Part 2 of the weekly
Groaning, I turn onto my side. Maybe I’ll get better sleep that way.
I feel my possessions jangle in my arms as I turn over. I’ve got eleven dollars, a charm bracelet, and a few coins I found on the street. They’re all I’ve got. If I lose them… I don’t know what happens if I lose them. My stomach is twisted. Partly from hunger – I had chips for dinner – but partly from anxiety. The gangs could easily break in without warning. I might die at any time.
I might die. The thought comes back every night. I cling tighter to my things, hoping, yearning…
In desperation, I try to control my breath, trying to get to sleep, trying to forget every danger I know… I try to control myself, try to force my shaking breath to steady… to somehow be normal… to somehow fulfil my dream to be like the rest of the world… comfortable… at ease… normal.
Sleep. I need rest, I need to quench the night and outrun the gangs… just another night longer… it’ll be fine, it’s never happened. Not in this area, not with this many normal people outside… it can’t happen, it won’t happen… they wouldn’t dare… we’re too close to the city… it could still happen…
I might die.
I won’t die… I can’t die… I can get to sleep without this… I just need sleep… there’s nothing to worry about… sleep… go to sleep… darkness… sleep… sleep…
Light pours through the cracks in the roof. My movements come slowly, as if I’m dragging something around. I eventually roll out of my tired, squeaky mattress, slowly standing up. I can already hear commotion on the other side of the room. My stomach rumbles, desperately wanting more to fill its gaping hole. It won’t get anything.
My mum’s voice cuts through my hunger. “Courtney! You awake yet?”
“Yeah, Mum. Been awake for a couple minutes.”
“Can you get some water in town?”
Great. The worst job of all. “Okay, Mum.”
I walk out of my corner, grab the muddy bucket, and push open the door. My steps still drag behind me, but I’m mostly awake. I don’t want to go to town. There’s no water there anyway. I’m going into the forest – I heard there was a river there somewhere. Even if it takes hours, I’m going to finally find some fresh water for me, for my family. Fresh water. My mouth salivates at the thought.
My feet pound on the stony path. They’re as hard as any bad shoes you could get around here anyway. I never had any. We’ve barely got enough to feed ourselves, let alone buy luxuries like shoes. They don’t even bother advertising here, except for the stuff we really need. I jog down the street, kicking up dust behind me, my feet getting the occasional pinch from a sharp rock. There are a few other girls around, trying to get a scrap of the water they get for free in the big city. They only get it because they take it from us. They take our rights from us. Every day.
But I will survive. I will find fresh water, even if it takes the whole day, even deep in the forest. I need to. I have to provide, and I can’t hold back this opportunity. I speed up, past the old houses, past the rickety shops that make just enough for a living. I know what comes next. I hadn’t really thought of it. The pickpockets. The gangs. The part people never go to. Even here, I might die.

14th July - Translated Songs
Of Everlong by The Crane Wives (From the beginning of time)
Out of the ocean, over the harbour (for example a beach)
Lay no sons and lay no daughters (Do not mix men and women)
Among the mountains of everlong (on the top of the mountain)
'Twas there I wrote me a sad, sad song (where I wrote my own sad songs)

And if my lover will not heed it (if my friends don’t hear)
Take my voice and take my spirit (take my voice and my heart)
Leave me weakened and dig my hole (leave a weak spot, dig a hole)
Only my lover, not I, can keep my soul (Only my love fills my soul.)
Only my lover, not I, can keep my soul (Only my love fills my soul.)

No one knew how long he had been there. Many had visited him, he had told none the truth.
There was once a man who lived on a mountaintop. He owned a little hut, a little forest, and a little lake. He kept to himself, and no one had ever seen him leave that mountain. It was as if he had been there for eternity. He lived a hermit’s life; growing food, rearing animals and the like, but sometimes people would bring him gifts. People came from far and wide to see the man on the mountain, hoping to catch a glimpse of his life, and maybe be the first to learn his full story. They would bring jewels and delicacies, but the gifts he loved most were paper and pencils. No one ever returned to him. They would present their gift, talk to him for a while, and leave, having learned nothing. But that was how the man liked it. He lived in solitude, disconnected from the reality below him.
Occasionally, on quiet days, he would take his paper and pencils and sit himself down on the shore of his lake, and he would think. He allowed words and sounds to flow out of his pencils, and formed beautiful songs and poetry. No one ever saw these of course, and the secret of their content was known only to him.
He lived in bliss, content in his solitude. Of course, all good things must come to an end. Over the years, word got out that he was getting older. No one knew how old he was, in fact, no one remembered the time before he had lived. It seemed he had been there forever, and that wasn't going to change soon, but of course, it did. His age started to affect him. Sometimes he would give envelopes for his loyal visitors to deliver. These contained details of his worsening heart condition, and he had addressed them to friends and contacts he had made decades before he moved to his mountain. These people could help him. Little did he know, he had outlived every one of them. He was alone in many respects, and the letters never reached their intended destinations. In the end, he realised that no help was coming, for he was a clever man, and sent one final letter. It was addressed to no one in particular, so he asked for it to be sent to a library. They would know what to do with it. The letter was quite thick. It contained a diary, about forty songs and poems, and a final will. He asked to be buried on the shore of his lake, where he wrote a final song before he died, one truly known only to him.
No one knew his entire story. No one knew his age, no one knew his life. A small funeral was held, and as he had no one to attend it, it was short. He’s buried at the lakeside, and the odd brave hiker comes to pay homage to him. On windy days - that’s most days in the mountains - you can hear his voice in the wind, singing strange and unknown songs.
(534 words)

