7/4: Bi-Fi/Fan-Fi

my prompt: everyone ends their sentences/paragraphs in musical lyrics
prompts i used: everyone has wings, the scene turns into an advertisement halfway through

My mom swings around another corner, and my wings crash awkwardly against the door. Lightning flashes through the window as black rain lashes against the car - how on earth is my mom able to drive through this? I glance awkwardly at Grover as I shake out my wings.

“So…uh, you're not wearing fake pants, right?”

Grover glances behind our car again, even though no one else would be insane enough to drive through this. “No,” he says tersely. “But I - I'm still your friend, Percy. I was never faking that.”

I stare at my hands. “So you're a goat?”

Grover lets a nervous laugh - a bleat, I realize. “A goat? There are satyrs who would trample you for saying something like that.”

I startle. “A - a satyr? Like the half-goat men from Mr. Brunner's lessons? You're real?”

“Goat! Again!” Grover bleat-laughs once more. His wings flair out, almost hitting me in the face “I'm sitting here, aren't I? You saw Ms. Dodds-”

“You said she wasn't real!” I protest.

“Of course she was real, but we didn't want you to know. You still had the Mist over your eyes,” Grover explains as if I should know what the Mist is.

"The Mist? We? Did - Mom, did you know Grover before this?“

”Not exactly,“ Grover says. ”But-“

”Boys,“ my mom cuts in sharply. ”There is too much to explain and not enough time. I promise, Grover will tell you everything when we get there-“

”Where is there?“ I try to ask, but my mom hushed me and turned onto a side road I never would have seen. Signs that I could barely read flashed past, with pictures of strawberries drawn on them.

”The camp your father wanted you to go to,“ she says hurriedly. She steps on the gas, and the car speeds up.

”My father?“ I burst out. ”My father who's never seen me? Why are we listening to what he wanted?“

”Percy, please. Just another mile,“ she begs, almost to herself.

A winged shape flashes past our window, and Grover lets out a short, frightened sound.

”Almost there," my mom mutters.

Boom.

Suddenly, we're flying through the air. There's a blinding flash, a horrible cracking noise-

“Percy!” I hear my mom scream.

“'M okay,” I try to call out. The car's been upended, rolled into a ditch on the side of the road. My wing is pinned in place by what seems to be the seat. “Ow.”

We've been struck by lightning. There's no other explanation. Next to me, I see a furry shape stir. Grover, I think, panicked.

Then - “Food,” he moans.

My mother runs over. She pulls something out of her sleeve and makes a few quick cuts through the seat - is that a dagger?

“Percy,” she says, dead serious. “Percy, you need to run. You see that big tree over there - just get to the tree, and you'll be safe. Okay?”

I squint into the distance. I can almost make out a shimmering shape that vaguely looks like a tree. “I'm not leaving you. You're coming with me.”

“Percy, I can't-”

“Help me carry Gover.” I ignore her, hoisting my friend over my shoulder.

“Percy, leave us!” Her voice cracks, and to my horror, I see tears glimmering in her eyes.

“Mom-”

Suddenly, the trees fall away. The rain stops abruptly, and Grover wakes up, rubbing his head.

“Man,” he groans. “Next time would you mind being a little gentler with the car?”

“Cut!” someone yells. A man leaps out of his chair. “Sally, you can't have him insisting you're going with him-”

“What the heck?” I exclaim, glancing around. “What's going on?”

“We're in an advertisement for this summer camp,” Grover explains under his breath. “We told you this, but I guess you forgot somehow?” He shrugs and faces back toward the director, leaving me to gape soundlessly at my surroundings.

“Alright, let's take this from the beginning! Annabeth, would you mind making sure everything is in place on the camp set?”

“Got it!” A girl with blonde hair curled princess-style peers appears behind the car.

My mouth falls open.

“Close your mouth,” Annabeth snips, seeing me. She eyes me critically. “You're drooling,” she points out.

My mouth snaps shut.

“Next take!” the director yells.

I look around in dumb shock as the rain machines are rolled into position again, the trees are hauled in place, and a new car is pushed out.

Grover grins at me as an aide leads me into the car. “Ready to do it all again?”

Not like I have a choice, I think wryly. My wings scrunch up next to my sides again as the air around it grows windy are dark…and my memory goes blank.

(795 words)

7/5: Object Smoothie

You stare down into the enormous blender before you. “And what, may I ask, are we doing with this?” you ask crabbily. You were not expecting to be dragged out of bed this early in the morning to what has to be some kind of lunatic mad scientist experiment.

The man who took you out of your room grins at you. His brown hair sticks up wildly, and you think grumpily that he looks like a knock-off Albert Einstein. “Just you wait,” he says with a grin.

You grumble under your breath, but you lean against the glass bowl of the blender and attempt to look suitably annoyed.

“It’s coming!” someone yells from below. You look around wildly, jerked out of your stupor, and then you see it.

Hanging from industrial-weight ropes from the ceiling and swinging dangerously as it’s lowered towards the gaping mouth of the blender, is your bed.

“Hey!” you shout. “Hey - what are you doing with my bed?”

The man grabs the back of your shirt. “Just hold on,” he says, grinning maniacally.

“My bed!” you wail, as ten people hoist the lid of the blender over its top. A woman at a control panel flips a switch, and with a terrible crushing noise, the blades of the blender start whirring. You watch in horrified fascination as chunks of wood and feathers and fabric fly through the blender.

“One bed smoothie, coming right up,” a young aide yells. “Clear the aisles for the cup!”

Then, as if the bed and blender weren’t enough, a huge cup about as tall as you is lowered into the blender. You wrinkle your nose - you’re sure a bad smoothie is going to taste terrible.

“Bed smoothie,” the aide continues yelling, red-faced and sweaty. “Known to both cure insomnia and reduce the need for sleep, proven to taste like a warm hug, flavored with only premium feathers and cotton! Who wants to try the first sip?”

The man next to you gives you a shove and you stumble forward. “Excellent!” the aide exclaims. “We have our first victim - excuse me, test subject!”

“Wait, what?” you stammer. “Victim? Test subject?”

The aide hushes you quickly, as a small cup filled with goopy gray liquid appears in front of you. Small bits of feathers float at the top.

“Drink it!”

You look around in panic. How can you refuse it now? So you plug your nose, steel yourself, and swallow it in one gulp.

All of a sudden, you feel like you’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket. Your tiredness disappears.

“Whoa,” you breathe. “It’s like magic!”

“It works, everyone!” the man next to you cheers. “Next time, we’ll try blending your phone.”

“My - my what?” you say in shock.

The man laughs, clapping you on the back. “Aren’t you excited?”

You shoot a frightened look at him. What have you gotten yourself into?

(481 words)

Word War Proof 1

The first threads of the song flit through her mind, and she closes her eyes. She places her hands on the keyboard.

And starts to play.

The music then flows naturally, going through her brain like a key in a lock. She doesn't stop, even as the lights around her dim and the starlight falls through the wall of cogs next to her, illuminating her entire body in an ethereal glow.

The wall next to her is her favorite part of her grandfather's workshop. Glistening in a million colors or bronze and silver and gold, it's made entirely of cogs looped together in an endless pattern of metal and time. The cogs open to the night sky, and no glass bars the holes in them. A soft breeze floats through, missing her hair and sending her sleeves billowing around her, although she doesn't stop.

There is nothing for her but the endless music.

The piano itself is old, but loving cared for by

(163 words)

Word War Proof 2

The keys are a shining sheet of white, unchipped, and polished beautifully. She loves playing on his piano because the strings are so meticulously oiled, and the piano sounds as if it was bought just days ago, instead of being generations old. Her grandfather tells stories of his grandmother buying the piano and situating it there. The body of the piano is dark wood painted gold. When she runs her hand over it, she can feel the smooth paint, only of the highest quality, as well as the rough wood underneath. Near the bottom of the legs of the piano, the paint has started to flake, and the golden paint chips melt with the starlight to give the entire piano - and the girl - a deep golden aura.

The night outside is picturesque, midnight blue twisting with white and yellow stars to create a deep blue and gold night that looks as if it's been plucked from a painting and thrown into the sky. The stars have always been the backdrop for her playing. She never plays during the day, just like her grandfather always played during the night. It's a tradition, one that brings her comfort deep in her soul. When she's playing the piano, the world gets left behind, and it's just her, the music, and the memories of her grandfather.

She's wearing what she always wears - a white button-down shirt and black pants. They're comforting to her, the same way playing the piano is. The whole thing is ritual. It's safety in a way she can't quite describe. When she's playing the piano, nothing can touch her, not time or age or even life itself.

(277 words)

7/6-7/7: Songwriting Bi-Daily

(Verse 1)
That first night you smiled at me over your shoulder,
And the world fell into place
Like there was a hole in me I didn't know was there
You bowed your head to me, a picture of grace

(Pre-Chorus)
But I saw something in your eyes,
That spark that made you seem alive
I took your hand and you pulled me toward you
That's when I knew, this moment - it had to be true

(Chorus)
There's something about the way that you look at me,
The flash between us when you touch my face
Look at me now, my hand in yours
I'm never planning on letting go

(Verse 2)
We built a home, laughter and smiles
It was hard, sure, but we got through each trial
You and me, together against the world
Step by step, we built a dreamworld

(Pre-Chorus)
Every day, I see something in your eyes,
That spark that makes you seem alive
You take my hand and I pull you toward me
Us together, that's how it always will be

(Chorus)
There's something about the way that you look at me,
The flash between us when you touch my face
Look at me now, my hand in yours
I'm never planning on letting go

(Bridge)
I know this is forever
Nothing will come between us
I'll run the distance, I'll cover the miles
To keep what we have safe and sound

(Pre-Chorus)
Every day, I see something in your eyes,
That spark that makes you seem alive
You take my hand and I pull you toward me
Us together, that's how it always will be

(Chorus)
There's something about the way that you look at me,
The flash between us when you touch my face
Look at me now, my hand in yours
I'm never planning on letting go

(Outro)
Never planning on letting go

(301 words)

Word War Proof 3

She draws her arms around Liya, careful not to jostle the bandages. “You okay? Are you sure you're okay?”

