- march 02 daily!
- words used in soup: flowers, bunnies, daisies, sweaters, pirates | by @whimsical_vi
- 387 words
- part 1/2 { Enchantixi Word }

A lovely day. The radiant sun is beaming down on me; a rushing, rapid river winds around me like eagerly like a playful Beagle dog. The sky is clear blue, the succulent grass is an eye-catching shade of green. Flowers bloom all around me, and I can hear the patter of spring rain. I'm laying down on my back, staring up at the potato clouds, while making grass-angles in the field. One thing seems odd though; it's all too good to be true, as if it's a dream. Surely something bad and gloomy will happen in any second? I wait… A rustle comes out from the lush-green bushes nearby, I sit up, alert. I see a small tail poking out of the bush, it looks like a fluffy pom-pom. Of course, an adorable yet frightened little bunny comes out. It gazes up at me, as if I were a big, juicy carrot. Then it starts waddling nearer to me.
“No need to be afraid, little one!” I smile sweetly while giving it a soft stroke. It was alarmed at first, but then it started to place its trust into me. It's wonderous, no bunny would ever do that, they're all frightened little creatures. I look at the animal and I definitely saw it magically wink at me, I swear. It sort of wiggled its tail, into my direction and started to hop off. 3 meters, then the bunny crouched down and looked back at me. I then heard a peculiar yet comforting voice coming from the bunny. It obtained a poshy british accent and said,
“Well well, what do we have here? Another missus stuck in this enchanted world.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, yes, you heard me right, I'm a speaking bunny, (It's not rare in this world) and darling you came to the wrong place. You may think this a dream, but oh dearie, you're wrong. This is a nightmare. Y'know, I used to be like you, a mindless little human. I got stuck in this world, I walked endlessly to and from, until my legs and hands got turned into these fluffy paws. It is magnificent, but bad. This world is mystical, you will find all sorts of mysteries here.”
Then, with a crackling whizz, the talking bunny disappeared. I was aghast, confused. What was that?

author edit: this is well, okay. I don't write often but I'm trying to write more right now in SWC. Hope you liked my mysterious daily I wrote, another part will be made soon!

March 02 daily ~ Word Count: 321 ~ Prompt Words: Glass, lake, shadow, hidden, knife

Gail looked out the window of the cabin, at the still, pristine forest. The full moon reflected on the lake, making it look almost magical. The snores of my family were the only sound, and the sabin was incredibly hot, so I put on my light silver coat and stepped outside. I walked to the edge of the lake and gazed at the smooth as glass surface, watching as it was broken by a sudden breeze. I looked away from the rippling reflection of the moon and gazed at the dark, shadow-filled forest.
“Can’t sleep either?”
I turned at the familiar voice of Sol, my best friend. They was standing at the edge of the forest in their blue pajamas and a black jacket on top. Their sandy blonde hair was rumpled and spiky, but despite their rumpled appearance, they gave me a warm smile as I walked over to them.
“Want to go for a walk?”
I grinned.
“Absolutely!”
We set off on the trail that connected all of the campsites, walking in silence, until Sol gasps,
“Abgail, look!” I looked in the direction they were pointing until I saw the bioluminescent mushrooms. They were glowing in every color of the spectrum, some pulsing, some changing colors.
“Woah.”
We stepped off the trail and walked over to the glade. I admired the mushrooms for awhile before I realized how still Sol was standing.
“What is it?” When they turned and looked at me, I realized they were scared.
“You don’t think we were… followed?” I whispered.
Their expression answered my question more then words could. I stumbled a step back.
“N-no! That’s not possible! How could they have found us?” Sol shruggs helplessly, looking desperately in the shadows for a sign of someone hidden there. I backed up a few more steps, backing right into a tree. I didn’t see the blade until I felt cold metal at my throat.

To be continued…

march 02 daily <333 310 words

Faded Memories:
Flashing lights.
Popcorn strewn over faded carpet.
Children running and screaming.
She said she’d be here. She told me she’d be here. She promised.
Karen warned me about this. Told me not to get attached, to get my hopes up. But of course, I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened.
She was so sweet though. She laughed at my jokes, and could talk about Dungeons and Dragons for hours. She cared.
I thought she cared.
The arcade’s so busy. I can barely see two feet in front of me. Maybe she is here, just absorbed into the crowd.
I stare around me, scanning for any sign of her.
Then I see… a face. Staring back at me from the other side of the 2p machines. A familiar smile radiating through the room. Slowly, I walk towards her, squinting.
Everything blurs together now, I can’t see…

‘Dad? Dad?!’ A voice calls from in front of me. A hand clasps my shoulder.
‘Dad, are you okay? Dad?’
It’s a man, talking to me. I can’t quite make out his face.
‘Dad, it’s me, Joey. Come on, we’re going to get you home.’

I screw up my face in confusion. ‘I’m sorry.. do I know you?’ I say.

‘Dad, it’s Joey, your son..’

‘I don’t have a son. I don’t know you.’

Polaroid pictures.
Dancing on a balcony.
Faded Memories.

I reach into my pocket, and remove a slip of paper. A slip of paper, frozen in time, stuck in the past, although it yellows with age.
Faded cursive writing, looping across it.
And paper clipped to it.. a polaroid. It’s edges dog-eared and yellow.
A boy, and a girl. Laughing, with the city skyline in the background, leaning on the rail of a balcony.
I recognise that boy. And that girl, with the timeless face.
I think… I think that boy is me..

daily for march 2nd
words: flower, dream, butterfly, water, fountain
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When I was small, I used to have dreams that seemed like reality. They started out normal, I was in the hallway of my school, going to get water. But then the magic happened. At first, I saw a lone flower in the hall. Just sitting there, next to all the lockers with the boring turquoise hue. I wouldn't think anything of it, and keep on walking. But then a saw a swarm of butterflies surronding the library. They were all of different colors, different sized and different shapes. My favorite was a big blue one that shined like the morning sun. I would walk into the normally bland, boring library to see a magical world. The bookselves were replaced with pools and the big center table was replaced with a ginormous fountain full of clear, sparking blue water. I would walk up to it and touch the water, just for a second, and then everything would disapear. The fountain and the butterflies and all the magic would be gone.
“NO!” I would scream out, in fear. I wanted all the perfect magic, I wanted the dream. I would push my way out of the doors of the library and see the rest of the school. The long halls and twists and turns. Then I would reach the part of the hall that had the flower. It was always still there, sitting on the floor.
“Thank god,” I would say, realizing that not all the magic was gone. I would pick up the flower and hold it in hand. But then it would start to disapear, leaving my hand with a pile of black ash. The hallways would move closer to me. The room would start spinning, the walls were closing in on me. The air was getting less and less by the second. I would scream but no one would hear.
No one was there to help me.
Then I would wake up.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
324 words

Day 1:
Prompt: water, darkness, message, succeed, secret
Word Count: 396
Date: March 2nd
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Link to directory: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7023654/
As a keeper of secrets, I’ve always been wary of those who wish to be close to me. They always want something from me. Something I will never give.
I dipped my toe into the water, recoiling when chills ran through the entirety of my being. I would never get used to this. I decided to just jump in. A frequent decision made reluctantly every night. But the Alantan’s must win this war. My welfare depended on it.
I took a step back. One, two, three. I took in a large breath, bent my legs and dove into the pool. The loud splash was much quieter now that I was underwater. I reached up and grabbed a pearl from my earring. After removal, I crunched it between my fingers. An easy task. Out from the pearl emerged a bubble, into which I was caught. I took in a breath of fresh, salty air and began to direct the pocket of air down to the ocean floor.
“Oh, my sweet Penelope, how are you?” I approached the throne in the dark room, before kneeling, “I am doing well, my lord.” He gave a hearty laugh, before getting off of his throne and approaching me, “You know you may call me by my name, my dear.” I stood, smiling warmly, “I know, but you sound very regal with that title.” He chuckled, “I do, don’t I?” He reached out his hand, a familiar, pale blue, and caressed my face, “I am glad you think so.” I sighed in contentment. This is where I belonged.
After a moment, he stepped back, saying, “Well, what’s your report?” “Nothing much besides rumors of an attack on the western border at Brundisium.” He nodded thoughtfully, pondering over the information, “Anything else?” I racked through my brain, “Oh, yes. The king and queen just had a child. A little girl.” “Hm. What is her name?” “I believe that it’s Cornelia.” He nodded, “After her father, I’m assuming.” “Yes, that’s how our naming system usually is.” “It is respectable.” He began to pace, his hands behind his back as he stared intently at the floor. “I’m not entirely sure what to do with this message of yours. I wish to leave children out of the war as much as possible.” “Yes, that is true.” “But…” he murmured, “I could always make an exception. It’s not like we would hurt her. We are incredibly kind, after all.”

raya's directory
daily haiku, march 2
10 words
i cannot believe
how motivational and
kind these writers are

raya's directory
daily, march 2: 380 words
words: robin, birdi, luna, starr, sun (from @PhonyOOOPS) :0

START. STATIC TURNS INTO NEWS RECORDING ROOM
ANCHOR: -and here is Starr with the latest.
STARR: Thank you, Val. I have Breaking News. Space wars are going on, and two birds in the middle of it- both flightless! Zero-gravity is doing the poor birds some goodness. Investigators are attempting to figure out how these two fowl got there in the first place, but are lacking enough evidence. Let's get on scene.
*in space*
STARR: Good afternoon, or whatever you call this time. Bird advocates are getting increasingly worried about the health and safety of these birds. Firstly, what species are they?
INVESTIGATOR 1: We know for a fact that one is a robin. The other is unknown, there is no data in our system telling us what it may be. One of out investigators calls it “Birdi”-
INVESTIGATOR 2: I do not!
INVESTIGATOR 1: *ignores Investigator 2* and that's all we know about them.
STARR: And their health?
INVESTIGATOR 1: Vitals read normal, which is astonishing based on how long they've been in space. Then again, it may not be accurate. It's hard to read vitals from this far.
STARR: And I take it you cannot get to them?
INVESTIGATOR 1: That's right.
STARR: Do you have any idea or clue as to how these two birds - Robin and Birdii - got here?
INVESTIGATOR 1: We have no idea.
STARR: *getting slightly annoyed* Is there any information we can gather from this unfortunate incident?
INVESTIGATOR 1: I'm sor-
INVESTIGATOR 2: *butts in* Let me fill in.
INVESTIGATOR 1: But-
INVESTIGATOR 2: Beat it, Ronald. *turns to camera* Fortunately, some tracking devices were around the birds, and I've been able to track where they've been. They formerly lived in Earth, and I've seen that they've pierced the Earth's atmosphere with their tough beaks, had a honeymoon with Luna (our moon), made a vacation to the sun, and wound up here. Now, I have tried to persuade other investigators that this is a completely normal event for pairings of birds, but for some reason, well…. This is all we've uncovered.
STARR: *starstruck* I- wow, okay. Well, *faces camera* that's all for today's breaking news. Back over to you. *tight smile*
*screen turns to the news recording studio*
ANCHOR: *thunderstruck*
EL FIN

02 Word Soup

Table of Contents

Words Used: Pet, Birdi, Mango, Keefe, Perfume (thank you kenzie!) <3

Story:
TBD

– Words

March 2 Poetry Daily
20 words

Someone who is
Trying really hard to
Achieve her goals,
Read a lot, and
Really, really write.
Yes, I can.

Marc. 2nd Daily

Word Count: 312
Words used: special, eternal, gorge, river, talisman

A figure stood at the edge of a deep gorge. They had a tan cloak which was flapping in the wind. Their face was covered, making it impossible to identify them.
Raising their hand to block the setting sun, which was casting a blinding golden glow over the sand, they peered into the gorge at the river rushing below. The water was flowing rapidly, bashing the walls of the gorge as it had for eons. It was a spectacular sight, but was it as special as the figure hoped? As special as they needed it to be?
The figured reached into their cloak, pulling out a talisman. They squinted to read the words engraved in the metal, worn by countless hands, though the they knew them by heart:
Dare to track through scorching sand,
Find the place where the waters carve the land,
Face the demons internal
There is the secret of life eternal.
They had, indeed, dared to track through the scorching sand. That must’ve been this dessert, right? After all, there didn’t seem to be anything here /but/ scorching sand. And now, with this gorge, they had found the “place where waters carved the land.” The river had been clawing at the terrain for millennia, causing the very gorge that the figure was standing dangerously close to. Now all that was left was to “face demons eternal” and then, then at last they would have the solution to all of their problems.
The prospect of facing demons, internal or otherwise, wasn’t one that they were looking forward to. But they hadn’t come all this way for nothing. They would do what ever they had to.
They took a final look at the talisman before tucking it back into their cloak for safe keeping. Staring into the waters far below, they whispered “I’m on my way, Papi. I won’t fail you.”

Weekly 1
3080 words total

Part 1: Time Travel Mechanics
927 words

Background- 169 words
The warm sun shines through my bedroom window, gently waking me up. I yawn, stretch, and get out of bed. Looking around, I cheerfully say good morning to the sun, my room, my potted succulents, and the twenty-seven stuffed animals lined up on my shelf. It's a beautiful spring day. The sky is bright blue, with a few fluffy clouds. Trees outside sway slightly in the soft breeze. I riffle through my dresser until I find the outfit I want: a comfy gray t-shirt, jeans, and a fluffy blue hoodie, perfect for the weather outside. I pick up my red hairbrush and comb my hair. Inspecting my appearance in the mirror, I grin, satisfied. Now I'm ready to face whatever's in store today.
My stomach rumbles. It's time for breakfast! I saunter into the kitchen, but then I stop in indecision. There are three different things I'm hungry for: pancakes, waffles, and bagels. I can't have all three, or I'll have a stomachache all day! What should I choose?

1: Pancakes- 253 words
I decide that pancakes are the way to go. Opening my cabinet, I reach for the ingredients, a bowl, a pan, and of course chocolate chips. I stir the ingredients together until they become a thin, yellowish batter. I turn on the stove, set the pan on top, and pour circles of batter onto the pan. Then, I sit at the counter to read a book for a few minutes until it's time to flip them.
Forty-two chapters of Stellarlune later, the room seems a little bit brighter and warmer. It smells like smoke. Is someone camping? I look up from my book and scream. There are flames surrounding me, so close that they singe the edges of the pages. My stomach growls, and then I remember: the pancakes!
I can't save my breakfast now, though. I drop my book, leaving the dialogue and character development, the plot and romance, to wither in the life-sized oven. I sprint for the front door and spill out onto the sidewalk. Gasping, I turn around to see flames peeking through the windows of my house, making their way upstairs. My home, my possessions, my memories– all gone because I was under the spell of a new book. Now that is gone, too, and I had just gotten to the good part.
I call the fire department and watch the burning until they arrive. Once they've put out the fire and confirmed that the damage is minimal (luckily), I go to the store to buy microwavable pancakes.

