SWC March 5 haiku
edit: 11 words, and page queen
Mangoes are yellow,
And goats are very gray-ish,
SWC is fun.

SWC March 6 Haiku
13 words
Writing and reading,
Chaos, fun, and inside jokes,
Found at this scratch camp

Waterfall's March 6 daily
309 words total
*Note: for my blackout poem I used The Hill We Climb, by Amanda Gorman - also this is my first time doing blackout poetry, so… you've been warned.

Blackout Poem:
Light in shade,
The loss,
The beast.
Quiet,
Isn't peace.
The norms,
What is,
Isn't justice.
Weathered,
a nation isn't broken,
but unfinished.
Far from polished,
Far from pristine,
We are striving to form a union.
But we know,
To put our future first,
We must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms,
So we can reach out our arms to one another.


also this made me think of a war, so I'm going to be writing about that also I have no time… eeee
PLEASE NOTE THIS IS A FAKE WAR
178 words
Elena crept in through the shade - ironic, because she was Romania's last light. She had to go behind enemy lines to destroy the beasts. Although it was quiet, quiet doesn't mean peace. Quiet means secrets, spies sneaking around, soldiers pacing on guard to make sure /no one/ stole the plans. Plans that Elena was about to steal. What is happening isn't justice, but Elena is here to fix that. While it's now weathered by German soldiers, their nation wasn't broken, but they were unfinished with this war. And it wasn't an easy one. Far from polished, and far from pristine, Romania is striving to form a union. But we know, to put our future first, we have to settle this with Germany. There will be a time when we can lay down our arms to reach out to one another. But first, Elena had to finish this. She took a deep breath, and snuck behind the tent where the plans were being held. it's now or never, she told herself. Time to bring victory to Romania.

Nickname- Ava
Content- Weekly #1st
Cabin - Horror

LET'S GET STARTED

Part1
Topic- write an event and then three different outcomes
Wordcount- 542/450

The event-
Leo Valdez was not a History enjoyer.
First, they get all the greek stuff wrong.
'And then, Iapetus was defeated cruelly for his own cruelty!!' the teacher said and the students did a ‘yay!’
Leo had had enough.
'WHO SAID HE WAS BAD.' Leo flared up. ‘BOB WAS A GOOD KID OK.’
The class stared at him as he was the only person standing in the class shouting. The teacher glared at him.
'Who's bob?'
And Leo lost it.

Scenario one-
The stories about Leo Valdez always and very often showed him as a carefree, happy boy with no care in the world. Sometimes he would wreck chaos and havoc by touching a simple thing. If Leo was that dangerous unwillingly when he was happy, how would he be when he was sad?
Or angry?

'Who's Bob?' Leo asked, getting even angrier. He walked out of his seat and reached. ‘Bob is Iapetus. He helped us in the war. He died, along with small bob,’ - Leo looked around and added ‘his pet cat,’ to his astonished classmates - ‘And he was the only reason Percy and Annabeth made it out of TARTURUS. Why do all the stories project him as bad?! It’s not his fault, it was Kronos's for brainwashing him. After he lost his memory, we could make him a good person. He chose not to do evil even after finding it out. WHAT IS WRONG WITH MORTAL'S?!' and Leo got so angry his hand was making fire. The class jumped backward as the teacher grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed his hand. When she saw a perfectly fine hand, she fainted.

It was only after the children started crying that Leo finally thought, Chiron's gonna be so mad at me.

Scenario two-
Leo looked around at everyone staring at him. His cheeks suddenly turned red and he sat down in place, muttering something which sounded like a ‘never mind.’ The teacher stared at him and then snapped out of her trance and came to her senses. ‘What was that Leo Valdez?’ The teacher asked. Leo gulped It's never good when adults call you by your full name.
'Detention.' she said, and it was over. One word to spoil Leo's whole day. He sighed and put his head on the table. Why am I always like this?
Why was he not a backbencher?

Scenario three-
The teacher snarled at him. ‘Sit down, Leo. Bob was no good anyways.’ The students were too dazed to understand what was happening and Leo looked at the teacher in confusion. A second later he got ready for a fight, holding his hand behind his back, but secretly starting a fire. ‘I’m sorry ma'am,' he said, bending his head low. He observed his chances.
The teacher did look quite young. And she had quite the sense of fashion. She also hated almost everyone in Greek history who had somehow helped them in the war.
'Or should I say empusa?' Leo looked the teacher in the eyes. The teacher snarled at him again and lunged forward, only to be stabbed in the middle with a dagger.
'Took you long enough, hothead,' a blonde girl said. Annabeth, Leo thought in relief and hugged her.
She added, ‘We’re gonna need a lot of mist.'

Part 2
Topic: Write at least 5 major plot lines
Word count- 503/500

PLOT POINT ONE- Jason and Piper weren't in any major danger. They were just in the playground fighting over a hamburger. Wouldn't you do that too if it was fresh from the shop, crisp, with the beautiful smell of it adding to the temptation? The problem- they only had enough money on themselves to buy one, and had decided mentally that half of a burger was never satisfying. You had to eat the whole thing to feel genuinely happy. (introduction.)

PLOT POINT TWO- As I said before, they weren't really in danger. Someone else was.
'Mine!!' Jason said as he grabbed the hamburger from her. Piper was quick to react and tugged it back. ‘I paid for it.’
'Well I paid for a quarter didn't I?' Jason retorted.
'Well then, I guess you only get a quarter of the hamburger!!' piper was disappointed that Jason did not see that one coming.
And just as the hamburger was about to be taken and eaten, Percy came in the middle. “Ooh, a burger!' And because he caught them off guard, he ate the burger all by himself. (introduction, rising action.)