Liya touches her hand gently. “I promise,” she says. “I'm fine.” She crams another idli into her mouth. “Are you not going to eat? You've been waiting for me for ages here.”

Aditi gently lifts one of the idlis. “They're not hot,” she says abruptly. “I'm sorry-”

“Aditi,” Liya rolls her eyes at her. “Eat.”

It's warm still, at least, and soft as butter. The idlis taste like home, like the way her mom's sari sounded when it swished against the floor and the way the kitchen smelled when her mother brought her spice tin out. Cooking was the way Aditi's family spoke to each other, and now that all of them were gone…it was Aditi's job to try to keep that going. To, with any luck, build that kind of home and future with Liya.

“It's good, isn't it?” Liya said.

"Just a moment ago, you were saying

(168 words)

Weekly 1: Motifs and Themes

Part 1 (317 words)

Arla grew up on her grandfather's music. Her first memories are in her grandfather's clock workshop, toddling around the legs of his grand piano as his melodies filled the air.

Now, sixteen years later, when everything about her has changed, those songs are the one constant in her life.

She sits in front of the piano, hair bleached white and cut short. She runs her hand through her spiky hair, and tries to remember her grandfather's music.

The first threads of the song flit through her mind, and she closes her eyes. She places her hands on the keyboard.

And starts to play.

The music then flows naturally, going through her brain like a key in a lock. She doesn't stop, even as the lights around her dim and the starlight falls through the wall of cogs next to her, illuminating her entire body in an ethereal glow.

The wall next to her is her favorite part of her grandfather's workshop. Glistening in a million colors or bronze and silver and gold, it's made entirely of cogs looped together in an endless pattern of metal and time. The cogs open to the night sky, and no glass bars the holes in them. A soft breeze floats through, mussing her hair, although she doesn't stop.

There is nothing for her but the endless music.

The piano itself is old but lovingly cared for by her grandfather. The keys are a shining sheet of white, unchipped, and polished beautifully. The piano sounds as if it was bought just days ago, instead of being generations old. The body of the piano is dark wood painted gold, and when she runs her hand over it, she can feel the smooth paint and the rough wood underneath. Near the bottom of the legs of the piano, the paint has started to flake, and the golden paint chips melt with the starlight to give the girl a deep golden aura.

The stars have always been the backdrop for her playing. She never plays during the day, just like her grandfather always played during the night. When she's playing the piano, the world gets left behind, and it's just her, the music, and the memories of her grandfather.

Part 2 (916 words)

Aditi glances nervously at the clock. Nikita was supposed to have been back hours ago - she shouldn't be nervous, she knows, because scouting parties often arrive late, but she just can't shake the feeling that something is painfully wrong.

The palm trees rustle outside as a monkey leaps across them, screeching madly. It peers through her window, beady eyes fixed on the plate of idli she's made.

“Ach,” Aditi scolds, as if the monkey can understand her. She sweeps the idli off the table, cramming them into a tiffin. “This is not for you.”

The monkey looks at her reproachfully, before swinging off. Aditi laughs shakily. She's losing her mind over nothing.

Then the horns start blowing. “The scouting party is back!” someone yells from outside. Aditi's heart jumps. Nikita. She snatches up the tiffin of idlis and hurries out of their house toward the front of the encampment.

There is very little fanfare around the return of the scouts. Most of the others in the camp looked up once at the horns before returning to what they were doing, but Aditi joins the small crowd of people waiting for the scouting party.

“They're almost here!” a man shouts from the top of a tower. Aditi can hear the pounding of horses, the cloud of dust signifying their arrival, and her heart flutters impatiently in her chest.

“Stand aside!” the person at the head of the procession barks.

Aditi cranes her neck, looking for Nikita -

“Is there a medic somewhere?” a girl at the back of the party calls. “Nikita's hurt - there were shooters in the woods - ”

The girl keeps talking, but Aditi can't hear her anymore, her ears seem to be ringing - Nikita's hurt, Nikita's hurt, Nikita's hurt -

The tiffin slips from her fingers and falls to the ground with a crash.

“Nikita!” The scream breaks free from Aditi's lips. A medic appears and the crowd of people parts, and that's when Aditi sees her, laid out on a stretcher. Her dark hair is pasted to her face, sticky with blood, her skin is yellowish and her breathing is shallow.

And her torso - gods, the amount of blood -

Someone grabs her hand. “Let the medics take care of her,” they say. “You'll do her no good going to her right now.”

“What happened?” Aditi demands. “Scouting parties are supposed to be safe-”

The person presses her tiffin back into her hand. “I'm not sure. You'll be able to see her in a bit.”

The medic's tent is engulfed in a flurry of activity. Aditi sits with her head in her hands in the makeshift waiting room for what feels like days but probably isn't more than an hour or two. Finally, a tired-looking steps through the curtain that separates the waiting room from the rest of the tent.

“She's going to be okay,” she says gently as Aditi leaps up. “She's not awake yet, but you can go in.”

Aditi swallows hard and doesn't even attempt to thank the medic before rushing past her.

“Nikita-” she gasps, seeing her in the bed farthest from her. She sets the tiffin carefully on the ground and gently takes her hand. The wound in her chest has been neatly bandaged and her face has been cleaned of blood. A bag filled with gold medicine flows into her arm, Aditi's heart hurts looking at her - with her hair combed back and face smooth and unworried, Nikita looks achingly beautiful. “I'm here,” she whispers. “I - please wake up, Nikita. Please be okay.”

And she must have fallen asleep because what seems like seconds later, she's being jolted away by a soft, “Aditi?”

“Nikita!” she exclaims. “Hi - are you okay? Do you need anything? I can get a medic - ”

“Aditi.” Nikita gives her a small smile. “I'm fine. It was just an arrow - ”

“Gods, do you hear yourself?” Aditi says wryly. She sighs. “I wish you'd leave scouting for a while,” she says quietly. “Do - do something in the camp - ”

“Scouting is my life, Aditi,” Nikita says. “I can't leave it - any more than I could leave you.”

Aditi's rarely been more thankful that she can't blush. “This is emotional blackmail right here,” she protests. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“I will be fine,” Nikita says, clasping Aditi's hand tightly. Aditi smiles shakily, pressing a light kiss to their intertwined fingers.

“Oh!” Aditi says suddenly, reaching for her tiffin. “I have idli - if you're okay to eat.”

“Idli!” Nikita's eyes light up. “Aditi - do you remember-”

“Our first time meeting.” Aditi smiles softly. “Ma was hovering over our shoulder, but you complimented her idli and she liked you almost immediately.”

Nikita laughs as Aditi opens the tiffin. “I miss your mom's idli,” she says.

“Are you saying I don't make idli like my mom?” Aditi grins at Liya, before her eyes soften. “Yeah, I miss her too.”

Nikita grabs an idli and bites into it. “Mmm,” she groans. “Okay, this is nearly as good as what your mom makes, I'll admit it.”

They're warm still, and soft as butter. The idlis taste like home, like the way her mom's sari sounded when it swished against the floor and the way the kitchen smelled when her mother brought her spice tin out. Cooking was the way Aditi's family spoke to each other, and now that all of them were gone…it was Aditi's job to try to keep that going. To, with any luck, build that kind of home and future with Nikita.

Part 3 (508 words)

Amy's mother smiled gently at Amy, who was perched on the couch, sketching. “She has learned the true value, I imagine, of these shiny baubles that we wear. Especially the ones that have been in our family for so long.”

Amy looked up suddenly from her paper, evidently having not heard a word her mother had said. “Mother, may we go down to the lake today? Meg and Jo and Beth can all come with us, and we shall be able to enjoy its beauty in the twilight.”

“I've rarely heard you remarking on something's beauty that's not your own,” Jo commented from where she was sitting.

“Oh, hush, Jo,” Amy said, flapping her hand at her. “I've turned over a new leaf, don't you see?”

“I do see quite well-” Jo started.

“Girls!” Marmee interrupted. “Don't fight today, not so soon after your father's return. Amy, that is a lovely idea. Jo, please help gather Meg and Beth.”

Jo sighed, tossed aside her papers, and left the sitting room. Amy eyed Jo's writing, but Marmee tsked gently. “Don't touch her writing, Amy. It is her private writing to share with us if she wishes.”

“Oh, fine,” Amy sulks, twisting her ring. “Mother,” she asked suddenly, “Do you think I'm selfish?”

“You've certainly improved, dear,” Marmee said. “And most children are selfish at some point.”

“Beth wasn't,” Amy said moodily.

“Jo and Meg certainly were,” laughed Mr. March. “Cheer up, Amy. You've changed since I've come home, that much is certain.”

Amy smiled smugly and Jo stumped back in with Beth behind her. “Meg says she can't come,” Beth said softly. “She's busy with her embroidery.”

“That's fine,” Mr. March said. “Girls, it's so good to be back home!”

Marmee smiled, taking Mr. March's hands. “Get ready quickly, girls. It will be twilight soon, and we don't want to miss the sunset over the lake.”

“Sunset!” Amy exclaimed, bouncing up. “Let's go, Jo, Beth - we don't want to miss that.”

Beth giggled softly. “Hats and parasols, I assume? I can help anyone find what they need to.”

“Oh, thank you, Beth,” Amy said carelessly over her shoulder. “It would otherwise simply take me an age to find my hat.” Jo shook her head in despair.

“Amy, must you be so selfish to take advantage of Beth in this way?”