2: Waffles- 275 words
I peek into my freezer and pull out a mustard yellow box of Eggo waffles. I take out a few rock-solid waffles and plop them in the toaster. While I wait, I laugh to myself, remembering when Eleven stole Eggos from the store in Stranger Things. I haven't watched that show in a while.
I sink into my fluffy couch, turn on Netflix, and play the first episode of Stranger Things. Forty-nine minutes later, the outro plays, and a button pops up for the next episode. I'm pretty sure my waffles have toasted by now, but they can wait another hour, right?
It seems like it's only been a millisecond before the outro is playing for the last episode of Season 4.
That was a pretty good show. The actors were good, too. But what can Millie Bobby Brown and Noah Schnapp and Sadie Sink do that I can't? I can act better than they can!
I remember how actors get cast– they use audition tapes. I should make one, too.
There are so many shows that could use my talents and not enough time to make a tape for each one. Instead, I film myself saying some generic lines. I nail it in one take since I'm so great at acting. I mail the video to every film studio I know, and wait for results.
A few days later, a reply comes. Netflix needs me as Non-speaking Unnamed Background Character in their upcoming show! This could be my big break. Hello, stardom!
So, in the next popular Netflix show, if you see an amazingly talented unnamed background character nailing their role, it's probably me.

3: Bagels- 230 words
I decide to have bagels this morning. I'm all out, so I walk to the store. On the way, someone's giving out free mangoes. I grab one, because mangoes, and slip it into my pocket.
Once I've ordered and received my sesame seed bagel, an idea hits me like an electric shock. I pull the slightly squished mango from my pocket and slice it with the plastic knife that comes with the bagel. Then I put the slices between the bagel halves, on top of the cream cheese. It smells delicious, and I'm about to take a bite when a random person taps me on the shoulder.
“Are you eating that?”
“Uh…” What does she think? I'm literally about to eat it!
“Can I have it?”
“Sorry, but–”
“I'll give you a hundred dollars,” she says.
“Okay…” I know the bagel looks scrumptious, but she can just buy a bagel and a mango.
The idea of a mango bagel makes more customers curious.
“I'll give you two hundred!” someone pipes up.
“A thousand!”
The number goes up and up, until someone in a fancy suit shouts, “A million!”
“Any other offers?” I ask, an impromptu auctioneer. No one says anything. “Going once, going twice… Sold!”
The fancy-dressed person gets the mango bagel, and I get a million dollars. My stomach growls. I didn't have breakfast, but at least I'm rich.

Part 2: Timelines
655 words

Plot Point 1: Natalie sees a spaceship- 127 words
It seemed as if one minute the sky was empty except for the clouds, and the next, it wasn't. A giant triangular thing was blocking out the sun, getting closer and closer. No one but Natalie saw it. No one but Natalie was around, because only Natalie was crazy enough to be doing a twelve mile hike through the desert on this sweltering day. The flying thing slowly lowered to the ground, and a door opened on its side. Humanoid creatures wearing neon green suits filed out of the opening and scattered in different directions. Natalie had read enough sci-fi to know that whatever was inside the spaceship was bound to be cool. She waited until the creatures were far enough away, then snuck inside the hatch.
Plot Point 2: Natalie enters the spaceship- 116 words
The first thing Natalie saw when she entered was a long gray hallway that contained lots of doors and branched off multiple times. There weren't many things to mark her spot except pictures she couldn't understand carved onto each door. She took out her GoPro from her backpack and turned it on. She figured that one, she could play back the video to remember how to get out; and two, why not have some epic alien ship footage? She could share it with scientists and become famous! Or she could keep it to herself and become a crazy conspiracy theorist lady! First things first, she reached the closest door, pushed a button, and it slid open.
Plot Point 3: She explores and the ship takes off- 128 words
Natalie explored countless rooms, the only sign of the passage of time being the increasing soreness in her feet. The GoPro did come in handy, for she was constantly getting turned around. She found rooms with buttons, rooms with clunky machines, rooms with stuff that looked like plants, but no aliens. Realistically, she thought they were all out exploring Earth. She had just stumbled upon what looked like a living quarters when she heard low patterns of growling coming from the inside of the ship– the aliens were back. She had to get off. Which way had she come from again? She scrolled through her GoPro footage until she felt a rumble under her feet. Then the ground seemed to fall away. She gasped– the ship was flying!
Plot Point 4: She gets discovered and taken to the captain- 131 words
The sound of footsteps grew closer, and Natalie froze. Two blue aliens twice the height of an average human entered the room she was exploring. They looked just as surprised as Natalie was. She imagined them taking in her messy hair and short, slender build just as she observed their four tentacles and big, dark eyes. The aliens chatted to each other before one of them reached for Natalie's arm with a tentacle. Natalie was too frozen in shock to run, and really, where would she go? The two aliens guided her through more hallways. Soon, they reached what looked like the front of the ship, where another blue alien was sitting in front of a window and an array of screens. This new alien, probably the captain, turned around expectantly.
Plot Point 5: She tries to tell the captain to take her home- 153 words
Natalie was all for a space adventure, but when she really thought about it, it seemed more scary than exciting. She knew she had to explain that she wanted to go home. The question was how? She spotted a screen showing a picture of Earth and pointed to it. She pointed at herself, then the picture. She even added a motion of steering a car. Turn the ship around. Bring me back to Earth. The captain didn't seem to get it. They said something to the other two aliens. Natalie was taken to a room filled with boxes of Earth plants, enclosures of Earth animals, and samples of Earth rocks. Her two escorts left, and the metal door closed behind them. She shuddered. This was it. She was leaving her home forever, probably to be used as a test subject. Tears came to her eyes as the spaceship continued into the dark unknown.

Part 3: Outline
320 words

Summary- 110 words
Finn wants to be the first one to map the enchanted woods. While he's exploring, he finds a magic clock that grants the user time travel. Fifty years later, he gives it to his oldest granddaughter, Lyra. Lyra uses it to go back in time with her sister Evelyn. While Lyra is exploring the old days, Evelyn wants to get the clock for herself. She sneaks off and takes the same path her grandfather took. After she finds the clock, Finn, who was going on his mapping quest at the time, does not find it. Finn's and Evelyn's adventures are told at the same time, but Finn gets two outcomes.

Outline: 210 words
I'm using blue for Lyra and Evelyn/Evie's POV, red for Finn's POV, and purple for both of them connected

• Finn sets off on his quest to map the enchanted woods
  
• Evelyn sneaks off into the woods
  
• Finn finds a troll bridge across a river, gets asked a riddle, and puzzles out the answer
  
• Evelyn gets to the troll bridge and immediately knows the answer
  
• Finn goes into a pixie grove, where the pixies keep vanishing trees for him to bump into. He closes his eyes and listens to the rustling of the trees to navigate
  
• Evelyn finds a field of magic mushrooms that shoot sleeping gas, but she is prepared.
  
• Finn finds a witch with an enchanted clock and trades his new, shiny watch for it
  
• In the future, Finn gives the enchanted clock to Lyra. Lyra and Evelyn go back in time to when their grandpa was a kid. Evelyn is jealous of Lyra and wants a watch for herself. While Lyra is distracted, Evelyn sneaks off to get it
  
• Evelyn finds the clock and trades her charm bracelet for it
  
• Finn finds the cottage, and sees the witch admiring her new charm bracelet. The witch asks if he wants to trade; he says no. Finn continues mapping.
  
• Finn grows up and gives the non-magical watch to Lyra. Evelyn is jealous, only because it's a very nice watch.

Part 4: Final Story
1178 words

Finn stared into the dense green wall of trees that were said to stretch on endlessly. Well, soon he would find a way across. Because of him, other people would be able to navigate through the enchanted woods, knowing exactly where everything was, because Finn would be the first person to map it. Finn looked back at his village one last time, unsure if he'd ever see it again. He clenched the straps of his backpack full of food, water, clothes, and mapmaking supplies. He turned around and stepped off the paved path, into the dark, magic forest.

Evelyn didn't know why she envied her older sister Lyra so much. She just knew she wanted everything Lyra had, especially a magical pocketwatch. Fortunately, Evie knew exactly how to get her own magic watch.
While Lyra was distracted, Evie snuck off to the woods. She knew, no matter how long she took, she'd be back before her sister was worried. Evie hadn't gone this exact way in the woods before, but she knew the route by heart. She looked around in wonder as she entered the woods, taking in the tall trees, colorful birds, and lively mushrooms. It was so much more beautiful than she'd imagined.

Finn hadn't traveled long before he reached a wide, rushing river. There was a sturdy-looking wooden bridge across it, which was weird because he thought no one else had gotten this far in the forest yet. He walked up to it, but froze when he saw the creature standing on it, blocking the way. It was short and humanoid, with knobby gray skin, sharp horns, and fangs. Finn recognized it as a troll.
As Finn approached it, it spoke. “In order to cross my bridge, you must answer a riddle. If you get it wrong, I will throw you in the river.” The troll continued before Finn could reply, “What runs but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, and has a bed but never sleeps?”
Finn thought for a little bit, then he looked at the water speeding below. “A river?”
“You may pass,” the troll muttered.

Evie saw the river, saw the bridge, and sure enough, the troll was standing there too.
“In order to cross the bridge, you must answer a riddle or you will be punished,” it growled.
Evie nodded.
“What runs but never walks, has a–”
“River.”
The troll gaped. “Don't you want to hear the whole–”
“Final answer. River.”
The troll frowned at her and glumly moved aside.

After adding the troll bridge to his map, Finn continued walking in a straight line, dodging trees and roots, until… smack!
He could feel the bark of the tree and hear its leaves rustling, although he could see nothing. He also heard giggling and caught a tiny sparkle out of the corner of his eye. Ugh, pixies. Always pranking travelers.
Finn closed his eyes and put his hands out in front of him. He couldn't see the vanishing trees, but he could still hear them. He walked like this for what seemed like miles until the giggling faded. He sat on a log and added “Vanishing Grove” to his map.

Evelyn had finally passed those obnoxious pixies in the Vanishing Grove, and when she opened her eyes she saw oversized, brightly colored mushrooms up ahead. Oh, she knew what was coming. As pretty as the mushrooms were, she could not come closer to admire them. Instead, she breathed in and out deeply to stretch out her lungs, then sucked in a huge gulp of air and propelled herself through the mushrooms. Colorful clouds of gas puffed around her, but she didn't breathe or stop running until she was far away from them.

Still only half-awake from mushrooms that shot sleeping gas, Finn found a clearing. In the middle was a marble pedestal that seemed to have a spotlight shine on it. On top of the pedestal was a battered, old pocketwatch. When he approached, woman in a dark purple dress and a pointy hat materialized behind the pedestal.
“This watch has the power to jump time,” the witch said casually.
Finn gasped. He'd always imagined all the problems he could solve with the power to turn back time, or go to the future. Now he had the opportunity to do so with a device like that.
“Do you want it? I'm willing to trade,” offered the witch.
Finn hesitated before he pulled off his new golden wristwatch. “Will this do?”
“Ooh, shiny!” The witch grinned. “Done.”

Finn went on many more adventures, but years later, he still told the story of his first time mapping the enchanted woods. One day, he was in the middle of retelling it to his granddaughters, Lyra and Evelyn, when he pulled the old pocketwatch out of his pocket. He handed it to Lyra.
“Now remember,” he explained, “As a kid, I used this gadget to get myself out of trouble, but usually it got me into more trouble. Now I'm entrusting it to you, my oldest granddaughter.” Lyra beamed, Evelyn pouted, her grandfather didn't notice. “Use it wisely.”
An hour later, Lyra was showing the watch to her sister when Evie had an idea. She convinced her sister to travel back in time, talking about all she could learn, the people she could meet. With some convincing, Lyra agreed. While Lyra was busy exploring the olden days, Evelyn ran off to the woods, determined to get a time-traveling watch for herself.

Just like all the obstacles Evie had passed, the clearing looked just how her grandfather had described, down to the way the pedestal glowed in the sun. The witch appeared and began to talk, but Evie already had her words planned. “I'll trade you this bracelet for that pocketwatch”. Evie held up her wrist, glittering with a shiny silver charm bracelet.
“That sure is shiny,” mused the witch. “Sold.”

Still only half-awake from mushrooms that shot sleeping gas, Finn found a clearing. In the middle was a marble pedestal that seemed to have a spotlight shine on it. On top of the pedestal was a shiny silver charm bracelet. When he approached, a woman in a dark purple dress and a pointy hat materialized behind the pedestal.
“I just got this a few weeks back,” the witch said, pointing at the bracelet, “but I'm willing to trade it for something.”
“No thanks,” Finn replied. He had no idea what he would do with a charm bracelet. He added “Witch's Clearing” on his map.

Finn went on many more adventures, but years later, he still told the story of his first time mapping the enchanted woods. One day, he was in the middle of retelling it to his granddaughters, Lyra and Evelyn, when he pulled the shiny wristwatch out of his pocket. He handed it to Lyra. “I bought this watch just before my first adventure, and now I'm entrusting it to you, my oldest granddaughter.” Lyra beamed, Evelyn pouted. Evie was jealous of her sister. It was a very nice watch.

Daily 3/2
“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”

Words (courtesy of the amazing miss moonlit): sand, crow, wish, mortal, bottle

As she died, my grandmother told me three things.

One, she made me promise to cry at her funeral.

Tears, she said, give you courage. “If you feel like crying,” she’d said with that raspy southern accent, “let the tears flow out those pretty little eyes of yours. Somebody’s telling ya you’ve gotta cry, and we ain’t gonna disrespect their judgment to keep your reputation.” Letting yourself be vulnerable was the ultimate act of strength. Of course, she was a very headstrong woman, so I didn’t know exactly what to think of this.

Two, her favorite plant was sage.

The way it smells, that deep earthiness, crisp and herbaceous. Its velvety texture- I remember her long wrinkled fingers running over the leaves as she’d sit out on her porch swing, tea in one hand, the other resting on the sage plant. Me, a scrawny child naive with youth, curled up against her, my little frame pressed against her side, a leaf of my own squeezed between my fingers.

I’d known this about her, though I think it was more of a hint- keep this plant around, and forever think of me.

Three, she had made one wish in her life.

My grandmother had long declared her doubt in wishes. To wish was to send a message as a mortal to some greater power, a bit like mailing a letter. Who knew whether or not it would return? Who knew whether or not it would even arrive? Who knew if you’d get a reply? Wishes were like that- unpredictable and unreliable. It was placing your hopes and dreams in the hands of someone who knew not of life as a simple being, living a single life free of immortality and magic.

Though she’d grown to find magic somewhere else, she said. There was a boy, brilliant green eyes and a mess of black hair, a personality like dancing raindrops. The boy attracted her instantly, jovial, charismatic, funny… the way his eyes sparkled with mischief were enough to send her heart into a symphony of flutters. Love, she said, had found her.

Time passed. Where individually clouds had darkened their skies, together they had made a blue to rival that of the oceans. She could feel it blossoming, like a freshly planted rose glistening with morning dew, still unfurling its silky petals as it grew up out of the ground. A spot of beauty where there had been desolace.

Then for a moment, everything seemed to slow. She said she didn’t remember details- it seemed to have been blocked out.

A lifeless body on the ground.

The wailing of sirens.

Blinding white walls of a hospital.

Nurses, doctors, family members, but she stayed by his side.

