE: Victory Royale! Congratulations!

NESS AND LUCAS disappear and then reappear in a PLAINS BIOME.
NESS: Lucas! We are in Minecraft!
LUCAS: Don’t die in lava like last time-
NESS sighs and mines a tree.
LUCAS: Ness! I found a village!
NESS runs over to LUCAS and immediately loots all the chests.
NESS: So I think we’re trapped in the games and have to escape them; that means we probably have to beat the Ender Dragon this round if we want to progress!
LUCAS: Ness, you can speedrun, right?
NESS: Yeah, I’ve done it a lot before.
LUCAS: Just don’t die in lava again!
NESS: Shut up.
NESS finds a Ruined Portal and gets into the Nether. He spawns in a Soul Sand Valley over a lava lake.
NESS: Lucas, it’s a Soul Sand Valley, and I see a fortress in the distance!
LUCAS: You know how much I hate Soul Sand Valleys. I’ll mine for iron and diamonds while you get the blaze powder.
LUCAS goes into a cave and starts mining, while NESS enters the Nether Fortress.
LUCAS was slain by Skeleton
LUCAS: At least I didn’t die in lava!
NESS: SHUT UP! I’M TRYING TO GET THE BLAZE POWDER.
LUCAS was slain by Zombie
NESS: WHAT IS HAPPENING?
LUCAS: IT’S NIGHTTIME! YOU NEED TO SLEEP!
NESS: I’M IN THE NETHER YOU IDIOT.
LUCAS fell from a high place
NESS: I found the blazes!
LUCAS: THEN KILL THEM QUICKLY!
LUCAS was blown up by Creeper
NESS kills enough blazes to make Eyes of Ender.
NESS: I got them! I’m coming back!
LUCAS: Just don’t die in lava!
LUCAS tried to swim in lava
LUCAS: …
Cut to NESS and LUCAS in the End, fighting the Ender Dragon
NESS: Lucas, it’s about to die! Get it with your bow!
LUCAS: I can’t, it’s too high!
NESS: That’s literally the one thing you’re good at!
LUCAS was slain by Ender Dragon using magic
NESS: Oh, whatever.
NESS kills the Ender Dragon with a bed
LUCAS: …I guess you did it.

NESS and LUCAS disappear and then reappear on THE SKELD, surrounded by RED AMONG US, BLACK AMONG US, BLUE AMONG US, PURPLE AMONG US, and YELLOW AMONG US. There is a timer in the corner, showing the game will start in twenty seconds.
LUCAS: This is a bit sus…
NESS: Shut up.
LUCAS: Hey, this is one of the few things I’m actually good at!
NESS: Whatever.
The game starts, and NESS and LUCAS are shown their roles.
NESS and LUCAS are both imposters, while the rest are crewmates.
NESS: So, we need to kill all the crewmates to continue!
LUCAS: Of course we do! Don’t scream it, now the Blue Among Us heard us!
NESS sabotages reactors.
NESS goes towards reactors while LUCAS chases BLUE AMONG US, who is running to call an emergency meeting. LUCAS kills BLUE AMONG US and then goes to reactors with everyone else.
Reactors are saved and everyone goes back to their tasks, until YELLOW AMONG US finds the body and reports it.
YELLOW AMONG US: I found the body in Skeld. It was probably killed during the sabotage.
RED AMONG US: Where was anyone?
NESS: I was in Reactors.
LUCAS: Same!
The other Among Us characters affirm their location.
NESS: I guess there’s no sus… skip?
BLACK AMONG US: Skip.
No one was ejected (skipped).
The game continues, and LUCAS immediately sabotages lights. NESS takes advantage of this and tries to quietly kill BLACK AMONG US, but lights turn on just then and PURPLE AMONG US sees the body and who did it. He reports the body.
PURPLE AMONG US: Ness killed Black in Electrical.
RED AMONG US: Yeah, I saw.
LUCAS {quietly}: You idiot!
NESS {quietly}: It’s not my fault the crew is good-that was a great move!
LUCAS {quietly}: Whater-just have fun getting ejected.
The entire crew votes for NESS.
Ness was an imposter. One imposter remains.
There is now only LUCAS, RED AMONG US, and YELLOW AMONG US, making this an easy win in most situations. LUCAS sabotages O2, quietly killing RED AMONG US and winning the game.
AMONG US: Victory!

