Daily #2

Words from _pxnkroqk!
Mouse, kitchen, machine, sky, treetop
266 words

The storm twisted trees and overturned cars. It howled its breaths into our bones, and all we could do was to pray for it to become bored and bother somebody else.
We watched the storm from our kitchen. My siblings were huddled in a heavy blanket, sipping peppermint tea. I knew by the wide looks in their eyes that they were picturing what our home would look like after the storm was over.
“Lydia?” one whimpered. “Can you tell us the tale of the mouse and the machine?”
“It’s not the tale of the mouse and the machine!” I rolled my eyes. “It’s about a tree, a world of metal, and a small creature.”
“It’s a mouse and a machine!” My youngest sibling had snatched the heavy leather-bound book that had sat on the shelves of the bunker for as long as I can remember.
“Fine,” I grinned, and turned the first page.

This is a tale of an underground civilisation.

Deep under the earth lived a city. A city of chrome and silver and bronze. A city ruled by metals and gears and inventions.

It was a city built by heartless monsters and fear.

This is a tale of a machine in that city.

This machine had been built for only one purpose: To build, destroy, and reuse.

It was like any other of its kind.

Lastly, this is a tale of a mouse who thrived among a blue sky and gazed up at the treetops

This mouse knew nothing of a secret underground city.

Or a mysterious machine.

But that was about to change

7/2/2023
- words: nightingale, singing, petals, garden, library.
- provider: snickle-snackle
- amount: 449

i apologize if what you imagined was something like romeo and juliet ;-;

here. here is peace, in a overgrown garden hidden away from the ruined eyes of mankind.

where nightingales let out their woeful singing as petals drift from the sprawling sakuras overhead. where wonderful creations silenced by humans can dwell in peace forevermore, content with their simple lives. where only those with pure hearts can ever wish to go—despite the fact that their sins will never be forgotten.

it is never hot, or too cold, but a temperature in the middle. the breeze is never too quick or slow, but just gentle and fierce enough to soothe yet not bore. the creeks and rivers are a clear, vibrant blue filled with all sorts of life. the flowers and fungi and trees and whatever else are wiped of all their wounds to become vast and brilliant. this garden is endless, with no signs of ever stopping.

yet, if, in a lifetime or more, the gates to this archive of the lost open, and if, in a lifetime, a human manages to scurry inside without being vanquished, perhaps even you—they will spend the rest of eternity traveling the vast expanses of paradise. they will see the world that could’ve been, the world before the fall.

they will find what they have destroyed without fail, even if they avoid it with all their might.

dodos and dolphins and rhinos and mammoths and ibexes and all the extinct animals. they do not live in fear, for what is there to fear anymore after eons of cowering under mankind? of course, the circle of life only moves forward. critters hunt and kill and feast all the same, but never in the way humans do.

there is a single wooden building in the last corner, where troves full of knowledge rest. it contains even the knowledge of the library of alexandria, shelves of writing upon writing—information that could’ve saved the world at some point. the papers are dusty and ancient, but the blood and tears the authors put in them are evident. all that time spent collecting, for it to be burned without a second thought.

and most of all, their personal mistakes. lies they told to their loved ones, secret snickers and snide remarks. they will remember, every last lost whisper of it.

mistakes are not forgotten here, let it be remembered. they might be forgiven, but sins and sins and nothing will ever change that. no matter how much you long for the ages of old, it does not wipe away the stains. even in paradise where all is calm, every last being most remember to atone for the damage they have caused. atone, until you are sure you are ready to leave.

Daily July 2 -
words by xXFierroOrFalafelXx
shriek, library, height, bestow, sunset

Sunset fell quickly upon the land like a mother bestowing a good-night kiss upon an uncooperative child. In a moment, night overtook streets that had but recently glowed with the warm blush of dusk.
Streetlights flickered on, encaged by iron claws.
A man stalked across the cobblestones, a coat rustling behind him like a billowing shadow. He moved across the middle of the road with deliberation, and a careful observer might have noticed that his steps fell so precisely that his boots clicked on the stone exactly every half-second.
Finally, he reached what seemed to be his destination. With a cursory glance around the square, the man continued inside the tall building.
The structure, too, was notable, made entirely of interlocking diamond panes of glass. Initially, it appeared simply a modern, sleek office building abandoned after dark. As the man swiftly made his way through the rooms that were the same, he looked around, studying the empty desks. Looking for something. Or perhaps someone?
After walking through a final row of cubicles, the man faced a set of double doors. Unlike other doors in the building, it had no glass. Instead, it was constructed of smooth mahogany, the first hint of real wood he’d seen in the office.
The man raised his fist above the door and knocked rapidly.
He straightened his tie and brushed off his coat.
The door shrieked open on poorly oiled hinges, though no one stood behind it to open it.
The man walked inside, into another world.
A world not of cool metal and glass, of sleek, modern style, pure blacks and whites. A world, instead, of greenery and wood, of bookshelves reaching up to touch the roof. A world full of the smell of books, with stars painted on the ceiling.
In other words, it was a world of escape.
And it was perfect.

total: 310 words

Daily 2nd July

My words: campfire, dancing, killer, stars, danger (courtesy of @chichi543)

They were enjoying their second night away, and had decided to spend it in the woods. Together they laughed and reminisced, they danced and sang.
“It’s good to get away- isn’t it.”
“Yeah. It’s- like paradise.” Laria and Jenna, two close friends within their band of comrades, were snuggled next to each other by the crude fire they had lit earlier. The warm lull of the flames, their flickering reflected in their eyes; the soft beat of the music blurring all other sounds; the mingling laughter of their other friends; the sweet cloying smell of burning food became a warm, comforting fog surrounding them. Jenna’s eyes began to go misty and out of focus, so she buried her face in Laria’s thick dark hair. Laria leaned her weight against Jenna.
“Laria?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s stars- in my eyes.” Jenna tried to look up at Laria, but her body felt like it had turned to lead.
“What do you mean, Jen?” Laria murmured.
No reply. Laria turned and looked down at Jenna, now asleep. Laria tried to nudge her and wake her, but she seemed to be losing focus too.
The flames were growing brighter, and the music faster, and the heat of the fire seemed to be crawling up to meet her, and the bodies of her friends danced madly round her, and as she looked up, she felt immensely dizzy, and the stars seemed to be spinning downwards towards them.
Laria tried to stir herself back into sense, but everything was becoming a swirling, sweet, loud, tumbling mess. She slumped against the sleeping figure of Jenna, also unconscious. She lost her grip on the bottle of something she had brought with her, and it slipped quietly from her hand onto the ground.
The liquid it contained spilled out, seeping slowly into the flames. They roared fearsomely and tried to leap towards the two of them, straining and growling like a dog on a lead.
“No! Jenna! Laria!” shouted Jacob, another friend, who had just been tending to the fire. He leapt over to them and tried to heave their sleeping bodies away from the fearsome flames. Sofya panicked and tossed a large jug of water at the fire, partly dousing the flames and drenching Jacob, Laria and Jenna. The two girls awoke coughing and spluttering.
“W- what?” said Laria. Jenna looked around wildly, out of control.
As Jacob tried to bring them back to their senses, Sofya reached for an object on the floor near them. She picked up a bottle, still hot from the flames.
“Oh. Oh no.” She could see that it had contained some kind of alcohol. The music had stopped abruptly, and the only sound was the weak crackling of flames and everyone’s stunned silence.
(459 words)

Dailllyy!
Words used: annoying, saliva, cocoon, xenon, rapid
Words by: @schoolPractice_6th – how many words? 602 <:
—

In my hometown, there was a 7-year-old boy named Oliver! I knew Oliver for his endless energy and talent for finding himself in strange situations. I once heard a story from his mother where he found an old tree on the edge of a forest. This tree piqued Oliver's curiosity one sunny day.

According to legend, he approached the tree and noticed a strange cocoon hanging from one branch. It had bright colors and interesting patterns that caught his eye. Oliver could not resist touching it, and the cocoon cracked open immediately.

It surprised him to see a sticky creature emerge from this cocoon. It had wings like a butterfly, but its body was unlike anything he had ever seen. Besides its long snout, antennas, and sharp teeth, it had a long tail. The creature's presence fascinated and annoyed Oliver, who felt curiosity and unease resting his eyes upon it.

As he observed the creature, he realized that the substance covering its body was saliva. The creature, now out of its cocoon, fluttered its wings, making a soft buzzing sound. The creature's beauty captivated Oliver, making him forget his initial worries.

Suddenly, a wind gust blew through the forest, carrying a peculiar smell. The creature, sensing something in the air, emitted a bright light. Oliver's eyes widened in wonder as he realized that the creature was emitting Xenon, a rare gas that created a shimmering glow. As the strange, yet beautiful, sight unfolded before him, Oliver knew he had just witnessed something truly special.

Intrigued by this magical phenomenon, Oliver followed the creature deeper into the forest. Their path took them through tall, mossy trees, over babbling streams, and around ancient rocks. The creature's wings flashed in rapid bursts of light, illuminating the path ahead.

As they continued their journey, Oliver noticed the forest changing subtly. The trees grew thicker, and anticipation hung in the air. They arrived at a hidden clearing where a colorful gathering of creatures had gathered. These were the forest's guardians, mythical beings that only appeared on special occasions. It filled Oliver with awe and excitement as he watched the guardians gather before him; it was a sight he had never seen before.

Oliver realized that the creature he had encountered was one of these guardians. They had chosen him to witness their secret gathering. It was an honor that overwhelmed him. He stood in awe as the creatures danced and sang, their shimmering wings casting a magical glow over the clearing. The sight of the creatures was remarkable, and Oliver could feel their energy radiating from them. Oliver felt profound peace and understanding as they moved and sang. He knew at that moment that he was part of something much broader and more meaningful than he had ever imagined.

As the night passed on, Oliver lost himself at the moment's enchantment. He felt grateful for being a part of such a magical experience. As the first rays of dawn lit up the sky, the creatures slowly dispersed, leaving Oliver alone in the clearing.

With a heart full of wonder, Oliver returned home, carrying memories of that extraordinary night in the forest. It enlightened the cocooned creature with a newfound love for nature's secrets and hidden beauty.

From that day forward, Oliver would always treasure the fleeting moments of enchantment and the delicate balance between the annoying and the extraordinary that life had to offer. And whenever he looked up at the sky and saw a flicker of light, it would remind him of the journey he had shared with the guardians of the forest, illuminated by Xenon.

July 2nd – Daily #2
311 words

words provided by @opheliio : dazzle, bubblegum, beach, dreamhouse, “hi!”

Walking through the upstairs hallway, the dazzling glow of daylight shined through the large, double-glazed window. Arya leaned on the ledge, peering through the casement. The breeze from the beach right below the dreamhouse blew straight inside, a warm chill entering the room. Hand on the banister, Arya trailed behind the railing to the stairs, following them all the way down. She walked through the main hallway, out of the grand front doorway. Standing on the edge of a beautifully painted porch, she dug through the pockets of her new faded-grey jeans, reaching for a light pink coloured wrapper. She popped the piece of bubblegum into her mouth and continued her way to the blazing hot sand. The gust of wind blew through her what-was-once-purple hair- chilling the slight hair on her tanned arms. The ocean waves were peaceful and calming, the loud sounds of children playfully yelling. She continued to stroll through the pathway. “hi!” a voice stopped Arya, and she jumped back, surprised. a young boy–about the same age as Arya–stood in front of her. Light brown locks of hair, brown eyes glowing in the sun, grey tank top, and colourful shorts. He had a Canadian accent as he spoke. “hey,” she blew a bubble, and after seconds of silence, she forced a no-teeth smile to ask, “can I help you?” he looked at her, confusingly and shrugged. “just new around here, hoping to meet someone new, eh”. Arya knew that feeling. Her first day in brisbane was a total mess for both her family and herself when they first arrived 4 years before. Being the new kid at school was the absolute worst. “Out of place?” She asked, and he nodded immediately. “welcome to brissie, river city.” she threw out her hand. “Arya.” he gave his hand and shook with hers. “Axel” he smiled. “nice to meet you”.

DAILIES


JULY 1

Heyo, I’m an ice cream sundae! Hi there. Yeah. Yeah, I know, you’re surprised that I’m talking to you, huh? It’s true, most ice creams just ignore you; they’re pretty cold. (Haha, get it? …Never mind. *sigh*) Anyhow. Hmm. You’re still kinda looking at me weird, so maybe I oughta introduce myself? I’m a mix of mint chocolate chip, cookie dough, and chocolate fudge, with a few spoonfuls of other flavors thrown in along the way. Simultaneously crunchy, chewy, and soft, I’m a lot of things at the same time. I could never decide on which taste was my favorite, so I made myself into a bit of everything! And with this spoon I carry with me, I build myself higher as I discover new flavors, scooping up bits and pieces as I go along, sometimes leaving a bite of myself behind in return. I am drizzled with a few different syrups as well, including honey, chocolate syrup, and caramel. I know, I know, it sounds like a huge, sticky mess… and it is… but it’s also really fun! It accents my scoops very nicely, don’t you think? Oh, and see these sweet toppings I have? (Get it, ‘sweet,’ because they’re sugary? Ugh, why do I even try…) I wear different ones from day to day depending on how I feel– You know, marshmallows for simple and calm, chocolate chips for alert and thoughtful, rainbow sprinkles if I’m particularly creatively motivated… Wait, what? Did you not realize there’s a personal symbolism for ice cream toppings? Surely you must have your own… Unless I just overthink things and normal beings don’t assign meanings to arbitrary objects… *awkward pause* Ahahahah, soooo, moving on, then… Right now, I reside in a cozy little bowl, although I’ve been thinking about upgrading to a bigger one. I tried living in a cone once. It was awful. So small and pointy, and I dripped all over the place. Would not recommend. Cups are good, especially the tall, fancy ones, but in my humble opinion, nothing beats a nice, old-fashioned bowl. Maybe I can get one with a turtle on it! Anyway, I’d love to stay and chat longer, but I gotta get back to the freezer. It’s really warm in here, and I’m melting. Literally. See you later!