“She offered!” Amy flashed at Jo. “You don't mind, do you, Beth?”

“Of course not,” Beth said. “It's fine, Jo.”

“You keep saying she's learned something from that ring!” Jo barrelled on. “I, instead, see that it's just made her more selfish.”

“Mother!” gasped Amy. “Tell her to stop!”

“Jo! Beth!” exclaimed their father. “See now, I've just returned. I do not want my girls fighting over something as small as a ring.”

“But it's not just the ring,” protested Amy.

“I don't care,” their father said firmly. “You will not fight over anything, understood?”

“Yes, father,” Jo murmured, looking at the ground.

Amy huffed but didn't protest. “Fine,” she said. “Let's move on, and head to the lake.”

Part 4 (487 words)

Time has been slipping away from her for so long now.

The piano is her only solace, and it's the only way to save them - save everything. She hears her mother's screams in her ears, the cries of her townspeople, and closes her eyes, letting the music flow desperately over her finger.

The cog wall above her shakes dangerously, and the starlight holding in together wavers.

No! Arla screams silently. She will not, cannot, let her world be thrown apart.

The notes she's playing come out more jaggedly now, loud and sharp. See, the music reflects her mood, and when all is calm and peaceful, time moves slowly and on…well, time.

Now, when she most needs that peace and calm, she's panicked, and time speeds up with her song.

“Arla!” her grandfather shouts from where he's trying to run toward her. “What are you doing?”

Please, I swear I can fix this, she thinks desperately. Just a little more time-

But that's what she doesn't have. The notes grow discordant, and the cog wall begins to crack. Starlight starts to pool around her, fleeing from the downfall of time.

Then, the cogs start to fall.

It's slow at first - just a few sawed-off loose pieces and Arla thinks maybe she can still fix everything. That time isn't destroying itself.

With a horrible creaking noise, the huge cog holding up the wall collapses.

Arla stops playing abruptly. The cog wall is destroyed - she looks out the hole the cog left in growing horror at the smashed pieces and cloud of dust rising into the night air.

Maybe, maybe, she can rebuild everything, if she keeps playing…

But she already feels the seconds slipping through her fingers.

“NO!” she screams.

Her grandfather's face wizens and ages in front of her eyes - the shop flickers between the way it looked in the past and the way it might look in the future - the sky outside lightens and brightens within seconds-

“How do I fix this?” she begs to the sky. “Help me!”

And then, miraculously…the starlight answers. She watches in stupefaction as it rises from the ruins of the cog wall and floats towards her, settling around her arms and into her white hair. Hardly understanding, she looks cautiously into a polished cog and sees her own reflection, haloed in a golden glow.

She opens and closes her hand, and the cogs respond to her. They float into the air, and, as Arla laughs in disbelief, she spreads her arms wide, and they float back into place. She snaps her fingers, and the sky returns to night.

She approaches her grandfather, and, holding her breath, touches his face.

He sits straight upright, returned to his normal age.

“Arla,” he breathes, looking at her. “The star and time…they have chosen you. You are time now.”

And although she should be shocked, Arla smiles. Something about it just feels…right.

She is Time.

(2318 words)

Writing Comp Concept

Arla's first memory is of her grandfather's workshop. She was never really sure what he made there, but she remembers the long wooden workbench, covered with strange metal tools, and the dozens of ticking clocks that covered three of the walls.

And, of course, she remembered the final glimmering wall made entirely of cogs that opened into the night sky, under which rested the centerpiece of the workshop: his golden grand piano, which, when the light hit it, seemed to shimmer with the light of a thousand stars. Her grandfather played the piano like a maestro in a one-man orchestra, playing for an invisible audience only he seemed to be able to see.

“Remember Arla,” he used to say in his creaky old voice, “Even when I'm gone, my songs will guide you to me.”

“But grampie,” she'd pouted, grabbing at his pant leg, “You can't leave me.”

Arla had been too young to remember his weary smile, or the way he'd hesitated before running his hand over her head. “As long as you remember my music, my dear, I will never leave you.”

***

“He's a lunatic,” Arla's mother snapped at her, every time she asked to go back to his workshop. “Prattling on about magic and time and music - live in the real world, Arla. Leave his maniac ramblings behind.”

“He's not a lunatic!” Arla would protest, but her mother never listened to her. She'd left her grandfather when she was sixteen, running away to the city in the hope of an industrial life. She swore she'd found it, that the life she had was better than the one with her grandfather, but Arla knew it wasn't true.
How could this life, crammed into a tiny apartment above a smoke shop, be any better than the life of magic and music that her grandfather led.

***

When Arla was ten, her mother finally allowed a brief visit to her grandfather's. “I need you out of my hair, even if just for a week,” she snarled. “Go lose your mind in idiotic ideas and see if I care.”

Arla wasn't listening. She hopped anxiously from side to side, waiting for the moment-

The door swung open. “Grampie!” Arla shrieked, flinging herself into his arms.

“How's my little star?” he chuckled, sweeping her up.

“Be careful with her, Dad,” Arla's mom said quietly from behind her. “Don't go filling her head nonsense.”

“Nothing I ever say is nonsense,” he said, winking at Arla. “You ready?”

The way to her grandfather's workshop was something of a mystery. Every time she went, Arla would press her nose to the window of the train they took, resolving stubbornly to stay awake until they arrived. And every time, even if they left in the middle of the day, she'd fall asleep halfway through the journey before being jostled awake by her grandfather.

Arla never cared for long, though, because as soon she saw the sweeping wall of cogs, gleaming brass and bronze and silver, she forgot all her troubles. She was home.

“Come on, Grampie!” she called, skipping towards the workshop.

“Wait,” he said in a hushed voice. He looked up at the night sky, then back at Arla. Slowly, he cupped his hands and lifted them into the air. When he brought them back down, his hands were full of a glowing, golden substance.

“Is that-” she asked softly.

“Starlight,” he said, nodding. “Listen.”

He brought his hands to her ear, and Arla gasped softly. “Music,” she whispered. The stars sang with all the yearning for magic, for a life far away from her mother's vitriol. “Grampie, does this mean - magic is real?”

“Magic always has been real, my dear,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “You just didn't know where to look.”

***

Arla practiced summoning starlight through the window of her bedroom. Someone threw a rock through it years ago, and her mother refused to fix it - but it finally had one benefit. Almost every night, she stood at her shattered window, holding her hands out in the frigid air, calling on the stars the way her grandfather did. It took her years to manage more than a wisp

(694 words)

this was such a good concept! i love the idea of music being magic (or vice versa), and the imagery with the starlight was intriguing. the dynamic between the mother and the grandfather is interesting, too. it reminds me a little of peter pan and how, once you grow up, you “lose” the ability to believe. i can't wait to see what you have planned in that aspect especially.

you do have a few different conflicts set up here that i would keep an eye on. i spot three at a glance: mother versus grandfather, arla versus her mother, and arla's internal conflict. it's not a problem, but it's something to consider. i also feel like there's more going on behind the scenes with the mother, but that might be me.

there was one phrase that kind of confused me in the seventh paragraph: “She'd left her grandfather when she was sixteen.” alone, it was fine, but i had to reread it when i got to the ninth paragraph and it said arla was ten. the back-and-forth can be a little confusing: the first section is her first memory, the next is when she's sixteen, then it's back to her being ten, and then to a time between ten and sixteen. i'm guessing it'll make sense altogether when the piece is complete, though. ^^

this is such a wonderful concept; thank you for letting me read it! <3

7/11: SWC Song Parodies

You say
The price of wrist pain's not a price that you're willing to pay
You cry
Into your half-written drafts, which you hurl into the cabin war writing threads when you see me go by

Why so sad?
Remember, we made an arrangement when you joined this camp
Now, you're making me sad
Remember, despite your anger, I'm are your man

You'll be back, in two weeks, you'll see
You'll remember how much fun you have with me
You'll be back, time will tell
You'll remember that I served you well
Cabins rise, ranks fall
We have seen each other through it all
And when push comes to shove
I will send a 4000 word war to remind you of my love!

Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-Ca, Cab, Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca, Cab, Cab, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-Ca, Cab, Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca, Cab, Cab, Cab-in-wars

You say your motivation is draining, and you can't go on
You'll be the one complainin' when I am gone
And no, don't close your writing tabs
'Cause you know they're your favorite tabs
My sweet, submissive subject
My loyal, royal subject
Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever

You'll be back like before
You will fight the procrastination and win the cabin war
For your cabin's love, for your their praise
And I'll love you ‘til my dying days
When you’re gone, I'll be so sad
So don't throw away this thing we had
'Cause when push comes to shove
I will destroy your enemy cabins to remind you of my love

Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-Ca, Cab, Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca, Cab, Cab, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-Ca, Cab, Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca, Cab-everybody

(campers come scrambling out)

Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-Ca, Cab, Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca, Cab, Cab, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-Ca, Cab, Ca-Ca-Ca, Cab-in-wars
Ca-Ca, Cab, Cab, Cab-in-wars

(294 words)

Word War Proof 4

Finn curses fluidly, staring at the melting spatula as the smell of burning rubber fills the kitchen.

“Finn?” Leo asks in a small, frightened voice.

“Shh,” Lea says, smoothing Leo's hair. She looks at Finn, who is still frozen next to the stove. “Let him be. Let the pancakes be. You eat, okay?

”I want to talk to Finn,“ she says again, her little hands balled up.

”Finn…he can't talk right now, okay?“

”But when will I get to talk to him?“ she yells. ”We're never seeing him again, and he won't even talk to us!“

Lea sees Finn's body jolt as if someone had stabbed him, and Lea's heart aches. She knows how hard all of this is for Finn. He's always closed up during hard times, but never…never to this extent. Never enough so that he doesn't even talk to the kids.

”Leo,“ Isla says softly. ”Come over here - I want to show you something."

