Henlooo! It is I, Ly! I'm starting this thread to let you enjoy my writing! Also, to keep track of it!

Natalia sauntered to her new school, as usual, confident and alone. I don’t need friends. I have my imagination, and that’s all a writer needs. Her head lifted and her posture upright, the sound of her measured steps could be heard along the pavement. Her beige backpack was casually slung across her right shoulder, and her long, beige skirt flowed as the wind swirled in circles around her. She saw a trio of girls walking to school together, laughing and giggling as they chatted. They’re definitely not writers. She thought. True writers are accompanied only by their minds.
——————————————————————————————————————————-
Elyssa strolled to school with Shaylise and Mikalea, her two best friends. They were chatting together, when Elyssa noticed another girl walking alone. She looks kind of lonely. She’s not really showing it though. Her eyes look, well, down. I wonder if she’s from our school? Elyssa’s imagination unfolded, bringing with it a million possibilities about the potential new girl. Did she just move here? Is she from another school? How old is she? She looks about my age. Her outfit is pretty. Did she buy or make it? What kind of person is she? Elyssa’s mind then drifted off to a math problem. Does backwards Pythygoras theorem work? If the square root of 1 squared plus 2 squared is 2.24, then 2.24 squared… … The whole time, her feet were tapping against the pavement to the jaunty tune playing on her white and rose-gold headphones. She spun around, pulling into a pirrouette, flipping into a single-handed cartwheel, turning and dancing a flicker of tap, her jet-black hair whipping through the air. That’s perfect for free dance later! Great, I lost my train of thought.
——————————————————————————————————————————-
Shaylise traisped to school with Mikalea and Elyssa. As usual, Elyssa was up in the clouds. It was habitual. She’s daydreaming again. Either about a book, maths problem or a dance routine. Shaylise marveled at how ‘cloudy’ Elyssa was that day. Off-white turtle-neck sweater, sky blue V-neck jumper, light-beige cargo pants. Even her high-tops had white clouds embroidered on them! Shaylise spun around, catching Mikalea trying to ‘mouse-ear’ her. It was their version of ‘bunny-ears’. “Mikalea!” They ran back and forth across the street, trying to mouse ear each other, eventually stopping just as they reached school with Elyssa.
——————————————————————————————————————————-
Mikalea skipped to school, full of energy. I’m behind Shaylise and Elyssa. Perfect for mouse-earing! She debated whether or not to mouse-ear Elyssa. Let’s not. She decided. The ratio of me mouse-earing Elyssa in a cloudy mood to the number of mouse-ear related scoldings from her is 5 : 7. That makes learning ratio a lot easier. So she mouse-eared Shaylise, earning her a sidewalk chase.
——————————————————————————————————————————-
When she reached the school building, Natalia went in, head held high. She did not want to blend in. Did not need to blend in. Did not care if she did. Her only need was to study hard, so she could be done learning as early as possible and focus on writing.

Critique for @brokenreeds
I think a suitable title would be ‘Perception’. It is a really nice poem about worldviews and how they impact writing. I like how you named the worldviews. I like how you put that ‘Dreamer’ might not necessarily like her position, and how the Musician's heart is empty, meaning she doesn't feel complete, even though music is supposed to make her feel full. I'm a bit confused about how the ‘dark’ hides from the optimist, hiding with ease. Why does it want to hide? Why does Optimist wish for someone to see she's not fine? I also love the emotion you put into this. It made me re-read it, again and again and again. It is really a beautiful poem. The impact it had on me was letting me see all the different worldviews and perspectives, and it highlights how fame is not always the key, and not everyone is happy with their ‘perfect’ life. It is so awesome, beautiful, lovely… … I'm running out of ways to describe it! Keep up the good work! You chose a brilliant workshop! You have a very strong writer's voice! I can see this in a book of good poems in the future! ~Ly
200 words exactly.

DELETED FOR OTHER PURPOSES. WILL BE PUT UP AGAIN IN DECEMBER.

Imagina
Belinda Jacobs was an English teacher. She was brilliant, able to let her students use their imagination and still make their stories realistic. She had a passion for English, and loved to teach.
She was not always like that though. She used to be dull and unimaginative, simply giving a pass or fail. There was one night that changed her life.
It had been a Tuesday night. After teaching and marking copious amounts of homework, she was ready to hit the sack. At around ten PM, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
She suddenly jolted awake. Taking in unfamiliar surroundings instead of her bedroom, she jumped when she saw a small fox sleeping nearby. The fox was nestled under a tree, with a castle, village and mountains in the distance. She tried to creep away but the fox woke up.
“Hello.” The fox said. Belinda screamed. A talking fox! What in the world!
“Don’t be afraid,” The fox continued. “Give me a moment.” Before her eyes, the fox’s red fur turned into skin, and its features became more human-like. Where the fox was earlier, now a girl stood. She had red hair, green eyes, pale skin and a fox’s ears and tail. She wore a light blue blouse with a green skirt, and her feet were bare. Her face was familiar, but Belinda couldn’t quite place it.
“Welcome to Imagina,” The girl said.
“What just happened?” Belinda asked.
“Oh. I’m half fox. Everyone here is different. Come, let me show you around. Call me Firefox.”
Still in shock, Belinda followed Firefox. She led Belinda to the castle.
“This is the mind castle. We are in someone’s imagination realm, and their mind makes stories here.”
Then they walked to the village.
“This is the village where I live. Everyone here is a main character or protagonist ”
Belinda saw many people, all extremely unusual. There were robots, children with weird hair, creatures and even flying ballet shoes! Most of the children were girls.
“There’s a bigger village two kilometres south of this one, and its where the background characters live.”
“The antagonists, then?” Belinda asked
Firefox flinched.
“All locked up in the castle.”
She points to the woods behind us.
“That’s the portal to the real world.”
“What are those then?” Belinda asked, pointing to a collection of portals next to the woods.
“Portals to other imagination realms. Let me show you the story gallery.”
Just past the village, there was a building. Along the way, Belinda noticed that Firefox tensed as they got closer.
“Why are you called Firefox?” Belinda asked. Firefox slowed down. Suddenly, her hands glowed and long flames burst out, scorching the path. Immediately after, her hands returned to normal.
“That’s why.” Firefox grinned, pushing open the door of the story gallery. Belinda saw holographic panes, each with a picture.
“This is like YouTube,” Belinda muttered. Curiosity got the better of her and she tapped one of the panes. Something zipped through her arm and up to her brain. She suddenly saw the whole story.
“The blue ones are original, green ones are imported and yellow ones are adapted.”
Fire fox walked further on, passing the sign that said ‘character profiles’ She paused at a blue pane, sighing as she touched it.
“Are you alright? This is obviously not your favourite place.”
In reply, she turned her head to face a pane. Belinda followed her gaze to a yellow pane titled ‘Counter Earth, my version (IC) ’. Below it, ‘Characters : Firefox, Sir Ram, High evolutionary… …’
She turned to look back at Firefox, who had opened her character profile, and was looking at the pictures. Well, one of the pictures. She tenderly swept her hand against it. In the picture was her, fully human; and another girl, playing in the streets.
“Is that your sister?” Belinda asked
Firefox didn’t respond. Tears trickled down her face.
“She was my closest friend,” Firefox sighed. “We grew up together. She was like a sister to me.”
“What happened to her?”
“She didn’t survive the story.” Firefox bit her lip. “She didn’t survive the experiments. After that, the battle was mine to fight.”
“Why is it incomplete then?”
“It’s still loading.”
She sighed.
“Let’s go. Your dream time is ending.”
Wait what?
Outside the building, Firefox bid her goodbye.
Belinda woke up on Wednesday, and her entire style had changed. Now she was full of imagination.
Over a course of a few days, she dreamt up a story. Her students were surprised at the change in her. She noticed that Sophie Ruiz, one of her students, looked extremely similar to Firefox.
It was now Friday morning, after recess. While getting into her seat, Sophie glanced out the window and gasped. Purple magic was spilling out of the woods, heading for the school!
“Great,” Sophie muttered. “I read Mirrorwood too many times.”
Belinda had recently read Mirrorwood, but these looked different. The purple magic split and one flew in through the open window, hitting Sophie, who then sprouted furry ears and a fox tail.
“Firefox.” Belinda gasped.
Sophie smiled.
“I remember someone coming into my imagination Tuesday night.”
Some of the magic flew into the classroom, causing all the students to transform into characters. And Belinda too. She suddenly had a small green bird sitting on her shoulder and flowers in her hair..
“This is all my fault. I’m sorry.” Sophie sighed.
“Don’t be Sophie. We now have our imagination here.”
“Why did Miss Jacobs call you Firefox?”
“Because that’s the name of one of my characters. Or the nickname at least. She had a tour of my imagination realm in her dream.”
Belinda heard shrieks coming from the other classrooms.
“Well, we should go tell them what’s happening. The whole town will have this soon.”

Inhumane
I open my eyes. I can feel the electricity coursing through my veins. I can’t think, only feel. I feel the pricking of needles, the scalding hot liquid that is inserted all over my body. Even my face. I hear muffled voices. “Are you sure this will work? This is the first test subject.” “It’s a mutant, if the experiment doesn’t work, we’ll end up with something else useful.” Wait, What? “Where’s the telepathy chem mix?” someone asks. A syringe needle is inserted at my neck. A pinkish liquid is transferred into my body. The humming noises I’ve been hearing come to an abrupt stop. I can think again. Millions of questions race through my mind. Why am I here? What’s happening? And what did they mean by ‘mutant’? Someone picks up a spear-like thing, thrusts it into my chest.
I am released from my chains, shoved towards a metal structure. More chains. After I am chained up, a masked figure types something on a computer. Suddenly, my mind begins looking for a unique brainwave frequency, even though I don’t want it to. The figure yells out coordinates and some men run out of the building. They return five minutes later with a young boy. He is shoved into a cell.
“Tomorrow we’ll brainwash the boy. How’s the girl doing?”
“Fine sir. The mixture works.” Then my mind starts racing when the figure presses a key.
It’s 10p.m. I am thrown into a cell. Finally, some breathing space. A man comes in and instructs me to lie down on my stomach. I comply. He picks up a plug with a thick wire and stabs it into my back. Weirdly, it energises me. The door slams shut. I suddenly realise my mind is a blank. Everything before today… … is gone. I close my eyes and sleep.
It’s 4a.m. I wake up. A meagre portion of food is provided. I eat it and unplug myself. I am dragged to the hound-chain (that’s what they called it) and secured. From the corner of my eye, I spot the boy from yesterday. His face and body have received the same ‘treatment’ as mine. Click. Mind starts racing again.
My vision clears as I can think freely again. My brain is still digging for that frequency, but it feels like trying to sew with a blunt needle. The figure at the computer picks up a dagger that’s glowing blue.
“Where are they?” he yells, stabbing the dagger into my chest. A bolt of electricity jumps through me.
“I don’t know!” I scream, writhing in agony. Beside me, I can hear the boy yelling too. The figure lowers his hand and murmurs something about at least capturing 20 today. We are released and shoved back into our cells. I plug in and hit the hay.
It has been six months already. Every day has been like a loop, with a few new ‘hounds’ joining us every day. Today feels…… different. I hear the people outside talking about how they need another fast worker like me, and how they plan to attack Parlemene, a nearby floating city. Instead of the usual, I am led to a pod-like structure and restrained at the arms, ankles, waist and neck. My wrists are cuffed together. The cover closes. A monitor scans my entire body. A DNA sample is taken. From every individual part of my body. Two hours later, the pod opens and I gasp for oxygen. In the used-to-be-empty pod next to me, I see a younger version of myself, about two years younger. A clone.
The cloning process took a toll on me. I am sent back to my cell to rest, along with my clone. It felt a bit awkward, looking at yourself-but-not-really. But at the same time, it felt nice. Almost like looking at a sister.
It’s been another six months. I have adjusted to life with my clone. Hearing my own voice, looking at my own eyes. Seeing my own thoughts (Though clones eventually develop their own personality) . I’ve also had enough. Today we decide to escape. To Parlemene. We climb out the window and jump. There is a pulling sensation. I understand what the spear-like thing was for. Enslavement.
There are angry shouts as they realise we are gone. Something around our necks begins to tighten. The pain is excruciating. I imagine a blade appearing. It appears, made out of pure orange light. Okay, so we are mutants. I use it to pry a metal thing out of my neck and my clone’s. I wish we could fly. Strands of blue light appear and we hop on and are floated to Parlemene.
We spend the whole day searching before finding a suitable rooftop to camp on. High enough not to be seen, low enough not to get struck by lightning. We have barely settled down before a voice yells, “There! Those are mutants! They’re a threat to humans!”
I recognise that voice. Professor Syndister. He was in charge of the ‘hound’ project.
“You are the one who even-” my voice cracks as tears of fury and desperation trickle down my face.
“Even what, my dear?” he smirks. His cronies have guns and open fire. We quickly form shields and fire orange projectiles. Ammunition fires in all directions, but doesn’t hit civilians as I formed an enclosed area with some yellow-light-shields. The firing continues for about an hour.
S.T.O.R.M (Strategic Trained Operatives Rescue ) and T.O.R.N.A.D.O (Trained Official Rescue Need Answerers Daughter Operatives) troops break up the battle. Too tired to resist, we follow them. Prof. Syndister and the others are transported to the maximum security prison. My clone and I are fitted with special power-containing gloves and brought to the S.T.O.R.M and T.O.R.N.A.D.O directors.
The S.T.O.R.M director speaks,” Girls, I don’t normally do this, but I’m going to let you choose your fate.” Twin looks of surprise spread across our faces. (Not surprising, because one of us is a clone) “You can either spend the next 12 years of your life in a maximum security prison, or as a or T.O.R.N.A.D.O operative. What’ll it be?” The choice was obvious. I mean, who likes prison? And at least we’ll have a purpose.
“Come along,” The T.O.R.N.A.D.O director says, pulling us to a room. “The ‘light’ in this room will help you.” Help us what? Inside the room, there were ten double-decker bunks, ten mirrors and ten wardrobes.
“Sleep in five minutes, okay? By the way, what are your names?”
That’s when it hits me. I don’t even know my own name.
“How about Adeline and Arianne?”
Smiles slowly spread across our faces. As the door closes, we pick up identical looking books on our bunks, titled : Bible. (If you’re wondering, I chose the top bunk and Arianne chose the bottom bunk.) Slowly opening and flipping through the pages, our faces are lit up with hope. Someone loves us. Enough to die for us. Jesus. Jesus was the light! So she was using a metaphor.
“’Adeline-“
“I know!”
“No, not just that. Your face!” Spinning around to look in the mirror, I realise the marks from before are gone!
“ You too!”
We are filled with an indescribable peace as we sleep that night.
Two Years Later
“Ma’am, there’s been a breach. Estate 9.”
“Send the two youngest agents.”
The door slides open noiselessly as 13-year-old me (I found out my age) and 11-year-old Arianne (literally) fly out of the building (on blue light) donning identical white leotards and to Estate 9.
When we arrive, we see a girl wreaking havoc with wind. The wind flew in the direction of her hands, ripping roofs off and sending debris flying.
“Stop!” I yell. Then more quietly, “You’re a ‘Hound’, aren’t you?”
“Don’t remind me!”
“Well maybe you could stop, and we can try and help you?”
Surprisingly, she agrees, and we settle down on an undamaged rooftop, Arianne’s green light fixing the damage.
“ I woke up with a blank mind. There were people, dressed like scientists. They made me do… … something with my brain. Every day was pure torture. Until I broke out.”
“I understand.”
Her eyes light up with hope, but flickers as she retorts, “Why would you? You are just a pair of T.O.R.N.A.D.O agents!”
“But we were ‘Hounds’ too,” quiet Arianne adds.
“You survived?!”
“Barely. Broke out. Like you. Prof. Syndister attacked. T.O.R.N.A.D.O and S.T.O.R.M stopped it. They made a deal with us. Prison or Operatives.”
“ How did you cope? I haven’t been able to sleep.”
“Come with us. We’ll show you.” Arianne’s (slightly more) melodious voice soothes her, and she follows.
1444 words