NESS and LUCAS disappear, reappearing once again in a strange, black place with nothing in any direction. They are stuck like this, in silence and confusion, for a minute, until a boom is heard and THE SPAM KING walks in.
THE SPAM KING: So… you two are stronger than I thought.
NESS: What did you do to us? How did you get us in here?
THE SPAM KING: I’m afraid I can’t answer that right now; did you two have fun, though?
LUCAS lunges at THE SPAM KING, but is easily thrown away.
THE SPAM KING: I made this game! No one can defeat me!
NESS tries to attack THE SPAM KING, but is also thrown back. When he hits the ground, he respawns where they originally appeared.
THE SPAM KING: {laughs evilly}
THE SPAM KING walks over to LUCAS, taking out a sword and running it through him. He also respawns in the same area as NESS, but this gives him an idea.
LUCAS {quietly}: Ness, you think we can break the game that way?
NESS {quietly}: What do you mean?
LUCAS {quietly}: The respawn system! I don’t know, obstruct the spawn point or something?
NESS {quietly}: How do you know we won’t just die forever, then?
LUCAS {quietly}: It’s that or we’re trapped here forever!
NESS: True. Let’s go!
LUCAS waits at the spawn point while NESS charges. THE SPAM KING kills him, and he respawns, but something has glitched. NESS can now see all the game’s code, and knows exactly what he has to do.
NESS: Lucas! You need to get the Spam King’s sword!
LUCAS: Why?
NESS: I don’t know! The code is really confusing! Just do it!
LUCAS runs up to THE SPAM KING for the final time, ducking when he tries to kill him and rolling to grab the hilt. Shockingly, he takes the sword.
THE SPAM KING: WHAT?
NESS: NOW GET TO THE SPAWN POINT AND PUSH IT IN!
LUCAS: WHAT??
LUCAS does, however, do as he was told, running to spawn and shoving the sword into the ground. Immediately, the game glitches, and NESS, LUCAS, and THE SPAM KING all blink out of existence.

Cut to THE SPAM KING sitting in NESS and LUCAS house, holding the same mysterious console MENTOS gave him and staring intently at the TV where he is fighting NESS and LUCAS. Suddenly, the screen goes blank and then explodes, sending THE SPAM KING flying into the kitchen.
THE SPAM KING: …what happened?
Enter NESS and LUCAS, both looking shocked and slightly happy.
LUCAS: We did it!
NESS: {winks}
NESS tackles THE SPAM KING and grabs the mysterious console, pressing several buttons and pointing it towards THE SPAM KING.
THE SPAM KING: Wait… no- you can-
THE SPAM KING disappears.
LUCAS: What- what happened?
NESS: Follow me!
NESS goes upstairs into his room, grabbing a remote and turning on the TV. Trapped inside the Fortnite app is THE SPAM KING, desperately playing against CRACKED MAN.
THE SPAM KING: You think you’re so powerful? Well this isn’t the end of-
CRACKED MAN kills THE SPAM KING.

This entire act, along with the entire The Spam Saga franchise, was sponsored by Bingus LLC. If you would like to buy any of their products or learn more, please visit their website at https://www.binguss.org!

ghosts of the past


first writing comp entry draft yukky yukky


1999 words

My name means regret. But I’ll never regret nothin’, not me.

I made an oath of that. Beneath that old twisted yew tree outside the graveyard, candlelight splayed across my face like a flickering fiery hand, branches like the contorted claws of some fairy-tale monster grasping at my back. In the dim light, I could barely see even the candlesmoke rising from my cupped hands, twining through my fingers, spiralling into the sky, where darkened clouds obscured what might have been stars. It was the dead of night when only the dead were awake.

A perfect place to bargain with a ghost.
But bargaining turned to pleading, which turned to begging, which, in the end, turned to silence. And there I was left, alone with the shadows and the gravestones and the trees that looked like monsters, clutching a burnt-out candle and whispering promises that no-one could hear, still without answers.

