@FirestarForReal January Writing Camp 2023

Daily for Jan 1st

Prompt: Write a short scene in the third person pov where you’re introducing yourself to someone. Try to include things about yourself not only in the dialogue but in the actions as well. This scene should be a minimum of 300 words. You’ll earn 400 points for this daily!

I won't be introducing myself, just one of my OC's.

Abygale (no, my real name is not Abigail) regarded a girl thoughtfully. Hey, look, she thought to herself. It's the new kid Wednesday. I should go say hi to her. I heard she killed a kid at her old school.
The black-haired girl rushed up to her. “Hi…Wednesday, I heard?”
“If you don't have something important to say to me, I would recommend leaving. The last person who tried to be my friend is now six feet under.” Wednesday said. She never blinked.
“Well, Enid Sinclair is your friend and she's not dead.” Abygale pointed out.
“Did you not hear me the first time I told you to leave?' Wednesday crossed her arms impatiently. She was wearing the Nevermore student uniform but it was an altered black-and-white version.
”I'm Abygale Demetria,“ Abygale went on, trying to ignore Wednesday. ”I…kind of know what you feel. Being, you know, alone and all.“
”You have no idea what I feel.“ Wednesday said firmly. ”Besides, I don't.“
”Don't what?“
”Feel.“
”So, did you kill a kid at your old school?“ Abygale asked. ”That's what Enid's vlog says. Not that I'm…judging you. It's cool with me. I mean..“ she paused, flustered. ”I mean, it's your business…“
”Why are you still here?“ Wednesday scowled.
The friendly light in Abygale's eyes hardened. ”Addams, you might think I'm just another one of those friendly Enids, but you're wrong. The difference between me and her is that I can be just as dark and witty as you, too.“
”I've never met someone who tries to be like me.“
”Me, try to be like you?“ Abygale scoffed. Her smile turned icy. ”I think you mean that I'm the OG you. Believe me, Nevermore already has one of us. We wouldn't push away another…but, we're used to you- people like you."
Wednesday's response was to stalk away.

(306 words).
Continued:
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6866535/

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 2, 2023 21:52:29)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 2nd

Prompt: I am a panster writer. I will write 200 words of a story that I strategically plan it out before I start. This daily earns 500 points because I will be sharing my work.

PLANNING:
Main Character: Abygale Lezabel Demetria (original OC)
-she/her, girl, 16, Siren, a Scale, cold and collected, almost like Wednesday. Hostile to her.

Side Characters: Wednesday Addams, Xavier Thorpe, Bianca Barclay (from the Netflix show Wednesday)

What Happens: Bianca approaches Abygale and tells her about MorningSong and her forced return to it. In this AU, Bianca has to leave immediately. Abygale must keep the Scales together and never tell them what happened to her. She would return but it would take multiple semesters. Wednesday interrupts the conversation and hears it all. After Bianca leaves, she blackmails Abygale into using her siren power to interrogate Xavier about being the Hyde. Xavier says he isn't, to Wednesday's frustration. She yells at Abygale, then leaves.

Character Arcs(?): Bianca goes from being a snobby girl…to…liking Abygale? Idk it happens toward the beginning, though. Wednesday goes from being calm and collected while blackmailing Abygale to being very angry when she can't get the evidence needed for her accusation of Xavier.

Setting: The Quad and also Wednesday's room where she interrogates Xavier. Enid is not there because she is at Jericho with Yoko.

STORY:

“Do you know about MorningSong?” Bianca Barclay asks me. Her pale and creepily big Siren's eyes stare at me.
“I know it's a cult that you can't get me to join,” I reply suspiciously. “I know your mother is part of it, right? Don't even get me started. I don't want one of your weird bracelets.”
Bianca laughs. “Oh, that's the last thing I want to do.” She goes on to explain that her mother is forcing her to return right then to work for MorningSong, and she will be back within a couple of semesters. “In the meantime, my Scales will grow restless.” It takes me a beat to realize she meant the group Scales, not her own.
“So? Why are you telling me?” I ask.
“Well, Abygale Demetria, you”- the full glare of those shining eyes turns on me- “are going to run the group in my wake. If you can.”
I nod slowly. “Okay…what should I tell them?”
Bianca is already leaving when she hears my question- she stiffens and freezes. “Anything but the truth,” she whispers, then leaves. I stand at the Quad, eyes open, watching her back slowly walking away.
“What was Bianca talking to you about?” a female voice asks, and I almost jump out of my skin as I turn around.
It's Wednesday Addams.

(221 words).

Continued:
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6867338/

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 2, 2023 21:52:13)

FirestarForReal

Random Writing
(continued from Daily Jan 1st and Daily Jan 2nd)

“Bianca was talking to me about Scale stuff. It's none of your business.” Abygale calmly lied. It wasn't a lie, it was true. She thought, what a tension-filled scene it was. Two cold girls, both with long black hair. Abygale's shimmered like the moon. Wednesday's flat braids absorbed all light. The Quad's usually green grass faded to a pale gray shade.
“It is my business, because everything is,” Wednesday said grimly. "I heard it all, and I will tell the Sirens- no, I'll tell Enid."
Abygale's small eyes widened in horror. “Enid will vlog it to the whole school.” She scowled. “And believe me, you don't want that. In fact, why are we clashing so often?”
“Because you are always in my way.” Wednesday shot back.
“What's your power?” Abygale said out of the blue.
“Why do I have to tell you?”
“You have visions, don't you? You're a Raven.” Abygale breathed. She took in Wednesday's dark demeanor, broken light behind her eyes, and obsidian necklace to commune with spirits…or help visions.
Wednesday neither confirmed nor denied this. “Well, I suppose Enid will have to find out about the Scales…and vlog it.”
“Don't do that. I'll owe you a favor.” Abygale said.
“Fine,” Wednesday said. “Come with me. Right now.” Abygale gritted her teeth and followed the dark-haired girl. “Xavier!” Wednesday called to him as they walked briskly across the Quad. Xavier sighed and joined their little group. Wednesday lead them all to her dorm in Ophelia Hall, then locked the doors.
“Xavier, close your eyes,” she commanded.
Xavier grinned as he closed his eyes. “This is either a birthday party- it's not my birthday, three months away- or you're about to kiss me. Or Abygale.”
“Or neither,” said Wednesday, stepping back and flipping a switch. The floorboards under Xavier disappeared (flapped open) to be replaced with iron bars a second later and he plummeted into a small dingy jail, staring up at Wednesday in shock. Wednesday nodded her head at Abygale. “Now, make him always tell the truth.”
“What am I, your lie detector?” Abygale said angrily.
“You have two options.” Wednesday addressed both Xavier and Abygale. “Option 1, Abygale, you interrogate Xavier with me and compel him to tell the truth. Option 2…” She opened her bag and began pulling out metal items onto the table. Xavier hopped a little to peer at them. Some electrocuters. A metal-lined hammer. Dull knives designed to make bad, painful cuts. “Abygale leaves, and I use the old-fashioned method of lie-detecting. Pain. Also, Abigale, I'll be telling Enid- and by extension, the Scales- about the plan Bianca begged you to complete for her.”
“Then I'll tell Enid you have visions!” Abygale spat back.
“That's not an option.” Wednesday considered two knives- one thicker and shorter, one longer and thinner. She chose the smaller one. “So, option one or two? You choose, Abygale. You choose.”
Abygale discreetly kicked a piece of paper through the iron bars and a pencil. “Option one, I suppose.” Her eyes gleamed irritably. “But you'll regret this.”
“And don't even try to Siren me,” Wednesday continued, dropping the knives back in the bag with some regret. “I've been trained to resist their call since I was nine.” Xavier hid the paper behind his back as Wednesday looked down with contempt at him. "And if you are the Hyde, I'll leave you to rot down there." she hissed.
Abygale gently took off her Siren necklace. Her power color was a pretty pink- in contrast to Bianca's red. She opened her mouth and spoke to Xavier. “Are you the Hyde?”
Xavier's eyes turned pink as he heard it. Wednesday checked that her earplugs were secure.
Xavier replied dreamily, “No.”
Wednesday stomped her foot. “Ask him why he was at every scene the Hyde was at, then.”
“Why were you at every scene the Hyde was at?” Abygale asked.
Xavier launched into an explanation, his eyes betraying the shock and surprise at his mouth spilling all his secrets. But secretly, unbeknownst to Wednesday, his hands were scribbling intently behind his back- a gray obsidian sword sharp enough to slice iron. As he sputtered out the last of his location, he placed his hand on the drawing and concentrated.
Wednesday frowned. “What are you doing?”

