Eeveedonut wrote:

Daily
3/2
200 points (+50)
x words

words: lilacs, feathers, firefly, fairy-lights, blue (@Alfalfa78)
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“Happy National Soup It Forward Day! What are your favourite things to put in soup? Carrots, mango … pirate ibexes? Today, let's make a different kind of soup - one made of words! Comment five random words that come to mind. Then, claim someone else's five words and write a story using those words as themes. Stir (staurr /j) your writing/soup for about 300 words, and now you have a meal. 200 points will be awarded upon completion, an extra 50 points for sharing your writing, and a daisy from Starr for saying what kind of soup you think SWC would be <3”
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wip

can i follow

Daily #2 (3/1/2023)
200 points (plus 50 for sharing)
378 words

A teenager was sitting on the wall, legs swinging back and forth as he bit into a piece of licorice. His name was Indigo. He looked down at the paper on his lap. It was a wanted poster, which wasn’t really a surprise to him. They weren’t super common but were not the rarest either.

Five people were in the center of the paper. It was obvious that whoever had made it had drawn them and might not have been the most creative. An address was at the bottom of the paper, in a somewhat readable handwriting.

Indigo licked his lips to savor the licorice a bit more before jumping off the wall he had been sitting on. He gently held the poster, trying his best to not rip or crinkle it. He took one last look at the address before jogging to where he assumed it would be. After all, the city he lived in wasn’t the largest.

—–

Mason stared through the peephole, a child was about two inches from it. He waved excitedly before pushing the wanted poster close to it. He studied the kid for a few seconds. He seemed naïve, clueless, and childish. He also seemed too small to help him on what he needed to do.
Mason swung open the door, “What do you want?”
“I wanna help you!” The kid exclaimed.
“Prove yourself then.” He watched as the kid backed away onto the street. And before he knew it the kid jumped into action. He wasn’t really surprised as the kid unfolded some wings. This was a crazy and weird world after all.

The kid threw some punches at the air, kicked it, jabbed it. He quickly flew up into the air, and did some crazy air tricks, loop-de-loops, backflips, twirls. Before landing and nearly tripping. Mason watched the kid pant. “You’ll do.” He said and waved his hand in a welcoming gesture.

Despite the kid… being a kid. He had to manipulate the kid, even if he didn’t wanna do it. But he needed to do it. He needed to save /him/.
“Want a caramel candy?” The teen held out a small candy wrapped in a golden wrapper.

Even if Mason manipulated the kid, he would get redemption later. However unexpected…

Weekly
3/2-3/9
2,500 points
497 words
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https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/666619/?page=1#post-7023464
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Part 1 - 497/400 words - tw: contains death-related topics
Describe three drastically different timelines, all caused by the outcome of one event in the past. The wilder, the better! Remember, a butterfly flapping its wings can cause a hurricane - or cause alien overlords to take over the Earth. Each timeline has a minimum of 150 words, meaning you have to write 450 words total.
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EVENT: King Robert calls Queen Annette ugly.
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1. Annette runs away from Robert and cries in her room. Her tears form lakes and they flood her room, causing her to drown. But luckily, Evan is there to rescue her! He carries Annette to safety, leaving Robert to drown. The two ride a horse away into the sunset. Robert does not drown, he gets himself out of the flooded palace right before the walls break open and the water floods everything! The whole town builds boats out of debris and they sail to find where Annette and Evan are. Evan had left his majesty, Robert, to die and instead took her majesty, Annette, to safety. In Robert- and the kingdom's- eyes, Evan had kidnapped the queen and left the king to die. This was somehow going to be a broken law, Robert would make it one. So he did. The law states you must save the king before the queen. And Evan had broken that law, so now he was going to be punished. Robert finally captured Evan after five years and Evan was sentenced to the guillotine. Lets just say Evan isn't with us anymore.
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2. Robert quickly apologizes to Annette, saying he didn't mean it. He was just having a bad day, which was mostly true. Annette smiles sweetly and forgives him. Robert thinks that this apology means that all is well again, but one can't just go and insult the queen's looks and get away with it, even if they were her husband! Annette calls Evan in to administer poison to Robert during dinner. Evan agrees, but only because he knows that Annette will need a king by her side to rule along with her after Robert's death, and he was sure that would be him. At dinner, Evan pours the poison into a cup, but he's too busy flirting with a maid to see that he gave the cup with the poison to Annette instead of Robert! The queen drinks her cup and clutches her chest, gasping and choking. She drops to the ground, dead.
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3. Annette slaps Robert harder than she thought she ever could and Robert gasps and crumples to the floor. Annette gasps, her eyes filling with terror. She didn't know that Robert was as weak as this. She runs to his side but trips over her silky, lacey gown, causing her to fall and hit her head on a sharp corner. A warm, red liquid pooled around the queen and the king. It rushes out of a wound on Annette's head and out of Robert's mouth. They whimper and shake, before dying together. Servants run up to the king and queen, trying to nurse them back to life, but hope is lost. They hang their heads in defeat. Evan appoints himself the new king and talks about how this is what Annette would have wanted. But everyone knows he's lying, yet no one can stop him. He's unstoppable. He holds all the power now.
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INCOMPLETE

Happy National Soup It Forward Day! What are your favourite things to put in soup? Carrots, mango … pirate ibexes? Today, let's make a different kind of soup - one made of words! Comment five random words that come to mind. Then, claim someone else's five words and write a story using those words as themes. Stir (staurr /j) your writing/soup for about 300 words, and now you have a meal. 200 points will be awarded upon completion, an extra 50 points for sharing your writing, and a daisy from Starr for saying what kind of soup you think SWC would be <3


Prompt : Violence, George Washington, Communism, Propaganda, Owl.

from @p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-

Daily - Mar. 2, 2023 - Jasper's Thread
wc : 388
title : George Washington Meets Robert


General George Washington was sitting at his desk, which was probably made of oak, writing some very important documents that probably had to do with some very important things concerning the war and also Alexander Hamilton and basically everyone. He was rather exhausted because his tiny little patriotic sons were being really chaotic and shooting each other and setting everything on fire and just… bleugh. He was wishing something would come along, but not, like, a grenade or anything. More like an impromptu fireworks show. Something surprising but fun, not fatal.

As he wrote yet another word (he wasn’t really sure what that word was, he only knew that it was, in fact, a word,) he sighed as deeply as a Jane Austen protagonist. He wished that-

Suddenly, he heard a who, who sound.

“Is that an owl?” He asked aloud to no one in particular.

It was, in fact, an owl. And this owl was sitting on his windowsill, right where he preferred owls didn’t sit, because the pie that had been there a second ago was, in fact, no longer there.

Well, there went his blueberries.

“Oh, come on.” He said. He gave the owl the death stare, only it refused to move.

He got up from his desk, which, he discovered, was wider than he had anticipated, and stabbed himself in the thigh.

Well that was just wonderful.

After he finished perishing dramatically, he walked over to his window. “Hey! Shoo!” He cried to the stupid owl. The stupid owl, however, refused to move.

“You ruined my pie!” He cried, and whacked the owl.

The owl, like Sans, dodged.

“George.” It said.

George passed out.

George woke up to the owl poking his eye.

“George. Wake up.”

George almost passed out again, but the owl bit his arm.

“How are you talking?”

“My name is Robert, and I’m from the future.”

George boggled.

Robert deadpanned.

