Daily 7/5/2023
226 Words

Apparently I have to blend my phone. This is bad. Anyways, when blended, my phone is crackling with electricity. Imagine those finely crushed screen pieces sliding down your throat. Ouch! Since the screen is black (I’ve broken my iPad screen and black glass pieces crumbled off) I assume this smoothie would be a dark color. It probably has some greens and yellows from the inside of my phone. It tastes disgusting I would imagine. It is a bit crunchy because a phone is hard and blending it without anything would make it a huge circuit mess thing. But drinking it gives me the power to search the web within my head among other things. Basically I can do anything a phone can with my now altered brain. I can take pictures of cool things by blinking twice and the photos will be stored in my brain. I can calculate things at high speeds and play games and text others just using my head. I can even accept phone calls. With this new power I will be unstoppable. I could quickly google the answer to any question with my head. The possibilities are endless. There’s one minor setback though; I’d have to charge my head with liquid electricity every now and then. Now I have to stock up on it. Where can you find that stuff anyways?

Word War 7/6/2023 (258 Words)

We were falling falling falling….

What was going on, how’d we get here? I glance around trying to catch any significant surroundings. It’s strange, one second I was talking with my friends and the next I’m falling face forward through the ground.

Gavin looks at me, his blonde hair is flying in every direction. His blue eyes sparkle, “Now isn’t this fun?” he asked, his mouth quirking into a smile.

I glare at him and suspect he has something to do with this. “What did you do?” I ask.
Eliza grins from next to me, “I think I see the end of this hole!” she calls out.
Panic seizes my chest as I realize that she is correct. The ground was getting closer and closer. At this rate, we’d collide into it and die. I was far too young to die!

“Guys!” I screamed, waving my arms in the air like some awkward fish. “We’re gonna die!
Gavin laughs, “Relax, Red, we’ll be fine.”

I wish I had his confidence and charm. All I feel right now is panic and a bit of annoyance. Eliza and Gavin obviously knew something I didn’t and I hated them for that.

I screamed as we neared the ground, squeezing my eyes shut as I braced for impact. I could already imagine my limbs crumbling from beneath me, broken for hitting the ground so hard. Only, that never happened. Seconds later, I open my eyes to find that I’m standing on the ground, perfectly fine. No crushed bones, not even a scratch.

A Canvas Stained Crimson
675 Words
For Critique
Also Competition Entry

The paintbrush sits untouched on the highest shelf above my desk. No matter how hard I try to forget its existence, my eyes always travel to that shelf before I leave my small, single-room apartment.
I know I should throw it away, as I have the rest of my dreams. But every time I want to, something inside of me makes my entire body freeze. No matter how hard I try, a part of me still clings to my past self- clings to the hope that there’s still a chance I’ll one day fulfill my dreams.
It’s stupid, I know. Someone who has fallen as low as I have has no hope of retribution. But I sometimes still like to imagine things were different.
I grab my knife from the desk, securing it in the sheath at my hip. I imagine it is a paintbrush dipping itself into a fresh jar of paint. As I leave my apartment, I stop to glance at the highest shelf- the paintbrush hidden in the shadows. I repeat a phrase several times in my head.
I am an artist, and the world is my canvas.
Then, without another backward glance, I leave. The hallway is dim, the floorboards uneven. The plastered drywall cadet gray and cracked. I ignore all of this as I hurry through, barely breathing until I make it outside.
I am an artist, and the world is my canvas.
A cold gust of wind bites at my face as I take huge gulps of fresh air. I glance at the information from my client, projected from a small handheld device. The projection casts a robin-egg blue glow around me, breaking through the evening shadows.
My target: an old man, sixty years of age. His hair is blanc de blanc and his eyes are Carolina blue. I know where I’ll find him.
The park, which is covered in shadows, is eerily silent except for the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. I stick to the path, trying to seem like a normal person taking an evening stroll.
I am an artist, and the world is my canvas.
I am searching for my canvas, I tell myself. But, who am I kidding?
The old man is walking towards me now, whistling a strange tune. He holds up one hand in greeting and smiles. “Lovely evening, am I right?”
I swallow the bile in my throat and force myself to nod. At the same time, my hand moves towards my sheath.
The old man catches the movement and frowns. “Ah, so they’ve finally sent someone to do their dirty work, haven’t they?”
I have no idea why my client wants this old man killed. Neither do I care. My artwork is the only thing keeping me alive.
I am an artist, and the world is my canvas.
I take my paintbrush from the jar of paint and slash at the canvas with bold strokes.
The old man lets out a startled cry. His legs give out and he sinks to the ground, his face twisting into a heartbreaking smile.
My hands start to shake as I remember that there isn’t a paintbrush in my hand, but a knife. The knife slips from my grasp, clanging onto the pavement. I see a flash of silver as the moonlight reflects onto the blade.
And crimson, so much crimson.
I take a step back as if to examine my masterpiece from a different angle. Carolina blue eyes void of life; crimson blood everywhere.
I retch as I realize that my fingertips are stained crimson as well. It’s ironic how it almost looks like paint.
I am an artist, and the world is my canvas.
My dream of being an artist sticks with me, even though I know it’ll never come true. The only medium I’ll ever be able to paint with is blood.
I sink to the ground, ignoring the wind that sends chills throughout my body
I am not an artist, and the world isn’t my canvas.

Critique for icebunny11 of Lyric Cabin
371 Words

Okay, I'm going to start with saying that this prologue is so good that I want to read the rest of the story. I have never written a prologue before and I'm thoroughly impressed!

Dark walls were barely illuminated by lanterns, which seemed to float in the air. A boy walked with purpose, followed by five men in dark robes. He was dressed in a black shirt and a purple robe. His black pants clung to his figure as he continued to lightly walk forward.

You've set the scene nicely. A good writer is able to write so that readers can visualize everything. I can imagine the group walking in a dark narrow passageway. The dark robes on the men look pretty creepy. I'd say you're gold. (do people say that?)

The boy hummed, completely opposite to his dark, eerie surroundings. The men, however, blended right in. Their faces were stoic, while the boy switched to another tune.

I think I have developed a crush on him and we literally just met! For some reason he gives me Reaper vibes (If you've read The Young Elites) I love how even in the beginning, you gave the boy some personality to set him aside from the men who follow him.

The man on his right opened his mouth slightly before receiving a warning pat from one of his comrades. They conversed silently through their eyes before the man hesitantly opened his mouth again.

Ooh, this part gives a feeling of apprehension between the men. It makes me want to read more to figure out what the one on the right will say.

“Master Callous,” he said, careful with his wording, as the other four men stared on at his brave attempt. “A-Are you sure you-” he gulped slightly, “Want to continue with the procedure? I-” he bit his lip, not risking anymore.

“Of course,” said the boy cheerfully. “Don't you think I would have gone back if I had changed my mind? How silly of you, Dran.”

This makes me want to know: WHAT IS THE PROCEDURE?! XD And now the boy still being cheerful while his companions or followers are nervous is kind of creepy. I love it! I also love when he says “How silly of you, Dran.” Why does that make me laugh? I can imagine him saying it in a singsong voice.

After a while, they reached a hollowed-out place underground. It was the size of two football fields, and there were stone seats around the amphitheater look-alike. There were thousands in the crowd, cheering. The defining sound only got louder as the boy walked into the underground theater from the tunnel.

Ooh, an arena like setting with a large audience! Will they fight?!

There was a person on the elevated ground in the middle. On closer look, it wasn't exactly a person. It was a black smoke cloud shaped like a human on the top and floated away like a ghost on the bottom. The boy walked next to the humanoid figure and said, “Thank you, announcer.”

The announcer excitedly spoke. “Welcome your prince, Lord CALLOUS!”

Now I'm wondering what this floating dude really is… Also… he's a prince? AAAAAGH I'm even more in love ;-;

As the boy, who was now receiving chants of his name, stepped on an even elevated ground in the center of the stage, he started muttering a spell. A green aura started floating around him, and people “oohed”.

Is this a cult meeting?! Sounds ominous. Anyways, I can easily imagine this green aura as he stands at the elevated stage center, so… well done!

But it wasn't his voice that spoke.

It was the voice of the forbidden prophecy.

Woah, this gives me chills! I love how you leave the reader hanging. It's perfect for a prologue and speaking from my perspective, it makes the reader want to continue and read your book.

Ahh so now it's time for the critique part (saying the word critique is so satisfying!) As I look back on your writing, I cannot find anything worth changing! ;-; Man, to me, this is just like a prologue for a professional novel so I'd say well done! 10/10 or 5/5 or whatever rating system people use. GREAT JOB!!! XD

Writing Critique for lilyjen of the Adventure Cabin
314 Words

Here's my overview: This is good! Your description added before the excerpt gives helpful background information so thank you! You describe how the boy is feeling through the girl's perspective and opinions as well as shed some light on her internal conflict. This is done beautifully.

Okay, let's dive right in! Get it? Him falling into the lake and all? Oh maybe that wasn't something to joke about!

The boy doesn’t know that I’m watching him. He’s sitting on the shore of the lake, crying. His arms are wrapped around his knees, which are pulled up to his chest, his head against them. Sobs wracked his skinny body. I guess he’s around nine or ten. He has spiky bright red hair and pale skin.

Great! I can already imagine the boy! Good work in that sense.

