Daily 2:
Words: Akimbo, Humdrum, Digress, Limn, and agog.
A woman sat idle on her couch, knowing her job interview had gone wrong. Her friend ran into the apartment, gasping for air. It was obvious she had just run from work, meaning she had missed the bus. When her friend saw her sitting on the couch, she put her arms akimbo. “Listen here, Faye Marie Dubois. Stop sulking and get off that couch. You have a tendency to overthink. Perhaps you did get the job. Cut yourself some slack.”
“Fine fine, I’ll stop overthinking, Fleur.” Faye stood up, determined to change her thinking. The sun was slowly setting, as she opened up a book. She sat there reading until Fleur brought her dinner over. She thanked the other woman and turned back to her book. She was very agog to read the ending as the book fascinated her. The author's writing style appealed to her. She went to bed once she had finished, savoring how the book had ended.
When the morning came, she opened up her curtains, shielding her eyes from the glare. She was not a morning bird. That was for sure. She grabbed her phone from her nightstand, reading an email she had gotten the previous night whilst she was too busy reading. She had gotten the job. She ran to tell Fleur about it, and Fleur wouldn’t stop telling her, “I told you so.”
“We get it Fleur,” Faye said.
“It’s good to see you being excited for a job again. I knew how upset you were when you were laid off. But hey, it’s a much better paying job now!” Fleur stated. Faye nodded her head, excusing herself to get ready. First impressions stick, and she didn’t want a bad one to stick with her.
Once she had gotten ready, she smeared butter on a few pieces of toast. She ate it and got into her car, driving to work. When she got inside, her happy demeanor fell apart. Her boss was a humdrum character. His demeanor was getting on her nerves, and it hadn’t even been an hour since she arrived. He talked as though he was stuck in this job, not wanting to be in it. Making the best of it, Faye walked to her desk and sat down, beginning her work. After some time, the work day ended, and she went back home. Once she got home, she picked up another book by the same author as the one she had read before.
She opened the pages and was mesmerized by the world the author had created. They limned a perfect world in their story, and she was captivated by it. Soon as the hours went by she went to bed.
Her dreams were full of her writing stories. Stories that captivated her full interest. She had a plan, but if she went through with it, she would digress from her original plan. Her original plan was to focus on her new job, but now she also wanted to write.

So what did she do?

She didn’t quit her job immediately, but once her book was finished, she did.

My words, Thanks @Caseious ! Porcelain, lace, fortune, tremble, reflection.
Daily 2.

(581 words)

- • -
On my way to the bakery, for much needed bread and cookies, I heard my name called. - 17

“Audrey!” A shout from an unknown voice, who would want me if it wasn't my own family? I planted my foot in the ground and turned. /Careful! Easy does it, Audrey!/ Was what I thought to myself as an attempt to slow my motion and not send the boxes of porcelain dolls spiraling onto the ground. - 56

When I turned around, I just so happened to see a boy, my age, beckoning me over to him. He had blond hair cut short, but it was messed up and in his eyes. The boy also had emerald green eyes, that could have been a nightlight for my little brother because they were so bright. I did not recognize him, but he looked friendly enough. - 66

I made my way over to where he called me, more focused on keeping my pace steady and boxes intact than looking at him or the shop he was standing in front of. Once I was there, I looked right where he was standing before. He was not there, and that was when the chill struck me. Nobody else was in the market anymore, even though it was so crowded before. They had all disappeared. I set my boxes down as I heard the boy's voice again, - 88

“In here!” He waved to me from the doorway of a purple building. The building had a lantern outside, and magenta accents. But what looked funny about it was the fact that there were green streamers obstructing my vision through the door. It seemed to me like this building must be new, as it was squeezed tight between two other buildings. - 61

I tugged on the skirt of my lace dress, and entered. It was a small room with no windows, curtains hung from the ceiling. It looked somewhat medieval. And the girl and boy inside it looked almost the same. Blond hair, emerald eyes. And they wore clothes that certainly were medieval. - 52

And then something clicked in my brain. I recognized these two, they were twins in my school. Always bullied. And their mother owned the fortune telling shop. This shop was known for its tricks, things that left your brain frozen. Things that hurt people, and made them go insane. That was the shop I was in. With these two. - 59

“Sit down, sit down!” The girl pushed me over to a wooden stool that was missing a leg. Her brother quickly noticed, - 22

“Fidelity, not that one! Its broken!” The boy shooed his sister away, bringing another wooden stool - this time covered in purple cloth - to replace the broken one. - 27

“Shut up, Casper!” The girl, Fidelity, hissed at her brother. I sat on the new chair, as the two were scrambling around the room lighting candles. There was an eerie vibe about the room. I had a feeling to flee, but why? I wanted to figure out what was going on here…but yet I also did not. How did they make the shopgoers disappear? - 65

Casper placed a table, covered in the same purple cloth as my chair, in front of me. Fidelity placed a mirror on it. The cloth had swirls, flowers, faces. And the design seemed to change. - 35


While the twins were wandering about with trembling hands, I was looking at my reflection in the mirror. - 18

And that was when their mother walked in, with a bright smile. - 12

“Oh, hello dear!” - 3

[]


- • -

My smoothie prompt
Item: The Maze Runner books…but I'm doing Teresa from Maze Runner.

- • -

WIP

daily 2:

words: raindrops, shimmer, melody, tingle, hope

(321 words)

The minute hand stops with the beat of my heart as I watch him go. A part of me wants to chase after him, to let him know that I am sorry, but his footsteps have long run out of notes to sustain their melodic tingles. So I listen to the raindrops instead, hoping that the weather can replace the rhythm I have lost.

But nature can not mask the hope I no longer feel. But I beg– beg for the world to veil my misery under gauze and to allow me to drink my antiseptic alone. This is no disease nor disorder– this pain is an injury, and injuries wait on no cures. Time heals, but I am tired of always waiting in inaction. I will the streets to bring you home, but their replies seemed to be gagged with the floods of rainwater. Regardless, the message I would have heard is one I have heard before:

No.

Whether it is rejection or denial, I am followed by my torment like shadows. Maybe that is why I prefer to lurk in the darkness; it seems to be the only time my shadow disappears into the rest of the world. Glancing away from the window, I approach the light switch and turn the lights off.

Better. The puddles shimmer beneath the streetlights. I remember a time when I could dance with somebody like those sparkles in the splashes. Now, I dance alone to a distant rhythm, to a rhythm that I can only hear in memories.

I miss your heartbeat. I miss your melodies. I miss when our hearts sang harmonies that blended together like breaths on a winter hike.

I waste my heartbeats missing you. I waste my melodies missing you. I waste my breaths fogging up the glass in futile attempts to write the goodbye messages that I did not have the chance to tell you.

I lost you.

daily 4:

twist #1: everybody switches minds with their archnemesis for a day
twist #2: everyone swaps bodies with someone else once a year for a day

Fan-fiction of Red, White, and Royal Blue; I chose the scene where they're in the lake and Alex tells Henry he loves him, and Henry abruptly dashes out the scene and goes back to England :>

(498 words)

And I love you enough to know.

I love you enough to know I can never give you what you want.

So I am sorry.

I am a silent observer of this departure. I open my mouth to speak, but I can say nothing but your words. You– I– we– your body wrangles itself out of the moonlit waters. Do you feel the splinters beneath your palms too? Do you feel the frigid grasp of night claw at your naked skin too? A hoarse voice calls from behind.

“Henry! Did I do something wrong? Wait–” I recognize that voice. I recognize your name. That voice is from no stranger; that voice is– was– still is– should be mine. Your head does not turn to acknowledge the plead.

And I love you enough to know.

Tell me, what do you really know?

I love you enough to know I don't deserve you.

I love you enough. Enough, and that is enough.

So I am sorry.

You are still wrong.

Do not forgive me.

I do not need to.

Your hands snatch your clothes from the deck and your body begins to run. I will the uncanny replica of my former self to chase after you, but I hear no indication that he is following. Though he may not be following behind, I wonder if he is following along with your actions and thoughts. Does he understand the way I do now?

Entering the beach house, your body makes a mad dash to the bedroom. Your hand snatches your phone and your fingers send a message. I read the contact name as “Shaan” and the text as “I need a flight back to England ASAP.”

And I love you enough to know.

And I know you know nothing.

I love you enough to let you have the chance I could never have.

Keep your chances. You still have it. I love you enough to know.

So I am sorry.

And I did not know you would react in this manner. I could never have.

Do not forgive me.

Henry, I said it back there, and I still mean it. I love you, and for that, I am sorry.

It is time to go.

And I will not let you leave. Do not forgive me.

All dressed, your body exits the beach house, and Shaan is already in the car waiting.

“Why go so fast?” he asks, but your mouth orders for him to shut up and drive.

“Flight should be ready by the time we get to the airport,” he mumbles. Your body leans on the window, and I wonder how you feel when life around you washes past like melting watercolors. Do you still remember the picture of how it once was?

I think your eyes are crying. But I promise I am coming.

daily 5:

air conditioner smoothie!!
(206 words)

The air conditioner crackles in the blender. Its mechanical parts grind into metal shavings, and the plastic slowly transforms into a white paste. I hesitantly press the button to stop the air conditioner from blending, but by now I am left with some metallic fluid. A random screw floats in the liquid, and I shiver as steamy bubbles gurgle unexpectedly in the smoothie. I pour the contents into a glass, and I take a deep breath before gulping the smoothie down. The fluid burns my tongue, and the acidic residue lingers in my mouth long after I am done drinking the concoction. At first, I feel no different. But then I notice the icicles freezing in the ceiling and a sheet of ice forming on the carpet. I wave my arms around and the world is warm, yet what I see is a different story. Confused, I jump onto the couch, only for the cushions to turn into ice. There is no clue that this ice block was once a couch— the once comfortable fabric has now become rock-solid frozen water. Looking down at my hands, I see my fingers slowly becoming translucent. I try to scream, but my voice is paralyzed. I am petrified.

daily 6-7:

(320 words)

I gulp down all of my shipwrecks
Try to get myself out of this mess
out of this shipwreck, out of this shipwreck
hands down, watch all of the blood wash off
eyes up, watch the stars as they take off
as they all take off, as they all wash off

salt pupils, fake people, speed needles
oceans tainted with evil
brine smiles, dried files, league miles
sailing into the wild (into the wild)

iceberg eyes, why
don’t you melt mine—
don’t you melt mine?
I fall into the ice
into your eyes
into your eyes
Your eyes, blue ice
tripping now I’m sliced

my ships, your kiss
I am your anchor
you are my danger
shipwreck sickness

I hold down the fortresses
Down goes my importance it’s
down goes my entrance, down goes my entrance
upright, hold me as I bite my piece
down right, keep all of the golden teeth
all of the goals we, all of the goals please

wave signals, rip middle, tide little
you’re always in my peripheral
bolt sudden, few dozen, god summons
you’re always pushing my buttons (my buttons)

iceberg eyes, why
don’t you melt mine—
don’t you melt mine?
I fall into the ice
into your eyes
into your eyes
Your eyes, blue ice
tripping now I’m sliced

my ships, your kiss
I am your anchor
you are my danger
shipwreck sickness

soiled by your oil heart
why don’t you tear my apart?
now I’m stuck in your tar
and I smell like your char
painted by your industrial shame
my tears are only acid rain
but you still look like my pain
even under a new name

iceberg eyes, why
don’t you melt mine—
don’t you melt mine?
I fall into the ice
into your eyes
into your eyes
Your eyes, blue ice
tripping now I’m sliced

my ships, your kiss
I am your anchor
you are my danger
shipwreck sickness

Weekly 1:

Part 1 (300 words):

The fisherman is walking up a grassy hill. He appears to be forlorn, a gloomy expression written across his face. The skies are darkening, and he wonders where everybody has gone. Is the world empty today, or has it always been like this? Years of ignoring the outside have led him to lose sight of reality. But, he is here now, and he is ready for something to change.

Above him, he sees the clouds, and for the first time, he believes this can save his poverty. These days, droughts and floods have made the fish market unreliable, and an idea begins to develop in his mind. Perhaps he could reel in a cloud to sell; everybody loves novelty, and this will surely cause all the merchants to crowd around his stand. He dreams of living in a castle in the sky. He dreams of a day when food and water will no longer be an issue. He dreams of diving into crystal lakes instead of dumpsters.

Holding on to his pile of threads, he wants to believe that he can reel in his dreams like the clouds above. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? As an experienced fisherman, he’s dealt with the largest of fish and the most fierce of sharks— a simple cloud shouldn’t be a problem. After all, they are light enough to float carelessly in the atmosphere.

So, with this silver lining of hope, he decides it is worth trying. Pushing onward, he finally reaches the top of the hill. The clouds overhead begin to merge together, so he knows there is little time to waste. He has to act now.

Flinging the net behind his shoulder, he lurches and puts all his might into hurling the net above.

The net floats back down with nothing.

Part 2 (480 words):

“It's a hot summer, eh?” Alex pokes Henry in the ribs as they hurry down the streets of London.

“I do regret not wearing any sunblock.” Henry points at his pale skin and frowns. “Sunburnt will not be a good look on the front page of any magazine any time soon.”

“Hey, you always look cute. Don't worry about it.” Alex and Henry turn the corner and finally stand in front of Buckingham Palace. Shaan stands near the entrance to greet them.

“You guys are finally here. Hooray. Reminder that you two have a joint interview tomorrow morning about your engagement. After that, we've ensured that you can have the rest of the day off to do whatever you two want.”

“Thanks, Shaan.” Henry grabs Alex's hand and leads him into the palace. Grinning, Henry holds up his other hand and points at the ring.

“So, Alex, how much is this ring worth? How much is our love worth to you?” Henry smirks.