JULY 2

(I got the words “eerie, curious, nocturnal, bitter, crown” from @Iris_Galaxy.)

Look inside me, said I. I am not afraid of the darkness.
Look inside me, said the void. I am the darkness.
It opened into the mountain, arching upward, inward, offering an infinity of depth. An ancient cave, its existence untouched by the coming and going of days and daylight. The cool, eerie stillness of the air contained the scent of time itself. No moon, no stars. Nothing ever shone here.
I took a breath and stepped inside.
The emptiness swallowed me whole, and I lost myself within it. Became it. The tunnels twisted into formless shapes, patternless geometry. A labyrinth of silence.
But as I mapped the caverns and crevices, consumed in wonder at the immensity of it all, a wayward thought noted something curious. The ways branched, combined, curved back in on themselves, but somehow I never crossed back over my own scent trail. I followed a path in a circular route, never returning to the beginning. Wasn’t a circle supposed to start where it ended? Or was that a memory of a different life, somewhere I had left behind long ago? Perhaps all the unwritten rules of the universe did not apply here. Why should they, after all? This place was outside, other. It only existed within itself.
These musings were just beginning to take hold in my mind when the tunnel opened up into a vast ravine, the darkness concealing immeasurable quantities of space, extending outward in all directions. I kept to the wall, brushing up against the grooves and ridges carved into the stone. Some were etched deeper than others, and it crossed into my awareness that they did not feel natural, created out of purpose rather than coincidence. Symbols, runes? The nocturnal musings of some other explorer who wandered into these depths?
Adrift in nameless thoughts, I carried on through the ravine until a tremor in the air, just the smallest of vibrations, made me stop. I could not see ahead of me; indeed, not a single photon of light had not reached my eyes since I entered, but some unknown sense deep within me suddenly awoke, pulsing with life.
A green glow- strangely familiar, yet so alien- rose behind me, casting my shadow upon the wall I found myself facing. If I had been rational, perhaps I would have assumed I was hallucinating; my eyes, blinded for so long, had conjured light where there was none. However, I merely watched as my shadowed form, nebulous and ever-shifting as the wind, took on a life of its own.
And in that moment, I heard its thoughts, and they were my thoughts, but I was no longer who I was. The shadow within the light was more real than the shadow within the void. So, my mind, free of its body and the bitter taste of impermanence, spread its wings and became the universe.
Here now, there were many voices, many lights, many shadows, and I was the silence in which they existed, the darkness that they were a part of, the pieces of myself that created me even as I created them.
But then, from where did the light come?
I turned around.
They stood before me, a visage of another shadow, but with a glowing orb to crown their form, an unnatural green radiance dissolving out into the nothingness. Yet, still, they were just a part of me as I was part of them. The light, too, was something I held within myself. I could see it now- a purplish-blue luminescence shone all around me, lighting up a path through the maze. Reaching back down into my pelt, into my paws, I stepped forward, following the trail.
They watched me go. I would be back. We both knew that. But for now… for now I had to leave. Past the carvings, through the tunnels, out of the labyrinth.
When I at last reached the opening through which I had once entered, the world tried to blind me with its overwhelming brightness. However, I would remember. I would carry it all in my mind, where it had come from.
I had looked inside, and found I was the darkness.
And the darkness looked inside, and found I was the light.


JULY 3

(I got a truth from @-Loyalfeather: “What’s the most random thing you’ve ever said involving pastries?” and another truth from @FairyAyla: “If you could save one of your characters from dying, who would it be?” I replied to both in this thread: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-227954732 )

Well, not pastries specifically, but I kinda have this inside joke/reference where every time someone asks me where we're going, I say “I don't know, I assumed we were going to a bakery?” x33 I don't know if that counts, though?

Ooh, great question- First thing I thought of was what is probably the darkest death in my series, where the tragic villain character (named Ash) is in a really bad mental state and /certain plot events/ finally push him over the top and he hurtles off the side of a cliff. However, since my universe contains a ghost/afterlife system, and his tortured existence improves after dying, I probably wouldn't change that. Instead, I might go for Ash's sibling (haven't named them yet), who died as a very young child because it would be interesting to see how the plot would have been different if he had survived. In other cases of plot relevance, saving either a lynx named Pounce or a shazarxa named Sandstone would be good ideas, because their deaths both caused LOTS of ripple-effect problems for everyone else. Personally, though, just purely based on my own emotions, I'd save a wolf named Legend. He's a tribute character to someone from real life who died from cancer, and I guess I feel bad that from the moment I created him, I doomed him to have the same fate. There are a few other tragic deaths in my series, but for the most part, they either get a really nice resolution as ghosts, or their death made a plotline so meaningful that I'd feel worse ruining the plotline than I do killing off the character. (RIP Drizzle -w-)


JULY 4

(I got “The characters of one fandom are in the setting of another fandom” from @–pxppy-aesthetics– and “Main Character wakes up one day and something’s off about everything but only ever so slightly but they just can't put a finger on it” from @Alfalfa78. I used characters from Warriors and put them in the setting of Minecraft.)

Hollyleaf awoke to the sound of cats yowling loudly at each other. She climbed the stairs leading out of the warriors' den, stepping around the thorny sweet berry bushes to reach the surface and see what all the commotion was about. It was early, the sun not yet risen, and Hollyleaf was grateful that the ThunderClan camp was nestled in a ravine with sturdy stone walls to keep out badgers and foxes and all the other hostile mobs that spawned at night in the forest biome.
Brambleclaw was standing atop the Highrock, seemingly trying to calm down several of the other warriors and assign patrols.
“Jaypaw, can I have a word?” he called out, and Hollyleaf scanned the camp for her brother. ‘He and Leafpool must have just returned from the Moonportal,’ she noted.
“Sure and it’s JayFEATHER now,” she heard her brother answer, and she perked her ears up with surprise. She hadn’t expected him to receive his full medicine cat name already. ‘Must be because of all that catmint he found,’ she thought to herself with pride. But then a flash of unease overtook her, wiping away the moment of happiness. ‘Although he and Lionblaze were sure acting weird about it when they brought it back. There’s some secret they’re not telling me… Did they cheat and go into Creative Mode to spawn it in?’
And yet, some sense buried beneath her skin told her there was something even deeper going on, something… off. It wasn’t just the way everyone was bad-tempered and anxious about the greencough outbreak that had made so many cats low on health. It wasn’t even the weight of the prophecy that she and her siblings would hold the power of the End in their paws. Something was wrong in a way she couldn’t describe.
Her mother’s yowl snapped her out of her troubled thoughts. “Ashfur, for StarClan’s sake! Can’t you speak up, instead of standing there like a block of wood?” Squirrelflight’s voice contained a snarling fury that made Hollyleaf crouch with alarm. As she continued ranting, Hollyleaf saw a look of bitter, ice-cold resentment cross Ashfur’s face. Somehow that scared her even more than her mother’s anger. ‘And all this over a patrol?’ Hollyleaf wondered. ‘No, there’s more to their quarrel, too. What are THEY hiding?’ She sighed. ‘It’s like we’re all caught in a cobweb of secrets…’
A few days later, Hollyleaf was just returning from a hunting patrol when it began to rain. The catmint had restored the HP of the sick cats and cured them of the illness, so things should have been going back to normal in ThunderClan. Still, Hollyleaf couldn’t shake the apprehension she felt permeating every block of the forest. It hung in the air like smoke… Or… wait. Was that real smoke? She lifted her head in confusion, sure she had scented something unfamiliar.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shook the ground. A thunderstorm! Cats around her jumped with fear. If a badger spawned, and lightning struck it, it would be charged with dangerously explosive power. And, also, lightning could often cause… “Fire!” some cat screeched.
A tree at the edge of the camp had burst into flames! The scent of smoke was evident now, the rain doing little to douse the blaze. Soon, the whole place would be burning!
Panic-stricken cats rushed about, gathering their kits and apprentices, as thunder continued to crash overhead. “Get out! All of you get out! You’ll be trapped if you stay in here! Head for the Twoleg village. We can shelter there,” Firestar yowled to the Clan. About to follow his orders, Hollyleaf realized she didn’t see Jayfeather. Her brother was blind; he would need help to escape!
Finding him, Leafpool, Lionblaze, and Squirrelflight by the medicine den, they all began to hurry across the camp, the glare of the flames reflecting in the puddles of rainwater. Every other cat was already gone, having fled as fast as their paws could carry them. The smoke choked the air, burning Hollyleaf’s nose. However, despite her fear, she noticed something odd. The fire now extended around almost the entire perimeter of the camp, and even more of the forest beyond that. Had it really spread so quickly? There had only been a few strikes of lightning.
She didn’t have time to ponder it, though. Leafpool raced out of the camp’s exit and up the stairs to the top of the ravine, but before Hollyleaf could follow, lava flowed in front of the door, blocking the way out.
She froze, horrified. “We’re trapped!”
“No, over here,” Squirrelflight spoke up. “There’s a secret parkour route.” She ran toward one of the stone walls, gesturing to a series of blocks that ran up the side of the structure. ‘Can we really jump that?’ Hollyleaf wondered in terror. ‘And what about Jayfeather? At that height, the amount of fall damage could be fatal…’
However, bit by bit, the cats made their way up the wall, Squirrelflight helping guide Jayfeather. At last, they reached the top of the ravine, panting.
But it wasn’t over yet. Fire surrounded them, the greedy flames devouring everything and still grasping for more, more. The conflagration extended in all directions, blocking the way to safety.
And there, in the middle of it all, fur sparkling with the effects of a fire resistance potion, stood Ashfur.
In his paws, he clutched a flint and steel and a lava bucket.


JULY 5

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JULY 6-7

All alone in your cluttered room
The world outside will soon come for you
So you lock yourself in, there’s no going back
As the sun slowly climbs past noon

The countdown ticks, the only sound (Down, down, it’ll come around)
Grasping at each verb and noun (Hound, hound, your secret vow)
Deep within yourself, you’ve found (Drown, drown, your thoughts surround)
Endless choices, but no way out (Now, now, to this you’re bound)

An empty screen, a silent scream
Your unwritten masterpiece
You’re lost in this quest
Forgetting the rest
THE CURSOR BLINKING
WHAT ARE YOU THINKING

Tell them a story, dream up a tale!
Cry out a song, but to no avail-
Nothing sounds right, and you’re stuck in this fight
Deleting the words as soon as you type
Are you losing your mind?
Or finding your way?
Is this your torture, or is this your play?
So many ideas, but which one to do?
THE WRITER’S BLOCK IS CONSUMING YOU

Time still passes, but how would you know
You left that world behind long ago
You live your life inside your own head
With every phrase you’ve ever said
And now you’re back where you started again
Another beginning, there’s never an end
Surrender it all for this obsession
For the madness and genius in your possession!

Inspiration will strike, you swear (Fair, fair, but don’t you dare)
A few more words just to add some flair (Where, where, do you even care)
Deep into your screen, you stare (Snare, snare, you’re unaware)
An hour left, time to despair (Hurry, hurry, you’re almost there!)

It’s all conflicted, it’s so inconsistent
Making the choices, but unwilling to risk it
Your brain can’t decide
And you’re imploding inside
THE CURSOR BLINKING
WHAT ARE YOU THINKING

Tell them a story, dream up a tale!
Cry out a song, but to no avail-
Nothing sounds right, and you’re stuck in this fight
Deleting the words as soon as you type
Are you losing your mind?
Or finding your way?
Is this your torture, or is this your play?
So many ideas, but which one to do?
THE WRITER’S BLOCK IS CONSUMING YOU

All alone in your cluttered room
The world outside means nothing to you
The light has dimmed, the day is gone
But you’ve, at last, completed your tune


JULY 8

cabin warsssss


JULY 9

(Note: This is the second half of the sleeping-habits list I began on July 14, 2022.)

Breeze: He tried to have a good sleep schedule, he really did. It’s not his fault he always either gets woken up by some distraction or just randomly isn’t able to sleep. And yet, he’s doing alright? His brother, Ash, has a lot of the same problems with troubled sleep, and he’s a mess because of it, but Breeze actually feels fine in terms of tiredness. He doesn’t understand why, but this was a good thing, right? In a way, it was more exhausting to be awake in the middle of all the hustle-bustle of it all, far more refreshing to have some time alone with his thoughts while everyone else is sleeping. There’s nothing quite as calming as taking a long, meandering walk right before sunrise when the world is just beginning to wake up.