Leo shoots Finn another desperate glance, but moves towards Isla anyways.

(168 words)

Hey Alia! It's Mines, I've come to critique your work! Right off the bat, I wanna say that I LOVE GREEK MYTHOLOGY THIS WAS SO PERFECT! I honestly think you captured the relationships well, though I have limited knowledge on this. The writing is so well written, and the perspective is something unique to me. I don’t usually, or I don’t think I’ve ever read a piece written in “3rd Person Present Tense.” Hard to grasp onto at first since I was unfamiliar, but after a few read-throughs I got used to it. You don’t have to change any of it, I think it’s pretty unique! But anyways, onto my critique.

Since you asked for what I felt, honestly what I felt was joy for the characters, even with little context in the beginning. I only know the original myth, where Orpheus loses Eurydice twice, which is heartbreaking. Also, the strained relationship between Persephone and Hades. Though I don’t know the context of “Hadestown” or anything about it, I think you captured the emotions excellently, and I genuinely felt happy for them when I read it.

For what you can cut, I think you might be able to mesh together paragraphs 4 (the one with the part about how Orpheus can’t find his voice) and the final paragraph.

Sorry if my writing sounds a bit disjointed, I’m tired and this is my first time critiquing a work, but thanks for taking the time to critique mine, I wish you well in your writing journeys!

<3 from Fantasy, Mines

258 Words

7/12: Cabin Intro (Fantasy Forest)

The forest surrounding you glimmers with the light of a thousand colors. You gasp softly as you make your way over the mossy path, looking in awe at the trees that stretch endlessly upwards in every shade of green. Sunlight filters through the canopy of branches, and butterflies flit through the undergrowth. You laugh softly as a deer peers curiously between two ferns at you.

“What is this place?” you think in wonder.

“This is our enchanted forest,” you hear a soft voice behind you. You whirl around to see a girl with dark hair stepping out from behind a tree, wreathed in a soft glow. “My name is Alia, and I'm on of the nymph caretakers for this forest.”

Two other people appear next to her. “We're the other caretakers,” one says, smiling.

“Our forest is in danger,” the other says gravely. “A terrible fog is sucking the life from out forest. Can you help us save it?”

You know you can't let this beautiful paradise be hurt. “Of course,” you say firmly. “How can I help?”

(178 words)

7/13: Flowers

Persephone first stumbles into the Underworld when she's seven years old.

She's not entirely sure how she ended up there - less than a moment ago, she'd been picking daisies with her mother's nymphs under the sunlight. And now…now, well, she can't really see anything. It's dark, and it's gloomy, and she feels so alone-

Something moans behind her, and Persephone screams.

“Don't do that,” a voice says suddenly from next to her. “You'll scare them.”

“Who's there?” Persephone shrieks, clutching at her basket of flowers. “Sh-show yourself!”

The darkness recedes slightly to reveal a boy with dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks about her age, and he wears a dark cloak that falls past the ground and wrinkles at his feet. It looks almost comical on him.

“I'm Hades,” the boy says. “You'll scare the spirits if you scream.”

“Sp-spirits? Is this the Underworld?” Persephone's heard terrible stories of the Underworld from her mom, about the dead who'll steal your soul and the terrible rulers who'll capture you and force you to care for the ghosts for them.

Hades rolls his eyes impressively. “I'm sure you've heard stories of how evil we all are here. We're really not that bad.”

Persephone looks at her feet. “I didn't say you were,” she says protectively.

“But you thought it.” Hades looks at her flowers. “Are those - flowers?”

Persephone nods, pulling out a handful. “Don't you have some down here?”

“Only one type. They're not nearly as pretty as these.” Hades hesitantly touches one of them, eyes widening with awe. “They're beautiful.”

“I'll bring you more!” Persephone offers.

“You'd come back down here?”

Persephone lifts her chin stubbornly. “I told you I didn't think you're evil.”

“Will your parents care?” he asks quietly

“I-” Persephone thinks suddenly of what her mother would say if she knew Persephone was coming to the Underworld. “I'm not doing anything wrong,” she says. “I'm coming back soon.”

He smiles then, a quick flash of joy before his face settles back into darkness. “Then I'll see you soon.”

***

Persephone sneaks away to the Underworld whenever she can. Her mother spends at least part of every week on Mount Olympus, and her nymph caretakers…well, they're not exactly the most attentive. She usually makes up some vague excuse about needing air and skips over to the cracked rock that serves as the portal to the Underworld.

Hades is a strange sort of boy. They're almost the exact same age, but he seems…older. He doesn't talk like she does with her nymph friends. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't even smile. She'll tell him a funny story or laugh at something he tells her, and he'll just…look at her. His eyebrows scrunch together, and he'll sometimes even ask her why she's laughing.

“Because it's funny, you idiot,” she'll say, smacking him across his shoulder. He just shrugs and asks her about her life. He's fascinated with her tales of her mother and their simple life in the outskirts of Greece. Persephone knows how strange it is that she and her mother don't live on Mount Olympus with all the other gods, but she doesn't care. She likes her life.

For his part, Hades doesn't tell her anything about him. She knows he's preparing to take over the Underworld one day, but she doesn't know if he has even parents. He tells her about the different parts of the Underworld, but he doesn't offer to take her there and she doesn't ask. As far as she knows, she's the only living person he has to talk to.

Persephone makes a game out of trying to make him smile. She brings him different flowers and gossips about the antics of the gods. She notices that he smiles ever so slightly while she's talking when he thinks she's not looking at him.

But so many times, she still thinks that Hades doesn't need her friendship the way she needs his. Like air, like water - she thinks sometimes that without Hades' friendship, she would be entirely lost.

***

When Persephone is fifteen, her mother sits her down at their kitchen table.

“Persephone,” she says, smiling. “Zeus and I have decided that it's time for you to come to Mount Olympus and claim your place as a god. I have secluded you here long enough.”

“Olympus?” Persephone breathes. “You mean - with all the gods and the splendor-” And then her heart nearly stops. Hades.

“Yes, dear.” Her mother takes Persephone's hand. “Aren't you excited?”

“I - Mother, yes, but - I like our life here, just us…” She swallows hard. “Couldn't we just stay here?”

“Persephone,” her mother says soothingly. “I know change is scary, but I'll be in on Olympus with you. You'll have a great time.”

Persephone nods. “May I go outside?” she asks hurriedly. Her mother nods, and Persephone races to the portal.

“Hades!” she calls as soon as she reaches the Underworld. “Hades!”

He appears next to her in a whirl of shadows. “Persephone! Are you - are you okay?”

“Mother wants us to go to Olympus,” she says in a rush. “And stay there - and - and - be away from here, and the flowers, and nature, and you-”

Hades' face pales. “You're leaving?” he whispers.

Persephone almost starts crying right then at the look on his face. “I don't want to!” she says desperately. “But - Hades, wait. You're a god too - why don't you come to Olympus.”

His face closes off. “I can't,” he says tightly. “I'm not - I'm not welcome there.”

“But - ”

“Wait here a moment,” Hades says. He disappears, leaving Persephone to worry at her lip and imagine a life without Hades.

He returns a moment later, clutching a bouquet of white flowers. “Asphodel,” he says. “The flowers of the Underworld. Since you've - since you've given me so many flowers, I thought I'd finally give you mine.”

“They're beautiful,” she whispers. Much prettier than the daisies she'd given him.

“I wouldn't suggest you show them to anyone,” he says, almost wryly. “But something - to remind you of me.”

“I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you,” she murmurs.

And then Hades really does smile. She nearly gasps at the way it transforms his face, and she nearly misses his next words - “Persephone,” he says gently, taking her hand. “You've given me so much.”

She loses her battle with her tears at that. Hades hesitates for just a moment, and then he folds her into his arms. She presses her head against his shoulder, struggling to compose herself. It strikes her that she's never hugged him before.

“I'll miss you,” she mumbles.

“No you won't,” he says, but he's teasing her. “You'll grow so enchanted with the gods-”

“As if,” she snorts, taking a step back.

His eyes soften, though he doesn't smile again. “You know I'll miss you too.”

With a terrible tightening in her stomach, Persephone realizes how long it's been. “Mother'll be wondering where I am,” she says. “I - I have to go.”

Hades nods in a resolved sort of way. “I know,” he says, touching her hand. “Try not to get too full of yourself up there.”

“I'll try.” She takes one look back at him. Somehow, in the eight years they've known each other, he's grown from the chubby face boy who could hardly manage his cloak to the true master of the Underworld. His dark hair still falls over his eyes, but his cloak fits steady and strong around him. They've both changed so much.

Persephone bows her head as he raises his hand in farewell…and then…he's gone.

(1280 words)

Writing Comp Entry: Ascending the Stage

Arangetram
/ˌɑː.ɹɑn.'geɪ.tɽʌm / • noun
Sanskrit - Ascending the Stage
Definition: a two hour solo dance performance that symbolizes a Bharatanatyam dancer’s graduation

There is something almost holy about stepping on stage before your arangetram. The theatre is silent, and the lights aren't on yet. It feels like every bit of energy in the universe is concentrated on you, right there, at that moment.

You close your eyes and exhale. You don't know how the next hours are going to go. But for that moment, you feel at peace. You can do this.

I first broached the idea of an arangetram when I was seven years old. We were watching a friend's arangetram, the first one I'd ever seen, and I was enchanted. I'd been doing Bharatanatyam for two years at that point, and I knew I, too, was ready for an Arangetram.

“Mama,” I puffed after the arangetram was over. “I'm ready for mine!”

She laughed, taking my hand. “Alia, you know enough Bharatanatyam to dance for two hours?”

“Of course!”

“Hm,” she considered. “I'll talk to your teacher about it.”

I grinned, convinced that I'd be having my arangetram in a matter of weeks.