Until she was forced to leave.

His absence left a gaping ache in her heart, one that she filled with any meaningless delight she could find. But it never seemed to heal. So she turned to the clouds.

A letter had been written, full of the words she’d never said. Words she wished she’d said. Words she’d been too frightened to say. But now she could never say them.

A sea had been grown, a sea of greens and blues to match his eyes. Those eyes that she would have stared into for ages, if given the chance.

A crow had been born, fleeting like the memory of life before him. Dark to match his hair, dark to match the depths of which she missed him.

And so the letter was tucked neatly away into a glass bottle. She went to that unreachable sea in her mind, that sea compiled of memory, and threw the bottle in.

I wish to see you again.

And then her eyes drifted shut, her hand limp in mine.

A tear ran down my cheek. I would cry for her, like I’d promised. I would cry for her memories, for her sorrows, for her strength.

I would cry tears to add to her sea, so that she could sail on her wish, and see him again.

xxfierrorfalafel

march 2: ivy, rocky, ocean, mirror, owl

tw: toxic/somewhat ab*s*ve mother, father who left, guilt and blaming self. also drowning but really more of a metaphor

I’m gonna be honest with you, I’ve been struggling, Will. Everytime I think stuff is finally going right with my mom she always does something to remind me I need to be more careful with her. Sometimes I wonder where dad is. I get why he left her, but I don’t know why he left me. It’s not like I can’t find out. If I ask, mom would probably start ranting about him, but I don’t want to get yelled at and… if I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not sure I wanna dive into all of that. Maybe it’s best I don’t try casting my line in that sea, but at the same time… I wonder what he was like. Do I look like him, Will? Sorry, of course you don’t know, and it’s dumb to think about, but it’s so unfair. You get to look in the mirror and see someone who looks just like your grandpa. I don’t look anything like my mom, so do I look like my dad.All my life I;ve felt like i’m on a stormy sea, and my mom’s my island. Even though she’s rocky and cruel, she’s still better than the treacherous waves, right? They batter me and beat me down. They did that to her too, didn’t they, Will? Am I going to be like her one day? Does she see herself in me? Is that why she seems to hate me? Or does she see my dad. I love my mom, really I do, but is that wise? I wish I had wisdom. I wish I had any sort of understanding about anything. I don’t want this to last forever, Will. Maybe it’s time I dive into that ocean and just swim deep down. Filling my lungs with the terrifying world. I need a way off this rocky island but… I can’t leave her like dad did. I’m a horrible daughter, aren’t I? Maybe I really am like my father.


daily march 4
Emeric bounced his foot impatiently as he sat on a tree stump, waiting for his turn to do the final paperwork before he could be admitted into camp. He was already accepted in of course, but there were just a few last things the leaders needed. He could see the cabins past the main cabin where he was about to check in. Horror, fantasy, and the cabin he would be in, Script. Finally it was his turn and barely glancing at the pages he scrawled his name across, dotting the little i’s in his name Emeric Z. Burakgazi with hearts. Then shouldering his backpack, he joined the rest of the script campers. When all them were there, the leader and co leaders led them into the script cabin. Emeric pushed his way to the front and looked around in awe. It was a combination of cozy cabin, ancient greek theatre, and just a timeless theatre with a stage, beautiful velvet curtains around the bunks, spotlights, masks and costumes hanging everywhere and a ton of places to write. Emeric was a bit nervous about that. Really who joined a writing camp when they barely wrote? But come on, it was script cabin! And it was hadestown themed. How could he pass that up? Camp announcements came over a loud speaker telling everyone to introduce themselves and try describing themselves as a book, Emeric waved over a camper. “Hi, I’m Emeric what’s your name? “Me?” he camper looked both ways over their shoulders and pointed to themself in surprise. Emeric nodded. “Oh um…” the camper scratched behind their ears not meeting Emeric’s blue eyes. “I’m Aurora.” He grinned. “Nice to meet you Aurora. So, you like theatre?” They nodded a little. “I guess we should do that book thing,” Emeric said. “I’ll go first. Honestly I’ve never done a writing camp and I barely make a C in English cause my teacher doesn’t like creativity.” he sighed a dramatic sigh, worthy of the theatre. If I were a book, I would be a comic book, full of bright colorful pictures. There’d probably be a bunch of things happening at once too. You probably couldn’t find me easily on the shelf, but if you looked closely past all the fancy books I somehow got placed with, you’d find me. And hopefully I could entertain you and make you laugh a little.” his voice got wistful but also sad. “I might just be a comic book… but we can do great things too. We can.” Aurora blinked and was quiet for a bit. “That was really nice.”
unfinished but I doubt I'll continue

Words from Stingray(@Whirlygig): springtime, mist, rusty, morning, bloom

Daily 2: March 2, 2023
Words: 319

After such an eventful night, I was glad to be going to bed. Oh, what would the day bring, I wondered as I drowsed off into some form of deep sleep. I was soon awaken by the beauiftil chirps of a robin outside my window. The morning mist filled the air and I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. Only now realising that is was March 20 - the first day of spring, I shot out of my bed with as much energy as a kind with a sugar rush, and scrambled down the staircase. I opened the back door to quickly peer through, and fully pushed it open while skipping joyfully into the garden. Spring was such a beautiful time of year - it was the time for change, as many liked to call it. Flowers of pretty shades were beginning to blook, and buds were starting to form on the branches of the trees. Baby animals were being welcomed into their new world, and everything in general just felt anew.

As the brisk, morning air rushed across my face, I continued to admire the scenery taking it all in to its fullest. I hastily went back inside to make myself some breakfast in hopes of having enough time to spend some more time outside before having to catch my bus. I took out a rusty, stainless steel pan from the kitchen and started to cook some scrambled eggs with bacon. Such a refreshing meal, on such a beautiful day. I made myself some almond milk, and decided to add some toast to the whole combo. After muching up all my food, I check the clock - there was still time! I went outside once more, and this time, I decided to lie down on the soft, dark green grass. I looked at up the sky, seeking the clouds, and finally, I closed my eyes. Such a nice spring day.

March 2
380 words

You weren't sure what to expect upon arriving in the cafe. But you needed a job, and the flier had specifically said “job openings now!” Plus, it paid big cash. So you set off across town to find this so-called cafe. Upon arriving, you found soothing music playing in the background, exactly the sort you would imagine playing in a french cafe. You looked around suspiciously. Were you still in america? Upon entering it had certainly felt like you had entered a french coffee shop. Could some magical thing have happened to cause you to transport you to a new place? You seriously doubted it. In your small of Reeville, nothing strange ever happened. Although, certain cafe’s never opened either. The music seemed to be pounding into your senses, not seeming as harmless and calming as it had before. You closed your eyes, only for a second, and when you opened them you found the room was filled with people. There was something uncanny about the people, and it took you a moment to realize they were all wearing glasses and holding the daily paper. The daily paper?! It was the 2000’s, no one read the paper anymore! You weren’t even sure if they still printed them. The ruffling of pages cut into your ears, mixing with the already pounding music. They each took out a marker, and slowly scratched it across the page to highlight something. The sound was almost nauseating. The music, pounding into your senses. The papers flipping, cutting your eardrums. The markers, highlighting some unseen thing and making you cringe each time. You sank to your knees, covering your ears to prevent yourself from hearing the horrible sounds. But alas, your efforts were useless, as the noises continued attacking you, leaving you with only a shred of conscience. “STOP!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, and suddenly, it was over. When you had the courage to open your eyes and uncover your ears, you found everything was as it was supposed to be. Other than the fact that everyone was staring at you, you were fine and the noises had stopped. You surely wouldn’t be getting the job now, but you didn’t mind if only so you could get out of that wretched place.

march 2nd // 145 words

Prompt: Happy National Soup It Forward Day! What are your favorite 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.
Words used: Shivering, golden, iris, wings, blue (from @ScarlettSBC)

Today I woke up shivering from the cold- worst yet, I developed the flu yesterday. I took medicine before I went to sleep, yet of course it didn't last long. I tossed and turned all night, waking up several times in the process. My hair all crazy and sweaty, I brush my teeth before heading downstairs. The stove flares to life as I turn it on, the flames delightfully licking the bottom of the pot. Hmm, what should I put in this soup? I wonder as I yawn. “Hey, Mom!” I croak up the stairs as I hear her trudging down. “What should I put in this soup?” Her eyes glitter as she says, “About time you asked me this- I have something to show you.” With renewed energy she practically runs up the stairs…and up another flight, and another, until we're in the attic.

(not done)

go back to star's thread

Waterfall's Daily For March 2nd
2175 words
Words: Math, Dinosaur, Tea, Blanket, Balloon.

Bella anxiously sat in math class, waiting anxiously for it to be over. The teacher, Mrs. Hawk, tapped her ruler on the board to quiet the other antsy children down.
“Alright everybody, just ten more minutes! I know you're all excited for the day to be over, but we've got to go through this first. Now, take out your calculators, and I'll show you this last thing.” Bella's mind was still on other things. As her teacher rambled on about quadratic functions, all Bella could think about was dinosaurs. No, there wasn't an exciting science class that day. It was the national dig competition! Only Bella's dream since 5th grade. Ever since her dad introduced her to dinosaurs in first grade, Bella was obsessed. When she heard about the national dig competition, she immediately got to work studying archaeology. Now, she was finally old enough to participate! She couldn't wait for all of the-
“Bella, care to tell us what f of eight is?”Bella looked up, her eyes widening.
“Uh, sixteen point five?” Bella said hopefully.
“Incorrect, the answer was twenty six point seven. Like I was just talking about, a common mistake people make is-” blah, blah, blah. Bella mocked her math teacher inside of her head. She went back to daydreaming about the national dig competition. After school, she would ride her bike back home, and run into her dad's car to head over to Nevada. Her bags were already packed for two days. The fist day, she would get settled and go to the national dig competition meeting, where they would be briefed about how the next day would go. Then, the next day, they would go to the picnic with tea and blankets and do the dig! During the dig, everyone gets a balloon and runs out to the dig site. They give out materials, but Bella brought her own. The first person to find and dig up a fossil releases their balloon, and wins! But only pro archaeologists have ever won. People had gone to college and studied archaeology, and practiced for years to win this competition. But Bella needed to win this competition. She could win a scholarship to the Nevada Institute of Archaeology! It's been her dream for so long, and now she's so close she can almost taste it. “Now, as you can see, this would be…” Ugh, Bella couldn't take any more of that math. It never was her strong suit anyways. Bella's hand shot up. “Yes, Ms. Hansley? Do you know the answer?”
“Um, well, no, but I was wondering if I could… go get some water?” Mrs. Hawk sighed and frowned.
“If you know the answer, you may.” Mrs. Hawk folded her arms and looked at Bella. Bella racked her brain for what Mrs. Hawk had been saying for the past five minutes. Oh, screw it. I'll just guess, Bella thought.
“Uh, I think it's two.” Mrs. Hawk adjusted her glasses.
“Correct. You may go now.” Even Bella was surprised that she got that right. Bella went out to the water fountain and almost let her water bottle overflow because she was still thinking about the national dig competition. The bell rang, and Bella raced back inside the classroom to grab her stuff and go. Bella sprinted outside to her bike, and pumped hard with her legs. She had to get home as quickly as possible for the long drive to Nevada. She arrived just as her dad was putting her trunk in the car.
“Hurry up, put your bike in the garage! We want to get there in time for the briefing. I wish I could participate, but my back probably couldn't handle it. Still, watching you participate is almost as good!” Bella's dad grinned as he pulled down the trunk.
“National dig competition, here I come!” Bella shouted with her arms up as she hopped into the car. “Woohoo!”
“Alright, we're going straight to Nevada!” Bella's dad revved up the engine of their old - but very much beloved - car. Bella and her father sat in the car, listening to country music. It was Bella's dad and mom's favorite type of music, and they passed it on to her. Rolling down the windows to get the wind in her face, Bella sang along.
“Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belongggg!” Bella giggled and her dad turned up the volume.
“This was your mother's favorite song, you know.” Bella suddenly became quiet at the mention of her mother, the upbeat song not as pleasant, weighting her shoulders.
“Yeah,” She said, looking down. “I should win this for her. She always wanted me to follow my dream of becoming an archaeologist. She supported my love for dinosaurs, which turned out to be a phase that never ended,” Bella's face became a sad smile. The genuine kind, where you can see it in someone's eyes. The good memories covered in the dust of sorrow and mourning, still shining out from under there. “I'm always trying to make her proud. Sometimes I feel like that's all I can do, but that's all I really need to do, make my family proud. Even if nobody else really cares. You know?” Bella paused. “Forget it, that's kind of stupid.” She faked a smile and looked down at her hands in her lap. Her dad spoke up from behind the wheel.
"No, it's not. And I think you're making her very proud up in heaven. I know you're making me proud.“ He gave Bella a warm smile through the rear view mirror. The rest of the drive was pleasant, with soft music and each other to keep them company, and endless fields to drive through, only coming to an end when it turned to a different crop growing. They reached the hotel and unpacked, and walked to the dig site for the opening of the national dig competition. A man walked up to the mic and tapped it.
”Testing, testing, one two three?“ He adjusted the mic and pointed it towards his mouth. ”Alright everybody - are you all excited for this year's annual national dig competition?“ Bella joined the hundreds around her cheering. ”I'm sure you remember how it works, but for any newcomers, I'll remind you. Tomorrow, after the picnic, you all will line up at the beginning of our massive dig site. When the starting pistol goes off, you bring your balloons and go find some fossils! The first person to find and dig out a fossil will release their balloon, and will be declared the winner!“ The man paused while everybody cheered and clapped. ”Now, please, we don't need anyone stealing someone else's find. I know this is highly unlikely, but in the case that this does happen, you will be eliminated. Other cheating or putting other contestants down of any sort will also lead to elimination. Now, everyone, meet us back here at the green at ten o' clock sharp tomorrow for our picnic before the dig begins!“ Everyone clapped again, and the man stepped down from the stage. All of the contestants started to disperse back to their own campsite or vehicles. Bella squeezed her dad's hand in excitement.
”Ready to become the next national dig competition winner?“ Her dad asked her.
”Oh yeah!“ Bella replied with her fist in the air.
”Well, you better rest up, we've got a big day tomorrow! Well, you more than me.“ Her dad winked at her. ”You'll remember that day, July twenty first, as the day you won a scholarship to the Nevada Institute of Archaeology!“ The next day came quickly, and soon, Bella and her dad were heading out to the picnic. They spread out their blanket and enjoyed tea, muffins, sandwiches, and homemade cookies. But Bella was very nervous - the biggest competition of her life was happening in an hour! Soon, the announcement came over the green.
”All competitors, please report to the starting line. There should be people to assist you find where it is. We will be starting in ten minutes. I repeat, all competitors, please report to the starting line. The national dig competition will commence in ten minutes, everybody. Thank you.“ The mic screeched and was put down, and Bella gulped. It was now or never. She hugged her dad and made her way to the starting line. Bella looked around at all of the other competitors, knowing that it was going to be terribly hard for her to win. There were adults here who went to college and studied to get here! And she was just a teen with a dream. But she had been studying archaeology on her own for years, and this moment was her dream come true. She wasn't going to give up so easily. Another teenage girl next to her whispered,
”Good luck!“ Bella looked over and said,
”You too!“
”I'm Amara, by the way.“
”Cool, I'm Bella!“ They smiled at each other, and the starting pistol was fired. Bella immediately started speed walking around the area. Some of the people who were clearly professionals started scanning the ground with fancy equipment. But Bella shook it off, saying that with her method, she wouldn't have to carry around a big metal machine. It takes a while for their machines to scan a little bit of ground, and if they find something that Bella couldn't see. it would be very deep and hard to dig up. Bella reassured herself that there would be plenty of good fossils for her to find. Bella noticed something sticking out of the ground in front of her. Excitedly, she took out her tools and started to dig it up. But after a couple minutes, she realized that it was just a rock. She frowned and looked at the time she had wasted. Hurriedly, she went off - only to find more rocks. The national dig competition was already harder than expected. She was ready to give up. But NO! She couldn't give up! Bella thought of all the people rooting for her, especially her mom. But it was discouraging to look around and see all of the other people already digging, including Amara and some other adults. But then, Bella noticed something in front of her foot. It was unmistakably a dinosaur bone! Bella had to dig quickly to get it out, because there were many other people digging, too! Finally, she got her bone out without harming it. She had found the scapula of a sauropod skeleton! Quickly, Bella released her red balloon into the air. She watched it float up, up, and away, hopefully finding it's way to her mom, showing her what her daughter had accomplished. But Bella's heart jumped when she noticed there was another balloon in the air, not too far away from hers. An aqua blue one. Nervously, she waited as two of the people running the competition rushed over to her. Two others jogged in the other direction, probably locating the owner of the aqua balloon.
”Yup, we've got a sauropod scapula here,“ One of the people said into their walkie talkie. Static was heard, and to Bella's dismay, someone on the other end talking through.
”Cervical vertebrae of some other dinosaur from the aqua balloon.“ The two people who had come over to Bella looked over at each other, and the first one talked back into their walkie talkie.
”So which one released the balloon first?“ Bella, eavesdropping, waited anxiously for a reply.
”I don't know, they're checking the cameras right now. We'll have to wait for the announcement.“
”Alright.“ Bella's heart was racing even faster now. She waited impatiently until an air horn was blown.
”Alright everyone, we have an announcement: We have a winner! Everyone please make your way to the green where the introduction was made yesterday.“ Bella and many others rushed over to see. ”Alright, it seems about everyone is here. Can I get a drumroll?“ Everyone around Bella started doing a drumroll, but she was too nervous. ”For the first time in national dig competition history, we have a tie! Our two winners are, Bella Hansley and Amara Chapman! Congrats to them, they will both be receiving scholarships to the Nevada Institute of Archaeology, and a prize of 10,000 dollars!“ People started clapping and cheering, and Bella just smiled in disbelief. She had really won! ”Could our two winners please come up to the stage?“ Bella pushed her way through the crowd and smiled. Amara came up too, and they both high fived each other. ”These two girls have also set the record for the youngest people to ever win the national dig competition!" More cheering. Bella looked at her dad, and up at the sun, it's rays shining brightly to the once cloudy day. She knew her mother was proud of her, and her father was proud of her. She was proud of herself. Her life had taken a perfect turn, and Bella would finally be able to pursue her dream.

