_gardenia_ wrote:

7/6/2023
- “PURE LUCK”
- because gamble is my favorite my only good oc

Verse 1:
roll the dice, shuffle the cards
still my heart (anything’s better than this)
all i have to do is win
but fake it till i make it
pretend, pretend
until it’s just pure luck in the end

Pre-chorus:
grin like a maniac, don’t let them see through
sinking deeper in my debt (i’m only a fool)
all i have to do is win
sin, sin, sin
if it means i’ll win
pretend, pretend
until it’s just pure luck in the end

Chorus:
pure, pure luck
in the casino where we rot
i’ve sinned and sinned
addicted, enraptured, consumed
but i’ll never stop if it means i’ll win
i’ll win, i’ll win, i’ll win
in the casino where we rot
pure, pure luck will come for me in the end

Verse 2:
deal the cards, juggle the dice
all i see are kings and queens
jacks, ace, jokers (the faces of my brothers and sisters)
JACKPOT!
i know i’ll win, win, win
i’ll win, win, win
even if i have to sin, sin, sin

Bridge:
(JACKPOT! JACKPOT!)
(sin, sin, sin)
(win, win, win)
(JACKPOT! JACKPOT!)

Verse 3:
cards in a house, watch them fold
one by one until the stack is done
miniature towers of gold (the faces of my wife and children)
JACKPOT!
pretend, pretend
until it’s just pure luck in the end

Pre-chorus:
grin like a maniac, don’t let them see through
sinking deeper in my debt (i’m only a fool)
all i have to do is win
sin, sin, sin
if it means i’ll win
pretend, pretend
until it’s just pure luck in the end

Chorus:
pure, pure luck
in the casino where we rot
i’ve sinned and sinned
addicted, enraptured, consumed
but i’ll never stop if it means i’ll win
i’ll win, i’ll win, i’ll win
in the casino where we rot
pure, pure luck did not come for me in the end.

I love the energy of this

The bulbs swayed on the tree’s limbs as the wind rustled through them. The warm sunlight coaxing open their tightly clasped petals, revealing the gem inside. The petals curled upward, away from the bars, the blue jewels gently reflecting the light.
The Boatman drew up to the edge of the island and produced his sickle. Carefully selecting the fruits, he sliced them free. Finished with his task, he placed his load on his prized boat and took his leave.

The girl was delighted when her mother approached the Boatman’s spot, littered with the strange egg like fruit. She jumped for joy, trying her best not to detach from her legs when her mother chose the ripest, bluest fruit and the exchange was made. She felt a rush of warmth when the egg fruit was put into place, a piece of her lost making her finally whole again.

She could now play with the other children who had their own gems. She eagerly awaited the hatching of her egg. And when it finally did hatch, it felt like her life was finally beginning. She felt powerful and independent, finally her own person. She felt free.

She grew up strong and confident and beautiful. She married her best friend, their birds sang songs to each other what their lips couldn’t speak. It grew to be as poised and elegant as she was. Full of love at the sight of her first born child. Full of wisdom at the sight of her first wrinkle.

When she climbed the mountain for the last time, she was filled not with regret, but with a sense of peace. Her bird sang songs of freedom and sorrow in equal parts. Her life was good and she was ready. Her bird broke free from its cage, free for the first time in its life, free to fly wherever it pleased.

And as its life began, another's ended.