(716 words)

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 3, 2023 13:01:54)

FirestarForReal

Word War VS @TheBibliophile7

“It is with great sadness that we announce the death of Alma Madrigal, our abuela,” Pepa Madrigal, her daughter, sadly told the village. Her normally beautiful yellow dress dotted with suns was gray and had little rain clouds all over.
Everyone in the village dropped what they were holding.
“Her funeral will be next Tuesday. She was eighty-five.” Pepa said, picking up something from a table behind her. “And I am the next candle-holder, in her place.” She turned to reveal the glowing miracle candle in her cupped hands.
The village bowed their heads in sadness. Abuela Madrigal, who had founded this place, who had been the first candle-holder, was dead. Those who were not already wearing gray or black clothes darted into their houses and changed to mourning colors.
“Hey, Tía. I’ve a question for you,” Mirabel ran up to her aunt.
“Does it concern our late Abuela?” Pepa asked listlessly. She dabbed at her eyes with a gray, rainy handkerchief. “Otherwise, I’d suggest you ask someone else.”
“I can only ask you, candle-holder,” said the girl urgently. She took a deep breath. “May I try my ceremony again, now with the new and improved candle? You never know, maybe I could try for a power, I’m twenty-five in two days-”
“Mirabel!” Pepa interrupted with an exclamation, shocked. “How could you say that? Everyone only gets one ceremony! I know you still may be upset over your..loss, but you cannot interrupt important grieving for our Abuela!”
“But…” Mirabel’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces and instantly reforged from fire into something sharper and angrier. Hotter.
“Sobrina,” Pepa said, looking into Mirabel’s eyes, a few inches below her own.

(280 words)
VICTORY

FirestarForReal

Practice Word War
(aka me just writing like crazy for five minutes)

I hate Tyler Galpin. It's as simple as that. He's my least favorite character from the popular show on Netflix Wednesday. Wednesday Addams is teh main character and she is so cool. Dark, unforgiving, and utterly sarcastic. She roasts everyone so much. Anyway, she displays emotions less than five times during the entire eight episodes of the show which were all like forty to fifty minutes. One time she showed emotion was when she saw her Uncle Fester- she actually smiled. Also, Wednesday never blinked once during the show. It was so creepy.
Anyway, back to Tyler. He *SPOILER ALERT* is the Hyde. The terrible terror of Jericho/Nevermore that had brutally killed like, six people and harvested their body parts to revive Joseph Crackstone, the racist weirdo ancestor of Laurel Gates, aka Mrs. Thornhill who is controlling the Hyde/Tyler. Sorry for anyone reading this, it was a massive spoiler.
But don't you see? Tyler never liked Wednesday at all!! He didn't!!! When he went on a “romantic” date with her to watch a horror movie (Legally Blonde, which is horror for Wednesday) in J-Crack (Joseph Crackstone)'s crypt, it was to distract her so Mrs. Thornhill could rip apart her room looking for the diary! And hurt Thing!
Tyler never truly loved Wednesday- but it was her first kiss! (Showing emotion!)
And he was lying just to…brutally kill more people!
I literally don't like people named Tyler now, and also I hate the Hyde even more, and also his stupid clueless face is STUPID I HATE COFFEE NOW.

(260 words)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 3rd

Prompt: A 300-word minimum story about where humans have (a) unique body part(s). What about eagle wings? Or vines instead of hair? Or even a monkey tail? The possibilities are endless! 500 points (I'll share proof).

By the time you turn sixteen in Dystopia, you'll have slowly grown a non-human trait (or an NHT). This was a result of botched genetic tampering scientists did way back in the 2020s. Unfortunately, nuclear war decided to happen just then. A war hero saved the world in a now-famous tale by calculating where the nukes would all be within a one-mile-radius and launching another one in that area, exploding the bombs harmlessly above the world's largest ocean.
Radiation fell on the world, and humans too close to animals had their DNA mixed disgustingly, growing new, inhuman traits. 99% of the world was affected (and 50% were killed in a mass tragedy). Now, 50% doesn't sound like much but imagine all your close friends and family. Half of them die. Take your parents or guardians. One has to die. Take your siblings. Half of them (including you) die.
Combine that with genetic testing, and now the whole world is Inhuman. (Save that rare 1%.)
When people inevitably have children, those traits become smoother. Bad mutations, killing ones, fade. Eventually, animalistic growths become part of puberty. Growing hair in weird places? Just part of growing up! It became a normal, acceptable thing. By the time kids were sixteen, the growths would've come out.
“Seraphina is a Normie, Seraphina is a Normie!” The kids at her school cruelly teased her. ‘Normie’ was an insult for someone that hadn't shown their NHTs (non-human traits) yet. One bright redheaded girl with just-as-vivid red butterfly wings sneered, “I bet you'll never grow your traits. You could be a one-percenter!”
Everyone gasped. One-percenter was a terrible slur to refer to those that would never have NHTs or become Inhuman. Not ever.
"Sherisse Viktorova! Now that is out of line!“ The teacher gasped. They were a person with abnormally strong legs (that of a kangaroo, they were Australian). ”Let's return to the lesson, shall we?“
Sherisse shrugged. Her butterfly wing flapped when she shrugged.
Mx. Saylor sighed. ”Okay, anyway…can anybody tell me what DNA stands for?“
The class was silent.
Seraphina raised her hand (a human one, sadly). ”Deoxyribonucleic acid?“
”That's absolutely right!“ Mx. Saylor exclaimed happily. ”You see, class, this just goes to show that even if you're a late bloomer, you can still be smart!" Seraphina sighed miserably. She knew they were trying to raise her spirits, but they had just made her feel even worse.

(402 words)

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 3, 2023 13:15:02)

FirestarForReal

Week One Weekly

Part One

667 Word Blurb

Protagonist: Rosemary / Antagonist: The Inspector / Deuteragonists: Anise, Clover / Tertiary Characters: Sage, Juniper

My name is Rosemary, I am a genetic female, and I am fifteen years of age. That is all I am supposed to know, because I am in Class F. Aside from those three facts, Class Fs have minimal training.
However, one thing we know- one thing ALL citizens know, regardless of Class- is the Pyramid. Class A is the very top and fewer people in the entire City are Class As than there are fingers on my hands. For example, the President and his family. They can literally buy my entire Group (of 50, no less). Class B is the handful of higher-ups in positions- like the Inspector, who visits my Group every day. I think she has about 25 Class F's working in her private suite as maids, cooks, and cleaners. Class C is made up of the middle class- those who can afford only a few Class F's- three or so. Class D is just foreigners or the lower middle class. They barely afford one Class F and do more respectable jobs that Class F's aren't allowed to do, like actual company management.
Class E doesn't exist. Nobody knows why.
Then..it's us. Class F. The workers and laborers, the slaves of the City. We're lucky to be here, the Inspector says every time she sees us. If we weren't working, then we would be executed from birth to control overpopulation. Our classes are organized by jobs- each has a three-year difference in the age of its workers.
My name is Rosemary, I am a genetic female, and I am fifteen years of age. That means I belong to Cooking Group 088. We have fourteen-, fifteen-, and sixteen-year-olds of all genders (although, of course, Class Fs are not permitted gender identity. We are all assumed to be asexual and identify as our gender of birth.)
Some others in my group are Sage, Juniper, and Clover.
And of course, my best friend Anise.
The Inspector is one of my hated enemies. Our work is peaceful, mostly the same old repetitive work that I find soothing. When I excel at a level, I get to move higher. It's soothing. But the Inspector is a horrid woman that comes by twice a month to, well, inspect. She stares at every inch of my work and gets upset at one carrot's length- we aren't even a Farming Group! (That's the one below us, by the way. Farming Group 091- ten-, eleven-, and twelve- year olds.)
More questions you would like answered: where do Class F's come from? From bankrupted Class D's, of course. If they file bankruptcy, they are placed in a random group of their age for life. And because of overpopulation and the Class A's and B's hogging all the money, there will always be more Class F's. How do you go up or down classes? Based on wealth, of course. After you reach the level of wealth (or poor) for a group, you file for a Class Raise. Some requirements are needed, and it's not too common, but it's not uncommon either. I learned half of this from the Inspector, half from Anise, and half from the President's speeches that are often playing as we work. Are there three halves in a whole? I don't know. I have never been taught to do math, read, or write.
But do not worry about my fate, trapped in this Dystopian drag of labor and despair.
Anise and I are planning to escape, and we shall do it soon. Sneaking clothes from the Stylist Group 073, going into the City in the back of a food truck that we see leave for the City every day, pretending to be Class D's. It will be a hard journey full of scrutiny- we don't have papers or ID, no Class F does- and the Inspector will see we are gone seconds after she arrives for an Inspection.
Still, dear listener. Mark my words. I will leave this place.
Sincerely, Rosemary 16.

Part Two

3 Character Types And 389 Words

Prompt: For this part, you'll be coming up with character bios for three character types. There's no word minimum.

