Daily 13
468 words

Desdemona Misery pointed her wand at the sky and a crack of lightning struck the ground in front of her feet. A pile of logs in front of her burst into flame.
“There you go!” the witch exclaimed. The chilly campers thanked her, and Desdemona whistled for her flock of loyal crows to fly her away. It was a lovely sort of day: dark clouds blocking the sun, a harsh breeze, and the occasional few minutes of drizzle. Desdemona had just landed at the haunted mansion she called home, when one of her crows squawked at her. The crows could sense when someone needed help. Desdemona let them pick her up and take her to the scene. Although she was born with evil magic, she loved using her powers to do good deeds.
The crows flew her above the person who needed help, a woman she knew as Annie, who was standing in her yard. Desdemona instantly knew the problem. Annie's cat was probably lost, like always. Desdemona was about to tell her crows to land when she saw someone new: a girl with translucent wings in a sparkly pink dress. This unfamiliar fairy fluttered up to Annie and introduced herself.
“I'm Rosalie Gumdrop, how may I help you?”
“Well, I haven't seen my cat Munchkin in a few days, and I'm getting worried,” answered Annie.
What a surprise, thought Desdemona.
“I can find your cat!” Rosalie assured Annie. “First, though, I need a payment of a hundred gold coins. Fifty up front, fifty when I'm done!”
Desdemona was about to interject, but she was still watching from the air, too far away to be seen. Annie riffled through her purse and pulled out a string of fifty coins.
“Thank you so much!” beamed Rosalie. Then, to Desdemona's horror, the fairy started singing. She sang a long, melodic song that had no words except gibberish. Suddenly, out of the surrounding forest came flocks and herds of animals, flying and scampering and prancing to Rosalie. And in the front was none other but Munchkin, Annie's grey cat.
Annie eagerly picked up her cat. “Thank you, Rosalie!” she cried, giving the fairy a tight hug.
Rosalie gritted her teeth in a fake grin and stiffened. “All I care about is helping people,” she said. “Now, about my other fifty coins?”
After being handed another fifty coins, Rosalie's smile turned genuine as she fluttered away.
Desdemona's crows chose that moment to land. Desdemona glared at them, annoyed that they had just sat back and watched while Rosalie scammed an innocent person. The crows squawked apologetically.
Annie waved at Desdemona. “Thanks for coming, but I don't need your help anymore. I met the most delightful fairy, Rosalie Gumdrop. Have you heard of her?”
“Yeah,” muttered Desdemona. “She's just a ray of sunshine.”

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March 13th Daily

It was time. I had finally been participating in an activity with my friends for the first time. Actually more of an outing. I hadn't really been into these type of things as I prefer staying at home to code or play games or study. Also another reason is because nobody would really like to hang out with me. “It's because you always mess things up,” is always the answer I received. I mean, it isn't fair to treat people like that due to rumours. While I was still thinking, I had arrived at my destination.

“Hey, Marbles. Over here!” A delighted voice called out to me. I looked to my left and saw Weren and Luna. “Hi, sorry I'm late. I left something behind…” I apologized as I reached them. “It's okay, now let's go! I've been looking forward to this!” Luna exclaimed and we set off. This will be a fun time… I thought as I followed my friends.

The place was full of excitement. There were many laughing children playing video games and teenagers playing console to win tickets for the grand prize. We were in the arcade. “Hey, I wanna play the claw machine!” Weren said as he dashed to the controls. “Weren, wait! We need to pay for the coins first!” Luna reminded him, but something was wrong. “Luna, did you bring the money?” I asked, having a feeling something was wrong. “I dropped it. I dropped my wallet somewhere.” Luna replied. I shuddered, “We need to find it. It's not only the money, it's contains your personal information. Weren, let's leave for now.” I called out to the reluctant Weren as he was looking disappointed.