“I’m here to tell you about the year 2022.”

“Wait, you’re from two hundred forty something years in the future?”

“Indeed.”

“And what did you want to tell me?” George sat up, head pounding.

Robert did the closest thing an owl can do to rolling its eyes. “I wanted to tell you about the year 2022.”

“Yeah. What about it.”

“Settle in. This is going to be a long ride.”

Part One
430 words

Event: The sky seems to be as blue as ever as every TV in the country gets interrupted. Most channels are paused with the exception of a few. Every paused channel now shows the same image- the announcer of the local 7AM news. People stare at the screen, confused as to why the raven-haired man was on their screens. His eyes were dark, his expression grim. His voice comes out of the tv as the world falls silent to listen. “Pricilla Jameston, the movie star, has been found dead in her home. Police suspect a murder is on the loose.”

1: Many people mourn her death as investigators fail to find any evidence linking the crime to anyone. Many memorial songs, books, and statues are made in honor of the movie star, with many of them in her hometown, Daisyville. Memorials are placed everywhere, some small and others large. Her grave is decorated with a statue made by an architect who was one of her biggest fans. The following words were engraved on the statue. “Pricilla Jameston ~ 1997 - 2023 ~ Loved by many, left too soon.”

2: Some fans do not take this news well, and are very upset. Once officials announce that investigators could find no evidence, many people try to lead investigations on their own, eventually leading to a trail of footsteps in the woods behind Pricilla’s mansion. Soon, the small group of fans are now joined by detectives who think this could lead to more discoveries. After months of searching lead to more clues being found. A bloodied handkerchief. A cryptic letter sent to Pricilla’s home. And finally, a photograph with the culprit’s fingerprints. The owner of the fingerprints is revealed be an architect who was one of Pricilla’s biggest fans. He is quickly arrested and sent to jail afterwards.

3. Conspiracy theorists are suspicious of the government after it is announced that investigators have failed to find any clues as to who Pricilla’s murder was. A group of fans take things into their own hands and start a forum online where they can investigate Pricilla’s death. The website gains popularity and soon, people find their main suspect: an architect who was one of Pricilla’s biggest fans. He is taken to court and is charged with first degree murder. He claims that he was framed, but no one believes him. Many months afterwards, someone claims to have found a bloody knife in Pricilla’s mansion, which had the fingerprints of a movie director. After many months of court cases and investigations, it is revealed that the architect was the murder.

Part Two
561 words

Plot point 1: Alia meets a girl who looks exactly like her and befriends her. She and the girl, whose name is Perri, are always joking about how they look like each other, but neither of them suspect anything. (Introduction?)
Plot point 2: Alia is reading the local newspaper and finds out about how witches have terrorized the town lately, and that some witches like to transform into people and trick them. (Rising suspense)
Plot point 3: Alia is suspicious of Perri and decides to invites her to a movie night at her house, then follows Perri after noticing that she was going out of the house after midnight. (Continuing suspense)
Plot point 4: After following Perri to the woods, Perri tells Alia that she had tricked her and that she knew that Alia would follow her. Perri uses her magic to capture and torture Alia. (Climax)
Plot point 5: Alia cannot take the torture anymore and uses magic (that she never knew she had) to kill Perri. She realizes what she had done, and then realizes that Perri might’ve been her real sister. (Ending)

Elaboration on plot point 1: Perri and Alia meet each other when Alia breaks up with her boyfriend and goes to the park to cry. Perri was taking a casual walk when she noticed Alia. She comforts the girl and they soon realize their similarities. Alia thinks that Perri is a kind friend who helped her during a rough time, and Perri thinks of Alia as a new person to toy with. They both share an interest in art, and frequently go to the art museum together, where many people ask them if they are twins. Both of them don’t mind getting mistaken as twins, but they find it intriguing that they look so similar.

Elaboration on plot point 2: On a misty evening, Alia is on her apartment balcony, sipping some tea while reading the news online. She loves reading, and sometimes writes too. She goes onto the newspaper to find inspiration for her writing and finds an article about witches. At first, she thinks the writer of the article is crazy and considers it an interesting idea for a story, and reads about how witches can transform into anything, and use that ability to trick people. She thinks of Perri and how they both look similar, but she brushes it off and reminds herself that witches aren’t real.

Elaboration on plot point 3: Alia can’t shake off a gut feeling that Perri is not who she says she is. She finally gives in to her imagination and decides to invite Perri to a movie night at her home. Nothing seems out of the ordinary when Perri arrives. They watch a fun movie, eat some snacks, and start to sleep. Alia pretends to sleep in case Perri does something suspicious, and her idea worked. She watched as Perri sat up and went outside the house. Alia followed her, trying her best to stay quiet. They walk for a while, not stopping for anything. Alia starts to feel sleepier and wishes that she just slept instead of following Perri.

Elaboration on plot point 4: They finally arrive at a forest after walking for over an hour. Alia watches as Perri walks around. She sighs, relieved. Maybe Perri just liked to walk here. The forest was really pretty. She then noticed that Perri was looking right at her. Alia’s heartbeat starts to get faster as she starts to back away, hoping that Perri was just looking at something else. Perri grins and puts Alia inside a magic barrier that she cannot escape. Alia pleads with Perri to let her go, but all Perri does was laugh at how easily she tricked Alia. Then, she uses her magic to make Alia relive her worst memories and watches as Alia screams and cries.

Elaboration on plot point 5: The memories seem to get worse after hours of torture, and Alia decides she had enough. She knew the magic barrier was unbreakable to humans like her, but still attempts to get out by punching the barrier. It doesn’t work and Alia lets out one last cry of despair as she hit the barrier with every last bit of force inside her body. It seemed to work as the barrier glowed, then exploded, hitting Alia and Perri. They both got injured, but Perri was now on the ground, her body still. Alia waits for Perri’s magic disguise to fade away, but it doesn’t. Alia realizes that Perri must’ve been her real sister and flees the scene before anything else could happen.

Part Three
474 words

Lilia is a girl from Earth who gets sent to a spaceship by a group of dimension travelers so they could learn more about her world. The exact year and location is unknown, but their gadgets seems to show that they are near Earth, but too far for Lilia to go back. The perspective switches between Lilia and Jackson, an apprentice dimension traveler who doesn’t approve of the other travelers’ methods or learning about other worlds, and wants to help Lilia and other people captured by the travelers get back to their original worlds.

Outline (red is Lilia’s perspective, blue is Jackson, and Black is either a narrator or a flashback to a different time/universe):

Last scene chronologically. A small spaceship flies away from the wreckage of a larger one. Inside an alien steers the ship as he and a human girl cries.

Second scene chronologically. Lilia wakes up in a sort of spaceship, surrounded by strange beings who all seem to be made up of a Jello-like substance. They are all conversing in a different language which Lilia doesn’t understand, but one notices that she woke up and greets her in English. He explains that she was randomly chosen from her world to be studied so they could learn more about their world.

Jackson is doing chores on the spaceship when he meets Lilia. At first, they are both a little scared of each other’s appearances, but quickly get to know each other and chat about the other dimension travelers who abducted Lilia.

Over the course of a few months, Lilia creates a plan with Jackson, and they decide to hijack the ship and return every abducted person to their original universes. They sneak into the pilot’s room and try to attack the pilot and co-pilot.

