{{ Ember }}
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{{ Cabin ;; Illustrated Fiction, July 2023 }}


{{ Actual Thread ;; Writing Thread }}



Chapter 1


You explore the library, staring at rows and rows of books. You find a blank one labeled DAILIES in big blue letters.

July 1st ☆ 1 Thousand Word Introduction ☆ 1,770 Words ☆ 0 Points
July 2nd ☆ Five Random Words Daily ☆ 153 Words ☆ 250 Points
July 3rd ☆ Truth or Dare ☆ N/A ☆ 0 Points
July 4th ☆ Bizarro Fiction Twist ☆ N/A, still working ☆ 0, not turned in on time (doing it for the words, though!)
July 5th ☆ Object Smoothie ☆ 278 Words ☆ 250 Points
July 6th ☆ Song Writing ☆ Words ☆ Points
July 7th ☆ Title ☆ Words ☆ Points
July 8th ☆ Title ☆ Words ☆ Points
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Chapter 2


You flip through the pages, and there’s nothing else there. You grab a second book, the one next to it. The book is labeled with the word WEEKLIES.



Weekly 1 * Symbolism * Words * Points


Weekly 2 Title Words Points


Weekly 3 Title Words Points


Weekly 4 Title Words Points

Certificate (If any)




Chapter 3


There’s one more book, labeled WORD WARS
CABIN WARS
MISC.




War I || @PoppyWriter || ‘there's a lot you don't know about me’. || Three Minutes || 178 || Lost || 25 For Prompt
War II || Against @ || Prompt Used? || Time? || Words Written? || Won? Lost? || Pts.
War III || Against @ || Prompt Used? || Time? || Words Written? || Won? Lost? || Pts.
War IV || Against @ || Prompt Used? || Time? || Words Written? || Won? Lost? || Pts.
War V || Against @ || Prompt Used? || Time? || Words Written? || Won? Lost? || Pts.


Cabin War I || Who Sent It? || Cabin? || Words? || How Long? || -Points if Lost? || Challenge? || Participants? (#) || Words Written? || Won? Lost?
Cabin War II || Who Sent It? || Cabin? || Words? || How Long? || -Points if Lost? || Challenge? || Participants? (#) || Words Written? || Won? Lost?
Cabin War III || Who Sent It? || Cabin? || Words? || How Long? || -Points if Lost? || Challenge? || Participants? (#) || Words Written? || Won? Lost?
Cabin War IV || Who Sent It? || Cabin? || Words? || How Long? || -Points if Lost? || Challenge? || Participants? (#) || Words Written? || Won? Lost?
Cabin War V || Who Sent It? || Cabin? || Words? || How Long? || -Points if Lost? || Challenge? || Participants? (#) || Words Written? || Won? Lost?



Writing Competition Entr(y)/(ies)

July 1st ✫ words ✫ points
July 2nd ✫ words ✫ points
July 3rd ✫ words ✫ points
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ducky's swc writing <3

★ 1k word intro ★

★ word wars ★

1. click here

★ daily 1 - 135 words ★

I'm a vanilla ice-cream cone because I'm boring as hell (like seriously I don't even know how I have the amount of friends I do) and I have an excessive amount of scoops because the universe has cursed me with the height of five giraffes standing on each other's heads. Inside each scoop in either a really sour warheads lolly thing, a piece of chocolate, or something sickening sweet and full of so much sugar that you'll have a sugar high for a year because those are my only personalities. It's a random filling for each scoop though, because who knows how I'll be feeling that day? Oh yes and the bottom of the cone is filled with chocolate because 1) that's the best part- delicious and 2) I've been told that I'm sweet inside (which confuses me lol)

★ daily 2 - 429 words ★

click here

★ daily 3 - n/a words ★

truth or dare in the main cabin <3

★ daily 4 - 657 words ★

click here

★ daily 5 - 253 words ★

click here

Intro:
My name is Book, but my pen name is Violet Winters (inspired by Violet Baudelaire, my love of the color violet, and my love for winter). I go by pacific time (PDT) and am pretty active on Scratch.
I absolutely love reading (and writing of course–I wouldn’t be in SWC if I weren’t a writer). I have read so many books I genuinely can’t remember them all (I have at least twenty in bookshelves in my room). I’m going to list as many books as I can that I’ve read.
I’ve read: the Maze Runner series, the Divergent series, the York saga, Harry Potter, Arc of a Scythe, Keeper of the Lost Cities, Warriors (the Prophecies Begin, the New Prophecy, Power of Three, Omen of the Stars, the Sun Trail, a Vision of Shadows, Firestar’s Quest, Bluestar’s Prophecy, Crookedstar’s Promise, Yellowfang’s Secret, Tallstar’s Revenge, Bramblestar’s Storm, Mothflight’s Vision, Tigerheart’s Shadow, Crowfeather’s Trial, Hawkwing’s Journey, and Skyclan’s Destiny), Percy Jackson, Trials of Apollo, Heroes of Olympus, the Kane Chronicles: The Red Pyramid, the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, the Unwanteds series, Witchlings, the Sky Fall trilogy, the Hunger Games (this includes Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes), the Forgotten Five, the Selection series, Catwoman: Soulstealer, Wonder Woman: Warbringer, His Dark Materials (it's been a while, I’ve been meaning to reread this one), a Wolf Called Wander, Beasts and Beauty, the School for Good and Evil series (including the Rise of the School for Good and Evil, excluding the Never Ever Handbook and the Fall of the School for Good and Evil), the Marvellers (book one), They Both Die at the End and more that I’m forgetting.
I am an aspiring author. I want to grow up and write, maybe move to Britain and attend college there (I’m very ambitious, if you can’t tell–the college I’m hoping for is the University of Oxford). The plan is to one day become a British citizen, an alumni of an Ivy League college, and walk the grounds where some of the best authors have walked (like J. R. R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling).
Some things that I like are all shades of purple and blue, but violet, indigo, and ice blue are my favorites out of those. I don’t listen to particular artists, just an awful lot of songs (I can’t even remember all of my favorite songs). To spare you another list, I won’t write down every single song I can find that I liked, but I will link my spotify playlists at the bottom. I am a very picky eater, so I don’t like a lot of foods, but some foods that I do like are pasta (without pesto sauce, only cheese or alfredo), pizza, and cheeseburgers. I am a huge fan of dessert, but I don’t really eat dessert with fruit in it, with the exception of apple pie. My favorite dessert is my mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies. I am absolutely addicted to chocolate. I also like romance, fantasy, cats, Greek Mythology, fluffy things, angst, and sarcasm (although I don’t use sarcasm that often, at least online).
I don’t like a lot of things. I have about a million pet peeves, but my main ones are the following: when someone responds to something I said that was at least a sentence with “ok/okay then”, “ok/okay” or “k/’kay”; when someone flips their hair in my face; and when someone is sitting down or being lazy while I’m working hard. I don’t like spicy, most foreign, and a lot of other foods. I don’t like the heat or incorrect grammar. I absolutely despise the color pink. I don’t like most dogs, I probably have a fear of them–when they aren’t scary, though, they’re annoying. I hate all math, especially algebra. I hate algebra because algebra is about the process and I’m all about the answers. I don’t like long school days, either, especially when it's hot outside. Exercise is an enemy of mine–necessary but despicable. I don’t like reading books or watching movies of the genres horror, thriller, and realistic fiction–horror and thriller is just too scary for me and realistic fiction defeats the reason I read books, which is to escape Earth and flee to a better world or travel to a better version of Earth with magic or something. I don’t like military time because it just makes no sense to someone raised on regular time, same with the metric system. It annoys me when people take my exaggeration or verbal irony literally, Mary Sues and other flat and overpowered characters are also very annoying, and the most annoying of all is when my sister (my sister only) says “SLAYYYYY”.
I am a child of Apollo, an Erudite, a Gryffindor, and a Paragon of Sound. My zodiac is Sagittarius, I have no concept of time, I have anxiety and probably ADHD, I don’t get compliments very often so when complimented I get flustered and typically respond with a compliment back, probably chaotic neutral or chaotic good. I tend to use the emoticon <3 very often, and I don’t usually use it as a heart, because I’ve always seen it as a face, which is a controversial opinion among my friends.
My personality type is INTJ. I’m really perfectionistic and impulsive, but I’m really friendly and caring as well. I love my friends like family and will do anything for those I care about. I’m also rather hotheaded (I need to have large meals three times a day or the Hunger Games will begin, no joke) and easily overwhelmed.
I am a total shipper–I ship Ember and Wade, Solangelo, Jeri and Greyson, Alex and Magnus, America and Maxon, Eadlyn and Erik/Eikko, Agatha and Tedros, Sam and Frodo, Sokeefe, Rowan and Citra, Alex and Sky, Aladdin and Hephaestus, Rafal and Hook, Alby and Newt, and last but DEFINITELY NOT LEAST Rufus and Mateo!! <33
I am currently reading the First to Die at the End, prequel in the Death-cast “series” (argh it’s not a series if it only has two books, I was so excited for there to be more than two books but there isn’t). No spoilers, it seems really interesting! And to all of you readers who haven’t read They Both Die at the End–do read it! It’s really good! You might cry, but it’s worth it!
And to wrap it all off, I am currently writing a sci-fi story from the “villain’s” point of view. The villain/MC will obviously have some of the “cliche” villain traits, but that’s because making a super unique hero and villain would take all of the fun out of writing the villain’s POV. (Credit to Moonlit and Moss for being my sci fi leaders, to Reese for that wonderful conversation we had that was a significant amount of the inspiration to combine the two, to Riley for explaining to me what the 1k challenge was, and to our hosts for hosting SWC!!)

Words: 1167

hiii! reserving this spot hehe

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♩♬ || Crystie's Table of Contents . . .
➼ July 2023
➼ The Long Pond Studios (#folkloreftw)

“Close your weary eyes…”
- rises the moon, liana flores

♩♬ || Dailies . . .
➼ ( Title ☆ Word Count ☆ Date ☆ Summary )
➼ Memories of Flourishing Flowers ☆ 374 ☆ July 2 ☆ Charlotte thinks about her past whilst in a field of flowers.
➼ N/A ☆ N/A ☆ July 3 ☆ A truth or dare daily.
➼ Why Can't I Stay ☆ 346 ☆ July 6 ☆ Song lyrics, in which Charlie tells the tale of his dislike for moving houses.
➼ N/A ☆ N/A ☆ July 27 ☆ The three word daily.

♩♬ || Weeklies . . .
➼ ( Title ☆ Word Count ☆ Date ☆ Summary )
➼ N/A

♩♬ || Word Wars . . .
➼ ( Title ☆ Word Count ☆ Date ☆ Summary )
➼ N/A ☆ 166 ☆ July 6 ☆ A word war with @Heyl0.

♩♬ || Other . . .
➼ ( Title ☆ Word Count ☆ Date ☆ Summary )
➼ You Can't Believe That You're Still Here (But I Assure, Fret Not, Don't Fear) ☆ 1,831 ☆ July 25 ☆ Hester works on a machine; Charlotte gets a bad ending.
➼ Critiquitaire #1 ☆ 699 ☆ July 28-29 ☆ Critique!

“I promise you soon that autumn comes
to darken fading summer skies…”
- rises the moon, liana flores

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Total: 1157/7000 words

Hi! I'm blue, and this session of SWC I'm in the script cabin. I first joined SWC in July 2021 and I was in the adventure cabin. Shortly after this, I took a break from scratch to focus on school.
My favourite book series are the hunger games by Suzanne Collins and all the Percy Jackson (or Peter Johnson as Mr D would say) series by Rick Riordan. I am also a big fan of Marvel. My favourite character is loki and my favourite movie is guardians of the galaxy vol. 1.
At school, I participate in drama club, tech team (backstage), cricket, netball and I often take part in library events like book quizzes and presentations. I also took part in my school production of beauty and the beast. Sadly, I only got ensemble but I'm hoping to audition for this year's production of matilda.
Let my 2nd session of scratch writing camp begin!

July 1st: Words written today: 502

Daily Words given: As an ice cream sundae, I would be 3 flavours; mint choc chip, cookie dough and chocolate. I think mint choc chip symbolizes being bold, cookie dough, always starting things but never finishing and chocolate for how addicted I am to chocolate! It would of course be served with rainbow sprinkles to show creativity
54 words

Other writing 200 words for a rant ○ 155 words for my introduction 93 for an art project

July 2nd Words written today: 355

Daily Words given: moon, bury, rose, glowing, teapot
Glowing with light, the portal stood in front of the little girl. Her golden green eyes grew wide and painted across her face was a toothy grin, framed by locks of frizzy, dirty blonde hair. Clasping her favourite teddy in one hand and pink floral toy teapot in the other, she stepped into the swirling portal.

Lights shone so bright, sickness bubbled into her throat. Then, it stopped. She opened her eyes, greeted by tall, towering trees and an abundance of beautiful flowers. The only light that could be seen was the faint glow of the moon. The smell of cinnamon crawled up her nose, overpowering all other senses. Buried in the back of her mind, everything seemed too familiar.

Snap… the girl spun around. A snake. The girl froze in fear as the snake slithered up her spine. Her heart pounded like a drum and raced like a cheetah. The snake’s fangs sunk into her neck. The world spun around her. Then, black.
* * *
“I told you she would come back”

“Oh please, you were practically crying when she had to leave”

“I was not! It was just hayfever!”

Suddenly, the girl’s eyes’ opened. Slowly she reached her hand to the side of her neck to feel a plaster. She looked around and realised she wasn’t alone. On her left side was a girl with short, wispy brunette curls, ice blue eyes and a delicate flower garment draped through her hair. On her right was a tall boy with two small antlers poking out of his black hair but with ice blue eyes to match the girl. As the girl on the floor started to get up, the boy spoke with a gentle tone,

“No, you need to rest,” He paused, “Rose.”

“How do you know?” Rose asked
“Well that snakebite is gonna take a while to heal” He replied with a subtle smirk.

“My name” She added “How did you know my name?”

“You don’t remember us do you?” The brunette girl questioned as she buried her head in her hands and Rose shook her head.

“This is gonna take a lot of explaining,”

355 words

July 3rd n/a

July 4th 300 words for part 1 of the weekly

July 5th Total words 309

Daily Slowly my hand clasped around the miniature train and placed it inside the blender - which was already filled with sparkling apple and raspberry flavoured water, cold tomato and basil pasta and chocolate milk. As I pressed the button, the mixture swirled around and began to closely resemble vomit.

I squinted my eyes together and chugged the mushy liquid down my throat. I swallow. I open my mouth like I’m about to throw up, but instead a large silver bubble comes out. My hands cover my mouth and my pupils dilate. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Quickly, I rush towards a mirror. I bring my hand to my face in disbelief as I examine my now tomato red skin. Okay, I admit there may have been a bit too much tomato. All that matters now is that this last step works. “The next station is the Eiffel tower!” I read aloud from the recipe book.

Next thing I know I find myself standing in front of the Eiffel tower itself! Wait, this is the Eiffel tower in Vegas! How could I be so stupid! I must've added way too much chocolate milk. At least there's a good view from here. It's not much like Paris but it's enough for me.
309

July 6th Total 310 words

Once there was a dream
Of piles of gold
On Islands yet unknown
Cursed treasure
Buried swords
So we set out a ship to find it all

A dream of a ship
With a beautiful bow
A mermaid lying on its mast
Cutting through the misty morning
Rocking to and fro

So build me a ship
Miles tall
To voyage through
The unknown waters
Build a ship of fairytales
One of tales old and frail
To help us fix the broken hearts

Once in my dream I saw a map
Leading to the place we used to go
A heart not an x
To mark our love
Until our hearts left broken

A dream of a ship
With a beautiful bow
A mermaid lying on its mast
Cutting through the misty morning
Rocking to and fro

So build me a ship
Miles tall
To voyage through
The unknown waters
Build a ship of fairytales
One of tales old and frail
To help us fix the broken hearts

Gather the broken pieces
Build it like a jigsaw
I knew our hearts had fixed
When I first saw you again

Once in a beautiful slumber
I dreamt of piles of gold
Where people were scared to go
We cursed the treasure
And buried our swords
Once we set out a ship to find it all

I told you of a ship
With a beautiful bow
A mermaid lying on its mast
Cutting through the misty morning
Rocking to and fro

So build me a ship
Miles tall
To voyage through
The unknown waters
Build a ship of fairytales
One of tales old and frail
To help us fix the broken hearts

So you built me a ship
Miles tall
To voyage through
The unknown waters
Built a ship of fairytales
One of tales old and frail
Now we fixed our broken hearts

Weekly 1
part 1 - 300 words
In the first panel of the silent comic, the secret of life, there is an island on which a beautiful tree with delicate white pods is growing. In addition, there are rolling white clouds in the background and the sky transitions from yellow to orange.

In the next panel, one of the leaves on the pod is slowly starting to peel away to reveal an orange inner core. Then, all the petals fold upwards and the core looks slightly more yellow. Afterwards, the core comes away to reveal a blue egg inside a cage.

The following panel shows someone rowing in a boat wearing a pointed hat that closely resembles an egg. Then, the boat docks at the island but all the pods have now turned into caged eggs. The man brings out a curved dagger type weapon and holds it next to one of the caged eggs. He then proceeds rowing away from the tree with many caged eggs in his boat.

Next panel, the man is sitting on the floor with several caged eggs in front of him on a red blanket. A lady has come over to look at the caged eggs. As she is looking, a little girl is jumping excitedly. She then hands over some coins and the caged egg is placed inside the girl.

Then she goes over to play with a boy who also has a caged egg in his stomach. She is then happily combing her hair in the mirror and the egg has hatched into a bird. However, when you look in the mirror, the girl has a more anxious look on her face.

In the last panel, the boy and girl have both grown into adults and so have their birds. They are wearing matching colours and are holding hands.

part 2 - 400 words
“Shut up Cameron, I think she’s waking up,” Whispered a small, feminine voice.
My eyes squinted open to see a girl - with blue hair tied in a messy bun - standing over me with a huge grin beaming across her face. Slowly, I raised my head to see a stoic boy with short messy hair standing in the corner of the room.

“Where am I?” I asked raising my hand to the bump on the top of my head,
“Camp half blood.” Answered Cameron
“Like a summer camp? Shouldn't I be in the hospital or something?” I said, practically thinking out loud.
“I mean I’ve never been to summer camp so sure but you definitely don’t need to go to hospital for that. Just, drink this.” The girl told me as she passed me a glass of what seemed to be apple juice.

Reluctantly, I slurped the juice. My taste buds tingled as the taste was distinctly not apple juice. It was like liquid lasagne. Filling my stomach with a warm fuzzy feeling.

“This isn't apple juice.” I stated
“Obviously not, did you seriously think we were giving you apple juice for a bump on the head.” Cameron said with a subtle smirk.
“No, I thought …” I replied as I gestured to the girl who had handed me the drink, trying to think of her name
”Leah.“ She answered
”I thought Leah was giving me apple juice for a bump on the head, and you were trying to decide what you think of me.“
”Anyways,“ Leah interrupted as Cameron stormed off, ”This is drink, it's for us half bloods to help us heal.“
”Half what exactly?” I question
“Greek god” She said as I spit out the drink.

It took me a moment to process this. I mean it would explain a lot of things like the voices in my head.

“So you just expect me to believe that because I can drink this liquid lasagna and you kidnapped me that I’m the child of a Greek god?” I said with uncertainty
“Yep my mum’s Nike and Cam’s a Satyr,”
“A what?” I ask
“Half goat,”
“Seem as you know everything, who’s my godly parent”
“Well usually a glowing symbol will appear above your head and that’s how we know.”
“Great” I muttered with sarcasm.
“If you don’t believe me I can get Mr D to explain it to you”

part 3 - “…what were you opening the window for?” - 400 words
“My apologies, Lord Thinsley, I was simply admiring the view. The beautiful treetops and blossoming fields of flowers. You really must let me out more often.” I stated
“My dear Jane, you really must learn your place here.” Thinsley chuckled.
“Simply curious is all,” I whisper, scraping my brown locks of hair behind my ears.
“Do you have any hobbies? Knitting or sewing perhaps.” Thinsley queried.

I never quite understood the way knitting and sewing are considered the only hobbies a girl can have. They can’t be as useful as the skills they teach the boys. I didn’t know the reason we stopped from all these other activities but I do now. They’re scared.

“As a matter of fact, I do quite enjoy writing.” I spoke
“Yes but what can writing possibly do for a young girl like you?” He queried.
“I think it shows intelligence, wouldn't you agree?” I asked.
“I’d argue it shows the lack of!” Lord Thinsley shouted, “No man will ever marry you for intelligence. A man only marries for money, a free maid or a way to produce an heir. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“But my writing is ever so important to me. May you take a moment to read the first chapter?” I requested as I brought forward my neatly leather bound notebook, “It’s about,”
“Enough!” Thinsley interrupted with ferocious velocity as he flung my notebook into the roaring red fire, “It’s not proper for girls like you to have such unhealthy habits.” He walked out and slammed the door behind.

I fell to the stone cold floor. Hands shaking, tears flowing as the fire devoured the notebook as if it were wine. How could he do this to me? My years worth of writing. My art.

I don’t regret what happened next. Something similar would’ve happened eventually. It was inevitable.

Suddenly, a fire struck inside me. I raced to my vanity drawer. Throwing makeup, brushes, powders and creams galore. Then I found the matchbox. It was meant for lighting my assortment of candles that Lord Thinsley had found me but in this case I had found another use for the matches.

I struck one against the side of the box, placed it on the white linen bed sheets and ran out the window. I didn’t know where I was going. I just had to go somewhere no one would find me. Ever. Again.

part 4
In the first panel of the silent comic, the secret of life, an island is situated in the middle of the panel with a tree growing from its centre and white flowers drooping off the branches. Over the next three panels, the white petals of the flower slowly expand to reveal a caged blue egg. I think this represents having your inner self constrained and restricted. This also supports the theme of fate versus free will.

In the next panel, a man is seen rowing a small boat towards the island. He looks up at the tree full of caged eggs. He then brings out a curved weapon. The boat is then filled with multiple caged eggs. In this panel the man is covered with a dark black shadow. This could be a motif for being evil as it is commonly known for that.

In the next set of panels, we can see a woman and child walking up to the same man in the market and exchanging some money for a caged egg which is then placed inside the child. In these panels, the woman and child are both wearing white which is identified as good and pure. This would also show the theme of good versus evil.

On the next page, the girl plays a ball game with a boy who also has an egg caged in his chest. Then she looks in the mirror and combs her hair. From this image you can see that the egg has turned into a small bird but is still caged in her chest. You can also see in the reflection that the girl looks gloomy.

On the last page, the girl is growing older and her bird is becoming increasingly beautiful. In one panel, her face is in deep shadow as the bird pokes out of the cage. I think the darkness symbolizes being sad and grief. In the final panel, the bird flies out and breaks free of the cage as the woman dies. This symbolizes your soul being set free after death.

In conclusion, the silent comic, the secret of life, tells the story of how as we grow older and understand the rules of society we begin to cage up our true selves inside of us. This silent comic portrays the message beautifully while demonstrating themes of good versus evil, fate versus free will and being unique.