“I think I got it at the dollar store for about a dollar. Sorry, you know how the U.S. treasury is like with all that debt. We couldn't let our voters think that the president's family was spending the treasury's money on expensive rings for gay marriages.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, idiot. I don't know how much it's worth. I picked it out from the heirlooms in some jewelry room in the White House.”

“Of course. You have your own jewelry store in the White House.”

“Not really a store. Everything's free.”

“Whatever. Race you to my room.”

Henry rushes up the stairs with Alex not far behind. Shaking his head, Alex curses Henry for his long legs giving him an advantage here. Henry fumbles with the keys as he unlocks his bedroom door and enters.

“How I miss being in here.” Alex extends his arms to the ceiling.

“How I miss being in here with you.” Henry grins at Alex as he heads to kitchen. “You want a Cornetto?”

“What the heck is a Cornetto?”

“You don’t remember the first night?”

Alex reminisces the night he met Henry in the palace. He laughs at the thought of Henry’s sleepy demeanor sluggishly dragging ice cream out of the fridge.

“I remember it now. I thought you didn’t share your ice cream?”

“What’s mine is yours. Take whatever you’d like.”

Alex accepts the Cornetto and takes a large chomp. The cool taste in his mouth is a relief in the blazing summer.

“Dang. This tastes deliciously cold. Awesome.” Alex devours the rest of the ice cream. Henry watches, horrified.

“You… ate that in… 10 seconds.”

“There’s more I can eat in less.” Alex nudges Henry.

“Save that talk for later tonight.”

“I’ve never seen these ice creams in America. Where in the world did you get these from?”

“They’re a British dessert. You won't find them anywhere else.“

Part 3 (425 words):

Shoot. My mother has caught me red-handed trying to sneak out. I turn around and give her a smile.

”Oh, mother. I am merely just getting some fresh air; I have actually been feeling quite ill, and this breath of fresh air has made quite the difference.“

My mother raises an eyebrow, skeptical of my sickness. Sighing, she shakes her head and begins to exit the bedroom.

”I'm too tired tonight for this. We will talk about this in the morning.“ With that, my mother closes my bedroom door and I let out a sigh of relief.

Waiting for a few minutes to ensure that she has left, I turn back to the window and open the glass until the aperture is large enough for me to exit. Quickly, I stumble onto the roof and carefully let myself down onto the ground.

I look both directions, and the coast is clear. There is nobody around but me. The streetlights give off an ominous orange-red glow; in this part of town, these bulbs haven't been replaced in years. Shaking the thought away, I close my eyes and envision a map of the area, trying to remember where his house is located.

Knowing that I do not have much time, I instinctively pick a direction to start sprinting. The clacking of my slippers is unsettling as I wonder what the neighbors would think of a little girl running down the streets with nothing but her pajamas on.

I read off the mailbox numbers until I locate one that is familiar. Looking at the house that the mailbox belongs to, I see him at the window with a light on. He waves at me and ushers with his hands for me to enter the house.

”Are your parents home?“ I shout at him.

He lifts the window of his bedroom open. ”What?“

”I said, are your parents home?“

”Clearly not if we're both shouting like this right now!“

Grinning, I hurry to the front door and try the knob. The door unlocks, and I enter his recognizable home. I have been here for far too many nights; I am beginning to memorize all of the furniture placements in this foyer.

”What are you doing there? Come up, we've got things to do.“ He smirks, and I rush up the stairs and into his bedroom. ”Tonight is going to be fun.“

I wave at the rest of the friend group in his bedroom as he pulls out his drawer of board games. ”So, what game should we start with?“

Part 4 (430 words):

I have decided that today will be the day I capture the clouds. When I have those white puffs enclosed in my grasp, then I will know I can finally win you back.

Lover, I am on a mission. Too long have I spent fishing for more fish in the sea; I think it is about time I use these skills of mine to reel in something worthwhile from the skies. The oceans were overrated anyway.

Smile with me as I drag this net across the plains. Out of all the places I could choose, I think the hills would suit best for this objective. When I reach these clouds, then I will know I have succeeded in earning your love again.

I hope the darkening of those clouds is not a mockery of my abilities. Trust me when I say I am confident that you will be impressed by what I will be able to cage with this fishing net. Look up and see how the clouds rumble; you may think they are jeering at me, but I believe they are encouraging me on– as if they want to be captured. As if the world should be right underneath my fingertips.

And they're right, lover. This earth is mine, and soon you will be too.

I have reached the top of this hill now, and I can almost taste the mist of the clouds as they shower me with their praises. Be prepared to run back to my arms when I finally have the heavens stored neatly away in my cabinet. Perhaps I will hang it near the mantel for all the guests to see, or maybe I will keep it in the attic to collect dust. We will have all the time in the world to discuss the placement of our clouds when the time comes.

I am ready. The darkening clouds start to merge together into a large sheet. That is fine; these clouds would make a nice blanket for our bed. Besides, it should be easier to capture the entirety of heaven this way.

With all my might, I fling the net behind my shoulders. Taking deep breaths, I stare the gods above down as I manifest the energy to complete this mission. Counting myself down, I whisper in the end: this is for you.

And I throw.

The net flies.

Not high enough. I watch the tangle of strings flutter down into the grass.

I hear you whisper back: this was not for me. This was for yourself. Keep whatever you have and don't have.

daily 13:

(403 words)

White streams of light dance on the lake's surface. I tread carefully, trying hard to stay on the brick path, but he doesn't seem to notice that he's getting too close to the space I am walking. At first, I stray off the road and onto the grass. When he brushes against me, I feel the urge to pull closer to him.

So I wander back on the path, with my arm against his. Pausing by a bench near the lake, I take a seat. He does not; instead, he trudges to the water's edge and retrieves the phone from his pocket.

”Water's pretty at night. Going to take a picture.“ He tilts his phone to capture the perfect angle. Squinting to see his screen, I notice the off-white yarrows dotting the bottom of the photo.

”Send those photos to me. I want to see them." I smile as he retreats from the edge and claims a seat next to me. He turns to look at me, his grayish-blue eyes mimicking the full moon overhead.

I swallow down my confessions of love. In every situation like this, I know that he can never feel the same way I feel about him. He accepts me for who I am, and can I ask for anything more?

And he's too perfect to lose. If it means staying like this forever, then I will have to learn to live with the underlying feeling of a broken fate.

It was never meant to be. He pulls up his camera roll and shows me the pictures of the moonlit lake.

The scene is beautiful as always. He is beautiful as always. His brown locks on the back of his head flow like the waves before us. I glance down at the picture, and the moment is captured perfectly.

Except… the yarrows. I examine the photos closer, and the flowers have turned brownish-red. Almost as if they are… hellebores.

My heart aches. I turn to look at him, but he is already fading away, disappearing into the scene itself. I grab his hand, but he pulls away and runs, and there is nothing left of him for me.

I stand, and I chase him into the lake. The water is cold and not as clean as I expected it to be. Something grapples at my knees from below, and before I know it, I am pulled beneath the surface.

daily 14:

(translated lyrics of daylight - david kushner (chorus))
Oh, I love it and hate it at the same time
You and I drink nectar from the same grape.
Oh, I love it and hate it at the same time
All our sins are hidden from the sun.
Run in the afternoon.
Run in the afternoon.
Oh, I love it and hate it at the same time

(419 words)

I hope my sons and daughters forgive us. The temptation is too strong; I crave the nectar just like how daisies crave the sun. Gulping the unholy reward feels holy to me, and desire always wins me to its side.

We are running in broad daylight. His pace mimics mine, so we are synchronized in body and mind. We both want the same thing; since the first step, the grape's nectar has drawn us in like vultures. Soon, we may become the carcasses the vultures feed on, our corpses decomposing into the earth to sprout more vines.

The hive buzzes with fluorescent lines and ringing cashier lines. Though we are safe in the confines of grocery aisles, I continue to run fast. After all, the grape's nectar does not wait for us; it could drain away at any moment.

I told my sons and daughters it would be the last time. Now, all I can say to them is that I tried– and I am still trying. Though the force has overpowered me, underneath the carnal desire, a part of me is still trying.

I grab the bottle off the shelf. The price label has no meaning to me; the only meaning to me now is the nectar contained inside this vessel. I am sorry, but the glass feels smooth and perfect beneath my fingertips. The scent of ripening fruit is refreshing and addicting to my senses. This bottle is mine. This bottle is ours.

I look behind me at him. He nods approvingly, and though his expression is blank on his pitch-black figure, I know he is smiling. I know he is proud of me. I know that this means he wins. Or, as he would say it, we win.

The cashier asks for my ID, and I shakily retrieve the card from my wallet. I hand it over, and the cashier swings the bottle across the scanner.

With a quick swipe of my credit card, I dash out of the store, and my shadow follows. As I wander the parking lot with the bottle in my hand, car passengers stare at me from their windows. Parents exit their vehicles, hands covering the eyes of their children.

I think they see the shadow I leave behind. And that is why they are scared.

Spinning around, I attempt to shield the shadow with my body.

It does not hide. In one last effort, I wield the bottle, and I attack.

My hands come back red with wine or blood.

daily 2: 322 words
Words from @bewildered-: morning, sunlight, flowers, summer, beach

I awaken to bright rays of sunlight streaming through my window. The sun has just begun to rise, and it looks beautiful. The different shades of orange, yellow, pink, red, and gold make me smile. I yawn and roll over in bed to look at the clock. The time is 6:52 a.m. That is a bit early for me, but I am not very tired. I get up and walk into the kitchen to get a good start to my day. I first eat breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes with syrup, and some strawberries on the side), and then I water my flowers such as my morning glories, roses, and other ones I do not even know what are called. They all sit in the perfect sunny spot in my kitchen. Every day, I make sure to water them and take care of them as well as I can. After watering my plants, I walk back over to the kitchen table and happen to glance at the calendar that hangs on the pantry door. Today was June 21st, the official first day of summer! And a perfect start to it, too. I look out the window again and notice that a cloud hangs over the sun, and it is beginning to cover it. I decide to take a walk down to the beach so I can see the sunrise up close before it disappears. This is a moment I don’t want to miss. I quickly throw my shoes on and practically throw open the front door. I take the short walk down to the beach, which is only about 5 minutes long. The beach is decently crowded today, with lots of people standing close to the water trying to capture pictures of this amazing moment. I watch how the sun glistens off of the water, creating a majestic sight. Yes, I have a feeling that today is going to be amazing.

Daily 7/2

Words: demon, known, one-hundred-seventy-four, evil, keyboard

She would never stop chasing me. She had eternity to do so, after all. She would never stop, not until I was dead. I knew it was inevitable, my death. But I still kept running from her. Yes, I knew I would die, but I didn’t want it to be by her hand. I was just stubborn that way.
It was incredibly hard to stay hidden, though, when I was so well-known. Everyone wanted to know where I was, and share it with everyone else. I’d hardly done anything to deserve my fame, but it still hounded me wherever I went, whatever I did. All because of who my mom was. Or rather, had been.
It wouldn’t be too off to say she had been a superhero, had saved the world a few times over. That was all in the past, though. Now she was all but gone.
I raced through the hallways of the abandoned laboratory, looking wildly for a cell phone. I just needed to call my sister. Then I could be saved. At least, that was what I told myself, to avoid slipping into pure panic.
I had no chance of surviving on my own, but my sister was what Mom had been. A superhero. She could protect me.
I spotted a pay phone in a little side corner, and quickly jammed my hand into my pocket for some spare change. I had just enough to make a local call. I quickly wondered if she would even answer. She was busy, and she thought I was safe and on vacation in an undisclosed location (to stop the fanatics from finding me). I’d kind of lied about being on vacation, although I was in an undisclosed location. I’d actually been trying to find a way to give myself superpowers. More on that later.
I quickly dialed 174-743-9008 into the keypad, my sister’s private number. I could only hope she answered.
Suddenly I felt the air chill. The scent of pure evil filled my nose and my head started to ache. I sensed her right behind me. She’d found me.
“No,” I whispered, my voice cracking.
“It’s been a while, my daughter,” the demon, my mom, said.
“Please don’t kill me,” I choked out.
Her clawed hands wrapped around my neck, cold and hard. “I’m sorry, my daughter, I have to.”
The phone finally stopped ringing. My sister had picked up, but it was too late.
I died with a sharp snap.

Daily 2:
I woke up franticly in the middle of the night sweating and breathing hard. “Calm down its just a nightmare” I whisper to myself. I stare the little stars stickers on my ceiling that made it look like the night sky while trying to take deep breaths. Outside my window in the big old oak tree I could hear the melody of a nightingale as it sweetly sang. I laid in bed for hours trying to calm down. Even though she was finally out of my life I could still see her as she took my family away. Months ago the queen of the gods Hera took away my family so I would go on a quest and retrieve something for her. I can still remember how she put me through the most grueling and cruel conditions just so I could complete her little quest. She had chained my family together and left the dangling over a bit of boiling lava while they were all half conscious. Unable to protest and put up a fight.“ I shudder. I am through with this demigod questing business for selfish gods. I never get anything out of it and people that I care about always end up getting hurt. I pull myself back under my duvet covers and curl up into a little ball. I grab my old stuffed animal Mr.Mcstuffins and hold him tight to my chest. I roll over and look at the picture frame of me and my boyfriend on the nightstand. We both spend most of our time during the year living in a safe house for demigods where they are trained on how to fight monsters. In the picture we were both laughing and hugging each other. I give a small smile. ”I won't let anything happen to us. I promise." I stroke Mr.Mcstuffins head. Slowly my eyelids start to close and I drift off to sleep. Little did I know that I my problems were just beginning.

nightingale melody stars gazing whisper

daily 2 - five words
words by @lexiiqX - void, joy, unknown, being, strange
word count: 425


Sitting at the end of the short wooden pier, I dangled my feet over the edge of the strange, unknown dark abyss at the edge of my world. The rush of the falling water roared all around me, crashing down into the seemingly endless void, but aside from that the world around me was oddly silent. I could remember sitting in this same spot a year ago, the sounds of people working, talking, and playing all around me. I remembered the buzz of dragonflies in the air and the smells of food and flowers. And I remembered when everything, somehow, changed.
I was still not exactly sure who had taken the first leap–who had first felt the beckoning, the pull, and what some described as joy. Little by little, however, people began to see something promising in this void at the edge of the world. Something that every single person around me had agreed was good, amazing, extraordinary. I remembered how quickly this little town, what I had thought of as paradise, had begun to dwindle and disappear, leaping into the unknown in the hopes of finding or becoming something greater.
I also still couldn’t exactly understand how people had found such joy in this abyss–or, more importantly, in leaving everything else behind. I had loved this town more than anything else; loved the people, the land, the tastes and scents and feelings, and simply being here was enough to bring me as much joy as I wanted. It pained me how little everyone else seemed to care about all of this, and how quickly they had abandoned it for something completely unknown. Maybe if I had felt this pull, this joy, I would have thought differently. All I felt now, however, was sadness, emptiness, and a longing for things to return to how they were before.