Jackson tries to attack the pilot, but he quickly gets stopped. Lilia manages to knock out the co-pilot, but an alarm starts to ring. Lilia accidentally bumps into a control panel, pushing a button. Jackson and Lilia run out of the room before anyone else stopped them from doing so.

Jackson and Lilia hide from the other dimension travelers as they go over what went wrong and what they could do to try hijacking the ship again. They soon notice that the ship is destroying itself because of the button Lilia pressed earlier.

Jackson and Lilia find a escape ship located at the back of the main ship and use it to escape before he ship exploded. They couldn’t take anyone else with them, and as Jackson cried about his lost crewmates, Lilia realizes that the explosion also destroyed her home planet, Earth. She also starts to cry.

First scene chronologically. The narrator describes a group of aliens discussing about a world they call P-392, which has a planet inhabited by an intelligent species. The narrator then describes a human being transported to the aliens’ ship as the aliens talk joyously about what discoveries await on this planet.

Part Four!
1,864 words

The stars shine around the colossal wreckage of a planet, the remnants of a spaceship right next to it. Other planets dance around the disastrous scene, sustaining some damage. A small spaceship flies out of the wreck, zipping past bits of metal and rock. Inside is an alien boy, his gooey body producing tears as sobs echo throughout the lonely place the humans nicknamed “space.” A girl walks into the pilot’s room and sees the wreck of the planet. A gut-wrenching sob comes out of her mouth as she starts to cry as well. The boy presses a button and the spaceship travels to another universe, leaving the destroyed planet behind as a silent, still memorial that would remain like this for centuries.



I can’t feel my feet. That’s the first thing I thought of when I woke up in this strange room. I seem to be on some kind of chair similar to the chairs in a dentist’s office. I look around me, seeing lots of strange gadgets and strange gooey creatures talking in a language I don’t understand. I must be hallucinating. My eyes widen when I glance at a window, expecting to see the parking lot of a hospital, but instead I see Earth.

“OH MY GOODNESS-” I slap a hand over my mouth, embarrassed that I shouted that out loud. The gooey creatures notice I’m awake. I jump and try to get away from the creature when I see its face. It’s a glowing jello-like face with no features at all other than a singular crystal in the middle. It’s fairly tall, and seems to be shaped like a human.

“Hello there, miss Lilia! I’m a dimensional traveler and my crew and I have taken you here to learn more about your universe! I’m sorry about my appearance, but we’ve tried our best to make you feel comfortable. Just try to answer our questions with as much accuracy as possible. We’re not here to hurt you or your universe, we just want to learn.” A hologram appears in front of him with a list of questions and a space to write down my answers. Confused, I ask, “Wait, so you’re going to return me soon, right? And the experiments are just questions? And how are you speaking English?” The alien replies with, “For the first two questions, nope! We need to learn as much as we can about you, so we need to conduct many different tests on you. And we’re fluent in English because we’ve been studying Earth for a while.”

I gasp as I try to get out of the room. As I leap from the chair and try to go to what I think is a door, the alien’s body morphs into a wall, causing me to bounce off it and hit my arm. I let out a hiss of pain as the alien morphs back and gets me back onto the chair. I start to assess my surroundings more carefully as the alien starts to ask me questions. It seems like I might be here for a while.



I finished giving cyanide to the waterblossoms and walked out of the greenhouse, looking for somewhere to get some water for the Earth plants when I bump into someone. I let out a quick apology before realizing I bumped into the girl from Earth. I almost scream when I see her body. Gosh, humans are scary. I then realize humans are scared of us. I quickly morph into a form that she won’t be scared of and help her up. Her arm seems to be broken. That’s weird. I guess humans are very fragile. I remind myself to be more careful around humans as I say, “Sorry I bumped into you. You must be Lilia, that girl from Earth, right? You can call me Jackson.”

The girl looks at me suspiciously before replying, “Yeah, I am Lilia. What do you want? And why do you have a human name?” I lower my voice before saying, “I want to help you get out. You’re not the only being that’s been taken away from their home dimension. And the human name is from the captain, he wants everyone to have a human name so you don’t feel like the odd one out.” I try my best to smile at Lilia but she seems to think I was lying.

“And why are you against your crewmates? Aren’t they your friends?” she says. She glares at me and I sigh. I say, “They are my friends, but I don’t like how they abduct people from other dimensions and keep them forever for testing.” She seems to understands now since she’s nodding as if she agrees. She asks, “So, what’s our plan?”



A few months pass as Jackson and I become closer friends. The aliens continued to test me with questions, physical examinations, and sometimes some very painful tests. Luckily, I made a plan with Jackson that could free me and all of the captured people. All we had to do was to attack the pilot and co-pilot, then take control of the ship. We’d then use the intercom system to let the crew know that we were in control, and then use the ship to return everyone back home.

Since Jackson knew a lot about alien physique, our attack plan was almost perfect since we knew the alien’s blind spots and we were able to practice avoiding counterattacks from the pilots. We also found some iron bars in a laboratory that I decided to use as a weapon, since the aliens were allergic to iron. The day of the attack finally arrived. Jackson and I waited for the perfect time to strike, both of us nervously fidgeting.

We sneaked into the pilot’s room, making sure nobody else was in there. We waited until the pilots were busy with something, then got closer and close Then, we split up, Jackson crouching behind the pilot while I hid behind the co-pliot. We looked at each other to confirm that we were ready, then leapt towards our victims, ready to attack.



I leap towards the pilot, wrestling him to the ground, but the pilot was stronger than I expected. He quickly knocked my feet off the ground and pinned me down to the ground. I struggle as the captain uses one arm to hold me down, his other arm plunging into my gooey body. My eyes widen as I realize that I forgot about the fact that the crystals inside our bodies can be taken out. They’re the reasons why we live, and if they get destroyed or taken out of our bodies, we die. I start to struggle more, hoping that Lilia would come and save me.

I glance at Lilia. The co-pilot stood no chance against Lilia as she swung the iron bar towards him. It plunged into his body as he shrieked and presses a button on a wall. He drops to the ground, unconscious. Alarms start to ring as Lilia stumbles backwards because of the sudden noise, her elbow hitting one of the control panels. I manage to wiggle out of the pilot’s grip thanks to the distraction as Lilia and I run out of the room.



We’re now sitting inside a relatively large metal box that’s supposed to be storing weapons.

After we ran out of the pilot’s room, Jackson found a good hiding spot for us while I managed to get some food from the greenhouse. Luckily, I had gotten the food only moments after the fight, so the pilots didn’t have time to announce that we were now criminals.

“So, what do you think went wrong?” Jackson says as he munches on a tomato. He’s apparently not saddened by any of this. I say, “Well, we underestimated the pilots. Also, why aren’t you sad?” Jackson replies with, “Well, my species is used to failure. We just consider it a part of life. I’m surprised that humans get sad so easily. Also, what are these called? They’re delicious.”

“It’s a tomato,” I say while fixing my hair. It’s become a mess since the aliens don’t have brushes. “And I forgot to say this, but I hit this one control panel during the fight. I don’t think anyone noticed, but what does it do? It was on the right panel, and I think I pressed a yellow button shaped like a triangle.” Jackson thinks about it for a second before his form turns slightly gooier, which meant that he was scared or nervous.

“What is it?” I ask. He says, “It’s- it’s a destruction button in case we get attacked by any other beings who are more powerful than us. We need to get out of here.” My jaw drops. I start to hyperventilate. Was that really true?