The boy doesn’t know that I’m watching him. He’s sitting on the shore of the lake, crying. His arms are wrapped around his knees, which are pulled up to his chest, his head against them. Sobs wracked his skinny body. I guess he’s around nine or ten. He has spiky bright red hair and pale skin. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like him. I should move on. I don’t know why I’ve spent so long watching him. His problems aren’t my problems. But… for the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel something other than hate or fear or indifference to another human. I actually feel sympathy for him. His sobs finally begin to lessen, as if there aren’t any left. He wipes his eyes and stands up, something clenched in his left fist. He holds it over the water, his hand shaking. He slowly uncurls his clenched fingers, to reveal an electric blue stone with a silver chain. I inch closer. The stone begins to pulse slightly with a pale light. He stares at it. I move closer to get a better view, and the pulse grows brighter. I feel a warmth against my chest, and pull out my amulet. A dark purple gem on a silver chain. It’s pulsing too. I step forward again. I’m so startled by the sound of my foot on the gravel of the beach. He spins around. “Wh-Who’s there?” He asks shakily. He heard me! No one’s heard me for… I wonder if he can see me. I see my hand start to shimmer. And I realize he can see me. I’ll let him see me. I shimmer into view. He yelps and steps backwards, his electric blue eyes wide. He looks like a cornered animal.

Okay, so in technical terms this paragraph may be a bit to… chunky? (Is that the right word?) While I'm not a professional… in my honest opinion, you should break it once or twice. Maybe start a new paragraph at “His sobs finally begin to lessen…” because it seems like a new idea or part is being introduced. Also when he speaks “Wh-who's there?” you need to start a new paragraph. Again, I love the imagery you're using throughout this paragraph. Electric blue eyes is so descriptive! I love how you not only use sight but sound and feeling.

“Stay back!” He yells, surprising me.
“Stay back, stay away from me!” He says, his voice breaking. He takes a step backwards into the water.

Since there are exclamation points, maybe not use the word ‘says’…. maybe repeats would be better since he already said stay back before. The voice breaking part is a perfect! It shows how emotional your character is.

He stumbles backwards, his whole body shaking, with terror or exertion or cold I don’t know. He seems genuinely scared, though not of me.
“You have to get away before I - I- I- before it happens again!” He says. He’s clutching the amulet in his hand so hard his knuckles are white.
“Please! Please…” He whispers.

You can really feel his desperation and fear here! I love that.

He takes a step back. He’s waist deep in the water.

I think you should find a way to merge both of these simple sentences to give your writing a better flow over here.

What?” I say.

I suggest you find more synonyms for say. You repeat it sometimes and I think in this case it could be replaced with something more fitting.

He takes another step backwards and disappears under the water. Drop off. Before I quite knew what I was doing I ran into the water and dived in after him. I grab his skinny wrist. I drag him up, and lay him, coughing, on the sand. Suddenly, a bright white glow appears. I look down to see our two amulets touching. They stop glowing.

Great, now you leave me hanging! Great job! I think describing the water (is it cold, murky, clear, etc… ) would add more details to this last part. Other than that, great job! 9/10 for me!

Daily 7/11/2023
215 Words

Born Ready Changed for SWC

Ready, set
Time to be a camper
Don't stop writing
Keep on creating stories
Be yourself, ‘cause writers shine in different ways
And when your hands can’t move anymore
Just know we read your work all the time
Don't need to fit into the crowd
To be a force of a writer
'Cause we're gonna be, we're gonna be, we're gonna be the best writers
They're gonna see, they're gonna see that we were born for this
So if it takes forever
We'll write our stories together
We were born ready
We were born ready, yeah, yeah, yeah
And if your hands get tired
We'll take a break together
We were born ready
We were born ready
Don't care if SWC ain't ready for me
So if it takes forever
We'll write our stories together
We were born ready
We were born ready, yeah, yeah, yeah
And if your hands get tired
We'll take a break together
We were born ready
We were born ready
Don't care if SWC ain't ready for me
(Don't care if SWC ain't ready)
(Don't care if SWC ain't ready for me)
We were born ready
We were born ready
Don't care if SWC ain't ready for me
Don't care if SWC ain't ready for me

Okayyy

Marmalade
657 Words
For Critique

Orange marmalade.
Sticky and sweet with the perfect amount of tartness.
I know many people dislike the taste of orange marmalade. When asked about my favorite food, many of them seem almost disgusted with my answer.
I don’t care. It’s not just about the taste. Orange marmalade holds a lot of memories- sweet, yet perhaps a little tart as well.
Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can see a younger version of myself, feet hanging over the side of the boardwalk that jutted into the vast blue ocean. Wind whipping my hair into my face as I struggled to eat my favorite sandwich of all time: orange marmalade.
A boy used to sit next to me. My ten-year-old self thought he had the brightest smile in the whole world.
That’s the beauty of being young; even the smallest things can make you smile.
I can’t remember what we used to talk about. I imagine us talking about silly little things like our favorite foods or the shapes that the clouds made. What we ate for breakfast or why the ocean was blue.
Those silly little things sometimes left us talking until the sun began to set, its orange glow reflecting on the ocean, making it seem as if some parts of the water were made of gold.
I can remember such small details vividly, but can’t remember his name.
Soon summer came to an end. The sweltering days slowly turned cooler. Just as summer disappeared, so did the boy.
I asked about him when he didn’t show up to the boardwalk a second day in a row. It was a slightly cool day and the sun was hidden behind a blanket of gray.
An old fisherman finally told me the answer. His parents were going through a divorce, so they sent him to live with his aunt for the summer while they worked things out. He had left for home the day before.
“He had a message for someone,” said the old man. “He told me to tell Marmalade that he would miss her.”
I remember smiling as I realized I was Marmalade. To this day, I wonder if the boy knew why he was spending the summer in our quaint little town by the ocean. Did he know what was happening at home? If so, why was his smile so big and bright?
This is why, whenever I eat my favorite sandwich I feel like smiling and crying at the same time.
Disappointingly, I wasn’t able to eat my sandwich for breakfast today because I overslept again- something I have been doing a lot recently.
The sky is a stormy gray as I make my way through the university campus. My professor is going to be extremely mad if I’m late for the fifth time this semester.
I glance down at my phone for a brief second; I have three minutes left. Perfect- I can make it in two.
I stumble into a person and fall on my behind. “Ow!” I yell angrily, annoyed at this setback. I force myself to relax; I still have plenty of time.
“Sorry!” A voice says and I look to see who has gotten in my way. The man smiles down at me. His hair is wavy and brown, and his eyes are as blue as the ocean. There is something familiar about his smile.
I stand up and brush myself off, “It’s fine!” I say, although it really isn’t. I am probably going to be late again.
The man doesn’t move out of my way; he just stands there, his smile slowly turning into surprise.
“Umm excuse me,” I say as politely as I can, “I have a class to get to.”
I am met with silence. I shrug and begin to move around him.
“Marmalade?” The man whispers.
I freeze and the man’s smile is back in full force, brighter than the sun.
Suddenly, I’m ten again…

Writing Critique for opheliio of Lit-fi
887 Words

Okay, I'll start with my interpretation of what happened… So what I'm getting from this is that some guy (I'm assuming the one sharing the memory is a guy… I can't exactly tell…) likes this other guy? So… yeah… and this Hugo character had a memory taken away which is obviously special to to… Rejean (is that the dude's name?) That's my take on this…

you really don’t remember anything from that night? i feel li— hugo. you should know what happened that night. you should know what you did, for me.

I'm assuming this is an excerpt of something, correct? After reading this twice… I don't see what Hugo did for the one telling the memory… “I feel li- hugo.” in my opinion this wording confuses readers. I had to read it twice to try to get what it means. My interpretation is that Rejean (he's the one telling the memory right?) is kind of anxious right now and doesn't know what to say? I'm not sure that there should be a period after Hugo though?

that’s not okay, it’s not okay, for her to just take something like that away from you. something that… well, that night matters a lot to me. i think it does for you to. sorry, i shouldn’t be getting so overwhelmed like this. could i just… can i tell you about it? i think you should know. yes, you should know.

So this makes it obvious that Rejean is nervous or maybe a bit anxious to be telling Hugo about this memory. The way he keeps correcting his speech and rambling makes that apparent.

it was just after we left that first town, you remember what happened there right?

So I'm assuming Hugo nods or something at this point…

yeah, so we were leaving there, and you were saying bye to that other boy, and i was feeling jealous because we’d hardly talked since leaving the university and here we were in a world that had more to offer you than i did and here was this guy who had something in common with you. i saw him slip you a piece of paper.
i saw you blush.
i know you remember this, i just want you to hear my perspective. so i got to thinking that, hey this kid can’t just steal my best friend from me! he can’t take my— my hugo from me. no one can take you away from me, i promise.
so my plan was, i would write you a letter. not just a letter. a ballad.