She was cold again.
She was cold again, and she was alone. She was cold and the ground was hard. She was cold and her stomach hurt. She was cold and she missed-
“Stop!” Raya said through gritted teeth. She didn’t need to be feeling any of those things right now. All she needed to feel was…
Was what?
A sense of accomplishment for escaping?
Pride in being the chosen one?
Her emotions felt like the icebergs in the northern sea, hard as rocks and submerged beneath the waves. If she dared feel anything other than the rock hard ground pressing up to her back, the breezy wind against her face and the godsdang cold, the iceberg would burst into a million pieces. Was that even how icebergs worked?
Why was she on the ground?
Slowly, she dragged herself up so that her elbows propped her up and blinked her bleary eyes open and forced down her panic when she couldn’t make anything out.
A blur of white and pastel blue stuck out among the blurry white and grey snow. She couldn’t see much beyond that. The slur seemed to be bending over something.
“Zeph?” she croaked, and her voice was just gone, hoarse and scraping past the rocks in her throat.
The blur yelped, casting aside whatever they were looking at and turning, presumably, to face her.
“Oh, hi!” Raya winced from the loud noise, “You’re awake!”
Was she asleep? Her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but she didn’t normally think that falling asleep resulted in feeling weak and dizzy, not being able to see and being so hungry it hurt.
Hungry.
“Zephyr.” she said slowly, “Did I pass out?”
“Huh?” the godling probably looked confused. Their face was just a smudge of white with green dots so it was hard to tell. “I dunno. You kind of just… flopped over and mumbled something about being tired. I thought you needed sleep. Mortals need sleep right?”
Okay, this conversation then. “Yes mortals need sleep, no that was not sleep,” she tried to get into a sitting position, only for waves of dizziness to send her crashing back to the ground. She surrendered to the pain, curling her hands around her stomach and wetting a tongue against her dry lips.
“Oh,” was all Zephyr said, uncharacteristically.
“I just need a minute,” she said, knowing that she needed far more than a minute. Knowing that she couldn’t take that long, because they needed to get away. Zephyr couldn’t go back. She couldn't go-
Could she?
She was too tired to be having thoughts about that
Zephyr said something that couldn't get past the fog in her ears. She blinked her eyes open, not realising she’d closed them.
“What?”
“When was the last time you ate?” the repeated.
“…What?” she said again.
“Mortals need food right? They break it up and use it to power their body or something? You don’t just get energy from the world right?”
It took her a minute to process the implications of that sentence. Yes, she was hungry. SHe was really, really hungry. But a good soldier would push through that and survive. Ziya would want her to-
“Do you want food?”
It was such a simple question.
“…yes” she finally said, aware that she sounded like a weak, small child.
“Okay!” Zephyr bounced up, pleased to have something to do, “Stay here, I’ll get you some!”
And before she could protest or ask if they even knew what edible food was, they were gone.
And she lay there, alone. Alone and cold.
Were they even coming back?
Technically, they didn’t need her the way she needed them. Raya was nothing but a deadweight at the moment, and she wouldn't entirely blame them for abandoning her.
Please don’t leave me.
She quelled the childish thought before it could tip the iceberg over.
Her eyes were just starting to close again when they returned.
“I come bearing gifts!” and gods, why were they always so loud?
She felt hands on her, and if she was herself she would have been up and running already. Instead, she let herself be hoisted up and propped up against something rough but less coarse than the ground. A tree maybe.
“Here,” something round and hard was placed into her hand and, like someone with either no common sense or a death wish, she bit into it.
It crunched and exploded into juicy flavour in her mouth. It tasted sweet, but sharp at the same time. At this point, it felt like eating sunshine. Already the pangs in her stomach had gone quiet and her vision was returning.
It was some sort of red fruit. Almost round shaped but not quite, with yellowish innards. She’d seen it before, somewhere. But the taste and feel was unfamiliar
“I found it growing on a tree,” Zephyr explained, “And I figured since most things that grow on trees are safe to eat, I could just give it to you.”
She made a mental note to warn them about poisonous fruits later.
“Thanks,” was all she said, “I’m feeling better.”
“That’s great!” she could properly see now, and they were under a tree, “Do you want me to get more?”
“Maybe later,” she’d heard that you shouldn’t overeat while coming out of starvation, “They’re called apples, I think. I’ve only seen them in books before. They don’t grow in the northlands.”
“Nothing grows in the North,” Zephyr said with a shrug, before lapsing into uncharacteristic silence.
Silence was cold.
“Do you want a bite?” she blurted out. Wait, what was she thinking? Why would she share her limited resources with someone she barely knew? Keep your guard up, trust no one.
Yet her hand still stretched forward, offering them the apple.
“Immortals don’t need to eat,” they pointed out.
“What do you have mouths for then?”
“To talk, obviously.” they were still eyeing the apple.
“Just take a bite,” she said, “Just to see how it tastes.”
They took it and stared at it for a few seconds, as if trying to work out how it worked. Then they took far too tiny a nibble.
“Oh!” instantly, the air currents swivelled and Zephyr was suspended upward, floating in front of her. “Oh wow! I thought mortal food was gross.”
“I’ll pretend not to hear that,” she said, settling on the tree.
“It tastes like… it tastes like… friendship!” they declared, “Friendship apples!”
Raya snorted. Still, part of her found that accurate. Not that she and Zephyr were friends or anything.
“Can you… get more?” she asked, already tensing up at the chance of a refusal.
“Sure!” they said, already ready to whizz away, “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!”
And then they were gone. And Raya slowly finished the apple in her hand, and for the first time she felt warm.