I can’t believe what’s going on. The ship was going to explode any second now, and only the two os us knew. I notice that Lilia was hyperventilating, so I started to help her get her breathing back to normal before saying, “There’s an escape ship that we can use. Let’s go right now.”

Lilia nods as we get out of the box, running towards the back o the ship. Most crewmates are supposed to be sleeping, so we manage to get there without any problems. I open the hatch to the ship and we both get in, Lilia looking out the windows. I hop into the captain’s seat and start to turn the ship on. After a few moments of silence, the ship starts to move. We start to slowly zip away from the spaceship, eventually reaching a distance where they wouldn’t notice us. Then, it happened.

An explosion knocked back our ship slightly as the ship started to get engulfed in flames. The once pristine white ship was now a flurry or oranges and yellows, all coming together to form a disastrous scene. I feel conflicted. Lilia sniffles a little bit, but doesn’t seem to be too bothered about her captors’ deaths. Meanwhile, I was conflicted. Those crew members were good people doing the wrong thing. My body starts to produce tears, one thing that we shared with humans. I cried as the ship’s pieces went flying everywhere. I closed my eyes, wanting to just take a break from all of this.

Suddenly, a significantly louder boom is heard. Lilia gasps as my eyes snap open. I sit up in my chair, seeing what the spaceship did to Earth. A large piece of it had fell onto Earth, destroying it completely. I watch as Lilia starts to cry, her sobs echoing across the universe. I make the ship move, not wanting to stay here any longer. I open a portal to another universe, one that is hopefully better than this one.



The crewmates of a ship excitedly chat about the discovery of a new universe, one named P-392. It has a solar system with one planet called Earth that has intelligent life. Everyone is excited that they’ll be able to explore a whole new planet as a small ship transports a human girl onto the larger spaceship.

Daily 3/2

Words: fear, payment, beauty, walls, whisper

The wallpaper was orange and green.

Not just any orange and green, Claudia thought. She pictured a tangerine tree, the sort that had grown in her mother’s backyard, saw the way its bright leaves brushed cheerfully against the fresh, ripe skins of dangling fruit. The same shades as this wallpaper, only somehow they didn’t look nearly as natural here. The clash of the green flower pattern against its tangerine background was enough to make her want to shield her eyes.

“Admiring the wall decor?” The voice was soft, hesitant, nearly a whisper; the girl whose lips it came from did not appear any more threatening. She stood in the doorway of the room, one foot in and one foot out, as if torn between ducking away and stepping further inside.

“Yeah, it’s real lovely,” Claudia said sarcastically. It was unnerving, really, how similar and jarringly different those colors were.

“Thank you! I just had it put in last week.” The girl smiled tentatively, and Claudia realized that she was being genuine. “I’m Myla, by the way.”

“Great, well, I‘ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes,” Claudia replied crossly. “Can we just hurry this up, please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Of course.” Myla hurried over to a plain wooden desk at the far side of the room and proceeded to rummage through its drawers. “You’re Claudia March?” she asked, flipping through a stack of papers.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“And you’ve come here about… oh. Oh my.” Even when startled, Myla’s voice maintained the same volume of a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well, don’t be. I came here for a solution, not pity.” No sooner had the words left her mouth did Claudia feel a flush of shame. What she was asking for was impossible. She should be at the hospital, trying to enjoy these last few precious days with her mother. Instead she sat here, chasing after false hopes and miracles.

“Right. Well, you see…” Myla faltered slightly. “You are asking for a great deal.”

“It’s what you promised and nothing more.” Claudia’s heart shuddered. How could she have been so stupid, to think that such an offer could be real? How could she possibly have let herself believe?

“Yes. What I mean to say, I suppose, is that we can make it happen. But it will cost you. More than you might be willing to give up.”

“I’d give up anything.” It was true. “What do you want? Name a price and I’ll find a way to pay it.” She’s lying, a tiny voice in Claudia’s head warned.

But what if she isn’t?

“The price for this sort of favor varies from person to person.” Myla chewed her lip. “It’s always the one thing that the client values most.”

“My mom. I’m trying to save her, aren’t I?”

“It’s more selfish than that. It’s a characteristic of your own that you would almost never relinquish. For you…” Myla ruffled through the stack of papers. “You value your ability to see beauty,”

“I- who told you that?” Claudia had been frightened to hope before. Now, suddenly, she was uneasy for a very different reason.

“It’s in the paperwork. We collect this sort of information on all our potential clients.” Myla titled her head. “You’re an artist, aren’t you? You view the world through a critical lens. But you see many things in a more honest light than most. You see the true beauty and terrible ugliness in your surroundings, even when it isn’t often immediately apparent. You love that about yourself. You need it. You couldn’t survive this world without it.”

Claudia’s mouth felt dry. Somehow she felt more exposed now, in this garishly wallpapered room with a girl who couldn’t speak above a whisper, than ever before in her life. “How do you know that about me?”

“We have our ways.” Myla’s dark eyes were unblinking. “The question is, are you willing to sacrifice that in exchange for our services?”

Claudia shook her head. “I don’t see how that would work. How can a give up a… a characteristic that’s been mine since birth? What would you even do with it?”

Myla blinked, slowly. “You see the world better than most,” she said at last. “But there is still so much that you do not understand. Tell me, what do you really think of the wallpaper?”

“It’s revolting.” Claudia didn‘t know what compelled her to be so bluntly honest. For some reason, it scared her more than anything else Myla had said in their meeting thus far.

“True vision,” the whispering girl hummed. “We could make very good use of that.” Her eyes flickered with some unfamiliar emotion before settling back into soft solemnity. “It’s all still your choice, Ms. March. How much are you truly willing to sacrifice for your mother’s life? I know this a difficult decision, but it is one that you must make.”

“I said I’d give up anything before, and I meant it.” She wasn’t so certain anymore, though.

”Think carefully. Many have employed our services, only to regret the price later.” The girl handed her a slim stack of papers. “This is the payment information. You still have a couple days left to consider your options. I’d advise you to use them. We’ll wait.” With those words, she drifted out the door, leaving Claudia alone in the ugly tangerine-colored room. The papers lay, thin and bone-white, in her lap.

Word count: 906

daily (taylors version)

words I posted: london, paper, bronze, cobblestones, crown
words I used: innocent, hoax, dress, maroon, dorothea (posted by the wonderful @zparkly)

352 words not including the song lyrics

(I guess you really did it this time)


I’m standing. Still and shaking, and silent. Silent. I vibrate, like there’s a current of energy coursing through me (and I can’t control it). I- I don’t know what to do with my hands. I drop them, and the letter drops with them.
(I never thought you’d actually do it. Isn’t that funny? Somehow I thought I was immune to your threats when really, I was just like all the others. I was never special at all.)


(my only one, my smoking gun, my eclipsed sun, this has broken me down)


I’ve gotten used to disappointment (I’ve had to, by now). But I still feel - pained - now that you’re gone. (I don’t know the right word for it anymore.) I guess I learned to depend on you (cling on like a child) and I got used to it. I got - comfortable.


(our secret moments in your crowded room, they’ve got no idea about me and you)


I’d tell myself we were better than what had come before. Who was I kidding? I knew my past, and I knew yours. Maybe hope had blinded me, maybe it was love (were we in love?) or maybe I’m getting too old for this. This continuous cycle, this game. I had been flooded in the elation of winning (even if I only won the first round) and had (conveniently) forgotten the sinking of getting it all wrong. I knew that feeling, now. I knew it all too well.