We searched everywhere, but Luna's wallet was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, wow. What a wonderful day it is…” I muttered, spotting a purple object laying on the ground. “Wait, could this be…?” I took a closer look, until I noticed it was just a toy a kid might have dropped. “Oh, that was so anticlimactic…” Luna was very anxious, we couldn't find it anywhere. “Someone must have picked it up, oh no!” Luna whimpered. “Calm down, we will find it. We just need to find the security guard for it.” Weren assured her. “Hey, I found it!” I shouted, it was really true this time. I can recognize the details on Luna's wallet, which was filled with the photos of me, Weren and that traitor Lisa. “Ah, thank you, Marbles! I remember my pocket felt empty at that part. Quick, let's go before the arcade closes!” We rushed to the arcade, but finding out there was a crime scene at the area. “Oh my…” A dead body was lying on the ground, it appeared to have dropped something because there was coins all over him, and his hand gesture seemed to have been holding a pile of something. “I guessed that person could be us…” Weren whispered. I nodded, it was plain luck we avoided the area to find Luna's wallet. “Well, I guess we can come back here another day…” I suggested, as we said our farewells later that day.

523 words

Daily 3/13

She can feel the music overwhelming her.

Myla fights back that wobbling sensation, the feel of the notes swelling up, slipping out of her control, drowning her in their unrestrained power. She forces her hands to keep moving across the keys, one painful measure at a time. The magic spins out of her grasp anyways, slowly coming unbound from the musician who brought it to life.

No. She thinks back to her training. All powerful music needs some source of strength to back it up. Yes, she remembers that. Purpose. Passion. Emotion.

What sort of emotion is potent enough, raw enough, to fuel a musician’s wavering song-spell? She knows, even as the thought enters her head. Grief. Even better if it is weighed heavier by guilt.

It will hurt, she knows, reliving the night that Connie died. The alternative is so much worse.

Myla closes her eyes, and lets the memories come.

—-x-—

“Myla!” Connie hollered from downstairs. “Are you ready? Mom’s waiting in the car!”

Myla leaned forward, inspecting the sides of her hair in the mirror. “Just a few seconds!” She tucked back a loose coil of hair, patted the top of her bun.

“Hurry up!” her sister called irritably. “You’re going to make us late to your own recital.”

Myla sighed, gave herself a final once-over, and ducked out of the bathroom. Connie stood by the front door, tapping her foot impatiently as Myla scrambled down the stairs. “Well, that didn’t take any time at all!”

“Sheesh, I’d like to see you get ready for a recital in less than twenty minutes!” Myla tugged on her dress shoes, then gave her sister a playful nudge. “Come on then, let’s go!”

The girls dashed outside and into the backseat of their mother’s tiny car. “Are we running late?” Connie demanded.

From the driver’s seat, their mother shook her head. “We’ve got at least fifteen minutes to get there.”

Myla shot Connie a pointed look. Her sister shrugged, grinning. The car pulled out of the driveway and set off down the road.

“Are you nervous?” Connie asked after a few minutes of silence.

Myla hesitated. “I shouldn’t be. It’s not complicated music, or anything.”

“I’ve heard you practice, and it sounds pretty complicated to me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Myla considered how she could possibly explain. “It’s… good music. Safe music. Simple, in that regard.”

“‘Safe?’” Connie snorted. “What does that even mean? It’s not like you can kill someone with music, or anything.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Evidently Connie was, as she stayed silent for the rest of the trip. Perhaps she was pondering Myla’s words, wondering what they meant. Perhaps she had been distracted by something else and forgotten about it entirely. Myla probably shouldn’t have said as much as she had, but it didn’t matter, anyway. Soon they would be at the recital. Soon she would play nice, normal, non-deadly music. She could quit piano lessons with strange old Ms. Abrams, who was trying to push her onto a career path that she both feared and didn’t understand. She could put these past few months behind her, and the world would return to the small, easy place it had once been.

Soon.

—-x-—

Myla’s eyes fly open. The grief is for a different loss than that of her sister. Not the pain she had been expecting, but it still throbs deep, flowing over her fingers and into song. The music comes easier now, supported by the heavy sorrow for a life she has long since left behind. A life she thought she’d be able to keep.

What might had become of her, if she had turned her back on this world of painful music and frightening miracles and prices so steep they could never be forgiven? Would she be happier? What does it feel like to be a normal person, one who doesn’t have to live with the weight of her sister’s death and countless other unspeakable deeds?

All of this was for you. For Connie. Myla knows, without a doubt, that she has committed more wrongs than can ever be fully corrected. But the first one - the deed that all the others unraveled from - is the only one that matters.

