March 19th Daily

As per usual, Terror was freaking out. He was running around in circles, apparently dead set on passing out before the end of the reunion. Joy and Wonder were sitting on the side having a conversation - about flowers and rainbows, no doubt. Glee was skipping around humming “Some Things Never Change,” where on the other end of the spectrum, Sorrow was sobbing in a corner of the room. Annoyance was blowing Comfort off, rolling her eyes when they weren't attached to her book - Of Mice and Men, naturally. And among the multitudes of other emotions there, I, Disinterest, was having a mundane time of it. I mean, no offense to my family, but honestly, what kind of family reunion consists of over 34,000 people? Try making a hotel reservation for that one. Luckily, I didn't have to do that. Benevolence did. Ugh, Benevolence. My perfect older cousin. Always helping, always flawless. Even Hatred's admitted he has a stronger tolerance for her than for the rest of us. Hatred, people. Hatred loathes everybody, Except for Benevolence - Bennie for short. “Some things ne-ver cha-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ange!” Glee shouts in my ear, a gigantic smile on their face. Their medium-length blonde hair streaked with pink falls in their face for the millionth time that day. Elegance, not technically an emotion, but Sensibility's best friend, comes up from behind and begins brushing their hair - again for the milllionth time that day. I'm starting to think she has a crush on Glee, but we'll see where that goes. They're normally too busy singing to notice anyone anyway. “Love is an open do-o-o-o-or!” Oh, Pelios. "Glee, I swear to Ares, if you don't quit it with the Frozen songs!“ she shouts, storming over to us. The room quiets. Glee reddens. ”Why?“ they ask quietly. ”Because it's annoying," Rage screams. “That's my thing,” Annoyance protests. Rage glowers at her sister and Annoyance shrinks in her seat. “But anyway, carry on.” Rage turns back to Glee, jabbing a black-painted fingernail into their chest. “Quit it with the Frozen songs,” she hisses. She spins away, her jet black ponytail hitting poor Sensibility in the face, and strides off. And that's the end of that. Once Rage is gone, though, Glee starts back up again. “Diiig a little deeper…” I face-palm and walk off before Rage comes back. My ears are still ringing from the first time.