PLOT POINT THREE- No, Jason or Piper was not in danger. But somebody else, also known as Percy Jackson particularly, was in danger. Jason glared at him and Piper pulled out the wooden needle which was in her hair. ‘G-Guys?’ Percy asked with a mouthful of the burger. ‘A-ANNABETH?!”
Too late. Jason and Piper started chasing Percy, and he had to admit it, he almost tripped on one root of a tree. ’As he was celebrating not tripping, he fell because of another one just in front of him. Oops. (climax.)

PLOT POINT FOUR- ‘Give it back.’ Jason said as his partner Piper stood next to him, both of them towering over Percy. He shuddered. ‘But I already ate it.
“I will cut open your stomach if I have to.’ Piper threatened, spinning the needles in her fingers making Percy even more scared.
'You know Annabeth would be really nice right now,' Percy nervously giggled. Jason glared at him. ‘No one is gonna save you.’
The owl on the tree turned into an Asian boy behind Jason.
”Jason, cut it out.“
'FRANK?!' All three jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘WHY ARE YOU HERE?!’ (falling action)

PLOT POINT FIVE- Percy sat on the opposite side of the two hyenas in front of him on the table. Jason and Piper were devouring their own hamburgers, leaving nothing, not a crumb or a mark of cheese on their wrappers. ‘See, this could have all been nicely sorted out without any murdering,’ Frank said, looking specifically at Piper. She shrugged. ‘Hey, all’s fair when it's for ham.' Jason nodded. ”how could we let we scarcely paid-for hamburger go to some idiot?'
Percy decided not to glare at them for his own safety.
Percy groaned. ‘I would be dead without you.’
Frank looked at him. "to be honest, I would do the same for a hamburger though.' (resolution)

Part 3-
Topic- Make a 50 word summary and then 200 words for a detailed explanation
Word count- 53/50

Summary- Two people at the gala (Frank and Hazel) are actually undercover to spy on the main person plotting against camp half-blood and camp-jupiter who is also bribing other people with money, Apollo's gone wicked son. For this they had to pretend to be a couple, even though they kind of already were.

Word count- 201/200

• Hazel enters the party in a green flowing dress followed by frank in a suit.
  

• They've matured a lot from their last undercover mission, and know how to avoid mistakes.
  

• Hazel is the first to spot Apollo's son and whispers something to Frank.
  

• Frank takes out something from his pocket. It's shaped like a small gem and is transparent to the brim
  

• The gem is actually a tracking device.
  

• As Apollo's son spots them, he welcomes them like everyone else and hints to them that will be a money game during the gala
  

• Hazel and Frank already know this, but pretend they don't.
  

• At the end of the gala, the tracking device has been placed on the son's neck.
  

• The done rides in a limousine and by the time he is reaching his quiet neighborhood the attackers had already reached their hiding spots
  

• The son does not suspect anything and tells his driver to park
  

• Chiron and the rest of Clarrise's forces came to capture the son on his limousine
  

• The driver and the lady passenger are all very confused unlike the son, who is extremely angry after being caught.
  

• In the end, Hazel had to use a lot of mist.
  

Part 4
Topic- Write 750 words incorporating time travel elements into it
Word count- 951/750