(I'm sorry my endings are bad lol)

Daily // March 2 // Word Soup // 342 words
Words provided by @IzzyRS2010
~Book~Sight~Portal~Power~Key~

Four friends were crowded around a thick book bound in green leather. They were observing its cover and eyeing the lock preventing them from obtaining its secrets. It was an ancient spellbook from the Vision time period, where special mages tuned with the elements were able to see past the ordinary spectrum of colors, view the world beyond the third dimension, see what could not be seen.
But they were long gone now.
“Maybe this book could restore the ancient powers of vision to the world,” the first friend suggested. They were a mage of crystal, able to create objects that shimmered like jewels out of thin air. “It’s no use without the key,” the second friend muttered. She was an Ordinary, one who’s magical genes had faded out over time. The third friend simply shrugged as xe continued to observe the book. Xe was a transportation mage, one who could summon portals to other locations, which was how the group had met the fourth friend. He was a small creature with no voice, but had the most power of them all, able to summon intense beams of light that blinded his foes. Even now, he was slightly glowing, his feathery cape wrapped around his entire body.
The group continued to investigate the book, which they had found buried beneath a tree during one of their expeditions to the Vision Temple’s ruins, only accessible through the transportation mage’s portals. The Ordinary picked it up and turned it in different directions to see if that helped (it didn’t), while the crystal mage muttered to themselves, debating on whether or not they could make an artificial key with their abilities.
It was the light creature who finally put a talon inside his cape and pulled out a key made of emerald, showing it to his closest friend, the transportation mage. Xe cried out in joy, showing the others xyr friend’s discovery.
The creature climbed onto the table, gently inserting the key into the hole and unlocking the book, allowing the friends to look inside…

March 2

(I got the words “rain, guitar, railroad, sleep, shelter” from @Shadow-of-a-kitten. My words “anchoring, perturbation, yak, omnipotence, triangulate” were claimed by @Willowshine45, whose writing is here: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/666562/?page=1#post-7022920 )

Just before sunrise.
The first pale rays of dawn pool upon the landscape, trickling down the mountains and flowing into the rivers. The rain was subsiding, only the faintest mist still drifting down from the sky. Tiny droplets settle upon your glasses and blur your vision. An unfocused, subtle haze over everything, no sharp lines, no clearly-defined edges. No end.
You absentmindedly strum your guitar as you wend your way among the trees, sending a few wondering notes into the crisp, dewy air. The sky is heavy today, but it is a comforting weight, and one you do not mind bearing.
Reaching the old railroad, its once gleaming rails now corroded by time and weather, you turn and walk along it in parallel, a wanderer, forever moving, passing through. Weeds sprout up between the bars, and wildflowers patiently await the rising sun.
The tracks lead up through the hills, and you follow. The dewdrops glitter on the grass, liquid light and golden air. The world has not yet woken up, the birds themselves only just beginning to open their beaks and chirp the morning into existence. But maybe there are others out there, quietly hiding from sleep, residing in daydreams, walking their own roads. This is an in-between time, neither day nor night, here nor there. It belongs to the drifters, to the ones who make the horizon their home. To the ones who keep going.
Your mind wanders with your feet, never really sure where you’re going. You don’t need to know. You are who you are and that is all that really matters. Made of light and shadow and calm, deep waters. And memories, yes, but not regrets. Faded and bittersweet, a shelter built of old photographs of younger days and long-forgotten words and stars so close you could touch them.
They carry you onward and you keep moving, a never-ending journey.

SWC would be a soup made of chunks of mango floating in a broth of chaos, heated with some arson. There would be noodles in it made out of various types of comment threads, including lyric spams and those threads where everyone says autocorrect is wrong. SWC soup is always to be consumed with a side of activitea.

March 3

“Wh- who ARE you?”
I smirked and sat down as he slowly backed away, his eyes full of confusion and fear. “I am many things, but only myself,” I replied, having fully returned to my original form. “And I know exactly who I am. Who are YOU?”
“Well, I’m- I’m not sure anymore! I can’t be Breeze any longer– You changed me into a- a- a wolf!”
“Ah, but that is WHAT you are, a much simpler matter. ‘Who’ is something you have to decide for yourself.” I tilted my head. “What you believe in, how you define yourself, how you choose to think of the world.”
He shook his head but said nothing, breathing heavily. Probably in shock, I noted to myself. I should keep that in mind the next time I experiment with morphing other sentient species. At least he seemed to have picked up the language well enough.
“You know, someone once told me that we all live in a world of stories,” I continued. Both literally and figuratively, I think to myself, a flash of bright green flicking across my memory. “Maybe each story has its own main character, but there isn’t just one narrative. And the hero of one tale is the villain of another.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” he muttered, fur still bristling uncomfortably.
“Means you’re the only one who can decide who your own story is about,” I say, eyeing him searchingly as I rise to my paws and lope in a slow circle around him. He watches me warily but doesn’t flinch. I come to a stop beside his shoulder, my pelt just barely brushing his. “You said you wanted a new start, didn’t you? Consider this a chance to write your own tale. And I have some new characters for you to meet, if you want,” I offer.
“…Okay,” he says at length. “But only if you tell me your real name.”
I grin as I stride forward, looking back over my shoulder. “Chaos,” I say. “What’s yours?”
The young wolf pauses a moment, a new determination appearing in his eyes.
“I’m Blaze,” he answers.

March 4

The sun burns high overhead, hot and bright. Not a single breath of wind disturbs the barren desert. Resting within a small valley, a dip in the ground where a long-gone river once flowed, the Non-Fi Fossil Dig site is situated, the colorful tents seemingly out of place in the vast expanse of dirt and sand.
Suddenly, there’s an unusual vibration on a hill just outside the campsite. The air shimmers for a minute, and two figures flicker into view, solidifying into a pair of shazarxi. They tumble onto the ground, sending a cloud of sand into the air. One of them springs to their feet, shaking the sand from their wings. The other stumbles up after them.
“Ugh, I hate teleportation,” he grumbles. “Couldn’t we have just walked here, Wild?”
But Wild was already bounding down the hill toward the Non-Fi camp. “C’mon, Eclipse, let’s go!” they call. “I want to show you around!”
“Okay, I’m coming!” he answers, and the two make their way toward the excavation site. Along the way, Wild points out the landmarks. “There’s where the first Diplodocus fossil was found,” they say, gesturing with their tail to a dug-up section of land a ways away. “Glow spotted it sticking up from the desert floor- just sitting there! Now we’re working on unearthing the rest of the skeleton, which is scattered from here all the way down to the curve of the old riverbed. The current excavation is going on on the other side of the camp.”
“Whoa, neat,” Eclipse breathes. “One of the longest sauropods there are, just… HUGE. That’s so cool.”
“I know, right?!” Wild squeals.
As they arrive at the first of the tents, Glow and Kora see them coming and race over. “Hi, Wild! Who’s this?”
Wild clears their throat. “Allow me to introduce Eclipse, an even bigger dinosaur nerd than I am. He just wanted to visit to see the fossils.”
“Er- nice to meet you,” Eclipse says shyly.
“Welcome!” Glow greets him. “Feel free to look around! I think Waterfall is working on excavation right now if you want to talk to her.”
“Okay, thanks!” Eclipse responds. He fluffs up his wings in excitement. “I’ve never actually been to a real paleontological dig before.”
“Then let’s go!” Wild exclaims.
The shazarxi dash away, thrilled to be there at the one and only Non-Fi Fossil Dig.

March 5

I never truly died, you know.
How could I? I am but a story, a myth, a tale so deeply buried in time that it has long since passed from history into legend. Only twisted fragments remain- they tell of how I killed my father to steal his treasure, how I fled into the wilderness and guarded my hoard, how my brother sent Sigurð to slay me, and how I used my final breaths to warn of the treasure’s curse. A very, very long time ago.
Yes, I was killed, but I survive through my story. It is, after all, a theme that coils its way through every human heart, a serpent that chokes your life out before you even realize what you’ve become.
Greed.
The wanting of what you don’t have, the lust and desire that drives you to acts that you can’t believe are your own. And once you’ve obtained your prize, what then? Oh, you will stop at nothing to make sure you retain possession of it. Even if it makes you a monster, a worm like me. Bit by bit, that snake with golden scales will tighten around your mind, consuming all you once were. Until you learn, too late, that the fortune you hoarded was never a treasure at all.
Indeed, my myth is ancient, but I remain present, lurking in the very essence of who you are. Your world may have developed, but its people have not. Don’t you see me there, in your corporate millionaires, in your power-hungry politicians? In the souls of everyone who looks down upon those poorer than themselves? In the actions of all those who lie and cheat and steal to fulfill their selfish cravings? You think yourself “modern,” but you humans have not changed in the slightest.
I, Fáfnir, live on.

March 6

(I used my writing for the November 23, 2022 daily: The book isn’t even on a shelf. It’s lying on the small table in the back corner, over by the chairs where customers could sit and read. Someone must have looked at it and then not put it back. It seems pretty normal at first glance. The title is written across the top, the words slightly raised: “Shazarxae.” There's no author's name, just a little symbol that you can’t really make out. The cover art is neat- it depicts some fantastical creatures that look part dinosaur and part cat and part… something else. It’s very detailed, with countless little scenes hidden in the background and worked into the layout, practically a whole story in itself. There are flecks of reflective green in the eyes of a few of the characters, especially the one that’s woven into the letters of the title. That one seems to look directly at you, as if telling you to open the book. So you do. Inside, you find that it’s a combination of comic panels and regular chapters. It’s weird- the format seems to change a lot. There are different fonts, different layouts, different art styles- Looking closer, it’s almost like the same story is written over and over in a hundred different ways, maybe more. Each time slightly different. Each time interconnected. And always, always, an undercurrent of that neon green you saw in the eyes of the characters on the cover. At the very back of the book, there’s a gray feather stuck between the pages, marking an inscription in green ink. Is it signed by the author? You squint at the words, but can’t quite tell what they say…)

Even lying could have looked normal
The words little, neat, fantastical
Look!
Scenes worked into story, a few woven directly
Telling a combination of ways
Different green eyes cover the back
Stuck marking the author?
But…

Rain was a liar. But not in a bad way. It was just what was expected of them- to look happy when all was going well, to look interested in others’ conversations, to never mention the way that the little details never quite added up, to forget that life was sliding past and through every day, to belong. The lies required to form the routine that all of society functioned on. To look normal.
“…was great! And did you see Ember’s face when I…” Song’s laughing voice came into Rain’s hearing range.
“Yeah, he looked so dumb,” Wave replied, rolling her eyes. She was walking by Song’s side. “His feathers were all…”
Rain sighed. Those little words, neatly shelled eggs with nothing inside them, painting fantastical pictures that held no value whatsoever. What was the point? Why even bother? Yet on we go…
Rain’s eyes opened. Wait. Look. That wasn’t who they were anymore. That was the past. That was a different story. Somehow or other, they had jumped from one to another, a combination of scenes that

March 7

three-word stories day

March 8

(I got “So… yeah. What are we doing again?” from @PhonyOOPS and “Are you sure about that? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were from another dimension.” from @Rey_venclaw.)