“Saying bye to that other boy” it doesn't sound right when I read it… maybe replace it with something else. “I was feeling jealous” I think the word “feeling” is unnecessary… “I was jealous,” would probably be better. Also… the entire first sentence is a run-on. The amount of ‘ands’ is overwhelming. I get that one narrating the memory is anxious, but I think this run-on is too much at once. “ …here we were in a world that had more to offer you than i did…” This sentence… I'm not sure if it is needed? I was kind of confused when first reading it. Were they in a new world or something, or is Rejean just realizing that the world offers a lot of competition? Also, maybe Rejean was really jealous but “…here was this guy who had something in common with you.” is there nothing in common with Hugo and Rejean?

i saw you blush.
i know you remember this, i just want you to hear my perspective. so i got to thinking that, hey this kid can’t just steal my best friend from me! he can’t take my— my hugo from me. no one can take you away from me, i promise.
so my plan was, i would write you a letter. not just a letter. a ballad.
i would use my education for something good, and tell you how i felt. i would blow you away, cease your thoughts about bierk, or whatever his name was. i would rekindle that friendship, whatever we’d lost—
what did we lose, hugo, why did we lose it? why did we waste our time, searching for— i don’t know. i don’t know what i was thinking. but then, i was finally seeing clear. i needed to win you back, show you i still loved you.
i still love you.

My first question is… friendship or love? Rejean says he wants to rekindle their friendship but then goes on about love. The love part cancels out the friendship claim. Is he trying to earn Hugo's love or friendship? And is Rejean actually promising Hugo that no one can take him away from him… that's a bit… unsettling?

the letter, yes, the letter. i still have it, around here som— oh, here it is. only a few lines. terribly shakey penmanship; i was a mess of emotions, and besides we were on that wagon— why am i trying to justify my handwriting to you? it doesn’t matter. as you can see here, i never finished the letter. the ballad. whatever you want to call it. we stopped early that night, because you said you sensed frey coming. so i lost hope, yeah?
i shouldn’t have, i know that now.

Is Frey a name or…? Is there where Hugo's memory loss starts?

we set up camp. you volunteered to cook, so i made myself scarce. theoretically, i was gathering firewood for the winter night ahead. and theoretically, for me, i was continuing to compose my grand gesture. but neither was the truth. no, i was doing nothing helpful, not even remotely.

“Theoretically for me” sounds a bit awkward. in my opinion.

i was trying to remember the last time you said my name.
and i couldn’t. i loved the way you said my name, two soft syllables, like you regret even thinking them, like they were poison, but the sweetest poison. perhaps i am trying too hard to be poetic. but i do love hearing you say my name, hugo. truly. so it hurt my heart to realize that you hadn’t said it, at least not in the month since our journey began. since my journey began, and you chased after me. i was in a pathetic state, wandering that new growth. it’s a wonder nothing awful happened then.

I like the comparison of when Hugo said his name to sweet poison. “Like you regret even thinking them,” is a bit confusing. “…wandering that new growth,” I was confused as what that meant as well. But I think this part of the story is sweet.

i started muttering your name. hugo, hugo, hugo, hugo, hugo, hugo. i think i collapsed on a stump, full dramatics, convinced, somehow, that you hated me. which makes no sense, how would you have traveled miles on foot to follow me into nowhere, into an uncertain future, when you had such a grand one laid out in front of you, if you hated me?
anyways, i was out there an hour. i collected not even a twig of fire wood. and i headed back to camp, all in shambles.
you had just about finished up, and were making some apologies about the lack of authentic ingredients or the like, but really i wasn’t paying attention to your words or the delicious smell from over the fire you’d somehow conjured. in the light of the just-set sun, you were radiant. i couldn’t look away from you. i somehow did.

“…the fire you'd somehow conjured,” I like that! It makes me laugh. “The light of the just set sun…” nice imagery but maybe add some color to the light to really enhance a reader's imagination. Like orange or gold… I love the line “…You were radiant. I couldn't look away…” maybe get rid of the “from you part” since we already know he's talking about Hugo. “I somehow did” doesn't seem like it belongs I think it should be removed.

i thought, i’m in love.
so cliche, i’m sorry. but looking at you, thinking about the terrible past month, the realization simultaneously filled me up and broke my heart. how many broken hearts can a poor lord take in a day?
you were still fussing over the meal, clearly didn’t notice my puffy eyes and tear-stained face. honestly i didn’t care. just as i reached for the letter, the utterly incomplete record of my thoughts and feelings, you set down a plate in my lap.
you smiled, that uncertain, perfect smile, and offered pleasantries about the day. you said something about the weather, i replied that it’d been perfect. you complained about the roads, i nodded in agreement. you didn’t question my quiet. and you seemed nervous, about something. not sure how i noticed, with everything going on with me.
i eventually asked about the meal. you winced; you were worried i would say something bad, i think. so i reassured you, tried to reassure you, it was very good, and what was it? so you smiled and explained.

“How many broken hearts can a poor lord take in a day?” Did he have his heart broken before? Am I missing something? Ah… so he's a… lord? From this excerpt I'm confused as to what Rejean really is. Is he a runaway lord looking for adventure? Who exactly is Hugo in his life? I like the small exchange between the two characters that was obviously very precious to Rejean.

i committed that smile to memory.

this is cute

you said, quite excitedly, that the town we’d passed through was an alacian settlement, that you’d never met alacians before and struggled with that aspect of your history, that beiroc had gifted you a recipe, that you hoped i liked it. i re-examined the dish laid before me. the colors, the flavors, the textures; all so you. i smiled, you smiled back.
“thank you, hugo.”
“and thank you, rejean.”

There are too many ‘thats’ in this very long sentence. I once again suggest that you break a sentence up. Grammatically, (If you're looking for grammar corrections) “I smiled, you smiled back” is incorrect because there are two separate sentences. You either need to join them with a semicolon- I smiled; you smiled back- or with a comma and conjunction- I smiled, and you smiled back.

Lastly… I don't exactly understand why they're saying thank you.

Now time for the general overview of things. Grammar wise, this piece has a lot of technical errors. You don't capitalize after starting a new sentences or when using proper nouns such as names and when using the word I. This makes it confusing because sometimes I can't tell whether it's a name or a word. You should also cut back on the amount of commas you use per sentence because a few of them become run-ons which make things a bit confusing.

Rejean's storytelling is clouded by emotion and this changes how he shares the events of that night. I like how his rambling shows his anxiety and how open he is. (I would never tell someone all of my deepest thoughts like Rejean is doing). This has me wonder what Hugo's reaction is to all of this? Is he actually staying silent as Rejean retells these events? It seems highly unlikely… Hugo in the least should be slightly uncomfortable.

In conclusion… perhaps the clarity of this story should be relooked so that readers can completely understand everything that's going on! I hope my suggestions help!

Excerpt from Part of Two Chapters of my Book
1861 Words
For Critique

Short Explanation: This is a part of the third book of my series. Selina and Kyle are both apart of a group of teenage spies for the Senate (the leaders of this futuristic society) Selina hasn't seen Kyle since their last mission which didn't end too well….


She found herself making her way to the other side of the school where the indoor pool was located. Kyle liked water so she reasoned that maybe he’d want to go there. She was disappointed to find that the doors to the pool were locked. A quick peek through the doors’ windows provided further proof that Kyle was not there.
She sighed as he thought of other places where there was a lot of water at school. The fountains were a good place to check- there were two of them. One in the main courtyard at the center of the campus and another in the cafeteria. Then there was also the wall-mounted water fixture in the lobby and the small pond in the greenhouse. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger; maybe she was overthinking things. What if Kyle wasn’t near any water?
Despite her doubts, she decided to check the fountain in the cafeteria first. It was eerily quiet in the cafeteria when Selina entered. She was surprised that for the first time ever she wasn’t hit with a wave of lively chatter and the smell of several different foods mixed together. She couldn’t even smell the coffee that was often offered in the morning. She supposed that made sense since it was only the first day of school.
She wove her way through the maze of tables and benches stopping directly in front of the fountain in the center of the room. For once, she could actually hear the sound of the water gurgling from the fountain, splashing down its sides. She circled around it, stopping midway. “Kyle?”
He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the fountain. His blue uniform shirt was left unbuttoned revealing a black t-shirt underneath. His messy bangs looked like they were longer than usual; she could barely see his eyes. Maybe she was just imagining it, but he looked thinner than usual as well.
He looked up when she called his name but remained silent. She made her way closer, stopping when she was standing directly in front of him. “What’s going on? Why are you skipping class? How come you haven’t gotten caught?”
He nodded in the direction of the kitchen, “The cafeteria androids aren’t programmed to notify teachers if a student is ditching. And it’s not like I’m sitting in plain sight.” He tilted his head slightly, “How’d you find me anyways?”
She shrugged and sat next to him, resting her hands on the floor; it was cold. “Just a feeling.” She studied him again, “You know, it’s been two weeks since I last saw you.”
He sighed, “I know.”
Selina tried not to look disappointed; she thought that he would at least care a little more. Maybe their friendship didn’t mean as much to him as she thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, “I just… I had a lot going on for the past two weeks. I needed time to think and reassess and-”
“Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” she assured him. She couldn’t believe how selfish she was. It was obvious he was suffering, and all she could think about was how little he cared for her. “I’m just glad to see you again.”
“When I got ready for school today, I thought I could take the whispers. I expected a lot of attention because of the news about my kidnapping and thought I might as well get used to people staring at my scar. But when I actually made it to school it was much worse.” His hands clenched into fists, “I mean, I wasn’t surprised about the whispers and stares but the fact that none of them knew that my own parents had something to do with it made me so angry!”
That was right… she had forgotten that the news that Kyle’s parents were a part of a crazy rebel group wasn’t public yet.
“But what I hate most of all is myself!” Kyle yelled. There was anger in his voice, but also so much sadness that Selina’s heart felt like it was torn into pieces. She could see tears glistening at the corners of his silver eyes and felt tears form in her own. “I did everything I could to make them proud. I did every stupid thing they asked, but it wasn’t enough. I’m so pathetic that part of me still wants them to care,” he sobbed.
“You’re not pathetic,” Selina said, gently rubbing his back. “They’re your parents, of course part of you still loves them.”
“But they’re evil,” he whispered.
She tentatively reached forward and brushed some of his hair out of his eyes; it was softer than she imagined. His eyebrows raised slightly as if he was surprised by the gesture. “It’s not your fault, and it breaks me to see you hating yourself like this,” she said as gently as she could. She met his eyes. Her friend, who was already broken from the torture he suffered when kidnapped, was barely holding himself together. She could see dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t gotten enough sleep in a while.
He was the first to break eye contact, instead focusing his eyes on the floor. “You know, they took Nari.”
Selina froze; Kyle’s little sister Nari was precious to him, she couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling now that she was gone. “If she’s with your parents, they’ll find her soon.”
“I hope so…” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your first day of school.”
She shook her head, “Stop being ridiculous. Being able to see you makes me so happy.” She studied him for a moment, “I think I know just what you need.” He looked confused as she stood up. “You stand up too,” she ordered. He raised one eyebrow but complied.
Without saying another word, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. At first he froze, and his back was stiff as if he was unsure what to do. But then he fell forward, leaning his head on her shoulder. He hugged her back; his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Selina’s heart raced as she caught a whiff of peppermint, and she struggled to remind herself that she was only hugging him to help him feel better.
Despite her efforts, as if they weren’t under her control, her hands moved to the back of his head, her fingers slipping through his hair. Their hug lasted several seconds longer than it should’ve if it were between two friends. Their eyes met as they slowly pulled away from each other.
Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, Selina opened her mouth to say something but stopped when she heard a strange rumbling sound. Like water rushing through pipes. The ground shook slightly and her first thought was that there was an earthquake. But then she heard a loud boom and realized it was an explosion.