The song swells, faster, louder, a whirlwind of notes spinning beneath her fingers. Myla thinks of her guilt and of her grief, of all that she has sacrificed to reach this moment. And more importantly, the moments to come. She pours it into this song, letting it fuel the miracle that is building onto the keys.

I gave everything up for you, Connie. And I mourn the life which I have lost, but I do not regret leaving it behind. I made myself a promise that I would set right my first wrong. I intend to keep it.

Word count: 803

March 13th Daily

'“Become a sorceress,' they said. ‘It’s in your blood,' they said. ‘It’ll be fun, there won't be any danger,' they said. I hate this.” Gwen punched a nearby oak tree, leaving a fist-shaped dent. Ambrose winced as he passed the damaged tree. "Uh…Gwen? Maybe…don't punch the sacred trees in the Spectral Woods?“ Gwen rolled her eyes. ”It's not like they're alive, Ambrose. Meanwhile, we very much are and I doubt that's gonna last for very long if Scott doesn't figure out where the spell we are! Scott?" “I'm working on it,” Scott replied, his eyes fixed on the night sky. He resumed his senseless muttering. Gwen cursed under her breath. "Whose idea was this?“ Ambrose jabbed a thumb toward Anthea, whose gaze was fixed on the trees. After a moment, Anthea finally turned toward her brother and began to sign. As she did, Ambrose's face paled. ”Scott? Scott, hurry up!" "For Sanctum's sake, I can't focus when you people keep interrupting me. I don't know where we are!" “Anthea said the trees are alive,” Ambrose relayed. Scott turned around and began to rant in some ancient language none of the group could identify. They all stood in silence until Scott finished his tirade. Red-faced and out of breath, he glared at Anthea. "And you mean to tell me, with all of your earth magic, you're just realizing the woods are alive?" Anthea, although unable to hear, clearly understood the gist of what Scott was saying. She shrugged, and then made a sign that everybody, whether they knew the art of dactylology or not, could decipher. Run. A moment passed and nobody moved.

Then they all started sprinting, tripping over exposed roots and ducking over low-hanging branches. “Scott, please tell me in your stargazing you at least have some vague idea of where we are,” Gwen said, even as the navigator struggled to keep up with her. Scott was breathing hard. “Slow down,” he gasped. Gwen barked out a laugh. “Sure, I'll totally stay behind and get murd3r3d by some d3@dly trees. Sounds fun. Hurry your studious butt up, Zachary.”

Word War - Mar. 13, 2023 - Jasper's Thread
wc : 270
title : F u r

When a couch turns into a dog, that’s when you know something’s wrong. Now, it normally wouldn’t be an issue, but I, Adelaide Mcinter, am deathly allergic to dogs. I wouldn’t mind if my couch became a gecko, but fur? No thank you! I am not in for this ride, no way, no how. I love all kinds of furry animals, but my allergies are more than I can bear. I could never cuddle a bear, no matter how much I’d love to–which, trust me, I definitely would. Bears are furry and cuddly.

My table turned into a llama. That wouldn’t work either.

My lamp became a gecko. Now this I could do ! The little guy scurried everywhere, but I finally caught up to him, and he decided to stick his tongue in my face. Pretty rude, if you ask me. I think that’s not the nicest thing to do, in like, ever. Anyways, the carpet became a tiger, and I was really disappointed, because, again, fur. I hated animals that had fur. Well, I didn’t hate them. I hated that nature gave me an allergy that made me dislike animals with fur. Technically it wasn’t even nature. I hated that nature gave me that witch that gave me an allergy that made me dislike animals with fur. Yeah, that made more sense. I wonder what became of that witch.

Oh. she was probably the one turning my stuff into animals. Rude of her, if you ask me. I live in a little brick cottage, alone in the woods. Like a witch. But I swear, she’s the witch, not me

Word War - 3/13/23 - W/@mabshurah

“Doughnut?” The boy held out a glazed doughnut to me. I stared at him annoyedly. “I’m lactose intolerant.” The boy reddened. “Oh…sorry.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not your fault, you’re not my DNA.” “Walt!” The boy turned at the sound of his name. “What?” “We’re waiting on you.” “Oh, my bad.” He walked off. I sat back, staring glumly at the wall. How could everybody be celebrating? THis was one of the worst days of my life and everybody was partying and eating pizza and doughnuts — neither of which I could eat, by the way. My totally considerate teachers didn’t think to bring a lactose

(LOL didn't finish the last sentence)

Word count: 105 (w/o prompt)

87 words word war with @Cobalt_Titan // “Ok,” Toya sighed before continuing. “Can someone explain why there are doughnuts all over the house?” The house looked like it was made of doughnuts and you might think that too unless you knew it was actually made of wood. There were doughnuts glued to the walls, there were doubts resting on the chairs, there were doughnuts, well, basically everywhere. “Well, the white thing it- it was not us if you are trying to mean that,” Magwan explained as she picked up a donut from the floor.