Static Character: Name: Sage // Gender: Male // Age: 16 // Personality: Kind, gentle, caring, compassionate // Hobbies: Cooking, talking with his friends // Family: none that he knows of // Friends: Anise, Rosemary, Juniper, Clover // Likes: Cooking // Dislikes: The Inspector, baking. He only likes cooking, // Backstory: Class F Cooking Group 088 servant. //favorite place: secret loose panel between his bed and the wall where he hides stuff. The camera can’t see anything because of the angle.

Dynamic character: Rosemary // Gender: Female // Age: 15 // Personality: She goes from having a stock character-like personality for a corporate slave to being fierce and angry at the world. // Hobbies: Cooking with vegetables, sneaking out, overthrowing the government // family: none that she knows of // friends: Anise, Sage, Juniper, Clover // Likes: has a crush on Anise, likes baking cakes // dislikes: The Inspector, the government, the class system // Backstory: Rosemary was born as a Class F cook. Then she snuck out one day and saw the real world with her friend Anise. Even Class D’s had better rights and life than her. So she changed. Over the course of the story, she hates the government more and more as she uncovers its dark secrets.

Round character: Name: Clover // Gender: Female // Age: 16 // personality: seems silly and absolutely stupid to everyone on the outside, but in reality fights extremely well. She sneaks out to the yard every break period to practice fighting in hopes of one day taking down the government. // Hobbies: fighting, hand-to-hand combat, acting like an 80 IQ person. // family: none that she knows of // Likes: knives, taking down the government // dislikes: the Inspector, peace, acting dumb but she has to // backstory: When she was 7, she stumbled into the wrong Group that had to be executed because one of them had slipped poison in a Class B’s cup. One person in the Group revealed the truth of the corrupt government to her before she managed to leave. In rage, she destroyed the entire wing that Group had been in, leaving the authorities thinking it was the work of the executed Group. With her sudden strength, Clover relentlessly pursued perfection in hand-to-hand combat, while carefully deflecting suspicion by creating an alternate, ridiculously dumb persona.

Part Three

Putting It Together (In 1947 words)

Prompt: For the final part of the first weekly, you'll be writing a 1,000-word story that focuses on and features the character roles and types above.

“When the Factory was first built, an architect made a slight mistake- he added two doors to one of the rooms in the Cooking wing. The project had already started, so he just mentioned it to the construction manager, who boarded it up with some cheap boards and ignored it.” Anise, my friend, whispers to me.
I giggle. “Let me guess, you found it somehow and we’re going to sneak out from it.”
This excursion is strictly forbidden (Class F’s aren’t allowed outside unless hired, in which case they would be loaded into a truck, still not seeing the outside). However, Anise is a master of all things impossible.
Her gray eyes flashed, annoyed. “You still think this is a silly outing? Are you Clover?”
Clover is another girl in my Group- Cooking Group 088. Made up of fourteen- fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds, we train to eventually cook for higher classes. There are fifty of us. But Clover is… the best description for her would be this archaic term (found by Anise, of course) “dumb blonde”.
She giggles too much and can’t tell her left hand from right, and the Inspector suspects she’s had some sort of brain injury. I think so too. Anise has always tried to find her secret, why or how she’s like this, but Clover just evades any attempts at finding out her true identity.
Anyway.
Anise kicks down an old, rotting door- and I marvel at the lack of security cameras that usually monitor us. The only way we got out tonight was because Anise wired two loops into the system at specific times, at which we could exit and enter.
“Free!” I shriek happily, twirling in the night sky. We’d escaped the Factory! We could run away, pretend to be Class D’s, and maybe even travel to another City.
A rough voice barks something, so Anise and I shrink back against the wall. Then when it’s not directed at us, Anise boldly runs to the corner of the building and sticks her head around it. She looks back at me, disgust clear in her posture. “Come,” she mouths.
I go.
A Farming Group is being loaded into a truck. “You’ll be working for the President- a Class A.” A security guard says. “And we were supposed to leave seven minutes ago, so hurry.” She prods a frightened boy with her gun.
Ugh. City Guards.
“Social hierarchy allows humans to be treated like this- as slaves!” Anise snarls under her breath, watching the Guards slam down the truck’s back cover, leaving fifty young boys and girls in the dark, packed, afraid.
“That’s Farming Group 091!” I’d recognized one of them. “Oh no, Kale and Okra…” Ten-, eleven-, and twelve-year-olds. “Why didn’t the President pick another Farming group? Isn’t there…Farming Group 090? Thirty-four to thirty-six-year-olds, right?”
“The President doesn’t trust anyone older than them.” Anise sighs.
She turns to me. “This is why we need to leave this City. Leave all the Classes behind. We can’t remain Class F’s.”
I check the schedule imprinted on the sleeve of my serving dress. “We’re scheduled for baking in an hour, when are we supposed to return?”
“Two hours,” Anise replies.
“Aww, but I like baking!”
“You see?” she becomes angry again. “This propaganda fed into you! If we’d had our way, we wouldn’t depend on schedules! You could bake WHENEVER you wanted to! Not bake whenever! Go out and CHOOSE the ingredients you bake with! You could even do some activities NOT related to making food!”
“Anise, you’re crazy.”
“No, I just seem that way to you because they made you think that,” she sighs, defeated, all the fight leaving her again. “Want to explore the city?”
So we do, but I still think she’s crazy. I had literally just said I liked baking, not sung the praises of the horrid Inspector or the President or anything. I didn’t even LIKE the President, wasn’t that alone enough to convince Anise of my “rebelliousness”?
Old terms from a forgotten time seem to convey my confusion the best.
When we return, I tell Sage, our baker friend, about it. He’s chill. He shrugs.
But when we go out again, my initial confusion of how mad she was fades. I saw poor Class D’s, I expected them to be sad or overwhelmed with choices. But I saw happiness. A family could only afford one meal a day for their three youngest children, yet they were all content with sharing and giving. The mother worked tirelessly, but she always had more love to give.
Visit after visit, journey after journey, the truth set into me. Anise had always been right. There was a life that the City had robbed me of somewhere outside the walls of the Factory. How could I have missed that?
My yearning for a real life grew until I couldn’t stand it. Three months after our fateful venture into the real world, I clutched Anise’s sleeve. “I can’t stand it anymore!” I whispered to her in the dead of night, when the cameras couldn’t see my tears. “We need to…fake papers or something. I can’t live like this anymore.”
Those images kept flashing in my head: the woman, so poor but so happy. Twirling her infant in her arms. Me. The Inspector had told us again and again how lucky we were to live these lives, but all I could think about was how I would trade it all in a heartbeat for hers.
“Oh, Rose,” Anise smiled at me through tears. “You have seen the truth.” She never called me Rosemary, insisting she wouldn’t use a brand the City had forged in my skin.
That night I began calling her Nise.