Chapter 3
“What’s going on?” Selina asked, her heart racing with fear. That was an explosion she had just heard, right? Was someone attacking the school? Was it the Visionaries?
Kyle’s eyes widened and he grabbed her hand, glancing briefly at the fountain behind them. He pulled her with him as he ran forward, and she stumbled slightly as she tried to match his speed. The rumbling and shaking increased until it sounded like a strange hum. “Get down!” He shouted, tackling her to the ground. At the same time, there was the deafening sound of an explosion. She landed on her back, knocking the air out of her lungs.
Selina opened her eyes which she hadn’t realized were squeezed tightly shut. Her eyes widened when she saw that Kyle’s face was only a couple of inches above hers. He had stopped himself from falling on top of her with his hands, one above each of her shoulders. Droplets of water hung from the strands of his bangs, some of them falling onto her face. She felt herself holding her breath; he was so close.
Kyle pushed himself away and moved to a sitting position close by. She sat up as well, rubbing her shoulder which was sore from the impact of her fall.
“Are you okay?” He asked after a minute. His voice sounded muffled and it was then that Selina noticed a faint ringing sound in the background. It seemed the explosion was louder than she thought.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Selina said, trying to process what had happened. She glanced in the direction of the fountain- or at least, where the fountain once stood. Now all she could see was debris and broken pipes. The glass walls of the cafeteria were completely gone, they had probably shattered from the air pressure of the explosion.
She returned her attention to Kyle. If he hadn’t reacted so quickly, they both would’ve been in much worse condition. He was soaked- probably from the water from the fountain that exploded. She was surprised to find that she was barely wet. She frowned when she realized that there was a large shard of glass stuck in his right arm, thin streams of blood already trickling from the wound. His body must’ve protected her from most of the glass and rubble that lay around them as well as the water. “You’re injured,” Selina said, scooting closer to him.
He looked down at the shard of glass as if realizing it for the first time. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” She repeated, “You’re bleeding.” She reached for the shard of glass, “Sorry, this might hurt.” She yanked it out as quickly as she could, cringing when more blood trickled down his arm. It must’ve stung.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry!” she cried, “We’re going to have to find something to cover up your wound.” She wished she had a cell-boosting gel with her so that his wound would heal faster.
“We’ll have to do that later,” Kyle announced, getting to his feet. He offered his uninjured arm to Selina and helped pull her up. “I don’t think it’s safe to stay in this building anymore.” As if to prove his point, there was another loud bang in the distance; this time the entire school seemed to shake, including the walls. The school alarms sounded, notifying all students that it was an emergency.
“I don’t get why the glass broke though!” Selina yelled over the alarm as they carefully made their way through the rubble.
Kyle shrugged, “I guess this building is old. They should’ve updated it a while ago.”
They stopped in front of the wall where the windows once were, now nothing but an opening to the back gardens of the school, framed with jagged pieces of glass. One of those pieces scratched Selina’s leg as they exited through the opening.
The cafeteria was situated at the back of the school on the first floor. Its windows afforded a view of the luscious gardens behind Monarch Academy. Originally, Selina had thought that they were beautiful, now they only served as a nuisance since they had to trek through several bushes before they reached the gravel pathway.

Weekly 2 (1838 Words)


Part 1
731 Words

How to Make Characters' Personalities Pop! By: Cookie! (Idea by Yellow_Owlet)

Introduction

Everyone has a favorite character- whether they’re books, movies, TV shows, or comics. A variety of characters with different personalities can cater to the interests of different types of members in your audience. One person may like the main character the most, while another way like the supporting best friend better. The point is, your writing needs a variety of characters- both good and bad- to keep things interesting. In this workshop, I’ll try my best to show you how to make each of your characters their own person.


Example of Characters that ‘Pop!’

One of the best ways to help improve your writing is to take inspiration from others. Since your characters are most likely going to be the main focus of your story (aside from the plot) you’re going to need to make each of them shine in their own way.
Since I’ve noticed that many people have read Keeper of the Lost Cities (KOTLC) by Shannon Messenger, I thought it would be good to use the series as an example. In my opinion, the best two characters in the series are Keefe and Tam. The two of them have many similarities (family issues, love of hair, snarkiness, and tendency to hide their emotions, etc.) But if the two of them were exactly the same, then their characters wouldn’t pop. They both need something that can make them stand out. For Keefe, it could be the fact that he’s an extrovert, and seems to have no problem interacting with others; he’s loud and cracks a lot of jokes. Tam on the other hand is an introvert; he has trouble trusting others and he’s more sarcastic. This difference in personality (among others) set the two characters apart (and in my opinion makes Tam slightly better.)


How to Make Your Characters’ Personalities Pop

Now that we’ve seen an example, let’s think about ways to help readers differentiate our characters! You need to keep in mind that no two characters should be the same. In real life, it would be really creepy if a person spoke, acted, and thought exactly the same way you did. This is true for characters too! Unless your character is trying their best to copy another character… (even then, it might be impossible to completely copy every aspect of someone.)
One way to make each character strand out is to give them some sort of quirk (No… not MHA quirks XD) This quirk could be some strange habit or way of talking. Maybe your character stutters a lot or bites their nails often. Or your character is well educated and their speech and actions help exhibit this. This character would speak in a proper manner compared to casual slang an average person might use.
I suggest writing down each of your characters’ personalities. This way, you can make sure too many attributes don’t overlap. You can’t have all your characters act sarcastic or all of them be introverted. Of course, characters can have similarities, just make sure there is some way for readers to tell the difference between them.

Tips

One tip I have is to take an excerpt of your writing and paste it in another document. Then, take out all of the names and replace them with something else like ‘person.’ Afterwards, try to see if you can tell who is saying what. If you already have people reading your work, then ask them to guess as well. If you can’t tell the difference between characters’ voices, then you might need to rethink each one of them.
Another tip I have is to examine people in the real world. I often do this at school or in crowded places. I try to see how people interact with each other- especially in groups. Usually there are a lot of different types of people you’ll come across and you can use them as inspiration for your characters. Think about your friends; what makes them unique? And similar? Why do you guys “click?” These things might help when creating characters.

I’ll end with this: if someone can’t choose a favorite out of your characters, then something might be wrong. Because we each find different personalities, characteristics, and even appearances appealing, it shouldn’t be hard to choose which of the many characters you’ve created is a favorite!

Part 2

706 Words

I read the workshop: Writing Factually Accurate Historical Fiction by @The60Seconds

This Historical Fiction will be loosely inspired by ancient China


“My Lord!” Infantry Colonel Liuxian yelled, bursting through the flaps of Huainan’s tent in the wee hours of the night.
Second Prince Huainan, a light sleeper, especially on the battlefield, immediately sprung up from his sleeping mat. “What is it, Colonel?” he asked, already grabbing his sword which lay sheathed beside him.
“Our enemies!” Liuxian yelled again, slightly out of breath- he must’ve run all the way to the tent. “They’ve launched a surprise attack!”
“That’s impossible!” Huainan gasped as he stood. The war should’ve been over by now. Were the enemies plotting some last desperate retaliation?
He was glad he went to sleep wearing some of his inner layers of armor, no matter how uncomfortable it was. He didn’t have time to put on the rest of his armor, let alone tie his hair, which was loose and hanging, in a bun.
His horse, a large black steed, was already saddled and waiting for him outside his tent. He mounted it and gently urged it forward. Up ahead he could already hear the unmistakable sounds of war. Then, urging his horse into a gallop, he prepared to join the battle.