“So… yeah. What are we doing again?” River asked, scrunching up her face in confusion.
“Same thing we do every day: Speedrun the daily at the last minute,” Wild replied. They were grinning like a maniac, looking somewhat unstable.
“While simultaneously trying to study for the math test that’s in three minutes,” Parsnip added, very helpfully.
“Aaaand WHY are we like this, again?” moaned River. She tilted her head back and groaned dramatically.
“Because pRoCraStInaTiOn!” exclaimed Wild, spreading their wings.
“C’mon, c’mon, let’s get to work,” urged Chaos. “Anyone have any good ideas?”
No one answered. Parsnip immediately got distracted with designing some bizarre new idea, and River sighed, flopping backward onto the ground. Wild shrugged awkwardly. “I mean, I was thinking maybe I could write about you all…?” they suggested hesitantly. “Like, maybe even this conversation?”
Chaos snorted. “Well, we do generate endless content, don’t we- But you know that to do some sort of self-referencing maze of a story, you need a certain other part of your personality…”
“Silence,” Wild confirmed, nodding seriously. They straightened up, preparing themself for the task. “I suppose I’ll summon them out of my subconscious. Assuming they’re there right now. They usually are.”
Vanishing into a void of darkness, Wild entered their imaginary cave. They were reminded for a moment about what the cave was a reference to, and they shivered. Chaos was right. The only way to successfully navigate these strange paths of thought was through Silence. Normally, Eclipse was the one who dealt with the self-referential kind of stuff, but he was busy making sure everything important would be remembered for the math test. Wild didn’t dare interrupt that. Plus, this was a Half-Canon thing, and Silence was absolutely necessary for anything involving that concept.
Wild came to a wall, etched with familiar carvings of ancient letters and strange drawings. Despite being in a hurry, they paused to feel the grooves and jagged scuffs, a sense of numb emptiness reverberating throughout the atmosphere. A soft light from behind cast Wild’s shadow onto the wall, but it was a shapeless, swirling form. Wild turned, ear tufts perking up. Standing there in the nondescript darkness was Silence, glowing softly.
Well, this was a scene that had happened before.
“S- so we’ve switched positions now, have we?” Wild tried to say, but their voice was barely a whisper.
“Have we?” rumbled Silence. “Does that mean you’re in my brain now?”
Wild didn’t know how to respond to that. “I, well, no, we come from the same place-”
“Are you sure about that? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were from another dimension,” Silence replied, a touch of laughter gracing their words.
Wild smiled with nervous relief. Silence could be a lot to handle, but their humor had a way of showing up in surprising places.
“I suppose I am,” Wild answered with a laugh. “But that won’t stop us from finishing this writing on time, now, will it?”
“Of course not,” Silence stated, and the cave faded around them until they were abck with the other members of Half-Canon. Parsnip looked up energetically.
“So you’re writing about this conversation, right?” he chirped. “In that case, I’m going to spend the whole time talking about FLYING TURTLES.”
“On second thought…” Wild sighed…

March 9

March 10

This is the real world. You know, the one you’re living in right now. Reading these exact words. But chances are, you know of other worlds, populated by other people. Imaginary, you might call them. Fictional. Written by authors and told by storytellers who conjure every aspect of those universes, dictate every motion of those characters. Or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to go. But sometimes, the rules get broken. What happens when a fiction becomes its own reality? When an author forfeits control and gives their characters free will? When you discover that the existence you know to be true is not the only truth? What exists in the blur between one world and the next? This is my life, this is my story. This is the world where I exist. This is my umwelt.

March 11

March 12

I sit on a concrete square in my grandma’s backyard, ready to write my 200 words. It had been raining recently, and puddles were everywhere. In fact, it was still sprinkling a little bit, but not so much as to get me soaked. I pause to wipe some droplets off my Chromebook’s screen. I look around, admiring the way the drops of rain form little ripples in the puddles. Within a few sentences, it sytarts to rain harder, but I refuse to move until I finish my writing. I lean over my Chromebook to protect it from the water. My grandma opens the door and asks if I want to come inside. I tell her no. I must finish these 200 words first. Besides, I didn’t mind being wet- I had just taken a shower earlier, and so I was still a bit damp, anyway. As more rain falls, the concrete around me is darkened by more and more splashes of wetness until it is covered completely. My grandma’s cat tries to come outside, but turns around the instant she feels the raindrops hit her pelt. I have to agree with her. The rain is relaxing, but it’s not exactly the ideal writing conditions, especially when you’re using a device that probably shouldn’t get wet. Having writtten that sentence, I reach my 200 words and head back inside.

March 13

(Warning: This is a little… dark?)

Petal by petal, the flower wilted, losing itself and returning to the earth it came from. She couldn’t remember what it meant, anyway. The earth had come to claim her as well. It was over, and this was the end.
It was odd how the end felt more like the beginning…
But you have to begin somewhere, right? And you have to end somewhere, too. Maybe those exact points are hard to notice sometimes, but over and over again, it’s the pattern of everything. The age-old routine. Each end a new beginning, and each beginning leading to a new end. Over and over.
It’s the part in the middle that counts, they had told her. The memories you make, the things you remember. That’s what it’s all about: the stories you gather along the way. Hold onto them. Don’t take a moment for granted. Always try your best. We all take different paths and travel different roads, but in the end, all that any of us end up with are the histories we’ve left behind. That is who we are.
And when the time comes, you let all of it go so that something new can begin. It was as simple as that, the transitory allowing for the everlasting.
But where were the memories, where were the traces of the life she had led? There was nothing left to relinquish, no, it was already gone, slipping like wind through her paws even while she held on as tight as she could. Gradually, unannounced, to be sure, but ever-flowing away, way, way away into dark places she couldn’t reach, over the horizon and to the other side of the moon.
Even now, as the earth came crashing down upon her head, there were no flashes of what once had been. Not the gift from a brother, not the love from a partner, not the faces of children, not the broken promises that echoed in silent rooms.
She had returned to the beginning before ever reaching the end. And now that the end was here, what then? Nothing left to do but bury the emptiness and the forgotten pieces and perhaps let something new take their place.
She opened her eyes. Familiar figures surrounded her, and it was as if she had woken up. She remembered it all. It was all back, nothing had been lost!
“Welcome to the afterlife,” her brother said, wearing that treasured flower, its petals fresh and pristine. “Enjoy your eternity!”

March 14

Once within a time-
“Wait, isn’t it supposed to be UPON a time?”
Huh? No, that would imply that the story takes place on TOP of a time. This story takes place INSIDE of a time.
“…If you say so. Continue on.”
Once within a time, a family of turtles lived beside a lake. There were three full-sized turtles and one tiny baby turtle who wasn’t even three-twentieths of the size of the others. All four turtles really enjoyed knitting scarves.
<<This is very inaccurate turtle behavior so far.>>
Oh, shut up, this is folklore, it’s not supposed to be making logical sense. Now, please let me tell this thing. The Turtle family decided that they would make scarves for all their friends who lived in and around the lake. Mama Turtle would make scarves for the otters, Papa Turtle would make scarves for the ducks, Sister Turtle would make scarves for the water snakes, and Baby Brother Turtle would make scarves for the fish.
“Hold up, you’re just calling them the Turtle family? And not even giving them first names? I thought you HATED that.”
I do, but it sounds more fairy-tale-ish, doesn’t it? …No? Well, do YOU have any good ideas for names?
“Uh… Mary, Francis, Glenda, and… Ba’alzebal.”
…Wh- No! What- why would I name them that?!
“I guess you could just name them after the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, then. There ARE four of them.”
Ughhh, no, that’s even worse- Fineeeee, Mary, Francis, Glenda, and Ba’alzebal it is. NOW BACK TO THE STORY. Mary made her scarves thick and warm. Francis made his scarves colorful and cute. Glenda made her scarves sleek and fancy. Little Ba’alzebal tried to make his scarves just as comfortable and gorgeous as his family’s, but try as he might, his were always flimsy and boring. He knitted and knitted, but was still unsatisfied with his work. Eventually, he became demotivated and stopped trying. “I don’t like making scarves anymore,” he muttered.
When the time came to present their gifts, Mary gave her scarves to the otters. They were delighted. “Thank you, Mary!” they exclaimed. “These will help us stay cozy and dry!”
Francis gave his scarves to the ducks. They were pleased. “Thanks, Francis,” they quacked. “These are perfect for our ducklings’ nest!”
Glenda gave her scarves to the water snakes. They were ecstatic. “Much appreciated, Glenda!” they hissed. “These will make us the most fashionable creatures around the lake!”
Ba’alzebal reluctantly gave his terrible scarves to the fish. They weren’t impressed. “But why would we need those?” they said.
Ba’alzebal tried to apologize. “I know they’re not warm like my mother’s, or cute like my father’s, or fancy like my sister’s,” he sighed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do as good a job.”
“No, no,” responded the fish, “that’s not what we meant. It’s just that we have no use for a scarf. It would get tangled in our gills. And we don’t even have necks.”
“But wouldn’t it help you stay cozy and dry, like the otters said?”
“We’re literally fish. We’re wet all the time. And I think the otters will find that the scarf will only get soggy and weigh them down. Their waterproof fur is what’s meant to keep them dry.”
“But couldn’t you use it to decorate your nests, like the ducks said?”
“Not all fish even build nests, you know. Us, we simply scatter our eggs in shallow water among the gravel. Besides, a colorful scarf will only alert predators to the eggs’ location. The ducks are meant to hide their nests in the reeds for that very reason.”
“But you don’t think a scarf will make you look fashionable, like the water snakes said?”
“…Can you PICTURE a fish wearing a scarf? Or a snake, for that matter? It would look ridiculous. All we need to look good are our shiny scales.”
“Oh,” said Ba’alzebal. “So there’s no point in us making scarves. Everyone here already has everything they need to live their lives.”
“Pretty much,” said the fish. “Sorry for ruining your hobby.”
“No, this is great!” Ba’alzebal smiled. “It was actually pretty stressful. I only did this because my family wanted me to. But now I can tell them what a bad idea it was! Thank you so much!”
With a new outlook on life, Ba’alzebal rushed away to tell everyone the news. And they all resented him for destroying their positivity toward scarves. The end.
<<I’m not sure what moral I was supposed to take away from that.>>
“Don’t get pressured into doing pointless stuff you don’t even enjoy, but if you speak up about how dumb it is, everyone will dislike you?”
<<Also turtles shouldn’t attempt to knit scarves.>>
Yep! Important folklore life lessons, amirite?

March 15

(This is a continuation of Poppy’s fanfic: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/666639/?page=2#post-7058743 )

Wild stared in silence at Poppy’s mango cannon, not sure what to think. One part of their brain was terrified, another part excited. Another part was already analyzing its capabilities and how it was constructed.
Wild waited to see how their cabinmates would react. Everyone stood in shock for a long moment before they all started talking at once.
“NO way-”
“Aren’t we only allowed to attack our enemies during Cabin Wars, though?”
“But THEY sabotaged US!”
“AAAAAA”
“Are mango weapons illegal?!”
“Wait, isn’t-”
“We should just stay calm.”
“Yeah, let’s attack Fauxtesy and Boo-fi!”
“Mango cannon?!”
“But the excavation-”
“Ah, just another day in Scratch Writing Chaos…”
“You’re INSANE—”
In the midst of all the chatter, Wild remembered something. They themself had constructed something a couple of sessions ago. If Poppy had designed a mango cannon, then perhaps it would come in handy to pull it out of storage again. That is, if the Non-Fi campers agreed to go attack Fantasy and Bi-Fi.
Although, judging from the insane glint in Poppy’s eye, that mango cannon was going to get used whether the majority wanted to mount an attack or not.
Unnoticed by the frenzied crowd, Wild pushed through to the front of the crowd of their Non-Fi cabinmates and stood directly in front of Poppy. “You know what, I give up on sanity,” they announce just loudly enough for Poppy to hear them over the racket. “Logic is dead. Might as well join you. How would you feel about adding a mango trebuchet to our arsenal?”
“A mango trebuchet? Do tell,” she replied, grinning.
“I made it for July of ‘22, if I recall correctly. Capable of extensive flaming mango spamming. Since your mango cannon seems to be more of a short-range device, it might be useful to have a method of long-distance destruction, as well…”
“I like the sound of that- Let’s do it!”
“W- wait-” stuttered Glow, who had overheard their conversation. But it was too late.

March 16

Panda bear, panda bear
Eating some bamboo
Plodding with your massive paws
I want to be like you

You’re black and white and fluffy
Neither here nor there
Because you’re herbivorous
Unlike any other bear

You eat and sleep, sleep and eat
Strong jaws to munch bamboo
Dwelling in mountain forests
A gentle giant true

Yet I bet us humans
Must give you a scare
You’ve become endangered
It really isn’t fair

Climate change and habitat loss
You’re losing your bamboo
As your land is taken away
And poaching’s a threat, too

And though we work to save you
Not enough of us care
The world is being torn apart
Species becoming rare

Panda bear, panda bear
At home in the bamboo
Symbol of conservation
Without you, what would we do?

March 17

Pebble
The tightness in my chest seizes me, and I cough, my breath rattling and making my whole body shudder. My mother curls herself tighter around me, casting another worried glance at my father, who sits nearby. My coughing fit ends and I lie still. It’s exhausting to be sick all the time. But it’s alright! It’s all I’ve ever known, and I’m used to it.
I just wish they’d let me go outside. It’s spring, and everything is so beautiful- The flowers, the clouds, the sunlight- It’s all so colorful and full of life! All I want to do is go out there and explore! But they say I’m too sick, that I can go play when my health improves. It’s okay, I can wait. Maybe I’ll get better soon. I sure hope so!
Until then, my sister, Marigold, brings me little things so I can amuse myself. I have a secret collection of cool rocks that I keep under my nest- don’t tell anyone! She made me a little band of flowers, too- daisies, I think- for me to wear on my ear tuft. It’s really pretty! I wear it every day.

Marigold
I’m the quiet one. I don’t even think they notice me most of the time, they’re too busy fussing over Pebble. So I just do things by myself.
I hear what they say when he’s asleep, when they don’t realize I’m right outside. His sickness isn’t getting better- in fact, it’s worsening quickly. They still don’t know what it is or how to treat it. And yet, despite everything, he’s so optimistic, so upbeat, even when he’s coughing so hard he can't stand up. I wish I could do something- I would do anything for my brother, you know that? But I’m just as helpless as everyone else.
As weeks pass, he only grows sicker. Coughs more, barely eats. I’ve grown a bit, but he’s still small, too small.

March 18

aesthetic

March 19

Look around you. Yeah, go on. What do you see? What do you hear? Smell? Taste? Feel? Your senses tell you about your world, messengers delivering their news to that one supreme information processor that is your brain. That’s where you make sense of it all, combining those messages with what you already know, compiling it into a meaningful reality. That’s how you build your version of me.
You see, I belong to everyone, in a way- The world you notice around yourself is the same world that surrounds everyone else, after all. But no two beings notice the exact same things or have the exact same experiences. Either through differing ways of percieving it or processing it, the world you recognize and know yourself to live in is not quite the same as anyone else’s. It is a unique reflection of YOU- what you have known, what you have learned, what you believe in- all the pieces that grow and blend over time to become an individual with an awareness of itself and its place in a wider universe.
There are those that say there is an absolute truth, complete in such a way that transcends all other aspects of life. If you think of it that way, then it is. But me, how would I know? I am a lesser truth, one that shifts and changes and is never the same from one moment to the next. I am the personal reality that each and every being possesses, that belongs to them and only them. Of course, it is possible to attempt to picture another’s world, see it from their point of view. It is often quite a difficult feat, as one can never quite grasp all the things that another has thought, has felt, has experienced. But it can be quite enlightening just to try. You might find it ends up altering your own way of perception.
And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? The method through which you know yourself and your reality… It’s me, your perspective.