She ran. Trying not to fall into a tumble down a mountain, as fast as she dared to go.
Her breath came out in gasps, choked noises mixed with the steaming air that might have been sobs. Sweat dripped down her forehead.
She was tired, her legs hurt, she couldn't breath past the paralysing fear and she was alone.
She was alone.
She stopped, gasping for breath and hunching over. She was so tired. She slumped against a tree, forcing herself to breathe.
She missed her friends, she missed Olive and Orion. She missed Aiken. She even missed Naini. She missed Zephyr.
“Get.. get it together,” she gasped, “Get it together!”
She forced herself to breathe the still stifling air. Deep breath in, slow breath out. In and out.
There was something on the tree branch above her head. Something roundish and bright red.
Friendship apple.
The iceberg tipped and she burst out sobbing.

Lucy shivered and tightened her grip on the umbrella, the sudden gust of wind ruffling her golden hair. Rain lashed down on the cobblestones, casting the world into a haze. Her cheeks were wet.
She walked forward slowly, splashing the wet ground.
She liked to think she could hear the raindrops singing to themselves. She once knew a place where that was possible.
With a sudden jerk, her foot slipped out from under her, sending her toppling against a tree she could barely see in the rain.
“Pardon me,” she said. The tree said nothing, just stood there resolutely.
“Right,” Lucy said, shaking her head, “Right of course.”
Because she was in a place where trees didn’t talk. Where she was not a queen but a schoolgirl. She was on earth, not Narnia.
Lucy had taken to the change a bit better than her siblings (Peter still had a habit of challenging others to duels, and Edmund had to re-learn the rules of chess since Narnia played it quite a bit differently) but she still had moments like this.
Carefully she resumed her course, wondering vaguely how much more rain her poor umbrella could take and wondering if all this had been a terrible idea.
A few years ago, Lucy had never thought of herself as the type to run away. She’s been a good little girl, with a keen enough imagination to keep herself entertained when life got hard. Then she’d wandered into a world in a wardrobe and nothing had ever been the same again.
Which led to running away. The ‘real world’ was just so awfully boring and Lucy couldn’t stop longing for Narnia.
Susan had called it childish.
Which eventually led to her not-plan.
Lucy Pevensie, a child prone to flights of fancy, was not a particularly good plan maker. The idea of running away enticed her, but she didn’t have much of a way of going about it. Which led to her being here, apologising to trees, caught in the rain with nothing but a broken umbrella.
She sighed, cursing herself for being herself. She blinked away the water on her face and rubbed her eyes. She could barely see her hand if she held it out in front of her.
She slipped again, this time catching herself before she fell, but the resulting stumble made her lose her barings.
Lucy was lost.
Lucy Pevensie the Valiant, second Queen of Narnia and Aslan’s favourite, was utterly hopelessly lost in a land not her own.
A vague shimmer of light caught her attention and she nearly fell over again. The light was golden, and hovered in the rain just above her head.
“Magic!” she cried, “It must be!”
Her heart thudded in her chest as she stumbled towards the light. Her not-plan had succeeded, and fate had come her way. Surely this was it, wasn’t it? Surely it was time for her to finally be home again? She broke out into a run, umbrella falling on the ground behind her as she reached for the light-
And collided with a metal pole.
She screamed in surprise as she fell back, landing on the wet, muddy road.
It was a lamp-post.
For a minute, she remembered the lamp-post in Narnia, how its warm glow had welcomed her as she stepped into the snowy world of magic and wonder.
But this was an ordinary lamp-post, like any in london. Glowing with an electric light and made in a factory.
And there was no magic, and Lucy was just a girl, soaking wet and sitting on a road in the rain.
“Well,” she said, “Well then,”
Without warning, even to herself, she burst out sobbing. Being denied what you want most in the world is incredibly painful and Lucy wanted something desperately.
“I-I want to go home!” she sobbed, “Take me back, please.”
The lamp-post did nothing.
“Take me back!” she screamed, pounding her fist on the unyielding metal.
There’s no need to be rude, little one.
She nearly sobbed with relief, for a second, she’d believed that the magic hadn’t worked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her face, “Can I please go to Narnia,”
You need only ask, child.
The voice sounded like Aslan, even from realms away.
“Thank you,” she said, “Thank you, thank you ever so much. I’ll just… fetch Peter and Edmund. And I suppose Susan should come as well. I can.. Telephone probably, wait a-”
You misunderstand.
“Excuse me?” she blinked, confused.
Only you shall be permitted into Narnia. Only you have sought it out, so only you will come.
“But that’s not fair!” she protested, “The others would have too, it’s just that they’re… well they adjusted. They’re better at being adults.”
The voice said nothing.
“I can’t leave them can I?” she glanced up at the lamp-post, still so normal and un-magic looking.
You must if you wish to return to Narnia.
“But without them… it isn’t home.”
Then where is home?
Twelve years ago, Lucy had seen a lamp-post like this one in a magical world, and the first thing she’d done was fetch her siblings. The days of it being just the four of them were more magic than anything.
Later, when they were kings and queens, when Susan and Edmund were gone on diplomacy missions and Peter was off being king… she’d been more lonely than ever on earth.
She didn’t want to be alone, without them even if it meant having Narnia back.
So what did she want?
“I want to go home,” she said to the lamp-post.
It said nothing.
“I want to go home, but… maybe I’m already home. Maybe I’m home or almost there anyway.”
The worst part of Narnia had always been the fights with her siblings.
“I… want my family. Back the way it was. Back before Peter became all hard and Susan left and Ed started to forget-” she choked back another sob, “Home is right here isn’t it? Just not quite.”
The voice said nothing.
“I ran away because I didn’t want to have to…” she shook her head, “I… I think I understand now. I can fix this.” she stared at the lamp, “Thank you.”
And then she was gone.