Bi-daily July 25-
mimicking @moonlitseas style

Marble. Pale marble, carved in the likeness of some ancient forgotten king. He frowns down as though disapproving, though of course cannot voice what is the cause of his displeasure. His hand reaches out, the shadows of his fingers dancing across his static arm in the parody of movement. Perhaps he thinks to embrace a lover, or grant one final blessing to a favored general. Perhaps he reaches out to grasp the life which he left behind. Perhaps that, too, is the source of his regretful frown, so thoughtfully scrawled across his face by the fingers of a long-dead artist. Perhaps this king, his memory now left only in dust and marble, wishes he had ruled differently. Wishes he had lived his life apart from power, apart from the crown which was his cage. Wishes to tell his consort or beloved general he loves them one last time, or perhaps the first, despite the chains of royal dignity which had left him unmarred by the feelings mere humans experience. For even in cold marble, emotion is able to be felt more acutely than atop a throne.
A warm hand sinks into the marble one, as though to pull the king back through time and memory.
For though he is forgotten by history itself, there is yet one who remembers.
Who wishes with him.
Wishes that a kingdom didn’t need to be carried on the shoulders of one man.
Wishes that a crown were not of iron, but of flowers and leaves and the feathers of birds who flew so freely in the sky.
Wishes freedom could be seized as easily as it could be dreamed.
They had been lovers, hand in hand.
They had been dreamers, despite the frown he always carried when she told him that. Not so unlike the frown he would continue to carry forever, or at least until the marble shattered and faded away. Until art lost its meaning or its cohesion, and the last faint memory of him was gone.
Unfortunately, the woman who held a hand so like his could never forget. Nor would she disgrace his memory by sharing the things they’d whispered of, in dark warm nights or on the long march across cold, unfamiliar lands. In conquest and in glory, he had been the perfect king. Willing, at times determined, to carry the kingdom alone.
She sighs and turns away from that frown which bores into her heart.
It is a good likeness, rendered in the marble, which, like her heart, would never forget.

423 words total

July 15, 2023

LIZZY strolls through the main street. She is tentative and nervous. She passes an alleyway and looks further into it. A small wagon resides at the end, barely covering a flag signaling the revolution. There’s a closeup on the flag before it cuts back to LIZZY. She walks up to the wagon.



LIZZY seems as if she’s prepared for this question. She reaches into her pocket and takes out a piece of paper. INKY takes it from her.



ALIA and INKY lead LIZZY through another street. It is a neighborhood filled with unassuming houses. The three stop in front of one of the houses. INKY knocks out a code on the door and REVOLUTIONARY 1 lets them inside. The room is filled with people.



ALIA takes the receipt from INKY and pockets it. ALIA and LIZZY are about to enter another room when OMAR KHAYYAN and T.S. ELIOT appear out of thin air. The revolutionaries don’t know who they are and are scared. They are clearly from another place.



427 words

Critique - part 3 of the weekly
One of the things I liked most about your writing was the amount of description. You used enough description to give the reader an idea of where the main characters are and what they are doing, but not so much it seemed clunky and over-the-top. What I did notice (and this may be just me) is I forgot who Huainan was when his name came up in the second part. This could be because you didn’t establish him as the main character enough in the first part.
You’ve used some good figurative language in some places in the text, but I think it could do with more. You used figurative language in “The sun was just peeking over the horizon…”, but I think overall, the text was lacking in figurative language.
I quite like the dialogue used throughout: there was a good amount, and it didn’t seem staged or unrealistic. I especially like the use of dialogue in the second part. However, I found “My Lord,” his chief advisor, a middle-aged man who had the kindest smile, joined him on the hill.” too descriptive in the one sentence. I also thought it disrupted the flow a bit. However, all the other dialogue parts were great.
I like your use of the separation between parts and what you cut out – the focus was put on Huainan’s injury instead of the battle itself. Whether or not you intended to do this, I think this was the best thing to focus the story on.
To summarise, I liked the amount of description you used, however I think you could use more figurative language in your descriptions. I also got a little bit lost on Huainan being the main character at the start of the second part. I liked the dialogue throughout the text, but there are a few minor things you can polish. The separation between parts and choosing to cut out parts was also great.
Thank you for letting me critique your writing!

Entire weekly:

Part 1
Planning an action scene
To make an action scene, first you have to decide what sort of action scene to write. The action scene needs to move the story forward, like any part of the story. An action scene that’s only there to show something off will leave the reader feeling unsatisfied. Moving the story forward could mean destroying something so the character is forced to choose another option. It could also mean building the character up emotionally – which is a great thing to do in an action scene. What I find helpful is writing something that relates to the character/s. This means it’s easier to have them learn something. For example, if your character is scared of the dark, you could write an escape scene at night. After making it out alive, the character may not be so scared and would be ready to venture in the dark again. The action scene may play to a character’s strengths or weaknesses, giving you an opportunity to develop your character and help the reader get to know them more, while still being exciting. In fact, an action scene is an almost vital point to develop your character in – what do they do when their life, or someone else’s, is really in danger? Will they show their friendship by sticking with someone until the end? Will they show perseverance by fighting no matter what stands in their way? Action scenes are an important way to develop the character.