Of course, as one can imagine, I didn't, in fact, have my arangetram that year. Bharatanatyam is an incredibly complex dance - I describe it as an amalgamation of acting, footwork, and handwork. It takes nearly ten years to build up to one.

I forgot about that arangetram quickly, though, moving back into the steady pace of weekly classes and bi-annual performances. Dance was a fundamental constant in my life - an annoying one at times, sure, but it wasn't something I could ever give up. The girls in the class I'd been part of since I was five years were like sisters to me - familiar as my own family, comfortable as home. They were pillars in my life. I was sucked into the rhythm of the now, and soon enough, an arangetram felt like a distant concept, something that existed only in an unknown, untouchable realm of high schoolers and older dance girls.

The steady buzz of the audience's voice grows louder, and anxiety swirls in your stomach. How many people are here to see you? That moment of clarity seems to have entirely disappeared.

An auntie appears. “You're going to do great,” she says soothingly.

Your throat seems to have closed over, so you just nod as if you believe her.

When COVID hit, dance classes went virtual. This was a minor travesty, but I didn't mind entirely - it would only be weeks until we returned to the studio and our class's easy comradery.

Then the weeks fell past like the beat of a song, quick and unceasing. One after the other, achingly slow but also so, so quickly - we transformed from awkward middle schoolers to high schoolers convinced of our own quiet superiority by the time we returned to classes in the studio.

I'm not sure what I was expecting - that in two years nothing would change? That we'd remain the close-knit group we'd been for so long?

That seems reasonable, doesn't it?

Cliques formed - even in a group of ten girls. Half of them went to the same high school, and suddenly all they could talk about was their classes and their homework and all the people they knew that I didn't. Text groups had been formed over COVID, groups I hadn't been invited to join. There were inside jokes, whispered conversations, secrets that I wasn't part of, and soon enough, I grew to dread dance class.

Somewhere in the haze of these classes, my mom mentioned I was old enough for an arangetram.

“Alia,” she said slowly. “I know you haven't been interested in dance lately. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course,” I said in confusion. It was an absolute no-brainer for me, despite everything. I'd been doing dance for nine years by then. Of course I would do an arangetram.

Your teacher appears one last time to tell you that you have four minutes left before everything starts. Your breathing hitches, and you're already sweating.

Three minutes.

The aunties melt away, and you're left alone in the stage wings. You can feel your heartbeat against the silk of your costume.

Two minutes.

Your music's intro starts playing. The audience quiets.

And for a moment, the world goes silent. The universe shrinks to just you, the bells on your ankles, and your feet against the stage. Dust whirls through the air under the lights as the audience falls away. It feels infinitely more poignant than the moment when you were alone on stage.

You can do this.

I despised arangetram classes at first. They started in the middle of my sophomore year when I was knee-deep in APs and school extracurriculars, and practicing an hour three times a week seemed like insanity. Classes grew tense because my teacher grew upset at my lack of practice, which led me to associate bad memories with dance class, which led to practicing even less. It was a vicious, vicious cycle.

My dancing didn't improve for months, and I could see the lines of frustration on my teacher's forehead at the end of every class. I didn't learn from his lectures on practice; instead, I harbored bitterness against him and Bharatanatyam as a whole. I lay awake at night and wondered why on earth was I putting myself through this - for college? Because at that point, I wasn't doing it for myself. I was slogging through, simply trying to get from class to class. I was entirely ready to quit.

But this was dance. Despite everything, despite losing the camaraderie I'd had with my classmates, despite despising my classes…I couldn't imagine my life without it. The moment I thought of quitting, my brain automatically rebelled.

It took the end of AP testing to make something in me finally click. I still remember that practice so clearly - both my exams were over, and I was dancing facing the mirror.

And I loved the way I was dancing. This was the first time I truly believed that I was a good dancer - that by putting effort into practicing, my dancing would look like this.

My teacher, who was always reluctant to give praise, commented on my dancing after class.

“You danced very nicely today, Alia.”

It felt like I'd been handed the stars.

You finish your first dance and hurry backstage. There's a flurry of movement as an auntie retightens your bells and fixes your necklace and another presses a water bottle into your hands and a forkful of grapes. It feels like your body is physically there, drinking water and adjusting your costume, but your consciousness is elsewhere, either still on stage or maybe dancing in the clouds.

This is your moment.

I met my mentor Aditi Didi about three months before my arangetram. In my dance school, a mentor is someone you work with to perfect the dances the teacher choreographed. Aditi Didi was instrumental in the process - she provided the praise my teacher rarely gave, and she acted like a sounding board for all my anxieties. She gave me so much during the process, and it was really due to her that I was able to put so much into it too. With her, classes sped by.

When the last week before the arangetram arrived, days fell away like dominoes. Costume alterations, family arriving from out of state and out of the country, twice-daily full run throughs I barely had time to breathe, let alone think about the performance.

Saturday arrived before I knew it. The morning was a whirl of makeup and costumes and pulling at my hair to tie it into its firm braid. We arrived at the theatre early, when I stepped out on stage alone.

One moment from before the performance stands out - twenty minutes before showtime, I sat alone in the dressing room. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw an alternative version of me, one wearing stage makeup and the kind of jewelry I'd dreamed of for years.

That was when it all felt so utterly real.

When the last note of your last song ends, you're not sure how to describe how you feel. There's a moment of silence.

Then the audience roars to their feet, and you hear the thunder of applause fill the theatre. You see blurry faces through the haze of the half-tears in your eyes. You feel…incandescent. Surreal. This - this is so fully yours. Your mentor throws her arms around you the moment you step backstage and -

Somehow, you have done it.

***

Sunday, June 23, 2023

When I first sat down to write this piece last week, I had the vague idea that I might write the ending after the arangetram. What I did not know was that this would be the most emotional piece I've ever written.

The end of an arangetram is such a bittersweet moment, because it's inevitably the end of something. It's been such an integral part of my life for a year, and it's hard - impossible - to imagine life without it.

Throughout the actual day of the performance yesterday, there was such a feeling of being part of something. Of having done something impossible and almost fragile. It genuinely felt like the world had narrowed to me and my moment - those few hours that were wholly, wholly mine. Because I had done it. The moment I'd been imagining for years was there, and I had done it.

Memories keep flashing through my mind of the arangetram day - my teacher snipping at me to stand still as he applied eyeliner; circling the stage and staring out over the empty theatre; sitting alone backstage twenty minutes before the curtain went up when it hit so crushingly that oh my god this is happening; the stage lights, flashing across the stage in that moment before my music started playing; Aditi Didi and another aunty frantically changing my costume between dances; my dance teacher's wife's smile every time I looked over at her in the wings; and the pure feeling of transcendence, of overwhelming relief and joy, when the final note in my final dance played.

After my arangetram, Aditi Didi appeared to help me pack my things.

“Alia-” She paused. “I had a lot of fun too.” Her voice caught, and I turned away quickly to swallow back my tears.

I saw her once again, as she was getting into her car after the program. It was from across the street, but she smiled at me, a small, sad sort of smile. “Bye,” I heard her call.

I spent the walk back to the restaurant where we were having dinner fighting back tears.

Aditi Didi isn't one of our usual teachers, meaning I have no idea when I'll see her again. These months we spent together - they culminated in yesterday's glistening peak, and just…ended.

I still think that I'll wake up tomorrow morning and dress for my daily 3:00 dance class. How - how is everything over?

It doesn't feel real that just twenty-four hours ago, I was on stage. I don't want to forget a moment of yesterday, the heartache and elation and relief and anxiety that rolled through me at every moment.

I think, though, above all, I want to remember the joy of seeing myself dance, of feeling like I could do something so well my pride in it was entirely untouched. We had the entire performance video recorded, but I don't plan on watching them. I want the last memory of watching myself dancing to be in the mirror at my teacher's studio, Aditi Didi clapping her hands to the beat as she watches me, as I felt like the world was just me, the music, and the smile on my face from the bliss of dance.

(1992 words)

A/N: Huge thanks to @-Nightglow- for convincing me to start writing this piece, @theniqhtsfall for the ipa at the beginning, and @cb2jkl, @MoonlitSeas, @Polarbear_17, and @TheBibliophile7 for speed critiquing this <33 All names have been replaced with pseudonyms

Writing Comp Entry (Fanfic): The World the Way It Is / The World the Way It Could Be

Orpheus may be gone, but his music is not.

He laments for his love, and his despair is felt across the world.

It is sorrow, yes, but it is also guilt. He sings, and the world wilts with him.

***

Deep in Hadestown, Eurydice hears the music of her lost love. It reverberates beneath her bones, deep under the stones of the wall she toils on. The walls know his music, after all. Persephone watches her come undone, bit by bit, and every year-

“Let her go, Hades.”

He turns to her scornfully. “They tried, Persephone. They failed. She belongs here now.”

"And what about the world above? My world, Hades, that suffers because you keep her here?“

He looks away from her. ”I will consider,“ he says gruffly. ”Next year, maybe.“

And Persephone returns to the world above, and watches spring turn to summer while the earth weeps.

***

Year after year passes, yet Orpheus continues to sing.

”Orpheus!“ Eurydice screams from below. ”I'm here! I'm here!“ But he can't hear her, of course, and Eurydice closes her heart, trying to keep herself together.

***

”The workers,“ Hades storms. ”They're restless. They don't like - they don't like this song. They can feel it.“

”I told you, love,“ Persephone murmurs. ”They feel it, the stones feel it - let her go, or this world will fall to ruin.“

”But if I let her leave, then the rest will riot - “

”They too are sick of watching her suffer!“ Persephone exclaims. ”They too are tired of having to hear his song. Let her go, and they will thank you for eternity.“

***

Hades watches the stones of his wall crumble. He watches his people rally around Eurydice. He watches the ground tremble with Orpheus' song, and he breaks once more under the spell of the music.