(when the morning came we were cleaning incense of your vinyl shelf ‘cause we lost track of time again)


It’s not like it was all bad. There were - there were good memories (laughing with my feet in your lap, like you were my closest friend) and there were memories I wouldn’t give up for the world (dancing in New York, no shoes). Remember the burgundy on my t-shirt the night you splashed your wine into me? (the stain’s still there, even now.)
When this silence came, we were shaking, blind and hazy. (How the hell did we lose sight of us again?) And now I’m sobbing, my head in my hands (isn’t that the way it always ends?). I am sinking. I am drowning. I have lost our little game.


And though I try to stop (I don’t want to think about you but what am I supposed to do instead?)


I just can’t help wondering -


(do you ever stop and think about me?)

Midnight, pie, revolution, piano, disease.

The revolt has been spreading. So has the Death. I must convince the government to do something about the thousands of people, lifeless on the streets, waiting for a cure that never came. If my bargaining doesn’t work, thousands will storm the inner city at midnight next Saturday.
It’s midnight here on Tuesday, my candlelight flickering in the eerie black silence. My pen seems to shout the words it writes, its scratching sound the only one in the room. Glancing out the window, I notice the full moon, casting a faint glow towards the office, shining light on the dusty piano. This room is shrouded in night and secrecy, but somehow it feels exposed. I glance behind me and think I catch a flicker of movement.
“If you’re a spy for the government, I’m writing a peaceful letter to Jackson Carlos. That is the most rebellion in this whole room,” I whisper.
Something scoots along the wall, and a cockroach enters the reach of my candle.
“Good. Unless they’ve made cockroach robots.”
As quick as my messy handwriting will allow, I scrawl the rest of my letter to the president, sign it, and fold it into quarters. My chair screeches on its rusty hinges as I stand and leave the room. I can sleep tonight. And whichever way this goes, there will be revolution.

The next morning, I jump out of bed and race to the office. I don’t even get dressed.
My pen still lies there, untouched since midnight. So does the letter. Unfolding the wrinkled mess of wonky calligraphy, I scan the paper to check it has been untouched. It remains the same. I stuff the letter into its envelope, carrying it back to the quarters.
Slipping on my formal clothes, I dash out of the door of my quarters and grab a cold pie from the kitchen. Tense with excitement, I run to the front door, pulling it open with all my strength. The sun bleeds a dark crimson, mixed with orange and lemon-yellow. The envelope tugs at my hand, my legs sprinting so fast I cover the hundred-metre courtyard in about twenty seconds. Drinking in the glorious, untainted sunlight, I saddle my horse and ride into the dawn.

I arrive at the president’s building in a pool of sweat. Dismounting my horse, I skid to the front door and raise a fist. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Nothing happens.
Knock.
Thudding footsteps from above.
Knock. Knock.
A tired sigh and an awful metallic screech.
The door slides open.
A tall, thin man with an articulate moustache and a black suit stands at the door, disgruntled and annoyed. He stares down at me with dark brown eyes, as if I was holding a sword.
“Good morning, sir,” I say, politely.
“Good morning. Who is this?”
“Lucinda Rallen. I have a letter for the president.”
He smiles. “I am the president.”
With a tentative hand, I offer him the letter.
“I’ll send word of my reply tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“My letter will arrive at two.” With a flourish, he closes the door.
I stare at my white horse. That was it? I expected more. Maybe guards. Maybe kind words or mean words. Trumpet players, or a person who followed him around.
But that was it. Now I must tell the news and wait.

It’s Wednesday, 1:50pm.
It seems like the entire rebellion camp has their eyes set on one letterbox.
Eyes press onto windows; the late-comers, or at least the ones who came after 1:30. The courtyard is covered in random people of all backgrounds, body types, and heights. If I were to spin around with my finger pointing out twice, I would probably land on two people from opposite sides of the world… Actually, I wouldn’t be able to spin around at all. The place is so packed, I can barely even move. Somehow, the rideway is unblocked.
Plodding hooves to my left. My ears prick. The crowd turns as one.
A dark brown horse advances, clad in postal blue and royal purple, its rider shouting like his life depends on the volume. The horse wanders forward, then left, then to a patch of flowers, the shouting making no difference. The crowd watches eagerly.
Eventually, the horse enters the gravel rideway.
Its rider dismounts gracefully, sliding the letter in its box. With an agonising creak, the letterbox opens, and I take the royally sealed envelope. The world seems to hold its breath. I peel out the delicate paper and unfold its neat creases.
“Good afternoon, Lucinda Rallen and company,” I read, nearly shouting. “The President would like to inform the rebellion that he sends his deepest condolences to the lives lost through the Death, but sadly the government cannot help with this. It is-”
Someone jumps up. “As if! They can do anything they want!”
I sigh. “It is our responsibility to help the rich, and the councils’ responsibility to help the poor. Let the councils solve it if they can. If you want to storm the inner city, we will take you down.
Signed, Jackson Carlos.”

The councils’ reply was just the president’s reply, but with evidence to support that they cannot help. So, we’re storming the inner city at midnight. I check my pocket watch. 11:34pm.
“Round the horses. Get ready for action!”
The next minute is chaos.
People push themselves around, and I feel like jelly being poked and prodded. Shouts of ‘You!’ and ‘Hurry up!’ float across the courtyard as people search for horses and yank themselves along the mass. As much as I try to pull myself forward, my weight doesn’t do much, and I’m mostly thrown in random directions.
Finally, I saddle my horse and force my way to the front, hooves clacking as I ride into the night.

Everything about it is a storm.
The hooves and footsteps pound like thunder, cries and blades like lightning. Pies are thrown into the air, received with blades and shields. A tangle of horrible piano notes fills the air. Faces turn towards the centre of the uprising.
The dusty piano sits there, upturned.
It delves back into chaos and yelling, blaming and cruelty. The president’s guards holler to each other, not making much difference in our huge mob. Even if half of us have never used a sword, they’re outnumbered twenty to one. Already, we are gaining ground.
A soldier runs towards me, sword raised. I’ve practiced this. My sword, as if part of me, scoops from below, catching the cross-guard and whisking the weapon into the air. My horse rears, and I quickly grab its neck for balance. I look up. We’re already in sight of the Treasury. It’s only thirty metres away. I could shoot at it if I had arrows.
Some do have arrows.
They’re shooting at the Treasury.
Chaos descends.

Word count: 1134

“Write an acrostic using your Scratch nickname that tells us about yourself! An acrostic is a poem where the first letter of each line spells something when read vertically. For example:
S pecial time where
W riters come together
C reating something beautiful
is a poem, but it also spells out SWC! (worth 1 hour)”

Author's Notes ::
– This may be cringe I apologize
– First in-cabin daily woohoo :-DD

Cakes and desserts are just a few
Random items that I like.
You may find me weird at times,
Such as me adding strange words
To this acrostic poem.
I know I have a lot to improve in terms of writing,
Each story can help me grow!