Making it exciting
This is vital for an action scene. There are two parts to this: pace and emotion. First, the pace. A huge part of pace is the sentences used. Using shorter sentences in action scenes is ideal, with less detail of the appearance but more effect. It’s better to focus on the character’s emotions. This is why it’s usually better to put an action scene in a place the character/s have already been to before, so you don’t have to describe everything as well as making it fast paced. Another important factor is emotion. Nothing is tense if you don’t empathise with the character. Of course, you need to have built up empathy throughout your writing, but if there are no emotions here, there is no real action. Of course, it’s a great idea to still use body cues for emotions the way you might in other parts, but in an action scene, you need to shorten it and use strong emotions. Even stating emotions, it’s better to say the character is ‘distressed’ than ‘worried’. This is an action scene. Nothing is ordinary.
Here is an example of an excerpt from an action scene with longer, less emotive sentences and one with short, emotive sentences:

1. She rushed as fast as she could down the dark, misty street after the man in black, her breaths coming out in ragged, shallow pants. Her eyes were firmly on the glowing gold purse.
2. Heart racing, she sprinted down the lane. She had to catch the man in black. She had to take back that glowing gold purse. Her breaths came ragged, desperate. She couldn’t give up now.

They have the same number of words, and basically tell the same information, but the second one has shorter, more emotive sentences. They both have the same story: a woman is trying to catch a man in black who stole her glowing, gold purse. The first excerpt explains more about the appearance of the scene, but the second shows more of what the character is thinking and feeling, and that’s what matters most in an action scene. As mentioned before, action scenes are a vital way to develop the character. But an action scene is not a time for introspection. The character has to act on impulse. They only have time to think before and after the action scene. This is another reason to write in short sentences – it shows quick, impulsive thinking.

In summary, to make an action scene, it is important to:
- Make it relate to the character, allowing you to develop the character in the action scene. It is vital to develop the character in the scene, or at least show a part of the character, otherwise they seem hollow.
- Move the story forward. Otherwise, it seems pointless and empty.
- Use shorter sentences, compromising detail of the outside scene for the character’s raw emotions in a time of danger. This can be the most exciting part of the action scene.
- Use lots of strong emotions. Nothing is ordinary. Make the character’s emotions ten times stronger than normal.
- Not use introspection or too much thought. There shouldn’t be enough time for introspection in an action scene. The character can think before or after the scene.

Have fun writing!

Part 2
Groaning, I turn onto my side. Maybe I’ll get better sleep that way.
I feel my possessions jangle in my arms as I turn over. I’ve got eleven dollars, a charm bracelet, and a few coins I found on the street. They’re all I’ve got. If I lose them… I don’t know what happens if I lose them. My stomach is twisted. Partly from hunger – I had chips for dinner – but partly from anxiety. The gangs could easily break in without warning. I might die at any time.
I might die. The thought comes back every night. I cling tighter to my things, hoping, yearning…
In desperation, I try to control my breath, trying to get to sleep, trying to forget every danger I know… I try to control myself, try to force my shaking breath to steady… to somehow be normal… to somehow fulfil my dream to be like the rest of the world… comfortable… at ease… normal.
Sleep. I need rest, I need to quench the night and outrun the gangs… just another night longer… it’ll be fine, it’s never happened. Not in this area, not with this many normal people outside… it can’t happen, it won’t happen… they wouldn’t dare… we’re too close to the city… it could still happen…
I might die.
I won’t die… I can’t die… I can get to sleep without this… I just need sleep… there’s nothing to worry about… sleep… go to sleep… darkness… sleep… sleep…
Light pours through the cracks in the roof. My movements come slowly, as if I’m dragging something around. I eventually roll out of my tired, squeaky mattress, slowly standing up. I can already hear commotion on the other side of the room. My stomach rumbles, desperately wanting more to fill its gaping hole. It won’t get anything.
My mum’s voice cuts through my hunger. “Courtney! You awake yet?”
“Yeah, Mum. Been awake for a couple minutes.”
“Can you get some water in town?”
Great. The worst job of all. “Okay, Mum.”
I walk out of my corner, grab the muddy bucket, and push open the door. My steps still drag behind me, but I’m mostly awake. I don’t want to go to town. There’s no water there anyway. I’m going into the forest – I heard there was a river there somewhere. Even if it takes hours, I’m going to finally find some fresh water for me, for my family. Fresh water. My mouth salivates at the thought.
My feet pound on the stony path. They’re as hard as any bad shoes you could get around here anyway. I never had any. We’ve barely got enough to feed ourselves, let alone buy luxuries like shoes. They don’t even bother advertising here, except for the stuff we really need. I jog down the street, kicking up dust behind me, my feet getting the occasional pinch from a sharp rock. There are a few other girls around, trying to get a scrap of the water they get for free in the big city. They only get it because they take it from us. They take our rights from us. Every day.
But I will survive. I will find fresh water, even if it takes the whole day, even deep in the forest. I need to. I have to provide, and I can’t hold back this opportunity. I speed up, past the old houses, past the rickety shops that make just enough for a living. I know what comes next. I hadn’t really thought of it. The pickpockets. The gangs. The part people never go to. Even here, I might die.

Part 3
One of the things I liked most about your writing was the amount of description. You used enough description to give the reader an idea of where the main characters are and what they are doing, but not so much it seemed clunky and over-the-top. What I did notice (and this may be just me) is I forgot who Huainan was when his name came up in the second part. This could be because you didn’t establish him as the main character enough in the first part.
You’ve used some good figurative language in some places in the text, but I think it could do with more. You used figurative language in “The sun was just peeking over the horizon…”, but I think overall, the text was lacking in figurative language.
I quite like the dialogue used throughout: there was a good amount, and it didn’t seem staged or unrealistic. I especially like the use of dialogue in the second part. However, I found “My Lord,” his chief advisor, a middle-aged man who had the kindest smile, joined him on the hill.” too descriptive in the one sentence. I also thought it disrupted the flow a bit. However, all the other dialogue parts were great.
I like your use of the separation between parts and what you cut out – the focus was put on Huainan’s injury instead of the battle itself. Whether or not you intended to do this, I think this was the best thing to focus the story on.
To summarise, I liked the amount of description you used, however I think you could use more figurative language in your descriptions. I also got a little bit lost on Huainan being the main character at the start of the second part. I liked the dialogue throughout the text, but there are a few minor things you can polish. The separation between parts and choosing to cut out parts was also great.
Thank you for letting me critique your writing!