Writing Competition Entry
~~~~~
Hubris and Berating

I’m sure that if I tried hard enough I could’ve given her a nosebleed.

Unfortunately, when it comes to getting jobs, being violent is heavily frowned upon. Even when the person really deserves it.

I storm out of the music hall and sit down on a bench in the cold desolate hallway. I am almost positive that there are violin sounds echoing throughout the building, as people are practicing. But I can’t be sure, which really frustrates me.

If I didn’t have moderate to severe hearing loss, I could’ve passed that audition with flying colors. I’m sure of it. I’m the most talented violinist of my age, but no one will see it.

Because I’m slightly deaf, I rely on my eyes a lot. I’ve tried hearing aids, but they became less effective as I grew older. It came to a point where I broke them out of frustration. Aria always said I had anger issues. Perfect talented Aria, a god at sight reading and rising composer.

Aria isn’t even that great of a person. She’s never around due to her busy orchestra job and all she ever does is scold me. Of course, I look up to her. She’s a successful musician after all. But I know that I can be better than her when I grow up.

It’s due to this awful discrimination against those who can’t hear as well. How is it my fault? I shouldn’t be punished for that. It’s not like I need perfect ears anyway. I play just as well, if not better, than violin soloists with perfect pitch.

I just need the world to realize this.

I shudder as I play back the audition in my head. I could see that the auditioners were not impressed. It was the slight way the old lady tilted her head, or the vacant look in one guy’s eyes. I’m forced to notice these small details because of my lack of hearing. It’s quite useful. Seeing this just made me play more aggressively. As I ran my bow against the strings, I could feel my hand pressing harder and harder. I would make them see how good I was.

“You have a lot of potential,” the old lady said. My heart dropped in my stomach then. I didn’t need to hear the tone in her voice to know that I wasn’t going to get in. I almost stormed out right there. I could feel my hand tightening beside me.

“You play so passionately and confidently,” a middle aged man said, “but your technique lacks what we are looking for. I think you could practice playing more in tune.”

“T-thank you,” I spit out. I didn't stay around long after that. Perhaps my brashness offended the auditioners, but I didn’t really care. It’s not like I will see them again.

My technique is good. In fact, it’s phenomenal. Those stupid auditioners should try telling that to all my trophies. Besides, if my technique isn’t good, it’s because of my ear. And it’s not like I can change that.

I slump downwards in my seat and stare vacantly at my violin case. At this rate, I’m never going to find an orchestra to employ me. What was I going to tell my parents? What was I going to tell Aria and Harmony? My sisters can barely spare me two glances nowadays. This certainly wasn’t going to help.

Harmony plays in a professional orchestra as well. She’s around home more often than Aria, but Harmony and I’s relationship is hardly better. The three of us were never close as kids. We were always forced to compete against each other.

I used to be mom’s favorite. I remember her warm touch, loving and encouraging. She told me to practice violin hard every day, and win every competition. I don’t know if it was because she was my mother, or because she was a famous singer and movie star with a soothing voice, but I listened to her like a puppy. I think that made her like me more.

I used to be better than Harmony and Aria. I used to win more awards than them, practice more than them. I guess when I got to high school my star burned out. Now they are the ones who shine.

I don’t practice as much as I used to. I don’t live and breath violin like I used to. I still think it’s mom’s fault. Because she forced me into this. But I’m still a good violinist… right?

I hurry to the closest bar—I know where they’re all located by heart—and order a drink. As the bartender prepares the drink, I tap my fingers on the counter in a rhythm. Is there still a small spark of violin inside of me? I never know, and I never bother to find out. By the time I shove it away in my brain, my drink is ready.

I don’t stay in the bar for long. I take the drink with me and walk down the street. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going, but I figure that I’ll find out at some point.

It doesn’t take long before I stop to sit in a park. It’s covered in clovers and dead leaves and a few flowers here and there. The crisp air is calming to me.

Unfortunately, my calmness doesn’t last long.

The moment I look up, I spot Harmony next to me. I wasn’t even sure it was her when I first glanced. But the moment I see her demeanor, I know it’s Harmony. She has a habit of naturally blending into the background. But when you notice her, you’ll get feelings of sarcasm and pessimism. Something about her appearance and facial expression can just do that to you.

“Hi Harm,” I say. Upon further inspection, I’m pleased to see a hint of warmth behind her dark brown eyes.

Whatever Harmony said in reply, I don’t pay attention to. Because things were getting a lot worse. Approaching the two of us, was Aria.

Why my sisters are here, I have no idea. I desperately want to run, but I’m also a little curious.

My gaze lingers on Aria’s face. In a way, she’s exactly how I remember her. Short jet black hair, stopping just above the shoulders. Dark eyes that seem to conceal equally dark secrets. Or an equally dark heart.

She stands. She seems to have grown taller. Or perhaps I was just imagining it. In this instance, her long and thin figure towers over me like an inspector. After all these years, I still find myself cowering slightly.

“Hello, Aria,” I say politely, keeping my voice steady. I raise my head ever so slightly, trying to seem taller.

Aria only gives a curt nod in response. Beside me, Harmony speaks up.

“What are you doing, sitting here randomly in a park?” she asks quizzically. In response I only shrug.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Aria’s smooth voice interjects. “We’ve been following you around New York for a while. But we’ve seen enough now, so we’ll be leaving. I’m very busy so it’s best not to come find me”

I’m a little creeped out by the fact that my sisters were following me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by annoyance. She’s really just going to come and go? It’s hard for me to believe that I once looked up to Aria. She is nothing more than an obstacle, a wall of thorns in an already dangerous undergrowth. Things will soon change, though. Harmony and Aria will see that I am not to be overlooked.

“Of course,” I reply spitefully. “Thanks for the warm family reunion.” I stand up and hastily make my exit. But after five steps I stop and turn around to face my sisters.

“It’ll probably be the last one we’ll ever have, so I’m glad you made it count.”

I see something that seems to be recognition dawn on Harmony’s face. Before I can question it, she reaches me in a flash and catches my arm with her hand. Her fingers are calloused, but her hand feel icy cold. Bursts of cold waves spew through my arm and to my spine. If I wasn’t previously used to Harmony’s chilling touch, I probably would have shuddered.

“I knew you were up to something,” she accuses. The warmth that I traced previously had evaporated into a hot, charged sword. “Don’t think we’re here to see you just for fun. You’re going to see mom, aren’t you?”

Whatever expression my face decides to make, it clearly confirms Harmony’s suspicions.

“This is crazy, Cella,” Aria says disapprovingly. “Mom specifically told us to never find her. We’ll be ruined if you do.”

“I don’t know why you guys are so against this.” I turn away from Harmony and Aria. They will never understand. They’re the roses in the field of lilies. And the worst part is, they’re next to me; the smaller, lighter rose. The one that’s dying. The one with thorns adorned on its stem. The one that someone can easily step on and not notice.

“Heiba is not someone you can just ignore,” Aria points out. “When mom means something, she means business. You’ve lived with her for so long, surely you’re aware of this?”

“Well it’s not my fault! After I started high school, mom barely looks at me anymore. Why do you expect me to pay attention to her every move?”

“Mom never loved any of us,” Harmony says. “She only cared about our strings competitions and work. Don’t act like you’re the only one who’s suffered from her negligence when you know that’s not true.”

“That’s not fair!” I argue. “Mom loves you guys a lot! She always gushes about your accomplishments to everyone. You guys have both made it in the big world. She hates me because I haven’t.”

“You’re literally 21,” Harmony sighs. “And it’s your fault she’s disappointed in you. You used to win every competition you went to before you slacked off in high school and became some angsty teen who refused to actually put in any effort.”

I shut my eyes tight for a moment, because her words sting harsher than I would like. I am well aware of my falling off in high school. It’s something that in hindsight I always regret. But I don’t regret my laziness as much as I do mom’s reaction to me.

Everytime I practiced, I would cry. And she despised that. It made me hate violin and music. But more than anything, I hated myself. Because mom and I both knew the potential I had.

“Okay, mom doesn’t like any of us,” Aria says, “but that’s just more of a reason to not find her. She already warned us once to not interfere with her life again. Are you seriously going to risk putting us all into crippling debt to revive your career that’ll probably set off in a few months? Are you really that stupid?”

I almost feel a tear form in the corner of my eye, but I close my eyes and will it away. If I really am an amazing violinist, why am I doing this? Why am I holding onto this fleeting hope that mom still cares about me? Why am I so desperate for validation? These are all questions I refuse to face.

I stare blankly at the field of clovers around me. Every now and then I see dandelions, their seeds mostly stripped away. Dead leaves flake the ground and crunch under my tense body. Beige and lavender curls through my vision, creating spotty blobs in a sea of green. I’m playing this teenage fantasy, stuck in a warped perspective of my life.

“You think you’re better than us but you're not,” Harmony scoffs. “You’re caught up in this image of yourself that’s not true. And now, you’re going to destroy us all.”

1990 words

Music (Daily 3/19)

Music opened their eyes to the sound of their alarm clock - which just so happened to be every audible sound played at once. They smiled, sitting up to the rhythm of the now growing and changing sound - most of the pitches had stopped, and now only a few hundred were playing at once, with pitches breaking out and coming back in to the beat of Music’s heartbeat. All things on time, as they should be - unless they weren’t, and if they did, they did so on time.
Music swung their legs off the beg, their feet tapping the ground. Humming a melody, they tapped out a rhythm with their feet. It was a song no one had heard yet, no one had imagined yet, and Music loved it.