It was only later, after she had apologised and a much needed conversation had been started. After her siblings had apologised and promised they would keep Narnia’s memory alive without letting it consume them. After they had promised to try and be less distant, more like a family.
After all that, she wondered if the voice was really Aslan’s.
Then she realised that the voice had been her own. The voice was her own, and the path was her own and Lucy Pevensie was ready for the real world.

The tree is where it always began.
It stood proud and tall on the island, limbs stretching towards the sky. The bulbs swayed on its branches as the wind sent them shivering. The sunlight coaxed the bulbs open, their gentle white petals curling away to reveal the shimmering blue seed inside.

If the tree is where it all began, the boatman is the deliverer.
His oars slipped into the flowing ocean with nary a sound as his boat cut through the water. He drew his boat up to the edge of the island and climbed out. Selecting the bulbs was a task he had done since the beginning of time and he wasted none of it today. He gathered his load onto his boat and departed.

The bulbs lay on the dusty ground, waiting.
The boatman kept his watchful eye on them and pretended he couldn’t sense their impatience as he lay on his mat. His other eye, he kept open for customers. This eye fell on a mother and daughter making their way over to him. The girl was still frozen, the gap between her head and legs allowing her to jump far too high in the air with excitement. With a smile, the woman indicated the best of his stock. With a refreshing lack of haggling over price, the match was made.

She held as still as possible when her mother approached her with the bulb. She wanted to jump for joy because she was so excited or run away because she was afraid it would hurt.
It didn’t hurt.
She had always been in pieces and this made her Whole.

And so life begins.

She met him while playing football. Even though she was only newly Whole she could still outrun him and he only kept up because of his skill with the ball, which she grudgingly admitted was considerable. And she felt the gem in her new chest twitch and shiver whenever they locked eyes.

She knew that she would grow of course now that she was no longer frozen, but maybe she wasn’t prepared for it to be so fast. Her hair grew out and her legs turned longer.

And then it hatched.

There was a bird in the cage of her chest now. It took some getting used to, of course. It had its own moods, its own voice. It felt like she had been blind all her life and was only just starting to see the world beyond childlike innocence.

And so the girl grew.

She grew to be poised and clever and beautiful. Always quick with a witty comeback. She fell in love with the boy she played football with as a little girl, or perhaps she flew in love because that was more like what it felt like. Their birds sang to each other, and only grew silent with joy when their first child was born. She reached her prime, she was everything she ever dreamed of being.

And still she grew.

Her skin turned saggy, her eyes began to glaze and her teeth went crooked. She grew more and more tired with every step. And her bird. It grew bigger and bigger and more beautiful until the bars of the cage could keep it a prisoner no longer.

The bird longed to be free.

And so she climbed the mountain from which none returned. She felt equal parts deep sorrow and liberating peace, for her life had been full. Full of love for her family, full of wisdom from all she had learnt, full of joy and hardship and beauty. Holding the memories tight to her for one last time, she took a deep breath and set them free.