Brook: Brook is a healthy sleeper, and having a good sleep schedule matters to her. Being woken up in the middle of sleeping throws off her entire day, even though she handles it pretty well. She also tries to convince others to get enough sleep, as she cares deeply about their well-being, too. Unfortunately, her words are too often overlooked. She likes late mornings when everyone is relaxing and gradually dozing off.

Flood: Flood is one of those who never listen to Brook’s advice. He used to have a more average sleeping schedule, but he began sleeping in and staying up later. He resents it when anyone else tries to get him to change his ways, saying that it works for him, so why do they care so much? Maybe it is because of the expectations and judging that he never truly feels comfortable around the general population of shazarxi, only belonging in that hour after dusk when most others are asleep, but it is not yet the middle of the night.

Teardrop: Teardrop is a very sound sleeper and needs good rest in order to function well, but she has trained herself to be very flexible in regards to what time of day they allow themselves to sleep. He likes to be awake when everyone else is, but if they’re told to do an activity that requires otherwise, such as guard duty, she will gladly do so. Deep down, he wishes he could have a more regular sleep schedule, but it is more important to them to be useful to everyone else, even if it ends up impacting his own health in a negative way. Her favorite time of day is early evening when everyone is just waking up as the sun is setting.

Butterfly: She sleeps when she wants, and it doesn’t matter to her what time of day it is. Being unable to see light anyway due to her blindness, she only notes the passage of time by the heating and cooling of the air. She has thick fur, so she doesn’t like too much heat, but other than that, she has no preference for daytime versus nighttime.

Parsnip: Does this maniac ever sleep?! He’s always overflowing with feverish energy, both physically and mentally. It seems like he never slows down. Indeed, he doesn’t like long stretches of sleep, only short naps from which he can wake up immediately and feel no sort of drowsiness whatsoever. Sleep cannot stop him from being everywhere and everything at once. However, his mental state is rather unstable, although whether from the lack of sleep or some inherent insanity, no one knows.

Thorn: Thorn is quite possibly the only one who has a more messed-up sleep schedule than Parsnip. He has a lot of trouble getting to sleep, countless worries always keeping him awake. He’s pretty much always exhausted as a result. He is unproductive, an emotional mess, and makes bad decisions all the time, as his mind is perpetually clouded by a haze of tiredness. When he does fall asleep, a different problem befalls him- sleepwalking. This leads him to get even less sleep because he’s terrified of where he’ll wake up afterward. It’s put him in awkward positions many times before, and it’s only a matter of time before it causes an even bigger problem. Most of the time, he’d rather be asleep than awake, but only if it’s sound, untroubled sleep- otherwise it’s just too much of a risk.

Dandelion: Dandelion does not care a bit what anyone else says is the correct time to sleep. They don’t have a fixed schedule and pretty much just sleep whenever she’s tired. They are a sound sleeper and often drowsy after being woken up unexpectedly but can recover after only a short period of time. She loves the feeling of rebelliousness that comes from being awake at high noon or midnight, the times when few are stirring. However, she’s also pretty social, so they like being awake at the times when her friends are up- although their friends don’t exactly have traditional sleep schedules either, so, you know, whatever.

Claw: Claw sleeps a normal amount, but doesn't particularly like it. He gets nightmares sometimes, and also, he just doesn’t like to miss out on stuff. Still, he is conscious of the fact that he needs to get sleep in order to be healthy, so he sticks to a fairly normal schedule. He isn’t so fixed in his ways that he can’t adapt to sleeping at different times, but he does hate being woken up in the middle of a nap. It also takes him a while to fully wake up just from normal sleep. His favorite time of day is dusk.

Clover: Clover is a light sleeper with a delicate sleep schedule. She won’t be mad if you wake her up, but it really isn’t good for her. She struggles to function if she doesn't get sufficient sleep, even if you’ll never hear her complain. She sleeps slightly more than the average shazarxa, although some of it is because it takes her a while to fall asleep. Her preferred time of day is morning, though really, she likes all of the traditional waking hours.

Silver: Silver is a flexible sleeper who has the admirable ability to fall sound asleep basically anywhere, anytime, on his own command- and still wake up completely refreshed and ready to face the day. This comes in handy when he’s travelling and has to sleep in a makeshift nest at random locations along the route. It is important to him that he’s well-rested for the road ahead, so he is always sure to sleep enough hours per day, even if the exact details don’t matter that much. The only time he struggles with sound sleeping is when something weighs on his mind, which admittedly, isn’t very often because he is, for the most part, a chill, carefree dude. He loves mornings, especially the sense of possibility promised by a sunrise.

Birch: Birch doesn’t think too much about sleep schedules. He just sleeps whenever it feels right to him, and he’s doing fine that way. If something messes up his sleep, he is a little bit more anxious and high-strung than usual, but that rarely happens, unless Dandelion decides to be extra loud in the middle of the night or something, and c’mon, Dandelion be loud? That’s simply unheard of- /sarc Okay, so even though he gets woken up sometimes, he still does pretty well. Plus, he’s not opposed to napping anytime he feels tired. He actually really enjoys dozing in the time before sunset, when everything feels warm and calm, yet also stirring to life.

Wind: Wind is less great with the whole healthy-sleeping-patterns thing. There are just always so many cool things to do or discover or create, and when he gets into something, he can completely forget that sleeping was a thing that was supposed to happen. He then makes up for it afterward by sleeping an extra long time. He actually likes sleeping, as he gets many great ideas from his dreams, it’s just that he loses track of time. He still gets enough sleep, but it puts his schedule completely out of sync with most everyone else’s. On the other paw, it allows him to be awake at the same time as his fellow weirdos and outcasts, like Dandelion, which gives him a greater sense of belonging. So, you know, tradeoffs! He doesn’t have a consistent favorite time of day, instead finding the positives in all of them.

River: Sleep is for the weak. Sure, our physical bodies require a certain amount of it (which, can we say, is a bad design on nature’s part; it’s incredibly inefficient), but it’s impossible to be productive if we’re just lying there, unconscious, for the better part of a day. River is brilliant at working on very little sleep and is honestly in a great mood when she’s sleep-deprived: slightly unstable, but wildly imaginative and incredibly productive. She only succumbs to sleep when the exhaustion gets in the way of getting things done. She enjoys nighttime, when it’s quiet, cool, and easy to concentrate.

Eclipse: Eclipse generally tries to schedule his day with plenty of time set aside for sleep. He also generally fails at following this schedule. He is easily distracted by everything, and there are, quite simply, so many things that are more interesting than sleep. Sleep is also confusing- dreams don’t follow the laws of physics- and this low-key bothers him. He prefers staying up late with River and Parsnip, being productive and creative and learning new things.

Comet: Comet may or may not have once stayed up for four days straight while working on one of his largest projects. Sure, he usually follows the routine of everyone else, but sometimes he… doesn’t. When you discover a way to talk to ghosts, it doesn’t really matter how healthy you are, does it, now? Immortality is within our grasp, there’s no reason to care! Whenever Comet goes without sleep for too long, he does get a little more crazy than usual, however. This is only sometimes a good thing. When he does sleep, it is never a great idea to wake him up; it puts him in a terribly cranky mood.


JULY 10

Critiquitaire- I have a separate post for that


JULY 11

I know that I’m running out of time
Midnight UTC, mm-mmm
And I’m wishing the deadline was further off
Midnight UTC, mm-mmm
And I’m slammin’ on my keyboard, tryin’ to get that reward
Raise my cabin’s rankings with these points that I’ve scored
Even when I last-minute submit
Midnight UTC, mm-mmm

I came here to write it, write it, write it!
I came here to write it, write it, write it!

Just like mangoes, sure to motivate
If I could burn like arson for just one day
Watch me speedrun, cannot look astray
No one can type just like me anyway!
Just like chaos, I’ll never see defeat
Spewing out those words with a blinding heat
I’ll finish the weekly, what you gonna say?
No one can type just like me anyway!
Just like mangoes!

And procrastination has been haunting me, relentlessly, mm-mmm
But in this final hour, there’s reprieve, yeah, I am free, mm-mmm
‘Cause there is inspiration, in my desperation
Sparking a sensation, fixation, creation!
And I don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing, about a thing, no-oh

I came here to write it, write it, write it!
I came here to write it, write it, write it!

Just like mangoes, sure to motivate
If I could burn like arson for just one day
Watch me speedrun, cannot look astray
No one can type just like me anyway!
Just like chaos, I’ll never see defeat
Spewing out those words with a blinding heat
I’ll finish the weekly, what you gonna say?
No one can type just like me anyway!
Just like mangoes, mangoes

Writing, writing, writing
We came here to write it, write it, write it


JULY 12

I put it in another post, I'll transfer it here later


JULY 13

(Hurricane = zinnia, Blood = foxglove, Legend = bay, Chaos = rhododendron, Glory = laurel)

Hurricane sang softly to himself as he wandered through the trees, the mournful melody barely audible under his breath. It echoed the hopeful, rousing tunes of his earlier days, now duller, faded, lost to memories and times that could not be reclaimed.
He stopped to rest in a mossy glade, dappled sunlight shining on his scruffy, matted fur. Zinnias bloomed here and there between the trees, and he smiled faintly at the reminder of when he and Blood used to frolic through the wildflowers.
She had been so pure back then- freedom and passion, optimism and elegance. Just the two of them, they had loved beneath the wide-open sky. And yet, like a wilting flower, it had all gone bad so soon, too soon. She had belonged to the wild, the energy she possessed- the rules of the Packs had no right to confine her. Yet when they ran off together, he should have known that she wouldn’t stop there. Like the fairies in the foxgloves, she poisoned him and left him behind.
But the three pups they had had together- what had become of them? Hurricane now lowered his head with regret. In his chase to catch the wolf he had loved but never could call his own, they had been left behind, too. And yet, he remembered them in the few moments they had shared. He had told them stories beneath starlit nights, of the heroes and villains of their past. And oh, how they had lived to write tales of their own.
Legend, the eldest, the myth that would never die. He had become the most fearsome warrior in all the lands, taking down every leader who was fool enough to believe they could claim his power as their own. The crown rested on his head alone. Hurricane was proud to have stood beside him in many a battle, reunited as allies in war. But then, too, he remembered lying beside him in his bed of bay leaves as that mighty Legend had left this world behind. Dying only in body, never in spirit, never in memory, never in all the stories the future would tell.
He had left his crown to Chaos, the youngest, the one who held her mother’s power within her slender frame. She was the shapeshifter, the mind-speaker, magic in both form and tongue. It was said she had talked to the universe itself and beguiled it with her words, bending it to her will. She still came around now and then, on journeys that Hurricane could only imagine, rhododendrons now bejeweling the crown that had been nothing but barren, twisted branches for so long. Onward, Chaos would travel, undaunted, through realms of real and imaginary alike. It was all the same to her.
And then there was Glory, a leader among wolves from the day he had his first idea. The speeches, the rallies, the revolution, all of that soon followed, and Glory had taken every opportunity to rise to the top. And rise he had. He stood before the rest as leader these days, though not like the kings and queens of the past. Instead of a crown, the Pack had crafted a laurel wreath to adorn his head, choosing him as the one they would follow to the ends of the earth, until the world turned upside-down. And still, he continued to rise.
But that was far away, long ago. Where was Hurricane in all this? He did not belong in Glory’s Pack, could not accompany Chaos along her paths of mystery, was not ready to follow Legend to the grave. And Blood had never been his to keep, no matter how he missed her. He just lay there, finding himself well and truly alone.
The zinnias waved softly in the breeze, as if dancing to Hurricane’s gentle hum. The flowers, and the songs, and the memories- They would have to keep him company now. He would take from them what comfort he could.
And maybe someday, he could tell the stories again.


JULY 14

(I used the song Hush. I translated from English, to Punjabi, to Maithili, to Welsh, to Pashto, to Dhivehi, to Filipino, to Mongolian, to Corsican, to Assamese, to Icelandic, to Hawaiian, to Galician, to Uyghur, to Scots Gaelic, to Japanese, and then back to English.)