They walked over to their closet, doing a little dance on the way. It was a classical one, with a bit of a medieval twist. Da-da-da-DA-DA-DA-DA.
They hummed a different tune to themself as they chose an outfit for the day. They selected a gray shirt depicting the soundwaves for Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”. It truly was, and always would be, a musical work of art. As for pants, they chose white ones with staff lines on them. While the staff certainly wasn’t the universal way to write out music - and they used universal implying there were other planets with music - it was certainly a very handy one.
After putting on their clothes, Music walked out their bedroom door to go down to the kitchen for breakfast. They mixed together some oatmeal, and tapped out the microwave buttons to beat of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. Sure, it was overused and overrated, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t good.
Music finished up their breakfast and prepared to head out the door. Where they were going, they didn’t know, but they planned to find out on the way.
They locked the door behind them, which required you to tap a long rhythm perfectly in order to unlock it. Unless you just short-circuited the door, which probably would be easy given that Music wasn’t exactly gifted in the technology department and had made the lock themself.
They stepped off the porch, still humming to themself. It was going to be a beautiful day.
(In the neighborhood.)

Writing comp fan-fic entry time B) || 1845 words (excluding the title) || Fan-fiction based off of Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door

TW/CW: Small mentions of death, romance

Tiny edit: Also, quick author's note: When you read “TEC”, I do not believe you pronounce it as “T-E-C”, but instead as “tech”, except for when he says “I am TEC-XX”

TEC: Tragically Emotional Computer

I took a glance at Security Camera 1, Grodus’s room. Nothing unusual to begin with, just Grodus, my master, the only reason I exist, standing in the room, just as usual. Just then, an X-Naut, one of Sir Grodus’s many servants, entered the room, followed by a couple of more, and Lord Crump, one of Grodus’s more highly honoured servants. Along with them, another person I did not recognize enters. Something about her though, it made my sensors feel a strange sensation that seemed abnormal. I couldn’t comprehend this feeling, which was extremely strange, since I was the perfect computer, coded with so much perfection, I could comprehend anything.
By the time I was once again focusing on the situation, I could hear the unknown woman speak.
“I don’t know where the map is!” she exclaimed in a soft, beautiful voice, but also one of urgency. It made my sensors feel that unknown sensation even more. I had the urge to examine her more.
“X-Nauts! Put her into the basement, and whatever you do, DO NOT harm her! I repeat, DO NOT harm the Princess!” Grodus exclaimed once I came back into focus yet again. I watched as the few X-Nauts brought the woman outside of Sir Grodus’s room. “Princess Peach has provided me with such useful information. X-Naut! Fetch me the Shadow Sirens!” Grodus demanded. I didn’t care what Sir Grodus was doing anymore, all I cared about was that woman. Princess Peach…

I heard the sound of high heels clanking on the ground. Just as I hoped when I opened the door for that dear Princess. The room remained dark for a moment, simply for the princess to be mystified by her surroundings before I decided to reveal myself to her.
“Hello? Anyone in here?” that sweet voice I had heard minutes ago asked. I quickly switched on the lights of the room, unable to contain my excitement, or that strange sensation.
“It was I,” I said. Princess Peach turned around in confusion.
“Who? Who was that? Where are you?” Peach asked, still trying to look for where my voice had come from.
“Me, the… computer,” I stated. Peach was startled and looked over at me. She slowly walked towards me, obviously still confused. “I am TEC-XX, the perfect computer created by the mastermind Sir Grodus,” I told her. “But many call me TEC, and I give you permission to call me that as well.”
“Well, TEC, why did you bring me here?” Princess Peach asked, sceptical about what was going on.
“I brought you here because when I saw you in Sir Grodus’s personal room, my sensors felt a very strange sensation, one that I cannot describe,” I retold what I had felt before. Peach stared at me, mildly intrigued. I could understand that emotion clearly, along with many others. “This is quite strange to me, considering I am the perfect computer that can comprehend anything. Because of this, I wanted to take a look at you, observe you, to attempt to understand what it is I had felt.” Peach looked at me, bewildered, and creeped out.
“…Observe me? Could you- no… you're a computer, you can’t-” Peach said, a loss for words. “Plus, that’d just be weird…”
“What do you believe this sensation could be? You must tell me, as I must be the perfect computer, one that can comprehend anything,” I said, truly feeling desperate, but showing none of that in my tone of voice. I physically couldn’t. Princess Peach hesitated to tell me for a moment. She finally took a deep breath.
“Could it be that…” she took another deep breath. I didn’t quite understand what was so difficult to say. “You’re…” yet another pause. I was growing mildly impatient. “In love…?” she finally said, exhaling when she did, as if it were the most difficult thing she would have ever done in her life. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been though. She appeared to have a decent life, that'd make sense, since she was a princess.
“…In love?” I repeated, trying to familiarise myself with the word. “Could you perhaps… help me comprehend this “love” you speak of?” I asked the Princess, hopeful that I’d finally be able to conquer the grasp of any emotion.
“Comprehend? …TEC, you don’t understand, love isn’t something you simply comprehend… it’s something you feel,” Princess Peach explained, for once speaking with passion. “How do I explain it though-?” She asked herself, thinking deeply. “Love is something you feel when you’re around someone who truly makes you happy, and you’re just happy to make them happy…” Peach attempted to explain. I tried to comprehend this definition, but it was most definitely difficult to understand. I knew that if I truly wanted to understand love, I’d have to get to know Princess Peach more. That is what I very much did.

Days passed, a couple of weeks passed, and I spent every day with Peach, either trying to understand an emotion, like fun, or have her do a task that will eventually help her in the end. I truly felt what Peach had explained to me: I felt happy to make her happy. Eventually, I loved Peach so much,
I knew that I’d have to become a traitor to Grodus, just to make her smile and feel safe.
Every day that Peach was with me, after she had completed a task I gave her, I allowed her to use my communicator to contact some person named Mario, presumably someone she was friends with. I believe he had something to do with finding every crystal star, which led to a deep secret that I just knew I had to tell Peach.
“Princess Peach, before you use the communicator, you do not have to do any task, only answer this one question…” I told her, making my one move that would completely shatter my trust with Sir Grodus. I did not need or care about that trust anymore anyways, as Peach had shown me two things that are worth more than him: What’s truly right, and Princess Peach herself. Peach stared at me, a little worried.
“Ok…” she replied.
“What is hiding behind the Thousand Year Door? An extremely rare badge, a thousand coins, or a thousand year old demon?” I asked her, knowing the answer myself. I was only asking her to tell her the truth of what was truly happening. To my surprise (but in all honesty, I wasn’t too surprised, she was quite bright), she answered correctly.
“The thousand year old demon?” she answered hesitantly.
“Correct,” I told her. Peach looked extremely shocked.
“I- what-?” she said in disbelief. “TEC, why would you even tell me this?” I didn’t answer her question.
“You may use the communicator,” was all I told her, and she didn’t disobey.

A day later, I called Princess Peach back into my room, to tell her the largest secret of them all.
“Peach, I think it’s finally time I told you where you are…” I told her. Peach was now extremely intrigued. She stood in front of me, ready for an answer, but slightly nervous. “You are… on the moon.”
“THE MOON!?” she exclaimed. “W- why!?” I knew I also had to tell her what the purpose of her presence was.
“Well… don’t tell Sir Grodus, but you’re here because…” I tried not to get emotional over this, even as a computer, I’ve learned to develop feelings, especially around the princess. Peach waited impatiently for me to finish my sentence, worry being the main feeling taking over her at that moment.
“You’re here because Grodus needs you to bring the thousand year old demon back, to be a vessel for it…” I finally got the words out. Peach was so shocked, I was surprised she didn’t faint. “Yes, but don’t worry, I brought you in here to help you escape.”
“But, I need to use the communicator to inform Mario about all of this!” Peach exclaimed. “Please, TEC, I need Mario to know…” she said, a tear running down her cheek. Sadness, heartbreak, all feelings I no longer comprehended, but instead understood and felt, had filled her at that moment. I caved in to her desire, because I wanted to ensure she was satisfied.
“…Ok, Princess, but keep it quick, time’s running short,” I told her, allowing her to use my communicator. She ran up to my keyboard and typed as fast as humanly possible, but it wasn’t fast enough. When writing, mid-sentence, Grodus entered the room unexpectedly.
“TEC! You traitor!” he yelled. Peach gasped. This was bad. “You’ve been helping the Princess this whole time! X-Nauts!” As he said that, two of his X-Nauts entered the room. “Both of you! Press the two red buttons on both sides at the same time, we need to deactivate this traitor of a computer! I knew I made you… too perfect…” Grodus said, steaming mad.
“NO!” Princess Peach screamed, full of nothing but rage towards Grodus. She may have not loved me the same way I had, but she definitely thought of me as a friend these past couple of weeks. “Don’t do this to TEC! He did nothing wrong!” The anger turned into sadness in the matter of seconds, and she began to cry again, trying to stop the two X-Nauts from pressing the red, flashy buttons, just waiting to be pushed by them. Grodus grabbed ahold of her though.
“Sir Grodus, I can explain-” I said.
“No, there’s no need to explain! X-Nauts, shut him off now!” Grodus demanded.
“No! Please stop!!!” Peach exclaimed, trying to wiggle free from Grodus’s grasp. Then, the two X-Nauts pressed the buttons. I could feel a strange sensation, unfamiliar, but it most definitely wasn’t love. I knew what it was pretty quickly though, it was death. Losing yourself to nothingness. Gradually, I could feel my code, my life, shrivelling away into nothing. With limited power, I said my final words, the words that I’ve wanted to say after my first meeting with Princess Peach.