Name: Ava
Cabin: Lyric
Wordcount: 302/300
Topic: Write a 300 word song from the point of view of your character depending on your cabin desc.
Content: July 15th Daily

LET'S GET IT

(Verse 1)
Lost in a world of magic's embrace,
Where words take flight in melodies of grace,
A place where the air sings a vibrant song,
And my voice joins the chorus, soaring strong.

(Chorus)
I've been whisked away to a mystical land,
Where lyrics and dreams intertwine hand in hand,
In this realm, I'll find my voice anew,
Through the enchantment, my spirit will break through.

(Verse 2)
Surrounded by colors that dance in the air,
Whispers of secrets beyond compare,
Every thought and feeling, now lyrical,
I'll paint my story, every note empirical.

(Chorus)
I've been whisked away to a mystical land,
Where lyrics and dreams intertwine hand in hand,
In this realm, I'll find my voice anew,
Through the enchantment, my spirit will break through.

(Bridge)
In this place where lyrics are my only speech,
I'll share my heartaches, lessons I can teach,
Embracing the power of each melodic line,
I'll pour my soul out, singing through space and time.

(Chorus)
I've been whisked away to a mystical land,
Where lyrics and dreams intertwine hand in hand,
In this realm, I'll find my voice anew,
Through the enchantment, my spirit will break through.

(Verse 3)
As I explore this wondrous realm untold,
The melodies guide me, my spirit unfolds,
I'll weave a tapestry of words and sound,
In this magical place where I am found.

(Chorus)
I've been whisked away to a mystical land,
Where lyrics and dreams intertwine hand in hand,
In this realm, I'll find my voice anew,
Through the enchantment, my spirit will break through.

(Outro)
In this mystical realm, I'll forever remain,
Singing my heart out, breaking free from the chain,
For in this world of music, I'm forever free,
And through these lyrics, my soul will always be.

(Humming)

My soul will always be.

.

YOU KNOW I WANT THAT HOoOoOoOoooOME~
YOU KNOW YOU GOT THAT HOOoOooOOoOOOOoME~

Daily 15th July
(this is bad)

Act 1, Scene 1
Campers scuffle for seats, whispering excitedly in the large hall.

Cae (tragedy cabin leader): Settle down, Scratchers, today, there is an important announcement to make.

Alia (hi-fi’s cabin leader): Today is cabin wars!

(Campers talk loudly and shuffle their feet.)

Camper 1(looking around confusedly): What is cabin wars?

Cae (chewing her pen): Cabin wars are when the cabins set each other challenges. For example, one might give your cabin a challenge to write 1000 words in the next three hours. You can find more information in your cabin. (Cae sets down her pen that she had been chewing)

Camper 2: Where are all of the other cabin leaders?
Alia: They are all too busy with their writing and setting up stuff for their cabin, so it’s just us. Still, I’m sure you don’t mind having us two annoying bossy-boots telling us what to do!
(A light ripple of laughter spreads through the hall).

Cae: Now, I am sure you will have lots of writing to do, so, off you go! (She grins in anticipation).

Alia: I can’t wait! I'm gonna set you soooo many wars!
Cae: Same!
(they walk off to their own cabins).

Cae (cheerfully): Hi Sofi!
Sofi: Hilloooooo
Cae:Our shield is going to be down at 9:47, so be ready!
(Cae and Sofi chat until their alarm goes off. Cae jumps in surprise)
Sofi (laughingly): Careful!
Cae (grinning): Let’s wait until we get a war. For now, we’ll just write a bit.
Sofi:Ok.

Act 2, scene 2
(campers trudge to the fire noisily, it is the evening)
Alia: I hope you enjoyed today’s wars and now Cae is going to announce the places for the cabins.
Cae (smiling): First place is hi-fi with 6625 points. In second place is tragedy with 6525 points.
(Tragedy campers cheer)
Alia: We’ll announce the rest tomorrow, as we haven’t had time to count all of the points up yet.
Cae: Goodnight, campers!
(Everyone cheers and goes offstage).

call me silvi.

Weekly #2- https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/695082/?page=1#post-7369456
Part 1: 564 words
Part 2: 686 words
Part 3: 241 words
Overall: 1491 words
—
Part 1- https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/696746/?page=4#post-7381307

Part 2-
The girl hoisted her bike up the rack and dusted her jeans off, heaving softly. She leaned forward, cracking her back, then gave one last glance at the store's sign.

“JOE'S KONCK-YOUR-SOCKS-OFF COMI BOOK STORE” it read. She had always hated that sigh. The “KNOCK” was spelled wrong and the “C” in “COMIC” had been taken down by a group of rowdy boys and replaced with a giant turd. And the owner of the shop wasn't even named Joe. His name was Marcellus and he had been dead for 18 years.

Police still hadn't found the suspect.

The girl popped in her yellow mud stained AirPods, and played a soft lo-fi song, the type teenagers listened to while taking math quizzes. She moved her long chestnut hair to the front of her head, covering the Pods, and started her way in the shop.

“Take off the AirPods.” De'M grumbled, smoking a cigar on the left side of his mouth. His tag read, “De'Marcus Presley- at your service for 10 years!”

His breath smelled like smoke and wet hickeys. She gagged, and the mud stained AirPods fell off her ears and into the vent nearby.