ORIGINAL:
My friends have violent tendencies
Masks down, gloves on
Secret nobility
My friends like instability
Chaos is a good
There's grace in the irony
Hush now, don't you say another word
Tread lightly, speak softly
Join our accord
Hush now, come join our band of misfits
Sic semper tyrannis
Welcome to the Syndicate
I've been told I have a tendency
To cause havoc screams
Like a hell sent symphony
I've been told to see what's underneath
Pick it apart, takin' the heart
Burnin' the wicked in the heat
Hush now, there's no need to be afraid
Let you in, see the secrets
We will gracefully display
Hush now, possibilities infinite
Sic semper tyrannis
Welcome to the Syndicate
Watch where you step
Any stone could mark your grave
We dance to the anthems
Of the nations we saved
Watch where you look
There's some unfriendly eyes
Always on the rise and
Plotting your demise
Hush now, you were lost but now you're found
For the people, for justice
We're anarchy bound
Hush now, won't you graciously commit
Sic semper tyrannis
Welcome to the Syndicate
Sic semper tyrannis
Welcome to the Syndicate
Hush now, you're in good hands
Hush now, we're here to take a stand
Hush now, don't say another word
Hush now, your voice will be heard

TRANSLATED:
I was kind to my friends
remove mask and wear gloves
hide your pride
my friends love chaos
problem is good
joy in loneliness
please don't talk dirty
i love you i love you
join our work
Stay now and join the crime team
rigorous perseverance
welcome to federation
he said it was a big problem
destruction
Like a symphony sent to hell
I had a look below
Share and Be Brave
The heat of the oppressor burned
keep calm and don't be afraid
come find the secret
let's try it
Possibilities are endless even when closed
rigorous perseverance
welcome to federation
see the work
Each stone can be your grave marker
musical adventure
i protect my country
Look at this
Some people have poor eyesight
It's still growing.
he wanted to kill her
I got lost this holiday, but now I found it
for community, for justice
we are stuck
you are sleeping
rigorous perseverance
welcome to federation
rigorous perseverance
welcome to federation
now he's in good hands
don't worry, we'll help
please don't talk dirty
let them hear your voice

There I was, running through the alleys, wearing a bird mask. I could hear my friends’ footsteps pounding right behind me as we slid around the corner and into our secret base. It was just a collection of cardboard boxes wedged between two buildings; a glorified pillow fort, really, but to us, it was home. Although, right then, I kinda wished it had air conditioning.
All of us were sweating, breathing heavily as we pulled the masks off our red, sticky faces. I held my mask in my gloved hands and leaned back against the wall, exhaling in relief. But I was grinning. It had been another successful mission.
“Hey, great job back there, everyone!” Kayla was the first to catch her breath enough to speak. “Particularly you, Jay- Nice work scaling the tower! I don’t know how we’d have gotten up there otherwise.”
“Yeah, when I saw that the ladder was pulled up, I was like, no way was I climbin’ that thing,” Robert cut in. “The whole
I blushed and looked away, trying to hide my pride. “It was- it was no big deal, really-” I tried to sound modest.
“Hmph. I just liked the explosions at the end,” put in.

He closed his eyes and sniffed haughtily. “I like problem. Problem is good.”

“Rigorous perseverance,” read the sign. Some kind of motto? Right below it, in large capital letters, were the words” “WELCOME TO FEDERATION.”
For some reason, I didn’t feel all that welcome.

“DESTRUCTIONNNNN!” he cheered.
“Destruction!” I added my voice to his.
“Destruction,” agreed.

“Hey, look at this!” she said excitedly, pointing to something on the horizon.
I squinted, shielding my eyes from the bright sunlight. All I saw were blurry buildings in the distance. “What?”
“It’s beautiful… Don’t you see it?”
“Some people have poor eyesight, Kayla,” I sighed. “Can’t you just tell me?”

It was a small room, nondescript beige walls on all sides. No windows. No furniture. Just a single, locked door. ran up and began pounding on it. “Let us out of here!”
Meanwhile, I inspected the perimeter. It didn’t seem like it was designed to be a secure prison- more like just a normal bedroom in a normal house.

“We are stuck, you are sleeping, and everything’s on fire,” he whimpered, pacing so fast he was practically spinning in a circle. “This is NOT fine.”


JULY 15

(HOSTS stand in a half-circle on a raised platform in center stage, facing outward.)

ROBIN: Somewhere on the internet, there’s a place like no other

LUNA: Where writers all across the world can meet with one another

SUN: Three sessions a year, and this one’s for July

STARR: We compete and we inspire, but most of all, we write

CARA: So please allow us all to sing our mangoed message true:

ALBA: Tonight, on stage, we have come to bring Scratch Writing Camp to you!

(CABINS holding their respective flags enter from both sides of the stage in single-file, stepping up on stairs behind HOSTS. They are immediately followed by CAMPERS, who surround and fill the stage on all sides.)

ALL: Mangoes, arson, chaos, won’t ya come and take a seat?

CABINS on left: Here within these cabins’ halls, we hold what you need

CABINS on right: A dash of motivation, or a token of advice

HI-FI and TRAGEDY, jumping forward to center platform, where HOSTS part to make way: Or a place to go to bring all your tales to life!

ALL, with CABINS raising flags higher: Ay!!!

(HI-FI and TRAGEDY jump down from platform, followed by HOSTS. They begin leading CAMPERS in a circle around the outer edge of the stage.)

ALL: Mangoes, arson, chaos, come join in our parade

CABINS: We swear you won’t regret all the memories you’ll make

CAMPERS: So come along and sing our song and do a daily or two

MYTH and THRILLER, jumping forward to center platform: But try not to procrastinate the weekly ‘til it’s due!

ALL, pausing their march to cheer: Woooooo!

(MYTH AND THRILLER jump down from the platform, and they, HI-FI, TRAGEDY, HOSTS, and CAMPERS mingle, then slow to a stop and face center. Spotlight then focuses on the stairs.)

CABINS remaining on stairs: But what about, when things fall out

ILLU-FI and POETRY, on ends: And fill your heart with fear and doubt


JULY 16

(I have the aesthetic in a project somewhere, just ask to see it if it's unshared/hidden.)


JULY 17

“Guysssss,” Wild sings to their brain in Half-Canon. “This website for the daily is actually pretty coollllll~”
“Here we go,” sighs Rain, rolling their eyes and standing up reluctantly. “Time for emojic chaos to ensue.”
“And I’m here for it,” smiles Eclipse, twitching his tail more excitedly than he was trying to let on.
“Yooooo,” River makes her presence known, materializing from the side.
Wild glances around, but no one else appears in the next few seconds. “Silence and Chervil in subconscious again, I assume?” they shrug.
Eclipse sniffs the air. “Probably,” he replies. “And Parsnip’s been missing since last night.”
“Good,” Rain says. “Can we just write about the cursed emojis already? Hate to remind you that the deadline’s in, like, half an hour.”
“Oh, yikes, you’re right,” Wild grins nervously and shivers, looking like some terrifying mix between thrilled and panicked.
Wild begins to mess around with the emojis on the website. “Is it just me, or are all of these either adorable or deeply disturbing…?” they mumble after getting a creepily-staring one-eyed cactus immediately after a deer with a cute little fawn next to them.
“It is not just you,” River trills, seemingly fascinated. “Parsnip would love this.”
“Fully chaotic,” Eclipse agrees, chuckling.
The experiments continue.
An orange on fire. (“BUT NOT THE MANGO?!” rages Wild.)
A ghost eating a croissant. (“Such a mood,” claims River.)
A potato firework. (“Who knew potatoes were full of gunpowder?’ ponders Eclipse.)
Every expression imaginable, but with angry colors and a bleeped-out month. (“No comment,” glares Rain.)
There were so many different combinations. And so far, they had just been clicking on emojis rather than typing! “Is this REALLY what I’m supposed to be doing right now?!” Wild whisper-screams, beginning to worry about the encroaching deadline.
“Don’t worry about it, fam,” a silky-sharp voice floats through the congregated Half-Canon members, finally condensing into the shape of a wolf.
“Chaos,” Wild acknowledges, blinking rapidly with surprise. “…I still can never tell when you’re in my brain or not…” They look away, vaguely uncomfortable under the gaze of Chaos’s penetrating predator eyes.
“Ah, Wild,” she breathes softly, raising an eyebrow. “I’m always here when you need me. Anyway… Parsnip?”
At her call, the small, speedy shazarxa comes beaming down from space. “A normal entrance, as always,” Rain huffs dryly.
Parsnip, eyes bright and wide, takes an overdramatic bow. “It is my pleasure… to present to you… enough words for your daily!” He skids over to Wild, thrusting pages in their face.
Wild takes the papers, eyes flicking back and forth in confusion as they read the words. “This is… a transcript of everything we’ve done in the past thirty minutes. How were you overhearing us?”
“Oh, with the emojis, of course,” comments Parsnip nonchalantly, having gone over to lean against Chaos. The two share a knowing smirk.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Parsnip summons them all, every last cursed one. Hundreds- thousands?- surround the Half-Canon group.
Wild sputters with shock, even though by now, they ought to have been used to this kind of stuff.
“I mean, I really only used the telephone and radio ones,” Parsnip continues as if nothing was awry. “Oh, and Chaos used the crystal ball. It can hold just about ANY of the other emojis. Pretty cool, yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” stutters Wild. “…Thanks.”
“No problem,” he replies. “Now, about the spider turtle, I have an idea about how to prank Chervil…”


JULY 18-19

(I claimed a photo by @silvxrywaves.)

You have climbed to great heights by riding on the shoulders of the past, haven’t you? That smooth, barren expanse of wasteland where you once started out, all alone- you’ve left that far behind. Looking down, you can still see it below you, an even sheen of soft light cast dully across the endless brown plains, featureless save the steady, rhythmic pattern of parallel lines, evenly spaced for as far as eternity extends. A flat and infinite plane of uniformity. Until it fades into the white distance. Yet you know there’s more out there, don’t you? More than this infinite monotony, more than just yourself. You know because of the stories. Sorrows and histories and languages and lives from long ago, they tell you of other worlds, others who were once out there. They must still be out there somewhere. That’s why you’ve climbed, you’ve scrambled, desperate, turning those stories into building blocks, stacking your stepping stones up, up into the unknown haze above you, around you. For something else. Someone else. Anything other than this unending sameness. And as you tower, higher, higher, the white fog of distance reveals a different sort of white. Solid, almost. Textured. Tangible. You climb nearer, and it is as if the flat, brown expanse simply… ends. Was it not infinite after all? Instead, a white wall, perfectly vertical, unfathomably tall, and as long as the universe, rises before you. Grooves and ridges stripe its width, still in a fixed, smooth, repeating pattern, but… it is a start! A new design, a disruption to the predictable uniformity you once believed to be endless. So you go higher. And higher still. Time passes, or at least, you assume it does. It’s not as if there’s any indication of change in this place. No motion besides your own. No sounds besides the whispers of the stories. The soft, sourceless light that blankets everything never wavers in brightness. You never get tired or sore. You never want for anything else but to go higher. Perhaps you can reach the top. For there must be a top, you decide. Forever isn’t truly forever, as the wall’s existence surely proves. You notice now that not too far above you, the wall appears less smooth and no longer bears those long, straight grooves. Instead, there are bumps, shapes, indentations covering its surface! And moreso, you can see no pattern to their existence- was this true randomness at last? Maybe so… but you know that this is still not what you had come to find. The shapes were not predictable, not repetitious, but neither did they hold meaning. They couldn’t evoke the same visions, the same feelings, as the stories did. You must keep following the stories. But as you prepare to continue your climb, you realize you have used up the last of them. There is nothing left with which to build your tower. This is as far as you can go. No more ladders built with tales, no more bridges of fables and dreams.


JULY 20

There you go, wandering deeper than you ever have before. These caverns are not devoid of life, but your kind… that’s rare. An uncomfortable reminder of my past. The speck of light clutched in your hand only adds further insult. Why have you come?
You stop, looking around. Did you actually hear me?
…Oh. I didn’t know any of you still could. But maybe here, in this place light has never touched… Maybe here, I seem more real to you. Do you know who I am?
No? Well, it is a long story… But it is your story, too, at least in part, I suppose. And it’s not as if I have much else to do these days… Sit down, then, if you’re willing to hear me out. But do turn that light off first, will you?
It isn’t true that darkness is merely the absence of light. No, that’s shadow. Shadow is just the side effect of light, with no voice of its own. True darkness is light’s real counterpart, the one that you all forgot. The one that you’ve banished, with your electricity and your fire, your streetlamps, flashlights, torches. I am that darkness. That’s me.
I sense your fear. You look around, but I am formless to you- I already surround you; you cannot see me more than you already are. It’s okay, it’s not your fault your eyes were made to see with light and not me. Calm down, human. Just listen.
Light and I were once the best of friends. They were the stars, and I was the void between them. All the planets belonged to the both of us, turning half of themselves to the light and the other half to me as they orbited. The whole universe was ours, and for a long time, we remained that way. Perfectly balanced.
Light had a favorite of their stars- Your Sun. They said they wanted to settle there. Make it their home. Maybe even build something special there, in the Solar System.
Settle? When we had the whole universe? It seemed like such a silly thing to do. But it clearly meant a lot to Light, so I went along with them. We manifested here, tying ourselves down to this one little pinprick of existence. And here we’ve stayed ever since.
Light amused themself with little projects of creation- “Life,” they called it. Over the millenia, they nurtured bits of material that could move and react and change the little environments around them. I lent a hand from time to time, but I mostly looked outward, at the great expanse of Darkness that I could no longer move about in, even though it was still part of myself.
I pined away, feeling trapped by this one tiny star system in the great big universe. Light noticed my unhappiness, and suggested we make something together. A new sort of life, they said, one that could think and speak like us. So we did. One part light, one part darkness, we invented a thing we called sentience.
And then, for a while, all was well. Some of the sentient lifeforms turned to Light, and others turned to me, while yet more lived on the borders between us two. But Light liked this sentience so much that they began to wish they had not included me in its creation. They wanted it all to themself.
However, there was no way to go back and change it now. All they could do was create more- and so they made your kind, the humans. And Light convinced you that they were good, that they were kind, that they brought life into this world and should therefore forever receive the gratitude of the beings they created.
You humans believed them. You thrived in the day and hid from the night. You worshipped the sun as the mightiest of your gods. You created all sorts of ways to mimic the original Light’s brilliance, using it in your homes and towns and cities, pushing back the Darkness.
Nowadays, I have retreated to only the furthest corners of your world- this cave, the depths of the oceans, the far side of the moon. There is no place for me anywhere else. I suppose Light has forgotten about me now. They don’t look out into the void of space and remind themself of who I was. It’s still me out there, after all, but my awareness is stuck here, in this torturously small confinement, where I have become more like shadow than true darkness. I don’t know if there is a way to ever be free again.
But you, little human, I exist within you as well. No matter the lies you have heard, you must never forget: Your mind is as much darkness as it is light. In you, the balance remains. So go on now, return to your illuminated world. Just be sure to remember me.
I will still be there.