Marbles' March 2023 Writing Pieces

Dailies
March 2nd
March 8th and 9th (Bidaily)
March 10th
March 13th
March 15th (unsubmitted)
March 17th
March 30th

Weeklies
Week 1 (unfinished)
Week 2
Week 3 (unfinished)
Week 4

Others
Word war 1
Cabin Wars Story 1
Writing Comp Entry

Nickname - Ava
Content - March 2nd Daily
Word Count - 415/300
Topic - Write with 5 words given by another person
Cabin - Horror

LET'S GET STARTED

Words- Dog, song, willow, wagon, fire

My family and I were going camping. I was really excited, except for the part where mom made us sit in a wagon to set the mood. A piece of advice, it did not.

Our dog was coming along too. His name was spot since he was completely black except for that white spot around his eye.

There were a lot of willows on the way, almost as if they had been purposely planted around the track to make it look pretty. I must say, it did catch my eyes, and for most of the time, I was staring at the beautiful shrubs. They looked like they had been carefully groomed and trimmed too.

Our dog occasionally barked at seagulls that flew by, from the side of the sea on the horizon. The smell was so strong we could smell it even though we were almost a hundred miles away, and many times my brother complained that the salty smell was making him feel sick, though I think it's just the bumpy wagon ride.

As we reached our camping spot, we paid a small fee to the wagon rider/driver (what should I call him??) and then started setting up our tent. There were even more willows here, and when I touched them they were exactly how I had thought they would be; soft.

As nightfall approached, my dad told my brother to put away the biscuits and bring out the marshmallows. My brother helped my mother set up the fire and got pushed away by my dad who said it was too dangerous, considering the accident-prone person he was. I was busy collecting sticks to make the fire last at least a couple of hours.

Once the sticks were set and the fire started slowly burning, we took out the special sticks and stuck our marshmallows to them. As we waited for them to burn, my dad took out his guitar. He wasn't really good at singing - couldn't do it for a penny - so instead he played a track of a song, and we sang along to it. It was one of the songs we had heard continuously from childhood till today, on car rides, to beaches, anywhere.

Suddenly my brother realized the marshmallows were burning. We turned around and grabbed them. They weren't really bad, they weren't perfect. For the rest of the time, we decided to pay attention to our food and not let us starve of overcooked ones the whole night.

Daily 2, WIP

Words: moon, gem, sharp, post, metal

I walked out of my house to feed the cows at dawn. Again. Like I do every day. As I walked to the barn, I passed an old, weathered wood sign. Barely visible letters were scratched into its surface. They read:
THE FARM AT THE END OF THE WORLD
I

Zer0s SWC Weeklies and Dalies!

Daily for March 2nd 2023
Words: Plumett, rush, algebra, water, wake
Daniella was sitting peacefully in her garden chair on her patio doing her Algebra homework carefully trying not to mess up because she didnt want to fail the class again. When suddenly and unexpectedly the world went black and Daniella felt herself Plummet down an infinite and dark hole after a loud thud but no pain she carefully Wakes up and rubs her eyes wearily and looks around. She has been transported to a wonderful and magical world filled with Water and exotic sea life but somehow she could still breathe freely in it. As she explores around this amazing aquatic world filled with aquatic creatures and fish no human has ever seen before she feels a Rush of excitement when she finds a small island in the midst of what seems like a never ending ocean. She tiredly hauls her self out of the water and looks around, Blue grass and one lush purple tree, Odd… She takes a seat leaning against the trunk of the purple tree twirling a blade of blue grass in between her fingers as she slowly warms up from swimming in the cold never ending ocean. Daniella looks around for any signs of life, Non aquatic life, namely a human also thrown in her like her to wonder what in the world is going on,She just wanted to do her math homework for gods sake. She needed that grade to past but now that problem was washed away by a much bigger one… How to get out of this watery fever dream. In pure boredom she starts banging the back of her head on the tree to see if that will send her back to the real world. It doesn't work. Not even close… Now her head just hurts. Even worse ugh! In a final ditch attempt to gt back to her beloved math homework she closes her eyes and suddenly she feels as light as air and a flying sensation. When she opens her eyes again shes back on her patio in her garden chair with her math homework on her lap and thepen on the floor… Huh… Weird.

Daily 2: 390 words

Words: fountain, clutch, marigold, clamor, forbid

Once, a fountain flowed with marigolds.
Every morning when the sun emerges from the horizon the way we would climb out of a swimming pool. The fountain would then be blessed with hues of gold and reds and pinks and oranges, and the water would then resemble the soft petals of the flowers, eventually the water moulding itself into marigolds.
Then when the sun would rise through the sky and the dawn becomes a blue day, the marigolds liquidise and become water once more.
Barely anyone sees this. People always wake up too late.
Except for Alicia.
She had to wake up early- it was part of the early morning newspaper run. The morning press would start to publish their papers at the first light, meaning that she had to be at the office just when the batches are ready, the wafer-thing papers are heavy under the cart.
Her mother, who worked at the press, forbid Alicia to be any later than the first light to send out the papers. It was why so few people could do the job, and the number of employees was extremely low.
That morning Alicia drove her cart around the town to send the papers out to everyone. She halted as she reached the square; the marigolds dancing softly around the fountain, shining like delicate flames in the sunrise.
She longed for the flowers. If only she could just walk over and clutch one of them…
No, she must focus on the job. Papers must be delivered, and all before the daytime. The marigolds will have to wait.

But just this once…
“Alicia!”
her mother marched towards her, her brows furrowed and turning into the young girl. “What did I tell you about staying on the job?”
“I'm sorry…” Alicia tried to mutter. She slumped down on her chair and stared at the kitchen table. her mother sighed and glanced outside the window.
“Well, at least you got your final chance to see the marigolds,”
Alicia jolted. “FINAL!?”
Before her mother could answer, a large clamor boomed just outside the house. Alicia jumped up and reached for the door.
Her mother stood by with her. “No, Alicia,” she said. “You don't want to be out when the construction works are still outside.”
“Construction…?”
“Yes? Didn't I tell you about the new buildings in town?”

Back to main post

March 2nd Daily

My words are midnight, pie, revolution, piano and disease

I can feel it, walking through this dark, humid, snarling alleyway, which was filled with immense darkness that was so dense I have to rely only on my sixth sense to navigate my way. I don't even know why the letter asked me to come here at midnight on the dot, maybe it was some sort of prank, or someone who wants to trick me to ambush me. Either way, I've listened to what the anonymous person had written to me - “be at the alleyway outside your house at midnight sharp!” is all what it said. Had the anonymous person known me? I had no idea how people usually do it. I have a special disease - or more of chronic disorder - where I can forget things pretty easily. That's why I carried the letter with me, in case I forget. (No, it's not dementia.) Eventually, I made it to the end of the alley, which was where a door was located. The only way I can tell is through the light from the moldy glassed lamp above the door. Through its light I can read a sign labelled “Welcome”. I hadn't got a clue what it was about, so I opened the door, which responding in a loud squeal, and was immediately splattered with pie on my face. “Wh-what was that? Who ambushed me?” I demanded out into the darkness. The lights flicked on, and I was greeted by music playing from the piano at the corner of the room, which now my eyes had adjusted to the light, reveals a large room which appears to be a restaurant. “Welcome, my friend!” Tom's voice boomed into the area, causing my sense of hearing to be slightly off as I had spent many moments of silence. “Tom, what in the name of God are you doing?” I asked, slightly annoyed when I could be sleeping at this hour. “Ah, you see the government is planning something evil, malicious people, in fact…” I knew something rebellious will happen on that smirk on his face, he doesn't like the way our government handles the outcasts, they treat them like garbage living out on the streets. “You know I've been inviting them over here, to discuss our plans of overthrowing the government to give a right to the outcasts. They are humans too, except they committed unforgivable crimes.” I was speechless, “You- WHAT?!” Don't get me wrong, I agree with Tom, but having sympathy for outcasts is like one of the things I would never do. Tom just sighed, "Well, you never see things in my eyes. But I'm here to tell you about this so you could spread this to the international news. You are a news reporter right?“ Silly me, I forgotten to mention I am an international news reporter. I coughed, my friend had forgotten something, ”You know I'm without my notes? I also have short-term memory…“ Tom slapped him hand onto his face, embarrassed. ”Whoops, I forgot. But please, would you help me tell the world to give the outcasts are proper life?“ I hesitated before answering, it was now or never. ”I'll consider it, but if I showed up tomorrow, you will know my answer. Goodnight, old friend." I said as I closed the screeching door.