Pointe shoe

The bag is unzipped,
I am taken out.
My new owner looks
With smiles all about.
She stitches my tip,
And gives me ribbons,
Slips on a small sock,
Laces the ribbons.
I feel like a rock,
Stiff and hard as a block.
She soon warms me up.
Though it’s just a few minutes,
She soon slips me off,
Massages her feet.
I know she is young.
She is still in training,
The greatest ballerina she is destined to become.
 82 words

Alignment Pointe

My name is Oddettina Aligna Teal. My friends (if I had any) call me Ettie. My enemies (I have a ton) call me Odd Tina. And for a reason. I have scolioscis. The clothes I wear are out of fashion, though only I know the painstaking effort put in. The main reason why everyone hates me? I’m an orphan.
You’d think they have a little sympathy. They don’t. I study at the Darkraven school for higher learning. A top notch academy. Everyone there is a straight-A student, and really snobby. Except for me. If there was another non-snobby student, I’ve probobaly never met them. The only reason I’m even here is because I won a scholarship. I definitely couldn’t have paid the fees.
By the way, Darkraven is a boarding school. I am in my own separate room. I can’t stay in a dormitory, because you need to pay extra fees for that. Here, the students practically govern the school, with the teachers only helping when asked. The head girl and boy, Alphonse and Adelina, have tried several times to help my situation. I can barely take refuge in anything except dance, which I am terrible at. I’m so bad, even though co-curricular activities were included in the scholarship package, I have to train myself. The teacher gave up on me.
Then this girl comes along. She’s an orphan, like me, but no one thinks she’s odd. Unlike me, her clothes are finely tailored, her straight jet-black hair falls neatly to her waist and her back is perfectly straight. Later I found out that she lived on her own next to a fabric shop and learnt to make clothes and got fabric there.
I still remember the day she arrived. As soon as the school door opened, everyone -and I mean everyone- stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her. I heard whispers of “Wow! Her blouse is so fashionable!” “Look at the embroidery on her pants! It’s perfectly aligned!” and “I want those pants.” But she took no notice of it. Glancing at a sheet of paper, she walked past the dormitory stairs and up the attic stairs, carrying her coffee-brown backpack with her. What? She shouldn’t go there! Is she poor? But then her clothes… …
She didn’t come down until lunch time, and even then she didn’t show off.
In boarding schools, the entire school eats together in the dining hall, and the classes sit at individual tables (there is only one class per level).
“Where did you get your pants? They’re so cute!” A Year one girl (like me) asked.
Looking extremely embarrassed, she looked down and replied, “I… … made them my… … myself.”
There was an awed silence, something rare for a year one class.
“I’m sorry, how old are you?”
“Eleven.”
Since it was a Sunday, after lunch, there were two free hours. Usually, I would have gone to the spare studio to practice, but I was curious about this eleven-year-old girl who was so ‘perfect’.
When I reached the attic, I found her using old wooden planks to make room dividers. Not noticing me, she started clearing away some of the junk up there.
“Oh, hi,” she said.
I was so surprised! She actually chose to say hi to me, the least popular person in the entire academy.
“What’s your name?” I asked
“Isla. Yours?”
“Odettina.”
“Can I call you Ettie instead?”
“Of course.”
She continued clearing away the junk, but put some things to one side.
“Why are you keeping those? They’re useless,” I asked
She smiled.
“I prefer to think of them as used-less.”
“What would you even do with them?”
She picked up a huge old cupboard, and started dividing it. She pulled out all the nails and bolts. She then pulled the wood at a certain angle so that it split perfectly in half each time.
She held up about sixteen pieces and said, “These I could use to make a loft next to the window.”
After that, we spent the about half an hour clearing the attic, and the remaining time constructing two lofts and stairs. Then we had to fly down for dinner. Then there was an hour to wash up before bed (half of which was used to make Isla a mattress, I passed her the stuffing and springs and she stitched). That was yesterday. (ironic, right? Why would I put it like it happened a month ago?)
The dressing bell rings and we jump out of bed. Isla pulls the room divider closed. When I finally open it, she Is dressed in khaki-coloured cargo pants and a light yellow blouse. Her hair is neatly pulled up with a white claw clip.
In sharp contrast, I am dressed in a grey T-shirt, Green skirt and my long, matted hair hangs down to my shoulder blades.


We slip on shoes and socks and troop down to the dining hall for breakfast. When she sits next to me, numerous whispers ripple through the hall. After breakfast, when we walk to class, some of the older students start jeering.
“Hey new girl! Why ya friends with that odd kid!”
“Yea, her back is out of alignment!”
“She’s my friend. And if you want to be mean, I’ll let you know that I like to snitch.”
“Wow, so loyal!” they mocked sardonically, laughing.
“Are you done? Because lesson starts in ten minutes.”
That really got their attention.
“Shut up kiddo! Fine, you can leave. But we won’t let you off so easy next time!”
We walk back to class without any further interruptions. Since today is the first day, tests are given to asses the new girls. Isla aces her Mathematics and Science, passes her English and barely scrapes through her French (she was given a easier test because she told the teacher she did not know French).
After lessons, Isla walks to the changing room and comes out in a mint-green leotard and sky-blue wrap skirt.
“You dance?”
“Yes. You?”
“Kinda… …”
Her eyebrow lifts ever so slightly, but a split second later she relaxes it again.
“See you later, then.”
As usual, I look in through the window to try and pick up a few new moves. Miss Claire asks the class to do their usual routine at the barre. Though obviously Isla doesn’t know it, her confidence makes it look like she’s always did.
“Does anyone have any pieces to present? If not, wear your point shoes and do your rises.”
Three hands go up.
One of which is Isla’s.
The other two present Raymoda and Harlequinade, but Isla pulls a showstopper with Bluebird.
Pique developpe, kuru, pique developpe, kuru, arabesque devant, fouette, attitude, attitude.
Her first half already and all the girls cease to whisper.
“Brilliant Isla! This term our variation is Harlequinade, would you like to demonstrate?”
Her Harlequinade is not as brilliant, but still exceptional for her age. Her ankle wobbles slightly on her turns.
En Pointe, her work is on the unstable side. She doesn’t do the harder (and more dangerous!) exercises, but she still stands out.
At the end of class, the girls walk out giggling over a funny joke.
“Isla! Want to come for hip hop later?”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Come on Ettie, let’s go to the small studio.”
I hear a loud whisper.
“I just don’t understand Isla! She does so well, she’s so naturally attractive, but then she goes and hangs out with Odd Tina!”
I cringed at the remark but Isla barely noticed it.
“How do you bear with all of them?” I asked.
“I just don’t pay attention. It’s like wearing internal ear plugs.”
In the studio, she gently helped me align my back.
Over the next five years, she did exercises with me and we trained together. I discovered that she loved reading and still kept an old copy of Winne the Pooh. Instead of her popularity decreasing as a result of our friendship, mine increased.
Time flies. It is the end of my second last term here.
“Ettie?”
I spin around.
“Take care of the new kids in the dorm next term, ok?”
“What do you mean? You’ll still be here, won’t you?”
“Charlaine and Trent will.”
“But… …I need you! You’re the reason I’ve become so much more popular and my back more straight!”
She gently rests her hand on my shoulder.
“Ettie, the only thing I ever did was make you believe in yourself. It was never me who made you popular. Remember when I was learning walkovers?”
I nodded.
“I was so scared to try, but when I actually did, I could do it. I just needed to believe in myself. And that’s all you need to do. Believe in yourself.”

“Always remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” –Christopher Robin. (Winne the pooh)

1488 words

SWC Meets Imagina (481 words)
(Imagina, 8PM, Fanfiction street)
Firefox : Who’s that?
(Walks over)
(Tessa is doodling on her Tablet, Sitting on the steps of a building)
Firefox : Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before.
Tessa : I’ve been here for a few weeks. I’m Tessa, by the way.
Firefox : Call me Firefox. What are you drawing?
———————————————————————-
Free
It's all the pain and suffering
I see
Everywhere
All around me

My heart breaks
When I see the fate
Inside the world of stories

We know we’re here for life
So why don’t we stay and try

To Fly

Fly, fly, fly, we’ll fly
High, high, high
We’ll touch the sky and pull our dreams

Back to earth, earth, earth, wooah
The ground, ground, ground
And we’ll do it again a
Million times
Till a million dreams are yours and mine
———————————————————————-
Firefox : Would you like to come to my house?
Tessa : I'd love to!
(They walk over to Firefox's house)
(8.30PM, the house on the corner of Fanfiction street and Original Avenue.)