And her bird broke free from its cage, free for the first time in its life to fly, free and ready for its life to begin.

And as its life began, hers ended.

Eventually, it too would return to the tree.

It starts at the tree and ends at the mountain, before starting anew.

Eevee's Writing Archive <3

Hello! I'm Eevee and welcome to my archive of writings for SWC July 2023! I am a (backup) camper in Poetry Lighthouse this session with Finley and Niko! Feel free to leave critiques on my profile

Table of Context
——————————♕——————————

Word goal: 32,994/30,000
- Checkpoint #1: 7/7 5,000
- Checkpoint #2 7/10 10,000
- Checkpoint #3 7/14 15,000
- Checkpoint #1: 7/17 20,000
- Checkpoint #2 7/21 25,000
- Checkpoint #3 7/23 30,000

~Dailies~

July 2
July 12
July 14
July 16
July 17
July 18-19
July 20
July 25-26
July 28

~Weeklies~

Week 1
Week 3
Week 4

~Word Wars~

TBD :>

~Other~

TBD
TBD
TBD

Part One:

For the first part of this weekly, we’ll be looking at silent comic strips (https://behance.net/gallery/580916/Silent-Comics) for inspiration. (If this website is blocked, go here (https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/870119119/) to find silent comic strips that have been uploaded to a scratch project). Browse through the comic strips and select either a whole comic or singular panel. Alternatively, you can visit https://www.onceuponapicture.co.uk/ and select an image (or multiple, if you want to somehow connect them together) (scratch-based version for onceuponapicture: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/764339470).

Examine your selected silent comic strip (panel) or images. What are the key details that are popping out to you? How are the frames connected? Pay close attention to your comic strip or image, and write 300 words on your literal interpretation of the events going on. You’ve got this!

Part Two:

The second part of the weekly covers symbolism, about which you can learn more about in Sprout's fantastic symbolism workshop! https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/550221272/

After finishing the workshop, pick a culturally significant dish and write a scene in which one character gives it to another character. Keep in mind that this dish should be significant in a way that emphasises their conversation. Write 400 words for this prompt, either as fanfiction or with your original characters. Have fun!

Part Three:

The first step of this next task is to read this (https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/584627/ ) fantastic workshop on theme, written by the wonderful Elfie. It’s a fascinating read, and it picks up on what we’ll be working on for Part 3 ;D

Read it yet? Good! Those of you paying attention will now be familiar with motif - that is, the writing technique of including a recurring idea or symbol in your work. It’s probably something you’ve used in your own writing already, perhaps even without realising; it is also key to many wonderful examples of literature. We’ve put together some such examples in this project here (https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/868198469/).

After you’ve browsed the Motif-tionary, your task is simple: choose a page, and write a scene continuing the use of its motif! Don’t worry - you don’t need to have heard of any of these stories before. Instead, use your imagination and base your writing only off the extracts we’ve given you. Your scene can expand upon the events of a previous extract, or even aim to conclude the story, as long as the motif is still present. Mimicking the author’s writing style will get you brownie points from Alba Alocasia, but is not compulsory!

Your scene, continuing a motif from one of the slides of the Motif-tionary, should be at least 400 words long. I hope you enjoy following in the footsteps of these incredible authors!

Part Four:

Now that you’ve learned all about symbolism and motifs from our wonderful workshop writers, it’s time to return to the narrative you wrote for part one! Looking back at the silent comic you chose to write about, try to pinpoint some of its symbols, themes, and motifs – what might some of the images signify beyond how they first appear? With this in mind, rewrite your original narrative with at least 400 words. You’re almost there–good luck!

Weekly 1: (2053 words)

Activity 1- whole comic strip, The Secret of Life (440 words)