Weekly 2
Part 2
Beginning
Avery is hospitalized and has been for most of her life. No one knows what’s wrong with her, even after multiple tests and procedures. Then, every time she blacks out, Avery sees a vision of a young girl about to be ———-.
Avery’s brother - Will - feels abandoned by his parents as they are spending so much time with his sister Avery in the hospital. In a desperate attempt to help his sister feel better. He helps Avery find the girl.

Middle
Time is running out as Avery’s condition is worsening as she is completely restricted to her hospital bed and the dreams are becoming more vivid. She sees the girl outside her hospital window. She runs to save her but faints. She is in critical condition.

End
As the knife gets closer to the girl outside, Avery’s heart rate slows down. Will runs in front of the girl and saves her and Avery but is ———. He doesn’t make it but helps both characters achieve their goal of being recognised and getting out of hospital.

ACT I:
Hook: Luca (they/them) is anxious about receiving the letter from her future self on her fourteenth birthday.
Set-up: It doesn’t show up on their fourteenth birthday, it shows a day late (build anticipation and give the hint that something isn’t right.
Inciting Incident: They receive their letter but it’s written in blood and accompanied by a map. The letter tells them that the world will be destroyed in a week if they don’t please the ancient gods by restoring their ancient temple in the depths of the deadliest mountain range.
Build-up: First, Luca discovers a tribe of warriors in the forest. Aylin (Genderfluid but mostly she/her) becomes their friend and they continue together.
1st “Plot point”: They choose to take the shorter but more dangerous route
1st “pinch point”: All the greenery has turned black and there are animal ——- scattered on the floor

ACT II:
“Pre-Midpoint Reactionary Hero”: Chimera guarding entrance
Midpoint: They enter a cave. On the walls of the cave are depictions of the ancient Gods destroying the world. Images include: cracks in the earth, black plants and ——
“Post-Midpoint Reactionary Hero”: They get ready to fight the Ancient Gods in order to prevent the inevitable end of the world.
2nd pinch point: Luca and Aylin are in the temple and there are lots of traps. There is an arrow trap and Luca’s top gets caught on it and the walls start to close in. Aylin saves them in time and they have a dramatic kiss moment.

ACT III:

SUPPOSED Victory: Ava defeats the first god
Disaster: They turn around to see a second god holding the limp body of Aylin by the neck
Dark Moment: About to give up
Recovery: Throws through the god’s heart and catches Aylin. They carry Aylin on their back, out of the cave.
CLIMAX: The world is still crumbling they get back on the plane just in time
Victory: Aylin ——- the god in the back as Luca distracts from the plane
Resolution/End: Return to Aylin’s tribe


Part 3
I really enjoy this short story as it conveys natural disasters in a realistic way. In addition, it also shows themes of moving to a new country and explaining complicated/dangerous scenarios to small children. I really liked the opening as it was opened with three adjectives followed by a sentence that made the reader ask questions and be excited to read on. I also found that the characters were very believable as children.

As a title for this piece I would suggest “Cloud games” as it links to the hooking first sentence and the theme of using play to hide fear. I would also suggest using more show not tell. For example, in the last line, instead of saying they took a scared breath, think of another word that could better show that fear. I would recommend replacing that word with trembling (to show she is scared) or steady (to show she is trying to be confident so that her brother can’t see her emotions).

Finally, perhaps you could further describe Jamie’s reaction to the siren as I think he would be more scared than you have shown.

Overall, this was a detailed piece of writing and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.

Silvi's Writing Thread

The Mist
512 words
It was 2150 in the early morning, the crumbling point of the Shard poking upwards meekly whilst the garish lights of the Scape, the most modern building here, flashed brightly and sent waves of colour across the city.
An unearthly silence hung over London and everything was dark and silent. Fog drifted and a light drizzle soaked the soily ground beneath it. Leaves swirled in the autumn breeze and the few faint stars twinkled weakly.
The fog gradually faded away into nothing and the silence was broken by the snapping of the white, ugly lights. The sound of lorries on the bridge far in the distance buzzed slowly into hearing and a few cars trundled by. The sun had just started to peek through its blanket of hazy clouds and a faint glow lay over the cobbles.

A bird’s sweet song had just started and its clear, light notes brought London to a lovely, radiant dawn. The frosty leaves unfurled slowly and they became delicate and crunchy, and a dew started to form over the lush, green grass. The trees waved wildly around in the strong autumn’s breeze like an animal waiting to be freed.

I woke up with a start. Startling light poured into my room through the silky curtains and my frizzy plaits were in a mess. I opened my curtains to reveal the beautiful, autumnal landscape and I sighed in content. It was like every autumn morning. Perfect. Quiet. A haven for the world. I slid into my soft furry slipper boots and crept downstairs. It was still only 6:30 in the morning and practically no one was awake. I padded across the kitchen and soon it was filled with the wonderful smells of sizzling sausages and frying eggs.

A strange sensation vibrated through the ground and I frowned. Nothing like this really happened here. No storms or tornadoes… weird. I jumped with my heart in my mouth. A crack tore through the floor right next to me and a rumble formed in the air. I stumbled up to my room hastily and looked outside.
Everything was in ruins. Chimneys were ripped off toppling roofs and trees were pulled up from the damp, caky earth. It was unlike anything before in London, the worst that had ever happened was a small earthquake, but that only made the lights on our ceiling sway a bit. Nothing like this.

The storm eventually ceased, after what seemed like days, but stayed only a few minutes. A mist floated overhead, and gradually came closer and closer, until it enveloped the city in its icy grasp. It carried on thickening and thickening, twirling and spiralling, chilling and freezing, until you could barely see your hands in front of you. It swirled through the smallest of nooks and slipped into the darkest of alleyways, twisted around the roots of the toughest trees and twined itself around the most delicate of vines.

I woke up every morning to the cloudy maze of streets and houses, circled by what was known as the Mist.


Daily 12th July
231 words
Genre:Bizarro Fiction
You feel a slight breeze in the air. Your bed shakes and vibrates under some invisible source, and your mind is whirling, full of a thousand questions. You look outside and see a mammoth parading through the fields. A mammoth? It comes closer and closer and you feel a desperate desire to run towards it and never have to see the world again. Weird. Your bed suddenly shudders and you look below. It was levitating, levitating above the rooves of the little thatched huts. Your eyes are wide open in wonder as you ponder the happenings, strange happenings.

The hairy mammoth stampedes closer and closer, its eyes fiery and fierce. You pull up the bedcovers and hide, squeezing your eyelids shut and wait for it to happen, to be run over by those hooves as hard as steel and be tossed around by those mighty twisting horns. But it never happens. The thundering in the soft cakey earth quietens and you sigh in relief. Your eyes peek through the duvet and you see two girls with whirling plaits by the mammoth.
“Hey! Welcome to camp!” one of them says. They grin at me and you give them a small smile. You have no clue on how the mammoth got there, but you shake away that thought as you leap down to join the two girls.

Extra Writing

Bees buzzed around the fragrant lavender, which was blooming cheerfully, lit up with vibrant purple. Butterflies sucked at the soft, delicious honeysuckle, and children picked raspberries and apples, that grew on trees high above in the pale sky. All was happy and well. A blue-* fluttered down to the grass and hopped around in the shade and an elegant butterfly almost just ambled onto a child’s hand. The sun was dazzling, looking down upon earth, as it had for so long and heat waves shimmered in the air. Many other places were just like this, peaceful and content.
But then it all changed. A rumble quaked the ground, it shuddered, then wobbled and creaked. The sky turned dark, ominous, foreboding clouds filled up the once beautiful sky. Adults ushered children inside the supposedly safe houses. The sounds of screaming could be heard from miles away. Birds took off, a ball of anxiously shivering feathers to protect their chicks and foxes were curled up in balls inside their holes in the now parched, cracked ground. For a long time, everything was loud with the destruction of the outside. However, inside, it seemed like a safe haven, an invisible bubble protecting them from the danger. But still, no one liked not knowing what it was, helpless, useless, just waiting.

And then it all went quiet. Lights flashed and returned and people sighed in relief. After quite a while, some brave souls stepped tentatively outside, and received no reply. But everything was in need of desperate repair. Trees had been torn down and flowerbeds ripped up and almost nothing looked how it was before. So everyone just went inside and relaxed as if nothing had happened (not the children though). But in everyone’s mind, the scene was replaying over and over in their heads, and they were still immensely worried. It just didn’t seem right. Nothing did.

The next morning was cold and dreary, the sun trying to peek through its hiding place, the dew on the grass didn’t even sparkle, it just sat there, evaporating into the freezing air. Everything was still how it was before; impossible. As the morning went on, adults started to go out, their eyelids drooping from lack of sleep, and tried their very best to fix the major problems. If you went out onto the streets, then you would find everything blocked up. So all of the grown-ups and older children went out and started to clear up. It was a seemingly endless job, and they worked far into the night, when a cold drizzle destroyed their determination and they all went to bed.

They woke up, sighing at the prospect at another day of cleaning and clearing, but then they saw sunshine smiling up in the fresh sky, with pink and red tinted clouds. This time the dew sparkled in the reflection of the sun, almost a pinkish colour. This cheered them up greatly, so they went out closing their eyes, waiting for the warmth to shine on them again. They opened their eyes and a miracle lay in front of their eyes. The mess that had sat there the day before was gone, in a flash, overnight. So then they just carried on their normal routines smiling in great delight.

But then the next rumble came, even worse than before. It lasted for days and nights and when it did finally stop, the sky didn’t clear like it had before for many months. The police puzzled over it for so long that their brains simply wouldn’t obey them. It was a complete and utter mystery that lay in front of them, the answer just under their noses. But no one found it. Not for many months until the sun finally came out. With this, the grass grew again and flowers bloomed, farmers had harvests like never before. So with that, no one cared about the answer, they just enjoyed the life that they had been bestowed upon.

But then, a clue was given to someone. A box, under their pillow, all done up in patterns of red and pink and yellow flowers on top of a dark mahogany wood. The person who found this was only 8, a tall boy called Arthur, with deep brown strands of hair straying across his head and bright blue eyes. He opened the box and found an envelope, in a gold ribbon, with an emblem printed on the back saying: Stranger of the World, a tiger curled around the word world, baring its teeth. He opened it up and read the elegant cursive writing.

Dear Stranger of the World,
I would like to inform you of the terrible happenings that have befallen this place. That was me. You humans have an air about you, so smug and clever, so I had to punish you. If you want to know anything about this, then you must come to us, and solve the mystery. Meet us at 2:00am and don’t be late. The fate of the world depends on it.
From Tylo, Planet Anon
P.S. We will not destroy you, we will just make you do well… stuff for us. It will stop after about a couple of years perhaps.

Arthur pondered over what he should do, and he eventually decided to meet them. So when it was 1:30, he tiptoed away from his house and got some supplies. He took his phone, some food and water, clothes and lots of other unnecessary stuff. He went out of his house and waited. A car drove by and he sighed. When would they come? Then the car door slid open and a short, dark-haired human strode out.
“He came”. It said, “I am Tylo, from the planet of Bina.”
Arthur had to hide his laughter. Bina? “Hello, I am Arthur. What is going on, may I ask?”
“This is.”
He felt an arm brush against his as he fell, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. A hand grabbed hold of his and he was pulled down. Remember he was only 8, so he was being quite brave.
“This little kid? He’s the boy?Ha!” he heard a low voice say scornfully.
He finally came back to his senses and opened his eyes. Around him it was daytime, some sort of red and white ball spreading light everywhere. The sky was purple and the ground was red.
“What?”
“Do not worry, we will take care of you…”
Then Arthur fell into a dream, a trick, an illusion, and woke up back home with no memory of anything.


Weekly part 3, also critique for Sunclaw68

Weekly Part 3
Critique on Sunclaw68
Good stuff:
Your song is amazing and I love the use of Shakespeare’s style. It is very descriptive and has lots of impressive words. The fact that you even bothered to write such a song is incredible, because I would probably give up the moment I started if I were given that job. Your skill with this is obvious and I applaud you on that, since out of all writing stuff, that is probably the thing that I would find the hardest, especially in that style. I love how you break off at points and how you use the word ‘mother’ a lot, which shows good repetition. I love the last verse the best, as it has so much description and the way it ends. There is so much more that I want to say that is good, but that would probably be far to much to read, and I don’t want to torture you. There is one word that I think fits the description of this perfectly: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

(not so) bad stuff (this was the hardest part):
You have an amazing talent at this but I think that you need to use capital letters a bit more. This would help to show where the verses start and end and would also make it look neater. There should also be capitals on the word ‘I’ (i know that we don’t really do this on Scratch, but it would make it look nicer). It makes sense and it is clear by the way and only some of the rhythms are a bit funny, a bit like the third and fourth line on the last verse, but other than that, it is amazing and if I wrote that then I would be extremely proud.

Weekly

Weekly Part 1
Silvi’s Workshop on Blurbs
684 words
Welcome to Silvi’s workshop on blurbs. This will tell you how to make blurbs attention-catching, but not too overboard (thanks to Aquxii- - for this idea).
Blurbs are what tell you the main plot of the story, but they don’t give you too much information. They are quite short usually, and mysterious. They are on the back of almost every book. They should be slightly teasing to the reader, giving you a basic idea of the start of the story, but not from the middle and end, that would spoil the story too much.

Examples:
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: (thanks to J.K Rowling for this book)
Harry Potter thinks he is an ordinary boy-until he is rescued by a beetle-eyed giant of a man, enrols at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, learns to play Quidditch and does battle in a deadly duel. The Reason: Harry Potter is a wizard!

This blurb has a slight joke at the end, and is quite simple. It gives you a simple idea of what the book is based on and something that the main character does. The blurb doesn’t tell you much about the story, so that it tempts the reader and makes them want to find out what happens later in the book. This is the first book in the series and often the first books have the most mysterious blurbs; the books later have less mystery in them. This blurb is also quite short, which gives it more tension. This will also draw the reader in like the mystery in it.

The Tale of Troy: (thanks to Roger Lancelyn Green for this book)
Step back in time to the battles and sieges of ancient Greece when the beautiful Helen of Sparta is abducted by Paris, a prince of Troy, and the Greek fleet sets sail to seek their vengeance on them.
And after a decade of war, we join Odysseus, the last of the heroes, on his thrilling adventures as he makes the long journey home to Greece.
This, like the last one, tells you about the main theme of the book, but doesn’t tell you much. It has no detail and is quite short, giving nothing away to create a sense of mystery, which will pull readers in. There is no information about the actual battle, just a simple explanation of what it is about.

To make a short and snappy blurb like these, that pulls the readers in, first you will need an actual story. Let’s say it was about an adventure through some mountains on a hot air balloon. You will need your characters' names and have to vaguely introduce them. If they were called Tom and Lucy, then you would say a tiny bit about them and how they come to be together. You will have to say where they live too.
For example:
Tom and Lucy live in a small village in Norway. They seem normal at first, but Tom comes from a country far away and Lucy is the secret daughter of the President of America.

This will give away a little bit of interesting information that will make the reader want to find out more. Next, you will need to present the problem. This should only take up one sentence and should be something like this:
But when their friends mysteriously disappear, Tom and Lucy have to go on an incredible adventure to find them.
This will only tell you a tiny bit and has an air of wonder about it. The next bit can say something that they do along the way.
They make some wonderful and amazing friends along the way.
Or:
They find some astonishing secrets on their journey and love every moment.
The final bit is optional, but can make it slightly more interesting.
But will they find them or just become prisoners themselves?
This last part ends on a question mark, which will make it more exciting and mystical.

I hope you enjoyed this workshop and it helped you, I hope you have a great session! Bye!

Weekly Part 2 -
Thanks to Lizard-breath for the workshop on character depth
Lucy heard her mother’s voice in her head. ‘Go on Lucy, if you believe in it then you can do it’ that was what she always used to say. So she carried on, urging her feet to carry her to where her mission would end. But Lucy almost felt like giving up. All she had done was walk for the past few days and she was so exhausted and fed up with everything. It was unlike any of the adventure courses that she had done before. But she had to carry on. She knew it. For her family. For her friends.

Lucy was a girl of 10 years old. Her parents had abandoned her here, in cold, snowy Norway, whilst they went away to the sunny, shimmering beaches of the Caribbean and had parties in their little boat by clear, blue waters in the sunset, the sky lit with streaks of red and orange and pink. She had a strange longing to know them better, but also felt betrayed and wanted to get back at them. They had ruined a whole promising life that lay ahead of her and now she was here.
Let’s start from the beginning. Lucy was living with her aunt and grandmother. She dearly loved her grandmother, who had always understood her and tried to make her feel welcome, but her aunt was the opposite. She was mean and spiteful, with a slightly violent streak in her nature. Lucy herself had inherited that, but not in the same way. She felt that she had to take revenge, but she didn’t actually want to do them any harm, and she thought about other people’s feelings.

All was normal and boring in their snowy, bleak landscape and Lucy felt a feeling that something was going to happen. That night, a storm shook the homes of Norway and ripped up the twisting trees from the ground. Lucy waited for it to stop.
The next day at school ,her friends were missing. Lulu and Fii. Again, the next day. Snd again and again and again. Their parents were on holiday (Lulu and Fii were twins) and came back to find their children gone. They put up posters and searched frantically, but they couldn’t find any information about their disappearance. Lucy wished that her parents were here to worry about her, even when she did something as small as grazing her knee. Eventually, the police were called in. They flew in a hot air balloon, in great red and white stripes and landed right next to her school. They seemed to dismiss it as if nothing had happened. This angered Lucy to her heart, and she felt the familiar tug of revenge in her chest. This gave her an idea.

When all was dark and silent, Lucy wrote a note to her Grandmother, and slipped off through the boughs of the immense, ancient trees. She crept up to the air balloon and scrambled inside.
“Psst!”
Lucy jumped.
“What are you doing?”
“Who are you?” Lucy asked hesitantly.
“I’m Tom from school. I wanna come with you. To the… wherever you’re going”.
“Fine.” Lucy whispered grumpily. Tom had been nice to her when Lulu and Fii disappeared, so she guessed he could come.
They soon found themselves soaring over the frozen rivers and lakes, over the trees that touched the moon.
Tom was a boy with a scornful tongue, but was very thoughtful. He was quite sarcastic too. The cloudy night sky bled into the Norwegian red and amber dawn. Lucy was sleeping peacefully when she heard a crash and a vroom.
“The fuel!”
Struggling, Tom and Lucy tried their best to keep the engine going, but there was nothing they could do. The peaks of some mountains emerged into view.
“That’s where we’re going.” said Tom, his eyes widening in awe.
Lucy sighed. Her parents were never there for her. Those mountains would now be her grave and if her parents were here, then maybe she wouldn’t be doing this. Her hands clenched in fury. Her eyes went hot and tingly. No! Eh wouldn’t cry. She never did.
Lost deep in her thoughts, Lucy only just realised that they were about to crash. The peak of the jagged mountain came closer and closer…
Lucy tumbled through the air and clung onto the rope and watched as the balloon, with Tom, fell away beneath her.
To be continued…




Weekly Part 3
Critique on Sunclaw68
Good stuff:
Your song is amazing and I love the use of Shakespeare’s style. It is very descriptive and has lots of impressive words. The fact that you even bothered to write such a song is incredible, because I would probably give up the moment I started if I were given that job. Your skill with this is obvious and I applaud you on that, since out of all writing stuff, that is probably the thing that I would find the hardest, especially in that style. I love how you break off at points and how you use the word ‘mother’ a lot, which shows good repetition. I love the last verse the best, as it has so much description and the way it ends. There is so much more that I want to say that is good, but that would probably be far to much to read, and I don’t want to torture you. There is one word that I think fits the description of this perfectly: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

(not so) bad stuff (this was the hardest part):
You have an amazing talent at this but I think that you need to use capital letters a bit more. This would help to show where the verses start and end and would also make it look neater. There should also be capitals on the word ‘I’ (i know that we don’t really do this on Scratch, but it would make it look nicer). It makes sense and it is clear by the way and only some of the rhythms are a bit funny, a bit like the third and fourth line on the last verse, but other than that, it is amazing and if I wrote that then I would be extremely proud.


Daily 13
A posh Victorian lady strode through the cobbled streets with a smile on her face. I watched her suspiciously. She had been around everywhere, said she was a traveller from afar. This lady seemed to be hiding something. And I wanted to find out what.
“G’morning m’lady,” I greeted her politely. “May I be of assistance?”
She replied primly,”Why do you ask?”
“Well, I thought that you looked a little lost, madam…”
“I have seen you around a lot, watching me.” she spoke dreamily.
“Well, I am interested when new people come to town.”
“My name is Gertrude Mesime, and you are…”
“Thomas Peritide, m’lady.”
“Well, I am sure we shall be seeing a lot more of each other, Thomas. Good day.”
And with that, she left me on my own, staring after her in confusion. My mind was in even more of a mess now.
I wandered back through the uneven cobbles of Queen Victoria, and went back to my rickety old shed next to the factory where I worked. It was now late at night, and the stars twinkled happily in the moonlit sky. I went to my bed and sank into the world of sleep.

I woke up with a start. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows and I yawned. The hum of early morning tumbled into my room as I opened the windows. Birds chirped, high in the flimsy trees, newspaper boys yelled and bicycles-
Hang on! The newspaper boys. They were almost never here this early unless it was really big news. What was it then?
“Miss Mesime is looking for an assistant! Her great travelling experience! Nothing like it! Sign up quickly!” people shouted and hollered in the streets below and desperately shoved, trying to get to the list. I changed quickly and raced outside. I looked at the doorstep for the post. A single rose lay there. Love. A letter was beside me and I ripped it open.
Please accept my offer, G.M.
This is what I had wanted, wasn’t it, to find out about her. So I quickly tripped to the lines for signing the list.
“Oy! I was there first!” a man with a hat adorned with amaranth, the sign of immortality looked up. Rude!
Everything suddenly went silent. Gertrude was here. She slipped next to me in the line and put something in my hand. Then she said,”People, form a line, I will look at all of your names and interview you all, if that will please you. But please, no need for all of this fuss. Then she tottered away. I quickly signed my name and went back to my house. I would miss work today. Say that I was at a funeral or something. I looked in my hand. A pansy-you occupy my thoughts. In what way though? She was strange, this lady. Mysterious. Something fishy was going on. I tip-toed (i dunno why) up to my room and found something on my bed. A note.

Dear Thomas,
I hope that you know my feelings for you, and I would like to meet you tonight, at midnight , by your house. We can run away together, and live in peace, remember, snowdrops, snowdrops,
Gertrude.
Snowdrops meant hope. Now it all made sense. She was in love with me. It was all too tempting. A tingle rushed down me, warming me down to my toes.

When the streets were silent and the sky was dark, I left my house. My wristwatch said 11:59. I stepped forward tentatively. A twig snapped.
“Thomas! My love!”
She ran towards me and enveloped me in a big hug. Gertrude pulled a sack out from seemingly nowhere.
“Goodbye, I love you…”
And she pulled the sack over my head, and my vision went black.

Daily 14th July
711 words
I was striding along the cheerfully lit streets of London, looking at the moon that hung in the starlit sky above me and I felt a glowing smile spreading across my face. I was lost in my daydreams, barely aware of my surroundings, and then suddenly.. SNAP! The lights had gone out. Everything was dark. Only the faint rays of sunlight lit my path. It was lucky that I was so close to my home, just ahead of me, with the shimmer of a candle floating around. It must have been a power cut. But I felt despair.