Ivy groaned as she crumpled up another paper and threw it into the trash can. Nothing she wrote made sense. She couldn't continue any story she wrote.
She couldn't think of any rhymes for her poems. It was like her brain had stopped functioning altogether.
Her phone started ringing. It was right next to her, but it felt far away. Ivy closed her eyes as her senses felt imaginary. Nothing mattered anymore. She wanted to sleep for a thousand years. No, she thought. Wake up, Ivy. But it wasn't her voice. It was someone else's. It was a rich sound, like a few hundred voices together. It snapped Ivy's eyes open and she grasped her phone as she came back to earth. Before she pressed the bright, green, buzzing button on the screen, Ivy puzzled over whose voice that was. Definitely not hers. But it had sounded distinctly familiar. She shook her head as she pressed the glowing button.
‘Hello?’ she asked as she answered the call.
‘Ivy!!’
‘Devyn? What happened??’ Devyn was Ivy's best friend. She rarely called because whenever she needed to talk she just came over to her house straight away. She had only called 2 times before, once when she had sprained her ankle and once when she was too sick to come out of her room.
‘Come over to my house right now!’
‘But wh-’
‘RIGHT NOW.'
‘ok, I’m coming', Ivy accepted. No one could ever fight with stubborn Devyn. It was impossible. She would always win so it was better to quit in the beginning anyways. Ivy heard a beep, indicating the call had ended, and she sighed, rubbing her eyebrows. Ivy got on her cycle and headed to Devyn's house.
Halfway she remembered she left her phone at home and she grumbled. She was too busy to turn back now. How COULD she have forgotten? Ivy took the right into Devyn's neighborhood. She reached Devyn's house and knocked. When Devyn opened the door, she hugged Ivy and pulled her inside.
‘Now tell me what it is. ’, Ivy questioned.
Devyn laughed in her light Irish accent. She playfully punched Ivy's shoulder. ‘Stop pretending climber. You know what I mean.’
That was Devyn's pet name for Ivy. ‘climber’. In Ivy and Devyn's school, the students of third grade had to perform a play for the whole school. Ivy, to her shock, had got the part of the talking poison ivy plant, who had to lead ‘Rose’ and her pet deer through the forest. Devyn had gotten part of the deer and had to try her very hardest to not laugh during the play. Ever since that day, Devyn's go-to name for Ivy was a climber.
Ivy gave Devyn a look of confusion. ‘What do you mean?’
Devyn studied Ivy's face, realizing she really didn't know. She gasped, and held her forehead. ‘you’ve forgotten again, my girl, haven't you?'
Ivy thought for a while. ‘I still don’t know what you me-'
Everything went dark. She couldn't see. What had happened? It didn't really matter. She wanted to stay like that. The world couldn't trouble her here. Ivy felt at peace as the darkness sucked her in more.
Wake up.
Ivy heard the same voice she had heard before, when she was fading away, just like this.
No, Ivy resisted. I want to stay here.
no, the voice resisted back. Wake up.
Ivy felt annoyed. Why won't you leave me alone? She asked the voice.
Do you dare talk to the fairy queen like that? The voice thundered, suddenly changing an octave.
Ivy took a few seconds to understand what had just been said. She wasn't sure she had heard it correctly.
Wait… What?
‘What do you mean?’ Ivy said, daring to speak. But it was gone now. The voice had disappeared as if Ivy had offended it. Had she offered it? She wasn't really sure.
‘Oh, m-my phone,’ Icy said, fumbling around trying to reach her pockets for her phone. She might be able to call Dewyn-
Ivy groaned. She had forgotten it at home. Why did it have to be today?
As Ivy sat in the black void, somehow able to see herself without a mirror, the black started to turn into white. Very slowly, but it did. Ivy didn't notice as she fell asleep like she wanted to when she had fainted just a bit ago. When she woke up, her back was now actually resting against something. A barrel supporting her sleeping body tumbled away when she tried to move and left Ivy alone in the streets of nowhere.
People were laughing and there was folk music going on next to a supposed fountain. She slowly stood up and looked at her clothes. They were definitely not what she had worn to Devyn's house.
That's a punishment for you, the voice suddenly said, coming back. Ivy jumped and then asked, WHO ARE YOU?!
I'm the fairy queen, the voice said as if losing patience. But then a sly kind of joy came back. Go ask one of the people what year it is, won't you? It asked as if trying to hold a laugh.
Ivy in confusion asked a lady in a tight dress and cap, ‘Hello miss, what year is it?’
‘Why, 1996 of course dearie,’ the woman answered with a basket full of apples in her right hand. ‘Do you need something?’
Ivy's head disagreed with the woman. Wait, 1996?! The supposed fairy queen answered. I WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO SEND YOU BACK A YEAR!
Ivy politely smiled at the lady through the pain, and when she turned she growled at the fairy queen.
What the heck is wrong with you?

woah there are already so many pages

KeatsBat - SWC 2023

Dailies

Weeklies

Writing

Daily 6: 306 words

Blackout poem: 15 words
Moonless and starless,
The city was still awake.
House lights
Car headlamps
shivered and glowed.
(Taken from The Good Thieves by Katherine Rundell)

Story: 291 words
Liana was still waiting for the city to sleep.
The sky was painted a swarm of dark navy, moonless and starless. Liana missed the bright clusters of shining stars she saw in the sky back in the countryside.
“like unfallen snow,” she had once exclaimed. She had danced around the clear, green field where her family was camping and played nighttime hide-and-seek with her little sister.
Liana sighed. If only she could go back to those days, when the world danced slowly and calmly, instead of being surrounded by loud, obnoxious, mountain-high buildings.
House lights and car headlamps shivered and glowed, never stopping. Police sirens and chattering had flitted about, a constant crescendo and diminuendo. No trees had rustled on that restless night. No distant callings of owls.
No wildlife whatsoever, unless you count the slinking cats, barking dogs, waddling crows and pigeons, and the odd foxes that dwelled in the shadows.
How do people get to sleep here?
Suddenly, Liana's door creaked open.
“Hi,” said a man in the doorway.
“Hi, Dad,” Liana replied. She crawled down from her window.
“You not finding any sleep?” Asked Dad. He shrugged. “I'm not getting any as well.”
“Oh,” Liana flopped down on her bed. “There's loads of lights outside. Much too bright when it's supposed to be night,”
Dad sat down next to her. “Well, you could say the same for all the stars. When you think of it…” He paused thoughtfully.
“It's like a city of stars.” Liana finished. “Like if there was ever a city in the night sky. It'd be like this.”
“Wow, deep!” Dad said.

And outside, the lights danced and flickered between the cars and buildings on that moonless, starless night, just like a city of stars.

Daily 6 (Blackout Poetry based on “Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe)
I am mad?
My senses dulled
All things in the heaven
And in the earth.
Am I mad?
I can tell you the whole story.

My brain haunted me
Day and night.
Passion had wronged me,
Had given me insult.
I had no desire.

I think it was his eyes,
A pale blue.
Whenever upon me,
My blood ran cold.
I made up my mind
To rid myself of the eye forever.

You should have seen me.
You should have seen how
I was never kinder than him.
Every night, I made a lantern,
Closed, so that no light shone out
In my head.

You would have laughed to see
How it took me an hour to see him
As a madman, so wise.
And this I did every night,
But I found it impossible.