————————-
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when the battle finally ended. Huainan stood at the crest of a small hill, absently rubbing his horse's nose as he looked over the battlefield. They had won, but not without losing so many comrades. Looking at the chaos war left behind reminded him that victory always came with a price.
“My Lord,” his chief advisor, a middle-aged man who had the kindest smile, joined him on the hill. Only he wasn’t smiling- the past few years of war had made him full of worry and stress. Huainan could already see wrinkles forming above the man’s eyebrows which were often arched in worry.
“What is it, Jianzhao?” Huainan asked, addressing his advisor.
“Forgive my sudden bluntness, but you’re injured and should be resting!”
Huainan’s hand instinctively went to the crossbow wound at his side, which was stained with blood. He’d been shot sometime in the middle of the battle. He knew his hastily wrapped bandages wouldn’t last much longer, yet, “I heard we’re low on medical supplies,” he said, “Treat the soldiers who need medical attention more than me first.”
“But,” Jianzhao began to protest.
Huainan held up a hand to stop him, “There’s a village nearby in the mountains, right?” He waited until Jianzhao nodded before he continued, “I’ll ride up there and get medical supplies for everyone. My wound isn’t too deep so I can get treated there.” This was a lie; Huainan was aware of how deep the arrow had pierced through his skin, but he’d just have to endure the pain a little longer. He couldn’t stand getting treated before the other wounded soldiers just because he was royalty. To prove that he was fine, he mounted his horse and urged it down the hill, “I should be back in two days, he called over his shoulder. “You’re in charge while I’m gone!”
He wasn’t sure whether or not Jianzhao responded; he was too far to hear.

———————-
Huainan clenched his teeth to suppress a groan. It had been around three hours since he first started his journey, and the jostling of the horse ride was not helping with the sharp pain from his wound. He quickly did the math in his head, concluding that the village was only another hour's ride. He could make it; he had to.
He was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea a few minutes later, making him sway in his saddle. He signaled for his horse to slow to a walk. “I’m fine,” he murmured to himself, reaching for his skin of water.
He barely processed what was happening as he tumbled off the saddle, landing painfully on his injured side. He cried out in pain as he struggled to get up, one of his feet still in its stirrup. Once his foot was free, he collapsed on his back sweating from either exhaustion or fever- or maybe a mix of both. This time, as his vision darkened, he didn’t fight to stay awake. Instead, he welcomed the darkness, slipping into a state of painless bliss.


Part 3
Critique for 1lMaM
401 Words

Let's get started! XD I really like this piece of writing and how it introduces us to a seemingly dystopian society. Through Courtney's thoughts, I can tell that she lives in a dangerous world outside of the seemingly safe and privileged “big city.”

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…

I'm only kinda confused about the part where her possessions jangle in her arms. Are her arms wrapped around them… When you write that she clings tighter to her thighs I was under the assumption that her possessions were in her pockets. Other than that, you nicely illustrate the situation Courtney lives in: one with constant worry and anxiety. The fact that she ate chips for dinner further illustrates her poor living conditions.

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…

Courtney's thoughts which are borderline hysterical with anxiety help build the tension in this excerpt. It seems her house is some distance away from the city. But I'm confused whether her neighbors (if she has any) are living in similar conditions. She says there are a lot of normal people outside… maybe this is too early in the story, but I'm wondering what sets her apart from the people outside.

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.

It took me a minute to realize that the light pouring through the cracks in the roof meant sunrise… maybe I'm just dumb… I think it'd be better to say “My feet still drag behind me,” instead of “…steps…”

What I interpret from this is that she lives outside of town as well?

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.

Oof… she's been drinking dirty water?! Instead of writing “I don't want to go to town” which doesn't seem to fit with the following sentences, I suggest you use, “I'm not going to town.”

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.

I like how you use the fact that she has no shoes to further illustrate her situation. Maybe be more specific on what they advertise because I'm not sure if you're talking about shoes or luxuries in general.

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.

This is good for the worldbuilding you're trying to achieve. It shows the relationship between the city and the people outside of it. One thing: You can get a scrap of food but I don't think you can do the same for water…

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.

I love how you return to the narrator's seemingly recurrent thought/fear of dying. I love her determination to survive and make the best of her situation. The line, “I know what comes next,” really helps build tension for the part of town she's about to pass.

Critique for RLove10 of Dystopian Cabin
437 Words

After reading this the first time (without looking carefully for any needed changes) I wanna say… THIS IS AMAZING! XD. I love the small exchanges between Conrad and Ellison.

I took Ellison’s unwilling hands and guided her to the center of the room. I wanted to dance with her, but that was not the only reason I was doing it. My father was on his throne. His eyes set on Ellison and me; he wouldn’t look away, not unless I gave him a sign.

This is a nice way to start the scene. We're jumping into the middle but are given enough context so that we're not too confused.

Ellison moved to the music swiftly. No matter how much she denied it, she looked gorgeous while dancing in that gown. The thought of her getting hurt tonight made my stomach jump. If she got hurt, it would be my fault.

I think instead of “Ellison moved to the music swiftly” you should write, “Ellison moved swiftly to the music,” I feel like it sounds less awkward when reading it.

“Conrad? Is there something wrong?”
“Yes. It’s just, I- You look really pretty tonight.” I felt sick just by looking at her. She looked really pretty. Tonight, she had taken her armor down after such a long time. She was enjoying herself, her eyes showed it, and I was going to take that away.

You can already see Conrad's internal conflict at this point. I love how the way he speaks shows how distracted and worried he is.

“Conrad, are you listening to me?” She slapped my hand. I got back to reality as her eyes scanned me, “Don’t compliment me. I’m not someone who will fall for your princey charm.”
“You think I’m charming?”

I love this exchange! It's adorable. Just a suggestion, but maybe you can show Conrad's reaction, like an eyebrow raise or something.

She clenched her jaw and looked away; she did that when she was frustrated. While I was still fighting my thoughts, Ellison pulled us out of the dance floor. She was talking to me, but I could only hear my father’s voice. She’s their daughter, son. She wants you dead as much as us. She’ll take your throne. Will you choose her and her little rebellion, or your family? Aren’t you loyal? I was loyal, I really was, but to who?

I love Conrad's internal thoughts over here. You can really see that he's struggling to decide who he is loyal to. “While I was still fighting my thoughts,” doesn't sound exactly right to me… maybe try some other verb.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a tap on my side. Next to me there was no one, but on the table there was a vial; poison.

“A drink for yourself and the lady?” a server said, “My prince?”
“Thanks.” I took the drinks and placed them on the table. These weren’t drinks, this was an ultimatum. He was watching us

I'm confused, if no one was at his side then who tapped him. And then, where is the server standing, if not next to him?

I took the vial, and dropped it on one drink. I am loyal to myself.

“I’m sorry, I dropped your drink.” I handed her mine

This part is a bit unclear. Does Conrad drop the vial on the drink? Or puts the contents of the poison in the drink and then drops the entire thing?

The music stopped and the sudden silence pulled me out of my thoughts. Ellison was pulling my arm.

“We need to get out of here,” she whispered, “something’s wrong.”
I didn’t move. My father was doing something. He knew I didn’t poison Ellison; she was in danger.
“Conrad! We need to move!”

Eyes turned towards us as Ellison pushed our way through the crowd. A group of soldiers blocked the door, attracting everyone’s gazes. Ellison’s impulsiveness gained over being unnoticed, and she slipped a dagger from her dress.

“Ellison's impulsiveness gained over being unnoticed” I'm not exactly sure what this means. You might need to reword that for clarity. I like how you nicely transition from the dance to the sudden action.

“There is no need to make a scandal Miss Whitlock,” Everyone gasped when my father mentioned her last name. What was he doing? Ellison’s face changed. Even with a mask covering half her face, shock could be noticed. Instead of acting out of nervousness, she handled the situation as I had never seen her, with charm.
“I’m sorry, your awful Majesty, but I’m not doing that.”
“Son, please convince the lady not to make a scene.”
I was not taking orders from him, but if I could convince them not to hurt each other, I had to try.

I like how you circle back to Conrad's internal conflict- he's still having trouble decided who he's loyal to. I was surprised about the mask part… did Ellison have a mask on the entire time? If she did… maybe mention it in the beginning when Conrad is aware of her emotions when dancing with her.

“Ellison, there is no need to-” I whispered, but I couldn’t finish the sentence, not when she looked at me like that.
“I should have known.”

These lines break my heart ;-;

She took the skirt of her dress and ran to the nearest open window. I knew this drill. The crowd wouldn’t stop her, and if someone tried, they’d end up with a dagger on their stomach.
“Get her!” my father ordered. But before any guard could put their hands on her, she had jumped. My father’s gaze switched to me. I didn’t choose to betray Ellison, which meant I didn’t choose him.

I don't think people end up with daggers on their stomachs. Maybe the dagger would be stuck in their or they'd end up with a slash across their stomach. I love the ending!