Nickname - Ava
Content - March 12th Daily
Word Count- /300
Topic - Write with 2 types of ironies
Cabin - Horror

LET'S GET STARTED

Oli wasn't in a good mood. She was definitely not in a good mood when her toxic ‘friend’

Word war proof 156 words prompt “Doughnuts?”

Then, after putting the teacups under a silver cover to keep them warm, the chef walked over to the doughnuts and grabbed the pre-prepared icing. It didn’t take long for the doughnuts to be iced, and then the chef began applying decorations. On the last doughnut, the chef pulled something blue and crystalline out of the pocket of the white apron and sprinkled it on top of the last one. It looked just like sanding sugar, but in reality, it was something else. For good measure, the chef added some of the poison to one of the teacups. Then the chef called out that the meal was ready to serve.

Mia’s guest say across from her now, and they watched as the tea was brought out to them. The platter’s lids were lifted and they saw… “…Doughnuts?” Mia asks, incredulous. Doughnuts were not a typical teatime food. Her guest shrugged. “Whatever. They’re sure to be good!”

Word War, 157 Words

I stare at whatever he’s holding in his hand before blinking a couple times. I look up at him and grab the thing slowly.

“Doughnut-?” I ask. “Where did you get that from and why did you give it to me-?”

“Where do you think I got it from?” He asks. “And uh, I have no clue why I had that, so…”

“This is very awkward-. Thanks, I guess.”

“Mhm, you’re welcome-.”

I just stare at it blankly for a moment before turning away and sitting down. Hm. Why is he acting this way all of a sudden-? He’s acting weird, why is that-? But whatever, I just shrug it off. I place the thing into a small bag for the time being since I’m not hungry.

I sigh and close my eyes for a moment. I just need my time alone. All I need.

I wake up a couple hours later and reach for the bag.

March 13 daily 307 words

Mia sat perfectly still as her handmaiden braided her hair in an intricate fashion, slipping delicate crystal flowers in it as well.
“Finished!” The maid announced, stepping back. Mia glanced at herself in the mirror for a moment to make sure her hair looked good before heading downstairs to the tearoom. She sat down in one of the plump comfy chairs to wait for her guest to arrive…

The chef made the cookies, tarts, and pastries to go with the tea. The teakettle started whistling just as the oven beeped, and the chef had to rush to get the doughnuts out of the oven before they burned and then took the tea kettle off the stove and poured tea into two delicate cups.
Then, after putting the teacups under a silver cover to keep them warm, the chef walked over to the doughnuts and grabbed the pre-prepared icing. It didn’t take long for the doughnuts to be iced, and then the chef began applying decorations. On the last doughnut, the chef pulled something blue and crystalline out of the pocket of the white apron and sprinkled it on top of the last one. It looked just like sanding sugar, but in reality, it was something else. For good measure, the chef added some of the poison to one of the teacups. Then the chef called out that the meal was ready to serve.

Mia’s guest say across from her now, and they watched as the tea was brought out to them. The platter’s lids were lifted and they saw… “…Doughnuts?” Mia asks, incredulous. Doughnuts were not a typical teatime food. Her guest shrugged. “Whatever. They’re sure to be good!” And reached for the only doughnut with blue sanding sugar. “My compliments to the chef,” the guest added before taking a bite, “This is sure to be delicious!”

Weekly 2 (Yay, I actually completed a weekly for once!) || 1096 words


Part 1 || 108 words
How I spent my last little bit of time is grabbing my sketchbook, a pencil, and eraser, and begin sketching, specifically of my OC, Maverick. I truly enjoyed sketching him to help build his personality and my ideas for him grow. Whenever I draw, it’s usually to let my feelings out, calming down while making something creative in the process, like I did today. Today, I was actually feeling a bit upset, but allowing my feelings to spread across that page made me feel a little bit better, as well as being able to admire what is most definitely the most adorable comfort character I have ever created.