The comic strip opens with an image of a tree with white pods on an island, surrounded by water. There are birds and clouds in the background. The tree’s pods start to open up, revealing another yellow pod. Soon the outer yellow layer deteriorates and reveals a blue egg held in a cage, with white tendrils going up around the stem. A robed man with a big hat and a rowboat is rowing through the water. He has a sack in the back of the boat, and his head is angled away from the viewer.
In the next page, he reaches the small island with the tree. By then, all of the pods have opened up, and the tree is full of cages and blue eggs. With a weary expression, the old man holds up a scythe. Then the comic skips to the man rowing away from the island, the sack full of the cages and eggs. Birds hover in the background.
The next panel is a scene in which the man has a table in a small town. His back is against the wall as he stares at the cages with the blue eggs. Small buildings are placed around, with another merchant under a green awning slumps against the wall. There are women walking through the town, and children (without midsections) are running around. A woman with dark skin who is wearing a hair covering and holding the hand of a small girl walks up to the table.
The woman tries out different cages and selects one. The happy girl reaches for it. The woman pays for the cage and fastens it around the young girl’s midsection, and the girl runs off to play a ball sport with another young boy with a cage for a heart. In the next panel, the girl looks in a mirror while brushing her hair and sees that the egg in her chest has hatched into a blue bird. The cat at her feet smiles.
In the following panel, the girl has grown into a young woman. She is holding the hand of the young man she was playing with earlier as they walk, and the birds in their chest sing to each other. The girl grows older as the bird gets bigger, and she has a small child. She is now wearing a hair covering, and as she grows very old the bird just gets bigger. Then she walks up a hill to a cliff under the stars. In the next panel, the bird is free from the cage and is very big.
It flies away under the stars, singing its song.

Activity 2: Symbolism- Caraval fanfic (721 words)

The letter came in a box the color of nightmares turned to dreams, velvet black threaded through with silver drops of stars. The parchment looked blank, but Tella smiled as she held it up to the light. Shining ink black as night and a wax seal the color of blood, marked with the symbol of Caraval, adorned the letter. Tella’s brow rose. She and Dante (master of Caraval, ex-prince, and her newly mortal boyfriend) usually exchanged letters, but not with all the finery of this one. Plus, it came with a gift. Tella smiled as she lifted the beautiful dress out of the box. It was perfect for her and Dante. A dress made of smiles that were shattered and sewed together again from kept promises and stolen kisses. The skirt was made of white tulle, with a cut out in the front for her legs, and scarlet gems like drops of blood adorned the wispy tiers. Delicate black threading adorned the skirt, and Tella realized it was the Map of Everything’s drawing of Valenda she and Dante had followed. The bodice looked like something a pirate would wear, smooth black leather threaded with red roses. It laced up into a high heart-shaped collar. Tella knew it would look enchanting, and she read the letter eagerly. It read,
Dearest Donatella,
Please join me for a dinner picnic in the castle garden at dusk. If you’d like, please wear this dress, I had it made for the occasion.
Sincerely,
Caraval Master Legend

“Hello, Dante.” Tella said as he turns around. Dante smiled. His tattoos are back, but the ink over his arms matched the stitching on her dress. He gestured for her to sit down on the blanket, a light green quilt that felt as if it was filled with clouds. Tella’s eyes sparkled as Dante watched her look over the beautiful spread of food he had prepared, in the center of which lay a familiar plate of colorful cakes that looked like presents. From her (regrettable) engagement to the Prince of Hearts, Tella knew these were a traditional engagement dish. But they weren’t engaged, not yet. Tella’s heart beat faster. “Dante,” Tella said slowly, “are these love muffins?” He laughed, a magical sound. “Yes, they’re a dish made for royal couples. I had the baker make them. Each is filled with a different filling that will share what the future will hold for the lovers. How did you know?” He asked curiously. Tella didn’t want to ruin the moment by talking about Jacks, and she didn’t want to let Dante know that she knew what was going to happen, so she shrugged. “I think Scarlett told me once.” Dante seemed to be able to tell she wasn’t telling the truth, but he didn’t say anything as he raised a cake to his lips. It was pale silver, with a ruffled edge made of white frosting and beautifully painted gold feathers. As he took a large bite, blackberry jam oozed out. Tella wiped it off the corner of his mouth. Dante raised his eyes to hers, taking her hand. “I believe that means that our love will be deep and true. Your turn?” He asked. She closed her eyes and picked a cake the color of lilacs. Biting into it, tea-scented cream spilled out, and she wiped her chin before asking Dante what the filling meant. “It means we’ll always be there for each other.” He explained.
Dante’s eyes filled with love as he stood up once they finished the cakes. “Would you care to take a walk?” He asked. Tella let him lead her to a beautiful willow tree. Under it, Dante and Tella sat together, watching the stars and sharing stories for hours. As the moon dipped under the horizon, Dante got down on one knee. “Donatella Dragna.” He said, emotion clouding his voice. “I love you, truly love you, more than the moon and the stars and living forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how long it is. Will you marry me?” Tella started to cry. “Yes!” She said, flinging herself into Dante’s arms. “Yes, Dante, yes!” He hugged her back, and soon the hug turned into a kiss as they held each other until the sun peeked through the night.