Why won’t you go away? I whispered, desperately, under my breath. I’ve done nothing wrong!

Silence. The wind rustling through the trees, a monstrous laugh. Nothing else disrupting the grim peace of a graveyard at night. And yet, I knew the ghost was there, transparent hand resting on my shoulder, or leaning against the yew tree, or perhaps right in front of me.

The words burn in my throat as I spit them out in a rush, in a flood, in the light of a match.

“You follow me around like a shadow, you do, lurking in corners and alleyways, whispering to me all day long, and yet you’re too scared to come out when I’m trying to speak to you?”

I’m shouting, screaming, yet my voice is failing me and all that comes out is a wheezing rasp.

“You talk of regret but I ain’t never regretted anything, and I never will! I’ll prove it! I’ll swear an oath, right here, right now, and you’ll have to go haunt someone else!”

I clenched my fists, candle wax spilling down my fingers, squinting in the darkness. And then I saw it. A trembling, flittering light, a darkened figure, slipping through the sea of headstones. The yew tree leaned toward me. The crushed remnants of my candle fell from my fingers. I wait with bated breath.

“Rue?”

My heart sunk in my chest.

“Ottoline?”

A rush of running footsteps and she’s grabbing me, dragging me back to the house. Her words disintegrate into muttered what were you doing’s and why were you there’s, and I don’t listen, because it’s always the same. You shouldn’t have done that. Always the same. I’m just trying to keep you safe. The same. Are you okay? And always - “I’m fine.”

My sister pulls me inside, pushes me into a chair. She doesn’t bother to light a candle; only begins to pace back and forth in the dark, kicking a stone across our rickety wooden floorboards with so much force it could probably break bones.

“The graveyard. In the middle of the night, Rue, what were you thinking? If our Mother knew about this-”

“I have my reasons.”

“And I don’t want to hear them anymore!” Ottoline’s voice is tense, strained. “You never listen, do you? You could have been killed!”

“I bet you would have loved that,” I mutter.

“This isn’t a joke!” She stops pacing. The stone clatters to a halt on the floor. “I only want you to be safe, but you make it so hard. Why do you have to be so… so selfish, Rue?”

“Selfish?” I stand up with a jolt, my chair falling to the ground beneath me. “I was just trying to protect us!”

“From what? Ghost stories?”

We stand like that for a moment. Not speaking. Not moving. The only sound the hissing of our breaths and the pounding of our hearts.

And then Ottoline storms off, slamming the door behind her.

I would’ve told her anything when we were kids. We used to be so close.
What happened?

With a sigh, I wash the last of the broken candle from my hands, and crawl into bed. Ottoline’s bed is across from mine and, in our tiny shared bedroom, I can see the ragged quilt rise and fall with her breathing. Up and down, up and down. She looks so peaceful like this.
I pull my own threadbare blanket up to my neck, but it doesn’t stop the cold creeping through my veins, the chill scarring my skin with goosebumps, the shiver creeping down my spine. Why do you have to be so selfish, Rue?

I lie awake, and my ghost lies with me.

-


I dream that my sister doesn’t come home.
I dream that our tiny little house grew extra rooms and extra stories and I look through all of them, calling out to her, wondering if she’s lost.
But then the house shrinks again, and I’m at the front door, and there’s knocking.
My first muddled dream-thought is it’s her. She came back.
But when I open the door, I see a ghost leering back at me. And the ghost's face looks just like Ottoline’s.

I jolt awake, shaking, my breath coming in gasps, and I know what I have to do.

Ottoline won’t like it, of course, but I don’t need to tell her where I’m going. And if it makes the ghosts go away, I certainly won’t regret it.

When I leave the house, matchbox in hand, two ghosts follow me.