Suddenly, my head snapped around and I saw the crusty mud that was by the river thames. My feet started walking towards it and I felt the strange desire to swim in it. It was all just so tempting… One of my friends wandered past with a puzzled look on their face.
“Hey! Lucas, get down on your knees. It will all make sense,” I told him confidently. But… I hadn’t meant to say that. The words just floated out of my mouth in a hurry.
Lucas stared at me and I felt a hot tingle rush across my cheeks. “I don’t know what came over me! Lucas, I’m so sorry.”
Lucas just carried on, looking more confused than ever. I sighed in a mixture of confusion and depression. Things really weren’t going my way today.

The next morning dawned bright and early. There was a blend of colours across the sky, pink, lilac, blue, orange. I got down to breakfast, hastily ate it and went to my grandfather’s house. He had recently lost his voice and I wanted to check up on him.
I entered the house and heard a loud voice echoing through the hallway.
“Grandfather! Your voice is better!”
He sang,”Those who lose their voice must sing until they are well ,son.”
Okay, well I just wanted to see you. Sorry if I was a bit anonymous earlier, it is just I have no ability to not do it, really.”
I left his house and sang and partied with my friends from university. It was wonderful and happy and me and Lucas laughed over what I had told him the night before.
A thunderous roar silenced the dimly lit room. A lion strutted in on its velvety paws and we gasped.
“Your place is there.” it pointed to a wall that was for some reason open. Then it went out and my mouth hung open like a lunatic. The wall closed itself and everything seemed vague and faraway.

After that, the papers said that the world had finally been rebuilt, which was a relief, amongst all of the strange, strange happenings. I decided to see Grandfather again and see if he was still singing.
“I will take you home, back home,” he croaked.
“What?” My home was in Australia, and my parents still lived there.
“Yes, son, the song of the sea may try to stop you, so you must fight against it with all your might.”
“Which sea…” but he had already gone.
That night, I felt like a balloon that had been blown up and pricked with a needle and deflated, a million times over.
The phone rang in my ear from downstairs. But I had put it on silent!
My grandmother’s voice came through.
“Michael, your grandfather wants you, he’s in hospital.”
“Hospital!”
“Yes.”
I hung up and raced to the hospital.
Everything seemed like a blur after that. I remember the words “There is no time in treatment. It may be part of the disease.”
For some reason, I decided to get in my little yacht and sail to Australia. This was a stupid idea, but I just did it. I decided that I was having a mid-life crisis.

Grandfather had been right. The song of the sea fought against, with indescribable ferocity. Its tumbling waves climbed up and down and rain hammered down on the sails, all the while a song repeating itself.
“The sea, it rises, it falls, but it never stops, you, you, must stop…”
I made some comparisons with the times that I had done things like this before (yes, I had) and I decided to go home.

Daily 15th July
(This is bad)

Act 1, Scene 1
Campers scuffle for seats, whispering excitedly in the large hall.

Cae (tragedy cabin leader): Settle down, Scratchers, today, there is an important announcement to make.

Alia (hi-fi’s cabin leader): Today is cabin wars!

(Campers talk loudly and shuffle their feet.)

Camper 1(looking around confusedly): What is cabin wars?

Cae (chewing her pen): Cabin wars are when the cabins set each other challenges. For example, one might give your cabin a challenge to write 1000 words in the next three hours. You can find more information in your cabin. (Cae sets down her pen that she had been chewing)

Camper 2: Where are all of the other cabin leaders?
Alia: They are all too busy with their writing and setting up stuff for their cabin, so it’s just us. Still, I’m sure you don’t mind having us two annoying bossy-boots telling us what to do!
(A light ripple of laughter spreads through the hall).

Cae: Now, I am sure you will have lots of writing to do, so, off you go! (She grins in anticipation).

Alia: I can’t wait! I'm gonna set you soooo many wars!
Cae: Same!
(they walk off to their own cabins).

Cae (cheerfully): Hi Sofi!
Sofi: Hilloooooo
Cae:Our shield is going to be down at 9:47, so be ready!
(Cae and Sofi chat until their alarm goes off. Cae jumps in surprise)
Sofi (laughingly): Careful!
Cae (grinning): Let’s wait until we get a war. For now, we’ll just write a bit.
Sofi:Ok.

Act 2, scene 2
(campers trudge to the fire noisily, it is the evening)
Alia: I hope you enjoyed today’s wars and now Cae is going to announce the places for the cabins.
Cae (smiling): First place is hi-fi with 6625 points. In second place is tragedy with 6525 points.
(Tragedy campers cheer)
Alia: We’ll announce the rest tomorrow, as we haven’t had time to count all of the points up yet.
Cae: Goodnight, campers!
(Everyone cheers and goes offstage).

Daily 18

The clock lay on the table, doing what clocks do. Ticking away, it was just normal, a boring day. An orange cap lay on top of it, and along with that, a pair of glasses sat there. They were a strange group, existing and not doing anything much.

But that was before the witch came. The witch was well known, and had a spell for giving normal objects the ability to move and a personality. She could even make them talk, at a stretch. So one day, she passed this lonely house, and saw the objects lying outside. She decided that they needed sprucing up a bit. So she chanted the spell:
‘ Objects before my dancing eyes,
From your slumber, you shall arise,
Talk, move, think, sleep,
Now awaken from your slumber, deep.’
So, once she chanted the spell, the three, unmoving objects blossomed into life. The dusky orange cap nodded its head a little, as if adjusting to its new nature. The clock beeped cheerfully, its buttons being pushed up and down, as if by an invisible force and the glasses blinked slowly with a quizzical look about it.
“Goodness! I feel amazing. I can breathe once more! Ah, the wonders of life!” the cap sighed.
The witch paused for a moment. “Once more?” she asked.
“Oh yes! There are lots of things you don’t know about me!” the cap snickered, “I’m Jerald.”
The clock chimed in,”I’m Billy the Beeper!”
“And I’m Molly!” the glasses squeaked.
Jerald looked around and waved its velcro strap. Molly sat down worriedly and Billy beeped urgently.
“I can sense an evil presence! We must go!”
So they hopped and skipped and jumped away, for many months, years, decades, through steep, treacherous mountains, through buzzing, colourful meadows, twining trees and finally little villages.
“The witch!” cried Billy. “She is near!”
They heard a rustling in the leaves and the witch emerged from the bushes in a great, billowing cloak.
“You have done well. But one of you is going to betray the others and you know who you are. So I warn you, whatever you do, try to rid yourself of this terrible fate. Or all your worst nightmares will be upon you and destroy you. Beware…”
Then, with a sweep of her dark cloak, she disappeared, and all that was left of her was a single hair, lying on the floor.

Billy woke with a start. He was back home, with Molly. But where was Jerald? He must have been the one that the witch had talked about. The one that betrayed them. He wasn’t surprised. Jerald had a secretive, spiteful nature, where Molly was shy and sweet.

He and Molly spent the rest of their lives searching for him, but he was never to be found. It was only on Molly’s dying day that he found out. And he felt so sorry about it. Jerald was in another world, another planet, imprisoned there with others like him. Together they were working for a way out, and would come back to destroy the witch. Jerald had been enchanted by the witch to be this way, and had had another life before this one, but he was so bad, that he was put into this one as an inanimate object, punished eternally, and could only become a human one way. The witch.

Daily 20

Cygnus felt bitter tears streaming down his face, in a torrent of sorrow and regret. Phaeton, his beloved, gone forever, lost in the underworld! His tears grew faster and faster and he kicked the air in despair. What was life going to be like, without Phaeton, glowing, happy child of the sun. He was the light that made him have happiness and see everything good in life. Without him, there was no point in life, no purpose, just death.

Phaeton was Cygnus’ closest, most wonderful friend, like a brother, a twin. He was the son of Helios, god of the sun, and, although he was mortal, he glowed with a light so bright and happy.
They had been racing across the sky, laughing and smiling, when they felt a fierce heat burning at their feet. The flames licked up ever closer, the chariots blackening like charcoal, until there was nothing left of them, and they fell to earth. They had been too close to the sun. Cygnus was lucky, he had survived, but Phaeton, not so. He had tumbled down into the swirling river, lying at the bottom, his dead body, and now Cygnus was having the worst, saddest, most terrible moment of his life.

He felt his feet carrying him to the river that Phaeton had perished in, the river Eridanus. Its waters whirled menacingly, as if trying to stop him, to push him back. He dived in, his eyes flaming in anger of what had happened. He would get him back, he had too! The water came ever closer and.. he was in. His cuts and bruises sting, but he barely noticed, as he dived deeper through the endless blue. Small silver fish darted past him, and crabs snapped their pincers.

Cygnus felt his lungs burning, and he knew that he couldn’t go much longer. Then he saw the body, and dived after it desperately, trying to reach it. But he knew that his air was running out. He raced up to the surface and gulped in air thankfully. But he hadn’t found Phaeton. He sobbed in distress and tried again and again, each time unsuccessful. It wasn’t any use.

Once again, the tears came. Hot and burning on his numb cheeks, they just made it all worse. His feathers swished sadly. Feathers? He didn’t have any… but there they were, long and pure and white. He looked at himself in the reflection of the pearly water. A swan! He was a swan!
“Go. Go get your friend, Cygnus. I changed you. Me, Zeus. but you can only live for a swan’s lifespan. Your friend will go to the afterlife, followed shortly by you. But go get your friend.”

So it had been Zeus! Cygnus never knew that the mighty king of the gods would let him have such an opportunity. He never knew that he would even consider it!

Cygnus dived down deep, so deep, until he saw the sandy bed of the river, dotted with little fish. He saw the body of his friend, and held his hand for so long, while his heart ached with sorrow. Finally, he sliced upwards elegantly, and collapsed on the grassy bank, his swishy tail glittering in the sunlight.

Then he gave Phaeton a real burial, a send on to the afterlife, where he would wander in confusion in the Field of Punishment or relax in the perfect, glowing environment of Elysium. But never the torture. He knew that.

He spent many nights grieving the death of his beloved friend, until finally, he died under the clear bright stars. He himself was to be amongst them.
Zeus was so impressed by Cygnus’ loyalty, that he gave him a gift of placing him in the stars. The image of a swan, elegant and beautiful. Just what Cygnus thought of Phaeton, his wonderful friend. There he still is now, up in the sky, looking down on earth in his starry form. The constellation known as Cygnus.
Weekly 3
2037 words in total
Part 1
Introduction

Setting- west London, large Victorian mansion amongst beggars and orphans. Lots of trees and undergrowth, separating the house from the noise outside of it.
Main characters- Emily, a rich Victorian girl, who is quite sad, and makes friends with the beggars, no siblings and quite lonely.
Tom- Poor beggar who was abandoned by his parents when he was five and makes friends with Emily.
Ellie- Emily’s maid, she accompanies her on her adventure and becomes very close to Emily.
Events- Emily’s parents go missing and the beggars whisper information to her.
Conflict
Kidnappers arrive in the night, watched by Emily, Tom and Ellie, and steal rich children and lots of treasure. Emily and her friends sneak onto a boat with the kidnappers, heading for India.
Climax
Ellie gets stolen and they find out that the people have guns. They just escape, almost being killed by the kidnappers and sneak to where they think Ellie is being taken. They discover their parents with Ellie and have to break out of the building, followed by the kidnappers.

Conclusion
They call the police and inform them of the kidnappers, when they are arrested. Tom gets to live with them and they let the beggars as well.


Part 2
Emily was a girl of eleven years old, who lived in Victorian London. Her parents were rich and she had a governess. Her mansion was well known around her part of the town. She loved her life, but sometimes felt bored or lonely. She had no siblings and her parents were always at parties with friends. When she was younger, she had made friends with the poor boys who lived on the streets, begging, their eyes wide in sadness and desperation. But her parents had found out, and now she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near them.

Recently, something had happened that changed all of this. Her parents had gone missing. Before this happened, they had been acting weirdly, like they were keeping something from her. She would play in the empty garden of soft, lush grass and bright, vibrant flowers, rain dripping down her long eyelashes or the glowing sun radiating down on her back. But her parents would never be there. Then one clear, dark summer’s evening, they had kissed her goodnight and when she woke up to the sunlight pouring into her room, gently touching the brown-green leaves, her maid came rushing up to her room, crying and sobbing, telling her the news.

To her surprise, Emily hadn’t felt much sadness or shock. They had been acting strangely and things like this often happened to rich people like her parents. Still, they were nice, kind people, who maybe just didn’t think that much about their daughter, but still cared deeply about her and would probably be very worried about her. She stroked her dog’s silky fur and wondered about what to do. Then she remembered a very important clue that had been bugging her for a long time. The boys on the street! They had been visiting her secretly, occasionally, warning her of what might happen, about how she must be careful. Especially that boy, what was his name? Tom! He seemed very anxious and was telling her about how it would happen, but never telling her what.

Tom was, as explained earlier, a street urchin. His mother was in France, living a rich life, with Tom’s stepfather. They had had one child since then, and loved her with all their hearts, but had abandoned him, at five years old, on the streets and told him that they no longer loved him. Tom’s heart had been broken since, and his loneliness and sorrow, made Emily’s heart ache with sadness for him. She had known him since she was three, and they used to play together, but not anymore. Tom had an unfortunate and unlucky life.

Part 3
She went to the hedge where she met the beggars, and found Tom there, as usual.
“Meet me here, 10:00. I think we need to talk…” Emily whispered urgently.
She went back to her house and waited for the day to pass. It seemed so long, the time trundled by reluctantly and Emily waited for bedtime. At last, it was 9:45, her bedtime, and Ellie (her maid) was taking her to bed. She waited for her to snap off the light and go off to her own bed, and then she tiptoed across the floor, got changed quickly and slipped downstairs. Her watch beeped at her, echoing strangely in the darkness of night.

Tom was waiting there, his brown, straggly hair waving in the light breeze and his dull blue eyes glinting in excitement. Emily self-consciously fiddled with her own dark plaits and thought that she must look a mess.
“Well, hello Tom. I need to ask you about what you know.”
“Good evening to you too, Emily. Why? Why do you want to know from me?” Tom whispered indignantly.
Emily replied, “You seem so anxious and afraid, more than the others and I don’t know what’s going on.
“All I know is that something terrible is going to happen tonight, and you need to be here…” his voice trailed off.
“We’ll have to lie in wait then!”
“What?”
A new voice piped in, “Emily’s right, we need to find out what’s going to happen.”
Ellie!
Emily asked, “How?”
“I’ll tell you later, but for now, we need to watch whatever’s going to happen.”
“Tom, where is this going to happen?”
“Everywhere, but they are going to come here, and that is where we will watch them. Here.”

So they lay in wait, under the scratchy canopy of bushes, spreading their legs out behind them. Time passed, and they grew close to giving up hope, when they heard a twig snap. They all looked at each other in adrenalin. Leaves crackled loudly and leather boots came into view.
“C’mon, we gotta go Roger. These kids won’t kidnap themselves!”
“Fine…”
Emily craned her neck and saw two men, both short, with light hair and long, unkempt beards. So they were kidnappers! That’s what must have happened to her parents. They were kidnapped!
“You go to the boat, Roger, with the valuables, whilst I will go to those children. We’re gonna be rich!”
“All right, Al.” said Roger.
They walked off, and the three looked at each other in astonishment. What a night it had been!

They snuck after the one called Al. He crept through the uneven streets, lit dimly by his torch until he reached the richest area. He climbed up the wall nimbly, with only the click of his torch being turned in the clear night, and slid indoors. He came out again with a protesting sack. It jumped and shouted and wobbled, but nothing would let it out. He did this several times, and then snuck off to the docks, where the moon reflected off the water eerily. He scrambled into a boat with the wriggling sacks and nodded at his colleague.
Emily sprinted towards the boat on impossibly quiet feet and went in.
“Em-”
“Shhhh! You’ll give us away!”
Ellie gave him a determined look and ran towards the boat too, swiftly followed by Tom, who was not so quiet. His footsteps echoed loudly across the tree-lined avenues.
“What!”
They looked up.
“Must have just been a fox or something,” Roger said, not noticing Tom behind a bushy tree.
Tom clambered in and they all waited with their knuckles clenched. A gentle rocking began, tipping them back and forth. They all held onto each other to keep upright and eventually heard the sound of waves slapping the side of the boat, blowing its sails wildly around. They were on their way.


Part 4
“C’mon, let’s go get some food.”
The rough voice cleared the air, sharp and clear. They looked at one another in horror. The tins of food were just at the bottom of their little section, clanging against one another in the choppy environment, as if they were scared. They tip-toed to a barrel next to them and hid behind it. Emily didn’t get there.
“Hey! You, what do you think you’re doin’?”
“Errr, sorry, I, um…”
“Look at her clothes, she be one of those rich ones. Take ‘er!”
They bundled Emily into a sack and she mumbled in terror. Tom and Ellie looked at one another in despair.
“Get me out!”
“Feisty, isn’t she!”
“Get me out!”
“Do you want to be shot?”
Emily went quiet. The two men left the room with hideous smiles plastered across their faces.
“We’ve got to get Emily back!” Tom whispered anxiously.
Ellie replied,” I know, but if we go out now, we won’t be helping her, we’ll just be with her too. We’ll follow them to wherever they’re taking her and then free her!”

A day later, the boat suddenly came to a halt.
“We’ve stopped!”
They heard the men get out and peeked around the cloth that was keeping them hidden. One of them had dusty brown hair which fell in thick strands across his forehead and the other had dark, oily hair, short and slick. They walked off into the bustling town, and Tom and Ellie climbed out.
For the rest of the day, they shadowed them, through dark alleyways and cheerful avenues. They stopped at a brassy gate, surrounded by electric wire. One of them pulled out a small phone and after a minute, the gates opened and the wire folded back.
“How are we gonna get past that?” Tom asked.
“We climb!” Ellie answered enthusiastically.
“How are we gonna climb that?”
“OK, maybe we'll go round the back and see if we can get in there.”
They went around the back, and found a hole in the ground, underneath a fence. They climbed through and heard voices yelling.
“We’re in France!”Tom said in astonishment.
“Yes, yes, that doesn’t matter right now.”
“The sound’s coming from over there.”
They headed for the grey block where the sound was coming from and tugged at the door.
“This is easy!” Tom said.
A siren wailed in their ears.
“Oh no…” Ellie sighed.
“Emily!”
“Tom!”
“Come with us!”
“My parents can come, they were put in here with me!”
“Well, come on!”
They sprinted outdoors towards the fence and heard gunshots behind them. The ground vibrated underneath their feet and an explosion ripped through the ground.
“They’re shooting!” gasped Emily.
A bullet tore through the ground in front of her. She screamed.
“Emily, come on!”
After what seemed an age, they reached the fence and ducked underneath it.
“Those people are lunatics!”
Part 5
“Let’s go to the police.”
So they wandered off blindly, without a clue where on earth they were.
At last, they saw someone, and Emily’s mother talked to them in French.
“Merci.”
“It’s over there.” she pointed to a small huddle of buildings next to a playpark.
They soon found themselves in a modern building, talking to one of the officers who spoke English.
“Thank you for telling me. I shall look further into this, and you can be assured that they will be arrested.”
“Thank you officer.”
They stayed in a cramped flat and got the ferry back to England.
The water sprayed onto the windows as they drank hot chocolates and ate biscuits. An awkward silence hung over them for the journey and it stayed until they got to the house.
“Where will I go now?” asked Tom.
“Live with us! The other beggars can too. I can’t believe that we brushed you away like that!” Emily’s mother exclaimed.
Soon all of the other children were crowding in their big living room by the fire, eating marshmallows and crumpets. Emily smiled. She was surprised that she felt like this, but she kind of was glad that this had happened. The beggars had a home, her parents took notice of her and everyone was happy.

The next day, they saw the newspapers, headlined with ‘The Kidnappers of London’.
Tom and Emily played on the small rope swing in the garden, laughing smiles on their faces as they played, happier than any child in the world.

Chia's writing thread

1st July
Daily: If I were an ice cream sundae, I would be… a large scoop of salted caramel ice cream (I have quite a few contradictory traits, and it's also my favourite flavour) on a waffle cone, with the inside lined with milk chocolate. Very excessively, the top would be covered with caramel sauce and cinnamon sauce and chocolate sprinkles and toffee pieces and nuts and so many other things (the catastrophic number of things I enjoy doing). In some situations, everything would completely spill out and you'd see every thing my sundae contains, and in some situations, the chaotic sundae would shrink back, watching from a distance. Finally, this ice cream-cone-sundae-thing would be at a beach, next to the ocean in summer because vibes!
+123 words

Current word total: 123 words

2nd July
Daily: Words: Candyfloss, arcade, popcorn, city lights, oil
It's probably 1am at this point.
The sky is clear with stars sprinkled across it like a soft, dark blanket. I pull my jacket close as a chilly wind tickles my nose. Giddy with sugar and excitement, I promise myself only a few more rides. How much candyfloss have I had? Well, I know I'm on my third bucket of popcorn…You see, I'm at a funfair because I won a ticket from a competition at school. I love the rides, and the snacks, and the shows, and arcades! My friend's older sister is waiting to pick me up, standing outside the fair; I probably need to hurry. A content sigh slips out of me as I glance at the dizzying contraption I just strapped myself into. Actually quite fun!
BUZZ!
The sounds of people screaming and game stalls dinging nearly drowns out the vibration of my phone, but not quite. 2 new messages, apparently. The first is from the woman waiting for me, Clara, and she sent me a selfie. The city lights twinkle in the background, making the gold accessories stitched into her leather jacket glow. She's leaning against her motorbike that she calls the Racer, painted a deep purple with slashes of black and gold. The photo is simply captioned: Still waiting!
After some internal debating, I decide to head to the arcade, then I'll leave. But before I start to walk, I notice the other message.
My heart stops.
An electric chill shoots from my chest all the way to my fingertips as I suck in a breath. I haven't even read the message, but I saw the number. The number I've seen three times now - three too many. The last time I responded led to the ugly red burn marks I still hide. Clara doesn't call hers ugly. But that's because she wasn't the one who started all of this.
Why now?
Why can't they just leave me alone?
Why… does it smell like petrol?
I'm snapped at of my inward worrying at pungent and almost sickly sweet smell of petrol fills the air, slamming into my senses. There's a lot of it. People are starting to stop and point as an employee gets out a walkee-talkee. But I've done this before, I know what happens. The only things that seem to exist are the overwhelming panic, deja vu and the large petrol puddle.
Then it happened.
Three lit matchsticks fly, glowing with pride and glamour. Or hate and destruction. Three lit matchsticks fly, but last time it was two. Three lit matchsticks fly, and it's the third time that they have won.
They make contact with the puddle and a fire bursts into life. It seems to crawl in slow motion across the petrol, before the whole thing erupts in flames. Only in seconds, they win again.
+477 words
Current word total: 600 words :0

Inactive days
Writing in offline days: 235+144+199+203+380+61 so +1222 there's prob more lol but oh well! New total: 600+1222=1822 words

11th July
Daily:
I get up, I get down and I'm jumping around
And the weeklies and word wars are comfortable now
Been a hell of a month but I think I should sleep at night
Sleep! Live! Write!