Okay, now for the general overview! I'd rate this writing an 8/10! I love the plot and the dialogue (nothing wrong there!). The dynamics between Ellison and Conrad are amusing and the ending you left me with makes me want to read more. I need Ellison to understand the situation or I might go crazy!! Is it alright if I ship them? XD

You need to work a bit on the clarity of this piece (some lines I couldn't understand) But other than that, great job!!

Daily 7/14/2023
682 Words
Translated Messed up Song Below (MHA SKETCH)

I feel like it's been a long time since I've seen your smile.
Record your mind in slow motion as much as possible.

If this short night is the last, I will definitely go see you.
It makes me feel relaxed

hug and cry
We can't talk about pain.
Despite your shortcomings, I love you so much

i need to paint
and give it to me
Add feelings before laughing

“Please do not go”
“I don't want you to go either.”
We patted each other on the back and exchanged silent promises.
Even if one of us can't always keep our share
this time me too
a handshake is a sign
i missed it a few times
Hey, promises are “must keep” things.
all i want is to hold your hand

i want to get closer to you
Every time I realized I couldn't stay here, that was it

There are not necessarily many good people.
Doesn't it hurt a lot to think you're someone else?

oh i'm sensitive
I see only the beautiful pattern of your heart

His face distorts according to the suffering of others.
When and where do you laugh?
too busy counting the wounds
how i miss your pain
pretend to be selfish
We are always thinking of others.
Because happiness always comes with a little pain
I can't let you go by accident. do you understand?

I want a different spirit
please don't say such sad things
I can't see your face
I need a mirror that reflects my heart
So please…

“Don't get depressed with me”
“you also”
Pat each other on the back and make a nice promise
Even if one of us can't always keep our share
But love covers what we take for granted.
seems to be effective
I will tell you my action plan.
you might be a little surprised
But look, your smile is so beautiful


Eclipse’s beauty is ethereal tonight. I have trouble looking away as the moonlight seems to intensify her stunning features. I wish I could paint this small moment yet fear that not even my art could capture her true beauty.
She looks at me through long black lashes, “You seem quiet tonight, Rhys.” I love how she says my name, like a secret that has to be whispered.
I tear my eyes away from her, forcing myself to look up at the sky. I have to tell her.
I can’t stay here, in this town. It is too dangerous; I’m too dangerous. I should’ve left days ago, but I couldn’t- not without saying goodbye.
I turn to Eclipse now, resisting the urge to play with the ends of her jet-black hair. There are so many places I want to go with her, so many things I want to do.
Eclipse frowns and I start to wonder, when was the last time I saw her smile? I close my eyes and try to picture her smiling. All I can picture is the devastated reaction she’ll have by the end of this night.
I used to think I was a good person, helping people with this forbidden power of mine. It crushed me when I realized I was doing more harm than good- that every town I saved suffered once I was gone. I made a promise to myself: that I’d never let anyone suffer again.
Yet here I am, standing in front of someone who I accidentally opened my heart to. Won’t she suffer once I’m gone?
“Rhys!” Eclipse yells, bringing me back from my thoughts. “What’s going on, you’re acting strange!”
I take a small step away from her; she is too close. My mind races as I fight the urge to grab her hand, to hold it in mine. “I- I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“What do you mean?” She asks, her voice laced with confusion.
I can’t look at her face; I don’t deserve to, not when I’m about to break her heart. “I can’t stay here,” I blurt out. “It’s too dangerous!”
“Dangerous?” Eclipse grabs my arms and squeezes them tightly, “Rhys what do you mean?”
“I can’t- I need-” I struggle to find the correct words, ones that will make it hurt less. I find none. “I can’t stay here,” I repeat.
Eclipse’s arms drop to her sides; her expression hardens, “So you’re just gonna leave?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, I can’t watch the result of what I’m about to do to her. “Everywhere I go, people suffer. I’ve lost so many people that were so close to me. I’m not- I can’t lose you as well.”
“If you leave you’ll lose me anyway.”
I force back tears; I have no right to cry, “At least it’ll be my choice, something I can control. At least you won’t be dead.”
“Open your eyes!” Eclipse yells, her voice filled with anger, “Can’t you see you’re breaking my heart?”
I comply; my heart nearly breaks at the sight of tears in her eyes. I feel horrible to have made her cry, not when she’s already suffered so much.
I watch helplessly as her anger fades away to sadness. My own tears distort my vision as she sinks to the ground with a helpless sob.
“Don’t cry,” I say softly, “Hate me with all your might, but don’t cry. I can’t watch you cry.” How come my happiness always ends with pain and
sadness?
“Promise me you’ll come back,” she says, swiping the tears from her eyes, “Promise me I’ll see you again when things are different.”
I bite my lip, “I promise,” I say, hoping that I’ll be able to fulfill my oath.
She smiles through her tears and my heart aches with yearning. “I’ll be waiting!”
Her smile is so beautiful; it makes me want to stay. But I know I can’t. She's trying so hard to stay strong, so I will too.
I leave with the moonlight shining on my back, and a difficult promise fresh off my tongue.

Critique for 1lMaM
401 Words

Let's get started! XD I really like this piece of writing and how it introduces us to a seemingly dystopian society. Through Courtney's thoughts, I can tell that she lives in a dangerous world outside of the seemingly safe and privileged “big city.”

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…

I'm only kinda confused about the part where her possessions jangle in her arms. Are her arms wrapped around them… When you write that she clings tighter to her thighs I was under the assumption that her possessions were in her pockets. Other than that, you nicely illustrate the situation Courtney lives in: one with constant worry and anxiety. The fact that she ate chips for dinner further illustrates her poor living conditions.

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…

Courtney's thoughts which are borderline hysterical with anxiety help build the tension in this excerpt. It seems her house is some distance away from the city. But I'm confused whether her neighbors (if she has any) are living in similar conditions. She says there are a lot of normal people outside… maybe this is too early in the story, but I'm wondering what sets her apart from the people outside.

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.

It took me a minute to realize that the light pouring through the cracks in the roof meant sunrise… maybe I'm just dumb… I think it'd be better to say “My feet still drag behind me,” instead of “…steps…”

What I interpret from this is that she lives outside of town as well?

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.

Oof… she's been drinking dirty water?! Instead of writing “I don't want to go to town” which doesn't seem to fit with the following sentences, I suggest you use, “I'm not going to town.”

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.

I like how you use the fact that she has no shoes to further illustrate her situation. Maybe be more specific on what they advertise because I'm not sure if you're talking about shoes or luxuries in general.

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.

This is good for the worldbuilding you're trying to achieve. It shows the relationship between the city and the people outside of it. One thing: You can get a scrap of food but I don't think you can do the same for water…

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.

I love how you return to the narrator's seemingly recurrent thought/fear of dying. I love her determination to survive and make the best of her situation. The line, “I know what comes next,” really helps build tension for the part of town she's about to pass.

Daily 7/17/2023
390 Words

I used a mix of the smirking emoji and saluting emoji…


“Elliot Cromwell,” Commander Faye said, pacing back and forth with both hands behind his back. “Wanted for evasion of arrest, unauthorized access to the Network, and illegal use of explosives.”
“That’s an impressive list,” Elliot said, holding back a smile, “It’s a wonder I haven’t gotten caught yet.”
Commander Faye sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stop a headache, “You have been caught, that’s why you’re here.”
“Oh, I thought I was here for some sort of reunion with my favorite captain,” Elliot said cheerfully.
“It’s commander, Mr. Cromwell, and I do hope you plan on cooperating.”
“Cooperation is my middle name,” Elliot answered seriously. He was already devising a plan to get out of this mess. He just needed the commander to leave.
“I trust that you’ll keep the situation under control?” The commander asked, addressing the two soldiers stationed on either side of the doorway.
“Yes, sir!” They both exclaimed at the same time.
“So… what are your names?” Elliot asked once Commander Faye was gone. Since the soldiers wore helmets with opaque visors, it was impossible to see their expressions.
He was met with stony silence. Okay then… onto Plan B.
“Hey look, a dancing dog in a tutu!” He cried, pointing at a spot to his left. To his amusement, both soldiers turned around, giving him time to quickly knock them out. He hadn't expected them to be so dense. “I’ll be borrowing your clothes,” he told one of them. Too bad the guy wasn’t conscious because he would’ve loved to see his reaction.
“They should’ve tied me up, or something,” Elliot mumbled as he pulled the soldier's gloves over
his hands- they were soaked with sweat. Ew.
Closing the visor of his helmet, Elliot walked into the hallway. If he remembered correctly, then the main exit was close by. “Oof!” he cried aloud, bumping into someone nearby. Stupid helmet- it made it hard for him to see correctly.
Elliot cursed inwardly as he realized who he bumped into: none other than Commander Faye. “Sorry, Commander,” he said in a voice deeper than his own. “It’s hard to see in my helmet; I wasn’t being careful.”
“That’s alright,” Commander Faye replied, “You should get your helmet adjusted at the armory.”
“Yes sir,” Elliot said with a small salute. Oh if only Faye could see the smirk on his face…

Critique for CleverComment
623 Words

The imagery in this piece is amazing! XD I could literally imagine every small detail, it was so amazing! Honestly… I don't see anything wrong with it… but I'll look carefully and see if I'll be of any use.