Tessa: Wow! It's so nice and spacious!
Firefox : Yes it is! I'm going for a trip tomorrow, by the way. Ly, who owns the whole imagination plane, is bringing me to this place called Scratch Writing Camp. It's supposed to be a junction where others can build on people's stories.
Tessa : I wish I could join you. That sounds so nice!
Firefox: You can sleep with me tonight. If you want, you can stay while I'm gone.
Tessa : Sure! That sounds great!
( Firefox transforms into a fox and curls up next to the fireplace, telling Tessa to sleep on her bed)
( 7.45AM, Firefox's house)
(Firefox finishes packing)
(The two of them walk to the edge of the plane)
(Awkwardly) Tessa : I guess this is goodbye then.
Firefox : It was nice meeting you. We can meet up again when I'm back.
(A girl rides up to them on a brown horse. She is dressed in a off white turtleneck sweater, sky blue V-neck jumper, beige cargo pants and embroidered high tops. She has fair skin, brown eyes, and midnight blue hair)
Girl : Hi Firefox!
Firefox : Hey Ly!
Ly : I decided at the last minute that I want to bring Tessa along. Don't worry about packing, I have extra clothes.
Tessa : Me?!
Ly : (giggles) Yep! We'd better get going, before the train goes. Hop on!
(Hops on)
Ly : Let's go, Dream!
(After some time, they can see a thin column of smoke. They soon see a train.)
Ly : That's Contemporary's train. It's a wandering library, basically.
Tessa : Who's Contemporary?
Ly : I forgot to tell you, we are sorted into cabins, like if it was an overnight camp. The contemporary cabin, where I stay, owns the train.
(The train slows. Another girl hops out)
Ly : Hello, September! Where's Alex?
September : On holiday. (Looks at Firefox and Tessa) Come onboard our wandering library!

Weekly No.4
:: Pt 1 ::
Twinkling, never blinking, twinkling bright blue star (shining, blinding)
Do we ever really wonder what you are (Do we?) (Shining, blinding)
Far in the universe, near the moon, so far (Truly!) (Oooh, oh, oh)
Like a diamond in a collection put in a little jewelry heart (sparkle, shine shine, oooh)

Reach, reach reach for the moon,
And if you fail, at least you'll end up in the stars
Reach for the skies, go higher
They're not the limit any more
Reach for your dreams,
They're never to high or too far

It was written in the stars (in the stars, in the stars) (written in the sta-ah-ars)
They were star crossed lovers (criss-crossed, star crossed lovers, lovers lovers)
But can they rewrite the stars (Align the stars, align their hearts)
Can they turn back the hours (can they, can they, they?)

Just imagine (ooh, ooh)
Just imagine (ooh, ooh)
Imagine what the world is like
If you could make the stars align (imagine, imagine, imagine, ooh, imagine, imagine, imagine, ooh, ooh)
Just imagine (ooh, ooh)
Just imagine (ooh, ooh)
Imagine what life would be like
if you could rewrite the stars, stars (imagine, imagine, imagine, ooh, imagine, imagine, imagine, ooh, ooh)

Was it written in the stars? (in the stars, in the stars) (written in the sta-ah-ars)
Were they star crossed lovers (criss-crossed, star crossed lovers, lovers lovers)
But did they rewrite the stars (Align the stars, align their hearts)
Did they turn back the hours (did they, did they, they?)
(251 words)
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Ancient times prompt

Create a mythological creature based on a real-life animal or bird, and write a fictional factfile on it! Your factfile should consist of a drawing or image (doesn’t have to be your own but remember to credit the artist or photographer) and 400 words of writing.

The picture : https://tlondon-art.tumblr.com/post/170505734884/winged-fox-had-fun-today-playing-with
FACTFILE
Species name : Poeci
Scientific name : Poecilia orientalis
Predominant gender : Female
Appearance : Red fox like features, angel white wings
Diet : Herbivore
Habitat : The forests of Nesnela, occasionally found in the towns
Rarity : Rare
Traits : They can fly like birds, run like foxes, but only eat wildflowers. They can speak any language. They depend on the flowers of firefly plants (Fireflius plantus) for their powers (see Powers)
Powers : If they consume a flower from a firefly plant, they gain the ability to breathe fire for 2 hours
Interaction with humans : Low
Intelligence : High
Agression : Medium
Poeci are foxes with some bird-like features, such as flight and wings. They eat wildflowers and can obtain fire-breathing abilities from firefly plants. They live in the forests of Nesnela, an acient country which has sunken to the bottom of the ocean. Generally introverted, Poeci attack any who invade their personal space or homes, unless they know beforehand. They have a very high IQ, and are fluent in all languages, which allows them to converse with humans and other species. However, they rarely do this, and it is extremely rare to see a Poeci talking with another species, particularly humans. In fact, it is even rarer than the sighting of a Poeci itself! If you ever spot a Poeci, only approach if they look at you and make direct eye contact. This means you have met one of the more social Poecis. If the Poeci crouches low and raises its tail, slowly walk backwards until the Poeci is out of sight.
Poeci give birth to their young alive. They will dig a hole under the roots of a hollow tree, and the female will give mate and give birth there. After the young Poeci are one week old, the male will continue to care for them while the female forages. The female will drop food to her family through the hollow trunk while flying. Young Poeci, if fed the flower of a firefly plant immediately after birth, will gain the fire-breathing trait for life. However, Poeci do not feed firefly plants to their young immediately after birth as the young are very playful and may accidentally burn a whole colony down.
Poeci are skilled at weilding a bow and arrow, staffs, quaterstaffs, swords and shields. This is due to when a human attacked a colony to get a Poeci's eye, which was believed to have magic abilities but is really just an eye. (407 words)
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Distant Past prompt

Write a tragic ending for your most beloved original character in 500 words. Don’t worry, you don’t have to make it canon!

From the moment it touched me, I knew there and then I was doomed.
It was a small metal ball. Nothing much. Compared to what I was running away from.
Controller.
No, not a TV remote. A villain who had the ability to curse anyone for life. He was deadly. I happened to be top of his list. Of people to get rid of.
He held people hostage that day. Knew SHEILD couldn't resist. Knew my teammates couldn't resist. Knew I couldn't resist.
Could you? Resist trying to help innocent people? Who were about to die?
The six of us sped there. Immediately. Power man and Iron Fist went to directly attack Controller. Spiderman and Nova fired from a safe distance, yelling insults and quips like the webhead and buckethead they are. White Tiger and I freed the hostages. We hear Controller charging at us. We jump and he misses. I land next to Spiderman, and he sends drones in our general direction.
“It's not any of you he wants. It's me!” I yell, trying to make them go, save themselves.
“Not leaving!” White Tiger replies.
“Well, I am! I've got to bring this away from the city!” I use my chem boots and make a path to the forest. Controller follows. Good news. I was correct. The civilians are safe. Bad news. I'm fighting Controller alone. My path is suddenly blocked by thick tree trunks. I'm cornered! I spin around, only to have Controller launch a small metal ball at my chest.
“You are now doomed to slowly die. If you speak to anyone, they will die.” I can almost see him smirk behind the mask.
After he left, the metal ball pierced through my suit and implanted itself in my chest. My whole suit suddenly disintegrated, and the metal ball expanded into a long-sleeved flexible metal unitard, the neckline creeping over my head, leaving only my face exposed. My hands and feet were covered too. I hear footsteps approaching.
“Chemiss?” Great. It's Nova. I need to ask for help, but I can't. Telepathy would be useful now. I just look at the ground. He stares at me weirdly, then flies off. Please don't call the others, Nova! But he does. It pains me to not speak to them, not reply them. They're so concerned. I take a stick and draw on the ground. Controller got me, can't speak to you, will kill you if I do.
They sigh and turn to leave. Iron Fist lingers. Go. You came here to defeat Controller. Go and defeat him. Then you can go back. I say with my eyes. He seems to understand me. For a moment, everything feels normal again.
His hand slowly brushed across my cheek, sending a ripple of pleasant memories through my mind. Not from before this. Even further back, in a different place, different time… …The past I never knew I had.
“Bye, Tess. Maybe forever.” He sighs and reluctantly turns to leave.
An invisible magnetic force pulls me as he walks out of sight to try and find Controller.
“That was painful, wasn't it?”
“Seriously?! Why is everything you do so annoying?!” I yell, trying to use the curse to my advantage.
“Nice try. It doesn't work on me.”
(545 words)
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Current day prompt

SWC fanfiction time! Write 500 words of SWC fanfic about the events of the current session – be that the drama of cabin wars, the events of your cabin storyline, or just about the dynamics between your campers and co-leaders. You could even write about the daily team! ;D

The Myth-Poetry siblings have been warring with the Contemporary. AGAIN. Contemporary had stolen some mangoes from Poetry, as Steampunk had given them very SUSPICIOUS ones. Wynter and Luna had a lot of fun… …but did poetry? No.
“Greetings contemporary cabin, we have come to take revenge upon poetry’s mangoes.” With a malicious glint in her eye, Summer pulls out a match, lights it, and throws it to Wen. Wen catches it, almost falling over. “Oops–” She takes out a book, several she didn't like very much, and lit them up.
“That's hot,” she remarked, before throwing it to the library.
“Greetings from your enemy,” she shouted, grinning. Seeing a mango on the counter, Summer throws it as well into the fire.
“Bye-bye!” She says with a maniacal laugh, and together she and Wen jump out the window and make their escape, enjoying the sounds of screams as the library goes up in flame. Peachi stares at the flaming train, an expression of horror on her face. Her shoulders tremble with barely-suppressed emotion as the library burns, along with the books within it. Finally, she wrenches her gaze away from the disaster in progress, shutting out everything else- from the panicked yelling of campers inside the library, to the distant cackles of the Poetry campers- and zeroing in on the distant figure of the Poetry lighthouse. There's only one word on their mind now: revenge.
“Oh, how sad that water destroys books,” Summer snickered.
“Lucky for us, all of our books are safely protected with waterproof jackets so we only lost a few to the fire.” Delta comments.
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“Hi contemporary cabin, we're here to steal your chocolates” Orca grabbed an old contemporary uniform and put it on, walking silently to the kitchen. “Nice chocolates,” she said, grabbing all of them. “And now, we're in peace,” she said, sitting on an open window. When the train was going over a bridge, she jumped down into the water, transforming herself into an orca, and returned swimming to the lighthouse to enjoy her chocolates.
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“We sail on our mighty train-boats. Flaming mangoes ready to launch,” Angie announces. Angie yells from the head of one of the boats, “FIREE” and the mangoes launch towards the lighthouse and Loch Ness monster. Wynter picks up a mango and puts it in a cannon.
“WOOOOOOOOO!!!” She fires the cannon. “TAKE THAT!” Peachi gets to work helping Wynter with the cannons.
“VENGEARSON!” she cheers, though she's aiming for the Loch Ness monster, not the actual Poetry castle; it's not quite arson, but it's the thought that counts.
“ARSON!!!” Wynter grabs a flaming mango and throws it at the lighthouse, then grabs an oar and tries to throw it at the loch-ness monster.
Peachi decides to give up on the flaming mangoes since the water is just putting them out, and while the last round of mangoes arc through the air, they grab several large baskets of non-flaming mangoes and continue to fire at the loch ness monster. Wynter gives Peachi a weird look because flaming mangoes are supreme, but gladly takes a non-flaming mango and throws it at the window of the lighthouse.
“No, you have to use the flaming mangoes on the lighthouse,” Peachi explains hastily, feeling a bit embarrassed. She'd only changed weapons to suit her foe- the Loch Ness monster, dripping in water and probably only thinking fire to be a small irritant since the fires only lasted briefly before getting put out.
“Mhm.” Wynter takes a new flaming mango and throws it at a window. Peachi continues launching mangoes at the Loch Ness monster, waiting for it either to get bored and leave, or feel too injured to continue and leave- but determined regardless to outlast it, no matter what the outcome will be. Wynter takes a lighter and throws it at the lighthouse.
“YARF IS SUPREME!!” she yelled. Even though Peachi doesn't know the meaning of the phrase, they decide not to question it, because the Loch Ness monster has finally vanished from view and hasn't shown back up. She shrugs, decides her mission is accomplished and her part of this revenge has been taken care of, then sets the remaining non-flaming mangoes on fire before starting preparations to leave. Wynter continues throwing flaming mangoes at the lighthouse.
Angie raises a sword in the air, not explaining her sudden disappearance or how she got the sword, “WE HAVE DONE OUR DUTY, AND WE NOW LEAVE SATISFIED!!”
“YESSSSS!!!” Wynter jumped out of the train-boat and ran off toward the train. “WE HAVE SUCCEEDED!!”
Summer has sat at the top of the lighthouse this whole time, laughing hysterically. What fools.
“Nessie!” She calls. “You can come out now!” Rising out of the water is not the formidable monster of before, but a Goliath that would strike terror into the hearts of any.
“Did you enjoy your snack of fire and mangoes?” Summer asks Nessie, who nods. Fools, feeding her the two things that make her stronger.
“Come here!” She calls to Nessie, who grants Summer a seat behind her ear. “Onward!” Summer yells, ready to finish this once and for all… …
“I don’t think you’ll ever make it back to poetry if your train tracks are all broken down… …” Summer snickered.
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Summer shows up… on the back of a 4,000-foot-tall monster. “Fools, didn’t you know that firey mangoes only made Nessie stronger?!” With one last look of glee, Nessie jumps onto the train tracks, breaking them through. The train will go no further. She does the same on the other side. This train will not move again. After watching the tracks collapse with a satisfied look on her face, Summer and Nessie tromp back to poetry.
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“How could you… attack poetry lighthouse!” Orca stares at the destroyed train tracks in the form of an orca. “Peace…” she mumbled, and looked at Nessie, who had enjoyed his mangoes.
“Peace with you… WAR WITH MYTH NOW!” Wynter yells.
“How you dare to touch my sibling that I of course never wanted to betray!” Orca replies, her words kinda suspicious.
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The orca waved his tale, creating a huge wave that made a huge bubble around the contemporary train. ‘You won’t attack anybody for today' Orca said, staring from the waves at how the contemporary people admired the colors of the bubble that surrounded them. But Wynter realized this was just a barrier to stop them from doing any harm. Even if it was temporal, Orca was relieved that she had made the bubble. She returned slowly to the poetry cabin, and made the same bubble. Everyone was safe now. Well, till the three cabins next burned each other.
Only finding this out several days later, Ly giggles, “But Poetry's and Myth's books aren't waterproof… …or fireproof.”
(1219 words)
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Distant Future Prompt