March 20

(I’m using the final chapter of a novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo in 6th grade, here’s the original: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jBtwbTo_CabMmrfvcFQrvgYvyfbmkSPnZ-LpWZrcs74/edit I’ve since changed this entire storyline, but I’m editing it as if this plot was still canon.)

Edited Excerpt
Suddenly- an idea! Without warning, her eyes flew open, and, tensing her muscles, she bounded right off the edge of the ledge. An updraft caught beneath her wings and she spread them wide, letting the air lift her right up to the top of the sky. Below her, the others gasped and called out, but she was already gone, far above and far away.
As she soared, her mind fluttered even faster than her wings. What was past the sky? Where is the limit between the world and the stars? What will I find there?
She closed her eyes, feeling the wind whoosh around her, through her, higher than the clouds, impossibly far up. She was swimming now, immersed in the aurora’s swirling river of light. The ground below- far, far below- was nothing but a distant memory. A different time, a different world. Her racing thoughts faded into mist and dissipated into space.
And then she knew. There was no tangible edge, no well-marked border, but somehow, in some yet-unexplored depth of her being, she knew. This was the limit, the boundary between here and there. This was the line between reality and dreams, between life and death. The border we all cross at some point. This is where my world ends and Breeze’s begins. She opened her eyes.
She was in a cloud of fog, though it didn't seem like real fog. It was thick and blank, but weightless, with no distinguishing features to indicate that it existed at all. Perhaps it was something she couldn’t see, for she was still part of the world below her. Or was it below her? There was no up or down, no left or right. No forward and no backward. If she was still beating her wings, she couldn’t tell. There was nothing but fog. The gray one relaxed and drifted in it. Then a shape seemed to form from the mists. Just an indent at first, but then legs, a head, and wings took shape. Breeze emerged from the fog. Her edges were a little blurry, but most of the details had formed. Her body was in perfect condition, without a single scratch or bruise. However, the gray creature could see stars glimmering softly through Breeze’s pelt. “Hello there,” she said and smiled. “I told you I’d see you again, didn't I?”
The gray one nodded.
“Well, here I am! Anyway, please tell Wind that I am happy now. Almost, anyway. There is one more thing I have to do for you.”
The gray one cocked her head, listening.
“I must take you to a new world, one where there are no humans. Many generations of our kind will come after us, following in our footsteps. It is our job to make sure they will be safe. Those three humans may never bother us again, but there will always be more. The new world we are going to is much like this one. Most aspects will not change. The mountain will still be there, the tree will still be there just like they are now. But there are no humans in the new world. Our two species’ paths will not cross again. Are you ready?”
The gray one thought of the ones back down on the mountain. She gestured to Breeze. Will you still be there?
Breeze smiled sadly, understanding the gray one’s motion. “I’m afraid I cannot come back and live with you again. But I will still be here, flying among the stars. When the rest of you pass on someday, you will join me. Until then, you can come to the boundary again only if you truly need it. I believe that I can walk in your dreams as well, if I desire. So are you ready to go?”
The gray one nodded.
“Then let’s begin. You must return to the others and I will open the passageway to your new world. Just step forward off the ledge and you will be there. You will not see me again. Oh, don’t forget to name our species. Now, goodbye!”
Some of the fog dissipated and the gray one could tell she was flapping her wings again. She cupped her wings in a gentle dive back down to the mountaintop. The others were waiting for her with lots of questions, though they knew she wouldn’t answer.
“Where were you?”
“How come you just took off like that?”
“How high did you go? I couldn’t even see you anymore!”
She silenced them with a wave of her tail. She gazed up at the Aurora Borealis, which was now starting to fade. Goodbye, Breeze, she whispered in her mind, and the stars twinkled down back at her, as if in reply. Then she beckoned to her family to follow her. They did. She looked behind her one last time, past the faces of her family to the human colony sprawled on the land like an ugly stain next to the beautiful forest. She wondered what would happen when she left this world for the new one Breeze promised her. Will it be the same, or will we have to explore it all over again? She took a deep breath, and with a powerful leap, she jumped off the ledge and… ended up back on the ledge. The air rippled behind her, and she skidded out of the way as the others came through. The landscape looked exactly the same. Except… there was no human colony out past the forest anymore! Instead, when she looked very closely, there was another mountain range out there in the distance. It had probably been there before, just hidden by the colony of humans. There were so many possibilities! And for the first time in her life, she howled out a word, filled with both happiness and sadness, but free, beautiful, wild. “Shazarxa!”
And in that moment, she knew. She knew it was where they belonged. She knew it would be where many generations would grow up after them. She knew what her species’ name should be. She knew what her name should be. Shazarxa.
Right then, with the other shazarxi standing behind Shazarxa, the sun rose over the ocean and lit up their new world. Each one a shazarxa. Together, the shazarxi. And this was their first dawn.

Reflection
I had mixed feelings while doing this. On one hand, I’ve changed up my universe so much since I wrote this in 6th grade (I’m in 10th now) that only one of these characters (the protagonist, Shazarxa) even exists in canon anymore, so working with them just felt… wrong. However, the concept of the scene itself is something I kept, just in a modified form, so it was oddly nice to revisit the original version of it. It’s now more of the beginning of Shazarxa’s character arc instead of the end, so in a very minor way, it’s like my writing has come full-circle. Anyway, the editing- There were some places where I was ultra-descriptive, while other places utterly lacked descriptive language. I tried to make some of the boring parts feel more rich and textured, and I also fixed a few bits that I felt were phrased awkwardly. I attempted to be more aware of the pacing and sentence flow, but I’m not certain I really improved all that much in that respect. I also separated Shazarxa’s inner thoughts from her actions with paragraph breaks because they were kind of blended together before, and I thought it was important to show how her inner world and her outer world were very different places, as that’s supposed to be one of the underlying themes.

March 21

March 22

(I just heard that the Dream SMP isn’t continuing, and I’m actually pretty okay with how it concluded, but I didn’t have any other ideas for this prompt.)

The land had seen it all. Upon that soil, nations rose and fell, walls were built and destroyed, battles were won and lost, people lived and died and lived again. The stories that played out there had given the place a meaning, an identity, a history. It was written into the existence of the land itself, countless memories encoded in every block. The world possessed the stories, and the stories breathed life into the world. But now it was all over. It was inevitable, the land supposed. Never meant to be. It was the people’s nature to be in conflict, and their appetite for destruction had only grown over time, until at last, they had created a weapon so powerful that it obliterated the world for good, triggering a complete restart. The land and all of the memories it contained had been wiped out, a new one born in its place. The people carried no trace of the lives they had lived before, the roles they had once filled. The new land did not know the meaning of war, had not been scarred by conflict, held no memories of devastation and heartbreak. But was it really a hopeful new beginning, a new chance at peace? After all, stories don’t die so easily. They are reborn again and again, history always repeating itself, the past coming back to haunt the present and shape the future. The old land may have been gone, but something still remained. Something it left behind. A seed, perhaps, or maybe an egg, waiting to be rediscovered…

March 23

March 24

(This character is a tribute to Technoblade, and I based this scene heavily on things he’s said. See if you can find the couple of Techno quotes and references I tried to include in this-)

It probably says a lot about me that when I learned I was dying, my first concern was finding the funniest way to overdramatize my impending doom. But what else is a guy supposed to do?
I eyed my right arm suspiciously. “Well, arm, we’ve had a good time, haven’t we? Won a few battles, took down a few empires. But then you just HAD to go and mess up cell division. Just HAD to. I hope you’re taking responsibility for this.”
Dying was rather off-brand for me. Being undefeatable in battle, only to have my real enemy born from within. “Legends never die,” was my catchphrase. Oh, the hubris.
My father, Hurricane, poked his head into my den. “How- how are you feeling?”
“Well, my shoulder han’t swelled quite as big as my ego yet,” I replied. “It thinks it can betray me, it thinks it can defeat the mighty Legend. But- hah! Joke’s on the tumor, it’s going down with me- What a loser. While it was playing this game of earthly flesh, I was playing the game of immortality. Death will only make me stronger! They will tell my tales for eons to come-”
My amazing monologue was somewhat undercut by the coughing fit that so rudely interrupted me at that moment. Hurricane rushed to my side until it subsided. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Um, have you decided what you want to say to the others yet?”
I had. “Tell… tell Maroon that I thank her for everything, even for being my rival in the end. She was a worthy opponent. Tell Keeper and Slash that they’re stronger than they know. Tell Glory that maybe some heroes do succeed, and that I’m proud to be his brother. And tell Chaos-”
“Actually, you can just tell me to my face,” Chaos snorted, entering the den unexpectedly. Hurricane jumped, fur spiking up to his ears, then laughed nervously. He backed up slowly, allowing her space to sit by my side. She strode over and settled in. “Well?” she prompted.
“Aw, now you have to interrupt me, too? You’re supposed to schedule appointments for these things, you know. You have no respect,” I joked, shaking my head in mock seriousness.
“Us anarchists rarely care for such formalities,” she sniffed haughtily, before catching my eye and grinning. “Now, what were you saying?”
With my remaining good arm, I lifted the crown from my head, wincing at even that slight exertion. I mean, trying to lift a small object? Who did I think I was, a superhero?
Chaos watched me quizzically as I carefully balanced the crown on my paw. Then I flicked my wrist and flung the thing right at her face. It bounced off her nose and she flinched, the crown rattling as it landed between her paws. She picked it up, a flash of concern crossing her face. “Legend-”
I laughed. “A crown means nothing if no one wears it. Don’t use it to mark my grave. It wouldn’t be mine anymore, anyhow. You’re their new champion. It’s yours.”
“Legend, I- …Thank you.”
“Great, because that thing is super uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s tough bein’ the best. But hey, at least we don’t live in a society where you have to pay taxes on your valuables. That would be dumb, right? Nah, man, who would do thaaaaat-”
Chaos stood up, not yet placing the crown on her head. “But what will I say to the other wolves?”
“Don’t worryyyy about it- Half of them are going to meme my death and the other half is going to yell at them. Oh, if only I could live long enough to eavesdrop on their reactions…”
I trailed off, getting exhausted from all the talking. I wasn’t skilled at social interactions on a GOOD day. But I knew I didn’t much time left to say everything I wanted to say. I turned my head with much effort to include both Chaos and Hurricane in my gaze.
“Chaos… I hope you find what you’re looking for, whatever that is. And Hurricane, I’m glad I met you in this life. Pass on my story, will you? Tell the Packs… Tell them that having obliterated all governments on Earth, I have ascended to the halls of mythology to take on the kingdom of the afterlife!”

March 25

cabin wars

March 26

(This was inspired by an xkcd comic: https://xkcd.com/1973/ )

I lie on my back, staring upward into a vast darkness. Countless pinpricks of light twinkle back at me, and my eyes pick out shapes as if the firmament above me was a massive dot-to-dot puzzle. My gaze settles on one familiar constellation- Taurus, the bull.
It’s a constellation that people have recognized for a very long time, I recall. Referenced in many cultures, all of which have slightly different stories about how it got there, all based on some common origin lost to the ancient mists of prehistory. The Babylonians called it the Bull of Heaven and believed it was sent by the goddess Ishtar to kill Gilgamesh, but was torn in half and hurled into the sky. The Sumerians associated the bull with Inanna, the goddess of love, fertility, and warfare. To the Egyptians, it was a sacred celestial beast who would be sacrificed to bring new life each spring. The Greeks believed the bull to be the god Zeus, who took this form to kidnap the princess Europa.
Me, I have my own story to explain its presence. A long time ago, when the skies were still being formed and people did not yet know how to speak myths into existence, there were seven siblings- now known as the Pleiades. They thought differently than everyone else. Instead of planting and harvesting, they imagined and experimented. Some thought this a waste of time. However, to others, their differences made them shine brightly- but unfortunately, that light attracted unwanted attention. In those days, the line between humans and monsters was hard to make out.






Weekly 1

PART 1: Time Travel Mechanics

Event
The little creature didn’t know what she was yet. She knew some things, like how to drink water and that she shouldn’t attempt to fly until her wings were bigger. Most of all, she knew she existed. She knew how to wonder and how to think. But she didn’t have the words to explain any of this. Indeed, she didn’t know how to speak at all. The concept of words had never even crossed her mind. So she wandered and explored her little world, searching for something she didn’t understand, yet nevertheless knew she had to find.
One day, she came upon something she had never seen before. An edge. The ground stopped and empty space began. She peered over the side of the ground, but there was no further ground below. There was nothing at all. For some reason she didn’t quite comprehend, she knew this was very strange. In fact, it was so strange that she wasn’t sure she knew anything at all anymore. Therefore, when she stepped even closer to the edge, she didn’t notice that her knowledge was telling her it was dangerous.
Suddenly, her paw slipped, and she was tumbling, tail over head, down, down, down into that nothingness. The ground above her faded into the distance and disappeared. She felt as if she fell a very long time, or perhaps she was no longer falling at all. She was surrounded entirely by blank whiteness, so empty that for a moment, she questioned whether she even existed, either. There was no time, no space. No substance, no thought. How could there be a self? But she looked down at her paws and they appeared to be real, and she thought, though not in so many words, If I can see myself and think about myself, then someone must be doing all this seeing and thinking. I must exist.
As she thought that, a something appeared out of the nothing. A form with legs and a head and a tail- Not so different from herself, she recognized. Yet some part of her knew that something was not right, though she didn’t quite understand what.
The form opened its mouth and smiled at her. “Hello, Past Self,” it said. It picked up something from the corner of the blankness- had that been there before? “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but then again, I’ve never been one for the traditional standards, have I? Welcome to Half-Canon.”

Outcome 1: Past Self
The creature was astonished. The sounds that this new figure was saying– they had meanings! And not the meanings she was used to, like a rumble of thunder meaning a storm, or a trickle of water meaning a river was nearby. These meanings were specific, deliberate, chosen by the figure who was making them! Did that mean she was not the only self? After all, if others could think about themselves in the same way that she thought about herself, that must mean they exist, too.
She didn’t stop to wonder how she understood the meanings of the sounds that the other self was saying; it was another one of those things she simply knew. What she did think about was how much she wanted to make those sounds, too! She looked all around inside herself for a way to do that, but found nothing. Apparently this was not a thing she knew.
Seeming to notice her confusion, the figure said, “Of course, you need a language too, don’t you? I haven’t written one for you yet, at least not as of this point in time. I suppose I could give you mine, but I doubt it would work with your vocal cords…” They pause, apparently thinking it over. “I’m going to have to translate it anyway, for my readers. As long as we’re in Half-Canon, which is purely a canvas for imagination, you can use my words directly.”
A greenish light glowed around the other self for a moment. The creature blinked at the brightness, and when she opened her eyes, she felt something within her knowledge that hadn’t been there before. Words. Yes, that’s what they were! Words! She found one that seemed like herself and tried it out.
“Shazarxa!” she called.