JULY 21

Roleplay day!


JULY 22

cAbIn WaRs


JULY 23


JULY 24

In this weekly, three wolf siblings live in a society that is at war. One of them is an off-brand Hamilton, one becomes an anarchist, and the third is a walking fourth-wall break. There's a lot of background lore but I ignore all of it. Two wolf Packs fight with each other. One of them is divided by a revolution, and the other falls apart after the one character fully commits to the anarchy thing, defeats their leader, and leaves. It ends on a cliffhanger because doing the whole story for the weekly would have taken too long. The end.


JULY 25-26

(I claimed the writing style of @SuperNaturalPages and probably did a terrible job, but here it is anyway. I used https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-229839454 and https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/876903958/ as reference.)

I don’t know how I got here.
As if waking from a dream, I look around at the destruction I find myself surrounded by. A town had once stood here, from the looks of it. Collapsed houses, fire-charred structures, no people in sight. The smell of smoke lingers in the air as I wander through the rubble, aimlessly kicking at stones, unsure of what to do next.
“Hey!” A shout snags my attention, and I glance around for the source of the voice. It sounds like it’s nearby, surely no farther away than the other side of the debris-covered street. Maybe there were still people here, after all.
“Hello?” I call back. “Who’s there?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit, advancing toward the sound of the voice. “Where am I?”
A girl pokes her head out from behind a half-crumbled wall. I stop in my tracks as she eyes me suspiciously. “A place you really don’t want to be, if you know what’s good for you,” she replies. I stare at her blankly. “This is the city of Foxtower. Or, former city, that is.”
“What happened here?” I ask, wrinkling my forehead in confusion at the demolished terrain. I’ve never heard of this place before.
“The war, what else?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“War?”
She stares at me for a long moment. “You really are lost, aren’t you?”
“Y-yeah,” I stutter. I don’t remember hearing of a war, either. And yet, it was so clearly real, the evidence of its wrath, of its pain and brutality, lying in crumbled pieces all around me.
“Well, you better come with me, then. If you want to live, that is.” She beckons with one hand impatiently.
I would like to live, yes. If nothing else makes sense right now, that sure does. I carefully pick my way over to the girl, nearly losing my balance several times. As soon as I reach her, she grabs my arm and begins pulling me along. I flinch slightly at her tight grasp, but allow her to lead me through the disarray.
She follows a circuitous route, but seems to know where she’s going. At last, she stops in front of an old-looking brick building, one that had mostly escaped the destruction. Some scraggly bushes sprout up around it, the first plants I had seen so far. She releases my arm and I rub it, feeling the indentations left by her fingers. “Alright, we’re here. Get in,” she orders, striding up to the door and yanking it open.
I feel a tingle of uncertainty, but I walk forward, pausing in the doorframe. This whole situation was so strange. I wish I knew what was happening.
Well, maybe I’ll find out, I think, and step through the door.


JULY 27

three-word stories day, I cannot be bothered to find every three-word post I made -w-


JULY 28

(I got a prompt from @xXFierroOrFalafelXx: “Write a 300-word description of a creature that you made up. Where does it live, what does it look like, what does it eat, is it dangerous, helpful, or neither, what are some cool facts about it, etc., anything you can think of. This is worth 400 points.”)

The shazarxa is a dream-creature that took on a life of its own and made its way into the physical world. A shazarxa’s corporeal form is roughly the size of a cat, with thick fur, a lizard-like head, sharp-clawed paws, feathered ear tufts, a long tail with a fan of feathers on the end, and bird-like wings. A shazarxa’s fur is typically multiple shades of gray, which can range from very pale to nearly black. Their feathers, however, come in bright, vibrant colors, and are usually used to convey emotion and perform mating displays. The main colony of shazarxi live in a canyon in the midst of a forest. However, smaller colonies have branched off into the boreal forest to the north and along the coast to the west. They are mainly herbivorous, but are known to eat insects and may also be capable of photosynthesis. Their favorite foods include seeds, nuts, berries, and fruits. Shazarxi are highly intelligent, semi-social creatures that live and work together, but also spend a significant amount of time on their own. They have a complex language that includes both vocal sounds and body language. When flying, they speak mainly in loud chirps and squawks that carry basic meanings, but on the ground, they have a wide variety of lower-pitched, more detailed noises that function as words that can be used to form entire sentences. Shazarxi have proven themselves capable of teaming up to achieve shared long-term goals, such as when they construct nests or assign different roles to help protect the colony. Shazarxi are not typically aggressive toward other species, barring the insects they occasionally prey upon, but they do put up a fight when feeling threatened. They will not hesitate to attack a predator, using their sharp claws and teeth to injure their opponent and their wings and tail to nimbly dodge and maneuver. An individual shazarxa is not very strong, but a group of these speedy creatures can take down a much larger animal. Shazarxi will attack each other from time to time, although these fights are rarely lethal. They may quarrel over territory or leadership. Shazarxi lay nests of one to four eggs at a time, with an annual cycle of mating, nesting, and hatching seasons. Baby shazarxi are referred to as hatchlings, while slightly older shazarxi, who are beginning to grow their adult feathers, are called fledglings. Shazarxa chicks mature to breeding age within a year or two. They remain capable of reproducing up until about ten to fifteen years of age, but can continue living for another five to seven years after that, although their senses and strength weaken significantly. When a shazarxa dies, a part of them lives on due to their nature as a semi-imaginary being, and remains in a ghost-like state made up of their thoughts and emotions, but not their physical forms.


JULY 29

(I claimed the Worldbuilding “the ocean is where everyone lives and the land is the ‘mysterious vast place’” from @lizard-breath, the Antagonist “an alternate version of the protagonist” from @xXFierroOrFalafelXx, the Lesson “sometimes, you just gotta do it yourself” from @Sunclaw68, the Dialogue “I've discovered the need for a brain” from @IvyCreations, and the Turning Point “there is no good side anymore” from @A-Sad-Invention.)

Selmir paddled restlessly. As a sea turtle, they had swam every ocean, dove to every depth that their shell could withstand. They understood the song of the waves and listened to the stories of the other animals in the great blue sea. They had seen the world turn around thousands of sunrises, life and death unfolding in its endless cycle, over and over again.
“And yet,” teased the waves. “And yet?”
“And yet there is more I have not done, have not heard, have not seen,” they admitted, flippers trailing as they bobbed on the surface of the water, the sky hanging above like a mirror of the ocean. “I am old, yet I am but a small speck upon the planet. There are things I do not know.”
“Such as?” asked the waves.
“Like what?”
“How so?”
“Why the oceans are changing,” answered Selmir. Recently, they had noticed a pattern that even the waves had not seen before, and this worried them. “The waters are warmer and the taste is not the same as it once was. The ghosts of coral haunt the now-empty reefs where fish once flourished. Strange objects are carried on the tides, and I see fewer of my kind every year.” The change was gradual, yet still faster than anything that Selmir had ever seen before. And it was only getting worse.
“Then go,” said the waves. “Find out.”
“But how? I have searched, but there are no answers. No one knows, not even you. There is nothing I can do.”
The waves did not respond, only whispered wordless syllables. Selmir knew they would offer no further help.
Selmir swam and swam, thinking it over as the days passed. “The mysterious vast place the birds speak of, they say strange things happen there,” they recall. “It is uninhabitable to those like me, but perhaps it is in some way connected.”

July 3rd Daily - 451 Words (Prompt from @lilyjen - create a character based on your least favorite things - for example, least favorite animal/food/colour is their fav, your least favorite asthetic/clothing style is theres, your least favorite personality, and so on. Make it as over the top as you like!):

Cars honk at each other. Inch by inch, the cars barely even budge. It is like a parking lot out here, and we’re in a traffic jam – a very bad one, to say the least.
And I cannot take it.
“AHHHHHHH!” I shout.
“What is it?” asks my sister, Denise, who’s driving.
“ACCORDING TO MY CALCULATIONS, WE’RE GOING TO BE A SECOND LATE!” I scream. “DRIVE FASTER!”
My sister opens her mouth, seemingly to say something, but quickly closes it. Then she opens it again to reply, “Uh, no can do. Can’t do anything when there is this bad traffic. We’re almost there, though.”
Some cars ahead of us start to move, and my face brightens. The traffic must be over! I almost squeal, when they stop after moving only a smidge. Sighing, I slump back into my seat.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO CAN DO? THERE MUST BE SOMETHING WE CAN DO!” I ponder. “WAIT. /WAIT./ I CAN YELL AT EVERYONE TO MOVE! YES, THAT’S IT!”
“Christina. First, calm down. You don’t need to yell. Second, you can’t yell at everyone. There’s nothing that we can do about the traffic. We can just wait it out.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I WHEN I AM WAITING TO RECEIVE MY EXCLUSIVE GREEN STICKER! HOW CAN WE BE LATE?”
“I said, calm down, Christina.”
I want to protest, but I can't figure out the words to. I can’t be late! The exclusive green sticker is a special, brand-new, green sticker, but no one knows what it looks like. I can’t be even a second late, because they may think I’m not coming! I want to yell at my sister, but I don’t.
Frustrated, I look down and scream to myself. I didn’t even realize that the other cars started to move along quicker, and we arrived at the small tent, right before the scheduled time that they give out the stickers.
“Christina!” Denise calls.
“What?” I mutter, annoyed.
Clearly seeing that I didn’t see us get out of the traffic, she says, “look up.”
I look up, seeing the bright green tent with my idols, two girls, standing in front of it. Surprised and excited, I literally hop out of the car and run to them, basically with stars in my eyes.
“Are you here for the exclusive green sticker?” The taller one asks.
“YES!” I exclaim.
“Here you go! Enjoy!” The other says, handing me a sticker sheet.
I excitedly look at the sticker sheet and see a giant green circle.
“Do you like it?” Asks the shorter.
“Uh, yeah…” I reply, half disappointed. “Thank you…”
Denise and I hop into the car again, and we head home.

Introduction

I am the knowsman, I know everything that happens in this unique vast universe. Today, I will share a mysterious, magical and interesting story. Read and know about it.

Chapter 1-Way To The Mystery

Long ago in a village named Bheempoor, there was a girl named Isabella who lived with her parents who were rich farmers.

One day, as usual, while her parents were harvesting their crops, they found an unusual box. They call Isabella and give it to her.

When Isabella opened the box, in it, she found a map which was leading to a place. She decided to investigate it so she told her parents what she had found and the decision she had made. Her parents didn’t agree at once but Isa convinced them. They told her, “Isa, be careful and take the one whom you most trust with you.” Isabella agreed and said “ I will take my best friend Sophie with me”.

She then went to Sophie’s house and knocked on the door. Sophie opened the door. They greet each other. Sophie asks “What’s the reason you came here ?” Isabella whispers to Sophie, “I have a secret to tell so come to our secret hideout this evening.” Sophie agrees.


In the evening, both of them reach their secret hideout. Sophie is very eager to know the secret. Isa shows the map to her. Sophie was very excited to see that map. Isa says “ I think, this map leads to a hidden treasure so would you like to join and help me. Sophie agrees and asks “When will we start our journey ?” Isa replies “ Tomorrow, early in the morning. Meet me here.”

When Isa checks the map in her house, she spots a riddle on it and decides to tell Sophie about it.

The next morning, they met at their secret hideout. Isa tells everything about the riddle. Sophie replied “ What is it”? Isa replied, “ The riddle is—-I am huge but my core is very small, my strength and weakness is you, reach me, you found the treasure.” Sophie says, “Isa, this is a very tricky one, I wonder what the answer might be.” Isabella replies, “Yes, indeed, I wonder if it is something magical.”

Sophie replies, “Don’t be so foolish, Isa! Magic isn’t real!” Isa says, “There is a strange feeling inside me which tells that magic is real.”

Suddenly, an old woman appears walking down the path towards the two friends. The old woman asks “What are you girls talking about?” Isa froze for a minute and replied in an uncertain way, “Uh, we are just planning for a picnic.” The old woman asks, “What is that piece of paper in your hand ?” Isa panics while Sophie replies, “Oh, that's the map to our respective homes so we don’t get lost. ”
The old woman says, “Ok girls, be careful as this forest is very dense and dangerous.”