Every morning, I went
Into the chamber, calling him by name
He would have been a very profound man, indeed,
To suspect

Daily 7-8 (Dialogue Borrowing)
“Don’t you dare ever do that again,” Hannah hissed in my ear as we walked away from the large group of gossipping girls by the windows (Flowerelf371).
“You said you wanted to meet them. I was just trying to help,” I said, desperately trying to save face. She had said before that she felt invisible, like no one that mattered saw her. As if I didn’t count.
“Not like that! I wanted them to think I was cool! I wanted them to bring me in, not see me get dragged over to them by someone beneath their notice.”
I bristled. “Well, how was I supposed to know what you meant?” (rainbxwskies-). My voice was louder than I’d meant it to be. “How was I supposed to know that I was your placeholder friend until you could work your way up that ladder?” I hadn’t meant to say the last part, but there it was all the same.
“I’ve done nothing but be a good friend to you! What could you possible mean by that? That makes no sense,” she said, her tone demanding I lower my volume.
“You have no right to know what I mean by that.” I said, not bothering to quiet down (CookieRun_Kat). Let them all hear; I was fuming. How had I been so blind not to see that my best—really only—friend was using me the whole time?
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hannah laughed, rolling her eyes and trying to lighten the mood.
“Oh, so I’m the dramatic one now? Who was there for you when Reagan spread that rumor about you and Luke? Who covered for you all those times you skipped class so you could cry in the bathroom? What would you have done if it wasn’t for me?”
“It wasn’t like that, Bella. You’ve been a great friend, and I really appreciate you. I’m sorry I made you mad, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She was lying through her teeth. I’d heard it all before. When I got detention for forging her mom’s signature so she could go on our field trip to the art museum, she had blinked her eyes just as innocently, and I had believed her.
But not anymore. I was so done.
I finally lowered my voice. “Hannah, I don’t think we can do this anymore. You’ve hurt me more than you could know, and I can honestly say that I would rather have no friends at all than a friend who only cares about what I can do for them.” My eyes began to well with tears, but I forced them to stay where they were. I would not let her see me cry. I was trying to shut her out, and that was not a good way to do it.
Hannah gaped at me, eyes wide. I had never been so blunt with her in our entire friendship. I’d always been the quiet, supportive friend she needed because I wanted that for myself. Clearly, that’s not what I got.
“Excuse me?” she said. “Look, we can go get fro-yo or something and talk about it after school. Don’t jump to anything.”
"Welp, that pterodactyl's jumped the ship." I had no idea where that came from, but I didn’t retract it before storming off with as much dignity as I could muster (snuggles0426). I ignored her as she called after me, pleading for me to think about it more.
I whispered under my breath, “Not a chance.”

Daily 9 (Book Blurb)
Prince Gideon has lived in the luxurious palace his whole life—and he hates it. He longs for an average life with normal friends and hobbies. When he decides to go to public school for a glimpse at real life, he meets Kate, an ambitious and beloved student. Together, they investigate conspiracies hidden from the crown. As they draw closer to the truth about an allegedly dead member of the royal family, the king and queen try to stop their efforts in the name of national security. They must decide whether to defy justice or the monarchy—and Gideon's parents.

Daily 16 (Pandas)
If I could be a panda, I totally would. As far as I know, they basically eat and sleep all day, which sounds wonderful to me. I'm pretty sure they are also protected from hunters because they're super endangered. I guess being endangered could make life kind of lonely, but who needs company when you're sleeping? Anyway, I would also be adorable and people would fawn over me. That could get annoying after long enough; however, I could just fall asleep again if I wanted to escape all the attention. Overall, I think being a panda sounds lovely, especially on a day like National Panda Day!

Daily 17 (Language of Flowers)
vetch / snowdrop / bluebell / carnation / night convulvus / pansy / peach blossom / fern
The card must have been slipped under my apartment door while I was scrambling eggs for breakfast. It was unassuming, an unlined notecard with neat block letters on one side and a rose drawn on the other. The words were centered, each on its own line like a poem. They were the names of flowers, and I didn’t recognize most of them. They all sounded like wonderful candle scents, but they didn’t mean much more than that to me. When I checked the hallway outside my door, nobody was there. I didn’t really have any friends. The note was probably given to me by mistake. I got my hopes up anyway. I thought that it must have some deeper meaning.
I had seen a movie recently that taught me about secret codes, ciphers, and languages. Apparently, different flowers could mean different things. I spent the next two hours on the internet trying to decode the message, and as I went, my heart began to pound. If this was really meant for me, I might faint. All I could do was repeat the words back to in my mind and pray they were real. After I finished, I checked the card all over again, but there was no signature. Who could have written this for me?
I decided it didn’t matter. Whoever it was would hopefully be revealed eventually.
shyness / hope / constancy / fascination / transient beauty / you occupy my thoughts / you hold me captive / concealed love

Daily 19 (Abstract Concept - Forgiveness)
I wish people cared about me more. Honestly, people value so many other things more than me. Wealth, Power, and Revenge are three of the main reasons people ignore me, but my worst enemy is Resentment. Ironically, Resentment is the only thing I resent, and I hate it. It’s such a pointless emotion, only succeeding in making everyone feel awful. It doesn’t benefit anyone in any way, and it’s often hidden so far below the surface that it will never be resolved anyway.
I wish people could accept me and forgive each other, at least inwardly. Forgiveness makes more than the forgiven feel better. The forgiver can let go of all the grudges and hard feelings left behind my Resentment, which destroys people inside and out. Forgiveness isn’t just something people should do; I also bring Peace, Hope, and Love to everyone involved. I improve everyone’s lives, as opposed to Resentment.
I’d like to clear up a few things about myself. “Forgive and forget” is not always the best policy like people say it is. In this context, to “forget” is to treat the person with as much respect as you did before they wronged you. You should still be careful and watch yourself around that person. Keep your guard up. I am not a careless or reckless thing; I don’t trust people immediately after I’ve been wronged. I test and allow people to rebuild that trust, but I am always silently cautious after such an event.
One more thing: I want to let you know that if you’ve wronged someone else and give them the chance to accept me, don’t be upset if they never tell you you’re forgiven. They may forgive you in their heart without actually telling you. Give them space. Some wrongs can’t be completely righted.