Clocks are a common symbol in steampunk. If you are currently working on an extended story, introduce a clock within the next 400 words. The appearance of the clock should symbolise something – what that something might be is up to you.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The old-fashioned grandfather clock chimed as it struck seven. Karla yawned. Her rusty house was separated from town, allowing some peace and quiet. She was one of the few who had resisted upgrading to the shiny gold steampunk houses, instead staying in an old brass one.
“Karla?” Janica asked. “We have to go to town to get some food.”
Karla sighed. She hated going to the city. She groaned and walked to the cupboard.
“Slip your boots on.” Satin boots were worn in the city, in sharp contrast to them, who went barefoot.
The city was so bright, a shining gold, kept levitating by steam power. Janica and Karla blended in easily, seeing girls were never noticed. Chantelle had gone down to earth, below. She couldn't build a bridge to them. They had to build one to her. After buying a quick snack and getting back to the outskirts, the two girls checked the plant bridge that Chantelle said would bring them down to the earth. Still not fully grown. Munching on the snacks, the two girls chatted, though Karla's mind was up in the clouds. Chantelle had always said the world before was full of flowers and trees, whatever those were. Animals too.
“Isn't it weird, humans have always gotten their food from animals and plants, and yet now we don't know what they are?” Karla wondered aloud.
“That's true!” Janica replied.
Suddenly, Karla noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It read :
Citizen, this house will be demolished at eight o'clock on the ninth of Chasm. You will be relocated to the city. Whether you like it or not.
Signed, The Council
Karla groaned. Today was the eighth of Chasm. If the plant didn't grow quickly, they wouldn't be able to go to earth. Ever.
In the morning, the girls hurriedly packed their things and walked to the plant bridge. Ready or not, they had to go. The second hand on Karla's watch ticked furiously. They stepped onto the bridge and the tendrils began to curl round their bare feet.
“Is this supposed to be happening?” Janica asked worriedly.
“Chantelle said so!” Karla replied. “The tendrils are supposed to grow up your whole leg, then we'll get teleported to where Chantelle is!”
The second hand on Karla's watch inched closer and closer to eight o'clock. Once the council arrived, there was no chance of getting to Earth. Just as the grandfather clock began to strike eight, the doors burst open. But the only thing the council saw was a plant.
(426 words)
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The end prompt

A bomb went off when my friends and I were playing in the street. There was a loud explosion, then bits of concrete and dust began to rain down on us. The older children immediately grabbed the younger ones and ran, bringing them a safe distance away before coming back for the rest. Fear lent wings to our feet and we sprinted like cheetahs. I had already brought three of the younger children to safety and was running back for the last one. As we ran, I sped as fast as I could. I grabbed the boy and practically flew to the exit. However, I tripped over a stone and sprained my ankle. The little boy continued to run. There was barely any chance that I would be able to get out away before a building fell on me. Someone suddenly caught me from behind and flew me to the opposite end of the falling buildings from where my friends were. It was the heroine Plasma!
“Thank you, Plasma, you saved my life!” I exclaimed happily.
To my utmost horror, Plasma grinned like a maniac.
“Who's Plasma?” Before my eyes, Plasma shapeshifted into the infamous villain, Shifter! Shifter had been impersonating Plasma all along! Shifter's green semi-liquid tendrils began to curl around me. Once Shifter absorbed me, he would be able to impersonate me, genetically, brain patterns, voice, and memories even! I struggled to free myself but to no avail. If he impersonated me, he could wreak havoc anywhere in the city! The green tendrils were completely curled around me. I felt myself losing oxygen rapidly, struggling to breathe. No! I can't… …
I woke up in a cold sweat, panting heavily. It was just a dream.
(286 words)

Bi-Daily : Song :The flowers
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look outside the window and see
Hundreds of flowers blooming ‘round me
But my head is too full
My mind gone all crazy
Hope it’s not true
But my mind says I’m lazy

I wanna
Stop and smell the flowers
Not fly from place to place
My inner child
Still full of wonder
I really miss my gaze

When I looked at the flowers
Clothed with sunbeams of light
Each petal
Joining to
Create a beautiful sight
I wanna run free, free, free
wanna fly, fly, fly
wanna go out and try
wanna smell and sigh
the flowers

My feet reach the door of a building that's white
The roof was adorned with green paint (that’s right)
I know that school is an opportunity
But I know where my heart longs to be

With the flowers
Wish I could run out and say
This is my happy place
But then I would be shamed

Cause this world
Hands me no bouquets
When I want to run out and smell the flowers
It says I must stay

I wanna run free, free, free
wanna fly, fly, fly
wanna go out and try
wanna smell and sigh
the flowers

I look out, I simply can’t resist
But I hear someone say
Don’t look out
You must stay
Inside is better anyway

I wanna
Stop and smell the flowers
Not fly from place to place
My inner child
Still full of wonder
I really miss my gaze

When I looked at the flowers
Clothed with sunbeams of light
Each petal
Joining to
Create a beautiful sight

Finally, I can
Stop and smell
The beautiful flowers
Each one beautiful, special in my sight

I wanna run free, free, free
wanna fly, fly, fly
wanna go out and try
wanna smell and sigh
the flowers

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

. . . . . ╰──╮Daily, 2 July╭──╯ . . . . .
“Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, regurgitate five random words into the comment section. Now, gobble down somebody else's five random words and write 300 words using those delicious words as a prompt to earn 200 points! Sharing the daily you wrote with those scrumptious vomitted words will allow you to slurp up an extra 50 points.”
“ignominious, voyage, exhilarated, inferno, blossom.” ~ @charliesunset
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Voyage of blossom

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

The long voyage was finally over. As the ship reached the dock, a young girl jumped out. Her brown eyes scanned the horizon as the wind whipped her jet-black hair. A nearly identical girl joined her, differentiated only by the colour of her pendant. The crew hopped off, their eyes drawn to the exhilarating view. Tomorrow they would climb the mountain. And win. Though they risked ignominious defeat, their competitors had not yet reached the island. The crew set up camp by the shore but the girl, sensing danger, wanted to set up further inland. No one listened. And so no one else would survive the inferno.
The next morning the girl awoke, only for her eyes to meet a blazing inferno. No time to think. Run. And so she ran - grabbing a backpack - to the foot of the mountain. Panting, the girl watched as the fire consumed the camp. And her tent, later. The only thing she had now was food, a small tent, the flag, and a small green pendant with a glass bud.
There was no time to lose. She slipped her bag on and began to climb. Tears fell from her eyes as her hind's feet sprinted from boulder to boulder. Loss. Devastation. It had become a cycle.
Step by step, Boulder by Boulder, day by day, the girl ascended the mountain. Sometimes she fell, but she kept going. At last, after a week, she planted the flag at the top of the summit. As she began her descent, she remembered the last words her sister said. This pendant will grow with you, blossoming into a flower. When you have blossomed so will it. She sighed as she passed by the competitors' camp. She finally noticed that her feet were blistered and bleeding. She did not notice the bouquet of glass flowers blossoming.
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Context
♬ The bouquet indicates that the girl has truly blossomed, as there is more than one flower
♬ Their competitors set fire to their camp.
*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

✩ 305 words (250 points)
©Ly, @Random_ballerina , 2023

Weekly pt 1
:: A lone tree flourished on a small, uninhabited island. Its long branches spread out, from which hung small, delicate white flowers. One of the flowers’ tiny petals began to curl upwards. Slowly, petal by petal, flower by flower, the whole tree now had yellow pods. The pods suddenly split, revealing blue eggs. The eggs were cradled in the frame of the pods, nestled gently at the bottom.
A small canoe pulled in, coming to a stop on the island. Its passenger, a man in an orange robe and hat, sat with a large sack behind him. The man got off, inspecting the eggs carefully. He took out his sickle. Soon, the canoe was returning to the mainland with many eggs. In the city, he set up shop, laying all the eggs on a mat.
As he waited, he looked around. The adults were doing their daily work, while the children were playing and laughing. But the children only had legs and upper body. This was due to the fact that that generation's souls were represented by birds, and the empty space was for the cage.
A young mother stopped by, with her daughter. Happily, they bought an egg and it became the daughter’s. The girl grew up slowly with it, playing with a boy, combing her hair. Eventually, she was a beautiful young woman, and she and the boy were happily married, both their eggs hatched into beautiful peacocks. The girl wore fine clothes and had a flower blossoming in her long brown hair.
Years slowly passed. They had children. The peacock grew.
Time truly flies. Before she knew it, she was an old woman. One day she climbed a cliff. She let the fully grown peacock perch on her hand. As she breathed her very last, the peacock flew away.
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Weekly pt 2
A small group of orphans sat on the pavement, waiting eagerly for what was to come. Today was a music festival, and they watched the procession go by. They heard whispers that a plane with Ukrainian orphaned refugees was arriving at the airport in Sicily. Curious, they walked over to the airport. Unfortunately for them, they were not allowed to enter. Feeling sorry for them, the staff allowed one child to go in. They were in a dilemma.
The only child who could read and navigate well enough to go in was Miliana. But, she was also the strongest in the group. If they were attacked or kidnapped while she went in, they would suffer.
Miliana did not mind staying, but the children insisted she go. It was the only way to find out why, and maybe get some food at the same time. She stepped through the door, in a white turtle neck sweater and black cargo pants.
Shyly, almost tenatively, she walked up to the information counter and asked about the flight. She found out the gate and headed in that direction. Along the way, she saw a sign that said ‘Truffle farm’. She averted her gave but longed to go and buy truffles. Before she was orphaned, she enjoyed eating truffles. The few euros in her pocket was to buy food for the others.
When she reached the gate, she saw many people gathered there.
“What is everyone here for?” she asked a woman.
“You mean you don’t know, child? There are children from Ukraine who were evacuated here from orphanages there.” The woman replied.
“So you are here to adopt them?”
“Yes.” Then her voice softened. “You belong to the group of children who are on the street nearby, right?”
She continued. “Here is some money. Take it and buy food for yourselves. I would love to take you all in, but I am going to adopt one of those children.” She pointed to the group of children alighting from the plane.
Pressing a note and a box into Miliana’s hand, she walked off. Miliana gasped. It was a twenty-euro note! Upon opening the box, she discovered truffles! Happily she bought food and jackets, and headed back outside to the others.
“Miliana! You’re back!”
“What’s all this?”
“A lady at the airport gave me money and truffles! By the way, the children were evacuated because of a war.”
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Weekly Pt 3
☼Note that I have read Little Women , and the following is simply an adaptation of the ending.
“… …and no longer acts like a little goose.”
“Oh father, we’re so glad to have you back.”
“Beth!” Marmee hissed.
But it was too late. The door burst open, and joy put strength into feeble limbs. Beth sprang onto her father in delight, her scarlet fever gone, forgotten in that moment, she was so overjoyed.
The whole group of them went and sat at the dining table, Beth and Mr March having soup, laughing together for the first time in a year. The light reflected off the turquoise ring, making it sparkle brilliantly, twinkling like Amy’s laughter.
“Just think,” Jo said. “Last Christmas we were all down in the dumps, and now father is back, and we are a family again.”
“It was a rather bittersweet year, though, don’t you agree?” Meg asked.
“I do, but now father is back, and Beth is still alive, and I have no need to stay at Aunt March’s, I think it ended sweetly, like honey.” Amy replied.
Meg simply stared off, recalling the whole year.
“Meg? Meg!”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about the year.”
“It's been a pretty eventful year, I feel. But now grandfather is much gentler with me.” Laurie added.
The Christmas dinner ended, and the Marches went to bed.
Three years later, in the morning, Amy woke up, puzzled as to why she did not hear Hannah and Beth dusting. She suddenly heard a cry of anguish. Not even bothering to put on a dressing gown, she flew to Beth's room.
A million possibilities raced through Amy's mind, all unimaginable.
Oh no.
No, no, no!
She ran in only to see Hannah kneeling over Beth's stiff, motionless body.
Cold.
Emotionless.
Deadpan.
Gone.
Forever.
Jo, Meg, Marmee and Mr March dashed into the room. The whole family burst into tears and cried for Beth. After the funeral, Amy announcedto her sisters, “One of us must marry well to help the others with money. Meg didn’t, Jo won’t and Beth couldn’t, so I will and help us all.”
A few days after, Aunt March told Amy, “You know about that trip with Florence I wanted to send your sister Jo on? I have decided to send you instead. Here is a letter to pass to your mother.”
Amy gasped, thanked Aunt March and flew home to Marmee and Jo.
“Marmee! Aunt March wants me to go to Europe with Florence!”
Jo looked up, puzzled.
“I thought I was to go?”
“You were, but she decided to send me instead.”
“What a shame! I was looking forward to the adventure.”
“I'm afraid it's partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit, and here she writes, as if quoting something you had said—'I planned at first to ask Jo, but as ‘favors burden her’, and she ‘hates French’, I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a good companion for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may give her.”
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Weekly pt 4
A lone tree flourished on a small, uninhabited island. Its long branches spread out, from which hung small, delicate white flowers. One of the flowers’ tiny petals began to curl upwards. Slowly, petal by petal, flower by flower, the whole tree was adorned with little yellow pods. The pods suddenly split, revealing blue eggs. The eggs were cradled in the frame of the pods, nestled gently at the bottom.
A small canoe pulled in, coming to a stop on the island. Its passenger, a man in an orange robe and hat, sat with a large sack behind him. The man got off, inspecting the eggs carefully. He took out his sickle and began harvesting the sky-blue eggs. Soon, the canoe was returning to the mainland with many eggs. In the city, he set up shop, laying all the eggs on a mat.
As he waited, he looked around. The adults were doing their daily work, while the children were playing and laughing. But the children only had legs and upper body. This was due to the fact that that generation's souls were represented by birds, and the empty space was for the cage.
A young mother stopped by, with her daughter. The girl jumped up and down in excitement as her mother chose an egg for her. The mother took out a few gold coins and dropped them into the man’s hand. As they fell through the air, they clinked as they touched the man’s hand, signifying that the deal had been made and could never be reversed. The girl grew up slowly with it, playing with a boy, combing her hair. Her personality developed much faster than before she had the egg. Eventually, she was a beautiful young woman, and she and the boy were happily married, both their eggs hatched into beautiful peacocks. The girl wore fine clothes and had a flower blossoming in her long brown hair.
Years slowly passed. They had children. The peacock grew.
Time truly flies. Before she knew it, she was an old woman. One day she climbed a cliff, knowing that it would be one of the last things she did. At the summit, she took in her surroundings for one last time, let the fully grown peacock perch on her hand. As she breathed her very last, the peacock flew away, free, chirping and flying, bringing her soul to a better place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1612 words