“Frick.” she grit her teeth. Two hundred dollars gone in the gutter.

“You know we have a strict no-distractions policy.” De'm spit out the cigar's stub. “Benny and Cassandra need help with stocking in the supply room.”

“Have you been out with Tia again?” She sat herself on a stool right next to his desk and cranked the knob on the radio.

“Come on, Liz. De'M popped another one in his mouth. ”We've been over for-“

”Shut up,“ Liz lifted her hand in the air, silencing her boss. ”The news is on.“

”-police are still trying to find the suspect-“ The radio croaked. ”-seven year old girl— died at the hospital— heartbroken.“

De'M sucked in his cheeks. ”Just another one of those drunk drivers. Anyways-“

”Wait- listen to this.“

”–On another news story, today marks the twentieth anniversary of the death of esteemed comic book artists Marcellus Evans.“

”Twenty years?“ Liz gasped. ”Thought it was eighteen.“

De'M shushed her, his usually overly lax demeanor being replaced by a more serious one.

”-Evans was found dead in his home at his work desk. Police have ruled his death as suspicious, and an autopsy confirms he died of a gunshot wound. A suspect has still not been named, and an arrest warrant has not been published.“

De'M shut off the radio and spit the cigar stub out. It was only halfway charred. ”They never came to interview us.“ He muttered. ”Didn't even bother to mention the store .“

”The last time we were on the news was when you hired Benny.“ Liz chuckled. ”Who knows getting a Downs kid would get us on national TV?“

”This was HIS shop.“ De'M pounded his fist on his desk, his breathing growing faster and his throat getting hoarse. ”This was his passion project, and they just throw it out of the WINDOW like it's NOTHING!“

”Woah, De'M.“ Liz stepped out of the way, her eyes widening. She had never seen her boss act like this before.

”I-I-“ DeM stuttered on his words, panting hard. ”I can't do this.“ He got up from his desk and started to the door. ”I'm leaving. Liz, you take up the front desk.“ His body was shaking. ”I can't do this.“

Liz stood there, biting her lip to prevent her jaw from going slack. As her boss left, all she could say was- what?

De'M hopped into his car and drove straight to his apartment, his body still shaking. He got out of the car, went stright to his house, and burst his door open. ”Get out.“

Tia was sleeping on his couch, a half-eaten bowl of Lays and a bottle of Diet Coke spilled onto the floor.

”Get OUT, Tia.“ De'M shoved his girlfriend off the couch.

Tia blinked and sputtered, her cornrows getting soaked in the soda and her green eyes widened. ”De'Marcus, what the heck?“ She yelled. ”What'd I do?“

De'M's wrinkles were showing. ”You know what you did, murderer."

Part 3- TBA

Word war w/ @coclate123

People say they like to sing in the shower, but I prefer to cry. Why? Because the water drains out all sounds of your sobbing. Whatever you say, no one will hear you. Plus, even if they do, no one wants to invade the bathroom to hear what you're saying. This is especially a good idea if you take really long showers after school or sports or something. You can cry about all the drama that went on while pretending to wash all the germs off your body. Sure, singing in the shower might be fun, but you can sing whenever. If you start crying in the middle of dinner, people will judge you. If you start singing, they might think it's weird, but at least they won't judge you for it and ask what's going on in your life. Everyone knows how annoying that is. Crying can help you get out all your feelings, whereas singing is just for fun. Hopefully you can get all your tears out in 10 minutes if you take short showers. This is why I like crying in the shower more than singing in the shower, showers better than baths, long showers better than short showers, and night showers more than morning showers (obviously because you have more to cry about, and crying about the day before isn't fun).

225 words

critique for @syrozenne

First off, I /love/ your writing style and the suspense created. I love the year this takes place, the language, the story, the setting. This isn’t really my style, though, but that’s just me. I love how the story felt like a tale being told.

The suspense is great in the beginning. I felt like the story was very well planned and written, giving out information bit by bit. I also like how we didn’t know what was going to happen, and what exactly The Engineer was going to do to unalive the wealthy people until it actually happened. The ending made me actually feel like it was coming to a close. It was well written.

The one thing I would like to say is to use a bit more show not tell when Dalton defeated The Engineer and possibly a more elaborate explanation on how he did it and what happened to The Engineer afterwards. I’m not sure if this was intentional to make the reader wonder or something but I felt like it all just happened a bit too fast. If you want the exact quote it’s “Chaos erupted as fear gripped their hearts, and a wild struggle ensued. In the midst of the frantic battle, Detective Dalton managed to overpower The Engineer…” This could also be an opportunity to give more personality to the characters if you wanted to. I am also not sure if it was intentional not to give much personality to them, and I think it might suit better with this sort of tale.

I’m really bad at critiques and I can’t say much. I didn’t find any grammar mistakes but I also didn’t really look too hard for those so I’m not sure.

Overall, this was quite an interesting read and different to what we usually read. I loved this short story on how the brave Detective Dalton defeated the malicious Engineer. I think readers (including me) would love to read more of this. Well written, Rose <333333

words: 335

The mood is my favorite part of this. It keeps you on edge and feeling sorry for the main character. I love all the details. My favorite details were the messed up sign and De'M's body language. The dialogue is great, each character here has it's own unique way of speaking, making the story that much better. The story is emotional and full of life. There is not a dead word to be found here. I don't know how you would fix this, but the part where De'M gets into his car and drives to his apartment feels a little rushed. Most of the characters act naturally, but the main character feels a little unnatural. Maybe it's because I'm not like her, but I could never imagine anyone talking back to their boss like that. If it is because he wouldn't fire her, it would help to make that clear why she's acting up all the time. De'M acts like a lazy employee who doesn't want to be there and Tia acts, again, lazy. I was not expecting Tia to be the murderer and honestly, I was expecting it to be De'M. It was an excellent ending to an excellent story! Good job!