So I got Google Docs and got ready to go
Took quinoa out my fridge, inspiration: zero
Been a hell of a month but I'm thinking it's time to write
Sleep! Live! Write!
(Here we go)

So all computers on everybody
I feel that something's wrong with my story
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count
Sleep! Live! Write!

Got way too much to lie here forever
Too many words to try so whatever
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count
Sleep! Live! Write!

Feel like I'm gonna puke cus the weekly is due
Thought I knew lots of words guess I only know two
Been a hell of a month but I think I should sleep at night
Sleep! Live! Write!
(Tick tock tick)

And oh look it's midnight (look it's midnight)
Ooh de la de do
I should probably sleep right (probably sleep right)
Why are cabin wars now
A betrayal alright
Thought our siblings were nice, yeah
Thought our siblings were nice, yeah
Ready, set and
WRITE!

So all computers on everybody
I feel that something's wrong with my story
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count
Sleep! Live! Write!

Got way too much to lie here forever
Too many words to try so whatever
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count

Sleep! Live! Write! (Sleep! Live! Write! Write!)
Sleep! Live! Write!

So all computers on everybody
I feel that something's wrong with my story
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count
Sleep! Live! Write!

So all computers on everybody
I feel that something's wrong with my story
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count
Sleep! Live! Write!

Got way too much to lie here forever
Too many words to try so whatever
Come round (come round)
Let's go get that word count
Adventure! For the! Win!
+354 words

my ice cream introduction 1k challenge :>

If I were to be any ice cream sundae, I would imagine myself as a four scoop tall ice cream, with round fluffy bottom parts. The scoops would not be in perfect circles, because of the inconsistency in my scoopability, but I would still be tall. I would be placed majestically into a waffle cone, but I would be flipped upside down into a cup despite the additional twenty five cent charge. I would not come with a spoon, but I would be the type that you would have to walk back in in the store for later. You would not want to finish every drop because it was.. a lot, but you would want to save your money and make it worth it. I would have three to four toppings all jumbled together, with two or three clashing sauces. The kind of flavor combination people would go, “Ew. That sounds disgusting!” for. But even still, they would see me on the menu as “Daisy Challenge” and would decide to order me in promises that if they stuck with me and finished me, they would get me for free. The store manager will promise you that not many people have done it yet - most people quit halfway.
My bottom scoop would be rainbow ice cream. From the core, I would be a rainbow flavored vanilla. From the outside, I do lots of things. Soccer, skating, robotics, musical theater, and of course being a student. People are often shocked, because the activities appear to clash - I play two sports, but like to do robotics? I do robotics, but I do musical theater? However, if you take another look at the rainbow ice cream, all the colors complement each other. That is the way it is with my sports and activities. Even though they look like a mess and an eye strain from the outside, they all work together to form me and what I do, and what I enjoy. But all of this is just from the outside - if you look inside, at who I am, you will take a bite expecting five hundred flavors and get met with just one, plain one - vanilla. Because of the beauty outside, people choose to order me, but when they take a bite there’s only disappointment. Young children cling onto me because of my safe flavor, but when you grow up you’re done, and move on to more flavorful things.
My second scoop would be dairy free vanilla, with peanut butter swirls. The dairy free to accommodate people with allergies, but peanut butter being a common allergen. No dairy would represent my people's pleaser side. I want to do the best I can, and make life as easy as I possibly can for other people I meet, in everything I do. I do not want you to go the extra step for me because I do not want to be a burden. I do not want you to feel obligated to wait ten minutes to do something with me, and I would drop whatever I was doing to call you if you wanted to. I have been known to stay up much later than intended to continue talking, even if I had to wake up early the next morning. However, the peanut butter is swirled in there to represent the inconsistency. Despite my life goal being to make your life happy and to be easy, I stand up for what I believe in. I will not compromise my beliefs and values to make you happy. I pray before meals, and I stick with my other beliefs. So because of that, my dairy free, allergen free, vanilla ice cream is not polluted with peanut butter that makes it not quite safe for everyone to eat.
My third scoop would be something mildly more popular, such as cookies and cream. This flavor could represent two things, and the first is my work ethic. I love working, and would rather work than play. The feeling of working for five to six hours and getting paid for your time is something that can not be topped. People appreciate your work, even if they have to pay you. Because it’s needed. What would happen if nobody worked? The second thing it could represent would be the fact that my core is simple. It has no added flavors. This is because I will not hide myself or change myself for someone else. I strive to be as consistent as possible between my friends, teachers, and sports, because I do not want one person telling me I am sweet, and another person telling me that I am a jerk. Even though I have the same core flavor, I have oreos for added flavor. Even though I try to remain the same through and through, the more you get to know me - or the more you eat - the more of me you’ll find. The oreos encourage you to continue eating, and hold you on the edge, because you do not want to miss a bigger chunk of oreo. You do not want to miss another part of me (I hope.)
My fourth flavor would be cake batter. This is to represent the small doses in which you can ingest me in. Despite consistency among friend groups, I am consistently a lot. I talk a lot, and while I am loyal and will not leave you, it is hard to stand more than just a bit of me. It is confusing, because you like me individually - you like what I am made up of. Just as you love cake, and you love ice cream, but as soon as the two mix you are stuck and disgusted. But you are curious. You are always left wondering whether or not you want more, but still you find yourself thrown out into the trash can. Ultimately, nobody wants to eat soggy cake mixed with chemical tasting flavors, and ice cream that somehow overwhelms the chemicals, but the chemicals that overwhelm the ice cream. But still, whenever you see me on the menu the curiosity gets the better of you. And despite the terrible taste, the memory of cake batter will not leave you for as long as you live, but you will never ever want to try the flavor again. However, the sprinkles will always and forever keep you coming back. It is almost as if it heals your inner child.
The cone that I am placed in is large, with rumples. It is perfect from the outside. There is no chunk missing, or a crack. The ice cream parlor workers use me as a picture-perfect item on the menu. They have pictures of my plastered all over the wall. I do not want anyone to see my errors or flaws from the outside, and I will hide everything from my friends and family until I have exhausted every other possibility and excuse. I do not want to make people feel inclined to solve my problems for me. At the bottom of the ice cream cone, you will find chocolate fudge going just far enough up to taste good. This is because if you keep digging, I will open up. If you remain genuinely interested in me, then you will find out about my imperfections and struggles. For some people, I get a little too safe to fast (please, for heaven’s sake, do not eat the cone before you finish the ice cream, toppings, and sauces), but for most it takes lots of time. Not everyone reaches the bottom of the cone, and for most I remain impartial without any trace of struggles.
You have dealt with the four flavors, and the cone, so now you can move on to the toppings. These are what make me unique - more than rainbow vanilla ice cream, dairy free vanilla with peanut butter swirls, cookies and cream, and cake batter. It is the toppings that make me something that you can not just think of on your own. They are my own little quirks, just like toppings on ice cream make the ice cream flavor completely customizable.
My first topping is cotton candy pieces. These are simply to add extra flavors, and represent the obsessions I go through. Cotton candy melts quickly in your mouth, and my obsessions fade quickly into thin air. Even when you think you have finished all of your cotton candy pieces, there are always more. That is the way it works with my hobbies as well. You will have thought you could have tried every single possible thing, such as friendship bracelets, baking, writing, drawing, rings, or painting, but there will always be something else to try and you will never quite exhaust your list of possible options.
My second topping is malt balls. These things are hard as rocks, and if they were not crushed you would not be able to eat them and get into it. These represent my unwillingness to cry or show any emotion to anybody, until I am thoroughly crushed to the bits. As stated before, I will not show people my struggles and imperfections. I will not show them that I have any emotion other than happy and excited. The tears will not get through the malt balls unless absolutely crushed to the bits, and that is perfectly okay because they taste good.
My third topping is gummy bears. These are incredibly sweet, and whenever you take a bite you have to pause and wait just a second to see what flavor it is and how sweet it is. The gummy bears represent my love to give gifts. They are proof that despite the chaos, I can be pure sugar. I want to give you time and energy and I will not forget if you told me you like something (correction: I have a bad memory so I will 100% forget, but my notes app forgets nothing.) Gummy bears are hard to chew and last a long time, so I will stick with you for a long time.
My last and final topping is some kind of cereal - that can be up to your choosing, but the cereal is a demonstration on how unpredictable I can be. Each cereal piece has a different flavor, and just like that I can not be conformed into one mold. I have lots of pieces that make up me, but so does everyone else. Each person has lots of different things that make them unique, and that is perfectly okay. The cereal is up to your own choosing because there is some flexibility in me, as well. I will match my mood to your mood sometimes, or be like a supplementary angle.
You have gone past the toppings and have now reached the sauces. They are the final piece of the sundae, but arguably what makes you the most unique. My first sauce is cherry sauce. It is tangy, but sweet. I will stick up for my friends under any circumstances. Sweet to them, and tangy to people who hurt them. The second sauce happens to be hot fudge. It is gooey, and chocolatey. It is a nice contrast to any other part of the ice cream sundae that we have explored so far, but it melts in your mouth and leaves a nice taste - just as I hope to leave a nice longing taste with you.
My sundae is complex, and a lot, but they are what makes up me. Everybody has a little contrast in them too, and everyone has a sundae a mile high with tons of little quirks. Just like I am more than rainbow, dairy free vanilla with peanut butter swirls, cookies and cream, and cake batter, you are more than whatever flavor you arrange yourself with. Each person is complex and unique, and you are unable to fit into one category. It is okay if your ice cream contrasts, or is a mess, because we are all a mess frequently.

+ 2008 words


- writing exercise, i wrote two scenes but this is the only one i can provide proof for bc of the nature of the other one LOLL anyway i haven't written in like a solid 6 months so this is bad ahahah anyway +626 words


There is nothing, nothing, that could have prepared me for Biology class. I was listening to Mr. Meldork talk about the mitochondria or whatever, when the loudspeaker cackles.

“Emery Lintel, please report to the office. Emery Lintel.”

I’ve never been to the Principal’s office before, so I’m mildly terrified. I accidentally threw someone’s pencil case, but this is high school - I wouldn’t get sent to the office for that, right? Nobody even saw it.

26 pairs of eyes follow me as I leave the room. I don’t wait for anything or anyone to dismiss me. I just walk. I try to think about the best case scenarios, but I can not think of any.

In the stories, everyone talks about how the walk to the Principal’s office seems to take forever, but I actually think this went by relatively quickly. I don’t have time to think about anything.
I knock on the door.

“Come in.”

I expected it to be just me and Mr. Mellor, but instead Elle’s dad sits in one of the chairs. He isn’t crying, but my mom and dad are in the corner and my mom is practically in hysterics. My eyes glaze around the room, and my lip trembles.

“Sit down.” I don’t remember hearing the words, but I obey, so I guess they were there. “We have something for you.”

This isn’t about the pencil case.

Elle’s dad holds out a paper and I take it, I don’t want to look down. I don’t want to read it. Now the story matches up with what I hear in the books all the time. I can’t force myself to look down, but my dad puts his arm on my shoulder. Read it, I can almost feel him say. We don’t have all day.

I open it and I see three lines. My eyes glaze over the note, but I see “not your fault” and “love” and I’m in hysterics. My feet give out from under me, and I scream. I can’t see out of my eyes, but it’s not as if I want to see the principal or my parents, or heaven forbid Elle’s dad. I lay on the ground for I don’t even know how long before I can force myself to get up.

But even though I’m up, doesn’t mean I’ll stay.

My mind doesn’t get a say in the matter. My feet start running. My eyes burn, and my feet hurt because of the flip flops. But I keep running. There’s a teacher in the hallways who tries to stop me and ask for a hall pass, but I don’t stop. I don’t stop running until I’m far away. Cars are honking at me in the parking lot, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it out alive.

It can’t be true. I don’t believe it.

Soft, willowy grass finally touches my feet and I can kick off my shoes. I let myself fall to the ground, and I can’t hear my voice. Nor the echo, but I’m sure they came out. Birds flew away. I’m clutching Elle’s paper in my hands, but it’s torn in my hands because it’s wet.

My hands reach for my hair and I pull, hard, and harder. I want to feel it in my arms. I ruined the only thing. I didn’t even read it. I don’t know where she is. She has to be alive. She is alive. She can’t be dead, because I didn’t read the note. If I read it then she would be dead, but I didn’t so she’s alive.

My fingers cling onto my arm and I’m just now realizing that I’m struggling to breathe. I have to breathe. There are no other options.

=

ryann's writing thread!

july 1st intro (1016 words)
Hello and since we've probably never met before (except Starr, hey I see you have a cookie *gives cookie*), it's very nice to meet you! I'm Ryann or Bright (she/her) — feel free to take your pick. I personally like Ryann a bit more, especially because it originated from one of my favorite book character's name, Ryan, and it has great nickname potential, but Bright I keep for nostalgic reasons, so I’m quite fond of it too. This is my first time doing the 1K+ introduction challenge and so far it seems to be going … okay? I mostly just plan to ramble a lot about a lot of different things, so we shall see how that goes!

I am an INFP — or was? I recently took the test again and got INFJ, and I’ve also gotten ISFJ and ISFP on other sites, so I’m having a bit of a MBTI crisis, haha. Leaning towards INFJ-dom though, I think — and a 2w3 (this one I have no doubt about, yay). I feel like those two together actually sum me up pretty well?

Usually I’m quite busy with school, although these days I’m a lot less academic centered than I once was, especially since I just graduated from high school. This summer I’m working as a teaching assistant for an English class program — it’s not as sophisticated as it sounds; the class is just about basic grammar, but I’m having fun! I still have a fair amount of time though, which I spend talking to a certain vampire, binging various shows (right now I’m almost finished with Never Have I Ever), reading (current book is The Three Body Problem by Liu Cixin! I’m reading the original Chinese version first, and then the English translation), listening to music, crocheting (recently learned how, and I’m still kind of struggling, but I’ve made a few small pigs which has been very fun), and trying to write (emphasis on the trying, hopefully SWC will help?). Occasionally I play the piano or do a bit of drawing but that’s only when I’m feeling motivated which is not very often, sadly.

Speaking of stuff I like, enjoy a list of my various favorite things! My favorite color is either green or blue or purple (can you tell I’m very indecisive), my favorite show is either Gilmore Girls, The Owl House, or Vincenzo (very different but they’re all so comforting to me — even Vincenzo, in a very weird way), my favorite song is either Fool for Love by Lord Huron or Turning Out by AJR (I wonder when I’ll be able to decide on a single favorite thing), my favorite season is autumn (ooh, there it is!), my favorite book is, as silly as this is, probably one of the Elephant and Piggy books. I read them a lot when I was a child, they’re super comforting to me, and I just really like pigs and elephants, I guess. And on that note, my favorite animal are pigs! Unusual answer probably, but I find them super adorable, and I have way too many pig-related things because all my birthday presents from friends are pig themed. My favorite flower is a daisy, my favorite food is cheesecake, my favorite fruit is apples (sorry mangoes and the entirety of SWC, but you’re very cool too <3), my favorite subject is either math or physics or chemistry (I can never decide), my favorite drink is, as lame as this sounds, water, my favorite number is 13, my favorite emoji is pleading cat (one of the best things in this world I swear, if you’ve never seen one, go google it right now), and seeing as this sentence is getting way too long and favorite is starting to not look like a word, maybe I’ll wrap this up, haha.

I mentioned my favorite song in the previous paragraph, but those two are definitely not enough to cover my music taste, so I shall talk more about that here! I am an avid Swiftie (so excited for July 7th!!!) as you might be able to tell from my forum signature! Other bands and singers I really like are AJR, Sleeping At Last, One Direction, Dodie, Coldplay, and various Chinese singers. If you’re reading this, you should go listen to Sweet but Psycho because it’s my recent song obsession and it reminds me of Hong Cha Young, my favorite character from Vincenzo who is an absolute jaying queen.

I’ve been participating in SWC for a while as either a camper or a leader, but I’m determined to make this session my best one yet, especially as I’ll have tons of time to be online and write! Super excited to be a sci-fi padawan, even though I’ve never watched Star Wars (except for a few episodes of Andor), haha. It might also be my last session, since next year I’ll be in university and probably super busy with homework, especially since the university I’m going to is known for being extremely stressful. Nevertheless, I’m pretty excited for the experience!

Last but certainly not least in this very long, very ramble-y self-introduction: as some of you may know, I am a very dead ghost, honors of the one and only Evil Vampire Starr. The story? Last year around this time, I was in the middle of watching Stranger Things (which … I actually still am. I’m only on season 2, oops — I swear I’ll watch) and the suspense of watching the characters go into dangerous situations led me to google spoilers about if certain characters died or not. Past (alive) me made the mistake of telling this to Sith Starrsy, and like the dictator and tyrant she is, she immediately ghosted me, and I became a very dead, transparent, and floating being. Being a ghost does come with its perks though; I get to fly through walls and steal cookies and donuts from unsuspecting penguins, 10/10 would recommend.

And now that you know the most important thing about me, it’s time for this huge ramble to end! Hope you enjoyed reading this <3

✎ intro

hello, i’m peggy, and welcome to my writing thread for the july 2023 session of swc! this is my master post for this session, click on the blue links on each of the days to view my writing for each activity <3 please note that i won’t be completing many dailies or weeklies this session, since i will be focusing on my novel instead ^^

✎ dailies

» day 1 (introduction day)
» day 2
» day 3 (no points)
» day 4
» day 5
» day 6
» day 7
» day 8
» day 9
» day 10
» day 11
» day 12
» day 13
» day 14
» day 15
» day 16
» day 17
» day 18
» day 19
» day 20
» day 21
» day 22
» day 23
» day 24
» day 25
» day 26
» day 27
» day 28
» day 29
» day 30
» day 31

✎ weeklies

» week 1
» week 2
» week 3
» week 4

✎ miscellaneous

n/a

Ello! I’m Clove and I used she/they pronouns! I’m in a ton of fandoms, like HP, wc, st, toh, marvel, across the spider verse stuff, and much more! I’m a huge swiftie, Harry styles, lizzo, Queen, and Abba fan! I’m open to chat whenever you want, but please do not critique my work with out me asking you too!
Bye for now!

Dailies
1. If I were an ice cream flavor, I would most definitely be mango. At first, mango ice cream seems too different, and weird. But, taking a chance will have just changed how you thought. Mango is really a cool flavor, and easy to love! Sure, the flavor feels a bit different, sweet and sour at the same time, but it’s actually fun, because you’ll never know what you’ll get! On top of the ice cream, would be fun colored sprinkles! They’re creative and friendly, have a light taste that you could munch on for hours! With the sprinkles, there would also be fresh fruit! A nice taste that would help you water down all of the loudness and sweetness. Holding all of this together would be a simple plane waffle cone. Waffle cones never change, and usually always have the same taste to them. (144 words)
2. Words: glitch, technology, space, software, hierarchy
Word count: 1653
Points: 250
Today’s the day. Today is the day that this hierarchy will end. I sprang up from my meditation chambers, a place where you could sit back and relax, not having to care about what was happening on the float. I walked towards the cyber train, shuffling through the crowds of people going last minute gown shopping. Today marked the hundred year anniversary of when this float launched in space, the technology designed to save human kind. And I, the one and only Yuko Alamari, am here to destroy it. The train slowly slides, before stopping at my home station. I log into my smart home, a software designed so that no break in can ever occur. It scans my eyes, the laser giving a tingling feeling on my face. I check the clock, it’s almost show time, and I’m about to be late. I quickly dressed into my dress. It’s an elegant, sleek black dress, with the back long and the front short, almost like a cape. On the back, a red fabric design that’s the same on the monarch butterfly. I put on black heels, with a red smoky eye shadow, and red lipstick. I was ready. I grabbed the microchip, designed to look like a simple gold bracelet and headed out the door. My heels clicked as I walked to the castle, which is where the mainframe room to control the float was located. The castle gates and property were adorned in various gold, white, and blue ribbons, decorations, signs that said 100, and more. All around the property were stone statues of those who were important and in the higher part of the hierarchy. Speaking of the hierarchy, it might be beneficial if I tell you how it works. On the bottom, we have the miners, who go out of the float to face the harsh, cold space. They wait for hours every day for meteorites to come by, and then they grab ahold of them and start to dig out the precious ores. A tedious, and dangerous job, one wrong move and the rope holding you to the float could break, and then you’d be drifting in space forever. Next, the civilians with the jobs that aren’t respected as much, like bakers, veterinarians, chefs, actors, and more jobs like those. After that are the doctors, welders, and technicians. Then the military leaders and their armies, how ever, the leaders may not do any big moves without the king or queen’s consent. And then that brings us to the last tier, the monarchy, the dukes and duchess, then the prince and princess, and lastly, the King and Queen. Anyways, back to the mission. I reached the castle entrance, guards positioned everywhere. They scan your wrist chip to know who you are at the entrance. Inside, is lavish ballroom, decorated with the finest jewels. Snacks and horderves being taken around by waitress and staff. Everyone is wearing fancy dresses and suits. I can see the Prince, he’s fl!rting with girls around his age. He’s lucky he looks cute, but under his appearance is a snotty toddles, who constantly is spoiled, and rude. The Princess, however was the exact opposite. Though she did get her family’s good looks, she was a kind and caring soul. It’s almost like she was glitch in the monarchy, but in a good way. I actually had a small cru-.. Let’s keep this on task, shall we? Anyways, we still talk some times, I sure hope she’s alright and ready. I told her the plan, foolish I know, but I don’t know, I trust her. I was about to walk away, when I felt a tap on my shoulder
“Sarge! Really? You dressed up? I thought we were going business casual?” Alex said. Alex one of my partners for the mission, top of his class in combat and pretty good in Literature, but I doubt that would help us. He’s been my most trusted friend from school, we’ve stuck together through hard an easy times. Plus, he has a pretty good sense of humor.
“Ah well, If we’re going to sink this float and possibly die, might as well do it in style.” I smirked “And why are you late? Hanging with James again?”
He blushed “No, I simply just… missed the train” He spoke, his confidence wavering.
“Uh huh, is that so? Then why do you smell like his ridiculous perfume?” I teased, he opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Anyways, back to the plan, you need to draw all of the guards into one place, and then drop smoke b0mbs that are filled with honeyfever (honeyfever was a special plant, that if the fumes got into your system, you become very loopy, almost like your well, drunk) into the ball room, while I get through the failsafe and insert the chip, understood?” I spoke quickly, in a low voice. Any one hearing of this plan would surely report it to the nearest officer, and the whole plan would be compromised.
“Sure, totally totally, a piece of cake!” He said, sarcasm in his voice, he turned around “See ya later Sarge! Let’s sink this float.”
“Alex?” I said
“Yep?” He responded, turning his neck around
“Be careful!” I said, gently
“You too Sarge, you too” He smiled, and walked away.
I briskly walked towards the ballroom exit, a rope hang with a sign saying ‘No entry’. It was a hallway that lead to the rest of the castle, a few guards next to it. Suddenly, they all looked at each other and quickly rushed away. /Good/ I thought, and pulled out a mask from my bag. A few moments later, I could see the room getting foggier and foggier, until I couldn’t see anything in-front of me. /Darn, thought I’d be able to see more/ I thought, reaching out for the rope. Suddenly, I felt someone pull me aside, “Wha- Hey!” I fell onto the floor, in a dimly lit hallway. And there, was the Princess, “Alana?” I whispered.
“Yuko” she said softly, “You must listen, someone knows your plan, and they’ve added an eye scan to get access to the room”
“What? How? That’s impossible I-“
“Look, it doesn’t matter right now, but you need someone from the royal family to open it! So c’mon! Let’s go”
“What? No way, I’m not going to risk you getting in danger if we get caught Alana!”
“No time for that now! Let’s go!” She whisper yelled, grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. I stood up and followed her. Thanks to Alex, there were no guards in the way. Nothing was stopping them now. When we reached the first check point, I quickly typed in the correct password. We kept walking, and typing, for what felt like an eternity. When finally, we reached the eye scan. Alana stepped up to the scanner, the laser slowly moved over her eye. We both held our breath as it processed the information. “Access Accepted, Welcome Princess Alana” The robotic voice spoke with no emotion. We both let out a sigh of relief. We walked into the main frame.
“What is it that you wish to do?” The robotic voice said
“Project Mallard” I said
“To access that file, I am in need of the code-sentence”
“The duck will start a new beginning” I answered
“My failsafe code says that I must ask if you would like to continue. Saying yes will start an unchangeable action, and I will not be able to help you.” The voice said
I hesitated, then opened my mouth.
“Wait” Alana spoke
“Yes?” I asked
“If anything happens, know that I care about you” she said, and gave me a small kiss on the cheek.
“I care about you to Alana, but this is what will be best for the people on the float, this was planned for centuries before our time, this is what is best and what we need to do.”
“I understand, please give me a minute though, I’d like to be with my parents”
“Of course” I said
“Goodbye, Yuko”
“Goodbye Alana” I said. I knew, that if we all survived after this, I’d most likely be arrested for life.
“One last thing” She said
“What’s up?”
“What exactly is, Project Mallard?”
I hesitated “I guess you could say it’s what’s been planned for us” I said, uncertain
“Alright”
And with that, she left. I gave her as long as I could, but eventually I heard thumping coming close. Soldiers. They were shouting, and very angry. “She’s this way! She’s going to destroy the float!” One said.
“Do it now!” I commanded
“Project Mallard activated” the voice said, and all of the power went out. Then, we plummeted in pure darkness. Going, down, and down, and down, until we hit the ground with a large crash. It felt like that for a huge amount of time, or very little. I had no clue whether and hour had passed or a second. Smoke and some fire was everywhere, and there was a huge gash in my arm. I coughed, collapsing onto the ground. I don’t really remember what happened next, but someone carried me out, and placed me on the ground. The real ground, not just a piece of metal. A few minutes passed and I regained my strength. I sprang up, and looked around. There were people, all ages, helping each other get out of the float. They were all extremely cautious and confused and exhausted. There were people, in different clothes walking towards us. I went into the front of the group. “Hello?” I said, “Who are you?”
“Ah, were you the one who started the Project?” A woman that seemed to be the leader of the other group asked
“Depends on whose asking” I replied
“Wonderful, it is you, welcome welcome! We’ve been expecting you”