-

It doesn’t take long to reach the graveyard. It takes barely any time at all to pick my way through the crumbling headstones to reach the towering yew tree at the very edge.
I stop. Breathe. Grip the matches tightly in my pocket, as if I’m holding onto them for dear life.
Come on. I’m Rue, and I don’t regret anything. I need to do this.
The yew looms above me - it would be almost regal, elegant, but for the gnarled, twisted trunk and the dark contorted branches clawing their way into the sky. It looks misshapen, it smells like death.
Apparently it's been here for generations, apparently it was here when the graveyard was very first built, and apparently its roots are as tied to the dead as much as the ground they’re rotting in. And what could hurt a ghost more than destroying the very essence of its graveyard?
I pull out a match from the crushed box in my pocket.
“You leave me alone, ghosts,” I say as I strike the match, “Or your precious tree gets turned into firewood.”
Threatening ghosts is probably not the best idea - but, for once, I have something I can use against them. So why shouldn’t I? It's not like they’re going to let me burn the tree down, after all, and even if they did, there’s no way I could do it with a single match.
Even if it did get burned to the ground, I wouldn’t regret it.
I hold the lit match against the trunk,
and I set the tree on fire.

-

It starts off slow. A single flame licking at the bark, twisting glowing tendrils outwards, burning stronger with every moment, crawling its way up the knotted trunk. It flickers and dims as a small breeze brushes past, and for a moment I fear it will go out entirely, but it does not. It wavers, it trembles, and then it picks itself up and continues to blacken away the wood. Smoke begins to spiral up from the trunk, along with a sickly sweet smell rising into the air. It smells like ruin, and it smells like revenge.
I step back. The fire wasn’t supposed to go on this long. Smoke’s coming off the tree in great billowing waves, yet the red-hot glow’s still visible underneath the rolling clouds. It's not flickering anymore. It’s a roaring, blazing pyre, flames ripping at the sky like the fiery red claws of some fairy-tale demon.
Smoke stings my throat, heat stings my eyes. The yews branches are like spindly sticks silhouetted against the fire that’s now consumed the entire tree. Another burst of flame engulfs the branches, and I realise - this is the ghost’s doing. They’re not stopping me, they’re fueling the fire. Maybe this is what they wanted all along.
I fall to my knees, coughing and wheezing and choking, scrambling backwards, eyes shut tight against the smoke. What happens if the fire spreads to the other trees, spreads to the church, to the houses? What happens if the whole town burns down and it's all my fault?
The heat sears my skin, and I open my watering eyes to see that the grass, too, has ignited, a sea of flame surging towards me in a blazing rush. I need to get out of here.
I turn, and as I run, five ghosts run with me.

I should have listened to Ottoline.
I never should have argued with her, never should have done anything without telling her.
I never should have lit that tree on fire.
I never should have come to the graveyard in the first place.

I regret it all, I realise with growing terror. I regret it all and now the ghosts are after me.

I trip on a moss-covered gravestone wedged in the grass, and I plummet to the ground.

The crackling, fiery claws begin to grasp my clothes, the smoke begins to taste like regret in my lungs. I choke on it, cough on it, but I can still smell it, still feel it-

“Rue?”

Ottoline. I look up, face streaked with tears. She runs toward me as the flames rear up behind me, as the ghosts begin to close in…
And the fire goes out.

It goes out like a candle in the wind, as if it was never there at all. As if it was stifled by the hand of invisible ghosts.

They collect around me now, more than half a dozen of them. They whisper things I can’t hear, slip around me like the currents of a river, spectral fingers sending cold shivers down my back.

“Ottoline-”

She cuts me off, brushing the ghosts away as she sits down beside me.

“What have you done?”

“I-”

“I’m disappointed in you, Rue.”

“I know. I was just trying- to save us.”

“No. You were trying to save yourself.”

Her voice is cold, distant. I don’t recognise it.

“I’m sorry.”

She stays silent.

“I’m sorry for everything I said to you, I’m sorry for trying to do everything by myself, I’m sorry for coming back here. I regret it all. I wish I had never tried to get rid of that ghost in the first place.”

“We’re back to ghost stories, then.” Ottoline stands up. “I’ll be at the house. I’m just tired of all- this.”

I know what she means. She’s tired of me.

I watch as she walks away, leaving me alone with the yew tree’s smouldering remains, the wreckage of the graveyard. I can’t bear to look at it. At the sparks, the gravestone, the trees that look like monsters. The yew tree doesn’t look like a monster anymore; it looks like a charred pile of ash. It looks like ruin, and it looks like regret.