“Hey, Rosemary,” calls Clover’s soft voice through the dormitory. I sigh, checking the digital clock embedded in the wall beside my head. 2:34 am.
“It’s two in the morning,” I tell her. “This can wait until tomorrow.” What is it? One of her stupid little rhymes? I remember the last one- “I would love to pick a daisy / My friend Rosemary.” It made no sense.
Clover’s eyes gleamed in the light of the moon. Suddenly, without noise, she was next to me. I stifled a scream. “Clover!”
“That’s not my name. My name is Alayla, a war goddess. And war I shall wage,” whispers the girl beside me that cannot be Clover.
“Clover…” I say again. This is not Clover. Clover sings silly rhymes, forgets her left shoe from right, and is not sure what red and yellow make. Clover does not move quickly, silently to my bed in the middle of the night. Is this an impostor sent to test me?
“You must listen and pass on the story. I had wished to tell Anise, but she isn’t here and I need to act soon,” says Not-Clover urgently. Alayla. “Have you ever wondered where Farming Group 089 has gone? Ten years ago, they poisoned every carrot in the spring batch. Two Class B’s died.”
I suck in a breath, but she continues.
“I was six, turning seven that very day,” Alayla-Not-Clover tells me. Gone is the girl that we all suspected had a brain injury. “I had wandered off, trying to find a hiding spot for the casual game of Hide-And-Seek.”
“I remember. We couldn’t find you for ages, finally, we found you’d locked yourself in an abandoned closet,” I breathe. Curious it was also the day she began acting funny.
“That was a facade. All of it was. I wandered into Farming Group 089’s execution waiting room. One of them held my hand as his group members walked into the gas chamber, one by one. He told me, ‘The classes are corrupt. The President is corrupt. They all are. Poison them. Kill them. Kill them all, one by one until they fall.’” Her eyes were glassy, reliving the memory that had haunted her for ten long years. “I escaped, but his words showed me the truth. I went to their old area, their farmland…and I ripped it all apart. My rage gave me incredible strength. I uprooted a carrot with a single tug, peeled back twelve meters of farmland in a minute. I was a whirlwind, unstoppable in hate and anger. They thought the Farming Group had done it themselves, to rid the evidence before they died. They were wrong. It was all me. And today, I can stand it no longer.”
“Why today?” I ask, because it is the only thing I can think of.
“Because today, you saw the light from Ani- Nise. Now you can carry her fire and mine, and yours, and the fire of Farming Group 089.”
“Wait, wait, what’s happening?” I have been waking up slowly ever since she first talked to me. Now I snap alert. “Clover. Cl- Alayla. What are you-”
“Goodbye,” she kisses my cheek gently, then she is gone, pushing open the dorm door (setting off various alarms, waking the other girls in pandemonium).
“Nise!” I shriek as loud as possible. She runs to me from her bunk as the other girls scream and cry and try to bury themselves in their blankets. As I run to where Alayla had gone, I fill her in.
“Faster!” she commands, and her long legs pump stride after stride under, at last, we go to the same corner we saw Farming Group 090, those ten-year-olds, get shipped away. Where Alayla is going? Where- I realize with a jolt- where Farming Group 089 died.
Past and present, perhaps even future tie themselves together at that corner.
We reach it and peer around. Alayla seems to be lit by the moon’s holy fire as she punches or kicks down Guard after Guard after Guard. She hijacks their guns, opens fire on the rest. They have put down rebellions, but none as intense as this raging inferno the ditzy girl Clover has become. Dozens lie dead at her feet, with more pouring in every second, but Clov- Alayla just continues her burning.
She takes an explosive grenade and a fire one, ties them together, then pulls off both pins with her teeth and throws the entire package at the door. A moment, then an explosion. Guards splatter the brick wall of the courtyard. I can smell Death in the air, almost hearing him licking his lips as he takes the souls of the dead Alayla has left in her wake.
Alone for the moment, she throws another grenade at the gates. The flimsy but electric wire blows open completely. She climbs through it without touching it carefully, then she is off and running to freedom.
To the other side.
Nise knows what’s going to happen because she clenches my hand tight and looks down, at her Factory-issued shoes. She shakes her head. A single Guard, bleeding from many wounds, has painfully reached his gun.
He aims.
I open my mouth to cry out to Alayla, but Nise claps a hand over my mouth. “It’s us dead or her,” hisses the girl with broken light behind her eyes. I suddenly realize her eyes weren’t like that a year ago. She’s seen things…
Alayla turns a millisecond too late. The bullet catches her behind her heart and rips through her body. She twists, and for a second I think she’s somehow dodged…then she falls. The fire that had become her withers and dies.
Her body hits the ground with a small thud.
Her last words echo in my ears. “Goodbye.”
That’s when I see in the reflection of Anise’s eyes: my own. And all the beautiful, full lights behind them fully shatter in this moment.

Wrap Up (Total: 3003 Words)

Points

For completing part one: 700 points
For completing parts one and two: 1,000 points
For completing parts one, two, and three: 2,000 points

I get 2k points! Yay! (For Journalist)
Total Words: 3003

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 5, 2023 17:14:26)

FirestarForReal

Word War VS @Coding_Captain_UG (8 mins)

The people next to me are talking about something horrific. I probably can't talk about it on Scratch or this post will get taken down. Better, anyway. I don't want eight-year-olds reading it and getting concerned. I don't know what to write, I am just babbling for eight minutes at this point. I am doing this for a word war against a Scratch user in JWC just like me named Coding Captain UG.
Wow, already a minute and a half has passed. But I have six and a half more to go, do not worry. I am so weird, I go back to check my spelling errors even though that will cost me valuable time. Oh no, eight minutes is a lot of time! My opponent could be writing like one thousand words! Those words don't have to make sense a lot, but they still do. Oh no, wait if I spam oh no do they count as words?
Nah, that would be cheating. I would rather not cheat and lose, after all, it's just a random Scratch camp, and losing one word war doesn't matter anyway. That was me seeing the big picture, guys. I am so cool. GTG for a few seconds while I spell-check. Just four minutes left, okay I'm back. There is no way all of that tiny amount of text was four minutes, I am so going to lose.
Okay going god mode typing I can fix spelling afterward. Concentration extreme I will write short words with no contractions so they can be more words because I am so cool like that I am just writing whatever comes to mind immediately because I am so hurried but wait I still have four minutes don't need to be this fast in fact writing at this pace for four minutes can't be sustainable for my hands my wrists are already starting to cramp and looking up from my keyboard I can see how many spelling errors exist because I just refuse to hit the backspace button oh no another minute has passed! type type type help.
wait maybe I am overreacting…maybe my opponent has a 30-word-per-minute speed….*checks*
AHHH oh no it's 54 words per minute that is a lot… fifty-four times eight is like, four hundred words! Four hundred thirty-two words! And if mine is 75 words per minute, I should've written…*math* I googled it, SIX HUNDRED WORDS. But I was writing six hundred words for the weekly part one just now and it took me almost twenty minutes.
Oh gosh, my shoulders hurt…
Still, one more minute so I will spell check now. I just spent thirty seconds spell-checking-

(443 words?! *dies*)

Comments For Proof:
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/782437769/#comments-309016059
LOSS

They had TWO more words I knew I would lose T-T

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 3, 2023 17:13:00)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 4th

Prompt: What is a cliche you love? Write 250 words about why you love that cliche and how you could use it in one of your stories. This daily earns 400 points because I will share my work.

I love the bad ending cliche because it's just really fun to write. Of course, it's super cliffhanging to read and I don't like reading bad endings, but I just love writing them. Of course, then my readers will bug me for a sequel that I don't feel like writing, but still. In fact, in the first weekly that I'm working on right now, there will be a sad ending (hahahaa).
I could use it in a story by killing off the protagonist, not even at the hands of the antagonist but just due to a minor roadblock. My readers, who had already formed an emotional bond with the character, will scream. (My nonexistent readers haha). I don't know how to write two hundred and fifty words… but I'll try.
Anyway, I love sad endings because they stay with the readers so much more vividly. Every experience they've had through the character, every little detail learned, it all comes up to this CLIMAX. And the readers are thinking, well obviously the hero always wins. That's why I need to change it up a bit. The character could DIE.
I could even put a sad ending in a supposed-to-be-happy story, like a fairy tale. Instead of the prince and princess living happily ever after, they instead divorce and live a sad life apart. Or have another adventure and then die at the end. Death is a good sad-ending maker. It's quick and simple (which makes it a cliche).
250 words, bye!

(250 words exactly lol)

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 4, 2023 23:35:40)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 5th

Prompt: Write a full (first and last) name in the comments. Any random name, or one you like! Someone else will take that name and make a character solely based on the name! Now, you will pick a name from someone else and write an outline of your character. 400 words for 600 points bc I share my work.

Name: Loreta Maria Cabell
Nickname: Lorrie
Gender: Female and she/her pronouns.
Sexuality: pansexual
Age: 18
Personality: She's very, very bright, scores high on IQ tests, and has lots of friends. She's not artistic or athletic, at all, something she's ashamed of. Looking at her test scores always brings her mood up, and she studies religiously every day. She started college at 15 but she's still in it at 18, double majoring in Chemistry and Astrophysics solely because she was told those were the two hardest majors. After graduating she plans to attend grad school for both lawyer and doctor.
Hobbies: Studying, chilling with her friends, memorization, trying to draw
Family: Mama: Leisha Cabell (African American). Mom: Jennie Li. (Asian). Yes, she has two moms If you don't like it then too bad. She also has a cute little “accident” brother (wait how can it be an accident if you're both women? she asks her moms, but they just say shhh because they “accidentally” did a three-month adoption process for little Georgie Cabell. Age 8.)
Likes: Seeing A+ grades, hanging out with her friends
Dislikes: Getting A-'s, even a 96 or 95 gives her nervousness. She studies 2+ hours every day, so 96/95 is FAILURE.
Appearance: She is the genetic daughter of Leisha Cabell, so she looks African American. She has frizzy black hair and smooth (never had teenage acne, yay!) unblemished dark skin. Her eyes are dark brown and she has straight white teeth from years of wearing braces.
Backstory: ok
Friends: Georgie (of course, he's 8 but he's her dear little brother). Chyna Khatri (Indian girl, 17, straight). Rebecca Floros (white trans girl, 18, straight). Echo Wynonna (white, nonbinary they/them pronouns, 18, bisexual).
Favorites: Favorite colors are black and pink. Favorite book is the Illiad by Homer. Favorite time period is now. Favorite animal is the dolphin.
Other Facts: She has a sunny outlook on life. Even though she knows more than most about how humans have ruined the world and themselves, she still has a positive view and believes she can fix it. (After she's graduated, she's running for president of the USA. One of her goals is also to speak at the UN.)
Family Status: Middle class but they took out a loan for her to attend Harvard.
Funny story about her: When Lorrie, Mama, and Mom were leaving the mall and Lorrie was six, Mama jokingly asked her as they stepped into the parking garage, “Hey, do you know where we parked the car?” Lorrie said no, she didn't, but give her five minutes and she could accurately work out a diagram of probability. She knew for a fact they had parked in Lot D, but she needed to take an estimate of how many cars there were in that Lot and then how many black cars, red cars, etc to find the chances of- Mom had cut her off then, proclaiming that she and Mama had a little genius on their hands.