3. 476 words, 500 points
Now was the time. “Jarvis, suit on” I commanded as the rest of us were getting ready. You might be asking, who is we? Well, we are the Avengers. A team made to help protect Earth from anything. No matter it being a normal human threat, or an extraterrestrial one. We are made of the best of the best, Thor, son of Odin. He is the leader of Asgard, and the god of lightning and thunder. The one and only Black Widow, also known as Natasha, best at getting us the information we need, and battle. Then there’s Barton, also know as Hawkeye. He’s our master arrow shooter, and can hit any target. Doctor Banner, with his Hulk abilities. Our leader, Captain America, he’s a pretty cool dude with a shield, but obviously I’m much cooler. And who am I? Well, I am the one and only Tony Stark, more popular known as Iron Man. With the six of us, we have been sent to save Earth, and take down Thor’s brother, Loki. “You ready?” Captain said.
“Good chance that I’ll never be” I replied in a sarcastic tone.
The helicopter door opened, and outside I could see the whole city of Manhattan. Chaos was already happening, as Loki had already opened the portal to another realm. Chintauri warriors were pouring out of the portal, destroying buildings, cars, streets, and bridges. The rest of the group joined me, looking down at everything. Then suddenly, I heard
“Turn around” said Thor, in a sing-songy voice
“Huh?” Natasha said, looking behind her, but nothing had changed.
“Look at what you see” Thor continued, “In her face, the mirrors of your dreams”
“As flattering is that is Thor-“
“Make believe I’m everywhere, given in the light” Thor began to full out sing
“Buddy, not that time” Banner said confused
“Written in the pages is the answer to a never ending storrrryyy!” Thor belated out, then jumped out of the helicopter “Ahahhahahhh”
The rest of us stared at the scene, incredibly confused. Barton pressed his intercom system “Thor, what was that?”
“What?” He answered
“You know what”
“Today is not the day for pranks Arrow boy”
“Thor, he wasn’t-“ I started “You know what who cares.
The rest of us slowly jumped out, and I was the last one. As I plummeted towards the Earth, I had a bit of an issue. “Hey, not to concern anyone, but what was I supposed to do again?” I said, with out any tone of worry
“You’ ve got to be kidding me” Banner said
“You’re telling me, you decided to ask that question after you jumped out?” Natasha asked.
“Yes, yes I am, I’m doing the best I can here, ok?”
“After Loki, go after Loki! Get the spear” Cap said
“Oh yes yes!” I said, and blasted off to get Loki
-end scene-

4. Words: 385 Points, 250
My stomach growled. I was extremely hungry. However, I had just gotten my tonsils removed, so I couldn’t eat any thing solid! Pondering what to do, I looked to my left, there was a sink. Perfect! I grabbed it, pulled apart its pieces, however, it was quite sunny, so I put on a hat before I turned on the blender. And voila, a perfect sink smoothie! I poured it into a cute smoothie cup and put a biodegradable straw in it. I sat down, put on my favorite show, and started to drink it. However, after a few sips, I started to feel, well funny. I blacked out, and woke up, feeling groggy. It was night, so I decided I would think nothing of it, and got ready for bed. I took off my hat, but it only came up half way. I assumed it was just tangled in my hair, but then, water sported out of my mouth. It wouldn’t stop, but I fell back and my hat landed perfectly on my head. No more water. Did this mean what I think it meant? I pulled up and down my hat a couple more time. Water, no water, water, no water. I groaned, if the slightest movement hit my hat, I could spurt water, everywhere. I sighed, thinking there was no upside, and went to bed. In the middle of the night I heard a banging noise, and got up. Then I saw a black mask. Someone was trying to rob the house! Frightened, I went to hide in my closet. I heard him search the living room, then the kitchen, then he started to reach my room. He opened my room door, and I could hear his steps creaking. Then, I heard my closet door slowly screech open. I was staring face to face with him. I don’t know who was more terrified , me or him! Frightened, I took of my hat. My water launched him backwards on to the bed. “What was that!” He cried, and left his bag, ran down stairs, and left. I sat there for about an hour or so, processing what happened. In the end, I was so tired, that I just went to bed. In the morning, I discovered that the effects of the smoothie wore off.

5. Skipped
6. Skipped
7. Word Wars! (Done)
8. Cabin wars! (Done)
9. I slept 9 hours, so 318 words written!

Elizabeth “Elsie Lotz” Renderant
Elsie usually never has a set ‘bed time’. Working on cases as a journalist means that she needs to be available at any time. She’ll go to bed early, like 9:00 pm, but sometimes will go to be a 2:00 am. However, if there’s nothing important happening, she’ll usually go to bed at 10:30. She sleeps with her bay tabby cat, whom is called Millie. She always wakes up at 6:00 am to get prepared for her day at the office. She does not have trouble waking up early in the morning, even if she didn’t sleep much at night.
Caroline “Lynn” Hendermin
Lynn is the type of gal who goes to bed late, around 10:45 pm to 2:00am. She usually hangs out with her friends, which causes her to get home late. If not hanging out with her friends, she gets easily distracted by night time crafts, or spends hours scrolling through social media. Lynn sleeps with a stuffed cow that Elsie gave her when her sister passed away. Lynn is not a morning person, and usually will be late to anything that is scheduled through 7-9am, as she usually wakes up close to 9:30 or 10:00 am.
Brent Smith
Brent usually sleeps during office hours, even though he should be planning the paper’s next issue. Since he sleeps during the day, at night he usually stays up till 4:00 am going to clubs or going to parties on yachts. He sleeps with no pets, or stuffed animals, as he believes that they are both a waste of space and money. The next morning, he wakes up incredibly tired and grumpy. He always shows up to work hours late, unless an important manager is coming. When he shows up to work, he’ll usually make his assistant (Elsie) go grab him breakfast while he snoozes.

10.
11.
12.
You wake up, feeling overwhelmed with wind rushing through your hair. You poop open your eyes, and are shocked! There you are, looking at your town, from the sky! You shut your eyes, feeling nervous and confused “How- what-?” You say puzzled, and wonder how you aren’t plummeting towards the ground. Somehow, maybe because you’ve been to stressed to notice, you just now realized you are being carried by someone. “Wha- who are you?” Your voice says, in total awe. Although you haven’t met him, he does look familiar. “Oh look! You’ve awakened!” He says in a happy tone, with a wide grin. Now it hits you.
“I- sir Hermes?” You say, you would bow, but you’d fall to the ground if you did.
“Nah! No sir stuff, just call me Herm!” He says, steering past some clouds.
“Why are you um, carrying me above the clouds?” You say, in a worried tone.
“Ah! That’s cause the big guy needs your help!”
“Who?” You say, this didn’t answer your question very well
“You know, the boss!” He says with a grin and points to Mt. Olympus
Your jaw drops, shocked. “Sir Zeus wants to see me?”
“Indeed!”
“But I don’t- I haven’t” you stutter, looking for words
“Well! Don’t worry if you’re not ready, cause we’ll, we’re here!” He says, and plops me onto the marble floor.

13. Dear Arnold,
I terribly miss you. I stay up in my castle, waiting hours a day thinking about you. You simply pansy me. Father won’t even let me send a letter, but I’ve bribed a maid to send this. I also wish how there was a yarrow. My heart can’t bare that I have to marry the prince of England, as he is who my heart doesn’t want. He is a terribly rude soul, and one without any Ox-eye. I must warn you though, as my father is sending a grave amount of rhododendron to you. I would give the whole world to make you safe, and for us to have a small cottage at the edge of the kingdom. My rose, know that I love your sweet, hydrangea vibe, and I wish to spend my eternity with it. My father though, a horrible man, has vowed to never let me see you again. This makes me feel an abundance of emotions, sad, terribly angry, and wanting to seek trefoil. He may vow for us to never meet again, but do you know what? I will vow to escape this extravagant, luxurious prison, to come and spend the rest of my life with you. We could move to Scotland, I heard that there were a major variety of cows there, and we could be cow farmers! Could you imagine that? Or what about the new exciting place the young ones are always talking about. The America’s was it? I heard there were many types of jobs, and some were hiring women sewers! Could you think about that? I could finally per sue my dream of being a fashion designer. Enough of that silly thinking now, my point is when I get out, I’ll be with you for eternity.
Your dahlia.
Bertha

14.
15.
16. Aesthetic set, done!
17. Snip snap crack. That’s the sound my tulips’ stems cracking. Forced to die from the pressure of my pliers. Many other things can die by pressure, if you put enough that is. Other plant stems, eggs, pots, and bones. I had learned that long, long ago. One time my friend Genevieve didn’t believe me, and she wanted me to prove that theory. “I triple dog dare you!” She said, and was now immediately supposed to do what she said. So I rushed to the fridge, grabbed the carton of eggs, and through them around the kitchen. Splat, splash, splosh. When my mother entered the room, she was practically fuming. I was confused on why she was angry, I was right, and Genevieve was wrong. She mumbled something about a “stupid imaginary friend”. I don’t know what she meant by that.
“Your theory is still false, eggs are delicate” Genevieve taunted me the next day. I looked over to the pots that contained various plants. My mom was in a meeting upstairs. Plus, she’d understand wouldn’t she? I broke my mom’s vintage gardening pots (the plants were safely transferred to the rich garden soil). I squished the pots with my bare hands. The shards of old clay punctured my hands. I howled in pain, the bl00d ran down my palms. My mother heard my cries from the second story of out house. She came rushing down to see the mess I made. She let out a small scream when she saw the mess of clay shards, blood, and bits of soil. “Wh-why would you do that Betty?” She asked, as she rushed me into the car. I only shrugged my shoulders. We drove to emergency room. The fluorescent lighting hurt my eyes. I wailed. A nurse came and stitched my hand back together, and cleaned up the blood. My mom was filling out paperwork.
“So miss! How did you manage to do this?” The kind nurse asked, she had hazel eyes. Soft and gentle.
“Genevieve told me to” I simply responded, and didn’t elaborate.
The nurse frowned her face, she was confused. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Mom saved me. She ushered me to the car. The car drive was silent. Neither one of us said anything. When we parked in the drive way, Mom kept the doors locked.
“Betty” she started and looked into my eyes. That feeling hurt, I looked away. “Betty look at me” She said in a serious tone. I disobeyed. “Betty, Betty!” She tried getting my attention. I thought about how many bones were in the human body. Bones relaxed me. Eventually, Mom got frustrated, and slammed her hand on the cup holder. I stared at her, she had my attention. I could see tears streaming down her face. “Look Betty, you’ve got to stop listening to Genevieve. Sh-she isn’t real Betty! She- It’s only an imaginary friend, alright?” She sniffled “I thought it was fine at first, but this is getting too out to hand” She sighed putting her head down on the steering wheel. I tried to care, I really did. But Mom was wrong, Genevieve /was/ real. Instead of telling her that, I just patted her back like how a mother would to a crying child. “Shhh, shh” I whispered softly. She turned to me and smiled, wiping a tear from her eyes. “Promise me you won’t talk to her ever again Betty Johanna Boris. Never” Her face turned to that stone-serious look again. I wearily crossed my fingers, making sure my short’s fabric covered it. I looked her deep in the eyes and said, “I promise Mommy”. Later that night we had dinner, and watched a movie in her bed. Mid-way through the movie, Mom fell asleep. Her snores sounded like volcano rumbles. The floorboards creaked, I popped my head up from the screen. It was Genevieve.
“Hi” I said
“Hey” she replied
There was a few minutes of awkward silence.
“Do you know what neck and brain surgeons do?” The blond haired girl asked. I shook my head yes.
“Yeah, they’ll sometimes cut into you to fix a blood vessel, or maybe there’ll be a tumor. Or maybe, they’ll have to snap a few bones back in place.” I responded automatically, with a monotone voice.
“And those patients are usually sick, and don’t think straight right?” She questioned me.
“Yeah Geni! Why are you asking all of this?” I said, puzzled.
Her eyes drifted towards Mom, then her vision snapped back at me. “Your mom doesn’t think I’m real, that sounds like she’s sick” She replied vaguely.
I took a moment to process what she had said. “You want me to do brain surgery on my mom?” I said, loads of disbelief in my voice.
“No no, of course not, her neck just looks like it’s leaning towards the left. Just snap it back to the right side” She suggests.
I stare at my mom, she won’t even feel it. And, she’ll accept Genevieve as part of our family! I moved closer to her neck, and
Snap.
(Time skip to 2 months)
I waited and waited till my Mom would wake up. But, Genevieve said that I should bury her for faster recovery. So I did, I’m out very our backyard next to the tulips. Now it was time to harvest the pretty flowers. Snip, Snap, Crack. Everything was going normally, until I got a couple weird flowers. Each had their own bone on them. The bone was intertwined with the flower. One red tulip with a finger bone, the other with a pinkie toe, and one blue one with a ear bone. I smiled, that must mean that Mom was healing well! She was getting rid of the sick bones that she didn’t need, and was regenerating the ones that she lost. I took all of my flowers and tied them into a colorful bouquet. I left it on the dinner table filled with flies and dirty dish plate. Mom would do them when she woke up. I looked at my bouquet, something was missing. I went back to the backyard, and searched behind the bushes. There! My center flower, a blue tulip with a skull on it. Perfect! I rushed back inside to put it in with the others. “It’d be better if you held the bouquet while you sat on the rocking chair, that way you can greet her!” She told me. I smiled and grabbed the bouquet as well as a blanket. I sprinted towards the yard porch. I made myself cozy on the chair, and held the bouquet. I played with the flower’s bones. They still sounded the same when the broke.
Snip, snap, crack.

18. The air was hot and humid. The sun felt like it was scorching my skin, luckily I had put on sunscreen. The juice of my popsicle oozed down my arm, leaving it sticky. I looked around, no one would notice would they? I liked my arm, the flavor of the juice was now much more sunscreen-y. “Wow, what a bummer” I mumbled to my self. I walked down the sidewalk, seeing all the fancy shops. One for honey, another for candles, and a whole bunch for clothes. Now me personally, I didn’t really have a desire to look at clothes, who would care what I wear? Plus, didn’t people always say that you shouldn’t care about what people think of you? Like, the whole ‘Be yourself’ thing? Well this is me being myself. My sweaty gym clothes and licking sticky arms. I turned the corner and saw a who,e crowd run past me. They didn’t seem quite thrilled at what they saw. “Why are yo-“ I stopped. I could feel the ground shuddering, and screams that didn’t come from a human. I peered at the street behind the wall. It couldn’t be! They said they were extinct! But low and behold, was a dinosaur. It charged the hot dog carts, and ate all of them in one bite.
“Woah” I said, as I marveled at the strong, ancient creature. It was all a shade of dark green, with black stripes. It looked like something straight out of a movie. I pulled out my phone to record. This would look epic on my YouTube channel! I gobbled down the rest of my popsicle in one bite, and threw the stick on the the ground. I guess dino’s have a super sense of hearing, cause it heard the stick crash on the floor. It’s giant nostrils flared and stared right at me. I paused, and stared back. It was like we were having a staring contest with each other. Then, it let out a blood-curdling roar. I froze, I was too scared to move. The huge beast charged at me, and I ran for my life. My feet ache as I hit the sidewalk, but it didn’t matter. I kept running till ran to a corner and saw a dead end. “Drats!” I hissed, my only option was to sprint inside a store. Just then, I heard another ferocious roar. Without thinking twice, I entered the store closest to me. When I shut the door behind me, I immediately got the scent of beef jerky and other dog treats. “Oh no” I murmured. This was bad, I chose the only store that smelt like a buffet to a dinosaur. THWACK. Glass shattered in the store windows, all I saw was a humongous eye staring at me. It then raised it’s head to where it’s mouth was. It paused, then let out the loudest, most terrifying screech I had ever heard. I stood there, not knowing what to do, then I got an idea. I grabbed a handful of dog bones, and sprinted to the door. Then slowly, I pulled it opened and tossed the bones out. The green beast stared at it’s new snack, and went over to check it out. Now was my time to flee! I darted past the dine, then past the corner, until finally, I reached my home. I rang the doorbell. I heard a click from the door, and saw my mom. I was so relieved and I sighed. “Where have you been?” Her shrill voice squawked at me. I was too out of breath to answer, and just went inside.

19. Exhausted. That’s all I feel anymore, exhaustion. I have to be there for everybody. The earth, the moon, the other planets. They all need me. I’ve always had their backs, but no body has mine. I work tirelessly to keep everyone satisfied. They keep turning, wanting more, more, and more. What if I was to just give up? What if I just didn’t want to shine bright. My scorching hot flames would turn cold, and I’d go rest in the corner of the universe. No one would ever bother me. I might even get some life of my own! Earth has all of these cute pets, I believe she calls them ‘animals’? How ever, some type of those animals are harming the earth. Earth names them, ‘humans’ I believe. They spread poisonous gasses into the earth’s head. Poor thing can barely think in peace, she’s always anxious now. I don’t know how she puts up with all of those little things. If I were to have pets, they’d know how to respect me, and I certainly would not allow any humans. Maybe I’d be like Saturn, and have many rings! They’d keep me company, they always tell the best jokes. Every once in a while, I can hear Saturn laughing so hard, earth’s land starts to rumble. Earth doesn’t like Saturn for that reason, she says it harms her pets. Maybe if I got rings Earth wouldn’t like me, so she wouldn’t depended on me. And then I’d be free. I’d do whatever I pleased to do. I’d have time to settle down and start a family, join the book club Jupiter’s moons were hosting, and finally, I would be able to relax and sleep. That’s all I ever wanted. I don’t get to have any sleep. I must stay awake all day. But for now at least, but one day I’m going to sleep how ever much I want.