Unstoppable
by unhinged_musings

In the silent midst of the forest, a tall tree stood, clawing at the sky with black, gnarled branches. It was dead, all traces of leaves gone. The tree was just the same as all of its neighbors, a wooden skeleton in a world that was itself a skeleton.
In this tree, however, lurked one last sign of life. A young girl balanced between two thick branches, shaking, fearful of the death that surrounded her.
It had gotten everything in the forest. It wasn’t touching her, however, for some strange reason. That reason didn’t matter, though. What she did know was that she had to warn everyone of what was coming, what had begun.
She clutched the string wrapped around her neck, and the pendant on it. She’d found this necklace buried underground. It was what had started this all, the destroying of all life on Earth. She’d touched it, and it had awoken. Or something along those lines.
Yes, she’d made this happen. And she had to stop it.
She’d raced up onto this tree in a panic, throwing the necklace over her head, foolishly thinking that perhaps high ground would save her. But as all the leaves surrounding her withered and decayed in seconds, she realized that she was safe for other reasons. Reasons much more mysterious than altitude.
She had a theory, though, that it had to do with the fact that she was the one who had found the necklace. She didn’t want to think about the implications of the necklace finishing its dark work and leaving her all alone on a husk of a world.
The death and destruction was still spreading out from its origin point, the hole the girl had found the necklace in. She watched its boundary line move out of eyesight, and decided that she had to start heading out now. She climbed down the tree slowly, pausing to steady herself every few seconds. She didn’t want to die that way.
She touched down on the brittle ground, brushing bits of wood and leaves off of her dress. She ran a hand through her hair - it was knotted and dirty, as usual. She didn’t have much access to self-cleaning supplies, especially hair-cleaning products. It was the 16th century, after all.
She began to run in the direction of the nearest village. She had to get there before the darkness, somehow. She had to warn them. She had to save them.
And so she ran, her quick steps pounding against the ground in quick succession. Her arms pumped, her lungs gasped. Her muscles tightened and loosened until they started to hurt. Her eyes teared up, both from the air blowing against her face and the frustration she felt as she realized that she was never going to make it. Not in time. Whenever she would get there, she wouldn't find anyone. There would be no one to warn.
She started to slow down. What would warning them have done, anyway? Made them panic? Made them terrified, in their last few living moments? Because there was nothing they could do.
No one could stop death.

part 2 of the weekly
(i hope this is interesting causse i used the “how to hopfully write a interesting paragraph”



The moon, Earth's only natural satellite, has captivated human imagination for centuries. Its bright, white disk in the night sky has been the subject of myths, legends, and stories throughout history. The moon's impact on Earth is undeniable, affecting the planet's climate, weather patterns, and tides. But beyond its influence on our planet, the moon is a fascinating world in its own right.

The moon's surface is a rugged, barren landscape, covered in craters, mountains, and plains. Its gray color gives it a desolate appearance, but the moon is far from lifeless. The moon's surface is pockmarked with craters, the result of billions of years of asteroid and meteor impacts. These impacts have created some of the most spectacular features on the moon, including the giant impact basins that are visible from Earth.

The moon's surface is also home to towering mountains and deep valleys. The moon's tallest mountain, Mons Huygens, rises to a height of over 15,000 feet, while its deepest valley, the Hadley Rille, extends for over 60 miles. These features were formed by the same geological forces that shape Earth's surface, including volcanic activity and tectonic shifts.

The moon's environment is harsh, with no atmosphere, no water, and no protection from the sun's radiation. But despite these challenges, the moon has been the site of some of humanity's greatest achievements. The first human landing on the moon, by Apollo 11 in 1969, was a triumph of engineering and exploration. Since then, NASA and other space agencies have sent numerous missions to the moon, studying its geology, chemistry, and history.

One of the most fascinating things about the moon is its phases. The moon goes through a complete cycle of phases every 29.5 days, as it orbits Earth. When the moon is full, it is a bright, round disk in the sky. When it is a crescent, it is a thin, curved sliver. These phases are caused by the relative positions of the moon, Earth, and sun, and they have been the subject of countless works of art, literature, and music.

The moon's influence on Earth is perhaps its most significant impact. The moon's gravity pulls on the oceans, causing them to rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern. This is why we have high and low tides. The moon's gravity also causes the Earth to wobble slightly on its axis, which affects the planet's climate and weather patterns. Without the moon, Earth would be a very different place, with no tides, different seasons, and a much less stable climate.

In recent years, there has been renewed interest in the moon, as scientists and entrepreneurs explore the possibility of establishing a permanent human presence on its surface. Private companies such as SpaceX and Blue Origin are developing technology to make this dream a reality, while NASA and other space agencies are planning new missions to study the moon and prepare for future exploration.

The moon is a fascinating world, with a rich history and a promising future. Whether viewed from Earth or explored up close, it remains one of the most captivating objects in the night sky.



my cabins poetry

@unhinged_musings -critique

This piece is a well-written story that creates an eerie atmosphere and a sense of foreboding. The author does an excellent job of describing the setting, with vivid and detailed descriptions of the forest and the dead tree. The sensory details used to describe the tree, such as the black, gnarled branches and the withering leaves, help to immerse the reader in the story and create a strong sense of atmosphere.

The author also does a good job of building tension and suspense throughout the story. The young girl's fear and panic are palpable, and the reader can sense that something terrible is about to happen. The mystery surrounding the necklace and its effect on the forest adds to the tension, leaving the reader wondering what will happen next.