Daily 20 (Editing)
This is just a portion of the beginning of my novel. I focused mostly on dialogue and descriptive writing. I think it’s really fun to write dialogue to show the characters’ voices and reveal things about them rather than just describing them. I didn’t have to change the dialogue very much, but there were a few things I had to tweak. In this part of the story, I’m using other characters to help show the protagonist’s personality and values. I know there’s not a lot of material, but there’s an event later that brings out her inner motivations. I also tried to show instead of tell the setting completely. I’m not exactly sure how it worked out because I already have such a clear image in my mind. I think it’s good enough to at least convey the bare minimum.

I pedaled faster, pulling further ahead of Nora. I briefly turned to see Nora’s determined expression as she tried to catch up to me. I grinned at her and slowed down to give her a chance at getting closer. I enjoyed the feeling of my long brown hair whipping around behind me. As we crested a massive hill, the neat rows of houses and green lawns of Evergreen Crest came into view. I cruised down the other side of the hill and turned sharply to the left onto my driveway. I hit the brakes and hopped off my bike, waiting for her to catch up.
“I win!” I pulled off my helmet and held it up in triumph as she came to a stop next to me.
“Only because your dad bought you a better bike,” she said with a playful smile.
It was true; my dad and I loved biking together. Our neighborhood had quite a few good nature trails, and we’d been going out on them at least once a week since I was six. I had a fantastic bike, with chain guards and clutchless gear change. It was a metallic, fiery orange that appeared to change colors in different lighting. Nora’s plain blue bike was only meant to get her to and from school.
“Maybe we’ll trade next time, just to test it out,” I said, eyeing her much larger bike. Nora was taller than me, but I thought I could still manage her bike.
“I’m not going to ride your dinky little bike. Besides, all its bells and whistles would confuse me. Honestly, why would you need a bike to do so much stuff?” She rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. “Mine’s got pedals, wheels, and handlebars to steer, plus a bonus bell. What else could I ask for?” Nora patted her bike and rang the little bell on the handle. I honked the horn on mine and laughed.
“Well, I’ve got to do a unit review for math, so I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a groan.
“Oh, that sucks. Text me if you want help,” I replied. Nora was a sophomore, which put her in the math class below me. She nodded, waved, and rode off down the street. She was only a few houses down from me, so she didn’t have very far to go.
I wheeled my bike into the garage and headed into the house. My little brother ran up to me, a Hot Wheels car in each hand. He shoved one of them into one of my hands and grabbed the other.
“Let’s go race cars in my room. You can have the green car because it does canostoj.”
He dragged me up the stairs and I laughed. “You mean camouflage? Did you build your new racetrack already, Luke?”
He nodded gleefully and pushed me down to the floor in his blue and green car-themed room. There were toy vehicles everywhere: cars, trains, planes, and monster trucks. Luke sat across from me on the other side of his new racetrack. It was a figure-eight with a bridge over the middle. The finish line was at the peak of the bridge, and he set his car right behind it. He took my car from me and set it behind his car.
“How’s my car supposed to win if it’s stuck behind yours the whole time?” I asked.
“It’s not supposed to win. It’s supposed to push my car if it gets stuck.”
“Well, my car will be the best pusher in the whole world.”
He grinned and counted down from three. On “go!” I pushed my car into his as hard as I could and let go. We continued like that around the track a few times, then he decided we should actually race.
After about an hour of toy car races, I checked the time. I needed to get dinner and go to work. I turned to Luke. “This racer’s retiring, but do you want me to make you a sandwich before I leave?”
He shook his head and said, “Mom’s gonna make me mac and cheese!”
I laughed and headed down the stairs. “Don’t forget to clean up, Luke,” I called over my shoulder.
“I will!” he replied, but I knew he wouldn’t. I made myself a ham and cheese sandwich and headed out. I took my bike a few streets down to my dad’s store, What a Steele. He thought using our last name in the title was really funny. I agreed with him to humor him.
I locked my bike on the rack at the back of the building. I loved biking, but I couldn’t wait to get my driver’s license. I wished I could drive my friends around and have a car. It would be so much more efficient.
I went through the side door and clocked in. I waved to my dad and stopped in front of his desk. He was shuffling some papers around and he had his reading glasses on. He set them down and smiled up at me.
“Where do you need me today, Dad?” I asked.
“Can you take a register? Joey couldn’t get anyone to take his shift.” He sounded exhausted.
“Got it,” I said. I went to an empty checkout line and got behind the counter.