When he goes to get Persephone the next year, he holds her in his arms and says, ”Tell the girl, love, that she can leave. If she can find Orpheus, she will be free."

Persephone's eyes flare with hope, and she remembers why she fell in love with this imperfect god of shadow.

***

Eurydice stares at her pickaxe. Get up, Eurydice. Work. You have nothing-

“Eurydice.” A raspy voice forces her to look up.

“Lady Persephone,” she whispers. She clears her throat as she struggles to stand, wiping her grimy hands against her grimier pants. “I'm sorry - I wasn't expecting - ” She falls back to her knees as Orpheus' song shakes through the ground.

Persephone pulls Eurydice to her feet and hands her a cup of wine. “Drink, child. Hades is giving you the chance to leave. Find Orpheus, and you will be free from here.”

“Do not lie to me, Lady Persephone,” Eurydice murmurs. The world as it is, she thinks bitterly.

“This is no lie. The train will be running tonight. Leave, and you can find him.”

“Tricks,” she says. "Conditions and lies. I know Hades' traps.“

Persephone rolls her eyes. ”Child, don't you want to be free? Run, now, as fast as you can. He's been waiting for you this whole time, whether he knows it or not."

Wait for me, Orpheus whispers in her mind. Eurydice wrenches her mind from his voice.

“Don't make me hope this way,” she says, turning away.

“Come to the station tonight!” Persephone calls as Eurydice walks shakily away. “Gods, these kids.”

***

She doesn't allow herself to hope, but she stumbles toward the train station despite herself.

The train's there, cold iron and hot steam. She looks around at the dull rock and gray haze that seems to sit over everything, and isn’t quite able to believe that she’s actually going to leave. But she takes a broken, disbelieving step onto the train

…and watches Hadestown disappear behind her.

It takes less than a day for the train to break through the surface. All of a sudden there's sunlight seeping through the cracks in the window. And there's wind, and there are birds, and she can see the world again - and it's beautiful.

Is this how Orpheus saw the world? With all the beauty it could have instead of all the sorrow it held? She takes a deep breath, gazing out the window, and she remembers how to breathe.

***

Then, she searches. “Do you know this boy?” she calls to everyone she sees, but Orpheus is nowhere to be found. Everyone knows who he is, and they've all heard his song like a chant under their feet…but no one knows where he could be.

Please, she thinks desperately. I have fought too hard to find you to have you ripped away. Please, just tell me where you are!

Then, almost as if he hears her, she can feel his song. She closes her eyes, and she can feel his pain and sorrow and guilt that's reflected in her heart. Pressing her fingers to the ground, she feels for the direction his song is leading.

There.

To their spot. Where they first lay together under the stars without space between them, whispered secrets and glowing embers of love.

And Eurydice knows he is there. She knows where he is, she knows how to get there - has she not dreamed of this place enough?

Orpheus, wait for me.

***

She finds him staring out over the waves, his back to her. He's on the edge of the cliff, his lyre hanging limply from his fingers.

And he's singing.

His voice is heartbreakingly beautiful as always, but this - this is more than beauty. This is pain, the naked anguish in his voice, the love, oh, the love, her name, again and again and again and again-

Eurydice doesn't notice when she drops to her knees. The ground is shaking, and the wind is whipping around her- “Orpheus!” she screams. “Stop!”

He pauses. “Eurydice,” he whispers, but he doesn't turn around. “Eurydice…” He shakes his head. “Dreams,” he says in the same half-whisper.

“Orpheus,” she says again, her voice choking on his name. “Orpheus, this isn't a dream.”

He turns around then, soft dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks at her like a blind man who doesn't know how to react to his first sight of the sun. “Is it really you?” he whispers.

She lets out a sobbing laugh. “Yes, Orpheus, it's me!”

Orpheus falls to his knees next to her. He reaches out as if to touch her cheek. “You're real,” he croaks out dazedly. “You - how'd you come here?”

"Hades sent me to find you, Orpheus - I'm free.“ She grabs onto his hand and he stares at it in wonder.

”No,“ he says, his voice high and vulnerable. He shakes his head, standing up and taking a halting step back. ”Eurydice, I'm the one to blame for all of this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.“

”You don't have to be - I'm free now! Orpheus, you can come home with me.“

”I don't have a home, Eurydice,“ he whispers. ”I can't give you anything. I don't - “

”You don't need to give me any promises,“ Eurydice exclaims, holding Orpheus's face. She brushes her thumb across his cheek. ”I've lived in hell - I just want you here, beside me.“

”Are you sure?“ he asks. His voice wobbles as he takes another step toward her. Shakily, his hands find her waist. ”Eurydice, are you sure?“

”Take me home,“ she repeats, and long at last, his body trembling, he folds her into his arms and holds her close.

”Eurydice,“ he murmurs against her hair. ”Eurydice." He sounds like he can't believe it, and she can't believe it really either, that he's here, whole and solid and so, so alive.

“So - what now?” he asks. His eyes search her face in awe.

Eurydice smiles. “We find home. We'll figure it out, Orpheus.”

***

Down in Hadestown, Hades watches the lovers.

“Do you regret it?” Persephone asks. Her boots are kicked up on the table, her eyes slightly unfocused. “Letting them go?”

“How can I?” Hades says roughly. He looks down at his workers. “They're working well again.”

“You know, it wouldn't hurt to ease up on them a bit,” Persephone suggests lazily. “Take down your wall a little, you know?”

Hades doesn't respond. He turns away from his wife, his hands clasped harshly behind his back.

***

The next summer, Hades stands among his workers. He watches them dismantle the wall and looks up at the bright summer sky, high above all of them.

“I'm doing this for you, love,” he mutters. Something like a smile touches his face.

***

“Will you sing for me?” Eurydice asks. She's perched on top of a box in their house - well, more of a shack, really - with her hair pulled back, head tilted. Orpheus thinks she looks enchanting.

“Huh?” He straightens up suddenly, pulled from his daze. “Sing?”

“Yes, Orpheus, what you've been doing for years,” Eurydice says matter-of-factly.

“I don't - I don't know any of my songs anymore,” he admits.

“So make something up,” she suggests.

He swallows. And he starts to sing. Eurydice gasps - his voice is like a storm, deep and strong and-

He breaks off suddenly. “Can't find the tune,” he says in frustration. “I'm sorry, Eurydice, I just - I can't.” He looks at her with big, pleading eyes, kneeling on the ground in front of her, taking her hands. “How could you forgive me?”

Eurydice bites her lip. “Come with me,” she says, squeezing his hand.

***

Summer turns to fall, and Persephone returns to Hadestown. “Back to a sunless world, back to a world of walls and rocks,” she gripes as the train pulls into the station. “Back to coal and oil and-” Her voice breaks off as the wall comes into view. “What is this?”

She stares out over what was Hadestown's wall, now piles of rock and torn-down rubble. She turns back to Hades, eyes wide.

“I took your advice,” he says slowly. “The wall is gone. They will still work here. But they will not be bound.”

“Love,” she gasps, grasping his hands. “You did this?”

“Everything I do,” he says. “I do it for the love of you.”

***

Eurydice leads Orpheus out to a field of flowers. Carnations - the same as Orpheus gave her when they first met.

“Flowers,” she says softly. She closes her eyes, drawing Orpheus into her arms and swaying gently. “Your song brought the world back into tune,” she murmurs. “It can bring us back into tune as well.”

He bows his head against hers. “Okay,” he whispers. Spinning her around, he starts to sing.

It starts off rough, almost harsh-sounding - young, unpolished - but then his voice lifts, and something in Eurydice breaks free. She lets out a breathless laugh, and she's crying, and Orpheus looks at her with amazed eyes. His voice rises, a song of harmony and passion, and above all else, it's their song.

Eurydice sings with him, and the trees bend down to their song and the birds join in because never, never has the world heard anything like this.

Their song flows through the ground as the world rejoices at the reunion, reinvigorating a world parched of joy and laughter. It reverberates into Hadestown, where Persephone grins at their song. “Will you dance?”

And so in the world below, Hades and Persephone dance among the rubble of a fallen wall, while in the sunlit skies above, Orpheus and Eurydice sway in a brilliant field of glowing red carnations.

(1902 words)

A/N: Huge thanks to @scratch_warrior_cat for reading and critiquing it from the first drafts <33 and thanks to @Sandy-Dunes, @pages-of-ink, @smalltow, @cb2jkl and @TheBibliophile7 for critiquing <3

Oh wow, okay - Alia, this essay is amazing. It's difficult to take a personal part of your life and write about it in a way that interests, and even moves, the reader. But that's exactly what you've done here! Every part of your essay fits together so well to create a hugely emotional and impactful piece. I may not understand the full depth of your experiences/relationship with Bharatanatyam, but in under 2k words you've provided a powerful glimpse into this part of your life and what it means to you. In all honesty, I have very little to critique - everything I'm about to write now is just nitpick-y details that barely affect the overall quality. Again, this is so good <33 But anyways, let's get into it!

Arangetram
/ˌɑː.ɹɑn.'geɪ.tɽʌm / • noun
Sanskrit - Ascending the Stage
Definition: a two hour solo dance performance that symbolizes a Bharatanatyam dancer’s graduation

There is something almost holy about stepping on stage before your arangetram. The theatre is silent, and the lights aren't on yet. It feels like every bit of energy in the universe is concentrated on you, right there, at that moment.

You close your eyes and exhale. You don't know how the next hours are going to go. But for that moment, you feel at peace. You can do this.

Ahh ok so before we even get to the more criticial bits, can I just say that I love how you started this piece? The definition is really helpful for people who aren't familiar with Bharatanatyam, but it also kind of sets the mood (if that makes sense). It both tells you what this essay might be about and grabs your attention. I immediately wanted to read more after that intro. The second person narration is also so well done. The little bits of it interspersed all throughout the essay really elevate your writing and add to the perspective/emotional impact.