However, the story feels a bit incomplete, with a lot of unanswered questions. It's unclear what the necklace is or why it is causing the destruction of the forest. Additionally, the character of the young girl could be developed further. While her fear and panic are well-conveyed, we don't know much about her beyond that.

Overall, this is a well-written piece that could be even stronger with a bit more development in the areas of plot and character.

7/15/23
408 words
Daily:

Today, we'll be telling the story of tonight—or rather of this session—in musical form! Choose some characters, pick an event from this session or your cabin's storyline, and write a song, script, or some of both from your characters' point of view. If you write a song, try not to parody an existing one. ^^ Once you get the job done by writing a script of at least 300 words, you can earn 300 points, as well as an additional 100 for sharing. Good luck!

there’s going to be a murder: the musical

(CURTAINS OPEN- THE STAGE IS EMPTY)

A brunette-haired girl walks onto the stage, paying no attention to the audience. She stands there, emotionless for a few seconds. She turns to the audience, her eyes wide and points to them, saying “YOU HAVE ONE WEEK.”

The background changes. The library-themed stage is transformed into a dark, blood-splattered arena, with those same words encarved onto it. “YOU HAVE ONE WEEK.” the girl repeats again.

The curtains close abruptly, leaving the audience shocked. Outside of the curtains run in three girls, looking panicked. The first girl speaks to the others. “This is terrible!” She moans. “We need all the help we can get.”

“What?” The second girl asks, confused. “What's going on?”

The first girl shakes her head, still in disbelief. “There's going to be a murder.”

Music starts. A spotlight appears. The girl starts to sing.

Murder:
First Girl: Murder. There's a murder, out here, somewhere.
Murder. There's a murder. But who could be the one to fare the
CONSEQUENCES!

(AN ENSEMBLE CAST APPEARS)

These campers, this cabin!
Rocked with doom
One of us here is a buffoon because there's a
MURDERER!

Second Girl: Someone is gone,
Oh, what do we do?
Search here, search there, search every room

(THE ENSEMBLE STARTS LOOKING AROUND FIERCELY)

Third Girl: We must find clues
The evidence lies
We must act quick before another one of us

Everyone: DIES!

(THE ENSEMBLE CAST DROPS TO THE FLOOR)

The spotlights dim and a wider light turns on. Stage crew brings out a table and three stools, which the three girls sit on.

First Girl: In order to find clues, we must gather as muxh leads as possible.

Third Girl: (cocking her head) But how do we do that?

First Girl: We write!

She jumps up and more upbeat music starts playing. As the ensemble rejoins the stage, she starts to sing:

Write, Write, Write:
First Girl: Write, write, write- write for your lives!
There's a murderer out and there's not much time.
In order to find the clues we seek
We must

Everyone: WRITE, WRITE, WRITE!

The curtains re-open, the background showing the words “WRITE WRITE WRITE” and two ensemble cast members, dressed as a pencil and a pen, dancing.

Everyone: Write, write, write- write for your lives!
We're try out best to secure our lives.
with all our strength and all our might
We'll WRITE, WRITE, WRITE!

Reyskywalker13 wrote:

The mood is my favorite part of this. It keeps you on edge and feeling sorry for the main character. I love all the details. My favorite details were the messed up sign and De'M's body language. The dialogue is great, each character here has it's own unique way of speaking, making the story that much better. The story is emotional and full of life. There is not a dead word to be found here. I don't know how you would fix this, but the part where De'M gets into his car and drives to his apartment feels a little rushed. Most of the characters act naturally, but the main character feels a little unnatural. Maybe it's because I'm not like her, but I could never imagine anyone talking back to their boss like that. If it is because he wouldn't fire her, it would help to make that clear why she's acting up all the time. De'M acts like a lazy employee who doesn't want to be there and Tia acts, again, lazy. I was not expecting Tia to be the murderer and honestly, I was expecting it to be De'M. It was an excellent ending to an excellent story! Good job!

Thanks so much!

Weekly Activity 2: Character Depth (@lizard-breath) (639 words)