547 words

Paige's writing - March 2023

Weekly #2

169 words reflecting on a relaxing activity
For this activity I did two things, only one of which I actually found relaxing, so I thought it would be interesting to compare the two. First I took a walk while listening to music, but after a while I felt kind of sensory overloaded; I think that overall, I may have been trying too hard to make the walk calm me down. Then later today, after I’d already spent some time alone relaxing, I went to do my homework for piano class. I spent about 15 minutes practicing a song I know well by now, as well as working on some new ones. Some of it was difficult, but it was fun, and I think I let myself relax and just experience the moment, which is something I often find challenging. I felt focused, sort of, working on the new music. And it was just so enjoyable to play the song I know well, and actually be able to pay some attention listening to the music I’m making.

My reflection on Speechless (Full) from the live action Aladdin remake, sung by Naomi Scott - 130 words
The instrumentals in this song are so perfect. The very first notes give me this feeling that I don’t know how to describe, possibly because I’ve listened to it so many times before. But the first notes of the song really reflect Jasmine's emotions; they help you feel the forces she’s drowning in. It continues this way, then changes as she declares she can’t and won’t be silent. It’s both a realization of her own strength, and of her responsibility to her kingdom. I’m not trying to write anything about my opinions on the movie, only this song. Because I love this song. Completely aside from the movie, it speaks so much, the lyrics and instrumentals creating such meaning. And it doesn’t hurt that Naomi Scott is a magnificent singer.

Story inspired by the previous activities - 940 words
Tonight is my first show, and I’m frightened. Tonight I am to be presented to the royal court, because I am such an important person. The princess. Can you feel my sarcasm?
I’m important to their eyes and their ears, to a small section of their minds that only ever vaguely notices me standing in the corner of the room. But I’m not important to what they do, or say, or for what I could add to the table. Really, I’m not important at all.
But I must be seen and not heard. Tonight, I will wear a beautiful dress and sit before my instrument, making music which has been planned out for me, none of it my own true voice.
Rain pours down as I walk, soaking my hood so that it sags around my face. When I can’t stand the uncomfortable sensation any longer, I rip it down and let the rain soak my hair and face. I’m thoughtlessly undoing the work of a maid who spent thirty minutes pulling my dark brown hair into an intricate bun. My dress and cloak are muddy. So many raindrops land on my face that I doubt anyone could tell if one of them happens to be a tear. No one would care, anyhow. They’d say to calm down and get cleaned up.
I go inside, and change, getting ready for my performance. I put on an indigo gown that I really do love, hoping it will lift my spirits enough to play my piece. I call another maid to fix my hair. And I open a book, my book of stories, feeling some urge to create something before I leave the room. I spin a pencil between my fingers for a long time, before finally beginning to write.
Finally, many minutes later, I enter the theatre hall. Important and elegantly dressed people stroll throughout the large room. I make my way to the stage, successfully avoiding much of the conversation. My shoes tap on the wooden floor as I go to the piano and sit down. Silently I open my notebook to the page of penciled words. I glance over the book of sheet music on the piano before silently placing it on the floor, out of my way.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” my father, the king, eventually announces, “Let me introduce my daughter, Princess Juliana, for her first performance to the royal court. I believe she will make a wonderful contribution to our social gatherings.
And to the politics of our kingdom, I think. But it’s not a sarcastic thought, like it might have been a few days ago. No, it’s resolute. It’s true.
With a smile and slight bow, I begin to play, but not the notes which were chosen for me. I play from memory, pieces of songs I love, stringing them together into one long, mismatched melody. And I lift my voice to sing, slowly announcing my words to the world:
I may be a princess, but I am not silent; I might act quiet, but that is for you; no more will I listen to what you say; nor will I ignore what you do; my kingdom is not something I can ignore; nor is that something I was put in this world to do; I am stronger than you think, and who knows?; maybe I could do better than you.
I am strong.
I am loud.
I am beautiful.
I am proud.
I am the princess, one day to be queen.
No one can take that from me.
So stand tall with me.
Will you stand tall with me?

My words end, my fingers slow on the piano, and the song peters out. I gaze across the crowd’s stunned faces, not really trying to hide my fear; will anyone listen? Will anyone actually support me?
Then, from a seat in the middle of the room, one of the visiting Ladies stands. She looks about my age. And she looks fearless.
“I support Juliana, heir to the throne!” she calls out. Her parents try to quiet her, but she steps away from them. “Who stands with me?”
From the back of the room appears one of the servants serving food; a maid - the one whose hairstyle I ruined in the rain. “I do.” Her clear voice rings out.
Then all at once, more rise. My cousin, Ronald, surprisingly. Many daughters of visiting nobles. And even one ancient great-aunt of mine at the back of the room.
“Hush, everyone.” My father finally finds his words. “Juliana, you’ve ruined your show,” he says almost pityingly. “I don’t know what has come over you. You know you cannot be queen. Everyone, I am sorry for the disruption. I’m afraid the show is over for the night.”
“No, it’s not,” I reply, standing to face him. “All my life I’ve been nothing but a picture on the wall, something for you to show off to your friends. But - I have intelligence! I have wisdom! Perhaps not as much as you, with all your experience. But I have as much knowledge, if not more, than any male cousin you could possibly choose to rule in my place, or any man you would have me marry.”
“Juliana - “ he starts exasperatedly.
“They all stand with me.” I gesture to my supporters in the crowd. When the time comes, whatever anyone may say, my young friends and cousins will be the Lords and Ladies in this room. And I will have their support as I take my rightful place in this kingdom.
Without another word, I stalk off the stage.


Main cabin daily - March 2 - 347 words -
My fingers feel strange, not sure whether to be chilled by the crisp winter air, or warmed by the cup of coffee in my hands. I trudge through the snow, a book tucked under my arm. My favourite time and place to read, with my favourite drink in hand, save the fact that my face is pink from the cold. I would read inside, but you’re not allowed to eat in the library. In summer that’s not a problem - I’ll just come out to my favourite place, smelling the clear air and walking beneath the apple trees behind the library. In winter, these trees are tall and looming, but elegant in their stillness. Last night’s snow rests on their branches, reminding me of the gorgeous white blossoms that decorate these trees in spring. Their leaves are now long gone, decomposing beneath the pristine, sparkling snow.
I take a seat on my favourite bench, under my favourite tree. I lift my coffee to my mouth, blow, and take a sip. Warmth fills me, though it’s a bit too hot, and my tongue feels slightly burned. It’s a habit of mine, though, so I just take another sip before placing the cup beside me and opening the book to the first page. The story pulls me in, and I forget my scalded tongue and my cold fingers and the snow I got in my boots. Every few minutes I sip more coffee, the drink cooling off as time passes and wind blows. I smile when I finish chapter one and the main character has just set out on an adventure to rescue someone she doesn’t even know, for a cause she’s not even sure she believes in. I can tell there’ll be action, and anger, and trust - and a few cliches thrown in, going by the two different boys who keep staring at her. But I love all that, and as I drain the last of my coffee and stand to walk home, I feel so glad that I had this perfect way to spend my morning.