For a brief second, I looked down into the strange void, and thought about jumping in. Maybe there was some truth to what everyone had said. Maybe I could find solace, happiness, company, and everything else that had been promised to my friends. Maybe life in this small town wasn’t as perfect as I had always made it out to be…
I thought about all this in the shortest of seconds, but soon came to my senses once more. Clearing my mind of such odd thoughts, I sighed, stood up, and, as I had done every day since this had all began, walked back down the wooden pier and back into my dark, isolated, but still familiar town.

“Sophia Lindenberg, I now bestow ownership of the library to you.”

Those were the words that started everything.

It wasn’t a bad thing— or good, I guess. In the library, nothing is real, so I can’t be harmed or healed. The only real things are me and the books.

Sitting in the library, I remember the old library lady’s last words to me before she gave the library and her immortality to me. Wait, what were they? I must have forgotten. In fact, I’ve forgotten her name too— or did I ever know that?

Today, I’ve decided to read yet another book from the endless halls of the library. I’ve been reading all of the books I can, and counting them too. My progress has started to slow down. The reason I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m old or because I’ve grown tired or books.

Anyways, back to the books. So far, I’ve counted 57,193 books read. Today, it’s book 57,194’s turn, which excites me because that book is near one of the giant glass windows of the Fiction Tower (which, if you didn’t read the name, contains all of the fiction books in the library). I stare up at the interior of the tower and a lone ladder that slides along the bookshelves.

I start to climb the ladder, every step increasing my fear. I wasn’t scared of heights until I first looked down from this ladder. Everything’s still scary even after learning that you can’t feel pain. I accidentally take a peek below me and I hold back a shriek. It’s a really long way down. I gulp and keep on going and going and going, finally reaching book 57,194. I hastily take the book and start the climb back down, making sure the book doesn’t slip from my grasp and I don’t slip from the ladder.

After a few minutes of silent fear, my shoes finally touch the mahogany floors of the library and I let out a sigh. I realize that I completely ignored the giant window near the bookshelves that I was so excited to see. What a waste of a climb. Well, I did get a book out of it, though.

I make my way to the front of the library, going outside and sitting on the freshly cut lawn. (That’s weird. I haven’t cut it at all.) I start to read the book out loud to no one in particular— maybe the sunset can listen. How lonely.

It’s always been like this. It’s always just me and the library.

Wow, the second daily :00 here we have it, my thing
508 words
Words for the prompt: Sunset, sunrise, hammer, electrocuted, zap

I stared up at the sunset, letting out a small breath as I grabbed my hammer. It’s just about the time we begin.

I quickly slipped down into the cellar, only to see the two of them– The other two, Selene Vesper and Marcel Rensen. Selene grinned and stood up when she saw me, bouncing on the heels of her feet. Marcel, on the other hand, remained seated, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile. He nodded at me.

“So,” I began with an anxious smile, “Are we ready?”

“Yup,” Marcel answered, leaning back further in his chair.

“Mmhm!” Selene agreed enthusiastically. Marcel’s chair slipped off of the ground and he slammed to the floor.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Get up, Rensen. We’ve got a job to do.”

As I slipped out of the room, I saw Marcel get up from the floor, brushing the dust off of his sweater and looking disappointed. Whatever– he wasn’t the one who was going to be risking his life, so it doesn’t matter if that emotionless swine is upset. By tomorrow he can kill me for all I care.

The time it took to get to the town square was far longer than expected, so by the time I had made it the sun was long gone. There was no moon in sight, but somehow I managed to see two magpies fly above. “One for sorrow, two for mirth,” I whispered. Perhaps this night would go well.

My grip tightened on my satchel and I stared up at the clocktower. Nobody was nearby, so it would be rather easy for me to get in. I took a deep breath and unlocked the doors with the stolen key.

The tedious part was getting up the stairs. I’ve never been a fan of stairs– They’re just… not my style. And the fact that this tower was, well, rather tall, ment that I was going to have to climb a whole bunch of stairs.

At the very top, I looked around, searching for anything electrical. Despite being the clocktower in the center of Luxtabern, the clocktower was also the main source of power for all of the town. And our plan? Blow up the electrical system and be done with this godforsaken town.

I grinned as soon as I saw it, the power source. I rushed towards it and quickly pressed buttons, attempting to turn it off. To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing.

But rather than turning it off, I felt a zap rush up my hand. I let out a small yelp, and then I saw him– Marcel Rensen.

“Traitor,” I hissed.

He brushed his hair out of his eye and smiled at me. “Perhaps, but at least I’m an intelligent traitor. I can’t say the same for you, sadly.” He flicked a button on the table, then shoved me into it.

The last thing I saw as I felt the shock of electricity was the sun rising and the lights flickering on. Curse Rensen.

Daily 2: whispers, gauzy, flowing, smile, coffin (760 words)

The thrum of judgmental whispers echoed in Ella’s ears as she trailed down the altar to Mateo. The veil covering her eyes blurred the guests staring at her into sharp-toothed shadows, and the gauzy train of her wedding dress caught on a smirking man’s shoe as he reached out to trip her. She fought the urge to spit in his face as she pasted on an innocent expression. If she was going to be the princess, she had to act the part. She didn’t let the mutterings get to her, though. She had clawed her way up from the bottom, and now had her very own happy ending. The nobles around her were just jealous that she was marrying the prince, when their ugly daughters couldn’t force their feet to fit into a glass shoe.
Mateo was every girl’s dream, and she had gotten him. Unluckily for Mateo, for Ella, he was just the means to an end.
She reached the end of the aisle just as the organ music reached its crescendo. Mateo was staring at her with a lovely expression, all soft edges and innocent dreams. His light brown skin, curly hair, and chiseled cheekbones looked beautiful with the golden crown upon his head. His eyes trailed over the flowing skirts of her dress, and when his eyes reached her feet, adorned with diamond slippers, he smiled. He was in love with her, but she couldn’t love him. She just couldn’t take anyone seriously that got everything he wanted. She would never understand him, and he couldn’t understand her. But that didn’t stop Ella from speaking the vows as she gazed into Mateo’s golden eyes.
Two hours later, during the wedding party, Ella slipped away. She hurried down the steps of the dungeon, past the cells of prisoners, through a wooden door. Deep in the maze of tunnels under the castle, she shed her wedding veil and ripped off her train. Ella started running.
Mateo had led her away right after the vows to give her his wedding present in private. He had given her a slip of paper enclosed in a vial. His eyes had shattered into a dark cloud of broken stars as he had said in a hollow voice, “I know you love the snow, here’s where it falls.” He had disappeared into a door then, looking back at her to say one last thing. “I know you don’t love me, and I know you were willing to kill me to get this information. I found her in the forest and brought her back to the castle, and as soon as you saw her face, you smiled. She can make you happier than I could ever make you. But I want you to know that I will always love you, and I give you my blessing as a member of the Encantador household.” He turned and was gone.
Ella clutched the vial in her hands, a map to the underground tunnels with a room circled in scarlet ink. Mateo had figured out her plan. How had she let this happen? But cool blue streaks of relief lined her vision. She hadn’t wanted to kill the prince. She had wanted to love him. But she loved Snow instead, and nothing could change that. They had been best friends, starting when Snow had visited her family after Snow’s mother, the queen, wanted to meet with Ella’s stepmother to discuss secret matters. Snow and Ella had played together for hours, both finding solace in the other, and they kept meeting together in secret until Snow had run away. Now Ella was going to find her.
She finally stopped at a plain stone door emblazoned with streaks of gold. It was nondescript enough that no one would give it a second thought, but fancy enough to belong in a castle. Ella took a deep breath, hoping what she was about to do would finally wake Snow from her sleeping death.
She opened the door and sighed in relief. Snow was there, laying serenely in a coffin inlaid with jewels. She started shaking as she slowly stepped over to the coffin. Snow looked as beautiful as always, with white skin, dark hair, and red lips. Ella slowly took off the lid of the coffin and gazed into Snow’s face. “Time to wake up, Snow.” Ella said gently, taking her hand and slowly leaning down. She stopped a millimeter from Snow’s face and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, then kissed her.
Snow opened her eyes.
“Hello, Ella.”

Telianar's Writing

Critique of brokenreed’s writing - 257 words

Hi! Your poetry is really beautiful! I tried looking up dactylic trimeter so that I could give a better critique of it, but honestly I’m still really confused about what it is and how it works. So I’ll go with what I know.

Your word choice is really good, and the rhythm is wonderful, both of which make the entire thing feel powerful. Some of it is confusing about exactly what’s going on, but I think that’s what poetry is supposed to be like, a lot of the time. I can definitely feel the story and progression in it.

I can’t really think of any negative points or ideas for improvement. The only problem I noticed is in the last line, and is grammatical:

‘In the end she know it won’t come too late.’

I think you meant to write ‘knows’ instead of ‘know?’ Because it doesn’t make sense with the line.

Other than that, it’s an amazing piece of writing!

You said you wanted title ideas. The first thing that comes to my mind is ‘All These Things’ or ‘I Am All These Things.’ Or maybe something simple, like ‘She,’ for the titular character, in a way, even though we don’t know her name? Maybe ‘Believer’ for the final part, or ‘It Won’t Come Too Late’ for the last line. Or ‘The Head’ sort of for that first line, and sort of because it seems to be very much about what’s going on in her mind? I don’t know, I hope this was at all helpful.

Story with stuff learned from this workshop on dialogue:https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7371485/ - 700 words

“Guess who.”
“Tari,” I say flatly. “Who else would it be?”
“Some secret lover you haven’t told me about?” Tari replies mischievously.
“You’re the only one who does this. All the time.” I raise an eyebrow. “And you’re not secretly in love with me, as far as I know.”
She laughs. “Fine, I can see you’re annoyed. Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you staring into space. It’s so fun to see you jump when you’re surprised.”
“Hmph,” is the only answer I give. “Come on, we’d better go through with this before my parents start wondering where I am.”
Tari nods and together we walk quietly through the courtyard, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
“You know,” she whispers as I peek around a wall, “You could just go to the kitchens and ask them for some food. It’s not like they’d deny the prince anything he asks.”
“Yeah but that’s no fun,” I shoot back. “Besides, you’d still try to sneak food without me, and then you’d face actual consequences when you got caught.”
Tari puts a hand over her heart in mock shock. “‘When I get caught?’ I thought you had more faith in me, Leonard.”
“I apologize if I’ve given you that false impression.”
She rolls her eyes just as I see the coast is clear and I motion for us to move forward. As we approach the kitchen, she taps my shoulder to get my attention. “Why are we so mean to each other?” she asks, seeming almost serious.
I shrug. “All friendships are flawed?”
Her hand is still on my shoulder, and she mulls over what I’ve said. I look at my feet. “We should go.”
She nods silently, dropping her hand, and together we slip inside the vast palace kitchen. Suddenly, the world is filled with noise, people all around us, preparing food for the banquet tonight. This is the only time we have a chance of getting in and out unnoticed. Tari and I slip through rows of tables, around cooks and apprentices and scullery maids, all of whom are too busy to notice two thirteen-year-olds shuffling around. Tari grabs my hand, pulling towards one of the many pantries.
“There’s cookies in there,” she mouths.
We duck around a final cook, open the pantry door slowly, and then Tari pulls me inside.
“So much to choose from!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes as she stares at the rows and rows of boxed cookies. Meanwhile, I start filling my pockets with whatever I can get my hands on, not really caring about getting exactly what I want - they’re all cookies, after all.
“For a prince, you really have no manners,” she says in her best imitation of my mother, the queen’s, voice. I give her a playful shove and pour a handful of cookies into her hands.
Once our pockets are filled, she carefully cracks open the door to see if the coast is clear. She nods, opens the door fully, and freezes.
I stare. We’re face to face with the head cook.
“You two again,” the cook grumbles, arms crossed over her chest. “What am I going to do with you two?” Without waiting for an answer, she unceremoniously reaches into our pockets and removes all the cookies. Sighing, she turns to one of the servants who delivers food to the dining hall. “Please take the prince upstairs with his dinner. As for this one,” she glares at Tari, “She’s now banned from the kitchen forever. If I see you anywhere near it again, I will personally have you removed from the castle.”
I know it’s an unlikely threat, but still Tari’s lip trembles ever so slightly.
“Just send her back to her father, Miss Cook,” I plead as the servant tries to guide me away. “He’ll deal with her bad behavior.” Meeting Tari’s eyes, I try to get across the message I didn’t mean that.
“Hmm.” The cook sounds unconvinced. But she still turns to another servant and instructs them to escort Tari home. “This is your last warning,” she says. “So you two had better find some way to entertain yourselves other than stealing.”