Activity 3: Extract- The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (474 words)

So there they went past the lamp-post, seeking adventure. King Edmund said strangely, “That lamp-post seemed to me to be a spirit of the forest, for who would place a lamp-post surrounded by dark trees? Furthermore, I believe that the beginning of a stream seems to be nearby, for my ears hear the sound of rushing water when I look in that direction, near the birch-trees. We shall go over there, and I am to think that the start of a wondrous journey will become of us!”
Lucy nodded, so they went to the birch trees, and there they found a stream of rushing water. There by the river dipping its head into the cool water was a beautiful deer with a shimmering white coat and midnight-blue eyes. Lucy’s eyes lit up as she said, “Oh, Edmund, look at that beautiful deer! It seems to me to be another spirit who is urging us on during this adventure! We shall follow it, Edmund, and see where the spirit leads us.” So there they went, following the animal as it went slowly deeper into the forest. After walking for a while, their feet began to tire, and so they sat down in a clearing of trees. Faery-lights danced around them, but the deer darted away as soon as they reached the clearing. Lucy’s face fell at the loss of the deer, but brightened when she spotted a lamp-post in the middle of the clearing. “Look, Edmund, look!” She shouted joyously, “Another lamp-post! We must follow it!” So Lucy led the way, past the lamp-post, through trees that reached their branches out to scrape the clothes of the traveling pair until their royal robes were nothing more than velvet scraps. But still they journeyed on until they came to a house tucked into the tops of the trees. “A tree-house!” Edmund cried. “We must climb it, Lucy, and see what’s inside!” So Edmund went to climb the tree-house, and Lucy stood guard at the foot of the tree lest anyone come and see what the king of Narnia was doing. Edmund returned when the sun dipped below the horizon, holding something clutched in a leather bag. “What is it you have, Edmund?” Lucy asked curiously. “I found this on a little table set for tea.” Edmund said, eyes aglow with the excitement of an adventure. “It spoke to me! A little voice came from in the bag and said, For King Edmund and Queen Lucy. Let’s open it!” Lucy came nearer to Edmund and they opened the bag together. “Oh, Edmund, it’s beautiful!” Lucy said happily. Edmund smiled wide. It was a glass globe filled with snow, with a little lamp-post in the middle. “It’s a snow-globe!” Lucy said.
With their new prize, Lucy and Edmund returned to the castle, promising to go on more adventures.

Activity 4: The Secret of Life- (418 words)

“The Secret of Life” is a silent comic which deals with themes of growth, death, and love by illustrating the life cycle of a bird in a cage that is joined with a human to create a body with a living, breathing heart. The recurring motif of the story is a birdcage, which holds a blue bird. This cage is locked into a human body and becomes its heart. The motif symbolizes growth, since as the human grows, so does the bird, until the human passes away and the bird is free to sing its song and continue the life of the human forever. It opens on a tree, which seems to be the Tree of Life or some other important part of the story. The pods start to grow and transform into a cage holding an egg, and they are harvested by an old man who canoes across the water to reach the island with the tree. He harvests the cages and takes them back to the mainland, and sets up a stall in the market. Around him, children play, but their midsection is missing. A woman heads up to the stall to buy a bird for her young daughter, who is so excited that she’ll finally have a constant companion. She finds the perfect fit, and goes off to play soccer with a friend. As she grows up, so does the bird, and soon it hatches as she becomes mature. The beautiful bird only grows as the girl becomes an adult, and soon she is hand in hand with her childhood best friend as their birds sing together in harmony. The birds together symbolize love as they chirp happily. Soon, the woman dons a head covering as she becomes a mother. Her baby boy is beautiful. As she grows into an old woman, her bird becomes too big for the cage. They decide together that it is time, and the woman hobbles up to the cliff, as the only part of the comic set at night starts. Soon the bird is free, and absolutely gigantic. She sings her song as she takes off into the night, forever living on in her keeper’s memory.
This comic is a beautiful and chilling perspective on life, death, and love. The bird symbolizes the human heart, and how it grows and become more beautiful with every moment we live. Eventually, it shows that our heart and what we stood for will live on forever, singing our song to the heavens.