Part 2 || 200 words
The media I consumed for this part was the Green Greens remix for Kirby’s Epic Yarn. The moment this song started playing, it instantly felt peaceful, happy. It starts with only the slightest bit of percussion (either maracas, the kick cymbal (whatever that’s called), or something similar), as well as a cute piano solo. After a few seconds, another piano section, the melody, joins in. The two piano parts with the very miniscule percussion part proceed for the next 15 or so seconds, when suddenly, an instrument that sounds almost child-like joins in, replacing the piano melody part.
After another moment, it’s replaced with a higher pitched instrument, almost a flute, that makes everything sound even more peppy, cute even. It reminded me of a young child exploring an open field full of hills, it reminded me of running around with my cousins in my grandparents’ open backyard.
Eventually, the lower child-like instrument takes the melody again, and the flute-like instrument makes a bunch of random notes in the background, like a child being handed their first recorder. It makes everything sound that much more like a young child’s experience, it makes it feel fluffy, like yarn, Kirby’s Epic Yarn.

Part 3 || 788 words
Mango looked at me with what was at first a sorrowful look, a look of loss. As if they were remembering something that they could never get back. But, it gradually became a smile the longer they looked at me.
“You know,” they said after a moment of silence. They sat down on the edge of the bed, their hands folded neatly into their lap. “Sometimes, I take a moment to think about life many years ago. Back when I had no troubles. Back when I could be in this world, carefree, and just give my full attention to what makes me happy.” Mango paused. I had no idea why they were saying this, why they just came up to me to reminisce about the days I wasn’t part of their life. I almost felt sort of jealous.
“I used to spend my days playing cute video games, and drawing afterwards. I’d repeat the process until I was tired, or I had to do something else. It was enjoyable, I loved doing that. I couldn’t stop having that as my daily routine. I loved it just that much,” they said, still smiling, as if reminiscing was filling that feeling of loss they had expressed moments ago. “I’d also go racing down this hill in my grandparents’ backyard. I’d run down it, roll down it, just had to make sure there was no dog poop in the way. Let’s just say, I spent a lot of time making sure there wasn’t dog poop in my way,” they continued, now giggling a little. I even chuckled a little bit. Mango stood up to walk away afterwards. I watched them inch closer to the door with every step they made.
“…Why did you decide to share that, exactly?” I asked them. They looked down at me with an embarrassed look.
“I- I honestly don’t know…” they said after a moment of thought. “I guess, I just missed the old days…”

When Mango left my room, I started to think about my past. It was definitely not as friendly and enjoyable as theirs. I didn’t tend to draw a lot, and I had never played a video game until Mango was in my life. I didn’t really enjoy my life much before I decided to leave.
But, then I recalled the time before my mother left. She was my inspiration, the most amazing person I could’ve ever known. She cared for me, she let me enjoy life. We’d always go on cool adventures together, just the two of us, at a nearby forest. I would pet all of the fluffy-looking animals I could get my hands on. My mother didn’t care too much, as long as I didn’t hurt anything. We used to play fun games together, and show me really cool drawings she’d make for her part-time job as someone who made comic strips. She made a whole bunch of them based off of me and my sister, how we got along but didn’t at the same time. One time, she got one that featured me in the newspaper! I still had it, somewhere, crinkled, and torn. She was the most amazing artist, drawing anything between cute cartoon characters, to nearly realistic drawings, usually of me.
Then, she left. But I didn’t want to think about that.
I rummaged around my drawers, hoping to find that comic, and surely, I did. Still exactly how I remembered it. I took another piece of paper and started drawing everything that made up my childhood, like my mother, the animals I’d pet, my little sister before she became the most annoying creature that had ever invaded my life, all in a style similar to my mother’s style. That was nice, sure. It was an alright drawing that brought nostalgia, but then I flipped the paper. I started to draw me with Mango, as well as tons of characters we know and love. Especially Kirby. I never really understood Kirby, but it was one of Mango’s favorite characters, so I couldn’t leave it out. I love Mango, and I wouldn’t hurt anything they liked for anything.