The echoes of my footsteps penetrated the empty air. A draft of wind sliced through my ear. I glanced behind me. Nothing but the cobbled road, but still; something in the atmosphere was… wrong.

I love how you use sound, sight, and touch in this bit. You set the scene perfectly- even though we're jumping into the middle of the action. I imagine this like some anime (sorry if you don't like anime!) The girl is walking and her footsteps are exaggeratingly louder than they should be. The wind blows or even howls, blowing at her hair. And the cobbled road- that small detail somehow makes it all creepier! This is just amazing!

Oleanders dotted the grass with beautiful petals of pink. Beguiling and toxic.

WHAT ON EARTH WHY IS THIS SO GOOD?! I personally couldn't find a way to do this daily, man I'm jealous… Again your use of descriptive words as well as negative words such as beguiling and toxic really set the mood. It now seems straight out of some psychological horror movie (At least I assume… I never watched one before cause I can't do horror…)



You're so good at descriptive writing… this is just so amazing. Again you take advantage of multiple senses and paint an eerie picture. Two technical errors though… which I will show below…

I looked back again, and could see nothing through the fog that had suddenly descended.

Get rid of the comma after the word ‘again.’ You would have needed a comma if you were joining two separate clauses. Since your narrator (I) is looking and can see nothing, no comma is needed since there is no new subject (if that makes sense)

My ragged breathes cut through the air.

This is just a small spelling mistake. It should be breaths instead of breathes.



Something about this second/ third sentence doesn't seem to flow when I read it aloud. Maybe you can separate the “yet it was shelter part” on its own or use different punctuation? Or start with “It was neglected” I'm not exactly sure… it's just a suggestion…

I rushed up the steps and reached for the keys inside my pocket. My heart skipped a beat; my pocket was empty. I could not see through the rapidly descending dark, but I knew that I had to do. I rushed down the steps into the path, blindly searching and clawing at the cobblestones. The sense of dread became a sense of danger, and I knew that someone was in the dark. I couldn't breathe. The keys had to be on the road. They had to. My mind racing, my heart pumping, I stumbled and collapsed.

I love the sense of panic you illustrated through the narrator's wild and reckless actions. The use of simple short sentences (whether intentional or not) really helps show how anxious and scared the character is getting.

but I knew that I had to do.

I believe you meant, "…but I knew what I had to do."

My mind racing, my heart pumping, I stumbled and collapsed.

I'm not exactly sure if this is correct. You might need a verb or preposition or a conjunction in the part before “…I stumbled and collapsed.” For example… maybe: With my mind racing and heart pumping, I stumbled and collapsed

Dirt streaked through my body, but I forced myself to get up. The keys. I could not forget about the keys. I ran back, adrenaline racing through my veins. Then I realized something: thistles pierced my feet instead of cobblestones. I wasn't on the path. Frantic, I retraced my footsteps, but the veil of fog blinded me.

Might need to find a better word… dirt cannot streak through one's body… maybe: I forced myself to get up; my body was streaked with dirt. I love how you write that the veil of fog blinded the narrator. Small details and words like this really go a long way.

I reached down, and felt a prick. Squinting, I saw a milky-white asphodel flower. I looked around, and saw that I was in a field of asphodel, surrounding me on all sides. Where was this? Before I could process this, I heard leaves crunching nearby.

Gorgeous description of the flower.

Goosebumps took over. My life was too short to end like this. So many mistakes, so many regrets, so many things left unfinished. I heard noises approaching me, but my mind was racing. I was not going to die without a fight. I would not, could not die with these regrets

Not sure if ‘goosebumps took over’ is the right way to word it? Maybe goosebumps crept up my arm/flesh? Not sure… maybe specify where the goosebumps are covering?

I love how you show the narrator's internal panic. How they don't want to die without a fight.

A sickening sweet smell __idk what to put here__ me.

Overpowered my senses? I think that might fit (obviously get rid of the ‘me.’)

My head was spinning; the lure of the asphodel was too strong. There was nothing I could do but lie down. Sleep, beautiful sleep overcame me, and the world went dark.

I love how you ended it with a cliffhanger! Maybe italicize Beautiful sleep

Now it's time to give you a general overview! I loved this short writing piece. I love how it could be a part of a book or even kind of stand alone. Your writing is very descriptive and takes advantage of all five senses! Other than one or two grammatical/spelling as well as word choice errors. If you think you’re using the phrase “overcame me” too much (I honestly didn’t notice until you pointed it out) then I suggest you find alternatives. For example in the beginning when you wrote, “Chills overcame me” you could replace it with, “Chills racked my body.”

I'd give this a 10/10! Thank you for letting me read your work! XD

Excerpt for Critique
874 Words

Kyle returned quickly, barely leaving her any time to recover. He held his cyber sword, deactivated, in one hand. “I’m ready when you are.”
Holding the hilt in her right hand, Selina activated her cyber sword, making sure the laser technology that edged her blade was off; Kyle did the same.
They stood in front of each other, neither of them making the first move. They both held their swords in one hand, their stances slightly different. Selina searched his gaze for any clue on whether or not he was about to attack, but found nothing. His eyes conveyed no emotion and his face was set in concentration.
Since it had become apparent that he had no plans on striking first, Selina swung her sword, aiming at Kyle’s chest. He stepped backward, narrowly avoiding her attack, before striking horizontally at the upper half of her body. She blocked vertically, slightly caught off balance from the sheer force behind his blow. She recovered and withdrew, preferring to fight him from a farther distance.
This time, Kyle stuck first, thrusting his sword forward. He aimed at her left side- her weaker side. She sidestepped the attack just in time, quickly switching to a two-hand grip on her sword which was raised above her head. She let it come crashing down on his sword but he pulled back before their blades could connect.
“Not bad,” Kyle said, widening the distance between them. “Was that a new move?”
“I’ve been practicing,” she grunted, taking a swing at his head. He ducked and aimed low at her legs. She jumped back just in time.
He smirked and walked around her in a half circle, his sword ready to block whatever attack she had in store, “I’ve been practicing as well.”
That was the thing about sparring with Kyle: his skills nearly matched hers. Sometimes they would duel for long periods of time, neither of them winning until they both collapsed in exhaustion. She realized it had been a while since they last went up against each other.
Kyle attacked her right side this time and she instantly parried the attack. Then he swung upwards; she blocked that attack as well. Distancing herself from him, Selina held her sword at ready, trying to gauge where his next attack would come from. Only Kyle didn’t attack. He maintained the wide gap between them, his wrist flicking his sword in wide, confident arcs; his eyes were calculating.
Selina charged forward, executing a series of sweeping blows as she closed in on him. Kyle dodged all of the attacks, blocked the last one, and counterattacked with a blow aimed at her stomach. She brought her sword down on his, and their blades locked in an x. He instantly pulled away, pivoting on his right foot so that he was in a better position to attack. He aimed low, forcing Selina to block low as well. His sword crashed against hers at a blurring speed. Whenever she blocked or parried one blow, it was quickly followed up by another with an equally devastating force as the last. Realizing that he was backing her against a wall, Selina counterattacked before he could strike at her again. He easily deflected her blow, but his change in movement allowed her to withdraw. She scurried out of the way from an attack aimed at her neck before returning to a defensive stance a safe distance away from him.
At this point, both of them were tiring. Her breath came in shallow gasps, as she studied Kyle; the confidence in the way he held his sword was unnerving. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then he came charging towards her at a frightening speed. Their swords collided, separated, then collided again, neither of them managing to get the upper hand. Selina felt beads of sweat roll down her neck as she tried to find an opening for an attack that would be hard for him to block. At the same time, she dodged and deflected his blows, her strength weakening by the second.
She tried to catch him off guard by aiming at his thigh, but his reactions were quick, and his sword blocked the attack seconds before it made contact. Switching to a two-hand grip on her sword, Selina tried to pull away, but he increased his pressure on her sword, forcing it downward. She struggled to free her blade, but he was too strong. She felt her knees begin to buckle as he pushed harder against her sword.
She tried to push back but it was no use. Her strength expended, she fell to her knees, her sword slipping from her hands. It fell to the floor with a loud clang that seemed to echo through the room.
She looked up at Kyle, his expression remained serious. He moved his sword to her neck and tapped her gently at her collarbone. “And that would be your neck,” he said softly.
Selina blinked in surprise, “How-”
He offered her his hand and she accepted, allowing him to pull her up. “I’m surprised as well. It looks like that training paid off.”
Instead of feeling annoyed like she thought she would, Selina found herself smiling, “You did great!”

Critique for Thecatperson19
779 Words

I wanted to start off by saying that I actually recognized some of the colors you used because I like to paint as a hobby (or used to…)

Alizarin Crimson. Cadmium Yellow. Prussian Blue.

I love the pacing you started off with because the way you stated the colors gives them more weight.

With paint, there were no mistakes. Everything was just … final.

I love this… giving a feeling to paint on a canvas is just so amazing!

Prussian Blue stood alone against a backdrop of white.

Okay maybe this is just me being so specific but… since you used prussian blue… shouldn't you make the white special too. Titanium white perhaps or ivory…i dunno… white just kinda feels left out here even if it isn't a paint color in this context.

Dab. Swish.