Outcome 2: Future Self
“Shazarxa. Noun. Plural, ‘shazarxi,’” I laugh in response. “That’s one I made up myself! It’s the name I gave to my imaginary species- YOUR species, actually. Well, technically, kind of OUR species, since you’re my past self and all, but I’m actually kind of multiple things at once, but, ahhh, I’m getting off-topic-”
I shake off my rambling and focus on my younger counterpart. “Anyway, call me Wild.”
“Wild,” she echoes.
“I think it’s important to have names. They’re like words, but for referring to a person. Do you want to have your own name, so I don’t have to keep calling you Past Self?
Past Self thinks about it. “Can I be Shazarxa?”
“Hmm. I suppose so. It might get confusing with it being both your personal name and your species name, but in a way, you ARE the shazarxi. WE are the shazarxi. All of them. Yeah, yeah, I like it.”
I smile at Shazarxa, and she smiles back. I had made facial expressions and body language an automatic part of shazarxaean instincts.
“What now?” she asks.
“Now, we have some work to do,” I say. “This world isn’t complete.” I flick my tail to gesture at the void surrounding us. “How do you feel about building a universe?”
So we did. Bit by bit, concept by concept, Canon was designed. A place for our stories to play out. By the time it was finished, it was fit to begin the plot.
Shazarxa left Half-Canon and took on her canonical form, a physical inhabitent of the universe we had designed out of imagination. By this point, the shazarxi, as a species, had their own language, though I still had to translate that language into my own in order to share it in my original plane of existence, IRL. I moved back and forth between the worlds, while she taught her words to the hatchlings of a clutch of shazarxa eggs that had been thought into existence. These were the first characters, characters in a tale that had only just begun.

Outcome 3: Reality
There was always more than one reality. As such, there was more than one version of the same person. As such, dear reader, it is up to you to decide how you wish to think of me. Am I the human of your “real life,” the author who writes these stories? Am I Wild of Half-Canon and the internet, existing only in realms of thoughts and ideas and words, words like these ones? Or is my truest self the one in the actual story, Shazarxa? Perhaps I am all of these. There is more than one story, more than one truth. More than one outcome.

PART 2: Plotting Timelines

Plot point one (middle winter, full moon): Emerald and Feather’s three eggs hatch, Ash, Breeze, and Sky are born, Sky is killed by a wolf, leading Feather and Emerald’s relationship to fall apart, Feather is struck by lightning and dies
Plot point two (late spring, waxing gibbous moon): Emerald remarries Drizzle, but Breeze and Ash are rejected by their new stepbrother, Flood
Plot point three (late summer, new moon): Moon’s group leaves, there’s a fire, Emerald dies, Ash is made Swift’s second-in-command
Plot point four (early autumn, first quarter moon): Brook is snatched by wolf, Breeze runs away and ends up being turned into a wolf by Chaos
Plot point five (early winter, waxing crescent moon): Wolf attack, Breeze- now Blaze- kills Flood, Swift dies right after appointing Shade as the new leader

Point one: Emerald and Feather are a young couple having their first clutch of eggs. Feather is very outgoing and carefree, while Emerald is loyal and sweet. They don’t stick to traditional breeding season times, leading their eggs to end up hatching in the middle of winter. The hatchlings, Ash, Breeze, and Sky, are generally normal young chicks when they hatch, though. Unfortunately, while they are too young to defend themselves, a wolf catches and kills Sky. Feather blames Emerald for not watching over them well enough, and they argue. After one bad argument, Feather stomps off during a thunderstorm, tries to cross a river, and gets struck by lightning. Emerald now feels even worse, and Ash, who witnesses his mother’s death, is mentally scarred.
Point two: Time passes, and Emerald finds love again in Drizzle, a shazarxa who had also lost her significant other. Drizzle had two children from her previous relationship, Brook and Flood. Brook is kind and accepting toward Breeze and Ash, but Flood is not. Flood is jealous and spiteful, often acting aggressively toward his new stepbrothers. However, Emerald, Drizzle, or Brook are always there to keep things from getting out of hand. Still, it’s not exactly doing wonders for Breeze’s and Ash’s emotional states. Breeze is a bit more optimistic than Ash, but Ash really starts to sink into a dark place, although he tries to hide it by hanging out with his friends.
Point three: Swift is the leader of the group of shazarxi, but not everyone is okay with his rule. A group of shazarxi led by Moon breaks away and goes to form their own society. This group includes Ash’s best friend, Night, further upsetting and isolating Ash. Almost immediately after that, there’s a wildfire, and Emerald dies saving Ash. Now that he’s watched both of his parents die horribly, Ash’s angst levels are off the charts. He throws himself entirely into training to become a better fighter. Swift notices his skill and determination and makes him his second-in-command (essentially the next in line to become leader, although that hadn’t been officially established yet).
Point four: Meanwhile, Drizzle falls into depression as a result of Emerald’s death, and on top of that, Brook gets snatched by a wolf, and everyone assumes she’s dead, although she actually isn’t, she’s just unable to make it home right away. This is when Flood gets even worse, especially to Breeze, who is now a much more susceptible victim than Ash. After Flood becomes physically violent and reveals that he was the one who engineered Emerald and Ash getting trapped in the fire, Breeze freaks out and runs away. Ash doesn’t know what happened, only that Breeze ran off and never came back. Breeze gets morphed into a wolf after wishing he could be the predator instead of the prey for once.
Point five: Breeze renames himself Blaze and joins the wolf Pack. The Pack is planning an attack on the shazarxi, meaning Blaze is going to have to attack his former species. However, Blaze embraces this as a way to get back at Flood. During the attack, Blaze kills Flood in front of Ash, and Ash realizes what his brother has become. Swift dies in the same battle, but in his final moments, he proclaims that his daughter, Shade, should be the next leader. This infuriates Ash, who claims the leadership position anyway. This is the backstory arc for why Ash became such a bad leader.

PART 3: Outlining a Non-Linear Storyline Draft

Summary
There’s a dual timeline going on with the wolves and the shazarxi, highlighting the parallels between two characters in particular: Glory the wolf and Swift the shazarxa, plus Breeze at the end. They both start with awkward beginnings and rise to power gradually, working through all their coming-of-age stuff along the way. They’re both ambitious, intelligent, good public speakers, and a little reckless. They both ascend to the position of leader in their respective societies. The two timelines converge when they face off against each other in the wolf vs. shazarxa battle, and Glory defeats Swift. It’s slightly based on the Hamilton soundtrack, for whatever reason.

Outline:
Final scene chronologically: The Storyteller of the wolves is telling about Glory to Glory’s pups, Sheer and Shard. They begin to talk about Glory’s early life.
This transitions into Glory’s POV, the timeline now being at Glory’s actual childhood. It cuts off abruptly with a cliffhanger after his mother, Blood, leaves, and his father dumps him and his siblings in the Briny Pack, then abandons them to track down Blood.
The timeline switches to the shazarxi, where Swift is being born. I haven’t actually named either of his parents yet, but they don’t really play a huge role in Swift’s upbringing.
Glory begins his coming-of-age arc in Briny Pack as he makes friends (and enemies) and learns about what is going on with the Packs on a larger scale. We’re introduced to the conflict between the Briny Pack and the Sliver Pack.
Swift does something similar in the shazarxa world. We’re introduced to the conflict between the wolves and the shazarxi, as the shazarxi are virtually unprotected against the predators.
Romance time- The Glory x Keeper first meeting happens at a Pack gathering.
Swift falls in love as well, with Moon, a shazarxa who’s just as smart and ambitious as him.
Glory fights in battles and rises in rank until he becomes leader of one of the sub-Packs. Not everyone is supportive of this, however.
Swift, with the backing of a respected elder, Storm, becomes the first official leader of the shazarxi. Not everyone is happy about this, either.
The Sliver vs. Briny climax happens here. A lot happens in the background of this scene, but Glory’s main part is rallying wolves from both sides to unite and revolt against both their leaders. When his brother refuses to assume the role of supreme leader, Glory has everyone vote, and he’s the one elected.
All the stuff with Ash’s family happens, and Swift makes Ash his second-in-command.
We get a bit of leadership time, and the wolf Pack begins to migrate toward shazarxa territory. They discover that shazarxi make great prey.
The shazarxa camp is attacked by the wolves, and Swift ends up facing off against Glory. Ultimately, Swift is killed, but not before changing his second-in-command from Ash to his daughter, Shade.
In the aftermath of the battle, Blaze leaves and ends up next to Glory. They have a little bonding moment, and with that bit of hope for the future, that’s how it’s concluded.

PART 4: Final Story

(I didn’t get to finish everything in my outline, unfortunately. Hopefully that wasn’t required?)

“Tell us a story, Obsidian!” Shard urged, wagging his tail. Shard’s sister, Sheer, yipped her agreement.
Obsidian looked around thoughtfully. “Okay. How about the story of how Glory united Briny Pack and Sliver Pack?”
“Ooh, a story about dad?” Shard asked.
“Yep! He was quite the fierce thing when he was younger, you know,” Obsidian said, remembering.
“Dad? Really? Tell us, then, tell us!” Sheer encouraged.
Obsidian nodded. “It starts like this…”
//
“And that’s how the story goes,” finished Hurricane.
“Woah!” cheered Glory. “So what happened to Snarl?”
“Well, that’s another story, for another day,” laughed Hurricane. Then he got serious again. “Now go to sleep. I have to… consult with your mother about something.”
Glory saw Hurricane’s ear twitch uncomfortably. Glory knew his parents hadn’t been getting along well. In fact, he hadn’t even seen his mother in several days. He watched as Hurricane left their makeshift den, but he didn’t feel like curling up with his siblings yet. Instead, he sat just inside the den entrance and waited.
Suddenly, there was a terrible screeching sound. It didn’t sound like a wolf at all. Legend and Chaos jolted awake and came bounding over.
“What’s happening, Glory?!” Chaos whimpered.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, scared.
Hurricane came flying back into the den, eyes wild and fur disheveled. He was panting heavily, but he gasped out, “Kids, stick close to me. We need to leave- NOW.”
Too terrified to argue, they silently did what they were told. For a long time, they followed their father through the forest, jumping at any snapping twig.
Finally, he led them to what appeared to be the current camp of a Pack. “Stay here,” he told them. “You’ll be living here from now on.”
“Are- are you leaving us?” Glory whispered.
Hurricane looked away. “Yes. I’m sorry. There’s something I have to do.” Without any further goodbyes, he disappeared into the trees.
He never came back.
//
“My name is Glory,” Glory said, trying to sound strong. Appearance meant everything here, he knew. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Slash looked at him with a piercing eye, as if judging every hair on his pelt. The other wolf flicked an ear- A grudging acceptance. Good enough for now.
“Looking for me?” Slash growled.
“Yes- I want to know how you did it,” Glory said, looking Slash directly in the eye. “How’d you get in Maroon’s inner circle? You’re half-Pack, just like me- how did you work your way up?”
Slash snorted. “Simple. Keep your head down, do the work, fight the battles. Don’t say more than you have to. Don’t argue. Don’t be an idiot.”
“…What?” Glory was confused. Surely, Slash was joking. A wolf had to stand up for their beliefs, for their Pack! “You can’t be serious-”
At that moment, several other Briny Pack wolves burst in, wrestling each other and laughing raucously.
“Speaking of idiots…” Slash mumbled. But Glory was already bounding over to join them. These were his wolves. He was the one they had all been waiting for. They just didn’t know it yet.
//
“You wanted to see me, Storm?” Swift asked, lowering his feathered tail in respect.
“Yes- you’ve made quite a name for yourself, haven’t you?” Storm replied. “Organizing the shazarxi, planning for the future of our colony… The others listen to you.”
Swift perked up at his leader’s praise. “Thank you. I-”
“That’s why I don’t want you out fighting anymore.”
“ …But- Storm! The wolves-” Swift fought to keep his wings from spreading in shock.
“I need you alive, Swift. I plan on making you the next leader.”
For once, Swift was speechless.
The offer was too good to refuse, of course, so Swift took to his new role, and did a pretty good job, if he did say so himself. Still, it was frustrating, not being able to leave camp. The wolves were predators, picking off shazarxi one by one. Swift wanted to fight back.
But, every day: “Just wait,” Storm would sigh.
So they waited. The wolves’ hunting patrols got fiercer, more frequent, and it seemed like there was nothing to be done. Morale was low. There was constant disagreement among the shazarxi. Some thought their colony should find another place to live. Swift didn’t like the idea of running away, but there was a strategy to it- Whoever controlled the layout of the camp controlled the methods of defending and attacking. A new location could mean everything.
Soon, a decision would have to be made. Swift intended to be there when it happened.
//
Glory and his siblings found their places in the Briny Pack. Briny Pack and Sliver Pack had had a lot of skirmishes lately, and Glory proved his skill on the battlefield. Nothing else could come close to matching the thrill, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with his friends, his siblings, his Packmates.
As much as he loved it, he knew it couldn’t go on forever. Neither side was giving up, and sooner or later, one would rise as the dominant power.
Glory intended to be on the winning side.

Weekly 2

PART 1: Do a Relaxing Activity

To be honest, I had a lot of problems with this prompt. The things I find most relaxing are watching YouTube and listening to music, but that was supposed to be for the next part of this weekly, not this one. I tried to go outside for a while, but it was raining, so I didn’t stay long, and when I went back inside, my mom and my grandma were arguing. Not very calming at all. On a different day, I went for a walk, but it was too hot and I didn’t enjoy it that much. I tried doing indoor stuff instead, like petting my cat, reading books, and eating food, and while I suppose all that made me happy for a while, none of it felt satisfying. I have a hard time feeling fulfilled by any activity that isn’t helping me make progress on something or achieve some goal. I debated choosing one of those activities anyway, just so I could finish this weekly, but after staring at a blank screen for several minutes thinking it over, I couldn’t motivate myself to do it. Eventually, I found my calming activity in an odd place- my math homework. Normally homework is kind of stressful, but it turns out that when I’m on spring break, and therefore have no immediate deadline looming over me, it was actually kind of nice. I probably wouldn’t do math problems in my spare time if they weren’t assigned or anything, but as it was something I was obligated to do anyway, it felt good to accomplish that.

PART 2: Consume Media

I spent some time on YouTube watching various fandom animations, mostly Warriors and Dream SMP. It hit me again just how awesome these fan communities can be, a bunch of people from all different walks of life brought together over a shared interest in a story. Is a story really all it takes to spur such great feats into existence? I mean, just look at the Warriors MAP community- they’re practically their own movie studio at this point! Many of its members have been there for years, and they’re producing some unbelievably high-quality stuff. No doubt that drawing for their fandom was what inspired them to possibly choose an art-related career. And the Dream SMP has only been around for a fraction of the time, and look at what widespread renown it has! It has a huge fanbase and has led to the creation of all sorts of other content, from songs to animatics to fanfics, some of which then have their OWN fanbases. The power of these fandoms, these little human subcultures, is just astounding.