When I finished drawing both pictures, Mango came up into my room again.
“Hey, Maverick, I thought about your question more, and I remember the answer…” they said, looking kind of embarrassed. I nodded. “I do miss the old days,” they continued. “But, I meant to say that they mean nothing to me compared to you.” I grinned in response. I also showed them the drawing, both sides. They grinned as much as me.
“You know, the past may be gone, but holding back will make you miss all of the opportunities to create something better than the past.”

Daily
3/13
500 points
348/300 words

using verbal and dramatic irony
————————————————–
“What do you know about irony? Don’t worry if it’s nothing, we’re here to explain. There are three main types of irony: situational, verbal, and dramatic. Situational irony is when something happens that’s the opposite of what was expected. Say someone thinks they’re going to have a ton of fun at a party, but it ends up being an awful experience.. Verbal irony is when someone says something, but means the opposite. Such as our person coming home and telling their dad that the party was just great. They’re not lying, they’re using verbal irony. And lastly, dramatic irony is when the reader knows something the characters don’t. Maybe the reader knew all along that the party would be horrible.. To complete this daily, choose two of the types of irony explained above and use them in a story of at least 300 words. You get 400 points for this, and 100 more if you share proof!”
————————————————–
Lizzy was finishing the final touches on her makeup when the doorbell rings. But the thing was, she's color blind. So she didn't know if she looked good or not; she just had to trust the names on the products. Today she thought she did well and looked good. She didn't. It was as if a rainbow puked on her. Her blush was purple, her eye shadow was orange, and her lipstick was yellow. It wasn't good. Her outfit was a white shirt with black pants and black combat boots, so that wasn't too bad. But in her hair she had bright, neon, snot green hair slips.

“Coming!” she calls, quickly finishing up, grabbing her bag, and leaving out the door. She blew some kisses to her mom as she left. Her mom looked at her funny but Lizzy thought nothing of it.

“You look great, hun!” her mom called after Lizzy. She didn't.

Humming, she strolled down the street, waving to people as they passed her. But she was making babies cry and animals run away from her because she was an eyesore to look at. A man said hi to her and she turned around to face him, but when she did, he quickly looked away and left. It was a very odd walk to her job. Yeah, she still lived with her mom, but she didn't mind. She had only turned 18, what, a week ago?

As she approached her office, the security guard's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head when he saw her. Lizzy smiled at him, thinking it was a compliment. She sat down in her cubicle and had barely signed in to her computer when the manager came up to her and quietly asked her to go to the bathroom and wipe off her makeup, as it was a distraction. Lizzy was confused but the manager explained it all to her. She thought she had been looking good all day! Oh well. She'd have to get her mom to consult her makeup before she left the house from now on.

Daily 13. Verbal and dramatic irony, 302 words.

Chapter 15, A Falling Out

I pull out a small box and look inside of it. Alright, three more of them… I slip it shut and place it in my pocket, smiling. This’ll be perfect…

“What was that?” I turn around and jump slightly at the words. Also because it was 11 at night, according to my watch.

“What?” I ask, as if I didn’t know.

“In your hand, that box?”

“It was nothing.” I reply, pulling out a small flashlight. I can’t even see who it is. “You’re seeing things, I’m telling you-!” I go silent for a moment after shining the flashlight into the person’s eyes.

“…Kai. You can’t hide this stuff from me forever. Not just me, us. All of us! You-” Flint, the person that I least expected to be standing there. “You need to tell the truth.”

“…Look, I can explain-!” I start, but he places a hand over my mouth before I can continue.

“You can explain nothing. You need to tell us the truth, I’m not letting whatever you’re planning happen! I’m going to take this completely seriously. You need to take this seriously. I’m done.”

“Wh-.. What do you mean?” My voice is shaky, so I just take deep breaths, and I just try not to say anything else.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No-. I really don’t, I’m-“ I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry-.”

“You’re what-?” He seems shocked by what I just said.