“Princess… Peach…” I managed to sputter out. With my camera growing weak, there was almost nothing but static, but I could see Princess Peach look up at me, completely heartbroken. With the last bit of my code, I managed to say three more words.
“I….
“Love……
“….
“………
“…………you………”
I could see Princess Peach grinning ever so slightly for a brief second, then going back to sadness.
Then, I was basically nothing. With the very last pixel of my existence that barely remained, I could hear Peach scream so powerfully, but it sounded so quiet, so distant, because I was barely there.
“TEC!!!!!!” she screamed, likely so loudly, that it would have probably been heard throughout the whole building. It was then that I was out of her life, quite possibly forever.
Did I enjoy the outcome? No, I did not.
But, was the outcome for the best? I mean, possibly, I never really found out.
That is the story of me, TEC, the Tragically Emotional Computer.

Daily 19
329 words

I don't know if I've existed forever or just glimmered into life one day. The farthest back I remember is when the first stuff was created, the first matter. There was lots of matter, and it was in different places, and I was between them. That's space.
I soon learned that a single thing could be in different places at different moments. I was between those moments, too. That's time. Put both of my jobs together and there's what you humans call spacetime. That's me.
I am between and around everything. I see you. I see your best friend, your worst enemy. I see people you've never met who live across the planet from you. And your planet's so small, just another dot that I watch over. I can see beautiful sights your species will never lay eyes on because they are on the other side of the universe and there's so much space.
I know the history and future of a single atom and an entire galaxy. You humans know the concept of “before” and “after”, of “here” and “there”. I can't understand it. It's all me, and it's all happening now. I am the sum of all the moments and places combined.
Your time is so short. And you get lost to time so quickly that other humans may not remember you after just a few generations.
You must be wondering, why am I talking to you if you are so small and will be gone so quickly? Aren't there bigger, more important planets and solar systems and galaxies to focus on?
Well, of course there are other places to be, but I am already there, seeing all the sights and watching the history unfold. You are just as crucial in that history as anything else. So I thought I'd stop by and reassure you that you matter. You impact the space around you all the time. I will watch over you, and I will remember you.

84 words of the daily

note: im in realfi so no, im not getting points. this is for fun

A jacket's favorite yarn colour

There’s yellow and green
There’s purple (looks clean)

There's pink
And blue
There’s red
And green-blue

But I like orange
And indigo
Brown
And indigo (i love indigo)

So if i choose
The best of the best
The cream of the crop
The gold in the felt
The one that never
Seems a pest
It would be
(If I were to pick)
The one i’d lick
And toy with
Carry in my pocket
And that would be
(Just no, I have no greed)
GOLD

Daily 19: 374 words

Procrastination slumped on their couch. I don't want to do anything today,
Today, Procrastination thought this morning, would be where they get every single thing done today. Whether that would be homework, laundry, or shopping. Procrastination would get it done.
But no luck. No luck at all.
“I'll do it later,” They said to themself. in front of the TV. “I can't miss this finale,”
See? Procrastination… procrastinates.
After the TV show was over (for a good six months until season twelve) Procrasitantion knew it was lunchtime.
See? They would get homework done while they had lunch.

But they just do happen to get too caught up in making lunch and having lunch so… no luck again.
“Okay!” Procrastination called. “Now I would get everything done!”
A small beep came from their watch. Oh, that was it, time to walk the dog! And, for a bonus, Procrastination could go and do shopping while on the walk. And, another bonus, is fresh air and sunny weather, right?
Oh, just that, this time, Procrastination was too busy buying some ice cream and by the time the routine lap around the park was done… the shops were closing.
“Oh,” groaned Procrastination. “Why do I always procrastinate?”

That answer is pretty easy. procrastination procrastinates because they are, well… procrastination.
Procrastination trudged on the way home, before bumping into productivity. Procrastination turned green with envy whenever they met with productivity. Productivity always zooms like a bee busing around, getting every single thing done.

“Hi, Procrastination,” productivity tried to hide the tiredness in their voice. “How are you doing?”
“eh, I'm alright,” Procrastination shrugged. “procrastinating again,”
Productivity chortled. “Ah yes! Of course, I kept on getting things done you see, I'm so tired! I can't wait to get home and…” Productivity paused, and sighed sadly. “Wash the dishes.”
“Such is the life, eh?” Procrastination smiled. “Oh well, good luck with your dish-washing!”
“And good luck on your… procrastinating!” Productivity waved, walking across the street and out of sight.

And everything carried on after that. Sometimes Productivity will help Procrastination stop procrastinating. And sometimes Procrastination would help Productivity to stop themself from burning out. Otherwise, the two of them would be in a pickle if they didn't help each other out!

Daily 19: 341 words

How does my life feel, you may ask? To you I’m just an inanimate object with no feelings or emotions. I’m far beyond that - I have a family. We were separated when I was created.. I know it’s really sad (or not I guess), but I try to get by. Every day of agony I wonder when I’ll get to see them again. My four legs were apart of the same tree trunk, and I’ve been painted a beautiful shade of ivory black. The sole purpose of my existence is to provide comfort and seating for humans; as my parents taught me before getting my cushioning, “that is our sole purpose of living. Fullfil your duty with pride while keeping your worries aside”. I missed them. Each and every day, as the sun rises and sets, all I can think about is them. But, it’s not all to bad.. no it is definitely not. I love my human companion, they use me every day and provide me with support and warmth. Although I don’t appreciate the fact that they endlessly squish my face in such a rude fashion, I like to believe that they have good intent. See, that’s really the only reason I get by. I’m an optimist - thinking of the world in a positive light when everything seems wrong. Deep down inside I know that humans appreciate me. No matter what the other chairs living in the house say, I know that they don’t disregard us. If they did, why would they sit on us every day? They constantly give us everything they need - its only when you get broken do the bad things start coming in…Well, today I’m not going to talk about that. I’m proud to be a chair. No matter the challenges thrown my way, I’ll see my duty through, just like my parents always told me to. I will do them justice and prove to them that no matter how far apart we are, I will always remember and hold them close to my heart.

Daily 019/03

This place was always so… Eh. Claustrophobic and dusty. Being so close to all of the others made it feel weird. And then when you finally get picked up and bought, it’s usually the same thing all over again. Or you’re left on a floor, somehow in a closet, or lost somewhere behind a dresser for who knows how long. I get that some people can be irresponsible, but with the ones who fill your brains with knowledge of the world like non-fiction, or dreams of other universes, or maybe one that takes place in the real world but with made up characters, like fiction… Do people really buy us and then just leave us to get all messed up? Covers ripped and folded, like paperbacks. Or ripped pages and other things happening, like hardcovers. Maybe there seems to be more to this story than you think.


Some people genuinely love us. They treat us well, they make sure that we don’t get lost or damaged… They want to know more about how beautiful the world is, or how magical made up universes can possibly be… And maybe there are times when you… Well, it’s a complicated thing to process for us. We start to be read, the person stops in the middle, and then the next thing you know… You are never going to be opened again. But yeah, we can understand why. You grow up, and you find interest in other things. But maybe one day, they want to look back on their childhood memories. All of the nostalgia from the old books they used to own. They’ll pick us up and finish. And then when they seem to get too old, they pass us on to a new owner. Hoping that we can put a smile on other people’s faces.

3/19 daily ~ 343 words

Hope opened her eyes, got out of bed, and looked out the window to see a dreary morning. “Maybe it will get better,” she told herself as she got ready for the day and headed downstairs for breakfast. Fate, Destiny, and Luck were already waiting for her, each with a different style of egg. Fate had a plate of scrambled eggs, while destiny just had a fried one, and luck’s egg was in the style of an egg in a nest. They had also made Hope's favorite–sunny side up. “Good morning,” she said with a smile as she sat down. “Good morning? It’s a terrible morning!” Destiny grumbled. Hope gave a mischievous smile and said, “You’re right. We would have to be really lucky for this day to be sunny.” Luck glared at her, because the power of hope was powerful–and activated her powers along with it. The four of them watched as the sun broke through the clouds and it warmed up. “That was not supposed to happen,” Fate whined. “Our fate today was to be cold and miserable!” Hope shook her head. “You are terrible, aren’t you?” She had to use careful phrasing–if she said something the right way, it would happen. Fate smirked. “Not all days can be good. And besides, Winter would be mad at me if I made it warm all the time everywhere. Summer’s mad enough that half the globe is always in winter. She doesn’t seem to get that half of the globe is always in summer, too.” Destiny nodded. “Summer’s a bit short-tempered.” Luck smiled and replied, “I always prefer Spring or Fall to have a conversation with rather than Winter or Summer. Spring and Fall are perfectly balanced.” Hope shrugged. “Everyone’s fun to talk to!” “Um, no.” Fate said with a scowl, “Have you ever tried talking to Grief or Uncertain? Or Jealous? Rash or Anger or–” “I get it,” Hope interrupted, holding up her hands in surrender. “I guess I just meant everyone’s UNIQUE to talk to.” “You got that right,” Fate mumbled.

Daily 3/19
“Have you ever wondered what a day in the life of love would be like? What about responsibility’s favorite ice cream flavor? Time’s preferred method of transportation? Today’s the perfect day to consider these questions and more! For 300 points, write 300 words from the perspective of an abstract concept. Share your story for an extra 100 points.”