Workshop - 910 words
Link https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7373011/

July 11th daily - rewriting Demons by imagine dragons
This isn't the best since I did it super quick

When the words grow mold
Paragraphs all fold
And the things we wrote are all getting old
When your ideas all fail
‘Cause the ones you have
Are the worst of all, inspiration's run stale
I wanna hide my pen
I wanna end all this
But with the spark inside
There's nowhere my words can hide
No matter what I read
I still have this need
This is my writer’s block
This is my writer’s block
When you feel my need, look into my words
It's where my voice is heard
It's where my voice is heard
Don't get too close, it's dark in there
It's where my voice is heard
It's where my voice is heard
At the end of fall
At last, if at all
Can something good come, where the winner is all?
So with dailies made
And a big charade
They come calling out all the stress you’ve made
Don't let your cabin down
But it’s so late
I write this is all for you
I don’t look at my clock
No matter what I write
I still have this might
This is my paradise
This is my paradise
When you feel my need, look into my words
It's where my voice is heard
It's where my voice is heard
Don't get too close, it's dark in there
It's where my voice is heard
It's where my voice is heard
They say it's points you earn
I say it's what you learn
It's come into my soul
Let competition go
The points, they shine so bright
I wanna write all night,
I can't escape words now
Unless you show me how
When you feel my need, look into my words
It's where my voice is heard
It's where my voice is heard
Don't get too close, it's dark there
It's where my voice is heard
It's where my voice is heard

July 2nd daily - 642 words
Oath, Betrayal, power, hate, sparkles

“I will always love you.”
That’s what she said.
All those years ago, before she went away.
And I believed her, until she stabbed her spear through our mother.
“This is my oath to you,” she said when I was small, and then again, years later, as I watched Mama bleeding out. “My oath that we will always be stronger.”
By ‘we,’ she didn’t mean me and her. She meant herself and them.
Years ago my sister made an oath to me, and I was loyal to her. But oaths can be broken. And people can be betrayed.
Now she stands at the head of one army, me in the ranks of the other. I see her face through the crowd as our leader and general, Countess Avae, goes to meet with our enemy’s leaders. I am one of three soldiers who go with to protect her, and my sister is the right hand of the opposing general, General Morg. It’s another peace talk. Odds are, it’ll end like the others, meaning no conclusion and another half-hearted battle the next day. But I’ve never been assigned to General Avae’s personal guard before, or had to see my sister face-to-face. And it might be just me, but things seem to be heating up, tensions rising. Sooner or later the war will have to be lost or won.
I walk ahead of General Avae as our party makes our way to the meeting tent. I hold the flap open for her and the other two soldiers, but even though I enter last there’s no avoiding the sight of my sister, standing tall and regal by General Morg’s side. She stands tall and proud, expression emotionless, showing no reaction to - or even awareness of - my presence. Her dress sparkles with hundreds of tiny stones, her hair swirled up in a way she never used to like. And I suppose somehow that makes her feel powerful.
I’m almost too distracted to remember to fall into position with my fellow soldiers, but I manage it. Then my sister opens her mouth to say “Let the meeting commence,” and I gulp down some air. I can’t react like this, I can’t. I try to remember her stalking from the house as Mama died in my arms, trying to remind myself how much I hate her, but it doesn’t help. The hate just boils within me, making my emotions grow hotter and more volatile.
I have to keep it down, I have to keep myself in check. I take a breath. Every time I glance at my sister, I take another breath and try to cool the burning rage. I don’t hear a word that is said during the peace talks, but it doesn’t matter. General Avae leads our party from the tent at the end with the same expression she always has - sad disappointment.
Except that this time, as we pass the enemy soldiers standing guard outside, I feel a hand brush up against mine, something round and hard pushed against my palm. I grip it instinctively, turning to see who it was, but by the time I do, all the enemy soldiers are back in their rightful place, none showing any sign of having moved.
I wait until we’re far from enemy lines, back among our own people where I don’t have to carefully watch General Avae’s back. Then I open my palm and stare down at the piece of cool metal in my hand. It’s unusually heavy, made of an uncommon metal which for all its weight does not provide any extra protection, and is therefore used for jewelry more often than armour. But I recognize this pendant with its engraved flowers and a name in curling script on the back. I recognize it because…
It used to hang at my sister’s throat.

7/2/23

Daily:

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, regurgitate five random words into the comment section. Now, gobble down somebody else's five random words and write 300 words using those delicious words as a prompt to earn 200 points! Sharing the daily you wrote with those scrumptious vomited words will allow you to slurp up an extra 50 points.

“There's an abyss in the celebration hall.” Silas took a bite of his cheesecake.

Princess Fiore almost choked on her tea. “A WHAT?” She managed to sputter, pieces of cream cheese flying out of her mouth

“An abyss.” Silas wiped the cheese-spit combination off his cheeks. “A- and I quote- ”deep, immeasurable, or infinite space or cavity.“

”Silas, I know what an abyss is.“ Fiore rolled her eyes. ”What is one doing in the celebration hall?“

The baron's son shrugged. ”Ask my dad; he's the one that owns the hall.“

”Or,“ Fiore puled out a purple-tinted crystal ball. ”We can consult the ball!“

Silas frowned. ”Consult the ball. You mean, you really believe in such superstitions like a magic ball that tells you everything?“

Fiore thought for a moment. Then, she nodded. ”Now, before you consult the ball, there's a ritual you need to follow.“

”I'm listening.“ He lied.

”First, you clap your hands three times.“ Fiore demonstrated the clap. ”Then, you rub them two times and place one hand- ONLY one hand- on the top of the crystal ball.“

”After that, you state your question in your mind. The ball reads it and comes up with an answer.“

”Sure it does.“ Silas whistled a tune to himself, not a care in the world.

”So, now that you know-“

”Fiore,“ Silas cut her off. ”Have you checked the time recently?“

Fiore glanced at the tall brown clock to her left and gasped. ”Oh no- coronation practice!“ She sprung up from her seat, grabbed her bag, and ran through the doorway. ”See you later, Silas!“

Silas waved goodbye to Fiore and gave another glance at the crystal ball. He chuckled. ”Who knows, maybe it really is a magic crystal ball.“ He snickered. ”Gotta do the ritual first, of course.“

Silas clapped his hands together three times, rubbed them twice, and placed both hands on the top of the ball. He thought to himself, If you're real, send some proof tomorrow, the day of the coronation. I'll be waiting.

He glanced over to the chair where Fiore's half-bitten cheesecake lay. He smiled, as it was his favorite dessert to eat, and reached over with one hand to grab some to eat, the other hand still on the crystal ball.

The following day, Silas took his seat at the front of the celebrations, as Fiore was being crowned as queen. The ceremony was great and all, but he couldn't help but feel a tight feeling of dread in his body, as if something awful was about to happen.

The minister took the crown from the pillow on the table and prepared to place it on Fiore's head. ”Fiore, by the power invested in me as a minister, I now coronate you as queen of-“

A loud, rumbling sound. The crowd looked up in the air and gasped.

Silas glanced in the air and almost fainted. Fiore screamed. A giant hole had appeared in the sky.

Just then, the dreadful feeling in Silas' body made itself known again. ”Oh, God, why did I consult the ball?“ He groaned. He looked up, hoping that some supernatural being could come to his aid and whisk him away to safety.

Instead, a slice of cheesecake fell on his head.

Silas grabbed the cake from his face and looked around the yard. It seemed to be raining these cakes. The minister held out his hands and pieces fell into them, which he happily devoured. ”Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?“

”I've seen better shocks.“ Silas pretended to act cool, but inside he was stunned. The ball really was magical. And heaven knew he wouldn't be fooling around with it any time soon.

The following day had come:

”There's a trench in the banquet hall." Silas took another bite of his cheesecake.

Queen Fiore almost choked on her tea. Here we go again, she thought to herself silently.

07/02/23
daily 2 - polaroid, gray, dreams, style, clean (@sealifefriend)
it's a little unfinished and prolly makes no sense but i tried my best!
Juliette.
She left me, leaving nothing but a faded picture to remind me she once existed in my life. She was like that, she always had such a presence. It was her style to enter a room in her red high heels, making a click, clack sound as she went with her ponytail swishing back and forth. The sound of her high heels still echoes in my mind each time I am reminded of her. She was beautiful. Charismatic. Fearless. You'd expect such a person to leave a big impression on the world. But she didn't. Once she left, the world continued as if she had never existed. In a way, it makes me feel like I'm special. Like I have this little secret, this beautiful secret, all to myself. A beautiful secret that exists only in a polaroid picture and in my dreams. Sometimes I question whether she was real. Because the way she came into my life, and the way she left, was so unreal it felt like it was straight out of a movie.
The sky was painted a gloomy gray the first time I saw her. The clouds rumbled, threatening to rain. We were in the forest. As I rushed to find shelter under the trees, I saw her standing out in the grass, waiting for the rain. Tears began streaming down her cheeks.
Drip.
Drop.
The raindrops disguised her tears and even when she was drenched, she still stood there. She seemed so clean and put-together, it felt odd to see her so vulnerable and messy in the rain. I called out to her, trying to get her out of the rain, but my voice was drowned out. I finally ran out to her and scooped her up into my arms, carrying her to the trees. I still remember her face as I carried her. Desperate.

Daily for the 2nd! 352 words
words: writing, mango, beach, delicious, prompt.
November 2057, SWC Main Cabin
A mango zoomed over my head as I hid behind a partially ruined wall. Everywhere was just chaos. There wasn’t a place anywhere that wasn’t covered with mangoes or had been arsoned. Everyone was panicking, wondering when - or if - the hosts would fix things. Then I remembered- the mango time machine! We had saved it for an absolute emergency, and I thought then had definitely counted as an emergency. I raced to the garage, dodging mangos the whole way. I lifted open the door, and in all its glory, there was the time machine- the one thing that hadn't been covered in mango. I climbed in, and traveled back to 2023. There HAD to be someone that could fix things…
July 2023, A beach
She sat on the beach, her laptop on her lap (how ironic), looking up weird cliche writing prompts because she was bored and unmotivated and feeling like arsoning her sister. Her research had led her to the site ‘5 Cliche Prompts You Should Never Use.’ Except, she was going to use one. Suddenly, a huge mango fell from the sky behind her, then more smaller and deliciouser looking mangoes fell after it, followed by me. from her distance away she probably couldn’t tell, but I bet I looked like a food war involving mangoes had just happened. “Hey!” She called to me. “What are you doing, where did you come from, where did the MANGOES come from, and how are you here?” she asked.
I jumped off the giant mango, and walked over to her. “1. Escaping from a mango war, 2. I come from the future, 3. So do the mangoes, 4. The huge mango is a time travel machine.”
“Umm… and why are you here?” she asked.
“You have to stop a mango war.”
“Wait, what-”
“I’ll explain on the way!” I yelled, running back toward the time machine. “Come on!” I yelled over my shoulder.
“Ummm… ok?” She ran after me and climbed into the mango time machine. “So what year are we traveling to?"
“November, 2057. Prepare for chaos.”

july 30

thank you notes ✨

first off let me thank the hosties (which almost autocorrected to hotties lol) for all the work they do both obviously and behind the scenes to make SWC possible.

and to all the leaders and co-leaders, i want to thank you as well. now that i’m a co-leader myself, i can truly appreciate and know all the work each of you put into your cabins. without all the variety and effort, SWC would not be the same community that it is.

for individual SWCers…

@syrozenne
rose, thank you so much for letting me help you bring real-fi to life this session! it has been an amazing honor you’ve been a great leader this session and i’m glad to have gotten to know you a bit and i hope to continue to know you better <3

@poison-tears
wave, you’ve been a great co-leader and your input into the creation of real-fi has been invaluable, so thank you so much. i’m so happy to have worked with you this session!

@–tranquility
alia, thank you for your encouragement when i was considering becoming a leader this session, you helped me be much more at peace about it, and i’m very glad i did as you suggested! so, again, thank you <3

@rey_venclaw
soki, thank you for making SWC fun with your leadership for my first few sessions! you really encouraged me to stay active and involved in SWC, even now that we haven’t been in the same cabin together for a few sessions.

@luna-lovegood-lol
luna, thank you so much for reaching out to talk at the beginning of the session, i’ve loved chatting more this session! (also fantasy looked so cool SLJDFlsdfkl)

@violent-measures
vi, i feel like i have to include you i don’t really know what to say except thank you for letting me rant to you about real-fi’s storyline and add words when we should have been writing our book (and editing my writing comp entry!)

@brokenreeds
reeds, thank you so much for doing group writing sessions with me and vi, those were so fun ) (and meant i actually finished some weeklies lol) and thank you for joining SWC with us this session, it was so fun<3

@rlove10
re, i just wanted to thank you for your critique on my writing competition entry. your comments were so helpful and you even reached out when we had our technical difficulties, so thank you

to all of real-fi’s campers, thank you so much for making this session what it was! i had a lot of fun with all of you<3

(to anyone i forgot, feel free to come yell at me LKSDJFldsf)

+ 444 words

july 24

I’ve luckily never had to break up with a friend, but I think this sounds as realistically terrible as I could imagine it being. You do a great job handling the emotion, so I don’t have any overarching changes, just a few sentence edit suggestions. However, as for grammar, you do switch between tenses and it can be disorienting. Just something to think about—I did try to mark the spots where it felt the most jarring.

The overthinking aspect was handled quite well and for the most part seems realistic and is actually something I have experience with this time :’)

re wrote:

What are you supposed to do when you're about to lose someone? Do you let them go? Or do you chase them? Which one is the right thing to do? You love them so much that you respect their decision to leave? Or do you go after them, hoping they'll change their mind? What will hurt less and solve things? I had no idea at the moment, but if I think back, could I get the answer?