“I said, I’m sorry…”

He sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine, I guess…”

“Okay… You guess-…”

“Look, I don’t know if I can fully trust you-“

“Of course you don’t know.” I’m not mad at him. I understand completely why he’s mad at me. I still don’t say anything about my plan though.

daily march 13th for bi-fi, 362 fantastic words for 500 fantastic points :]
-

I was shaken awake by my roommate, the faint morning sun burning my eyes.
“Huh?” I asked. If my brain were functioning properly at this fine 7:00am, it should've been Saturday.
“We agreed to go on a hike today.” said Leia, smiling. “Which means, we were supposed to get up an hour ago. Congrats on doing just that, by the way.”
“Shut up.” I answered. Despite my desire to sleep, I pulled myself out of bed. Maybe I was a little excited for the hike. I hadn't been on an adventure like this for years, and since it was the first day of spring, the breeze was likely to be warm and happy. With that motivation in mind, I dragged myself into the bathroom.

Little did Leia and I know, it was just about to rain.

Soon I was all dressed in leggings and a hoodie. Leia waited for me by the door. She looked excited, too. I was convinced we would have a great time.
“Should we bother carrying the umbrellas?” she inquired.
“Nah.” I replied. “They're so bulky. Besides, what could go wrong?”

Plenty, apparently.

We entered the car, with Leia driving because she had eaten breakfast already. I sat in the passenger seat, with intentions of consuming a granola bar. I wasn't even done unwrapping it, when it began to randomly drizzle.
“Oh fiddlesticks.” I sighed. “What now?”
“It'll be fine. It rains on and off all the time here. It'll stop eventually!” she said, looking at the mass of dark gray clouds overhead.
She got points for being right at first. When we reached our destination, the drizzle had turned into a faint mist.
“What's a little water going to do?” I said confidently. My roomie laughed cheerfully with me, which felt reassuring, because I was definitely not confident.

The trail started to feel steep about half an hour in. There was no one around, which was just great, because it gave us a chance to enjoy our surroundings.
“Woah, check out that bluebird!” said Leia.
“Yeah, it's color looks just like the ocean!”

We got a taste of the ocean when it started pouring buckets.
Great.

13th Daily
Word Count: 314

Amy was going to make a cake for her brother's birthday. She'd thought long and hard on what she wanted to give him, and after much consideration, decided a cake was the perfect gift. Okay, so maybe Amy had never made anything more complicated than a sandwich, but could it really be so hard? Surely making a cake would be… well, a piece of cake. 
A while later, Amy stood in the middle of the kitchen, finally realizing just how wrong she was. Everything, and I mean everything, was covered in flour or cake batter -including Amy herself. 
“Okay, okay, this is still fine,” she said out loud. “I'll just have to clean this mess up, all that matters is that the cake is- …what's that smell?” 
Smoke was coming from the oven. No. No no no no no. Shoot shoot shoot. After everything, Amy had forgotten something /very/ important; taking the cake out of the oven. 
She was going to have to start all over again.
  After a hectic few hours, the kitchen -and Amy- was clean, and, more importantly, the second cake was finished and she was about to present it to her brother, Frank.
  “What's going on?” Frank asked, laughing as Amy dragged him into the kitchen.
  “Happy birthday!” She said, moving to reveal the cake -unburned, and neatly frosted- sitting on the table. 
“Amy, you shouldn't have- thank you!” 
“Don't thank me yet, you still need to taste it.” Amy hadn't been able to do a taste test, so she was just hoping against hope that it actually tasted decent.
  She cut it into slices, giving the first piece to Frank. She watched, holding her breath as he took a bite.
  “This cake is delicious,” Frank said, honestly a bit surprised.
“Was it hard to make?”  “Oh no,” Amy replied, deadpan. “It was, shall we say… a piece of cake.”

3/13/23 - irony
Tess watched the scene unfold over the security cameras. There was no need, really, she already knew how it was going to play out. But her job was normally so mundane, so it was nice to have something like a car chase break up the drivel. What had the Fredrickson siblings gotten themselves into this time? Well, that wasn’t much of a question; Tess already knew what happened, and what was about to happen, and that the siblings were going to almost die three times, get in a car chase, and end up at Tess’s daughter’s ex-girlfriend’s house, and make a new ally out of Leo Smith. Tess knew everything. But oh, were these escapades funny to watch.