(500 words exactly)

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 5, 2023 15:15:04)

FirestarForReal

Random Writing:

(So basically I saw those POV things on YouTube and they're all really good prompts.)

Loreta Maria Campbell- also known as Lorrie- pointed to the weird thing she could see above herself. “What is this?”

It was a person-speaking silhouette emoji with a number beside it. That number had gone from 50 to 47.

“Oh, honey, you know about overpopulation?” Her Mama sighed. “The government issues you a specific number of words each day, if you don't use them all or use too many, you die.”

Lorrie did a quick Google search. “The average person speaks about 7,000 words a day…but I only got fifty.”

The number above her head dwindled to 33.

“Shh!” her mom cautioned. “Don't talk! Save your words!” At Lorrie's gestures, she responded, “I got 2,000 words. I thought I wouldn't be able to finish, but I probably will now that I heard what you said. ”Now I have 1,938 words.“

Lorrie sighed. She had a presentation today! It had to be at least 10 minutes long. How could she stretch 33 words that far? Walking to school, she really freaked out. Maybe her professors would cancel spoken exams, though.

Going through social media as she walked to college revealed the world in chaos. The number #1 trending clip on all platforms was titled, ”What Happens If You Use Too Many Words.“ #2 was ”What Happens If You Don't Use Enough Words."

Horror tightening her stomach, Lorrie opened the first clip. The audio was Russian, but subtitles in every language were available and automatic to the user's phone (default English). The person who was filming said something and a calm Siri voice spoke on top of the audio. How many words do you have left.

The person who was being filmed held up one finger. The camera swiveled to a clock, which read 6:30 pm. The person with one word left would have to only use one in the next six hours until midnight. Then the camera angle went back to the person. He slipped on some ice and yelled, “Oh-” the video automatically censored his next word.

A warning symbol emoji flashed over his head. -1 WORDS. It said in Russian. (The subtitles helpfully layered English over it.)

The guy simply died. Here one second, gone the next. He collapsed. There was no blood or explosions, he just died instantly. The video cut to a later time with the words, UPDATE on it. “Autopsy reveals his heart just stopped instantly,” said the cameraperson sadly. “Please, everyone, be careful with your words.”

The clip ended.

“This is terrible!” Lorrie gasped, then clapped a hand over her mouth. 30 words left.

She played the second one- in some timezones, it was already midnight. This time it was an English clip. The camera zoomed in on a clock first- 11:59:20. 11:59:21. 11:59:22.

“I have to say two hundred words. I don't know what to do.” A girl blabbed. “Ooga Booga wordy word. Halala.” She sipped some water and continued rambling frantically. “Forty seconds to say two hundred words…” she paused to divide the numbers, then quickly started talking again. “Help. HELP!”

The filmer, most likely out of words at that point, just placed a hand on her shoulder. The camera went back to the clock, which was three, two, one second away. Then it was midnight and the new day. A different camera angle picked up the footage and was angled at the girl.

Mid-word (it was “banana”) she slumped, dead. Subtitles over her body read, “Heart just stopped.”

The clip ended.

Lorrie, not talking, sighed in sadness. So many losses. She withdrew a poster and marker from her backpack and wrote, HOW MANY WORDS LEFT? on it. When she reached her school campus, she flashed it at the first person she saw.

He held up two fingers.

She frowned and decided to try something risky. Give him ten words, she thought. Suddenly, her count dwindled to twenty.

His eyes widened and he grabbed the poster, fumbling a pen out of his pocket. Did you just give me words? He wrote in shock.

Wait, people could give their words away to not die, wrote Lorrie in reply.

No, I had to accept or deny it, was his answer. I obviously accepted. Thank you so much.

I'm Lorrie.

Jack.

Can I have your number?

Sure, it's 123-456-7890. (pretend this is a real number guys)

FirestarForReal

Word War VS @sweetcakefamily (6 mins)

Did you know a football player collapsed in the middle of a game and they had to stop it? Yeah, it was all over the news. He's fainted but is currently stable or at least I think. I don't really know (or care) because I am not a football person. Speaking of accidents, Jeremy Renner who plays Hawkeye in the Ultimate Cinematic Marvel Universe (MCU) oops I made the wrong order. Marvel Cinematic Unvierse. Yeah anyway the guy who plays Hawkeye, Jeremy Renner, had a snowplow accident. WARNING! His body was nearly torn in half. Okay yeah, END WARNING!

I don't know if anyone would really get triggered while reading that but now I put a warning…speaking of warnings I think people nowadays are going overboard with them. For example, TikTokers put d13 instead of die. It won't bother anyone to read the single word ‘die’. If they are triggered for real, they wouldn't go on the internet with LOTS of death-related content.

Also, k1dnap. Like, seriously? Speaking of kidnapping, do you know what AMBER alerts are? They're like when a kid gets k1dnapp3d oooooh lol jk anyway they're serious alerts and usually say things like, “kidnapped kid! John Doe! white male, 8 years old! last seen in a red honda civic in new york city, new york! Kidnapper: possibly a weird uncle named Johnny Doey! *Description*”

So if you ever get those, DO NOT DELETE THE NOTIFICATION. Memorize the car color and scan traffic for it. Even if you're inside, look out your window occasionally. If you see a matching car/child, don't hesitate to tell someone that can call the police or do it yourself. You could be saving a life! (or a lot of ransom money at least).

Do you think there should be school dress codes? And uniforms? Because like, some people say that kids will feel less pressured to wear cool things and trendy things if everyone is wearing the same things. But then- (timer ended).

331 words

VICTORY

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 9, 2023 13:58:11)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 7

Prompt: Have you ever wondered what life on other planets is like? Today choose a planet and write about life there in 300 words for 350 points!

Aerolyn woke with a refreshed sigh. Her dream had been so wonderful….she had been flying in the atmosphere with her friend Haylen (xe was a fire spirit). Of course, Haylen couldn't fly. Fire elementalists didn't do that. “Morning, parent,” she said as she fluttered down the stairs with her ever-undulating wings.
The parent that had asexually reproduced her, Peyton (an earth warrior spirit) waved back. Different from normal reproduction, asexual reproduction (actually a biological thing take 7th grade science y'all) was when spirits felt like it, they popped out an identical clone of themselves as a young child. It was a time-consuming process, but fruitful in making more spirits for Natura.
“Hello, Aerolyn.” Peyton released happiness enzymes in the air for her to spell, signaling that they were pleased with her clone's appearance. “I always wonder why you aren't my exact clone.”
“Yes, we have debated over that many times. Your reproduction must be faulty.” Aerolyn replied pleasantly. She reached causally into the fifth dimension, one that was a layer above her own reality. “Someone is viewing us through a dimension.”
“Ugh, again?” Peyton expressed disappointment. “What are we now, silly stories?”
“Yes, from a small planet, third from their sun. They have written as a mere tale for spiritlets.” (That meant young spirits.)
“Our viewer wonders about our…apparentia et veritas.” (Appearances and reality). Aerolyn's words are not understandable to you, the reader. Being of a different dimension, some senses of hers just cannot be written, which is why she seems flat. But she's not, she's just incomprehensible.
Peyton sighed. “Another obsolete sense? Last fifth-moon-cycle, we had one wondering about our…magnetic anatomy, was it? Metal, while it exists, is not something we use to map ourselves!”
“Our viewer is waiting patiently for an answer.”
“Oh, alright. Well, we don't ‘appear’ as anything. Sight isn't something that exists here…how do I describe it. I'll use your silly senses. Smell- we can almost smell and ‘echolocate’ through that. We can smell emotions (well, really their chemicals). Hearing and touching makes up some, but not a lot. For example, how much do you sense with your tasting? Not a lot of what's around you. That's like us for hearing and touching. Aside from smelling, we also use…non te deseram. I can't describe it.”
And why not?
“Imagine trying to explain variables in math (x, y) to a six-year-old, but you don't have pencils and paper, graphs, or anything, just a list of their class' vocabulary words.” Peyton snapped. “You vaguely get a sense of what they know, and with extreme difficulty they may grasp the concept of what you're trying to say, but they would forget the next day and not be able to apply these skills for a very long time.”
“Oh, finally our window of time here is done,” Aerolyn says.
She swipes her fingers at you dismissively, and you are gone.

You never think of her and Peyton again.

(“And look how they think it's still a story! How cute.” Peyton says when you are gone. “Oh, I left the connection open. Oops.” And then they are truly gone.)

(520 words)

FirestarForReal

Jan 8 Daily

Prompt: Everyone needs writing prompts, sometimes, right? Well, today it's time to share some! Make up a prompt for someone to use, and post a comment with it. Take someone else's prompt and write a scene using it! 500 words for 500 points! (A point a word, then.)