Name: Ly
Cabin: Contemp
Topic: Write words about your character depending on the hours you slept
Content: July 9th Daily
Firefox ~A protagonist in my story and a sequel I wrote, Firefox is elemental animan (animal x human) . Being a hybrid due to the experiment in her main story, she needs as much sleep as a fox, about 10 hours a day. However, in her main story she lives in captivity as a slave/experiment, thus she only gets around 8 hours usually. This makes her easily tired and her work often suffers because of it. Fortunately, one of her slave masters likes her and allows her to sleep more and eat better, so she gets around 9.5 hours now, similar to when she was fully human, making her stronger and more pleasant to be with, resulting in more favour from her masters. Though she pines for her deceased friend who was almost like a sister to her, she is very introverted yet confident and diplomatic.

Tessie ( a.k.a Chemiss ) ~In her early life ( birth to 9 years old) , she got an average of 10 hours, which made her energetic and caused her powers to develop far earlier than most. After, she was in stasis/ suspended animation/ cryogenic sleep for quite some time, but that doesn't really count as sleep. Following that, she slept for 7 hours a day due to her espionage training, not making much difference as her mathematical sense trained her to save her energy for missions. After getting captured by S.H.E.I.L.D (yes, I know, that's marvel, but this is a fanfiction of the ultimate spider man cartoon), she got more sleep after moving in with Spidey (a.k.a Peter Parker) and Aunt May. She originally wanted to stay with White Tiger when she moved in and followed White Tiger moved to the S.H.E.I.L.D tri-skellion. This makes her a very pleasant person and extraverted despite her espionage trainers being ruthless people.
~303 words

Monthly Post : August
Chemiss : Pt1
I woke up in the care of Hydra. I didn’t know why. Didn’t care why. I was a human with no past memories, the only fragment I had was my own name. Tessa.
I began training within the hour. Basic combat, defense skills, concentration, endurance… …These were just a few of the things I trained. The two skills training was really focused on? My ability to make others miscalculate, and controlling the chemistry gloves I made. From sunrise to sunset, with no breaks. I trained like this every single day of my life for the next two years. It became routine to me, an endless routine. So you could probably imagine my surprise when Hydra decided to send me on a mission. It was a simple one. Break in to a SHIELD warehouse, steal some technology, get out.
I was given the list of current SHIELD vigilantes. Spiderman, Nova, White Tiger, Power Man, Iron Fist, Squirrel Girl, Cloak and Dagger and Kid Erachnet. The rest were not active that day. Less superheroes, more time to carry it out. Perfect.
I used my Chem Gloves to create a graphene blade, which I then used to cut a hole in the roof of the warehouse and slip in. It was dark. With my Jet-black hair and a black long-sleeved unitard, I was completely undetectable. I quietly walked over to the items I was supposed to steal. Hydra wanted me to make sure SHIELD knew they had broken in. So, I kicked at an item I wasn’t supposed to steal, setting a silent alarm off.
After five minutes, I heard the heroes jump in through the hole, landing behind me.
“I’ve been expecting you,” I said.
“Look. Whoever you are, surrender before we make you!” I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Spiderman.
I spun around, my hair whipping the air. I noticed only Spiderman, White Tiger, Power Man, Nova and Iron fist were there.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I began. “Each of you takes turns to fight me. I won’t use any weapons from SHIELD. You can’t see what anyone fighting before you does, but you can hear each other. If you win, you can help guide the others after you. If not, you can’t. If at least two of you win, I’ll leave the tech alone, and SHIELD can arrest me. If less than two of you win, I make sure you get stuck here for the next 24 hours, and I get the tech.”
“Why should we listen to you?” Nova asked.
My eyes narrowed.
“You will listen to me because if not I will make sure you are stuck here permanently and I get the tech.” I declared.
They all groaned.
“Fine!”
I used my Chem Gloves to make an indestructible (except for acid) opaque fighting ring. I then let Nova in to the ring. I could tell he was very confident and cocky. He immediately flew at me. He crashed headfirst into the floor. I simply stood there. Every shot he took at me, he missed, thanks to my miscalculation ability.
“My turn now!” I smirked.
I used my Chem Gloves to form a thin layer of diamond underneath his Nova helmet and it deactivated, sending him flying into the floor. As he stood up, I kicked and we engaged in hand-to-hand combat until a kick sent him flying into the side of the ring, knocking him unconscious. The score : Me 1, Heroes 0.
The next I fought was Power Man. All his attempts to punch me failed. Me 2, Heroes 0.
Next up, Spiderman. I immediately used water to disable his web shooters. He somehow managed to hit me.
“Guys, if her ability is to make you miscalculate, then reverse it!”
That was all he got to say before I spun around and kicked him in the ankles, tripping him. Me 3, Heroes 0.
I’m sure anyone who was still conscious was hoping Iron Fist would win. It was a crucial match. I was ready to win and get the tech. However, learning from what Spiderman had said, Iron Fist managed to avoid all my attacks and land a few blows on me, one of which broke my left ankle. Me 3, Heroes 1.
I used my Chem Gloves to form an ankle support as White Tiger entered.
“The pressure is all on you, isn’t it? As the last one to fight, you’re their last chance.”
White Tiger also used the same strategy. She was pretty good. Also, the broken ankle wasn’t exactly helping. Her claws scratched my side, piercing through the unitard and my skin, causing me to bleed.
“Fine. You win.”
I threw an acid bomb and the ring disappeared. SHIELD agents threw me into a cell on the Triskellion. It had a reinforced glass pane. I created a bandage for the claw wound and put it on. I checked my watch that concealed a Hydra communication device. However, there was no response.
“Urgh, seriously?! Hydra fired me?!” I groaned, unaware of the eyes watching me through the pane. I knew there and then I had no choice but to join SHIELD. When the offer was given, I took it.

Monthly Post : September
Guys I'm so sorry I know this is late
MOONLIghT
The moon is lit, but also lights
with ever beautiful moonlight
Rain
The rain trickles down the wall,
sit, and watch glass petals fall

CKS weekly no.1
Task 1
Water : Poem
What is it?
An everyday object
That can swallow you
Even though, you need it for survival
Right?
Water : Prose
Water. Such a simple, everyday object, yet irreplaceable. You need it to survive. Yet it can also take away your last chance of survival. You can hear me lapping against the shore, sometimes slamming. I bring it with me, pulling it from its bed, tossing it further beyond. I carry it to lands far away, so often that we have become one. I am the waves.
Water. The cooling survival tool, that humans need. Pffft. I hate it. I have seen my kind drink it though, but that is only when they have something called ‘allergies’. Every time my owner brings more humans over and they tell her my eyes look like the ocean, I spring out and display ferocity. Every time some kid gets a hose to spray me, it gets torn. My handiwork, of course. And why, oh why do I have to take a bath? My saliva keeps me clean enough. I am a pet cat.
Water! Yes, Water! I am a very excitable fish!!!! I loooooove the water!!!!! It is my home it is slay and I like it so much I need it to survive as well aaa yes!!!!! I can drown in it if there is not enough oxygen but I don't care aaaa yessss!!!!! *coughs* Sorry about that! I just reeeaaally like the water, as you can tell!!!
Water. Over 90% of the earth is covered with it. Only 3% is potable. Many need it. It is worth more than food. Use it well.
Task 2
What if… you or your character discovered a family secret that changed your relationship with every member of your family?
Chemiss : Excerpt from second last chapter
“No.” I took a few staggering steps backward. “Is that really my past?”
The hydra agent nodded.
“Thanks, I'm going,” I replied. I stamped hard on the ground and a springy surface appeared, catapulting me out of the building. I landed like a cat on its paws. The cat-like figure I saw in front of me was unmistakable.
“Tiger! So you did wait for me after all!” I said with a sideways smile on my face.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Find anything?” I asked. Chemiss got overly excited sometimes.
“I did. I… …will tell you, only if you're ready for it,” she replied. “Back to the triskelion first. Fury will go through the roof if he finds out we snuck out.”
Chemiss used her Chem gloves to create a nice long path all the way back, that would disappear into dust after we were done with it. I have always been amazed at how light on her feet she is, with those metal Chem soles of hers. Tonight was no exception. Back in the dorm, I yawned, stretching out like a cat.
“Tessa isn't my real name.” Those words struck me like a bolt of lightning as Chemiss (Tessa, or at least what I called her before) pulled off the mask covering her face.
“Ava, I need to confirm something. Do you remember a girl called Luna?” she asked. The name was faintly familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.
“Or maybe her Japanese name will help. Mirai?”
Years of memories flooded back to me, like a drowning tidal wave.
She asked me to look at her and tell me what I saw.
I replied, “I see a torn child, who has a longing to be settled and to be loved, and yet… …the cheerful, optimistic Luna, the soft, gentle Mirai and the smart, confident Tessa.”
And for no particular reason at all, Dagger walked in at that moment. She asked if anything was wrong.
“Nothing. I… …should go back to my own bunks.” Luna turned and ran all the way back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I had told Ava about my past, but I could not tell her about the failsafe program. I couldn't. She couldn't know. It would break us too early.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Luna started behaving really weirdly. She was silent around Nova, distant from Power Man, hiding from Dagger and pining for Iron Fist. I didn't know why.
Task 3
I had been lying on the ground, watching the stars with my friends. The grass was cushioning us, its leaves becoming like a bed. I could hear the soft cooing of the owls. The field smelt of fresh rain and lingering memories. The stars reflected off Lexi's eyes, giving her an angel-like look. Jasmine was softly humming a tune. The pale, creamy moonflowers surrounded us, each perfectly catching the moonlight and starlight, reflecting it like a diamond.
So why was I here now?
I was stuck in a room with no doors or windows. The room was coated with such a dark tone of black paint that it seemed like a vast, endless emptiness. If anyone could see inside, my ice-blue eyes would be the only source of light. I could taste blood in my mouth. My usual flowery dress was torn and ripped. I reached a hand along the cold, hard floor to try and find out where I was. I strained against the metal chains that were restricting me. Just a little further… …
My hand rubbed against something hard. A floor engraving. I swept my fingers across it, running through every nook and cranny. The symbol was oddly familiar. Then, it hit me.
I was in the prison of eternal darkness.
I heard a groan. Then a maniacal cackle.
“Wha? Who… …Who's that?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribcage.
“Just the darkness… …” An evil voice whispered.
I could smell fresh metal, and something more sinister. I collapsed on the ground, wincing from the weight. Yet, I could see no one. I felt a liquid, a foreign one, flow through my veins. The poison of shadows. I began to struggle, trying in any way possible to escape from the darkness that was holding me down.
I began to feel light-headed, and I could smell Fluothane in the air. I knew the poison of shadows only activated when you fell asleep. I could not. I would not. I… I…would… …
“You are mine now… …”
Task 4
Prompt by ServiceScape : As A.I. has become increasingly human-like, mind transfer is possible, producing a robotic clone of each person who undergoes the process. However, some clones don't like being a copy and decide to take action to enslave their originators. Your clone reveals this plan to you and helps you escape the inevitable war that will occur.