Daily 28-29 (Atmosphere)
My description:

The forest was dark, despite the fact that it was noon and the sun was directly above in the sky. The trees’ dark, twisted branches reached up high overhead—seemingly to the clouds— preventing the sun from reaching the scraggly earth below. The dim light filtering through the gaps revealed that the blackened bark was stripped in some places, as if it had peeled off from mere exhaustion decades earlier. The ground was barely visible through a thick low-hanging layer of gray fog that smelled of smoke and decay. Even the animals were subdued and hidden, making the forest silent except for the occasional scuffle of little paws on dead grass or the creaking of the trees as they struggled to bare their own weight. The air felt thick and heavy, the gravity of what had occurred here was obviously apparent to anyone who treaded on the dry, packed dirt of the forest—if it could even still be called a forest—floor. No one dared come within sight of the place at night. Even young children, who didn’t know the history, knew to hold their breaths as they passed by the dark silhouettes of the trees as they went on their way.

Iri's Description:

A lush forest one that used to be lush, that is. Once upon a time the forest was green and vibrant and full of creatures. Now there is a cloud of gloom surrounding it, which made it spookily scarce of creatures and humans and every living thing. The thick milky fog got rid of everything in the forest. Every inch of color. Every inch of sound and most of all . . . every inch of life itself. It's been years since the forests' last rainstorm which made it where the grass is all dead and dry. Crumbly, in fact are the leaves that fall from the trees because they have no water in their lungs. Oh someday, hopefully someday someone will be brace enough to enter this island of fear. But until now, let the fog drown out everything it lands on. Even if one day, it ends up draining the entirety of life all around it on other islands. It's gloomy days are still young and on the contrary, quite flourishing in fact. Until the end of time, let this forest drown out all sound and life and let there be endless drought for many many many years to come in the distant future.

Analysis:
I think Iri and I both had a similar idea, but we did definitely take it in two different directions. I think mine is more sensory, and hers tells a story much more than mine. Nothing really happens in my description, even though there are lots of details about sights, sounds, and smells. In Iri’s, the leaves are crumbling and the forest is deserted. Hers reminds me more of poetry, and mine is more like prose, something you could find in a novel. I think it’s interesting that we had different reasons for the forest being the way it is. In mine, there was fire (and possibly something else, I don’t really know for sure), but Iri’s had a really bad drought. Hers also focused on describing the atmosphere, while I just used charged language to allow the reader to figure it out. I love that two people can start with one idea and make the results so different from each other by using their own personal approach and style.

DAILY FOR THRILLER:

Original writing: Somewhere over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh, why can't I?

– – –

Someday I’ll wake up
Somewhere
In a land that I heard of

Way up high
Above the chimney tops
Where bluebirds fly

– – –


Dotty’s eyelids fluttered open, the lullaby she had heard before she’d drifted off to sleep still half-playing in her ears. She wiped away the sleep-dust from the corner of her eyes and tried to drift off back to sleep. Just as she was on the verge of unconsciousness again, she wrapped her arms around herself - it was cold.

Too cold.
Where was she?

“AARGGGHH!” the child’s scream echoed all across the city - in fact, a lady on the other side of London heard it clear as the day.

It couldn’t be - but there she was - was it real? Was she imagining things? Was she really …

In the sky? Dotty shut her eyes firmly, tensing every muscle in her body. Cautiously, she peeked open an eyelid. Yes; it was real! Her body was gently hovering over the chimney tops: she could see each of the night’s stars perfectly in the black sky. Goose pimples had spread over her arms and legs, and her teeth were numb from chattering. Dotty could see her breath coming out in little puffs of smoke.

/Don’t. Panic./ she told herself desperately. /Think./
How had she gotten up here? And, perhaps even more importantly - How had she not fallen to her death?

– – –

206 words <3

March 6th Daily || 165 words || Poem made from a piece of an old vent I wrote called “Shadows”

Ignore me like everyone else does. I'm just a shadow, following close behind someone, but is never taken notice of. I mean, what's the importance of something that copies you? That's me. I guess.
Even when I'm not a shadow, I'm never noticed. The times when something is actually wrong, I'm ignored. But the times I don't want attention, I get it.
I honour those who take notice of me and take notice of my accomplishments outside of the shadows. Even though most people see me as nothing but a shadow.

Poem without the blackedout words:
Ignore everyone else,
I'm someone of importance.
You guess I'm actually wrong,
But I don't get it.
Those who notice my shadows see nothing.

Narrative:
Wow, you are a foolish one, aren't you? You don't recognize my power, no one does, I don't understand anymore. How many times have I had to prove that I'm the one you listen to? That I'm the one who can control you?
You see only my misdeeds, only the illusionary shadow of evil. The thing everyone sees. Learn to ignore them, ignore the shadow, that's none of your importance. Learn I'm the correct one, the one that speaks of truth. The longer you wait to choose a side, the longer you sit with the rest of them, the more corrupted you'll become, the more you'll see me as something menacing. Learn that they're wrong for thinking I'm in the wrong.
Stop accusing without proof. All you know is what people have heard. You've seen nothing, they've seen nothing. Don't remember me by the shadow, that's nothing.
The worst part is, the more you accuse, the more of the monster you bring out in me.

raya's directory
daily, march the sixth | 189 words

(My blackout poem reads “great magic is unlimited”. I made it out of a magazine I subscribed to called ‘The Writer’!)