PART 3: Story

Eclipse laid on his back and stared at the roof of his den, wandering in worlds of thought.
These were interesting times. It was the first point in the history of his species that there was peace both within and without. Instead of struggling to survive and to fight and to keep up with day-to-day life, shazarxi could… rest. Think. Imagine. There was spare time to dedicate to new pursuits- art, invention, exploration. Tell stories and listen to them. A shazarxa growing up in the modern day had the whole world open to them. They could do anything they wanted to, learn about whatever interested them, travel wherever they pleased. There was something new to discover or create every day. Eclipse couldn’t help the stirrings of excitement every time he thought about it.
Of course, now that there were so many opportunities, a shazarxa had to make some decisions, and that could be tough. Each day held countless possibilities, and it was impossible to try them all. As enthusiastic as he was, Eclipse often felt overwhelmed. What should he do today? What was the best way to live a fulfilling, meaningful life?
He asked these questions in his mind as he lay there, and to his surprise, his mind answered. “You’re overthinking it,” it said. “Just get out there and find something cool. It’s not hard in this day and age, and I think you’ll find that once you’ve discovered something that interests you, the rest will come naturally.”
Well, thank you, brain, Eclipse mentally responded. That’s good advice. I shall do that. He got up and headed outside. It was nightfall, the air heavy with moisture. The canyon was already bustling with other shazarxi. Chirps and calls rang out between the rocky walls as brightly-feathered shazarxi flew from one den to another, a medley of life that was simultaneously a spectacular display and too much noise for Eclipse’s introverted self to handle right then. He decided to go for a walk out in the woods where it was quieter.
He made his way along the river, and before long, he came across Hurricane, a wolf who had been living in the canyon with the shazarxi for a while now. Gone were the days when shazarxi had been nothing but prey to the wolves. Now that virtually every shazarxa had learned to speak the wolves’ language, Hurricane had begun creating and telling stories to them, and his series of tales had quite the following. Eclipse marvelled for a moment that words could hold the power to bring together two species who were formerly opposed.
They greeted each other respectfully as they passed. However, it almost immediately started to rain. Eclipse kept going for a little while, but as the rain started coming down harder, he turned back, not wanting to be drenched.
When he returned to his den, he found his brother, Comet, and his roommate, Parsnip, arguing with each other over the building project they had been working on for the past few weeks.
“You tied the entire thing into a massive knot! It’s completely locked up now!”
“That’s the point- If there’s a knot on that end, it won’t fall out the hole when we…”
Neither one seemed to take notice of Eclipse slipping in, and Eclipse figured he'd leave them be. Eclipse grabbed some seeds to snack on, attracting the attention of Parsnip’s woodpecker. “What, you want some?” he mumbled, tossing some to the bird.
The bird cocked its head and stared at Eclipse. It was an intelligent gaze, and Eclipse wondered what it was trying to tell him. The birds used to have quite an advanced civilization before the volcano erupted hundreds of years ago, and they had only recently returned to the area, or so the turtles said. However, without a turtle present to telepathically communicate and act as a translator, Eclipse had no idea how to talk to them. Their language was tantalizingly similar in sound to the shazarxaean one, yet still a mystery.
The woodpecker pushed the seeds around with its beak. One. Two. Three. Showing him something? Eclipse watched intently as it made groups and shapes and symbols. Gradually, he came to realize that it was… math. In the same way that a shazarxa would count their eggs or compute a distance before jumping into flight, this bird was calculating things with the seeds. But this was much more complex than anything Eclipse had seen before. He tried his best to understand it.
Time blurred away as he and the woodpecker studied with the seeds. It was fascinating. The bird taught him methods of doing things he had never thought of before. His mind swimming with numbers, he thought to himself that perhaps he had found the interest he was after. “Told you so,” said his brain.

Weekly 3



PART 1: Brainstorming Emotion

Alright, first of all, a disclaimer: As a socially-awkward person on the autism spectrum who is also way more of a logic-based person than a feelings-based one, the ability to skillfully comprehend and correctly interpret human emotions is a talent that may forever elude me. I apologize in advance to any unfortunate reader who stumbles upon the confusion, detachment, and general emotional incompetence that I’m about to type into existence.
Emotions are a central part of being a social species. As so much of what we do as humans requires interacting with a larger community, emotions are essential in order to get along, help one another, and work together. However, they can often be irrational and difficult to understand, even by the person experiencing the emotion. This complexity is largely because people are apt to feel multiple emotions at a time, especially in complicated situations with multiple factors contributing to a person’s emotional state. For example, a bittersweet moment is both happy and sad. Also, a person may react emotionally to their own emotions, further mixing things up, such as when someone feels angry over their inability to control their fear.
Adding to this confusing mess is that no two people express or respond to their emotions in the same way. Some like to keep their emotions controlled, perhaps only revealing them around those they trust, while others feel comfortable expressing them freely in public. One person’s way of showing that they are feeling a particular thing is likely different from the next’s. Some people raise their voice when they get angry, but this can also mean excitement or frustration. Crying can indicate joy or sorrow, a mix of the two, or even just a feeling of being overwhelmed. Body language is also used to communicate emotion, such as clenching muscles, moving arms, and trying to make oneself look either smaller or bigger by adjusting posture.
Trying to capture all that in writing can be quite a challenge. Describing a character’s body language, tone of voice, and word choices are all ways to show emotion. How are they positioning themselves? Are they moving any body parts? What are they looking at? How loudly are they speaking? Are they choosing their words carefully or thoughtlessly rattling off whatever comes to mind? Do they stutter, hesitate, or drift off at the end (or even in the middle) of a sentence? My writing style typically includes longer sentences, with lots of comma breaks, in order to be more descriptive. This lends itself better to thoughtful characters who are more reserved with their emotions, focused more on observing a situation than feeling emotions about it. However, it can also be used for depths of inner thought. More powerful, high-energy emotions, such as anger, fear, and excitement work better with shorter sentences. It’s good to use lots of breaks and less description because the character is mainly focusing on the immediacy of the emotion itself, not other details of the situation.

PART 2: Emotions in Character

“So, I guess you hate me now,” Swift sighed, slumping onto the ground beside Moon. His eyes were dull and his wings hung loosely at his sides. Frankly, he didn’t care anymore. It had been over for a long time now. Both of them knew that.
Moon hissed gently, lifting her head to the evening sky. “No. Not hate. I…” her voice trailed off. Suddenly, she seemed to remember something, and she fixed her piercing gaze on Swift. “You remember that conversation we had when we first met?”
Swift blinked. “How could I forget? Heh, that was a long time ago,” he chuckled humorlessly. The details had faded, but his first conversation with Moon was still as fresh as if it happened yesterday.
It was many seasons ago, back when the shazarxi lived far apart from each other. Swift was a nobody back then, barely more than a fledgling. The elders had decided the shazarxi ought to have a gathering, a reunion of sorts, and everyone was going to be there.
“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to my friend, Moon!” Swift’s sister, Ruby, urged excitedly, leading him to the edge of the clearing where the shazarxi were meeting up.
Swift looked to where Ruby was headed. There was a single shazarxa there, and she was staring at them with a weirdly intense glare.
As they got nearer, Swift felt his pelt bristle slightly under the weight of the shazarxa- Moon’s- gaze. “Um, does she hate me or something?” he muttered under his breath to Ruby.
“No, I don’t hate you. Not yet,” Moon scoffed, rolling her eyes. She flicked an ear tuft, though whether in amusement or irritation, Swift wasn’t sure.
Oops. She must have really good hearing. Swift restrained himself from fluffing his fur in embarrassment. “‘Yet’ being the important part, I presume?” he joked. He casually flipped his wings back as he sat down, hoping she didn’t notice how his tail was twitching with nervous energy.
“I mean, things change,” she replied haughtily. She swept her tail around her front paws. Then a sly grin cracked her aloof expression. “I suppose I ought to get to know you first. My name’s Moon.”
“Swift,” answered Swift, smiling.
If only he had known back then that that moment would change the rest of their lives. And now… what was left? Anything?
“Well, things have changed,” said Moon, looking away. “I don’t hate you. But I won’t stay in your shadow anymore, either. I’m leaving.” With that, she stood up and walked away into the growing darkness. There was no tail wave of goodbye, not even a brush of her wing.
Swift stared after her wordlessly.
By morning, she was gone.

PART 3: Emotions in Prose

(I got ‘lonely.’)

Feeling isolated from individuals you were once close to and society as a whole. Being unable to make anyone understand you when you reach out to them, and being unable to connect when others reach out to you. Feeling lost inside your own brain. Despairing in a void of directionlessness that is largely your own doing. Distracting yourself with transient happiness only to end up deeply unsatisfied and disconnected from the world.

The journey over, Wave returned home. Didn’t feel much like home these days, though. Maybe she had been gone too long. Or maybe it just wasn’t the same without Rain. Yes, that must be it. Of course, neither of those things was the whole truth, but she would never admit that.
This was fine, she told herself. Better than fine, really! I’m back with Song, the love of my life. I have a son now- Wind! I’m surrounded by my friends, and I live on the most beautiful beach I could possibly imagine. The food is plentiful, and there’s always something to do. I can rest beneath the palm trees as Song and I watch the sunrise every morning. I’m happy here. I really am.
And sometimes, she was. Playing with her son, or drawing in the sand, or even visiting with Rain when Rain happened to come by on the raft with news of their travels. But there was always something missing. Those nights when everyone gathered to chat and laugh- they just felt so empty. Her pelt may have been warmed by the others bustling around her, but a cold wind blew right through her heart.
It’s not like she could tell anyone. She tried to explain that emptiness to Song, but Song could never understand. Oh, she would try to cheer her up, sure, by crafting her flower crowns or making up a tune or showing her some cool leaves. Song was joy and Song was fun, Song was everything Wave wanted to be. But it wasn’t enough. It should have been enough. It might never be enough.
And Rain, Rain was complicated. Rain was the sky, a distant shape that no matter how hard Wave flew, could never quite be grasped. Wave remembered back to when she and Rain had promised to tell each other all of their deepest thoughts and feelings. Two siblings that could never be parted. It wasn’t even all that long ago, really, even if it felt like it. Now they had made their choices, gone their separate ways. Rain wasn’t quite happy, either, but they were fulfilled, and that was all that mattered to them.
In her dreams, Wave was sinking in a stagnant, motionless sea. She would reach out to touch something, anything, but there was never anything there. The water would flow on around her, uncaring. She was all alone. Eventually, she’d descend into darkness and the dream would end, delivering her into vacant slumber.
And then she’d wake up and tell herself the same lies she told herself every day, follow the same routines, carry on just as she’d always done, hoping to lose herself in the trap of monotony.
Maybe with that, she could be satisfied at last.

PART 4: Bringing It All Together

(I based this on the song “Always Gold.”)

“Everything goes away,” Wander whispered. “I have to do this. Go out, see the world. I’ll never be satisfied here, and we both know that.”
“Yeah, everything goes away,” Raven agreed, his voice bittersweet, but his heart filled with happiness for Wander. This was right.
The two shazarxi shared a long moment, both remembering everything they had been through together. “Come back someday,” Raven whispered finally. “And tell me all about it.”
“I will, Raven. I will.”

Ash was too shocked to know how he felt. “Wander? Y- you’re leaving? I thought you wanted to be here. That you- that you would stay forever!”
“But everything goes away,” Raven said softly, trying to comfort Ash.
Wander stood silently. Ash couldn’t read his expression.
“Yeah, everything goes away,” Ash growled in response. “But my home is here. I’m going to be here until I’m dead.”
Ash knew how he felt now. He was furious.

Years had passed. Season upon season. Like the river that flowed through the canyon, time had worn away at everything Ember loved. The days when he laughed with his friends. The days when Swift had built up a community from nothing. The days that seemed so careless, so free, had flown far, far away, only echoing in memories, and even those were slowly fading.
Swift was long dead now. It had been so soon, far too soon. Ash had succeeded him as leader. Many shazarxi left then, mostly Swift’s family, including Raven. Not with celebration, as Wander had done, but quietly, decisively, in the dead of night. Ember had seen as Raven stood at the edge of the canyon, looking back just once. Ash had taken that one personally. It had changed him. He had become angry, bitter, distant, and he had been taking it out on the community that he was supposed to lead. Ember was afraid a conflict couldn’t be avoided, sooner or later.
Ember slipped quietly into Ash’s den. Ash didn’t notice. He was tearing at the corner of his nest, murmuring to himself.
“Everything goes away,” Ember heard Ash sigh. Ash’s voice held no anger, just resignation and regret. It was times like this that Ember knew that the shazarxa he once knew must still be in there somewhere. “Yeah, everything goes away. But I’m going to be here as long as I can. As long as you need me. I promise.”
Ash whirled around, his orange eyes flashing with vulnerability for just an instant before hardening into the same stern, unmoving expression he always wore. Ember expected Ash to hiss that he needed permission to enter the leader’s den. But Ash said nothing, just held eye contact until he finally dipped his head, a short nod.
Ember backed out of the den, more conflicted than before. He wondered if he’d be able to keep his promise.

Wander had returned, as he had vowed all those years ago. His body heavy with age, he trudged across the canyon that he once called home. The river rushed to his left. It still looked the same, but it was different water, he knew, and its movement took it far away, to the distant ocean from which he had returned from.
A dark shape came towards him, a larger, fluffy shape alongside it. Raven and Ember. They had reunited a few days ago, spent a long time catching up. Raven had left, too, eventually becoming the leader of his own group, before making his way back, having seen pieces of a world far larger than either of them fully understood. Ember had stayed put, collecting memories and watching life move on around him. And Ash… Ash was dead. There had been a fight, and he had lost.
Wander didn’t know that Ash. Where had his friend gone? What happened to the loyal, determined ally that he had left behind?
Ember and Raven had reached him now. The three of them sat together, no one speaking at first. Despite it all, something still just like old times. It was different, it was changed, but still there, one comfort against the world.
“I heard you say, on that day, when you left…” Ember began, addressing Wander. Wander lifted his ear tufts, listening. “Does everything go away?”
Wander closed his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll be here until forever, but it’ll still change, gradually. It always does. Everything goes away.”

The wind blows her dark hair back, tangling it into a salty, damp knot. She is silent. She is still.
She stands in a wet pile of seaweed that stretches as far along the beach as the eye can see. Behind her, small cliffs block the way to the seaside town. The sun is making its descent below the horizon, but the sky is still a light blue, and the clouds remain a fluffy white.
All of this she observes as the seconds tick by. The scene is different, but always the same as the previous day. As the next day, and the next week.
If you would step onto the beach at sunset each day, you would notice that she has come every day to the same place for almost two weeks.
Her hasty meal of dry, salty crackers and white rice had largely been ignored. She wasn't hungry. But she hadn't been for a while.
Her grandmother had loved the seaweed. She had loved the salt and the spray from the frothy white water.
And now she was gone.
Every sunset reminds the person of her grandmother. Every stroll down the street, every mouthful of fish, every old, smiling face she is greeted with bears only resemblance to the figure she had looked up in life to most.
She had always been an energetic child. That was what she had been told. But now, all she could do was sit in the old rocking chair and stare blankly as the days went by.
She never fails to come out to the beach at sunset, though.
Now she lifts her face, ever so slightly. She's been holding on, but her line is stretched taught.
And as you watch, for the first time in almost two weeks, tears stream down her face.

302 words