It's not a monster anymore, because I’m the monster instead.

This is all my fault.

There are hundreds of ghosts now, hundreds of regrets. Spinning around me in a whirlwind, a tempest, the sea in a storm.

I close my eyes as they close in.

My name means regret. And I regret everything I’ve done.

The ghosts descend on me like a river in flood.

And go right through me.

Because that’s all they are.
Ghosts.


-


years later


My name means regret. And, yes, I have my regrets. But I don’t let them define me. They’re like ghosts, like scars, always there, but scars can heal and I can move on. I can accept my regrets for what they are - ghosts of the past.



the end.

Writing Competition entry
By the way if you want to read the other few entries you can go to my other account @thouqts-, I can give proof if need be that I wrote this.

1,126 words!

Astrid of Nuremberg's Diary




To whoever reads this journal: I am not sure if I will still be alive when you read this; however I am Astrid, daughter of Conrad, son of Godwin, son of Arne. I am descended from the famous Vikings, the pillagers of the North. I was born in Nuremberg, Germany. My Father was a doctor; he treated patients with diseases such as the Bubonic Plague, otherwise known as the Black Death. The Plague desecrated most of the European population making way for a new age, ‘The Renaissance’ or ‘Rebirth’.
I was born at the start of The Renaissance when the poor started to get paid by wealthier men and women for their hard work. My Mother died giving birth to my youngest brother, Crispin. He is the youngest of seven children, all boys except for me. My Father was heartbroken, he died shortly after by being careless and eventually catching the plague from a patient. My Aunt Gregoria and Uncle Lothar came to take care of my brothers and I.
I was never certain why but I think I might know now. My Uncle and Aunt despised me when I was younger. I had many near-death experiences that came about after the deaths of my parents. This never happened to any of my little brothers; my Aunt thought they were blessed by God and she thought that my soul was touched by the devil. They would send me out on little errands such as to the town well or the docks to haggle for fish. Once, I was standing on the dock, bartering with a fisherman who was on his boat, when a large barrel of salt came rolling down the dock and knocked me into the water. Another time, I was pulling up the bucket from the well when something hard hit me in the back of the head and almost knocked me headfirst into the inky blackness below. Clearly, some children nearby had been playing ball and had thrown it too far.
One day an acquaintance of mine by the name of Sigrid told me in a hushed voice that her little brother and sister had been the ones playing ball and that a tall disagreeable looking woman had come and asked to play with them, her siblings naturally were polite and accepted and gave her the ball. I ground my teeth together recognizing the description of my Aunt. Sigrid then told me that her Father had been at the docks that fateful day as well and that he had seen my Uncle trip over a cat and fell heavily against the barrel of salt. I thanked Sigrid and went home. I realized that Gregoria and Lothar wanted me dead so that they could take all of my Father’s hard-earned money–money that rightfully should be my brother's and I’s–and land for themselves. Once I was gone they could take hold of everything and claim that they would hand it back over to my brothers when they were old enough and could fend for themselves. That night I took my Grandfather’s old fishing knife and cut my hair short like a boy. I shook my brothers awake and told them the circumstances and why it was no longer safe for me to stay in Nuremberg. The younger ones wept bitterly and I comforted them and said we all would eventually meet again. I did not think that this would ever be the case but I could not have them wake up my Aunt and Uncle with their crying and I had to go. They promised to never tell a living soul and then we said our goodbyes. I took my Father’s old horse, Njal, and rode down to the port in the dark. There I hopped aboard a ship called ‘The Germaine’ set for Florence, Italy, and found a fisherman to take care of my dear Njal. I went and hid in the cargo hold behind some barrels of wine and dry goods. The ship lurched and I thought of the adventure ahead.
-Astrid,
Writ this day, 14th of September, 1415 A.D. At the docks in my home of Nuremberg.