Weeklies
Part 1
1. The image I chose was called ‘Train’. The illustration shows two humans, one aboard a small train, while the other is off the train. The one aboard the train had black hair and a sad look on her face. Her hair color matches the rest of the train. She is looking at the other person, quite glum and sadly. I think that she is sad that the other girl is leaving. She is too short for us to see what she is wearing. There is a text bubble that says “Bye”, in black, bold letters. It is underlined as well. The train is quite small, and the door is closed. Behind the train, and through the windows you can see a cat. It is gigantic, and the neither of the girls seem to notice it. Its tail hovers above the roof of the train, while its body and head is peaking through the windows. The cat is also all black, except for its small white nose and mouth, and it’s enormous yellow eyes. The cat seems to either be staring at the girl on the train, the one off the train, or honestly both. It has no expression on its face, so it’s hard to tell what it is thinking. Lastly, the girl off the train. She looks similar to the one on the train, so they possibly could be related. However, unlike the girl on the train, we can see her full body. She is dressed in red, in fact everything about is in red, excluding her leggings, skin, and hair. She is wearing a red coat, which could mean that she is going somewhere north. She isn’t looking at the girl on the train, and is facing away. She has a red suitcase in hand, and is being followed by a red shadow. I believe what is happening in this picture is that the girl is traveling away, possibly for a while.
Part 2
I woke up, forgetting why I was in a different room for a second. Then it hit me, I was spending the summer in Turkey with my cousins! I changed out of pjs to some regular clothes, a pale blue flowy skirt, with a white top with flowers. I brushed my teeth and bounced down the stairs. This was my first time in Turkey, well sort of, I went when I was really little but I don’t remember anything from the trip. Honestly if my parents didn’t have pictures from it, I would deny that I would have been there. Downstairs, I saw my cousins and their parents (as well as mine) setting up the table. “Hello!” I said, excited. I love Turkish food, but do you know what’s even better? Eating Turkish food in Turkey!
“Selam Penny!” My cousin, Yasmin said. She was my only cousin close to my age. We’d been best friends since we were born! Even though we haven’t seen each other in person since forever, we’re still pretty close.
“Selam!” I said, and put napkins next to everyone’s plate. It was time to eat. We all sat down. There was an assortment of fruits, veggies, sausage, bread, olives, and eggs! My mouth was watering when my mom asked,
“Would you like some menemen?”
“What’s that?” I asked, I hadn’t heard of it before.
“It’s basically scrambled eggs, peppers, and a few other spices mixed up!” Yasmin replied. “It’s so good! You’ll love it”
“Alright!” I said, and took a scoop of it from the bowl. I took a spoonful and put it in my mouth. It was one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted! It was an interesting texture, but it was also full of flavor!
“You are correct! It tastes amazing!” I said truthfully
“Told ya!” She said.
“Oh you wouldn’t believe what happened!” My aunt said “Ben got into Yale!” Ben was one of our closest family friend’s son that passed away. We still kept in touch a lot, but he’s been sad from his mother’s passing.
“Oh how wonderful! Maybe he’ll start to be happier.” My father said
“Aw, his mother just died, give him a break” my mother said
“Yeah, but that’s how life goes, some good, some bad, and the in between” He replied, taking a drink from his glass.
I looked down at my plate at the delicious Turkish dish, and slowly, it started to remind me of life. “I guess” I started, “The eggs are like the good moments of life, light and fluffy, and then the peppers can be spicy and sting, like the bad parts, and the spices can represent all of the surprises?” I said, piecing it together as I went.
“Wow, that was deep” My younger cousin Arda said, in a flat tone.
“Yeah Arda, but true! You should listen to your cousin more, she’s very smart” my uncle said, giving me a nod.
I beamed, my uncle didn’t talk much, but I’m happy he talked about me.
Part 3 Jane Eyre
I walked down the hallway, nearing the end were family portraits, ones of individuals, and a big one framed at the end, on a door. The frames were a bright crimson color, while the door was brick red. My hand quivered as I touched the family picture, hanging on to the door with only a single strand of string and an old rusted nail. The picture showed a women, a man, two young children and a teenager. There was something off about it, perhaps it was the way the gleaming light hit the photo, perhaps it was that the people’s pupils looked slightly red. Maybe it was because the photo looked fake, made out of unreal people. I turned away from the photo, it was no use to look or worry about it. What I needed to think about was how to escape this mansion. I turned around to the door, then froze. I have nothing to protect myself. What if I need to acquire something from the first room? Maybe I could take a burning branch from the fireplace. I swiveled my body facing the other side of the body, but all of the lights had gone out. It was a lightless void, no being able to see, nor hear anything past it. I turned back to the door, my hand clutched the doorknob, I could feel heat radiating from it. It was increasing by the second. /It is now or never/ a voice drifted into my consciousness. A saying that my father said when ever I was taking ages to do something. No matter if it was simply avoiding my homework, or being nervous to swing off a tree. It was always the same phrase of words. I turned the doorknob, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to see. Behind the door, was a simply workshop. It was a dimly lit room, only one small lamp, a small desk with sculpting tools, a huge clothing rack with no clothes, and a medium sized cabinet. There were intricate designs on the desk’s rim, and chipped paint all over. There were colored red stains on the floor, I chose to ignore them. There were wigs laying around, but I was too frightened to touch them. I heard various clicking sounds, I peered around, not sure where they were coming from. The quickly stopped, almost like they could see that I was noticing them. I brushed it off, saying that it was just my imagination getting the best of me. I went over to the cabinet, looking for something that could help me. My hands brushed over the cabinet, I touching something sticky and flinched. It was gooey and black. I wiped it on my shirt, and then pulled the cabinet door. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I sighed, disappointed I’m never going to get out now. I turned around, but felt something on my shoulders. Claws digging into my skin, I screamed in pain. I collapsed on the floor. Two beady eyes looked at my, the room started to look staticky and then. Darkness. It flooded everywhere in my eyesight, and in that moment, I felt like I was drowning deep into the endless void. I can not think, I can not speak, I can not hear, I could only just wait.
Part 4
As you know, the image I chose to write about was ‘Train”. Looking back at it, I can understand more of the symbolism of it. The girl on the train text bubble says “Bye” in bold, black letters. Normally if you saw words written like that, you’d either think it was something important, or something scary. The way it is written could mean great sadness, danger, major disappointment, or permanence. The girl on the train’s image is sad, possibly a bit worried or jealous for the other girl off the train. I’ll explain more on why I think that she is jealous. The black train could represent a difference from the girl in red, she is on a different path than the train. The train could also represent change. Moving onto the cat, I believe that it could represent guilt or sadness. It is like the cat is preying on the girls, waiting to gobble them up with the overwhelming feeling of sadness, or maybe a lot of chaos. Maybe the girl wished that she had done, or said something different. I also think that the cat could represent danger, as cats specifically all black ones, are associated with bad luck! The cats eyes are yellow, and the color yellow is usually used with jealousy, or danger. It’s eyes are also eyeing both of the girls, directing the danger and jealousy to the girls. So that could add onto my theory. Moving onto the girl off the train, I mentioned that she was dressed in all red. Red is usually associated with danger, or concern. I also know that a suitcase is usually related with grief, (however traveling is also a large portion, but since we’re talking about grief and symbolism, I might as well add this) so maybe her traveling is related to grief, or the death of someone. I believe that the girl is most likely either is accidentally harming herself by leaving the girl on the train, or accidentally harming the girl on the train by leaving, and maybe she’s just accidentally harming both of them. But in the end, what I think is happening is that the girl in red is going to a seemingly sad but a new opportunity, which may lead to danger. While the other girl, is either sad, full of guilt, or jealous of the other girl. That’s what emotions the cat may represent.

2. Hello! Welcome to Clove’s workshop on character growth! Today I will be presenting you how to write strong character growth and help you understand what it is! First, what is character growth? Character growth is the development of said character’s goals, motivations, or the character’s adaptation to the conflicts happening in the story. It could be how the character’s belief changes through the story, or maybe it’s how the character’s personality changes through the story. You may be wondering, why is character growth important? Well, without character growth, your character is most likely going to turn out rather flat, and quite boring to read about. Without any character growth, your story will seem like it hasn’t progressed much anywhere. So let’s see how to write character growth shall we? First, take a look at you character. What do they not have? What goals might they need for their story to be worth reading. It is also extremely important to know your character. Do research on them, figure out their personality and habits. After figuring that out, it might help to plan out how your character would grow. Are they going to switch to the dark side, will they start to grow happier, or the opposite sad, and grumpy? What could your character earn as the story goes on? Or do they learn a new price of information. After you’ve figured that out, it helps to form a small timeline on how they might change. However, that step is not necessary, and it’s only a good trick so your ideas don’t get mixed together. Next, give your character a backstory. Why are they trying to accomplish their goals? What might their personality stand out? If your character is constantly a pessimist, was it from their difficult past? After that, start adding in changes or a conflict. They don’t necessarily need to be huge or really small, but without changes or conflicts, there simply could be no story. Conflicts and changes help start the character growth, since without it there would be no reason for the main protagonist(s) to do anything. A tip for showing how much a character has grown, is to add in the perspectives of other characters. Think about it, if the once happy and joyful queen turned sour and grumpy, how would the peasants react? Or if the popular high school girl started to hang out with ‘unpopular’ people, how would her peers react? In your story, make sure to add small issues that can set back the protagonist a bit, so everything doesn’t always go there way. If everything always went their way, it could be a bland story to read, and less relatable. Believe me, no one wants a Mary/Gary Sue character. My last tip is to remember that you don’t only need to focus on your narrator/main character. Build on some of the other main protagonists goals, or even some of the side characters! Just because they aren’t in the main spotlight doesn't mean their growth and achievements won’t be interesting. That’s all for now, I hoped you enjoyed my workshop!

Weekly #2 Part 2
My hands quivered, I couldn’t keep them still. The email on my desktop was still open,
Give me the stone, promptly at 9:30pm, or the girl goes away.
I sobbed silently, I couldn’t believe that they had taken her. Sure Damian was a terrible human being, but this was a step too far. I wilt my tears off my face and pull me self off of the chair. I opened the closet door, its hinges screeched as it slid open. Inside, was an assortment of clothes and boxes. However, I knew which box I needed. In the back of the closet, a crumpled cardboard box slept. It waited to be opened. I stuck my hand in to get it out, Master had said to only use this in dire emergencies. I was certain that this counted. I no longer felt sad, my world was just full of rage. I took out the items in the box, not caring to be gentle. Inside was two short daggers, my suit, and glowing at the bottom of the box was the stone. I held it close to my chest, it’s warmth radiating on me. I pulled my suit onto myself, the hammerspace covered up the lines from the clothes I was wearing underneath. I pulled on my mask, I could feel my hot breath against my face. However, I would soon adjust to this. I held my daggers underneath my sleeve, I was an expert on removing the fast for battle. Little things they are, but they can injure you with ease, or do worse. One final issue, where do I put the stone? I look around, I can’t really carry anything since it’ll slow me down. I look down at my feet and sigh. I pull out my boots that my mom gave me fore Christmas, way to big, and stuff the stone as well as tissue paper in there. Then, I force my feet in, it’s uncomfortable, but I’d sell my soul to get her back. Everything was complete now, I put my chair under the doorknob, making sure that no one could get in. I rushed to scribble a note for my parents just in case they came home early and noticed I locked my room. I closed the computer, making a mental note to delete my email. Knowing Damian, he’d find away to hack it and find what I’ve been doing. I already screwed up once, I can’t ever again. A single tear left my eye, I supposed it was left behind from the others. I went to the end of my bedroom, and opened the window. The cool air stung my face, but it was oddly satisfying. It wasn’t a good view, just the back of an abandoned park. I could occasionally see a few dumb teenagers smoking, but other than that no one ever went there. It wasn’t perfect, but it was /my/ abandoned park. I sat on the edge of window ledge for what it seemed for hours. I looked at my watch, it was 9:10. I took a deep breath. Now or never, I crawled up onto the roof of my building. This way of traveling was easier, less questions asked. My heart pounded as I ran into the horizon, towards Damian’s alley.

Weekly #2 Part #2]
Starting!
First of, I adore your writing style! I believe this is amazing, everything from the storyline, and to the word choosing! It was an enjoyable story to read, and filled with an excellent twist. You made it very clear what the protagonist was doing, and how trusting they were with Rudy. I thought it was also clever to include the ideas of staring competitions.
Non Grammatical
The timeline of the story was a bit confusing to follow, at the beginning it sounded more like a younger child. Then, at the middle of the story he sounds much older. I think more of a transition would be better. I do think that some of your sentences can be split up into smaller ones. Sometimes (for me at least) smaller sentences can pact more emotion the larger ones. I also think it would be cool to explain why the protagonist was following Rudy so much (or maybe I just want more of the story haha!)
Grammatical
Your grammar was almost perfect! Just some technical things, like not starting a sentence with a verb. If you wish to, you could start with any article. Also, you could use a comma in some cases instead of a hyphen, however I honestly enjoyed it the way it was.
Ending
Excellent concept, story, words, everything! You had no right making me almost cry. Thank you so much for this awesome story to read! <33
3. “Cheers!”
We shouted as we clinked our big jugs together. The ‘adult juice’ (can’t say that word on scratch) sloshed around. This was our groups favorite pub, actually no, this was /the/ best pub in town. We heard other cheers from the tables around us. It was a dimly lit room with all sorts of taxidermy on the walls. The building had no heating except for big bricks fireplace. We sipped out drinks, making sure not to spill anything. “So!” Matt starts “Congrats to Cian for the secretary job, Jerry for the head of Human Resources, me, to my wonderful rank of Head of Schools, and Leo” He points to me, with a goofy grin, “For the new job at the at the defense department, with your fiancé Charlie! I do hope to get a wedding invite soon!” He teases loudly, I blush, “Nope! No wedding soon I’m afraid!” I say quickly, feeling like my face was turning red. “Uh huh sure!” Jerry says, getting in on the joke. “Ya know Leo, it’s always been my /dream/ to officiate a wedding, I’d say yours is the perfect time to practice!” Cian says, leaning on my shoulder. I can smell the drink from his breath. “Ay, and besides mate, we all know that Jer’s the one that’s gonna get married first don’t we? He’s got a new girlfriend every week!” I exclaimed, everyone laughed except Jerry. “Aw c’mon Jer, don’t be so stone-faced, it’s all in good fun, ain’t it?” Matt says, playfully punching Jerry in the shoulder. In the end, he lets out a small chuckle, which then leads to a loud roar. Then, we’re all laughing at stuff that isn’t even funny, might be because we’re all a bit loopy and drunk. Cian was in the middle of telling this long fishing tale, and then ‘BOOM’. The pub’s door swung open, smacking the wall with such large force I think it dented the wall. The laughter and music stopped, everyone peered at the door. The freezing air slowly crept in, as flakes of snow glided across the room. A man and two bodyguards walked in. They we’re all wearing black, but I recognized one of them. Boone Apperwaltz, he was the young lad in the middle. I hadn’t known him well, but I did know that he was head of the detective department. The other two I assumed were his associates, wait, why were they here? Shouldn’t they been arresting who caused all the trouble with the Ministry? The heeled boots clink along the wooden floor as the get closer, and closer at our table. He turns to a stop at our table, looking me dead in the eyes. “Leo Fitzavalti, we are here for your arrest” he says as he cuffs my arms. “Hold on wait wait” I say, as I pull back my wrists. “Arrest for what? I haven’t done anything wrong?” I say, speaking the truth. His eyes glow, as he let’s one word out of his mouth, “Murder” All of use are stunned, until we all began to say a word. “Stupefy!” I heard as I fell to the ground. My eyes closed tight and I could no longer control my body. I could hear a bunch of people bickering, but I couldn’t make out exactly what…

Rising action.
I woke up with a massive head ache. Light quite bothered my eyes, I resisted the strong temptation to close them. I was tied to a rickety wooden chair. The walls were made out of a depressingly grey granite. There were yellow stains on both the walls and the floor. I really hoped I would never have to find out what they were. I could hear screams coming from other rooms. The fluorescent lights kept flickering, that bothered me oh so much. The fly buzzing in my ear started to land on various spots on my face. I reached to swat it away, but all I heard was the taunting sound of the metal chains clanking together. I hung my head low, this was pointless. I’d rot away here in prison, for eternity. I groaned, and let out a few tears. Just then, I could here the prison cell’s door slowly creaking open. Out walked the scumbag Boone, and who I’m guessing his was assistant. “This is my assistant Bill, we’re here to take you to your trial. How ever, you must drink this potion first.” He said, putting the vial to my lips. Bill seemed to cower behind Boone, almost like a scared toddler. He had an uneasy expression on his face.
“How do I know it’s not poison?” I retorted, launching forward in my seat. I swear I almost saw literal tears come out of Bill’s eyes.
“Well then you get a path out of prison early” He replied, with no emotion.
I frowned, and tilt head back, letting the liquid flow down my throat. It was a bit of a burning sensation. I coughed after I yanked my head down. For some reason, every movement started to take longer. I could focus on that later though, I needed to be innocent first. A couple guards escorted me to the court, where I sat in the middle of the room, inside a cage. I felt like a circus animal.
“Alright! This is the case of Leo Fitsavalti, who is accused with murdering the head of dementors, destroying the Ministry’s common room, and giving information to ‘Who Who Must Not Be Named’ and his associates. We will begin with Leo pleading his case” He said, like he did this sort of thing every day, honestly mate, I think he probably does.
“Well, I must confess that I have done all those charges” I said in a monotone voice /Wait, what? Why am I saying that/ “I am indeed guilty and I do not regret a single thing.” /Leo you idiot stop!/ I shouted at my brain, but alas, the curse couldn’t be broken. “I enjoyed seeing the damage I’ve done, and that is all I have to say.” I said, the courtroom was silent. /No! STOP!/ I shouted at my brain. “STOP! I DIDN’T DO IT, SOMETHING’S CONTROLLING ME, I DIDN’T MEAN THAT” I shouted in the courtroom. Everyone burst into laughter.
“Alrighty then, I guess this choice is easy then, guilty, under penalty of dementor death” The judge’s voice rings as he slams his gavel. “Better luck next time son, but you should’ve not been dishonest at the end, and honestly not even did the crime at all” He chuckled.
What an evil man. The guards escort me back to my cell, where I am once again knocked out, and chained to the chair…

Climax.
It’s been about a week in prison, and it’s the most terrible thing I’ve ever experienced. The people are terrifying and cold hearted, the food is moldy and mush, and no one believes that I’m innocent. I spend my time usually sobbing myself to sleep, or writing letter to my mates, my family, and Charlie. Oh how I miss freedom. There’s nothing to do here, only thing there is is to think about your slow, agonizing death in the near future. They stupid guards won’t even give me an actual date yet! I’ve just finished my dinner now, or is it breakfast? I don’t know, I’ve lost my sense of time now. Now that I’ve given it a proper thought, I might’ve been here for more then a week. When there’s nothing to do inside a torturous prison days blend into each other. I heard my cell door clanking open. Probably for the hourly wellness check. They want you dead but only when the time is right. But didn’t I do that recently? I turn around, putting my hands in the air instinctively, but all I see is Boone, and his gremlin Bill. Boone pushes Bill forwards “We’re here for to, erm see your visitor” I sit up straight. A visitor? Who could be visiting me? Also, I didn’t even know there was an option to have a visitor! Without thinking, I popped up from my seat, the guards practically tackled me to the ground, and I landed on my bum. I winced, the guards hoisted me back up and escorted me towards the ‘visitation center’. There, sitting in a dimly lit room, was Charlie. I broke out of the guards hands and hugged (or perhaps tackled) him. “C-Charlie? Is it really you?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Yep, Leo, it’s me” He said with a grin, and he hugged me back. We chatted for a while, starting with some light questions. As the conversation went on, it started to get heavier. “You’ve gotta get me out Char, I can’t stand it anymore, a-and they’re g-gonna kill me!” I sobbed into his shoulder. He patted my back, “I will Leo, I will, I vow that I’ll do anything to get you out”. Just then, Boone grabbed my shoulder and whipped me apart from Charlie. I fell to the ground. “Visitation time is over, now you must watch” He replied coldly. I was puzzled by this, what did her mean by ‘watch’? He herded Charlie out of the room. I guess I never noticed to the mirror, but I did now. There was Charlie, on the other side. Getting tied to a chair. “Who’s doing this!?” I screamed at the guards, they didn’t even blink. Boone entered the room once more. He walked briskly over to my ear, and whispered “REMEBER, this is all your fault.” He smiled evily. And from that moment, I knew it was him. It was him that k!led the Head of Dementors, it was him the leaked the information, it was him the destroyed the Ministry, it was him that ruined my life and reputation. I stood up to punch him, but the guards got a hold of me. The forced me to watch as all of the happiness that was once there faded away. The air got cold, and the glass on the mirror looked frosty. It was a dementor. It made it’s way over to Charlie. I turned towards Boone, “Please! Don’t do this! He had nothin-“ The guard covered my mouth, my voice was now muffled. The judge of my hearing walked in the door, “Charlie Luswack has been punished under the penalty of death for helping Leo Fitsavalti. This case is now closed” He replied, as he and Boone exchanged a huge bag of coins. The dementor got closer and closer to Charlie, who was now very frightened. And then, the dementor sucked his soul, until nothing was left of poor Charlie’s face. Just a tan blob. I screamed as they dragged me away to my cell before knocking me out.
…
Conclusion
I woke up, not caring about anything. Charlie was dead. They’d lied straight to his face. Boone had bribed the judge. Boone was the reason I was here, stuck in this torturous issue. There was nothing I could say or do for my old life to get back. Nothing that would change the fact that I trusted him to take that awful drink, the one that ruined my life. I curled up into a ball on the floor of the jail cell. They’d removed every piece of furniture that was in it. Not that it was that much different by the way, it was still the same old barren room. I clutched my sides, sobbing into my knees. When I felt something inside my coat’s pocket. My frail fingered pulled out a box. On top of it, it wrote, ‘From Bill’. I nervously opened the box, it wasn’t bigger than my pinkie finger. I pooped open the lid, and inside was a note, as well as a lighter. I read the note, “This is a lighter”. /Yes no duh/ I rolled my eyes, eventually they stopped at the lighter. It’s red paint was chipped, but the metal gleamed in the fluorescent lighting. I grabbed it, and tried to see if it worked. Nothing. I threw it to the ground, and out popped a roll of paper. I opened it, “Let the world burn”. I read it over, and over again. It couldn’t mean what I thought it meant, right? I tried the lighter once more, and a flame came out. I knew what I had to do. I grabbed the note and the box. I lit the piece of paper on fire, there was a tiny hole in the corner of one of the walls. On the other side were vines and shrubbery. I flicked it, and my small flame began to grow larger and larger. Next, I lit the box, and my whole room was on fire. I could hear the screams of the prisoners the tormented me, yelling ‘Fire! Fire’” I smiled. And sat down in the middle of the room, watching the scorching blazes surround me.
I am a lighter, and I was going to let my world burn.

4.

Word War
Proof for @
Proof for @
Proof for @

Cabin Wars
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3.

Critique
1. For @ap0l0
Starting!
First of, I adore your writing style! I believe this is amazing, everything from the storyline, and to the word choosing! It was an enjoyable story to read, and filled with an excellent twist. You made it very clear what the protagonist was doing, and how trusting they were with Rudy. I thought it was also clever to include the ideas of staring competitions.
Non Grammatical
The timeline of the story was a bit confusing to follow, at the beginning it sounded more like a younger child. Then, at the middle of the story he sounds much older. I think more of a transition would be better. I do think that some of your sentences can be split up into smaller ones. Sometimes (for me at least) smaller sentences can pact more emotion the larger ones. I also think it would be cool to explain why the protagonist was following Rudy so much (or maybe I just want more of the story haha!)
Grammatical
Your grammar was almost perfect! Just some technical things, like not starting a sentence with a verb. If you wish to, you could start with any article. Also, you could use a comma in some cases instead of a hyphen, however I honestly enjoyed it the way it was.
Ending
Excellent concept, story, words, everything! You had no right making me almost cry. Thank you so much for this awesome story to read! <333

2. For @-Windclan-

I’m in love with you writing style! From the first line, I was immediately hooked. The use of your words were perfect. My personal favorite lines were: “I feel… I feel. I feel. Can’t be dead if I’m still feeling. And thinking. Right?” as well as “You are alive. You are real. I am real.” You understood that just because you want to write a good story, doesn’t mean that you needed to use some ridiculously long word that no one has heard of. Sometimes, simpler words are better in writing, and that proves that theory! I think you nailed the confusion part, however some parts were a bit difficult to follow. I think that if you’re going to do something that puzzles the reader, they need to know who’s talking. Not necessarily who’s possessed or who’s controlling the person, but to know the difference between the too people/things (I don’t know what to call them). However, if you just want to go full confusion, than go for it! I thought that your pacing was great! You can easily see where the two people/ things are feeling different from each other, and by the end you can see that they are starting to act like one being. I did feel like some parts felt repeated, and that the topic was already discussed in the story. Like the topic where they are saying “Who is I, who is we”. I enjoyed how you wrote about how they couldn’t feel the senses. It really seemed like one of them was trying to brainwash the other, and was a perfect part of the story! I also thought that it was awesome how your story was not jumbled, not randomly leaving unfinished thoughts. I loved where your tale was going, and if there’s ever going to be a part 2 please tell me!

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That seems to be the end! Or is it? I’ll add more stuff if I need to!