I like the questions that you’re pondering here. The thought process seems realistic to me. I might say “find” rather than “get” in the final sentence.

re wrote:

“Jenn, come on. We’ve been friends for too long to just cut it off like this!”
“Beck, I’m leaving. Everything is too messed up, and it has been for months.” She pulled out ten bucks from her bag, “Thanks for breakfast, but I am not planning on making things work.”
“Why did you even come here, then?!” I exclaimed. I had to press my lips to keep myself from crying. I was not showing her how much it hurted that I couldn't understand why our friendship was falling apart. Or that it was killing me to know I was the only one hoping things could work. “You knew I invited you to fix our friendship, if you didn’t plan on doing that, why did you bother?”
“Because I care. I don’t want you to suffer while I slowly drift away… I really hope you can understand that.”

“Hurt” is still the past tense. I think it’s interesting how the protagonist does not know why her friend wants to cut things off. It makes it even more poignant. I might change the first sentence in the last line to say “because, whatever you think, I still care”—it seems more cutting that way. However, that’s totally just personal preference

re wrote:

I couldn’t understand. It was just a little bit of effort we needed. I’d do it, even if she wasn’t sure about it. Would it hurt? More than anything in the world. But if it saved our friendship, it was worth it, even if I tore myself apart in the process.
Jenn walked out of the restaurant and said goodbye. I just looked at her. Pretending indifference was better than tearing up right there, but doing nothing was killing me and my eyes wouldn’t hold up much longer.
Maybe I could tell her everything I’d do to save our friendship; I could try to convince her. I needed to convince her. However, she wanted me to understand and to let her go, and I’ve always wanted to respect her decisions. What could I do to not lose her?

Maybe say “all we needed was some effort, and I was willing to make the sacrifice, even…” I think that “a little bit” makes the sentence weaker and less meaningful.

I’m unclear on the part where Jenn says goodbye. It might work better if you switch the sentence around, because it is unclear whether Beck follows her outside (since it seems like Jenn walks out before saying goodbye). Saying “Jenn said goodbye and walked out of the restaurant” fixes this small problem easily.

I love how she holds back tears! And how she debates whether to accept and respect her friend’s decision or to chase after is very well done, I love the way you communicate this internal conflict<3

re wrote:

You always lose something when you make a choice, but what are you expected to do when the stakes are this high? A single choice will affect your relationship with this person you care so much for. What are you supposed to do? Stay calm? I was not able to stay calm when the fate of my most important friendship depended on that single choice.
The question has never left my mind, even if this happened long ago. What is the right thing to do? Should one go running for them or let them go?

—————- ~•¤•~ —————–

She was already walking down the block. It was now or never. I really was in one of those moments. The ones you only see on screen, where the character has an important choice and they don’t know what to do. Except this wasn’t a movie. These moments weren’t written by someone who would make sure my friendship worked out. It was only me who could do something to save my friendship. I tapped my finger against my leg; nervous habit. I knew Jenn better than most, what would get her to come back? Did I really know Jenn anymore? What if I did something and what would get her back was the opposite? I could not risk that. How come I was not sure I knew my best friend anymore? She was no longer my best friend, not unless I did the right thing.

I think the overthinking works here—you’ve done a good job! However, I would say “what if I did something to push her further away?” rather than the italicized sentence—it seems to communicate the same sentiment while being a bit more concise.

re wrote:

When I think about it, I can’t help but ask myself, if I had chased them, what would I have said? Don't go, I swear we'll make it better? Would that have made me look obsessive? And what if it had just worsened things? Maybe if I had said nothing they would have come back on their own? And what if what I said was not convincing enough? I just harmed myself more, I did nothing useful.

You switch between present and past tense a bit here, but I think it works (since it seems like she’s thinking in the present about a past event) until the final sentence, where I think you should continue with past tense. Saying “I would be doing more harm” might work better

re wrote:

Oh screw it. I made my choice Jenn had to know I wouldn’t give up. Why would she come back if I didn’t give her a reason? I ran out the door and chased her. I needed to be quick, I had to get her before she got in the car.

I added a quick sentence here, but it’s really good as is I like the boldened sentence especially!

re wrote:

“Jenn! Wait!” She turned around and gave me that look; the one she’d always make when I did something weird. (maybe add a sentence describing the expression?)
“Beck? Did I forget something?”
“No. It’s just, ugh, I know you don’t want to hear anything about fixing our friendship, but please just listen.” I didn’t wait for her to say she’d hear me out, I needed to tell her, “I swear I’ll work for our friendship and make it better. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I know I can do something to help, whatever that is. You matter a lot to me, like really a lot, and I don’t want us to ever stop being friends. Please Jenn, I’m begging you to not leave me right now.”
“You talk really fast when you’re nervous, you know?” she chuckled, “Look, it’s nice to hear this coming from you, but I made my decision. I don’t know if what I needed before was space, but now there is just nothing to do about it, sorry.”

She gave me her pity smile and got in her car. As she drove away, I knew that was it. This time, my eyes couldn’t hold up the tears.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe that would’ve hurt less or made her come back. And maybe it would have shown her I love her so much I’d let her go if that’s what she wanted. That would’ve made her think of coming back, wouldn’t it?

I might say “a pitying smile”. In the original sentence, it seems as though you’re talking about a specific smile, which confused me.

re wrote:

Other times, I ask myself, if I had let them go, what if they never came back? Isn't that part of letting them go? What if a few words was what they needed to stay? If I had chased them and talked, would they have stayed? What if by letting them go they thought I did not care enough, and they resented me. I wouldn't want them to have thought our friendship wasn't important enough for me to go after them.

My only change here is I might use Jenn’s name more than the pronouns. It might make it easier to understand.

re wrote:

I went back to the table and got my things. Jenn wanted me to let her go, and maybe she just needed some space to come back. Optimism was better than facing what could be reality. On the way home, the only thing on my mind was if I did the right thing. What if Jenn just needed a few more words to come back? But what if what she needed was time? I’d just give her some space, with hopes she’d change her decision.

I’d say “hope that” instead of hopes, here.

re wrote:

Some days passed before I considered messaging Jenn. When the moment came, I wasn’t sure what to do, so in the end I decided not to text her. Summer break came, and it was the first time I wasn’t with her family. It was lonely, really lonely. I felt guilty, I didn’t even try to get her back. She looked fine, though. We didn’t talk, but she uploaded pictures to her instagram every few days. She had been on the beach, we loved the beach. I wondered what it would be like to go without her.

I really love this final sentence, it really hits the “lonely” point home.

re wrote:

When the break ended, I stumbled into Jenn at our favorite coffee shop. We had always went there before classes. I was ordering when she came into the store.

Just a few grammar clarifications: I’d say had always and gone so it’s clear that it’s in the past.

re wrote:

“Jenn, hi!” I waved at her.
“Oh Beck, hello.” she said, coldly in my opinion, “What are you doing here?”
“I came for coffee as always. How was your break? I saw you were at the beach.”
“Yeah I was. It was good.”
“Why are you being cold to me?” The words slipped out of my mouth, I wasn’t planning on asking her, but impulsiveness won over
“Well, after you didn’t even reach out on summer break I don’t think my coldness should be strange.” she said. She turned around to leave, but then walked to me “I can’t believe you didn’t even think of texting me or I don’t know, commenting on my posts. I really waited for you to reach out, but you never did. I’d just thought you might have cared more.”
“Jenn, I did care, I mean I do, it’s just, well I-” I couldn’t form a coherent sentence. I just didn’t know how to explain it to her.
“Don’t even worry about it. See you at school.”

Jenn didn’t order her coffee, she just walked out the store, and I knew that was it. Maybe I should have texted her. No, maybe I should have followed her that day. Maybe if I had said something, she’d realized how important it was to me. Maybe the fact that I was still trying, would have shown her how much I loved her. That would’ve made her think of coming back, wouldn’t it?

—————- ~•¤•~ —————–

Even after analyzing what could've been, after imagining every scenario, I'll never know what the right choice was. You never know how things will end up. You can plan, but you can't plot every second of your life. That is not how things work. We can't expect to know how an interaction will result. The same way we can't plan what to do depending on the thousands of outcomes. Might as well just choose right? Even if that choice costs us a whole relationship.

Maybe say something like: “But we always have to make a choice”. The sentence as it is feels a bit flippant to me, especially for the ending of such an emotional piece. I think you did a great job with the emotion and the constant over-thinking and wondering of the protagonist

I’m actually feeling a bit sad now after reading that XD (not that my piece was any happier lol) so that should tell you something!

Please take all of my sentence change suggestions with a grain of salt, it’s just what sounds best to me, and everything is subjective.

+ 619 words of critique (400 points)

july 23

critique plz (for contest entry)

Loved, Formerly
based on the song Sparrow by The Arcadian Wild (with quotes)

“ can you love entirely and still be left lonely? ”


Cold air enveloped Loki as he stepped into the corridor, but he liked it that way.

Frost giant blood made the cool air feel like a caress, a breath of freedom and glory that his race had given up long ago.

Loki also liked it because it meant that any spirits in the building would be asleep.

His mysterious friend had come through, it seemed.

Loki smoothed back his hair and ducked into a room marked Library.

Now, you might not think much of it. In spite of his furtive manner and the strangeness of the circumstance, Loki going to a library was not a very unusual thing.

However, Loki was heading into the DMV library, wherein the CEO of Heaven held secrets of magic and dangerous talismans that had been retrieved by questing angels through the millennia of heaven’s existence.

Loki was not authorized to enter, and Loki wasn’t looking to borrow. He was looking to steal.

Entering the room sent a thrill through him. The forbidden had always enthralled and delighted him, and this was about as forbidden as he could get.

Knowledge awaited him inside.

After glancing around the shelves, he strode purposefully towards the end of the collection. Surrounded in glass and mystery lay an ancient scroll.

Soon, Loki would discover exactly what secrets were held by the ink and paper. He knocked on the glass, examining it to judge its thickness.

Loreo had told him that Loki could not fool any sensors with magic, but he’d promised to cover up any traces Loki left.

Loki smashed the glass with a single fist.

All Loki had to do was collect the prize.

He drew the scroll out, brushing off the glass shards and dust with the back of his hand.

A smile curled his lips, which were tinted blue from the cold and the exhilaration of the moment.

With a wave of his hand, the glass reknit itself. The scroll reappeared in the case, a mirror image of the object in his hands. Darkness obscured the shards of glass on the ground. Illusion in place, Loki was free to go.

With the smile still painting his face, Loki quietly left the room.

Where he was met by three angels in resplendent armor, bearing the seal of the CEO of Heaven himself.

“Stop,” one of them ordered. A male, from the shape of the breastplate. The angel’s wings glowed, both drawing Loki’s eyes and making it painful to look.

Loki glanced behind him. But there was no way out. He was hemmed in on all sides by soldiers, all bearing spears.

Instinctively, his grip on the scroll tightened. As if they would have any trouble prying it from his hands.

“You’re holding onto your own demise, you know,” another voice said.

Loki turned, and found himself in front of an image of his patron, his helper.

“Loreo,” he growled. Traitor.

Loreo smiled sadly. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way.”

The air began to warm. Heat waves shimmered in front of Loreo’s apparition.

“I did like you, Loki. I really did,” he sighed. “But, I was given an offer I couldn’t pass up.” Loreo extended his immaterial hand. “I can’t let you have the information on that scroll.”

Someone grasped Loki’s shoulder. He flinched away, but another hand held him back. Struggling was stupid with so many enemies, but Loki had never been all that smart—no matter what his parents and teachers said.

He elbowed the angel behind him in the stomach, leaving her to collapse onto the ground, and another one took her place.

So he jerked backwards. Head-butting a helmeted creature was, again, not the brightest idea. A smile drifted onto his face as he imagined his mother shaking her head at him. Luckily, his blind flailing managed to knock his other assailant to the ground. When another angel came forward to help, Loki had already slipped away.

Adrenaline rush dissipating, Loki felt the heat punch him in the gut. It was all he could do to keep moving through the dark halls, feeling as though he was wading through quicksand. The awakened spirits, however, moved freely.

They surrounded Loki, blocking any escape. He clutched the scroll to his chest. The knowledge, though not yet his, was a treasure. Loki couldn’t let them have it.

But the angels caught up with him, tearing the precious item from his white, trembling fingers. As they handcuffed him, Loki’s breaths came in gasps, this heat affecting him more than any he’d ever experienced.

They paraded him down the halls, taking him past too many unmarked doors to count.

Loki found it difficult to care where they brought him. Until he was there, in the chamber.

They were executing him? Loki, with the last of his strength, pounded on the walls, the ground, and the door. He used up his final breaths shouting.

Thoughts occupied with those memories, both real and imagined, of his mother and father. Of his sweet little brother. Always believing the best of him.

The wrongness of it all consumed him. He was good. They couldn’t do this to him!

In moments, it was over.

Death was more than pain, more than nothingness. No, death was a mirror. Forcing Loki to see the truth.

In the blinding light of death, everything else was stripped away, and Loki was faced with the reality that he had given up all he’d had for nothing.

+ 908 words


“ if you don’t mind i think i’ll just go to sleep and dream, dream there was a good reason ”

-

critique

I want to start by saying that I love this piece! Your writing and metaphors are beautiful and you really paint a picture with your words. With that in mind, I have no edits to the actual writing, just a few “flow” edits I rearranged some sentences, but these edits are based entirely on personal preference, so keep that in mind!

I changed a bit in the first paragraph, just to make the flow a bit less… interrupted, I guess? (My edits are marked in bold.)

ap0l0 wrote:

Fierce and proud, his coat gleamed under the light of the moon, muscles rippling as he lifted his head. With golden fur set alight, eyes of coal that burned with wisdom, and a roar that shook the foundations of the earth, he was king of the land.

My one other edit would be just to clarify “fur set alight”—it makes it sound like it’s literally on fire. I might just remove the line to avoid any confusion.

ap0l0 wrote:

Wishing, despite his glory on earth, to be among them.

This might be my favorite line in the whole thing :0 the word “glory” perfectly encapsulates what you’ve described!

ap0l0 wrote:

The stars blinked down at him, these remains of long lost creatures: swans, dogs, dolphins – swimming through the clouds and racing across the horizon and jumping over mountains as if they were hills. Creatures that were free.