Real prompt I stole um,,, borrowed: “It was the end, the end of all ends. They all had to go, it was time, but they knew what to do.”

Astrid Asya stood looking into the Final Abyss. The void. There was no escape this time, nowhere else to go. She glanced to her right. Rocky Penners shrugged, a wry grin on his face. “I've no tricks left in my bag this time,” he said in a tone that seemed uncaring for the loss of their world, although Astrid knew this front.
She glanced to her left. Princess Sotalia Angelique of the Wild Kingdom, otherwise know as Talia, her best friend, had a solemn look on her face. All three of them had been through so much, traveling and thieving through all Seven Kingdoms. They'd stolen an Emerald from the Forest Empire, a Ruby from the Witch Realm, so many adventures.
But now the three of them were cornered. On their last adventure, to take the Sapphire from the Ice Palatinate, they'd triggered a trap on their hasty escape. Now Raelynn, Devourer of Worlds, Goddess of the Eclipse, was released. Unable to take physical form, She was in a frenzy. The Ice Palatinate was evacuated, a bounty placed on their heads, and it just got worse.
Half of it was gone already, the kingdom in shreds, the queen missing, possibly dead.
So Astrid, Rocky, and Talia had returned to the void to try to battle the Goddess or something. But now here they were, staring down at the void. It was a rapidly growing crater centered on the place where the trap had been triggered, and in the middle was a light-killing dark force. A whirl of darkness. Once every few seconds, a blinding white flash of light would illuminate the mess, blinding the three of them.
Left unattended, that void will devour the world. the Queen had screamed angrily at the three of them as they left. You don't know what you've done.
And they didn't. They had blamed it on silly superstition (ice people were always so obsessed with hierarchy, after all).
But in the darkest time, Astrid had remembered. When she visited a Seer for a prophecy, the Seer had just told her to flip a book to any page and read what was on it. “First try's your new fate,” they had said smugly.
So Astrid went to a random place in the book. In a wavering voice, she began, “When the Eclipse forms, the one who has caused the appearance of her must sacrifice themselves-”
Alarmed, the seer snatched the book out of her hands and threw it in the fire. “No! To read a prophecy is to make it happen!” Distraught, she had sent Astrid away. Three weeks later, her shop was found deserted and the seer vanished.
Now, Astrid remembered that prophecy. “She who has triggered it…”
Astrid had stepped on it, they all knew. What was the point in lying, then? Nobody knew, but they did anyway. All three of them had pretended they were visiting the Void just to check on the situation, but in reality they all expected Astrid to jump in and end it.
“I-” they all started, then froze.
“I just wanted to say thank you for the adventures, one last time,” Astrid blurted out the fastest.
“Well, I was going to say that,” Rocky paused.
“So was I!' Talia exclaimed.
Astrid, being smart, deduced it immediately. ”You two think YOU triggered it!“
”Because I did!“ Talia argued.
”No, I did!“ Rocky shot back. The two of them began fighting.
”There's really only one way to find out,“ Astrid said cheerfully. ”Goodbye!“ She waved, then ran and jumped into the hole.
”Oh, for goodness' sake." Rocky sighed, and followed her in.
Talia would never be left out, so in she went.
As the three of them fell, somehow they all lined up. They looked at each other awkwardly. The void grew closer to them, and before they would've touched, it flashed white. They couldn't see-

(649 words)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 9

Prompt: Fairy tales such as Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella are considered classics in the book world. Today look up a famous fairy tale and rewrite it in a different genre! You don’t have to make the story as long as the original fairy tale and you’re free to change aspects of the original story. 400 words for 650 points because I will share my work!

Choice: Rapunzel, Dystopian

Once upon a time, there was a poor man and his wife. But to say it was once “upon a time” would be incorrect, as that would suggest some poor, strange, old time in the medieval ages. In reality, they lived in the high-technology City of Glass. The government was corrupt, but as long as people received their rations and beautiful, mesmerizing images on their VR Displays, they didn't care. Of course, the only people who could make those Images that captivated the population (bread and circuses) were specially powered people named Creators. Images were like plants, they always said. And Creators were just farmers.
Once an Image was viewed, it would vanish forever, and hundreds could be grown in a season.
The wife was pregnant (with a daughter, the ultrasounds revealed) and as she gazed out of the window, she saw a Creator working her magic onto an empty field, which bloomed with mesmerizing colors. As the Creator went up and down the rows and gathered the Images into code for a VR Display, she felt she MUST have them.
Over the days, her urges grew stronger until she begged her husband to get one Image for her, or she would die. So the poor man left their apartment, crossed the bridge between the buildings, took the elevator to the roof (there was a key required to press the roof button, he picked it with lockpicks), and grabbed a random Image into his VR Display.
As the wife placed it on her head and gazed at the Image for the max time for an hour, she felt blissfully happy. But when the Image finally faded into gray wisps, she was sad again. “Please get me some more,” she begged her husband.
Her husband relented and took his journey again. Unfortunately, the Creator was waiting for him at the top of the elevator. “So you're the thief!” She cried angrily. “That was why I had to deliver 49 Images instead of 50!”
The poor man begged for forgiveness, as the Creators had immense power in society and could get him arrested for no reason. “Please, it's for my pregnant wife!” He blurted out stupidly.
The Creator's eyes flashed. “Well, then,” she said, suddenly smooth and calm. “She may have as many Images as she pleases.”
The husband sighed in relief.
“On one condition,” continued the Creator, for she was not done. “I will receive your newborn child.” The dark secret of the Creators- for every batch of Images they made, human experimenting was required. They couldn't come up with these bliss-inducing splashes of colors without testing them again and again on human subjects. By the time testing was over, the subjects would be so horrified, scared, and utterly joyful out of their minds. Their minds were all broken and the government didn't care to repair them.
In fear, the husband had no way out and had to promise the Creator his child.
Nine months later, the Creator came to collect on her promise. “A healthy baby girl, I shall name her Statuette, for she is in the likeness of the Images she was traded for,” said the Creator.
She used the girl to test on for the next twelve years, but her mind never broke. In time, the Creator realized Statuette was a Creator as well- the only type of person who wouldn't go insane from testing. Her superiors would tell her to bring Statuette in for work, there was a global shortage of Creators after all, but no. The Creator wanted Statuette all to herself.
She was getting more fearful of Statuette's powers after Statuette's images, which she doodled with a simple pen and paper, could grow to physical forms. Something nobody was supposed to be able to do.
When Statuette was twelve, the Creator locked her up in a tower with no pens or paper to prevent her power from growing. When the Creator visited her for testing every month, she would call, “Statuette! Statuette! Let down your ladder!”
Statuette would throw down a rope ladder. Once the Creator had climbed up, they reeled in the ladder and did testing. To leave, the Creator put out the ladder again and climbed down. When she was at the bottom she would call out to Statuette, who would reel it back in. As a result, Statuette had never any friends or life. If the testing insanity didn't get to her, the isolation would.

10 YEARS PASS

One day the son of the President of Glass City witnessed this on a horseback ride out from the city (yes, a HORSEback ride. Prince Diomid was so filthy rich he could afford HORSES). When the Creator left, he tried it. Statuette was confused, perhaps the Creator had forgotten an item, but when Prince Diomid climbed up, he wasn't the Creator!
Statuette shrieked and attacked him.
When he woke up three hours later, he explained the world gently. Statuette explained her point of view and Diomid vaguely remembered a couple telling the press this some years ago when he was young. They were the same age- fourteen. They made escape plans the next time he returned.
Unfortunately, since Statuette had never lied before (never had a reason to!) she was terrible at it. Her tongue was also loose and one day, it slipped. When the Creator climbed up, she asked, “Why is it that you climb so slow, when Prince Diomid is here in a moment?”
“Wretched child!” screamed the Creator. “You have betrayed me!” And she did the cruelest thing of all- she took Statuette's hands in her own and whispered an ancient incantation, getting rid of her power, once and for all. It was a dark Creator secret nobody knew anymore except for her.
The next time Prince Diomid came to visit, he called as usual, “Statuette! Statuette! Let down your ladder!”
The Creator let down the ladder, but when Diomid reached the top he saw her face instead of his girlfriend's. “Aha!” The Creator cried evilly. “You came for your darling, but the sweet bird no longer sits in the nest, and sings no more!”
Thus she released the ladder and watched him fall to the ground.
He fell to the ground in pain, breaking half of his bones and wishing he had broken the other half as well. Finally when he could move, he wandered about in misery for several days. When he returned to the city, he found Statuette again, rejoined with her parents happily. She had borne a pair of twins, a boy and a girl, and was happily making Images since the Creator had vanished.
They all lived happily ever after. The end.
And as for the Creator, she realized she had dropped the rope ladder and had nowhere to go. Driven insane by isolation, thirst, and hunger, she attempted to jump down as she had seen Diomid survive. Unfortunately for her, Diomid was a strong, muscled young man and she was an old bag of bones by then.
She died.
And they all really lived happily ever after. The end.