The woman sings a song loudly while walking down the path-
“The magic starts from the land
Mysterious things will begin now
You know what to do
You’ll fade away
If you’re not strong enough
Mysterious things will begin now”.

The woman disappears.

Isa says, “I think it is something about us.” Sophie replies, “Yes, it might be a warning.” Isa agrees with Sophie.


Isa says, “No matter what happens, we will follow the map to where it leads.” Sophie agrees and says, “Though I don’t believe in magic, I think the place where the map leads might be a magical place.” Isa agreed with Sophie and said “ It would be good if we take the help of our elders. “ Sophie said “Yes, then whom can we ask for help ?” Isa replied “I guess my parents might know something about it.”

Sophie asks Isa, “Why do you think so?” Isa replies,“My parents often tell stories about a magic land.” Sophie says “We’ve found the key to the mystery!”
Chapter 2 - The Crystal

Isa arrives at her home and tells her parents, “I think the map we found is leading to a magic land.” Her parents were astonished and said, “It isn’t true.” Isa replies angrily, “Then I will prove it.” She then returns to where Sophie is waiting.

Sophie was eager to know about what was the response from Isa’s parents. Isa replies, “They didn’t believe me and I want to prove that we are telling the truth.” They determine themselves to solve the riddle.

Sophie and Isa start to think about the answer to the riddle. They didn’t find any clue to the riddle. Sophie says, “How can we prove to your parents that we are right ?”

Just then, Isa sees something sparkling behind the bushes in the moonlight. She goes nearer to take a look. She finds a crystal, when she sees her reflection through the crystal, she sees someone behind her. When she turns around, she sees no one.

Isa informs Sophie about this incident. Sophie replies, “This is very unusual and mysterious.”

(At night when both Isa and Sophie are asleep.)

Isa dreamt about a place where there were many fairies and a woman who was dressed like the queen who was holding the crystal which she found. Isa suddenly woke up and told Sophie about her dream. Sophie says, “I guess, it’s related to you.”

Isa says, “Sophie, I have a strange feeling that I have magical powers and this dream is making my belief even more stronger.” Sophie says, “Isa, let’s think about it later but now you need some rest.” Isa and Sophie went back to sleep.

(But they didn’t know about the upcoming challenges.)

Chapter 3 - Training Like a Ninja

The next morning, when they woke up, they saw the crystal shining. They were astonished. When Sophie was about to touch the crystal, Isa stopped her, saying that ” It might not be safe to touch it as this crystal looks mysterious and it may harm you”.

The day went well and no mysteries were found. In the evening, when Isa and Sophie were talking, Isa said
“Today, the day went well”. Sophie replied “ I agree, there were no mysteries or surprises today”.

They went to sleep. In the middle of night, Isa felt thirsty so she woke up. She saw the crystal glowing more than ever and a fairy beside it. She woke Sophie. Sophie and Isa were surprised. They went closer towards the fairy.

The fairy said “Sophie and Isabella, don’t be afraid. Sophie and Isa nodded, surprised. The fairy continued,“ I am Angelina, your fairy godmother, I am here to help you find the place which the map leads to and I have been with you since the very beginning”.

Mango and it's Juicy Awesomeness– Had some sources from google
Mangoes are of many types but my favorite one is the Alphonso mango because I love to bake and mangoes can be used in baking recipes like mango pie, mango cake, mango ice cream cake, mango ice cream and so on. This all are very fruitful and mouthwatering deserts. I am a yogurt fan and sometimes eat yogurt for breakfast before going to school and mango yogurt is my favorite. In my great grandma's place, She has a huge garden at her front as well as her back yard. In her front yard, She has big, tall and juicy mango tree which bears really fruitful Alphonso mangoes and many more like the Ratnagiri mangoes( this type of mango is my brother's favorite type of mango). I also enjoy gardening a lot so just 6 months ago, I planted my very first mango tree which I take care of in my back yard and it starting sprouting a little bit and I'm really excited when it will bear those awesome and juicy Mangoes. In my opinion, Mangoes juiciness, sweetness and its Awesomeness comes from its owner who takes care of it. Also a fun fact– The word ‘Mango’ originated from India( The place where I live and I'm proud to say I'm an Indian). I always enjoyed eating a mango and making a delicacy with it and now that I'm twelve years and a Eighth grader nothing has changed in me and I still enjoy making and experimenting with the mangoes that my father bought from the market. I recently made a mango milkshake and the mango ice cream on my own( fine, The blending stuff my mom did because I'm too scared to do it) And that's it about Mango.


300 words

In the town of Spanish, 501 verbs lead active lives and engage in various activities. Hablo loved speaking, considering it his primary passion. One day, Hablo expressed his love for Cante, while Defiendo patrolled the town, ensuring people's safety. Cante filled people with joy through her voice and singing. Every time she uttered a single note, she effortlessly captured everyone's attention. Her voice always sounded enchanting. Unbeknownst to Hablo, Cante was afflicted with a virus that day. She suffered from the Spanish flu, the most severe illness affecting their town. As a result, her voice became strained and unpleasant. Hablo was also unaware that Cante did not harbor affection for him. When Hablo faced rejection, he shed tears. In response, Lastimarse De was called upon by the townsfolk to assist Hablo in his recovery. Once taken to a room, Xem provided Hablo with tissues to wipe away his tears. Cante hurried to the local hospital, where Enfermo helped her find the nurse in the waiting room.

At 5:01 p.m. that same day, a grand party commenced. Hablo and Cante, both afflicted by illness, whether from heartbreak or genuinely unwell, were not alone in experiencing their love stories. Beber, not only responsible for preparing all the drinks for the event, indulged in the majority of them as well. Aplauso approached Beber and served drinks, occasionally sipping one themselves. They enjoyed their conversation, while also noticing Discuto engaged in a heated argument with Lista, who, as usual, was always ready for a dispute. Beber and Aplauso enjoyed the commotion. Around 5:34 p.m, Hablo reluctantly joined the dance floor, his spirits dampened. Out of kindness, Beber offered him a drink, assuring him that the situation was not as dire as he perceived it. Hablo gazed into their eyes, feigning seriousness. Beber felt helpless at that moment, causing sadness to wash over them. Instead of remaining at the serving stand, they decided to wander around and continue offering drinks. With a mischievous smirk, they served beverages to everyone, from Feliz to Triste, playfully reveling in the act. Suddenly, they noticed someone resembling Cante entering through the main door. Initially, they smirked but then realized that she was severely ill with a contagious disease. In a rush, they returned to the stand and relayed this information to Aplauso.

There is no doubt that not all survivors emerged unscathed from these events. Aplauso was so relieved he started to clap his hands… and soon realized that was not the most appropriate response.

Silvi's thread

Daily 3rd July

Poem: Sick

“ I cannot go to school today “, said the little Peggy Ann McKay to her mother. “ I have the measles and the mumps, and a gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet and my throat is dry. I'm also going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks! And I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox. Oh, and there’s one more, that’s seventeen! And don’t you think that my face looks green. And then my leg is cut, my eye is blue and, goodness, it might be instamatic flu! And I cough and I sneeze, then gasp and then I choke, and oh, I am sure that my left leg is broke! My hip hurts when I ever move my chin and I think that my belly button is caving in! And my back is wrenched and my ankle is sprained! My ‘pendix hurts each time it rains, and my nose is so cold, and my toes so numb, I have a silver in my thumb! My neck is stiff and my voice is weak, I can barely whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth and I think my hair may be falling out! My elbow is bent, my spine ain't not straight, my temperature appears to be 108! My brain is shrunk and I cannot hear, there must be a hole inside my ear… I have a hangnail and my heart is - what? You say today is … is Saturday? G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

Daily 3: “Listen to the song Beautiful Ghosts by Taylor Swift and write a 200 word story about it” -Eeveedonut (570 words)

“Hey, Twix!” Pan said as he tossed me a piece of stale bread. “I was getting worried; you’re not usually back this late.” Twix rolled her eyes, but secretly he was right. The world was a dangerous place for people like them. “Where’s Alice?” She asked, wondering where the little girl was. She was usually glued to Pan’s side. “She went to bed. Did you get anything while you were gone?” She passed him the small amount of coins she was able to get. “After Prince Lukas got kicked out of the castle after that fight with his brother, people are less willing to employ scruffy kids to do their chores.” Pan’s eyebrows creased as he counted the money. Not enough for a day’s meal. She would have to go out again tomorrow. Twix sighed. She was disappointed in herself, but she was also feeling restless. Pan and Alice had always been with her, but she didn’t want to call them her friends. They were more like siblings, forced to be around each other because of their circumstances. If Twix could, she would leave them, and she knew Pan felt the same. “I’m going to bed.” Twix said, curling up in the corner with a raggedy blanket. She could feel Pan’s eyes on her, wondering if her growing body was the real reason nobody was willing to help her. She was 14, and she had lost her “cute-kid” advantage. They both knew that it was time to make a change, but Alice couldn’t go out alone.
With these worries boring into her brain, she dropped into a fretful sleep.
When she woke up, Pan was gone. A note was left on the spindly table that said “Owt. Teechin Alis how to beg. B bac later.” Twix scowled. Alice was too young and helpless to do this! Twix had to prove that she wasn’t losing her edge. So she put on her coat and hurried out of the dirty flat and out into the busy London street.
After collecting a few coins from running errands for a kind middle-age couple, she darted into an alleyway to eat the small lunch she had been given by them. She was about to bite into the apple when she heard a rustling sound behind a garbage can. A skinny boy about her age emerged. He had inquisitive green eyes and warm skin, and a face that Twix recognized from something, although she couldn’t tell where. “Who are you?” She asked, brandishing her apple as if it could defend her, but this guy didn’t look like anything to be afraid of.
“Ex-prince Lukas at your service.” He bowed mockingly.
Twix dropped her apple.
A few months later, Twix and Lukas sat together on a stone bench under the stars. With the help of her new friend, they had been able to secure jobs as tutors, maids and cooks for Lukas’s aunt, who believed he was unrightfully kicked out of the castle. Now they all had three square meals a day and a family who actually cared about them. Twix and Lukas had started dating, and Pan was much less grumpy without having to worry all the time. Alice was learning how to read and write, and everyone was happier than they ever could’ve imagined.
As Twix stared up at the constellations, Lukas at her side, she allowed herself to believe that some stories really did have a happily ever after.

Weekly 1

Part One
I chose a silent comic called “The Highest Depths.” I wrote a little story based on my interpretation.
320 words

Old Bernard had a fairly simple life. Every morning, he’d wake up early to fetch his giant net and go to the meadows. What’s in the meadows, you might ask. Well, he’s there to catch some fish. In the lake? No, dear reader. In the sky. They swam freely there, in beautiful large groups. Not many had seen them— they were so high up, in the highest depths of the skies.

Once Old Bernard reached the meadows, he tossed up his net and swung it around and around, until it reached the sky, where the fish swam. The fish would get caught in the net and he’d yank the net back down, fish and all. He then sat on the green grass, took each fish, made sure it was in good condition, then put the fish into a pail which he took back to his home.

At his home, he put the fish into fishbowls, which he had many of. His house had fishbowls everywhere— round ones, long ones, shot ones, ones with fish and without fish. It was like a kaleidoscope inside his home, with fishbowls on the floor, windowsills, shelves, everywhere.

After he put the fish into bowls, he took some of them and went to the beach to sell them. He sat on a little wooden chair, smoking a pipe while his fish swam in their bowls around him. Today, a headless man approached him. The man pointed at a fish that had been caught today, and Old Bernard raised 2 fingers, telling the man he needed to pay two coins. The man paid and bought the fishbowl.

Old Bernard watched as the man put the fishbowl on his head and walked into the water. He swam deep, so deep that he reached the depths, where the birds flew. It was a truly beautiful sight— a man, his fishbowl head, and the highest depths of the sea.

Part Two
You probably know what sushi and nigiri is, but in case you don’t know, it’s a kinda culturally significant dish from Japan with rice, wasabi (which is spicy) and other toppings (it usually differs, but some common ingredients are salmon and other fish). The sushi falling apart and having too much wasabi represents Lark and Grace’s relationship, and how Grace is sorta starting to dislike Lark.

508 words

“Joy to the World” was never one of Grace’s favorite songs. Or maybe it once was, but Lark’s doorbell ruined it. Every single time she pressed that stupid button, that stupid song would play. Even worse, she had to press it. Lark was never paying attention to her texts saying that she was visiting, so she’d always catch him by surprise when she rang his doorbell.

Today, she decided to try and mend some of the cracks in their relationship with sushi, which she hoped were his favorite. She did have a faint memory of a conversation with Lark about it, but she couldn’t remember if he liked or disliked them. Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?

She pressed the doorbell and replayed the same scene that happened every single time she visited. “Joy to the World” plays. Grace waits while hearing Lark yell “Coming!” along with some thuds (which she always thought was him stumbling down the stairs). After a good minute or two, Lark opens the door, out of breath, and welcomes Grace with the same phrase— “Hey Grace! Haven’t seen you in a while.” To which Grace replies with, “Um, didn’t I visit you a few days ago?”