When the sun bled into the sky, the lion returned to his pack. He turned his back to the pin peg stars and their freedom, but his heart remained with them.

For this section, my only comment would be that I’m not familiar with the phrase “pin peg”. You could honestly just remove that adjective and it would sound fine, too ^^

ap0l0 wrote:

He now felt a weariness in his bones, a strain in his muscles. His body wasn’t as strong as it used to be – the years of hunting that had once strengthened his muscles now strained them to exhaustion. Time had begun to catch up to him, and the lion slowly felt his life dwindling, dying.

I’d just change the first sentence so it’s parallel, which makes it easier and smoother to read. Also, you use the word “strained” twice, I might find a synonym instead of the second usage.

ap0l0 wrote:

Fatigue, weakness and hallucinations gripped his consciousness like claws sinking into flesh. Each time he closed his eyes, visions greeted him from the darkness, visions of bounding beyond the sky and leaping over the ocean without needing to look up to see the stars. Visions of being free.

I made a few changes just to cut down on phrases that I thought weren’t necessary to the paragraph.

ap0l0 wrote:

One night, after the sun had fallen, the lion gazed up at his sky, his stars.

The gold glow? in his fur was fading, and his coal eyes were glazed, almost unseeing. His coat was stained red and moonlight illuminated a deep gash that ran from his right ear to his neck. Blood dripped into his eyes, red tears rolling down his magnificent face.

This was it. He was king of the land no more.

I might change this last part to say “This was the end. He would be king of the land no longer.” I feel as if that communicates your meaning a bit more heavily than ‘it’—but, again, that’s just my personal opinion, this part is great :D

ap0l0 wrote:

That night, the lion gave his last roar. The earth trembled, trees shook, branches fell and oceans surged with the might and power of its note. With the sadness and hope that filled it. His final goodbye to the land, and a brilliant greeting to the stars.

He would be among them tonight.

Aaah this is so cool I love the emotion and finality here :0

ap0l0 wrote:

Beneath the Northern Sky, a lion died and became a part of it. The people called him Leo.

My only change here would be perhaps switching “a lion died and became a part of it” to “a lion ascended” or “joined the stars”, or something with a bit more imagery, without too many prepositions/etc. Otherwise, this is awesome, good job!

+ 314 words of critique

-

july 20

critique entry

Loki opened his eyes to darkness. His memory was blurry, but he didn’t remember being here before. He stood, as if suspended in the blackness. Standing in front of him was his family, but their faces were blank. Emotionless.

His breaths came rapidly, his heart beating erratically in his chest. This was wrong. He stepped closer. They didn’t even blink. What was wrong with them?

“Mom?” he whispered, dreading the response.

She tilted her head towards him, but didn’t reply.

“Mom?” Loki frowned, staring at her cold eyes.

He hesitantly put a hand on her arm. She didn’t flinch, but she didn’t draw him closer either. Loki knew what that meant. He had failed her. He’d always failed her, but this time it was worse. He knew from the look in her eyes. The warm hug that had been constant, no matter how rebellious he’d been, was nowhere to be found.

Had he taken the final step away from them?

He approached his father instead, whose powerful figure had always been juxtaposed by his open manner and cheerful words. He had no words for Loki now, though. He simply stared down on him. Those judgemental eyes seemed to bore into his soul. He looked away.

At last, Loki glanced towards Odin, whose face, dark and withdrawn, looked more like Loki’s own than his. No familiar smile split the darkness.

And Loki was terrified.

His mother without a hug.

His father without a word.

Odin without a smile.

In a blink, their faces changed on him.

He stared at three versions of himself. Their hands reached out. Searching, groping. He backed away in horror. Stumbling, he fell before them. He sensed a dark purpose in those hands. They wanted something from him.

Loki climbed to his feet.

No. From anyone. It didn’t matter who; they were desperate.

But Loki knew he couldn’t give them what they wanted.

The darkness surrounding him made him increasingly certain that what they wanted didn’t exist.

He closed his eyes to the dream. Blocking out the fear and the darkness.

+ 344 words

july 16

weekly two

part one

how to introduce characters well (suggested by galaxy_awesome)

Characters are the backbone of a story; they should make the reader care about what they’re reading. It is important to ensure the reader empathizes with the character, and a big part of this is introducing them well.

Introducing a character well depends entirely on who the character is—there is no one way to do it “properly”. However, there are a couple things that all introductions should have in common.

Firstly, Their introduction should tell the reader something about who this character is, even (and maybe especially) if it’s subtle. You don’t want the character to say their name and who they are and then leave. Sure, we might have some knowledge about what they do or who they are, but not how they act uniquely. (That is, unless the point is that the character is very cold and formal, in which case, sure, introduce them like that!)

You want the shy character to be quiet and nervous and the outgoing one to fire off a bunch of questions or comments. While this seems obvious, there are more subtle ways of doing it. If a character loves books, have them be reading one (or carrying one) when they meet the narrator. If a character is a fan of sports, have them wear a jersey or cap. If a character is very blunt or straightforward, have them make a remark that shows the reader this is the case. Obviously, all this must be done in moderation, but if there is a particular trait that makes your character stand out, try to show it to the reader when they’re being introduced! This will make their introduction more memorable and ensure the reader understands the character immediately.

However, another important detail character introductions should have is the character being introduced wanting something. They need to have a reason for being there that is their own—not simply that it furthers the plot. If Thorin and the other dwarves randomly appear at Bilbo’s just to “hang out”, and Bilbo just happened to figure out that they were going to the Misty Mountain and went with them, it wouldn’t make much sense. Rather, Thorin wants something from Bilbo—he needs a thief, and he seeks to get one. Instead of just happening in the story, characters should be seeking something.

Another good example of both of these things is in Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart, particularly in the character of Dustfinger. Before Dustfinger appears in the story, we’ve only met two other characters. Meggie, the narrator, and her father, Mo.

Next, we meet Dustfinger, where things start to get interesting. Meggie sees a stranger out her window. He ignores the pouring rain and stands staring at their house. Already, we know that he probably wants something and that he’s determined.

Before he even says a word.

He stands out immediately. We can guess that Meggie doesn’t have many friends or know that many people. He’s a stranger (as the title of the chapter “A Stranger in the Night” illustrates) who wants something.

Character introductions get a little bit more complicated if the character is already known by the narrator. It can make it difficult to show the reader details about the other character without seeming awkward. (After all, you’re not going to remark about how your oldest friend is an orphan, or a straight A student—you’ve taken these things to be obvious facts.)

One thing to keep in mind is to put the emphasis on the relationship between the narrator and the other character. This can allow the reader to piece together the details as they come, but keep them from getting lost.

To return to my Inkheart example, I’ll describe how Cornelia Funke introduces us to the relationship between Meggie and Mo. Her father is introduced when Meggie recalls him teasing her about keeping books under her pillow. Their banter makes their easy-going, loving relationship clear—as well as highlighting their shared love of books. Then, she walks into his office where he does his bookbinding. Already, another detail about him.

Introducing characters is a key element of any story, and it is important to highlight the character’s unique personality, make sure they have reasons for being there, and to focus on the relationship with the protagonist.

Good luck!

Sources used: The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
+ 716 words

part two

based on the workshop by @savebats

Wet sand sank under Odysseus’ bare feet as he walked to the shoreline. A sea breeze kissed his cheeks and tugged at his hair, coaxing him along those familiar steps.

It wasn’t a cold day, but when he saw the skyline, so achingly similar to those from his childhood, Odysseus could not help but shiver. A blue-gray sky etched with white clouds greeted him as if pulled straight from his memories.

A single tear slipped down his cheek.

He sat down on the sands, not bothering to wipe it away.

The waters reached his toes, but he hardly felt the cold, even when goose-flesh shivered across his bare arms. The sensation tethered him. It reminded him of a childhood that now seemed to him but a dream.

With a soft sigh, Odysseus closed his eyes. And let himself be.

Allowed the wind to wash over him and call him to ancient places. Gave in to the tears—barely able to taste them with the intensity of the salty ocean spray.

He let the sands call him back, and the incessant cries of the seagulls remind him.

Because this place was a part of him, as surely as his own name.

Odysseus felt rocks between his fingers, almost as clearly as if they’d been more than memories.

Heard his brother’s voice, in that moment louder even than the call of the birds.

“Odysseus!” Will took Odysseus in his arms, lifting him up to touch the clouds. They swirled around in the ocean mist, laughing together.

His brother’s youthful face shone bright, eyes sparkling with joy.

He chased him across the sands, though to the child it was as if they ran through the sky.

Will’s hand guided his as they skipped rocks across the water. Will’s cheer resounded, though the child didn’t hear over his own excitement. Now, the voice was all he listened for.

Will’s young smile had seemed untainted grief, though Odysseus knew it had been. It had followed Odysseus everywhere. Without the need for words, it said that everything would be all right, even when the letters came to tell him the opposite was true.

Will’s arms held him, comforted him.

Will kept the darkness at bay.

The little boy never needed to feel it. Because Will was there.

Odysseus’ heart grew light as a cloud, remembering.

Memories of this beach pulsed through him, ambrosia for his soul.

His eyes burned and his lip trembled, but, in his memories, he soared.

Odysseus wasn’t sure how long he sat there, letting the waters caress his bare feet. Until eventually the tide receded.

And Odysseus came crashing back down to the sands. He wasn’t a little boy anymore.

He no longer felt the breeze. Instead, dry grains of sand mixed in his hair. He couldn’t hear his brother’s laugh.

He only tasted his tears, though they’d long since stopped falling.

And the memories faded as the moisture fled from the earth.

Again becoming simply a distant dream, chased away by the changing of tides.

+ 503 words

part three
writing by @_gardenia_

He raced through the empty halls—past the kitchen, past the living room, past the study. His footsteps echoed in the halls, in the rooms, in his ears, in— he was in the backyard.

It was a bright day. Atlantis had just done the laundry. Clothes were strung everywhere he looked, and a pile of them lay ironed but unfolded on a glass table.

He seated himself on a patio chair and began carefully folding the clothes. Etain folded a pair of newly ironed jeans, lost in thought. Unknowingly, he unfolded them and folded them once more until it was an endless cycle. But what else was he supposed to do? His entire world had been shattered into a million glass shards, and then he had run off like a complete fool, leaving Venus bawling her heart out on the floor.

Usually, doing chores kept his mind off things, but he helplessly came back to the same thought over and over again.

(“Why do you think it’s cool to be moody all the time—you’re not even depressed! It’s an insult to everyone who is! What’s the point of being intelligent if you hide it all the time? Does it make you happy to see—“)

I’m a little confused because of the formatting here. I think that I’m supposed to understand that Venus said it, but it’s a bit unclear. Maybe if you put some sort of description like “Venus’ words circled through his mind” or something before the quote so that it’s clear who said this?

“Etain, you’ve been folding those jeans for five minutes now.” Startled, he looked up to see Eris holding a bundle of clothes, standing in front of the table. Unloading them on the table, he started to iron them.

I think you have a couple unclear antecedents in this part. I was initially confused as to Eris’ gender, and I think it’s partially because you use “he” in these sentences to refer to first Etain and then to Eris. I’d say “Etain unloaded them other the table and began to iron them” or something else that clarifies who’s ironing. As well, “he looked up” is a bit confusing because usually the noun/pronoun that follows a quotation refers to the person speaking. If you say, “startled, Etain looked up” it could clarify this pretty easily.

Etain stared at the jeans and realized that yes, he was halfway through folding them again.

“Something on your mind?” Eris asked.

His mouth started to open on its own, and before he could stop it, his voice sounding oddly high said, “Yes.”

He slapped a hand over his mouth. This went against all his rules! He should’ve said no and whipped around, looking exceptionally epic, and act depressed until Eris followed him. Lord almighty, what was he turning into?

I’m also unclear as to Etain’s character and personality. He seems pretty normal to me until this point, where it seems like he maybe wants to be a drama queen. Is that the case? If so, I might foreshadow this a bit more. However, if this is part of a larger story, that might not be necessary.

Eris raised an eyebrow—since when did Etain ever say yes? Where were the carefully articulated flowing words? The quotes from ancient philosophers?

Before he could ask, Etain spoke up once more, “It’s about Venus.”

You don’t state why Etain is sharing more than usual, I think that might need more explanation.

“What about her?”

“I…”

He met his brother’s vibrant blue gaze. His hands clenched the denim, preparing to meet an onslaught of scolding from Eris. Yet he had to say it, he had to, had to. The words she had screamed were simple, not flowery or elegant in the least, but they were sharper than knives, sharper than arrows, sharp, sharp, sharp—so sharp that they had pierced him directly through his puny, mortal heart.

I like the metaphor here :D

“We had an argument.”

“An argument?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear me?”

(“I don’t understand anything you say nowadays! Nothing, absolutely nothing! You go on and on about Plato and Diogenes, Seth and Osiris, but what does it matter if nobody else can understand it? We’re German, not Egyptian, not Greek!”)

Again, you have a reference to Etain’s obsession with these philosophers and stuff, I’d like to maybe see a little bit of that come out at the beginning of the scene—like have it begin with a quote from a philosopher or something.

“An argument with a dead person?”

“What?”

Eris twirled one of the white strands framing his face. His long, slender finger wound it round and round.

“She’s been dead for 10 years. Are you feeling alright?”

Ooh, this was a really cool twist! I overall love the vibe of the scene and how you build up to this moment. I only had a couple little nitpicks—very good job!

+ 285 words

+ 1504 words total



july 11

critique

First off, I love the mood of your writing, especially at the end. It gives a great overview of the world and your worldbuilding is very interesting. My favorite bit is maybe the Conquerers; I like the reveal about them being humans. It makes the writer seem alien, if that makes sense.