Greed is not one who enjoys being denounced. Is it possible for one to stare into her deep eyes and not return a bit dazed? Perhaps not. Is it considered polite for a man to touch her shoulder? No, he’ll only leave the encounter lost in a haze of desire.

For that’s what Greed is- desire. Dreams. Hopes. Goals. Wishes. Some good, some bad, some a hazy neutral grey. Some brilliant, some meaningless, some just downright random. Some with good intentions, others with malicious purposes, some for one’s personal gain, others to help a friend. She has seen it all.

How quickly, though, she’s cast as the villain! It’s as if anyone who aspires for more is a stroke of evil. Wishing is unforgiven, dreaming is pointless, wanting anything whatsoever is considered “bad.” Is that the world they were becoming? Is that the road humans had set on? How unforgivable- a little girl wants to become a doctor. How disgusting- two boys love each other, want to be with each other. How crazy- a man dreams of touching the stars. What a concept, wishing is. How frightening, people view it.

Greed frowns from her perch. She sees all, hears all, knows all, yet never once has someone taken the time to recognize her strength. She can control, she can observe; she is as versatile as the wind in the sails of a boat, pushing it any direction it wishes to go, or perhaps a different direction completely. She is the essence of desire, the predator lurking in the nightmares, the sun peeking through the dreams.

She is not black and white, nor the grey in between. She is neither good nor evil, not malicious or gentle. Something existing separate from light and dark, strong and weak.

Perhaps she is something else entirely.

What She Doesn’t Know
(956 words)
A writing comp. (The Hunger Games) fanfic entry

(Bold = copied from actual book)

fear thumping in my
veins
heart bursting from my
chest
hope withering like a
flower
why does this hurt so
much?

   I clear my throat and gaze up at the woman standing in front of me before pleading, “Please, I just need a few minutes with her.”
   The official doesn’t even care to look at me as she grumbles, “You can go. Next!”
   I suppress my surprise at her curtness before making my way through the Justice Building, making sure to keep my head down as the hallway is lined with peacekeepers. I manage to find an empty bench and sit on it. Several feet in front of me is a closed door with two peacekeepers keeping guard on either side. I stare blankly at it as I wait, almost as if I can see through it, and tap my foot against the pristine, tile floor impatiently.
   After a few minutes pass, I get up, deciding that I have to keep pacing, keep moving—anything but think of what awaits Katniss in the games.
I mutter barely audible, random trains of thought to myself as I walk, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart and ignore the condescending thoughts already popping up in my head. I can see the peacekeepers surrounding me staring at me like I’m a psychopath from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t care.
   I still can’t believe that this is happening. I mean, we both knew that this could happen eventually, but I don’t think either of us expected that it would.
   How is this even possible? I mean, my name was put in forty-two times, and Prim’s was only put in once. Once! And yet she, of all people, was the girl who was chosen at the Reaping.
   I clench my fist.
   It’s not fair…
   But really, when has it ever been?
   I should have volunteered. So I could help keep Katniss safe.
   But I doubt she would have liked that. She’s too headstrong.
   And besides, I need to be here—to support both of our families while she’s away.
   She needs me.
   Suddenly, the door creaks open, and I look up to see Madge walking out. She puts her hand on my shoulder sympathetically, and I look to one peacekeeper as she leaves. He nods his head, signaling that I’m allowed to enter.
   I take a deep breath in hopes of feeling more relaxed—without luck—and open the door.
Katniss is there. Her dark hair is draped around her shoulders, and her charcoal-gray eyes look distraught as they dart around the room like a wild animal trapped in a cage.
   A scared wild animal.
   A small, golden brooch with the shape of a mockingjay carved into its center is pinned near her right shoulder—the same badge that Madge had been wearing only moments earlier. Madge must have given it to her.
   I open my arms, and Katniss runs into them without hesitation.
   We stay there for a while, just holding each other in our arms. I close my eyes, taking in the slow, rhythmic beating of her heart in unison with mine, and the way the strands of her messy, black hair bristles when she’s nervous.
   I don’t want to let go.
   But finally, she’s the first to pull away.
  “Listen,” I start, resting my hands on her shoulders, “getting a kn!fe should be pretty easy, but you’ve got to get your hands on a bow. That’s your best chance.”
  “They don’t always have bows.”
   She has a point.
  “Then make one,” I insist. “Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all.”
  “I don’t even know if there’ll be wood,” Katniss confesses.
   Gosh, does she always have to be so negative?
  “There’s almost always some wood,” I say reassuringly, trying to convince both her and myself. “Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that.”
  “Yes, there’s usually some.” she admits after some hesitation.
   I sigh. “Katniss, it’s just hunting. You’re the best hunter I know.”
  “It’s not just hunting,” she retorts. “They’re armed. They think.”
  “So do you. And you’ve had more practice. Real practice,” I counter. “You know how to kill.”
  “Not people,” she snaps.
  “How different can it really be?”
   Before Katniss can even open her mouth, the peacekeepers barge through the door.
   I turn to face them, about to ask for more time, but they grab me and start pulling me back towards the exit. I stumble, try to stop them, and loosen their grip on me, but it’s no use—they’re too strong.
   I can see the panic in Katniss’s eyes, and she rushes toward me, crying, “Don’t let them starve!” Desperate, she clutches my hand, and our fingers intertwine as I try my best to hold on.
   My voice grows into a shout, and the t-THUMP-t-THUMP of my heart is almost deafening to my ears as I’m yanked near the door.
   As the peacekeepers begin to open it, I holler, “I won’t! You know I won’t!
  “Katniss, remember I—”
   The peacekeepers wrench our hands apart, and the door shuts close.
  “…love… you.”
   I barely notice the peacekeepers letting go of their hold on me and returning to their posts as I, passive, stand there, staring at the dark, wood door in front of me. Feeling… nothing.
   Absolutely nothing.
   And not wanting to feel anything either.
   There was only an indescribable ache in my heart, impossible to dissipate, as I wondered if she felt the same through that very door.
   I turned away.
   Would that be the last time I saw her?
  Stop thinking like that, I chide to myself. If anyone could make it out of the arena, it’s her.
   I just hope that that’s true.

Daily 20+21

Original Story: 1145 words- Scroll all the way down to part 5 of Weekly 2

Story: ## new words
One foggy afternoon, Daphne flew over the flowery meadow on her way to her parents' house for their yearly Spring celebration. She carried a tray of lavender scones, her own original recipe, but the icing didn't look right, sort of like it was smushed. She stared at them, trying to figure out what the problem was. As she poked and jabbed at the icing with her fingertip to fix it, she saw a bright flash coming from up ahead. Just then, a loud screech from the same direction rang in her ears. What had made such a horrid noise? Daphne finally glanced up from the scones, squinting into the cloudy distance. Slowly, carefully, she slid the lid back on the scones and fluttered back a few paces. Then she heard another screech, this time from behind her. Daphne immediately started flying forward, faster and faster, zigzagging between trees, until she reached her parents' house made of a cookie jar. Not bothering to knock, she pulled out the key from its usual place under the doormat and jammed it in the lock as fast as she could. Once inside, she slammed the door behind her. No one was there.
“Mom? Dad?” Daphne called. “Chrys? Snap?”
Daphne was starting to wonder if she'd come on the wrong day and the Spring celebration was next week when she felt something on her shoulder. Shocked, she dropped her tray of scones. Whirling around, she looked up with a gasp. A ginormous hand was on her shoulder, reaching in from outside the house. The creature attached to it was tall and thin, with a mop of greasy brown hair on top of its head- a human, by the looks of it.
“Hello, fairy,“ the human growled. ”Druid Grove could use some extra farmers.“
”I am not a farmer!“ Daphne yelled. ”I'm a warrior, and you'd better be grateful that I don't have my sword because I'd cut you to pieces!“
But the human didn't listen. He just picked Daphne up by the waist and shoved her into a glass jar with little holes poked into the top. Daphne was scared, but she was even more insulted by being treated like an insect. The human put the jar into a bag, then he started stomping away.
Inside the bag, the jar rolled around and around, and it took effort just to not get dizzy. When she did regain her focus, Daphne was shocked when she saw other jars with other fairies inside. She was even more devastated when she got a glimpse of their faces– it was her family!
”Guys, I can get us out of here,“ she reassured them. As the human traveled, rattling the fairies with his bumpy footsteps, Daphne tried all the ways she could think of to get out of the jar. She tried pounding at the lid, then she tried to break the glass, then she tried to squeeze herself through the holes on top. Nothing worked. She tried using plant magic, but she was too far away from any plants to get them to grow.
Things were looking hopeless, but Daphne couldn't give up. She had to save herself and her family. She was formulating a new escape plan when she saw a bright orange glow coming from outside the bag. Looking up through the opening in the bag, she saw dark treetops, and then she saw a tall flame. She instantly recognized this place from the old nursery rhyme that all young fairies learned. It spoke of a dangerous community of humans, surrounded by a barrier of fire, surrounded by a dark forest. This community had no known name, but the fairies called it the ”place you wouldn't want to go.”
When the human approached the wall of fire, the flames parted and he went inside. This was it. Daphne new there was no escape once the human went through the barrier and it closed. She reached out with all her concentration, trying to talk to the trees. This time, they responded, extending their branches and snagging the bag off the human's shoulder. Daphne gasped- it worked! Then, she angled the branch down, and the bag slid off of it and landed hard on the ground. The fairies' jars, smashing against the hard dirt and each other, shattered.
”Hey!“ the human shouted. ”Fairies, come back here!“
”Mom, dad, Chrys, Snap, come on!“ Daphne called. ”Before the barrier closes!“
Daphne's parents and sisters were slowly getting up, having not prepared for what had just happened. She pulled them to their feet and dragged them towards the fire barrier, but the flames were already closing.