Leo banged on the door desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Hold on, hold on, I’m coming for God’s sake!” called a disgruntled voice from inside the house. Roger opened the door - couldn’t he move any faster?? - and was taken aback by the sobbing Leo at the doorstep.
“Leo? What’s going on? Where’s Annabelle?” Roger said, confused to say the least.
Leo tried to explain, but struggled to get the words out. “Annabelle…,” she began, interrupted by panicked gasps for breath, “kidnapped… guy with a ponytail…”
Roger cut her off. “Leo,” he said urgently, “this is going to make absolutely no sense but you need to do exactly as I say, starting right now. Understand?”
Leo nodded.
“Okay, great. Come inside.” Roger slammed the door behind the two of them. “Sloane,” he said, “they got her.”
The fear was evident in Sloane’s eyes as she sprung into action. “Thank goodness nobody followed you,” she said, pulling out two backpacks from the hall closet, “if they’d trailed you to here we’d be in big trouble.”

Tess turned away from the camera, holding back a laugh. This stuff was always hilarious.

No sooner than Sloane had finished speaking, the house rumbled as it was hit with a fireball.
“Shoot,” Sloane said, a note of panic underneath her calm voice, “looks like they did follow you.”
She tossed a backpack to Roger and the three of them ran out to the driveway.
“Leo, can you drive?” Roger asked.
“I mean, I have my learners, but my parents have to be in the car-”
“That wasn’t what I was asking,” Roger interrupted. “Can. You. Drive.”
“Great,” he continued, without waiting for a response from Leo, and shoved her into the driver's seat. Leo pulled out of the driveway carefully, checking both ways before she entered the street.
“Faster!” Roger screamed, as another fireball lit the house into blazes. “There goes the house,” he sighed, looking at the rubble.
Leo stomped on the gas pedal and sped out of the driveway.
“Where should I go?” she asked frantically.
“I don’t know,” Roger yelled from the backseat, “somewhere safe!”

Tess, who had now become invested in the story, leaned forward. “To your aunt’s house to your aunt’s house to your aunt’s house,” she chanted. They’d figure it out eventually, but at times like this, it was really hard to not break the rules of space/time and help them out a bit.

Leo streaked through the city, taking turns at breakneck speed. She didn’t know where to go, so she just drove around as fast as she could. Slowing down a bit at an intersection, she sighed with relief. “I think we lost them,” she said.

“No!” Tess cried! “Don’t stop now, they’re right around the corner!”

As soon as Leo finished her thought, a veritable army of fireball-bearing goons burst around the corner, bearing down on the vehicle with breakneck speed.

Tess bit her lip, then reminded herself that they’d make it out safely. It was like rewatching a movie she’d seen a thousand times- except this was real life and people could die.

“I got it,” Leo said, flooring the gas pedal, “I know where to go.”
“So go!” Roger said hurriedly, pushing himself up on top of the car to fight back the horde.
669 words

Go to the homecoming dance, they said. It'll be fun, they said.

Clearly. Look at me now, a bundle of sheer joy just bursting with enthusiasm… in my own corner of the room, tucked into a hall and sitting on my phone, wishing my mom would pick up the phone. So much fun.

Homecoming was supposed to be a school spirit filled, friendship building, conversational dance, perhaps on the arm of a date, or perhaps not. It was supposed to be a celebration of all of us, of our school, of everything that makes it like a second home to us. A second home…

well, you could say that, I suppose. An abundantly supportive community where we are valued for who we are and are pushed to be our very best true selves, where there’ll always be someone there for you, happy to listen, screens away. Clearly. Such a warm and endearing family, in a home where our best? It could never be good enough.

I sigh, picking up my finally ringing phone, hoping my mother is here to rescue me from this disaster.

“Atlas,” my mom calls through the phone, her voice completely unreadable. “How’s the party?”

“Oh, wonderful,” I answer, hoping she can read the sarcasm laced throughout my voice. A truly wonderful time I am having here, just waiting to be picked up by the very person on the other end of the line. Absolutely no where else in the world I would much rather be right now. Like at home, on my bed, where I can relax without all of this social nonsense and constant noise. That sounds lovely.

“Can you pick me up?” I ask, trying to keep my panic to a bare minimum. “Please,” I add, hoping she does not ask any more questions.

CONDONE
wc 46 - 3/13/23

Cerulean seas under sapphire skies
Opulent silver scythes gleam in the night
Necessary gleanings take place, arise
Dancing stars and dark, effervescent spite
Orders those who know nothing more than death
Now hearts shatter and silences all break
Ever crimson runs the blood in their wake