The boat has been at sea the whole day; it is gray outside and looking like it will rain tonight. Fog is starting to form in the air. I hope the sailors will be sensible and dock at some nearby port before it gets too dark. I am not sure what time it is as the sun is hidden by dark clouds. I awakened some hours ago in a very cramped state underneath a sheepskin that I had taken from what once was my house.
I thought about Florence to keep my mind off of the sickly rocking of the ship. Florence is where the best of the ‘Rebirth’ is taking place. Everyone, even the peasants and commoners, is allowed to create art and talk more freely with each other than they did in the Dark Ages. I thought excitedly about the beautiful Cathedrals and Villas built with such love and care, unlike my home of Nuremberg. Most of the art and architecture in Florence is inspired by the early Greek and Roman periods.
I was startled from my trance-like state by a sailor above on the deck calling out that it was time to dock. I breathed a sigh of relief, for the skies outside had been getting darker every moment. The fog was starting to get thicker and larger; it rolled over the tops of the waves and crept ever closer to The Germaine. I shivered and drew the lamb skin tighter around me. I opened the satchel full of things I had taken from what once was my Fathers house. I fished out a loaf of bread and a flask of wine, I sipped at it greedily and tore at the bread. I had only eaten a few pieces of nuts and fruit this morning so I was ravenous. I listened to the voices of the sailors in their bunks above. They were saying things such as, “Good thing we docked when we did, look at that fog!”, “Ei, I know it’s some of the thickest fog I’ve ever seen in these parts, and I've been alive a fair bit longer than you.”, “I do hope it clears by morning.” and “Ei, it better and if it does it should be smooth sailing to Florence.” My heart leaped at this last comment, I couldn't wait to get off the boat and stretch my legs. I hunkered down in a more comfortable position and let the voices that reverberated down through the wood lull me to sleep with thoughts of Italy.
-Astrid
Writ this day, 15th of September, 1415 A.D. Aboard ‘The Germaine’

a critique of @-wildclan-‘s work!

Ash never asked for a second chance. Dandelion never asked to be reminded of her past. And yet, here they were.
I really like this! It makes me interested immediately, and sets up the rest of the story well. However, I might change it to “Ash had never” and the same for the second sentence. The other version is grammatically correct, but is not in the past tense as the rest of the story is. If that’s what you’re going for (saying that Ash never asked for a second chance ever in his whole life) that’s fine, but based on context the other version fits better in my opinion.

“Please, Dandelion. At least come see him,” Clover pleaded.
Dandelion sighed, turning to face her sister. Clover hovered in the entrance to Dandelion’s den, one paw raised hesitantly. They were nothing alike. Dandelion had dark fur that was perpetually disheveled and full of dirt from all of her adventures.
I like this dynamic between the two sisters! I might say that her disheveled pelt reflected her adventurous nature, the phrase “from all her adventures” seems strange to me. You could also just say “from her latest adventure” instead, though. It just seems to imply that her previous adventures are still affecting her pelt… not sure if that makes sense….

Clover’s pale gray pelt was well-groomed, and she never had a feather out of place. And yet, Dandelion knew Perhaps change this to “But Dandelion knew”? The “and yet” seems like she’s contradicting something, whereas I feel like that’s not the case. You could also always cut this phrase entirely and make the sentence “But there was more to Dandelion’s sister than….”, which to me feels more immersive into Dandelion’s POV.

there was more to her sister than the quiet, perfect, obedient exterior.

They had both experienced the conflict that had torn apart their community, the conflict that was started by their own father, Ash. They had both suffered as a result of Ash’s expectations for them. And then, they worked side-by-side to rebuild after the battle, the battle where Ash had finally been defeated for good.
Okay, this is really interesting! I’m getting a much greater sense for the world already. However, I might say “Dandelion knew this from working with her sister through the darkest of times. Suffering from their father, Ash’s, expectations. Rebuilding together after Ash had finally been defeated. For good.” This seems like a more natural progression for Dandelion’s train of thought. I get the continuation into this from her previous sentence, but I still feel like this part jumps out at me as less cohesive than the previous paragraphs. Hopefully this can help you meld it in better.

Well… apparently not “for good.”
I might make the sentence “Well, they had thought it was for good.”—though that is entirely personal preference and this sentence is fine—I like how she initially thinks “they’d defeated him for good” and then remembered something that’s been revealed more recently—that it wasn’t for good.