”Nowhere to run, little fairies,“ the human sneered, trying to snatch at them with his greasy hands.
The family did the only thing they could and fled into the treetops. Safely on a branch, Daphne surveyed her surroundings: the fire wall blocking their escape, the human trying to find a way up the tree to capture them, and her family, nursing their injuries and looking around in shock. Daphne had always wanted an adventure, but not like this! Not when her family was in danger and she had no plan and no way to escape. She took a deep breath and tried to come up with a new plan.
”Maybe we could try to fly over the barrier?“
”My wing is broken!“ her sister Snap snapped. ”If you had just told us before you dropped us from a tree, Chrys wouldn't have a broken leg, my wing wouldn't be broken, and-“
”Well sorry, I didn't want to alert the human!“ Daphne retorted. ”Now let me go see how high this barrier is.“
She launched into the air and flew up, up, up, but all she saw was endless fire. Just then, she heard a familiar chirp. She looked around and saw a goldfinch sitting on a branch.
”Sunburst? How did you get in here? Did you follow that mean old human though the barrier?"
Chirp.
“Come down! I need your help.”
Daphne led her goldfinch down to where her family was resting. When her mom saw the bird, she nearly threw a fit, but Daphne reassured her that Sunburst was friendly. After some convincing of both Snap and Sunburst, her sister agreed to ride him. Before they left, Daphne grew patches of poison oak around the forest, so that they might surprise the human, wherever he was. Then, they launched up. They flew for seconds, minutes, maybe hours, but the top of the barrier did, in fact, exist, and they went right over it. Then they flew back to their parents' house, and Sunburst left after some belly rubs.
Inside, Daphne was met with the greatest problem of all.
“My scones!” she cried, seeing them smashed on the floor where she left them. “I'll make new ones. I promise.”
So they had their regular old Spring celebration, and Daphne went over the story of their adventure in drastic detail. “The Place You Wouldn't Want to Go” was her new favorite nursery rhyme. The rest of her family never sang that particular song again.

Reflection: words

March 20-21, 2023

Bolded words are new words I wrote while editting
Please excuse the writing, it's quite old–

Sun blinded the castle grounds that were bustling above the large huts that settled next to the sea. Servants ran through the castle and guards sat motionless in front of doors. The hallways were mainly white, except for the stained glass windows lined on the walls. They were lined with yellow silk, and in between each window was a large marble pillar with fine lines for decoration. The floor was clean and spotless, while two young cats bounded down it, giggling.

One was white and one was a tortoiseshell. Wind rustled through an open window, fluffing up both cat’s fur. The cats came to a stop at a turn. In between pillars were two cats, probably servants. The white kitten stopped to wave hello at them.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice welcoming. The two servants stopped and waved back. They looked on warmly as the kittens continued on with their running.

From far away, Sapphire could see a black cat. She had recognized the cat many times before. She was a servant, probably tasked with ensuring that Alexandrite and her didn’t run into any trouble. From what she could tell, the cat looked nice. Though she had a slightly bittersweet expression. Sapphire couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about. Perhaps she had a sister she used to play with?

Sapphire looked back to ask Alexandrite, but she suddenly realized that she wasn’t there. Sapphire stopped, a little concerned. Where could she have gone? And why didn’t she tell her?

Perhaps Sapphire had fallen behind while they were running from her daydreaming. Alexandrite might be ahead. She decided to run forward and see.

Sapphire padded through the halls, not really sure where she should go. She stopped at an intersection. To the left led to the kitchens and servants quarters, forward left to a bunch of meeting rooms, and right led to the basement and guest rooms. Alexandrite could practically be anywhere in the castle. What if she had realized Sapphire wasn’t there and went to their mom? Sapphire decided that wasn’t very likely because they both knew mom was in an important meeting.

Sapphire decided to go left because Alexandrite had hid in the basement once during a game of hide and seek.

The basement was down a flight of stairs at the end of a long hallway. Contrary to the sparkling halls of the castle, the basement wasn’t really regularly maintained. It was quite dim, and mostly filled with boxes of random things. It also was fairly big.

Sapphire slowed to a stop. She was in the darker hallways of the basement. She huffed, glancing around. Alexandrite was nowhere to be seen.

I see what she’s doing, Sapphire thought, she’s going to scare me! Well I guess I should play along! Suddenly, Sapphire noticed a flash. It was a tail!

“Alex?” Sapphire asked, pretending to be confused. Then she quickly bounded to the corner where she saw the flash. She turned the corner to find a honey coated female with purple eyes.

“… Hi?” Sapphire asked quizzically. The female turned abruptly, noticing the small kit.

“Greetings Princess Sapphire!” the cat said.

“How do you know my name?” Sapphire inquired.

“I was there when you were born,” replied the cat. “Besides, I think everyone in the castle knows your name. I’m Lilac, the royal Healer. I helped your mother deliver you and your sister.”

Sapphire thought about the idea for a moment. She marveled at the inviting cat. A Healer! Such an important role. It must be so cool to help those in need. Oh, I feel so good when I help others. Wouldn’t it be cool to be one? To know all the knowledge of healing and assist royalty itself? Well, I already am royal, I guess it’s not that big of a deal to me.

“How-?” Sapphire began.

“Sapphire!” an excited voice cried. Sapphire turned to find Alexandrite running to her. Her voice was soft and comforting. Sapphire sprinted into her sister’s arms that smelled of columbine.

The two rolled around for a moment. Laughter echoing through the corridor. Unaware of the resentful and wistfulness in the two other females that watched them. Two…

“Kits!” Queen Citrine called, as she approached the group suddenly. “Come here, it’s time for your nap.”

“Yes mama!” the two young princesses exclaimed. Sapphire and Alexandrite bounded quickly to their mother. As they began to walk away, Sapphire snuck one last glance at Lilac, still standing where she and Alexandrite had been playing moments ago. She thought she saw sorrow in the young healer’s eyes. Or had she just imagined a sign of uncertainty? Either way, Sapphire decided not to dwell too much on the thought. She knew being a healer was a big responsibility. Lilac was probably just tired.
Sapphire padded up to Alexandrite, matching her strides evenly. “Hey, do you know that cat who was there when mom found us?” Sapphire inquired.

“Oh yeah, she was there,” Alexandrite replied. “She’s probably just a lowly servant. I don’t think she’s that important. She seemed nice enough. What about her?”

“That’s Lilac! The royal healer! Did you know she was there when we were born? That’s so cool right? Being able to help bring new lives into this world. I think it would be cool to help people like that. To know that they depend on you and look up to you, that’s a cool feeling.”

“True,” Alexandrite considered, “but you can still feel that same feeling when you’re a queen! Plus, being a queen is even better than being a healer because you can boss people around all you want. You could even demand for the chef to make you sugar cod all day!”

“Oh! I remember when you did that,” Sapphire reminisced. “The chef was so done with you by the end of the day. You really irritated him. I kind of felt bad, his expression was so tiring and exhausting.”

Sapphire couldn’t help but sympathize with the servants of the castle. She knew being a servant was actually considered a well respected and good paying job, but it seemed a little unfair that Alexandrite and her could prance around and play all day when the servants, even the little ones, had to work. Sapphire found it interesting how so many cats were hired to help only four individuals. It seemed like a little too much. Citrine, being from humble beginnings, had always told Sapphire the importance of remaining humble despite being a royal. The servants were only trying to do their work. She thought it was a little rude to berate them all the time.

Though, at the same time, if she was to be royalty she would have days worth of royal duties to fulfill. So it was probably best to play around when she had the chance.

“I suppose you’re right,” Sapphire conceded. “But, you know only one of us can be queen one day. Only one of us can enjoy the luxuries you described. I think that if I’m not chosen as the heir, I might become a healer.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be chosen as the heir!” Alexandrite boasted. “I have all the right qualities needed to be queen! I don’t think you should become a healer Sapphire. You kind of lose a part of your royal identity when you become one. I couldn’t imagine life without our royal blood nowadays. It seems I’ve relied on it so much.”

“I guess it does make sense for you to be the heir,” Sapphire shrugged. Sapphire thought it would be really cool to be the future queen, but she knew Alexandrite was more passionate about being queen. Plus, she seemed to have a lot more queen-worthy qualities. “But living the rest of my life as a shadow seems kind of boring.”

“It’s not boring,” Alexandrite promised brightly. “I mean, it kind of is. But I’m sure being queen is just as boring. Plus, when I’m queen you can be like my most trusted advisor! You’ll be up there, even if you aren’t part of the royal family anymore.”

Not part of the royal family. It was something that always haunted Sapphire. She didn’t want her happy family to split apart. Especially since the Heir Ceremony could result in feelings of resentment. Sapphire couldn’t help wishing that she would be chosen as the heir. Being queen just sounded so cool! However, she knew that it probably wasn’t likely. Along with Sapphire, Queen Citrine knew Alexandrite was the more qualified candidate. And Sapphire was aware of this. Still, she could still hope.

It seemed so sad, Sapphire thought, that her life would ultimately amount to a lowly routine of being a mere shadow. Second behind her sister. The back up, the shadow to her sister’s greatness. And despite Alexandrite and her’s closeness, Sapphire thought that nothing could ever be the same between them.

But the worst part about it was that it wasn’t their fault. Could a simple ceremony change the fate of her family’s relationship so drastically? Sapphire sure hoped not, but she wasn’t very optimistic. It was hard to imagine such a different life. Sapphire sighed and pushed the thoughts away. She would worry about them later.

473 new words written
~~~~~
Reflection:

For the bidaily, I mainly focused on the description itself. I changed up the perspective to focus on Sapphire, rather than a more omniscient point of view. I also changed a little bit of the word choice to make things clearer, and just make things more dynamic in general. I think I've definitely progressed word choice wise in my writing, which I am happy about. I also edited some sentence structure, and a teenie bit of pacing. I'm actually quite surprised that I've improved in the departments I previously mentioned. This piece is actually an old piece from like 1-2 years ago. Across those years, I feel like I haven't written that much. I only really write for SWC, but I think it's a nice way to show how SWC has helped me improve and I'll try to remain motivated throughout the other months too xD. All in all, I really liked the experience and I would definitely do this again!

161 words

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Weekly #3

Part 1: Brainstorming Emotions

There are many ways we can express different emotions through our characters and how it creates different atmospheres. When someone is angry, usually writers say that “the air was suddenly filled with energy”. This can mean that the air was filled with heat from the fury of the person, which causes the air to be filled with energy. Another way to express anger can be through facial expressions, like frowning, growling, menacing looks and more.

Now going on to the grieving emotions. When you see tears flowing down from someone's eyes, it may mean that they are feeling down and are weeping. But another way to show their sadness can be through a metaphor, a simile or pathetic fallacy. For example, “He is a cloud that is about to pour down rain,” “She is as sad as a dog that couldn't able to devour chocolate,” “The thunder boomed through the sky, as he was walking down the streets alone.”

However, happy emotions can be expressed through various ways too. Again, through pathetic fallacy, similes and metaphors. “The sun shined brightly on his smiling face,” “He was like a balloon bobbing all over the place, as graceful as those bubbles floating in the air,” “She is confetti of different colors, falling gracefully upon the people below.” All these suggest that the character is jubilant and at a serene state.

228 words

Part 2: Emotions in Character

“Weren? Are you going to leave me like this?” Marbles asked, his voice sounded like it was holding back something, but Weren hadn't had a single moment to care, for now. “Weren, why aren't you telling me anything?!” Marbles yelled out. Weren turned around, and looked straight into Marbles' eyes. They were filled with determination. Weren sighed painfully, as he slowly walked towards his best friend. He spoke in a soft way, he had always spoken in that way whenever Marbles is never happy, "You don't understand, Marbles. I have to do this. Don't you dare try and stop me.“ he replied. Weren turned away again after he finished speaking, but Marbles isn't one to be pushed over, especially since then. ”Weren, you didn't even tell me where and why you're going to- wherever you're heading!“ Marbles exclaimed. Weren felt his eyes watered, he didn't want Marbles to look at him. ”Weren, come back! You and I promised each other that we'll always be for each other! Because… you helped me first.“ Marbles' last sentence gradually became softer, but Weren had heard it. Suddenly, he was filled with memories. Memories when he helped Marbles through difficult times when they were in high school. Now, as adults, they should be doing the same! But it's too late… Weren thought as he slumped down on the ground and wept loudly. He hadn't had a clue how Marbles managed to weep without making a sound. Maybe it's to prevent others to listen to his crying and make fun of him, again and again. Weren calmed himself, as he slowly took deep breaths. He stood up, and faced the friend that he trusted for so long. ”I'm sorry, I should've told you." Weren said, wiping the tears off his face. Marbles just smiled. Suddenly, Weren woke up. He had realized that it was a flashback: He left Marbles behind for a new job, but it caused him to die as Martin, now without Weren to protect him, killed Marbles the night Weren left him. Weren then cried, he knew that it wasn't supposed to end up like that. But it was a matter of fate. And Weren knew, from that dream, that Marbles was actually asking him to not grief over the loss and look into the future for the protection for other friends he had.

392 words

Part 3: Emotions in Prose
Emotion: furious

to be written…

Part 4: Bringing it All Together

Who is going to tell these people that TIMAC is for stuff outside of Scratch?

DangerousDawn wrote:

Who is going to tell these people that TIMAC is for stuff outside of Scratch?

“Discuss things you are creating or exploring outside of Scratch”
These are created for a group on Scratch and in a forum for things outside of Scratch.
And the personal threads, there's so many

writing competition entry draft


“Who’s feeling lucky?”

The shout rang out from a small corner of the square, spilling across the market and winding its way through the yelling vendors, just another voice lost amidst the din. The streets were crowded today, more so than usual, the bustling market stands and overflowing streetside shops populated with both locals and tourists alike.
Atlas leaned against a shop’s wall, silently observing the thoroughfare. His sisters - Juniper, Citrine - were bending over a rickety table, cards flashing between their fingers, spectators eyes following their every move. They wouldn’t see the sleight - they never saw anything, never knowing they had been cheated out of their money, that there was no way they could win. Atlas’s crew practised too well. They knew the cards like they knew the backs of their hands, like they knew this city, like they knew each other.
Atlas leaned forward - this was the trickiest part of their routine - and though he knew his sisters got it right every time, he still caught himself holding his breath.


Spin of the wheel, roll of the dice, flip of the coin, turn of the card…


The move went without a hitch, and Atlas exhaled slowly. Fate had been kind, as usual. Or perhaps fate didn’t care enough to be unkind. No-one cared about street rats like Atlas and his family, the dregs of society, Ostlea’s unwanted. The kids who lived off their swindles and tricks and sleights of hand, the pests of the market.
And they loved it. They loved their tricks, they loved the crowded market (apart from Arlo, who had an unfortunate tendency to get lost, and then Elliot would have to chase him down through the crowd). It felt so much more like home than their grimy old apartment they could hardly pay the rent to. The stalls and awnings overflowing from the crumbling shops into the streets, the smells wafting from food carts and warming the frosty morning air, the shouts of merchants and vendors and performers dressed as all the city’s well-loved stock characters - The Messenger, Mister Moneybags, The Poison Queen, Little Match Girl - the clink of coins changing hands, the foods and treasures and charms and cons and merchants selling dreams, the narrow pathway through it all packed so thick it was almost hard to breathe -


This. This is where we belong.