In-cabin poetry prompt March 2:

Paige: a Poem

Patient? Sometimes.
Artistic? Always. It’s how I express myself.
Inspiration is my lifeblood,
Great ideas I share through words.
End? Never. Poems never end.

my words (from @pinkmouse773)
alluring , mysterious , glittering , metal , crimson

! TW: mentions of und3rage drinking !

Anastasia stood to the side, watching as they danced around her in a circle, discussing the rise of the new crown princess. The princess herself waltzed right by her, grasping the arm of the prince. She felt a rise of bitterness and jealousy run through her veins.

She’d dedicated her whole life to please her mother, and that girl just walked up and took all the chances Anastasia had worked so hard for. So now she was watching everyone have fun at a stvpid party where no one cared what she was doing or if she had a dance partner or not.

It felt like such a waste of time to be standing here alone, like everyone she knew was out there somewhere dancing together, instead of standing here with Anastasia at this party where everyone else seemed so happy.

She sighed heavily as she looked down at her drink. It was empty already. Sure, she wasn’t supposed to drink at her age, but no one cared about her enough to notice. All they cared about was their crown princess.

The door opened behind her, startling Anastasia out of her thoughts and back into reality. She turned to see the newcomer, and he shifted out of the entrance and immediately headed over to the refreshments. He stood there for a while, as if considering deeply what to drink, though there were only two options.

The mysterious newcomer turned to her direction, revealing an alluring face framed with slightly curly black hair. He shoved the ringlets out of his green eyes, which were glittering in the light.

Anastasia quickly looked away, turning to take another sip of her drink—except she’d forgotten that she didn’t have any left. She scowled and marched over to the refreshments stand.

As she refilled her drink, someone spoke to her. “Aren’t you a bit young for that?”

She whirled around to see the newcomer she’d noticed earlier. Something about him made her heart beat faster, and she felt a bit dizzy. It must’ve been the drink.

She set the glass on the table, regaining her composure. “How old do you think I am, then?”

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Sixteen or seventeen—but that doesn’t excuse underage dr!nking.”

Anastasia picked up the glass again, taking a small sip, recoiling from the metallic taste. “Perhaps I’m actually twenty-one, since you have failed to guess correctly.”

“Perhaps.” He fidgeted with the crimson sleeves of his coat. “I'll…see you around. Anastasia.”

She gaped in his direction, and the dizzying feeling returned once more. Anastasia put down the drink again, sighing. It was just the drink, she told herself. Just the drink…

this is really bad / cringe sorry

[ march 2nd - daily ]
[ soup: «ocean, secrets, sword, paranormal, dragonfly» by @-loyalfeather ]
[ 379 words, 250 points ]
[ tw (!!!) mentions of blood and head (nothing explicit) ]

The waves crash against the shore making a relaxing sound. What am I feeling? Confusion.
My sword engraved in a nearby rock, me sitting alone on the beach. Another wave crashes, almost wetting me.
I don't know what to say. What do I do? I need to—
Another wave splashes me entirely. I feel sleepy, almost… unable to move. I'm dizzy. I can't—
Dang. I am in the middle of nowhere. I don't know where the heck I am, why am I here, and how I am going to get back. If I ever do.
Wait. My sword. Oh shoot.
I'm so done now. I have no idea what to do.
I hear footsteps. Then I realize I'm blindfolded. Hands tied. Feet tied. Everything is tied.
The footsteps suddenly stop… and I can't help but let out a sigh of relief.
That's my mistake. My error. My fault. My failure, the thing that cost me my life. Because there's something, there's a figure. I can feel it. And “it” is getting close. I need to be quiet and think. Who would bring me here? And why?
It's pointless to wonder about that. I know what it wants. It wants answers. It wants information. But mostly, it wants my blood. And the worst part is — I need to give it to it. There's nothing I can do. D-20 and his team abandoned me. Screw you, Bob. Never really liked you anyway.
Everything feels like it was so long ago. And it was, I mean, I think it's been more than 100 years.
And I remember it so vividly. The figure approaches. Slightly takes off my blindfold. It's black. There's no fitting description. It's not human. It is a—
That's where my story ends. Now I am just in spectator mode. There's nothing I can do to stop The Figure. Codename: The Firefly.
The Firefly is known for being a key part in the black market. Not only selling weapons, but also information. And now, my secret it's out there. And now, people are gonna use it for their own good. I'm nothing without my sword. And The Firefly is everything with it.
My blood and my head are being sold for millions. And I don't even get profit from it.

Weekly 1:

Part 1:
Event: One sunny day, two good friends are strolling down the street to go buy bubble tea together. One of them, who is called Lucy, spots a new bakery that is just opening up.
“Let's go get some buns!” She exclaims to her friend, Mia.
Mia shrugs, slightly unsure. “Aren't we going to get bubble tea?” She replies awkwardly.
“Oh yeah,” Lucy sighs. “We could go another time I guess.”
Mia pauses, guilt swelling up in her. She'd hate to make Lucy upset on a lovely day like this. She quickly changes her mind to cheer Lucy up.
“Oh no no no,” She quickly says before Lucy could walk on. “We don't have to go to get bubble tea now! Let's go get buns now then go for bubble tea,”
“You sure?” Lucy says. “We could go for buns now?”
“Yeah, definitely!”
"Alright, then!
So the friends enter the warm bakery.

1: “Are you really sure you don't want to go get bubble tea?” Lucy tells Mia just to make extra sure.
Mia nods confidently. “Yeah! I thought you wanted to go get buns in the first place.”
“Yea but…” Lucy stammers. “Alright.” She gives in and starts browsing the pastries.
Mia checks her watch and paces around the bakery. Lucy swivels around to her.
“I thought you were so eager to be in here!” She hurls at Mia. Mia holds her hands up in protest.
“Only because you wanted to be here!”
“Well, if you're so secretly hellbent on getting bubble tea, then just go get it!”
Mia roars in frustration. “FINE! But I'm not getting some for you!
”I really don't care,“ Lucy crosses her arms and angrily continues browsing pastries as Mia storms outside of the shop. Mia runs down the road, heading toward the bubble tea shop.
”Lucy is so immature!“ She seethes to herself. ”Especially when I agreed to go to the bakery with her! I honestly cannot put up with her anymore."

2: The shopkeeper looks down at the two girls. “Sorry,” She says. “But we're still setting up the bakery and lots of things haven't arrived yet. Maybe come back later!”
“Oh,” Lucy replies. “Ok.” She walked out of the shop with Mia, where she turned to her friend and shrugged,
“Well, maybe we didn't have to go to the bakery.”
“Yeah, but we can come back next weekend!” Lucy started to head toward the bubble tea shop, followed by Mia.
"You think the bubble tea's open?



(unfinished)