July First: Introduction
1234 words (no, it was not on purpose)

If I were an ice cream, my flavors would consist of orange, salted dark chocolate, and strawberry. Orange would stand for my more practical side, sweet though acidic. When I’m trying to be more “practical” or “logical” I always tell myself to be nice to everyone to make connections and just so that people will like me in general, but I am also very stressed in these times which can make me very tempered, bossy, and impatient. Sometimes I wish that I didn’t do that, but you can’t really help that, can you?
I think another flavor of mine would be salted dark chocolate. Even if it can make a bad first impression on you, the aftertaste is very intriguing. This is how I believe I am, and though I’m not keen on making a bad first impression, but maybe it is necessary. I made a very bad first impression on most of my friends according to them. Only my best friend has really said otherwise. I am trying to make better first impressions though, and only leave the aftertaste. I’m not sure why I can’t manage to make very many good first impressions, maybe it’s stress or something, I’m not sure. It’s not really worth dwelling on too much though so I’m going to move on to the next flavor now lol
The strawberry flavor represents my good side. I find strawberries to be very sweet and firm, which is what I am/can be. I find this side of myself to be pretty hippie-ish and optimistically nihilistic. Very “Love everybody” and “everyone dies so you might as well make the most of it” and “Peace not war” you know that kind of stuff. It’s the favorite side of myself and the side I try to strive for everyday. Just being nice to people to be nice to people and living life to the fullest. Personally I think it’s very inspirational.
Ice Cream talk over, although it was pretty interesting, I think it’s time I talk about my other traits and opinions. You already know that my name is Mae, but some other information that you probably don’t know it that I’m an (almost, sometimes the semester gets the better of me) straight A student, a virgo, an enfp-t, an aspiring fashion worker, an enneagram type 4w3, a swiftie, an outdoor lover, a sort-of-hippie, and a recovering theater kid.
When I grow older, I hope to be a fashion designer, or a fashion illustrator, or a stylist, or a fashion photographer. Honestly just give me any job in the fashion industry and I will be over the moon joyful. I’d love to work for a magazine, but seeing as that business is quickly winding down, I’m looking to broaden my horizons in other lines of work in fashion. I’m not sure when my love for fashion started, but my guess was in kindergarten when I would arrange photoshoots of me and my sister in our favorite dresses, or maybe it was when my aunt gifted me a fashion sketchbook for my 6th birthday. Shortly after though in 2nd I went through the dreaded “not like other girls” phase which lasted until about halfway through 4th grade. I didn’t find my passion for fashion (ooh a rhyme) again until last summer in 2022 (not detailing how old I was then because I don’t want to give away my age, but it’s not like you need to know anyways) from watching endless styling videos on youtube. That summer marked the first time in a while where I went back to school shopping and actually enjoyed it. Since then, my favorite place has been the local goodwill and the library while looking at references. One of my passions is finding a way to obtain a sustainable closet and trying to fill my closet with items that I’ve made myself. My goal this year is to win or at least be nominated for “best dressed” in the school’s yearbook this year. If that were to happen I would have no idea just what to do with myself I would be so incredibly happy.
I love being outdoors, though I used to hate it. Going camping was my worst nightmare until last summer when I went to an outdoors summer camp and I realized how much I actually liked hiking, camping, and cooking over a fire and all of that stuff. Every year during the first quarter, my school offers a week long school trip to a national park some hours away, and last year I decided to participate and it was sooo fun! I was a hardcore granola GIRL for a while, but soon enough it turned into, like, a hippie thing which is about where I’m at right now.
The Hippie thing: Though I do not enjoy some aspects of hippie culture, I really do love the morals and all of that jazz. First though, what don’t I like about it? Cultural Appropriation. In all of the hippie clothes you see online or that hippie “aesthetic” that you might see on Pinterest, most if not all is some version of Romani and Native American culture. These two groups are some of the most discriminated against and marginalized groups on the planet. Both have been pushed to the brink of extinction due to mass genocide from hateful whites. Then, out of the blue, less than 30 years after World War Two where Romani people where almost killed of along with the Jewish, Hippies decide to use their culture as if it was nothing and not even acknowledge the harm done to these groups or realize how they were using it which was oppressing people. To me, that is the opposite of everything hippies stand for and makes them, like, a really hypocritical group. I do still really like the notions of peace, love, and kindness though, and try to capture that sort of stuff in my everyday life.
I am a recovering theater kid. During covid and for probably about a year after that if not maybe a little less, I was obsessed. Honestly, looking back I don’t see the big deal. I always thought that I liked it because it told a story, and that might be true, but now I realize that lots of songs tell stories and you don’t have to listen to an entire 1-3 hour album to hear it. I think I might still do theater in High school though because I have friends who want to work backstage. Who knows, maybe I could do the costumes or participate in a musical. Honestly, I have a pretty alright singing voice for my age, and I’m not being conceded or anything because at my old school they did plays/pageants and I was always regarded as the best singer in my grade. I’m not sure about that anymore though since I moved to a different area where everyone loves music. I’m kind of just rambling at this point, so I think I’ll end it here.
And this was my introduction, much of it were just strings of words that really don’t make any sense, but hey, that’s what I’m here for! If anyone actually reads all of this (if no one does then I’m fine with it, whatever yk) I hope you have an amazing SWC season this year, I really do <3

July 1st - 75 words (short lol):
If I were an ice cream sundae, I would be salted caramel. It has the more common caramel aspect, as I can be like the general population and others share a few things with me too. However, the flavor of the salt changes it all up, as I can be crazy and some things are just unique to me. As a topping, I would have rainbow sprinkles. I’m very energetic and can be very chaotic.

weekly #1 (completed)

part 1
301 words

(I chose the very first silent comic; “The secret of life”.)

A grand, lush tree stood ahead, full of purely white flowers. It seemed abandoned and elderly, but it still held quantities of beauty. A bud was growing within, first a yellow seed, soon followed by a beautiful, light blue coloured egg. An old fisherman arrived, gathering as much as he could on his open boat. He made his way to a village, hoping to be able to sell what he discovered on his successful trip across sea. He placed down a carpet and sat the caged eggs, waiting for families to buy. At the market, suddenly a mother and her young daughter arrived, hoping to buy from the man. The girl begged her mother, excited to have a new friend with her. It was official, and the young girl wished to carry what she had just bought with her, wherever she went. As she grew older, she never left the egg. As she aged, so did the egg. It grew into a small bird, and as she got married, became a mother, and grew an even larger family, she learned more about the world around her, and valued her companion. As she became old, it was harder to take care of it, then when she was a young child. She use to play with it, work with it. Now, neither of them were able to do what they use to. The bird was large enough to be set free. To explore the world itself. She decided to visit a large cliff under the stars. After a whole life together, spending every minute with each other, and raising each other, it was time. It was a beautiful site of the deep blue coloured species. The bird spread its wings, letting out a delightful harmony note, and finally, flew into the stars.


part 2
408 words

Mondays; one of the worst days of the week. And there I was, laying on the concrete floor after an embarrassing fall, my body ten times sore from dance practice and gym class. I groaned, dusting dried mud off of my new black leggings.

“Da-Eun, be careful” Yeong-Ja ran towards me, lending her hand with one, and grabbing my backpack that had fallen with the other. “eommaga gidaligo iss-eo (my mother is waiting),”

Yeong-Ja was one of my best friends. We've been inseparable ever since 8 year old Yeong-Ja offered her Eomma's delicous gimbap to a tiny, friendless Da-Eun. We've had each other our whole lives, since I moved to Seoul, Korea from Toronto, at the age of seven. We were each other's crutch to lean on when life got too much to carry alone. She was there for uli eomma's (my mother's) diagnosis and death 4 years back, when we were only 11 at the time. And I had been there constant two years ago when her bunny, Beoseuteo wasn't. Yeong-Ja wasn't just the face of a friend. It was of a jam-ae (sister).

I pushed open the front door, exhausted. We both took off our shoes and socks, slipping into their family's light pink house slippers; I even had my own name-engrave purple mug and very slippers.

“Eomma” She called for her mother. “Da-eun-ineun jeonyeog-eul meog-euleo namseubnida (da-eun is staying over for dinner).” She waved her hand, indicating to follow her into the kitchen.

“Gamsahab-nida imo (Thank you Auntie)” I bowed in respect and waved to her 3-year-old younger brother, Hyun-Wook. Auntie had made my favourite; tteokbokki, bulgogi, and kimchi jjigae, along with fried rice stick noodles. I poured kimchi jjigae into the glass bowl in front of me and began to slurp the stew.

Despite being referred to be street cuisine, it held a special place in my heart, a lasting emotional impact. I knew it also had a sentimental connection with me.

“Try this, ttal,” She smiled, scooping the bulgogi (type of meat) and tteokbokki (rice cakes) into my plate. “I made it especially for you,”

Comfort. It was all I could feel. Past memories of uli eomma (my mother) came to mind, her gorgeous face and fragrant aroma of blossoming flowers. It brought back the way she took care of me when I was sick, and forever stayed by my side. She was my second crutch to lean on. My bestest friend.


part 3
417 words

Amy stared into the fire, deep in thought. Had she truly been selfish like her family said? She twisted the turquoise ring and slipped it off, playing with it between her fingers. She knew it was time for her to act like a grown up, like a ‘selfless young lady’ just like her Father stated. And she knew he was right.

Mrs. March smiled down from the rocking chair. “Good night, my Amy,” she kissed the top of Amy's head and squeezed her hand.

“Goodnight Mama,” The daughter squeezed back, continuing to stay by the fire a bit longer.

“Amy?” a voice called from the top of the stairs.

Amy turned back to the sound of creaking. “Meg,”

Her older sister's calm, soft voice was soothing to Amy. Together, they sat on the carpet in front of the fireplace as Amy hugged her knees to her chest.

“You ready to talk about it?” Meg softly asked after enjoying multiple seconds of pure silence. She understood how hard it was, considering everything else that was happening with the family.

It was the right thing to do, and Amy, herself knew it. She looked around anxiously, focusing her glance towards the glass window frame, where they could both see and hear the pattering rain against the roof.

“Father's words,” she looked up at Meg, tears strolling down her face. “I-I didn't mean to act selfish this morning.” she paused, sniffing. "Father said to be a genuine young lady. To take action, so I tried. I did something nice and she got mad. Not me.“

It felt a relief to tell someone. To tell Meg.

She smiled, affectionately, and even chuckled. ”Oh, dear Amy.“ Meg stroked Amy's blonde hair, running her fingers through the knots. She shuffled through her pocket and pulled out a string of pearls. ”I want you to have this,“ She put the necklace over Amy and tied it from the back. ”While I'll be gone, keep this. Wherever you go, remember that day after day, ordinary people become heroes through extraordinary and selfless actions (quote by sylvia mathews burwell). We are capable of doing wonderful things,“ She smiled.

Amy laughed as she held onto the necklace. It was truly beautiful. ”And who said that?“ Meg was good at inspiration speeches, but surely, she wasn't a writer like Jo.

She laughed as well. ”C'mon,“ she stood up, her hand reaching towards Amy. ”Let's go to bed,"

It was a new beginning. For Amy March. For hope. Forever.


part 4
402 words

The old fisherman's life was pretty simple. Every morning, he woke up bright and early, welcomed by the graceful sunrise and a guaranteed experience of the dawn chorus, an unmistakable series of bird harmony's. He visited a majestic tree with quantities of beauty that stood on a floating island on his solo canoe across the sea. It held stunning, purely white flower buds that opened into yellow seeds, followed by a cage of a small, light blue coloured egg. Unlike eggs that came from birds, these skeptically grew from certain trees. The old fisherman used his claw hook to gather them in a large sack to sell at the nearby market. He got out of his open boat, making his way to an active village to find a safe place to stay. He placed down an antiquated carpet and sat down the caged eggs, ready to sell his new discovery. That afternoon, he had gotten lucky, as the first small, happy family arrived; a mother and young daughter. The innocent child begged her mother, pleaded, and jumped, excited to have a new friend. The mother gave in and bought the meaningful present for her youngster. As they left the market, the girl left to play a game of soccer with her confidant. She kept the caged egg with her, wherever she went, and never left it behind. As a child, a teenager, and as an adult. The egg hatched into a heavenly song bird and together, as the lassie aged, so did her companion. But the “young girl” wasn't just a damsel anymore. She had finally gone off and married her childhood best friend, just like the elders use to tease them about. The feathered friend tweeted a beautiful, cheerful song, and the girl was remotely reminded of her journey back to one's salad days, and their past memories together. All the times they had spent together. And even though it was hard to admit it, the once innocent and young child was now pretty long in the tooth. It was time to set the warble free and to explore the world for itself. She took it to a mountain/cliff underneath the bright, shining stars. The song bird flew away with one last clear note of hope into the clear sky. It was free, alas, living on and continuing its life when the debutant could not. It was a truly ravishing sight.

╰┈➤ Jules' Writing Thread

Dailies:

7/5
object: research notes
- One moment my chin was resting in the palm of my hand, and the next my forehead was hitting the table with a thump.
“…What?” I mumbled, looking back up and rubbing my bruised head absentmindedly. To my dismay, and the annoyance of the elderly woman sitting at the table next to me, I had fallen asleep halfway through writing my research paper. Not even halfway. The fluorescent screen of my laptop still displayed that sad, lonesome sentence: The culture of the ancient Celts was one that held great respect for the Earth and its natural wonders.
I hadn't the faintest idea what to write next, and my six-page paper on Celtic Mythology was due tomorrow. I checked the time. The cafe I was currently sitting in closed in three hours, and my brain was no closer to forming sentences. I was, quite literally, doomed.
“Hello, Miss! I can't help but notice you seem to be in need of a little pick-me-up?” I glanced up, startled, and saw that one of the baristas was standing right in front of me. There was a cup balanced precariously on a tray in their arms, filled with what appeared to be some sort of smoothie. The drink inside looked almost like aged paper, composed of several swirling shades of tan and white. Tiny black shapes danced throughout, perhaps sprinkles or- were those letters?
I blinked, pulling back a bit. “I'm sorry, but I don't have enough cash on me to pay for anything else.” I smiled faintly, raising my near-empty coffee cup. “I'll be alright.”
The barista laughed, a lilting sound that echoed off of the walls around us. “No need to worry, miss, this one is on the house. I think you will find that drinking it might solve your writer's block.” They grinned, depositing the smoothie on the table without any agreement from me.
“What's the flavor?” I asked curiously. It didn't look like anything I'd ever seen before.
They grinned, tucking the tray under their arm. “Research!”
I blinked and the barista was gone, leaving only a icy-cold smoothie sitting next to me. Huh, odd. I didn't think too much of it, though, already tired and desperate for any cure to my sudden lack of ideas. Time wasn't ticking any slower. I took a small sip from the straw, expecting maybe a hint of caramel.
The flavor was unfathomable. I couldn't even describe it, but it was the most delicious thing I'd had all day. And as the next few seconds ticked by, I felt my mind sharpening into focus and facts flooding into my head. Writing six pages didn't seem so difficult anymore. In fact, I was confident I could write eight pages without breaking a sweat.
What had the smoothie's flavor been again?

7/4
twists: your character can read minds when touching someone & the world changes colors depending on the emotions in that area
fandom: the house in the cerulean sea
- The first thing Linus noticed when he was rudely awoken from his slumber was that the darkness was not normal. The dim light of his room was tinted red, like fresh summer strawberries. Though, perhaps a bit darker than that. It was a more distressed red, as if the blazing red of sunsets had been plucked from the sky and let loose in the shadows of the guest house. Linus put on the slippers sitting by his bed and shuffled towards the door, droplets of sweat forming on his brow at the thought of what terrors might await him outside.
The sky was, and the detail made his heart leap in his chest, the color of blood. One of the children must have had a nightmare, and the shaking great house in front of him could mean only one. Lucy. So with great trepidation and a lump in his throat, Linus stepped inside the main house and forced himself to move up the stairs. The house swayed with every step. He had been dreading one of Lucy's infamous nightmares since the moment Arthur had told him of them, but he supposed DEPRAC would be glad for the information. Yes, maybe this wouldn't be so terrible.
The walls on the second floor were an even deeper red than the sky had been, stripes of pomegranate and burgundy. The floor looked like someone had spilled merlot upon it, and the door to Arthur's room was a frightening maroon. Linus' hand was shaking as he pushed open the door, but he trudged on anyway. Clearly Lucy was in great distress, and Arthur may not be able to comfort the boy on his own. It was Linus' duty as a caseworker to offer his help, even if the light emanating from Lucy's closet-room was a spine-chilling shade of garnet. When he entered the room, his heart nearly burst in his chest. Not out of fear, no, but out of woe for the sight in front of him. Arthur was holding Lucy firmly to his chest, and the six-year-old's small body was wracked with violent sobs as he writhed in his caretaker's arms.
“You're alright Lucy, you're here. Wherever your mind has sent you, it is not the truth. It's not who you are.” Arthur soothed, hugging the boy tight. The master of the orphanage continued to whisper comforting words while Linus stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and a warm feeling in his chest. Everything surrounding Lucy was tinged in terrifying reds, but Arthur was as bright and vibrant as ever. Doing everything he could to protect the small child in his arms, to keep him safe. It made Linus' heart ache.
After a while, Lucy seemed to return to himself, his eyes fluttering open and the red in them returning to blue. Linus forced his feet to move forward and he crouched beside the pair, touching his hand to Lucy's shoulder. The emotions in the young boy's body were still a riot, anger and deep despair warring with a growing sense of safety and contentedness. They turned sorrowful and regretful after a moment, as Lucy's eyes slid to the broken records on the floor. Most of the ones on his wall were still intact, but Linus noticed that some of his favorites had fallen and shattered into pieces.
Arthur took Lucy's hand before the bitter expression on the boy's face could grow. “We'll fix them. Won't we, Linus?” His gaze met Linus', pleading.
“Yes, yes we will. Look, some of them aren't even that damaged.” He made an attempt at comforting Lucy, pointing to the records that were slightly less fractured.
Lucy sighed, a frown tugging at his face. “But they won't work ever again. I ruined them.”
“Hey now,” Linus scolded lightly, waving his finger in front of Lucy's face. “What happened is not your fault. Tomorrow we can glue these ones back together, and then maybe we can-”
“There is a record shop in the village. We can get you some new ones.” Arthur interrupted, a strange look on his face. Linus cocked his head, bewildered, but Lucy was too filled with sudden glee to notice. The pure joy in his body burned bright, and Linus had to jerk his hand back, less his mind suffer the consequences. The deep reds faded from the room, replaced by oranges that were surprisingly close to yellow. Linus had never seen that color from Lucy.
“Really? Thank you Arthur!” Lucy turned his head, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that precious way they did when he was excited. “Thank you Mr. Baker!”
Linus nodded faintly, his gaze still fixed on Arthur. The master of the orphanage merely gave him a knowing smile before he guided Lucy back to bed. A warm feeling sparked in Linus' chest, and a blush colored his cheeks.
It probably wasn't that important, nor was the rosy color surrounding him.


Weeklies:
n/a

Word Wars:

Misc:

Premise for My WIP Novel
- Cassian Cain used to be nearly normal, before his life fell apart and fell apart again. In the eight years since, he has done everything he can to be ordinary, including repressing the family “gift” he inherited. Reluctantly moving back to his hometown of St. Augustine, younger sister in tow, will not ruin all of his hard work. He won’t allow it. But nothing stays buried in this city forever, and it isn’t long before he runs into his childhood best friend, a stark reminder of what he left behind. As usual, where the past goes trouble follows, and so it seems only natural that the next thing Cassian does is stumble upon the scene of a murder. A strange sight for this city is made stranger by its eerie resemblance to his own mother’s death, the very reason he left in the first place. Though he tries to forget about it, closure is too tempting a promise to resist. As long as he’s careful, he can solve this case and keep his abilities a secret. And yet the closer he gets to the truth, the more his mysterious family history nags at him. There is more than just murder at play in this town, and all of it seems to lead back to the Cains. The only thing left for Cassian to do is face it.

Short Story - “Tuesday Nights”
I can tell something is wrong the moment I step foot into the dingy comfort of Denny’s, warnings blaring in my head like police sirens. Bonnie is sitting at our usual table, but she looks tense as she rips the paper wrapping of a straw into shreds. Nervous. Bonnie Legare never, ever looks nervous. Her blond hair curls limply around her shoulders instead of in its usual ringlets, and as I walk up I can see how bitten-down her nails are. Bonnie Legare never looks anything but pristine.
“Jesus Bonnie, are you alright? You look like someone’s just kicked your puppy.” I remark softly, taking the half-ruined wrapper from her hands. Tuesday nights at Denny’s have been our little ritual since grade school, but I’m starting to seriously consider skipping this one.
She’s slow to meet my gaze, hastily wiping away a tear that falls from her baby blue eyes. “Might as well have.” Her head falls into her hands, fingers rubbing circles into her temples. “Everything’s ruined Daisy! My whole life, blown to bits!”
“Yeah?” I ask, pulling Bonnie’s hands away from her face. I’ve seen her panicked many times, but this one seems strangely worse. Real, almost. “Well, someone had to have set up the dynamite. Who did it, Bon?”
Her gaze darts around the room, fluorescent lights glinting off of the whites of her eyes and giving her even more of a terrified look. “I think he’s cheatin’ on me.”
Anger flares up in my chest like a forest fire, but I’m careful to hide it. Every time Bonnie has some sort of problem, it can be traced back to Tucker Legare in no time. Their story is the usual one around here, highschool sweethearts getting married right after graduation like they’re expected to. Following tradition and all that. The only thing folks are waiting on now is a baby, another touchy subject for Bonnie. “Figures he would. I’ve been saying he’s rotten for years, and now look.”
Bonnie rolls her eyes, a half-hearted spark of her usual self returning. “I know I know. It’s never been peachy for me either, you know that.”
I do, so I just nod and sip my sweet tea. Bonnie got here first and ordered for us both, as usual. Ten years and our orders haven’t changed a bit, which probably says something in itself or whatever. Ten years means I’ve also witnessed Tucker Legare’s dumbassery first-hand. That man doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose, but he also has more cruelty in his pinky finger than most do in their whole arm. I was always too tall and self-confident to gain his attention in the way Bonnie did, so instead I got to be the target of his frustration all throughout our school years. Until he touched my shoulder and I broke his nose. Then he learned to leave well enough alone.
Taking one of her hands in mine, I politely shoo away the approaching waiter. A Denny’s at 6:38 p.m. on a Tuesday probably isn’t the best spot for emotional discussions, but at least I know Tucker won’t be here. Naturally, he’s more of a Cracker Barrel guy. “What made you notice?” I ask lightly, spinning a toothpick between the fingers of my other hand.
“You know I’ve never touched wine in my life, yeah?” Bonnie looks down at her water and I nod. She drinks old fashioneds, with one extra orange slice. “Well, either Tucker’s decided he likes merlot all of a sudden or he’s kissing someone who does.” A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth, and for the first time I noticed how furious she is. She’s good at that, hiding those emotions deemed undignified. I never have been.
“That’s not all, even. The wine thing made me paranoid, so I ended up checking our bank account.” She slides her phone across the table, and my dark eyes narrow when I see what she’s pointing at. “Multiple purchases from the jewelry shop in the past couple months. First I thought, ‘oh maybe he’s savin’ it for our anniversary or somethin’. But I wanted to know for sure, so I searched the house while he was gone. Nothin’. And funnily enough, I saw one of the exact same pieces he bought around the neck of Betsy Calloway just the other day.”
I’m livid now, beyond * that he would do that to Bonnie, but I almost smile in spite of myself. She’s always been too clever for this town, should’ve gotten out when we graduated. Now’s not the time for reminiscing though. She needs my help. “Alright, here’s what we’ll do. Go home, pretend like everything is normal and you don’t suspect anything. Meet me at the park, and we’ll confront him together tomorrow, ok?” I stare her dead in the eyes, trying to get her to understand my urgency. “Don’t say anything to him alone. Promise me you won’t say anything Bonnie, promise.”
She nods and waves for the check, frowning at her nearly untouched food. Always frowning lately. “I promise Daisy. I’ll be fine.”