You hear your name called.
“Yes?” You spin around, only to come face-to-face with your clone.
“Dinner is ready,” she smiles.
You happily drop your tools and rush to the table. As you munch on your food, you notice your clone looks a little worried. You ask her what happened. She tells you a war will soon take place.
“A war?” you ask. “I didn't see anything on the news.”
She smiles sadly and shakes her head.
“This whole world is a utopia, anyway. Who is there to fight with?”
“Each other,” she replies. “A civil war.” She uses her government-issue holo-gloves to show you a holographic display.
On the display, you see a popup, titled: Clone Revolution
“Some of the other clones don't like being copies. They want to have their own life, be more… …”
“Like you,” You finish. “Does that mean… …”
She nods.
“I have to join or risk being found out. You, however, have no chance except for escape.”
I can communicate with you like this. She says telepathically. I can also ‘see’ the world through your eyes. Listen, now, while I tell you the escape plan.
The next day, you wake up, slightly nervous but feeling determined. They're coming.
You catch a glimpse of the portal she's probably spent all night working on, fixing and adjusting every little detail; reflecting the perfectionist in you.
You share a last hug, a last touch, and finally, a last breath together as you step through the portal. As it slowly dims and fades, you hear her faraway voice, “I've already gotten rid of my original… …”
You trust that was a white lie to distract the other clones. As you hear new, unfamiliar, —foreign— sounds, you take in your surroundings. The sky is a soft light blue, —so different from the dark blue, purple and black swirls you are used to seeing— There are many lamps, — you're used to that — but only one is lit, and it emits a firey orange glow. Your feet are standing on a powdery surface, yellowish brown, that floats around with your slightest step. There is a hard surface nearby, like metal yet not. The air hear is warm and carries a refreshing scent with it —water?
Something catches your eye. O² generators? Here? In such a large cluster? Out of curiosity, you walk towards it. As you walk into the cluster, you are immersed in the vibrant colours and the noises — to-and-fro callings? You feel a soft, fabric like —though different from the synthetic kind— object brush against your leg. A creature. You almost scream, then stop and marvel at its beauty. It is unlike anything you've ever seen.
A soft, hair-like covering, powder-like orange; deep green eyes, the colour of the smallest parts of the O² generators; creamy white, layered wings; tiny feet and a small, straight fluff from its behind; there is only one word you can describe it with.
Beautiful.
“Fennec!” someone calls. A child. The little creature trots towards the sound and you follow, stepping away from the life you knew, into a new one. A new world.

~1630 words

Weekly 4 CKS

• 400 words about the orange-horn ram

Slang. I've never understood it. Things like: “Slay queen!”
or “No cap.” are so weird. So when my classmates started using it, I didn't care. Until I couldn't understand without it. the only one I might actually understand was ‘Lit’. ‘Lit’ was short for ‘Literally’. I could have guessed that. (Hasn't anyone heard of Lit-Fi ?) Till today, I still don't care. They lit can't speak proper English. Help. Me. I. Hate. Slang.

• real-fi for seven minutes

Ira was ‘perfect’. She could change herself to whatever she wanted. The smartest girl in class, the rich kid's sister, anything! One twist. She could only hold it for 24 hours, and after that, she had to touch whoever she wanted to become.
Obviously, no one wanted her to touch them. They would only be able to view her—as them—and what she did. In the city each night, she would plead for someone to touch, as she began to fade. After ten years, the townsfolk became cold. No one would listen, let alone go near to her. She misused —or so they thought—their lives. She'd have to turn into a stray animal.
One night I took pity on her. I reached out and fondled the stray puppy she'd become. At the first chime of midnight, she took over. I could see her joy at becoming human again. She smiled, and then her face fell as she realised she had taken over my body.
What difference was it from a stray?
I was a stray, a stray child, a renegade. I was constantly on the run, hiding from what I didn't want to become. Ruthless, unforgiving people.
She crumpled onto the floor.
“I just want my life back.”
Why not?
I began to push an idea into her head, a crazy one, a quest. Why not find who had done this? Why not complete a quest to get it back?
She suddenly straightened. She knew. And I knew it would be an Adventure.

• 250 words about an extraordinary person

Name : Orange-Horned Ram
Scientific name : Aurantiaco-Cornutus Ovis aries
Family : Ram
Type : Animal
Orange-horned rams are a type of mountain ram that live in the fictional mountains of Prak. They are very much like regular rams in everything. This is how you would communicate with them:
Yes : cmbfrrdvty
No : ytvdrrfbmc
Maybe :jncx
Why? : wsft j
Help : wygrzr
Where am I : ajothg adjhv e
Hungry : dsrfvderfgre
Friendly : aethrhgyrhj qrydrth
As that is all the words I know in their ‘language’, the rest is to fill up space.
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~815 words

Out of Time: A Collab
It started like any other normal day. And it would end like no other.
The curling leaves fell to the floor. Fern strode slowly, immersed in the scenery — as her name suggested. She picked up a small maple leaf and admired it though she saw it every day. The simple, yet intricate design. The light pattering of footsteps behind her and a gentle tap on her shoulder were indications that she should turn. She did, and she came face to face with a little girl. The girl’s sparkling gold eyes and upward-curved lips were a sign that good news was on the way.
“Fern, I found berries!” she thrust out her hands, which were crammed full of berries. Fern gave her a little smile, linked hands and brought her back to the village. Rosemarie is going to be a brilliant forager when the time comes. She thought to herself. Pity she’s only 7.
“Fern!” Tyresse yelled, as he saw Fern’s silhouette approaching in the distance. By the tone of voice and his hurried manner, Fern understood that it was no laughing matter.
“What, Ty? We only got back from foraging! Check out the berries I found. Do you think Oskar will know what they are?” Words tumbled excitedly out of Rosemarie’s mouth, like glitter, or sparkles, or a waterfall. She tightly clutched the holly red berries in her hand and shot off towards a stout, bearded man standing not so far away.
—*—
Rosemarie was too immature to know what was going on. Ty awkwardly stuttered, trying to break the news to Fern, yet wanting to soften the blow. Why was bad news so hard to say?
—*—
Ty was acting strange. He was usually quiet, but he was brushing his hair like he usually did when he was nervous. Fern had become quite good at reading body language. It was a vital skill she had to pick up when she was young. Otherwise, how would she communicate with others?
Ty, what’s the matter? Fern’s eyes asked as he brushed his hair again and again.
“Your parents… I…” Tyresse mumbled. “You… should ask Luna… she… um…”
Just say it, Ty.
He took a deep breath. He was not sure how Fern would react. “They’re dead.”
She drew in a breath. Blinking back tears. She could not let Ty know. He would blame himself, thinking it was his job to control her emotions. Biting her lip, she bent down and wrote a single word in the dust: Where?
Hopefully, she did not feel too sad. Hopefully, she was only shocked. How Tyresse hoped! All he said was, “Follow me.” The sweat drops formed on his neck, and he felt an irresistible urge to brush them away. But he squared his shoulders, walking with confident steps, towards the house where Fern’s parents lived. Fern ran. One thing would be confirmed, for certain. A wave of relief because of a lie, or her worst nightmare.
The bloodstains across the floor were dry, but not like they had dried. More like they had been frozen. Fern didn’t want to go in. But she steeled herself to, knowing that if she didn’t face this nightmare she would never know.
The slash marks were familiar. Where had she seen them before? Trees… Hunters… Luna’s house… Oh no! Luna? But she would never do that. Would she? A twinge of unease crept into her heart. Her breathing grew ragged. Luna’s family were the village hunters. No. Luna showed me the Frost Dagger so it — Stop! It can’t be her! Can it?
“So… well, I’m sorry… Fern, but we have to move on with life. Just because you lost them doesn’t mean that life stops, you have to continue…” The words poured endlessly out of Ty’s mouth, trying to form a wall of comfort around her.
But Fern did not answer with tears, as Ty had expected. He gaped at the words in the dust before him, and a fire of rage rose up in him. Hatred was born. “It can’t! Not her! But… Luna guarded the Frost Dagger… she had control over it. Was it?” She was nodding. Fern was nodding! Maybe she was only trying to trick him. Take out her anger at her? It couldn’t be… No! Traitor.
It was written: It was Luna.
Wish it wasn’t.
But it was.
A loud gong sounded in the distance. They’d caught Luna. It was time for the punishment. But for a guardian, especially one of the elemental weapons? Eternal exile. Fern was seriously going to have a breakdown soon.
“So it was you who killed Fern’s parents?” the village elder asked.
“Yes,” Luna replied. Fern noticed her head was held high, though her eyes had a slight bit of remorse.
“You know the penalty. There is one thing. I do not believe a guardian would act against anyone without good reason, so tell us, why did you do it?”

—*—
The portal was wide open. It was her own choice. To tell or not to tell. To tell would be a safe alternative to going into the unknown, the worst punishment possible. But would I let them kill Fern for that? No. Never. This way there was still a chance, still hope of reunion.
“I'll never tell.”
Fern looked awkwardly at Luna, as if she was contemplating whether to be angry and resentful, or to let herself cry. Her lips were pressed tightly together as she waved, then she held up her hand, closed it and unfurled it, then waved once more and gave a tear-stained smile, like a final salute.
The secret sign.
Luna stepped through the portal, feeling the warm, familiar glow of the forest fade away. She shuddered. This new world was dark, nearly as cold and unfeeling as the atmosphere. She fumbled with a string around her neck and pulled off its adornment hastily. The portal shut behind her, just after she threw the tiny gold key through. And let herself fall into the unknown…
To meet complete darkness. A muffled thudding came from another side of the darkness she was in, making the prison vibrate slightly every minute. Was this worth the sacrifice for Fern?
—*—
And just like that, Luna was gone. Somehow, Fern felt broken.
Memories floated to the surface of her mind’s ocean, demanding to be noticed, crashing over her like tidal waves, reducing her rock-solid control to mere rubble as she gave in and sank into that sea…
“How long do you think I can be a Guardian for?”
As long as you set your heart to it. Fern had replied. Guardians gained mystical powers based on the element they guarded, or rather, the elemental weapon they guarded. Only a true Master Guardian would be able to wield a mix. Luna was already wielding the Frost Dagger and the Wind Shurikens at a young age.
The wind scattered maple leaves around them, a gentle reminder to Luna.
“I should practice now.”
Luna pulled the shurikens out of her pocket, squinted for a split second, then smiled as they flew from her hands and landed on the wooden bull’s eye with a solid thunk. As she slid the Frost Dagger out of its sheath, trees sprung up from the ground. Luna’s mouth twitched into a little smirk as she slashed each tree in half and watched them disappear.
“Too easy.”
Fern clapped.
A tiny object clattered onto the dust, sparkling in the sunlight, bringing her back to the present. Fern picked it up slowly, the grains of dust slipping off it. She raised it to her mouth and blew, the dust particles flying off into the shape of a bird before floating to the ground.
Luna’s favourite animal.
It was a key.
Whatever for? Fern thought. Her gaze flickered around and then landed on a birch tree nearby. Luna had once said that there was a keyhole-shaped space on the trunk. The dots slowly connected themselves in Fern’s mind. She slid the key into the hole, her hands trembling. A fuzzy black image popped up.
“Hi Fern, I know you can’t see me, but listen, your parents were monsters. If I told, they would’ve—” An evil chuckle broke Luna’s sentence.
Fern stiffened.
“How delightful,” a maniacal voice began. “Listen, now. If your friend is still captured, when this place collapses, say goodbye. But you can try, the Cage of time, but before three days’ time.”
The image disappeared.
Fern knew she would have to study magic to get to the Mountain of Wasted Time, where the Cage of Time was. She knew the village wouldn’t survive without Luna to protect it. Her favourite saying flitted across her mind. For all humanity. No matter the cost.
—*—
Luna was stuck in a room with no windows. The room was coated with such a dark tone of black paint that it seemed like a vast, endless emptiness. If anyone could see inside, her brilliant orange eyes would be the only source of light. She could taste blood in her mouth. She reached a hand along the cold, hard floor to try and find out where she was. Luna strained against the metal chains that were restricting her. Just a little further… …
Her hand rubbed against something hard. A floor engraving. She swept her fingers across it, running through every nook and cranny. The symbol was oddly familiar. Then, it hit Luna.
She was in the prison of eternal darkness.
She heard a maniacal cackle, almost exactly the same as the one before.
“Wha? Who… …Who's that?” She asked, her heart hammering against her ribcage.
“Just the darkness… …” The evil voice whispered.
Luna could smell fresh metal, and something more sinister. She collapsed on the ground, wincing from the weight of a person. Yet, she could see no one.