2:00 pm
Kris grabbed her backpack and slammed her locker door shut. Ugly, fat, lame, dork echoed in a never-ending loop of self-hate. Her anger was like a cloud above her, keeping everyone away. But Joshua still came. “Hey, Kris!” He said, his curly hair and endearing smile melting some of the anger in Kris’s chest and replacing it with something resembling butterflies. “What’s up?” He leaned on the locker next to her. “Hope was just being a jerk. It’s nothing.” She said, turning away. But she felt Joshua’s hand on her shoulder, and he turned to face her. “Don’t let that piece of trash get to you. You’re going to the dance tonight, right? I was hoping we could maybe hang out together? Can I meet you at Zinger’s at 7:30? It’s that Italian place on Fourth Street.” Kris bit back a smile. “Of course! See you there, Josh!” She said as he brushed a finger down her arm and walked away. Once he was out of earshot, she let out a little squeal. I have to go to the dance! She thought.
7:00 pm
“Sassy?” Kris said, peering through the open doorway into Sasha’s room. “Where are you?” Her pretty face creased into a frown when she didn’t see her older sister anywhere. “Sassy! You need to take me to the dance!” Kris frowned when Sasha didn’t answer.
7:15 pm
She searched the entire house, but Sasha was nowhere to be found. Kris returned to her room to text her sister. “Sasha!!! Where are you? You know Mom and Dad are on their trip, and it’s 2 am for them! I need you! You’re supposed to take me to my first ninth-grade dance and help me get ready!” She had been watching YouTube for the past hour with her headphones on. Maybe Sasha had left and she hadn’t noticed?
7:30 pm
She waited and waited and waited, but there was no reply. As she fluttered about her room nervously, waiting for her older sister, she decided to peek into Sasha’s room. She went through the open doorway and started searching for something interesting to blackmail her sister with. As she was looking through Sasha’s closet, Kris’s phone dinged. “OMG KRIS! I’m so sorry, I’m out with Sam. When do you have to leave? I’m coming right now.” Kris rolled her eyes and texted back “I’m supposed to be there right now.” Sasha sent back a bad word and promised to be there right away. Kris texted Joshua to apologize, and then went to pick an outfit.
7:45 pm
Sasha rushed through the door and yelled “Kris! Come on, let’s go!” Kris sighed in relief and emerged from her room with a shy expression. “Aw, Kris, you look beautiful.” Sasha said, her eyes gleaming.
Kris has put on a long sleeve black crop top with a bow in the back and a heart-shaped neckline. Her short jean shorts were ripped and cute, and her silver earrings worked perfectly with her brown hair. She had swooped on smokey eyeshadow, and her lips were tinted red. She looked like a teenage goddess.
Kris smiled shyly and hopped in the car, but she didn’t say a word to Sasha, not ready to let her anger at her go.
8:00 pm
They were silent until they reached Zinger’s, and Sasha asked, “Who’s driving you to the dance?” Kris replied, “Josh’s sister, who actually cares about her brother making it to his date in time.” Then she hopped out of the car. She spotted Joshua waiting outside of the restaurant for her and walked up to him. “Hi, Josh.” She said, a shy smile creeping onto her face. Joshua took her arm, and Sasha watched sadly from the car as they disappeared into the restaurant together.

Critique for @Reyskywalker13

I liked this story! Although it had a simple plot, it was still compelling and fun to see the different dynamics between each one. On your main point with character voice, I think you did a great job conveying the tone and demeanor of each character, especially with Will and Grenloe. Even before they were introduced, I had a sense of their personalities.

There was one big issue that threw me off a bit, and that was the abundance of grammatical errors featured in your story, which can get a bit distracting at times. These include mis-spelled words, incorrect capitalization, and punctuation. I also would have liked to see a but more world-building. Why are they knights in training? Why is Dustin so rude to Jake? What else is interesting about the world these boys live in? I can see why there isn't much setting presence since the story focuses more on the characters, but it would help to make the characters a bit more three-dimensional if a few key details were dropped.

Overall, I thought you did a great job with this short story! With a better emphasis on grammar and world-building, then I think these characters and the world they live in would be great for a longer story, or even a series if we're being ambitious. Great job!

(P.S: I watched Nimona a few days ago and I keep going back to the knights in that movie lol)

(583 words) ollie’s part 2 of the weekly
also disclaimer—I wrote this for week 1’s weekly but then I gave up so I added a lot more words and things that I learned from multiple people’s workshops!! <3

Clumps of clouds lingered on a gray canvas, deciding, once again, not to stray from their usual monotone selves. The sky was not always this exhausted, the old man knew, for over six decades he had been living in the same town. The old town of Sharnwick presented itself with a history of anything-but-sunny-weather, but the past month had been unusual–even the clouds themselves slunk by with a mopey air.
After surrendering to the depressing state of Sharnwick, the old man, Mr. Frederick had decided to trek to the Highest Depths a couple days back. Few humans had seen the place in its beauty, nevertheless Mr. Frederick came there once a month. Fish were dragged down from the sea in the sky in many shades of purples and reds, some even yellow, green, or blue. Old Mr. Frederick took pride in his catches and, once home, had placed them immediately inside bowls. For the first time since last month, the room felt full.
On that cloudy afternoon, the fish catcher continued to wait for a beat of sunshine to appear within the tiny room. While doing so in mock suspense, he rose from his seat to begin packing up the bowls filled with peculiar fish in his cart. He would then set up shop by the seaside and wait for a customer like always.

“Uh, hi.” The old man stopped inspecting the smooth rock in his hand and laid it down gently with its identicals. He glanced up at the person, rather, a human-shaped thing, made out of metal, but–
He has no head. “Hello, sir. How may I…help you?” A crow pecked at the sand a few feet away, which further distracted the shopkeeper.
“How much are the fish bowls?” His voice was tinny and shallow when the words finally registered in Mr. Frederick’s brain.
“Excuse me,” Mr Frederick paused, “while I consult my fellow shopkeeper.” The old man peered down at the rock he had been inspecting and they unanimously agreed on an amount.
“A fishbowl will be ten dollars.”

*Perspective: thing made out of metal*:
And that’s how I finally began my journey to the highest depths.
I was just about as eager to take the fish as I was to get out of the cranky guy’s sight, but I settled on the former before doing the latter.
The mission: Go and find my buddies, who lived in the highest depths. And now, I was on the last step. To actually dive down and find them. But, don’t forget, I still had to put the Fishbowl on my head. That’s my head, yes, if you were wondering. And no, I don’t know how I lost it.
I stepped carefully through the water, trying but failing to avoid scraping my metal on the sharp rocks. It was already scratched anyway. Soon stepping became wading, and wading became bobbing, and bobbing became swimming, through the pearly blue sea. Water caressed my metal appendages and deep, deep down I could feel the pull of the Highest Depths. I was almost there.
Finally, I could be with my fish buddies in the Highest Depths. My eyes settled on the ginormous group of fish, almost a sea in itself, and I knew my time on land had come to a close. Reaching my arms out, I joined the infinite stream of colors, fish of all sizes and shapes, and lived the rest of life happy knowing I had been reunited. It was meant to be.