I think I’ll go section by section for my edits/critiques.

cobalt_titan wrote:

Three hundred thousand, and the number was rising. Rapidly. The projection on the screen bore ill will to the Elvin population. The elf nation of Abrea had been struck hard by the disease, and every death added to the hatred they had of the Sprixian race. For it was the fault of the Sprixies, they were convinced. Their sprite-like adversaries were the only one of the 6 Sentient Races who had the technological — not to mention fantastical — advancements necessary to produce a virus that spread at this rate and accelerated at this pace. Carpa Scolosis — or Carpe-25, as it was more commonly referred to — had blatantly wiped out half of the Elvin population. And the number rose.

I like how ominous the number is, how you’re not quite sure what it represents. (If I’m going to be really picky, I would also say that “was rising” should be changed to “continued to rise” to make it flow better.)
The “projection on the screen” is a bit unclear at first. If you changed it to say “the words glowed on a screen, bearing…” it might be more clear what you’re talking about. “The projection” makes it sound as if you’ve switched topics, if you know what I mean.
I think that “ill will” is probably not the correct phrase to use in this instance. Ill will is more like ill wishes or bad intentions. I think using “an ill omen” would make your point more obvious.
I like the uncertain origins of the disease, it makes it very interesting and compelling! (But I would change “struck hard by the disease” to “struck hard by disease” since we haven’t previously established what disease we’re speaking about.)
I’d also write “6” as “six” instead. It just seems more formal.
One thing I’m a bit confused about in this section is the “fantastical advancements” part because I don’t understand how they could be advanced in … magic? That’s what I understand it to be but I don’t know how that would work. Cutting that part might make the whole thing more clear.
Finally, I would add the word “still” between “and” and “the” in the final sentence because you’d already established that the number was rising.
Overall, this part is very ominous and intriguing. Good job!

cobalt_titan wrote:

The Dwarves despised their Elvin counterparts. It had been five decades and the Kingdom of Vethor still struggled with the aftereffects of the Bloodstained War. Poverty lined every street, hunger racked every household, and life in the kingdom was no longer the image of freedom it had once been. What had once been a system of democracy had devolved into an aristocracy — one that favored the rich and disregarded the poor. And 98% of the Kingdom was poor. It was the dream of every child, every adolescent, every adult, and every elder to be in that 2%. Two percent of people who could eat breakfast in the morning. Two percent of people who lived in a house with running water. Two percent of people who slept in a bed every night. Two percent. That was it, and they just had to live with it.

I love the darkness of this part, and how clear the terrible situation is.
Firstly, I would change the beginning sentence to be “The Dwarves despised the Elves” because I don’t really know what you mean by “counterparts”, and this would be a simpler way of saying what I think you mean.
I think that I would change the sentence “what had once been a system of democracy had devolved into an aristocracy — one that favored the rich and disregarded the poor. And 98% of the Kingdom was poor”. In order to make it read more smoothly, I’d say “What had once been a system of democracy had devolved into an aristocracy, leaving 98% of the kingdom in poverty.” I feel like the idea of favoring the rich was already evident in the “aristocracy”, so you can pretty easily cut down on unnecessary words.
The only other change I’d suggest is that I would replace the final sentence with something more along the lines of “And the rest were forced to endure it”. However, this is mostly personal preference—I simply prefer the way that sounds—your sentence is clear enough.
Overall, the bleak picture you paint is very well communicated.

cobalt_titan wrote:

Out of all the races, the Supernaturals were the strongest. Tales circulated around the other Races about their power. Their strength. Their cunning. Their intelligence. But most often of all, the stories talked about magic. Not the elemental magic of the Halfdragons, nor the technological abilities of the Sprixies, and not even the biological gifts of the Dwarves. But magic beyond imagination. Magic beyond compare. Magic that could reverse time and bend reality. *In actuality, the Supernaturals were illusionists. They created images that were much more than images. They had a texture, a smell, a sound, and even a taste, if applicable. Visual mirages, audible deceptions, and tangible hallucinations. But the other Races didn’t know that. And the Supernaturals took advantage of that.* Their mystery and magic was the perfect way to stay in power. Because along with being the strongest, they were also the smallest. The least populated race in all Aarde. And if it wasn’t for their legends, they would have been wiped out a long time ago. It was a necessary secret .

This is a really intriguing part—the mystery of the Supernaturals even inside the world itself makes it super compelling. However, in that respect, I would not tell the reader what the Supernaturals’ magic is. (The section marked by asterisks.) Rather, I would have it be revealed through the story somehow. Maybe you have a supernatural character who uses their magic, allowing the reader to guess at what it is and how it works. Leaving the reader in the dark might make them feel more invested and immersed. However, this is by no means a necessary change. I really like this part! (I did make a couple wording changes in bold.)

cobalt_titan wrote:

The Halfdragons took what no one else wanted and made it enviable. The country of Espirit, originally a cold, barren wasteland that none of the other races had wanted, had been transformed into the world capital of tourism by the skill of the Halfdragons . The metropolis of Espirit was a city fittingly called Prime, and it had attracted people from all over the world with its art museums, music centers, first-class cuisine, and impressive landmarks. But the war had deteriorated the empire of Espirit into nothing more than a myth, as the ghost of the nation remained. The Halfdragons went into a self-imposed exile. Their empress never attended any Race Negotiation Conferences. Rumors began that they were planning something big, something that could wipe the other races off the face of the earth. But no one could ever agree on what it would be.

Again, I really enjoy this section and the details about the race. I like how ominous the ending is and how detailed your world is becoming as we slowly examine each race. I just made a couple word choice edits, such as “attended” instead of “came to”. The biggest change I made was cutting the sentence “The story stayed the same every time it circulated, excepting one thing.” I feel like this sentence is unnecessary, as you state that “no one could ever agree on what it would be”—essentially stating the same thing in what I feel is a more concise manner. However, that is also mostly my personal preference and I really like this section overall :D

cobalt_titan wrote:

The Conquerors were brutal. Vicious. Bloodthirsty. Those were the words — those and worse — that the other races used to describe the people formerly known as humans. Warmongering beings that would sneak into your house and murder you in your sleep. The creatures of little children’s nightmares. The savage beasts would sit in their plush chairs and demand unspeakable things of their own race. They were a dangerous people. And the only thing keeping them from wreaking further havoc on the planet was the Adam Treaty, a name which their president had insisted on, refusing to sign it unless that was its official name . (Their race was also unnecessarily stubborn.) Despite this, the treaty was signed and the races were safe. Until the war. That is when the Conquerors unveiled their roundwinning ammunition. And they were a battle away from winning the war when suddenly they surrendered. And no one knew why.

Okay, this might be my favorite part—I really love the depiction of the terror the other races experience about humans. Also the “Adam Treaty” is a nice touch. The ending is also very interesting and makes me very curious, so good job! One thing I’m confused about, though, is what you mean by “roundwinning”? Maybe you could replace this word with “unbeatable” or “unmatched” or another word that makes your point more clear. Overall, super interesting and I love the reveal about humans!

cobalt_titan wrote:

The Sprixies’ technological empire was unstoppable. With new developments being made practically every month, the country of Azard was the closest to the future. Their combinations of the biological and nanotechnology were groundbreaking. Their most remarkable creation was the Iester Crystal. Seen by few, heard of by thousands, envied by all. No one knew just what it did, nor did they have any inkling of the power it contained. Not even the Sprixies themselves knew. But the Councillors knew. They knew what it could do to a body, how it could…change it. And they had every inkling of how dangerous it was.

And the silent war raged on.

Not too many changes here, except I would maybe change “closest to the future” to be “futuristic” or something along those lines—I think that might elucidate your point. I’d also say that they had “hardly any inkling” rather than “any inkling” because if they had no inkling, why would they envy or fear it? Also the ending is just… *chef’s kiss* I love it.

Overall, super super well done worldbuilding and interesting writing :D I’d be very excited to read a book in this world!


+ 956 words

july 9

weekly one

Part One:
A literal interpretation of events from a silent comic/once upon a picture image (300+ words)
Comic chosen: the Secret of Life

In the center of an island stands a tree. Ancient and gnarled though it appears, buds hang from the ends of its spindly branches. A yellow sky glows behind, highlighting the green ocean. Dark silhouettes of birds contrast against the pale background. Cumulus clouds accent the bottom of the sky like foam on the waters.

Over time, the buds open to reveal blue eggs, held in round cages.

Eventually, a man—with a hat pulled low—visits the island in a rowboat. With a scythe-like instrument, he collects the eggs, then places them in the back of his boat and sails away.

The man now sits on the side of a busy street. A blanket is the only thing keeping his harvest from touching the ground. The ocean is barely visible in the distance between buildings.

A woman and girl are passing by, and the woman’s gaze is drawn to the eggs. The girl has only empty space where the woman and man both have their chests. Her shoulders, arms, and head hover over her legs and feet. Other children in the background appear similarly.

As the child beams and jumps up and down, the woman selects an egg. She hands the man some coins, and the cage is placed inside the void between the young girl’s legs and arms.

Within a few years, the egg has hatched, leaving a blue bird to live inside the cage. A bird which ages with her. With it, she grows. She plays. She matures. She makes friends, who also have birds inside their chests.

Eventually, when she is an old woman, she climbs throught he desert under a sky of stars, bird nested in her chest.

She frees the bird, allowing it to perch on her forearm.

The woman’s fades, but the bird bursts into song and flies away.

+ 304 words

Part Two:
A piece of original fiction or fanfiction, featuring the symbolic exchange of a food item (400+ words)

I collapsed to the ground, sweaty and breathing heavily. Sai sat down next to me more elegantly, though even he was breathless. He handed me something soft, about the size of the palm of my hand, only stretched out.

“What’s this?” I asked, lifting it up to my nose and smelling it. Food, I thought, but I didn’t bite in immediately.

“It’s Irunan food, often eaten while exercising. It’s called ,” Sai said around a bite. “I’m not entirely sure what’s in it, but it tastes pretty good. I was able to get the cooks here to make it.”

I shrugged and ate it. Spices that were reminiscent of the other Irunan food I’d eaten—which was arguably very little—jumped out at me immediately. The texture was odd, it seemed to be meat wrapped in bread. Maybe it had some nuts in it too?

Whatever it was, Sai was right: it was delicious. I ate the whole thing within a few moments, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“It’s supposed to be energizing, I guess. And it’s not too spicy that eating it makes your stomach hurt while exercising,” Sai commented.

He was right. It made me feel stronger, more ready for another bout. Sometimes you just needed a little push, I guess, to feel your full strength.

Sai’s breathing had since returned to normal, and it didn’t take long for mine to as well. I was becoming more his equal. My muscles, though sore, were starting to heal faster and handle more exertion. I sighed in satisfaction, from both the food and the knowledge that I was improving.

“Good job today, Calypso. I really feel like we’re getting there.”

“Thanks.” Strangely, I did as well.

Sai breathed out, then stood with a shuffle of his boots against the sandy ground. He took my hand and helped me up. Then he handed me my blade, taking his from the ground as well.

I dipped my head in gratitude, then fell into basic stance. I dipped into the recesses of my mind, shifting my hands through the sand in my mind. Erasing this moment, and finding the next one. In my head, I felt Sai’s blade touch my right arm, and I parried before his blow even fell.

I grinned, feeling the satisfaction run through me again. Apollon and Sai’s training seemed to be working together to make me stronger, more powerful. More ready. I took a deep breath, then attacked.

+ 413 words

Part Three:
A continued or extended scene from one of the examples in the Motif-tionary (400+ words)
Motif Chosen: Red/fire from Jane Eyre

“… He left me in an immense room with a fire-place at each end, a chandelier pendant from the ceiling, and a little red gallery high up against the wall, filled with musical instruments. Here I walked about for a long time, feeling very strange, and mortally apprehensive of someone coming in and kidnapping me: for I believed in kidnappers…”

For a moment, I felt their ghostly hands move over me to steal me away. I shivered. My imagination was acting up.

I was just about to search for my friend again, when I heard footsteps. A shadow, stretched to terrifying lengths by the light of the fire, drifted towards me. It belonged to a man, who, when he stepped into the light, appeared no more than five-and-twenty.

He wore no red, but his entire visage was painted auburn by the fire. Deep shadows darkened half his face, but a brilliant smile made them seem less than nothing. We could have been standing in bright sunshine, for all that smile said.

He bowed, having stopped about a meter away.

“Hello, sir,” I said, bowing.

“Hello, dear guest,” said he, standing with a flourish. “I apologize for my father’s leaving you like this. It was a very shameful move for him to leave you with no companion or thing to interest yourself. Why, he didn’t even give you paper and a pen to write down your thoughts. I think it the worst thing in the world to leave a person without a pen and paper in lonely times. It is the time in which I do my best writing. After all, it is quite difficult to write when you are not abandoned. Perhaps that is why so many writers have tragic stories.”

“Thank you, sir, but I am quite all right as it is. You are providing me with room and board, after all. And Mr. assured that he would check in on me.”

“I suppose you are right, and I would not dream of imposing my thoughts on others.”

“It’s no trouble, sir.”

“No, no, I can very easily accept my own faults. It is the faults of others that I have more trouble with.”

“I guess so, sir.” I was not at all sure what to say to this strange young man, but he seemed perfectly content to speak until the butler returned—or perhaps even past then, at the rate at which he was going.

“Pardon me, but I believe that my father quite forgot to tell me your name,” he said, quite abruptly.

“I am Jane Eyre.”

The young man’s eyes widened, but he quickly recovered from his apparent surprise. “Miss Eyre, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am William .”

I could hardly keep my astonishment from showing. I had thought William gone from the house. Mr. had many sons.

My face grew hot and red.

William.

My betrothed.

This might be dangerous after all—kidnappers or no.

+ 435 words

Part Four:
Your rewritten Part 1, now featuring acknowledgement of the symbolism! (400+ words)

In the middle of an ocean, lies an island. Behind is a vibrant yellow sky and white clouds dancing over the waters like great swaths of foam. Birds fly low over the ocean, black silhouettes contrasting with the light background.