—*—
Three days. One mission. And magic?
How would she learn magic? There was not even a certified conjurer in the remote village she lived in. Fern pocketed the key left in her hands, her only reminder of her lost best friend, and the token of her mission. Something else caught her eye. Fern unfurled the thin piece of paper wrapped around the key. She had no idea how it had got there. It had not been there when she was listening to Luna.
A letter.
From Luna.
Or was it someone else?
What if it was by the voice she had just heard? Or worse, by her parents? Maybe it would contend something about what Luna had said —her parents? The thing about them being monsters?
No, I can't read it! Maybe next time, but not now.
In the distance, she could spot Oskar helping Rosemarie to transport more herbs and berries to the small hut she shared with Tyresse. Rosemarie may have been little, but she had a passion for plants, and already knew an awful lot about magic herbs.
Magic herbs?
Fern could not stop herself from running towards Rosemarie. She may be her only hope.
“Why is Fern running towards me?” Rosemarie wondered aloud. The afternoon had been spent on a foraging session with Oskar in which she had collected herbs, berries, and tips on botany. The treasures she had found were all lovingly stored in the big crates she was now struggling to carry. Her cheeks flushed with effort. At any rate, she was more than happy to share her new wealth of knowledge with Fern.
“Look at these berries! I love the midnight colour! Fern, you’ll probably want them for your dyes. You should take the tiny sprouts we found on the forest floor too. The gold they make cannot be mimicked!” Rosemarie gushed as Fern stopped in front of her. Her face fell. Fern did not look like she was here for dyes.
“What’s the matter?” Rosemarie’s innocent face and mouth asked, concerned. Fern bent and wrote in the dirt. She could not waste any time trying to make body language for Rosemarie to understand. Oskar and Rosemarie peered down at the message in the dirt.
You learn magic, right? Can you teach me?
“I can’t,” Rosemarie said, puzzled. “I only study botany and medicinal properties of herbs. But sometimes I need to know some of the basics of magic, too. Why do you want to learn anyway?”
Fern’s rich brown eyes met Oskar’s deep blue gaze. The old man had been quietly observing the young girl for the past few minutes, and it seemed to him that Fern was feeling quite desperate.
But desperate for what?
Over the many years he had lived in the village, Oskar had learnt to trust when there seemed unlikely to trust, understand when there seemed nothing to understand, but always observe. One day, Fern would tell him. But now a decision had to be made. He gazed into the young child’s eyes. He saw longing… despair, a girl in need of help… and sadness. Was this… about Luna?
A face flashed across Oskar’s mind. A girl, long olive fringe across her face, ice-blue eyes, fair skin, a cascade of curls.
He brushed away the memory. Fern was in need of help. He knew not yet the reason, but it had to be good. He trusted Fern. “I know magic,” the answer Fern was hoping for came. “What kind of magic do you want to learn?”
—*—
Luna struggled against whatever force was pinning her down, but to no avail. She was just about to give up and let whatever they — or it— would do to her happen. A calm, regal voice pierced the eerie silence as a shaft of light bled into the darkness, “Let go.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” whoever had been pinning Luna down replied. The cloaked figure released Luna, bowed, and left the room. The person with the calm voice lifted a glowing lantern to their face and came in.
The hard ice-blue eyes. The cascade of olive curls. The fringe that covered half her left eye. The tilt of her head that suggested a socially awkward person. It was all too familiar to Luna. Where had she seen that face before?
“Sorry about that. Call me Astrel.”
The name was familiar, but Luna couldn't quite place it. This is what comes of not paying attention during myth lessons. Astrel bent down to unlock Luna, but as she touched Luna’s bonds, an electric-like sensation passed through them and they both jumped. What was that? Luna wondered.
“Are you an elemental guardian of ice or water, by any chance?”
Astrel’s question surprised Luna.
“Yes,” she replied. “Why?”
Astrel let out a long sigh.
“I’m a Fire Arrow Guardian. And as any Guardian knows-”
“Fire and Water don’t mix. And because Ice is a form of water…”
“I can’t touch you.”
Then as she continued, Astrel turned away, like she was talking to herself.
“The room has an automatic implosion…If I don’t get her out…The same thing will happen…Like with Mother…” Astrel kept trailing off. “Why was I dumb enough to go after her?”
She walked out.
“Best wishes in your escape.”
I think she means, Good Luck. Luna thought. Astrel was a little socially awkward.
It was only then that she realised Astrel had left the lamp for her.
—*—
Then followed the two most busy days of Fern’s life. From morning to night, she spent hours with Oskar in his cluttered studio, drawing portals, freezing time, winding clocks, even exploring time travel. Not for a minute did she set foot out of the studio. Rosemarie stepped in from time to time, bringing in herbs, meals, or just to show Oskar some new specimen she had collected. When Fern was not studying magic, she was buried in books and magical maps, carefully studying and noting the intricate pathways to the Mountain of Wasted Time, which, from her extensive research, was the location of the Cage of Time. Already in her mind she was planning and plotting her strategy for the third day, the day she was going to use everything she had learnt to save Luna.
To her, the strategy was simple. Simply trek up the Mountain of Wasted Time, which would expand every minute that was wasted, find the Cage of Time, unlock it, freeze Time with the magic she had acquired from Oskar, and rescue Luna.
Simple, yes, but more than difficult to achieve.
What would the leaders of the village say when they found out?
Was she even doing the right thing?
Her hand slipped into her pocket, feeling the metal shape of the key. She was. For all humanity. And for Luna. No matter the cost.
The day that she longed for arrived. The day she could save Luna…Or not. One idle move could end it. Resplendent in her favourite midnight-blue boots -which Luna loved- the pinafore dyed sage green- with herbs she found with Luna and Rosemarie. She stood, confident, outside the studio, ready to begin her quest, her hand poised in the air.
With one finger, she sketched a circle in the air. It spun around, faster and faster, until a hole was made…
The portal stood open in front of her. Fern was ready.
Or not. She flinched. Looked back at Oskar.
Eyes filled with longing… the same longing he had felt so many years ago. Again, the face of that girl flashed across his mind.
“Scared, are you?”
A nod.
“Fern…” he was at a loss for words. “I understand you. I once had someone just like Luna, whom I lost.”
Questions flickered across her face. How’d you know? I never told you. Who was it?
“I… she…” Oskar closed his eyes, and let the memories overcome him.
A girl, long olive fringe across her face, just covering half of her left eye, ice-blue eyes like him, fair skin, a cascade of curls. Astrel. That day, when Iysa was exiled… leaving him with a letter. A letter in which he knew what was inside. Astrel was only a baby at that time.
But could not bring himself to open it.
Grief overcame him, and he hid the letter away, resolving to form a new life, to forget everything he had experienced. His days grew happier. His life was flourishing. Astrel grew into a teenager. He never opened the letter.
But Astrel did.
The day she found it, opened it, and read it, was the last day he ever saw her.
Having never known the truth about her mother, Oskar thought she had gone to get her. And from then on, he had lived in a home of silence, losing his only family to… love.
There it was. Looming tall, high, dangerous - full of cliffs and built of a barren, roughly formed rock. The Mountain of Wasted Time. And right at the top, perched at a precarious angle, was a faint glimmer of gold - the Cage of time.
But she could not stop to enjoy the view. Fern immediately started her brisk, steady pacing as she hiked up the mountain. Even one idle minute would be fatal, resulting in an extra foot for her to climb. It was the Mountain of Wasted Time, after all.
Minutes turned into hours as she wearily and doggedly continued on. Fern turned, pausing for a second in her trail to glance at how far she had come. Nearly at the top of the mountain. She sighed, exhausted, brushing away the sweat drops on her forehead, and trekked up again. Fern glanced at the stick in her hand.
Cut from a hazel tree.
Luna’s favourite plant.
It was midday and the sun had risen to the middle of the sky, beating down on the harsh ground a girl stood, one hand on her walking stick cut from a hazel tree. She’d made it. She smiled. The girl —Fern— was determined to do this.
She turned around to spot a delicately and intricately made golden structure, and within it was a perfectly forged hourglass, sand lightly falling across the ever-tilting frame.
It was the Cage of Time.
Fern slipped the key that she had gotten from Luna out of her pocket. A key of redemption, the way she was going to buy Luna’s freedom. The key slipped into the heavy golden padlock and turned - the only thing holding her back from Luna.
—*—
“When is Fern coming back?” Rosemarie asked in her innocent way. Oskar sighed. Rosemarie didn’t understand.
“Not for a while. Maybe not ever. She went to look for Luna,” he told her.
“But wasn’t Luna exiled? Doesn’t that mean Luna can’t come back?” Rosemarie’s adorable quizzical expression increased.
“What are you going to do with the plants you were going to give Fern?” Oskar asked, trying to change the subject.
“Fern taught me how to make dyes, but I think I’m just ruining the plants right now.”
She held up a pulpy paste of mashed shrubs, the glittering gold dye filled with plant remains.
The gold reminded him of the key.
—*—
Darkness was everywhere.
She stopped. She wiped her sweaty palms on her clothes. Her forehead broke out in cold sweat… In all her frenzied look for Luna, she had forgotten one important thing.
The voice that came out of her mouth was silent.
So how would she call Luna?
Sometimes in a world of loud voices, the silent one speaks the loudest.
Luna had told her that. Luna had also told her that it was not that she could not speak, she was just afraid to.
“You have the ability, but no courage. I hope to hear you speak a single word one day,” Luna had said.
It was time for Fern to open her mouth.
“Luna?”
The sound of two heads whipping through the air reached her ears.
“Fern?” Luna asked.
Luna’s face was Illuminated by a lamplight, and another girl’s face was too. Both faces were familiar, but from different times.
Astrel? Aren't you Oskar's daughter? Questions flew across Fern's face.
“No time for questions. The room will implode soon. I'm the only person who can unlock Luna, but we are opposite elements.”
Fern looked at the girl - who must be Astrel?- 's hands. They were long and thin, and one of her long fingernails was shaped like a key. Fern concentrated hard and visualised the shape while sketching in the air. She unlocked Luna and pulled Luna and the other girl out of the dimension in the nick of time. She slowly placed the Hourglass of Time back into its cage. There would be time for explanations later.
—*—
He was at the edge of the village.
He saw a figure silhouetted against the setting sun. No, there were three people! And coming towards the village… could it be Fern? But she was with someone… Shielding his eyes against the blinding sun, he advanced quickly toward the trio.
At long last, Fern had returned to the village. She strode along the path, triumphant, and this time not alone.
“Fern!” An elated Tyresse came running up the path, but stopped when he recognised the person standing loftily beside Fern.
“Luna?”
She nodded.
The confident gaze Fern held in her eyes told him,
I’m back, and with Luna.
Tyresse’s eyes widened. “Wait, so all the magic-making sessions with Oskar… you brought Luna back by them?”
He turned and ran towards the village.
Fern blinked, evidently scared, doubtful. Luna tucked her hair behind her ear. She, too, was afraid of appearing in society. She was with Astrel, and the three of them would be shunned - Astrel might be accepted, but after all, Luna was a murderer, no matter how they looked at it. Would there…? Could there…? Maybe if she told them the reason? Tried to make it right? Fern still did not know the truth about her parents, but perhaps there would be some form of hope.
She decided to risk it.
“Fern?”
And then she told her everything.
The document of Fern’s birth in the secret drawer, how her parents had kept it secret that she was adopted - they, the adopters, were actually Darrs - evil, vile creatures, who would betray even their own flesh and bone for wealth, creatures ruled by the power of greed. There was an ever-growing greed in them, a hole that had to be replaced every year with something new, just to keep them from starving from greed. They were always on the lookout for things that would possibly satisfy their want for more.
“But your parents were… different. More kind, more content, than any of the Darrs I’ve fought. My guess was that they had changed… somehow, after adopting you. Perhaps they were new Darrs, undergoing a change in themselves, turning them into real humans. But we’ll never know.”
Astrel sniffed, and Luna was once again aware of her presence.
“So… what happened? To Fern’s parents? Why did you kill them?”
Luna looked back down at the ground. “I didn’t know what to do… you were in danger, Fern, of being sold off sooner or later for the health of your parents. But they were so good, so kind… I know it was wrong to kill them now. I’m really sorry, Fern…”
Fern shook her head. Tears streamed down her face. She bent down and wrote in the sand.
I understand now. I forgive you.
Astrel spoke softly. “We need to thank you too, Fern. You saved us, even though it took everything… and after your parents died too. Sometimes it’s better to let evil change on its own than change for it.”
Luna nodded.
Fern wiped the tears from her eyes. Straightening her back, she turned towards the village.
“Time to heal those old wounds,” Luna said, and the trio continued down the path.
“There they are!” A loud and angry scream rose from the village as Fern and Luna came into sight.
Tyresse approached them, sword in hand. “Fern,” he said, the anger clear in his voice. “How could you do this? We expelled a traitor from our midst for the good of our village. Now we have two traitors on our hands.”
Fern raised her head, a defiant glint in her eyes.
Tyresse’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand you, Fern,” he said. “She killed your parents. How can you accept her again?”
Fern made no angry answer. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a key.
Tyresse gasped. Immediately, memories he had long since buried in his mind rose to the surface as clear as his reflection on a lake. Only, it was not his - it was a girl’s, a little younger than him, ice-blue eyes, a cascade of curls, long olive fringe across her face, just covering half of her left eye, fair skin. Astrel.
That day, when Mother was exiled… leaving him with a letter. A letter in which he knew what was inside. Astrel was only a toddler at that time.
But could not bring himself to open it.
Grief overcame him, and he hid the letter away, resolving to form a new life, to forget everything he had experienced. His days grew happier. His life was flourishing. Astrel grew into a teenager. He never opened the letter.
But Astrel did.
The day she found it, opened it, and read it, was the last day he ever saw her.
Having never known the truth about her mother, Tyresse thought she had gone to get her. And from then on, he had lived in a home of silence, losing his only family member to… love.
When Rosemarie started studying from Oskar- who Tyresse was so distant from he couldn't even bring himself to call Oskar Father- It was like Astrel had come home- though slightly more childish and näive.
Fern spoke, and for the first time Tyresse heard her voice, “Our village believes in protecting all humanity, no matter the cost. But is this really protecting everyone? If Luna was really evil, sending her somewhere would have endangered those there. If she was evil, would Astrel have come-” Fern stopped because Tyresse was near tears.
“The person behind you is Astrel?”
His were not tears of joy or sadness, but of pure fury. Astrel did not turn around to face him.
“Oskar only loves you! Was this your plan, Astrel? To get Fern to bring you back here to take over my life again? It's not going to happen, you hear me? I will kill the three of you where you stand if you move even a single step forward!”
“You're worse than Luna was! Do you think I wanted Mother to be sent away? Do you think I wanted anyone else to have a broken family? Do you? I'm ashamed to call you my brother!” Astrel's voice was no longer calm and regal. It was filled with hatred. It almost looked like the two were going to duel there and then. Astrel moved her hand towards her Fire Bow and Arrows.
“A wound must be open to be treated. Closed, infected wounds do you no better than an open wound. You told me that, Ty.”
Everyone turned.
“Rosemarie?”
“In our village, we follow the quote: A hero would betray someone for the world, but a villain would betray the world for someone. And also: For all humanity, no matter the cost. In short, for the greater good. But a true hero would be able to do both, save the world and that certain person, because no one is indispensable. And I think Fern has managed to do that.”
Luna was the first to smile. She bent down and patted Rosemarie on the head and asked, “Since when did you get so smart and mature?”
Tyresse put the sword back in its sheath.
“We are not finished.”
He turned and walked back to the village.
“I think it’s best if we stay further from the village. they’re not ready for us. Maybe they never will be,” Astrel suggested.
“One day Ty may be ready for it. But not now,” Luna turned to Rosemarie. “Can you help us get our things from the village?”
Rosemarie sprinted off. Fern, Luna and Astrel smiled as they stared at the little peacemaker. Sometimes, in a world of loud voices, the silent —or youngest— one speaks the loudest.
THE END