When I was young, I was told I'd do great things. My magic was strong, and I know that because I've felt it. The feeling of control over every living and non-living thing is overwhelming. Sinister, even. But once you learn to control your own self, the powers you have can do exquisite things.
I come from a family of wizardry and witchcraft. None of my ancestors older than my grandparents are alive. They're buried somewhere we're never to venture to. Some were bad, and some were good. Some didn't find the right skill set and went, to be straightforward, insane.
Not to scare you, but lately I feel myself wandering off the beaten path my sturdier and saner kin has paved for me. I've tried to hide it behind my vehicle made of skin and flesh, hidden away in a far corner in my brain. I do the same for my power, my great, unlimited power.
There's this old tale where someone of the same last name as mine has the power to save their kind- to diminish it completely.
I feel like I know who that is.

Daily 6 - March 6
Words: 179 words <33

I chose Still I Rise by Maya Angelou for my Blackout Poem – enjoy!

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

Crying in the corner, I hope for a better day - every time I see you, I think you’ve changed. You claim, and come back to me every single day - only to leave me broken; all my dreams crushed. I sacrificed a lot for you, and I’ve never even gotten a thing in return. I don’t know how much longer I can stand this misery - my strings are slipping. Into each day, I dream and hope, thinking that you’ll be there to support me - but no, I have to rise by myself, find who I am, and guide myself through this treacherous journey. Friends are supposed to be there for each other – but you.. Never ever have you once come to my aid, been there to make my day better, or allow me to pursue my needs and dreams. It’s always about you, and now I’ve had enough. Out of the fear of losing you, I’ve put up with you for so long. Your behaviour doesn’t come as a surprise, and that’s why, for the last time this is goodbye…

March 6 daily — I wrote 158 poem used Because I could not stop for Death by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –
The Dews drew quivering and Chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

Blackout poem:
Death kindly stopped
Held ourselves immortality
No haste had put away my leisure
Civility, the school where children in the ring passed grazing grain
The setting sun passes us quivering and chill
Gossamer gown, only tulle
We paused a swelling of the ground
Scarcely visible the cornice
Since then centuries feels shorter than a day
The horse's were eternity

Poem, 158 words
We used to hold, in our hands
Such immortality,
But those days are gone, our souls are claimed, and
All that's left is fleeting hope
For humanity

Now that death has claimed us
We can simply do no more
Buried underneath the ground
Our bodies lay at rest
Passing away the days
The years
The centuries
As if each were no more than the other
And as the sun sets on the golden fields
And night brings its chill,
Our spirits play in gossamer gowns
The wise owl’s eyes see us, it hoots softly as a greeting
But it says nothing more
For we pose no threat
We are just spirits
Forever there
Out of reach
For all eternity

People try to call to us
Calling, ‘where did you go?’
For they don’t realize we’re there, watching

Just because we’re dead
Doesn’t mean we’re not there
We just can’t solve the problems
And no one seems to care

Daily #6
250 points
192 words

Gray walls
Gray floors
Gray fence
Gray doors
It’s extremely depressing
Straight out of a dystopian film

A pale colored she-cat lay in a completely gray room. Everything was gray besides her, a lilac tabby and the small pink and white gem that she was allowed to keep. Her paws were wrapped around the gem and she whispered something to it.
A smile lit up her face and her ears perked up. “Hello? You there, Caspian?”
“Haha, yeah I am.”
“Yeah! I finally have someone to talk to!”
“Mhm, where’d you say you were again?”
“In a very gray room, super depressing I wouldn’t recommend staying more than a day here.”
She heard a laugh come from her only friend, Caspian. “Sounds very fun, but you said you’d try and get out soon.”
“I will! I have a plan already.”
“Taught you well, haven’t I?”
She nodded, “Yep,”
She stretched, making sure she wouldn’t knock over the gem. “But I’ll be escaping soon so we can talk later.”
“Bye! Maybe we can see each other afterwards!”
“Maybe. I hope so.” She flipped over the gem, ending the conversation. A small wave of sadness washed over her, she missed talking to him, even if it hadn’t even been a second.

Daily- March 6
174 words

Today's daily focuses on blackout poetry! Take a short piece of writing of your choice (a page from your favorite book, an longer poem, a short story you wrote, a news article, or anything else you've got!), then select words in the order they're written to create a new blackout poem. Next, write a longer poem or story of at least 150 words based on your blackout poem for 200 points, as well as an additional 50 points for sharing! And if you'd like an extra challenge, try to incorporate all the words in your blackout poem in order.

Taken from multiple pages through The Wizard Of Oz

Now the river went to the tree
Our friend asleep
The poppy! Cried the little queen
Yes everything is green…

The three of us went to the river, our meeting spot. The river wasn’t that wide, though not as small as a stream. Our spot was on a flat plot of land under a collection of trees, close to the bank of the river. I laid down a green picnic blanket. She set down the basket. He was asleep under the tree. Head laid on an uncomfortable root. The tranquility of it all lead to napping.
On the way to our spot, she picked up a bright red poppy and thread it through her crown on her head. It matched her name: Reina. When we got to our spot and everything was settled, the wind blew it out of her crown. She cried for it and ran after it. It made me smile. Everything here reminds me of green. The trees, the grass, the blessed health, and the rich joy. Yes, everything was green.

Today's daily focuses on blackout poetry! Take a short piece of writing of your choice (a page from your favorite book, an longer poem, a short story you wrote, a news article, or anything else you've got!), then select words in the order they're written to create a new blackout poem. Next, write a longer poem or story of at least 150 words based on your blackout poem for 200 points, as well as an additional 50 points for sharing! And if you'd like an extra challenge, try to incorporate all the words in your blackout poem in order.