We were watching a friend's arangetram, the first one I'd ever seen, and I was enchanted.

Could you maybe specify who “we” is referring to? I know you clarify this in the next paragraph by mentioning your mother, but it is a little confusing here.

Of course, as one can imagine, I didn't, in fact, have my arangetram that year.

This is a slightly clunky sentence. Maybe you could consider removing the “as one can imagine” and “in fact”? You would still be getting your point across, while being smoother and more readable.

One after the other, achingly slow but also so, so quickly - we transformed from awkward middle schoolers to high schoolers convinced of our own quiet superiority by the time we returned to classes in the studio.

Something seems a bit off about this sentence? I think it might be a grammer thing - “we transformed… by the time we returned to classes” doesn't sound right. I think it would be fixed if you changed it to "we had transformed… to high schoolers convinced of our own superiority, all by the time we returned to classes."

I'm not sure what I was expecting - that in two years nothing would change? That we'd remain the close-knit group we'd been for so long?

That seems reasonable, doesn't it?

Ahh this part hits so hard! I (and many other people) can definitely relate to the feeling of losing friends in the process of growing up. I think that it was a lot easier to shift apart during the pandemic, especially; we all changed so much in quarantine, and after being separated for so long, it wasn't easy to make a natural return to our old relationships again.

Your teacher appears one last time to tell you that you have four minutes left before everything starts. Your breathing hitches, and you're already sweating.

Three minutes.

The aunties melt away, and you're left alone in the stage wings. You can feel your heartbeat against the silk of your costume.

Two minutes.

Your music's intro starts playing. The audience quiets.

And for a moment, the world goes silent. The universe shrinks to just you, the bells on your ankles, and your feet against the stage. Dust whirls through the air under the lights as the audience falls away. It feels infinitely more poignant than the moment when you were alone on stage.

You can do this.

Chills omg this whole section is so good <33

Costume alterations, family arriving from out of state and out of the country, twice-daily full run throughs I barely had time to breathe, let alone think about the performance.

I think you forgot a period in betweeen “run throughs” and “I barely had time to breathe…”. It's a very minor typo; I only caught it on my second read through xD

I spent the walk back to the restaurant where we were having dinner fighting back tears.

Okay, so the whole closing section is so well done <33 You did a phenomenal job reflecting on everything that you wrote about, while still maintaining that strong sense of bittersweet emotion that tied together the entire piece. Just one thing though: you repeat the word “back” twice in this sentence. It's an incredibly small detail, but I do think that this sentence would be more hard-hitting if it weren't repetitive. You could delete either the first or second “back” (your preference) and the sentence would read a lot better.

But overall this piece is incredible <33 It might honestly be my favorite thing that I've read from you (and I thought nothing could top Star Strings!). Your opening and closing are both really strong, as I already mentioned. The snippets of second person added a wonderfu extra layer of perspective. And everything in between was perfectly put together. You took me through entire years of joy and struggle - an entire rollercoaster of emotions - in fewer than a couple thousand words. Everything felt very personal and open while still being beautifully written and not at all overly sentimental. You should definitely enter this in other competitions, if you can - the quality is seriously astounding, and I can't imagine why you wouldn't do well <33

Thank You Notes

I genuinely cannot believe another session of SWC is over. This has been a wild ride - between dance and irl stuff the entire community has been such a fun chaotic place. Thank you to absolutely every person here for making SWC what it is, whether by just commenting in the main cabin. All of you are beyond amazing, and thank you to everyone in SWC for just being yourselves. It means everything <33

Hi-Fi

Inky: Inky, I think it's so fitting that we've ended up leading together - from the very beginning, your app blew me away with it's simplicity and clear, concise answers. Leading with you has been a dream, and it feels like such a full-circle moment.

Everything really started in Thriller, a full year ago, which seems beyond insane. I don't remember what it was that was started talking about, but I remember reading The Cartographer's Apprentice and being so stunned with the originality and beauty of your writing. Then in PWCTABFY, I've loved managing with you and everyone else. That studio was probably the first Scratch community I really was invested in, and it's amazing that we've gotten to work together in two of the most amazing parts of Scratch.

Then this session!! Working with you during cabin planning was such a seamless process - I loved bouncing ideas back and forth and our ideas fit together so seamlessly. Thank you for putting up with all my historical rambles XD Your organizational skills are insane - the way you put together the Canva and kept so on top of everything was brilliant and kept everything running so smoothly, and there were so many little things you remembered, details such as making sure we had names in our storyline bits and bigger overall details as well <33 And you art skills!! The amazing pfps omg I love them so much, making custom profile pictures for everyone was amazing. We had some issues with internet access asjdkfh but we were able to move past them so quickly. This was an amazing leading experience with you, thank you so much for being such a thoughtful, put-together co and I couldn't have asked for a better two months <333

And then of course all the times we've just talked! You're one of my closest friends and I'm so thankful we've continued to talk so much since Thriller, whether about books or ranting or travel or anything in between. Our ongoing buddy read for Diary of Anne Frank has been so much fun, all your comments are so introspective, and I've loved dissecting it with you! Hopefully we're able to finish soon, library loans can be so annoying XD Our discussions always make me feel like for a moment, the world is calm, so thank you for being such a calm center of the storm, if my metaphors make sense lol. Thank you for genuinely listening to me about anything and everything, and how could I finish this without mentioning your beautiful writing - every time you send me a piece I swear you manage to completely defy every single one of my expectations with just how gorgeously written, well thought out, and unique it is. All in all, thank you for being an amazing friend, co-manager, and coleader <33

To Hi-Fi: To every single one of you, thank you for being such an energetic, active group of campers. I’ve loved hearing about all of you little by little through the qotds and seeing y’all work together for the storyline bits. And thank you for being so active with activities also - all of you contributed to our place on the leaderboard, and I couldn’t be more amazed and proud of what we’ve done this session <33

Lizzie: Lizzie!! First of all, thank you just for your enthusiasm and your activity - you participated in absolutely everything, and you were also almost without a doubt the first person to do so - that mlt was very well deserved XD Secondly, you were just so positive and helpful! Whether someone else needed a word of encouragement or help on anything, thank you for being so kind and genuine with everyone. All your comments made me smile, and thank you so much for that <3 I hope we’re able to talk more, and I can’t wait to see you again around SWC!

Violet: It’s been such a joy to have you in the same cabin both these sessions <33 I always look forward to hearing about your love for P&P and classics and books in general, it’s something I deeply relate to XD Thank you for being so active while you could, helping organize the find three things in common task and just chatting in the studio - and also thank you for taking time for yourself when you knew you needed to <3 I’m excited to talk to you more, both in SWC and the PWCTABFY studio

Livy: Livyy I’ve absolutely loved watching your transformation this session, from trying to figure out how everything worked to being one of our most active campers <33 Thank you for throwing yourself into everything and participating in so many activities and dailies I hope we were able to play some part in your SWC journey this session, and I can’t wait to see where you go in future sessions! You’re so fun and just chill to talk to, and I’m so glad you were sorted into Hi-Fi <3

Daphne: First of all, thank you for your activity and enthusiasm - you added so much to our cabin atmosphere and I loved talking to you about Indian food especially (your gulab jamun project is amazing, I’ve gone through it so many times). And thank you for being so active during cabin wars!! You helped so much, especially during the second one, and thank you for balancing SWC and staying active while your family was moving <3 I can’t wait to see you hopefully in future sessions!

Kit: Aaa Kit okay it felt like such a full circle moment this session after Thriller <33 You were an amazing leader last July and I’m so glad we got to be in the same cabin again this July. I definitely need to watch Nimona soon after seeing you talk about it so much XD I absolutely loved getting to know you more this session! Thank you also for staying so active throughout the session, and I’m so glad we’ve gotten to talk again and hope we’re able to do so more in the future <3

Hail: Hail!! Thank you so much for all your activity - and thank you for staying active and interacting in the cabin till the very end. I’ve loved hearing about your passion for fashion history, and it was so fun to talk to a fellow history nerd! You were so active in our cabin storyline, thank you for that <3 I can’t wait to talk to you in the future, potentially about the different eras of fashion history if you’re interested in sharing XD and I hope to see you in future sessions <33

Ducky: I absolutely loved getting to know you throughout the session <3 You seemed to have a brand of specific chaos that livened our cabin so much, so thank you so much for bringing that to our comments /gen You’re genuinely such an bright and funny person to talk to, and also thank you for participating so much in our storyline throughout the session. I hope to talk to you soon, and I can’t wait to see you again!

Cowie: Like I mentioned for Violet, I’m so glad you took time for yourself and put irl priorities over SWC. That takes a lot, and I’m thrilled you had a good time in Hi-Fi while you were able to be active <3 You had such an upbeat way of talking - thank you so much for that, and I hope to see you again in future sessions!

Echo, Ann, Rose, and Nayeli: We didn’t get to interact much this session, but I’m so happy all of you were able to be active when you were! I hope to see you again in future sessions, and thank you so much for adding what you did to our cabin

Yuna and @chxrice–: Although we weren’t able to talk this session, I hope I’m able to meet y’all in the future and get to know you <33

SWC

Hosts: Thank you so much for everything you do for SWC to keep it running smoothly, from keeping dailies and points updated to solving issues we don’t even know about <33 I don’t think anyone truly understands just how much you do, and thank you for all your dedication and hard work. You all are amazing, thank you for everything you put into SWC.

Daily Team: I had a blast this session with all the dailies and weeklies you came up with! Thank you for all the work you put into coming up with these ideas, and the effort you put into implementing them through the writing and collaboration <3 SWC would not be what it is without you, so thank you for everything you do.