I love the use of onomatopoeia (i had to google how to spell that) … this is onomatopoeia, right… erm at least the swish is… hehe… Anyways… I love how you broke your writing up into individual lines like a poem with action/sound words sprinkled in between. It really helps with imagery and makes this piece flow.

Cadmium Yellow crept up the corners.

Personification is really good here and throughout the work. You gave the paints life… if you know what I mean.

A masterpiece was made of every stroke. It was defined by everything that came before it.

I love this line… I mean… i never really thought of painting like that

Solitary colors against a vast blankness.
Dab.
They waited for the next stroke.
Swish.
Alizarin Crimson brazenly made its way into the unknown.
In a single moment the three were united again.

I know Im saying I love like half of these lines but it's really true. Once again your imagery is spot on. The way you worded things is amazing. I can picture the white space and really feel how the paints are supposedly ‘feeling’ or what feelings that artist is giving them.

If something went wrong, it could be fixed. Covered up. Remade and absorbed into the symphony of paint on the canvas.

this is so true! And again, love the way you wrote this.

Cadmium Yellow sang as it met Alizarin Crimson.
Not too much!
A new note played.
The thrum of Orange vibrated across the canvas.

Here's another random not so helpful suggestion… maybe give orange a specific color too. Is it a dark orange or a bright orange? I think this might add a bit more detail.

Crimson rushed to meet Blue, Blue turned to Yellow, and the canvas felt a little less empty.
Colors joined hands and danced to a new song.
The sound of the paint on the canvas rang out in perfect harmony.

again, your personification is spot on. Only… does paint make sounds on the canvas?? I feel if the brush moves against it… it might but paint… hmmm…

Each detail of a painting stood out together to form a feeling. The experience of something never seen before.
Color defeated the barrenness, the impassivity, the loneliness.

U R SO POETIC LIKE WHAT? YOU LITERALLY- ahem… sorry… you gave an empty white canvas a feeling… and then…. agsgdedehe so gorgeous. But since I'm also here to critique (which I am having trouble doing since I can't find anything!) I must say this line…. let me just put it down here…

Each detail of a painting stood out together to form a feeling.

okay so… are you talking about the painting that the paint has been jumping onto since the beginning or any painting in general. If you're still talking about the same painting… then I think it should be changed to…

Each detail of the painting

and… another thing… stood out together…. don't these words kind of nullify each other? What I mean is… if you're together you can't stand out at the same time.
So I perhaps suggest…
Each detail of the painting merged with others to form a feeling
At least… that's the best I can come up with… I'm not very poetic so I'm sure you'll think of something way better.

Colors sang their song and swirled into something recognizable.
The patter of paint blended with the hum of music in the background.
Crimson, Yellow, and Blue led Orange, Purple, and Green to their places.
Details sharpened into focus.

I love once again how you make each color have a ‘song’ to share with perhaps the viewers who gather to eventually admire the painting. You've nicely described the journey of painting from an empty canvas to just random splotches to finally details that can be recognized.

Color held its breath for the last note.
The paintbrush shook.
Every painting had this moment. Each aspect suddenly came together and something new was born. A piece of art was added to the world.
Dab.
Alizarin Crimson was called one last time.
Swish.
It sang its solo for the earth to hear.

It's nice how you include the artist's feelings as they're close to finishing their work. The joy that something new has been created also comes with a tinge of sadness since the work is over.

Letters on a portrait.
Paint on paint.
A name.

As a reader… I'm a bit confused with this part. I assume the letters are when the artist signs their name? Or… And why paint on paint…? A name… does that mean the painting has been given a name.

The song was over; the work was complete.

Why does this make me feel so sad? ;-;

Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rain pattered against the sidewalk in an untamed symphony.
Click. Click. Click.
She walked along the pavement.
Click. … Click.
Stop.
She looked through the gallery’s foggy glass.
A painting.
It shone bright in the dreary day.
The rain danced faster on the sidewalk, its steady drum growing louder.
Automobiles rushed past, their tires sending swells of water rolling over the curb.
But the noises of the city gave out in a single moment.
Her red umbrella stood alone against a sea of black.
Dab. Swish.
She brushed a tear away.

I swear… I actually felt tears form in my eyes… that's how good this part is. I can't tell if it's a random passerby or the actual artist but the painting is so beautiful and holds so much emotion that it stopped this girl/woman. Dab swish when you brought back this one last time… it reminded me of the whole song-like journey it took to create the painting… that's when I felt tears…
Beautiful.
One grammar mistake I think…

It shone bright in the dreary day.

I think it should be It shone brightly through the dreary day or some other appropriate preposition other than in… since shone is the verb… bright needs to be turned into an adverb (hence… brightly instead)

Now time for the overview… wow… this was just… beautiful… filled with emotions and great uses of literary devices. 10/10 for me! You made me see painting in a whole new way! XD

Writing Style Example for Bidaily

You can use this or any of the other works above on this thread… I often write in 3rd person past limited point of view, but sometimes play around with other tenses and point of views

Her heart raced as a gloved hand closed over her mouth, stopping her mid-scream. The person had snuck up behind her, his movement impossible for her to detect. Either he was really good at stealth or she had been screaming to loud top hear his footsteps- she hoped it was the latter.
“Scream again, and I’ll separate your head from the rest of your body,” a familiar voice threatened, words sharp and jagged like broken shards of glass. The hand moved from her mouth and a hooded figure stepped into Selina’s line of sight. He pointed a glowing orange dagger at her chest; she instantly recognized him. He was the one who hurt Kyle; the one who tortured him just for amusment.
“Finally one of you show up,” Selina said, struggling ot keep the anger from her voice. “My voice was starting to get hoarse.”
The Visionary in front of her began to pace; his dagger never pointed away from her. “I know you… you’re that girl who the leader is obsessed with.” He laughed- a harsh, ugly sound. “I wonder how he’d feel if I brought you to him, covered in blood.”
“That’s exactly what I want,” Selina said, ignoring the last part of his sentence. “I want to speak with your leader.”
He stopped mid-step and cocked his head at her, “And you thought screaming at the top of your lungs in the middle of the night was the right way to do it?”
She shrugged, “It seemed to work… didn’t it?”
“And what if it’s all a trap?”
She shrugged again, “How on Earth would I be able to launch an attack in the middle of your base? I’d be surrounded.”
He was silent for a while before he spoke again. “You seem different from the last time we met… more confident perhaps?”
“I want to see your leader,” Selina repeated; she wasn’t going to let him rile her up.
The Visionary laughed again, “Straight to the point I see. Fine, I’ll take you to the leader. Hopefully, he’ll let me tear you to pieces when he figures out that you’re as worthless as you look.” He lowered his dagger slightly, “Draco, knock her out.”
Draco? “Wait, what?” Before Selina could react, something hit her back, sending shocks of electricity through her body. Her vision dimmed as she lurched forward; someone caught her before she hit the ground.
Amber-colored eyes stared into her soul as she felt herself slowly shutting down. “Sweet dreams little one…”

Bidaily 7/26/2023
419 Words
@Galaxy_Awesome 's style
I looked at the flower daily (I’ve never written in third person present so let’s see! Tried onomatopoeia as well! Lots of dialogue too!)

Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
A drop of water splashes on Lyra’s forehead and she instantly swipes it away. “Tell me again why we’re walking through this tunnel?” She asks Kai with an annoyed sigh. How long had they been walking? Thirty minutes? An hour?
“Just be quiet,” Kai snaps. He’s in a foul mood tonight.
Lyra steps over a muddy puddle, “I wish I wasn’t here.”
“I didn’t ask,” Kai says back.
“Just thinking out loud,” Lyra mumbles. They reach the end of the tunnel.
Kai marches forward, “Everyone put your hands up, you’re all under arrest!” He yells.
“What he said!” Lyra chimes in.
There are several people in the small chamber, each looks dangerous and dirty. Lyra sighs, arresting gang members is not how she wants to spend her night.
The gang member to her right draws his weapon but immediately freezes under Kai’s power. Paralysis is a handy power when catching criminals, Lyra wishes she had something useful as well. Making illusions is almost next to useless which is why she’s such a low ranked officer in the first place.
“Collect their weapons,” Kai says.
With a huge eye roll, Lyra collects all of the gang members' weapons. She’s tired and only wants to go home.
Suddenly, one of the gang members snaps his fingers. Fire appears in front of them. Lyra glares at Kai, “I thought you had them all under control!”
“At least I’m useful,” he sneers, letting out a sigh as the gang member slips away. “Go catch him.”
Lyra shrugs and runs after the gang member. It’s hard work since he keeps throwing fireballs at her. “I hate this!” She grumbles. She plans on quitting her job when this is all over.
The gang member in front of her stops suddenly. There is a dead end.
“Stop… now!” Lyra pants.
He cackles in response, “You think you caught me?” His hands glow brightly and Lyra prepares for a rather hot ending. Burning is not on her wish list but she’s too weak.
The gang member suddenly stops, frozen. Behind Lyra, Kai walks forward. “You really are worthless!” He yells.
Lyra only shrugs, glad to be alive. Now she can enjoy the rest of her night. Instead of thanking Kai, she pushes past him. “Took you long enough,” she mutters.
This is the last mission she’ll ever go on with Kai. She doesn’t even complain as they walk back to the surface, ten gang members in toll.
Maybe tonight isn’t so bad after all…