Some shazarxa from distant lands had arrived recently, bringing with himthem? “some” makes me think there are multiple… the discovery of a way to allow spirits to interact with the living world. This was great, everyone said. Now not even death can keep us away from those we’ve lost!
/Yeah, great,/ Dandelion thought. /Unless the one I’ve lost was someone I never wanted to see again./
Ooh! I like this last sentence a lot—really letting us get to know Dandelion more and showing how something that would seem good to some would be really unappealing to her. This is quite a lot of information in one paragraph, however. I didn’t even know there was magic in this world or anything. That might not be a total problem, but it’s just something to think about. Perhaps you could “show” rather than tell us about the new sharzaxa? If you have Dandelion see some people speaking to their dead relatives or something and then think this, it might seem more natural, plus it will give us a chance to understand a bit more of how the magic works.

Still, When I initially read this, I was very confused. I understand now that Clover is trying to show Dandelion to their father’s ghost. I had forgotten about what Clover said at the beginning by this point, so perhaps have Clover call Dandelion one more time after Dandelion’s long train of thought that we just read through. Then we can with the new knowledge you’ve given us understand what’s happening.Dandelion walked over to join Clover, who blinked in relief. Dandelion folded her wings tightly against her sides. “All right, fine. But just this once.”
One thing here is that I would like to know (tho you might explain this later) is why Clover seems to want to see their dad, who seems to me to be evil (?) and also if she didn’t want to see him, why Dandelion agrees. Has Clover been arguing with her about this for a while? It seems like maybe, but I don’t know what sorts of arguments Clover is making for it to convince Dandelion. The conflict/indecision itself is great, I just don’t quite understand it.

Clover led her along the main path leading out of the canyon, into a small clearing. The grass was soft under Dandelion’s paws, and a breeze rustled the leaves of the bushes around her. In the center of the clearing stood two shazarxi. One Dandelion recognized as the small, spiky shape of her brother, Claw, and the other…
Dandelion gritted her teeth. She never expected to see that all-too-familiar ruff of fur again. However, her stride didn’t falter as she marched up to Ash, Clover following behind her. Claw and Ash turned to face her as she approached. “I’m not going to say I missed you, if that’s what you wanted to hear,” she stated.
She sat, glaring at Ash. His form was still slightly ghostlike, blurring at the edges and the forest behind him faintly visible through his body. His fur wasn’t moved by the wind, and there was no sign of the scar that once stretched across his chest. Unconsciously, Dandelion brushed her own scar with the tip of her tail. It had been slashed across her face by Ash himself, on the day that Dandelion had finally rebelled against him. She had been young at the time, but she would never forget that moment. Still. She had gotten over that a long time ago. She didn’t need old wounds to be reopened.
To her surprise, there was no sign of the old anger in spirit-Ash’s empty orange eyes. They were gentler, subdued, almost regretful. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I know. I- I realize now…” He paused. “I didn’t deserve the role of a leader, and I didn’t deserve the role of a father. I left you behind and never looked back.” He lifted his gaze to include all three siblings. “I know you don’t want me to be here, so I-”
He jumped as Clover placed her paw on his arm. Dandelion was mildly impressed; this might just be the first time Clover had ever interrupted someone. “I can’t speak for Claw and Dandelion, but I… I forgave you. It took a long time, but I healed, and… Maybe this can be a new beginning for us?” Clover looked to her siblings, her expression anxiously hopeful.
Dandelion eyed Claw, who was twitching his tail, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Um. This is a lot to comprehend.” He growled softly. “I don’t think I’m ready for this yet.”
Dandelion rose to her paws, addressing Ash. “There was never any reason for me to grieve for you. I don’t need to forgive in order to heal. Yet you’ve made it this far, so- anything goes at this point, I guess.” She stepped closer to stand face-to-face with Ash. She couldn’t read the emotion in his blank, ghostly eyes. “It wasn’t my choice to give you a second chance. But it seems you’ve got another future. What comes next- well, no one can predict.”
She stepped back and turned around, feeling the others’ gazes watching her go. She had meant what she said. Now, only time would tell.