Grace walked in and her friend noticed the box she was holding. She set the box down on his coffee table and sat down on a couch before saying, “I made some sushi for you. It’s a pretty tasty dish from Japan,” while opening the box. The sushi wasn’t perfect— well, nobody’s perfect either— and had been slightly misshapen, some rice falling out the edges. She prayed that she didn’t add too much wasabi, since Lark didn’t seem to be the type of person to enjoy really spicy foods. Grace silently prayed that Lark liked sushi and wasn’t one of those people who hated fish in general.

Lark had his usual smile on and sat down with Grace. He leaned forward to grab a nigiri and took a big bite out of it. Grace watched with a smile (inside, she was very, very scared). Lark chewed for a bit before taking a moment too long to swallow.

“Thanks, Grace! The sushi’s a little too spicy, but I know you don’t like cooking, so this means a lot to me. Anyways, I have to finish some work. I’ll call you later, is that alright?” Grace sighed internally. Of course he had some “work” to do. At this point, she didn’t even know what his job was. She got up from the couch and asked, “Do you have any time this week? I kinda want to visit that new theme park with you.”

Lark let out a long sigh and replied, “Sorry, but no. I’m super busy.” Grace gave him a thumbs up before sprinting out the door, hiding her teary eyes. Maybe she was just sensitive. Or maybe Lark didn’t want to be her friend at all. She needed to do something, she couldn’t just let him go.

Maybe she should try baking something else for him.

Part Three
I chose the lamppost from the Narnia series. I haven’t read it in a while, so bear with me :’)
517 words

Anne glared at the wardrobe that sat in her bedroom. She hated her parents for putting it in her room and her grandparents for being so pushy about it. The stinky old piece of furniture had sat in her parents’ room for who knows how long, and they now “entrusted” it to her.

What was the big deal? Apparently, it was some sort of family heirloom that their grandparents— specifically her grandmother Lucy— kept for a long time. Anne didn’t see why they had to keep it in her room though. Why did it have to be her? The wardrobe wasn’t important to her at all, and it didn’t even match with the rest of her room!

Anna opened the wardrobe and coughed. Did they ever clean this? She put her clothes on hangers and put them inside the wardrobe. It was pretty large, so she could put a ton of clothes in there. Maybe this could be the location of her new candy stash.

The door swung behind her and Anne squealed. She raked through the clothes, trying to find her way back to the exit. Wait, was she even going the right way? She turned around, trying to look for a wall. She ended up crawling through the wardrobe, finally seeing some light.

She hastily crawled towards it, then fell out of the wardrobe into some snow. Snow? It was supposed to be spring. She looked around. What happened? This was definitely not her room.

Anne’s eyes scanned the area. It was a snowy forest with a single lamppost. Strange. At least the lamppost probably meant that there was some sort of civilization. Anne almost cried out when she saw a shadow slip through the trees. Every second she stayed, she felt more scared, but curiosity overtook her and she couldn’t help but shout, “Hello? Anyone there?”

A person came out of the trees, holding a bag over their shoulder. Anne sighed in relief. They seemed like a friendly— are those hooves? She screamed and tried to run away, but the person yelled, “Wait! I’ve seen you before. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

Anne stopped running and turned around, her muscles still tense and ready to flee. The goat-person walked awkwardly towards Anne and reached out his hand.

“Perry. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen you in a book before. A book of legends. You must be Queen Lucy!” Anne smiled, but was confused. She shivered and shook snow off her body as she inquired, “Queen Lucy? No, that’s not me. The only Lucy I know is my grandmother.” The goat-boy’s expression fell slightly, but still held a welcoming grin.

“Ah, apologies then. You seem very cold, would you like to visit my house? It’s not too far of a walk from here.” Anne nodded eagerly and started to walk with the goat-boy. She asked, “Can you tell me about this Queen Lucy you mentioned?”

“Of course. Let me tell you the story of Queen Lucy and her siblings, and how they freed the world of Narnia with the help of Aslan.”

Part Four
400 words

The old fisherman’s life seemed very simple at first glance. Every day had the same routine, starting with him going to the meadows to catch fish from the sky. He’d carry a giant net and a small pail to the middle of the meadows and swing the net around and around until it reached the depths of the skies where the fish swam free.

The fish would get tangled in the net, and after a few minutes, the old man would yank the net back down and collect the fish. He examined every fish before putting it into the pail. Today, he found a reddish fish with two eyes on the side of its face— he quite liked this one. Its eyes had never seen anything other than the skies it lived in. He put it in the pail with the other fish and walked back to his home.

Once he was home, he took the fish and put them in their own bowls. His house was filled with all sorts of bowls. He had long ones, short ones, round ones, empty ones, and more. They lined the walls of his house, were in every nook and cranny, and were on the floor like a labyrinth. All of the fish swam around, their eyes on the man as he put the newly caught fish in their bowls.

Once every fish was in its own bowl, he took some of the bowls to the beach. He laid down a small carpet, put down the bowls, and sat down on a small wooden chair, waiting for a customer.

Soon enough, someone arrived. A man with no head. He asked for the price of one fishbowl by pointing at it, and the old man stated the price by putting two fingers up. The headless man paid and took the bowl. The fish in it— the reddish one that was caught today— swam, around, its wide eyes taking in every detail of the new world around it.

The man put silently put the fishbowl on his head and walked into the ocean. He swam for a long time, until he reached the highest depths of the sea, where the birds flew. The fish watched with wide eyes at the world he had never seen. He and these birds were similar. They had never seen anything outside their world.

It was a truly beautiful sight.

Weekly:
Part 1 -The comic panel that I chose to examine was the 11th one from the scratch project. The title of the story is called “The Umbrella”. The comic panels are highly expressive. They use bold colors that pop off the page. They also use some very dark colors that express the mood very well. The character art is not very detailed but that makes each little stroke count more. The lines that make up the characters are very expressive and help show mood and tone. The story of the comic panel is that a girl is running through the rain with her umbrella very happily while everybody else seems sad and wet. Suddenly the sun starts to peek through the clouds. The sun comes out. Everybody seems happy that the sun has come out and the colors on the page suddenly get brighter. The little girl is now sad that it is not raining anymore and that she can't play in the rain while she stands in a puddle. The comic panels seamlessly transition from one event to another, even though there are no words to help tell the story. Since there are no words, the body language of the characters helps to tell a lot of the story. The comic strip is in watercolor so it also focuses a lot on shading which really helps tell the story. Some of the other background characters in the rainy panel are all holding either dark umbrellas or other objects over their heads. They are also all wearing dark-colored clothes, while the girl in the story has on a bright yellow jacket, red rain boots, and a bright red umbrella. She is probably more bright that the other characters because she is the main focus of the story. In all the comic panel does a good job of telling the story without words. - 310 words.

Part 2 -I had invited my friend Ally over for dinner. My mom was planning on cooking Shakshuka to show Ally a bit of Jewish culture. “Ding Dong” went the doorbell. She was here! I scrambled to the door nearly tripping over the edge of my floor-length skirt. I quickly grabbed the door handle. As I opened the door I saw Ally. She was wearing a flowy white blouse and a pair of skinny jeans with high top converses. She had her long wavy black hair resting around her shoulders. “Hey girl!” I said as I invited her inside. “Thanks for inviting me Lily” she said. “No prob” I replied. “Oh yeah, my mom is making Shakshuka for dinner.” “What's Shakshuka?” Ally asked as we walked up the steps to my room. “You've never heard of it?” I said as I opened the door to my bedroom and as we sat down on my bed. “Nope never heard of it” Ally said as she flopped down onto my bed and rolled onto her stomach. “Ok well Shakshuka is a Jewish dish. Its a combination of simmering tomatoes, onions, garlic, poached eggs, and a few spices such as cumin, paprika, cayenne, pepper, and nutmeg. Some people also put some herbs and cheese into it. It is eaten at breakfast a lot but it can also be eaten at dinner.” “Wow that's really cool Lily. I did not even know that existed!” Ally exclaimed. “It's one of me and my mom's favorite foods and we figured that you did not want to eat something boring that you've probably eaten before. I know that you like to eat more adventurous foods that you've never tried before.” I replied. “That is true” Lily said. “Suddenly through my open door I heard my mom yell ”Lily and Ally dinner is ready girls“. ”Ok Mom. We're coming>“ said. We sat up and started to make our way downstairs. I lead Ally to the bathroom and we quickly washed our hands and made our way to the dining room. ”I hope you like what I made tonight.“ Mom said to Ally. ”Whenever I make it I have to give Lily her food last because she will eat the whole pot if I'm not careful!“ Mom said with a teasing grin. ”Mommm“ I groaned. ”Only kidding sweetheart“ she said as me and Ally sat down. Mom started to pass out the bowls of shakshuka to us. ”Now dig in girls“ Mom said to us. Ally grabbed her fork and took a large bite. ”Oh my gosh this is really good!“ Ally said. ”Yeah mom makes the best shakshuka“ I said. I lifted my fork and took a big bite. Mmmm, it was delicious. Ally chowed down on her food. Later after we had finished Ally asked my mom if she could have the recipe so she could make it on her own. ”Of course dear“ my mom replied. She took her to the kitchen and wrote down the recipe for her. ”Thanks so much! Ally said. “No problem” said mom. “Bye Ally” I called as she walked out the front door back to her house. “Come again soon.” - 528 words

Part 3-“Oh Josie darling” the mother exclaimed and started to weep. It was the first time that Josie had lifted her arm on her own in months. Then Josie gave a small grunt. “Mmotthher” she whispered. “Open the curtains wider”. The mother gave a small nod and opened the curtains a bit wider while shielding her face from the sun. Josie gave a small sigh of happiness closed her eyes and settled down deeper in her bed. She appeared to have a slight glow and it almost seemed to look like the sun was healing her. The mother was still silently weeping for joy. We all stood there until the sun went down. “Oh dear sun, please give Josie strength and help heal her” I think in my mind. Soon after the mother and the housemaid leave the room. Not me. I stay there all night watching over little Josie. In the wee hours of the morning I could see the very first rays of the sun. Josie stirred in her sleep. “Its ok Josie. I'm here.” I say. She makes a small noise. “Mother?” She sleepily mumbles. “No Josie in Klara” I say. “Water” Josie says. “I go as fast as I can to get her something to drink from the kitchen without waking anybody up.” As I re enter the room I can see that the sun is starting to shine more brightly through the cracks in the closed curtains. I set the water down and then move to open the curtains. When I open them Josie gives a small smile from where she lays in bed. I go back to pick up the glass of water. I move over to beside Josies bed and start to position so she can sit up and drink. When she is sitting up, I help her hold the glass of water. Then she starts to hold the glass of water and drink on her own. It was a miracle! She had not been able to hold things on her own since when she first got sick. Later, on when the sun was shining brightly into her mother comes by her room. She strokes Josies head and smiles. She is looking much healthier. It appears that the sun is helping her heal after all. “I want to go outside with Klara.” Josie says. I grab her wheelchair that sits in the corner of her room. I take it over to her bedside and slowly lift her into it. Once she is outside under the sun she seems much happier. As we walk, she looks healthier than she ever had. In time she may be able to do things that other children can. - 449 words

Part 4 -The comic panel that I chose to examine was the 11th one from the scratch project. The title of the story is called “The Umbrella”. The comic panels are highly expressive. They use bold colors that pop off the page. They also use some very dark colors that express the mood very well. The character art is not very detailed but that makes each little stroke count more. The lines that make up the characters are very expressive and help show mood and tone. The story of the comic panel is that a girl is running through the rain with her umbrella very happily while everybody else seems sad and wet. Suddenly the sun starts to peek through the clouds. The sun comes out. Everybody seems happy that the sun has come out and the colors on the page suddenly get brighter. The little girl is now sad that it is not raining anymore and that she can't play in the rain while she stands in a puddle. The comic panels seamlessly transition from one event to another, even though there are no words to help tell the story. Since there are no words, the body language of the characters helps to tell a lot of the story. The comic strip is in watercolor so it also focuses a lot on shading which really helps tell the story. Some of the other background characters in the rainy panel are all holding either dark umbrellas or other objects over their heads. They are also all wearing dark-colored clothes, while the girl in the story has on a bright yellow jacket, red rain boots, and a bright red umbrella. She is probably more bright that the other characters because she is the main focus of the story. In the story the little girl symbolizes hope and the joys of childhood such as being able to play in the rain and have a fun time getting to do things that adults do not do. Everybody else around her symbolizes adults and how they have to do dreary boring things that kids do not have to do. Youth is something that we often take for granted because we want to be “just a little bit older” so we can work that job we want, buy that car we want and wear the things we want to wear just to name a few. In all the comic does a good idea of telling a story without words and using symbolism. -415 words

word total-1702

Daily 2 - July 2, 2023
Written by Alana

Total word count: 522 words
Story word count: 419 words

Author’s note: I always loved doing this daily, but unfortunately, I missed my chance I got a bit too busy. Nevertheless, I still decided to do this daily, because its always super fun to see what every one comes up with - although this doesn’t could for any points (I mean, I guess the words do count :>), I had a lot of fun writing this story.. Especially considering how random it became after a bit XD