Daily - Mar. 6, 2023 - Jasper's Thread
wc : 269
title : Stars Made of Ash and Mourning

Prompt :
(taken from p 81-82, ch 9 of Caraval)

The sky was visiting some other part of the world as she crossed the threshold into a realm that had gone suddenly dark. Every flower full of stardust, sweeter than lies and alluring light. A clock gave a performance, changed for a count.

Story : Stars streaked across the sky in coruscant crimson crescents, and, though any other girl may think it were beautiful, Adelaide knew better. The stars were not kind, were not beautiful, as they once had been. They were heartbroken, flaming, raining down in raging red rings, as though the sky were sobbing, were torn into pieces, burst into flame. And she knew–nothing, nothing would ever be the same. Ever.

Her hands were shaking, her heart was breaking; her calm visiting some other part of the world. She felt nothing but pain, but fear, hatred. Though she knew she should not, she still did. She watched the dark sky come closer, closer, seeking to devour, to wither and ruin, and leave nothing unscathed. To hurt and scar and tear and set her heart aflame.

As the sky tore in two, as the light became dark, she crossed the threshold into a realm that had gone suddenly dark.

Fear clawed at her heart, at her soul, at her very essence.

Gone.

All would be gone.

Flowers, once full of life, turned into nothing but stardust, as embers burned and skies mourned, wishing for something sweeter than solace, something kinder than lies. Though the alluring light was luscious and lovely, though it was warm and bright, nothing could make this feeling go away.

In the distance, a clock gave a performance, a changed chime for a cautious count, one that told Adelaide exactly what she had dreaded.

It was the end.

The darkness came closer, creeping, crawling, whispering and chanting.

She let the night take her.

And everyone else.

March 6 daily

Blackout poem:
Her face was composed
Her eyes were imploring
On that cold and bloody night
I made a new story
-Taken from King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo

Narrative:
I stared into her eyes, which were full of emotion, contrasting her calm and stony face. You could easily see the toll that night had taken on her. She obviously hadn't told a lot of people, and I felt lucky to be one of the ones she had. But who knows- it might not even have been the real tale. With her, you could never know. As I listened, I could hear the raw emotion in her voice as she described what had happened in great detail. The frigid winter, the blood that soaked her clothes as she trekked through the snow. Her ripped skirt falling apart more and more with every step. After staring at her for a few seconds, I decided that it probably had been real. And it was definitely one of the many events that shaped her into the wonderful person she was today. I knew firsthand that all good things, even human qualities, came with a price.

162 words (narrative)

Forgotten proof from the mar. 4 daily </3

Daily - Mar. 4, 2023 - Jasper's Thread
wc : 316
title : Redacted

Redacted had logged into Scratch, curious as to what it contained. Selah had been part of something apparently known as Scratch Writing Camp, and had encouraged her to sign up as a backup camper on her own profile. Now sorted into Poetry, Redacted felt that perhaps she would spend time here- however, not much.

She had already conversed with an interesting figure named Gray. He seemed… harmless. Friendly, even. She held no qualms with him, and in fact thought well of his poetry.

She had spoken also with someone by the name of Naeda. She quite liked her profile avatar, especially the figure within. Though she couldn't quite tell the colors, Selah seemed to like them. Redacted had unfortunately always ignored it when Selah asked her to view her Scratch cabin - not that it was Poetry. In fact, it was Sci-fi. She went on about the storyline all the time, saying how it was so wonderful and how she was enjoying her cabin mates.

Redacted's main goal was to avoid most of hers, to make no friends. But she and Selah's priorities were seldom similar, and often conflicted entirely.

Redacted had also spoken to her co-leaders, Stingray and Aspen, though she hadn't gotten around to Jasper yet. Stingray seemed interesting, as well as enthusiastic, and Aspen was on the calmer side, which she appreciated. She didn't know how much more Selah-like energy she could deal with, knowing how excited and overly enthusiastic she could be.

All in all, Scratch Writing Camp was at least partially worth it- though not exactly a bounty hunter's top priority. Redacted had other things to do, but she supposed she could stay for a while. After all, she needed something to do when she was bored out of her mind, something that wasn't listening to Selah.

As she thought this, she thought she could even feel Selah's proudness.

Very well, then.

daily no 6,
the underlined is the blackout part!

Word War with Lio (opheliio):

I don’t get their problem with me. I’ve never done a single thing wrong, yet the whole world is against me. Wait.. that’s probably a lie, but you should understand that I’m honest most of the time. I try my best to be kind, but for some reason its never enough. How do you expect me to always stand by your side when things go wrong, yet, when ever I need you. You abandon me - leave me alone to face my own problems, acting as if I don’t matter. I’m fed up – this was the last straw, and you finally pulled it. You keep asking for another chance, but I;ve given you one chance to many. Every time you promise its the last, but you always go back - lying once more. How can I ever trust you with my secrets if you’re this way? You expect me to open up, but I can’t - I’m sure you must understand, but for some reason it doesn’t get to your brain. That’s why I’m telling you, straight up and front, enough is enough. I hope you have fun living your life to the fullest, but I’m done trying to be friends with someone who has no interest in being there for me. That’s all I have to say, I honestly feel the need to say more… I wish things didn’t have to end this way, but you’ve left me no choice.

I just thought it would be fun to continue my blackout poetry from earlier today – so here it is! I hope you enjoy <3

Edit: 239 words