✥✥✥

I’ve been sitting in the park for two hours, and I’m running out of breadcrumbs to feed the pigeons with. Bonnie hasn’t shown up. Bonnie Legare is never late. I check my phone, just in case I have the wrong time or she messaged me with an update, but there’s nothing. Something’s incredibly wrong.
Fortunately, it isn’t a long drive to the Legare house at all. My weathered old boots tap anxiously on the front porch, waiting a reasonable amount of time before I ring the doorbell again. It’s a pretty house, white-picket fence and pale yellow clapboard. Just the kind of property a nice couple like the Legares would own, and far-removed from my own slanting cabin by the river.
My head shoots up as the door opens, and my heart drops as Tucker steps out. He should be at work, not home. Where’s his wife?
“Daisy Jane! I was just about to head out, what brings you here? A bit far from home, ain’t it?” I can hear the insult in his words, plain as day, but I bite back a retort. Not now.
“Good mornin’ to you to, Tucker. You seen Bonnie?” I ask, watching him for any sort of irregularity.
A mildly concerned look rises on his face, and he shuts the door behind himself. “No, matter of fact I was going to ask you. I figured she stayed over at your place. She didn’t?”
“No.” I keep my tone neutral, but inside my head the gears are turning. Bonnie’s missing, if Tucker is to be believed. My best friend, vanished into thin air.
Tucker walks over to his truck, looking back at me with a tense expression. “I’m going to the station then, get a head start on whatever the hell this is. She can’t be far. You want to come with?”
I laugh, all manners disappearing at the absurd question. “Not with you, no. Besides, I have work. I’ll head over there later.” Not giving him a moment to say anything else, I get in my own car and tear out of there faster than a lightning storm. Right now, I’m not sure I want to be alone with Tucker anywhere.
The thought solidifies in my mind as I drive away, every little bit of information piecing together. Without a doubt, I am sure that he killed Bonnie. He must have noticed she looked off, must have realized she knew and- and killed her. I feel sick to my stomach, but I know it’s true. Nobody else could have done it. No one else would have a reason to.
I can’t go to the station right now, not when he’ll be there, so I head for work instead. Surely the cops will see that something’s off, and will take Tucker in as a suspect. They can’t be that dumb.

✥✥✥

They can be that dumb.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I shout, outrage exploding from me like water from a burst dam. “No arrest? You’re not arresting Tucker?”
Neil Dunbar; town sheriff, meathead, and all-around bigot, looks up from his file again to give me an unamused look. “Why would we arrest Mr. Legare? At this time, we don’t believe him to be a suspect in the disappearance of Mrs. Legare.”
I want to scream, I want to punch him in his stupid mustached face, but I don’t. I can't afford to make more enemies. I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. Tucker made his report, gave a statement, and they didn’t do anything. He drove off scott-free.
It seems I’ve severely underestimated the intelligence and integrity of Maple Ridge, South Carolina’s police department. They don’t even care. “Who do you think did it, then?”
“Well we can’t know anything yet, the case has just opened. But there is a possibility that Mrs. Legare simply… left. Disappeared herself. It’s possible she wasn’t harmed at all.” Sheriff Dunbar muses, as if this whole affair is even less important than his newspaper and coffee. I squeeze my fist tight, and I nearly do punch him.
“So that’s it then?” I ask, dumbfounded by the sheer ineptitude of this town to do anything worthwhile.
The sheriff nods, pushing the case file away to focus back on his morning donut. “That’s it for now. Unless you’d like to make a statement? You were the last person to see Mrs. Legare alive, far as we know.”
“I did not kill my best friend.” I grit my teeth and spin on my heel, eager to get out of here before he gets any more ‘ideas’. *.
Outside the station, I raise my eyes from my phone and spot Jesse Walker across the street. He runs Maple Ridge’s only newspaper, so maybe he’ll be willing to hear me out.
It takes all but a minute of conversation to quickly learn he’s not. Something about it ‘not being a story that would sell’ or ‘highly improbable’. Stupid reporters and their stupid stories. What about the truth?
I spend the rest of the day wandering around town and looking for anyone who will believe my accusation. Nobody does. None of them are willing to consider the idea that their former star quarterback killed his wife. Because that would be ‘against God’ and Tucker Legare would ‘never disobey God’. The same thing, from each and every one of them.
Course, their reluctance to trust me doesn’t only stem from their adoration of Tucker. I’m not exactly popular with the normal townsfolk, I never have been. My dad wasn’t either, and he had preferred it that way. I’m the same, but I’ll do whatever I have to if it means saving up enough to get out of this * town. I imagine my hatred of perfect Maple Ridge is partially the reason for their resistance to believe me.
It’s no matter, though. I’ll just solve this myself.
That proves to be much harder than I had expected, after two weeks go by and nothing has happened. Not an ounce of evidence, even circumstantial, places Bonnie anywhere near Tucker when she went missing. All things considered, he seems perfectly innocent. I know the truth though, I know he’s lying.
Vindication arrives on a cloudy Tuesday evening, when I make my daily drive past the Legares’ house. Or, just Tucker’s house now. Except for the new car parked right outside next to the truck.
I recognize it, of course I do. It’s Betsy Calloway’s car, the same one she nearly hit me with in eleventh grade, the *. The same Betsy Calloway who had been wearing a necklace identical to one Tucker purchased, according to Bonnie. I take a good look at it, and it’s then that I notice something else. The truck has new tires, brand-spankin’ new. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tucker’s tires, so why does he need new ones?
The next morning, I hightail it to the police station, slamming a paper bag on Sheriff Dunbar’s desk as I sit down across from him. “Brought you a donut.” I say, smiling when I see the wariness on his face.
“While I appreciate that, Ms Bennett, I assume that isn’t the only reason for your visit.” He says as a statement, not a question. “What’s happened now?”
I shrug, playing with the loose fibers of my sweater as I draw out the silence. “Oh nothin’ much. Just dropped by to say I noticed Betsy Calloway seems to have moved in with Tucker Legare. He’s moved on awfully fast, hasn’t he? There hasn’t even been a funeral.”
The sheriff sighs, leaning back in his chair like I’ve just aged him fifteen years. “I heard about that. Wouldn’t call it too surprising, considering how close they were back in the day. Hardly worth mentioning, really.”
I shoot to my feet, slamming my hands down on the dark mahogany of the desk and partially squishing the donut offering in the process. “Exactly! Everyone knows they wanted to get married! The only thing that stopped them was Tucker and Bonnie’s parents pairing them together!”
“What exactly are you trying to tell me, Ms. Bennett?” He drawls, looking incredibly bored with me.
“Bonnie figured out Tucker was cheating on her, just before she went missing. With whom, you may ask? Betsy * Calloway.” I slam my hands on the desk again, for emphasis, but it doesn’t seem like the point has gotten across.
Sheriff Dunbar rubs a hand over his face, pulling the donut bag out of the way of my hand in case I hit something again. It’s a likely possibility. “Are you trying to tell me that Tucker Legare killed his wife so that he could be with his old highschool girlfriend again, is that it?”
I nod sharply, but I frown as he raises his arm and points at the door. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Ms. Bennett. You’ve been quite the disturbance.”
“What? No! I’m right about this, I know I am!” I shout back, only to feel someone pulling me back. It’s another officer, who shoves me in the direction of the door and slams it in my face as I continue to yell. What absolute morons.
People on the street are staring at me, and I let them as I stomp down the steps. What do I care if my outburst damages my reputation? It’s not like I ever had much of one to begin with. That was Bonnie’s job, and now she’s gone.
The full weight of it hits me as I turn into the park, all the pent-up grief and sorrow hitting me square in the chest like several pounds of bricks. I sink to my knees on the patchy autumn grass, and rain begins to hit my face. Predictable.
Bonnie is gone. Bonnie Legare is probably dead. My best friend, the only person who has ever given me any sort of chance, taken from me forever. More than a friend, really, though I had never worked up the courage to say it. I was saving that for when we escaped, got out of this cursed place, but now that’ll never happen. All because of Tucker * Legare.
At this moment, I want nothing more than to walk right up to him and punch him until he admits what he did. It would sure be satisfying.
Wait.
I can’t do that, maybe, but there’s something else I could do. It would be so incredibly risky, and it might not do anything besides hurt me too, but I need to. I owe it to Bonnie to do this. Bonnie Legare never gave up on anything, and I won’t either. That's all I can do.
After I’ve wandered home, showered, and changed, I sit down at my rickety dining table and lay out a plan. It shouldn’t even be that hard, as long as everything goes exactly right. I have the advantage in this. Maple Ridge sees me as a madwoman, but not as any sort of threat bigger than that. I’m just a grief-filled girl in their eyes, and they think I’ll come to my senses eventually. As if I had any to begin with.
When it’s done, I hop in my beat-up old Corolla and head in the direction of Bonnie’s old neighborhood. The time hasn’t gotten quite too late yet, so the person I’m looking for should still be up. And she is, when I ring the doorbell.
“Daisy Jane! What’re you doing here?” Abigail Martin blinks at me, stunned but clearly happy as a smile works its way on her face. She’s the spitting image of her older sister, and the only person I can trust to help me with this.
I grin and gesture for her to follow me, which she does, shutting the door behind her. We stand on the porch as rain continues on, and I fidget with my hands. “Abigail, what do you think happened to your sister?”
She tilts her head, frowning in that same concentrated manner that Bonnie used to. “Well, my parents and everyone say she probably just ran away, but I don’t believe that. I think someone killed her. You do too, right?”
“Yeah, yeah I do.” I lean against the porch railing, gauging her expression for any sort of apprehension. “I think Tucker killed her, so that he could get with Betsy Calloway again.”
Abigail gasps, and I know what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth. “Oh my lord, of course! Oh, that *! When I see him again-”
I place a hand on her shoulder to stall her. “I know. I’m going to make sure he gets what’s comin’ to him, but I need you to do somethin’ for me.”
“What is it?” She asks, steely resolve sparking in her eyes.
“Meet me at the lake tomorrow. I’ll leave right after you get there, but when I get back I need you to act like I was around all day, teachin’ you how to fish. If anyone asks, we were both at the lake all day, yeah?” It’s a lot to ask, I know it is, but I also know how close Abigail was with Bonnie. They were two peas in a pod, always.
Abigail nods, a determined set to her chin as she steps back towards the door. “I can do that. For Bonnie, anythin’.” She pauses on the threshold and turns back to me for a moment. “Can you promise me somethin’ too?”

✥✥✥

I had leaned against a wall in the town square as Betsy Calloway was hauled into the sheriff’s car, screaming profanities all the way. Three hours later, townsfolk are still gasping, whispering things to each other that I bet I could predict if I wanted to. But I don’t care this time. The gossip isn’t directed at me anymore.
‘In the late hours of Tuesday, October 26th, Tucker Legare was found dead in his own home. He was strangled, the autopsy report says, with what appeared to be some kind of necklace. Three hours ago, they matched it to one Betsy Calloway had been seen wearing. They found it in her pocket, with some of Mr. Legare’s DNA attached to it upon testing. The police also discovered $50,000 had been transferred from Mr. Legare’s account into Ms. Calloway’s. It is also suspected that she is responsible for the disappearance and presumed death of Bonnie Legare, though the body has yet to be found.’
I tear my eyes away from the newspaper at the sound of approaching footsteps and look up to see Abigail in front of me. There’s a smile on her face, bright as the sun.
“I gave your alibi to Sheriff Dunbar, so you’re all clear on that front.” She says, hopping up on to the low stone wall. “Bonnie’s funeral is next week, you stickin’ around?”
I shake my head, rolling up the paper and stuffing in the pocket of my jacket. “I don’t reckon I could handle that. Not yet. Besides, it’s time for me to hit the road. I got a promise to keep, don’t I?”
Abigail nods, a lopsided grin on her face. “Call me when you get there, okay? I want to hear about everythin’.”
“First chance I get. And hey, feel free to visit once you graduate. I think you’d love Chicago.” I pull her into one last hug before I head over to my car, already packed with all my worldly possessions. She’s a good kid, and I think she’ll be just fine.
I’ll be alright too, after a little bit. Tucker’s dead, Betsy is going away for whatever part she played in all of it, and I’m finally getting out. For once in my life, all the stars have aligned.
On my way out, I end up driving by the cemetery. Bonnie will be there soon, if only in spirit. My dad’s there now, and I send a quick prayer to him for teaching me how to drive a boat. Who knew it’d come in handy in this way. I thank my job too, for making me clean house after house. And I thank Abigail too, of course, for believing me. She’s been the first person to since Bonnie.
My car screeches to a halt as I stop outside the Denny’s, and I can almost smell the old pancakes and bacon, feel the cold air and the fluorescent lights beaming down on me. I don’t believe in ghosts, or anything of the sort, but if I did I think this is where Bonnie would be. It was our place, and a piece of our souls will always be there. Our Tuesday night tradition won’t ever truly die.
I’ll always remember Bonnie Legare, and everything she did for me. Every breath I take in Chicago will be partially for her, every experience she never got to have. She’ll be with me, always, but I have hope that my heart will heal in time.
The Denny’s turns into a blur as I pull out of the lot, switching on the radio. I tap my hands on the steering wheel as a song plays, a pop artist I’ve listened to a thousand times. Words are whispered under my breath, but they’re so quiet someone sitting next to me wouldn’t have heard them. Just three simple syllables, meant for only one person.
“I did it.”

July 1st – Daily #1
159 words

How would I describe myself as the perfect sundae?

Peppercorn and strawberry would be the ice cream flavour that best reflects me. I'm recognized for being acidic, sweet, and spicy, but also reserved. I have a tendency to be ambitious and competitive, as well as a little dramatic like cookie dough or chocolate. Salted caramel also works; it's a little more daring, original, and lively. I'm complex, but I'm simple to say. Similar to what my ideal ice cream flavour would be. But in all honesty, I'm not a fan of ice cream sundaes. The toppings are more my style. Yes, we enjoy the excitement, the creativity, and the pandemonium, but you can't just have plain old rainbow sprinkles. However, more is required. There must be a traditional classic, like hot fudge. Or maraschino cherries, whipped cream, and sugar cones. We need chopped walnuts, fruits, candy, and syrups. Overall a little excessive, but the perfect sundae to characterize me.

Daily 1: Intro (1251 words)

Hello! My name is Rockie and I go by she/her pronouns. I live in the PST timezone, and this will be my eighth session of SWC and my fourth as a member of the leadership team! That means I’ve been a camper four times. (I don’t know which cabins though- all I remember was that I was in Real-Fi last July, Thriller once, and Fairytales once. I have a terrible memory when it comes to these things lol.)
I have the privilege to be one of the leaders of the Adventure Voyage this session, along with Wari and Aurora! If you’re a member of Adventure, I know you’re going to have a great time.
In the interests of filling space, I’m going to tell you the slightly interesting story of my username. If you’ve clicked on my profile, you might have seen that I actually am on a school account. This was started in fourth grade by my computer science teacher, and I’ve been on it ever since. I know I should probably move and start a “real” account, but I’m way too sentimental to do that. However, I am considering making a new account called @RockieTheSalmon. We’ll see.
In terms of personality, I like to think of myself as outgoing, kind, friendly and sweet, although I can be pretty shy sometimes. I try very hard to be a good friend, but I can be very judgmental and stubborn. I am a ESFJ-T, according to the test I just took two seconds ago, which I think means Extroverted, Sensing, Feeling, Judging and Turbulent. This personality type is labeled the Consul, which means someone who is loyal, helpful, caring, and social. I am a certified Anglophile, and I hope to move to London or Oxford after college, because I feel like that would be such an amazing place to live, especially as a writer. When I grow up, I want to be a Disney Imagineer and a YA fantasy novelist.
Some of my favorite things to do are reading, writing, cooking, baking, and speech and debate.
I’ve loved reading ever since I was little. I’ve loved the Land of Stories since I was in fourth grade, and a new favorite of mine has been the Caraval series. I also love Keeper of the Lost Cities and Harry Potter. Some nonfiction books that I like are The Library Book by Susan Orlean (which is about a library fire that happened somewhere) and I love reading cookbooks. The thing I love about reading is being able to disappear into different worlds full of magic, mystery and infinite possibilities, and I just love to read stylistic writing. Reading Fahrenheit 451 and Caraval feels like poetry, and as someone who really appreciates language, that’s amazing to me. Also, I love love love talking to people, so if you’re interested in some of the books or hobbies I mentioned, please talk to me on my profile! I don’t bite, I promise! (Unless you ship sofitz… then I bite *evil laugh*)
Obviously, I’m a writer, and I’ve been doing it ever since I was tiny… first grade I think?? However, I haven’t written anything in a while, and I feel really bad about it, so I’m hoping to get back into the groove this session. I mainly write short stories, but I’m hoping to work on a novel this summer! I started a novel in second grade about a girl that travels into the fairy world, and I worked on that for years until I realized how complicated world building and plotting was. My new idea is about a boy named Connor who travels to his grandpa’s house and discovers a magical world, where he finds his long-lost great aunt and breaks her heart by signing up to apprentice with her enemy (who turns out to be a villain who is trying to become a shadow person). It’s rough, and not very innovative, but I hope to complete it by the end of this year! The thing I like most about writing is that you have control over what you make. I also have this belief that “if you’re good at something, it’s your duty to put it out into the world, because what you make could be the thing that inspires someone else to follow their dream.” I think that writers are the gardeners in the orchard of art. And now we’re in philosophical Rockie territory so let’s back the t. rex up-
I love to cook and bake because I’ve grown up watching cooking shows. When other kids watch Never Have I Ever, I’m watching Masterchef. (That’s partly because my parents banned me from watching Never Have I Ever. I got through the first season, though, and it was really good!) I like cooking because it gives you more freedom to make what you want, and I like baking because I like sugar. My favorite things to make are probably fresh (not french) pasta and decorating cakes. I’m not good enough to be on a cooking show or anything, but I think I’m pretty good! I read Salt, Fat, Acid Heat, which is basically a cooking theory book that I really found interesting, and I think it helped me a lot. If you’re a chef, I totally recommend it!!
Another thing I like to do is speech and debate. I like public speaking and arguing with people, so it’s a natural hobby! I probably like giving speeches a little more than I like debating, but I would consider myself pretty good at both. I’ve been involved in speech and debate since third grade, and I really enjoy it. I like arguing for and talking about things I like/believe in, and my experience in public speaking and speech writing helped me get elected secretary for the student council this year, so that was good!
I also love Hamilton, Disneyland, Andor, and National Parks. I could tell you EVERYTHING you wanted to know about Disneyland or Hamilton, and I love nature and National Parks. I think Andor is a masterpiece of a show, and I LOVED it.

Now for the ice-cream part! This is like my favorite daily ever because ICE CREAM-
I think I’d be in a waffle bowl with chocolate and sprinkles, because cones are messy and I think of myself as a rather organized person. I think I’m pretty fun and creative, so SPRINKLES! I think I should have two scoops, because I think my personality has two different sides. The first scoop would probably be my normal side, which would be vanilla ice cream with a chocolate and caramel swirl. I think the chocolate would show how I like to be around people, since chocolate and vanilla go well together, and the caramel shows that I’m friendly and sweet. The next scoop would probably be cotton candy, because it’s unique and colorful, but maybe a little fake-tasting, which might show how sometimes I feel out of place and sort of like I’m being pressured into acting popular and shallow, since my school is very clique-y and popularity-based. I probably wouldn’t have any toppings, because I feel like I’m very open and don’t hide my personality or how I feel under a ton of sprinkles.

If you have read all the way to the bottom, I feel very bad for you! But, yeah, that’s the end of my rant! Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great session!!! <33

claire’s thread!!!

daily one
if i were an ice cream sundae i would be a hodgepodge of flavors and toppings, the kind that’s only ever ordered on a dare. the weird sundae at the bottom of the menu that most people initially pass by and few are able to appreciate. the scoops spilling out of the sundae dish don’t seem like they should fit together, but in some strange way they make perfect sense.

daily two (it's bad, ik)
I dangle my feet over the boardwalk, my toes just barely touching the water. A cool breeze tickles my cheeks as I stare out at the landscape. The ocean is still and the trees lining the water gently sway in the wind. Everything is eerily perfect. I feel the wooden panel creak as if someone is walking on it and I turn to see Lauren.
“What are you doing here” I ask, the anger that I had finally managed to suppress bubbling to the surface again.
“I wanted to check on you, we had no idea where you’d gone,” Her throat is hoarse, as if she had been crying. Over me?
“I thought–” Her voice wavers and then she stops.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble “I didn’t really think that anyone would care if I left”
“Can we go for a walk?” she asks
Without responding I stand up and she follows, walking along the boardwalk in silence, the only sounds being the subtle lull of the waves against the shore.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “I didn’t realize you’d care so much about a stupid crab.” she says.
“A stupid crab?,” I ask, astonished at her audacity after all of this. “It was literally my pet”
“We-we didn’t realize that at the time–” she tries to defend herself but I cut her off.
“It doesn’t even matter. That was such a stupid thing to do regardless.”
As we transition from the boardwalk to the soft sand I take a deep breath.
“Maybe I overreacted.” I say, even though I know that I didn’t.
“I don’t even think you did,” Lauren says “It was a stupid and mean thing to do, we weren’t thinking.
But I know that they were thinking. There was plenty of time for them to consider the consequences of what they were doing and they simply didn’t. I genuinely didn’t know how I could defend it this time.

daily five

I gently place the pink walkie talkie into the blender, observing its blue buttons and long plastic antenna for one final time before it’s (theoretically) turned into a super smoothie.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask Liv, my best friend as I carefully place the lid on the blender.
“No,” she replies “But it’s worth a try. Should we count down?”
I nod and then start the countdown
“3, 2–”
“1” she finishes, cutting me off.
I press the start button.
At first it seems like what you’d expect from putting a plastic walkie talkie into a blender, the blades hit the walkie talkie, scratching and breaking it. As soon as I begin to give up hope on the blender, something magical happens. The clunky plastic walkie talkie has disappeared and in its place is a pale pink liquid that looks almost like a strawberry smoothie. Before I can even react the blender slows and then stops. I look at Liv in amazement.
“It actually worked” I say, not even trying to hide my awe.
Liv just smiles.
“Should we try it?” she asks.
I nod eagerly and begin pouring it into the glasses that I’d set out. I hand one to her and we hold the glasses out, clinking them together.
“To our friendship” we say together
We both immediately swallow the whole thing in one gulp. It tastes like strawberries and summer and we both smile but after the taste fades nothing happens.
“It didn’t do anything” I say, disappointed
“Yeah” Liv replies, matching my tone.
But then I realize something strange. Her lips had never moved. But I had heard exactly what she was saying.
I squeal with excitement. “Liv, I think we can communicate telepathically now!”