Chosen words: Smoke, fire, rain, alley, magic

Lightning flickered in the background outside my window. It was hard enough as it was.. An empty house. Everybody was out tonight. I was by myself, and to make matters worse the power had gone out. It was almost midnight, and I know I should’ve been asleep long before, but what could I do? Mid winter transition to spring - the worst time of the year. Nightly temperatures at these times are just to unpredictable.. Warm at first, and freezing the next second, before you even realize. Being on of “those” nights, I trudged out of bed in an attempt to quickly make my way downstairs. Sitting by the lit fireplace, I watched as the embers fell onto the wood, turning into ash. I know, a very weird thing to be doing. But, when all in the world seems to tranquil with the faint noises of raindrops splattering on the roof above, I’d say that this is actually a pretty relaxing activity. Watching the fire, it brought me a sense of calm, so much that I fell asleep, right there on the floor. Evyerhting seemed alright until I heard a loud knock on the door. I sprung up from the floor, and hurried over, wondering who would be knocking at such a late hour. In the flash of a second, I spotted a hooded figure heading away from me - down towards the alley, a place where no one dares to go alone at night. But.. this was my chance! I’ve been dying to go there, and this was finally my oppportunity to do something. I hurriedly slipped on my rainboots, and rushed after the figure in total darkness. The raindrops pelted down on my head, and tricked down my face. I was completed soaked, but internally, it felt great. Keeping my pace, I continued sprinting.. Until I lost sight of the figure. I was infront of a brick wall, a dead end with no one else to go. I knew there was something more than what meets the eye. Using these instincts, I rushed over to the brick wall and held out my hand. Suddenly, the wall began to buzz, my fingers began to seep through the mortar, as if they were traveling to the other side. In a brink of smoke, I found myself in this other universe, surrounding by what looked like magic. Everything was alight, glowing, with life.. The only thing I could muster to say after seeing such a sight… “Where in the world am I-”…

~To be continued~

meeting minutes (216):
The meeting was held on July 2nd, 2023. The meeting was called to order by Aiden Smith at 9:41 AM at the Fairground Pavillions. The Pledge of Allegiance and the 4-H Pledge were led by Sabrina Johnson. 29 members attended the meeting.
The minutes were read by Amelie Yoo. Brady Williams made a motion to approve the minutes, which was seconded by Katie Smith. The motion passed.
The treasurer's report was led by Brady Williams. We currently have $2,490 in our account. Amelie Yoo made a motion to reimburse the leaders for buying us project book materials (a total of $136.72). Laura Jackson seconded the motion, which passed.
In new business, at our next meeting we will be making project books. We discussed our bake sale for the fair, and who is bringing which items. The leaders commented that we need to create tags and price our items before the next meeting so that we can take inventory.
The educational program held was making chocolate marshmallow peanut butter cups. We learned how to melt chocolate and practiced measuring. You can freeze or refrigerate the cups, but the members thought they tasted better when frozen for at least over an hour to fully harden. Most people thought they were a delicious, easy to make treat!

found poem (413):
The Hideout
A Found Poem
Lines taken from A Soft Place To Land by Janae Marks

How am I supposed to believe that anything will ever be the same
It makes me more and more uneasy, like I’m standing on shaky ground that could collapse at any minute.
Most of the time it's fine, but sometimes I can’t help but feel…
different
“Things could be a lot worse” they say
I find that hard to imagine
I have to be the strong one
I blink a bunch of times so I won’t cry
Now, there’s no way to escape it
And there’s nothing that I can do about it
I’ll have to live with this guilt forever
I hate that so much is out of my control
Sometimes I feel like someone took a slingshot and shot me high into the air, and now I’m waving my arms and trying to find a soft place to land.
Because I think I have it all figured out. I love a good plan.
But all I can really do is cry

“But if you need a place to escape, let me know. I know the perfect spot
Trust me, it fixes almost everything” she says
What place could she be talking about?
I could use a break from all of this
Having a little space will help
“Come in quick
It’s a secret hideout, just for the kids”
A little more of my stress melts away
This Hideout really is the perfect escape
Here, people care about each other
I’m glad this place is still our secret
It’s nice that we can sneak away

“You’re one of us now
You are not alone”
Because there’s someone else dealing with something hard
It’s not just me
It helps to know someone else cares
Maybe we can help each other
“And the thing is, I can relate
I know exactly how you feel
If you ever need someone to vent to, I’m a good listener”
We could spill our problems to each other until we felt a little better about everything
It makes me feel a little better about my own problems to think that I might make someone hurt a little less.

I’m glad I’m not alone right now
I’m taking control of something, even if I don’t have it all figured out yet
I came alive in a whole new way
Nobody can take that away from me. Maybe it’ll help me get through this

7/3/2023 Daily
Everybody has wings now. (@Drawing_Dragons28)
Main character forgets what they’re doing the middle of the climax. (@criminal_intent)

Sorry ‘bout my stick figure obsession.

The Chosen One pointed the makeshift weapon at the stick figure in front of him. The red stick managed to squish himself into the corner even more, trembling like he had a cold. Chosen stared at the stick for a moment longer before lowering the weapon.
His mind searched for what he had been doing only moments before, yet nothing came back to him. The red stick had paused in his trembling but Chosen didn’t notice. His crow black wings folded neatly as he reached a hand to his head.
Nothing was coming back to his mind. Absolutely nothing. None of the earliest memories he had were there. It felt like someone had come and just, deleted everything he ever knew. He looked back to the stick who stood before him. The stick hesitantly stepped forward.
Chosen stared uncomprehendingly at him. The stick balled his fist. He raised it. He pushed gently on Chosen’s shoulder. Chosen only looked at it. Was this stick friend or foe? The stick then pulled the fist back and pushed on himself.
A question obviously was in that gesture. He copied him but before he could do it to himself, the other stick pushed him a bit roughly. Chosen only stumbled back. What did he do? Did he do something wrong?
He saw the other’s wing’s flare up as he did it before the nearly touched the bottom of the screen. The stick figure approached him before pushing past him and flapping his wings. He hovered, staring the person in front of the screen.
The person looked familiar… yet, who was he? It was jamais vu, where something that should’ve felt familiar wasn’t. But the poor hollowhead didn’t know that. A cursor floated next to the red stick figure before floating over to him.
It poked him. He heard a confused chuckle echoed from somewhere. His wings flared a bit as he stumbled back some more. He flailed his arms at the cursor, as if that’d help him. It pulled back for a moment, as if unsure of what to do next.
He flailed some more and some embers sparked from his hands before fizzing away pathetically. He pulled his hands away, as if the cursor had made him do that. A memory almost broke away from whatever hiding place it was in but it stayed.
Chosen tried it again and again, making sparks fly everywhere before a fist ignited for a second. He laughed. It didn’t hurt. He liked how the flame danced on his palm.

i'm too lazy to do this formatting now and besides i don't even know how to do it

Dailies!
Date: July 4th

Prompts :(i) the protagonist and antagonist are the same person
(ii) main character doesn't have a heart
Fandom : Spider-Verse
( MW = Multiverse Watches)

The year is 2028. Miles Morales has been Spider-Man for 10 years, and he's seen it all. He's fought crime, saved lives, and even lost loved ones. But nothing could have prepared him for what was about to happen.

One day, Miles was swinging through the city when he saw a figure that looked just like him. The figure was wearing the same Spider-Man suit, but there was something different about it. The figure's eyes were cold and empty, and there was no trace of emotion on its face. Miles knew that this wasn't him. This was a dark version of himself, a Miles Morales who had lost his heart. The two Miles fought, and Miles was shocked to discover that he was no match for his dark counterpart. The dark Miles was stronger, faster, and more ruthless. In the end, Miles was defeated. The dark Miles took his place as Spider-Man, and Miles was left to wonder what had happened to him. How had he become so cold and heartless?

Miles spent the next few months trying to figure out what had happened to him. He talked to doctors, psychologists, and even mystics, but no one could give him a definitive answer.

……On Gwen's Earth….

The same scenario had happened to her, and upon checking the spider-society, She found that it happened to everyone, they just were here to take refugee and rest.

'Oh my god, It's a god * ‘Canon’ event, of course!! How could I be so dumb!' thought Gwen, feeling so stupid.

“ Has anyone seen Miles ? ” Asked Gwen, tensed.

A chorus no's and nope's could be heard.

“ Then what are we bloody waiting for, huh? Are y'all forgetting we didn't give Miles the MW yet?”, yelled out Hobie, making a portal, and instructing everyone to go.

…… Back on Miles's Earth…….



Word count : 359 words
Signing out : Indigo from the mystery cabin

Daily for Tragedy
733 words, 500 points
Fandom: Matilda
Twists used: @criminal-intent (character forgets what they are doing) and @Thecatperson19 (halfway through becomes an advertisement)

Matilda the Musical JR.
Scene 14 (read the original here! https://www.mtishows.com/news/join-the-revolt-matilda-the-musical-jr-is-available-for-licensing)

(Miss Honey enters, almost toppling over with a heavy set of school textbooks. The children are playing outside with each other, except for Matilda, because she wants to sit underneath the big oak tree and get lost in a Agatha Christie novel to escape her troubles while her mind ponders what to do about Miss Trunchbull. Suddenly a school bell rings in the distance. Quickly, the children gather into a military formation-esque line, except for Matilda who is too busy reading. Trunchbull enters, inspecting each child.)

Trunchbull: BRUCE! Tuck your shirt in like a private schoolboy or I'll throw you back into chokey!
Bruce: But Miss, my shirt doesn't fit me anymore. The chocolate cake is now half of my body weight. I ought to be examined by a doctor.
Trunchbull: Well, Doctor Trunchbull says DEAL WITH IT AND TUCK YOUR SHIRT IN! Amanda, those braids look a lot like pigtails. Take them out before I throw you out. Alice, your skirt is 0.192540786 inches above your knee. See me after school for breaking dress code.
(walks to the end of the line)
Trunchbull: What are you doing with those books, woman?
Miss Honey: Well as you know, Matilda-
Trunchbull: I REFUSE TO EVEN MENTION THAT LITTLE BRAT…(examines line)…..WHERE IS SHE?!?!
(Matilda emerges from the tree and walks right behind Trunchbull)
Matilda: Were you looking for me, Miss Trunchbull? (Trunchbull jumps)
Trunchbull: GET IN LINE!……Miss Honey's teaching methods are clearly not working. (mimicking) Let's all read a book about unicorns and talk about kindness and oh no you got hurt a kiss will make it better OH PLEASE! To teach the child, you must first break the child. I'm feeling quite parched. YOU! (points at Lavender) Get me my jug of water.
Lavender: Oh yes, anything for you Miss Trunchbull. (goes behind the tree and finds a newt) Oh! Look what I found- a newt. Ooh, if I slip it in her jug of water, she'll really explode! (drops into water)
Trunchbull: I think we need to toughen y'all up with a little Phys-ed, with equipment brought to you by Trunchbull Training Corps, the newest gym on the block!

(music starts)

Trunchbull: Oh how I love Physical Education
The sweat, the tears, the bl00d
Children learning their coordination
Until the evening's done

And they can do it all folks, with special state-of-the-art equipment from Trunchbull Training Corps! We have weights of all sizes, ranging from 1 ton to bone-crushing! Need a new treadmill? Our 50 mph completely uphill model is sure to get you into perfect shape.

Matilda (to Lavender): Huh?
Lavender: Well, clearly the treadmill didn't work for her. (giggles)

Trunchbull: At our Crunchem Hall approved gym facility, you can take part in guided workouts led by ME, with lots of helpful/dream-crushing feedback/critiques. We even offer a daily running program! Get those steps in by crossing Mount Everest, the African Savannah, the Appalachian Trail, and the entirety of Russia- in just one day! So come on down to Trunchbull Training Corps, the best place to get in shape with the bonus of screaming and yelling!

(song ends)

Matilda: That was…odd.
Trunchbull: My throat is so dry today. JUG. NOW.
Lavender: (sweetly sarcastic) Oh, of course Miss Trunchbull. Here you go!
Trunchbull: You maggots are so weak. Not being able to lift 1 ton? You are 5 years old, you should know better-A NEWT!
THERES A NEWT IN THE WATER!!! (runs around for a minute while kids giggle under their breaths) WHO DID THIS?!?!
(looks at the kid giggling the most) ERIC! (grabs his ears and stretches them)
Eric: No, stop, please, I didn't do anything-
Matilda: (grabs him away from her) LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU BIG, F@T, BU11Y!

(song starts)

Matilda: I can't take this anymore, she has to stop
Kids: Yeah Matilda! Come on, lead the revolution!
Matilda: …..Thats it.
Kids: What?
Matilda: What was I doing? Oh, hi Miss Trunchbull!
Trunchbull: *flabbergasted*
Matilda: Oh, I love this school! I guess I'll keep doing Phys-Ed-my favorite activity!
Bruce: No Matilda, you have to help us fight against the Trunchbull-
Matilda: First of all, it's Mrs. Trunchbull. Second, why would we do that? She's our headmistress.
(school bell rings)
Matilda: Oh, school's out! Can't wait to get back to my parents. They're so nice, and I love them a lot.
Trunchbull: Get your Trunchbull Training Corps Brand equipment today!