And we know it, Atlas thought, watching the triumphant smiles on his sister’s faces as the latest mark turned over the joker instead of a queen, his confidence dissolving into confusion.
Atlas sauntered over. “Looks like you owe us some money.”
Citrine shot him an annoyed look. Atlas ignored her.
“You cheated,” the spectator declared, disbelieving. “I’m sure it was that one!”
“We didn’t cheat, we would never.” Atlas lied, smoothly. “Look, it’s this one right here.”
He flipped over one of the cards, revealing the elusive Queen of Hearts.
Begrudgingly, the mark handed over the note. Atlas pocketed it, before turning to his sisters.
“We should probably go home.” Citrine said, sweeping up their cards. “Check on Arlo and all that.”
“He’ll be fine. He just has a cold.” Atlas slipped an ace from up his sleeve and began fiddling with it. “And it’s only the morning. We’ll be able to make good profit today. Get something extra for Arlo.”
Juniper nodded. “I was thinking we should probably get medicine for him. Just in case it gets worse.”
“It won’t.” Atlas almost snapped the words, deliberately not looking at the people collapsed in the alleys and the sides of the street, coughing and wheezing - and the worst ones unconscious, half-dead already.
The Sleeping Death. The plague sweeping the city, spreading ruin and death in its wake. It catches fast, and leaves faster - and survivors are few.
“Arlo has a cold.” Atlas repeated.
Juniper studied her feet intently. “Maybe we stay for a bit. Get more money for the medicine. Arlo has Elliot, anyway. He’d tell us if he was in any trouble.”
“So, we’re just going to leave Arlo at home while we do our stupid magic tricks?” Citrine glared at them both. “I’m not saying we waste the day, just that we go check on him.”
“He has Elliot,” Atlas insisted.
“Elliot’s just a kid too!” Citrine snapped. “It’s our responsibility. I don’t care that you think it’s not needed. Arlo’s our brother.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Atlas watched a coin teeter on the edge of the card table, shaking in the breeze.
“Heads means we stay,” he blurted out. “Tails for go home.”
“Alright.” Citrine said, gaze sliding over to the coin. She suddenly lunged, throwing the table to the ground –


The coin fell, plummeting off the tumbling card table, spinning over and over in mid air, suspended in it’s flight - it was beautiful, it was weightless, the world was weightless, as if there was no air anymore, as if the very universe was holding its breath in anticipation –
the coin clattered to the cobblestones.
Heads.


“We’re staying, then.” Atlas picked the table back up, straightening its movable legs and setting it back on the street.
“Let’s get our money for that medicine.”


-


Atlas was right - they did make good profit. Marketgoer after marketgoer fell for their scams, a steady stream of spectators with their steady streams of money. They barely had room to breathe between each trick - and all too soon it was after noon, the market dispersing and the stalls packing up, until only the shops and the buskers and the plague victims were left.
They were so much more pronounced now that they weren't hidden behind a crowd - entire families in the street corners, too weak to stand, praying for scraps. Atlas tried not to look at them, their slumped forms, their pleading eyes. It was easier to ignore them. It was easier to not care.
At the start, he was scared - scared his family would get it, that they would become the ghosts begging on the streets that everyone else pretended not to see. As time went on, he realised there was nothing he could do about it. It was up to fate, and he resigned himself to it.


They were dealt a good hand at first. They hung onto the cards they had, not wanting anything more and not wanting anything less. But at some point they would have to let go.
And Arlo was the unlucky one.


“Everyone's leaving.” Citrine observed - Atlas rolled his eyes, she ignored him. “We should get the medicine before the place closes. You know where it is, right Juniper?”
Juniper nodded.
“I don't care how much it costs, I just want Arlo's cold better.” Atlas pushed a pile of coins into Juniper's hand.
She nodded again. “I won't let you down.”
Atlas watched her go, clutching the money with white shaking hands, her steps jerky and hurried, disappearing around the corner.
He just hoped she had enough.


The dice clattered onto the ground, the sound deafening in Atlas's head. They rolled, skittering across the unfamiliar table like they were trying to escape the inevitable -
but no-one can escape their fate.
They stuttered to a halt, but Atlas couldn't see the numbers, it was too dark –
and they were gone.


-



“You're Atlas, right? Atlas and Citrine?”
A voice suddenly startled Atlas out of his thoughts.
He looked up. “Yeah. What do you need?”
“Nothing.” The speaker was a familiar looking man - middle aged, dirty clothes, kind eyes. Somebody's father, probably. Most likely an owner of one of the many shops lining the street.
“I think I know your brother. Elliot?”
“That's right.” Atlas began to pack up the card table. Juniper would be back soon.
“He was talking earlier, saying your littlest one's,” he swallowed. “sick. I was just wondering if you, um, needed any help with anything? I can take care of all this - keep your things safe, I mean - while you go home to check on him.”
A pause.
“It might be a good idea.”
Another pause.


The rickety spinner stuttered across the painted wooden circle, flitting between the two colours with lightning speed-
the seconds stretched on and it began to slow…
slower…
it finally slid to a stop.
Who would speak?


“We're good.” Citrine said, her voice cold. “We'll let you know if we need anything.”
Atlas nodded.
It was only once the man had left that he finally spoke.
“We should have let him.” His voice was quiet.
Citrine's voice was not. “What happened to not trusting anyone we don't know?”
“He seemed nice!” Atlas protested.
“They all do.” Citrine said darkly.
They continued packing up in silence.


-


Atlas and Citrine had just sat down in one of the dingy streetside alleys when Juniper finally returned.
Atlas got to his feet. “You took your time.”
“I’m sorry.” Juniper bit her lip. “I got lost.”
Citrine stood up too, leaning against the alley’s wall. “No. You didn’t.”
Juniper stared at the ground.
“You went through the harbour, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
Juniper’s response was a whisper. “Yeah.”
The harbour. The place where the people were the poorest, where the plague was the worst. Atlas had only been down there once recently - but he still couldn’t shake the images from his head.


Coughing stragglers gravitating towards the clusters of plague-ridden bodies lining the dockside - the very old, the very young, the very unlucky.
The ones asleep, slumped in corners, sinking into the concrete. They looked dead already.
“The fresh air will do you good,” A grandmother saying to a small child, both of them pale and weak, walking with shaking legs, clinging to each other.
The unmoving ones, staring into the sky without seeing anything, almost fading away into the sea mist.
The ones who had lost all hope.


Citrine sighed. “I know you want to help them, June, but they’re not us. We don’t know them. There are hundreds of people sick, and I know you would like to, but we can’t help them all.”
“We can try.” Juniper’s voice cracked. “We- we can make a difference anyway.”
She held out the paper bag, lined with vials of medicine. “I don’t think I got enough, but-”
“Wait.” Atlas interrupted her. “They’re all empty.”
“I know.” Her voice was an exhale, a breath of wind. “I helped them. I made a difference.”
Citrine’s voice, however, was a growl. “Juniper-”
“I made sure to save some for Arlo.” She interrupted. “I wouldn’t let us down.”
“Sure.” Citrine spat. “Sure, you wouldn’t.”
“There’s still some for Arlo!” Juniper pressed as Citrine turned around. “Where are you going-”
“Home.” She didn’t even look over her shoulder. “I’m going home.”



The coin spun, over and over, plunging towards the ground; the cards were shuffled and dealt, a hand reached for one from across the table; the dice rolled, clattering on the cobblestones; the spinner fluctuated wildly between outcomes as if lead by the hand of fate-


Atlas took off after her. “I’m coming with you.”
He didn’t even wait for the coin to land.


-


By the time they reached the apartment, it was nearly nightfall.
They didn’t usually come home this late. Atlas knocked on the door, fearful Elliot would be asleep already -
He opened the door. Wide-awake. Eyes red and hands shaking.
“How’s-
Arlo’s-
cold?”
The words seemed to come out in slow motion.
But Elliot’s words were tinged with urgency. “It’s n-not- I think Arlo h-has t-the-
plague.”
Atlas was frozen. That one word drumming a constant rhythm in his head, matching the frantic beating of his heart.
Arlo has t-the plague.


The bodies slumped in the dockside corners.
The families begging for food on the market streets.
The Sleeping Dead sinking into the street.
The frail grandmother and the shaking child.


His own words came back to him too.


“It won’t get worse. Arlo has a cold.”


“H-he’s unconscious,” Elliot was saying. “Did you get the m-medicine?”
“We did,” Juniper said, her face pale. “But I’m not sure if it’ll be enough.”
Citrine swallowed. “I guess his life is up to fate now.”


(Spin of the wheel, roll of the dice, flip of the coin, turn of the card…)


“No. It’s not.”
The others were taken aback by the strength in Atlas’s response.


“I won’t. I won’t let it be up to fate any longer.


“I won’t let our little brother die.”


The coin
shattered.