Nov '23 Weekly 2

Task 1: Humourous script
(In the July session of 2023, The Contemp cabin is getting ready to attack Poetry)
September(looking around): Where is everyone?
Wynter: Wheeeee are here!
Ly: So are we going to rub it in by defeating them with Poetry?
September: Yep!
Peachi: Woo hooo! Let's go!
(they train over to the Poetry lighthouse, where Summer still sits on the roof, revved up from the last ‘battle’)
Ly (To others): Pleeease let me do it! Please, Please, pleeeeeaaase! (Does puppy eyes)
Wynter (laughing): Alright, since you're so confident. Go ahead!
Ly (To Summer, while on her flying horse): Atop a flying horse, Ly rides | Armed with mangoes, but this time | neither fire nor water, but ice and wind | she attacks the poetry lighthouse and wins. (Throws Ice Mango)
Wynter (To herself): That’s never the way to start the battle.
Summer: Ly thinks she has won | Yet this is never to be | Poetry's supreme
Ly (sticking out tongue): Pause the ‘battle’ for a second. Technically I froze you, you can't talk, so I completely still win. I asked Fantasy to help me beat you and Myth!
Summer (sticking out tongue so far it might possibly fall off): Ha! Foolish camper | Does she not know that Nessie's | Tongue can melt all ice?
Ly: Nessie hates wind | Ly Puts in | Nessie won't touch the ice | To Nessie, wind's like lice
Summer (smirking): What does this camper | Know of the ways of my | Amazing Loch Ness Monster
Ly: You did a Haiku? Fine. ||| The research has not | Yet been found, If Nessie hates | wind, too bad, Summer clown
Summer (Can't stop herself from smiling, so she rolls her eyes): Summer is tired | Admits she lost poem war | Stops writing haikus
Wynter, Ly, Peachi and Summer: Woohoo! Mango war won!
(They get back into the train, but not before swiping quite a few mangoes)
Orca (as the train starts towards the contemporary cabin): What happened here?
Summer: Writing war.
Orca (rolling her eyes): You lost a war on POETRY with a FIRST-TIME CAMPER??? Do you have any idea how many mangoes they took?
Summer (smiling sheepishly): 27?
Orca (rolling her eyes reaaally hard. And when I say reaaally hard, I mean: REEEEAAAAAALLY REEAAALLY HARD) : Yes?! And that is 27 times of help opportunities we just lost for cabin wars!

Task 2: Song Parody
Original: Million Dreams from Greatest Showman
I close my eyes and I can see
SWC waiting up for me
I call it my home
Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one's been before
But it feels like home
Go ahead, go and say it all sounds crazy
Go ahead, go and say I've lost my mind
I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy
I will live in a world of my design
'Cause every night I lie in bed
The brightest colours fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million words is all it's gonna take
Oh a million words for the story we're gonna write
There's a poem we can build
Every verse inside is filled
With things from far away
The special things I compile
Each one there to make you smile
On a rainy day
You can say, you can say it all sounds crazy
You can say, you can say we've lost our minds
I don't care, I don't care if they call us crazy
Runaway to a world that writers design
Every night we lie in bed
The brightest colours fill our heads
A million dreams are keeping us awake
We think of what the world could be
Shared visions of the ones we see
A million words is all it's gonna take
Just to write the world we're gonna make
However big, however small
You can be part of it all
Share your dreams with me
I may be right, I may be wrong
But say that you'll bring me along
To the world you see
To the world I close my eyes to see
I close my eyes to see
Every night you lie in bed
Don’t dismiss the stories in your head
A million dreams are keeping you awake
A million dreams, a million dreams
You think of what the world could be
Come, come make some worlds with me
A million words is all it's gonna take
A million dreams for the world we're gonna make
For the world we're gonna make

Task 3: Fanfic of SWC

“Will Larikana Dani—”
That was all anyone heard before pandemonium ensued. Campers were screaming, running in all directions, flying from the lunchroom. No one seemed to know what to do. Lockdown was on. And it wasn’t a drill.
Pretty soon everyone was in their cabins. Everyone was safe. OR so we thought. It suddenly dawned on the campers. They couldn’t lockdown completely. Yes, the doors were locked. But there were no curtains for the windows.
Myth, Lit-Fi, Fairy Tales and Script, —being a mansion, Symposium and schools respectively— locked themselves down easily enough. The rest…were in a bit of a predicament. Their cabins were all outdoors.
Here was the situation in Steampunk:
“What are we gonna do? Whatarewegonnado Whatarewegonnado somebodytellme!”
“Chil.”
This was Luka.
“Let’s just hide in the tower! We can lock ourselves in, right?”
Red.
“What about the clock? If this is who we think it is—”
Luka dismisses the question with a wave.
“It’s not them. They aren’t targeting us. I hope.”
The whole order begins to murmur.
“I’ll go.”
They all spin.
“Willow?”
Red objects, “Willow, you are not—”
“I am. If we don’t protect the clock, all of us here—” she pauses and sucks in a breath. “—are as good as dead.”
Interesting, wasn’t it? I’d hate to cut the rest of this beautiful scenario out. But I will. On to Sci-Fi.
The survivors are all in the building and locked-down.
You didn’t expect me to cut that short, did you? And yes, I know, I said they were all outdoors. Meaning most of those can’t lockdown properly. You should probably stop internally or verbally raging right now. Please don’t whack your computer or phone. I didn’t do my ‘reasearch’, okay?
And now we will go to Dystopian.
Now you can see them, can’t you?
All huddled up together, pressed behind the portal.
River hoping the intruders won’t destroy the portal.
Everyone furiously writing a shield. And a few working on the task I dropped a few minutes earlier to avoid the mirrorverse being shattered/blown to smithereens.
You know, I really didn’t want to do that. Until I remembered they were my enemy cabin. And then I just had to. Real-Fi time.
“OMG what are we gonna do? The greenhouse is transparent!” Aren’t ALL green houses?
“Go to the cafe,” Dawn suggests coolly.
Niko’s eyes widen.
“Dawn, this is not the time to grab a cappuccino.”
“Oh. I meant: Hide in the cafe.”
This seemed like a pretty good suggestion, and all the cabin members managed to successfully lockdown.
Next I will show you the myth situation.
They are all hiding behind the volcano. They’re pretty much safe though, because the ‘door’ is right above the crater of the volcano. And only a myth cabin member knows fow to jump on the clouds to avoid it.
I need to hurry up. I have to submit my daily in 38 hours.
The Horror members were all hiding underneath the ball pit.
Yes, I cut that very short. And yes, they are in the haunted funhouse. But they are safe until the intruders jump in and land on one of them.
And because I really have to stop writing soon, I will just let you know that adventure built an underground hideout. This is both the smartest and dumbest idea so far.
Folklore is hiding under the deck, in the hold. Illu-Fi—
Sorry? You were saying. Ohhhhhhh. Yes, I am speedrunning all the cabins until we get to mine. But because my ex-co-leader is in Illu-Fi, I’ll extend it.
“Hide in the mushrooms!”
There is a frenzy but everyone manages to get in a mushroom.
‘What happens if they burn the mushrooms?’ Veni writes. The question is softly echoed inside each mushroom. ‘Make them fireproof, idiot!’ This is from Pepper. ‘Oh…Okay’ Veni. ‘I’ll start writing. Can someone start the digram?’ From September.
And now we have come to Fantasy.
“Lockdown time!” Sun exclaims.
“We’re out in the open,” Ly states. This is greeted with a stunned silence.
“Cafe?” Moonlit suggests.
“I am NOT leaving the dragons,” Summer declares. Most of the others agree.
Suddenly, the earth begins to rumble. Moonlit stares daggers at Summer, “I will skin you alive if we survive this.”
Summer gulps.
The ground finally splits open, and out comes the…Real-Fi Chefs? They gesture for the Dragon Trainees to quickly follow them to their kitchen. Ly lingers, however. This is the perfect material for her weekly? She’d simply add a few…creative liberties.
And that is what you have just finished reading.
Why? You ask. Why would I narrate a story that I’m in? Why would I write in both third and first person?
Simple.
Why not?

1568 words