(but this is dystopia, so actually the government completely scammed Statuette and Diomid. that is a story for another time.)

(1205 words what-)

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 9, 2023 16:45:50)

FirestarForReal

Weekly For Week 3

Part 1: Writing Five Scenes In 852 Words

Prompt: For your assignment, write five separate scenes, each one focusing on one of the five senses. Each scene should be 150 words minimum. (So 750 words total).

Scene 1 (Sound): Alysa Jenson sat at the Japanese cafe/temple. It was serene. Sipping her tea, she could hear the amazing sounds all around her. Water trickling down rocks and streams, the quiet chatter of patrons around her, it was all heavenly. The water's falling sounds never stopped, just an endless stream of shshshshshshshshshsh. Even lovelier, the skies opened to rain. Gentle patters of rain showered the rocks around the open-air cafe. A bolt of thunder cracked the air, but it felt peaceful and welcoming instead of frightening. The rain drew on until finally, the skies closed their showers and the rain stopped falling an hour later. The murmurs of fellow humans around Alysa dominated her hearing once more. In the background, the overfilled streams gushed water into new corners and nooks of the garden, and all was well. As if drawn out by the rain, songbirds flew to the trees in whirls of fluttering wings and began singing in clear, high voices. (161 words)

Scene 2 (Sight): Alysa rose from her sturdy red chair, paint peeled from hundreds of patrons sitting there over the years. She stretched her arms and legs from sitting there for an hour. As she did, she marveled at the coincidence of her brilliant red sweater and the Japanese temple arches being the same color. “It's beautiful,” she smiled. She admired the sight of a singing songbird- its majestic plumage was streaked with dark brown, beige, white, and spotted with black. Alysa looked at the clearing skies and caught a rare sight- a bird's wings spread over the sun, a beautiful eclipse. Alysa couldn't even tell the bird's color from the shadows cast on it, but she thought it might've been a crane or stork- white and long, majestic in flight. Then she peered at the lush green trees and moss on the gray rocks. Nature really was more pretty than any overly-plastic surgeried- person. The water was an amazingly deep shade of blue, white froth on its edges as it hurried down the river. (172 words)

Scene 3 (Feeling): Now she stood up, marveling at the firm feel of the bumpy rocks under her feet. As Alysa stepped out from under the cool shade of the cafe, the heat of the sun struck her. Luckily it was around spring, so she didn't die of heat instantly, but rather basked in the gentle warmth. A brief breeze flew through the garden and lifted her hair a little. Alysa giggled. What a tickling sensation. She walked towards the bridge over a small lake carefully, stepping on the worn redwood bridge. It was really very red wood. Her fingers grasped the dry material of the handrail, sending a chill through her. Quickly, she returned to her bag and rifled through it for hand lotion. Finding it, she spread the glossy cream over her guitar-lined hands and fingers carefully. Since she played guitar for an hour a day, her fingers had eternal ridges in them (guitar players can relate). Alysa rubbed her hands together, letting the cream swirl around, before returning to the bridge to take in the sun. It really was a wonderful day. (182 words)

Scene 4 (Smell): Having enough of the sights and sounds, she returned to the cafe and descended a level deeper. To the real restaurant area. Immediately, hundreds of (well, like four) smells hit her nose. First was deliciously unhealthy fried items from Mcdonald's. Unhealthy, but delicious. Then it was the musk of, well, humans. Cloggy and disgusting. Alysa tried to focus on McDonald's. Then was the wonderful baked pastry smell from a bakery, drawing her towards it. Unable to resist, Alysa hurried over to the very long line. After smelling the tantalizing scent for ten minutes, she got to the front and ordered the most fragrant food- a slice of apple pie. The worker, a smiling woman, handed it to her for $2.44. Alysa tipped a dollar. Then, mouth watering at the smell, she carried it to a small table. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she could almost taste the pie just from the smell. (153 words).

Scene 5 (Taste): Without wasting any more time, she dug in. The flavors exploded (not literally) in her mouth. The sweet sugared, yet gooey apples, the just-perfect texture of the crust (sorry I don't really eat pie so idk how it tastes), and the whipped cream on top completing the set. Alysa was so enchanted by the amazing taste that she wolfed down the rest of the pie slice, still incredibly hungry at the end. So she practically ran to McDonald's for a cheeseburger (is anyone else getting hungry reading this). The line was twice as long this time, but still, she got to the front in time and ordered the juiciest burger and most fried, salted fries they had. Sprinting back to her table, she took a bite of the burger. Bread bun! Amazing meat! Even a hint of tomato! Melted cheese (ahhhhhh)! Salt, fat, and sugar were the most unhealthy BUT delicious things for her body, and Alysa was more than willing to indulge her happiness enzymes just then. Then she bit into the fries (I'm stopping writing here, I will get too hungry sorry). (184 words)

Part 2: Writing Four Literary Devices in 421 Words

Prompt: For your assignment, you'll write one scene of at least 400 words and should incorporate at least four of the six literary devices into your scene to improve the setting.

Story: “Ugh!!! I am SO hungry I could eat a horse!” shrieked Alysa's best friend Nicolet. Hyperbole.
Alysa rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, if we went to Greenwood Stables right now would you eat Sugar?” Sugar was a horse at Greenwood Stables, Nicolet’s favorite one.
“Well, that's not what I meant. Can we go get Burger King?” Nicolet asked. “It's in Loretta Plaza. I’ll pay.”
Alysa shrugged. ”Sure. I mean, I walked here so I didn’t bring my car, but I suppose we can take yours.”
They walked to Nicolet’s bright blue car. As they did, Alysa peered back at Nicolet’s house. It was beige, square, and tall, with two stories and four windows. There was a two-car garage that was freshly painted white and prim bushes lined the sidewalk, as well as a perfectly mowed lawn. Imagery
“Dude, your house looks really nice.” Alysa grinned at Nicolet. “Like, seriously.”
“Thanks!” Nicolet smiled and fluffed her blonde hair. The two of them got into the car, but it refused to start. Nicolet frowned at it and turned the key again, all pride gone. The engine growled and stubbornly stayed off.. Personification. “Seriously?” she yelled.
“Relax,” Alysa said. “Maybe we don't have to go to Burger King. I'll call a mechanic.” She reached for her phone, then carefully selected her number from the contacts list, then brought the phone to her ear. “Hello? Yes, this is”- she glanced at Nicolet- “Alysa Jenson. My friend Nicolet Tang’s car isn’t turning on. Address?”
49 Nickel Boulevard, Franklin Nicolet mouthed.
“Forty-five Sickle Boulevard, Franklin.” Alysa incorrectly repeated to the phone.
“You can read lips about as well as water is dry.” Simile. Nicolet said sarcastically. She snatched up the phone. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that.” She glared at Alysa. “It’s FORTY-NINE NICKEL BOULEVARD.”
“Err, okay. Just one question though-” said the mechanic. “Which Franklin?”
“Huh???” Alysa blinked. “You know, Franklin the town?”
The mechanic sighed deeply. “Is it…Franklin, Alabama, Arkansas, there are four in California, one in Connecticut, or the one in Georgia, Illinois…”
“Do you not know which state your office is located in?” said Alysa scathingly.
“THERE ARE THREE FRANKLINS IN NEW YORK!” shrieked the mechanic.
“It’s the one in Delaware County!” Alysa yelled back.
“There is a village named Franklin inside the town named Franklin inside Delaware County!” yelled back the mechanic just as annoyedly. “Jeez, would the prank callers choose a different business at least?”
She slammed down the phone and hung up.
“Well uh…we can always order Burger King,” suggested Nicolet.

Part 3: All Of That In 1083 Words

Prompt: For your final assignment, you'll be writing a 1k minimum “short” story, incorporating all six literary devices and the five senses into it.