I like this a lot! One thing I’m still confused by is the anatomy of this species, but I figure that will be or has been explained in other things. Overall, your grammar and sentence structure are both good, your description is most of the time included enough for me to picture the scenes (except maybe when it comes to the species thing—). I love the character’s conflict and decision making, though it could be better explained her reasons behind making that choice. I like Clover’s character a lot, too. Good work!

Daily 11/21

(this is unfinished, I'll finish it later )

Dare from Gabbie (@-PeachiiStxr-): “write a story with a sad invention that was deemed and cast aside as useless, but it's come back to redeem itself and/or have revenge on its creators ;0”

“Luke, you mixed up the codes again.” A man in front of you groaned.
“It’s not my fault! We could make a new one anyway,” another man defended. You reasoned that he must be Luke.
“Robot #117, how may I help you?” you speak in a monotone voice. You take in your surroundings with your cameras and added it to your data. It was a lab, an enormous one at that. There were hundreds of robots surrounding you, all of their cameras pointing at you.
“Just- get out. You’re useless.” The first man you saw ordered.
You felt an emotion. You glance at your wrist, and on their was the word “disappointment”.
“Command issued.” You say, and rotate 380 degrees. You find the door and walked out.
You’ll get revenge one day.
Your wrist says “anger”.

136 words

20 Writing Dare

Table of Contents

writing dare from jc! <3
“look around and the first object you see comes to life”

the first thing I saw looking around just so happened to be unlocked (kotlc) which I am rereading before picking up stellarune because after starting to read it I decided I needed a refresher lol. anyways, i'm super happy about that because that means I can write about kotlc character coming to life. im in a little bit of a writing slump right now so I'm not going to actually write about what happens after they appear so sorry about it being so short ) okay, now to get into the actual story!

I slam my bedroom door and lean against the wall, slowly sliding down it until I'm sitting on the floor with my head in my hands, tears dripping down my face. Eventually, I lift my head up to clean up my face. I wipe my nose on my sweatshirt and get up from the floor, taking steady breaths. It's going to be okay, everything's going to be fine, I try to convince myself. I walk over to my desk and pick up my current read, Unlocked. Reading always puts me in a better mood especially when I'm upset or stressed. Before I can flip to my page the book starts to glow causing me to drop it in surprise. Suddenly, to their own accord, the pages start to flip by themselves. They come to a stop once they get to what looks like the middle of the book. The next thing I know people that I can recognize only from the images created in my mind start to come from the book. Before I know it the people that I've read about since I was a little girl are standing in my bedroom, all of them looking at me.

alksdhfhsd please ignore how bad this is again I have absolutely no motivation to write xD

199 Words

WEEKLY #3

part one
pomodoro & Eisenhower's matrix!!

part two
i joined brainstorming!! we had lots of fun there!!

part three 264 words
mine was about sleep :>

There’s one thing known easily that SWC campers can’t do—that thing being a good night’s sleep. Every camper has had that one moment—before bed, before a shower, in the middle of the night—where you just think ‘Should I write? I could fit in some words…’ Most SWC campers are of the ages of 9-14, meaning they require about eight to ten hours of sleep each night (so stop sacrificing!) And, what could become SWC’s slogan, “SWC < SLEEP”, has almost no effect on the dedicated campers. It’s good, you know, to be so dedicated to something (without obsessing!!), but have you heard of something called burn out? That’s right.
So why should you sleep? First of all, you need sleep to function, simple fact. No sleep means you run on adrenaline until you crash—a big rookie mistake. Sleep will help you feel better all the time, which results in a better mood. You know what that means? Happier, cheery-ful-er SWCers~! It also makes it easier for you to write; you have a fresh slate in your mind, so to speak. There’s a limit to how far sugar and adrenaline can get you.
Next and finally, sleeping opens your mind. By “opening your mind”, you get your imagination/dream world flowing and running—and what better inspiration for stories? Your dream world expands not only the way you think, but the way you write—everything you write is somehow influenced/linked to your subconsciousness.
All in all (I love ending with that haha ), these reasons show why you should sleep well—it all affects your writing, after all!