Judges: Thank you for the amount of work you do: reading, debating, and putting together the results of the writing competition. All the time and effort you put in is amazing, and thank you so much for it <33

MBC: Working with all of you on the MBC has been so much fun this session! Everyone here is such an amazing designer, and it’s been amazing to see the MBC come together slowly but surely. This has been such a group effort, and thank you to everyone for all you’ve done <3 I’m so excited to see the final product  

Friends

Vi: Vi okay I absolutely loved your leader app so much, and Thriller with you and CJ looked so amazing <33 I loved continuing to talk with you this session about SAT/ACT prep and how our cabins were progressing. I’m glad I could encourage you to lead, in Folklore you were always so active and helpful and I’m glad you’ve found your way into the leadership team You’re such a warm person to talk to, thank you so much for continuing to reach out!

Crim: Crimm first of all Real-fi looked amazing, and your profile pictures were beyond amazing <3 I’m so glad we also continued to talk throughout this session and stay in touch! Like I said to Vi, I’m so happy you decided to apply for leader! Your enthusiasm and activity were so valuable last session and I hope you continue to apply for co leader (and maybe leader also?). I loved getting to know you better, and I hope we continue to talk through future sessions.

Recca: I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for everything you do in the PWCTABFY studio - so thank you! I’ve had such a blast managing it with you and all the other managers, and fixing up the studio when Cookie went inactive <33 You were so organized and kept the process moving along quickly, thank you everything there. And in SWC! Your comments always make me laugh, from the Evander protection squad to thanking me for fixing the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice XD And in PWCTABFY I always look forward to your comments about the long classics you’re reading. I hope we can talk more soon, and thank you for everything!

Luna: Spicy smalluna! Our conversations are definitely some of the most chaotic I’ve had XD Of course, you are objectively short But in all seriousness, from our strings of emoji wars to stabbing emotions, thank you for being so fun and upbeat to talk to <33 And of course, thank you for everything you do for SWC - I cannot begin to understand the work you do, so once again thank you for that <3  :crying_laughing:

Reese: Reese!! I will understand how you’re always literally everywhere at all times XD Talking with you is always so fun, about music (wait for me ;D) and characters who need a hug and just life. I’ve made so many of my favorite memories with you, like listening to Speak Now together right when it dropped and our midnight conversations (we always talk about fixing our sleep schedules but never actually get around to it agsjsg). Thank you also for always, always listening to me  about anything I might need to talk about :pleading: You always know what to say, and you have this way of making everyone feel heard - I’m genuinely in awe of it and the way you effortlessly create friendships. Thank you so much for always being there, for all the ramble-y conversations about books, and for just being an amazing friend <33

Alana: ALANAA okay first of all thank you so, so, so much for your support during my arangetram <33 It’s absolutely invaluable to me, whenever you listened to my panicked or excited rambles - and thank you for always checking in about how I was feeling even when I didn’t say anything myself. It was so amazing having someone who even vaguely understood the process - it meant the world to me. Your design skills are insane and I’ve loved working on and talking about the mbc with you, as well as discussing various SWC related…stresses XD Thank you for somehow always knowing what to say, during the arangetram and these past few days. You’re such a genuinely kind person, and thank you for being so positive whenever you talk to anyone <3 You’re an amazing friend, and I’m so glad we’ve been talking more recently

Moonlit: Miss Moonlit! Thank you once again for really getting me into this community, I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for that <33 Even though we didn’t talk as much this session, every time we did, I felt such a feeling of calmness - there’s a certain way you have of making people feel like they can just talk to you, so thank you for that <3 I’ve had a great time talking to you, whether about SWC things and the memory book or high school and classes.  And thank you for everything you do for SWC - just the amount of dedication you have to the MBC and judging last session was amazing <3 I hope we talk more, and thank you for just being an amazing friend always.

Elfie: Elfiee thank you for always being there for everyone - I always feel like I can talk to you, and thank you for being so understanding and willing to listen to me no matter what. Thank you for genuinely caring about everyone, and also asking constantly about my arangetram and how it worked. It’s the little things - dropping by to say I made good points in an argument or just asking how my day is going - that make you so thoughtful and such an amazing canonical mother :pleading: Your writing is absolutely beautiful and thank you for letting me read it <33 I’ve loved screaming about chemistry during the school year, it made it slightly more bearable XD Thank you for being there for everyone <33

Katie: Katie aa I still remember when you mentioned Epic and I was in absolute shock that someone else knew about it - that first conversation we had was such a fun conversation, and I love your Epic art so much <33 And after that we started talking about history! It’s amazing knowing someone who thinks about history largely the same way I do, so thank you for always listening to my opinions and thoughts <3

Sandy: Sandy!! I’m going to start off by saying once again thank you for being such a phenomenal co last session in Folklore - the clarity of your ideas and the way me, you, and Piper built off of each other was such a seamless experience <3 And I’m so glad we’ve continued to talk this session!! Having a fellow history nerd to talk to about the books I’m reading and the entire story of the Romanovs was so fun - and thank you for introducing me to Sabaton! I’ve been slowly going through their albums and it’s amazing to have found an artist who mostly writes historical songs. I love talking to you about historical things and Nathanial Hale’s books and everything else, and once again I’m so glad we’ve stayed friends <33

Wari: WARI I still miss you so much omg </3 I’ve had the absolute best times with you talking about Epic and Hadestown and Taylor Swift and books - I think just now I’m realizing just how many interests we have in common XD Thank you for all your feedback with my early drafts of my Hadestown fanfic, I genuinely made those character playlists we spent so long planning out, and they were actually so helpful, so thank you for working on those with me. Screaming with you about Speak Now this session was such an amazing surprise and one of my favorite memories during this session <33 Talking with you always just has such a positive feel, and just thank you for always talking with me about any rambles I have about any topic. You’re such an amazing friend, and I really hope we can talk more soon <333

Moss: Moss!! I’m so glad we’ve talked more this session - thank you for just being such a positive, kind person, and also willing to talk to me about any SWC related matters! You were so amazing last session in the dt, and thank you again for all your dedication and work, both this session and last <3 I’ve loved talking to you about Epic and extracurriculars (we’ll stress together next year XD) and then before the session, talking about the upcoming session and what we thought about it. Thank you for truly listening to me, it was invaluable to have someone to talk to about all that <33 I hope we continue to talk, and thank you for always being there.

CJ: Once again, I’m not entirely sure how to start this note - I don’t think I could ever explain how much you mean to me and how much I want to thank you, but here goes. I know I promised you an essay on the danger of daisies, but I don’t know enough about daisies to do that, so just don’t eat daisies I’m going to start by saying just thank you for always putting up with me XD My strings of random thoughts, all the rambles about books and Broadway which you (sometimes) deal with. You’re always there, whatever I need to talk about whenever, and you just always make me laugh with all our random conversations. Thank you for always making me feel like I can talk to you about anything, and being so honest and listening to everything about my life. Thank you for all the cat gifs and support through absolutely everything - you’re the best cat twin anyone could ever ask for, and the absolute best friend I’d ever want. I don’t I’m expressing myself well enough here, which happens every time I try to write you a thank you note lol, but I hope you get the gist of just how much you mean to me. Ilysm <333

Critique for @pages-of-ink

okayy so! first of all i love the premise :0 it feels like such a unique twist on something commonly done, and i'd love to hear more about it if you ever do end up writing it most of everything i have to say is so, so nitpicky - as always, your writing is so beautiful and well thought-out <33

Instead, he was out here

this is really nitpicky - you might want to take out here because we're not sure what here is yet

The signs of air will be your guide.

since this is his thoughts you might want to italicize it?

He hurried toward the rustling leaves, just as the wind moved on those of another. Tree after tree pulled him forward, one fleeting breeze after another, and then suddenly he stood in a clearing, ringed by a circle of tall, sweeping oaks. A stream of sparklingly clear water wound through the grass, bubbling up from a well in the earth by Angus’s feet.

love the description here <33

Mud and dew soaked his skin and robes.

idk why but this sentence feels slightly out of place? it feels like it breaks the flow a bit

“No. I can’t.” Dhara’s wrist cracked forward, and the water at her back surged outwards.

this line and everything above omg you capture both characters' panic so well, your emotions are always so well done it's insane <33

i genuinely have nothing to say about the third part, the emotions are captured so well and i love Dhara <33 if i had to say one thing, it's that she doesn't really feel like a thirteen year old? i understand that she's been hardened by whatever she's gone through but she still doesn't seem as young as she should be - but it's not a major thing, the story works great as is :pleading: i'd absolutely love to learn more about angus and the worldbuilding, like i said at the beginning it seems such a cool concept! thank you so much for letting me read this <333

November '23 Coleader App Writing Excerpt

Sunday, June 23, 2023

When I first sat down to write this piece last week, I had the vague idea that I might write the ending after the arangetram. What I did not know was that this would be the most emotional piece I've ever written.

The end of an arangetram is such a bittersweet moment, because it's inevitably the end of something. It's been such an integral part of my life for a year, and it's hard - impossible - to imagine life without it.

Throughout the actual day of the performance yesterday, there was such a feeling of being part of something. Of having done something impossible and almost fragile. It genuinely felt like the world had narrowed to me and my moment - those few hours that were wholly, wholly mine. Because I had done it. The moment I'd been imagining for years was there, and I had done it.

Memories keep flashing through my mind of the arangetram day - my teacher snipping at me to stand still as he applied eyeliner; circling the stage and staring out over the empty theatre; sitting alone backstage twenty minutes before the curtain went up when it hit so crushingly that oh my god this is happening; the stage lights, flashing across the stage in that moment before my music started playing; Aditi Didi and another aunty frantically changing my costume between dances; my dance teacher's wife's smile every time I looked over at her in the wings; and the pure feeling of transcendence, of overwhelming relief and joy, when the final note in my final dance played.