Most striking, however, is the tree on the island. Though it is ancient and gnarled, buds hang from the thin branches—holding on despite it all.

Eventually, these buds begin to open.

At first, they appear like normal flowers, with an oblong yellow center and white petals.

Then, the yellow peels off to reveal cages.

Inside each one is an egg.

A man rows across the waters, hat pulled low and movements swift and sure. He’s made this journey before.

With a scythe-like tool, the man harvests the eggs, which remain captured in the cages like fireflies in children’s hands. Precious and temporary. He leaves the island with the cages in the back of his boat, making his way to a city. He settles on a street corner with his goods spread out before him.

A woman and her daughter pass by, and the mother turns to examine the eggs. The two appear normal, except the daughter is missing her torso—her shoulders and head float above her legs. She behaves as a child, though, jumping up and down with excitement and beaming as her mother selects an egg.

The reason behind this empty space quickly becomes clear as the woman hands the seller a few coins. He gives them the chosen cage, which the mother places inside her daughter, filling that space.

The girl gazes down to the egg with delight.

The egg eventually hatches, growing as the daughter does, nesting in her chest. Playing. Singing. Maturing. Her bird is happy when she is, and is her constant companion.

Through all the years, they are together.

Still, it is held in its cage.

As an old woman, walking with the aid of a cane, she travels through the desert to a place far away. She holds her hand to her belly like a pregnant mother, loving more than securing.

Under a night sky, she releases the bird. They pause a moment, the bird perched on her forearm.

The night sky disappears at this place, turning into eternal sunlight.

The woman’s light and life is gone, but as she fades into nothingness, the bird bursts into song. Still it remains precious and temporary.

+ 401 words

+ 1553 words total

july 6

bi-daily
based on a character shared with @violent-measures

In starlight and shade
In glittering glade
My heart is unmade

I wander towards the heavens
As you stay down on the earth

I wonder if I’ll ever feel at home
Or not be alone?
I still and look back along the track
Knowing you would not last
And I will never find another home

I wander towards the heavens
As you stay down on the earth

In soulless sorrow
In friendless following
My heart is low

I wander towards the heavens
As you stay down on the earth

My doubt is eclipsed by certainty
You would not follow me
I close my eyes, heart hollowing

In loss and life
In spring and strife
My heart burns bright

A single tear slips down my cheek
I clench my jaw, I won’t be weak
“Goodbye, brother,” I feel I must say
But I can’t apologize for running away
Why wouldn’t you follow?
Guess my heart’s always been hollow

It’s just that I can feel it, now

In winter’s womb
In thund’ring typhoon
My heart’s hid in gloom

I turn my back and strangers guide me ahead
Though you wouldn’t, I allow myself to be led
I follow, and our story comes to an end

I wander towards the heavens
As you stay down on the earth

In heavenly hate
In earthly ache
My heart shakes

I wander towards the heavens
As you stay down on the earth

I wonder if I’ll ever feel at home
Or not be alone?
I still and look back along the track
Knowing you would not last
And I will never find another home

I wander towards the heavens
Yet you stay down on the earth

Down on the earth
In hope and pain
In wax and wane
My heart is lain
To rest
and never felt again

+ 302 words

july 4

daily
twists: the main character and the sidekick switch places (@piper_camps) and western setting (@–pxppy-aesthetics–)
fandom: The Cosmere

Sylphrena heaved out a sigh and rested her head against the bars. Between her fingers, she played with a leaf she’d found growing between the tiles of her prison.

It was a miserable little place, but the tiny bit of green brought her joy, even in her unfortunate imprisonment.

A patch of blue light illuminated the ground beneath her boots. Syl glanced upwards, and spotted a little blue man, a little more than a handspan tall, floating in front of her face. At first, she thought he might be a windspren, for the edges of his blue coat faded into mist, and the tips of his long hair curled and then dissolved into indigo wisps.

“I’d put that leaf back,” the man suggested.

She started. “What are you?” Syl asked curiously, examining him closer. A badge was sewn on his arm, in glyphs, which she couldn’t read. It looked almost like a medic’s symbol, but she wasn’t sure.

The man frowned. “I’m not sure. But I do know that you need to get rid of that leaf. It’s dangerous.”

Syl narrowed her eyes at the man, then at the leaf. “Is it going to attack me or something?”

“What? No, of course not. It’s just that it’s poisonous.”

“Oh.” Syl set the leaf down and brushed her fingers off on her dress. The man drifted down to settle on the floor, his posture perfect. It almost made her want to sit up straighter. Who was this strange windspren?

“I’m Sylphrena, but you can call me Syl,” she introduced herself. “What’s your name? Do you even have a name?”

“I do, I think.” He shifted, then a strange…understanding—like a memory had just returned to him—dawned on his face. “I’m Kaladin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kaladin,” she said, feeling a little goofy as she said it. But who knew what this creature was capable of? There was an odd confidence in his gaze, even as he seemed so unsure about the situation.

“What are you here for?” she inquired after a pause.

“I don’t know. I was sent.”

“Sent? By who?”

“Whom.” Kaladin’s eyes widened. “Sorry, I just….” He frowned—it seemed that he did that a lot— “That was strange. I felt as though I needed to say that for some reason.”

“Maybe you’re here to teach me proper grammar?” she theorized.

Kaladin glowered. “I doubt it, this feels much more important than that.”

+ 404 words

july 2

daily
words: soliloquy, vicissitude, galaxy, gossamer, and moth (@creativecomment)
song listened to while writing: Almost Idyllic by Sleeping At Last

“It’s quite warm today,” Orion whispered to himself. An unwelcome change from the cool weather they had been experiencing. The soliloquy made the child feel much more a scientist, so he continued to narrate as he stepped outside.

“Spring is well on its way,” he mused, observing new flowers and fresh gossamer between trees that signaled the spiders’ return. “Though most animals have been out this winter more than usual. The heat of the past few summers must have caused a change in their schedules.”

Orion skipped down the hill leading away from the house. He continued on, yet undisturbed by the sun. He danced through fields and splashed across creeks, laughing and greeting the moths and fireflies, which had not yet been banished by the dawn.

As the sun began to quietly paint the eastern sky, Orion collapsed in the shade of a tree and watched grasshoppers flit through the grasses.

“There are fewer grasshoppers this year,” Orion noted, so he made sure to enjoy the ones he spotted. The heat would surely chase him inside later, so he savored these moments dearly.

But maybe the warmth wasn’t too bad. Perhaps all Orion needed was to alter his schedule as the animals had. He imagined being nocturnal like the owls and foxes he read about—though he’d never seen—and escape the heat of the sun and the pollution.

“Though there aren’t too many of those left in the world, except a few out here in the country and some in zoos,” Orion said, remembering what the books had told him.

Still, he sometimes heard owls hoot at night. If they had survived, perhaps he could too.

With a sigh, Orion gazed up at the sky and imagined galaxies where, far from his parents, his life could be like this moment forever.

+ 301 words

july 1
saturday, nothing ^^

daily for july 2nd

words: tomb, tree, jazz, murder, cloud

“Jazz induced rage is very bad.”
“Uh- Yeah… I figured?”
“No, no! I am like serious! The last time someone played the saxophone, I went into a jazz induced rage and murdered the cloud creatures!”
I stared at the shadowy beast in front of me like it was crazy, which it probably was.
“Okay..? But what exactly are the cloud creatures and what does that have to do with why can't I play saxophone in my jazz band?”
The shadow beast groaned in frustration and grabbed my arm, and memories that seemed to be covered in black slime slipped into my mind.
The beast was chilling next to another human who had a saxophone in their arms and they raised it up to their mouth. The beast doesn't seem to notice and continues to sit there and look outside the window. The sound that came out of the saxophone seemed to have power and then the memories go rather fuzzy but from the memories she could make out that the beast had no control over themselves and destroyed everything that came in the way. When the person put down the saxophone and looked for the beast, they were shocked at what they had done. Meanwhile, the clouds descended and turned into cloud creatures. The creatures looked like a mix between animal and human in different ways, but since the saxophone music was still playing the beast screamed and grabbed creatures and squeezed them hard enough for the water to come out of them and they no longer existed.
The person was terrified by all this and later approached the beast, worried.
“Are you-”
But the beast, still having the ringing of the saxophone music in their ears scooped up the person and threw him in a hole and put a piece of metal on top and called it ‘The unfortunate’s tomb'
The memories stopped flowing into my mind and i stared at the beast in shock.
A small smile curved up my lips and I laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” They asked me confused.
“I want the world to end. Why else do you think I summoned you and dealt with you for the last few months?”
Their form rippled and the vanished.
“That doesn't matter. All that matters is that I get my revenge on you by ruining the one thing you care for!”
“But, the saxophone music sends me on a rampage! You don't know what I'll destroy!” The beast's voice echoed from all around the room.
“Ah but that was before,” I smirked.
“What do you mean?!”
“I have the bead,” I said, taking a chain out of my pocket and fastened it onto my neck and the beast shivered.
“H-How do you know about it? I only told…” they trailed off.
"Took you long enough,”
“Mir! Snap out of it! Don’t let Ail control you!” The beast appeared.
I took the saxophone and played something.
Destroy your home.
The beast flew into the air and picked up time as if it was nothing and destroyed it. It triggered the end of the world, but that was what was necessary in order to ensure that I would be with the person who turned into the beast.
I fell to the ground and looked up as the beast was destroying time and gasped.
“AIL!”
The beast paused for a moment as Ail came out of my body, with a bead.
“Mir! Take the bead from them! They’re controlling me to do this!”
I lunged for the bead, but Ail pointed at the ground and the beast swooped down and broke the ground below me.
The saxophone music il no longer playing, but because of the bead, Ail must be able to still convince him that the saxophone music is still playing and he can tell him to-
I’m not sure what happened next. All I remember is that the beast was flying toward me with its claws extended. Then it went red. Just like their eyes

+668 words

daily for july 2nd

My five words: Fizz, ocean, envelope, dystopia, boiling

In a dystopian future where the world was on the brink of collapse, a lone survivor named Max embarked on a treacherous journey across the barren wasteland. The sun blazed relentlessly overhead, casting a boiling glare on the desolate landscape.

As Max trudged through the scorched earth, his parched throat begged for a sip of water. The last drops in his canteen fizzled away like a dying ember, leaving him desperate and dehydrated. He yearned for the refreshing embrace of the ocean, the cool waves crashing against his weary body.

With each step, Max clung to a fragile hope. He knew that salvation awaited him at the end of his path, carried within an envelope tightly clutched in his hand. It contained coordinates, coordinates that supposedly led to a secret oasis hidden amidst the ruins of civilization.

Days turned into weeks as Max ventured further, battling sandstorms and scorching winds. He refused to succumb to the oppressive conditions, for the envelope was his lifeline, promising a glimpse of paradise. The thought of an oasis, lush with greenery and replenishing waters, fueled his determination.

Finally, after an arduous journey, Max arrived at the designated location. His eyes widened with disbelief as he witnessed a sight he had only dreamed of—a sparkling oasis nestled between towering ruins. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stumbled toward the crystal-clear water.

With trembling hands, he opened the envelope, revealing a note inside. It read, “Congratulations, survivor. You have made it. The oasis you see before you is a testament to your resilience. May it serve as a reminder that hope can thrive even in the bleakest of times.”

As Max immersed himself in the rejuvenating waters, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The world may have been engulfed in turmoil, but he had found solace in the ocean's embrace. In that moment, the dystopian reality faded away, replaced by the promise of a better future—one where life could flourish once more.

daily for july 3rd:

daily for july 2:

In a small, quaint village nestled between rolling green hills, lived a young girl named Lily. Her delicate hands were always busy crafting beautiful objects out of paper. She possessed a talent for turning the simplest sheets into works of art. One sunny afternoon, as she strolled along a path lined with dandelions, a light breeze whispered through her hair and carried a delicate dandelion seed to her feet.

Lily bent down and plucked the seed from the ground, holding it gently between her fingers. She marveled at its fragile nature, recognizing the fleeting beauty it held. Determined to capture this essence, she rushed back to her cozy little cottage, the paper she had been carrying clutched tightly in her hand.

Inside her sanctuary, she carefully unfolded the paper, revealing a pristine white surface. With nimble fingers, she began to fold and crease, creating intricate layers that mimicked the dandelion's delicate structure. As she worked, she imagined the dandelion's journey, carried by the wind, floating above meadows and streams.

When the paper dandelion was complete, Lily placed it on a windowsill, where the sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow upon it. The delicate folds caught the light, casting beautiful shadows on the surrounding surfaces.

One night, as Lily lay in bed, a heavy rain began to fall. She couldn't sleep, worried that her paper creation would be ruined by the water. Determined to protect her delicate artwork, she hurried downstairs and placed it on a high shelf.

However, the rain continued to pour, and a leak formed in the roof, causing water to drip onto the floor. As Lily rushed to catch the water with a bucket, she accidentally knocked the paper dandelion from its perch. It fluttered down, landing gracefully on the water-soaked floor.

At first, Lily's heart sank, fearing she had destroyed her creation. But as she picked it up, she noticed something extraordinary—the paper dandelion had absorbed the water and transformed. It had become more resilient, its delicate petals expanding and embracing the water droplets, resembling a real dandelion in full bloom.

Lily's disappointment turned into awe and inspiration. The incident taught her a valuable lesson about embracing change and finding beauty in unexpected circumstances. She continued her paper artistry, now infusing her creations with water, embracing the fluidity of life.

Word spread of Lily's unique paper art, and people from far and wide flocked to see her exquisite creations. The delicate beauty of her paper dandelions became symbolic of resilience and adaptation, reminding everyone that even the most fragile things can withstand life's challenges and bloom beautifully in the face of adversity.