My heart was soaring. I was literally in Utopia! After writing one million words about Utopia (oh, it's not that much, All the Harry Potter books combined have over a million), my fantasy world, some coders managed to make a nearly perfect replica of it. It looked beautiful! The blooming cybercity was the place of my dreams.
Imagery and Sight I stared out at the city. Towering silver towers gleamed far and tall into the sky, surrounded by beautiful green blooms of plants, sprinkling pink petals gently on the ground. People on hoverbikes zoomed around cheering and calling to one another. There was even a central plaza for the city with a shimmering water fountain. Cascading blue water undulated over the marble edges beautifully. As I turned and turned, my brain released literal happiness chemicals.
I had worked so hard writing for a decade and a half, ever since I was ten years old, and now my published works had their own fandom, bigger than Harry Potter, Star Wars, and even Marvel COMBINED. But to see Utopia created like this in a video game brought tears to my eyes (in happiness not in sadness).
Hyperbole "I would die for this," I half-cried, not even knowing if it was a hyperbole or not because of how much I loved it. It depended on if I could access this in the afterlife.
Placing on my headphones, I experienced even stronger hits of pure joy. The coders had even integrated SOUNDS! Hearing As I described the distinctive whir of hoverbikes in my books, they had actually read it and found the exact sounds. It was somewhere between a muted helicopter blade spinning and some quiet screeching wheels. I could HEAR the rushing water and the calls of the hoverbikers.
I turned and hugged the lead coder, Sherri. “Thank you so much,” I whispered to her.
Her eyes were shining stars. Metaphor "No, thank you,“ Sherri responded. ”You're the one who wrote Utopia. My favorite book, by the way, is Utopia: Burning.“
”It's mine, too,“ I agreed, still hugging her.
After gently extracting herself, Sherri continued, ”There's a surprise for you in the kitchen.“
”A good surprise or a bad one?“
She laughed. ”A great one.“
I walked in the kitchen, not knowing what to expect. But then again, it was Fire-Day (the day the main character in my books overthrew Dystopia and turned it into Utopia) and it was the 10th anniversary of my first book (Utopia: Spark), so the surprise must be exceptional. And I wasn't wrong. Sitting there on the counter was a moonberry pie!
Moonberries were genetically engineered blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries cross in Utopia- something of a lavender-purple. They obviously did not exist in real life. But then, what was in front of me? ”Is this…moonberry pie?“ I dared to ask.
”It sure is,“ said Cal(ista) the cook. ”It was quite simple, actually, and I'm surprised nobody has thought of easily mixing the three origin berries together."
I cried with happiness again and dug into a big slice. Taste Delicious crust, filling, and edges exploded in my mouth. Sweet blueberries, tart raspberries, and the unexplainable food-beauty of blackberries combined with a nice dry crust to perfection. I ate two slices (and didn't regret it as I had had no lunch anyway).
It even smelled amazing- like a fruity smoothie. smell
“Make more, please, and distribute it among my Utopians (fans),” I begged Calista.
She smiled. "Well, I can't bake that many, but I have distributed my recipe online."
After her tearful hug from me, she gave me a fire medal. Symbolism “This symbolizes Utopia's uprising,” she explained. “Would you like me to put it around your neck?”
“Yes, please.” I replied. The medal sparkled and smiled (personification) at me as Cal put it on.
But then I remembered something as I returned to my office (the place where I suffered with my main characters for 15 long years). I HAD A DEADLINE! Yes in fact, I had joined a kids writing camp on this thing called Scratch. And it was almost midnight UTC and I hadn't submitted my weekly for week.
Touch My fingers shook as I hurriedly pressed the smooth on button of my three computer monitors. I shifted uneasily in my free-sponsored-gaming chair (which felt great, authentic leather and all). Finally when the computer turned on, I suddenly realized my hands were jammed from the pie and grabbed a coarse white napkin to rub it off. It stung, but I didn't care. Seventeen minutes to the deadline and I had four hundred more words to write! It was every writer's nightmare: procrastination until deadline.
I remembered how my writing used to be: slow as a sloth. (Simile). I took three years alone churning out Utopia: Spark lazily. The next book, my publisher told me amidst raging fans, would have to be released in a year and a half. Oh, how I struggled with that deadline! Instead of basking in my newfound fame and traveling the world with the millions it made me, I had to write when I never had to again!
But of course, I made it, and the next year Utopia: Ignition was released. Fondly, I listed off the books n my head. Utopia: Spark was the first. Then Utopia: Ignition. Book Three was Utopia: Burning. Then Utopia: Firestorm. Book five was a good one: Utopia: Inferno. Then the cliffhanging, fast-paced Utopia: Fireball. Finally, the end finale that exploded and shocked the world:
Utopia: Dynamite.
In which (spoiler alert!) the main character, who has given up on life (cliffhanger for inferno) is suddenly rehabilitated from the brink of destruction. The main character's wild powers had threatened to be over-consuming, but luckily friends and allies rallied to support. Finally the main character returns to the government of Dystopia and in one (700 page) book, destroys it all.
Sacrificing one life in the process. The main character's own.
It really shocked the world as most of them thought the main character would never die.
Oh, well. Now I'm working on a new series, another one that will explode (hopefully not literally). This time it's about water, and instead of the future, the past. Historical fiction! This will require historical research instead of the scientific research I'm mostly focused on, but oh well. It's going to be called Empire: something.
The first one will be called Empire: Droplet.

Total Words: 2356

I'll earn:
2600 points for completing parts one, two, and three

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 22, 2023 22:53:25)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 14

Prompt: Take these personality quizzes, BUT as if you were your character. Journal about the results you got, and if you think they were accurate. Write at least 100 words for 300 bc i share my work.

I will be taking these quizzes as Lorrie. On the MBTI test, she scored an ENFJ, meaning Extrovert Intuition Feeling Judging. However, I feel MBTI tests are not correct as most psychologists do not use them. They categorize people into either/or categories and force them to be one or the other (ie extrovert OR introvert, when ambiverts exist). Also, very important. For children, their personality changes and grows with them. If they take the test multiple times, most times they will get different results. And if they are set on receiving one result, they may begin acting in the way they feel they are supposed to be, thus limiting their personalistic growth.

For the elements Lorrie received the water result, meaning she is intelligent and clever (true). And for the emojis, she got ANGEL EMOJI. Extra kind and helpful?! Well, I suppose she is a bit helpful as she tries to be empathetic and teach people…

(157 words)

FirestarForReal

Word War VS @aloe-there LOSS

Once upon a time there lived a girl named Aurora. But then it was not so once about a time. Her parents were the President and her wife. The two of them both loved her and would do anything for her. One day, a Seer was hired to predict Aurora's future for her 16th birthday. Everyone was so excited- would she be a famous actor? Singer? Historian? There were so many options!

First came the blessings: famous people came from all over the world to bless Aurora. One CEO of some skin company gifted her “magical skin replenishing cream, promised to make your skin rejuvenate”. Another CEO of a sportswear company gave her top-of-the-line running shoes not even released to the public yet.

But when the seer came,

(128 words)

FirestarForReal

Daily for Jan 16th

Prompt: Today is going to be fairly simple. Write 400 words in your cabin’s genre for 605 points (I share my writing.) I'm in Journalist.

F: Hi, welcome back to JWC News on Channel 8, this is @FirestarForReal speaking. Hey Marissa (NPC co-host), you remember Ukraine?

M: That was a long time ago- almost a year ago! The war started on February 22nd, 2022, and now it's January 2023.

F: Well, many people are surprised to hear about these same old news stories again, but Ukraine is still holding on! That brave, small country against a world superpower, aided by many neighbors and helping hands.

M: Yes, that's right. In fact, popular YouTuber Mr. Beast with over 100 million subscribers has actually donated over $3 million dollars to Ukrainian refugees. Speaking of refugees, it's a big problem in Europe now. Millions of Ukrainians displaced by the war have nowhere to go and must turn to accepting countries.

F: The latest news on Ukraine will be presented today. So, in recent news, Latvia's president Egils Levits has actually supported Ukraine directly against Russia. He said, and I quote, “…all states that have committed to peaceful order… should commit to helping Ukraine resist this unlawful attack.”

M: And that brings us to our topic for the day- Russia's bombed a Ukranian city- Dnipro, just three hours ago.

F: Seventy-five people were injured, including either 15 or 14 children. And a post on Telegram, a global social media platform, by Ukraine’s emergency services, said that 40 people had died, including three children. Our sources are CNBC and the Guardian.

M: Dozens are still missing, too. Trapped in the rubble of that bomb, rescuers are trying to dig them out as we speak. In fact, this was one of the single deadliest attacks of the war, (CNN) and certainly the deadliest for months.

F: Targeting an innocent apartment building…with children inside too, I can't imagine.

M: Those interested can read more on this link: https://www.cnn.com/2023/01/15/europe/dnipro-ukraine-war-russian-missile-strike-intl/index.html

F: This seems like a war statistic, but when you look further, it's just forty dead. Imagine that. 40 is probably how many family members and relatives most people have- all gone. A woman who lived in a nearby building said it “looked like hell” more the closer they got. Others described it as “apocalyptic”.

M: Another 35 people remain unaccounted for! The last person to be rescued was after midnight on Saturday, and it took nine hours to reach her.

F: …by which time she had severe hypothermia. So anyone still unrescued would be very close to dead by now, sadly. As the reporters interviewed people, you could see their breaths coming out of their mouths in the way that it happens when it's cold.

M: Please continue to support Ukraine, everyone! They really need it, especially now. Thanks for watching, this is Marissa and @FirestarForReal on JWC News Channel 8.

F: Tune in after the ad break, when we discuss the effects of the Ukraine-Russia war on Europe…

(476 words)

Continued: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6906323/

Last edited by FirestarForReal (Jan. 17, 2023 14:58:23)

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